Chapter Text
10. That Ain’t a Mission, This Ain’t a Mission Either
Waking up to a Squint’s face is never pleasant. Waking to that squint being Bjarne, even less so.
“Up onto your feet, you big blue asshole,” She poked his forehead with her cold, bony fingers, pressing down on the tiny dots on his forehead, It fucking hurts... “General wants some tests done, and I need samples.”
Reacting on instinct, he snapped his teeth at the fingers poking his jaw, missing Phillipe’s by an inch – teeth scraping against, what he assumes to be, the squint’s rubber glove, letting out an awful squeaking noise.
“Fuck!” Phillipe squeaked and fell off…something.
Quaritch pushed himself up onto his forearms and peeked down the side of his bed with a frown, noting the step stool that had fallen over – along with the irritable little man. He turned his attention to Bjarne, ready to rip the uppity bitch a new one, when he felt the weight on his feet.
And there she was, drawn out like some tall feral, turned house-cat. Yayiu-te’s head rested on his knees, curled around them rather protectively. Her hair pulled together into a single braid. She was wearing his sweatshirt (the sleeves chopped off one morning when he had no clean shirts to give the girl, to combat the blistering Pandora heat. He set rigged rules when it came to a dress-code around the girl), with another one of his shorts – the side of her breast just barely noticeable through one sleeve. If he didn’t already have morning wood, he would have one now… So much for a damned dress code…
“Rewon, Myhuls.” Yay-u’s voice still had that delicious sleepy quality to it, obviously having just woken up herself.
“Morning Sweetheart,” He sat up and smiled down at her. “How did you sleep? Good I take it.”
She had moved her ‘nest’ back under his bed, scrunching up the thick blankets to make walls around her sleeping area – 'the Great Walls of Yayiu-te', as Lyle has so brilliantly dubbed it. His shoes were removed from their place at the bottom of his bed again – his flip-flops, the trainers and the combat boots, all neatly placed next to one another this time by small, slim fingers peeking out from beneath the bed. The thick, green nylon neatly tucked underneath - he never so much as felt it when he got out of bed.
In the witching hours, a breathy puff woke Quaritch, a soft blue hand accompanying it. It felt around on the blanket, stopping only when it reached his hand, and simply pulled it down and gripped his pinky tight in her much smaller hand. If you were the monster under my bed as a kid, I wouldn’t have minded, Sweetheart… He had mused as he fell back asleep.
“Yes,” She nodded, and pushed herself up onto her forearms, bringing him back to the present. Her hair hung lose around her shoulders, the bangs flowing freely down her face. The tresses of obsidian silk tickling his hand as she leaned onto his bed.
Quaritch smiled down at her. “Good, that’s good.”
“Well, as absolutely creepy as your smile is this morning,” Bjarne interrupted his fantasy, drawing everyone’s attention back to her. “I have tests to run, General’s orders. Get your troop-”
“Squad,” He looked at her, how can big brains be so fucking stoo-ped?
“And get your big, blue, be-tailed asses down to the lab,” She jumped off the step, ignoring his correction like all big brains do when corrected. “Remember to eat a big breakfast. You are gonna be running a couple of miles. You have an hour.”
He closed his eyes and threw his head back with a groaned out, “Oorah.”
If I had known l’d be spending this much time with Squints, I’d have told Parker take his three mil and shove it.
“Lyle?” He called, and when he sounded like a pre-pubescent asshole, cleared his throat and tried again, “Please tell me they told us we could have coffee during breakfast? Because if I have to face that bitch without caffeine, I will feed her to the viper-wolves, piece by piece.”
The Lieutenant laughed, “Sorry sir, no caffeine, Bjarne wants to see how we function without the extra stimuli.”
“It’s as if God wanted to give me more reasons to hate that woman.” Quaritch sat up and opened his eyes, rubbing them with the tips of his fingers. “Alright, I’m up, I’m up!”
He threw his feet over the side with a grunt, marveling at the fact that his knees don’t hurt in the mornings, or his ankles, or his thighs, or his toes, or his back. There’s definitely some upsides to being blue…
Yayiu-te stretched out, flowing over the side of the bed like cats do, and stood; hopping over to Zee who was busy gathering up their supplies, digging through Quaritch's shit to find a suitable replacement for the day's clothes, shoving the cloth into Yay-u's arms. Definitely. He watched as they disappeared through the gate, chittering amongst themselves like all women do, motioning to Yayiu-te’s hair as they left, laughing.
