Chapter 6

After four of the most intensive and exhausting months of his life, Preston had come to love his day off more than anything else in the world. He loved his morning shot of caffeine, he loved his weekly allotment of alcohol. Though he hadn't yet used the word, he loved his girlfriend Missy, and he would readily admit that he loved screwing her as long and as frequently as possible. Even with all of that, on some days, while drenched in sweat and still pushing himself on the training courses, or while biting his lip in frustration trying to outmatch the drone simulator, he would keep himself going by fantasizing about his next Sunday. This Sunday Preston had decided he would stay in bed until lunchtime ... first sleeping in far later than he should, and then playing or reading on his personal screen until the buzzer intoned the lunch tone. The thought kept him going throughout the week, and he spent his entire free hour on Saturday making up his remedial reflex training just so that he wouldn't have anything to do on his beloved free day.

Thus, when a pair of cold feet against his legs shocked him awake in the early hours of the morning, he was incredibly upset.

"Freezing fucking bitch!" he mumbled reflexively, gazing through blurry eyes at the red lights that indicated it was 0407 hours. He turned to find Missy next to him, scooting between the sheets and snuggling down into the blankets, "your feet are frozen!" His plans had not included being woken up so early, and now that he was awake he knew it would take him forever to fall back asleep. He gazed down at his girlfriend crankily.

"It's cold," Missy agreed, scooting next to him and nestling beneath his arm. She was already half asleep, and Preston frowned at the unfairness of it.

"Hey, nuhuh, you woke me up, you don't get to just cuddle as if you're not sucking the heat out of my bed," he growled.

"But I brought another blanket," Missy yawned, "and you're so warm and it's so cold."

"You'd feel different if you had as hard a time getting to sleep as I do," Preston grumbled, and Missy opened an eye and observed him for a moment.

"I'm sorry I woke you up, and for sucking the heat of your bed," she mumbled, "later today I'll suck something else to make up for it," she reached up and flicked him across the nose, hard enough that it hurt, "and don't call me a bitch."

"You can't just use sex to get your way with everything," Preston began to protest, but a quiet snore told him Missy had already fallen back to sleep. Lucky bitch. The thought was angry, but as he looked down at her peaceful face he couldn't help but also feel affectionately amused.

All things considered, his early wakeup wasn't as bad as it might've been. He slipped his personal screen from its pocket by his head and browsed the network for a few hours, reading a few guides on formation flight tips, despite his promise to avoid all things training. As rough as the lessons had been, Preston enjoyed flying, a carryover from being raised by a pair of mechanics. When he was a child he would "help" his father by handing him his tools to

repair shuttles, or occasionally sit with his mother in her study as she worked on designs. Of his classes at the Academy, the ones that came easiest to Preston were the ones that had to do with ships.

Although it was perpetually cold in the barracks, the extra blanket and the warmth of his girlfriend pressed up beside him left Preston quite warm. The heat was almost too much; in her sleep Missy shifted, pushing the blankets down to her waist. Preston finished reading and shut down his screen and, knowing he wouldn't fall back asleep, leaned back and enjoying the warmth and silence. Missy's shirt had ridden up her ribcage in her sleep, exposing a strip of pale skin up to just beneath her breasts. Resting his head on one hand, Preston began tracing a finger back and forth across her exposed skin, letting his mind wander. Despite his plans for laziness, he would probably wander to the shooting range or the firing simulator later in the day, perhaps try to beat Alex's shot record...

His musings were interrupted by Julia leaning over the edge of the bunk above him. She had the sunny smile of a girl who knew she didn't have to work all day, and her gold-blonde hair was so long it fell almost halfway down to his bunk. Preston was reminded of some surreal fairytale character.

"Morning Preston," she whispered.

"Hey Leftie," he whispered back, and Julia made a face. Her right arm was still in its rigid plasticine case, so she extended the middle finger of her left, but she smiled.

"You're up early."

"Got an early wakeup call. A cold one," Preston nodded down, continuing to move his fingers across Missy's stomach.

"Oh jeez," Julia gave the sleeping girl a look somewhere between amusement and pity, "she's got a little bit of 'clingy' in her doesn't she."

"Yea," Preston halfshrugged, "a bit. I don't really mind. I've never had that in a girlfriend."

Julia didn't reply, she just looked back and forth between Preston and the sleeping brunette, an amused expression on her upside-down face.

