Eighty Kilometers East of Jacinto Bay
Ten Years After E-Day
"The COG isn't a superpower any longer, and we're not a national government. We're just city hall with an army, a navy, and the power of life and death. Prescott's a mayor with weapons of mass destruction."
- Captain Quentin Michaelson, in a private conversation with Colonel Victor Hoffman
After hours aboard the King Raven, Ace felt that his heartbeat had been replaced with the cold thrum of the propellers. The dull roar muted all other noise despite the headset he wore. Typically the sound of an approaching Raven was one of comfort; it meant rescue, support, and resupply. Today, however, it only meant coming closer to the unknown.
Ace was sitting on the edge of the bulkhead, legs dangling over a thousand meter drop into the ocean. He had a safety hook attached to his belt but the connection was worryingly tenuous. It was the only way for him to get the vantage point needed to make sure they weren't being followed. He lifted his longshot again and scanned the horizon. He knew from experience that the tiniest black dot could turn out to be Reavers, or Nemacysts. They couldn't afford accidentally leading Locust to one of the last military research bases, even if it was defunct.
A large hand rested on Ace's shoulder and he jerked away from the scope. He hadn't been able to hear anyone approaching him, and the sudden intrusion was disorienting. It was Clay Carmine – large, muscled, helmeted – checking in on him. Clay held up a thumb's up but held his head cocked to the side, questioning. Ace nodded and repeated the gesture, and Clay retreated to the bulkhead.
Clay opened the door to what served as the bathroom and started to step inside, but jerked back suddenly. Ace, who had been lazily watching through his peripheral, snapped to attention as Clay reached down to the ground and snatched someone's wrist.
Ace – as well as Sergeant Kim, who had noticed the skirmish – were on their feet as Clay dragged out their stowaway. Ace's heart dropped somewhere near his feet as he recognized the black ponytail, tanned skin, and apologetic little smile Bri flashed at him. He tried to take a step closer, but his safety line pulled taut and almost knocked him on his ass. "What the fuck?!" he shouted at her, loud enough to be heard over the deafening roar of the raven.
Bri attempted a chagrined smile. She was embarrassed that she had been caught so early into their mission, but not remorseful. The man who had caught her finally let go of her elbow as he realized she had nowhere to run to. She tried to say something to Ace – something that would relax the murderous look on his face – but realized he couldn't hear her. Before she could try again, louder this time, another man with a sergeant's emblem on his chest slammed the bulkhead door shut.
Immediately the noise inside the Raven was cut in half. Even still, the sergeant turned and grabbed a spare headset and slapped it over her ears. "Who the fuck are you?" Bri heard him growl as soon as the device powered on.
"Bri, what the fuck?" Ace interrupted, clicking his headset back on as well.
"You know this girl?" Sergeant Kim asked.
Bri focused on Ace, as if they were the only two people aboard. "I told you not to leave me again," she defended herself. "I told you I was ready for this. It's your fault for not listening to me!"
Ace started forward again, probably to throttle Bri, but he was yanked back by his safety harness. "Do you have any idea how insane this is?!" he shouted at her, loud enough to be heard without the headset. "This is how you prove you're responsible enough to be a Gear? You think this is going to make me trust you?"
Sergeant Kim held a hand up to silence Ace. "Private, explain. Who is she?"
"She's…" Ace hesitated. He had spent the last few years doing his best to make sure Bri didn't attract any attention from the COG government. Children who brought attention to themselves didn't stay children very long. Once the COG had set its sights on someone they either became soldiers, workers, or some far worse fates. Despite Bri's penchant for pulling pranks she had flown under the radar thanks to Ace forging paperwork, bribing MP's, and cleaning up Bri's messes before the higher ups could take notice. But this was too big to fix. With one fell swoop Bri had undone all the work Ace had put into keeping her hidden over the years. There was nothing he could do now to protect her. "She's my sister," he finally answered, using the cover story they had concocted years earlier. At least he had the paperwork to back up his claim. All he could hope to do now was damage control.
"And you bring your little sister on all your missions?" Clay asked, sounding amused.
"Of course not! I-" Ace pinched the bridge of his nose. "She wants to be a Gear. But she doesn't meet the age requirements for another month."
"Don't talk about me like I'm not here," Bri said with a cold look towards Ace.
"You shouldn't be here at all!"
"Enough." Kim silenced the three of them with a single look. He then turned and narrowed his eyes at Bri. "Young lady, do you realize how serious this is? Gears have been court martialed for far less."
"You can't court martial me," Bri pointed out. "I'm not a Gear."
"Civilian tribunal under martial law, then," Kim easily corrected himself. "I'm sure you'll fair far worse."
For the first time since being pulled from under the bulkhead, Bri felt uneasy. Tucking herself away on Ace's mission had been a spur-of-the-moment decision. She hadn't had time to think about what the consequences might be. What if this stopped her from becoming an actual Gear?
Ace ran a hand through his hair and let out a sigh through his nose. With his other hand he unsnapped his safety hook so he could pace the small length of the bird. "Sir," he finally bit out, coming to a stop in front of Kim. "I take full responsibility here. I'll accept whatever punishment you deem fitting. Tell Prescott it's my fault our mission was delayed. Just, please-"
"Wait," Kim interrupted. "Why would our mission be delayed?"
"Because, well…we have to take her back."
Kim shook his head and Ace felt ice water in his veins. "Sorry, private. That's not going to happen. We've come too far to turn around now."