Quaritch stood with a sigh and stretched. “We wait then.”
He ran a tired hand up the side of his face, through his hair and down to his braid, pulling the heavy-ass chunk of hair over his shoulder. He rubbed the smooth dark hairs between his fingers, testing the weight of it in his hand. It’s been a month, and he’s still not use to the weight of the braid.
“Fuck,” He groaned, and sat back down.
The gate slid open, and he sighed, “That was fast. A personal best, Zee-”
“Colonel Quaritch, sir.” It wasn’t anyone on his team, and when he turned around, there stood a different human – tall for the species, with hair the color of overcooked carrots and brown eyes that were set too far apart on his young face.
“Now who do you belong to?” Quaritch stood, and turned to the kid. "You can’t be Bjarne's bitch, her brown-noser doesn’t stray too far from her ass. And the Big Heads sure as shit won't waste men we don't have on a Squint. So, you must belong to one of the higher-up.”
“Ensign Persipal Rubert Toocock, personal assistant to General Ardmore, sir.” He saluted, with a proud smirk on his bespeckled face, running over his too big nose like confetti.
The room went dead silent as they stared down at the small human.
“You are fucking with me, right?” Lopez broke the silence. “They're sending the Navy to play as brown-nosers now?”
“Fuck me,” Someone sighed from behind them.
“Of all the branches they could send, they send us the Navy,” Brown moaned.
Toocock bristled, “I am from the Coast Guard, you utter buffoon.”
“A puddle pirate?” Mansk stepped up, 'p's' popping off his lips, causing everyone to make room for their usually silent comrade. He pulled his shirt over his head and stared down at Toocock, hands on his hips. “Like a tweetle beetle? Man, I thought ya’ll went extinct with the Great Receding's. Where the fuck have they defrosted your ass from?”
“I am a member of the United States Coast Guard,” He huffed. “And I will not be referred to as a puddle pirate, you illiterate crayon muncher.”
“You got any blue ones?” Prager asked, much to the amusement of the rest of the team. “They’re the best.”
“Cray-yon?” Yayiu-te’s voice broke through their musings. “What is cray-yon?”
And there she stood – her clothes balled up in her fist, tucked under Walker’s arm, hair dripping, wet spots blooming on the green shirt. Fuck me...
“Hold that thought for one moment, Sweetheart,” Quaritch smiled at her, then turned back to Mansk. “What the fuck is a ‘Tweetle Beetle’?”
Mansk shrugged, “A tweetle beetle, sir, is a tweetle beetle, and they sometimes battle in puddles with paddles.”
“What type of Riddler type bullshite is this, Mansk?” Lyle asked from behind, staring at the kid like he grew a second head.
“Doctor Seuss type bullshite, sir.” He answered without hesitation. “My mom didn’t let me waste my time reading comics.”
Sometimes, Quaritch had to wonder what led that boy to the Marines and, more importantly, Pandora. The kid was like a concrete stuffed teddy-bear. How the hell he was able to survive this long was a damned miracle. But he didn't survive.... and neither did you. Quaritch sighed, and ran his fingers through his hair. He turned to the Ensign, and placed his hands on his hips. “Alright, I’ll look it up, now – Tweetle Beetle, what do you want?”
“Colonel Miles Quaritch,” He held out a datapad with a huff, “You and your squad have an assignment.”
Quaritch frowned, and took the pad in hand. Lyle stepped closer, eyebrows shooting up when his CO smiled.
“Pull on a fresh pair of panties and strap down your booties, ladies and gents. We’ve got a mission.”
The relief of the squad was tangible in the air, Walker giving Yayiu-te a big kiss on the cheek. The rest of the squad releasing their frustrations into the air. Anything to avoid that bitch...
“You said a mission, Colonel.” Ja moaned. “This ain’t a mission!”
Wainfleet waved another transport convoy in the right direction with a flurry of curses that would make the Ensign blush.
Quaritch sighed, and watched as Wainfleet waved another transport in the right direction, jumping around with a:
“I just pointed the other guy in that direction, why in the flaming fuck would you want to go in the other direction? That way, you ignorant fucktard! Do I need to break it down Barney Style? Didn’t your whore of a mom teach you anything? When a man is standing in front of you and pointing in a direction, it means you should go in that direction! Move, you fat fu-! The other way!”
