After recruiting a veteran forensic chemist and bomb specialist, Hoffman attempts to get ahead on the alleged assassination attempt investigation; all the while Baird attempts to get back into the swing of things, hoping to also get ahead before Raven is released from the hospital.
Chapter 13: Reliving Scars
Now you're standing there tongue tied,
You better learn your lesson well.
Hide what you have to hide,
And tell what you have to tell.
You'll see your problems multiplied,
If you continually decide,
To faithfully pursue,
The policy of truth.
Never again,
Is what you swore,
The time before.
Depeche Mode
Dr. Peter Ramses sat in the staff lounge, sipping on a cup of coffee that he had diligently filled before the other staff members could hog it all as it often was, and then would never bother to reset the coffee brewer again. It was one of Ramses' pet peeves about working in Vectus hospital, under an administration that was not all too fond of having a COG forensist have sole occupancy of their mortuary. Nevertheless, he did find solace in having the mortuary to himself, not having to answer to the Vectus' Administration of Better Health Board, especially since they were keeping a war criminal on ice.
He managed to finalize the lab tests, concluding his findings in a report he kept in a manila folder that was lying on the table in font of him. Still sipping on his coffee, he looked up to see one of Hoffman's most trusted officers, someone whom was easy on the eyes, but all the professional just the same.
Lieutenant Stroud walked into the lounge as a few nurses walked out, leaving the room all to her and the mortician, still seated at his table, sipping coffee. His dark hair was shuffled from the cold, dry freezer while his skin appeared insipid under the lounge florescent lighting. The man resembled something of a zombie, completely void of the sun and smelled of death, with a slight scar below his lower lip, surrounded by the dark stubble that littered his chin. Nevertheless, Anya knew that Dr. Ramses was a close confident to the Colonel and therefore made the initiative to take a seat at the very same table, sitting adjacent to him.
"Good morning Doctor…" she greeted him with a half-smile. Ramses gently placed his coffee mug on the table, exchanging a grin in return.
"Lieutenant," he nodded, "…please correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe you are here for the file on the Colonel's crown jewel, yes?"
"Indeed doctor," Anya replied at the smug doctor, as a grin curled on the corner of his mouth after her reply. The crowsfeet that spanned from the edge of his eyes when he smiled, gave off it's own charisma, the only sign of life on the otherwise, tranquil pale man.
"But…before I hand this, confidential document to you, I must know one thing…" Ramses asked her, clasping his hands together and placing them on the table. Anya was puzzled as to what the man could possibly request from the younger woman.
"Alright doctor. Proceed."
"What is…the beach here like?"
"The beach?" Anya was bemused by Ramses' request.
"Yes. You see, ever since we were relocated here, I have yet to leave the mortuary and see the island for myself. For the past few months, I have been eating, sleeping, conjugating in the morgue, with only the good Colonel to keep me company, and occasionally the field medic whose sole intent I swear is to eradicate every cup of coffee he can muster on base."
Anya let out a slight chuckle, knowing that Ramses was most likely referring to Corporal Grimes, whom was addicted to caffeine as a chain-smoker was addicted to nicotine. Taking a moment to compose herself, Anya searched for the words to describe the local beach that ran along the base and ship docks.
"Well…there's always a breeze. Not too strong, but not too light either."
"Go on, your doing well Lieutenant," Ramses prodded.
"Um, the sand is real fine; not like the sand, say in a kids box, where it's real grainy, but soft to the bottom of your feet, that seeps between your toes…"
"Like bynatine grass on the old base lawn?"
"Yes. Yes, just like that old lawn back in Jacinto."
Bynatine grass was a favorite among the pristine lawns of Jacinto, whose blades where feathery and exceptionally green. It was not only drought tolerant, but it was so soft and fine, it felt as if one was walking on clouds. It was known for it's buoyancy and thickness.
"…and of course there's the sounds of the crashing waves and the nagging seagulls…"
"Aw yes, constantly begging for your picnic food," said Ramses as he envisioned Anya's description.
"And…that's all that I can think of for right now."
"So, you haven't ran into the water, to feel the waves crash along your legs?"
"No, not yet. Ever since the bombings, we've been working around the clock."
"Mmmm, I see," Ramses looked upon Anya with a glare of disappointment, but it withered into calm again, just as Anya had always remembered the doctor to be.
The last time she could recall seeing the doctor was during death toll counts, and despite Sergeant Ramses' sordid occupation, the man was always poised and strangely tranquil. He always delivered his prognosis with refined, well-chosen words, but he never adorned the circumstances with flattery. There was nothing flattering when it concerned the dead, unless it was brought in from the doctor himself. He accepted death gracefully, as it was expected from a man of valor.
Removing his black-rimmed glasses, Ramses rubbed the arch of his nose for a minute before he looked up to pick up the manila folder and hand it to the Lieutenant.
