The mess hall was loud with cheers as the new year came in. Glasses clashed, boots stomped, and someone in the far corner was shouting lyrics to a song no one else remembered.
Dominic smiled as members of his squadron wished him a happy new year, clapping him on the back as they passed. He turned to the barkeep.
“Another.”
The barkeep nodded, then glanced at the woman standing behind Dominic. She pressed one finger to her lips and gestured for him not to say anything.
Two hands covered Dominic’s eyes.
“Guess who!”
A mischievous smile touched his lips. “Ooh, let me see… big manly hands.”
They were not.
“And sweaty too.”
The grip tightened slightly.
“There’s a little wart there as well… Brian, is that you?”
There was no such person.
Her face tightened. She removed her hands and slapped him hard across the back.
“It’s your sister, dumbass!”
Dominic flinched as the pain travelled down his spine. “Ouch!” he shouted. “That’s definitely you, Clarice. No one can hit that hard.”
She smiled cheekily. “And don’t you forget that.”
He turned and embraced her. “Happy New Year.”
“Happy New Year,” they said in sync.
Clarice sat down on the chair next to him.
“What’s your poison?” asked the barkeep.
“I hope you are not planning to poison a senior officer, Will,” she said with a playful smile.
“Me? Never, ma’am,” he replied respectfully, though he knew she was teasing.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“In that case, I’ll have a Bud Light.”
“Coming right up, ma’am.”
Dominic turned toward her and raised his glass. “Well… here’s to another new year.”
They smiled and clinked their glasses.
“Happy New Year, bonehead,” Clarice said.
“And you, shortass,” he replied.
“Hey, I’d have you know I am a completely adequate size, thank you very much,” she shot back, mock-offended.
He laughed and pulled her into another embrace. She reciprocated, then pulled away and punched him lightly on the arm.
“Jerk.”
They laughed, took their drinks, and let the noise of the mess hall carry on around them.
An hour passed and the mess hall began to empty. The shouting had faded into low conversation. Chairs scraped against the floor as people filtered out.
Clarice and Dominic were still sitting in the same place, making small talk. They discussed previous missions, reminisced about old training exercises, and quietly remembered those who had not made it into this new year.
Dominic glanced toward the far end of the hall where two senior officers were speaking in hushed tones.
“You notice anything strange tonight?” he asked.
Clarice didn’t look. “Several things.”
“The armoury ran a late inventory check.”
“I know.”
“That wasn’t scheduled.”
“No.”
He leaned forward slightly. “We’ve been placed on immediate recall after 0600.”
“All marine response units?” she asked.
“Every active-response squad.”
That made her pause.
“That’s not routine,” he said.
“No,” she replied calmly. “It isn’t.”
He lowered his voice. “You hearing anything?”
She rolled her glass slowly between her fingers.
“There was a scheduled transmission window from Mars at 2100,” she said.
Dominic’s expression shifted. “The civilian colony?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“It didn’t arrive.”
He frowned. “Delay?”
“There were two additional handshake attempts. Telemetry confirms the relay array is powered. Atmospheric conditions stable. No solar interference.”
“So they’re powered… but silent.”
“Yes.”
The remaining noise in the mess hall suddenly felt distant.
“Command thinks it’s sabotage?” he asked.
“Command doesn’t think,” Clarice said quietly. “Command prepares.”
Dominic exhaled slowly. “So we’re on standby.”
“Yes.”
“For what?”
“That,” she replied, her voice lowering slightly, “is what I will be trying to find out at 0530.”
He nodded. “Marine readiness check at 0600.”
Parallel lines.
He checked the time. “It’s nearly 0100. We need to get back to our quarters.”
Clarice stood. “And new deployments are being assigned tomorrow.”
Her face hardened slightly. Professional. Controlled.
Dominic nodded, acknowledging that this would likely be their last meeting for a while.
They embraced one more time. It lasted a fraction longer than the others.
After a moment, they separated and straightened.
Clarice raised a crisp salute. “Until we meet again, Commander.”
Dominic returned it. “Until then, Commander.”
They shared a small, knowing smile.
Then they turned and walked in opposite directions.
One toward encrypted briefings and unanswered silence from Mars.
The other toward armouries, rapid response protocols, and whatever 0600 might bring.
Above Earth, unseen and unannounced, something adjusted its trajectory.
Option A: Dominic (Marine rapid-response, boots-on-deck when alarms hit)
Option B: Clarice (Intelligence/espionage, chasing the reason Mars went silent)
Who's path should we follow going forward?
