Neil blinked once, and Valentine let out a huffing breath. “No wonder Vance wouldn’t tell me what was going on here.” He turned back to Artisan Coppersmith. “I’m just making sure you’re serious. You are serious, yeah?”

“I am.” The Artisan said, seeing a bit off put. “I’m told your my patient?”

“Uh,” Valentine’s eyes went wide. “Prospective? I haven’t made any decisions yet, they didn’t even tell me what was waiting for me at this fucking place.”

“And he won’t be making any decisions at all till he’s recovered from cryo-sickness, had some food and some real sleep.” Came a curt voice. Rayne shouldered the Artisan out of the way. “Move, get out of my way. You may be the director of this station, but these are my patients.”

“Wait, both of us?” Valentine said, looking at Neil.

“You will begrudge some of my, how do you put it?”

“Very intensive care.”

“That one, very intensive care being taken by another?”

Valentine shook his head and accepted the tray of food. The moment he did, Rayne whirled on Coppersmith. “You, director, were supposed to speak to the Admiral before you spoke to Sergeant Valentine.”

Valentine choked. “He’s here?”

“Who's here?” Neil asked.

“Yes, but—“ Coppersmith spluttered.

“No.” Rayne said, looming much larger than her tiny frame should have allowed her to and advancing on the station director. “He won’t be pleased with this. Report to him, go. No, get out of here and don’t come back without a good long apology planned out. Come back before then and I’ll be angry.”

Coppersmith had been moving back at the nurse’s advance, and Rayne had backed her right out of the room. The door shut with a snap, and Rayne quivered in place for a moment.

“Honestly!” She all but shouted at the door, locking it. “The nerve of that woman. This is why you don’t send people to stations this large on a skeleton crew, what it does to their mindset is honestly horrifying.” Rayne bustled around the room muttering. “The lack of manners, the breach of protocol.”

“Two questions,” Valentine said. “Doesn’t she technically outrank Neerson since she’s the station director?”

Rayne actually paused in her movements making a stretcher into a makeshift bed for Neil and gave Valentine a very, very long suffering look. “You’ve met the man, haven’t you? Regardless of titles or trinkets worn on chests, how often do you think that man is every truly outranked?”

“Point.”

“Second question.”

“What the fuck am I eating.”

“Dehydrated pears and something that vaguely resembles applesauce, but you will sleep better if you consider it exactly what it says on the packaging.”

“And what’s that?” Valentine asked pleasantly, spooning some of the brownish goop into his mouth.

“Apple flavored medical supplement for infant nutrition.”

Some of the applesauce came out of Valentine’s nose as he choked. “Baby food?” He demanded, shooting a disgusted look at Neil as the other man dissolved into very un-sergeant like giggles. “You’re feeding me baby food?”

“Don’t be obtuse.” Rayne snapped, putting a hand on her hip. “Coming out of cryostasis can play merry hell with your guts, and you need to ease into normal foods again. As for you, Sergeant Ziggenbor,” She said rounding on Neil. “I would put a sock in it yourself, since it’s what you’ll be eating this evening too.”

“The fuck for?” Neil asked, his giggles suddenly cured. “I haven’t been doing time as a sargecicle.”

“No but there’s about three boxes of the stuff and that was the last of the pears. There will be better, more pleasant things to put in your mouth soon enough, but for now, I suggest you both come to terms with your diet as best you can. Now hush, lest I continue being angry at you both for no reason.”

The men lapsed into silence as Rayne put the finishing touches on the room. After ten minutes, the door was tried. The three of them looked at it, and three knocks sounded.

“Identify yourself.” Rayne said.

“Fleet Admiral Neerson, respectfully request ion permission to enter, Nurse.” Came a smooth voice.

“And if I refuse?”

“I will request the time in which you believe your patients will be best suited to receive visitors, and call again at my earliest convenience that corresponds with your professional opinion.”

Rayne unlocked the door, and it slid open.

Standing with his hands behind his back, Neerson stood up but did not enter the room. He and the nurse stared at each other, the latter of whom looked him up and down. “In the Articles of Doctrine governing the conduct of civilian medical personnel operating in a military environment, under Section D, Paragraph six, these men are, for the time being, in my charge.”

“Yes ma’am.” Neerson said. “Until you deem them fit to be relinquished unto mine, I will respect your wishes. After that time, they will, under paragraph eleven, be soldiers under the command of the Republic Navy, though you will still be allowed to render them medical attention. They will, however, under paragraph twelve, be subject first and foremost to my command. Under paragraph fourteen, should you keep me from them or them from their duties, or otherwise keep them from executing their orders, you will be removed from your position.”

Rayne looked at the Admiral for a long moment. “It is rare to find an officer who knows the articles.”

“It is likewise rare to find a civilian nurse operating under them.” Neerson nodded. “I deemed it prudent to give myself a refresher. Do we have a mutual agreement, Nurse?”

Rayne stepped aside. “I think we do, Admiral. Please come in.”

Neil made to rise as he did.

“As you were, Sergeants.” For even Valentine had attempted to prop himself up in whatever adherence to customs and courtesies that he could. “Sergeant Ziggenbor, it is good to see you so far along in your recovery. How are you feeling?”

“Like half of me is made out of metal, sir.”

