Chapter Nine
Cole stepped out of his tent, fastening his cuffs while glorying in the bright, early morning sunshine. That sunshine which made it through the trees, anyway. Actually, the hour being dawn, there wasn't much sunshine to start out with, leaving even less than usual light to struggle through the oppressive foliage and glimmer green-tinged and dirty on the dew-soaked camp. Still, it was as if the morning could be no brighter; Cole was practically whistling. To be honest, very little would be able to upset him presently.
The guards were gone, as his dismissal had warranted, but that didn't mean he was unguarded. He finished his fastening and crouched down, so that he wouldn't have to shout. Guy snorted, digging himself further into his coat as he slept.
Cole smiled. “Lieutenant.”
Guy made little mewling sounds in his throat and curled his head further into his elbow.
“Lieutenant,” he repeated, a fraction louder. Cole cocked his head to the side, but Guy was still not waking. He leaned forward, propping himself up on one arm. “Lieutenant, it would be very embarrassing for the men to find you out here like this.”
Guy snorted another pathetic little snort of protest, but slowly began to stretch out, eyes still closed. His foot ran into one of the tent's support lines. A hand roamed out from his chest and swept the ground for something familiar. His eyes were still on their way to opening when he inadvertently grabbed Cole's wrist.
He shot up like a bent sapling, stealing his hand back. Usually so neat when Cole first saw him, now he was quite a sight. The hair on half of his head stuck straight up, his entire side was covered in a fine film of wet dirt, and his features were lopsided with the remains of sleep. Cole laughed, and that brought Guy blinking around to stare at him as if he were a figment. His mouth worked a couple of times before he shoved himself up from the ground, Cole following his lead.
Guy hurriedly began to brush some of the dirt off, his usual fastidiousness before rank trying to reassert its grip on his wakening mind – then, all at once, he stopped. His mouth hardened into a line and he glared with the most baleful intensity Cole had ever seen from anyone who didn't hold the safety of untouchable seniority.
“I cannot believe you dismissed your guards!”
Cole held his hands up, trying to stifle laughter. “Now, Lieutenant...”
“Don't 'now lieutenant' me! I've never seen such ridiculous behavior! I can't imagine what you were thinking!”
Cole was chuckling, now; he could hardly help it. He gestured at the scuffed ground where Guy had slept. “I wasn’t exactly unguarded.”
“Is that supposed to make it better? You made me sleep on the ground! I wasn't even on pickets! I spent all the bloody night out in the bloody jungle for your... your... stupid infidelities!”
“Infidelities?” Cole frowned. “I wasn't aware I was married.”
“You know what I mean!” Guy shook with whispered rage, trying to yell without alerting the few others awake about the camp that he was yelling. “That was the shittiest night I have ever had in the army! Do you know how shitty training gets? No, because you're a stinking Academy officer... well, it's really shitty! All so you could lay turf! I can't believe you!”
Folding his arms over his chest, Cole began to work on his 'sincerely sorry' face, but it was difficult to summon the expression. The urge to smile and move loose-limbed about, maybe swagger slightly, was too much to contain.
Nika stuck his head out of the tent. “What's going on out here? Lieutenant Guy, check for eyes.”
Guy stared at him, until Cole's staring at Guy got him to look around, bewildered. “All clear?”
Nika stepped out of the tent, raggedy uniform back on. He took as much time straightening it as Guy normally did, in spite of missing buttons, bloodstains, and the odd hanging strips of torn cloth. Nika's face got markedly better each day, a mixture of mostly regular food, the comfrey pastes, and other healthful activities apparently assisting the healing. This was as put-together as Guy had seen him. He furiously tried to keep his mind from speculating how 'taken apart' the Comid general and his superior had gotten last night.
Nika cleared his throat. “I ask again: What's going on out here?”
Cole's smile erupted again, and shortly thereafter he was chortling. Presence of the enemy and superiority of rank aside, Guy's anger flared. “Virtue's Tits, what is so bloody funny? Somebody had to guard you! Everybody knew you were questioning the General last night! What were they going to think once Lo and Heary got back? How could you! So bloody irresponsible I can't... I can't... I can't even think of words for how irresponsible that was!”
Frowning, Nika looked from Guy's indignation to Cole's laughter. He finished straightening his sleeve and faced Cole. “What did you do?”
Focusing on at Nika, Cole tried to straighten his face. After watching this happen for a moment, Nika turned around, stern look on Guy now. “What did he do?”
Guy seemed to regain himself, again. He stuttered a moment, gears working to figure out exactly how he should speak to General Galen of the Comid Army. Nika's frown at him intensified.
“He dismissed his guards last night after you two fought. The only way they would even consider leaving is if I insisted that I was staying, so I pretended like it was all according to plan. Since I had no partner, I couldn't leave my post unguarded, so I slept here.”
“All night?” Nika's frown deepened, and it took Guy a moment to be certain it wasn't for him. The relief he felt was a little shameful.
“All night.” He nodded.
Nika turned again to Cole, who was biting a knuckle to silence his laughter. He glanced at Guy, then back at Nika. Cole shifted his feet.
