Mean old dogs

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"You've never seen a forest before?"

"Not before coming here." Jake ate a mouthful of the porridge. It was so thick that the spoon didn't sink when Jake let go of it. The rubbery surface flinched and rippled but remained firm."I was born and raised in the city."

"You've got much to learn then." Alva said. "But no worries, you learn fast here."

"And if I'm a slow learner?"

"Then your energy will return home." She smiled. "Eat your mush."

"Yes, ma'am," Jake saluted her and began shoveling the food into his mouth at an alarming pace, beads of off-white falling down his face. It dribbled down on the table with wet thuds.

Alva grimaced. "Real charming there, Jake. Won't have to worry about any predators, you'll scare them all off with your lack of manners."

The man blinked, looked as if considering her words before he shrugged and kept eating, the loud slurps fading in with the rest of the busy cafeteria. Down the table, surrounded by her scientists and lickspittles, Grace regaled her people with story after story. As content as a king on his throne, she held court among the workers, her inner circle of her most trusted (now with the addition of Norm Spellman) surrounded her just enough so that the outsiders could get glimpses and hear the echoes of her triumphs. Inclusive to all but Jake, who Alva had found sitting all alone at the end of the table with his aged eyes staring vacant and glossed over into the cold, scratched metal table.

"Do you know how to swim?" She asked after catching him throw yet another longing glance to the crowd.

"Yeah." He said. "Wouldn't let me join the army if I couldn't, something to do with tsunamis. Can you?"

Alva snorted. "'Course I can. Everyone in the village was taught how. We had this little lake not too far away that the elders held swimming practice in during the warm months. It was all rock and murky water so we'd have to be careful not to slip."

"What happened if you slipped?"

"What do you think? Most of the time you'd end up with a bruise and a hurt pride, but there's been some broken bones and deep cuts."

Jake winced. "Ouch."

Alva hummed before pushing her meager bowl of frozen fruit (now thawed and slippery in a pool of juices) over to Jake who poured the rare delicacy over the tasteless slobber-like mush. He dipped his head in thanks.

Their little piece of table fell into silence not long after, until Trudy Chacón, one of Quaritch's more talented pilots, swaggered up to them. A woman on a mission judging by the speed of the strides and the downturn of her lips. There was not much that displeased Trudy, easy-going as she was and a veteran of hundreds of flights in her trusty samson rotorcraft, but acting as her colonel's errand boy was one of them.

"Hey, Sully," she called to Jake. "Colonel wants to see you in the Armor bay."

"He's a mean old dog," Alva warned Jake when he pivoted away from the table. "You do not want to get caught up in his schemes. The bill comes due, Jake... for all of us."

"Sure," her warning fell on deaf ears, like water on a duck's back.

Not wanting him to go without hearing one last thing, Alva gripped him by the arm.

"He can give you nothing you do not already have," she tightened her grip, large eyes staring into his with unnerving intensity. "Do not follow him down this path. It will bring you nothing but pain. Twice a songcord will be snapped, beware her wrath."

Looking anywhere but her, as if shying away from the promise in her eyes, Jake chuckled weakly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'll, uh, keep that in mind, Alva. It's probably just a debrief, he's not going to ask me to sell my soul to him."

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