Born on the Fourth Day of Bloom

AN: The chapters for this are getting longer. There are three things happening at roughly the same time here ,and you get bonus points for guessing who the mystery guest is at the end of this chapter.


Watching Baird go into a seizure was never fun, but at least Cole and Sam had seen it happen before and had some idea of what to expect. Carmine looked like he was watching a horror movie, and honestly Sam couldn't blame him for that reaction. Baird's limbs were thrashing around in an extremely alarming manner. He was as white as a sheet and his lips were slowly turning blue as he failed to breathe properly, but she knew there was nothing to do except wait for it to finish.

Sam looked around for something to put under Baird's head. The atrium was as well-furnished as the rest of Azura and there were throw pillows on the circular padded couches that had been built around large, potted trees. There was also an occasional blanket draped tastefully over the single armchairs dotted around the room, probably there for the older scientists who felt the cold more. A lot of the stuff in here hadn't been touched since the end of the war.

"Carmine, grab some of those cushions and a blanket, then call Hayman and let her know what happened," said Sam.

"Happened? It's still happening," said Carmine.

"Carmine, go," said Sam. Her tone invited no argument.

"Okay, okay," he said and returned a second later with the pillows and blanket, with a finger on his com. "Hayman's sending a medic. Jensen should be here any moment."

A small cluster of people had formed and were watching the spectacle. Cole's eyes were fixed on Baird's convulsing form. He grabbed one of the cushions and carefully shifted it under Baird's head between convulsions. At least they could protect his head from more damage. About a minute later the jerks stopped and Baird was still.

Sam spread the blanket over Baird. The floor wasn't very warm and Baird was unnaturally pale at the moment.

"Shit," said Carmine. "He really wasn't joking about how serious this is, was he?"

"No, he wasn't," said Cole, who looked around him at the onlookers. "Hey, nothing to see here. Go back to what you were doing."

There were a few mumbled words as people drifted away, and then Carmine shooed the stragglers off. Sam knew Baird would have been mortified if he'd known that people had seen him like this. Hopefully no one would tell him.

"Is there anything we should be doing?" asked Carmine.

Sam exchanged a look with Cole, before she shook her head. "No, just make him as comfortable as we can so that he's got fewer aches when he comes around."

"He may be a bit confused, but he should get his shit together after a few minutes," added Cole.

The four of them waited like that until Private Jensen came dashing through the door with his medical kit.

"Has he come round yet?" he asked.

"No," said Cole.

"We should get him on his side," said the young medic. "Sometimes people throw up during or after a seizure."

"I don't think he's eaten anything to throw up," said Cole, but he, Sam and Carmine gently rolled Baird onto his right side.

Jensen had his stethoscope out and was checking Baird's heart rate when the mechanic's eyes began to flutter open. Then they were darting from side to side and clearly Baird was trying to put all the pieces together in his scrambled brain.

"Hey, Baird, it's okay. You had a seizure. You're on Azura in the Operations Building," said Cole.

Sam was impressed by how calm and collected Cole was managing to sound. She doubted her own voice would have managed such a reassuring tone, and Cole had only seen one more seizure than she had. It took Baird a few moments before he replied.

"What?" he asked.

Cole just repeated what he'd said once already. This time Baird seemed to take it in better.

"Oh," he said. "How long was I out?"

"A few minutes," said Cole.

"Shit," replied Baird. "Do I need to go back to the Medical Centre?"

Jensen shook his head. "No, but you will need someone to stay with you today and tonight in case you have another seizure, and Hayman will want to see you tomorrow. I expect she'll want to adjust your meds again."

Baird groaned. "Crap."

"Hey, it won't be that bad," said Sam. "We can have a sleepover, I'll stay on your couch and we can play cards or something."

"Whoop de do," said Baird, his voice rough and weak sounding. His eyes fell shut again.

"He's going to be tired," said Jensen, quietly, aiming his words at Cole and Sam. "I'd suggest you get him back to his quarters and let him sleep it off."

"If he's bitching about stuff then he'll be fine," said Cole. "Hey, Baird, do you feel up to getting back in the wheelchair."

Baird groaned again, but his eyes flicked open to look up at Cole. "I guess it's better than the floor."

All four Gears gently got Baird into a sitting position and then levered him up from the ground onto his good leg. Carmine grabbed the chair and moved it around so that all Baird had to do was sit down. Baird sighed in defeat as he settled back.

"Well that sucked," said Baird.

Cole put a hand on Baird's shoulder for a second. Then he gently made it clear to Carmine that he'd be doing the pushing of Baird's wheelchair. Sam was always slightly amazed at just how much Cole cared for Baird. The two of them had a very unlikely friendship, but she'd seen Baird go out of his way to keep Cole safe and vice versa.

"Yeah, it didn't look much fun," said Cole. "But Hayman'll get the meds sorted and you'll be fine."

"Yeah, that's definitely what's going to happen," replied Baird in a tone that made it absolutely clear that he didn't think that was what was going to happen.

"Give the Doc a chance, blondie," said Sam. "Hey, Carmine, could you run to the mess hall and grab us some food. I bet Baird is hungry and I'm almost certain that you haven't got a single item of food in that place of yours."

"Sam, all I want to do right now is sleep," said Baird, in a resigned tone that she didn't think she'd ever heard him use before.

