The ale outside the dome must've been more potent than Sphero beers back home. He'd only consumed four, and already his words were starting to slur. Or had it been seven? Truth be told, August had lost count while conversing and laughing with Rosek beneath the maple leaves.

He hadn’t been intoxicated since before being sent to the academy. Before that, it was a weekly occurrence that he, Manny, and the boys would get together in the abandoned warehouse on Angel street where they had a little set up with a couch and wall-screen, and they’d just sit there and drink. He missed those days. Some of the boys smoked some funky stuff or hooked in, but August never partook. Drinking was enough for him.

Rosek had matched him mug for mug and seemed to be feeling it even more than he was. She wavered as if her spine was made of rubber even though the tree supported her back. Her laughter had transformed from short, precise chuckles to long, drawn-out guffaws. She also touched his arm a lot. Almost every single phrase she uttered was followed by a slight brush of his arm or knee. He didn’t object.

Something small and dark moved on her leg. She flinched at first but quickly followed it up with the universal “that’s cute” gasp. She locked her hands over her heart for a moment before sending a hand down to meet the moving thing.

It took August’s hazy eyes a few moments to lock in on the thing. It was a small, dark, brown toad with a perpetual carefree smirk. It couldn’t have been longer or wider than an inch. It spun away from her hand and started down her leg, aiming for her knee, but Rosek put her other hand down to cut off both of the toad’s options.

“Just hop up on Hilde’s hand,” Hilde said in a baby-like voice. “Come on. I won’t hurt you. I just wanna give you a little pet-pet.”

August laughed aloud. That sort of voice coming from a hardened colonel was not something he’d ever expected to hear when he’d first been introduced to the faceless, imposing mech suit that was Rosek. The toad executed a desperate dive to the left of her leg and disappeared into the grass. Rosek laughed.

She looked at August. “Wasn’t that the cutest thing you’ve ever seen?” One half of her face was dimly lit by the fire at their backs. The other shone in the faint light of the moon. Her bruises were visible even in the soft lighting, and August felt a lump in his throat. He still felt responsible for her wounds, and the alcohol wasn’t making it any easier to control his emotions. Two urges were stronger than him at that moment. One was to cry. The other was to kiss her healing lips. He was just about to lean in when the music started.

Her face lit up, and she got to her feet. The townsfolk clapped and stomped in unison as they sang an upbeat folk song. Some of the men hummed the bassline, while some of the women provided high-pitched angelic harmonies. Everyone else sang the main melody. Rosek had never heard the particular song before, but she danced before August as if surprised by her favorite hit coming on the radio.

His face burned. He looked around, hoping his pathetic attempt had gone unnoticed. No one seemed to be looking. Everyone was more preoccupied with the song and the flames, and the movie star, of course. He breathed a sigh of relief.

“You gonna let me dance all by myself?” Rosek asked before performing a drunken twirl.

August laughed. “Yeah. Sorry. You’re on your own for this one.”

“Ah, come on,” she said. “It’s only you and me. No one else is even looking our way. When are you ever gonna get another chance to dance beneath the moonlight? Especially without that dirty dome over your head.”

She made a good point, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He’d never been a good dancer. Sure, he’d never actually tried, but it had always just been something that he’d never wanted anything to do with.

“Fine,” she said with a grin. “Just enjoy the show, then.”

He watched her move as the song proceeded through its second chorus. Despite what he thought about dancing, he couldn’t deny that the colonel looked to be having the time of her life. Maybe there was something to it, after all. Nevertheless, he stayed put and watched as she bobbed and swayed.

Her dance wasn’t suggestive by any means, but he couldn’t help notice her form. A mix of great genes and a physical career in the army led to her body being in pristine condition. She definitely won’t have any trouble getting pregnant. His eyes widened, and he ran a rough hand over his face—no more ale for you. Imagine if you’d said that out loud?

Rosek continued dancing with a beaming smile on her face, blissfully unaware of her colleague’s internal struggles. It didn’t help that the fire and the moon worked in tandem to bring out the brilliant colors in her hair. He sighed and forced himself to look away. He could have stared all night, but even his drunken mind knew something about that was disrespectful. He wondered what sober Rosek would think about the night when hungover and thinking back.

Beth came back with another round of mugs. The night was remembered in bits and pieces from that point on. A few vivid images rippled into the murky sea of drunkenness, but they were few and far between. He remembered Farscout approaching them in the middle of Hilde’s dance. The song was still droning on, and the scout was doused in sweat but beaming from ear to ear.

“Hello,” he said. “Colonel Rosek, is it?”

“It’s Hilde,” she responded without looking at him. The mech pilot was lost in her dance.

“Alright, Hilde,” Farscout said. “A couple of us were wondering if, now that the kids are put to bed, if you’d be able to maybe go and get that big robot suit of yours and show it off a bit.”

“Oh my God,” Hilde gasped. “That’s such a good idea! I’ve always wanted to try dancing in the suit, but there’s never really been a good time to do it.”

“Great!” Farscout said.