“Oh, come on...”
Nika didn't move.
Cole gestured, looking for sympathy. Nika still didn't move.
Taking a disturbingly (for Guy) juvenile stance, Cole raised shoulders heavy with the weight of his extreme innocence. “Nika, I didn't tell him to stay out here all night! I can hardly be blamed–”
Nika's sharp sigh interrupted him. “Be blamed for your adjutant covering your thoughtless ass? I don't know, Cole, he's your pet Lieutenant. Maybe you should've listened to something other than your dick.”
Cole flushed, and it was Guy's turn to choke down a noise of surprise. No one spoke until Cole made his rejoinder. “You can't exactly claim...”
“...innocence in the matter? Your army, Cole. If you remember correctly, I'm a prisoner. From the other side. Which,” he glanced at Guy, “ also means that you violated some of the more basic articles within the Conventions of War regarding proper treatment of prisoners.”
Cole frowned, then looked at Guy for confirmation. It was no use: Guy's eyes were squeezed shut as he frantically beat his fist on his forehead, trying to block the fresh assault of images Nika's insinuations brought into his brain. Through all of his effort, a flush began to crawl over the poor lieutenant's cheeks.
“I'm not complaining.” Nika shrugged, but continued, “That is not what is at issue, here. What is at issue is that Lieutenant Guy performed beyond his duties – extremely beyond – to mask your thoughtless irresponsibility. And I assume you're going to use Guy's presence as the means of allaying rumors of traitorous dalliances until you have a more solid explanation for a ‘big storm in a small tent.’”
An Academy expression, Guy spent a moment working out the ‘big storm’ comment and then regretted it.
“It’s actually quite a big tent, Nika, and it’s been five years.” Cole squeezed his folded arms tighter together and returned frown for frown. “Why, exactly, would I do anything other than tell the truth? There’s precedent.”
“My ass,” Nika said, with a disdainful ‘tsk’. “What do they know of your stupid poems? They don’t care, anyway. Check the night logs, they aren’t thinking of romances but of their enemy, finally being here, underfoot and under their control. You cannot afford to appear compromised.”
Cole looked at Guy, because that's where he usually looked for tedious information. Guy beat his pockets in a panic, trying to remember where he put his report on the logs. It took him a few confused moments to realize that he didn't have them, and less than the usual amount of time to recognize that his not having them was Cole's fault. He glared at Cole.
“First of all,” Cole said, rounding smoothly back to Nika, “I won't appear compromised for trying to uphold the ancient traditions of the honorable treatment of enemies…”
“Fucking your enemies isn't honorable,” Nika said.
Guy coughed as if he had swallowed his tongue. Perhaps he had. Nika made a gesture towards Guy, which Cole did not deign to acknowledge.
“…An officer is not the capital but the column; the return to peace begins with my example. Secondly,” Cole put up his hands defensively, “this hardly fair, you can't both turn on me.”
Guy began an angry rebuttal, but Nika held up a silencing hand. “One: I have not turned on you. I'm a traitor. I can't re-turn on you. Two: Promote Guy.”
“What?” Guy said.
“Why?” Cole returned.
Nika wet his thumb and tried to get something off of his buttons. “Because if you don't, I will.”
“You can't...” Cole said, but he said it hesitantly, searching his mind for the trick Nika was about to pull on him.
Guy stared open-mouthed. He swallowed. Nika remained silent. Guy swallowed again. Nika raised a brow at him. “Yes, Lieutenant Guy?”
“Uhhhhh...” Guy tried to figure out whether to stand at attention, or to do something with his hands, or to continue to stand awkwardly, the last of which was the default answer. “I... I don't believe you can... promote me ...s-sir?”
Nika bunched his eyebrows, digging in the back of his mind for information, “Unless I was struck from the Academy Lists, I graduated with the non-executive rank of major, which, while I am no 'Executive General', means that I can promote you at least to the rank of captain, which is a far cry better than remaining a lieutenant until you die.”
“They made you major?” Cole interjected, with utmost offence. Nika ignored him.
“W-wait... were you struck from...?” Guy stared in wonder; finally, someone seemed to know more minor rules than he did.
Otherwise ignored, Cole smiled ruefully. “We never did get around to striking you from the Lists, officially, though your class rank was excised. It was late in the war by the time we had any real proof it was you leading the Comids. Theoretically, you still hold your rank, though I'd love to see Durante's face when he hears about it.”
“Not Durante; you were Durante.” Some of the amusement left Nika's voice. “I was Yorik.”
Cole nodded.
Nika looked at Guy. “So you’re a Captain now.”
Stuttering, Guy looked from Nika to Cole, who shrugged, stretching his shoulders.
“It's a valid promotion, at least until the other Generals hear of it. You know the labyrinthine technicalities of the miliary's rank system and the power they have. It's yours, if you want it, Guy.”
Guy, in his rumpled uniform, face still pocked with the stones he had slept on, dirt running out of the sleeves of his coat, slowly raised his hand in salute.
“Sir... it's...er... an honor? Sir.”