"Yeah, but when you wake up, you'll want food," said Cole. "Go on, Carmine, do as the lady says."

Carmine gave a nod and headed off towards the mess hall. Jensen left to report back to Hayman, saying he'd check in again later on the coms to make sure everything was okay.

Cole moved off and Sam walked along beside him, keeping one eye on their charge. She sort of felt like Cole needed the back-up at the moment. As they passed out through the wide double doors, she realised that someone else had been watching them. Marcus was stood on the landing above them, looking down on the atrium. The weather office was on that floor, Sam remembered, so he had probably been checking in there before heading out with Zeta on the patrol boat. The look on his face was unreadable and he turned away before he could notice that Sam had seen him.

Sam had always had difficulty reading Marcus Fenix, but there was one thing that she had worked out. He cared about his squad members. He'd performed ridiculous acts of heroism to save them in the past, including driving Baird from Maran to Jacinto to get the medical attention that he needed. He'd walked with Dominic Santiago into the Hollow so that he could find his Maria, and he'd refused an airlift back to base before the Hammer of Dawn strike, because the rest of his squad weren't included. If you were part of Marcus's circle, if he regarded you as his to protect, then nothing would stop him from doing everything he could to keep you safe.

The problem was that he couldn't succeed every time. Sometimes Marcus couldn't keep his friends safe because he really was only human, despite what the rumours said. Marcus wasn't good at failure and clearly he wasn't taking Baird's injury well.

It was about at this point that Sam worked out why, and kicked herself for not seeing it before. He blamed himself. He thought it was his fault that Baird had fallen, or at least that he hadn't been able to stop him. She shook her head. Hopefully Anya had worked it out too and he had someone to talk things through with. Guilt like that could eat you up from the inside if you weren't careful, she'd seen it happen to other Gears when their buddies were killed or injured. Maybe that was why he was being quite so insistent that Baird shouldn't be allowed to give up.

The walk back to Baird's apartment was quiet, although Cole and Sam did their best to start up a conversation. Baird was either too worn out or too disinterested to join in. He did take a moment to com Doctor Hayman and tell her it was okay to give Anya the details of his condition, but that was it. Sam's heart was sinking. She didn't know how to help him, or how to fix any of the problems that they faced here. All she could really do was stand beside her friend, which might be hard because she was fairly sure that Baird was going to be even more of an arsehole than usual. Still, she'd kind of come to realise that she had a definite soft spot for Baird and his abrasive wit. She'd missed it while he'd lain silent and unconscious and she didn't want to lose him again. Sam began to think.


Anya had to take a few moments to work out her next move after Baird left. She sent Sam and Carmine after him and Cole, because she thought Cole might need a break from looking after Baird. That was something that she was going to have to look at seriously. Cole was going to want to be there to push Baird around until his leg healed, but Cole also had duties as head of one of the building teams. His team could work on their own without him for the odd day, but she'd either need to appoint a new team leader or find someone to push Baird's wheelchair longer term.

She hated this stuff. This wasn't the kind of decision making that she was used to. When she'd been in Ops, she'd had information at her finger tips and mostly relayed orders that others had issued. Occasionally she'd needed to make quick decisions - to send Gears one way or another, whether to airlift a team or send out a 'dill – but she'd always had the information to make those decisions. It had taken her a while to get comfortable with command and being the one who issued the orders. Hoffman had trusted her though, he'd trusted her with Azura and the few thousand Gears who'd ended up calling it home. She'd taken his trust in her very seriously.

She lent on her desk and went through the situation. She had a workshop with an injured team lead, Baird, who was currently looking at a medical discharge. Even if she could persuade Hayman not to file the discharge papers, then Baird still needed recovery time and wouldn't be back at work for a while. She didn't begrudge him the time either, no one had worked as hard as Baird to get the place up and running, but she still had a base to maintain.

She had a boyfriend with injured pride, Marcus, who was currently blaming himself and wouldn't talk to her about it. They never seemed to get a moment to themselves when she could broach the subject properly. She had an ally in Cole, who would help her to smooth over relations between Baird and Marcus, but none of them could do anything about Baird's medical condition or the fact that Marcus's best friend was dead. She couldn't help but keep thinking that so much of this came back to Dom's decision to sacrifice himself, but she had no way of using that information.

Baird's workshop was just another problem on her books at the moment. Carmine had been right about Corporal Brennan, she tried hard, but she didn't have Baird's experience or genius for cutting to the heart of a problem. Jobs in the workshop were backing up to unacceptable levels, far worse than Baird had ever allowed. They still had a communications dish that hadn't been replaced, which meant that they'd been out of regular touch with Anvil Gate and the Gorasni for nearly a month. This hadn't been much more than an annoyance until the fishing boat incident this morning. Now, they really needed to warn Anvil Gate that there was a possible new threat out there. The weekly Raven mail drop was all very well, but it wasn't fast.

Building work around the island continued, as did clearing rubble and repairing damage from the final fight for the island. It was a lifetime's worth of work, but they just needed things to be in a stable configuration so that they wouldn't fall on someone and injure them. She'd had all the scaffolding and roof tops checked after Baird's fall, along with the guide ropes and ladders, to make certain that nothing like that could happen again. She doubted they'd never have another accident, but at least it wouldn't be the same circumstances causing it.