Lyle gave an over exaggerated motion, swinging his arms around and doing a dramatic pose when pointing. How anyone could not see the 9-foot tall blue alien dressed in green, with a damned PT belt on to boot, was beyond him. Quaritch sighed, and pointed in the direction they needed to go with a flat palm, waving his arm up and down, hoping the fuck would not do anything stupid.
Mansk simply waved them on with a gloved hand, not having any problems with his side of the track. But it could have been the Hydra hanging off his arm oh so casually...
“Go that way; you are gonna create a cluster fuck!” Lyle yelled, and was quickly followed up with: “See! I fucking told you! Go that way you, No-Neck Muffucker! And now you are stuck! I ain’t getting paid enough for this shit! I said go the other way!”
“Ya ain’t getting paid, Lieutenant!” Came from the other side of the road.
“Rub it in, will ya, Prager!” Quickly followed up with: “Get out of there, you fucking NOF! You are not gonna- Fuck it! Masnk! Give me your fucking gun! I am about to- No! Not that way, you fucktard! The other way!”
Lyle’s tail whipped behind him in his fury, the M69-AR hanging from its straps, banging against the back of his body-armor. Sweat dripping down his nose, his sunglasses saving his eyes from the saltiness. He held out his hand for the monster of a gun, not looking at his subordinate as he continued to fume.
“You have your own gun sir, I ain’t handing over my baby to your trigger-happy ass!” Mansk clutched his gun protectively to his chest, then yelled at a driver: “That way!”
“Your gun is made for trigger happy motherfuckers!” Ja yelled back.
“Don’t give a fuck sir, I ain’t handing my baby over to your bald-assed, booger-nooker!” Mask yelled back. “Hey! The other way- no! What do you not understand about- The other way!”
“Well, you’re obviously not going to- No! He just-” Ja started.
“That way!” They yelled, pointing in the direction that the truck needed to turn, (followed by expletives that were too many to mention without a liberal use of alcohol) and middle fingers.
“Goddamn!” Zhang yelled, reaching for the tube of his camelbak hanging down his shoulder, taking a quick sip. “What the fuck are these guys smoking?”
“It’s obviously standard issue.” Ja pointed in the direction the truck needed to go with his middle finger, taking a few steps back, “That’s it, good, you found your fucking brain, it's next to the gas pedal - Use both!”
“You think if we can convince Zee to suck off that Tweetle Beetle, he would come take over our shift?” Brown asked, and waved another truck on. He pulled his cap off, and wiped at his forehead with a sigh.
“Ha! She’ll skull-fuck you in your sleep for suggesting such a thing.” Fike rested his hands on his rifle, watching the transport pass them by.
“Once she grows a dick, sure. Until then, I will not bring that skank’s cunt anywhere near my mouth. Besides, that boy uses the guide manual as a dildo.” Mansk pulled his sunglasses up onto his forehead, and sleepily rubbed at his eye with a yawn. “Zee will be hard pressed to find a suitable replacement.”
“You didn’t complain when you ploughed her last week.” Warren laughed.
“Yes, ploughed, Warren - I didn’t make a four-course meal out of that cunt like somebody around here.” Mansk replied, and pointed the truck in the right direction. “Sir.”
Damn, Quaritch thought as convoy of trucks drove past. Why am I surrounded by such whoresons? Maybe Parker was right - I should have picked the team a bit more carefully...
A tiny voice in the back of his head, scoffed, Pot meet kettle.
A conscience. A bit late to the party, ain’t ya?
A whistle sounded in the distance, followed by the transports halting in their tracks. A slip of a man yelled out of the window of his large ass hauler: “Lunch time!”
“Ya’ll didn’t do shit!” Lopez yelled as the diver simply shut down the truck, and hopped out. “Wait, wait, wait! Y’all fuckers just gonna leave it there?”
“Lunch time.” The skinny driver answered and walked with the rest of his crew over to a waiting transport. He hopped on with a silly little wave, much to the amusement of the rest of his team.
They were about to drive off, when a large blue hand gripped the driver’s shirt, and lifted him out of the transport. The Colonel removed his earpiece, letting the wire swing down his chest, and held the man up so that he can stare him in the eye, smiling a creepy-assed smile.
