2175
The lush, tropical region of Netrayas had been a popular tourist destination ever since the Marines established a base there. It had been devoid of civilians for almost a decade after the base's construction, allowing time for the Marines and a group of scientists to study the area and determine how safe it was. The coastal regions were well-guarded. The interior was considered hell by any Marine who had to take a tour of duty in there. The jungle was dense, humid, and from floor to canopy was full of extraterrestrial wildlife, some dangerous in their own way.
The mountains in the center of the region were a prime target for any hostile force looking to hide, and that was where Gorman and his squad were headed.
The flight to the interior would be long, and the Marines would be dropped off over a mile away from the abandoned Seegson complex. Once they were in position, Gorman and Towers would go ahead of everyone, in search of a vent cover on the side of the building. Then Gorman would shed his armor to go inside.
Everything under Gorman's armor was soft, to minimalize noise when he was inside the vents. His dogtags were taped down to his chest, and everything metal was covered to keep it from jingling or scratching anything. His pistol was tightly secured in a holster and fitted with a suppressor. Every piece of gear was carefully and meticulously tied down and silenced. Nothing Gorman hadn't done before.
After they were all loaded into an APC and driven onto a dropship, Gorman allowed his mind to wander a little, and it settled on Towers's worry. It truly was strange to him that the young Marine had hated him not that long ago, and now she cared for him deeply. All it had taken was really talking to her and seeing that there was something else going on beneath her surface. All it took was someone caring about her in a way she probably hadn't experienced before.
Towers sat close to Gorman, holding her seat brace tightly as the dropship wavered and shook. She looked up at him. "You really think taking me with you is a good idea?"
"If I had any doubts, I wouldn't have asked you to come with me," Gorman replied. "All I ask is that you trust me."
"That I can do."
"Good. Thanks."
"No problem, Gunny."
He smiled, putting his hands on the seat brace, hoping he could boost her confidence. "You've got a lot of success here. You made the right choice joining us."
Towers didn't respond, but she slid her fingers through her brace to touch his.
"Everything'll be OK. Just trust me."
2137
Even as life on Sevastopol slowly grew worse, Waits would spend what little free time he had thinking about proposing to Lingard, thinking about saying his vows, thinking about what those vows meant. All his life, he knew wedding vows were something sacred. A promise. A promise of love and loyalty. He knew some people broke them far too easily, men and women alike. He could never understand why some ran into marriage so quickly. Perhaps they felt it was just an item on their bucket list, to stand at the alter and have a big, overblown party celebrating the fact that, well, they stood at an alter and had rings put on their fingers. Celebrating nothing. The couple would split not too soon after.
Not him. Waits could never fathom the idea of marrying someone just to say he did it. What would that say about him? It would make him a lowlife, a garbage human being, no better than Ransome.
Perhaps that was why it took so long for him to find the right person. He wanted someone he knew he could keep those vows with. He wanted someone he knew would keep those vows with him.
He didn't know who Lingard wanted at her wedding, but he knew his guest list would be pretty small. He was perfectly content with inviting just his sister, his brother-in-law, his nephew, and his nephew's wife. Four people was enough. Maybe he could invite Jarendeno and his wife. Their kids were too young, and the last thing he wanted was someone suddenly throwing a fit in the middle of the vows.
And then there'd be Morley, and just Morley as his entourage. He didn't need any groomsmen.
Whoever Lingard wanted to bring, she could bring. Waits wanted her to be happy.
He realized he was getting ahead of himself. A part of him didn't think Lingard would be opposed to the idea of marrying him, but he could understand if she was hesitant because of two bad past experiences. I really should talk to her about this before I get a ring.
After locking up the Bureau for the night, Waits headed over to San Cristobal. Lingard had been staying later and later at the hospital, trying to keep track of everything with Morley. He heard they were doing alright with most of their medication in the dispensary. It was primarily the antidepressants and anti-anxiety pills that were disappearing quickly, and they couldn't figure out what Kuhlman was doing. He gave them the same story every time; rumors leaked out about Sevastopol closing, so people were starting to lose themselves as they waited impatiently for the news to become official.