Hayman might be the answer to one of her problems and perhaps provide more information about some of the others. Anya tidied away the clutter of maps and plans that had spilled across her desk and informed her aide that she was going to the Medical Centre to see the doctor.

The walk to the Medical Centre was all too familiar these days. She'd done it too many times to count and she never enjoyed it. At least on this occasion she wasn't making the trip to see an injured friend. When she walked in, Hayman was talking to Private Jensen, one of the Medics, and apparently Hayman's best hope for the next generation of doctors. She waited for them to conclude their conversation before she approached.

"Have you got a minute to discuss Corporal Baird?" she asked the doctor.

Hayman nodded, checking her watch. "As long as we're not too long," she replied, leading the way to her own office.

"I just have a few questions," said Anya, as she stepped into the Doctor's office. She hadn't spent much time in this room, but the grandeur and old world feel reminded her of Adam Fenix's study back at the Fenix mansion.

"Then ask away," said Hayman, taking a seat behind the desk. "He already called in and let me know that I should expect your visit and that he'd given his permission for me to tell you what you need to know."

"Baird said that you're giving him a medical discharge. I wanted to know if there was any way that you'd reconsider. Even with a diagnosis of epilepsy, there are things that he could do," said Anya.

"It depends how closely you want to stick to the old COG regulations," said Hayman. "If we're being strict, then a diagnosis of epilepsy would have meant an automatic medical discharge back when we were a civilisation, but as you know, over the course of the war a lot of that was relaxed. Anyone who could still function was put to work, and medical discharges were regularly revoked. That isn't a state that I particularly advocate a return to – pressuring disabled soldiers into work usually leads to bad outcomes. A medical discharge is, in my opinion, the best thing for Corporal Baird's physical health."

"And his mental health?" asked Anya.

"I suspect you already know the answer to that, otherwise you wouldn't be asking the question," replied Hayman.

"If Baird agreed that he'd prefer to remain a Gear and I could give you a list of his duties, would that make a difference?"

Hayman nodded. "It would, but Colonel Hoffman would have the final say on whether the discharge can be waived. There's a procedure to be followed, and the impact on the Gears working with him is as important as his own health. He wouldn't be able to do anything that might endanger someone else. I know that you're one of his friends, and you want to help him, but you have to consider the big picture and whether it's worth making the necessary allowances to let him continue working."

"What allowances are we talking about?" asked Anya.

"I'm sure you're aware of the basics of epilepsy and Corporal Baird has a fairly classic case," said Hayman. "Simply put, he can't do anything that might be dangerous if it were to be interrupted by a seizure. Obviously there are degrees of risk, but given his usual line of work, he'd be unable to work alone. I wouldn't be able to clear him for regular active duties or allow him to, say, go climbing around scaffolding. His working hours would need to be tightly controlled, and you'd need to ensure that he got a reasonable amount of rest time. Failing to get the right amount of sleep could exacerbate his condition. If I can stabilise his medication so that his seizures are under good control, then we may be able to relax some of the rules."

"Okay," said Anya, "I'm not hearing anything that's insurmountable. We're past the days when we had to worry about grubs appearing out of the ground, so carrying a weapon isn't a problem. Even making sure that there's someone else in the workshop shouldn't be that much of an issue, or getting the rest of the team to distribute the work so that Baird doesn't have to do something that would put him in danger. He'll just have to get used to it. Can you draft the paperwork to waive the discharge? It can go out to Hoffman on the next Raven."

Hayman nodded. "As long as Corporal Baird's agreeable. He'll need to sign this," she handed Anya a page long document, with a place to sign at the end. "I'll have my part ready to go for the morning mail collection."

Anya turned to go and then stopped. "Is there any information you can give me on epilepsy? I mean, I'd like to know more and maybe have something that I can tell his staff before he comes back to work officially."

Hayman pulled open a drawer and shuffled through some papers. "I'd love to give you a handful of leaflets to distribute, but I only have a couple left so I'd appreciate them back once you're done with them."

She handed two COG Medical leaflets to Anya, one of which described possible head injury complications and another which discussed what to expect with someone who was epileptic.

"I just wish that I could offer him a better prognosis," said Hayman, "unfortunately once the drugs are gone, surgery is the only option available and I wouldn't consider myself qualified to perform the required operation."

"Operation?" asked Anya, looking up from the leaflets.

"There had been some success in performing brain surgery to relieve otherwise untreatable epilepsy, but it would have to be performed by highly skilled neurosurgeons. Unfortunately there don't seem to be any neurosurgeons amongst the remaining medical professionals, either here, at Anvil Gate or with the Gorasni," said Hayman, seeming genuinely sorry about this. Anya often found it hard to gauge when the woman was being sarcastic. She could be just as acerbic as Baird with those she found tiresome, but this time wasn't one of those moments.

"Baird said he had about a year before the drugs run out," said Anya.

"Yes, although I may have to revise that downwards if I can't get his seizures under better control than they are now," said Hayman. "Anvil Gate has a small supply, but their pharmacy was nowhere near as well stocked as this one. We're lucky we have anything at all."

"And there's no way to make more?" asked Anya.

