Vectes Naval Base
Present Day
I will defend and maintain the Order of Life as it was proclaimed by the Allfathers of the Coalition in the Octus Canon.
I will forsake the life I had before so I may perform my duty as long as I am needed.
Steadfast, I shall hold my place in the machine and acknowledge my place in the Coalition.
I am a Gear.
- The Oath of the Coalition all recruits swear following their enlistment into the Armed Forces of the Coalition of Ordered Governments
"Around the base, down the bottom path, follow the beach and end near the first dock," Marcus instructed. "Got it?"
I pulled one leg up and behind me, stretching out my hamstrings. "Got it," I agreed.
"Let's go." Marcus checked the time on his watch before we set off on the last part of my PT test - the three mile run. It was almost weird seeing Marcus without full armor. Currently all he was wearing was standard issue fatigues and his do-rag. He let me set the pace and easily fell into step next to me.
It had been a long time - a long, long time - since I had gone for a run just for the sake of running, and not because I was trying to escape some pants-shittingly terrifying situation.
Marcus was a great running partner. He never pushed, never fell behind. The only sound was of our breathing - almost in unison. The sun pulled a light sheen of sweat from my skin, but if felt good. Clean.
I followed the path Marcus had set at the beginning of our run. When we got to the beach I found it harder to run on loose sand. Marcus wordlessly moved to the side so I could share the thin strip of wet sand that lined the surf. A few gulls took off as we approached, squealing out a warning as they took wing.
I could see the first dock about 100 meters ahead. I grinned and broke out into a dead spring. "Race ya!" I called to Marcus. I heard his soft grunt of effort as he started off after me.
I could have laughed, had I not been so focused on keeping my breathing in check. Marcus was a hell of a soldier, but a sprinter he was not. He kept up a good pace for a couple dozen meters, then I could hear him start to fall back. I beat him to the dock by almost a full ten seconds.
Marcus first checked the time: "19:28," he said before sucking in two lungfuls of air.
I watched him with a bemused smile. "Don't die," I teased.
He gave me an unimpressed look. "You're too much like your dad," he groused. "He enjoys running a bit too much too."
"All those years of healthy living," I said, pulling one arm to the side to stretch it out. "Come on, cool down walk?"
Marcus nodded, and we continued down the beach at a leisurely pace. I watched the waves roll in next to us as we walked.
"So you're sure about this?" Marcus broke the silence first. There was no need to ask what he meant.
I glanced at Marcus from the corner of my eye. "Were you?"
He rolled his large shoulders in a way that could have been a shrug, but was probably just him stretching. "Never more certain about anything in my life. My father…he was less so."
Professor Adam Fenix, I remembered suddenly. "Why? Did he want you to be an officer instead of enlisting?"
"Something like that," Marcus sighed, and I could see him taking in the view of the horizon. The ocean was a navy blue color; there were quite a few clouds in the sky, and they blocked much of the light before it could reach the surf. It matched his eyes. Baird's eyes were warmer – the color of seaweed underwater in the sunlight. "He wanted me to go to school."
"Well…there aren't any universities left, so that's not really an option for me," I said blithely. I wondered where this conversation was coming from; had Dom said something to Marcus? Did he want Marcus to talk me out of enlisting?
I had broken the news to Delta at dawn. Most of them had simply shrugged and accepted my announcement like it was the logical next step: if I wanted to keep working with the Gears, eventually I would have to become one. Cole had been the most exuberant; he'd picked me up with both hands and bounced me around like a ragdoll. "Aww, theys in the shit now!" he had exclaimed in that too-loud, too-excited voice of his. "Lil' Santiago gonna be a badass!" Baird simply shook his head, muttered something like 'poor, dumb bastard,' and returned to his work.
But Dom had carefully kept his expression politely neutral. I had meant to tell him first – in private, in our room – but he had already been up and gone by the time I had awoken. He hadn't seemed excited at the prospect, but he didn't seem disappointed either. Anya had pulled me aside to fill out paperwork, and then Marcus had shown up to administer my PT test. It had been hours, and I still hadn't had a chance to speak with Dom yet. I didn't need his approval to enlist, but the thought that he might disapprove left a strange, tight feeling in the pit of my stomach.
