Saga of the Sixteenth, Part II: The Only Easy Day...

I ran the rag across my helmet's visor for the thousandth time.  It was spotless, it practically sparkled - it still wasn't clean.  I laughed, quietly, bitterly.  Already turning into Lady MacBeth, at the ripe old age of seventeen.

The pressure seal popped with a hiss, and the Osprey's rear ramp dropped.  I punched the release on my chest, and the crash webbing retracted.  I stood slowly, stiffly, rolling my shoulders, and followed Rev and Linde out the back of the transport.  The miniature cyclone kicked up by the Osprey's rotors whipped my short, purple hair as I stepped onto the flight deck of the Hand of Vengeance - the flying, heavily-stealthed aircraft carrier that served as the headquarters of the Sixteenth Officio.

We paced toward the superstructure, as techs and ground crew swarmed around the Osprey.  Another squad of Puella Magi loped past us toward the waiting transport; it was impossible to tell their identities through the opaque visors and powered armor.  Just another group of nameless, faceless, coldly professional teenage murderers, off to do some nameless, faceless client's dirty work.

I was exhausted.  We were all exhausted.  My body mindlessly walked its way belowdecks to our squad bay, following my squad leader on autopilot.  Linde palmed the scanner beside the hatch, and we plodded through the door.  I took my place under the servo-tech in my armor's pod, relaxing as the robot stripped me of my restrictive suit.

  I was the third one into the shower - Rev and Sonja were already there, washing mechanically.  As Linde stepped in after me, a chuckle died on my lips.  Six months ago, I would have recoiled in blushing shock and dismay at the thought of sharing a shower built for one with three naked girls.  Basic, and life aboard ship, beat that out of me.  Now, I was barely conscious of their nudity as I washed myself.  Linde motioned to me, and I obediently soaped her back, then turned so she could do the same.  We were too tired to joke about lewdness.  Eventually, somebody sat down and leaned against the wall.  It might have been Sonja.  All I remember is that sitting suddenly seemed like a really, really good idea.  I'll just close my eyes for a minute.  Let the hot water sluice over me, erase the aches.

I woke up sometime later.  It couldn't have been too long - the water was still hot.  I started to sit up, but stopped as I became conscious of the warm, breathing weight across my middle.  At some point, Sonja had decided that my bare stomach would make an excellent pillow, and was curled up next to me.  I was also apparently leaning on someone, either Rev or - no, not Rev, Rev's head was...heh.  You never have a camera handy when you really need one.  So I was leaned against Linde.

  I heard a knock over the sound of the water.  Linde stirred, and carefully distangled herself.  I watched somewhat blearily as she padded over to the door and opened it a crack.  She listened for a moment, nodded twice, and closed the door.  She turned back towards us.  I raised an eyebrow, and indicated the sleeping girls questioningly.  She shook her head and put a finger to her lips.  I slowly extricated myself, being careful to avoid shoving my nethers further into Rev's sleeping face and leaving Sonja propped up against her.

I stepped out of the shower, snagging a towel from the rack and briskly drying my hair with it.  I pulled my hair into a loose ponytail and dried the rest of myself.  Linde stood to the side, going through the same motions.  I collected a pair of black gym shorts and an olive-drab tank, and sprawled on the couch.  Linde sat somewhat more gracefully at the end of the sofa - I obediently moved my long legs out of her way, then replaced them across her lap.  My eyes wandered around the room.

Our squad bay was an incongruous mix of the spartan and the opulent.  A deep, shag carpet covered corrugated metal floors, overstuffed furniture sat in a loose circle below naked incandescent bulbs, and a battered, much-loved table stood off to one side with mismatched chairs and stools around it.  Four bunks were stowed up against the bulkhead, chained out of the way, and Rev had scrounged a small TV and an ancient Gamecube, both of which sat on one end of the haphazardly-repaired coffee table in front of the sofa.  It wasn't an aesthetically pleasing room by any stretch, but it was comfortable, and it was home.

I let my wandering gaze rest on Linde.  She was tall for a girl, with long, slender arms and legs.  If it were anyone else, her body would've looked coltish and awkward - on Linde, it just looked sleek and graceful.  She moved like a cat - all grace and poise, not a movement wasted.  Her short, blue hair set off her storm-gray eyes beautifully, and while her strong-jawed face would never be considered a classical beauty, the cheer and liveliness in her more than made up for it.