"We don't have the correct chemicals, or the knowledge of how to combine them. A lot of drug companies kept their drug recipes a secret. You'd probably have to actually find someone who worked for the drug company if you wanted to know how to make it," said Hayman.

Anya sighed. "So what's left? We give Baird the best life we can while he can enjoy it?"

"Surely that's something that we should all hope for," replied Hayman.

Anya just raised her eyebrows. She wasn't sure that there was much she could say to that, so she thanked Hayman for her help and walked back to her office.


When Cole and Sam got Baird back to his quarters, the cleaning crew were still working, but had mostly finished in the bedroom and bathroom. Baird was once again, almost asleep before they got him to his bed, so Cole was glad that he had clean sheets to sleep on. Even the noise from the ongoing cleaning wasn't going to keep him awake. Cole made sure he was well settled before he pitched in to help with the cleaning. It worried him that Baird was so damn pale at the moment, and that he didn't have much more colour than the sheets he was lying on.

He must have looked pretty grim as he stepped out of Baird's room, because Sam gave him a light punch on the shoulder as he grabbed a broom.

"It'll be okay, blondie's on the mend."

"Yeah, but you heard him. The broken bones will heal, but his head ain't ever going to be right," said Cole.

"You're just asking me to make the obvious joke, Cole," said Sam, with a teasing smile.

"How will we know the difference?" replied Cole.

"Exactly," said Sam. "But seriously, we're going to come up with something. That look Marcus got on his face… well, he's not going to give up until he finds a way to help Baird. Which is all despite our resident smart guy deciding to insult one of his best friends."

Cole shrugged and put his back into the sweeping. "Marcus isn't omnipotent. He can't just wave a magic wand and make it all right."

"The way I see it, it doesn't matter. Marcus is right, we're Delta. We saved the goddamn world. I think we can manage to save one Gear," said Sam. "There have to be places that have what Baird needs, so all we need to do is go get it."

"Yeah, but Baird says that this stuff has an expiration date, so even if we find more, at some point it'll stop working."

"Well then at least we'll have bought some more time to think up a new plan," said Sam.

Cole weighed that up for a moment. Maybe Sam had a point. It was definitely something to think about.

"So, anything that I should know, whilst our friend is out of earshot?" asked Sam, correctly assuming that Baird hadn't told them everything.

Cole leaned the broom against the wall and grabbed the manila folder that Baird had been carrying around. He'd left it lying on the table when he'd come in.

"You might want to read that. It could help for when he next has a seizure, and I reckon there's going to be a few more before Hayman gets his meds fixed," said Cole, with resignation.

Sam gave Cole a worried look but took the folder and read. Half way through she moved over to the newly cleaned couch and sat down. Eventually she closed the file, put it back where Cole had taken it from and went back to washing the kitchen surfaces without a word.

Carmine arrived with food a bit later, but had a duty shift to get to so couldn't stay. A little while after that the cleaning crew left, leaving the apartment quiet and now clean. They'd taken all the dirty towels, sheets and clothes down to the huge machines in the basement of the building where the laundry for the island had been set up. It had all been replaced with fresh linen and that alone had helped the place no end. Cole now didn't think he'd catch some horrible disease if he touched the wrong surface.

Baird woke up about three hours after he'd fallen asleep and hobbled his way through to the lounge area on his single crutch. Cole was doing his best not to hover, but he couldn't help wanting to make sure his friend didn't trip and fall. The last thing Baird needed was another bump on the head. On this occasion he restrained himself, and remained sat on the couch where he was.

"I had no idea the couch was that colour," said Baird, as he sat down heavily, pulling his leg up to stretch it out along the cushions. He shoved one of the small, expensive looking, silk cushions under his knee so that the frame wouldn't dig into the furniture too much. He still didn't look exactly comfortable, and kept adjusting the sling around his broken arm.

Cole could see the scars of old burns on Baird's right ankle from where a polyp had grabbed hold whilst they were out patrolling on the Clement from Vectes. Baird had been lucky not to lose a leg that day, the way that Dom told it. Normally they were hidden under Baird's boot, and it was reminder of his mortality that Cole didn't need at the moment.

"Hey, where are all my machine parts?" asked the blond.

Sam brought a cardboard box over and thumped it down on the ornate, glass-topped coffee table. "There you go. All yours, knock yourself out."

Baird looked like someone had just declared Winterfest early. He sorted through the box, one handed. "I'd forgotten that I left some of this stuff here. That might actually be able to fix the Pack'." He pulled out a part and held it up to the light to examine it more closely.

"Yeah, well all that can wait until you've had something to eat," said Cole.

"I'm not that hungry," said Baird. He moved stiffly, trying to get comfortable and winced a little as he attempted a move to get his leg into a better position.

"You have to eat something," said Sam. "Have you even had anything since you left the Medical Centre this morning?"

Baird sat back against the sofa cushions, and just gave Sam a look. "Have you been taking lessons in how to mother hen from Cole? I don't remember you being this nice before."

"Yeah, Baird, make fun of the people who are trying to help you," said Sam. "You know that's going to go down really well. Why don't you just shut your mouth, give it time to rest, and think about that while I get you something to eat. I'll warm up some of that soup Carmine brought over."