"What?" Preston finally asked, defensively.

"Nothing, nothing," Julia put her left hand up, still smiling, "I just really never would've guessed you two would get together you know?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know, she's just all innocent and cute and annoyingly sugar-sweet, and you're ... well ... you."

Preston grinned, although he wasn't quite sure if his friend meant the sentiment as a compliment or an insult. Either way, he knew she had his best interests at heart. Julia was the only one of his squadmates with the same irreverent sense of humor and cynical outlook on life, and they had been fast friends since their first few weeks. Looking up at her frank but questioning (and upside-down) face, he reassured himself that she wouldn't mock him if he answered her statement honestly.

"She's different from me, that's a good thing," he said slowly. Julia tilted her head questioningly, and Preston struggled to communicate his meaning, "if you spend all your time with someone who's the same as you, well how are you gonna change as a person?"

"Why do you have to change for her?" Julia challenged.

"I'm not changing for her, I'm just ... I'm with her because I already want to change, you know? I don't want to go through my whole life being the same person, no one should. You gotta grow into a different person." It always sounded so much better when Mom said it, he thought,

frustrated. He wished he had inherited her grasp of words instead of her green eyes.

"I liked you just the way you were," Julia pronounced, putting finality into her whisper, "If you were that hard up for some action I would've thrown you a pity fuck or two if you had just asked," she was grinning, and Preston couldn't tell from the expression whether she was joking or not.

Either way his frustration was growing. Why is it always so fuckin' hard for people to understand what I'm trying to say?

"I'm not with her to fuck her. Not just to fuck her," he amended for the sake of honesty, "is it so hard to believe I actually think she's a cool girl?" He realized he had raised his voice beyond a whisper as his squadmates began to stir, and he dropped his volume "Is it really so difficult to imagine I might want to grow as a person?"

"Alright alright, calm down, jeez," Julia whispered, "Date who the hell you want, it's your call. I guess I just always pictured you with a girl who could satisfy you."

"I'm plenty satisfied," Preston whispered back, "Missy takes care of me."

"Okay, then a girl you could satisfy without you changing yourself to do it. And really?" Julia raised an eyebrow, "she's just the perfect little minx who is dynamite in bed? Missy is?"

Preston stayed silent, knowing his face was sullen and wishing he could hide his feelings better as Julia continued.

"She's just the complete package huh? Totaly trying out one kink after another, bedroom so new and spicy it's like you've got a new girl every night? Not a single kink you have left untried? You've done that 'conference room' thing you told me about?" Preston internally cursed himself for ever telling Julia about his little fantasy.

"I'm not just a talking penis you know, there's more to our relationship than just the sex," Preston knew that Julia would take it as an admission. The fact frustrated him, and her smirking face wreathed in blonde locks seemed a lot less cherubic. He tried to think of blonde fairytale villains.

"I know you're not. I'm sorry, I didn't meant to say you were." The girl's apology surprised him? he couldn't remember Julia ever apologizing for as long as he knew her. She even looked apologetic, "I'm not trying to be bitchy Preston, really. Well, I kinda am, but I always get bitchy when I'm trying to talk about important things. You know what I mean. Missy's a nice girl, but she just doesn't seem right for you. You're more adventurous and less reverent, and it seems like you're doing a lot more changing for her than she is for you. I just don't want you to get hurt when things... if things goes south."

"Fuck you Julia."

"Look can you honestly say you're happy with how you've changed?"

"Yes!"

"Can you look me in the eye and tell me you're satisfied? Both sexually and all that other emotional bullshit too?"

"Y ... yes," Preston had to think about it for a moment, but he realized the answer was true. He was unused to thinking of himself emotionally, but the fact was despite the flaws, Missy made him happy.

"Can you say things couldn't possibly be better?"

Without waiting for an answer Julia swung back up to her bed, and Preston laid on his back, staring at the bunk above.

"What kind of bullshit question is that?" He asked. The response floated down softly,

"Just a question. If it makes you pissy maybe you already know the answer."

"Of course things could be better, everything could always be better," Preston replied hotly, "we could have two days off like the other rookies. She could be a little more daring, a little less mousy. I could have double luxury credits and servants to wash my fuckin' feet every day. Just because something isn't the absolute peak of utter perfection doesn't mean you should give up on it."

There was silence for a moment, and Preston silently swore. The squadmates all had a level of closeness, but Julia was his best friend on the orbital. Why does she have to do this now?

