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LEAVE II
“As a leader, you must never ask a subordinate to do something you would not do yourself. Command in combat entails a responsibility to protect those under your charge and a willingness to share the same risks.” - Col. Ibrham Kane, Address to the Officers of the 1st Volunteer Lance Regiment prior to the 1st Battle of Richey Gap, 4 MIC
An eternal question. To cover or not to cover? ‘NUL[Rh - ]’ and ‘DLI-298A’ stared back at her through polished glass. Too dark to ever really conceal, but too utilitarian and devoid of artistry to be considered decorative. She landed somewhere in the middle and just ignored them. There was no reason to hide or break with the past, this life was its ultimate product. Like the book said, “One should not look for anything else in our Way. When its nature and your own is understood, it can be seen in all things”. Very poetic, she always liked that part.
Next to her, Lucy was carefully dotting black back onto the recently concealed beauty marks scattered across her face. As she’d said so many times before, someone put them there. There was clear conscious effort taken with aesthetics in mind. All that work and it’d be wrong to hide them away, rude even. Or, so she said. There was more than a small vain streak running through that girl anyways; ego occasionally hid itself as courtesy. Though they were both of the opinion that arrogance and confidence were only differentiated by one's ability.
“Is Mark coming?” Lucy ask while giving herself another careful check in the mirror.
“Let me ask again.” Dalia paused her ministrations while snatching up her comm.
Dalia 🔥: ‘Taphouse!!! R u cming!?!’
MyShortKing 👑: ‘Who else is?’
Dalia 🔥: ‘Lucy mayb Sam’
Dalia 🔥: ‘its gnna b fun!’
MyShortKing 👑: ‘🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔’
Of course now Mark would want to be a stick in the mud. After years of abstaining, his trip to the hospital reignited a terrible and over-powering addiction.
“Is he coming?” Lucy asked again while brushing her hair.
Dalia took a few steps away. “Just gimmie a second; this requires a light touch.”
Dalia 🔥: ’Wt els r u doin? 🤨 ’
Dalia 🔥: ‘dnt tl em ur gnna sty in ur apartment al nght plying that game’
Mark started typing, nibbling the bait she’d set. Now all that was left was to spring the trap.
Dalia 🔥: ‘😔 u alrdy bailed on our gymdate earlier tdy’
MyShortKing 👑: ‘alright’
MyShortKing 👑: ‘bc I love u’
MyShortKing 👑: ‘BUT’
MyShortKing 👑: ‘no fighting’
MyShortKing 👑: ‘promise?’
MyShortKing 👑: ‘im not allowed to kick anything for 2 more weeks’
Dalia grinned while she fervently typed out her reply.
Dalia 🔥: ‘dinner, few drinks, I promise 😘’
Dalia 🔥: ‘730, love u’
MyShortKing 👑: ‘love you too sweet thing’
“We’re a go. What about Sam?” Dalia confirmed while turning back to the mirror.
Lucy dug through the closet looking for clothing she’d stashed there prior, mostly ignoring the question. “Is this a pants or skirt occasion?”
“Pants, definitely. Let’s try to keep this casual-ish.” Dalia answered while turning back to the mirror to apply a finishing touch of lipliner. “You didn’t answer my question though.”
Lucy’s hand appeared from the door and motioned for her own comm. “Mark better show up wearing something with buttons.”
With a friendly eye roll Dalia snatched the device up and tossed it into the walk-in closet.
“Link Puppy.” Lucy instructed the device without even bothering to pick it up while she continued changing. The device chirped, signaling a successful connection.
“Hey, Beautiful didn’t expect to hear from you until later, what’s up?”
“Are you still working?”
“No actually we were just finishing up. Senior Rueben and Lachenski are locking up all the gear right now, already sent Schwartz on his way.” Sam replied.
“Okay, cool. You can meet me Dalia and Mark at Taphouse then. 7:30, wear that shirt I got you.”
“I’ll be fashionably late, but I’ll be there.” Sam replied without hesitation.
“See you then.”
“Yeah, see you then, beautiful,” Sam replied.
Lucy cut the link without hesitation.
“You know it’s okay to tell him you love him.” Dalia teased from out of sight.
