Deicide the God Eater
The Second Chapter

Even the legacies of the greatest heroes fade, fables and epicswritten of their noble deeds will eventually slip away from the minds of latergenerations, but the villain, he is never forgotten. As long as there is history, his name is recountedwith bitterness and hatred, even by those who have eluded his spear by tenthousand years. – Facinus theBesieger

The humans of another Earth had fallen to amostly alien force, but those humans who held the reins of power elsewhere struggledwith campaigns of their own. Humans hadlong since fled from their home world and into regions of space their ancestorscould only gaze up at from the bosom of Mother Earth. So long had her children been away, that manyhad begun to take on new genetic features. The Arbaronians with their long, lean bodies and vividly colored hairmade humans from Earth and Mars seem rather dull in appearance. There was also the Glebula, round faced,freckled humans who were only slighter smaller in stature than those fromEarth, but were undersized compared to the Arbaronians. Thenthe Homosoliums, who lorded over all the others as the ruling class, they werethe first who pushed for the colonization of planets beyond Earth’s solarsystem. Bioengineered for much longerlife spans and increased cognitive ability, the Homosoliums planted stakes inhundreds of worlds across the galaxy. Though their numbers were few, their wealth and influence enabled themto hold power over the entire human race.

Presently, many of the Homosolium familieswere entangled in a territorial dispute over a belt of asteroids that ranbetween several of their estates. TheNobles ruling this sector had been at war for some time, pitting Duke SimriaCascade and his Golden Fossas against Margravine Hema ‘the Beautiful Beast’ Crocotta and the Widow’s Retort. Margravine Crocotta was the widow of MargraveWürgegriff von Brachland. After hisdefeat in the battle of the Burning Orchids, the noblewoman quickly assembledan army composed of what was now the majority gender, women, all of whom hadlost someone in the previous bloodshed. One of these women was an Arbaronian named Fawna, a sergeant apart ofthe 203rd Heavy Infantry Brigade, led by her aunt, Brigadier General Cari Rein. Fawn and her fire team were temporarilystationed in the barracks at Fort Willing until a transport arrived to shiptheir brigade to the front.

Fawn schlepped from the showers with hergrimy towel slung over her beige, freckled shoulder and her toothbrush hangingfrom her lips, her wet pink hair ran down her back and over her headdress, a hearingaid and communications device. ‘Crowns’ were what they were most commonly referredas, but their enemies without these elaborate contraptions had dubbed themantlers and horns. A strange birthdefect had stolen the hearing of the descendants of everyone who had ever steppedfoot on Arbaro. There existed a boomingindustry for the devices, because there was no cure for the mutation, orprotection from it. As always, humansadapted and thrived, for the planet was rich in seemingly every naturalresource humans could replace a use for.

However, because of the planet’s naturalwealth and disputes about its discovery, Arbaro and that of its surroundingneighbors were constantly at war with one another. The Cascade family did not even recognizeArbaro as its name, but Curaya. Warslike the one presently being waged had been common for centuries; with everyside extracting what they could from the planet before being rousted by a newnoble’s army.

Fawn eyed the smaller girls running pasther through the hall; she had dreaded her entire time here in the barracks asit was full of little girls pretending to be soldiers while they waited fortheir surgeries. ‘Closing the gap’ itwas called, a highly invasive procedure that placed a woman’s muscle growth onpar with a man of the same height and weight, in rare cases much greater. Fawn watched a bandaged girl limp across thehall into room full of similarly wrapped girls; it reminded her of her ownsurgery many years ago. She rememberedbeing in pain for weeks before her muscles began to grow, as if the muscle toreitself; filling out her lengthy Arbaronian frame, eventually her joints and therest of her bones had caught up, with help from supplements and a fewfortifying surgeries.

