Date Point: 8y 1m AV
Huntsville Alabama, USA, Earth
Major Owen Powell
“Arright, SOR OPLAN session five. Before we get started, does anybody have any insight or new thoughts that they’d like to add to our existing OPLANs?”
The lads shook their heads. Planning sessions were a moment for Powell to pick his men’s brains, and he relished them. The lads knew their own capabilities best, and they were all intelligent men. If they didn’t have any concerns to raise after last week, then that was good.
“Right.” Powell checked his notes. OPLAN sessions were also a relaxed affair—the were done round a table, more-or-less as equals. Another reason to enjoy them. “So today we’re planning for a Cameron White scenario.”
“A who what now?” Akiyama asked.
Powell clicked the control for the slideshow he’d prepared. “This evil fooker. Cameron White, serial killer, sadist and generally charming bloke. Corti abducted him right out of the prison yard during an exercise break. Sparked quite the fookin’ manhunt and an inquiry…nothing came of ‘em of course because at the time nobody knew we needed to be thinking about alien abductions.”
A list of White’s crimes filled the whole slide, and the two after it. “Dead, nowadays, but not before he terrorized the orbital shipyards at Irbzrk and killed dozens of ETs. Obviously, we can’t allow scenarios like this in the future, if for no other reason than it makes the rest of us look bad.”
The lads nodded. “So, the scenario is: a psychotic human is loose on a space station, killing ETs. We can assume that by the time we go in, Intel have figured out who they are, what they look like, et cetera. Our job will be to preferably capture him. Subdue if possible, kill if necessary, avoid or minimize nonhuman casualties. “
“Fast and hard’s our best bet, then.” Price suggested.
Vandenberg nodded. “I’m inclined to agree. Longer we delay in that situation, the more time our ‘Mr. White’ has to do his thing.”
“Aye,” Powell agreed “but my concern there’s that if we’ve got a corridor full of lots of panicking ETs, so our Aggressor’s going to have his work cut out for him getting down it at speed without splattering them.”
“Guess you’ve never played Rugby, sir.” Legsy commented.
“How so?”
“Running forward really fast and dodging everything’s a Winger’s job.”
“That was your job, was it?”
“Nope, I was a Lock.”
“Or in football, that job would go to a Wide Receiver or a Tight End.” Blaczynski added. “I used to play Tight End for my school team.”
The four Brits—even Powell—gave him an amused look. “We don’t wish to know about your tight end, Starfall.” the major deadpanned.
Blaczynski just rolled his eyes at the chuckle that shimmered round the table, though he joined in. “Understood, sir. Point is, I used to do something like that all the time, so it should be do-able. Might be something we should factor into training.”
“Aye, good shout.” Powell made a note. “So the spearhead is an Aggressor who’s trained on agility in motion…Burgess, figure out how we can fit that training into the routine.”
“Yes sir.”
“I’m going to say we want at least two spearheads, hit our Mr. White from multiple directions, preferably three.” Powell added.
“What’s everyone else do while the spearhead’s charging in?” Firth asked, as BASEBALL nodded and scribbled out some changes to the training regime.
“Minimising ET loss of life and limb.” Stevenson replied.
“Right.” Powell nodded. “That’s the Defenders job—get in the way, screen them from harm, and distract Mr. White so the Aggressors can get up on him. Engineer some cover and clear the exits. Protectors meanwhile will be clearing the civilians out, tending to any wounded. All of that should be covered by your existing training and jobs.”
“Engineering cover would go quick and smooth if we could get our hands on some of those Gaoian shield stick things, sir.” Akiyama said.
“I reckon we can do better.” Sikes commented. “Them things’re small and light enough for ETs. I reckon we could rig up a deployable shield generator of our own.”
“Heck, get me the emitter and capacitors, I could build one, sure.” Akiyama agreed. “I’ve got the rest of what I need on my bench in the workshop.”
“Who’s going to carry it?” Vandenberg asked.
“Humpin’ stuff’s usually WARHORSE’s job.” Sikes drawled.
Adam looked up—he’d been looking through the training plan Burgess was writing, rather than at it. “Hmm?”
Powell frowned at him. “You paying attention, Arés?”
“Uh, yes sir. Humping the shield generator.” Adam sat up. “So, who’s carrying the big stretcher for the Guvnurag patients?”
“Ah, yeah. We’re gonna need that, aren’t we?” Sikes rubbed his jaw. “Burgess?”
BASEBALL didn’t look up. “Sure. Who’s carrying the stasis bags?”
Akiyama chuckled. “You want it so much, looks like you’re carrying it yourself, Calvin.” he said, using Sikes’ first name.
Powell jotted another note. “Right. We’ll break it up for a few minutes. You lot go get some light PT in, restore your focus and we’ll keep planning the scenario after. Akiyama, draw me up a plan for this shield generator.”
There was a muttered circle of ‘yes sir’ and everyone stood to go. As they did so, Legsy caught Powell’s eye and aimed a small nod towards Arés, asking an unspoken question.