Waits couldn't deny that. He figured Sterling may have been the one to tell people what he heard from Waits's conversation with Jarendeno a few weeks ago. Or, Sterling told Ransome, and Ransome was the one spreading it. Regardless, he had seen people start to become impatient, and depressed. One of the comms engineers was found in the lower mall, distraught, upset, stuck in the recesses of his brain. Though the man wasn't actually suicidal, someone panicked and thought he was, immediately calling the Marshals. Waits ordered everyone to just stand back and let him handle the engineer one-on-one.
He had a vague memory of seeing this same man somewhere on this station. Then again, he had seen everyone on this station at least once, and everyone had seen him multiple times. Everyone knew who he was at this point. He liked being known by everyone, but at the same time, he liked being in the background. Regardless, Waits and this engineer talked. They talked as men, just two human beings. Waits was able to convince him to feel a little more hopeful, less anxious, less impatient.
Like Morley said, sometimes all people needed was someone to talk to. But Waits couldn't talk to every patient, and he knew there were some patients who needed a lot more than a talking-to. For some, they really needed the pills. Waits just hoped this didn't become a bigger issue down the road.
He stepped out of his thoughts when he arrived at San Cristobal. It was dark. Waits had been there for two years, but would never get used to the discomforting darkness and emptiness. As he entered the hospital lobby, he glanced around, still loathing the nervousness that had come over him. He headed down to Lingard's office, and found her sitting at her desk, looking exhausted.
She glanced up from her papers and computer. "Yes?" There was no happiness at seeing Waits. In fact, there was no emotion at all. She was that tired.
"You should go up to bed, honey," Waits said.
"Can't. Shouldn't."
Waits sighed. "Please? You need sleep."
Lingard didn't respond, so Waits remained where he was, arms folded over his chest. A minute later, she turned off her computer, and shoved her papers in a folder before grabbing her bag. She stood up, looking at Waits with a tired expression. She looked like she was about to cry.
"I'll take you home," Waits said, softly. He held out his hand, and she took it, squeezing it tightly. He held her hand all the way back to the transit, refusing to let go for anything. She needed him right now.
When they boarded the transit, Lingard looked a little more relieved, but she said nothing, and she remained quiet until they stopped at the habitation towers. "People really are getting desperate," she whispered. "I don't know what to do half the time . . . anymore." Tears rolled down her face.
"I'm guessing you're dealing with people hurting each other over this," replied Waits.
Lingard nodded. "I don't understand what's going on. I think . . . other supplies are starting to run out."
"A lot of businesses left last year, and I almost got shot dealing with looters. I told the store owners not to leave anything behind."
"I know. I was worried about you."
The two became quiet again until they got to the elevator. Waits let out his breath, and looked down at Lingard. "Mind if I . . . talk to you about something?"
"Sure."
Waits paused, composing himself. "Alright . . . what do you think about . . . us getting married?"
"You and me, getting married?"
"Yes."
Lingard fell silent. "I wouldn't be opposed to it. Why? Are you . . . thinking about-"
"Yes." Waits blushed.
"Well, I'd . . ." Lingard gave him a small smile. "I would say 'yes' to you."
"You're not, you know, concerned because of your past two marriages?"
She shook her head. "You've proven that you're nothing like any of my previous relationships. I would like to spend the rest of my life with you as my husband."
A sense of relief flooded Waits. "Alright. I guess . . . now we should wait until we get to Gateway, and . . . then I'll surprise you." He grinned at her.
"Yeah. I look forward to it, and seeing you of all people on one knee, asking those four precious words."
"That'll be a sight to behold."
"And it'll be the best sight to behold. I won't have any second guesses."
"I would hope not, but . . . if you're afraid of anything, tell me."
"I promise, I will."
2175
The dropship struggled to find a clear spot to land with the dense jungle spreading as far as the eye could see. They would have to land a bit farther off than originally calculated. Once on the ground, the APC left, driving down a road leading up to the old Seegson facility. The road was steadily becoming overgrown and tough to navigate. Gorman stood up and held onto the ceiling to steady himself after feeling the APC leave the dropship.
Dunewall was driving, giving Gorman regular updates on what was going on. Suddenly, the APC halted. Gorman turned to face Dunewall. "Why'd you stop?"
"The vegetation really clears up here. If there's anyone in that facility, they'll see us coming from their point on the hill," Dunewall replied.
