The Bevy was full of sofas and armchairs, large tables, small personal tables and a private bar with three dedicated servers in addition to self service table terminals. In the corner was a roaring fire, but the Bevy's ventilation system was built in such a way that the staff could directly control the heat and smoke output, and so even though it was a warm night, the heat of the fire did not intrude or make the temperature uncomfortable. Instead, the smell of wood smoke mixed with the aromas of tobacco, beer, mead, spilled spirits, and cooking to create a cosy welcoming atmosphere.
After leaving Ashe at the Primrose Strip, and after some internal debate - which involved more directionless wandering - Marina had decided to stop in on the Corporal's intoxication session, promising herself only one drink. Two maximum. She was happy to show face and perform the social niceties, fulfilling the invitation offered. She knew she needed the distraction as she was only driving herself into a frenzied spiral or rage and confusion with her own thoughts. Two drinks maximum, a temporary escape, and then she'd head home and try to put things right with Kal.
On her arrival, Marina had been directed to the Bevy by the tavern's host and was embraced by a beaming, enthusiastic and already drunk Ashe who made a point of showing her off to the already assembled hoppers. Marina was pleasantly surprised to find a good number of her own troops there, amongst the numerous other soldiers of various ranks and battalions. Within minutes she'd found himself at the larger of the corner tables with Ashe, Travis, Graves, and two other hoppers she was unfamiliar with. They introduced themselves as Privates Holden and Garvey; Marina vaguely recognised the larger of the two, Garvey, from numerous formal events and training sessions. Holden, she assumed, must have been a rookie - part of a fresh intake.
Her one drink limit was quickly ignored, turning into three then four and eventually to more. Seven drinks in and three hours later Marina had finally started to relax and was surprised to find that she was actually enjoying herself. This thought only occurred to her when the briefest flicker of concern for Canhos and the suspension tried to rear its head and her unexpected merriment and cheer shoved it aside as quickly as it had come. It was tomorrow's problem. Kal too. It was a very Ashe way of thinking, which made her smile and shake her head. She had to concede that maybe, perhaps, Ashe's idea to invite her was exactly what she'd needed.
Marina drifted back from her own thoughts to the current conversation, Travis was midway through relaying a story about Corporal McKenzie. McKenzie was a prankster and a trickster, with a playful disregard for authority that he'd somehow managed to always get away with. He'd been well liked amongst the battalion and had been one of first lost at First Province, taken out by the initial mortar explosion.
"- so Captain Tatarian, he's assembled the whole company, and he's pacing up and down the line waving this birthday card in the air, and he's screaming! The man is so angry!"
"So it actually had the whole -" Holden asked gesturing to an imaginary pair of breasts on his chest.
"Oh the whole thing!" Travis continued. "Happy Birthday, Captain TITARIAN! With..."
He was unable to finish through laughing.
"The biggest pair of tits you've ever seen bursting out of his uniform," Graves was choking through laughter. "I mean, I'm proud of what I've got, but these were something else. Just sitting there under his big bearded face."
Another round of laughter, Ashe was wiping away tears. Marina was dimly aware of her ribs crying out in pain with every outburst of cackling, but the combination of beer and regrowth hormone had created a numbness. The pain was there, but wasn't quite reaching her brain.
Travis continued after a large gulp of mead. "So the Captain demands an explanation and a culprit to come forward. He doesn't even have to ask twice, McKenzie is there, front and centre, kitbag at his feet. Now Tatarian, he's a predictable piece of work, a man of habit - you'll find out soon enough no doubt," Travis addressed this last part to Holden. "Anyway, his standard punishment was always two hundred push ups, always. He just yelled it out on autopilot. Mckenzie... McKenzie was ready though. Titarian...Tatarian I mean -" They all burst out laughing afresh. "Tatarian, says, as expected, 'Private' - MacKenzie, he was a Private then, I think I said - he says 'Private, drop and give me two hundred.' McKenzie, without a beat, says 'Aye Sir' and drops to his kitbag..."
