\u201cOkay, listen up, cockroaches!\u201d The sergeant\u2019s voice echoed in the docking bay. We had just trooped off the shuttle and it was still hissing behind us as it cooled down. The heat of it at our backs felt good in the chill of the tanker, prepped to enter outer orbit where the temperature would drop even further. <\/p>\n
There were five of us, mainly reserves who\u2019d never seen combat. I had seen combat. So had Hen beside me. They usually stuck the shocks with the reserves because war wasn\u2019t like it used to be, they said. I gripped my left wrist, trying to steady it. There was still pain there where the scar was. That\u2019s where they usually hit you, slicing at the wrist. Then you either bled out or you lost a hand. Either way you were out of combat. Or, if you got lucky, you were in the reserves. I got lucky, I guess. <\/p>\n
\u201cGonna outlive the apocalypse,\u201d Hen said beside me in a low pitched whisper. I laughed. It was an old joke and a tired laugh.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s a standard drill,\u201d the sergeant said, shooting us the stink-eye, but men like him, they played gentle around shocks. We were heroes, if you hadn\u2019t heard. \u201cChammies in the northeast quadrant, arms-locker inaccessible. Standard issue guns,\u201d he pointed to a crate beside him, \u201cwith half-charge.\u201d<\/p>\n
One of the reserves cursed under his breath. The sergeant got in his face and just stared at him a moment. Corks was a thin kid, with just a wisp of a pubescent mustache on his face. He got red from the neck of his uniform up to his hair with the sergeant up close. <\/p>\n
\u201cYou say something, private?\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cNo, sir!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t think you heard me right. I said, did you say something, private?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes, sir.\u201d But his voice faltered.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou think this is some sorta game? This may be orbit today, but tomorrow you get called up to the rings, you got chammies jumpin a civvy ship, and you\u2019re just pissing yourself, because your gun\u2019s half-charged and you think you\u2019re gonna die!\u201d<\/p>\n
Corks didn\u2019t answer. There wasn\u2019t really any right answer to something like that.<\/p>\n
\u201cGet your gun, private,\u201d the sergeant ordered through gritted teeth.<\/p>\n
The guns were standard issue, like the sergeant had said, which meant they were pretty weak to start with. You can say a war is on all you want, but unless the regents saw some money in it, it was the civvy ships who paid for the top guns so their guards, even if badly trained, had weapons to make up for that bad training. These guns, they had one trigger which was like to overheat as not, and one setting. Charge runs out fast on a gun like that. Starting with half-charge, you may as well not have a gun at all if you\u2019re up against chammies.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe point,\u201d the sergeant drawled, his eye fixed on Corks who was trying to settle into a standard stance, \u201cis that you know how to hand-to-hand with bastards like these if the need should ever arise.\u201d<\/p>\n
He scanned the rest of us, not quite looking Hen and me in the face. There was a chance he\u2019d never seen combat himself. That would be my guess. Because it seemed sometimes, you know, that those who\u2019d never fought often talked the loudest.
\n<\/p>\n
They didn\u2019t look like they did in the articles, the apartments where Tep and I lived. It was one room where you ate and you watched your shows, and it was another room where you slept and you had sex. There was a closet with a flusher and water, but it wasn\u2019t anything to brag about. We hadn\u2019t ever bothered to put up the painted tiles we\u2019d bought in the civvy market. There had been some plan at the time, I guess, to make our place look like some sorta show\u2014tiles on the wall, plants hanging from the ceiling, and maybe some kinda rug to cover the floor. By the time we\u2019d ported back, though, making out like kids the whole way, I think we\u2019d really forgotten that plan. <\/p>\n
It was hard, blending in. You never felt like you belonged there. Actual nonsim gravity, for one. It made you feel a little too stuck. We\u2019d spent a lifetime in the rings. We were career military, and career military, well, we had bunks and maybe two minutes of privacy in a day. We had meals served us on plastic plates that smelled like onion. How were you meant to pick out your own food, to know what you felt like eating? I guess, really, there was never any question about whether we\u2019d start up again in the reserves.<\/p>\n
\u201cEyes on me,\u201d Hen said once the door to the docking bay was sealed behind us, a little pop at the end. \u201cLet\u2019s not bunch this up, and maybe we can get outta here before food. Corks, you\u2019re in the rear.\u201d<\/p>\n