Opal, who had been listening in silently, rose from her seat on the bench and opened her mic. "Sir, we're approaching the archipelago. T-minus twenty minutes."
Kim nodded. "Alright, grab your gear. Carmine, get on the door gun and ensure we have a clear landing zone. And you-" he pointed at Bri, "If you step one foot off of this Raven I will personally tell the Chairman how you put this entire operation at risk. Understood?"
"Sir, yes sir," Bri chirped, then perched herself on the bench. Clay took up the door gunner position while Ace strapped himself into his pack. When he was fully outfitted, he sat on the bench next to Bri. She could see the muscle in his jaw working as he chewed over what to say.
"I bet you're-"
"Quiet," he snapped at her. "Do you even realize how stupid this little stunt of yours was?"
"I was just-"
"Do you have any idea what the consequences of this will be? What the COG will do to you?"
"I-"
"Jesus Christ, Bri. I can't believe you. I mean, what were you thinking?"
She just stared at him until he prodded her with an exasperated "Well?"
"Am I allowed to speak now?"
"Bri." Ace said in a warning tone.
"Okay, okay. I've told you over and over that I'm ready to be a Gear. I'm ready to fight. And you won't listen. So, I figured it was time to show you."
Ace fought the urge to bury his face in his hands. Instead, he retrieved his safety line from where it had fallen on the floor, and clipped it to Bri's pants. "I swear, if you take off that hook and leave the Raven for any reason I will make sure we 'accidentally' leave you marooned on the island."
"Fine," Bri agreed, subtly crossing her fingers on her left hand.
I hesitated in the hallway, hand resting on the doorknob. Inside our room I could hear Dom rummaging around, getting ready for the day. He had been asleep when I got in last night, and gone taking a shower when I woke up this morning. But if I walked in now, I knew he'd be able to read the worry on my face.
I couldn't get the look on Bernie's face out of my mind – the trembling, all-consuming anger balanced with…well, not quite fear, but something. Coming face to face with John Massy – with her rapist – had shaken her. I hated how well I knew that feeling.
As far as I knew, Bernie hadn't told anyone else yet. She hadn't really told me, either, I just happened to guess correctly. Still, I didn't want to accidentally betray her trust by clueing someone else in before she was ready. Dom was getting annoyingly proficient at reading my facial expressions, so I took a second to affix a neutral look. Sighing, I entered the room I shared with Dom. "Hey!" he turned and greeted me enthusiastically. In his hands he held a lancer magazine that he slowly fed rounds into. "Good shower?"
"The best," I answered vaguely as I crossed the room and started pulling on my plates. Sam plodded into the room behind me and stretched out on the floor. Evidently, she already felt at home here. "How'd your mission go yesterday?" I decided to try and distract him before he could do that annoying thing where he tried to read my mind. "Did you guys find the missing trawler?"
"What was left of it," he answered with a sigh. "Upturned hull dotted with small arms fire. No survivors."
"They think it was pirates?"
"Maybe. Unless it was grubs."
My fingers froze while doing up the snaps on boots. I could feel my blood run cold. Grubs? At sea? Well, it wouldn't be the first time they'd managed to reach the islands. "Is that what you think happened? Are they going to try and follow us?"
Dom finished loading his magazine and tucked it away into a pocket on his belt. "I don't know if they've got enough left to try. Maybe just enough to pick off a boat or two." He shrugged. "I'm not sure what happened. There was charring on the outer hull. Could have been a fuel fire if it weren't for the bullet holes."
"Or a fire bomb," I suggested. "Which sounds more like pirates than grubs."
"'Cept pirates want the boats. Why would they blow the craft when they could steal it?"
I frowned as I finished snapping up the last of my armor. I tried to imagine myself on a boat – stranded at sea, maybe a fuel fire with pirates sweeping close. Communications out for some reason, maybe equipment failure. Not a hope in hell of rescue. "Did the crew fight back?" I threw out my theory. "Maybe they sank it themselves so the pirates couldn't take it."
Dom held the door open for Sam and me to exit before locking it behind us. I could see his jaw work as he chewed over my hypothesis. "It's possible." He didn't sound convinced. "There were bullet holes on the underside of the hull. Which meant they kept firing while it was sinking."
"So, they were alive when they went in the water," I fell into step as we headed down the stairwell. I already knew Dom was headed to the mess hall to grab a quick breakfast. Over the past couple of days we'd developed an easy routine in the mornings. "That's a hell of a way to go."
"Not the way I'd pick," Dom agreed as we entered.
"If they were alive…what're the chances of finding them?"
"That's what Marcus asked," Dom answered me somberly. "Apparently close to zero."
For a brief moment I allowed myself to imagine it. Lost, alone, bobbing in the water in the middle of a vast ocean, while waiting for help that would never come. I almost wished we were right and they had been attacked; pirates would probably take them hostage, and grubs would kill them outright. Either option was better that slowly drowning at sea.
The sky was a smear of thick grey clouds once we got outside. I could smell the rain in the air. It had yet to start falling, but it was just a matter of time. We didn't speak as we crossed the cobblestone street to the mess hall. Once inside I spotted Baird, Cole, and Mataki at a table in the corner. I realized my plan to distract Dom had worked a little too well; I had forgotten all about Mataki and Massy. As Dom and I grabbed some food I pondered how to get her alone so we could speak.
"Morning," Dom said as we joined the table. I unsheathed my knife and started cutting the apple I had grabbed into slices. Everyone else murmured out a greeting, then fell silent. I saw Cole glance questioningly to me and then back to Bernie.
