A Web Serial by M.C.A. Hogarth
| 84. Internal Pressure. | 86. Spots is Dancing(2). |
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85. Empathy, Unexpected
Barracks, in their racks:
Claws. "You ain't said nothing about him callin' me 'peer'."
Spots. "Neither have you."
Claws. "Too-shay, ma'am. Too-shay."
Spots smiles, turns over and goes to sleep.
An hour later, Claws is still staring at the wall.
Claws, under breath: "****."
He rises, dresses and goes to Sickbay, to the lieutenant's bed; Peaches is still unconscious. He stands by her bedside for several minutes, shoulders tense and head lowered. Then strides out.
...down the hall...
...to the lieutenant's office, where he touches the door-announce.
Avril, intercom. "Who is it?"
Claws, leaning on button. "Corporal Walker to see the lieutenant, sir."
"Come in."
Claws enters, comes to attention. Avril sets down the file he was reading, which has Spots's photo at the upper corner.
Avril. "Well, if it isn't Corporal Smart-***."
Claws, still at attention. "That totally wasn't called for, sir."
Avril. "You're right. At ease. In fact, sit. I was just thinking about you and Guitart."
Claws sits. Glances at file. "I see, sir."
Avril, leaning back. "I've had a little talk with Lieutenant Bonnet about you, Corporal. She thinks you're not living up to your full potential."
Claws, eyes down. "Is that so, sir."
Avril, reaching under the desk. "Yes. So tell me, Walker. Just off the record. What happened to your dad?"
Claws stiffens. " 'Scuse me?"
Avril sets a beer in front of him. Sits back down behind the desk with one of his own. "What happened to your father? I assume that's behind your attitude problem."
Claws eyes the beer, then Avril. "Beggin' your pardon, sir, but you ain't earned that story."
Avril. "I know. But I'm the one who might actually get it, since it was an idiot officer who sent my father home from Afghanistan in a wheelchair."
Claws sits up slowly.
Avril unscrews the cap, takes a sip. "He didn't want anyone to think he didn't have the proper fighting spirit. So he sent them into a cave after some insurrectionists. A cave. That they were using as an ops base. It's a miracle anyone got out alive. Dad came home and never walked again. My mother divorced him a few years later. I loved my mom and I was proud of my dad, so the only one left to be angry at was..."
Claws. "The officer."
Avril, pointing the neck of his beer at Claws. "Bingo. Sound familiar?"
Claws looks at his bottle, opens it. "A little, yeah."
Avril. "Not a Marine, was he. Your father, I mean."
Claws. "No. Army. My little brother decided to become an Army officer to do right by men like my dad."
Avril. "And you... didn't."
Claws. "**** no! I watched our mom raise us alone. But the war got bad."
Avril. "So you decided to do your duty. But like your dad did, as a grunt. So you joined a service where no one would recognize you."
Claws. "That was the plan, yeah, so how the **** did you figure it out?"
Avril. "Because you remind me of me. And then I saw your file, did a little research and made a guess."
Claws. "**** of a guess, sir."
Avril. "Yeah, well... I've been learning that a lot of life is making guesses and hoping the hell you're right. I don't have a leg to stand on, hating the man who got my parents divorced and my dad crippled. For all I know, he sent his squad out on less intel than I'm operating on now, trying to help Bonnet keep the crabs from savaging another company." Drinks. "Been a lot of Walkers in the military?"
Claws. "Could say that. All the way back to WWII. Still want to see Iwo Jima if I ever get back."
Avril. "It's worth it."
Claws looks up. "You been?"
Avril. "Yeah. I picked up some black sand. Think every Marine officer should make that hike up Suribachi." Smiles wryly. "My family saw WWII too. On the French side."
Claws. "****. Harsh."
Avril. "I know. Don't have much to prove, do I." He pushes the empty bottle aside. "Look, Walker. You're ****ing wasted as a corporal. You know it. I know it. Your dad's ghost knows it, and he's probably pissed to be your excuse. Bonnet thinks you're a shoo-in for officer training. I think she's right."
Claws snorts. "You hardly know me to make that call, sir."
Avril. "I know a backseat-driver when I see one. You're too smart. You see the big picture. Don't you think you could do more good putting that brain up here where it can make decisions? Because you can't tell me officers don't make them all the way down the line. Not anymore. This is not your father's war, your grandfather's, your great-grandfather's. I'm a ****ing second lieutenant, Walker, and I'm sitting on top of a frigging supercollider with no one to pull my *** out of the fire if the crabs blow it up. If there's even an *** left to pull if that thing goes."
Claws. "Yeah. What if I don't want the ****in' responsibility?"
Avril. "Then you wouldn't have managed to get connected to the sole intelligence resource on the planet that could save us, would you? But you did."
Claws, glancing at file. "That why you readin' up on us?"
Avril. "Like I said, Walker. You're too smart for your boots."
Claws sets his empty bottle on the desk. "I appreciate the pitch, sir."
"You'll consider it?"
Claws. "Nope."
Avril sighs. Chuckles. "If you go mustang in ten years, you'd better buy me a drink."
Claws grins. "That's fair. Bourbon washes down humble pie pretty easy. Is that all, sir?"
"Almost. Why'd you stop by?"
Claws. "Just thinkin' that the crabs might be hidin' from us because we mighta left a track they could smell near the holes. Maybe they think we're gonna push and they're preppin' for that."
Avril. "The thought had occurred to me, yes." At Claws's look: "Not all of us are stupid, you know. We'll be sending some robot scouts once we finish configuring them."
Claws. "Huh. Think they'll get through?"
Avril. "Probably not, the way our luck runs. But you need to buy a ticket if you want to win the lottery."
Claws. "True." He stands up, starts to salute, pauses. "Sir? Is it true, Spots bein' a secretary?"
Avril. "More or less."
Claws. "How the hell did she end up here?"
Avril grins. "Why's a corporal asking?"
Claws. "Maybe it's her ASL who's askin', and it would kinda be handy to know how a secretary ended up in a powered armor company. I know we're runnin' out of folks but I didn't think we were scrapin' that far down the bottom of the barrel."
Avril. "All right, I'll buy that line. The reason Guitart's here is almost certainly that she's logged more EVA work than any of us combined volunteering for Search and Rescue ops on that asteroid her husband mines. They probably figured she could handle herself in a suit without training. And unlike me or you or probably most of us, she's actually used a gun for something other than target practice."
Claws. "****, what? What's that mean?"
Avril. "Not telling. If you want the story, you'll have to get it from her. Or go earn your own bars. Dismissed, Corporal."
Claws salutes and exits. And stops outside the door, staring at the wall. Mutters: "****!" and then heads to the barracks to sleep. But not before eyeing Spots for a few long moments.
| 84. Internal Pressure. | 86. Spots is Dancing(2). |
|---|
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