He had the gall to look a little offended when Hen said that. I knocked him in the arm with my elbow, not really caring to be gentle. \u201cBack.\u201d<\/p>\n
Hen looked at the other three of us. \u201cStag, Prita, flank. Sitha, with me.\u201d<\/p>\n
I could see what he was doing. We\u2019d be in front, and between the two of us, would probably take out whatever the fake chammies threw at us. He wasn\u2019t really in it for the training. <\/p>\n
\u201cMight work better for us to flank, Hen.\u201d<\/p>\n
He looked at me like I\u2019d somehow stepped on his pride, all clenched jaw. \u201cThey\u2019ll just bunch us up.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah, and what? You\u2019re gonna bleed? Come on, it\u2019s drill. Someone oughta get drilled.\u201d<\/p>\n
He grumbled a bit, and pointed with his gun. \u201cStag and Prita in front then.\u201d<\/p>\n
There was a look on their face, something between fear and excitement. Something kinda sad. Stag was a broad guy and when he moved ahead of me, all I could see was the swath of his insulated back. Hen and I split to either side and just a bit back, but before we did, he hissed in my ear, like it was joke. That\u2019s what he thought, I\u2019m thinking. \u201cWhat, you getting all motherly?\u201d I shoved him off with the butt of my gun.<\/p>\n
The corridor off of the bay wasn\u2019t too long. There was a door straight ahead and it looked clear to there. <\/p>\n
\u201cWhat\u2019s the code?\u201d Prita asked, an edge of panic in her voice, like she\u2019d forgotten everything she\u2019d ever learned. <\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s a drill, Prita,\u201d I said. \u201cBrake it. Take a breath.\u201d<\/p>\n
She looked back at me, startled as if she\u2019d never heard my voice before. \u201cI can\u2019t remember.\u201d She had the gasping look on her face like she\u2019d just dropped her wedding ring down the sewage drain. <\/p>\n
\u201cStandard military ship,\u201d Hen barked impatiently.<\/p>\n
She shook her head as if to clear it, but Stag was stepping in. He punched the code. The door groaned open. I guess I couldn\u2019t expect any of the ships back in the yard to be up to snuff. The floor lurched beneath us. We were in orbit.<\/p>\n
\u201cBrake it,\u201d I shouted while snapping the switch on my own suit. It was something you said when you were trying to calm someone down, yeah, but really it meant you needed to brake your suit in prep for leaving the gravity-field. The others did it too, though Prita almost left the floor before she\u2019d managed.<\/p>\n
\u201cDamn,\u201d Hen shouted at them. \u201cYou\u2019d all be dead by now if we were in the rings. Chammies, they grow up in anti-gravity, they eat it, they breathe it. If you can\u2019t brake it before those bastards come at you, you\u2019re dead. They have your face off.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThey don\u2019t do that, Hen, you know that.\u201d <\/p>\n
He looked at me. \u201cWhat\u2019s up your suit, Sitha? You got something with me? These recruits think they\u2019re face is going to be some chammie\u2019s dinner\u2014how will that hurt?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHere, stop,\u201d I said. \u201cWhat do you know?\u201d I looked at Prita, Corks, and Stag. \u201cWhat do you know about chammies?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cPeregrinus sapiens,\u201d Stag said, surprising me. He had a small grin on his face. \u201cI had some time at the academy before I signed up.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOther than your academic bullshit, what do you know?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cTime\u2019s running,\u201d Hen muttered. <\/p>\n
\u201cWhat do you know?\u201d<\/p>\n
Prita, she looked at me like I was some girl in her primary she had feelings for, shy and sorta scared. But when she spoke, she knew stuff. \u201cThey\u2019re chameleons,\u201d she said. \u201cThey blend into their environments. They\u2019re fast. Faster than any Earth mammal we\u2019ve tracked. They\u2019re intelligent. They can read you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah, that\u2019s right,\u201d I said. \u201cAnd they\u2019ve been traveling space longer.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThey\u2019re carnivorous,\u201d Corks spoke up.<\/p>\n
I smiled. \u201cYeah, but so are you, Corks.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t eat meat.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShiiiiit,\u201d Hen interrupted. \u201cSitha, can we get this moving?\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked at him and tickled the trigger of my gun. He grinned back, a little crazy. \u201cYou got the hots for me, girl?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cStag, Prita, you\u2019re still front.\u201d I tucked my gun close up under my armpit. \u201cAnd Hen?\u201d<\/p>\n
He glanced at me, sidestepping his way to Stag\u2019s left. <\/p>\n
