Rubicon, page 26
She shrugged, then turned away, walking toward the door. “Interesting.”
His chair creaked as he leaned, brow raised as his gaze followed her out. “Will I see you there?”
“Maybe. Probably.”
“I hope it’s the latter,” he called as the door slid open before her. “Bye, Sergeant.”
“Bye, Carl.”
That earned her an unhindered smile as she stepped out the door and left.
* * *
Adriene cleaned herself up, then headed to the Hold. Though it was still early, the tables were already almost as full as the first night she’d come down.
Her squad occupied their usual spot, though without any of Brigham’s friends. The three turned as she approached. Brigham’s eyes went wide over flushed red cheeks, and Gallagher’s chair legs grated on the floor as she pushed to her feet, then paused to steady herself on the table.
“Ninety-fucking-Six!” Kato lurched for Adriene, stumbling straight into a full hug while bringing forth a waft of dry bourbon.
“Valero,” Brigham rumbled, tone almost wistful. “Thank Mira.”
Adriene patted Kato on the back, and he released his hold. She cleared her throat. “Uh, you guys seem surprised to see me.”
Gallagher steadied herself as she carefully sat back down. “Blackwell had you wheeled off, then pulled us straight into debrief. We checked for you after, but you weren’t there.”
Kato frowned. “We thought you mighta … ya know.”
“Oh, uh…” Adriene scoured her mind for a logical excuse. “Doc got paranoid. Stuck me in quarantine for a few hours.”
The others nodded along as Brigham gave a sorrowful shake of his head. Luckily, they seemed drunk enough to accept the lie.
Brigham poured out a generous two fingers of bourbon and shoved it across the table toward her as she sat.
“So, what the hell happened?” Gallagher asked. “Was your Rubicon really able to download it? Did you get the data?”
Adriene hesitated, debating how to stage her response. Though, she’d learned long ago, the best way to lie was to just not. “I guess it worked, yeah. Intel’s got the data on the mainframe already. Doing their egghead thing with it.”
“Well, damn.” Brigham tipped his glass toward her. “Looks like you saved the day, again.”
“Ignore him.” Kato sloshed the bourbon around in his glass. “He’s just jealous.”
Brigham’s roughened skin wrinkled as he glowered at Kato. “Jealous? Try elated. You see the look on Coleson’s and Ivon’s faces when we disembarked? Fuckin’ priceless. We gotta keep this streak going.”
Adriene held up her glass. “I’ll drink to that.”
The others smiled and clinked their glasses into hers.
They poured more bourbon, then regaled Adriene with their best combat stories from the last few years. The more they drank, the less reluctant they were to mention Cash’s participation. Their former squadmate seemed to have been truly dangerous, but at the very least, he’d supplied them with some entertaining stories.
As it went on, a creeping sense of bittersweet nostalgia trickled in, but Adriene couldn’t bring herself to fully trust it.
Did she really miss the camaraderie, miss having a team, want to bother getting to know these people? Or did she just know, deep down, that’s how she should feel? She still didn’t know whether or not she could trust this husk.
After a time, Brigham’s friends trickled in, and the table grew crowded. Storytime for the new recruit’s sake soon died away in favor of shared experience and inside jokes. Once the cards came out and the gambling began, Adriene scooted back and chose to remain a spectator.
Less than five minutes after Daroga’s shift ended, he appeared in the Hold’s doorway, shirt already untucked, sleeves rolled. Adriene caught his eye, then picked up her chair and dragged it to an empty table, grateful to move away from the drunken shouting. Though she’d been taking it slowly, everyone else was well past three sheets to the wind.
As Daroga approached her squad’s table, he gripped Kato’s shoulder in greeting. Kato beamed up at him as he passed, gaze tracking Daroga as he headed toward Adriene. Kato’s smile morphed into a coy grin. Adriene pretended not to notice.
Daroga let out a ragged sigh as he sank into a chair beside her. “You’re not playing?”
“Not really my thing. Gambling’s one vice I’ve never had a taste for.” She swept an open hand toward the rowdy table. “Feel free, though.”
