No further fucking up of things was accomplished during her last three days.
Lyra smiled politely at Blue Team both in the mornings and when she ventured to the mess for the terrible coffee she did not allow herself to not procure and they happened to be at their customary table. She clued up her side of the elements for the upgrades and spent time with Gomez, Swinton, and Baker going over their individual assignments. She tidied her office, declined an invitation to a celebratory supper, and walked back to her hotel to pack her things for the trip home. The cruiser was scheduled to disembark at 7:00 AM, but she'd arranged to board early and settle into her cabin that evening so that there was no need to set an alarm for some ungodly hour.
"I know you don't miss me already, so what'd you wreck?" she answered the video comm from Swinton, propping her tablet against a pillow on the bed so she could continue getting her things sorted.
"Me? Nothing. I did steal your chair, though - arm wrestled Gomez for it."
"You could have just said you arm wrestled for it, I wouldn't have wondered who."
"I'm telling Baker you said that."
"He'll just wonder why you're bothering him with your immature nonsense."
"He's younger than me."
"And yet my statement stands." She glanced up in time to catch Swinton's middle finger descending. "I'm running late for my shuttle, Swinton. What's this about?"
"Thought you weren't due out til morning."
"I'm bailing tonight so I can sleep in."
"Perks of civilian life."
"Yes, I lead a charmed existence. Still waiting for you to spit it out."
"Here's the thing… Naples just sent over an addendum."
Her hands withdrew from rearranging her clothes for the hundredth time in an effort to make everything fit into her luggage. "The sort of addendum three perfectly capable crewmen can take care of?"
Swinton's expression turned wry. "Not for what they pay me, no."
Lyra groaned. "What is it?"
"They changed their minds about the smart AI interface."
That was not an addendum, that was a god damn project of its own. "Is that all?" No, no, no - the reason she'd been able to institute the improvements they'd asked for with such relative ease was because the interface hadn't been a priority - in fact, she'd been advised at one point it might be removed altogether. "Did you tell her several of the security measures we installed have the potential to directly interfere with the interface?"
"No, Ma'am. I'll tell you what I did do - call you."
"How've you not been discharged with that mouth?"
"What can I say? I guess my superiors like my mouth."
"Lundy's only an ensign - that's not exactly his purview."
"No, it isn't," she agreed with a pointed look. "So, best cancel that shuttle."
"Have I told you how much I hate you?" This was not happening. This was a bad dream, a terrible dream. She couldn't even beg off with the promise of remotely handling the changes which would be necessary, because she knew how extensive they would be and it'd be an even bigger, more terrible nightmare if she wasn't there to manage the innumerable problems this was going to create. "You could have said that from the start instead of watching me fight with this bag for the past five minutes."
"I get that a lot. And yes, correct, I could have. But then I wouldn't have gotten to amuse myself watching you struggle to pack shirts and underwear - never figured you for lace, Ashton."
"You've given a lot of consideration to my underwear preferences, have you? I'm flattered, but you're not my type." She knew the banter was at this point just a diversion from the shitty situation. Not even a good one.
"Well, no - long walks on the beach at night aren't my thing."
"What?" Lyra snatched up the tablet. "That was you?!" Wow, the crewman didn't mess around, she'd snagged Lundy and dragged him off to the beach in less than an hour.
"I'm sure I have no idea what you mean," Swinton deadpanned. "What's holding hands with an S-II like, anyway? He walk you all the way back? Did dirty things happen?"
"I'm going to order myself a bottle of wine now and drown my sorrows over having to work ten metres from you for the foreseeable future. Put my fucking chair back." Closing the comm, she set the tablet aside and scowled at her luggage.
Naturally there'd been no vacant rooms at the hotel for the following three days. They'd been nice enough to offer her a larger suite when it did free up, and to provide transportation to base.
And naturally upon arriving there, the sentries had required her to strip out each article of clothing and personal item she'd painstakingly crammed inside her bag. They'd been nice enough to only paw through her lacey selection of thongs and make-up case briefly.