“He knows. Where I come from, we don’t cheapen it by just saying it all the time.” Lucy explained while stepping out of the closet.
Dalia spent a few moments taking it all in. “It’s so… drab.”
Lucy glanced down at herself almost to question if they were both looking at the same set of clothing. “You said casual; this is casual.” Lucy motioned down to her grayscale long sleeve graphic tee and tan capris.
“Yeah, I know, but you could use some color. You look straight out of a 2/3rds corrupted bootleg Belt-drama.” Dalia announced while pushing past her into the closet and flipping through hangers. Finding exactly what she was looking for with ease, Dalia ripped a red and sunset yellow-orange shirt off a hanger and tossed it to Lucy. “Put this on.”
Lucy held the article taught in front of her. “‘Visit Isla de Sacrificios? Where’s that?”
“Off the coast of Veracruz, but really, don’t worry about that,” Dalia redirected.
Lucy frowned while draping the article over herself. “I’m not wearing this. I’ll be swimming.”
Dalia held up a hair tie, “It’s too small for me anyways. C’mon, gimmie a bit more credit next time.”
Lucy begrudgingly replaced her top with the oversized and eye-wateringly bright article. Dalia pulled the excess fabric and quickly tied it away in the small of Lucy's back. The neck was still too big and the sleeves hung a bit low, but Dalia was certainly onto something.
“Still not a fan of the color.”
“You mean you’re not a fan of color in general. I’m telling you, you just give off red, you know that?” Dalia tugged the shirt around her shoulders to one side accentuating the asymmetric look. Lucy still seemed unconvinced. “Look, Sam says something positive when he sees, you get the first round.”
Lucy spent another few beats admiring herself in the mirror and adjusting it slightly, holding her hair up with one hand and then letting it down to compare while Dalia resumed digging through the closet for her own outfit. She always was a gambling woman, especially so lately.
“Yeah, I’ll take that bet.”
“That reminds me,” Dalia announced from inside the closet. “How did your trip go, you see the hakwajh?”
“Yeah actually, a lot taller than I imagined.” Lucy replied while settling on just keeping her hair down for tonight. “Though I think I have a problem.”
“Problem?” Dalia prompted.
“So, the race track does heats all day. There’s always something running every few minutes. There’s drinks and food and all sorts of other stuff to do, it’s really fun in general across the whole city, but we got to the actual track I got a chit for like 5 Libra thinking I was just gonna bet once. Just to say I did, you know?”
“Okay, but what happened?” Dalia sort of already knew where this was going. Lucy never did anything in small measures.
“Well, I won.” Lucy paused, taking time to reminisce over the feelings of tension and elation as she exploded inside the bar area watching her chosen steed pull ahead. “5-1 longshot, I guess they call it the ‘dark horse’ anyway, splotchy stallion named ‘Bad Reputation’ I picked ‘cause I liked the name pulled through in the last 100 meters.”
“Stallion?” Dalia asked while emerging from the closet.
“Male, uncastrated. Gametes from winners apparently go for a lot. Quintupled my initial bet, they gave us a free round of drinks, everybody was so nice and congratulatory. I figure, ‘fuck it, just let it ride’.”
“So how much did you lose?” Dalia asked while pulling on a white crop-top traced with geometric streaks of blue.
Lucy had to take a moment to compose herself. “50.”
“What, shil? That’s no big deal if you made 25 Libra off that one bet.” Dalia shrugged casually while putting in her earrings.
“No, 50 Libra.”
Dalia stopped what she was doing to stare at Lucy through the mirror for a moment.
Shame colored Lucy’s next admission. “That’s not even the worst part. Sam had to drag me away from the track. I was so pissed on the free drinks I wanted to keep going. You know I can’t just end on a loss.”
Dalia sighed with a smile. Easy come, easy go. “Well, at least it’s money you could afford to lose.”
“What? You’re not gonna roast me for once?”
“Sounds like you already burned yourself lighting all that money on fire.”
There it was.
“Nearly my whole prize dividend, gone in one drunken escapade. I’m really not any better than my own Riflemen.” Lucy admitted, pausing for a moment to wallow in the defeat again while putting her nose ring in.
