As he waited, Augustus adjusted his coat, standing ramrod straight, cold gray eyes fixed on the corridor ahead.
Less than thirty seconds later, Lisa Cassidy came through the hallway, muttering to herself: "Damn it, damn it, damn it…"
She seemed impatient, quickening her pace. Though it was just an act, she would usually greet Augustus with a sweet smile, all docile and gentle—nothing like the kind of medic who'd smash someone's face in or slice off an enemy's hands with a scalpel.
Lisa kept her head down, trying to rush past him—but Augustus caught her by the hood and dragged her back. She wasn't tall—half a head shorter than him.
"Good evening, sir." Lisa looked up with a bright smile. "Did the tattoo go smoothly? Did they hurt you?"
"Oh, it went perfectly. You were probably hoping I'd die in there." Augustus reached beneath her hood, grabbed her by the collar, and hauled her outside the gallery.
"I know. There's a little metal box full of drugs hidden in your underwear." He stared straight at her. "You're betting I won't strip you down and search you—that's your confidence. But I'll have the company medic scan your body for narcotic levels. Worst case? Another round in the detention chamber. You've already got a record a kilometer long. What's one more?"
"Don't even think about bluffing your way out of this. I can't just sit by and watch you fall into depravity—become a slave to your desires, sink into a pile of filth. The only reason I care is because you're a medic in this platoon. You're one of my soldiers."
"You're very responsible," Lisa muttered, biting her lip. "You're kind... full of justice…"
"Keep going," Augustus stared at her. "Is this your new trick? You think a few compliments will soften me up?"
"Last time, you told me your father was dying and begged me to let you wire money home. But guess what—Anthony Cassidy is alive and well. He's collecting two pensions and a military family subsidy. He even told me he could punch a bull to death with one swing—and just two weeks ago, he was at a football match."
Lisa pursed her lips and stayed silent.
"You walk in front," Augustus said firmly. "Playing pitiful, pleading, acting cute—none of it works on me."
So Lisa said nothing more. Hands in her pockets, she obediently walked along the street toward the tattoo shop.
Augustus herded her back like a prisoner. When they arrived, a group of half-naked, heavily tattooed muscleheads were lounging by the door, dragging out stools to sit on.
They didn't know Lisa had a drug history—nor that she was addicted. All they cared about was gossip.
"Augustus! We were betting on what time you'd be back tonight," said Raynor, already wide awake. A tattoo of a Heaven's Devil stretched across his right arm, and he was waving a flag bearing the same insignia.
"You lost everything," Augustus said as he stepped into the tattoo parlor. Without shame, he took off his coat and slipped on his shirt. Lisa, meanwhile, crouched in a corner away from everyone, head buried between her knees.
"Didn't go well?" Among the group, only Lundstein was wearing a coat, impeccably dressed as always.
"Details," he requested.
"It's not like that," Augustus muttered with a twitch in his brow.
"In Styrling, one out of every four girls would die for you, and you only care about mechs and motorbikes. The Mengsk family might not approve of this marriage. Your mother's not old-fashioned, but your father? He'll definitely have something to say about it. Unless, of course, you're just playing around—then forget I said anything." Josephine adjusted his nonexistent glasses, eyes gleaming.
"I get it!"
"Get what?" Augustus said, brushing off his coat and smoothing the wrinkles.
"I saw Cassidy leaving earlier. She looked panicked. Then when the boss realized she was gone, he got really nervous. Why?" Josephine was still analyzing.
"Why?" Amy Brandon asked helpfully.
"From my years of failed romantic experience, that means the boss tried to confess—and got rejected." Josephine declared confidently.
"How did you reach that conclusion? I remember you got an F in logic," Augustus said.
"Yeah, but I really liked that course. My dream is to be a detective," Josephine replied.
"No wonder it didn't work out," Augustus muttered.
"Alright boys, time to head back to the fortress." Warfield walked over and clapped his hands. "We've got a campaign to prepare for next month."
"Put your shirts on—it's cold out. Don't catch a cold. I'm not your mom, and I'm not gonna sit by your bed begging you to take medicine." Augustus said as he walked toward Lisa Cassidy, who was still squatting in the corner.
When Lisa finally looked up, Augustus was shocked—her cheeks were flushed, her pale blue eyes wide open, pupils unfocused. She was smiling uncontrollably, elated by hallucinations and waves of pleasure.
...
Warfield's Office, Fort Howe – Near Noon.
"Someone must have been sneaking drugs to Lisa Cassidy while she was in the detention room," Augustus said as he sat in Warfield's chair, copying files at his desk. Warfield was standing by an automatic ultrasonic coffee machine, catching the stream of coffee into his mug.
"Otherwise, given her current state, she wouldn't be able to go a single day without synthetic adrenaline-based narcotics."