There was a subtlety to military etiquette in such situations. Being the CO carried weight, and the more he applied that weight the more heavily it bore down on the men lower on the chain, so Powell just feigned disinterest and turned his attention to his paperwork, not wanting to step in where he wasn’t needed. They had both noticed the problem, and he’d worked with Legsy long enough to know that the matter would be dealt with competently.
He paid oblique attention though, as Legsy tapped Arés on the shoulder on their way out, and their ensuing conversation was perfectly audible through the door.
“Looked like your attention was flagging there, mate.” he heard.
”…Yeah, sorry. Just…“
“Just nothing, mate.” Legsy replied. “We need to stay on top of it when we’re off our game, and that means you stay on top of it too. Understand? I know you just saw Ava again, you miss her, but you gotta deal with it at the proper time, aye? Not on the old man’s.”
“Yeah. You’re right. Sorry.”
“Come on, let’s get that PT done.”
Powell nodded a little satisfied smile and sat back, allowing himself the luxury of putting his boots up on the table.
It was mildly worrying that Arés had showed any kind of distraction like that. The lad was usually so dependable that he might as well have been nicknamed “workhorse”, but then again romantic troubles could throw anybody off.
Legsy had handled him well, though, and would doubtless continue to do so. There was no real cause for concern from a professional point of view.
From a personal one…
Date Point: 8y 2m AV
London, England, Earth
Sean Harvey
It was Ava’s turn.
“Okay, so the black card is…” she drew one and read it. “’My hobby: Introducing unsuspecting aliens to the joys of’ blank.”
The table rattled as three white cards were slammed down on it, and Ben cursed. According to one of Sean’s house rules, whoever got their card down last had to take a drink.
Given that they’d now been playing for more than an hour, all four of them were pretty well drunk by now. Ben sipped his beer while Ava shuffled the white cards they’d played.
“Okay, so, my hobby is…Introducing unsuspecting aliens to the joys of…a big black dick!”
Charlotte giggled. She was probably the drunkest, and her poker face wasn’t exactly impenetrable at the best of times.
“Introducing aliens to the joys of…Fatal sex adventures!”
Everyone cringed aloud, giving little outraged laughs.
“And introducing aliens to the joys of…The clitoris!” She put the last card down. “What is WITH you guys and sex cards?”
“Oh come on, you’re the one who played ‘fucking in zero gravity’ last round!” Ben told her.”
“Come on, choose.”
Ava laughed and swigged her drink. “Well I mean, hey, how can I pass up the joys of the clitoris?”
Ben cheered and raised his hand, but Charlotte giggled again as the black card was handed to him.
“Darling, I never knew you went that way!” she exclaimed, pantomiming shock.
“Oh, the truth is out…” Ava turned in her seat and looked Charlotte in the eyes with a barely-restrained laugh threatening to burst out of her. “It’s true, I’m a raging dyke for you my love.”
Shaking with mirth, Charlotte reached over and put a delicate hand on her cheek. “All this time, we’ve been denying the obvious…”
Ava reached up and took Charlotte’s hand in her own, affecting a mournful of expression. “We can’t, darling. What if your boyfriend finds out? He’d never approve.”
Ben put his hand up. “Uh, yes he would!”
“No, no, if we’re doing that then to keep it fair you’d have to make out with Sean.” Charlotte said.
“Oi, I’m a twenty-first century man, I’m cool with that.” Sean shrugged.
“Yeah? Dare you.” Ava said.
“I thought we were playing Cards Against Humanity, not Truth or Dare!”
“Chicken!”
“Right, that fucking does it. Come on, Ben.”
Ben glanced sideways at his girlfriend, who just grinned at him. “Go on!”
“What’s in it for us?!” Ben demanded.
Charlotte just waggled her eyebrows across the table. “Ava?”
Ava hesitated, and Sean was just about to turn the idea down when she surprised all of them by nodding.
“Uh…o-okay. Sure!”
To Sean, that sounded like alcohol-fuelled bravado rather than actual enthusiasm. “You sure?” he asked.
He should have known better. Ava gave him her best glare, and he could see her summon her determination. “Are you?”
“Hah!” Sean rolled his eyes, then, to Ben: “Come on then, mate.”
Ben laughed rigidly, then steeled himself, downed the last of his beer, and shuffled round the table. There was an awkward moment of hesitation, and then they just went for it.
Sean had never kissed a dude before but had been idly curious about it for a while. Actually doing it turned out to be…just a kiss. There was a little bit of scratchy stubble involved, but lips were lips. No tongue involved, no big deal in the end. One to scratch off his list of life experiences.
Charlotte had clearly enjoyed it, and fanned herself with her hand. “Whew!”
Ava nodded, having gone decidedly red around the nose and cheeks herself, then shot a nervous glance at Charlotte. “So, uh…”
“Our turn!” Charlotte seemed happy about it at least.