\u201cYou gotta stop asking for it,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
Tep and I were most often together, but sometimes even if you\u2019re close, you need time alone. When he needed it, he went to drinks. When I needed it, I stayed back in the apartment, and I read the articles. They had full, glossy pages. They were expensive, made for those who could afford paper. Artificial paper, of course. That shit don\u2019t grow on trees. <\/p>\n
I read all about what it was for, living on the ground. They seemed to think it was something about looking at the stars rather than being in them. It seemed that ever since Earth got its own asteroid belt, all you ever wanted to do was try and see what you could see through that. Down to the patterns of the rugs and the pictures on the tiles, it was stars. Which was kinda weird to read about when you had been stationed in the rings for all your life before. <\/p>\n
When they knocked on my door, I was thinking about that. My feet felt sorta stuck to the floor as I moved. <\/p>\n
\u201cWhat do you want?\u201d I said as I opened it. No one comes to the door anymore unless it\u2019s a kid seeking trouble. So that\u2019s why I said what I did when I opened it. <\/p>\n
\u201cSitha?\u201d It was a couple of men, uniformed.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s what they call me,\u201d I said, talking slow. It was the most human I\u2019d ever felt, looking at them and not knowing what they were going to say next. <\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re going to want to come with us.\u201d<\/p>\n
Their faces were so solemn but also sort of filled with a man\u2019s joy in grim duty.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t understand.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYour partner, Tep,\u201d I started nodding as if they needed confirmation of that. \u201cHe\u2019s been killed.\u201d<\/p>\n
Grief sort of hits me slow. It\u2019s a good quality in career military. But it also meant that in that moment there was nothing I could feel but curiosity.<\/p>\n
\u201cShow me,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
They nodded now, as if this was what you expected when you came to the door of a woman who killed things for a living. <\/p>\n
\u201cHold up,\u201d Hen said, impatient. \u201cIf you\u2019ve got the computer, you should use it.\u201d He pointed with a showgirl\u2019s grace to the panel on the wall. Prita and Stag retraced their steps. <\/p>\n
He looked at me, but he was kinda unsettled now. He rolled his eyes when I didn\u2019t say anything. \u201cIf you think you can train them better, go for it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo,\u201d I said. \u201cNo. Best you take it.\u201d<\/p>\n
Prita remembered the code this time. She waited while the computer loaded a gridwork of the ship, each level in a different fluorescent color. Overlapped, it looked like a drawing with a child\u2019s crayons. It was slow. The ship was definitely due to be junked.<\/p>\n
\u201cNortheast quadrant the sergeant said,\u201d Stag said over her shoulder, eyes squinted at the screen.<\/p>\n
\u201cRead any life forms?\u201d Corks asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cBrake it,\u201d she said, her voice breathy and nervous. Then she tapped on the screen. It zoomed in on the quadrant. \u201cYeah, there are chammies there.\u201d<\/p>\n
Hen laughed. <\/p>\n
\u201cSo we should take \u2018em?\u201d Stag said, somewhere between a question and a statement. <\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t ask me,\u201d Hen answered. \u201cThey\u2019re your chammies.\u201d He loaded sarcasm on the word like gravy on potatoes.<\/p>\n
Stag looked at each of his fellow reserves and nodded. \u201cCome on,\u201d he said. <\/p>\n
We followed, turning down a corridor branch on our right hand. There was a rumbling sound somewhere deep in the engines and a strip of red lights began blinking at the top of the walls. <\/p>\n
\u201cBrace yourselves,\u201d Hen yelled at them. <\/p>\n
Stag and Prita looked back at us, not understanding. Corks had already pushed himself up against the wall.<\/p>\n
\u201cBrace yourselves,\u201d Hen repeated, pushing them roughly against the walls as well. Which meant he was unbraced and when the corridor started to shake like a poorly-built house in an earthquake, he was stumbling to find footing.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat is it?\u201d Prita asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cIf you weren\u2019t in the reserves,\u201d I said, \u201cyou\u2019d be in the rings. Showers are fairly regular things out there.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019d all be dead by now if we were in the rings,\u201d Hen repeated his mantra. <\/p>\n
\u201cKeep moving,\u201d I said, talking over him.<\/p>\n
They walked forward gingerly, one hand leaning on the wall. We felt like a bunch of rocks in a tumbler. <\/p>\n