Knowing little about the mechanics of thesurgery itself a much younger Fawn had consented, as well as her parents, butwhat choice did they have? Being the eldestchild of engineers that had given so much to the war effort would surely keepFawn out of combat, and it had, for a while, but there was a drive, an urgethat Fawn could never explain that seemed to be pushing its way out ofher. It would be irresponsible to labelthis feeling as rage or anger, though many would only see it as such, for thiswas no emotion at all, but perhaps a warning, a signal, possibly describing tohumans the next step in their evolution. Or maybe the ever indifferent goddesswith her radical children, wanted them to rediscover their true selves.

She turned the corner and crouched down asshe grabbed her military ID and scanned it across the dark rectangle embeddedinto the door frame, all without removing it from her neck. The door slid open, and her fire team barelyturned away from what they were doing. Fawn tossed her towel on the back of a chair and plopped down on her blanketedrack. Lechwe, a purple headed, skinny Arbaronianwas braiding the hair of her teammate, Chital a chubby cheeked and stout,Glebula, both were sitting on the floor watching some old movie Fawn could notname, but knew the ending to it. Flechette, also a Glebula, was on the top rack performing maintenance onher E.P. Rifle, the Penny Black; a weapon that dwarfed her tiny frame. She was small even for a Glebula, her hair,the color of soot, ran to the backs of her knees.

“I can’t believe they let you up here withthat,” Fawn said, having carried the burdensome weapon many times before, shefelt she had the right to complain. Aweapon that large with only a single actuator to balance the weight-to-muscleratio was teetering on sadistic. Whathad Mom been thinking, Fawn thought, but many of her parents’ creations hadbeen rushed into production. Almost asif the government knew the demise of her loved ones was closing in. Still, it was a good rifle, far too much killa man with, turning him into a brief, red-rain shower that would wet several ofhis surviving buddies. It’s truepurpose, however, was busting up mobile armored units and heavily armoredofficers riding brick-trucks they thought would keep them safe.

“The firing pin’s not in,” Flechettesaid. She opened a bottle of foulsmelling CLP, gun oil. She dipped thethin brush inside and knocked the excess off on the rim of the container. Had all the women not been so grosslyaccustomed to the stench, they would have spoken up and demanded she take herwork elsewhere.

“That stinks,” a young girl at the doorsaid.

Fawn growled from her rack. “You stink,” Fawn said. She sat up quickly and slammed her fistagainst the door release; the girl was gone before she did so.

“Fuckin’ kids,” Fawn said. Now up, Fawn began to dress in a slightlywrinkled working uniform; gray, black and white boxes covered the garment toblend them with the urban environments they had been fighting in. With how the war was going, only the mostsquared away soldiers gave care of uniform standards. There were no tears in her garments and herboots were blackened, but far from shiny and that was good enough for her.

Lechwe looked up from her work doing Chital’shair. “You want your hair braided?” Lechwesaid.

“When I get back,” Fawn said.

“Where you goin?” Lechwe said.

“Get some stuff. Maybe a drink,” Fawn said.

“Bring us something to eat,” Lechwe said.

“Come with me.” Fawn said, slinging on her field jacket, a Velcroname tape read ‘Dearborne’ across her breast.

“We got duty.” Chital said her scarred fists were supportingher chin.

Fawn laughed. “Like you never skipped out before.” Fawn said.

“Can’t have the brats see us shirking.” Chital said.

“Alright,” Fawn said, adjusting herjacket. With her tall and broaddimensions, nothing ever fit right unless it had been tailored, either too bigor too short.

“You want a bowl?” Lechwe said.

“Yeah,” Chital said.

“Just get us a bowl from Rena’s.” Lechwe said.

“Alright,” Fawn said.

“Chicken…and…?” Lechwe said.

“Beef,” Chital said.

“You wanna come with, Flech?” Fawn said.

“You know I’m never a willing participantin your drunken antics,” Flechette said.

“That was forever ago,” Fawn said. “And I’mnot going to get drunk.”