“Ready?” Dalia asked while checking the time. Lucy gave an affirmative nod and shoved her things into her pockets.
“Why do you still wear that anyway? Must’ve hurt like hell putting it back in after all this time.” Dalia motioned to the golden ring through Lucy’s left nostril.
“Oh, it did. It’s a symbol of vitality and chastity; As an honorable Cydonian woman, I’m not just gonna not wear it,” Lucy responded haughtily.
“You are anything but chaste” Dalia jabbed.
Lucy snorted incredulously.
“Oh please, I know you better than that.”
“I only fuck one person; monogamy’s chaste,” Lucy dismissed.
“So he’s your husband now eh, Mrs. Beckett?” Dalia teased
“Don’t be ridiculous; I’d never take his name.” Lucy stated matter of factly. “Besides, if we’re talking about ridiculous cultural affectations, when are you gonna redecorate?” Lucy motioned to a framed piece of Jainjo calligraphy.
“Now you’re the one being ridiculous, I'm never getting rid of that.”
“What did Mark say when he found out you have your own death poem just hanging up as decoration?”
“You know him: interested but unbothered. Besides, it’s for me anyways. Just a reminder.”
A more thoughtful expression overtook Lucy.
Dalia jingled her keyfob. “C’mon there’s undrunk beer out there.”
It was Dalia’s turn with the beater that all of the Lieutenants in Defiant shared, having all chipped in to buy something to ferry them around. Parking was expensive, but it was a tax that most who could afford to own a vehicle were more than willing to pay. Dalia and Lucy just elected to split the three shil an hour fee between the two of them for tonight. Easy math, 18 Penn each.
Rohn’s Taphouse and Restaurant was surprisingly busy. Mostly because both of them had lost track of the days, there hadn’t been any work to give them regular meaning for a while now. If they’d known it was Wednesday they might’ve come earlier to secure a table; it was game night and the place was packed.
The Play-offs had finally trimmed down to just eight teams and tonight Pavin was facing Luna for a seat in the final four. Because it was Pavin that was playing the ‘harpers’ were out in force. Pavin’s longstanding tradition of independence had imbued its residents and ‘expatriates’ who hailed from there a certain sense of superiority. Sure they had been formally a part of the larger nation for nearly ten times longer than they were ever independent, but once they stood on their own! The old adage still held true. How do you know someone is from Pavin? Easy, they’ll tell you.
Luckily, they had something else on their sides. Law required Lucy and Dalia, just the same as any White-Army soldier, to wear open symbols of their allegiance. The white backed sword and faces pins on their bags were enough to make most patrons, even the similarly distinguished members of the Republican Guard, clear the way. Dalia’s stature was enough to plow through anyone who was less attentive.
After forcing their way through they eventually secured a table in the corner and settled down with beers as the teams were starting their warm-ups.
Lucy sipped at her kroner while they waited for the tartare and the boys to arrive. “Who’ve you got?”
“I hate Luna, fucking money team.” Dalia spat while watching the white and gold joursied team in question formed opposite their maroon and silver opposition for the traditional anthem playing.
“I guess we’re in good company tonight then.” Lucy observed while glancing around at the other patrons wearing their allegiance proudly. She lowered her voice before proceeding. “Still I don’t think Pavin’s odds are great.”
“It’s spirit against the best players money can buy. Who’d they poach last?” Dalia lifted up her glass to examine the paper coaster and determine if it was worth adding to her collection.
“Pichianno. He wants another Cup win before he retires I think.”
Dalia set the paper circle back down. “Greedy old bastard, Bridgerton’s never been the same since the ‘37 team broke up. What’d they offer him to sweeten the deal?”
“Starter position and 2.3 million Marks.” Lucy announced while Together to the Stars played and chatter in the bar lowered to a respectful murmur.
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Luna had their fair share of fans in the stands, but there were no die-hards on this side of the trideo. It ended without much notice but just the first few notes of the next anthem were enough to send the bar’s present occupants into a frenzy. Drums thundered and two thirds of the bar screamed the lyrics, making up for a lack of key with volume.
