I nodded at my new acquaintance, the name finding it's way beneath a catalog of countless hundreds that had come and gone. A cynical part of me pointed out that his choice of division would likely ensure that he'd live for longer. It was harsh and demeaning, Logistics were one of the most important divisions in the Navy...but fact was, they were not on the front lines.
Although to be fair, I wasn't either.
"Looks like he's being taken care of," I said. "Typical navy professionalism..."
Before I could say anything else, the motions in the bar changed oh-so-subtly.Two people left the bar very suddenly and quietly. For a moment, I almost thought I recognized the retreating figure... It'd have gone unnoticed by most people, but I had had Spec Ops training. I had to smile ruefully at the usage of 'training'. The word had such a negative connotation. Animals and pets were 'trained', to follow commands without question, to be unfaltering in their duty. It was not so much different with us.It was almost as if we had to reduce some part of what made us human...to what end? If I asked Harrison, he would've probably replied with something predictable. The ideals which our House stood for, to defend innocent people from those who wanted nothing but to destroy and pillage, to reign as kings of nothing for a millionth of a moment before fading into nothingness.
At some point, I'd believed all of that. Now...I just wanted to believe.
"I'll take what you're having, Harrison...and a pack of Cigarettes," I said. The latter had re-emerged as a bad habit after nearly two decades. I guess I was slipping.
"I've seen your ship before. Had a different Commander at that time...New posting, I'm guessing?" It had to be, while Harrison did not look like a fresh-faced rookie by any stretch of the imagination...he did not look like Logistics material either. Not yet.
Our orders arrived, and I let my drink sit on the table, instead opting to peruse a single from the cigarette pack. A quick flick of the lighter, generously provided and it was burning. I took a brief drag, the fire at the edge of my fingertips acting as a perfect resonator to the fire of thought within.
Or it would have were it not interrupted by a hoarse yell, almost a shriek. I turned in my chair, trying to figure out where the noise had come from.
"Looks like the Captain's anger broke," I said, looking at Harrison with a faint smile. And that smile evaporated when I saw who the Captain was.
Now that was a face I had not seen in a very long time. Hartman looked much the same, only angrier and even more tired. I could empathize...I felt the same emotions. There was a time when we had gotten along well, but she'd abruptly stopped talking a couple of months ago after getting re-assigned.
But she was the closest thing I had to a kindred spirit that was still alive. And maybe seeing a familiar face would help her.
"Captain!", I almost called her by name, but realized that she'd probably be annoyed by that breach of protocol in front of so many officers. I waved to get her attention, then turned back to Harrison.
"That's your boss, Harrison...at least, if I recall correctly. Any idea what she's mad about?"