\u201cThe chammies,\u201d Corks shouted from behind, because the simulation program was starting to make the pinging sound you\u2019d hear in the rings during a real shower, \u201cthey thrown off by this?\u201d<\/p>\n
I shook my head and kept moving forward.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt was a bar fight?\u201d I asked, because that didn\u2019t sound like Tep. Tep drank, but he drank in the way a man does when he wants to savor the taste of something.<\/p>\n
But he was lying there spread-eagled on the floor of the bar. The bartender had closed it down and there was a ring of bar stools pulled out around Tep like a strange sort of yellow tape. I could smell the iron whiskey that Tep liked, not because it was that good, but because it was what you drank in the rings. He was dressed in civvy gear which still looked strange to me, a vacuumed jacket and slacks. <\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m sorry, Sitha,\u201d the bartender said like he was apologizing for a spill. But his face looked upset. <\/p>\n
\u201cWhat happened, Rally?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m not sure.\u201d His hands wandered over the taps. \u201cI heard loud voices, and then one of them had a slitter out. I didn\u2019t see his face. Not a regular, I don\u2019t think. Tep was shouting back just as loud.\u201d He let his breath out with a long sigh. \u201cI don\u2019t know, Sitha, and I\u2019m sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe was using a slitter,\u201d I said, wondering, and knelt down near Tep. He was on his back, his hands were sorta raised up over his head. And the pool of blood, what there was, was under his arm. <\/p>\n
\u201cTep,\u201d I said as if I was waiting to hear an answer. I put a hand on his shoulder and the way he felt still sent a chill up my arm. <\/p>\n
\u201cMilitary-issued,\u201d one of the cops said. He showed me where, on the floor, an open slitter was lying. It had a hair-thin razor blade used in hand-to-hand combat. \u201cAnd I\u2019m guessing, based on the wounds, that the perp was military-trained. Dressed him up like a chammie.\u201d<\/p>\n
I put both hands on Tep\u2019s side and pushed him over on his back. There was a smell of metal. His skin looked yellow. Both his wrists were slit.<\/p>\n
\u201cUnusual way to kill a man,\u201d the cop kept going. \u201cMaybe\u2014was your partner a hemophiliac?\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked up at him, then back at Tep\u2019s face, all haggard and slack-jawed. You weren\u2019t supposed to die in your bar. But maybe it would have been the same if we\u2019d stayed in combat instead of taking this new assignment. Like I said, that\u2019s where they hit you in hand-to-hand, when the guns were out of charge. \u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d I could smell the fluid from his nerve sac, leaking into the blood, transparent like egg whites. <\/p>\n
\u201cIt may be that the fight was going on longer than it seemed,\u201d Rally added in his two-cents. \u201cThey were fighting hard after the shouting. And it was hard getting people to clear out, so it was a bit before I could get to him.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWe\u2019re going to get a doctor up here for post-mortem.\u201d Maybe because of the way I was acting, they seemed to have forgotten that I was the bereaved. They were talking like I wouldn\u2019t care if I heard about my partner being cut up.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo doctor,\u201d I said. He looked at me, questioning. \u201cReligious observance.\u201d<\/p>\n
It seemed that reason worked. They turned to each other and there was whispering. Religion introduces a certain respect into some kinds of circumstances. <\/p>\n
\u201cYou didn\u2019t see who it was, Rally?\u201d My grief was catching up with me, moving sluggish through my veins. <\/p>\n
He shook his head and tried to reach a hand across the bar to hold my hand or pat my shoulder. I moved out of reach.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s alright, Rally,\u201d I said. \u201cI\u2019ll find him myself.\u201d<\/p>\n
The simulated shower was over. We stopped outside the supply locker in the northeast quadrant. <\/p>\n
\u201cThey\u2019ve got to be in there,\u201d Corks whispered. His voice was bordering on shrill. <\/p>\n
\u201cHere, listen up,\u201d Hen said. \u201cYou\u2019ve got maybe one good volley in the guns. Sweep them high and then low. Sometimes the chammies stay close to the ground.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd when the guns are dead?\u201d Prita asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cThen fall back on your damned training. It\u2019s a quicker kill anyways if you hit them right across the wrists.\u201d Hen held up his hands, baring his wrist between the gloves and the arms of his suit. \u201cYou hit the nerve sac and they\u2019re dead before they hit the ground.\u201d He was walking, and stopped in front of each of them to tap them on the helmet. \u201cIt\u2019s like getting hit in the brain,\u201d he said. They flinched nervously under his tapping finger. <\/p>\n