“And keep it fair.” Ben added, having surreptitiously wiped his mouth. “You owe us the same as you got.”
Ava nodded. She looked Charlotte in the eye again, swigged her drink, laughed nervously, and then squeaked a little when Charlotte rolled her eyes and hauled Ava towards her by the front of her shirt.
A few aesthetically pleasing seconds later, Ava just made a stunned little “huh” noise as they parted.
Sean chuckled. “Not as big a deal as you thought it would be?”
“I…guess not.” Ava agreed, then cleared her throat. “Can we, uh…whose go is it?”
“Ben.”
Ben seemed to come to his senses a little. “Huh?”
“Your black card, mate.”
“Oh, uh…’In space, only two things are constant: Corti abductions and’ blank.”
Three white cards slapped the table, and this time Ava had to take a drink, which seemed to help her a bit.
They made it through another three black cards after that when only two white cards hit the table, and when they looked at Charlotte she turned out to have fallen asleep.
“Guess that’s game over then.” Ben commented. “We okay to stay here tonight, Sean?”
“Sure, spare bed’s made.”
“Cheers.” Ben gently extracted Charlotte from behind the table and helped her towards the stairs. She made sleepy little protest noises the whole way.
“Who won?” Ava asked.
“You did.” Sean grinned at her. “Turns out our innocent country girl’s got the dirtiest mind of all of us.”
She laughed, and stretched. “Am I okay to stay here tonight too?”
“Sure, if you don’t mind the couch.”
“Thanks…” She stood up, leaned back with her hands on her hips and sighed at the ripple of little pops that shot up her spine, before sitting down on the couch with the rest of her drink in hand. She brushed some hair out of her face and stared at the wall opposite, thoughtfully.
Sean sat beside her and studied her expression for a second. She didn’t seem to notice.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, I just…” her frown didn’t vanish, but she made eye contact. “Was that weird?”
“Just a bit of harmless fun.” Sean reassured her. “I dunno, a kiss is just a kiss. I didn’t think it was that big a deal.”
He chuckled “Besides, what was that you said at New Years about fucking nudity not being a big deal? Something like ‘A body is just a body’?”
“Huh? Oh. Yeah, I guess you’re right.” she conceded, and tucked her feet up underneath herself, resting an arm on the back of the couch so she could comfortably face towards him a little bit. “So, what, you remember that whole conversation?”
“Kind of hard not to. You were kind of naked at the time.”
Ava scoffed. “No more than I am right now!”
“You weren’t wearing clothes, though.”
“Yeah, but you couldn’t see anything. Hell, you could see less than you can see right now.” she gestured to her chest, and the little bit of décolletage that she had on show.
“I guess, but…” Sean thought about how to phrase his thoughts.
“But what?”
“I could have…you were only behind the curtain.”
“So?”
“So, what if I’d, I dunno, pulled the curtain aside?”
Ava adjusted her posture a bit, turning to face him even more. “You wouldn’t, though.”
“Well…no. You’re right, I wouldn’t.” Sean agreed.
“Why not?”
“Wh- well, I…” he thought about it some more, sipping his beer to cover the delay. “I guess…well, it’d be…Well, for the same reason I’m not going to just try and rip your clothes off you right now.”
“Exactly!” Ava said. “If you’d done something like that I’d have punched you in the face, left the house, and you’d have lost me as a friend, and probably Charlotte and Ben, too.”
Sean finished his beer and resolved that it was his last—the whole world was more than a little fuzzy and swirly, and even in his drink-addled condition he knew that if he had one more it’d be too many and result in vomit. Besides he felt certain there was some kind of a valid counterargument to what Ava was saying, but it was impossible to think what that might be, past the drunk. “But the shower curtain thing would have been easier.” he ventured.
“Yeah, but it’s not about what’s easy, is it?” Ava swigged the last of her own drink. “It’s about that that’d be wrong. And…I like you Sean, and I trust you. I’m trusting you right now, just by being here with you.”
“I guess I never thought of it that way.” Sean admitted.
“Girls have to think of it that way.” Ava shrugged. “I mean, I’m lucky, I’m fitter than you are, and maybe a bit stronger even, so I’ve got that to back me up. But everything’s, like…you have to try and judge how safe you are.”
“So you trust me enough to take a shower while I’m in the room.”
“Yeah! You’re a good guy, and like I said: I like you. I hadn’t seen you for a couple of weeks, I wanted to catch up.”
“Well…fair enough.” Sean gave up on his search for a counter-argument, and instead raised his empty bottle. “To being comfortable.”
“Damn right!” She tapped her own bottle to his, then leaned shakily forward to set it down on his coffee table with the exaggerated care of the thoroughly intoxicated.
As she did so, the thought crept into Sean’s inebriated brain that maybe he’d said the wrong thing there. “I’ve not…hurt that trust, have I?”
“Hurt how?”
“By thinking of the curtain thing.”