"Back when Vanderspool was still running this fortress, many of his men abused their authority to traffic and use drugs," Warfield said.
"It's no secret—they all know where the quick money is. Most of the drugs come from Deadman's Port. That up-and-coming colony is turning into a playground for major drug lords. Their clients span the entire Terran Federation, and sometimes they even do business with interstellar pirates from the Kel-Morian Combine."
"So, what are you planning to do?" He took a sip of the scalding, bitter coffee—the beans were sourced from the agricultural planet Agria, known for producing high-caffeine blends.
"Send her to another detention cell or a soldier's guardhouse. Or have her pack up and head to a labor camp," Augustus said, signing the report.
"Labor camps come with a death quota. If she goes in now, she'll come out as a 'resocialized' soldier," Warfield shook his head.
At that, Augustus paused, glancing at the file and picking up another blank sheet of paper.
"You've changed your mind?" Warfield asked.
"I'm just thinking... maybe there's still hope for Lisa," Augustus replied. "I haven't even tried yet. How would I know she can't quit unless I try? If it fails, at least I'll know I did what I could."
"Medication won't do much for her," Warfield said. "What she really needs is natural withdrawal assisted by psychotherapy. But that could take months, maybe even longer. And the process will be extremely painful."
"Then I'm applying for a two-person officer's dorm," Augustus said, picking up his pen again. "I want Lisa under my eyes at all times."
"You really think I'll approve that absurd request?" Warfield's hand trembled slightly as he held his coffee mug.
"You're not the one approving it," Augustus replied.
"Lisa is a Heaven's Devil too. I'm not giving up on her. And this unit truly needs an experienced combat medic. No one can stop me... I'm going to save someone's soul."
...
One week later — August 15
The standalone officer's dormitory was far from the soldiers' barracks. Augustus had been getting up at 05:00 every day, arriving at Third Platoon's barracks by 05:30 without fail, rain or shine. But today, Augustus had taken leave.
Lisa Cassidy was strapped to the bed with restraints. Her hands and feet were tightly bound, and tears streamed down her face.
"Please... I'm begging you..." she sobbed.
"What is it?" Augustus dragged over a chair and sat beside her, holding a hardcover book in his hands. "I'm listening."
Augustus and Lisa had been living together in the same apartment for a while now. It had two separate bedrooms, a small living room, and a private bathroom.
In the beginning, Raynor and the others were reluctant to let Augustus go and couldn't understand why he would leave. He made it clear to them—he'd be back in two or three months at most.
Josephine, Tychus, and Harnack had even prepared a whole stash of condoms and adult products for their commander, to which Augustus gratefully told them to piss off.
As for Lisa, her first reaction had been sheer shock—furious at what she saw as blatant sexual harassment. But she quickly gave in, because Augustus had been dead serious about sending her to a labor camp to mine ore.
"Give me... Tulk... morphine... I'll do anything for you," Lisa pleaded, her red-swollen eyes full of desperation, her plump lips still trembling. "It hurts so much..."
To Augustus, Lisa's body was trembling violently. Her exposed skin was covered in goosebumps. She thrashed against the restraints, trying to claw at herself—or anyone else—with her nails.
Lisa screamed and sobbed in agony, her cries heart-wrenching. Augustus remained silent the entire time, waiting until she calmed down.
"The moment you can't get more, the pain multiplies," Augustus said. "Your addiction is growing stronger, so you need more and more. The pain chips away at your will until you end up praying to a rock."
"I understand. I couldn't bear it. I regret my weakness," Lisa said. "I feel much better now. Let me down."
"No," Augustus shook his head. "I don't know if you're lying. Every time, you admit fault, but never reflect on it."
"You need to sleep."
"But I can only fall asleep if I hear a story," Lisa said, lying in bed, her eyes fixed on the white ceiling.
"Still a child, are you?" Augustus set aside the book in his hands and picked up another one—a Bible.
Back when the ancestors of the Koprulu humans still lived on Earth, religion had been banned. All faiths were abolished, and the entire world spoke only a single language. As a result, the Terran ancestors could only pass down religious texts by word of mouth. Many forms of knowledge and culture were lost forever.
"I saw, I heard, voices of many angels—numbering in the tens of thousands. And the angels cried out loudly: Worthy is the Lamb who was slain, to receive power, wisdom, strength, honor, glory, and praise—"
"Ugh, that's enough, I've heard enough. Tell me a fairy tale instead," Lisa pleaded, her voice soft and coaxing. "And not the one about the old monk and the young monk again."
"Why don't I just give you a sedative?" Augustus muttered, setting the Bible down and picking up another book.
"The sky grew darker and darker. In the freezing cold night, a little girl walked barefoot through the streets. In the pocket of her worn apron, she carried a bundle of matches..."
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