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Wearily, Major unlocked his locker and started the process of changing out of his uniform. He used to come to work in such a good mood, ready for the day, and end it feeling like he'd accomplished something, feeling glad to have spent the time with his squadmates and friends. Now he dragged himself into work, gritted his teeth through the mind-numbing tedium and the never-ending political headaches, and ended the day wishing he was anywhere but here. He missed his old life, his old self, his relationships with Ravi, Liv, and Peyton … He missed Seattle the way it used to be.
He finished getting dressed, barely even registering the presence of his fellow soldiers until he heard the overloud voice of a new guy, Joey, hired since the disastrous party that had left them so short-handed. "Look at him, Tommy. Look at the way he buttons those buttons. Such dexterity. Such panache."
Major looked at the guys and shook his head, trying to cover his irritation with resigned amusement.
"He looked at me," Joey said with mock appreciation. "He looked at me!"
"Oh, be careful, Joey," Tommy told him. "He might have just gotten you pregnant. He can do that, you know."
Russ Roche came around the corner from the bathroom to catch the tail end of the mockery. "Hey. This man just saved the Commander from certain death. What're you known for?"
Tommy and Joey replied without hesitation. "Playing grab-ass, sir." "Binge-drinking, sir!"
Roche and Major looked at each other and grinned. Gesturing to Major, Roche said, "That man's got a portfolio you could only dream about. He's training cadets. He's capturing Zombie Killer Cain. He's saving the Commander's life." Then he laughed and smacked Major on the ass. "And in about twenty minutes, he'll be tucking Chase Graves into bed."
All the guys laughed, and Major forced a smile.
"Does Chase like a kiss on the forehead?" Tommy asked.
"Does he have a favorite story, or—" Joey didn't get to finish the dig, because Chase Graves himself entered the locker room, leaning heavily on a cane.
"Damn straight, he has a favorite story. It's Goodnight Moon. And he likes his kiss on the mouth, lots of tongue." Graves tapped his lips with one finger, grinning.
Major was glad to see his boss in such an unexpectedly good mood. It had been a long time since Graves was in anything like a joking mood. Still … "Mmm," he said, shaking his head. "And I mean this … You guys are all dicks."
"Ooh, you were hoping for some hoopla?" Graves asked. "Find the new Renegade for me. Then you'll get your Star Wars ending. You and Chewie and Han collecting your medals."
Knowing that the Roche sting was already underway, Major didn't worry too much about the Renegade comment. After all, the new Renegade couldn't be up to speed just yet, not without a lot of backup from the old Renegade's squad, and they had pretty much disappeared after their boss was murdered.
He headed out of the locker room, and Roche hurried to catch up to him. "Holy hell, Lilywhite, you can get away with murder around here."
"Already have," Major said lightly. "More than once."
Roche grinned. "Times are good, my friend. Our product is selling like hotcakes."
"Our product? I don't even know who I'm working for."
"You work for me," Roche assured him. "You get paid, don't you?"
"Barely." Major lowered his voice. "In case you haven't noticed, I am tremendously popular around here. I have the Commander's ear. When am I gonna move up a tax bracket or two?"
"Well, aren't you the ambitious one."
"Uh-huh."
Roche nodded. "I like that in a person. Let me give it some thought, I'll see what else I might have for you."
"All I ask for. Thanks, man."
"Hey, for the hero of Fillmore Graves? Anything." Roche punched Major playfully in the shoulder and headed off down the hall.
The next night, Major was called in on emergency duty to patrol a house where they were holding one of Renegade's coyotes, captured as he tried to slip out of New Seattle. The coyote, a human, not much more than a kid, really, had sent Chase Graves and Lambert in the direction of Brother Love, and Fillmore Graves was holding him while they checked out the lead.
It was a boring patrol, nothing noteworthy until a car alarm suddenly started going off outside. Major and the others went to check it out, and while they were gone, someone broke a window and scratched the coyote, making him a zombie, and removing the option of eating his brain in order to get a vision of who Renegade was.
Unhappily, Major took his squad back to the campus the next morning and reported to Chase Graves' office to give him the bad news that their prisoner was now suddenly a zombie.
Graves, still limping from Cain's attack, got very close to Major and asked softly, "How is that possible?"
"Someone knew where he was. They broke a window to his room and scratched him."
"And the sound of a breaking window failed to alert any of you?" Graves only spoke this quietly when he was very, very angry.
"We assume whoever did it set off one of our car alarms," Roche said.
"My car alarm," Major clarified.
"And used the cover of the alarm to get the job done."
"Everyone get out their cell phones right now and unlock them. I want to know if any of you might've sent a signal. Unlock that," he told Roche, looking over his phone.
Reaching into his pocket for his phone, Major found something he hadn't known was there: a tracker. A tracker that someone had slipped into his pocket. Someone who had access to his house, someone who he knew had already been involved smuggling a human out of New Seattle.
Palming the tracker, he played innocent while an increasingly furious Chase Graves found nothing substantive, and thanked his lucky stars he had enough credit built up with his boss that Graves allowed it to seem like he was mystified and privately spoke to Major later assuming it must have been Roche.
Major held his own anger at bay long enough to get through his work day, but as soon as he could get away from Fillmore Graves' campus, he knew exactly where to go.