“Hi,” Quaritch started, said creepy-ass smile spreading further over his lips, showing off his sharp teeth. “Now, those are mighty expensive pieces of equipment y'all are leaving there – so here’s how you are gonna do it: You’re gonna climb your asses back into those expensive as fuck trucks, park them neatly over there like you have a semblance of a brain, and I am not gonna report to the General that you are leaving a fifty-million-dollar piece of equipment un-guarded.”
“What? You’ll be-” The idiot began with a laugh, his buddies joining in.
“Oh no,” Quaritch interrupted, dropping the driver to the ground. “Me an’ my guys will also be having lunch, so you an’ your guys will be following orders.”
Move your fat ass, I promised Yay-u we’d have lunch together! Quaritch watched as the men stomped back to the transport, cursing them as he called to his collages and motioned to the trucks. His sensitive ears picked up on Yay-u and Zdinarsik approaching somewhere form his left, her flip-flops shlop-shlop-shlopping next to Zdinarsik's heavy boots. Walker stomping and cussing under her breath as she stopped next to the other women.
The silence was heavy, only broken by the occasional laughter from the humans walking into buildings.
“Who wants gu-?” The words weren’t out of Zdinarsik's mouth, when eleven hands shoved themselves into her face. She sighed. “I’ll take that as a yes then. You want some gum, Yay-u?”
“Goomme?” The girl tilted her head, clearly exhausted from the day's activities as she looked up at Zdinarsik as the Recom began patting her pockets.
Zdinarsik took the small silver pack from her breast-pocket and dropped a pink square into each blue palm, and two in Quaritch's waiting hand. “Eat it after lunch, I am not wasting more on you dumb-fucks.”
“You offered.” Lyle pointed at her, popping the pink square into his mouth.
“For the sugar,” She crumbled the empty, shining paper in her palm, and dumped it into her breast pocket. “I didn’t think we’d be having lunch right now.”
“The fucking whistle just blew, you idiot!” Prager huffed, and dumped the pink square into his pants pocket.
“Chewing gum.” Quaritch explained to Yay-u, smiling down at her as she absorbed everything he said, ignoring the Dreamwalkers as they squabbled. “A piece of plastic that’s flavored, so when you chew it, it releases the flavor. We’ll have ours after lunch.”
He tucked the pieces into the pocket of his vest, ignoring the bickering around him and grabbed her hand, strolling to the defac.
Lunch was uneventful, quiet. Egg noodles and soggy vegetables, covered in sauce – the chicken awfully dry. Quaritch showing her how to gather a bit of each to make it more palatable. Yay-u seemed to like the applesauce, but told him that it “tasted funny”. He just smiled at her, and didn’t have the heart to tell her its most likely the artificial flavoring.
He pushed the bright pink piece of gum against her pale lips after lunch, her sharp teeth gripping the candy and pulling it into her mouth. He frowned. “Chew. Don’t swallow.”
Were her lips always that shade of … blue? He thought as he popped his own piece between his lips.
They still had a few minutes before they were due back on duty, so they wasted time like only Marines could: Zdinarsik trying to teach Yay-u how to blow a bubble.
He watched as the pink bubble grew as she blew air into it, only to pop – making her jump. Prager and Lopez started to thumb wrestle, with the rest of the squad putting money on who would win. Maria joining in on the lessons, motioning with her fingers and said:
“Spread the gum with your tongue over the back of your teeth,” she motioned to her mouth. “Then slowly, blow air into it. Watch.”
Walker turned her face to the side and blew a perfect pink bubble – then it popped, a loud smack, and the sound of her jaw snapping together loudly as Zdinarsik went on with chewing.
“See? You try.” Zee smiled and hurried her along.
“I can’t believe you are teaching her this shit, Zdinarsik.” Quaritch rested his chin on his knuckles, staring at the women with fascination.
“A necessary skill all must master, Colonel.”
“Uh-huh.” Huh…. He thought as he watched her lips pursed and she blew the bright pink bubble from between her lips. Not bad…not bad at all. “Looks like it is.”
The bubble popped. She blushed, oh so beautifully. Almost completely restoring the coloring. She smiled at him as she pulled the sticky pink stuff back into her mouth, and he knew, there was no going back. Fuck...