He shook his head. “Ma taught me to never gamble away a perfectly good coin.”
Her lips pressed into a smile. “I think that’s the most Provan thing I’ve heard you say yet.” He chuffed a laugh, and she lifted a liquor bottle toward him. “Bourbon?”
“No thanks.” He paused, tilted his head slightly, then produced a chain from under his shirt. He held the single pendant up between his thumb and forefinger—a sleek gold triangle. “Ten years sober.”
Adriene blinked, then shook the stupefied look from her face. Sober and not a husk. How had she not noticed these things before? She really had been mired in a haze of social ineptitude.
“Oh, sorry.” She set the bottle aside. “That’s great,” she added quickly. “Congrats.”
“I couldn’t always be around it, honestly.” He glanced over as a roar of drunken cheering went up at her squad’s table. “Took me some time before I could come down here.”
She nodded, swallowing back the heavy weight that lifted up her throat. “Understandable.”
“So go ahead—really. It doesn’t bother me.”
She thumbed the edge of her glass, a trace of amber liquid lining the bottom, then pushed it aside. “Nah, I’m good anyway. I’ve had plenty.”
“Yeah, bet you’re tired, huh?” he said, tone sympathetic. “How’d the op go? Seems like your LT’s pretty happy about it again.”
“Yeah…” Her gaze drifted to Brigham as he told an animated story to Gallagher and a few others, who’d folded their hands. “It went as well as it could have, I guess.”
“Mission accomplished?”
“As far as I know.” She gave him a wry grin. “Above my pay grade. You know how it is.”
He nodded slowly. “Indeed … You know, I almost joined up myself way back when.”
Her brows lifted. “Oh yeah?”
“I did, actually. When I was eighteen. Started basic, even.”
She rested her elbows on the table. “What happened?”
“Well…” he began, wavering his head side to side. “It, uh…” Some of the spirit faded from his green eyes as he looked down. “It triggered some things,” he admitted. “That I hadn’t fully dealt with. Since the Brownout, I mean.”
Though even-keeled, all things considered, Adriene noticed something in his look she hadn’t seen in him before. Fear.
She couldn’t blame him. It was a statement to his resolve that he’d become a contractor at all—never mind accepting a permanent posting out-system. He should be safely tucked away on Estes or Prova somewhere, not out on the frontier with the Extrasolar Fleet.
Daroga looked back up at her, lips pressed thin with a melancholic smile. “Needless to say, I washed out pretty quickly.”
“That’s understandable,” she said. “Yet you ended up in the fleet anyway … How’d that happen?”
He leaned back in his chair, one elbow high as he rubbed the back of his neck. “As winding a path as anyone who grew up primarily after the Firewall went up. As I’m sure you can attest…”
“Indeed.” She ignored his prompt with a tight-lipped grin. “But we’re talking about you.”
He smiled back, worry lines smoothing from his forehead. “Fine, fine,” he sighed. “All the Brownout kids got a free ride to Iron Ridge, so after washing out, I started there in surgical medicine. It’s what my dad did back on Bryer-III, but ultimately, just wasn’t for me. Had done some coding in my free time, so I switched majors. Dodson-Mueller recruited me straight out of the gate.”
“You didn’t consider CNEF again after school? Could’ve jumped straight to a cushy R&D position with a qualification from IRI.”
He rubbed at both eyes with the palms of his hands, dropping them as he exhaled a soft sigh. “Yeah, I’d considered it, but ultimately had to go corporate. Dodson-Mueller was willing to overlook my record, but neither CNEF or CNLC would.”
Her lips parted, unsure she’d heard him right. “Your record?”
“Uh, yeah.” He canted his head, running fingers through his hair and piling it off to one side. “Somewhere in the midst of all that, I got arrested.”
She stared. “You?”
He scowled. “Hey, now…” Leaning straight back in his seat, he used both hands to tug at the collar of his shirt. “I could be a badass…”
“No offense, but no.”
He grinned through a wince. “Damn, Valero. Ruthless.”
She leaned forward on her elbows, propping her chin on one fist. “So? What’d ya do?”