Flechette said nothing and continued to maintenanceher high caliber rifle. Fawn quicklyslipped into the hall and fished through her pockets for her beret. What she retrieved was a crumpled brown rag;she slammed it in on her head between her antlers before making her way downstairs. Fawn’s crown unit was an elaborate one, alongwith shiny trimming and ornate crafting, each earpiece was nearly two feetlong, it served in getting the best signal as she was the tallest in herdivision, but also to act as an amplifier to all the rest of those on thenetwork in her vicinity, a walking phone tower.

The girls on watch straightened their backswhen Fawn hopped from the stairs. Shewalked slowly across the quarterdeck, ducking under their nation’s and Army’sflag, pretending to inspect each girl as she passed; then made her way to thedoor. She enjoyed teasing the youngergirls, especially since they asked so many inane questions, and their fear wasdelicious.

“Um, Sergeant Dearborne?” The lead girl on watch said, her beret wasdirectly on top of her head, and not slanted how most veteran women wore theirown.

“What?” Fawn said, narrowing her purpleeyes.

“You might want to zip your jacket up,” Thegirl said.

“Why’s that recruit?” Fawn said, leaninghalfway out of the door.

“It’s cold out.” The girl said.

“Not because it’ll be your ass if I walkout like this?” Fawn said. She could seethe barracks chief from the corner of her eye; her huge head poking out of heroffice. The recruit that had addressedFawn was shaking slightly. Fawn steppedback inside and zipped up her jacket. She approached the girl at the podium and leaned over to check herpenmanship on the log. Fawn pursed herlips and pulled a damp pack of gum from her pocket; she snatched one andoffered the girl the pack.

“We can’t chew gum on watch, Sergeant,” Shesaid. Fawn nodded; then shoved the packof gum in the girl’s pocket.

“For later then,” Fawn said, but shecontinued to hold her gaze.

“Yes, Sergeant?” She said.

“I know it sucks having people yell at you,tell you what to do all day. But onceyou’re done here and you’re out in the field, you’ll wish there was some loudbitch holding your hand. Hmm?” Fawn said, raising an eyebrow as she scannedall three girls . They all noddedslowly. Fawn knocked on the podium and lazilysaluted the flag next to it; then plodded out into the wet haze that had takenover the day; the cold quickly embraced her mercilessly, as a man would shakethe hand of another he disliked on first meeting.

She sniffed then hopped down the shortsteps and walked with a quick pace towards the bus stop. Walking down the hill the complex of barrackssat on, Fawn could see the boarded windows of shops that had closed down whenthe war started. Paint strippedapartments and townhomes stood before the olive colored hills surrounding thebase, all crowned with a gray melting slush. This area had probably been filled with many families before, militaryfamilies, most likely. Looking at thewar from afar, many would think that the constant fighting and resourcegrabbing was foolish, look how it had decimated the population, especially thatof the younger men, multiple generations dead, so many that women would have tofinish the battle that their men had started.

Some thought it was a good thing, this war,thinning out the men, the war would end they thought, when fewer and fewer ofthe boys would come home. But this onlymade the fire burn brighter and hotter, for the resources and land gained werejust a perk; revenge seemed to be the goal, a goal that every woman fightingfound a noble one. There was no need forbuildings to house the prisoners; nor guards to watch over them. Genocide was aword that had been forgotten, its entry in the dictionary made indecipherable bytears.

With her hands shoved deep in her pocketsand her eyes to the sunless gray sky, Fawn wondered if this planet would everbe free from strife without both sides ending each other. The sickness of Mutually Assured Destructionhad gripped her when a faceless admiral had decided to snatch away her family,her youngest brother and parents perished when the research facility they wereassigned to was deemed in play by the Fossas armada. Everyone watched live as a civilianorganization was turned into space debris with a single volley from the Fossas’flag ship. It only made it harder whenher brother Alpha went MIA a year after. She knew her brother must have been alive somewhere, in her mind, Alphadid not have it in him to simply desert his duty; he was a volunteer after all. But many other men, possibly better men, hadrun, not wanting to be used up completely, before they lost a limb, lost theirmind or worse.