She shook her head. “No, you’re…asking what the rules are, right?” When he nodded, she nodded too. “Well that’s fine. It shows you, like, respect boundaries and stuff. That you respect me. ¿Tú entiendes?”
Sean nodded, and they sat in silence for a bit.
Maybe it was the booze doing the thinking, but he had a few questions he’d been itching to answer for a while, and now seemed like as good an opportunity as any to ask them.
“So…Let’s say we went swimming…” he said.
“Yeah?”
“In a lake or something.”
“Sure?”
“You’re telling me that’d be less of a problem for you than, say, kissing Charlotte?”
“Well…” Ava fidgeted. “I shouldn’t have done that. I mean, I know it wasn’t… anything… but I…I don’t know.” She rubbed her face and got some hair out of the way. “It’s like…if you’re swimming then really a swimsuit is just, like, this nasty lump of wet cloth you have to take home with you when you’re done. And it turns out they’re pretty nasty bacteria traps, too. And, you know, people take their clothes off for showers and baths all the time, or, or the doctor or something, so…You know?”
“Know what?”
“Like, that’s what a kiss is for is…it’s for love, or sex. Nudity doesn’t have to be.”
“Erotic.”
“Right. Erotic. Kisses are automatically erotic. Nudity isn’t.”
“You feeling guilty about that, then?”
“I’m feeling like I should feel guilty.” Ava sighed. “I don’t know. I had fun tonight! Going outside my comfort zone a bit, it’s…thrilling, you know? And it really was just fun and nothing else, so, maybe I’m over-thinking it.”
“Maybe.” Sean agreed.
“Yeah, I think I am.” Ava said. “I mean…it’s not like I kissed you.”
Sean paused, his mind suddenly splitting into three parts. One was imagining exactly that scenario and desperately trying to figure out how to make it happen. Another was wondering exactly what she’d meant by that, and the third was detachedly watching the panic in the other two and the way his pulse had kicked up a notch.
“True…” he agreed, cautiously.
Ava was blushing. “I didn’t mean it like-” she began. “I mean…I just know how you feel about me.”
“Yeah but that’s…that’s out there. We’ve established those boundaries…haven’t we?”
“Right. We’re good.” Ava nodded. “I’m comfortable with that.”
“You’re comfortable with knowing I-”
She interrupted him. “Yeah.”
“You’re sure?”
She laughed a little nervously, then cleared her throat and unnecessarily tidied some hair away again. “…I do too.”
”…Av-.”
“We’d, we’d, uh. We’d better go to sleep.”
“No, come on, you can’t just drop that one on me and expect-”
“Sean.” She cut him off. After he just stared at her patiently for a few seconds, she sighed. “Okay, you want more? Fine. If I was single, we’d have hooked up months ago. Okay? But I’m not.”
“So why even tell me?”
“Because I’m drunk and that was probably a bad idea.” She unfolded her legs and stood up. “Just…forget I said it.”
“Right.” Sean drew the word out. “Got to save the world by making yourself miserable.”
”…Did you mean to sound so bitter just then?”
“Well how am I supposed to sound?!” He demanded. “The girl I’m crazy about just told me she’s into me too, but she’s still loyal to the guy she never sees? How am I supposed to not be bitter about that?”
“Because it’s not so simple as ‘I never see him’!” Ava retorted. “Even if I DIDN’T have all those letters telling me how much the thought of me keeps him going, we went through…everything together! I’m not just going to throw that away!”
“I know, I know…” Sean sighed. “You’re not a quitter. That’s one of the things I like about you.”
“But you’re still asking me to-”
“No!” Sean stood up this time. “Where have I even ONCE suggested in this conversation you should quit on him? That’s your choice!”
“So you’re saying I should choose?”
“I…” Sean sagged, and sat down again. “I don’t know what I’m saying. I just want you to be happy, that’s all.”
Ava blinked at him, then leaned over and gave him a hug. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry too. I don’t want things to be complicated here.” he said. “It just…I care about you.”
“I know. And…You know.”
“Yeah.”
She gave him a squeeze again then sat back. “We should sleep.”
Sean nodded, stood and opened the big sea chest that had once been his great-grandfather’s, which lived in the bay window and was where he kept the blankets and pillows for anyone sleeping on the couch.
“You gonna be okay?”
“If I’m lucky, I won’t remember making a fool of myself in the morning.” she said, laughing a little desperately.
“You didn’t.” He promised her. “Who knows, maybe clearing the air like that’ll help us…figure things out. You know?”
”…Maybe.”
He handed her the blankets. “G’night, Ava.”
”‘Night.”
He nodded, turned off the light for her, trudged upstairs, and threw himself onto the bed where he lay and stared at the glow-in-the-dark stars and planets that his grandfather had stuck to the ceiling to turn it into a little boy’s bedroom.
When he woke in the morning, it came as a surprise to him that he’d managed to fall asleep at all.
