Date Point: October 11y10m1w AV
HMS Sharman (HMNB Folctha), Cimbrean, The Far Reaches
Lieutenant Kieran Mears
Letter for notes,
RE: Miss Ava Magdalena Ríos
This delightful young lady has made great strides in overcoming her PTSD. She bounced into my office today in the company of her therapy dog and gave me a thank-you gift.
Ava reports that although her symptoms are “only slightly” improved since our last session, she is feeling genuinely positive about life nowadays. She still has bad days, but feels that these are now rarer than her good days. Happily she could not precisely recall the last time she had a suicidal thought, and she was pleased to report that these are now “very rare”.
We discussed her adoptive father, who recently suffered a career-ending injury and I am impressed by how well she is handling this. She says that although she is of course upset by his injury and would prefer that he was well, she has found that the experience of assisting him has helped her feel useful. She describes her relationship with him as “close” and tells me that they support one another.
She touched on her romantic history and specifically her history of infidelity. She states that she feels she has “moved on from there”, that she is “older and wiser” and that she no longer hates herself for it. She pondered the possibility that she might start dating again, and I agreed that this could be healthy. She spoke admiringly of her ex-boyfriend’s new partner.
She is happy to keep taking her paroxetine and states that she no longer feels any reluctance or negative feelings when taking it.
I will see her again in six months, but she understands that she is welcome to contact me sooner should the need arise.
-Lt. K Mears Counsellor, HMS Sharman
Date Point: October 11y10m2w AV
HMS Sharman (HMNB Folctha), Cimbrean, The Far Reaches
Staff Sergeant Adam Arés
Like all the biggest dogs, Bozo was usually happy to save his energy. Usually.
Actually, usually his favorite posture was flat on his back, legs splayed, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth, denying the couch to anybody who might have designs on sitting in it.
Get him moving, though, and he was impossible to stop. And he loved water.
“Well, he’s hyper this morning…”
As part of Adam’s training duties; everyone got personal sessions at least twice a week, and updated cut-sheets for food and exercise every two days. Daily, if time permitted. Today was Major Powell’s personal session, and the ’old man’ was thumping down the Riverside Park footpath with the sun barely up.
‘Thumping’ was an uncharitable description. The major was actually keeping up a fluid, strong, quick pace that was right up there among the qualifying times for the Olympics. He was red in the face and dripping sweat while Adam was barely winded, but it was by no objective standard a bad performance.
It just wasn’t his best.
That was understandable, to a degree. None of them were running their best times right now, because they’d recently switched to barefoot running. It was a better match with the improved foot-pieces in their suits and, frankly, with the fact that it was impossible for the bigger Lads to keep shoes for long. Rebar and the Beef Trio in particular had been known to destroy footwear in less than a day. The weights involved, the difficult foot sizes, and the way those sizes kept changing…all problematic. Adam had looked into shoe-making but, well…. Fuck that noise.
So, everyone had to re-learn their gaits. A switch that was proving to be particularly troublesome for the major who was a persistent heel-striker out of many years of practice.
The only remedy for that was repetition. Up and down the path, up and down, just run and run and run until the muscle memory was overwritten. Boring stuff, but Bozo loved it. He’d race ahead of them down the sprint stretch barking madly, then get bored and wander off in the vain hope that somebody had magically imported squirrels to Cimbrean in the last five minutes.
Right now he was gallumphing into the river, splashing back out of it, shaking all the water off and then hurling himself back in for more.
“Aye,” Powell huffed slightly. “He’s not had a run for three days.”
At any rate the slower pace was a perfect opportunity. They were both so fit that they could talk easily between burst intervals and that was the best time for Adam to do his other coaching.
Powell had counselled him often enough, after all. And Admiral Knight had dropped the subtlest of subtle hints. To somebody else. Allegedly. Honestly it was hard to tell. But Adam had taken it as a hint.
Subtlety was for other people, though. “You really should take a vacation, sir.”
Powell made an exasperated noise. “That’s my fookin’ business, lad.”
“Mine too, sir. You’re wound up so tight I’mma need to work on that…”
Sometimes, a little truth and consequence was the best possible threat. Everyone dreaded Adam’s sports massages, and with good reason; he was after results, not comfort or friendship. Fortunately the major was always honest with himself, if poked the right way.
“…Aye. You’re Prob’ly right. There just isn’t any fookin’ time!”
Adam’s watch decided to interrupt his reply by beeping to signal that it was time to turn around and sprint back to the beginning, which got Bozo madly excited. He burst from the river completely soaked and drenched the trail in front of them, then promptly got bored when they turned around to jog again and went back to fishing for wild Cimbrean tennis balls. Nobody knew what he did with them: he’d be seen trotting proudly through the base with his tail up and something bright yellow in his mouth, and then, nothing. Either there was a nuclear arsenal of them buried in the yard, or he ate them.