"It's okay," Bernie answered his unspoken question. "She knows."
"I know…about…Massy?" I hedged uncertainly.
Bernie sighed. "Everyone at this table knows everything. Speak freely, for fuck's sake."
I almost laughed. Apparently all of my scheming and secrecy were unnecessary. Then the gravity of the situation settled around my shoulders and I sobered. "Right," I said, swallowing my mouthful of apple. "Where are we on that? Need volunteers for a firing squad?"
"Prescott complicated shit when he offered trial or amnesty for the Stranded," Dom answered me.
"He's not going to grant Massy amnesty!" I said, appalled.
"Even Prescott's not that stupid," Baird said. "But a trial…that makes things public."
It was Port Farrall all over again. At least the move to Vectes had kept the gossip to a minimum, as well as the fact that Prescott had declined to move forward with an actual trial. But here we would have no choice; everything would become very public, very quickly. And the citizens in Pelruan already held a dim view of Gears. How would they react when Massy got to tell them all exactly how Bernie had killed his brothers?
And how would Bernie react to a trial? To every person on the island knowing exactly what had happened to her, and how, and how many. She was tough as nails, but she didn't deserve to go through that.
"What's Hoffman's opinion?" Dom asked. His tray sat on the table in front of him, untouched. "I don't give a damn what the Chairman thinks."
"Hoffman is letting me decide," Bernie answered. "I'll do what I want with him. I'll think of something."
"Are you taking suggestions?" Baird asked her. "Cause I saw what the grubs did to their prisoners. Gave me a couple ideas."
Bernie patted his shoulder almost paternally. "Thanks, but I'd like to think we're more civilized than the grubs."
"Let me know, Boomer lady," Cole finally chimed in. He had finished his bowl of watery eggs and fried potatoes. "Baird and I teach one hell of a class on manners."
Over Bernie's shoulder I saw Anya enter the hall. Then, a full minute later, Marcus entered. It could have been a mere coincidence, but I smiled as I imagined Marcus waiting outside the door, counting the seconds until he could enter behind Anya without it looking like they entered together. They each grabbed a tray and then joined us, sitting on opposite sides of the table.
"Good morning," Anya greeted, pushing in her chair. "Did we miss anything?"
I started to open my mouth, but Dom caught sight of my smirk and kicked my shin under the table. I narrowed my eyes at him, but he shook his head, glancing at Marcus. I swallowed the comment I was about to make about Marcus and Anya 'sleeping in' together. I really needed to manage my facial expressions around Dom, or I'd never get to needle Marcus again. I ate another slice of apple instead, musing on the fact that Dom was getting far too familiar for my own good.
"I'll fill you in later," Bernie answered her. "But we need to do your weapon qualifications today. Bri's too."
"Weather looks like shit," I answered her. "I'm always down to burn ammo, but you sure you want to do this now?"
"Good thing we'll be inside, then," Bernie said. "Come on, eat up. There's an indoor range on the other side of base. It'll do for the lancers and sidearms, but we'll have to do longshot qualifiers later."
I looked down at the ground to Sam, who was licking Cole's empty bowl. "Will you take Sam for the day?" I asked Dom. "I'm not bringing her into a gun range."
"Sure," Dom agreed easily. He then bribed Sam with a crust of toast, and held on to her collar so I could leave the table.
"Remember which end to point at the bad guy," Baird said with a smirk as we got to our feet.
"Don't worry, Baird," I shot over my shoulder as we headed for the exit. "If I ever shoot you in the ass, it'll be on purpose."
I leveled the rear sight with the front, took a breath then let it out, and squeezed the trigger while my lungs were empty. The gunshot echoed in the chambers around me, muffled by the ear plugs Bernie had supplied. I checked the target to make sure it had landed where I expected it to – center ring, bullseye – before sending the rest of the magazine after it. The rounds grouped together in a space the size of a silver dollar.
Vectus' indoor range was a relic of a bygone era – back when gratuitous excess was a trademark of the COG. There were dozens of firing lines, each with a bench and a pulley system to return targets. Overhead an air filtration system had roared to life, pulling the burnt powder and gun smoke outside. Everything ran on the hydro-electric power system that Baird had lovingly teased back to life the first week we had arrived. Next door was a fully stocked armory, complete with more ammunition than I had seen in my life.
In short, it was pretty bitchin.
I dropped the empty mag and settled my handgun on the bench with the slide locked to the rear, before turning around and cocking an eyebrow at Mataki. She used the pulley to pull back my target and examined my grouping with a pursed mouth. "Not bad," she said, her voice muffled thanks to the earplugs she had demanded we all wear. "Anya, you're up."
Mataki marked my shots with a marker before sending the target back into place. I cleared the bench and stood off to the side as Anya stepped into position. I watched her as she lined up her shots. Anya wasn't the natural marksman most Gears were. It took her a moment to find the right stance, and even still there was something awkward about the way she stood. She was too rigid where she should have been relaxed, and too loose where she should be stiff. Mataki gently prodded her, coaxing her shoulders back and twisting her hips. But once she was in position she was a decent shot. She sent a dozen rounds down range from her snub pistol, and all but one settled in the center of the target in a group about the size of a saucer.
"Positively lethal," I said as Anya stepped away from the firing line and removed her ear plugs.
Anya smiled. It was a bit odd how easily she accepted Mataki's direction, considering she was a Lieutenant and outranked us all. But something had spurred her into becoming a frontline Gear. There were some basics she was missing, but she was quickly catching up.