Date point: 8y 4m AV
Huntsville Alabama, USA, Earth
Adam Arés
Tuesdays were acclimation days. On paper, they looked like the easiest day on the schedule—the SOR had a little light PT first thing in the morning to limber them up and wake them, then breakfast, and then…nothing. A day full of “free self-improvement” time, where they were encouraged to pursue whatever creative or educational pursuits they liked.
Rebar spent it playing around in the workshop, making little metal sculptures or structures. Sikes was always nearby, working on his “pets”, a small flotilla of drones of various sizes, from the little buzzy one the size of a quarter right up to “Dronezilla” which he’d originally assembled from scratch using four electric chainsaw motors but which nowadays flew under the unreliable power of four temperamental home-made kinetic thrusters, the tuning and troubleshooting of which seemed to give him no end of fun.
BASEBALL read trauma journals and medical textbooks, working towards a full nursing qualification. Legsy, Murray and Price had all taken to collecting little miniature fantasy armies and painting them, practising their fine dexterity by competing to see who could paint theirs most realistically.
Adam…sewed.
He had figured out early on that the Odyssean gains he was going to make in terms of muscle during his training would, sooner or later, make it hard to find clothing that would fit. And, seeing as he’d learnt to sew in his medic training, it had only made sense to him to translate those skills into modifying his clothes so that he wouldn’t have to wear huge douchebaggy wifebeaters and shorts day in day out.
He would have cut a comical sight anyway, he knew. He wasn’t a tall man, but he was getting legitimately huge nowadays, and the sight of somebody so big sewing would have been odd anyway.
The fact that he was doing it while wearing a twenty million dollar armoured spacesuit just completed the picture.
That was acclimation day: light self-improvement activities while wearing the spacesuit. On the face of it, simple. In practice, merely wearing the suit was exhausting, and acclimation days were about the hardest thing on the schedule. They had to wear EV-MASS for twelve hours straight and try to behave otherwise normally.
Whether they were eating, reading, welding, painting little miniatures or operating a sewing machine, they had to do it ALL while wearing a pressure suit that was designed to use mechanical counterpressure rather than atmosphere to guard them from decompression.
The first few times had been agonising. Nowadays, they were merely tiring, and the worst part was boredom. After years of consuming and burning per day more calories than most people went through in a week, just sitting around was torturous. Every so often, one of the guys HAD to get up and do something physical for a bit.
The result was usually wrestling, or a race round the building, or a “who can throw the medicine ball further” competition, or just beating the shit out of a punching bag. They didn’t last long. With the suit on, such bursts of activity were concentrated and rapidly burned off the pent-up energies, driving them back to their gentler pursuits.
The impressive part was how well Major Powell had adjusted. He almost looked the most comfortable of all of them, though how much of that was an act so as to project the appearance of invulnerability was a subject of constant barracks speculation. Certainly, he strolled around in the suit, rather than thumping gracelessly about like most of the rest of the Operators did, which all by itself suggested that his apparent ease with EV-MASS was more than just acting.
He’d told them to stop leaping to attention when he entered the dormitory, though. Merely standing was sufficient, which they all did the second the door opened and he sauntered in.
He nodded around at them. “Afternoon lads. Fall in.”
Everyone did so, each wondering what the break from routine was about.
“So, I’ve got some news.” Powell told them. “You might like this, Arés – HMS Sharman on Cimbrean has just been selected as the permanent home of the SOR.”
Adam grinned and made a little “success” fist-pull.
“Now for the other half.” Powell continued. “We’ve got a C5 coming down from Maine to take us up to Scotch Creek. It’s scheduled to fly day after tomorrow, and we need every scrap of our equipment, gear and personal effects packed up and ready to load onto that thing as soon as it’s on the tarmac. Acclimation day is therefore cancelled immediately. We’re all getting out of these suits right now and returning them for cleaning and transport. You lot are the strongest here, so PT for the next couple of days is going to consist of doing all the heavy lifting.”
Everyone nodded their understanding—it made sense, there was no point in missing valuable training time during the move when the move itself could pull double-duty.
“Go on.”
The team hustled out, Adam among them.
“While I’m really happy to be heading back there, sir, why Cimbrean?” he asked.
“Funny thing about Cimbrean.” Powell told him. “You know we’ve actually got better strategic control over that system than we do over Sol?”
“We do?”
“Aye. ‘We’ meaning the Treaty nations, for a start. Cimbrean’s…legally it’s still a bit dodgy where the colony sits, if it’s its own nation or a British colony, or an Overseas Territory or whatever…but it’s definitely allied. No Russians, no Chinese or what-have-you, no other humans trying to fly in our sky. It’s either ours, or it’s alien.”
“Second,” he added. “Less hidin’ places. Sol’s packed full of fookin’ nooks and crannies. Asteroids, Saturn’s rings, more fookin’ moons than we could count if I ordered every man here to go barefoot. We don’t know what’s lurkin’ around our own home system. Hell, you know the Dominion had a research station around Saturn for years wi’out us noticing?”