The bus pulled up just as Fawn was about tosit down on the weathered bench, she climbed on, scanned her ID at the terminaland sat in the back of the empty bus. She fumbled around with her handheld accessory to her antlers, thumbingthrough the horde of messages she had received, mostly from those in her squadand friends she met throughout her travels, always hoping to see one from herbrother. She came upon a five month oldmessage from a man she had a fling with long before she made sergeant, justafter her officer’s commission had been withdrawn. Each time she looked it over she thought theworst, messages nearly every other day, then finally, nothing. She sighed and shoved the device back intoher pocket, threw her hood on, and nuzzled against the wall of the bus.

When the bus made one of its few stops Fawnhopped off onto the wet sidewalk and strode up the near empty street to a pubshe frequented. Inside was warm, darkand smoky, some uninspired jazz tune was leaking from the tattered speakersrandomly sprinkled throughout the bar. Fawn snatched off her beret and shoved it into her back pocket, so thatit could be reunited with the deep creases and wrinkles it had found before. She unzipped her jacket as she rolled up to thebar, on her left, an old beat up pool table, on her right were mostly emptybooths, stiff and stained cushions prolapsed from old tears in the ragged brownleather. Crusty yellow propagandaposters with curled corners seemed to be peeling themselves away from the dingysoot covered walls, each one framed by a ratty von Brachland flag.

There were three drunks in the cornerlaughing a little too hard at a mildly amusing quip. Fawn ignored them and plopped down at thebar, which had been shellacked with varnish far too many times several yearsago. An old grizzled bartender noddedand hobbled from the stool he was sitting on in the back, between barrels thatcould only have found use as decoration. With his sleeveless shirt and cutoff shorts he seemed to be proudlydisplaying his war wounds, artificial knees and a cybernetic shoulder, all paidfor most likely, but grossly out of date. He was only up briefly to throw Fawn a beer and then returned to hisstool. There were bottle openersembedded underneath the bottom of the bar, in two swift motions it was open,she let the cap fall into the reservoir beneath her feet. Fawn exhaled and then sipped on the cool brownbottle, trying to pay attention to some silly game show that she could neverfigure out the rules too. The three inthe corner laughed louder, pulling her focus away yet again. She looked over to them and then pulled outher antler’s handset, turning the volume down on hear earpieces, and thenthumbing through the news that was carefully filtered and tardily sent out tothem. On the display a message popped upfrom Lechwe, her avatar was a basket of puppies and for some reason it hurtFawn’s heart a little to look at, but where would I keep one, she thought, itwas tough just holding on to General Issue. She opened the message and it was a picture of the food her and Chitalhad asked for; the women had faith in Fawn when it came to any threat notconcerning hunger.

Suddenly, Fawn smelled stale breath andcigarettes, she turned to her right to replace a weaving, stubbly faced manleaning on the bar just beside her. Hewas an oval faced, weak-chinned slob who looked as though he was in a constantbattle with his own stupidity. Normally,his looks would be about average, but the male-to-female ratio was grossly outof order, and Fawn guessed the man would be particularly gassed up in hisposition. She bothered herself to turnthe sound up on her earpieces, though she knew already what would drop out ofhis mouth.

He smiled crookedly, his red eyes werebarely open and his shirt looked as though he had not bothered to snap a fewwrinkles loose before throwing it on. Fawn looked over to his friends waiting in the booth; they beckoned toher, cigarettes between their fingers, wafting their arms slowly as if theywere directing traffic. She looked backto the man who had invaded her bubble of uninfluenced-sovereignty without aword.

“We got room,” he said, jerking his thumbover his shoulder casually.

“I’m good right here,” Fawn said; turningback to her beer, pressing the cold bottle against her lips as the man pausedto think of something say, she could almost hear the man’s mind work.

“C’mon,” he said, swaying on his heels andthen the sides of his boots.