"I'm clearing you both for firearm use," Bernie said as she pulled our target down and tossed it in a nearby bin to be recycled. "Just a formality."
"I'm glad the COG thinks I can use my own weapons," I said, removing the plugs from my ears.
"Then you'll be ecstatic to know the COG thinks you can unload ships too," Bernie said. "Stevedore duty. Lots of heavy boxes to be moved. Honest, sweaty work."
My smirk fell away. "I mean…I think I could use some more practice with the lancer. It's just so front heavy, you see, and I just-"
"Come on, private," Anya interrupted, holding the door open for me. "I just saw your lancer skills. Paper targets everywhere shiver in fear."
"They've really got a lieutenant moving boxes?" I asked as we walked out of the range. "I mean, no offense, ma'am," I added as an afterthought.
Anya shrugged. "Afraid I've got business in the CIC. But save a few crates for me. Heavy ones."
As we walked outside Anya peeled off and headed north. Mataki tapped my head and motioned for me to follow her. "Come on, then."
I obediently followed behind, watching the grey clouds slowly blow southward. The rain had yet to fall, which I supposed was good news. At least the clouds blocked the scorching sunlight. Then I smiled, and remembered how only weeks ago people were freezing to death in Port Farrall. With that comparison in my mind, I immediately forgave the unfavorable weather.
Mataki led us down to the harbor where squads of gears were hard at work unloading and organizing supplies. The dock master pointed to one of the larger steel ships – the West Wind – and directed us to load up the APCs. Drivers were shuttling loaded vehicles back up to base, where more Gears and civilians were busy packing the base full. The COG was nothing if not efficient.
"Hey, all," Sam Byrne said as she maneuvered a hand truck down the deck of the ship. "Here to join the party?"
"Sam," Mataki greeted her with a nod. "We got a plan of attack?"
Sam took a second to wipe the sweat from her forehead before answering. She wasn't wearing her top armor, just a beige army t-shirt, but her lancer was still hanging on her back from a shoulder strap. "Civvies below deck are passing up boxes. We load the hand trucks up, then load them off ramp below. Wash, rinse, repeat."
Moving boxes was physically grueling, but unfortunately it gave me lots of time to think. Mostly I found myself watching Sam. I couldn't get the image of Baird's expression when he saw Byrne out of my mind. Eventually I realized that my questions would eat me alive until I asked them. I waited until I saw Sam break for water before I gathered my courage and opened my mouth. "So. You and Baird. Did you ever…?"
"I swear to God," she answered. "If you ask me if we dated I'm going to toss your arse off of this ship."
My mouth snapped shut.
"You were gonna, weren't you?"
"Who, me?" My fingernails suddenly became enthralling. "Nope. Nuh-uh. Nada."
Sam chuckled and offered me her canteen, which I accepted. Once her hands were empty she plucked a half-burnt cigar from her pocket and relit it. Shaking out the match, she sighed. "Baird and I went through basic training together, if you can call it that. He's an annoying little brother that I enjoy smacking around, lest his ego gets any bigger."
"I'm sure most people enjoy smacking him around."
"Ha! You're probably right." She used the cigar to motion at me. "Baird's alright, for a git. But I'd rather claw my own eyes out than date the man."
I felt the tension fade from my shoulders. I suddenly realized that I'd like Sam a whole lot more, now that I knew she wasn't after Baird. Then I felt the urge to roll my eyes at myself – what the hell did it matter if she was? Baird could do whatever he wanted. It wasn't like I had some kind of claim over him, or a reason to be as jealous as I was. I slowly screwed the cap back on her canteen before passing it back.
"Say," Sam said, re-clipping it to her belt and taking a drag from her cigar. "Some civvies are having a get together tonight. Some kind of 'hurrah, we survived' type bash. Think you can sweet-talk your sergeant into letting you come along?"
I shrugged. "Probably. Mataki's not that bad once you get to know her."
"Glad to hear you think so, private," Mataki said from behind us. I whirled around at her voice. She was standing with her arms crossed and an eyebrow lifted. "Now, if you ladies are done chatting, you think maybe you can get your arses back to work?"
I gave her a small, abashed smile and moved away from the railing. Sam, however, looked unbothered as she took another drag. "Just a smoke break, sarge. Actually, I was hoping you'd let me borrow your protégé tonight."
"Any reason why?"
"Drunken debauchery, of course." Sam grinned, revealing a row of teeth as white and as even as a strand of pearls. "I need a dance partner."
"I don't dance," I answered immediately.
"See? The girl can't even dance. We need to fix that immediately."
Mataki rolled her eyes. "If you both don't get your arses in gear unloading these boxes, you won't be going anywhere."
"Is that a no?" Sam asked.
"Work first. If we get the ship unloaded in time, then knock yourselves out. But I expect her PT ready by o'five hundred tomorrow, understand?"
"Yes ma'am," Sam and I answered in unison, then shared a conspired grin. Sam launched the butt of her cigar overboard before we got back to work.
I stared at the entirety of my closet – two pairs of cargo pants, a pair of jeans, two t-shirts, a black tank top, and my Gear uniform – and pondered which items to choose. What did people wear to a party? It wasn't like I had a wealth of experience to draw from. I bit my lip as I slowly fingered the fabric of a camo tee.
The door to the room opened behind me. "Hey, darling," Dom greeted me as he entered. "Have you had dinner yet?" Sam – the dog – entered behind him. She came over and received an affectionate ear rub from me before she curled up on my bed.