When I was driven from my home by an Oppressor’s hand
I cut my sticks and greased my brogues and came o’re to this land
I found a home and many friends, and some that I love dear
Be jabbers, I’ll stick to them like bricks as a Pavish Volunteer
And fill y’er glasses up me boys and drink a hearty cheer,
To the Land of our Adoption and the Pavish Volunteers!
When the Earthers cross the reach commenced a war like raid
I quickly then laid down my hoe, to the devil with my spade!
To a recruiting office then I went, which happened to be near
And joined the good ‘Ole Sixty-Ninth like a Pavish Volunteer
Then fill the ranks and march away, no Earths do we fear!
We’ll drive them all to blazes, says the Pavish Volunteer!
The last verse always had an effect on the opposition, especially so now since Luna was playing in Pavin Central Grav-dome surrounded by tens of thousand rabid fans dangling lengths of rope out of the stands.
Now fill your glasses up me boys, a toast, come drink with me:
May Pavin’s Harp and the Stripe’ed Flag, united ever be,
May Earthers quake and Venutians shake and tremble in their fears,
When next they meet the Martian boys and Pavish Volunteers,
We’ll give them all short nooses that come just below the ears
Made strong and good of Pavish hemp by Pavish volunteers!
The rabid baying of frenzied fans continued for several minutes, but slowly died as the team captains made their way to the center of the arena to flip a token for possession or pick of sides.
Mark slammed the door closed and then spent the next few moments adjusting the passenger seat to a more comfortable position. “Why’s this thing so fucking far back?”
Sam blinked a few times. “Lucy’s taller than you, but dude, what happened to the beard?”
Mark stroked his cheeks. “Dalia made me shave it. I’m not too burned, I was gonna have to lop it off on monday anyways.”
Sam checked the blind spot monitoring and then pulled out on the street. “She say why or are you just that whipped?”
“Tickles her legs too much,” Mark winked. “Like I said, I’m not that burned about it. More of an experiment really.”
“Well, at least she let you try, Lucy would never. She fucking hates mustaches too,” Sam kvetched.
“The sacrifices us men must make,” Mark lamented. “How’d that trip go? Fun? Was thinking about taking Dalia down there sometime.”
“Oh, it’s fun alright. Absolute money suck though. Like, every little thing from parking to the city vehicle pass, lodging and so on, is an exercise in separating you from your hard earned libbies. It’s luxurious for sure, but they really shake you down. I guess if you can afford the experience it’s of no consequence.”
“Hmm, anything noteworthy? When you hit me up last time, you made it seem like Lucy had maybe a bit too much fun. Man, you sounded pissed actually.” Mark chuckled
Sam took his eyes off the street for a second. “She definitely had too much fun. We hit the racetrack up on the second day after palling around the strip for a while thinking we were gonna stop in for a little bit then get dinner, even had reservations. First fucking thing Lucy does is grab a chit for five fucking Libra. Swear to Mars, I saw Shil signs in the bookies eyes.”
Sam snapped his fingers for effect while turning the corner. “Instantly went from normal tourist to high-roller. Dude takes us up to a really nice lounge, starts showing us around, introduces us to the bartender and so on. Since we’re up there, first round is on the house. This is all well and fine, I get a mojito and settle in to relax. First thing she orders? Screwdriver, triple.”
Mark shook his head with amusement while Sam continued.
“She always drinks like a fucking fish. that I can handle but these dudes were trying to liquor her up from minute one. That fucking vice-implant of hers is either made of adamantium or on it’s last fuckin’ legs.
“I really have never seen anyone who could keep up with her. You know I thought those things were supposed to prevent you from drinking.” Mark added.
Sam nodded in agreement, the Petrova tolerance was basically legendary at this point. “Yeah, but if you’re motivated enough, you can over-tax the poor hunk-a-meat. Anyways, she downs this thing then starts asking the bartender about the races and the horses. She’s suddenly very interested in all the history and all that. I’m kinda listening, making polite conversation with the dude, but she is fucking wrapped up in this like that. Bartender seems to know everything there is to know and keeps topping up her drink every time it's on the bar for more than three seconds. Meanwhile, she’s really getting into the weeds, asking about horse biology and famous horses, and the breeding process. Dude is spitting this shit off like he’s got a doctorate in horse racing. Then bam, horses are coming up to the start line since there’s a heat like every ten minutes or so.” Sam paused to sigh.