They quickly caught their breath and Adam replied. “Make time, sir. Please? We can keep things running without you for a week and you really need the release.”
He didn’t let a minor wince of worry show on his face. That had maybe gone a bit too far.
If it had, Powell didn’t comment. He just looked thoughtful “…Aye. I ought to visit friends anyway…after this week.”
“You promise, sir?”
“Yes!” Powell exclaimed good-naturedly, “Christ, you’re worse than Legsy was, God rest ‘im.”
“He made me promise,” Adam said solemnly.
He checked his watch and counted off a few more seconds before grinning and adding “Besides, how else are we supposed to have shenanigans?”
He timed it perfectly: The watch beeped again and it was time for another sprint, another berserk-excited Bozo attack, and another cycle. But in any case he got what he needed. Good officers prided themselves on taking care of their men, but sometimes they forgot that their NCOs did the same thing to them. Timing the comment to coincide with the sprint gave him time to reflect on that.
Powell tried to take the world on his shoulders and Lads loved him for it, but he would run himself into the ground if Adam, Rebar, and Righteous didn’t nudge and wheedle from time to time.
The watch beeped to signal a rest, and Powell leaned on his knees to catch his breath.
He grinned when Bozo bounded up to check on him, and ruffled the dog’s ears. “And who’ll take care of Bozo while I’m off? You gonna live with ‘Horse, are you? Gonna bite all his stuff instead?”
“WURF!”
“I know you like the taste of table leg you big dopey bugger, but dogs weren’t meant to live on wood.”
Bozo parked his butt in the dirt and shook the water off his ears. “WURF!!!”
Adam looked at Bozo and grinned. Sometimes the big mutt made a great partner in crime.
“Good boy.”
Date Point: October 11y10m3w AV
Hunter Grand Conclave, Hunter Space
The Alpha-of-Alphas
< Query > +Do you hate us?+
The Alpha-of-Alphas considered the question carefully.
It…enjoyed these sessions. They were rare, and secret, and might well have resulted in its being torn limb-from-limb by the lesser Alphas had they found out, but such was the life of any Alpha-of-Alphas.
This one had taken much larger risks in its time, and still ruled. It ruled by cultivating the awe of its inferiors, but also by whetting its mind, and these infrequent conversations were an excellent whetstone.
< Contemplation; decision > +No.+
< Mild surprise > +Why not?+
< Disinterest > +We exist. We would not exist if you had not made us.+
< Disagreement > +It could be argued that we abandoned you.+
< Thoughtfulness > +And what would I be if you had not?+
It snarled a minor victory to itself as the entity with which it conversed went silent for several minutes, and dug a morsel of flesh out from among its most tricky back teeth.
< Sudden resolve > +I have a proposal.+
The Alpha-of-Alphas levered itself to its feet and toured the conclave chamber, studying the trophies that lined its walls. Particularly tenacious prey, or fragments of their starships. The weapons of particularly successful Hunters. A dozen human skulls.
< Derision > +You must be desperate.+
< Retort > +I am amazed that you are not, considering how ineffective you have been.+
Any other being would have been eviscerated for that remark. In this case, however, there was nothing to eviscerate and so it paused and thought.
The truth was, the Great Hunt had been ineffective. They had learned so much from the prey-station, but the only Hunt since had seen a Brood all but annihilated. The humans had hardened their holdings, had migrated to where they could not be found or had otherwise found ways to avoid the wrath of the Swarm of Swarms.
Ordinarily it would have been loath to accept any offer of assistance in a Hunt, from any source. But this was not a Hunt, was it? The Alpha-of-Alphas itself had been the one to decide that humans should not be counted as prey but as foes.
The usual rules did not apply.
< Resignation > +Very well. What do you propose, Two?+
< Advice > +It must be apparent by now that neither of our strategies are working. Our attempts to foment hostility between the humans and the other species have failed. They turn to them for aid now. They go to them for trade. They do not fear you.+
< Mounting impatience > +That is not a proposal but an observation.+
< Proposal > +We will give you some of our assets. You will use those assets to remind the Dominion where they stand.+
< Interest > +And what can these assets of yours do?+
Two’s reply made the Alpha-of-Alphas bare its teeth on a surge of sudden delighted hunger.
< Realization > +Yes. Yes, that is good. They would never be able to stop us.+
< Satisfaction > +You see the possibilities. You could ruin worlds.+
< Bloodlust > +No, Igraen. We could DEVOUR them.+