“Your self awareness is a thing we must all strive for in our own paths toward inner peace. How is your mobility?”

“Coming along sir, but there’s still a ways to go.”

“You’re in an excellent place to continue your recovery. I look forward to seeing your future progress.”

“Thank you sir.”

“Sergeant Valentine, please, Sergeant.” Neerson raised his hands as Valentine once again tried to lever himself up on an elbow. “I am not trying to be thrown from your presence just yet by the good nurse. I have been led to believe that Artisan Coppersmith has already introduced herself to you outside of my directive.”

“Yes sir.”

Neerson sighed. “I… apologize, Sergeant. It was my intention for you to become settled here, and then have a meeting with you myself before I had her broach the subject with you.”

“She fucked— we, she kinda screwed that one for you sir.”

“Indeed. Do you have any preliminary questions?” Neerson turned to Rayne, who gave a small nod.”

“Isn’t nanotechnology banned for human use, sir?” Valentine asked at once.

“It was, up until eighty one hours ago, courtesy of bill T5-973 E passing the senate’s vote, thanks to Sergeant Ziggenbor’s brother.”

“And… so what does that mean for me, sir?”

“It means that we have not only a chance to help you become whole again, Sergeant, but also have the opportunity to make advancements in the field of nanorobotics in medical application. But,” he amended, holding up his hand as Rayne opened her mouth. “I want you to not think about the latter of that before you think of your own health and medical status. But I would be remiss if I did not mention it to you.”

“Not so remiss.” Rayne said, dressing the stretcher she was laying out for Neil with linens.

“Nurse, if it is convenient for you I can have suitable arrangements made for Sergeant Ziggenbor.”

“I have no doubt, Admiral, but he won’t stay put. I would be more than happy to give you a report on their statuses from a medical standpoint at a later time. In any case, the time it would take would be impractical. Sergeant Ziggenbor has a rather frightening few moments on approach.” She smoothed out the linens. “He needs the peace and quiet of a medical facility quite as much as Sergeant Valentine. Though for different reasons.”

Neerson watched her lay the blanket out and fluff a small medical pillow and place it on the stretcher, patting it twice. Neil got up at once and sat on the makeshift bed.

“Would you at least permit me to gather more comfortable linens?”

“No.” Rayne said. “He has slept on worse, in worse conditions. This will be more than adequate for the evening.”

“Understood.” Neerson said. “Please contact me with a convenient time to give me the report on their status. I will make accommodations, with the exception of mission critical engagements. Sergeants,” He nodded to each man. “Please, remain as you are when I leave the room. Nurse.”

Rayne nodded once. “Admiral.”

And Neerson left, the door sliding closed behind him. The room remained quiet as Rayne pushed Neil down and set a pulse monitor on his index finger.

“Well.” Valentine said, looking first and Neil and then with a newfound respect at Nurse Rayne. “That makes one.”

“Go to sleep, both of you.” She said, turning the lights off. “I will come to you when your next meal is due.”

--

Neil slept badly, like he did every night. Red sands and hot winds dominated his dreams, and some small corner of his subconscious prayed that this would be the worst of it. Like all his prayers, it went unanswered. When he woke it was with his eyes closed tight and his breathing ragged, the thwump-chunk of the APES ringing disembodied in his mind. As it faded out, he listened, and opened his eyes. The room was dark save for the monitor with Valentine’s vitals showing, and he looked down at his own vitals monitor. It was wireless, which Neil thanked Rayne silently for as he swung his leg over the side of the bed and stood. He rolled his right shoulder and flexed his hand, walking to the door and easing it open manually, slipping out.

They were being housed in what was unmistakably a medical bay, but more open than he was used to and with the equally unmistakable decor of the space being repurposed for a storage facility. He seated himself on a crate and ran his hand through his hair. Tracing the side of his skull, he could feel the hairline border where his natural skull ended and the metal plating began. It had been some of the best work ever performed, Neil had been told. They had pulled out all the stops to make sure Neil pulled through. Some of the guilt welled up again, alongside the irrational wish that he had died along with every other man and woman he had served in that last tour.

The pain of the broken promise he had made felt like it would never fade.

He wanted to scream, to beat his fist against the wall until he got blood from metal, but he closed his eyes and forced himself to feel everything. If he let himself feel it, let it burn through him, it would pass and be over. But it was the act of opening the floodgates that was always the hardest. Once the emotion was flowing, it was easy to let go. So he sat there in the dimly lit hallway and allowed the fire to burn, and when at last it started to ebb, he opened his eyes and looked either way down the hallway, an old habit.

Another, different jolt went through him and Neil leapt to his feet. Away down the far end of the hallway in the shadows there was a pair of eyes staring at him from between a stack of crates and the wall, and they were not the empty flat eyes of an animal. Whatever was staring out of the shadows was intelligent at worst. Neil stood there, and the eyes stared at him with curiosity. The instincts to take cover and investigate warred with the fact that Neil felt no immediate threat from whatever the thing was, despite the fact that if it was a person it was clearly laying in the prone. If it was not, it was crouched close to the ground.

Something from the direction of the eyes thumped three times.

The sound send an uncomfortable memory of Troy rolling through him, and he swayed on the spot, closing his eyes as he kept himself upright. When he opened them again, whatever the thing was had vanished.