"Do you think I'm making a mistake?" I asked, the realization taking me by surprise.
"Doesn't matter what I think."
"Yes," I insisted in a small voice. "It does."
Marcus finally took his eyes off the horizon and met my gaze. For a long moment I thought he wasn't going to answer. "You're not bad in a fight," he finally said. "You're careful, smart, and you've managed to survive this long. So, no, I don't think it's a mistake. As long as you're sure it's what you want."
"It is." There was no doubt in my voice. Becoming a Gear had been my dream for so long, and yet until now it had seemed so far out of reach. I felt slightly guilty using Dom's connection to Hoffman to secure my pardon, but now that the papers were signed and Prescott couldn't ship me off to a farm…I felt lighter than I had in years.
"But does Dom think it's a mistake?" I asked him after another moment spent in silence.
"You'll have to ask him."
At that I rolled my eyes. "You know him better than anyone – better than I do. Take a guess."
"Dom's going to want to protect you. He's seen a lot of Gears die bloody over the years. But so have lots of civilians, and lots of Stranded. He's not sure if enlisting means you'll be safer or not. If he decides that you are then he'll be all for it."
I blinked. It was the most I'd ever heard Marcus say at one time. It was almost overwhelming. "And…if he decides I'm not safer?"
Marcus slowly closed and then opened one fist. "Ask him," he repeated in a slightly frustrated voice.
I imagined I was running through my ration of conversation with Marcus. There was one last thing that I wanted to discuss with Marcus, and this was the first chance I'd had to speak with him in private. The only problem was I had no idea how to approach it. I waited until Marcus started to turn back towards the base, then decided to take a run at it before he could walk off.
"You know what Dom did to Darvish, right? How do you square that away? I mean, how is that ok?"
Marcus didn't look at me. For a long time he didn't answer, and for a second I thought maybe he wouldn't. "Someone once told me that we all get one," he finally said.
"One what?"
He shrugged his muscular shoulders. "One free pass. One trip off the reservation. One time to do something out of character to make things right."
I thought over his logic. "Shit, just the one?" I probably had a dozen times I'd gone off reservation and done something I'd regretted. "You ever use your one?"
As soon as the question was out I regretted it. I felt Marcus glance at me from the side. "Yeah," he said pointedly. "I have."
I didn't ask him to elaborate. He had to be talking about going and rescuing his dad during the battle for Ephyra. That definitely counted as going off reservation. "So, it just gets forgiven?" I asked.
"Do you think he did the wrong thing?"
"No," I answered immediately. It was true; Darvish deserved to die. "I just...I wish Dom hadn't been the one who had to do it."
We trailed to a gradual stop in the sand. Marcus was looking out at the horizon; I was staring hard at our footprints on the beach. This was a conversation that had to be held without looking at one another. "My father deserved to be rescued," he said quietly. "But it shouldn't have been me; I was needed at the battle. Sometimes we do the wrong thing for the right reason, simply because no one else will."
I was quiet after that, digesting what Marcus had said. I got the feeling that this wasn't something he discussed with people often. "But you didn't get away with it," I pointed out softly. "You went to prison."
Marcus rolled his shoulders. "I should have gotten a firing squad. I was sentenced to forty years; only served four. I'd call that forgiven."
"But you haven't forgiven yourself."
This time Marcus didn't respond. He stood there for another twenty, thirty seconds before heading up the path back to Vectus base. I gave it another minute, then followed after him.
"Bri!" I was tackled by two red-headed torpedoes as soon as I entered the gates to Vectes. I grunted with the impact and froze in shock for a moment, relaxing once I recognized the younger girls.
"Hey guys! What are you doing here?"
"Flew in special to get them old rigs in the dockyard going," a familiar, crass voice answered. "I got the magic touch. Heh, Betty's gonna get jealous."
I smiled at Dizzy as I returned Maralin and Teresa's embrace. "Good to see you guys! Welcome to Vectes! I guess you're the advance party that Hoffman was talking about?"
"We flew in this morning. Hoffman was nice enough to let me bring the girls."
Maralin touched my elbow to get my attention. "We flew on a Raven." Her eyes were still wide in shock. It had probably been her first time flying anywhere. "Isn't that cool?"
