Moments later all jokes were Loohee jokes. Doc had given Minds some mindlockers, to prevent the Homo Gnarus from being overwhelmed by other people’s stomach-turning thoughts and emotions. The pills had put Minds in a quasi-catatonic robotic state—he mechanically took the food to his mouth, chewed, gulped, went back to step one. His pupils were pin-thin, and his proverbial quick wit was numbed beyond recognition.

“Think we should ask Doc for some of those ourselves?” said Wolf. “He’s enduring Kooks’ stew pretty well…”

“How long will he stay this way?” asked Gonzal, a bit worried.

“Half an hour, Sarge," said Stoic. “That’s what Minds said before popping the pills.”

“Does this mean we get to think whatever we want about his hot sister and he won’t know?”

“He doesn’t read minds, Chinkx.”

“How he is now”—Chinks waved a hand in front of the Gnarus’ dead eyes—“he couldn’t read a neon sign."

“He doesn’t read minds, ever,” insisted Noui. “He’s just way more sensitive than us to strong emotions.”

“Aaaw, how cute!” mocked Chinkx, “a man with strong feelings!”

She blushed a bit.

Smelling blood, Chinkx pushed, “You can’t have his kids, you know? Gnarus and Sapiens can’t mate.”

“Knock it off, Chinkx,” Sarge said before Noui could reply. “By the way, where are the big guys?”

“Vat trip,” said Stoic.

“I know, I saw them die too. But what’s taking them so long?”

Stoic shrugged. “Them very big guys, I guess…”

Wolf said timidly, “It also took a long time yesterday, right? Haiko, I mean.”

Gonzal nodded. “Yeah…”

“Maybe he saw his angel again?” said Stoic.

Something the way he said it made Gonzal stare at him.

The rest of the Wings stood quiet.

Stoic finished another mouthful. “Some people are talking weird, Sarge. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Who is? And what about?”

“Not sure what.” Stoic pointed at Ayelen’s squad. “But the Jay Eyes are really chatty. And three of them went for a swim this morning, after their Op went south.”

“Well…” Gonzal said, “we also chat a lot afterwards, when Op goes wrong…”

They all stared at him. Except Minds, whose pin-thin pupils were glued to his goo.

“Okay, no, no really,” Gonzal conceded. “After screw ups, I talk you listen.”

“I think Kooks over there is still recovering from one such talk, Sir…” Noui said.

Gonzal shrugged, like saying “Sarge’s gotta do what he gotta do.”

“It’s not Sergeant Ayelen doing the talking among the Jays, Sarge," Stoic said. “It’s the three guys back from the vats. Came all smiles and attacked Kooks’ goo like it was gregol pie.”

“Like Haiko yesterday,” Wolf said.

Gonzal nodded thoughtfully.

“Well…” said Stoic, “if you excuse my brown nosing, Sarge, with your usual tactical forethought you astutely sent not one but two scouts to the vats today, didn’t you? The big brothers should be back soon with some intel.”

Gonzal raised his eyebrows and shrugged.

Who knows?

***

When they came, both Haiko and Bigfoot wore beatific, Clypeus-sized smiles, and their good mood was impervious to Kooks’ marshy stew.

“So!” said Stoic, as the two giants greedily gobbled their food. “Two Clyps go into a bar; one of them says…”

“Don’t bother, kid,” Haiko said. “we know them all.”

“Apparently there’s a new one,” said Noui. “Two Clyps go into the vats; they come out smiling like dorks, eat turdstew as if it was gregol pie, and one of them says…” She paused.

Haiko glanced at Bigfoot, both of them grinning.

“You wouldn’t understand,” said Bigfoot to Noui.

“Oh? And why’s that?”

“Well…” Bigfoot said, “because…”

Haiko finished, “… because you wouldn’t get it.”

“Last time I checked,” Noui said, now somewhat irked, “Clypeus’ average IQ was a bit below Sapiens.”

“Hey,” said Haiko, “no need to take it there."

“No, you started it, Haiks.”

“No, it’s not like that; you don’t get it…”

“You just did it again, Haiks! You think I’m too dumb to—?”

“No,” Bigfoot said. “He’s not saying that. You’re the sharpest tool in our shed, Noui, save perhaps our Minds here. Who seems rather silent, by the way: what’s got into him?”

