Chapter 7: Aftermath

I opened my eyes to the sight of a medtube lid sliding open above me.

I felt great, physically.

I swung my legs out and stood up. <AI?> I subvocalized.

<It’s Alfred, Lieutenant Stewart.>

“Alfred! Good to hear your voice again.”

<And it is good to have you back, Sir.>

“Yeah.” Now the memories of why I was in the damn medtube came flooding back. The shock on Gomez’s face when the bottom half of him disappeared. My sight going red as my own blood fountained up to blind me.

Fuck. My body felt great, my mood upbeat. Much too good considering the crapper I had been flushed through.

“Preacher?”

I looked up from my Cheerios.

“Cindy.”

“May I sit?”

I looked around the mess, noting the empty tables. I nodded, not speaking. She sat with a cup of coffee. She sat silently while I plowed the last of my breakfast into my mouth. I drained my coffee cup and stood up. Cindy quickly stood up with me.

“Preacher?”

I sighed.

“Maybe in public you better stick to Lieutenant, Corporal.”

She nodded.

“Lieutenant? I’ve got some things I’d like to talk about. Can you we go somewhere private?”

I felt the weight of The Ages.

“I have a single occupancy. Let’s go there.”

As we entered, I saw the other bunk, Sparky’s bunk, empty. It accused me with its perfectly aligned sheets and cover.

Cindy and I undressed and climbed under the sheets of my bunk. She pulled me to her, cradling my head on her shoulder.

“It’s your first contact with the dickheads?”

I shook my head.

“I met them in ship-to-ship action. This was the first time on the ground.”

She didn’t say anything else but pulled me into a deep kiss with those fabulous lips. I could feel my traitor body respond and grow hard. I embraced her back, wrapping my arms around her chest, feeling the definition of her back’s muscles. I buried my face in her black breasts, shutting out the horror that was always just a half-step behind me.

After several minutes she slipped her leg under me and kind of scooped me up to lie between her thighs, my erect cock effortlessly slipping into her wet cunt. We both sighed. I felt tears dripping from my cheeks and nose, saw them splash onto her black skin beneath me. My body, without volition, started thrusting in and out in the ancient rhythm of life. I looked into her wise, deep brown eyes and without warning ejaculated.

God, I was so embarrassed.

I collapsed into her arms, weeping.

“I CAN’T UNDERSTAND why I am having such a strong reaction to combat. I have been in combat much of my adult life. I have made my profession combat arms. I have held dear friends as they bled out waiting for dust-off. But I’ve never had this reaction. Why?”

I felt Cindy’s arms squeeze me gently.

“Do you remember the dickhead yanking off your leg?”

I shuddered.

“Yes. I hear that sound now in my nightmares.”

I felt Cindy nod.

“It’s the nanites. They are keeping your brain operating ‘normally.’ Unfortunately, for soldiers, for humans generally, we deal with some of the worst shit in our lives by forgetting it, or at least putting those memories in a room and locking the door. The nanites block some kind of neurotransmitter that allows that to happen. They haven’t found a way to reliably shut that function off when we don’t want it.”

“And I’ll bet you’ve felt this way before. Think. Just after your first combat experience.”

Shit. She was right. Perhaps it was the nanites, but I remembered something that I hadn’t thought of for decades.

I was a very young corporal on a very hush-hush mission. My NCO had pretty much kept me under his wing for the whole mission, and, when we got back, took me to a whorehouse that had been vetted by the unit.

I had cried then too. And felt terribly guilty about enjoying sex while a teammate was cooling off in a body bag.

Later, in the house’s bar, the old NCO let me know that it was okay. The body reaffirms life after close encounters with the life’s end. Besides, if it had been me in the body bag, my teammate would be right where I was, reaffirming his life with gusto.

I had forgotten that incident in trying to put behind me the shame of losing my virtue in that whorehouse.

I felt Cindy stroking my head.

“Don’t worry, and don’t try to figure it all out right now. Just come on and give me a little comfort.”

So, I did. So help me God, I did to the best of my ability.

Then I slept.

The dry voice of the Court of Inquiry’s presiding office filled the room.

“This court finds that the error was in thinking that because each Sa’arm unit operates in a predictable, mechanistic manner, the Sa’arm gestalt operated in a predictable, mechanistic manner. The gestalt after several anomalous (to it) events, quit trying to locate its enemy by sending units in ones and twos but drafted the resources of every Sa’arm unit in the local area to continue the search.”