Restless

Baird never thought he would see the day when he retired his Lancer. Technically it wasn't gone for good, but he wielded a screwdriver or blowtorch more than a weapon since arriving on Vectes.

They had finally run out of things to shoot, and it sucked.

Sure, their Stranded friends were still on the northern end of the island, but after Marcus put them in their place, VNB and Pelruan were as quiet as could be. Baird was okay with quiet—in fact, it was nice to finally be able to think—but not sitting around. Even helping the building project couldn't entertain him for long. It wasn't active enough.

He wasn't on duty all the time now; Hoffman was starting to relax schedules. Patrols still went to Pelruan, but that rarely happened now that Anya was permanently stationed there with a group of Gears. They kept everything orderly and neat. It was starting to make Baird antsy.

He found he couldn't sleep most nights. He would lay in bed listening to the other men snoring, waiting for something to go bump in the night so he could shoot it. The worst that happened was someone having a nightmare. It was the perfect time to catch up on his sleep without worrying about grubs stealing the ground from under his boots, and yet he couldn't switch his mind off. His life was dedicated to action, to killing, and now there was nothing left.

What would he do with his life? What was there to do? Maybe he could start a farm with Bernie—Mataki and Son was okay with him. Or maybe fishing; there seemed to be some fun in that.

Of course, it was only fun for him if he was in a submarine firing torpedoes at everything.

He was itching to get back in Clement, but since he repaired their sonar, Commander Garcia didn't have much use for him. That was more than upsetting.

Baird paced the length of his bunk in agitation. He just couldn't sit still and that bothered him. When did his life become ruled by the need for adrenaline? He felt he had to get out and do something—now.

Cole entered the barracks, which was uncommon at this time of day. He was still on duty. He crossed his arms and watched Baird pace, laughing. "What's wrong, baby? Looks like something crawled up your tailpipe and died."

"I'm going out of my mind, man," Baird replied. He didn't think anything of admitting his weaknesses to Cole; they'd been through a lot together and being on Vectes had definitely softened up the blond bastard. "I need something to shoot."

"Why not fix somethin'? That'll keep your fingers busy."

"Parry and Sharle have everything under control. Even Garcia doesn't need me, and I can't convince Yanik to let me touch Zephyr." He ran both hands through his hair, the anxiety plain on his face. "I don't know what to do now. I hate this!"

Cole grimaced. "I think you oughtta take it easy."

"I can't take it easy. You don't understand, Cole, because people love you any day of the week. People only like me when I prove I'm useful. I don't have a winning smile or even a handful of charisma to lean on."

His friend came further into the room and slapped Baird on the back. "I think you just need some fresh air. It's difficult on all of us right now. You see Marcus—he never parts from his damn radio. He feels it too, Baird. Everyone does."

It was just the past, Baird knew. Now that he had extra time to think, he'd been considering his childhood a lot. He never got along with anyone even if he tried. The only time he felt worth anything was in the COG army—which never ceased to amuse him in a horribly ironic way, especially since he had so vehemently refused to join. It didn't take much to be accepted, but it was a feeling he lived for. He knew how to sight up and pull the trigger; that made him capable, even likable when he saved someone's life. He lived for the times when someone complimented his shot or realized how tech savvy he was; he took pride in their confusion. Everyone thought he was a worthless trust fund baby. He couldn't resist rubbing his skills in their faces.

But now there was nothing—nothing to kill, no tech to salvage, nothing he could build. The other Gears had finally stepped up and he had no one left to pat his head and call him a clever boy. Well, except Mataki, but she seemed to have her own issues to deal with. It almost irked Baird that there was no one to pay attention to him.

"If you want to talk about it, you know I'm always here for you," Cole said. "Hell, even Boomer Lady would listen. She cares about you a lot more than she lets on. You have support here, Damon, so use it sometime." Cole slapped Baird's shoulder this time and grinned, trying to lighten the mood. "Anyway, Marcus needs the super group to suit up. Hoffman wants us to do a recon on the Stranded up north. Now if you're a good boy, you might get the chance to shoot something."

"Gee, thanks, Cole," Baird sighed. He shook his head, smiling despite the heavy gloom. Cole always had a way to make him feel better, even if that meant joking about killing Stranded. "Tell Marcus, no promises. I'll keep my hands and feet to myself, but I can't help it if a round manages to hit some vermin. My Lancer's been pretty restless, and it's been known to have a mind of its own."