"I hit the mess with Mataki and Byrne after we cleared the ship. Actually, I'm just heading out again."
Dom pulled out his desk chair and started stripping off his armor piece by piece. I let go of the camo shirt and traded it for my black tank. "You packing a go bag or something?" He hefted one boot onto the chair and started unbuckling.
"No. Sam invited me out…to a party, I guess."
Dom paused. He turned and squinted at me without taking his foot off of the chair. "A party?"
"I dunno. A get-together. Something the civvies cooked up." I shrugged as I picked up my dark blue jeans and my leather hiking boots. "Mataki gave me the night off," I said as I closed the closet.
"Who all's going to be there?"
I shrugged again. "Probably just a couple people. Sam didn't really give me details."
"What time will you be back?"
I left my lancer and longshot on top of my dresser, but grabbed my belt and sidearm. Then, I went back and grabbed the small container of coconut oil that Anya had given me for my hair. "Not too late. Mataki wants me to report for PT first thing tomorrow morning. I can't get too crazy, unless I wanna be dragging ass while running laps."
"Alright, then," Dom had finished stripping off his armor and stood in his fatigues and wool socks. He always looked so much smaller without his plates. "I guess I'll dine with the dog tonight."
I paused on my rush out of the room. For a moment I considered blowing off Sam's plans and hanging with Dom. I'd been so busy with training and adjusting to life on the island that I hadn't really been spending enough time with him lately. "I could stay," I offered hesitantly. "I'm sure Byrne wouldn't-"
"Hey, now, no. Go ahead," he motioned me out of the room. "Go be young and crazy. A quiet dinner and an early night sounds perfect to me. Just…don't get too crazy."
"We'll do dinner sometime this week," I promised him as I opened the door. "Just us."
"Sounds great," Dom said. "Have fun."
I hurried off to the bathroom to change and freshen up. I let my hair down, still damp from the shower I had taken after getting off shift, and rubbed some of the coconut oil through it like Anya had shown me. Tucking my jeans into my boots, I stood and examined myself in the mirror. Not bad, I thought to myself. I stopped back at the room to toss my old clothes inside, and Dom was already gone.
I took the stairs two at a time until I landed in the lobby. Byrne was already there waiting, out of armor and wearing an army green tank top, jeans that had been cut off into shorts, and a bandana tied into a headband. "Ready?"
"Born ready." Sam headed for the front door of the barracks, then turned southward. On our right the sun was sinking over the horizon, casting a golden hue on the waves. The sky itself was slowly turning pink and orange as a light breeze picked my hair up off of my shoulders.
"I'm surprised Prescott approved using resources on a party," I said as we walked.
Sam made a vague mocking noise in the back of her throat. "He thinks it'll help improve relations between Pelruan and New Jacinto."
I fought the urge to roll my eyes. "Does that man piss without an ulterior motive?"
Sam laughed. "I knew I was gonna like you!"
"Is that why you invited me tonight?"
"I invited you because most Gears walk around with their lancers shoved up their arsehole. You're different."
I started to respond, but as we turned past the gate the words died in my throat. A 'small get together' didn't come close to describing the field full of people meandering about. Most of Pelruan and New Jacinto had to be here - smoking, drinking, dancing, laughing, talking, and just living. In the back I could see a band setting up instruments on a make-shift stage. The smell of meat being cooked on an open fire caught me in the back of my throat and made my mouth water. Bottles of alcohol – one of the few things not in short supply – were being passed around and poured into all kinds of different cups and flasks.
"Fuck. Yes," Sam breathed excitedly. "Now this how you celebrate winning the war!"
My fight or flight instinct triggered, and I had to physically fight the urge to turn and run. In the war, large crowds were dangerous. They meant easy targets for Grubs, clogged retreat paths, crowded firing lines, and lots of dead civilians. They meant riots over food, or clean water. More importantly, they usually meant danger for me once someone outed me as a Stranded.
Sam grabbed my elbow and tugged me forward before I could retreat. "Come on!" she commanded. "Come dance with me!"
"I told you," I said as Sam pulled me through the crowd of people and closer to the stage. "I don't know how!"
"I'll teach you! It's easy." She caught a bottle of whiskey that was being passed around. "First, start with this." She long-poured a shot or two into her mouth, head tilted back and the mouth of the bottle never touching her lips. She swallowed without a cough, wiped a drop off of her chin, and then smiled. "Your turn."
I obediently threw my head back so she could pour it down my throat. It burned, but not nearly as badly as Dizzy's moonshine. "Again," she directed, after I had swallowed. "There. Now you're ready."
Sam handed the bottle off before grabbing my hips and pulling me an arms distance in front of her. The band had started playing a slow groove with a heavy drumline. "Feel that beat? Just kinda…swing your hips to it." She used her hands to guide my hips in time with the music. "Yeah! There you go. Now loosen your arms. Feel the music, and let your body do what feels right."
I felt absolutely ridiculous. Sam kept her hands on my hips – probably because she could tell I would run if given half a chance."This is…what people do for fun?" I had to shout to be heard over the music.
"It's more fun the more you drink!" Sam shouted back. "Just let go! Get out of your head!" She released my hips and waved her arms above her head as her ass did some kind of complicated snake-like wiggle. At least she looked graceful as she moved; I was relatively certain I looked like I was mid-seizure.
"Want some?" an unfamiliar woman with blonde hair held out a mason jar with clear liquid inside. I shook my head, but Sam grabbed it and nodded her thanks before taking a deep swallow.
