Читать книгу The Fallen Heroine - Fabienne Gschwind - Страница 24

When waking up, for a moment I wondered if I didn't deserve some days off. Or were they only planned for later? And when were the weekends? I gave up calculating and went to work. After all, it was so much habit that I didn't even know what I was supposed to do for a whole day off. I arrived first and met a beaming Tartelette returning from a forty-kilometer morning run.

I put my battle gear in the rack and let the computer run a diagnostic. While I was at it, I nibbled on one of the energy bars that were in boxes in the basement. They tasted good. Logically, otherwise our greedy boss would never have bought them.

As I climbed the stairs, Thibault awkwardly got out of the small elevator. He lived on the fourth floor of the barracks, and there were six small apartments. This was the most practical thing for Thibault, because due to the high paraplegia he was very limited in mobility since the accident and needed constant special care. A special infusion set kept him alive and his blood was filtered regularly. I knew that as soon as things were not hectic, he would order a nurse to help him with his hygiene. Because he didn't like his nursing robot. It was only something for emergencies.

Finally, I joined him and the others for breakfast.

"So guys, I've completely revamped our training schedule," Tartelette announced as we gathered around the table.

She showed tutorials and videos made especially for us. I looked forward to it all - with all this knowledge, I would soon be as good as any super agent in spy thrillers. I dreamed of becoming world famous and performing heroic deeds. Finally, the media would mention my name and not always refer to me as 'Tamara's shipboy'.

All morning long we did stretching exercises. Tartelette proved her twisted sense of fitness by having us do exercises on the ballet barre while she yelled in drill voice, "Plié! Tendue! Deuxième position! Grand plié!"

The boss conscientiously noted our progress, offering praise or reprimanding us. So I finally learned how long Gabin and Emily had served in Tartelette's unit.

In Gabin's case, it was just two years. He had asked to be transferred after he was promoted full sailsman, because he admired her unit so much. Emily, who always seemed so experienced, had only been with the commander for a year. Before that, she had served in ReS Île de Ré for four years before it was disbanded for money reasons. Therefore, Emily knew her way around.

Basically, it meant that the many fallen sailors whose names I had already heard had been killed within the last two years. A deeply saddening thought.

Then, finally, a party night: all the ReS units from the region got together once a quarter to party.

I didn't have a vehicle. Neither did Tamara nor Gabin. We borrowed a police car and the three of us went. Emily and Thibault held down the fort.

The party was good. Lots of nice people and all had the same problems, I was given lots of good tips to deal with the pressure and nightmares. Many had been self diagnosed with post traumatic disorders. But because they all had to go through the trauma day in and day out, the ReS doctors only classified it as "mild depression" and they gave them antidepressants.

In fact, the use of the many anti-anxiety and otherwise happy-making drugs was virtually standard condition. Gabin was an expert in the field and was always up to date on the latest research. Tamara had of course made sure that good food and good wine were available and we experienced a great evening.