"Doesn't mean you should give up on making it better," Julia said quietly, "if you stay with her, don't give up on making it better. For you or her."

"You really are trying to help out aren't you."

"Of course," she sounded surprised, "why else would I be saying it?"

"Dunno," Preston admitted, "you felt your bitch skill rusting and needed some practice?"

He grinned as her hand dropped over the side of the bed, middle finger extended again.

His hand was still resting on Missy's bare stomach, and he noticed that her breaths weren't as deep or steady as they had been in the night. When he glanced up at her face, the slightest flicker of Missy's

closed long lashes confirmed the seed of doubt in his stomach. Fuck, Preston's idyllic and stressfree plans for the day seemed to melt away as he became more and more certain, she's been awake this whole time.

Preston wanted nothing more than to be alone. Breakfast had been hideously awkward, as Missy had been more upbeat and cheerful than she had any right to be, even on a day off. Preston brooded, angry at Julia for making him question things, and angry at Missy for pretending she hadn't heard. As soon as he could make an excuse to leave the table he stormed off, wandering down the hallway with no particular destination in mind. Promise or no promise, he found himself in the firing sim soon afterwards. The room was huge and quiet, and it was easy to lose ones' self in its expanse.

Preston moved to the weapons locker by the door, flicking the double doors open and scanning the array of nonlethal training weapons within. Though his gaze moved across the double row of weaponry, but his focus elsewhere. Were his squadmates really commenting about his changed persona behind his back? Did it matter if they were? Julia's words were weighing him down, and Missy's chipper and cheerful demeanor made him frustrated whenever he thought of it. She was awake. I'm sure of it. She heard us talking. If what Julia said wasn't true, if she really thinks we're both good for each other, why hasn't she said anything? And why hasn't Julia said any of these things before? Fuck, why is she saying them at all?

"Fuck women," he snarled, yanking a railpistol from the rack and slamming the doors closed.

"Reaffirming your mission statement Preston?" Preston almost jumped at the voice that echoed from further down in the room. He peered at the end of the dimly lit expanse, only now seeing the shadowy figure at the other end, fiddling with a row of target orbs. As his eyes grew accustomed to the distance and light, he faintly made out olive skin and black hair tied in a loose long braid.

"Alex. The fuck are- I mean, what are you doing here?" Preston grumbled, making his way down the long room to join her by the orbs. Though he still swore in his head and around Julia, he was trying to cut down on it when around other squadmates. Missy said it made him sound rough ... the thought of changing for Missy made him mentally curse again.

"I like it here, 's quiet," Alex said, not seeming to mind his language, "plus it's pretty clear no one's gonna beat my accuracy scores in a cruiser, so I thought I'd give y'all a challenge for your firing sim scores too."

Preston, the current second in cruiser accuracy, repressed a scowl, pulling another set of four mechanical training orbs from the wall. Come on Preston, gotta make an effort, gotta try.

"Um, same here," his voice sounded awkward even to himself as he input his name and password to each orb, "since we're both here anyways, you want to do some coop doubles training?"

"You sure? It'll average our scores if we fight coop, pull ya down an' me up."

"Yea it's fine," Preston cleared his throat, "you'll probably beat my score eventually anyways."

"True," Alex joked, as the small spheres hummed to life, lifting from the table in front of them.

The orbs floated motionless for a moment, taking readings of the room and their human targets, then shot off in different directions. They were only about as big as Preston's head, and the hoverjets installed in each were enough to propel them at a startlingly fast pace.

Alex lifted her rifle and fired as they flew by, but her shot went wide, the EM bullet shattering on the far wall with a small electronic sounding "ping".

"Soo," Alex said, as the two of them moved forward, "... 'fuck women' huh?"

How about mind your own fucking business, Preston kept himself from snapping out the first response that had come to his mind.

"Um ... yea, ignore that," he said instead, as they crept along the wall cautiously. The orbs were using the columns and walls scattered around the giant room to keep out of sight, waiting for the opportunity to strike.

"M'kay," Alex responded, keeping her rifle raised and sweeping the room

"It's just, I'm having issues with your gender today is all."