And naturally whilst she'd been shoving all of that back inside was when Blue Team had returned from their run. "So you said Hotel block is which way?" she hurriedly engaged one of the soldiers who'd manhandled her delicates, hoping to appear preoccupied. The irony of the identifier of the barracks she'd been assigned to was not lost on her. Not for a second. But it wasn't the same one the Spartans were boarding in, and that was what was important.
"Hang a right past the square, Ms. Ashton. It's the fourth building."
"Great." It was not great. It was bullshit. She compressed the soft-shelled bag as she wrestled with the straining zipper. There were footsteps approaching and she rather suspected she knew whose they were. Furiously repeating 'go away' over and over in her head did not change anything.
"Can I give you a hand with that?"
"Lieutenant, good morning." The zipper gloriously snicked closed. She glanced up and smiled. Politely. "That'd be great." It would not. But it wasn't worth raising more questions by refusing what amounted to a kind offer. She allowed him to lift the luggage from the small table, a feat which had almost thrown her back out and which he managed with precisely no signs of effort.
"Where to?" he asked as they proceeded away from the checkpoint.
"You don't actually expect me to believe you didn't overhear, do you?" Off to a great start.
The look he slanted her way was chagrined. "Did you decide on a change of scenery?"
"Not exactly, no. My time here got extended and the hotel is fully booked for a few days."
"That's unfortunate." His blue-green eyes were set dead ahead again. "About the hotel, I mean. Not…"
This would be so much easier if he was an ass. Or just completely indifferent to her existence, like John. She could work professionally side by side with him without the slightest inclination to rip his clothes from his body - it was difficult to develop desire for someone who was more likely to grunt in response to anything you said than use actual words. Damn Fred with his use of full sentences and appropriate eye contact. Well, most of the time. "It's only for three days, I guess I'll survive."
"Barracks?"
"Lumpy pillows, not enough blankets, and a too small bed." She might not be 6' a million, but even at her height there was no comfortable sleeping position. The most liberating part of leaving the UNSC had been sleeping in a once again adequately sized bed. And not getting up before 6:00 AM. That was also blissful.
"Ah."
"You must be able to relate. To the last one, at least. Maybe you're into lumpy pillows and not enough blankets." Some people didn't mind. Some inexplicably weird people.
He cleared his throat. "Used to it, I guess."
"That's unfortunate." Entering Hotel block, Lyra ignored the bewildered reactions of the few soldiers they passed on the way to the lift - her quarters were on the third floor. "Better be careful or everyone's going to start expecting porter services from you," she commented as the door slid shut.
"I'll keep that in mind." The bag still hung by his side - he made it seem like it was bursting at the seams with bubble wrap or some other equally weightless contents, not a metric tonne of unnecessary personal belongings.
"I could have managed." With much mental cursing and physical exertion.
His head turned and he considered her, but the door opened to deposit them onto the correct level before he could reply. If he'd been intending to. She'd sensed he wasn't certain what to say.
Leading the way down the hall, she located the right room and waved the ident card dangling around her neck to gain entrance. Ugh, it was as cramped and utilitarian as she remembered. Carrying her satchel to the small desk, she fished out her tablet and bent down to tap a hasty message checking in with the hotel for any unexpected cancellations she might take advantage of. She didn't care if it was the executive suite or a janitor closet, it'd probably be better than barracks. She heard Fred set her luggage at the foot of the bunk - in fact, with a little less care than she would have expected from him. A glance over her shoulder revealed the sheepish look on his face.
"Sorry about that."
"No worries, I'll have them dock your pay for your inattention if anything's broken." The flush which crept up his neck was adorable. "I'm just having you on, Fred."
He gave a nod and eased back into the doorway. "I have to get going."
Turning back, she leaned against the edge of the desk. "I feel like all I do is thank you, but you probably saved me from a muscle strain, so I guess another is due. Thanks."
"It was no trouble." Another, more awkward nod, and he was gone.
That… could have gone worse?
This could not be going worse.
John's voice came over the designated comm channel. "Status update, Blue-Three."
He sighed. "Unchanged."