"Very," I answered her. "Just wait until you're dogfighting in one."
Teresa had gone slightly pale, so I nudged her to let her know I was joking. "You guys pick out a apartment in the barracks yet? Dom picked us out a room. You can get one on the same floor!"
I hadn't realized my mistake until Dizzy shot me a confused look. "I ain't had a drop of drink since we left the mainland, so I know I heard you rightly. Why're you shacking up with Dom?"
My nose wrinkled at the slight implication in his voice. "Oh, um…we haven't exactly had a chance to talk yet. Turns out…well…Dom is my father."
Teresa gasped in surprise, then pulled me in tighter for another hug. I patted her back, but my eyes never left Dizzy's face. I saw the shock there, and then something else – a quick flash that almost looked like…disappointment? Immediately I understood, and felt the guilt come crashing in.
"It doesn't change anything, Diz," I assured him. "I'm never going to forget what you did for me. That doesn't get wiped away – ever."
I didn't want Dizzy to think he was being replaced, or that I didn't need him anymore. I could see that that's where his mind had gone. Not many knew, but Maralin and Teresa were his adopted daughters. He had met their mother shortly after she had given birth to them. He'd been their father since before they could remember. He was their father – there was no 'step' about it. Even still I could imagine that Dizzy would be sensitive to the idea of a biological father appearing like magic and bumping him down to second place.
Dizzy took off the moth-eaten cowboy hat he always wore and adjusted the do-rag underneath it. He replaced his hat and whistled long and low under his breath. "Dang," he finally said. "If it ain't chickens, it's feathers with you. When the hell did that happen?"
I gently pulled out of Teresa's arms. The girls were happy for me – they couldn't imagine something better than a father dropping back into their life, especially since Dizzy set a pretty high bar for parents everywhere – but I could tell Dizzy was upset. Upset I hadn't told him, most likely. "A couple of weeks," I answered abashedly. "I'm sorry I didn't come and tell you – everything was crazy, and it must have just slipped my mind. Dizzy, I'm so sorry."
"Ah. No worries," he tried for a smile underneath his salt-and-pepper beard. "I'm happy for ya, girl."
I put a hand on his forearm to get his attention. "No, it's not okay. I didn't even tell you I was coming with Delta to the island. You deserve better than that. It won't happen again."
Dizzy patted my hand comfortingly a few times. "You got the tail wagging the dog, here. Yeah I woulda appreciated you letting me know you sailed off into the sunset, but it ain't the first time you vanished on me, and it probably won't be the last. All I need to know is that yer safe."
I gave him a smile. "Well…I've got some more news, too. I'm actually really happy you guys are here. I'm taking my oath tonight, in the mess hall. I'm going to be a Gear!"
This time all three of them shot me that shocked, slightly disappointed look. My smile wiped off my face as I stared back. "What?"
"You're going to be a Gear?" Maralin repeated, then bit her lip. "Are you sure?"
"Because of yer birthing order?" Dizzy lowered his voice and his brow. "Bri – I done told you we'd figure that out. There's some other way, there's gotta be. You don't have to enlist just so you can stay here."
I shook my head. The three of them may have joined the COG years ago, but they still had Stranded instincts. Usually when someone joined the army it was because they had no other choice – because the COG hadn't given most people another choice. "No, I'm doing this because I want to. Because your dad here just makes that armor look so good."
Dizzy didn't take the bait. "Bri, you better think long and hard. That oath ain't something you can walk away from easy. Going Stranded is one thing; going AWOL is another."
"I'm not going anywhere," I snapped at him. "I've finally got my life back – my family, a place where I belong. Don't you get it? Being Stranded was awful; always running, always cold, scared, and hungry. I couldn't even see the girls for years. I couldn't see you, Dizzy. I lost everything when I walked away from the COG. I've finally got a chance to get it all back, and you're telling me not to do it?" I hated the vaguely wounded tone my voice had taken, but I couldn't help it. "I thought you'd be proud of me."
"Darling, I'm always gonna be proud of you-"
"Good. Then you'll be there tonight, right?"
I stared Dizzy down without breaking eye contact. All I had ever wanted was his support; it hurt when I realized that it was in question. He sucked in a deep breath and then agreed with one, curt nod. "'Course."