"Hmm," was all Alex said in response. They remained silent for a few minutes as they moved forward, so Preston heard the hum of the sphere behind him. He spun around and squeezed off three shots in fast succession ... the first and third went wide, but the second clipped its edge. With a small mechanical wheeze the orb lowered to the ground, neutralized. Before he could even turn back around Preston heard Alex's rifle go off twice, the pause in between letting him know that she had aimed more carefully. The two she had targetted gently drifted to the ground, and Preston gratefully noted that Alex said nothing about their relative accuracy scores.

He was feeling much better. The exercise, running and twisting, combined with the visceral satisfaction of firing the heavy railpistol and feeling the kickback, had a calming effect on him.

Another of the targets hit the ground with a small click, taken down in a single shot, and he began feeling truly at ease.

"Thanks, by the way," Preston grunted, stepping behind a column for cover.

"For what?"

"Not pushing me on the whole thing. Letting me just get it out of my system."

"You clearly don't want to talk about it."

"Yea well, it was nice of you not to try to make me."

"Hmm," Alex said again, thoughtfully, and then with a friendly smile she brought the rifle up, took careful aim, and shot Preston in the shoulder. The bullet was nonlethal, but it slammed into him with such force that it knocked him backwards, toppling against the column behind him.

"FUCK," Preston yelled, as pain blossomed along his arm, "what the FUCK did you do that for?"

"Well, you don't get along well with people who are too nice," Alex said calmly "I needed to even out my good deeds."

"What do you mean I don't get along with nice people?" Preston flexed his arm as he stood to his feet, "in case you hadn't noticed, Alexandria, I'm dating Missy," he stressed her full name, knowing she hated it.

"Yea, and then slamming things around and screaming 'fuck women' to yourself," Alex pointed out. Preston stared at her for a moment, and she casually fired off three rounds in quick succession, taking out an orb that had been cautiously moving forward. Much as he wanted to be angry for the sting in his arm ... she sort of had a point. Even now, looking at the matter-of-fact face of the girl who had just shot him, he had to supress a grin. It was kind of funny.

"So you shot me to be my friend?" He asked sarcastically.

"Well, yea. It seemed the thing to do. Did it work?"

"Kinda. That's pretty fucked up, isn't it."

Alex laughed, and after a moment Preston laughed too. Two spheres swung out from behind a pillar, one to the left and one to the right. They both fired at the left one, but Preston's gun was light enough that he managed to squeeze off a second to send the rightmost careening off-kilter

into a wall.

"Okay since you're being all friendly, tell me this, why would a friend try to imply that your relationship is shit?"

"If your friend thinks your relationship is shit, it makes sense to tell you."

"Oh, so you think my relationship is shit too?" A target peeked out from behind a column, and Preston angrily squeezed off a few rounds that landed where it had been.

"I'm just answering your question. I warn my friends when they're in a relationship that seems unhealthy."

"Do you think mine is unhealthy?"

"Hey Preston," Alex had been motionless, staring down her sight at the column, and when the orb peaked out again she took it down with a single shot, "it seems like you're dancing around a few questions you want advice on. We can continue doing that if you like, but if you want my advice, why don't you just ask?"

Preston was surprised at the straightforwardness. He mulled it over for a few seconds, and after a moment's consideration, he shrugged.

"Julia thinks Missy is changing me."

"She is changing you. You already knew that, that's not your question."

"Well yea okay she's changing me, but she's not perfect either! There are some things that she could change."

"Like what?"

"She could be more adventurous. She could be more sexual. A little less clingy maybe?"

"M'kay. So what was her reaction when you told her this?"

Preston scowled, pumping off four shots in quick succession at a sphere that floated near the floor. He was the only one of the rookies who had gotten the hang of using the heavy rail pistol; the delicate mechanics within would often lock up if the user didn't time the shots well. To Preston the machinery was fairly straightforward once it had been explained to him, but the rest hadn't been able to get the hang of it. Too bad I can't figure women out that easily...

"Preston?"

"Okay, fine, no I didn't talk to her about it," Preston snapped. He glanced over and saw Alex looking down her sights, but she was grinning. "Yea, okay I shouldn't judge her on things I haven't brought up, I get your point." Alex didn't say a word, but she continued to grin.

"Okay, then explain this; this morning I was talking about it with Julia, and I'm pretty sure she was awake the whole time! So she does know, why wouldn't she bring it up at breakfast?"

"Cover me?" Alex asked, and she ran forward toward the middle of the room, taking shots at orbs that had been hiding behind columns as she went. The movement caused the training spheres to reposition, navigating to remain hidden from Alex but exposing themselves to Preston in the process.