“Don’t dodge the issue, Big. Why wouldn’t I get it?”

“Maybe we are just too dumb to explain it, girl,” Haiko said.

Before a cascade of riposte ensued, Gonzal said, “Enough. You two, big guys, listen up: let’s play this hand cards face up. Doc Kourailen’s turf is off-limits for chit-chat, I get it; patient-doctor secrecy and all that legal crap. Just tell me straight, yes or no: has anything changed in there since last week?"

Bigfoot couldn’t repress a “Ho ho…”

“That a yes, Big?”

“That a yes, Sarge,” Haiko said. “But no need for concern. Trust me on this. Doc just loves his secrecy and theatrics as much as he likes his tweaks and improvements, you know that.”

“You promise me there’s nothing I should worry about?”

“Got my word, Sarge.”

“Big?”

“Mine too.”

Gonzal held the Clypeus’ stares for a few heartbeats, then nodded. “Very well. That’s that, then.”

Minds numbly moved spoon to mouth; the rest of the Wings did their best to follow his example.

“If you don’t mind me saying so, Sarge… if you feel like you have to worry about something”—Haiko pointed with his spoon towards his food tray—“I’d say it’s this. I’m afraid somebody will take matters into their own hands and start thinking about, hum, motivating poor ol’ Kooks to try a bit harder.”

Noui, Wolf and Chinkx couldn’t help laughing.

Stoic smiled wryly; Sergeant Gonzal kept his poker face.

The Clypeus looked at each other. “That’s one joke I confess I didn’t get,” said Bigfoot.

Stoic patted his huge shoulder. “Brand new Clypie joke. I’ll tell it to you afterwards. Now finish up, so we can all get away from this putrid stench and go pester Squirrel outside, where the air is fresh.” He glanced at Minds, who kept munching like a robot. “And steal the mindlocked Gnarus all his tobacco. I’m sure he won’t mind.”

“Best laid plans, ever," said Haiko, and with that the two giants launched themselves to the task in front of them.

Yeah, Gonzal thought while they munched and gulped. What card does Doc have hidden up his sleeve?

***

Gonzal didn’t feel like singing. He let the hot water take away the sweat and dust and dried blood while ruminating in silence.

What am I missing?

Something, something…

… something his guts knew, but he so far couldn’t put his finger on.

Wolf’s OK, so that’s not it.

The rookie was a virgin no more: he had been shot that day, clean to the head. First vat trip for him, and while there was no reason for concern, Gonzal had not been able to think of anything else until Doc Kourailen’s text flashed on his HUD: "All your men OK."

The synths are getting marginally better…

They kept rebuilding the same three towers every day, on the exact same spot. You would have thought that by now they would know better than setting their turrets in a straight line…

… yet, regardless of their seemingly incapacity to grasp the finer details of defensive layouts, today they had taken down three of his Wings.

Which means they have improved 50% from yesterday… and still…

Was this what bothered him? Two days ago the synths’ turrets had only sent Haiko to the vats. Yesterday it had been Haiko and Bigfoot. Today, the two Clyps plus the rookie… had the synths upgraded their targeting software?

They shouldn’t have charged head-on like that. Not Bigfoot, at least; Haiko’s Haiko and rushing forward is all he knows, but Bigfoot…

They had launched themselves like men with a death wish, yelling and cursing at the turrets with such contagious enthusiasm that Wolf had kicked into berserk mode himself and gone behind them. It did work out okay: the rookie had given the turrets an extra target, which in turn gave Haiko and Bigfoot enough time to obliterate one and take down the shield of the second before the third finally dispatched the two Clypeus. The remaining Wings had finished the job without breaking a sweat…

But what was the damn hurry, anyway? We could have taken our time, flanking and sniping, and maybe just spending only Haiko for a final onslaught. By the book, damn it.

Gonzal’s skin was red already from the heat. He turned the hot water off and let the icy cold drive up his heartbeat.

And turdstew again today, third day in a row, he thought as he dried. Had his stunt yesterday given Kooks some breathing room? The poor bastard would probably soil his pants when he saw Gonzal today, but that was more or less the point.

As he finished dressing, he finally nailed it.

Cherubs. Yeah, that’s it: if Wolf comes from the vats with a dorky smile and any more of that celestial sightings bullshit, I’m kicking Doc Kourailen’s door down, everything be damned.

