“You’re way off course is the problem,” Randy said, pointing to the compass. “You’re supposed to be going north. You’re headed west.”
“Shit,” Vil said, spinning to the right, dodging a rock and then seeing what looked like open water ahead of him. Suddenly he felt a scrape on the bottom and the boat lurched to a stop.
“You’re aground,” Randy said. “That flat patch of water was a shoal.”
“Father of All, this is impossible,” Vil said, pulling off the NVGs. The green light from the goggles had partially blinded him but he rapidly got his night sight back. There was a quarter moon and it actually gave him better vision, for this, than the NVGs. “I can see better this way.”
“Tonight,” Randy said. “But not if there’s no moon, which is the best time to do an op in one of these. And not if it’s overcast. NVGs are the only way, then.”
“Fine,” Vil said, putting the goggles back on and settling them. “Try to back off?”
“Yep,” Randy said. “Then do a pivot turn right. That will get you out of this mess. There’s some deep water right behind you and to your right. Take that back south, pivot left when you see more open water that way and start over.”
“Yes, sir,” Vil said. It was going to be a long night.
Mike sat under the quarter moon, his feet dangling off the end of the dock, and watched the play of the light on the water. He was a little drunk, which bothered him. He remembered his recent drunk way too well. But he was on a mission. Getting drunk and maudlin would not be a good thing.
It was hard to avoid the latter, though, given the former. He’d always been a pretty maudlin drunk. And he couldn’t help but think how much Gretchen would have enjoyed this. Of course, like most of the Keldara women she would probably still be back in Georgia. Well, Stella was here, but… Oh, crap. No, never mind. Yeah, Stella was not going to be door gunning. She was here for intel, not as a crew-chief. No dust-off Hind. That might be a problem. No, they could use Dragon. He belched.
His thoughts were disjointed. Flashing golden hair and pale skin. A Hind firing a Gatling gun right at him. Blue eyes clear as the stars. Tracers smoking in his chest. A ravaged body. He lay back and looked up at the sky. What did it matter? One little death. VX that could kill thousands. To the stars, what was the difference? We were all less than fleas on the back of a dog.
He closed his eyes and set the beer bottle down. To have just one day…
Vil was exhausted. It had been one long damned day.
So he was taking his time making his way into the harbor. He didn’t want to ding the boat any more than he already had. He’d made it through the course the second time, faster, without getting actively lost and off-course. But right now he was wondering if he could find the dock.
So he was somewhat surprised when a figure sat up on said dock. He clutched at his chest, reaching for a weapon that wasn’t there, then recognized the Kildar in his NVGs.
“Oh… crap,” he muttered. “Why the hell did they leave him alone?”
“What?” Randy said, leaning down.
“The Kildar… is not well,” Vil said. “I’ll explain later.”
Mike sat up and gasped shaking his head to clear the nightmare. He’d been dancing with Gretchen, slow dancing, but she’d suddenly only been a torso. Still talking, still smiling, her guts hanging down and she was so heavy… Stella and Vil danced by, elegantly, two rotting corpses, the whole room was filling with a heavy green fog and he was trying to get them out of the caravanserai but it was a ship, a merchant freighter, filling with VX… the Keldara dropping around him and he was the only one that survived, always the only one…
Mike stood up, beer bottle in hand and shivered in the wind. The temperature had really dropped and all he was wearing was shorts and a Hawaiian shirt. But he’d been cold before. He felt, sometimes, as if he’d never be warm again.
“Hey, Vil,” he said cheerfully. “How’d it go?”
Vil recognized the tone. Fuck, he thought again. Who was stupid enough to leave him alone?
“Went pretty good,” Randy said. “Pretty good. For their first few days, they’re coming along great.”
“Good, good,” Mike said. “I know it’s correct and traditional to clean gear after you use it, but why don’t we take one night off. Scrub down in the morning?”
“Sure,” Randy said. “Not a problem. Guys, see you here at dawn.”
“I could do with a beer,” Clarn admitted, stretching his back as he climbed out of the driver’s seat. “Then, I think, bed.”
“I think I may skip the beer,” Vil admitted. “I have a room almost to myself somewhere in this place and I intend to find it. Are you coming up, Kildar?”
“Nah,” Mike said. “It’s a nice night, I think I’ll just stay here.”
Vil followed the other Keldara up to the estate wondering what to do.
Mike was afraid to fall asleep, now. He wondered that he’d done so earlier; one of the reasons for the two-month bender was the dreams. When he was drunk enough he didn’t dream. The problem was, he wasn’t drunk enough, yet.
He started to get up and saw a silhouette coming down the dock. Light dress, too light for this wind, and blonde hair. Britney.
“Hey,” Mike said, jovially. “Enjoying the party?”
“It’s winding down,” Britney said. “You were missed.”
“Ah, I wasn’t in much of a partying mood,” Mike said, setting the empty bottle on one of the pier posts.
“You were the life of the party for a while there,” Britney said. “What happened?”
“I just wanted to come out and look at the water,” Mike said turning back to the view. “I’d missed it. More than I realized. Don’t you ever just look at the water?”
“Yes,” Britney said, stepping up to stand in the shelter of his bulk. “And the stars. It was one of the things I thought about when I was in that damned bunker. That I’d never see the stars again.”
“Flashbacks getting any better?” Mike asked.
“More like I’ve gotten better at handling them,” Britney said. “I work in a shield room in the basement of the SOCOM building. They have to pump in sunlight. Trust me, I’ve gotten better at handling flashbacks. Including in the middle of meetings. You?”
“Not so good,” Mike said. “Didn’t think I’d ever have the problem. Some people don’t. I never did. They suck.”
“So do the nightmares,” Britney said, shivering.
“Those too,” Mike admitted. “We need to go in. You’re freezing.”
“You know what I’d rather do?” Britney asked.
“I am as ignorant as an apple,” Mike said.
“Go for a ride in the Too Late,” she said, gesturing at the boat.
“I thought you’d had all you wanted of Cigs?”
“There’s not a ripple,” she pointed out. “What I was tired of was being beaten to death in one.”
“Okay,” Mike said.
The keys were still in it; it wasn’t like anyone was going to steal it. The Keldara had, without even asking, set up a perimeter patrol. Anybody trying to steal one of the boats was going to be facing a group of highly trained commandoes and some serious questions.