“Lucy, like, I love her, I really do, but she does not test the waters at all before she dives in, especially when she’s drinking. Takes like 15 seconds to survey the field, puts her whole chit down the horse with the longest odds. Absolutely zero hesitation. At this point I’m think ‘oh, okay, she’ll lose and we can still make our dinner date.’”
“Well what happened?” Mark prompted.
Sam slammed his hands down on the wheel. “She fucking won! These other fuckers in this bar have to be fucking plants, I swear, because they were all cheering and talking her up, asking her questions. I’ll admit, I got a little caught up too because the odds were fucking 5-to-1 and she just quintupled her bet. 25 Libra like that.” Sam snapped his fingers again.
“I’m like, ‘Ah, beautiful this is great, we can pay for our hotel and meals for the rest of the trip; easily break even with extra’, but she wants to keep fucking playing. Needless to say, that was the only race she won the rest of the night, and we spent the whole fucking night there. They kept the booze flowing too; I’ve never seen her so drunk. Must’ve at least finished a bottle and a half of vodka. I wasn’t even really keeping track of what was going on because they were doing the same shit to me. Hours later, the bartender came over to me with a ‘polite reminder’ that she was 47 Libra in the hole. Seeing that number written down, that shit sobers you up quick.”
“47? God damn, my fucking prize dividened was like 55.” Mark gawked.
“Yeah, then I try to put a stop to this nonsense and she’s fucking blackout. You know how she gets all fucking pissy. ‘Puppy, you’re ruining our night. Just have fun, let me have fun’. Really though, I could tell it’s because she was in the hole. If there's anything she really hates, it's losing. I had to take a break; I couldn’t deal with her for that little moment, you know? Just got up pissed and had a man-to-man with myself in the bathroom mirror for a few minutes. That’s when I hit you up to complain.”
“Most of that was totally incomprehensible, I hope you know.”
“I couldn’t see the keys, like at all. When I came back she’d puked in one of the decorative plants in the corner and was getting aggressive with the staff. We’re code black here; like she might knock out one of the wait-staff if it heats up any more. So I bit the bullet. Paid the tab, apologized to everyone there, and drug her outside. By the time we got onto the tram to the hotel, she completely flipped flopped and was getting all cuddly, like she could tell I was livid. To be honest I really tried, but I can’t stay mad at her.”
“She pay you back at least?”
“Of course she did. We stayed in the next day to recover and I think she realized she fucked up before I even came too. Of course, she was up before me, all chipper at noon while I was trying to keep my head from exploding until the sun went down. Though, I think it was one of the better hangovers I think I’ve had. She got room service and was taking care of me all day. Refresh, food, and a prairie oyster do wonders. When the pounding came down I explained what happened and she apologized. Square deal as far as I’m concerned, but she can get really carried away, especially when there’s drinking involved. She promised to cut back, but we’ll see how that goes. That was our little vay-cay for the most part. We went camping at Kalenska crater for a couple days after that, and I found a pretty cool shard of Tridymite in a cave nearby. How was it here?”
“Not much, to be honest. We did go for dinner at Ulanor’s. My Battalion commander had a rez that he gave to me as sorta an atta-boy. Guess, not dying is worthy of some kind of reward. Other than that though, not much. Just kinda hanging out enjoying life without having to worry about all this Army shit for a while. I did start playing Kingdom while I was cooped up too.”
“My Cannoneers, Schwartz and Senior Rueben they both fuckin’ love that game. Won’t shut the fuck up about it.”
“Oh man it’s fun. I keep losing track of time just exploring and killing shit." Mark paused to chuckle. “I actually pissed off Dalia the other day because I forgot to meet her at the gym. I was wrapped up in playing it.”
“You been going together?”
“All the time. It’s good to get back in there; I really missed it. I still have some numbness in my foot, makes leg-day and running a bit weird, but she humors me. I had a nice little lead in the weight room before I got blown up, you know chest and shoulder stuff, but all that time bed-ridden made me soft. It’s close now and I really have to work to keep up with her. She also loves to nag me about doing all those stupid occupational therapy exercises.”