Gorman sighed. "Alright, new plan. Towers and I leave here. The rest of you will get into position as discussed on base, but stay hidden in the thick brush. Go around the path we established beforehand." He gestured for Towers to follow him after adjusting his helmet.
The two left the APC, stepping out into the heavy heat and humidity of the jungle. Gorman disappeared into the bushes, Towers close behind. "Stay low," he whispered.
"Got it, Gunny," Towers whispered back.
They slunk through the dense vegetation. Sweat ran down their faces, gradually soaking into their BDUs. Towers glanced over her shoulder, then returned her gaze to Gorman's back.
Gorman abruptly paused, and knelt. "Get down," he hissed.
Towers obeyed. "What's going on?"
Gorman was watching two armed men walking the perimeter beneath the hill. "That's not good," he said. "Almost confirms what the general feared. Ex-Seegson employees have turned to organized terrorism." He turned to Towers. "Keep in mind that not everyone here is former Seegson. That's impossible. There are probably hired mercs crawling all over. Not the kind of people you want to fuck around with. Stay close to me." Gorman continued moving forward. He paused again, waiting for the two guards to pass.
"Why don't we shoot 'em?" Towers asked.
"If we don't hit them both square in the skull, we'd attract unwanted attention. There's no guarantee we could hit them, so just don't do it. Besides, this is a recon mission, not an attack. We'll only shoot in self-defense."
They waited for five drawn-out minutes, then began moving up the hill. The two were shrouded by more trees and bushes. Once they were up against the wall of the massive building, they began searching for a vent cover.
Towers gave Gorman a terrified look when they found a huge cover, and began removing the screws with a small drill. This was where they would separate.
Gorman set the screws on top of the vent cover on the ground, and looked at Towers as he removed his armor. "Keep watch over this, OK? We'll be in contact through the radio."
Nodding, Towers took a deep breath as she was handed the individual pieces of Gorman's armor. "Please be careful," she said.
"Don't worry about me. Worry about yourself while you're out here. Keep me updated on things." Gorman removed his helmet, and adjusted his headset. "Seal me in once I'm inside."
"OK." Towers took the helmet. She watched Gorman crawl into the vent, then placed the cover over it, anxiously letting out her breath as she put the screws back in.
Gorman could hear the drill working behind him as he stared down the dark shaft. He put on his night-vision goggles, and began slowly moving forward. At the end of the shaft, he could take a right or left turn. Right would take him to the building's lobby. Left would take him to the server farm and computer labs.
It would be a long way. Gorman would be crawling through hundreds, maybe thousands of feet worth of vent, and he had been in far bigger systems than this one. It was just another maze today. Another long, complex, tight maze.
He was slow and cautious with his movements, trying to keep noise to a minimum. The shaft narrowed as he continued his way through, and he had to adjust himself a little, especially when crawling downward vertically. Gorman could tell from the way sounds echoed that he was now under a floor, and there was a light shining downward through a grate. He stopped moving when a shadow passed over the grate. Immediately, he switched off his headset, and lifted his goggles.
The guard didn't suspect a thing. He walked around the grate, but didn't bother looking inside. Gorman was hidden within the shadows. Everything that could shine on his uniform had been blacked out. The only thing he couldn't black out were his eyes. Any light shone into the vent, in his direction, would glint off his eyes.
Gorman could hear the guard walking above him, watch his shadow break the bars of light from the grate. He quietly released his breath as he realized the guard either wasn't leaving, or was taking his time with doing so. His heart beat wildly, and he could only pray that the guard above couldn't hear it.
Finally, the guard turned and walked away from the grate. Without hesitation, Gorman slunk forward, safe in the darkness and silence. The shape of the shaft continued to change. It grew flatter. He had to crawl through over thirty feet of this flat shaft until he reached a vertical shaft he needed to climb up.
It was impossible for Gorman to get on his knees. He slowly moved through the vent on his belly, trying to breathe evenly. He could feel the top of the vent against his shoulder blades. He could feel his heart pounding against the bottom of the vent.
He couldn't breathe a sigh of relief just yet when he came to the vertical shaft. Heart still racing, Gorman had to turn onto his back in order to crawl up into the shaft. There was dead silence, aside from his breathing. He tried to control it, not wanting the sound to echo through the shaft. Sound traveled fast in vents. Even the slight sound of liquid moving in his stomach as he turned his body was too audible for him to be comfortable. Go slower.