\u201cBut if it\u2019s a simulation, won\u2019t they have suits on? How will we do that?\u201d<\/p>\n
Hen threw back his chin in aggravation.<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, obviously you\u2019re not going to kill your fellow idiots. You do as I say, though, and you\u2019ll trigger the sensors they\u2019ve got built in and the sergeant will see you know what you\u2019re doing. Here\u2019s my fervent wish that their suits are as thick as your heads.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI think I\u2019m ready,\u201d Stag said.<\/p>\n
\u201cReally? You\u2019ve only been standing outside the supply locker for ten minutes. If you were in the rings\u2014\u201d he began.<\/p>\n
\u201cThey know, Hen,\u201d I snapped. \u201cLet them go.\u201d Then I stepped back to where he stood and spoke a bit more quietly.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd we ought to let them go in by themselves if they\u2019re ever going to learn anything.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFine by me,\u201d he grunted. \u201cI wanna see how fast they die.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cGo, go, go!\u201d Stag was screaming. He punched in the code as he yelled. Prita was standing at the ready as the door groaned open. There was a flash of light and the smell of gas as guns began to fire from inside. <\/p>\n
Corks bent over as if might throw up. \u201cGet in there,\u201d I shoved him. <\/p>\n
Despite the noise and the smell from the locker, Hen and I felt sort of isolated out in the corridor. I looked at him. He was holding his gun loosely, one finger looped near the trigger, but it was at his leg, not up. <\/p>\n
\u201cI think you fight dirty, Hen.\u201d<\/p>\n
He lifted his head. He smiled as if he thought this was me flirting. <\/p>\n
\u201cDirty as they come,\u201d he popped his lips on the last word.<\/p>\n
\u201cDid you know?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHmm?\u201d He sensed the shift in tone. He wasn\u2019t a bad fighter after all. His instincts were slow, but not like the reserves.<\/p>\n
\u201cDid you know that the man you killed in Rally\u2019s bar was my partner? Because I think that would be kinda low, Hen, if you were coming onto the woman whose guy you killed.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSitha.\u201d He was thinking, buying time. <\/p>\n
I just stood still, watching.<\/p>\n
\u201cI never meant to kill no one.\u201d He was pulling his gun up. He held it steady under his arm. <\/p>\n
\u201cNot then, maybe,\u201d I said. \u201cBut it\u2019s hard to care on that score.\u201d I paused and when he said nothing, I continued. \u201cGiven the circumstances.\u201d<\/p>\n
Someone screamed inside the locker. The sounds of guns had faded. Whatever was happening in the fight, it was down to hand-to-hand combat.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m faster than you, Hen.\u201d I shifted my own gun.<\/p>\n
\u201cLike hell.\u201d But he waited, which was strange.<\/p>\n
I shot once over his head which made him jump to one side, but I was there before him. I took a handful of his suit in my fist and I thumped him up against the wall of the corridor. The smell of molten metal burned in both our noses from where the gun had blasted the wall. I rammed the gun, still hot, down on his other hand and he dropped his own weapon. My wrist was throbbing. <\/p>\n
\u201cThe first time I was ever on a civvy ship,\u201d I said, my nose almost touching his, \u201cI learned something important, Hen.\u201d<\/p>\n
The docking bay was filled with some sort of gas the moment we bored our way in through the hull. The guards inside were wearing masks and a few of them were holding guns. Most of them, though, were waiting, hunched down low, hands out in front, gripping slitters. I immediately tumbled forward, coming out of my roll directly in front of the first guard. I reached for his wrist as I lunged upwards, carrying his hand and the slitter far over my head. I twisted my hand and there was the sound of bones crunching. The slitter fell from his hand. <\/p>\n
Whatever the gas was meant to do, it did not affect us. Vision was impaired, but neurologically we were fine. We fight silently, so the sounds we heard were the hollow thumps of men falling to the ground or the sound of their breath leaving their lungs in labored gasps. Tep was near me. I could sense him and there was a comfort in that. We fight more as a unit than I\u2019ve heard men speculate. It\u2019s just not an organization we have to shout about to keep intact.<\/p>\n
The man I had hold of died quickly. But there was another right behind him. He came in low and slashed upwards, cutting across my wrist, just below the sac. I hissed in pain. Tep felt that. The pain was hard to take, but I jerked around, snapping the slitter out of the new guy\u2019s hand. <\/p>\n