I just shook my head. Sam was definitely different than most of the Gears I knew. She wasn't afraid to live life. I wondered if she fought with the same zeal and passion on the battlefield. If she did, she had to be one hell of a soldier, if not a little fearsome.
"Come on," she goaded me, holding out the moonshine for me to drink. "Live a little!"
Maybe I had bit off a bit much when I agreed to go partying with Sam. I downed a couple swallows, and coughed as it burned and settled in my stomach. It warmed me from inside and made the world go a little fuzzy around the edges. Suddenly I didn't care how stupid I looked while I wiggled next to Sam. She took the jar back, drained the small amount left, and passed it off again.
The band segued into another song with a faster tempo. I adjusted and copied the way Sam seemed to float and slither around the dance floor.
"So, love," Sam gave me a wolf like grin. "Got any deep, dark secrets for me?"
"Oh, was that your plan?" I had to shout to be heard. "Get me liquored up, and then get me spilling my guts?"
"Is it working?"
"Not a chance!" I said, laughing while backing away. Sam grabbed my hand before I could effectively retreat, and tugged me into a spin. Mid-turn, I spotted a pair of Gears on the edge of the dancefloor, keeping watch. I tripped and almost fell into Sam when I recognized them.
Shit, I thought as Sam caught and then righted me. "You good?" she asked.
"Baird and Cole," I motioned with a dip of my head in their direction. "They're watching."
I could feel the embarrassment warm my cheeks. Sam rose onto her tip toes, and careened her head back so she could see above the crowd. Once she spotted them, she raised one arm and waved excitedly. "Hey, boys!"
"Don't wave!" I snapped at her. "Baird's never going to let me hear the end of this!"
"Darling, your first mistake is listening to anything that man has to say," Sam answered. But, thankfully, she pulled her arm out of the air. "Besides, he's been watching for a while now."
A cold chill ran down my spine as my eyes sank shut. Oh no. Oh…fuck no. "Please, please tell me you're joking."
"Go ask him yourself," she suggested. "I'm going to get another drink."
"Haven't you had enough?"
"Love, when it comes to free alcohol, there's no such thing as 'enough'."
"Fine. But rules of engagement do not apply. You start a bar fight, and I will leave your ass behind."
Sam waved me off as she quickly vanished into the crowd. I debated doing the same, before sighing and turning towards Cole and Baird. Cole was off to the side, speaking to some civilians, but Baird met my eyes almost immediately. His smirk deepened as I waded to the edge of the field.
"Well?" I asked, holding my hands out to my side. "Let me have it."
"Have what?" he asked with feigned innocence. "You were good."
My eyebrows lifted. "Oh yeah?"
"Sure. I'm assuming you were trying to do your best impression of a dying fish. Lots of flopping about."
I punched him in the arm just under his shoulder plate. "God, you're such a dick."
"At least Sam was nearby to keep the frenzy to a minimum. You could put an eye out with all that flapping."
"Ah, so you came all this way to watch Sam," I teased. "I see how it is."
"I came all this way because Control added this to our patrol route. Drunken idiots in large masses tend to attract trouble."
"Oh, sure. I'm just saying, it looks suspicious. Beautiful girl, fighting Gear, lots of sarcasm…I see why you're into her," I pretended to wince theatrically. "Just not sure you have a shot."
"What're you saying? You think she's too good for me?"
"She's obviously too good for you, Baird. I'm just curious if she realizes it."
"You're giving her a lot of praise for a woman you met yesterday," he pointed out. "You sound like you want to date her."
"Does that make you jealous?"
"Pretty turned on, actually."
I rolled my eyes. "She's definitely too good for you."
"I thought we were supposed to be friends, now. You've known her all of five seconds and you like her better?" His voice sounded vaguely put out.
"You are jealous!"
"You called her beautiful!"
"You want to be beautiful?"
"Are you saying I'm not?" he asked.
I stared at the sky and counted backwards from five. Baird's mouth twitched at the corners, fighting a smile. Cole finished his conversation and loped up to us with a grin. "Da-yum, little sis!" he crooned, holding out a fist. "I see you got some moves! You as smooth on your feet as the Cole Train! You a baller-ina!"
I laughed as I returned the fist bump. "Enjoy it. Pretty sure that was a one-time-only type deal."
"I was gonna go bust a move, till I saw you working it," Cole teased. "Ain't no way I'm following you!"
"Hey, hey Cole Train!" a voice called from the crowd. Cole turned and flashed a dazzling smile to his adoring fans before wading in. Baird and I watched him go. The sun had finally sank below the horizon and the sky was a lovely navy color. There was just enough light from a bonfire to see by. A few children – probably around ten years old – ran past, chasing each other and giggling even louder than the music. The dancers behind us bobbed and swayed in unison, like the waves of the sea.
"He's done more for public relations in one night than Prescott could in a decade," Baird pointed out, as we watched Cole high five and shake hands.
"So," I said turning around to face him, "Back to you and Sam…"
"Jesus, will you drop it? Sam ain't a chick. It's Sam. She either wants to out-shoot, out-drink, or out-curse the men." He lifted a hand off of his lancer to poke me in the chest. "And wh-"
Before he could speak a flash of lightning lit up the night. It illuminated every shadow and recess in Baird's face before almost blinding me. Then, in the next split second, came the sound of thunder – deafening - louder than I had ever heard.
And then came the shockwave.
