Snippet #2770130

An angry and irritated Desmond Sorrows was better than a dead or dying one, so Aiden didn’t mind the less-than-cheerful greeting from the cadet. In fact, he would have expected nothing less from the young man. That didn’t meant that Morrow wasn’t going to continue having a good time with the younger man, however.

“Well, you see, I’m going to be in this place for a few more months, so I really don’t have the time to list all the reasons,” the pilot said with a smirk before leaning over to the side and taking a look down the length of the Infirmary. Almost every bed or examination station was filled with a cadet in one form of illness or injury. In all his years at Triton Station, Aiden couldn’t remember seeing it this crowded and chaotic.

“Anyway, we need you up and running done the double, Desmond. As of today’s clusterfuck, we’re going to lose some Echos. Starting tomorrow morning, you’re the ranking Ammo & Demo guy in the Company.” The boy was only 16 and had just barely received his own ACAT, but that didn’t change the fact that they were going to need someone if they were going to make it through the trials coming up without getting their asses handed to them in royal fashion and fall behind to the point that they’d never catch up.

“You heard what happened to Larcen, right? Frakkin’ Vallens just upped out of class and jumped him. They sent him back down surface side.”

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Patrick Vallens was scared. Truly afraid. Just a few hours before, the plebe had physically assaulted an older member of his company to the point that the boy had been sent back down to Earth for extended medical treatment. Now, the young man was sitting in a holding cell just waiting for something, anything.

Since he’d been processed into the small cell, not a single soul had been down to speak a word to him. Not their commander, not one of the Station’s staff, not a single member of Echo Company. The dizzying effects that had taken hold of him right before he launched himself onto Kyle were gone now, leaving him feeling incredibly hungry, thirsty and with a persistent headache for which the fear did nothing but make the condition worse.

The boy had no idea what to expect. He just wanted someone to tell him that it would all be all right, but how could he expect anything like that from one of his company brothers when he’d just sent one of them to the hospital with his own fists?