“Alright, what am I gonna do over therethat I can’t do over here?” She said,staring him down as she watched his mind work.

“I don’t know. Have fun?” he said, body shifting, throwingback awkward glances to his friends.

“What if I don’t like fun?” she said,turning to him and crossing her arms.

“Well, you’re a woman…” He said.

Fawn nodded. “Ok.” she said.

“And I man…” he said.

“You might be.” she said.

“Hey, what’s your problem lady? You don’t like guys?” he said.

“I love men. Love to hug ‘em and fuck ‘em,” she saidloudly.

The man leaned in closer. “Well, alright,” he said. Fawn stopped him with a stiff arm.

“Don’t fuck cowards though,” she said. The stupid grin on the man’s face wentmissing as he glared at her in disbelief. He started to say something and then turned away slowly, beginning thelong, embarrassing walk back to the booth his friends were partying in. Fawn watched him halfway to make sure he wasactually leaving and then turned back to the show she had no interest in. She shook her head when she thought of thestate of her people, the men that were left, the common ones anyway were mostlylike the man that had approached her, or the old barkeep. They had sent their best to die, and now whatwas left seemed not worth defending from the claws of the Fossas. She had heard of programs being started tosave the men, getting them out of conscription to work in jobs to support thewar effort as women had done for their men in the great wars on Earth so longago. The government required all men tohave a sample of their sperm frozen, though everyone had to have known theythrew most of it away. It was too greatof an opportunity, a eugenics program without the messiness of sterilizing theundesirables, perhaps the Übermensch was in sight.

Fawn knew that the man’s friends wereglaring at her, hating her because she would have nothing to do with theirpathetic little party. She anticipatedsome trouble and ordered a few shots in case she needed her fists especiallytight and numb, but soon the little group was once again stricken with fits ofbackslapping and obnoxious laughter. Though the atmosphere has lost most of its tension it had only seepedinto Fawn’s muscles, tightening her hold on her beer.

Several beers and a couple of shots laterFawn was on the street again, finished with her errands and heading up thestreet to buy her friends some late dinner. The wet and chilly air forced her to zip her jacket up to hercollar. She could see the lights of thelittle food truck and hoped there would not be a long line when she got there,just now feeling the effects of hunger. She lamented going back out into the field, but she would never miss thisshit pen town, which only existed because there were still a few soldiersaround, but that money would soon be drying out. With nearly all of the men gone, the sexworkers and bar broads had moved away decades ago, and like them, the wateringholes would be done as soon as this place stopped being a hold over for troopsin transition to deployed status. Fawngave a sigh of relief when she reached Rena’s. She ordered some drinks and four bowls. She watched the mastery of the little old ladies prepare the food insideand breathed in the smell of meats, onions and peppers.

She paid and was handed a bag of food and abox of drinks. She turned to replace thetwo men and the woman from the bar down the street; they were draped over eachother as they came up the hill, laughing and snorting loudly as they passed aflask between them. Fawn sniffed as shewatched them wobble back and forth, knowing that if she dawdled any longer shewas sure to miss the last bus. Standingin the light of the establishment, she was sure they would see her at anymoment.

“You fucking dyke!” a man said, trying tokeep his drunken girlfriend on her feet. The man that had tried to get Fawn to join their little group followedthem with his head down, at least someone was embarrassed. Fawn crossed to their side of the street, knowingshe had already missed the last bus, but suddenly she felt the need to stretchher legs.

“You on your way to your wife’s house, rugmuncher? Fucking dyke,” the man said,trudging along, half carrying his girlfriend.

“Tough talk for a dodger,” Fawn said.

“Shut the fuck up. I’m no dodger!” hesaid. Fawn let go of a slight chuckle beforethe man pulled his arm away from his girlfriend, letting her collapse in thestreet. He turned to Fawn with his lipspulled back to his gums. His friendstopped and scanned the street for onlookers, blubbering weak commands for hisfriend to stop.