“It’s good for you. Wouldn’t be up walking if it weren’t for that shit. Lucy and I run together in the mornings most days, but I like to go lift by myself mostly.”
“I get that, it is kinda nice to go alone and just zone out. Other than that just kinda living the domestic life. It’s nice really, not having to worry. She came over the other day and made me big spoon while we were watching some Sirenese period piece. What do they call them in Yukatan again? tella-”
“Telenovela.” Sam corrected
“Yeah. She put the subtitles on for me cause I still can’t speak a word and I was mostly following. I still don’t know how people read and speak that fuckin’ fast. Anyways, I guess the main dude got paralyzed, or brain damaged, or something in ‘the war’. He could hardly move one arm let alone speak; they’re not sure if he remembers anything. His wife, or girlfriend, or whatever, was visiting him everyday, folding him paper cranes. I guess it’s one of those cultural ‘get well soon’ things. Come to the end and the dude showed his chick this shitty little paper crane he made with one hand after, you know, weeks or months of him trying when she was gone doing other things. To show her he remembered, or appreciated it, or whatever.”
Mark glanced out the window. “I guess it hit her woman button because she started tearing up, making those little ‘hic’ noises when you’re trying not to ugly-cry. I know it sounds weird, so bear with me here, but we were cuddling after, and I’m like talking her down and all that. She’s still sniffling telling me shit like: ‘I’d make you paper cranes until the end of time’, you know, that kinda stuff. Anyways this is happening and it hit me. Epiphany: ‘man, I really love this big bitch’. This is it. This is what I want. ”
Sam flicked his eyes from the road for a second. “That’s big talk from you”
“I’m serious. This is the girl I want to spend my life with.” Mark dug around his pocket. “She thinks I was hiding from the sun all day today. I was actually out shopping for this.” Mark held up a velvet box. “Not sure when, I’ll know when there’s a right moment. I had to go out and buy it to make sure it felt right going through with it. Never been more certain about anything in my life. Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about the same shit.” Mark returned the question while he stowed the item again.
“I mean, I have, but I’m kinda more than happy to just let things happen in their own time you know? I don’t want to rush anything, we’re still kinda getting used to living together. You know she had the gall to question my rock collection?”
“Dude, that is still a bit weird.” Mark admitted
“My fucking degree is in areology and volcanism! Am I just supposed to not like rocks or something?!” Sam blazed and then contained himself. “I’m not getting rid of them.”
“Sounds like you need to figure that one out before anything else.” Mark motioned ahead towards the under-ground parking. “You getting this one or am I?”
“You got a free ride; you can cover it this time.” Sam stated while pulling in.
Lucy washed down the tartare appetizer with another beer. It was pretty much water to her anyways. Despite the fact that the implant no longer functioned at peak efficiency it was more than enough to break down 3.5% ABV lager as fast as she could drink it. Dalia was being much more conservative and nursing hers quite slowly; Sirenese tended to have the opposite problem. First quarter was nearly over, where the hell were they?
A familiar silver Xpedition loaded with recreational outdome equipment rolled by the front window. Well, he did at least say he’d be late. That was more than she could’ve expected from her own Riflemen.
Despite all of the screaming from inside the bar, the score was still nil. Luna maintained possession for most of the quarter, but had yet to do anything with it despite Pichianno’s best attempts at carrying their offense from center. She could tell by the way he moved and was playing he didn’t quite have the vigor of youth anymore. At least, he didn’t have the hunger to throw himself recklessly through their defense anymore. His ball skills and footwork were still there, but he’d become much more cautious in age. A good center should be fearless in her opinion, totally willing to sacrifice themselves physically in order to open the middle field. Dalia was great at that, no mercy and absolutely no hesitation. Gravball was a violent sport, but ultimately it was still a team sport. Without Zhang Gualong, Nkunda or even Tlbitsie to back him up he seemed out of his depth on Luna. They weren’t used to playing the Center-focused style that had enabled him to win all those Cups with Bridgeton. Maybe a taste of humble pie at the hands of Pavin would teach him a thing or two about loyalty.
