The Old Man and the Sea |closed|
Bernie scuffed her boot against the dirt with a frown. She wasn’t a crop farmer but her brushcraft knowledge gave her some insight to the land; it was awful. Vectes was a gorgeous island and the Pelruans had years to work their soil, but the ground near the naval base needed some tender love and care. It wouldn’t grow anything delicious for a while. Oh, it would still grow something—all soil did, no matter it’s condition—but there was a difference between a shriveled crop and a juicy one. Not that it was any of her business. No one asked her about crops when it was a known fact she had been a beef farmer, but damn was it depressing. She’d share the knowledge with someone eventually.
Boots thudded in the grass behind her. She knew that gait; strong, trying to hide a slight limp from age and battle. She turned and offered Hoffman—no, Vic—a smile that quickly disappeared when she noticed his tense jaw. The man could try to hide whatever he was feeling at any time, but it was always the jaw that gave him away; it reminded her a little of Marcus.
“Everything okay?” she asked as he approached. Once upon a time, she would have reached out to him, but that was long past. She didn’t dare try it now, especially not in public.
Hoffman stretched his arms as he walked. Dealing with Prescott always left him tense, physically and mentally. Today, however, Hoffman was going to focus on what he had to do and not worry about anything left unsaid. If Prescott had anything planned, he didn’t want to know about it until it blew up in his face. He could handle it then. I’m gonna regret ever thinking it. But I have to trust he’s not going to pull a fast one on me.
Walking through VNB, he found himself distracted by simple things. Wild flowers, weeds, the sound of the sea. When did any of that last exist on the mainland? He couldn’t remember a time he noticed flowers. They were something he picked up from a shop as an apology or a way to mark an anniversary. Margaret never appreciated them like a normal woman, but it was an obligation he felt he had to fulfill. The beautiful bouquets sat in a vase on the kitchen table, ignored, for less than a week and then disappeared. He never minded.
He spotted a familiar figure just outside the gate, kicking the ground like an impatient mare. It had been almost two months since Bernie reappeared in his life and they still hadn’t found time to talk. He felt guilty whenever they saw each other in passing. There was a lot of air to clear between them but saving humanity had to come first; it always did, and she understood that. At least, he hoped she did.
He stopped beside her, staring down the hillside and out at the ocean. He took a moment to remove his cap, run a hand over his scalp, and blow out an exhausted breath. It was a rare look of vulnerability for him. “No, Sergeant, not really. Just recently I had a run in with Prescott and soon I have to set the navy boys straight. The current captain thinks he’s running the show. I gotta get someone else in there.”
Lieutenant Commander Fyne was an old dog who liked to piss on other’s territory, and Hoffman wasn’t going to stand for that. All COG assets were his to control. If the air and naval forces weren’t on the same page with the infantry, the chances of surviving tipped in the wrong direction. Shit, I have a lot more on my plate than I thought.
