Solace & Taproots

3.8

Rufus watched hopefully the entire time, licking his chops every once in a while. You know, so they wouldn't forget he was there if they somehow missed his transfixed gaze and expressive eyebrow spots as his eyes tracked the food's every movement.

When they were almost done, Ronnie spoke up again. "So, my dears. Do you know what the single largest responsibility of a good sergeant is?"

Rebecca raised her finger as she returned her spoon for another scoop. "Exorcising stupidity in a 100 yard radius?"

Ronnie was mildly amused by her guess. "Heh. That's more of a... what do you gamers call it... a passive aura effect. No, the most vital application of our divinely bestowed intellect — from God to St. Mattis to us, and our unsurpassed ability to get shit done, is to protect our people from the incompetence and buffoonery of higher ranks and institutions. We are the boots in their ass, but we are also the shield over their heads for shitstorms they don't even know exist because of our intervention."

Sam chimed in from where she now sat upright, cross-legged on the cot flanking Rebecca. "This sounds like it's going somewhere interesting... should there be popcorn? Hmm. Has anyone figured out how to make popcorn?"

Ronnie settled her weight back in the chair like a storyteller getting comfortable. "Goals, kiddo. Goals. Which is actually a pretty good segue. I had quite the conversation with Lieutenant Fairbanks into the wee hours. Coming to such an... assertive rescue made quite the impression on him and his people. Bex, that made a second data point for his opinions of you — Allie's strong interest in contacting you, implying good ties to that little community, being the first."

Ronnie gestured at herself with a twist of her hand. "He already has the good sense to recognize the importance of a quality NCO. And then when he learned about how our little copper top... get it? Duracells? Never mind. Miss Technomancer here and her penchant for usurping enemy robotics..." (Sam bounced a little in the bunk and looked appropriately gleeful.) "... and improvised security systems, and power storage n' distribution... well. A few years ago, he'd be trying to impress the two of you with the merits of the GI Bill. As things stand now, there are going to be some rather momentous conversations happening soon, which are going to hinge on a series of key facts — and how you feel about them in aggregate."

Sam leaned to put her arms around Rebecca's shoulders in a distinctively 'summer camp best buds' fashion. "Sarge, you're not making us write an essay, are you? Can it be a group project?"

"I am authoritative, not inhumane. And, once again, you're lucky you're unofficial family, not under my command, or I'd be giving you some Incentive Training for interrupting. Do you prefer pushups or crunches?" Rufus must have picked up on Ronnie's teasingly strict tone, because both he and Sam made similar chastised expressions. Rebecca comforted them by patting Sam's arm and putting the bowl on the ground so Rufus cold help dispose of some potential evidence linked to their tardiness and increasingly conspiratorial-sounding conversation, and Ronnie continued.

"Now pay attention. Fact: Fairbanks says that local command structure is finally reconsolidated enough to be effective, and to start investing in civilian settlements. There is a captain who has read enough military history at West Point that... yes, I know Bex. A woman after your own heart. Sammie got you first, and I don't think the captain tucks her uniform our way. As I was saying. She believes that establishing a strong network of settlements will obviously benefit the civilian survivors, but also bootstrap a robust supply chain, meaning less time spent foraging by troops and remaining municipal partners, and more time spent providing safety and improving local circumstances, which just circles right back and frees them up to do more, etcetera etcetera etcetera. Hello, positive feedback loop."