"Great. I'll see you there, then." I brushed past him and headed blindly for the barracks. I forced myself to ignore the burn of tears in the back of my throat. He's wrong. That's all. I sprinted up the stairs when I got to the stairwell. Our room was on the third floor and my calves burned once I reached the right hallway. I yanked the key out of my pocket and shoved it into the lock a bit roughly. I opened the door, and froze.
Dom was in the room. I hadn't expected to run into him at this hour, and I took a second to wipe the anger off my face. It was too late; he had seen the thundercloud over my head as soon as I walked in.
"You okay?" he asked immediately, dropping something small and white to his desk. "What's wrong?"
I shook my head and let the door fall shut behind me once Sam had entered. "It's noth-" I started to say, but paused. I rubbed my forehead as I watched him. "Do you want me to enlist?"
"What?"
"Do you not want me to be a Gear?" My voice was sharp as anger at Dizzy still swirled in my veins. "Do you not think I can fight? If I was Bennie would you want him to be a soldier?"
Dom was confused. Of course he was – I came in and attacked him unprovoked. I had thought that Dom would be ecstatic when I told him that I wanted to follow in his footsteps. His less-than-enthusiastic response had left me doubting myself. Coupled with Dizzy's hesitant expression I was tail-spinning. "Ok, hold on-"
"I don't care what you think!" I snapped, pointing a finger accusingly at him. "I'm doing this! I've wanted this since I was ten years old. You're not going to talk me out of it!"
Dom waited patiently for me to run out of steam. He cocked his head to the side when I finally fell quiet. "Are you done?"
"No!" I snapped, then tightened my jaw. "…Maybe."
"Good. Maybe we can talk rationally about this." He pulled out his desk chair and kicked it in my direction. He leaned against the desk and crossed his arms, waiting patiently. I shot him a bitter look but sat in the chair.
"I don't want you to enlist," Dom began, talking over me when I started to interrupt. "I don't want you to do anything that you don't want to do. The only thing I want is for you to be happy. But don't do it because you have something to prove, or because you think it's what I want, or because you're running from something."
I narrowed my eyes. "Hoffman talked to you."
"Hoffman has been my commander a hell of a lot longer than he's been yours," Dom said with a smile. "Of course he told me. And he's already signed the paperwork on your pardon – that's a done deal no matter what. So if the only reason why you want to enlist is because you're scared, or because you think you have to hold up your end of the bargain…then don't do it. Because then you're doing it for the wrong reasons. So…why do you want to be a Gear?"
I deflated as the anger faded away as quickly as it came. I eyed Dom warily. "You're actually pretty good at this 'Dad' shit."
He barked out a laugh. "Thanks. But answer the question."
I sighed and leaned my elbows on my knees. "I guess…because I want to keep the people I care about safe," I answered honestly. "Like the other night – when the Stranded attacked. I would have lost my mind if I was one of the civilians hiding in the town, knowing that you and everyone else was out there risking their lives. If I'm a part of the battle…then I can influence the outcome. I have the power to control how it turns out, even if only slightly. I have to know that I can make a difference."
Dom was grinning at me when I looked up again. "I think you'll make one hell of a Gear."
"Yeah?"
"Hell yeah. If it's-"
"If it's what I want, yeah I heard you." I leaned my chair back on two legs and braced my boot against the edge of the desk. He tapped my foot and gave me a disapproving look and I let myself fall to all fours again. "What were you working on when I walked in?"
He turned and picked up the off-white squares he had sat down earlier. "Just going through some old pictures." My head lifted interestedly and he held them out.
I stared at the first picture. It was yellowed and faded with age – even more so than the ones of Maria he had shown me before. The man inside it looked vaguely familiar – something about the eyes, and the set of his brow. He was wearing an old COG uniform that I had only seen in history books. "My dad," Dom explained. "Your grandad. He served with the Royal Tyran during the Pendulum wars."
I flipped to the next picture. It looked just as old as the previous. This man also looked slightly familiar, but his uniform was one I hadn't seen before. "Maria's old man. He was in the Navy."
