Incredibad

[Cassie Granger 0]

Incredibad

A Silver-Granger Log

 

Gage frowned at Sovok. “Whatever, Elrond,” he answered cynically, unimpressed by his assertion that T’Aral’s request to be left alone should be honored.

 

Cass turned aside to hide a threatening smirk. SOP for any kind of protection required eyes-on. Forget the bad guys. Nature has a mean streak, and if you're alone no one will know that you got electrocuted, fell through that hole you didn't see, or had a heart attack. Still, Elrond had just become a damn good call sign for one Vulcan officer.

 

“Just don’t let Frodo go wanderin’ off to Mount Doom without a buddy,” Gage remarked as he strolled away, the irritation evident in his body language. “Stay on your...toes.”

 

Frodo. Right. Time to hide another smirk.

 

“Souter. Daniels. You’re with the doc,” Cass snapped, her expression changing as Silver passed between them. “Stay close. Eyes-on.” A quick affirmative nod from each Marine and she double-timed to catch up with her superior.

 

“What happened, Cass? Can’t count on you going everywhere in pairs anymore.”

 

“Funny thing about that, Sir. Went out of fashion along with bustles, floor-length skirts, and turtlenecks. Must've happened when they realized they needed us in the Corps.”

 

Gage smirked. “We got different ideas about need. Last I checked, you’re still wearin’ miniskirts and slinkin’ off to the bathroom in groups.”

 

Cass checked the charge on her phaser rifle, felt for the 9mm holstered at her side and patted the Tatang strapped to her thigh. “Sounds like you’re due for an upgrade, Sir,” she replied, falling in step next to him. “You’ve lived a sheltered life. Standard combat BDUs look a hell of a lot like yours and the Marine latrine’s not gender specific.” She flashed a grin.

 

He gave her a sideways glance. “Think you just like bein’ the exception, Cass.”

 

“Like bein’ a Marine, Sir.” Her grin faded as they approached their destination.

 

Gage stopped abruptly and turned into her path. “Why?” he asked forcefully, wearing a piercing expression devoid of humor.

 

A quick two-step avoided their collision. “Why what, Sir? Like bein’ a Marine? We’ve been over this territory, Sir, and it seems like we might have bigger fish to fry today than discuss my lifestyle preferences?”

 

Gage frowned again and muttered as he entered the bridge: “.....should punch you in the jeans.”

 

“... like a ton o’ pigeons,” Cass whispered from behind, dyin’ to see his face.

 

Gage scowled and from the look of it the topic was bothering him, but his reaction faded before Cass could see it. He’d caught sight of Commander Wesley, gazing intently at nothing and then mumbling about the time that remained before the boarding party returned to the Creek. Paused aside and clear of the entry, Gage glanced curiously at Moa.

 

The Gunnery Sergeant gave him the okay signal, then a quick tap to his temple. Cass slipped to the opposite side of the bridge, giving the area a visual as she moved, then turned to nod a clear.

 

“Like a boss,” Gage sarcastically remarked on Moa’s temple tapping; evidently more concerned with assessing the behavior of his crewmates and how it would affect the mission than re-clearing rooms for ghosts.

 

“Gonzales is still with science in their lab, Sir. Should I check it out, get a sit rep?”

 

Gage turned his head in a deliberate movement and stared at Cass over his shoulder.

 

Instant recognition of the look relaxed her against an intact console. “Last report was ten minutes ago. Not due for another twenty. Figure they’re fine for now.”

 

“Get ‘em on the radio if you’re worried, Cass; we’ll go from there. An’ remind me, next person suggests going off alone: I’ma revise their levis,” Gage finally replied as he stepped back through the hatch into the corridor.

 

“We on a boat...don’t you ever forget!”