“What?” Fawn said, still holding her bags, hoping he would, wishing he would. The angry man huffed loudly and then returnedto his girlfriend, failing at picking herself off of the sidewalk.

“Exactly,” Fawn said. “Coward.” The man immediately whirled around, swinging hard, his open palm foundnothing but air. His girlfriend, now withoutsupport fell to the ground again. Fawnhad ducked under the man’s attack completely. She set her bags down and launched herself upin one continuous motion. She threw her shoulder into the man’s gut, grabbed himaround his waist and dumped him into an alley. The man who had spoken to Fawn in the bar had backed away and kneltbeside his female friend. Once Fawn hadsped past him his eyes widened as he took note of her actual size, she was muchtaller and far more muscular than the Arbaronian average. Fawn scowled back at the man’s friends as awarning, then removed her jacket, showing her 203rd Heavy Infantrytattoo, a cartoony, muscled woman wielding a chain gun with one arm and holdinga bomb in the other.

The man she had thrown into the alley hadrecovered quickly and raised his fists, his face was warped into a brown maskof confusion when he saw that Fawn had slipped a mouth guard in between herjaws and her hands were now gloved. Shebegan to rotate around the evenly sized man. He threw a quick jab which her head slipped past as she shot in andpushed the man against the rusty fence behind. The sound of Fawn’s fists punishing the man’s face were sickening, likea shovel smacking the bloated head of a corpse. She could see from the first two punches that he had realized hismistake, but his lesson in subservience in the presence of a greater being hadjust begun.

Fawn, being in Heavy Infantry had also hadextensive medical enhancements performed on her, a surgical technique known asbracing, a strengthening of the bones, with a special attention paid toreinforcing those commonly used for striking, such as knuckles and elbows. Each time she landed an attack completely flush,it was like the force of a violently swung bat. The blows she laid against his body rattled through his flesh causingextreme cases of blunt trauma. Hisfriend attempted to break it up, but Fawn shoved the man off his feet and outof the alley with a single-handed push.

Then she turned her attention back to theman that had berated her. He was a sniveling,squirming hump, blood and mucus streamed from his mouth and ruined nose. She felt a slight pinch in her fist and sawthat a tooth fragment had lodged itself into the knuckle of her middlefinger. She removed it and flicked itinto the darkness behind the fence. Theman was shaking and trying to latch on to one of her legs, pleading.

“Please. Please,” he said. The more he begged the angrier Fawnbecame. She sent several short rudekicks into his stomach. She reached downand grabbed the man by his collar and dragged him to his feet effortlessly. His friend had returned, but she shot him ahard glare. Then turned her focus backto her prey, both of his eyes were swollen shut, his bottom lip was a split eggplant. His lips were moving slowly, but nothing morecame from between them. With a singlehand she held him against the fence and repeatedly rammed her fist into hisguts, as if she were trying to impale him with her arm.

“Hey! You gotta stop this shit. That’senough. You’re gonna fuckin’ kill him.” The other man said. And how did this lesser know that it was notwhat she desired?

Fawn ignored him and pulled a hunting knifefrom her boot. She exhaled a hot breathin the night air; like smoke from the dragon’s throat. Her skin had gone clammy and had a grayishtint to it. The insides of her mouthwere an acrid and nauseating flavor, her saliva glands had their overtime stubsapproved and spit ran down her chin and onto her t-shirt. A troubled youth, Fawn had spent her lifeseeing the faces of her demons branded on anyone who dared to challengeher. Her parent’s scientificcontributions to the war effort and decades of exemplary military service fromher aunt, kept many of Fawn’s criminal charges from stacking up too high, buteven this could not keep Fawn’s career as an officer on track. Before she had finished her training atSpacecraft Propulsion School she was dropped from the program and sent to thespace fleet as a Junior Assistant Operations Officer, which said to anyspaceman that she did not have a job. Refusing to acquire her Space Warfare Pin in a timely manner, she hadbeen ejected from the fleet, only to be dumped into the Army as an enlistedsoldier. Though the Army refused her atfirst --out of pure reflex, because no branch wanted to be another’s trashpile-- they had found use for the amount of violence and fear she could inflictupon humans and use it against the Fossas.