The heat and pelting shrapnel pounded my back before Baird grabbed my hips and flung me to the ground. He used one hand to push my head into the grass as he laid atop me, sheltering me from the raining debris. The roaring rumble reached a crescendo, then faded into an ear-splitting, high pitched ringing noise that muted everything else. My head screamed in pain as the pressure inside my skull reached an unendurable apex.
I dug my face out of the dirt and tried to figure out what had just happened. An explosion of some kind…Grubs? The field in front of me had shifted from a dancefloor to a battlefield. From my angle I could see a thick film of dirt and dust kicked up into the air. People were running, or attempting to find their feet after being knocked down. I could smell dirt, dust, and burning metal. The scent caught in the back of my throat and turned my stomach.
I tried to pick up my head, but Baird was still pinning me down. I clumsily tried to wiggle out from beneath him, but instead of letting me go he simply rolled me over so I could see his face. He was yelling something, his face covered in dirt, and sweat, and a thin stream of blood that ran down his forehead to his jaw.
"Are. You. Hurt?" I could finally read his lips.
"No!" I shouted back at him, but my voice was muffled and sounded far away. For a brief moment I thought I was wearing ear plugs again, but when my hand went to my ear they came back slicked with blood. I tried again to get to my feet but it felt like every bone had turned to lead. I reached reflexively for a gun I wasn't carrying.
"Stay down!" Baird yelled at me again. He was crouched now, one hand on his lancer, and one on my shoulder. I could finally see past him. The air was filled with silt that had yet to settle. I could see people running, screaming, but their voices wouldn't reach me. Confusion mixed with the fight or flight feeling in my chest. The stage where the band had been playing was now gone, replaced with a charred blast zone and the remnants of the musicians.
Grubs, my mind finally managed to compose a thought. It was enough for me to finally get my feet under me and into a ready crouch that mimicked Baird's. I wavered unsteady for just a moment as a wave of extreme nausea rolled over me, but I fought it back. I plucked my sidearm from its holster and silently yearned for my lancer, my longshot, my armor.
The noise slowly started creeping back. First it was just a cacophony of mismatched racket. Then the screams separated from the clamor. "Contact, contact!" Baird was yelling into his earpiece. "Explosion on the south side of VNB, village green. Requesting immediate backup!"
"Cole!" I yelled at Baird. My own voice sounded muffled to me, even though I could feel the strain in my throat as I shouted. I coughed up some of the filth that had settled in my lungs. "Sam!"
"I'll find them! Go! Get out of here!" Baird hauled me to my feet and tried to push me in the direction of the fleeing civilians. I stumbled as I tried to find my legs. I fell, more than ran, in the direction he pushed me. When I turned around he was wading against the tide of civilians, hand still pressed to his comm as he shouted orders to command.
A spray of warm wetness splattered against my cheek. For a moment I thought that the sky had finally decided to fall, letting go of the rain that had threatened to come all day. But when I turned, I realized that it was blood. Arterial spray, coming from a man who was now missing an arm but had yet to realize it. I made it to his side just as his legs gave out and he hit the ground.
With one hand I undid my belt and whipped it out of the loops. I wrapped it around the stump of his shoulder and pulled it as tight as humanly possible. "You're okay," I said to him, but his blue eyes were focused on something a million miles away. His pupils were pinpricks in the ocean of his eyes. His mouth was moving, but either he wasn't actually saying anything, or my hearing was still jacked. I hoped it was the prior, and that I wasn't missing his deathbed confessions.
"Medic!" I screamed into the night as countless dark figures rushed past us. "Medic!"
I yanked off my shirt and pressed it against the wound, trying helplessly to stem the flow of blood. It had slowed from a rushing river to a faucet, but it was still far too much blood to lose. "Hey, hey, look at me. What's your name?" I spoke to the man, trying to get him to focus on me. When he struggled again to stand, I laid one hand on his cheek and forced him to meet my gaze.
Until I turned his head I don't think the man even realized I was there. His eyes widened impossibly further as he stared me down. I squeezed my shirt with both hands, applying pressure until my knuckles shone white and my fingers ached. It felt like squeezing a sponge as blood pooled and poured through my hands. "Medic!" I screamed again.
The man wasn't blinking, just watching my face with a frozen, disbelieving expression. A thin stream of blood boiled out of his mouth. Instead of struggling against me he relaxed against the ground. "No, no no no. Listen, come on! You'll be okay. Medic! MEDIC!"
The blood finally stopped pulsing from his shoulder as his heartbeat faded away. My hands still grasped as tightly as they could. His eyes were still open, still glaring deeply into my own as if he was accusing me of not saving him. "I…no…" I whispered.
I jumped when someone grabbed my shoulder. It was a Gear that I didn't recognize. "Move out!" he ordered me. "We're evacuating civilians."
"I'm a Gear," I argued, grabbing the COG tags that hung atop the black sports bra I wore.
The soldier motioned to the man at my feet. "He alive?"
I shook my head. "What…the hell…happened?" I managed to bite out. Around me people were putting out fire – literal and figurative. The field was quickly emptying as civilians ran for cover. Those left behind were the dead and the dying. COG forces were quickly filling in the gaps, however. Too little, and far, far too late.
The Gear motioned back to where the stage had lain. "Some sort of improvised explosive device. Here-" he unclipped and handed me the first aid kit that all Gears carried. "Triage and help the medics."
"But-" He was gone before I could finish the sentence.
