A black sedan with leather seats sped through the deserted streets.
3:47 AM.
Elias lay sprawled across the back seat. Eyes closed. Breathing steady.
"I know you're faking."
Mara's voice was cold, precise, sharp as a scalpel.
Elias didn't move.
"Captain Mercer."
Mara was watching his reflection in the rearview mirror.
"You snore very regularly for someone unconscious, Captain," she said without turning her head.
"It's almost metronomic. Anyone would think you're putting on an act."
The snoring halted for a microsecond before resuming, slightly louder.
Mara sighed. She took a turn a little sharper than necessary. Elias's body rolled limply, his shoulder thudding against the door.
"Ow," he murmured, not moving.
"I knew you were awake."
"I was in an altered state of consciousness. A mild coma, induced by administrative boredom. It's a recognized occupational hazard."
"Sit up. Properly."
Elias opened one eye. "Why? The back seat is spacious. Comfortable. Ideal for existential contemplation or strategic naps."
"Because you look like a badly packaged corpse. And it makes me want to slam on the brakes. For a crash test. In the name of science."
Elias groaned and slowly hauled himself into a sitting position. He rubbed the back of his neck, cracking his vertebrae. "Where are we going? Because if it's another briefing, I'm developing a sudden allergy to PowerPoint. It gives me hives and an irrepressible urge to flee the country."
"If you keep up this pathetic act, I will knock you out for real. This time, you won't wake up until Greenridge. And I swear I'll drag you out of this car by your ankles. The gravel is particularly rough in the station parking lot."
"You are in a state of flagrant insubordination, Vice-Captain O'Connel."
"Really."
"Striking a superior officer. That's... That's serious. Very serious. The manual talks about it. Somewhere."
Mara crossed her arms. "Which article, precisely?"
"Article..." Elias squinted, as if rummaging through the foggy depths of his alcohol-addled memory.
"Article 47-B. Subsection... C? No, D. Definitely D."
"There is no Article 47-B."
"Are you sure?"
"Absolutely."
"Damn." He massaged his jaw. "Well, there must be an article somewhere that forbids hitting your captain."
"There is, indeed. Article 23, paragraph 4. It states that an act of violence against a superior officer is grounds for a court-martial."
"Aha! You see! I'm filing a complaint. You'll be stripped of rank. Dismissed. Expelled. Forced to get a real job."
Mara started the car. The engine purred. "Go ahead."
"I... what?"
"File a complaint. Request my dismissal. An investigation will be opened. It will take about six months. Maybe a year. During that time, you will have to manage Jaeger Company alone."
Elias froze.
"Alone," Mara repeated with barely concealed satisfaction. "All the reports. All the forms. All the budgets. All the meetings. Without me to correct your screw-ups, authorize your absences, or explain to Commander Hagrave why you slept through another critical briefing again."
Elias opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
"That's... that's blackmail."
"It's reality."
"Organized, systematic blackmail."
"Call it what you want." She turned left. "But think carefully before signing that complaint."
Elias slumped back against the seat, defeated. "You're diabolical."
"I'm pragmatic."
"It's the same thing."
Elias stared at the ceiling, his head bumping softly against the leather with each pothole.
"I needed to drink," he murmured finally.
Mara glanced in the rearview mirror. "Pardon?"
"I needed to drink." He closed his eyes. "Because... who knows? Maybe I'll die."
"You won't die."
"You can't know that."
"You're too much of a coward to die. Cowards always survive. It's their superpower. They run before things get truly bad."
Elias gave a weak snort. "Thanks. Really. That's comforting."
"You're welcome."
The car stopped at a red light. The intersection was deserted. Not a soul. Just the regular blinking of the light, shifting from red to green, green to red.
"O'Connel?"
"Yes?"
"If I die..."
"You won't die."
"But if I die," he insisted, "could you... I don't know... tell the men I wasn't completely useless?"
Mara pressed the accelerator. The light had turned green.
"No."
"No?"
"I'll tell them the truth. That you were a pathological slacker, a catastrophic captain, and probably the worst administrator in the Association's history."
Elias sat up. "That's..."
"But also, that you were the best of us when it really mattered."
"Pull over," he said suddenly.
"What?"
"Pull the car over. Now."
Mara eased onto the shoulder of the deserted road. They were in a rural area. Only the sound of the idling engine broke the silence.
Elias opened his door. The cool night air rushed in, carrying scents of earth and damp leaves.
"Where are you going?"
"To take a piss. Is that still allowed, or do I need to fill out a form in triplicate?" His voice had recovered a sliver of its usual sarcasm.
He got out, walked a few paces onto the grassy shoulder, turning his back to the car. He didn't do anything, just stood there, hands in his pockets, staring at the dark line of trees on the horizon.
Mara didn't move. She watched him through the windshield.
After a minute, he came back, collapsing into the passenger seat this time, closing the door with a soft thud.
"Let's go," he said.
Mara put the car in drive without a word.
Elias leaned back, closing his eyes.
"Maybe I will die," he repeated, so softly Mara thought she'd imagined it. "But that would be too much paperwork for you. So... might as well try to survive. To spare you that torture."
Mara felt a strange pang in her gut. She focused on the road.
"That's the only valid reason you've given me tonight, Captain."
He didn't answer. Perhaps he really was sleeping, this time.