“Cimbrean’s more open?”
“Aye. No asteroid belt. One gas giant, and a bloody gigantic one at that, but it’s only got the five moons and no ring. And the other planets are all…they’re not exactly your holiday resort destination. No way to build a listening post there without us noticing.”
Adam held the door for him as they entered the suit maintenance building. “Then there’s the citizens.” Powell continued. “Nobody works on Cimbrean who has any implants in their brain. We’ve got total control over who gets onto that planet—everyone’s accounted for, and everyone’s clean. Zero Hierarchy, guaranteed, and so long as the system shield’s up—and we have no reason to drop it—none are getting down there either.”
“Plus, Cimbrean’s where the ships are.” Legsy commented.
“True, aye.” Powell shrugged. “But that’s politics and OPSEC more’n anything else. Their reaction time to Earth orbit is pretty much the same as for Cimbrean, so they’re posted at Cimbrean A: because it keeps the Russians and China happy, and B: because our intelligence is more secure there.”
Doyle and Hargreaves were waiting at Adam’s station with The Hose.
The Hose was always capitalized, because The Hose was Important. Its job was to pump ice-cold water through the EV-MASS undersuit, cooling the wearer to the point that the heat-activated inner layer of the Midsuit stopped squeezing and the suit could be removed. A few months of experiments with alcohol and antifreeze had allowed them to actually pump in water that was below zero Celcius, securing a fairly quick release.
From the perspective of the suit’s wearer, this was initially a blessing. The water in the suit’s system was invariably lukewarm, burdened as it was with transporting the body heat of a big, muscular, active man. The cold water felt, at first, only pleasantly cool. Then it got cold. Then freezing. The worst part was when it got into the plumbing around the groin, though by that point the operator was invariably shivering and hissing through his teeth anyway.
All things considered, removing the EV-MASS managed the wonderful trick of being even less fun than squeezing into it, and was the reason why the suiting-up room had a rack of hot showers on standby. Staff Sergeant Lazarenko had installed a clothes dryer for good measure, in which the towels were kept hot until ready for use; an act that had earned him the immediate and undying gratitude of all the Operators and a “bloody good thinking, that man” from Powell.
“Speaking of the ships.” the Major continued, probably so as to distract himself from the chill, “We’ve got ourselves a ride to go with the new digs. After the freighter rescue, the Admiralty decided that HMS Caledonia and HMS Myrmidon needed refitting and that those fancy ET-tech cloaking devices of theirs could be put to better use.”
“So, they’re our ride now?” Firth asked.
“Caledonia is.” Powell gritted his teeth as the water really started to get cold, and forged ahead. “They converted those big flight decks of hers—sealed one of them up entirely, compartmentalized it, now it’s a hospital, good for humans and aliens. The other deck’s for us lot to use as a forward operating base.”
“And Myrmidon?” Adam asked.
“Her flight decks have been completely sealed up and filled with capacitor banks.” Powell said. “The idea is for her to serve as a flying battery for the Type Twos, give ‘em…” Adam knew exactly why he hesitated. The cold was biting now, they were nearly at suits off. “some…actual staying power: Rather than having to jump out every few minutes to recharge off a nearby star, now Myrmidon can, uh…” he swallowed, and shivered. “Waaurrr. Can, uh, can keep ‘em topped up.”
“Suit off, Major.” Powell’s lead tech said. Powell nodded and fumbled at the touchscreen mounted on the inside of his wrist, entering the suit release code with shaking fingers.
“Suit off, WARHORSE.” Hargreaves echoed, and Adam nodded, glad to follow Powell’s example. He entered the code, the pelvic seal disengaged and he leant forward and thrust his arms over his head. Doyle reached up from behind to disconnect the hoses, then moved round to the front and wriggled his fingers down either side of Adam’s head to protect his ears. Hargreaves braced a foot on his desk and heaved, Adam pulled backwards, and in an instant of relief that was almost orgasmic, the suit’s torso popped off of him in a rush.
After that, getting out of the suit legs was easy. Adam had only to lie down—a yoga mat had been brought in for exactly that purpose, thrust his legs in the air, let the techs take his ankles, lift his butt off the floor and then point his toes as Doyle and Hargreaves hauled on the suit, which again slithered off him to his profound relief.
As Doyle muscled the two suit halves back into place on their rack, Hargreaves hooked up the waste water hose and activated the suction, draining the Undersuit’s water conduits in about twenty seconds, which Adam used to remove his neck brace, and that was it. The hard part was over.
The Undersuit, sadly, was single-use. It may have been by far the cheapest part of the whole rig, but it still felt kind of wrong to have to destroy something that cost as much as a television in order to get out of it, which he did with the help of the techs and their safety blades, which hooked over the suit’s material and sliced easily through it from the collar to the wrist, and then back up from wrist to armpit and then down to the waist.