Cole was amused to note that the only reply Baird could muster to that was a scowl, whilst Sam moved off into the kitchenette to heat the soup she'd mentioned.

"I think she's got better at the comebacks too," said Baird, quietly enough that only Cole could hear.

"Oh yeah, she owned your ass," said Cole, with a smile. This had all the makings of an interesting development, and he was sort of pleased to see that Baird was at least up to some of his usual banter.

Sam and Cole had always gotten on pretty well, whereas Baird and Sam had a somewhat difficult relationship. Cole was never quite sure what to make of it. They seemed to enjoy antagonising one another until one of them took it too far, usually Baird, and then the other would storm off until the next time. Clearly Sam had had enough of that cycle and perhaps Baird had too. Cole very carefully hadn't teased him about telling Sam to "take care of herself" as they'd begun their assault on Azura's main tower. In his opinion, Baird could do with showing that side of his personality more often.

Cole's com sounded and he answered it with a tap.

"Cole here, go ahead."

"Cole, Anya. I've got paperwork for Baird to sign. Is he awake?"

"Yeah, come on over, Sam and I are just trying to get some food into him," said Cole, looking at Baird, who, of course, could only hear one side of the conversation.

"Okay, I'll be there in five," said Anya. "Oh and it's good news. I'll explain when I get there."

"Anya's coming over," said Cole.

"Oh good," said Baird. "I really needed more rules to order my life with."

"She means well," said Sam, as she walked over with a tray with a bowl of soup on it and some crackers. "Eat your soup."

"I didn't even know I had bowls," said Baird, as Sam put the tray across his lap. Baird picked up the spoon. "Are you giving me invalid food? That's what this is, isn't it?"

"You were eating that white protein goo last week, so you should probably be happy that you've graduated to real food," said Sam.

"This is not real food," said Baird, stirring the soup with trepidation.

"I can make aeroplane noises for you if it'll help," said Cole, snatching the spoon off Baird and pretending to turn it into an aeroplane heading towards Baird's mouth.

"Give me that," said Baird, retrieving his spoon.

He tentatively took a spoonful of the soup to his mouth and swallowed it, making a face as he did so. He dunked his spoon again and slowly slurped a second mouthful. Cole got the distinct impression that he was only doing this to keep him and Sam happy – Baird wasn't normally a slow eater.

"So what was all that "going on patrol with Zeta" crap? Since when does Marcus go out on harbour patrol?" asked Baird.

"We lost a fishing boat," said Sam. "There are some new weirdos out there calling themselves the Soldiers of the Nation of Ostri. It sounds like it was just some Stranded who've got themselves a fancy title. Marcus, Carmine and Jace pulled the crew of the boat out of the water after it went down. Anyway, Anya's sending out escorts with the fishing boats until we can make sure it's safe out there again."

Cole frowned. He didn't like the sound of this, and of course he'd missed all the briefings and radio chatter while he'd been taking care of Baird. How they were going to make sure that Baird had someone with him until the seizures settled was something that he'd have to discuss with Anya. He couldn't take every duty shift off until Baird was well again, it wouldn't be fair on his crew.

"I knew things had been too quiet recently," said Baird. "Humans are too good at killing stuff to just let that talent go to waste." He grimaced and rolled his shoulders, which didn't seem to help. Cole noticed that he was holding himself carefully again. Clearly something was causing him pain but in a very un-Baird-like move he wasn't complaining about it.

"Shouldn't you have taken your pain pills when you woke up?" asked Cole.

Baird glared at him. "They're only to be taken when needed."

"I'll get them," said Sam, heading for the bedroom.

"Guys, I don't need them," said Baird.

"The way you're holding yourself, makes it kind of obvious that you're hurting," said Cole.

Baird sighed and accepted the bottle of painkillers from Sam, along with the glass of water that she brought with her. He took two pills and put the bottle on the table. He picked up one of the crackers and took an unenthusiastic bite.

There was a knock at the door. Cole went to let Anya in.

"Hey there," said Cole, as he opened the door for Anya to come in.

"Hi, Cole," said Anya. She had papers in her hands. "I just need Baird to sign this."

"What is it?" asked the mechanic. "Finally decided to that it's me you want to marry?"

Cole rolled his eyes and Anya shook her head.

"I think Marcus might have something to say about that," said Anya. "No, this is your discharge waiver. You need to sign to say that you don't want a medical discharge. I have to write something about the duties you'll be doing and Hayman has to agree that you'd be capable of them. Then we send everything to Colonel Hoffman and he gives it his approval. Meaning you get to stay being a Gear, and we continue to have the pleasure of your delightful company," said Anya.

"Nice one, Anya," said Sam.

Anya handed Baird the paperwork and pen. Baird hadn't said a word. He looked at the document in his hand and the pen.

"Sign at the bottom of the page," said Anya, "then I can get it out to Hoffman on the morning Raven."

Baird moved his soup across the tray a bit so that he had room to put the document down. Cole shifted it onto the table to give him more room. Baird put the pen to the paper and paused.

"What's the matter?" asked Cole.

"I need some time to think," said Baird. "And I need some time to read what I'm signing."

"Hey, I'll read it to you," said Cole, suddenly realising that it would take Baird a while to get through the legal document with his current reading speed.

Baird shook his head. "I don't know if it's the right thing."