"This is what Hoffman has been waiting for."
"Understood doctor. I'll be sure to get it to him as quickly as possible."
Folding his hands once again, he peered from under his deep-set eyes.
"There are sensitive points in my analysis that must be handled with care, Lieutenant."
"I assure you that I will not look at them."
Ramses could only chuckle at Anya's sincerity.
"I'm not concerned whether you look at the documents, young lady," Ramses mused, but then his voice turned forlorn, "…but, there are other eyes that I would be wary of, Miss Stroud."
Anya didn't quite understand what the doctor was alluding to, but nodded just the same. Ramses could immediately tell that she didn't quite know what he was insinuating, so he leaned over with his dark eyes fixed upon hers.
"Please understand Miss Stroud, the Colonel must know these, at all costs. It doesn't matter what is to happen to these documents afterwards, they can be burned for all I care…but it is imperative that he understands my prognosis."
Leaning back he could tell that she understood, judging by the sudden widening of her bright eyes, the same eyes he remembered from her mother, the late Major Helen Stroud. Although Helen was more stout and round than that of her long and slender daughter, Helen still had those same beautiful, bright eyes.
She let out a sigh before finally summoning the courage to finally ask him the question she always wanted since her cadet days.
"Now, may ask you something, Sergeant?"
"Yes Lieutenant…"
"How did you get that scar?"
Ramses could only lower his head as a smile stretched across his face as the hard drive to his memory began to churn. The scents, the sights and the ambience of that day came to the surface, bringing to mind the blood that trickled into his mouth after the incident that nearly took off his head.
Taking another sip of his lukewarm coffee, he gave her nod, signaling her release from his company, before having to go back to the bowels of Vectus Hospital once more. Gathering the folder, Anya got the hint before she stood up from her chair and proceeded to door to empty the lounge. Putting the cup of coffee back on the table, Ramses put on his black-rimmed glasses before letting out a sigh, contemplating his next move, now that the pieces have been set.
The waves could be heard crashing along the shore as the Vectus Navel Base mess hall kept its doors open to accommodate the happy hour crowd, but as of this evening, the crowd was thinning, due to training ops that was scheduled the next day. Gears came and went as shifts changed, keeping the crowd minimal.
Sitting alone at the bar table, Baird managed to get out of Vectus Hospital that same day with just some scrapes and a few stitches to show for it. His stay only lasted twenty-eight hours while Raven on the other hand was going to stay another night, but will hopefully be released the following morning. She doesn't take sedatives too well.
As many of the other patrons called it a night, Baird hung out by himself, writing in his journal while going over the technical read-outs Raven was able to scribble in her journal from earlier that week. Although accessing the terminal to run a diagnostic was going to be the easy part, putting up with Raven after recent events was going to be another matter in itself.
Letting out a exhausting sigh, after spending the previous day lying in a hospital bed under heavy pain meds, Baird resumed rubbing his forehead to ease the tension while his dinner was sitting cold next to his warm beer. Pondering if things could possibly get any worse after recent events, an ecstatic Corporal Bjork managed to sneak into the bar, boisterously blurting out from across the buffet bar set opposite from Baird's brooding place.
"Well, well, look at poor D…sittin' by himself, sulking at the bar…" Bjork mused at a weary, agnostic Damon Baird.
"…I'm not in the mood Spades," Baird grumbled in return.
"Alright, so what the hell crawled up your ass today? Oh wait, that's right…" Bjork sneered as he took a seat in the bar stool next to Baird, "…you're running diagnostics on the main terminal…and just when everything was all going all right in the world, BOOM!"
"Yea, no shit, dumbass. You figured that out all by yourself?"
"I would like to figure you got all those scratches from some late night, poontang, you know what I mean?"
"Pfft, yea, I'm all over the booty on base…like when do I have time to lay some fucking pipe?" Baird groaned in a tired, course tone, rubbing his forehead in the process.
"Seriously man, you need to let me in when your bumping uglies with some broad," Bjork continued, "…would it ever occur to you that she might have a sister?"
Baird lifted his weary head, giving Bjork his blue-eyed gaze of exasperation.
"Why are you here, Spades? I thought you were transferred to Retreat?" Baird sneered keeping his glare fixated on the eccentric Corporal.
"Training ops, baby."
"Oh fuck, that's right," Baird grumbled before dropping his gaze back to his cold food plate, "…seriously Spades, I don't feel like dealing with this shit right now."
"Oh, and by the way, Gus is headin' up here."
"Fuck, I thought you guys would be hitting the hay by now, getting ready for tomorrow?"
"So you are trying to avoid us," Bjork reiterated as he pulled out cigarette from the pack stuffed his pocket.