Hilde and the scout ran off together, leaving August alone beneath the maple’s branches. His memory cut out after that.

The next bout of lucidity kicked in with August standing side by side with Sterling near the fire while everyone watched Rosek dancing in her mech suit. There were ‘oohs’ and ‘ahs,’ and even General Wolf looked on with bobbing shoulders and what might’ve been a smile. The dancing mech was the only thing capable of stealing female attention from Dalton West, as a few of the women who’d been seated at his side were now dancing with the mech. Folks dressed in vintage-era clothing dancing with a mech. It all looked like some crazy music video to August, and then his memory cut out again.

It clicked in again much later in Rosek’s dance. Many onlookers had gotten their fill and were now able to look away to engage in conversations, but many still watched on. Rosek must’ve sensed the dissipating attention. Her movements grew wilder and exaggerated as she fished for reactions, but it didn’t get her much. Not until she inadvertently crashed into a pile of firewood. The impact destroyed one of the little shed’s support beams and snapped the taut rope that held everything together. A significant number of stout logs rolled from the pile toward the fire, and one of the dancing women had to jump out of the way.

Once it appeared as though everyone was fine and the motion of the firewood stopped, a collective laugh escaped the locals. A few of the young men worked on rebuilding the stack immediately. Farscout was one of them. August felt an irrational pang of bitterness toward Farscout for having interrupted he and Rosek’s moment under the tree, but it passed just as soon as it had arrived.

The bitterness returned soon after when Farscout bent over to retrieve a stray log. Rosek moved her bulky mech behind the scout and pinched his ass with metallic fingers. He yelped and dropped the wood, which earned a chorus of laughter from the crowd. August didn’t laugh. His gut flooded with jealousy. He knew it was stupid and likely the booze talking, but regardless, the feeling was sour and potent.

His thoughts became vivid again, and he wished for another mug if only to knock himself out for the night. You’re stupid to even think she’d want anything to do with you. You’re the reason for her bruises. You caused the commotion at the gas station. You’re just a shitty little rookie. Why would she ever want anything to do with you?

His mind cut out again, and he came to halfway back to the house where Beth had told them they’d be staying tonight. It was a barn the townsfolk had repurposed to house a batch of refugees that had come from another nearby settlement after an attack by the Chrome Chargers. They’d stayed in the barn until their settlement was repaired, with help from Gardewall workers, and then they returned. This had only happened about a month before the squad’s arrival. The barn had remained untouched in that time.

He didn’t remember the decision to retire, but there he was, halfway between the festivities and the barn. A strong hand gripped him by the shoulder. He turned to find General Wolf standing only a few inches before him. The general had been drinking just as much as August throughout the night, maybe more, but you couldn’t have guessed it by looking at him. He stood strong and unwavering, his expression was stern, and his movements were abrupt and precise. “Where you going?”

“To bed, I guess,” August slurred and threw a lazy thumb toward the barn.

The general nodded. “I see.” He looked the private up and down. “How are you feeling?”

“Pretty drunk,” August said. “Otherwise, I feel good.” A small part of him wanted to tell the general about everything that had transpired with Rosek, but a much bigger part of him slapped that idea out of his mind the moment it appeared.

“What do you think about the mission?”

August’s gut churned. The mission was the last thing he wanted to think about. “I think we’ll get it done, Sir.”

“No, I mean…” he eyed August up and down again, and a strange look came upon his face. It was the same look he’d had when reading the secret part of Vern Slupman’s letter.

“What?” August asked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Wolf said nothing.

“What was written on that letter?” August raised his voice. Something he’d never do if not for the booze.

Nothing.

“Tell me!” August was close to shouting now. “I demand to know. I know it was about me. What could it possibly be? Is my mom alright? Did something happen to Manny? What the hel is it?”

“I’ll forgive your tone considering the amount of ale you’ve pounded back tonight,” Wolf said. “But that letter was for my eyes only, and you can’t demand anything from your superior officer.”

“Big surprise,” August said sarcastically. “Why did I expect anything from you? I’m just here to run into that hive ahead of you guys and die. Why else would you have a rookie on this mission with all these fancy colonels?”

Wolf wrapped August in a bear hug and held it for a long while. August was shocked at first but settled into it and fought back tears. Curse this stupid emotional drunken brain.

“You’re a damn good soldier, Ace,” Wolf said, still holding the embrace. “I hope you remember that no matter what happens to you or any of us when this mission is over with. You hear me?” He let go, and they stood eye to eye again.

August nodded and sniffed. “Thanks, General. I’d still like to know what that letter said, though.”

“I know you would,” Wolf said. “And one day, you’ll find out what it says in there. When that day comes, you’ll wish you’d never found out just as much as you wish you knew now.”

August furrowed his brow. That last sentence had been a bit much for his ale-soaked brain.

Wolf patted him hard on the shoulder. “Get to bed, Private. It pains me to say it, but we leave in the morning.” He spun on his heels and returned to the fire where Rosek had finally stopped dancing and was out of her suit. She sat next to Farscout, holding her gut in gleeful laughter.