“Well,” he sighed, “long story short: when I switched majors, I fell in with a collective. Mostly developing tool suites and hunting bug bounties. We’d split the rewards, upgrade our tech, repeat. Spent the rest of our time griping about censorship and privacy laws … and on occasion, felt compelled to let the government know it. Let’s just say, it got us into a bit of trouble. Had grand plans to become an infamous white-hat collective someday, valiant advocates for the democracy, all that.” He gave a hesitant smile. “Stupid kid dreams.”
She shook her head. “Not stupid. Idealistic, maybe. I thought like that when I was a kid too.”
“Yeah? And what’d you wanna be?”
“I, uh…” Warmth pulsed in her cheeks, and she glanced down before forcing herself to meet his look again. “I wanted to be a ranger.”
His brows pinched. “Like a CNEF scout ranger?”
“No. Like a park ranger. At Arcalod Peak in Armand Federal Park. To be specific.”
He openly stared, expression so still it could have been cut from stone. “A … park ranger?” he intoned.
Adriene shrugged, scrubbing her hands down her pants. Had she told anyone this before? Harlan, maybe. Years ago.
Daroga’s face stretched with a wide smile, smothering any remnants of his stoic surprise. “That sounds great. Why didn’t you do it?”
“Just ended up on a different path.”
His amusement wavered, chest rising with a deep breath. “Yeah, I know that feeling. Not sure how medicine and hacktivism resulted in military corporate contractor work, but…” He threw up his hands. “Here we are.”
“I dunno,” she said, lightening her tone. “Best way to tear something down is from within.”
His lips twitched up. “Why’s that sound familiar?”
“My grandfather used to say it. He was from that whole grassroots, ‘one-government’ generation.”
“You close?”
“Eh, were, yeah. He raised me for a while. Taught me most of what I know about flora and fauna—which helped me get kicked up pretty quick through the pathfinders. Kinda the last true outdoorsman.” She gave an involuntary smile, which brought one to Daroga’s lips as well. “I could’ve had it worse. Knew a lot of kids who did.”
She finished off the small amount of bourbon in her glass, then shoved it away. But instead of warming her stomach and calming her nerves, it just tasted bitter and hollow.
“I only had him for a few years,” she continued—no reason to let Daroga think she’d had some delightful upbringing. “Nine to fifteen. After he passed, I ended up a ward. Only for a year, though, before I turned fifteen.”
“Ah.” He nodded. “Then they let you join the guardianship program?”
She swept out a hand. “Where all roads lead to CNEF.” She swallowed, her tone darkening with old memories. “Still light-years better than being a ward for another three years.”
Daroga fiddled with the cuffs of his rolled sleeves, and his lips turned down as he asked, “Do you mind if I ask … what happened to your parents?” He raised an apologetic hand, then quickly added, “That is, if you wanna talk about it.”
“Not much to say.” Adriene leaned back in her chair, pulling her glass back to the edge of the table with her. “Mom was CNEF, went MIA during the Brownout. Dad was Local Corps, he … went after her. I was nine, I barely remember.”
“Sorry to hear,” he said, voice low. “It had to be tough losing them both so young.”
She waved a dismissive hand, forcing herself to meet his gaze again. Wrinkles tightened the edges of his green eyes. “It’s fine, really,” she assured. “It’s been twenty years. It’s an old wound at this point.”
He shook his head. “That kinda thing never leaves.”
It never should leave—and yet it had. This was the first time she’d felt one way or the other about her parents since her last rezone. Finally, this husk had decided to start having feelings. Watered down, maybe, but feelings nonetheless.
An extra layer of guilt settled in when, for a moment, she wished she could retreat back into being numb. At least when it came to this stuff. She hated dwelling on the past, on things that happened ninety-seven lifetimes ago.
Daroga’s chest deflated with a deep sigh, gaze dropping as he combed his fingers through his hair. If they were going toe-to-toe on shitty childhoods, Daroga was the clear winner.
Adriene chewed the inside of her lip, glad to have livened the mood.
Daroga’s chair creaked, and he slid away from the table.
Her shoulders stiffened. Had she really scared him off that easily?