He took a breath, struggling to keep it calm and quiet after being in the flat, cramped shaft. He gradually moved himself into a sitting position in the next vent, feeling his stomach contents settle. Sure, he was less afraid than others of being in such small places, but that didn't mean he wasn't afraid at all. Once inside a vent-any vent-he knew there was no going back. He didn't enlist to quit.
After taking roughly thirty seconds to breathe, Gorman stood for the first time in hours. His next step was climb up, take a left, and continue on to the server farm.
2137
Desperation among those still living on Sevastopol was becoming more and more palpable. Waits could sympathize, but his sympathy all but faded when word of a black market began to circulate, and it definitely made matters worse when he found out Seegson Security under Sinclair was less than helpful.
Sinclair and Waits didn't have very many interactions, even less so when Waits took charge of the Bureau, and it didn't go unnoticed that Sinclair seemed to resent Waits as the new head of the Marshals. Unlike Hazelton, Waits had a low tolerance for insubordination, slacking off, and overall bullshit. He inspected things more often, and more carefully. It didn't take long for Waits to figure out how black market items were getting past inspection and quarantine.
Seegson Security guards outnumbered the Marshals. Waits knew it could potentially end poorly if he sent one or two men down to the Spaceflight Terminals to inspect all incoming ships. He couldn't afford to stretch his forces so thinly, especially when they were struggling to confiscate illegal goods on board Sevastopol.
Waits sacrificed sleep, meals, and time with Lingard to perform rounds himself, and it inevitably took a toll on him. It wasn't until September when the message finally came through from Seegson; Sevastopol was closing. Everyone except the most vital of personnel-Security, maintenance, and medical-had to leave. The Marshals, though not bound by Seegson, also had to stay. They would be the last to leave.
No time was wasted in getting transports ordered to Sevastopol and individual flights organized. Those going to Gateway and LV-510 would arrive quickest, in three weeks. It pained Waits that he and Lingard wouldn't be joining the civvies headed to Gateway, but he had no choice here. The people all came first.
What should have been a joyous occasion was wrought with frustration for Waits.
There was a night where he couldn't remember when he had last laid down, and gave loud moan when he collapsed next to Lingard. "How many more days till all the transports arrive, honey?"
"You're the one keeping track of them, Waits," Lingard replied with a yawn.
"That's right, I am." Waits rubbed his face. "I think . . ." he groaned again, "two weeks. Goddammit. Two whole fucking weeks. Then we gotta wait another two or three weeks for transports headed to further colonies. And then we can go."
"So, over a month," Lingard said.
"Maybe longer." Waits sighed. "My back hurts."
"Well, we don't have a lot of pain meds left, sweetie. Got nothing for you."
"That's OK. I'll live." A short moment passed, then Waits opened his arms. "Now come snuggle. I haven't seen you in awhile."
Lingard moved closer to Waits, who gave her a tight squeeze and a kiss on the cheek.
"I missed you," Waits whispered.
"I missed you, too," Lingard said.
"We're almost there. Feels like it'll take forever, but soon, we'll be on Gateway. I'll be puking everywhere, and you'll be taking care of me-"
"And I'll be waiting for you to get on one knee to ask that special little question."
"Yes. Yes, you will." Waits nuzzled her. "You haven't said anything to Morley, have you?"
"You'd know if I said something to Morley, because Morley . . . is Morley."
"Well, I want the quirky shit to be my best man. I owe him that much."
Lingard grinned. "You do. I'd be disappointed if he wasn't involved somehow." She turned on her side to face him, looking a little happier now that they were discussing a lighter topic. "Any ideas for a wedding?"
"You're gonna be the bride. You're supposed to plan the whole thing."
"No. You should help." Her grin faded. "I kinda ruined my dream wedding."
"Wasted it on your first husband?"
She nodded.
"What if you tried again? Only thing you change is the groom."
"I'll think about it." Lingard let out a quiet sigh, reaching over to ruffle Waits's hair. "It would be nice to have you as the groom. I feel like you'd actually keep your focus on me and not . . . not . . ."
"It's a wedding. I will never, ever take those vows for granted. And that's a promise I can keep."
Question: How might the events of "Ice Star" have gone differently if Towers was part of the squad sent to LV-426?
