Untouchable

8: Hunt

The day for their venture finally arrives. The transportation ships are ready at dawn. She has had little interaction with the navy, but if Lynch's laments are anything to go by it is one of the few branches, perhaps the only one, involved in reclaiming Eden 39 that is blameless. Not flawless, but close enough.

Lynch is tense and fidgety during breakfast. Tells her to stay close to him twice – two times more than necessary considering she is meant to be his bodyguard. Nervous? Scared? Certainly unhappy with leaving the base. The mask of calmness slips on early though, before they even step into the antechamber. He would probably give off an air of calm confidence if not for his need to double check that the medics have any and all equipment they could possibly need.

While Lynch is talking to Small and a handful of other medics, Holly comes face to face with Jarvis. In full armor, backpack, weapons, everything. She allows herself a moment, though she has not technically been given leave.

"You are not supposed to lift anything heavy," she reminds him, unhappy to see that he is disregarding the Hospitaller's orders. "You are still healing."

"Only a week or two left," he says, dismissing her concerns with an ease that rubs her the wrong way. His squabbles with the other guardsmen can't possibly have improved matters either, she wants to point out. Doesn't. Knows it is a topic better left as abandoned as most untouchable infants.

"Your gear alone is too much. You should stay in the base, not-"

He gently takes her face in his gloved hands, leans in, kisses her, angle a little awkward with his helmet on. Stays close after their lips separate, keeps his voice down as he talks.

"I appreciate the concern, babe," another kiss. "But if Roth is being sent into battle, I'm going with her. Besides, the rest of the team are carrying some of my shit, so the pack isn't as heavy as usual."

"Mm," she sighs pointedly. Knows there is no arguing, but also wants him to know she disapproves. "I can fit more into my backpack."

"Thanks, but it's really not heavy."

"You don't have to be embarrassed if..." she trails off as he shakes his head, smiles.

"Not embarrassed. I don't want you encumbered if you end up within stabbing distance of the enemy. And they're my squad, she's my kid, and you're heading out too. Not a chance that I'm staying behind unless they strap me to a hospital bed."

"I can have that arranged," she warns him, prods his flak armored chest with her finger. Hard, reliable, but cheap. Not the best armor available. If it would fit she would demand that he at least don her armor instead.

"Of that I have no doubt."

"Though I rather have you back in the kitchens," she adds. "I miss fresh morning bread."

He smiles, crow's feet and dimple becoming visible, glances past her, takes a little step back, putting unwanted space between them as his face grows serious again. She knows who is approaching before he finishes straightening up.

"Commissar."

"Eade," Lynch nods, looks him up and down. Apparently finds nothing to criticize or praise. "I trust you two will be professional once we step off the ship."

"Yes, commissar."

"Yes, sir."

They reply in unison, readily enough. It seems to be the only reprimand he has for her even though she left him alone with the medics. He is allowed to punish her lightly, she knows that. Not severely – no serious beatings, no starvation, certainly no maiming or execution. The inquisitor doesn't want a repeat of her fourth mission when her presence had brought out the worst in already unpleasant people. Her supervisor had eventually been forced to intervene. Compromised the mission. But Holly hadn't died in a cramped cell because the people around her had decided they didn't really need her alive. That the corpse would serve them better. Could be dismembered, divided among them, that she could still protect them in pieces. They had cut off part of her right ear to test the theory.