The scotch tasted alright, citrussy and heavy on her already full stomach. Isaka wasn’t much of a drinker, but from the little she knew she guessed it was mid shelf stuff. The armchair in the officer’s suite was comfortable, and she felt like drifting off. She put the drink down on the small chrome-metal coffee table the chairs were pulled up around and sat back.

“Something wrong with your drink, Mayor?” Major Dawson asked.

“No, not at all. I’m a lightweight. The drink with that dinner, well, I’m worried I’d fall asleep and Greg over there would have to carry me out to the truck.” That elicited chuckles from the gathered officer's staff. Mainly lieutenants, but there were a couple of captains, but Isaka wasn’t very good at telling the difference. She had learned the rankings and insignias, but there were so many exceptions and specific accommodations and things that factored into it, that she couldn’t keep it all straight.

Greg scrutinized her. “Do you need me to drive, boss?” He asked as he sat in the seat next to hers.

“Might be a good idea.” Isaka had sent most of the others back to the tents to get rest. They had worked straight through lunch, and the heat and humidity in the headsets had made a couple of her team members faint. She didn’t want to take the risk with the others. Live and learn, I guess. We’ll take it slower over the next few days. Give people time to get back up on their feet.

“I’ve had a bit to drink, too. Maybe we should stay the night?” Greg looked to the Major who smirked and shook his head.

“You would of course be welcome to stay here until morning at need, but I think it would be easier on both of you if my First Sargent had someone take you two back using one of our rovers.” Greg frowned, but after a moments thought nodded and leaned back in his own chair, grumbling about something Isaka couldn’t hear.

“Well, this has been lovely. Thank you for the dinner, entertainment, and for sharing the scotch. But I think it’s time for us to go.” The small dinner party broke up. The officers stood as she did, and Major Dawson escorted her and Greg out of the little upper mess hall.

“Thank you both for accepting my invitation. I wanted our introduction and working relationship to start off well. If I may be so bold as to presume, I think it has.”

“You don’t seem like the bad sort.” Isaka said, as she struggled not to burp. She thought if she did, she’d end up hurling up her entire dinner. The chicken had tasted good, but she didn’t want to know how it tasted coming back up.

“You run a tight ship here, if a bit fancy for my tastes.” Greg said, as they entered the main hallway down to the outposts’ vehicle port.

“I come from a New England background, old money. At least, as old as it exists in the United States. My family earned our first fortune by producing and selling fishing line wire to net manufacturers during the industrial revolution. But we’ve been in real estate for roughly two generations now.” Dawson must have realized what he was saying and thought it was a bit too personal, because he blushed and coughed. “I’m sorry. I think the scotch got to me a bit. Let me assure you, I might appear stuffy, but me and my men are a fighting unit.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that,” Greg said. “I know what that patch means.” Greg pointed at his own chest corresponding to a series of red, yellow, and other color patches on Dawson’s dress uniform. “You were in Kandahar.”

“Me and my unit, yes. Back when I was a Captain and Company Commander.”

“Why aren’t you an LC yet?” Greg asked, and Isaka felt like she should hit him. So she did. Right in the arm. “Ow, what was that for?”

“I, I don’t know. That sounded like a mean thing to ask.” Both men laughed and Isaka felt her face going red again. “I think maybe I had too much to drink.”

“It was impolitic to ask. But, it’s also a fair question. A Major in command of a Battalion sized element is odd. Normally they are led by Lieutenant Colonials.”

“Doesn’t that mean you’re just great at your job?” Isaka asked. “Otherwise they wouldn’t have asked someone of your rank to take on more responsibility.”

“True, it could mean that. Or,” Major Dawson looked at Greg. “It could mean I was demoted but kept command.”

“Oh. Ooooooh” Isaka said, as they reached the stairs. She gripped Dawson’s arm to steady herself despite the perfectly available handrails. “So, wait. What does that mean?”

“It means either he was a scapegoat for someone else’s fuck up, but command knew better than to get rid of someone as good as him. Or, he massively fucked up, and command didn’t want to get rid of someone who is so well connected.” Greg’s voice was serious and somber.

“A bit of both, I’m afraid. I’m not some golden boy who’s magically good at everything he touches. That would be my cousin.” A bit of bitterness entered his voice at the mention of family. “I’m only level four, for example. I’ve never been very good at video games and the system seems rather like an intricate one. With that being said, I was a scapegoat for someone else’s screw up. While my skill might not have done it, my connections sheltered me from the worst of it. I brought my men through the integrations first few weeks intact, despite my demotion.”

“That’s a good story, but unlikely. If you fucked up and are just hiding your incompetence, well you are in luck. You have another shot here. But if it happens again, those connections of yours won’t do shit. I served under the Bull before, he doesn’t take kindly to perpetual screw ups.”

“Greg, be nice.” Isaka put a bit of her mother’s fire into the words, but she didn’t know how it came across. She wasn’t slurring her speech, but it was clear she was a bit too in the bottle.

“No Mayor Smith, he’s right. He doesn’t know if my story is true or not, which is one reason I brought you here tonight. So we could build trust before we work together. It’s good this is out in the open. You will know to be watchful, and I know I’m on notice. I’m also glad to be fighting under the Bull again. Though I haven’t done so since I was a young butter bar.” He smiled at the memory. “I just ask that you give me and my men the opportunity to prove we’re not, as Mr. Arbitrage puts it, ‘fuckups’.”

“Well, alright then. You can start by helping us tomorrow.” Isaka said as she watched Greg’s expression. It went from one of stone cold calculation, like he was sizing up a threat, to simple watchfulness. She thought that was the attitude she should adopt. “We’re going to be laying the groundwork for the magic schools. Your uh, magical liaison person. I heard she was part of the Magical Corps training program?”

“Yes, that’s right. It’s one reason they stationed my battalion here. We have several training specialists who we would be happy to help prepare curriculum in partnership with your team. Though they are recent transfers to my command, so I can’t help you much in the way of understanding their personalities.”

“That’s fine. While Greg and the other builders start work on laying the foundations we marked off today, we’ll start work on that.”

“We’ll work out the details when we’re all clear-headed.” They got to the bottom of the stairs and found they had entered the vehicle port. A tall man in a normal military field uniform was speaking with two others of clearly lower rank. “First Sergeant Masters.”

“Yes, Major?” The tall man said, turning towards their group.

“Please have Mayor Smith, and Mr. Arbitrage taken back to their base of operations? I’m afraid I’ve been a poor host and allowed them to get a bit too tipsy.”

“Yes sir. Private Jenkins, specialist Taggert.” The Sargent turned back to the two men he had been speaking to. They were covered in grease and different oiles. It was clear they had been on maintenance duty. “Take the four-man rover, and see our guests safely returned.” The two men saluted, though they weren’t happy about the assignment. A few minutes later, as the four of them chatted amiably, the rover drove into the bay. The soldiers helped the civilians into the back of the vehicle.

As they drove away, Isaka started drifting off. Sleep took her, despite the rocky terrain.