Then it was time. Most of us retreated, back through the hole in the hull, and I think the gas ended up really helping us, covering over what I had to do. We had strict orders from the commanding unit, and we weren\u2019t meant to question it. There was a knot in my gut from the thought of it. We\u2019d been given no explanation for the order, no reasoning behind this infiltration. Just an order to wait. Tep and I were close, a unit that worked well even alone and cut off from all that we knew. I often wondered later whether we\u2019d been forgotten, whether we\u2019d become too human in our separation.<\/p>\n
Tep and I lay as still as we could near the men we had killed. There was shouting coming down the corridors. We could hear it faintly through the bay doors. There was a tingling in my veins and my skin tightened around me. My wrist was warm which only increased the pain. <\/p>\n
I was quiet though. And when the men came pouring through the bay doors, I was one of the first victims up on the stretchers.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou got to hide yourself well, Hen,\u201d I let my gun drop to the floor which seemed to unnerve him more than anything else. I think he pissed himself. \u201cif you\u2019re going to kill something.\u201d<\/p>\n
I flicked the toggle at the neck of his suit and peeled back the insulating layer. The thin cloth shirt he wore underneath was soaked with sweat. I held him tight by the shoulder and pushed him down until he was sitting limp against the wall and I was crouched in front of him. I picked up the gun again and pressed the barrel against his chest, just under the shoulder bone, right over his heart. <\/p>\n
I was angry and I could feel it affecting the chems under the epidermal layer of my skin. I\u2019m not quite sure what Hen saw but he opened his mouth, gasping, and tried to speak. It seemed like his tongue was choking him.<\/p>\n
I pulled the trigger. The heat from the blast felt like hot sun on my face. There was a smell of charred flesh. I stood up. I kicked my gun toward the opposite wall of the corridor. Hen\u2019s head had dropped to his chest. <\/p>\n
\u201cWhat happened?\u201d Corks stumbled out of the locker and stopped, panting, putting his hands on his knees and bending over. Prita and Stag followed close behind him. I could hear men taking off their suits inside the locker and laughing. It seemed the simulation was over. <\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d I turned my head to them. \u201cWhich one of you can\u2019t shoot a gun straight?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIs he dead?\u201d Prita\u2019s question was one of the most humorous I had heard that day, but I had no trouble keeping my smile hidden. <\/p>\n
\u201cWhat happens when your heart stops beating?\u201d Perhaps there was something sort of enjoyable in harassing them.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t understand. Why was his suit open?\u201d Corks dragged himself closer, but he still looked afraid to get too near the body.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe\u2019s an idiot and said he needed to get a breather waiting on you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, shit,\u201d Stag looked back into the locker and then again at Hen. \u201cWe need to get a medic. We need to call the sergeant.\u201d<\/p>\n
I tapped my ear, reminding Stag of his comlink. It was for the best that Hen had been like he was to them. There wasn\u2019t anyone here bending over him and wanting to touch him and thinking already of how to kill the one who shot him.<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah, call the sergeant,\u201d I said. \u201cTell him you\u2019re ready to face real chammies.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
\u201cOkay, listen up, cockroaches!\u201d The sergeant\u2019s voice echoed in the docking bay. We had just trooped off the shuttle and it was still hissing behind us as it cooled down. The heat of it at our backs felt good in the chill of the tanker, prepped to enter outer orbit where the temperature would drop …<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4063,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-37895","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fiction","entry entry-center"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/37895","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/4063"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=37895"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/37895\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":139551,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/37895\/revisions\/139551"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=37895"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=37895"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=37895"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}