Repatriation - Part 4 of The Vixen War Bride Series, page 15
She started for the main serving line when she heard someone speak up from behind them.
“Excuse me, do you have your reflective belts?”
They stopped and turned to see an Air Force chief master sergeant in an immaculate battle uniform and high-and-tight haircut standing off to the side. A chief master sergeant was the highest enlisted Air Force paygrade, one grade higher than Senior Chief Warren was. A stool in the corner of the room just behind him suggested that he had been perched there, as if waiting for them to come in.
“I’m sorry, what?” Patricia asked.
The chief raised the bottom of his shirt, exposing a bright blue reflective belt hugging his waist just above his trouser belt.
“You need to be wearing your reflective belt to come in here,” the chief told them.
“Why?” Patricia asked, confused.
“Because the commander says so, Ma’am.”
Ramirez turned to Ben. “Pizza, Sir?”
Ben rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sure.” They two turned to head toward the exit, but Patricia remained rooted to the spot.
“Wait a sec,” she demanded. “So, if someone doesn’t have a belt, they don’t get to eat?” she asked.
“It’s a safety issue, Ma’am. Everyone needs to be wearing their belt.”
“You’re wearing yours under your shirt!” she cried. “How is that making anyone safer?!”
“Ma’am, I’m sorry,” the chief said firmly. “The commander says if you don’t have a reflective belt, you can’t come into the dining facility.”
“LT, drop it,” Ben told her. “I’ll buy you a calzone.”
“But, Sir, this is pants-on-head stupid!” she cried. “If some private forgets his belt on the other side of base, he just has to go hungry?!”
Ben held a hand up to try to calm her down. The chief angrily seethed behind her.
“You’re not going to win this one, LT,” he said calmly. “Trust me. Let’s go get pizza.”
Patricia gave the chief a glare but relented and followed the two Rangers to the exit.
“What the hell?” she growled as they walked out of the dining facility and past the line of waiting troops.
“Someone got hit by a car,” Ben told her. “Probably when the base was first being set up, and the commander put a policy in place hoping to keep it from happening again. When no one wore one, he made it a condition of getting into the chow hall.”
“Where did you hear that?” Patricia asked.
“Didn’t,” Ben said. “But I’d bet you a month’s pay that’s exactly what happened.”
“Don’t be too angry at the chief, Ma’am,” Ramirez added. “Consider that he’s been in the service for what? Twenty? Twenty-five years? And they shipped him all the way here, away from his family and his job, to sit there all day and check belts. I’d be pissed off all the time too.”
“That just makes it worse!” Patricia cried.
“That’s just the Army way,” Ben sighed.
“You think that’s bad? You didn’t have to use the restroom when you were in the HQ earlier,” Ramirez said.
“What’s wrong with the restroom?” she asked.
“You’re not allowed to use it,” Ramirez told her with a grin.
“Come again?”
“Yeah,” the marksman told her. “I had to go out to the porta-dumper across the street. Turns out someone drew a dick-pic on one of the stall doors. Engineers painted over it. A few days later, another dick pic. So, the commander shut down the bathrooms to everyone but senior officers.”
“That is insanity,” Patricia told him.
“That is the Army,” Ramirez corrected her. “It is the only organization in the universe that will give you a piece of equipment that costs millions of dollars, capable of wiping out entire towns full of people and then jump dead in your shit for having a toaster oven in your room.”
They reached the LTV and climbed inside. Patricia looked out the window and shook her head.
“And they say the Va’Shen don’t make any sense,” she muttered.
* * *
Azarin allowed the Dark One guards to remove his handcuffs before turning to walk into the Batting Cage without a word or gesture of acknowledgement. He deliberately didn’t make eye contact with any of the other Va’Shen prisoners around him, instead, moving intently toward the door of the large polymer structure where the remaining Storm Rifles had made their barracks.
Another detainee fell into step beside him and, without looking, he already knew who it was. Neither spoke until the door to the barracks was closed behind them.
The rest of the Storm Rifles, seventy-two in all, looked up and shot to their feet upon seeing him.
Azarin assured him.
Azarin did not answer immediately. Instead, he asked a question of his own.
Tasshas took it as such. Tasshas told him.
Azarin let out a breath as his tail whished against the floor.
He looked up at his fellow commandos and took a breath.
he admitted.
Cries of alarm, puzzlement and a few hisses met this statement.
Azarin’s ears twitched in the affirmative.
Azarin agreed.
Dan Huun snorted derisively.
Cries of insulted outrage met his ears this time, and he raised his hand to calm their voices.
Azarin said nothing to this, but while they were on the subject...
* * *
Warren looked up from the desk as Ben and Patricia stepped through the door and pulled off their patrol caps. He stood up and smiled, the idea of turning the FOB back over to the Ranger captain and going back to his workshop a welcome one.
“Welcome back,” he greeted. “How was Jamieson?”
“Eh,” Patricia replied.
By this time, Ramirez had finished parking the LTV outside and had entered the room in time to hear the senior chief’s question. “It was awesome,” he said. “LT got into a fight with an E9.”