"Oh no," Holden said. 'Oh no...he didn't have -"
"Shhhh shhhh," Graves waved him quiet eagerly, still giggling.
"McKenzie opens that bag, turns it upside down and out comes two hundred more copies of that damn birthday card!"
The entire table erupted in fresh bouts of screaming laughter, this time Marina did have to hold her chest. She hadn't been there to witness the event in question but had heard about it shortly after as it spread around the barracks, but hearing Travis tell it now, after so long, now the culprit was gone, just brought home the absurdity of it all.
Ashe was struggling to breathe as he was mid-gulp at the story's climax, Garvey whacked him on the back which created a burst of saliva ridden mead that erupted from Ashe's mouth. Amongst the laughter, Travis yelled.
"And that's not even the punchline!"
The rest of the table erupted once more, knowing what was coming, all but Holden.
"Oh no, what?" Holden asked, chuckling but curious.
"What can the Captain do? He just looks at the pile of cards, finally cracks, sighs and just says, 'Well Private, it's the most cards I've ever received on my birthday, so thanks for making a girl feel special.' "
That was it, the whole table erupted into a final fit of laughter, Ashe was doubled over slapping the table, he was perched so far on the end of his chair that he nearly slipped off of it entirely. This caused Graves to knock her drink over and she just laughed even more. Travis however, looked suddenly sad.
"He was a good lad. A good lad."
"To fallen comrades," Marina said, raising her tankard.
"To fallen comrades," the table said in unison. They drank, Graves just managing to salvage a sip out of her near empty glass.
As if on cue, one of the servers approached the table, she was a voluptuous woman with a mass of voluminous chestnut curls. Her uniform, in keeping with the décor was a traditional skirt, blouse and corset combination that could barely contain her. Ashe had joked that the uniforms were the reason that he came here.
"Can I get you more drinks, Mister Marvel?" She asked, datapad in hand.
"Another round of the same please, and what are you lot having?" Ashe laughed at his own poor joke.
"Very funny, Marvel," Garvey said.
"I'm serious, another five for me please and whatever my friends here are having."
"The same," Travis said. The rest gestured in kind.
The Server started to enter the drinks into the datapad with barely hidden disapproval.
"Will that be all, Mister Marvel?" she asked.
"For now, thank you."
The Server turned to leave, Marina reached for the servers arm.
"Just one more round of the same, please. He's had enough, he won't notice. If he does, he'll answer to me," Marina smiled with a reassuring nod.
The server returned the smile. "I trust he will, Miss...?'
"O'Reilly. And you are?"
"Naomi, Miss O'Reilly."
"Thank you, Naomi."
Naomi left with a warm smile.
"Excuse me ladies and gentleman, the proverbial piss needs to be pushed out!" Ashe promptly let out a loud belch after his announcement and stood up precariously. Garvey reached for him. "I'm fine Garvey, I'm fine." He waved Garvey off and stumbled towards the bathroom.
"Is he okay?" Marina asked Travis. "I think he needs to be cut off soon."
"It's always the way, Commander. I've drank with Ashe a few times before, he goes hard and fast. Even worse if he's lost someone he was particularly close to."
"I'm not sure what you mean, Lieutenant?"
"Freeman," Travis said simply. "They...bedded down together once, I think Ashe is...struggling."
"We're all struggling with yesterday, Ma'am," Graves said. "Some worse than others, but Ashe...he's not cut out for this."
"Not everyone is, Lieutenant, but we have a duty and we have a calling and we have to adhere to it," Marina responded coldly. "Doesn't mean we drink ourselves into oblivion."
The table went quiet. The good mood soured.
"Tis fortunate we weren't on rotation yesterday," Garvey said, gesturing his tankard to Holden, who smiled wanly and looked uncomfortable.
Marina's good cheer had evaporated also. She swirled the remains of his beer around the bottom of her tankard and downed it in one.