"Well, now that you mentioned it, yea, I was…but apparently I can't seem to do that right either."
"Yea, well, you do know that we heard from a little birdie that the Feral Consulate is going to be released and put back on the job here soon."
Imagine that…Baird groaned to himself as he slapped his pin into his open journal, while Bjork pulled out folder and laid it out on the bar.
"…oh, and here is the assessments I was supposed to bring you earlier this week, but apparently, you were busy doing other things…" said Bjork as Baird slumped in his stool.
"Why do you have to bring this up now? Can't you see I'm busy?"
"Sitting at the bar scribbling in your journal with a warm beer and cold food…yea, your making progress."
"Yea, go fuck yourself Spades," Baird growled before Bjork let out a chuckle as he lit up his cigarette with his lighter. Baird picked up the folder to flip through the pages, scanning through it.
"Ok, so everything is in order, fine…great…we're done here," Baird blurted with sarcasm before closing the folder back up to slap it back on the counter.
"You skipped over the part where Dill three-four idles every time it comes to a stop," Bjork corrected him, letting out a puff of smoke before he took a quick snuff of his cigarette.
"Then it's probably a busted hose, messing up the air flow…"
"Well, you're going to have to like, fix it, sometime before…"
"Geez, it's not that fucking hard Spades, just tell whoever does the oil change to use some electrical tape and wrap it up. Problem solved."
"So, when are you, uh…going to be done?"
"How the the hell should I know, I just…" Baird stopped in mid sentence before Bjork gave him a condescending look while puffing on his cig, "…sigh, I meant, we, just now managed to get the diagnostics started, and it won't be until probably sometime late in the day before we can even get any reading on the schematics of the entire network."
"I bet it's the software…"
"Yea, well, Raven believes it's the software too, but I won't know for sure until tomorrow, so why don't you do me a favor and go play with yourself until I can get this thing resolved, before you slap another late assessment report on my desk."
"Yea, I'll be sure to place it on your toilet next time, with the rest of your tech manuals and nudy mags."
"You go do that," Baird grumbled before he picked up his spoon to scoop up his mashed potatoes, and placed it into his mouth. Just as quickly as he put it in, he spat it out as his face cringed.
"Fuck, this shit's cold…" he griped.
"Well damn, D…how long have you been sitting here, staring at your so-called prognosis?"
"I've only been here for…" Baird paused as he looked up at the clock on the wall, "…um…damn, three hours?"
Baird let out a sigh before dropping his spoon back onto the untouched food that was piled on his plate.
"Ya know…I'm no psychiatrist…"
"Gah, here it comes," Baird grumbled to himself, wanting to shut his ears while Bjork continued.
"…but, why don't you and that Blackbird finally hit it so the both of you can lighten up; man, I've seen a lot of tight ass in my day, but damn…if she wasn't any less loose, you'd say she's had those legs soldered together…not to mention the only fling you've been indulging is Rosie Palmer, dipped in axle grease..."
Baird suddenly picked up his warm beer, taking in a mouthful while trying to tune Bjork out, but regardless what he did, Spades words' sunk into his subconscious like a slow, inevitable drip.
"...personally, I prefer Vaseline, but hey, whatever gets the job done, right?" Bjork finished while puffing on his cig, leaning his back along on the bar table, propped by his arms. Baird slammed his beer bottle down.
"Fuck Spades, are we seriously having this conversation right now?"
"Oh look…your homeboy made it after all," Bjork mused with his cigarette dangling from his mouth, watching Cole enter the bar, giving Bjork a heads up. Nodding in return, Bjork stood up from the stool after slapping his hand on Baird's shoulder.
"Well, I'll leave you two to slap cocks together…in the meantime…"
"…Yea, yea, yea, I'll take care of it later. Are we done here?"
"You gonna give me some sugar baby?" Bjork snickered, blowing a kiss as Baird turned over to give him a foul look.
"Ya know, if I was even remotely contemplating swinging that direction, I would much rather have you suck my dick…" Baird groaned as Bjork let out a chuckle, taking the cigarette from his mouth and giving Baird a wet one on the cheek, before Baird could push him away.
"Oooo, you know you love it when I talk dirty to ya," Bjork teased as Baird continued to shoo him away.
"Whatever, get the fuck out of here, numbnuts."
As Bjork started to leave, he nodded to Cole as he was walking over to the door,
"Evening sweetcheecks..." Bjork mused with his arms wide open and his tongue gliding over his upper lip.
"Sup Spades…how's it hangin'?" Cole returned blissfully, slapping a high five along Bjork's held up hand.
"Twelve o'clock baby!"
"Shit, fo real?"
"Hey, I've been reassigned to the Retreat outpost airfield; ain't no man in his right frame of mind, walking around without a stiffy!"
"Ah damn! So that's where the action is, huh?"
