Work Text:
Garibaldi hated Memorial Day. The whole custom had died out after the implementation of the Earth Federation government. The soldiers being remembered were often from opposing sides. After the Dilgar War there was a ceremony here and there but nothing that became a tradition, much less a global holiday.
Then came the Battle of the Line and the end of the Earth-Minbari War. All of humanity knew how close they’d come to extinction and the desire to commemorate those who had fallen in the final defense of Earth was strong. They had tried out various names; Remembrance Day, Armistice Day, Day of the Line, but finally settled on name of the old NorthAmerican Federation holiday.
Memorial Day. Like anyone who’d been in the war wanted to spend a day remembering what they’d been through, and who they’d lost. So many lost and it wasn’t even a war you could say you’d won. The Minbari had just given up in the end, and no one at his level understood what the hell happened. They were just glad it was over, and that they’d made it through.
For those who had fought, it didn’t make for much of a holiday. Still, a few minutes of silence, mostly honored privately, didn’t hurt anyone. They didn’t make a thing of it on the station, given their mission of diplomacy with the other races and especially the Minbari, but he knew Ivanova would call for a break in operations in C&C. He let his own people decide on their own whether to observe the general pause to remember, synchronized at noon Earthtime. He was okay with it, assuming it didn’t interfere with any Security emergency.
This morning, thinking of those who were lost, he realized that it had been over a month since he’d checked in with Amis. The ex-soldier was still living on the margins in Downbelow, taking hourly work when he could get it, and when he could keep it. Garibaldi had meant to look in on him at least once a week, but it had been crazy busy lately, not that it was ever slow, and time had gotten away from him. There was an hour or so free before the next staff meeting and it seemed as good a time as any to poke around, looking for his fellow ground pounder.
Downbelow never smelled as bad as it looked. The air recyclers did their job even down here where no one was supposed to be living. He passed broken storage crates, undoubtedly pilfered from the recycling units at the docks. Piles of rags spilled out, maybe meant for a bed. Might even be a person hidden inside, sleeping in what comfort they could find.
People scattered as he walked through, avoiding the uniform. He stopped one or two, blocking their crabwise progress around him with his body or a straight arm, inquiring after Amis. ‘Soldier’ they called Amis in Downbelow, after the incident. Just ‘Soldier’; the man’s name had been reduced to the profession he’d fled for so long.
“Not here. Further down now. Soldier don’t like being around folk much. Never did.” The last person he’d stopped was a woman, middle-aged, hair grey and tangled, with the wild eyes of an addict. He’d run her in a few times for petty theft, and searched for her name, coming up empty.
“This is the last level with reliable life support,” protested Garibaldi. “The air supply, the heat, it gets spotty further down. Are you sure?”
The woman shrugged, then pulled sharply away from his tightening grip. “Not my problem,” she said and melted into the shadows. “Not my friend.” Her voice faded into the dark and dust.
Garibaldi sighed and checked his chrono. There was enough time to check it out. If the homeless on the station had colonized a non-habitable area they would have to be moved. He wished a more permanent solution could be found for all of them—a ticket home, a colony world willing to accept workers, hospital beds for some, rehab for others. There was never any credits available for that sort of thing, not even for those who’d served in EarthForce and taken damage that would never heal.
He slipped his security ID into a slot to access one of the maintenance stairwells. It was barely lit with round spots embedded in the walls at eye level. The dim blue light cast wavering shadows on the metal stair treads. Clumping down the stairs was noisy but fast and it was hard to keep the echoes still in a place like this anyway. The door to the next level stood ajar and his hand went instinctively to his PPG. Taking it out carefully, he advanced quietly through the door. It was stuffy and cold at the same time. Moving forward he stopped to listen, but heard nothing. Finally he took a chance and shouted, “Amis! It’s Garibaldi, I just want to see you’re okay!”
The sound of water dripping answered his call. Keeping his weapon loose in his hand he squinted into the gloom. He’d have to tell maintenance about that leak. Water was a precious commodity and leaks cost them. “Amis!” he called again.