“Wanna play a few hands?” He gestured to the bar. “Just us, I mean. No betting.”
She shifted her weight to mask her relief and gave a short nod. “Sure.”
He went to the bar and returned with a pack of cards. “Unless you happened to smuggle some picaloos in your ruck that you’d be willing to bet?” His eyes glinted playfully. “I’d barter my left arm for some proper chocolate about now.”
“No such luck,” she said regretfully. The tension in her shoulders eased as she scooted up to the table.
He dropped the deck out of the pack. “You know Quicksand?”
“Never heard of it.”
“I can teach you; it’s a fast learn.”
“You just want an easy win.”
He smiled. “I’ll play fair. Promise.”
“All right. You gonna need your reading glasses to see the cards, old man?”
He threw her a glare of amused exasperation, then dealt. He stepped her through the rules, and after a few hands, she got the hang of it. She won as often as she lost, though he clearly went easy on her. Which should’ve been annoying, but his easy grin and carefree banter did nothing but send pleasant waves of warmth through her chest.
Eventually, a familiar, chiding tone broke through her bubble of calm. “—letting you play with the big kids.”
Her heart sank as she looked at her squad’s table. Their six-person card game had grown, and now a massive glom of soldiers hovered around. Ivon’s shaved head bobbed in the crowd, a good ten centimeters taller than everyone else around him.
Adriene groaned. “Fuck.”
Coleson’s grumpy, slurred voice carried over the din, “They’ll learn soon enough how wrong they are to trust you.”
Through the bodies, Adriene caught a glimpse of Brigham surging to his feet, wobbling as he rose. Unfortunately, rather than encouraging him to calm down, his friends seemed to be egging him on.
Adriene scoured the crowd, searching for her squadmates for backup. Gallagher was … making out with someone in the corner, apparently. Adriene couldn’t tell who.
She craned her neck and found Kato slumped in a chair fast asleep, snoring peacefully. That checked out.
Sighing, she looked back at Daroga. “I should probably try to get my LT out of here before he starts punching people.”
Daroga smiled, gathering the cards up off the table. “Good idea. Let’s go.”
She froze briefly at the casual suggestion of his continued existence in her evening. He’d said it so simply, like it was implied.
Strangely, she didn’t think she minded.
Daroga followed as she pushed away from the table and headed toward her lieutenant.
Brigham’s fists were tight, veins rising along his forearms and burgeoning from his neck. “Jealous of our squeaky-clean track record, gentlemen?”
Coleson snorted. “Yeah, two for two, real fuckin’ impressive.”
Ivon jutted his pointy chin at Adriene. “And again, you made Rezone Girl do the dirty work for you. Top-notch leadership skills, Miles.”
Adriene glowered. When the hell had she become “Rezone Girl”?
Her fists tightened. Maybe this would be a fight after all.
Brigham sneered at Ivon. “You’re just pissed a Local Corps transfer is upstaging your pompous military-brat pedigrees.”
Coleson’s nostrils flared. “No-talent reserves grunts have no place as commissioned officers in the Extrasolar Fleet,” he growled. “Only reason you’re even here is ’cause your ma used to screw Thurston.”
Brigham growled and lunged forward, but Adriene gripped his shoulders and kept him back. “LT,” she implored, “let’s not do this again.”
He threw a hard look at her, brow drawn low over bloodshot eyes. “We can take ’em, Valero.”
“Well, obviously,” she scoffed. “That’s not the point.”
She eyed Ivon and Coleson, taking stock of the situation. They were markedly intoxicated, but she got the feeling they’d make up for that via drunken rage. Brigham had a table full of friends nearby, but she didn’t know who might back the Stormwalkers. If she let him start this, it could turn into a whole … thing.
She darted a look to the back corners of the room. Why the hell was the Stormwalkers’ lieutenant never around to keep them in line?
Her gaze caught on Daroga, and she recalled how he’d handled things at the training sims. Annoyed, but calm, all things considered. Levelheaded. Sure, Lieutenant Rhett had ultimately put a stop to it, but Daroga had done a decent job of de-escalation up to that point.