I stared down at the man at my feet. When I closed his eyes my fingers left bloodstains behind. "I'm…I'm so sorry," I choked out. My belt and shirt were both soaked through with blood – ruined. Praying that I wouldn't see his face in my dreams later, I got to my feet. There were others on the field with various injuries from the bombing. The medics were busy with the ones who could be saved. I tried my best, used all of my scant first aid training, but all I managed to do was watch people die.
It wasn't Grubs, then. A discontent, a couple of ingredients, and a bomb left under the stage. The message was crystal clear: COG not welcome here.
Late into the night, when the field had been contained and the bodies collected, I saw Cole and Sam near the makeshift medic tent. Even at a distance I could see Sam holding a bloody rag to her forehead. They were both sitting up under their own power and chatting, and the fact that neither of them were being attended to by medical staff was a good sign. Whatever injuries they collected weren't life-threatening.
I should have headed in their direction, but instead I turned and wandered into the darkness. Adrenalin and shock had kept the fear at bay, but now that the dust had settled I could feel the tremble in my hands. I needed to be alone so I could break down in peace.
A patrol tried to stop me as I headed towards the coast, but I flashed my COG tags at them and they let me pass. I let my boots carry me into the darkness, not quite certain where I was heading, but content with any destination that was away.
I found myself at the retaining wall where Baird and I had conversed the day prior. I could see the entirety of the harbor at this distance, although currently it was a mismatch of lights with no definitive outlines of the ships. I hooked my legs over the stonework and let my boots dangle over the edge. Closing my eyes, I tried to let the ringing in my ears fade into the sound of the waves touching the shore again and again…
It wasn't long before I heard the footsteps behind me. I didn't turn around. I didn't have the energy to bother. "Dom – I found her," I heard Baird say, before he joined me on the wall. "Relax. She's alive." He grunted as he let himself fall into a seating position, his armor settling with an audible rustle.
It was quiet for a moment as the darkness enveloped us. There was just enough moonlight to give his hair an unearthly luminescent glow. "Dom losing his mind?" I finally broke the silence.
"He was." He reached up and plucked the comm unit from his ear and tucked it into a pocket. "You coulda let him know you were alive."
I didn't answer. A light breeze stirred up the midnight chill and raised gooseflesh up and down my skin. I crossed my arms, trying to make it look like an unconscious movement, but Baird noticed. "Where'd your shirt go?"
"Used it as a tourniquet on a man who lost his arm."
"Did he make it?"
"…No."
Baird cursed under his breath. He didn't apologize, though, which I appreciated. An apology would have just made it feel like it was my fault. I was already drowning in guilt; I didn't need any more added to the pile. "Did you get checked out from medical yet?" he asked.
I felt him eyeing the streaks of dried blood that ran up and down my arms and covered my midriff. "Don't worry, none of its mine."
"Still. Concussion, close blast injuries, internal bleeding. You drop dead tonight and you know Dom will blame me."
"They find who did it?" I changed the subject quickly.
"Had to be the Stranded Prescott let in," he shook his head. "A couple hundred people were in and out of that field all night. No cameras, minimal security. Could have been anyone."
"How many dead?"
Baird sighed before answering. "No Gears, but plenty of civilians. We'll see how many make it through the night before calling a death count."
I clenched my jaw and shook my head. "We're not used to protecting ourselves from other humans," I observed.
"We better learn quick, then. Hoffman's increased the guard overnight. Quarantined all non-essential staff and civilians to their homes, and is going over the Stranded regiment for known bomb makers. Pretty basic terrorist response. We'll have a debrief in – shit. Shit, are you crying?"
"No!" I protested, turning my face away so I could wipe the warm tears away from my cheeks. The blood on my hands turned tacky as it mixed with the water. I sniffed hard, then coughed as if I could disguise it. I could feel him turn into a shocked statue at my side. "I'm fine," I reassured him.
"You really are concussed," he deadpanned. "If you could see yourself…'fine' isn't the adjective that comes to mind."
"No…I just…" I sighed and let my eyes sink shut. "God damn it, this is supposed to be over. People aren't supposed to be dying in stupid, petty vendettas. It isn't fucking fair that someone can survive a genocidal war, travel hundreds of miles across the damn ocean, and get blown away because some asshole has a score to settle. I mean, where's the fucking justice?"
My bloody hands curled themselves into fists. I was almost shouting by the end of my speech. I could feel myself trembling, filled with righteous anger and no outlet. I almost wanted Baird to crack another joke just so I could snap at him for making light.
He didn't answer for a long moment. The crashing of waves was the only sound that filled the darkness. Finally, I felt a warm hand slowly curl over my forearm. Baird gently pulled me to face him, tugging me out of my dark spiral. "Hey," he said in a voice that was very soft, and very close, and very un-Baird like. "It'll be okay."
Later, I'd try to remember how exactly it had happened. If he had moved first, or if I had. All I know is we didn't meet in the middle. And maybe it didn't matter so much whether he took the first step or I did. All that mattered was that he was there. I remembered falling toward him, and how he opened his arms to catch me. I remembered how his jaw was scruffy from day-old stubble. And I remembered how it felt – exhilarating, terrifying, like jumping off a cliff – the moment our lips met.
Author's Note: Hello faithful readers! Was it as good for you as it was for me?
I really tried to have this chapter ready by the 9-year anniversary of this fic, but I missed it by five days. Promise not to hold it against me? Hard to believe I've been writing this for 9 years, but here we are. I swear it won't take 9 more to finish! (Hopefully. Probably.)
Leave me a note on your way out with your thoughts – good, bad, or indifferent. Reviews are the number one motivator for fic writers! And thanks for reading!