Fawn gripped her knife tightly as the wavecame over her and she allowed herself to be drowned, colors only a few shadesapart now stood in direct contrast, the world before her actively divided into anexistence of disparity and absolutes. She twirled the knife between her fingers, then crouched low next to theheaving, moaning lump that had been the caricature of a man momentsearlier. Then she heard a shuffling offeet and was tackled before she could turn her head towards the sound. She struggled in the darkness, before afamiliar voice came from within the black hair.

“Dearborne.” Flechette said.

“Flech?” Fawn said; coming out of her stupor, the colors of the world appeareddrab now and had melted back into one another in the darkness.

“Let’s go.” Flechette said, helping Fawn toher feet. The two walked past the cryingman and his screaming girlfriend. Flechette shot them a glare as she passed. Fawn recovered her jacket and her bags andthe two started on their way back to the barracks; cutting through several backstreets and an old baseball field to avoid any MPs who might have been alertedbecause of the fight. The patchy browngrass crunched underneath their feet as they crossed the shabby outfield. The wooden boards used to make the dugout hadbeen dried and withered by the sun, their corners turned upwards as if pullingaway from the nails that crucified them. As they came to the infield Fawn kicked over the dusty battered secondbase, only held in place by a few links of rusty chain.

“So what was it that he did, to deservethat?” Flechette said.

“Why does that matter? He was a piece of shit,” Fawn said; then spatinto the dusty path that connected first base to second.

“You should be more cautious when you layhands on people,” Flechette said.

“You think I give a fuck?” Fawn said.

“It’s not about you giving a fuck; it’sabout the heavy brass,” Flechette said.

“None of this is any fair,” Fawn said.

“What?” Flechette said.

“That those draft dodging fucks are outgetting wasted, and my brother’s missing because he was towing the line.” Fawn said.

“They’re gonna lock you up if anybody replacesout about this.” Flechette said. Fawn sighed and looked deep into the nightsky.

“Good. I don’t even know why we bother,” Fawn said. “Not like this will ever end.”

“What else would we do? It’s not like normal jobs exist anymore,” Flechettesaid.

“I don’t know…anything. I just wish there was something waiting forme after this,” Fawn said.

“Someone?” Flechette said.

“Maybe…” Fawn said. “So, what were youdoing out after taps?”

“It occurred to me that you would bedrinking in public,” Flechette said.

“And what’s wrong with that?” Fawn said.

“Nothing, if you were guaranteed to bealone,” Flechette said.

Fawn shuffled into the barracks in front ofthe eyes of the mid watch. She made noattempt to salute the flag or the watch and trudged up the stairs withFlechette close behind. The hallwaylights were dimmed, it being the girl’s bedtime, but Fawn had strong urge togive them payback for all the times she had tried to sleep off a hangover. As Fawn stumbled into their room she tossedLechwe the bags and collapsed onto her rack face first.

“Thanks,” Lechwe said. “You okay?”

“Dearborne bashed some fuck face in town,” Flechettesaid.

“Oh shit. Did he deserve it?” Lechwesaid. Fawn murmured into her pillow.

Flechette shrugged. “Most of it,” Flechette said, climbing backinto her rack with her gun.

“No napkins?” Chital said. Fawn mumbled into the pillow and waved herhand.

“Hey, you want me to braid you up?” Lechwesaid, shaking Fawn’s booted foot. Fawnrolled over and groaned loudly, the crook of her elbow was covering her eyes.

“Argh, I guess,” Fawn said.

“Don’t be like that. We won’t have time tomorrow,” Lechwe said.

“We won’t have time for much of anythingtomorrow,” Chital said.