"Cool down period should be complete by now," Kelly remarked.
"It hasn't decreased from 73%. Temperature values still reading high."
"Faulty sensors?" Linda suggested.
"Blue Team, this is Dr. Naples. Please continue with the exercise, technicians will be arriving to assist Blue-Three any moment now."
They already had continued - in fact, they were pinging five klicks off from his location by now, but John still responded with the expected 'understood' before the comms once again fell silent.
Fred waited, watching parameters which never altered on his HUD. Something was definitely malfunctioning with the safety lock-out feature which had been engaged for the trial exercise. In the field if his MJOLNIR had overheated, he would have kept going until a secure area could be reached and he could allow the armor's core temperature to return to within normal limits, or barring the possibility of that he would have fought on until it either shut down or the fusion reactor had reached critical mass. Armor lock was not a situation any Spartan wanted to find themselves in.
The techs arrived and much assessing took place. Panels were removed, tools were applied, and still his Gen 3 refused to budge.
He was still immobile when a second warthog rolled up, conveying a passenger whose blonde hair flew loose in the breeze.
She said something to the soldier driving and he maneuvered the ground support vehicle in close before cutting the engine. When she climbed back into the tray and stood up, they were almost at eye level. "How long have you been stuck in that tin can?"
"Going on fifty-eight minutes now."
"Well, I'm here to rescue you - I hope. Can I interest you in some fresh air in the meantime?"
"Uh… sure." The filtered air inside didn't bother him, but staring at numbers which failed to accurately indicate what was going on with his armor was growing tedious. She reached up to his helmet and he felt the gentle tug as she pried it off.
"Holy shit, this is heavier than expected." Setting it down, she retrieved her data-pad from the satchel she wore over her shoulder. "Now, let's see…"
"It's not the cooling recirc system," one of the techs supplied.
"Or the sensors."
"Or the reactor."
Lyra's brows shot up. "I mean, I'd hope not or I'd question what we're all doing standing so close. No offense, Lieutenant."
"None taken," Fred assured. He wondered at the ease with which she interchangeably used his name and his rank, making neither sound more or less formal than the other. He was equally as comfortable referring to John by that or Chief, but he'd known his teammate for the vast majority of his life. They were brothers in all but blood. His association with Lyra was not of the same nature, it was… much more complicated than it ought to be. Recollection of how he'd fumbled her bag when she'd leaned forward over the desk, typing on her tablet, was yet further proof of this. He'd never, not once before in his forty-eight years, caught himself examining a woman's rear. Inappropriate didn't even begin to describe his behaviour - it certainly didn't describe the lurid images invading his sleep recently.
"So tell me about it," she prompted, her timing so impeccable that for a fraction of a second absurd panic that she knew what'd been going through his mind actually trumped reason. "What happened, what was going on when it locked?"
Her eyes hadn't even lifted from the tablet she was engrossed in, which was fortunate since he knew his expression had not remained neutral. He swallowed, somehow convinced his heart to vacate his throat, and answered. "Nothing abnormal, we'd just completed the 5K uphill sprint. My temperature readout was a little high, but inside the accepted range still. As soon as we stopped, the armor lock engaged." Get it together, Fred.
"Well, it either intuitively saved you from spontaneous combustion or forced you to aimlessly stand here and be poked and prodded for the past hour." Scrutinizing something being displayed on the screen, she wet her lips. "What's your take?"
It was the novelty of standing eye to eye with her - that was what was making simple movements and expressions draw his focus. "The latter, though I wasn't… tech only showed up thirty minutes ago."
"An important distinction. You're okay with poking and prodding if it doesn't exceed a half hour."
That was not what he'd meant.
She glanced up. "You're free."
He blinked and looked down, flexing a hand experimentally. How had he not noticed?
"I overrode the protocol, but you're going to need to head back to have a more thorough diagnostic run," she was saying as she returned the data-pad to her satchel.
"Copy that." Fred hauled himself into the tray, retrieving his helmet as she slid into the passenger seat again. Well, it was more comfortable than riding in the back. He wasn't disappointed.