BEACON- Part of the TORCH Saga

#33

Herod looked back at the thousands of mourning women. "They're strong," she said slowly, not wanting to sound judgmental. "They won't break. But... we have a long mission ahead of us. I'm not sure how things will look after the fourth or fifth mass funeral."

"Mmm. If only this legion had half-decent leadership." Zabda kept rubbing in the salve before looking up, her face reddening. "Shit. I said that out loud, didn't I? I'm sorry... I don't feel that way."

It certainly sounded sincere to Herod. "Not a fan of the legata?"

Zabda didn't reply right away. "Please don't mention to anyone I said that," she murmured. "It just slipped out."

"Mention you said what?" It wasn't Herod's business what Zabda thought of Lucifera or anyone else. That had nothing to do with her role in the legion.

But, what could have happened between the two of them? The legata was relaxed, perhaps overly so, and Zabda affable. They were both close to Amalek. Why wouldn't they get along?

"Attagirl." Zabda finished dabbing the cream and moved on to the next girl, a Vishnu-clad combat engineer whose stomach was slashed open by a drake's claw. The organic stitches kept her guts inside, but the area around the wound swelled heavily.

"Edemas, right?" Herod asked.

"Mmm." Zabda took another hypodermic from the compartment in the forearm of her suit. "You'd make a good nurse, Herod. You have this... calm to you. It really makes people feel at ease."

That was the first time Herod had heard that. She glanced away, her cheeks warm. "I've been told I'm creepy."

"Ha, who'd tell you that?" Zabda giggled. "If you're anything, you're the cool and mysterious type. You're like this still, placid ocean... nobody knows how deep you go."

"Not very. I'm more of a kiddie pool, ma'am."

Zabda finished injecting the drug into the edemas, then sat back. "This sucks," she whined. "I like this job a lot better when I dress scratches and make small talk, not when I have to stitch half-dead people back together. I am so... stressed." She glanced at Herod. "Would you be interested in helping with that?"

"Of course, ma'am. Happy to help. What should I do?"

Zabda crawled towards Herod, placing a hand on her knee. "You know," she said coyly.

Herod didn't. "Um... you'd like me to..." she glanced down at Zabda's soft, warm hand. "...massage your hands. With my... legs? Other way around?"

"Oh Astra." Zabda sat back, a disbelieving smile on her face. "I'm sorry, oh my. You're... are you a virgin?"

Herod looked down. Oh. That made a lot more sense, didn't it? "Yes, I am," she lied. "Um, but... thank you...? I don't... it's not really a good time for me..."

"Yeah. No, it's okay. I wasn't trying to rope you into anything." Zabda rubbed her eyes, tears forming at the sides of them. "It's just, today's been hell and I'm hungry and dirty, and I've been crammed in my AEGIS all day, and you're so beautiful and strong and... I'm sorry. I'm making your life hard."

"It's not that!" Herod protested, putting up her hands. Sapiens, why was this happening to her? She just wanted to kill some time before bed. "You're, um, attractive, and sweet, and I like you. I just don't want to... have sex. With anyone. I promise it's nothing to do with you."

"You mean it?"

"Yes. Yes, trust me. I have no idea what I want, and I would be absolutely awful besides." Herod felt her coolness cracking. Zabda now stared at her, utterly befuddled.

The medic wiped her eyes and smiled weakly. "I getcha. No worries, Herod. Forget I said anything."

Desperately, Herod searched for another topic of conversation. She caught scent of chicken and waffles in the air... hot rations. Girls were leaving the funeral to go have dinner in the makeshift camp.

"Shall we get some grub, ma'am?" Herod asked, offering Zabda her hand. "Full rations for probably the last time in a while." Most of the food was destroyed by the falling Azariah. Sheba still pushed for a full ration to restore lost energy and morale.

Zabda accepted the hand and the two of them went off together. "Thanks for keeping me company," Zabda said with a sniff.

"Centurion, may I ask you something? Why did you join BEACON? You're a very..." Soft? Weak? Fragile? "...kind and gentle person. You seem out of place here."

Zabda let out a clipped, almost bitter laugh. "Don't I know it. I've gotten used to things in BEACON, but you're right, I don't really fit in." She pointed at the command tent, where Amalek and Lucifera had been for hours doing Astra knows what. "The fellow in there is the one and only reason I'm in BEACON. He and I go back all the way. I would have joined MIRROR and tried to become a surgeon or something... but I thought he needed someone to clean up all his messes."

Zabda held up her gloves, covered in the blood of dying legionnaires. "And now here I am."

There was no bitterness in Zabda's voice. Only a deep sadness that someone like Herod could never understand.

((AN: Different branches of TORCH extend offers to new agents, and the agents can choose which they want to take. Zabda would have been a better fit in MIRROR, probably.))