Warren whistled appreciatively. “How did that go?”
“Disappointingly,” Patricia admitted.
Warren smiled. The fact that Ramirez had called the man an “E9” instead of a “chief” or “sergeant major” told the Navy senior NCO everything he needed to know about the lieutenant’s opponent.
“You’ll get ‘em next time, Ma’am,” he said.
“How’d things go here?” Ben asked.
“Smooth as silk, Sir,” Warren reported. He picked up a large, brown sealed envelope and handed it to him. “Came in this morning on the chopper from Jamieson,” he said.
Ben took the package and began to open it as the others continued to catch up.
“How did Alzoria do?” Ramirez asked.
“She was great,” Warren told him with a smile. “Even did a little translating for us and the high priestess.”
“Everything okay?” Ben asked, raising his eyes from the papers he found in the envelope.
“All good, Sir,” Warren told him. He nodded to the envelope. “What about that? Everything okay?”
Ben sat down and looked through the papers with a grimace. “It doesn’t rain,” he muttered. “But it pours.” He handed the papers to Patricia, who examined them critically.
“Refugees,” she said with a nod. “We’ve been expecting this.” She arched an eyebrow. “From Sector 6.”
“Is that bad?” Ramirez asked.
She shook her head. “Better than most,” she replied. “Sector 6 is the only northern sector that’s actually secure.” She took a breath and sighed. “Hopefully, that means Pelle shouldn’t have any problems integrating them.”
“Assuming that’s something they’re even okay with,” Warren pointed out. “I mean, we know they hate us, but we still have no idea how well they get along with each other. Do these guys even speak the same language?”
“I’ll bring it up with Alacea when I talk to her,” Ben announced. “I need to see her today, anyway.” He looked up at the chief again. “We’re likely back on the road to Jamieson again tomorrow.”
Warren nodded. “No problem, Sir.”
“I’ll get you a driver, Sir,” Ramirez told him. “Give someone a chance to relax, if that’s okay.”
Ben nodded and went back to reading the orders he had received.
Things were about to get more complicated.
* * *
Alacea looked up from her prayers to find Sho Nan at the door to the meditation chamber. Lit by water lamps with the walls lined with images of the Va’Shen gods, the room was the most quiet place in the entire temple, making it the perfect place for Alacea to gather her thoughts.
Her ears twitched a smile as she rose to her feet.
Sho Nan bowed.
The other Mikorin disappeared, and Alacea took a moment to finish her prayer in a respectful manner. Rising to her feet, she lowered her arms and took a cleansing breath before starting toward the door. She arrived at the meeting room just as Sho Nan was returning with tea.
She entered just ahead of her friend and saw Ben rising respectfully to his feet. Alacea bowed to him.
Ben performed a passable imitation of her bow and replied.
Her ears twitched in mirth. It had passed noon not long ago, but she would not correct him this time.
Sho Nan poured their tea.
Ben took a minute to gather his words.
The words caught her by surprise. She had never dreamed he would act on her request so quickly.
Alacea stifled a hiccup. Even if he only found a few, there would at least be some closure. Her people could look to the stars, find the right one and pray for the souls of their departed loved ones. And while he may have only been able to confirm the identities of a few, the commando would not have been divided. They could safely assume they all fell on the same world.
She reached out and took her Tesho’s hands in hers.
If true, then the Gods really must have sent him to us, she thought.
he said in reply, the edges of his mouth turned up in that weird way that indicated he was happy.
Could they actually bury their lost tods? Perform the proper rites? Is that what he needed? Someone to identify them? Or perhaps transport them?
Ben paused a moment to make sure he worded the request right.
Alacea’s ears drooped.
Ben looked at her in puzzlement.
Alacea felt her earlier elation begin to evaporate. Had that little cynical part of her been right, after all? Did he perhaps mean to say that he found someone in the Army who knew something?
Ben said, pointing at himself.
She stared at him in astonishment, not willing to believe the words she was hearing but absolutely desperate to.
She swallowed.
If Alacea’s ears could point anymore skyward, they’d be in orbit. Her tail puffed out, and her hand went to her heart. Her head swam, and she thought she might faint.
She felt hands grip her arms, and as the spell passed, she found her Tesho looking down at her in concern.
The priestess fought to stand up and faced Ben.
Almost two minutes later, Alacea returned, a small object clutched in her fingers. Running up to him, she showed him the object, which turned out to be a locket with a, honestly-speaking, not that great painting of a silver-haired tod.
Looking closely at the locket, Ben could definitely see the resemblance, though the tod in the picture did not have an eyepatch. He looked up at Alacea.
Alacea seemed to almost vibrate in excitement.
Ben’s eyes went wide, floored by the announcement.
Chapter 7
Ben wasn’t sure what to say to Alacea’s pronouncement, partly because it was so unexpected but also because of the sudden determination that the prisoner he met was now also his brother.
Alacea turned away, leaving him holding the locket.