"You know it." Bjork smiled with glee before letting go of Cole's hand, "...I'll catch ya later, man. In the meantime, tuck D into bed tonight, willya?"
"Hehe, you know it!" Cole snickered, walking past the buffet and towards teh bar where Baird had his head propped up on his arm against the table.
"So…how you feelin'?" Cole asked as he took a seat next to Baird.
"Sore. Everywhere. Anywhere and everywhere…even in places I didn't think could get sore," Baird groaned.
"But yo balls intact, right?" Cole jestered.
"Yea, thank God…and they're sore too by the way; thanks for asking!"
"Speakin of which, how's Feral?"
Leaning back in his stool so he could stretch out his arms, Baird let out a yawn before he responded,
"She'll be released tomorrow."
"Yea, I can see you're ecstatic," Cole conveniently elbowed him as Baird dropped his arms.
"Hey, the sooner she gets out, the sooner we can get this job done, the sooner I can get back to working on the Sovereign again."
"So you're going to sit here and tell me that you haven't been missing her?"
"Did I even remotely insinuate that I did?"
"Are you kiddin'? Man, you been in a funky mood ever since Hoffman put you on assignment!"
"I'm always in a better mood when I'm not reduced down to guard duty. Speaking of which, why don't you come and help me later on, instead of shacking up with those loons at the East gate?"
"C'mon man, Vinny ain't so bad…Grimes is ok…and Josie's pretty cool once ya get to know him."
"Good God, they put Josephine with y'all?"
"Needed a replacement for Merdock, man."
"So what the fuck's wrong with Murdock?"
"Stomach bug, man."
"Ah, fuck. We got a bug going around now?"
"Shea. Poor guy was shootin out both ends…"
"Cole, c'mon man! I'm trying to eat."
"Pfft, no your not. You're sulking…and don't say you ain't cause I've known you for too long, man."
"Yea yea, I'm getting teary-eyed too. Still, they need to put Josie with Marcus man, just so they can share some love stories from the prison communal showers."
"…and miss out on Josie's seafood gumbo? No thanks. That shit's too good to pass up."
"Fuck, they got him cooking too? Any wonder Murdoch has the shits! Stomach bug my ass!"
"Don't knock it until ya try it."
"Yea, just like the time you tried to get me to eat Kryll jerky…"
"…and you finally ate some as I recall. Shit was pretty good, though. So what am I going to get out of this if I go to work with ya?"
"Well…" Baird cringed as he leaned to pull a paper from the back pocket of his fatigue pants, "…if my suspicions is right, we'll have to access the main terminal externally."
"And?"
"We'll have to untangle all that wire at the station."
"Aw man…you mean at the terminal in headquarters?"
"Shea, but if we can get several people to work at it, we can probably get it done a lot faster than if it was just Rav and me…and if we get it done by the end of the week, you'll get at least a week off before your next rotation."
Cole's attention suddenly beamed in interest.
"Shit, for real?"
"That's how old man Hoffman laid it down. Get the router up and working and you'll have the rest of the rotation off, he said."
"So how far did you and Feral get?"
"Before or after we opened up a big can of exploding worms?"
"Damn man, did you two get anything accomplished?"
"After a I got that piece of crap Brahma to work earlier that morning, and hit the showers…um, not a lot."
"Yea, I bet you'd guys would spent more time arguing than workin'."
"Actually," Baird began as he pulled out a tattered spiral notebook, surprisingly still intact despite the incidents of late, "…Rav did manage to isolate a possible access sequence in the program, according to her notes she wrote in her notebook before we got thrown ten feet in the air."
"So she narrowed it down, huh?"
"Yep," said Baird while he took a long sip of his warm beer.
"Sweet," said Cole, watching Baird slowly chug down the rest of his beer, "...so…what did you two do in the showers?"
Baird could only raise his brow while still sipping on his bottle of beer, cringing as he swallowed the warm, carbonated fluid down his parched throat. Letting out a exhale before placing the glass down, he closed up his journal and plopped it on top of Bjork's assessment folder.
"Seriously man, c'mon. It's me you're talking about."
"Yea, pretendin' to be, Mr. I'm too anal retentive to give Feral my time of day…"
"Pfft, whatever man…and for the record, we didn't do anything, so you can give Spades his money back…and anybody else you wagered with while I was sitting in a hospital bed for twenty fucking hours!"
"So you really think we can get this down pat, huh?"
"If it all goes smoothly, we should have this network issue resolved in a few days."
"Define a few days…"
"Well," said Baird while scratching the back of his head as he stood up from his stool, gathering his paperwork "…that's going to depend on how many more, rigged warehouses we set off."
Sorry it took awhile, but I was trying to get the dialogue just right to where it was natural and transitionally smoother. Thanks for reading, and again, feedback is welcome.