"Carlos," Dom said when I pulled the next photo. This time his voice was slightly hushed. "He died in battle the night you were born." This time the family resemblance was crystal clear. He and Dom looked so similar they almost could have been twins. My grandfathers had looked stoic in their portraits, but Carlos grinned widely at the camera. He was wearing familiar COG plates, and had his arms spread wide, like he was about to hug the photographer. I found myself smiling back at him.
Dom didn't need to introduce the people in the next photo; I recognized him and Marcus immediately. They were both younger, less weathered. Marcus was missing the gnarly scars that twisted down his face and gave him a permanent frown. "Look closer," Dom instructed me, and tapped the corner. When I squinted, I saw a blonde woman – slightly blurred and walking out of frame.
"Anya?" I guessed.
"Yep. That was the first time Marcus and I had seen each other after commando school, before we really knew her. It was a couple of years after I Maria took the picture that I realized she was there. We all really do live in each other's back pockets."
I handed back the stack of photos. "Ok…but why did you pull these out?"
Dom gently squared the corners of the stack and placed them in a drawer. "Well, I borrowed Baird's camera for tonight. I was going to add your photo to the stack."
I felt the lump rise in my throat and got to my feet so I could distract myself. I pushed the chair back under the desk before I felt Dom place a hand on my shoulder. When I looked at him he was closer than I expected. "So, are you going to do this?" he asked. I swallowed thickly, then nodded. A wide smile broke across his face like the sunrise over the horizon. "I'm so proud of you, mija. Nothing will ever change that."
His arms were open in a silent invitation. I almost stepped away out of habit, but instead I let him fold me into his embrace. I wrapped my arms around his frame and returned his hug. He squeezed tightly, but not like the rib-splitting hugs Cole liked to give. Dom's arms were safe, warm, comforting. He pressed a kiss into the top of my head – evidently one of his preferred ways of showing affection. "I love you," he murmured into my hair.
"Oh! I um...yeah, you too." I was caught off guard and stumbled over my words. Dom didn't seem to mind; he gave me one last squeeze and let me go.
"You might want to take a shower before you take your oath, though," Dom said with a glint of mischief in his eye. "You stink."
"Shut up!" I shoved his shoulder. "You go do a hundred sit-ups, and push-ups, and pull-ups, and then run a 5k in under twenty minutes! See if you smell like roses!"
"Like rotten eggs," Dom quipped, picking up his lancer and heading towards the door. "Or maybe Cole's old jock strap."
He was lucky he got out the door before I found something to throw at him.
I hit the showers after Dom left. Just like the rest of the barracks the bathrooms were huge with dozens of showers and stalls, and my only competition was Anya, Mataki, and Gettner. I was sure that would change once the rest of the COG arrived, but for now I took full advantage. I wasn't sure if there was a limit to the hot water that poured out of the showerhead, but I was made sure to get my fair share before I had competition.
I was washing soap out of my hair – letting the water run over my closed eyes – when I heard a tentative voice call out, "Bri?"
I paused, then stepped back out of the stream of water. "Uh…yeah?"
"It's Anya," I heard her call. Her voice echoed oddly off of the tile room, so I appreciated the introduction. "I've got some things for you."
"Umm, ok?" I inched back towards the warm water. "Can it wait?"
"Sure, sure." I waited, but I didn't hear footsteps walking away. "I've got some stuff to do your hair. You know, for tonight."
I sighed heavily and reluctantly turned off the water. A small whirlpool took the suds and warm water away and down the drain. Instantly I was freezing, and I grabbed the rough cotton towel I had procured earlier. It almost wrapped twice around my thin frame; I imagined they were meant for Gears. I pulled back the shower curtain and stepped reluctantly out onto the cool tile. "Here," Anya said and passed me a small bundle of clothes. "I think they'll fit you. It's hard to find anything in a woman's size.
"Thanks," I said, and stepped back into the shower so I could close the curtain and have some privacy. I tossed the towel over the curtain rod and unfolded the first item. When I saw what it was, I peeked my head out from behind the curtain and stared at Anya in awe. "Where did you find these?" I asked in a wonder-struck voice.
Anya had turned around in discretion, but she twisted and grinned at me. "They're nice, right? I found them in a closet in the barracks. I had to scavenge a bit to get the right ribbons, but they're all there. I wanted to make this special for you."