"If you'll excuse me, nature calls also." She pushed her chair back and left the table.
With her good mood gone, everything that had happened in the preceding hours rushed back to the forefront of her mind with a suddenness that was alarming. She paused in the hallway to the lavatories, steadying herself against the wall. She felt dizzy, short of breath, sick. She wasn't sure if it was the beer or the last two days' events overwhelming her. The thought of her possibly mutating into some hideous beast was enough to tip her over the edge - she dashed into the lavatories, barged her way into the nearest cubicle available and ejected the evenings revelry in a stream of burning bile. The sudden stabbing pain in her chest from the strain on her ribs made her choke on the final eruption. She collapsed against the cubicle wall, breathing deeply and trying to focus.
I should never have come, blocking it all out isn't the answer.
She sat, head in hands, unsure of how many minutes had passed.
BANG BANG - she was jerked upwards by a pounding on the door.
"Too much to drink, girl" the unknown voice on the other side jeered. There was a cacophony of laughter. "Come on! We all gotta piss!"
"And shit!" somebody else yelled.
Marina stood and opened the door, wiping her mouth.
"It's all yours," she said without a smile or courtesy, she sidled past the man and his companion without even looking up. She left the bathroom and once again took a moment to gather herself in the hallway before returning to the table, she hesitated.
What am I thinking? she chuckled to himself. I should leave. I'm done for the evening.
A familiar laugh brought Marina out of her thoughts, and she turned to see Ashe further along the corridor, back turned towards her, leaning against the wall and casually talking to someone. A young woman whom Marina couldn't see clearly.
He's busy anyway, I've done my niceties. Marina stood straight, swaying slightly and made to leave, but then she caught sight of the woman as she laughed, her hand upon Ashe's arm. She was blonde, very attractive and her full attention was intensely on Ashe and nowhere else. Marina recognised her, and squinting, it took her a few moments to place her. Had she been clearer headed and entirely sober she would have recognised her immediately.
It was the woman with the datapad, one of the group who'd accosted Ashe that afternoon. The one who'd kissed him and posed for the photo. She, or the group, had most likely followed him here and without access to the VIP area, had waited for the most opportune moment to talk to him.
Marina looked around, but could not spot any of the woman's compatriots, although she wasn't sure she could recall any of their faces if she tried. The datapad kiss is what had caused the blonde to stand out, had drawn Marina's attention - Ashe's too, clearly. She watched as Ashe ran his fingers through the woman's hair. They were flirting, laughing. Ashe was all drunk swagger and unsteady cockiness.
No surprise, Marina thought. The decision to go home was now cemented. She was drunk, sick, in pain, and distracted; and now with Ashe preoccupied with another gushing fan, Marina's social anchor for the evening was out of commission. She turned and made her way towards the exit, bypassing the Bevy and not bothering with goodbyes. She was happy to slip away into the night and deal with her hangover tomorrow -
"Where are you going!" Graves appeared at her side, another drink in hand.
"Home, I've had -"
"Oh no, Commander, we're not done with you yet. Come on." She threaded her arm through Marina's and escorted her back to the table, ignoring Marina's protests and the small patch of vomit on her shirt. Marina turned back, trying to spot Ashe through the crowd but could no longer see him.
Marina was placed back in her chair and another beer appeared in front of her. She took it begrudgingly. One more wouldn't hurt - the famous last words.
Giving one more final scan for Ashe, Marina thought she saw a familiar blond head escorted by much longer blonde locks bobbing through the crowd, but her vision was swimming and she couldn't be sure. And so, she drank.
Often, in the days, weeks, and years that followed, Marina's thoughts would turn back to that moment in The Swan Tavern, watching Ashe as he stroked a stranger's hair. How easy it would have been for her to step in and interject, to usher her comrade back to the table. How easy it would have been for Marina to prevent the disaster that followed.
But alas she did not, and she would wear the regret like a noose for the rest of her days.
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