"What the hell do you mean by that?" asked Sam. "Of course, it's the right thing."

"So we can go back to how things were before I fell off a building? Forget that I'm brain damaged?" asked Baird angrily. "I can go back to fighting the same losing battle with the technology on this island that I was, cannibalising one vehicle after another to keep the rest running. There wasn't any point to that before and there's even less now."

"Baird," said Anya, gently. "We need you. There are a hundred and one things on this island that are better because you made them that way. How many people would have died from drinking bad water if you hadn't fixed the water treatment plant? How many Gears would have died from infection if you hadn't helped expand the medical centre so that they had clean, safe places to recover? We'd probably all be starving now if it wasn't for you getting the refrigeration unit running again in the walk-in freezers."

"You heard the lady, she ain't wrong," said Cole. "And you know I'd miss your ugly face."

"Don't forget his sparkling wit," added Sam, teasingly, taking a seat on the coffee table. "I know I'd cry my eyes out if you weren't around to make daily jokes at my expense."

"It's not enough," said Baird. "I mean what did we fight for all this time? A civilisation that's slowly slipping back into the dark ages?" He put the pen down.

Cole moved forwards on his seat. "Nah, baby, that's not what I was fighting for, because that isn't what's going to happen. But I just want there to be a place we can all live out our days in peace."

"That's going to be less time for some of us than others," said Baird, tiredly. "Look, already you're all making allowances for me. Cole's taken time off and Sam, you're going to stay here tonight. Anya, you're talking about making changes in the workshop so that I can keep working. We've got limited resources and man power. I'm just going to be a drain on those if I stay."

"Every time you fix a piece of technology, you make life easier for the people on this island and you give us time that we can use to do something that isn't just about pure survival," said Anya. "And that means we have time to plan and not just react. There has to be a solution to our technology problem, and if we have enough space to breathe, we'll be able to find it. Maybe you're not going to be working at top speed anymore, but I'm not convinced that was a good thing anyway. I'd take Damon Baird at fifty percent capacity over no Damon Baird at all."

"I need to think," said Baird.

"What the fuck is there to think about?" asked Sam. "We need you and we want you to stay."

"It's not that simple, Sam," said Baird.

"It's not that complicated either," replied Sam.

"I just… need time," said Baird.

Cole put a hand on Baird's shoulder. "Then we'll give you time, right, Sam? Anya?"

Anya nodded. "Keep the paperwork. Let me know what you decide."

Baird just nodded back thoughtfully, as he tried to read the first paragraph of the discharge waiver. Sam got to her feet and stalked into the kitchen, where she began washing up a saucepan loudly.

Anya's com sounded. "This is Stroud." There was a pause whilst she listened to the person at the other end. "He's doing what?" She glanced over at Cole.

"Okay, we'll meet them at the docks when they come in. Stroud out."

Cole frowned. There could only be one person who'd get that reaction from Anya. "What's Marcus up to now?"

"I have no idea," said Anya. "I'd better get down to the dock. I'll let you know the detail when I have a handle on what's going on."

With that, Anya left Baird to nibbling at his crackers, Sam to her angry cleaning and Cole trying to work out how he could persuade Baird that there was more to life than fixing Packhorses.


Marcus had met up with Zeta at the Azura docks. He couldn't get the image of Baird seizing on the floor of the atrium out of his head. This was all because he hadn't been strong enough to hold on, and he hadn't been careful enough with Baird's safety. He couldn't blame Baird for being mad at him, although his choice of insult was poor. The last thing Marcus wanted was to pick up where either his father or Chairman Prescott left off. The idea was to build a better Sera for the future, not recreate the past. He did his best to shake off the unhelpful thoughts that his brain was sending out and concentrate on the task at hand.

Zeta-One were commanded by Sergeant Alex Brand, who Marcus knew fairly well and had worked with before. She had a shapely figure, light green eyes and short red hair. She was probably Baird's least favourite person and she didn't care much for the blond mechanic either. With one foot on the rail around the boat, she stood with her Lancer ready in the crook of her arm, her armour looking well-kept and recently cleaned. That was more than Marcus could say about his own plates, which had only been dusted off that morning because of the fishing boat incident.

"Sergeant," he said in greeting, as he climbed on board the patrol boat.

"Sergeant," Alex replied. "Good to see you. It's been a while."

"Yeah. Are you ready to go? If those bastards are out there, I want them caught," said Marcus.

"I think we can manage that," said Alex, looking around at her squad, who were three of the meanest looking Gears that Marcus had ever laid eyes on. Every single one of them had copious scars and tattoos, which wasn't particularly unusual, but the number of both was quite high even for Gears. One of them had a missing ear that looked like it had been chewed off by a wretch. Marcus recognised them as Teucer, Quinn and Roberts, veterans of many battles against the grubs, including Operation Hollow Storm.

The boat captain cast off from the docks and they headed out to the open water. Alex was wandering around the edge of the deck, keeping careful watch on the horizon. She stopped beside Marcus for a second, the two of them leaning against the edge of the boat and looking out to sea.

"I heard Baird got out of the Medical Centre after his climbing accident," she said.

"Yeah, you heard right," said Marcus. This wasn't a topic he particularly wanted to discuss at the moment. The point of joining this patrol had been to get him away from his troubles on Azura.

"Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy," said Alex. "So what was he doing that meant he managed to fall off a building? Knowing him, he was screwing around and it came back to bite him."

Marcus turned swiftly to face Alex. "You listen here; Corporal Baird was on that roof so that we could maintain communications with Anvil Gate. He did nothing wrong. I fell, he tried to pull me up and ended up going over the edge when his tether broke. I've lost count of the number of times that something Baird did has saved all of our lives, you were there for one of them, so you should probably keep your opinions to yourself."

The shock on Alex's face would have been amusing at any other time, but Marcus wasn't in the mood. She quickly pulled herself together. "Uh, okay, sorry Sergeant. I'll try to remember that."

Alex walked onwards towards the prow of the ship, leaving Marcus to his thoughts. He leaned on the side and looked out across the water. He had nothing against Alex, but she'd hit on the one thing that he didn't want to talk about. And he was kind of fed up of hearing about how Baird falling was because he'd done something stupid. Baird might get creative about following orders and have a smart mouth, but he certainly wasn't careless or stupid. He'd never have survived the war if he'd been either of those things.

He wondered if he should apologise to Alex for snapping, but what she'd said had been out of line. Even if Baird hadn't been a friend, he'd have considered the remark inappropriate when speaking about a wounded Gear. Still, he and Baird needed to have a talk when he got back to port, they couldn't leave things the way they had. The sun was beginning to go down and they'd have to turn around soon, so he'd get his chance soon enough.

"Hey, I've got something!" shouted Alex, from the front of the ship. "It looks like another ship."

Marcus jogged to the front of the boat.

"One of ours?" she asked, handing Marcus the binoculars that she'd been using.

"There shouldn't be anyone else out here. Anya recalled all the fishing boats until we could get escorts organised," said Marcus. "Anything on the radio?"

The boat captain shook his head. "I tried contacting them, but no one's answering. I used all the normal frequencies, but if they can hear us, they're not saying anything."

He put the binoculars to his eyes and focused them on the other vessel. As the ship came round, turned by the current in this bit of the channel, he could see that it was a larger boat than the one that they were on. It looked like it was grey in colour and had a very military bearing to it. He caught a number and letters on its side, marking it as UIR Navy. That should have meant that it was Gorasni, but he didn't remember there being a ship this size in their fleet. A torn-edged flag fluttered in the wind at the back of the boat and it looked like black cross, with curved inside edges, on a white background.

"It's flying the Ostrian flag," said Marcus, recognising the symbol. "They must be the ones who sank the fishing boat."

Something was roped to the prow of the boat, tied to either side of the pointed keel. It was red and with ragged edges of cloth covering parts of it. Then it moved and Marcus realised that it was a person.

"Shit, they've got a man strapped to the front of that thing," said Marcus. "He's still alive."

"Shit," said Alex. "How much firepower do they have?"

He kept looking and caught sight of a prow mounted gun mostly hidden under a tarpaulin, and eventually people, probably the crew of the boat.

"I've got six armed men and a fixed position gun," said Marcus, handing the binoculars back to Alex.

"Those aren't good odds," replied Alex, looking at the gun. "That thing could tear us to pieces before we even get there. On the positive side, I don't think we've been spotted yet."

The COG patrol boat had a fixed gun too, but the UIR boat was winning in the size and range stakes. They'd be within firing range of the larger vessel before they could have a hope of hitting anything.

"Call it in," shouted Marcus, heading up to see the radio operator. "Lieutenant Stroud needs to know about this."

"We should head back and get reinforcements," said Alex, following him.

"They'll be long gone by the time we do, and whoever's strapped to the front of that boat will be dead," said Marcus. "How's your front crawl?" He began undoing the buckles that held his armour in place.

Alex started to follow suit. "Pretty damn good since we started living on islands," she replied. "What's your plan?"

"We'll need to get in as close as possible; the light's fading so that should give us half a chance of making it without being seen. We'll need the boat to come round for a couple of passes with the gun and keep them distracted," said Marcus. A glance at the boat captain told him that he'd understood the plan too. Marcus had sailed with him before and he knew what he was doing.

"Quinn, get down here on the big gun," shouted Alex. "Teucer, Roberts, once we're closer make sure you keep them occupied. If they see us while we're in the water then we're done for." She looked at Marcus. "So we grab the guy and get the hell out of there?"

"I thought we might do some damage as well," replied Marcus. He held up a couple of bolo grenades. "If we use yours too then it might be enough to put a hole in the hull."

Alex smiled. "I like the sound of that."

"Okay, then we're on," said Marcus. "Let's move."

Zeta-One knew how to follow orders, and were rapidly getting into position. Marcus and Alex stripped down to t-shirts and underwear. The water around Azura wasn't so cold that it would be a problem, but it was still pretty cold. They'd have to swim fast and get to their target quickly. They bagged the grenades up in plastic, along with their hand guns and radios, then tied them to their belts.

"Are you sure about this, Sarge?" asked Quinn, talking to Alex. "There's going to be a lot of bullets flying around."

"Yeah, I'm aware," replied Alex. "Hell, I haven't been in a decent fire fight since we took down the last of the Locust. This should be a walk in the park compared to what we're used to dealing with, but that doesn't mean you ladies get to relax. And if one of you clips me with a bullet, I'll have your balls."