I felt a lump rise in my throat, and I ducked behind the curtain again. Somehow Anya had found a full outfit of COG Dress Greys – the military uniform for formal events. There was a pressed, white cotton button down shirt with black buttons. The uniform itself was a soft grey color with braided red trim. There were four gold buttons down the front of the jacket, each pressed with the symbol of the COG. On either shoulder was a single, gold chevron – signifying the rank of 'Private'. The trousers were a matching grey color with a black leather belt. I pulled each item on, marveling at the thick weight of the fabric. I stepped out of the shower, the edges of the uniform slightly damp. I tugged at the hems, trying to get it to lie right. "Well?" I asked her. "How do I look?"
Anya turned and gave me a once over, then frowned. "Not quite. If you're going to wear the uniform, you're going to do it right. Let's start with regulation hair."
My hands instinctively went to the mop of wet curls atop my head. "Do I…" I blanched. "Do I have to shave my head?"
Anya tried valiantly not to laugh. "No. That's reserved for the men." Every Gear I had seen go through basic training had come back with a buzzed haircut. For a second I had thought that I'd have to do the same. It was almost enough to re-think my enlistment; I wasn't uptight about my appearance, but I didn't relish the jokes I knew Baird would make at my expense until it grew back in. "Here," she motioned to a chair that she had dragged in earlier and set in front of a mirror. "Take the jacket off, and have a seat."
I cautiously did as she said. She went to the countertop filled with rows of sinks and picked up a comb and a hairbrush, as well as a small white bottle. "I'm going to put some coconut oil in your hair to help with the frizz."
I gave her a doubtful look. "You're going to oil my hair?"
"Not quite," she said, smiling slightly. She opened the jar and scooped some out with her fingers. She rubbed her hands together, then started gently running her hands over and through my wet hair. As she worked I could feel her gently finding the larger tangles and teasing them out with her fingers. I could smell the sweet, heady scent of coconut in the air. When my hair was sleek and shiny she started with the comb, finding and unraveling the smaller tangles.
It was an oddly feminine moment. The most I had even done with my hair was drag a brush through it and then toss it up into a pony-tail. When I was young and lived with Bane, it was common that my hair would get so tangled that I would have to cut it close to my skull. I grew up with ragged, jagged hairstyles. Even when I lived with Ace none of the boys expressed interest in how I wore my hair. The only person who had ever done my hair like this had been…
Mom.
I bit my lip as a rush of longing so strong and so fierce ripped its way through my chest. The intimacy of having someone else style your hair wasn't something I was familiar with, so it shouldn't have been something I missed. But suddenly I could remember Maria gently running a comb through my hair in much the same way Anya was now. She would hum as she did so, or tell stories, or listen as I prattled on about something inconsequentially about my four-year old life.
I had tried for years to convince myself that I didn't need a family. It was only now, here, that I could really see how much I had lost.
"There," Anya finally spoke, laying a hand atop each of my shoulders. "What do you think?"
I glanced into the mirror, and then did a double take. She had styled it into a tight bun that I had seen other military women wear before. But my black hair was sleek and shiny, with nary a hair out of place. I reached to touch it – gently, to not disturb it – and marveled at how soft and clean it felt. "It's not oily," I said, impressed.
Anya laughed and handed me the small white jar she had used before. "There's not a lot, so use it sparingly. It makes your hair soft and hydrated. It will get greasy if you use too much, though," she warned.
I couldn't stop turning my head to examine my new hairstyle from every angle. "It's great, Anya," I gushed gratefully. "Seriously, thank you!"
"I've got a little bit of makeup, if you want to try it," she offered hesitantly. "Regs permit some makeup, as long as it's conservative."
I started to say no, but I paused when I saw the hopeful look on her face. Anya was surrounded by male Gears most of her life. This makeover was as novel for her as it was for me. "Uhh…sure," I agreed hesitantly. "Just…not too much."
She almost flew from the room. "I'll be right back!" she called as the door closed quickly behind her. "Don't go anywhere!"
I obediently stayed seated until she returned – face flushed and eyes dancing with excitement. "Right," she said, laying out small compact squares on the countertop before me. "Not a whole lot. No foundation – our skin tones don't match, but it's not like you need it. A little mascara, some lipstick, and maybe a smidge of blush."