The bar door swung open and she flicked her attention away from the trideo to the two boys. Spotting Sam’s head above the crowd, she stood up and waved him over. They both elbowed their way through the crowd. Mark appeared after they were nearly half way there wearing a Pavin team polo, it did technically have buttons. They cut in between a waiter and a table squeezing past a few patrons. By comparison it was easy to see he really wasn’t all that short, 177cm was only a few below average and Krieger was even more vertically challenged. Maybe because he happened to surround himself with vertically gifted people that it was something she noticed so much.
Between the four of them they made a neat gradient in both height and skin tone. He was at the lightest and shortest end of both while his girlfriend was the tallest and darkest. Opposites attract?
Sam pulled out a chair next to her and pecked her on the cheek. “You know, this is a nice color on you, Lucy” he remarked tugging at her sleeve.
Dalia grinned. “I told you.”
“Well, I’m a woman of my word.” Lucy announced while tossing her debt chit at Dalia. Dalia continued her self satisfied smile while snatching it up and greeting Mark on her way to the bar for another round.
“We miss anything?” Sam queried.
“Yeah, this is important Lucy, my team is playing. Pavin lo braigh!” Mark added, quoting his home city's motto while hopping onto a chair.
Lucy shook her head. “Lot of Luna pounding their face into the Pavish defense and not getting a lot done. They’re about to turn over.”
Dalia returned moments later with another pitcher and extra glasses.
Mark scanned the placard on the table and began examining the menu. “Sweet-thing, you already order food?”
“Nah, we were waiting for you two, you know the rules.” Dalia responded while filling the glasses and passing them off.
“Thank god there’s still some civility left in you two.” Sam joked while taking the offered glass.
“How’d it go out there?” Lucy asked while brushing her finger behind Sam’s slightly deformed cauliflower ear picking up a tidbit of reddish dust.
“Must’ve missed it,” Sam apologized before continuing. “Smooth, surprisingly. Spent all morning waiting for the Navy to actually get on station, but once they were up we got everyone’s CAS currencies up to date including a first-time cert for Schwartz. Pretty successful little FTX I’d say.”
“Drop anything live?” Dalia interjected.“I always love seeing things go boom.”
“Oh yeah, quite a bit. Between me, Lachenski, Schwartz and Senior Rueben we probably got off maybe 10 AGM-120’s, plenty of rockets, and a few thousand kilos of bombs. Churned a lot of dirt. Senior Rueben even had a couple of Navy Crocodile VTOLs doing panel checks and gun runs. He wanted to show off to Schwartz a bit, show him what he can do if he stays in a while longer. I might be able to take y’all on the hill if you want next time we’re doing FIST cert if you want.”
Dalia perked up at the suggestion. “That sounds cool, I’m always wondering what my stupid FO team is skating off to do.”
“Defiant 3 right? You have Knox and who else?” Sam asked.
“Yeah, Knox and Goolsby is his RTO slash apprentice.”
“Ah, yeah that’s right, I can see his eyebrows now. Just talk with your Captain Wehr and we’ll hash something out.” Sam replied. “You know if we’re lucky I can stay away from the gun-line for a little longer and take over one of those Bat. FSO spots.”
“That’d be nice. Capt. Julian’s a bit of a weirdo.” Lucy remarked.
Dalia chuckled, “you’re not getting that lucky, sister.”
“A girl can dream.” Lucy shrugged while wrapping an arm around Sam.
“Well you better dream on, because this man right here is a born and bred Grenadier anyways. He did everything with me in King you know” Mark butt in.
Lucy was caught slightly off guard. “Come on Sam, you’re a Brave Son now.”
“Your first unit will always be home.” Sam opened his chit fold revealing the 5th Grenadiers regimental flash pinned inside.
Lucy looked slightly betrayed while Mark shook Sam’s shoulder encouragingly.
Lucy let it slide after another moment.“You know Mark, speaking of lucky Grenadiers, you never told the rest of us how you got blown up.”
“Not much to tell really; pulled a trip wire and a mine popped up to about my shin and threw my foot a few meters.” Mark dismissed.
“C’mon, there has to be more than that,” Sam encouraged. “Lucy penalty kicked a grenade and ate the shrapnel in the back of the leg. Don’t tell me you’ve been upstaged.”