Nika nodded. “I'd promote you higher, except I can only do so in Comid ranks, and I don't imagine Comid ranks are going to be a very good thing to have. Would you like some, though?”
Guy flinched. “Ah, no, no thank you, sir... though I'm sure that'd be... that'd be an 'honor', too, sir.”
This time, Nika laughed, and Guy was surprised to hear how... throaty it was. Surprised, he realized, that the man could laugh at all.
“That would be one word to use, yes.” Nika brushed his uniform off once more, then knelt. He picked up a handful of dirt and rubbed it into his hair, on his face. Wincing, he pounded his knuckles into the ground a few times before he stood. Pulling a rope retrieved from the mess in Cole's tent from his back pocket, he handed it to Guy, who stood frozen. Nika put his wrists together in front, then in back. “Which do you prefer?”
Cole pointed. “Do the front. You came in with them in back, they'll notice the change.”
While Nika obediently held out his hands for Guy, he shot Cole a suspicious glare. “You want them to notice a change?”
Cole nodded, waiting for Guy to finish and step aside. He put his hands on Nika's shoulders and kissed him. “I will be truthful, when I can. And with this, I can.”
Nika stepped back before Cole let him go. “Truthful when you can... but also be careful, when you should.”
Cole smiled and reached over to stroke Nika's jaw. Guy wasn't sure whether it was with surprise or relief he saw the Comid General blush, but he was certainly glad that General Galen didn't meet his eyes as they turned to march back to his tent.
Cole called out as they walked away, “Come back to my tent when you're done, Guy; there is work to do.”
Figured, Guy thought, that after making him stay up half of the night, then sleep in the dirt, Cole would expect him to put in a full day. Though it was a full day as a Captain, now, and that was some consolation. Perhaps.
The camp was still waking as they marched through. The occasional stares of those who were awake reminded Guy that he had the most prominent military figure of the Rebellion on the end of a rope. Guy kept his hand on the very last inches of it, his palms sweating so furiously that he had to work to keep the lead from slipping out of his grasp. The morning was so awkward, he wasn't sure whether he could even look back without dropping it for sheer nerves.
As if reading his mind, General Galen tugged, and the rope came spilling out of Guy's hand. He scrambled to grab it again, but before he could, Galen hauled back and whipped him with it. Guy scowled, rubbing the spot.
“What–”
Galen's glare silenced him; even though the man was holding still as the rope dangled from his bound wrists, Guy felt himself tense, his gut suddenly telling him he had been a fool to trust him. His gaze was frightening, his posture antagonizing. This was the Executive Comid General; Guy could see the stripes of rank on his bloodied collar. How could he have mistaken this person for the one who smiled at General Cole, who had laughingly promoted him?
Guy froze, stupid surprise rendering him open for attack, but General Galen didn't move in. He waited, patiently, until Guy inched forward and grabbed the rope again. Again, Galen pulled it from his hands. Guy frowned, backing away, but Galen said nothing. Tentatively, Guy made another grab, and General Galen twitched it out of the way, bringing it whipping around to hit him again. Guy looked around to see if any of the soldiers were noticing, but the few that had been milling about were heading off to mess hall duties, or rushing to beat the late-morning mobs at the latrines that inevitably hit at reveille. He was lucky that no one was looking... but it wouldn't last.
“What are you doing?” came Guy's urgent whisper.
General Galen frowned at him. “It is good you trust Cole. Cole acts on instinct, so he has trained you to act as he does. But you don't have Cole's instincts; you have your own. They're different. So what is your instinct, and for what reason do you trust his?”
Nerves struck like a heavy stone. Guy was afraid, and he knew he should be. He knew exactly how many Elites General Galen had faced down during his capture, because he had ensured they were ready. He knew exactly how dangerous General Galen was, because Cole had told him, pacing across battlefield tents, angry, desperate, and thwarted. He knew exactly how many battles General Galen had won, and how hard it had been to tear victory from Cole’s fingers.
“My reasons are the battles General Cole won; the hundreds of times I stood beside him as he kept us from defeat and death,” Guy said, voice with a tremor, but his hand steady as he stretched it out. “I do trust General Cole.”
“Trust him,” Galen frowned, his voice quiet, “but also check him. He is the one who can move swiftly, who can create a plan in moments, can react to any situation. Not everyone battled Elites for practice. Here, you are alone.”
An instinctual denial rose in Guy's throat – he was in the middle of hundreds of Ainjir soldiers – but he choked on it. He felt alone, if only by the force of Galen's voice. Sure, the hundreds were there, and he would be long dead before they ever knew, if Galen wanted it to be so.
General Galen swung the rope forward again, and landed it in Guy's frozen hand. Nagging doubts hit him along with the rope, left-over sting like the pricking of his conscience. Galen battled Elites for practice, too. It had taken two squads of them to bring him down. He had been standing before it had happened, waiting so he could surrender to the right person, the right way. Guy stood here by himself, not even the best fighter in his unit in basic training, worrying about his rank, holding General Galen on a rope barely as thick as his thumb.
Guy's hand closed tight over the rope. He wouldn't let it slip again.