This time he heard shuffling and an indistinct voice muttering an answer. He peered into the dark edges of the corridor and saw a figure approaching. “Amis,” he said with some relief, certain now he’d found what he sought.
“Mr. Garibaldi,” said Amis, formality in his tone. He stood straighter as he came into the light. He wore the same patchy clothes he always did, piled on in layers. Patches of dirty skin showed through, mottled with cold, and Garibaldi saw the man shiver.
Discreetly holstering his PPG, Garibaldi held out a hand. Amis stared at it for a moment, then tentatively took it and gave it an awkward shake. “You want me for something?” He was calm, for the moment, lucid, and patiently waited for an answer.
“Just dropping by,” said Garibaldi. He looked around. There was no shelter obvious, not enough a case to sit on. “Why’d you move down here? You know it’s not safe. I’ll have to bring you back up a level or two.” He looked beyond Amis into the darkness. “Anyone else bunking down here?” A low background hum kicked up in volume and he found the last words had to be shouted over the mechanical noise.
“Just me,” said Amis, shouting back. “That’s what I like. I wanted to be alone.” His voice boomed loud as the noise suddenly abated. With a sly look he tapped his temple with his forefinger. “Alone in here.”
“Where are your things?” asked Garibaldi. Amis shrugged, and indicated the clothing he wore with open hands. Garibaldi shook his head and started moving Amis back to the doorway. Once they were both through the opening, he pulled the door shut with a clang, then kicked the floor catch to make sure it would stay closed. “How did you get down here anyway?” he asked as they slowly ascending the metal staircase. His boots echoed sharply where Amis’ softer footgear whispered to mark their passage.
“The facilities guys; they left the door ajar up top. I slipped through, followed them down, and stayed behind.” Amis seemed reconciled to being moved along and leaving his private spot. “Too much noise up there,” he said, turning to smile at Garibaldi.
It was a sweet smile, if a sad one, and Garibaldi responded with his own. He wished there was something he could do for Amis, for all of them. “I contacted that EarthVet group I told you about. They will front you a passage back home, see you get looked after when you get there.”
Amis shook his head. “Nothing left for me there,” he said. Leaning towards Garibaldi, he whispered, “I’m scared to leave and scared to stay.” He paused on the top step, hand on the door.
“Scared of what?” asked Garibaldi, shifting past Amis to open the door. He held it open and waited for the other man to push through. His chrono was vibrating; the damn meeting was about to start. Amis slid into the passage and looked up and down at the others who stood or sat, slumped against walls or huddled into dark corners.
“It’s not over yet,” he said flatly as Garibaldi checked the access door to make sure it locked behind them. Turning he was pierced by Amis’ eyes, hard and staring into his. “That wasn’t the only one.” He clutched at Garibaldi’s arm, his voice suddenly sharp-edged with warning.
“What do you mean?” Garibaldi demanded. “Another one of those things? Here on the station? How do you know?”
The Security chief’s chrono began an insistent chime and he swore as he slapped it to silence. Amis took the opportunity to slide past him and behind an oncoming group of lurkers, swiftly disappearing from Garibaldi’s line of sight.
Garibaldi scanned the now empty passageway but saw nothing. But he heard Amis’ voice echoing off the walls where only shadows remained. “There’s something coming, Mr. Garibaldi. Something bad.” In a rapid burst of hysteria Amis added, “I did my bit, what’s left of me’s no use any more. And I helped you take down that thing that followed me. I thought it was over. It’s never over! But this time I’m staying out of it.”
“Staying out of what?” exclaimed Garibaldi, annoyed at the incoherent warning although he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck rising in response. “What’s coming?”
Amis voice was fading now, as if he were retreating rapidly. “Up to you now. You and the others. Nothing to do with me! Just remember, if it’s a war, there’ll be an army of them.”
Garibaldi was moving swiftly towards the voice but knew he’d never catch up in the time he had left. The last words he heard were a plaintive declaration. “There’s never only one soldier.”