“If you really must know. My platoon was about maybe three blocks from Smokehouse-2 on T+3. Good progress really for the standard at the time. Stopped on the east end of MSR Charlotte. Big industrial building across from us was caved in, rubble all over the fucking street. No-ak’s left us a surprise too. Pop-rocks, you know those little like 2-3cm pieces of shock-reactive plastic explosive, they’re all over the fucking place. Guess the No-ak’s thought their position was untenable, dropped shit loads of them all over the street as they rolled out of the district. We were trying to keep the tempo up, not get bogged down and with no Pioneer support I just said: fuck it. Pulled my leaders in a quick huddle and told ‘em ‘I’ll go first, Raider-file behind me, walk in my footprints.” Mark recounted.
“You just walked through a fucking minefield?” Lucy gawked.
“Well, you make it sound more dangerous than it actually was.” Mark waved off, trying to minimize. “The poprocks were the wrong shade, they’re like that red-ish brown to match the soil outside the dome. They stuck out pretty well on the cobblestone. Still, every step was the longest fucking step of my life. I Just kept telling myself: ‘I’m the leader, I have to go first.’”
Mark’s three audience members all nodded thoughtfully.
“I’m repeating that like a mantra, thinking every footstep might be my last. If I trip I’m probably toast. We fucking made it though and I was like thanking 18 different deities that the whole platoon made it unscathed. Shit didn’t work though, or I must’ve used all my luck. Next fucking alley I step into, litterally on the opposite side of the street there was hopper hidden in a pile of trash. One step in and I feel a tug then a loud bang and pain. I tried to take a step with a leg that wasn’t there to catch myself but fell flat on my face. I’d like to say I took it like a man, gave my Grenadiers some encouraging words, but I screamed, and I mean screamed. All the adrenaline from crossing was already out of my system so it hurt like a motherfucker, easily the worst pain of my life. Even with the A-shock I fucking passed out. Next time I woke up I was at some casualty collection point with our Doc.” Mark paused to smile, almost reminiscing over the memory.
“Hospitalman Corporal Evans, love him to death. First thing this cheeky bastard asks me when I come to is; ‘Sir, are you having trouble feeling your foot?’. Of course I say ‘yeah’, really though, I’m having trouble feeling much of anything because I was doped up to the max. Dude just grins and whips out my foot, boot and all, from his dump-pouch and fucking hands it to me. ‘How about now?’”
They all paused to chuckle at the anecdote.
Mark raised his reattached foot and rotated his ankle as if to make sure it was still there. “Really though, can’t thank the dude enough. I’d still be waiting for a replacement if he hadn’t dug through the alley and found it.”
Cheering interrupted the closing of his anecdote as the bar exploded with celebration as Pavin scored the first point of the game. The night went well from then on. Lucy managed to keep her desire to drown herself in liquor in check and food eventually came and went. Luna never managed to score despite Pichianno’s best attempts; he was far from friendly territory and on a team unwilling to bend itself to his will and play a different style.
Pavin only managed to score once, but 1 - 0 was enough to lock in their seat in the final four. A hard fought game and a deserved victory. As they couples split off and made their way back to separate abodes Lucy couldn’t help but feel a modicum of new found respect for Mark. She knew him decently well and this was far from their first outing, but the nature of them being in separate Regiments meant she never really had a good read on what kind of leader he was.
To take the plunge first and walk across a live minefield unaided, that was easily bravery worthy of a White Cross. Whether or not politicking would allow him to get it was another question. Ultimately that kind of willingness to sacrifice spoke volumes, there was something unique under all his bravado, something which her friend had clearly noticed. The same spirit that animated the Pavish Volunteers in both independence wars still walked the Solar. So long as there were people like him in the Army, who really cared about their Riflemen, or technically in this case, their Grenadiers, there was still hope. For every glory hound like Mullueax, there were still good leaders. Maybe that was enough to keep her faith in the institution.
Facing the loss of her command somehow felt slightly easier to stomach now. Maybe she’d have a chance to impart those values on her juniors from a new position.
Maybe she was just hoping her work would count for something in the grand scheme. All those lives being spent for nothing. A heart wrenching thought.