A Web Serial by M.C.A. Hogarth
| 53. Distance-No Distance. | 55. 'Cause Moms Are Always Planning Ahead. |
|---|
54. The New Guys
"The Birdcage," officially the Landing Bay, a large hangar. Men and women are marching out of a shuttle; behind them come an additional line of six stretchers. More people are unloading what remains of the ordnance from Depot A from the back of the shuttle.
Peaches is standing rigidly erect. She doesn't wait long: a young man approaches her, wearing a lieutenant's service uniform. Ordinarily he'd be handsome, with blue eyes, a fading tan and a Gallic nose. However, impeccable grooming does nothing for the circles under his eyes and the hard and distant look his gaze defaults to. She salutes him; he returns it.
"Lieutenant Savannah Bonnet."
"Paul Avril." He offers her his hand. She shakes it. "Good to meet you, Lieutenant Bonnet."
"Savannah, please."
"Then call me Paul." He smiles. "Nice of you to offer your hospitality. I hear you have a pest problem."
"Like a bad motel, I'm afraid."
He grasps her shoulder, a gesture both natural and genuine. "I read all about it on the way here. Tell me how we can help."
Peaches, surprised. "Well, we could use some warm bodies to spread out the patrol schedule...."
"You have some suggestions?"
Peaches. "Ah... yeah, I drew up a few tables based on your ready reports."
He grins. "Another go-getter! Great, we'll take care of that the moment you show me my office. Get your people some rest."
Peaches, surprised. "That would be great. This way, I'll introduce you to the staff."
Barracks. Focus on a clock: it's 0730. Spots slowly opens her eyes, sees the numbers and sits up, throwing off her blankets.
Claws. "Woah, lady. Slow down there."
Spots jumps; he's sitting on the edge of her bunk. "Claws! We're two hours late!"
Claws. "Not anymore, we ain't." He grins. "Some relief shipped in last night. Poor bastards barely touched down and they're already hoofin' it through the Warren. While we get to sleep in. We're gonna be clockin' an extra four hours, all to ourselves, every God-blessed day."
Spots slowly lies back. "Wow. Four hours."
"Sounds like Heaven, don't it?"
Spots. "Yes! Who are the new people?"
Claws. "Members of Alpha Company. They were on asteroid duty."
"An entire company!"
Claws. "Well... sorta."
She eyes him.
"They came with a lieutenant. All twenty-ish of 'em." At Spots's look, he nods. "Yeah. Scuttlebutt says they lost a good sixty people in their last engagement."
Spots, whispering. "Mother of God." Then, frowning again. "If they came with a lieutenant... who's in charge?"
Claws. "Damned if I know."
Sickbay. Fang2, who is just ambulatory, stops at one of the newly occupied beds which now holds a man in his early thirties with a recruitment-poster look, complete with lantern jaw.
Fang2. "Wow, someone I haven't fleeced yet! Who the hell are you?"
Man, eyeing him. "Hawk Abrams, Sergeant, Alpha Company. Who the hell are you?"
"I'm Low-*** Private Fang2 Chao, Team Kitty." He grins. "Is that Abrams like the tank?"
"Is that Fang2 like you're missing something? That why you're here?"
Fang2 laughs. "You got me. Fang-Prime stole my balls, she wanted some extras. Want to play some cards? I'm ****ing bored."
Hawk. "Sure."
Fang2 hobbles back to his bed and comes back with a pack of cards. He shuffles. "So, Alpha Company... when you'd get in?"
Hawk. "Last night. We're your relief."
Fang2, eyeing the cast on his leg. "Some ****ing relief. Where were you before?"
"Naval Depot A, the asteroid."
Fang2, dealing. "No kidding! Zero-g, huh? What's that like?"
Hawk. "Interesting the first few times. After that, same ****, different life support."
Fang2. "Ain't that always the way."
Hawk. "Yep. So what's your officer like?"
Fang2. "Bonny Peaches? ****ing hot for a white girl."
Hawk eyes him over his cards. "Other than her shagability."
Fang2. "Oh, she's cool. Works the hell out of us, but she got the Seabees to cook for us. Man, pork chops." He licks his lips. "Was like Thanksgiving. In space."
Hawk. "Hot food sounds great."
Fang2 grins. "Yeah, it was all that and more. There was even a brownie for the ladies. What about your LT?"
Hawk, suddenly intense. "I'd follow him into Hell."
Fang2, uneasy, thinking he already did. "Uh... huh. So... um, how come 'Hawk'? I thought winged call-signs were reserved for the aviation units."
Hawk. "Zero-g's sort of like flying."
Fang2, a little wistful. "I bet. Your whole team's birds, then?"
Hawk. "Yep. Team PYEO."
Fang2. "Pee-yoh? What the hell is that?"
Hawk. "PYEO. Stands for "Peck Your Eyes Out." "
Fang2. "Man, that's some ****-up ****."
Hawk. "It was better than the alternative."
Fang2. "What was that?
Hawk. "PYFEO. "Peck Your ****ing Eyes Out." Try saying that. Pee-fyoh? PIE-fee-oh?"
As Fang2 laughs, a nurse shows up behind him, shakes his head. "Private Chao—"
Fang2 with a theatrical sigh. "I know, I'm supposed to be in bed—"
Nurse. "Actually, no. You're reaching the point where you really need to be doing regular exercise again. How do you feel about the gym?"
Fang2. "Aww, ****, I just sat down."
| 53. Distance-No Distance. | 55. 'Cause Moms Are Always Planning Ahead. |
|---|
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