The Dari Cal sunset was every bit as powerfully breathtaking as always, but Gonzal never paid it any attention. He marched straight past Squirrel, with nothing more than an acknowledging nod when the Pernix said, "Guess what, Sarge… turdstew again," and went inside the Mess Hall.

***

It was packed. Those that had been fasting for two days just couldn’t do without dinner anymore; the rest were more or less resigned by now. Gonzal picked up his tray and made his way as close to the Raven Talons’ table as he could without making it too obvious.

Not even halfway there, he noticed the general mood had improved.

Lots.

Two Talons were smiling happily, the rest questioning them about something.

They, too. They have seen them too.

All of a sudden he wasn’t hungry anymore. He turned towards the Crow Wings’ table and sat in front of his empty tray.

Stoic went straight to the point. “Doc Kourailen’s doing something to the cloning vats, Sarge. Every guy that got cloned today has this idiotic grin on their face.”

Gonzal scanned the room. It was clearly true: there was enough happiness to go around that you’d think Kooks had finally got his food reps under control.

“And it gets weirder,” Stoic said.

Noui pointed at the Jay Eyes. “Lutzva, their Med; she went for a swim today, but she has the same sour ‘I’m running outta time’ Pernix face as she ever has.”

“Your point?” Gonzal asked.

“Tespet, of the Blood Ravens, over there,” Nui said. “She got blasted this morning; headshot. Naiq Il, of the Azure Magpies; frag grenade to her chest.”

The Wings all looked at Gonzal, who all of a sudden felt a bit stupid, which he hated to feel, and even more so in front of his whol—.

Son of a bitch.

“Gals ain’t smiling. Only guys smile like idiots, yes?”

Noui smirked. “Yeah. As usual, of course, but in this case…”

“Maybe we’ll just have to shoot our Med tomorrow, Sarge,” Chinkx proposed. “See how she comes back.”

Gonzal was in no mood for jokes. He glanced around the room again. “It’s true. All smiling idiots are males. And I count every breed, except Gnarus. That right, Minds?”

Minds couldn’t agree nor disagree, his dot-like pupils staring in a zombielike trance as he chewed mechanically.

Gonzal snorted. “Never mind. My bad."

And then Haiko, Wolf and Bigfoot entered the Hall.

For Terra’s sake…

“Told you, Sarge: smiling like three stooges about to eat shit.”

Bigfoot was patting Wolf in the back while Haiko led the three of them towards Kooks’ steaming pots.

“Our rookie made it,” Stoic said. “First time off the vats, a virgin no more. Should we… I mean, like always…?”

Gonzal was drumming his fingers on the table. “He’s entitled to shit until I find out what the hell is going on.”

Bigfoot, Haiko and Wolf, trays full of goo, approached the Wings’ table. Gonzal was considering the best approach to question his men when Haiko, sitting down, said to Wolf, “Told ya’, rookie! Swapping flesh suits don’t hurts!”

“What’s up, crew?” bellowed Bigfoot. “No cheers for a virginity well lost?”

And Wolf, all smiles and wide-eyed, was saying to Haiko, “Man! Did you see the siish—” but couldn’t finish his sentence because the massive Clypeus elbow, hitting him right in the solar plexus, left him breathless.

Sergeant Gonzal narrowed his eyes to a dark, thin slit, and his voice became as a sharp ice blade wrapped in silk. “I wouldn’t interrupt him again, Haiks,” he said, gentle and placid as a cool autumn breeze, “if you know what’s best for you.”

The big Clypeus made the smallest of nods.

“Wolf…” said the cool autumn breeze, “what were you saying?”

The rookie glanced at Haiks for help, but the Clypeus knew very well what was best for him and just stared at his plate as if he was testing his non-existing telekinning skills.

“Wolf…?” The breeze carried in it some threads of harsh, cold winter.

The rookie looked at his Sergeant, terrified; Gonzal’s talk with Kooks yesterday was quite obviously very fresh in his newly cloned memory.

Bigfoot coughed: a low, guttural grate, like stone against stone.

Gonzal kept the cold on the rookie for a few more seconds. “Yes, Bigfoot?”

“You better go talk to Doc Kourailen, Sarge.”

###