There was a quiet splashing behind me, followed by the ruffle of a towel.  Rev walked past, bending to pull on a pair of panties and a black tee, before she, too, dropped sideways into a chair.  Rev wasn't tall, but she wasn't excessively short, either.  She was built like a dancer, slim and sinewy, and she moved with an economy of motion that hinted at a vast capability for swift, efficient violence.  Her red hair clashed somewhat with the slight, exotic cant of her eyes - nobody expected to see a redheaded Asian.  The tattoo that snaked up one arm only added to her image, giving the girl a touch of savagery that, coupled with her looks and manner, gave the impression of a lethal, joyfully unrepentant free spirit.

Another splash, another ruffle, and Sonja padded over to sit in the remaining armchair.  The white-haired girl wore a fuzzy, too-big pink bathrobe, one that had been given to her by her late grandmother on her tenth birthday, four years ago.  The bathrobe enveloped the short, skinny girl like a fuzzy blanket, hiding her face up to the nose as she sat in the chair, legs crossed under her.  Her age and size meant that she'd inevitably become the rest of  squad's favorite littlest sister, and we doted on her.  She was also my spotter, and, from what little I'd seen, a damned good one.

We sat in companionable silence for some time.  Sonja dozed, and Rev pulled a book from under her chair.  Linde contented herself with sitting quietly, savoring the moment of peace.  Eventually, however, she stirred.  I moved my legs, and she stood.

"That run went well, girls.  I'm proud of you.  I know this wasn't the most glamorous job ever, but it was necessary, if we want to preserve stability in the Middle East."

I made a face.  "I'm pretty sure the Powers that Be want the exact opposite of that, Boss.  Instability means the jobs keep coming, and the revenue keeps moving."

Linde shook her head with a smile.  "Rev, you can field this one."

The redhead closed her book (In Fury Born, as I recall) and stretched lazily.  "Now, Pawn.  You haven't been here long enough to see it happen, but there's something odd about the contracts we keep getting.  Do you know what that is?"

I shook my head, and she grinned.  "A lot of our contracts come from Mossad, like the last one.  But we also get 'em from MID and the Egyptian Mukhabarat.  That's why secrecy and stealth is so important - neither side knows we're working for the other."

I felt my eyebrows climbing toward my hairline.  "We're playing both sides, is what you're saying.  I...really don't see how antagonizing both parties helps stability."

Linde smiled. "Give the girl a cigar.  Yes, we're playing both sides.  But it's not that simple.  Out of all the contracts we've accepted in the last nine months, every one of the targets was a Hawk."

The eyebrows climbed higher.  "You're implying Jyuro is legitimately trying to preserve peace.  Through killing off the people who want to go to war.  That's...that's kinda twisty, Boss."

She nodded.  "It is.  But I suppose the ends justify the means."

I shook my head.  "I still can't see it.  We'd make more money if they actually went to war, so it can't be that.  And Jyuro didn't strike me as having much of an altruistic streak, so it isn't that either.  What's the angle?"
Linde studied me for a moment.  "Not much gets by you, huh?  You're right, that's not it.  None of this discussion leaves this room, understood?  I'm...technically not really supposed to tell you this."

I nodded.

"The reason we're bumping off the warmongers is because we have an overarching, multibillion-dollar contract with NATO.  We keep the peace, through whatever means we deem necessary.  Jyuro, and Warmaster Pavolvena, decided the best way to do it was simply to be...selective about which contracts we accept.  Business as usual."

I frowned.  "One would think that nine months and a hundred Magical Girls, with support, would be more than enough to liquidate the people keeping the region volatile."

Linde shrugged.  "You'd have to talk to Intel about that one.  I just carry a rifle and shoot who they tell me."  Her demeanour changed, slipping into what I privately referred to as 'business mode.'  "Now.  As much as I'd like to continue this discussion, we are actually on a schedule here.  Intel believes we have a potential security breach on our hands."  The atmosphere in the room changed subtly, tension ratcheting up.  "Specifically, they believe there will be an infiltration of - or outright attack on - one of our offshore facilities, codenamed Big Shell.  We’ll be briefed en route.  I let you sleep and relax as long as I could, but it’s time to suit up.  Dustoff in five.”

We stood, stifling groans of exhaustion.  No rest for the wicked, I guess.  And the rest of us don’t get much sleep either.