Archeia's Atheneum (The First Shift)

Episode Eighteen: Namaste

55 AA3

Don't even know why I'm here. Two left feet, too scared to be pretty--and they think a fucking dance is our way of letting loose. Goddamn brass. I'm here though, like it or not, I'm here. The dress they gave me is elegant, sure--but not meant for muscle. It shows more skin and scars than I'd like, and even my own people wonder what I've been through. A fucking lot--that's what. Only my squad knows even a fraction of the stories behind the war marks, only because they've been there--seen 'em fresh and bloody. If my boys weren't here now, I'd probably have a panic attack. Strength in packs, yeah? Makes me think of how it's going to be when the service is done. They say it'll be like it never happened, but I'm skeptical. Physical age regression is one thing, but you can't do that to the soul--and the mind remembers more than we give it credit. Ryan Linefield is by the punch bowl. The boys said they wanted a taste of home. Said they wanted some Earth-herb before the penguin-suit party. I thought Linefield went with them. Shit--he's walking over--and...he looks good. Shivers run up my spine. He kissed me two months back, not sure why. One of those "moments" I guess; like the ones in movies. Neither of us talked about that. The High Major is on the second floor, looking over the balcony. He probably knows I'm squirming in this setting, he's probably snickering too. Low and behold: Shore the Unbreakable, weak-kneed and wide-eyed. Ryan takes my hand, and brings me back to the moment. There's a burn scar on the palm of that hand, and a similar one on his left shoulder...

"You blame yourself for his death," said a voice. Jennifer's eyes shot open, and it all came back to her. This was the second time she woke at St. Lucia--though she was told her company would be much less hospitable this time. This had yet to be proven, however: as she was warm and relatively comfortable albeit stiff. She was not restrained, and the pain from the beating she took dimmed considerably. She was in his office. This room looked vastly different from the lab, where she met Esther. That place seemed to be from the distant future, and this from the near past. The office reminded her of an old English gentleman's club, but with more books and fewer tables and chairs. There was her green cushioned birch chair, Hicks' desk, and then his own chair--same as hers. A large window was letting in the afternoon sun, its rays dowsing Jennifer in sunlight. Dr. Hicks was just behind the light, sitting shaded. There was a fire crackling somewhere--to Shore's left side actually, in a large in-wall wood stove. "It's a natural feeling when you lose the ones you love," the Doctor said.

"Well I'm glad you approve," Jennifer quipped groggily, not at all pleased to be playing this game. "Not that it's any of your fuckin business."

"Your sleep-talking made my business. You know, if you need to talk to someone there's plenty of resources here. We could set you up-"

"You don't have to set up shit. Went to a lot of trouble getting me here; so how's about you just pony-up and tell me what you want."

Hicks had only yielded that sort of reaction from the other Stagnant Lords and Ladies. "Have we met before?" he asked, suddenly unsure of his position.

"No, but there was a lot of talk about your kind in the CMC. Everyone had a story."

"My reputation proceeds me then."

"Not as much as you'd like. I hear you're going soft," said Jennifer, not at all minding Esther's guile. The Doctor's demeanor shifted instantly--eyes darkening. Esther had told her they needed to do this mutiny quietly, tactfully--and she was right, but at the same time, Jennifer knew Hicks would want them to play it that way. If the Apothecary was right--and Hicks really was a turn-coat Lord--then he'd be off balance, and that was the key to his defeat. She needed to test him.

"I suppose we shall have to see about that," he said curtly. "For now we should focus on the matter at hand."

"Couldn't agree more."