"Just…don't make me look like a clown. I will hop back into that shower – don't think I won't."
She cocked an eyebrow and pointed threateningly with a mascara wand. "If you mess up that hair before I have a chance to watch you swear your oath tonight, it will not end well for you."
We both laughed. I had always felt awkward around Anya but I never understood why. Maybe she could be a bit intimidating, but no more so than Marcus, and I always felt comfortable around him. Maybe it was because Anya was so disconnected from everything I found familiar – she wore heels, while I wore boots. I hadn't exactly been sure how to connect with her. I finally understood that Anya was just as pure-hearted as Dom, as friendly as Cole, and every bit the leader as Marcus. I gave her a fond smile as I realized that she would come to mean as much to me as the rest of them did.
My heartbeat thrummed in my chest like a hummingbird. I stood at attention the way Marcus had shown me – chest out, shoulders back, chin up – with my hands clasped against my thighs. The uniform Anya had procured for me was stiff and unyielding, almost as uncomfortable as Kevlar. I could feel everyone's eyes on me – Dom, Marcus, Cole, Baird, Dizzy and his girls, even Mataki – as Hoffman marched up and came to a stop a meter from where I stood.
I raised my right hand level with my forehead and snapped off a salute. I kept my eyes fixated on a spot on the wall across the mess hall, but I saw Hoffman return the salute out of the corner of my eye. I returned my hand to my side – thumb finding the seam in my trousers – and tried to relax my breathing.
This is it.
"Are you prepared to swear your allegiance to the Coalition of Ordered Governments, and dedicate yourself to its defense against all enemies foreign and domestic?"
"Sir, yes sir."
"Do you swear to obey the covenants of the Octus Canon as set forth by the Allfathers, and to obey all orders of the officers appointed over you?"
"Sir, yes sir."
The room was dead silent. "Sylvia Santiago," Hoffman continued, "Raise your right hand and repeat after me. I shall remain vigilant and unyielding in my pursuit of the enemies of the Coalition."
I repeated the oath line by line as Hoffman called them out. I never took my eyes off of the spot on the wall. It felt almost unreal – like I was floating above it all – until I repeated the last words of the oath:
"I am a Gear."
I lowered my hand back to my side and remained at attention. Hoffman moved out of my peripheral for just a moment, then reappeared in front of me. I heard the light jingling of COG tags as he lifted them over my head and let them settle around my neck. They were heavier than I expected; it felt like a lead weight had landed on my chest. Hoffman saluted once again, and I returned the motion in kind.
"Whoo!" Cole train broke the dead air with a characteristic whoop of enthusiasm. "That's what I'm talking about!"
Instantly the tension broke and a grin cracked my face in two. I finally let myself look directly at Hoffman, and he too was smiling slightly. "Congratulations," he said, holding a hand out for me to shake. "You've got some big boots to fill. I expect a lot from a Santiago."
"Yes sir," I agreed, shaking his hand eagerly. He moved to the side and I could see people starting to gather around me to offer cheers.
"My baby girl is a badass!" I heard Dom exclaim loudly just before gathering me in his arms and squeezing tightly. A camera flash went off, but I wasn't sure who was taking the picture.
"Double the Santiago, double the pain, baby!" Cole reached over the group of people to offer a fist bump.
"You know it!" I answered him, then shook the hand Marcus had outstretched.
"Congrats," he was more subdued than anyone else, but he looked satisfied. "You've got this."
"Somebody pour me a drink!" The mood in the room shifted to a celebratory one. Anya set out an impressive tray complete with cheeses and dried meats, and liquor bottles were poured into cups of all different shapes and sizes. Conversations started buzzing around the room and Cole's laughter echoed around the mess hall. I stood off to the side and watched everyone partake in the food and drink as I fidgeted with the COG tags slung around my neck.
I did it, I thought with a small smile. I made it. Ace, if you could see me now…
Dizzy caught my eye from across the room and raised his glass in my direction. I gave him a small nod as he toasted my accomplishment. He may not have agreed with my decision but he still showed up to support me. I should have known he would; Dizzy was always there when I needed him.
"You'll get used to the weight," Marcus said from behind me, and I spun to face him. He motioned with his glass at the tags I was playing with. "They're heavier than they look."