Adam had salvaged some of the discarded undersuit fabric for what the guys constantly referred to as his ‘dressmaking’.
The rest of the disrobing process fell to Adam, who wasted no time in getting out of the constricting and freezing cold garment as quickly as he could.
He’d been amused at first how awkward some of the guys were over their resulting nudity. Sure, some of the techs were women, but in the SOR’s case the military’s innate pragmatism had won out over the military’s innate conservatism—the technicians needed to be, in academic and technical terms, every bit as highly trained and high-achieving as the operators themselves. That high bar to entry had forced them to take whoever was qualified without regard for gender.
As ever, the stress, uncertainty and review hearings had all turned out to be a waste of time: The enlisted personnel just got on with their jobs.
Besides the sheer joy and lightness of no longer being squeezed by upwards of a hundred pounds of spacesuit was too liberating for him to have cared, even if lake-swimming on Cimbrean hadn’t cured him of that particular obsolete taboo years ago. He was entirely unselfconscious nowadays, even if some of the others weren’t yet.
Doyle and Hargreaves returned his high-fives and then got on with cleaning and maintaining the suit as Adam hit the showers.
This bit was always luxury time. Not even Powell seemed to have the willpower to resist the hot water and warm towel, and in any case, it was probably good for the muscles to get some thorough massage and relaxation before moving on to anything else. None of the guys spoke as they soaked—they just basked, then dried off and padded one-by-one back through into the locker room to retrieve their working clothes.
“Right.” Powell said, as the last straggler—Stevenson, as always—was lacing up his boots. “You’ve got an hour to pack your personal effects, then Lunch, then we’re on to stowing all the gym equipment. I’ll see you there.”
The “yes sir” sounded enthusiastic and motivated, to Adam’s ears. He knew his own was.
After all: He was going home.
Sean Harvey
“Sean, I’m thinking of asking Charlotte to marry me, okay? I’m the wrong guy to ask on whether I think you should be encouraging Ava to break up with her fella.”
Sean could only shake his head vigorously. “That makes you perfect.” he countered. “You know what’s at stake.”
Ben exhaled at length through his nose, shaking his head. “I guess…” he paused to think, resting his thumb thoughtfully on the end of his nose before continuing.
”…Look, between you and me, I kind of hate this Adam bloke’s guts.” he confided. “I don’t know WHY she puts up with him, and I think it’s only a matter of time before he really hurts her.”
Sean nodded, listening.
“But…you know, this is Ava we’re talking about. She’s not stupid, man.” Ben shrugged. “You’ve said it yourself, you wish you had half her brain.”
“Yeah, but there’s a difference between smart and…smart isn’t there?” Sean pointed out.
“I’m just saying…maybe you should trust her to know what she’s about.”
Sean sipped his cup of tea. “Dude, if I asked her why she loves this Adam guy? I know exactly what she’d say.” he said, setting it down.
“What?”
“She’d bang on about how he’s ‘doing something amazing’ and how they ‘went through a lot together’ and… you know, all that stuff we’ve heard before, right?”
“Right…?”
“From what she’s told us…do you know ANYTHING about what this chap’s like as a person?”
Ben hesitated. “Well, he’s…She says he’s a nice guy, and that he’s…strong…” he suggested, lamely.
“Great. Nice. Wonderful! Is that all he is, do you think?”
“Well…no, there’s got to be more to him than that, hasn’t there?”
“If there is, she’s never breathed a word of it to me.” Sean shrugged. “I wonder if she even knows what he’s like any more?”
“Could be…I don’t know, does the military change people that much?”
“He went into it when they were seventeen, Ben. They were last really together—like, full-time together—when they were sixteen. Are you the same as you were back then?”
”…No, I guess I’m not.”
“Think he is?”
Ben didn’t answer until both their cups of tea were almost completely drained. “You know what?” he asked, finally. “I think you’re right. I think you need to go for it.”
“I’m shit-scared, Ben. She might never talk to me again.”
“You said you want her to be happy, though…?”
“Yeah?”
“Well, if she does that then I guess that’ll mean she IS happy, deep down. Won’t it?” Ben pointed out.
”…I’m still allowed to hate this Adam guy even if she does-” Sean paused. “Right?”
“Sean, you can be as envious of that son of a bitch as you want.” Ben patted him on the shoulder. “I’ve got your back.”
Sean nodded, and stood. Ben stood with him, and they parted ways on the doorstep as Sean locked up his house.
”…Wish me luck?” he requested, pocketing the keys.
Ben gave him a hug. “Go find out, man.”
Ava Rios
Ava’s phone moved half an inch across her desk with a buzz and announced: “Message from Sean.”
The message was very simple. It was a selfie of Sean standing outside her front door, holding up a plastic bag with some bottles in it.
She laughed a little, set her tablet aside and got up to let him in.
“I got beer for me, some kind of Bacardi fruit…thing for you.” he said, by way of a hello, and held up the Bacardi fruit…thing deli cately between thumb and index finger, as if it was a soiled diaper or something similarly unpleasant.