"Coming?" asked Marcus, as he got ready to slip over the side.

Alex strode over to the side of the boat and slid into the sea. Her t-shirt darkened in the water. "When you're ready, Fenix," she said and began swimming.

"Don't be late to pick us up," said Marcus, to Quinn, and he too got into the water and began swimming.

The two Gears swam swiftly and quietly up to the boat, so far they had remained unnoticed. They weren't wearing life jackets, so if anything went wrong then they'd sink without a trace, and there was a lot that could go wrong. The increasingly low light was helping at the moment, but when it came time to make their getaway it might not be so helpful. Their own boat would have just as much trouble spotting them.

Marcus reached the hull first, grabbing hold of the anchor chain. He used the hull to move quietly along towards the prow, Alex a few feet behind him. They heard two people above them begin to have a conversation in a language that neither of them spoke. Marcus made an educated guess that it was Ostrian. He used hand signals to indicate that they should keep going.

The sound of water lapping against the hull seemed loud in Marcus' ears, but he knew that it wasn't to the people on board. Finally they reached their destination and Marcus was able to get a better look at the person roped to the front of the boat. He was tied with his back to the ship, with rope wrapped around his lower arms which was then slung over the prow. The legs were tied together, awkwardly to one side, with more rope attaching them to a hook that was used to secure buoys along the side of the vessel. It looked uncomfortable, and Marcus was almost surprised to find out that the person was still breathing. There was blood soaking his clothing, which was filthy and encrusted with salt. Blood also covered his head which had fallen down so that the chin rested against their chest, his hair was so badly matted with it that Marcus couldn't have even made out what colour it really was, especially in the low light.

Marcus examined the ropes, wondering how best to deal with them and make the minimum noise. Equally he didn't want to exacerbate any injuries that the prisoner had further. He took out his combat knife and began to work away at the ropes holding the legs together while Alex held them in position. The ropes were thick, but eventually Marcus had cut his way through them. Freeing the legs elicited a low groan from the man. Both Marcus and Alex froze for a moment, but apparently either no one on the boat had heard it or they were used to their prisoner/figurehead making noises. They got back to work.

Working on the arms was harder, so they took one side each, hacking away at the rope. Marcus got through his first, and supported the weight of the man as Alex finished her side. Marcus tapped his radio, thanking the Allfathers that the COG had decided to make their radios waterproof.

"Zeta, you have a go," he said in a whisper.

He heard the sound of the motor start up nearby, as apparently did the crew of the enemy boat. There was movement on the deck above and some shouting. Alex held the prisoner's head up and out of the water, whilst Marcus removed the grenades from the plastic they were wrapped in. They swapped whilst Alex did the same.

They waited for the patrol boat to make its first run, and a few seconds later heard the sound of bullets being fired.

"Now," said Marcus, and the two them lobbed their grenades up and onto the deck. The first two were followed by two more, and then Marcus and Alex were rapidly kicking themselves away from the side of the boat, their newly rescued prisoner held between them.

The first explosion was very pleasing and also had the added advantage of killing the man who'd taken up the gun position. The second, third and fourth just added to the confusion and flames licking the deck.

"Now, this is my kind of mission," said Alex, as she kicked backwards. "Screw repairing accommodation blocks, lets blow some stuff up."

Zeta and the patrol boat came past for another run, but it was fair to say that the Ostrians didn't have much enthusiasm for a fight at this point. Marcus waved in the direction of the patrol boat and the third pass ended with them being picked up out of the water. Blankets were thrown around the swimmers as the patrol boat turned tail and headed for home.

Marcus knelt down by the man that they'd rescued, who was still breathing, if raggedly. He had all of the marks of someone who'd spent a lot of time outside recently, and not in a healthy way.

"Hey, we need water," said Marcus.

Someone shoved a canteen in his direction and he put it to the cracked lips of their rescued prisoner. He drank enthusiastically, and Marcus had to remove the canteen before he could drink too much and make himself sick. There was still some painful coughing and Marcus realised that the underlying breathing didn't sound quite right. The guy wasn't in good shape and the sooner they got him back to port and proper medical attention the better.

Now that he was laid out, Marcus could see a number of wounds across his body that were in varying stages of healing and a huge array of bruises. The ropes had bit into his skin and created raw, red marks along his arms and legs. Anywhere the skin had been exposed to the sun was burned red and angry.

The man looked young, although it was hard to tell through the grime, salt and dried blood exactly how old he was. He was thin, and weighed less than he should for his height. However what caught Marcus's attention was the colour of his hair. The swim back had washed away much of the blood to reveal that it was a bright, copper colour, and Marcus knew someone else who had that exact hair colour. The more he looked at the man, the more he wondered.

"It can't be," said Marcus. He looked at the man's neck, hoping to find COG tags, but instead found a red mark where a chain had probably been torn off. Further examination found a tattoo on his right bicep: the wings of the COG Air Corps.

The young man shivered, and Marcus tucked the blanket around him closer. If this was who he thought it was, then they'd just been handed a small miracle and he had to do all he could to get him back to Azura safely.

"Radio base and tell them to have casevac standing by at the dock," Marcus shouted up. "We've got a wounded Gear here."