"Oh, um…yeah. They are."
I leaned against the wall beside him and enjoyed the small reprieve of peace. It wasn't that I didn't want to celebrate with everyone, I just needed a minute to come to terms with the life-altering decision I had made. Silence with Marcus was expected, comfortable. Marcus held out his cup, offering to get me one, but I shook my head. I wanted to remember this moment.
I watched Baird break off from the group and head my direction. "Don't say I never got you anything," he said once within earshot, and tossed me a small, black bag. I caught it with both hands and gave him a curious smile.
"You got me a gift?" I asked, pulling the drawstrings and tipping it over end to let the small, pebble-like object fall into my palm. It took me a second before I recognized it and gasped with excitement. "You got me a comm!" I suddenly realized what Baird had been working on the past few days; the small jumble of electronic equipment he had been fiddling with was now put back together into a working earpiece.
"I keyed in the squelch codes to access the COG repeaters, but you'll have to plug in your most used frequencies into the favorites list," Baird said. "This ain't Christmas."
My hand curled protectively around the earpiece as I gave him a wide grin. "You got me a present. You really did. Do you realize what this means?"
Baird's eyes grew wide in horror. "Oh, fuck no-" he started to say, and took a step back.
I held my arms out wide and walked towards him. "We're like…friends now! Can you believe it? We should hug – this is a very big moment for us."
"Oh, hell no. It's so when you're supposed to have my back you're not screwing around God knows where."
"Wow, man. Friends." I shook my head and wrapped the earpiece back into the bag and tucked it into my pocket. "Who woulda thought?"
Baird's eyes narrowed as he took a sip of his drink. "Keep telling yourself that. Besides, Hoffman put Mataki in charge of your training. You're going to need it if you're coming on patrol with us tomorrow morning."
"Of course," I nodded eagerly. "How could I refuse my bestest friend in the whole wide world?"
"I need a stiffer drink," Baird groused and started walking away. I laughed before relaxing against the wall next to Marcus.
Marcus was eyeing me curiously. "You know Dom is going to freak, right?"
My smile faded as I gave him a confused look. "Freak about what?" I asked, but Marcus was already walking away.
I headed to the room in the wee hours of the morning. I only had a couple of hours before dawn. Cole had dragged Baird, Sorotki, Anya and I into some sort of convoluted drinking game involving a pack of cards and copious amounts of liquor. I hadn't wanted to play, but Cole had insisted it was tradition for recruits to play on their first night of boot camp. He was probably lying, but it beat the alternative 'tradition' he offered me – answering Coalition trivia and running a lap for every wrong answer.
Dom was snoring softly in his bed. He'd gotten out of the game by insisting that he really didn't want to find out if his daughter could drink him under the table. I think Cole realized I was more likely to let down my guard when I wasn't worried about offending Dom, which is why he let him go off to bed. The next time Cole insisted on a drinking game I was sure Dom wouldn't get off so easy.
Sam took one sniff of the offending alcohol on my breath and crossed to the other side of the room to sleep next to Dom. She tucked her nose under her tail pointedly. "Everyone's a critic," I mused quietly, before climbing unsteadily into my bed. As I laid my head down on my pillow, my cheek stuck to a slightly glossy piece of paper. "Wha-?" I plucked it off of my check and peered down at it, trying to see what it was in the darkness. I stumbled to my feet and headed to the window to use the faint bit of moonlight to see by.
It was a photograph. I recognized Dom before I recognized myself; he had his arm slung over my shoulders and was grinning from ear to ear. The uniform I wore – the same one I was still wearing – still looked unfamiliar, but it suited me. Even Marcus was in the photo – slightly off to the side – and he had a small smile as he watched Dom.
Instinct told me to flip the photo over. On the back I recognized Dom's scribbled handwriting. I had to blink a few times to get my eyes to focus:
'You're pretty good at this daughter shit, too.'
Author's Note: Ok, so I really did intend for this to be a short chapter - maybe 3,000-4,000 words - but it ended up being twice that. Thanks for making it this far! I know this chapter was nothing but dialogue, but they were conversations that needed to be had. Hopefully you guys didn't mind!
So what did you guys think? Would you have made the same decision as Bri? Let me know in the reviews!