“What’s the occasion?” Ava asked, smiling nervously as she took it. Things had been a little awkward between them for nearly a month now, made all the worse by the nagging part of her brain that really, really missed being able to feel relaxed around him being at war with the part of her brain that really, really got all distracted and excited in his company.
“It’s called ‘hanging out,’ duck, maybe you’ve heard of it?”
“I’m used to hanging out involving at least two more people.” She said, letting him into the kitchen and selecting a glass for her drink.
“This is true.” Sean conceded. “But Ben’s working on his dissertation and Charlotte lives here.”
“She’s working on her dissertation.” Ava told him. “And I’m working on mine. Actually, shouldn’t you be working on yours?”
“It’s not due for another two months!” he protested.
“Great. That means you only have to write, like, three hundred words a day. Knowing you, you’ve typed more words than that on Facebook so far today.”
“Well, if people will insist on being wrong on the Internet…” he smirked, and tapped their drinks together.
“Really though,” he added “Is there that much difference between three hundred words today and five hundred tomorrow?”
“But it’s never just five hundred words tomorrow, is it?” Ava pointed out. “It’s no words tomorrow either and seven hundred on Thursday. And then you might as well call it two thousand on the weekend, and before you know it you’ll be trying to write the whole thing at four in the morning the day it’s due. My way, I get it done two weeks early, no stress and I can improve it as I go.”
“So responsible.” he teased.
“Somebody has to be.” she retorted. “Besides, ‘responsible’ is the easy way. I like the easy way.”
“I suppose I can see why.” Sean mused, after sipping his beer again. “You’ve had it quite hard, after all”
Ava made an incredulous little laugh. “Only somebody as…as English as you could call it ‘quite hard.‘”
”…I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s fine. Yes, I’ve had it ‘quite hard.’ My home city was only blown up by aliens. My parents and school friends are only dead. I only witnessed my best friend’s murder. My boyfriend’s only gone away for years to become a space marine. I’ve definitely had it ‘quite hard,’ thank you for noticing!”
Sean was silent for a minute until she cooled off again, which took nearly a third of her glass. “And you’re still giving me advice on how to do my coursework properly.” he added.
“Somebody has to.” she repeated, though she offered him an apologetic little smile. “I’m sorry, I just…”
“No, I’m sorry.” Sean interrupted. He moved his chair a little closer to hers. “You’re right, I shouldn’t pretend like I know everything you’ve gone through.”
She paused, then smiled, a rare, real, sad smile with her walls down for just a few seconds. “Thanks, Sean.”
Sean toasted her with his beer again, then put it down abruptly and sat forward. “Hey, I know a joke you might like.” he said.
Ava paused in the middle of sipping her own drink. “Okay…?”
“So, a man goes to see the doctor, and he says ‘Doctor, I really need your help. I’ve been feeling so bleak and depressed lately, I don’t know what to do!” The doctor smiles and says. ‘I know just what you need. The Great Pagliacci is in town this week, the funniest clown who ever lived! Go see him, and you will see that everything is alright.’”
“A funny clown? Impossible.” Ava noted.
“Ahahaha.” Sean enunciated the dry laugh. “Anyway, the man just breaks down in tears right there in the office. ‘But doctor!’ he cries: ‘I AM the Great Pagliacci!’”
What Ava produced in reaction wasn’t really a laugh. It was too short, and the amusement behind it was the quiet humour of bitter recognition, but it seemed to please Sean nonetheless, who shuffled a little closer.
“That’s…not a great joke.” she said, unconsciously tucking a curl of hair behind her ear to look at him.
“I wasn’t telling it to be funny, duck.” Sean told her. “I’m making a point.”
“Right. You’re saying I need to look after myself, first?”
“Pretty much.”
“You’ve made that point before.”
“Yeah but…I thought, maybe I should follow my own advice.”
He kissed her.
Five perfect seconds later, when their lips parted, she was too stunned to do more than raise a few disjointed objections.
“We- Uh, m-maybe that…”
She got no further as Sean kissed her again, and it was another several seconds before she finally worked up the presence of mind to put two hands on his chest and shove him right off his chair, leaping to her feet and turning away, too confused by the cluster bomb of emotions that had hit her to even look at him.
Behind her, she heard Sean’s breathing slow. Very, very carefully, he picked himself up off the floor and straightened his clothing. “I’m sorry” he said. “I just…I needed to know, one way or the other.”
She turned to face him, hunched over her folded arms. “You should…Probably go.” she told him.
He did as she suggested, turning and shuffling out of the kitchen without a backwards glance and with his fists balled. Ava waited until she heard the front door close and lock behind him before allowing herself the luxury of collapsing back into her seat, gripping two fistfuls of her hair, and beating herself up.
Some minutes later, Charlotte poked her head round the door, rushed to her side, and provided a much-needed shoulder for her to soak.