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He lacks a frame of reference to put the things I could tell him into a context that would make sense. “It’s scary,” I tell him instead, even though the word is entirely inadequate. But it’s a word that he expects, an emotion that he can parse, so he nods knowingly.
If Mom got the same feeling in a church, then this is my own version of that, a place where I can be reflective, in awe at the knowledge that I’m in the presence of something greater than myself, something enduring and universal. Maybe we all really do attend church in our own way, whether we believe in gods or not.
To me, he is the embodiment of both the very best and worst of our profession—exceptional at his job, but willing to burn down entire planets to see it through, with ethics relegated to the notion of a luxury for gentler times.
When I finish my run and trot back through the main gate of the ISTS base, I am angrier than I was when I left—not because Masoud was wrong, but because I have to concede the possibility that he wasn’t.
We can travel between star systems and harness the power of the sun in our spaceships, but we’re still worried about pissing off the fates if we skip the proper supplications.
As welcoming as the drop ship is right now, I am the ranking officer on the ground, and my pair of boots needs to be the first to step onto the planet and the last to step off.
“You got your wish,” I tell her over helmet comms. “Live Lankies, in their natural environment. What do you think?” She looks at me for a full ten seconds before she responds. “I think,” she says slowly, and her voice sounds like she’s speaking from the middle of a dream. “I think I am going to check and see if they have any openings in the xenobotany division.”
“I thought you’d had your fill for the day,” I say. “This might be another bad life choice.” “Track runner, remember?” she says. “You can’t outrun a Lanky at full speed. Track runner or not.” “I don’t have to outrun them. Just you.” I laugh and shake my head.
“Move everyone between those rocks, Captain,” I say to Harper. “And if we have to run back and she’s in the lead, maybe wing her in the leg.”
Comms, inform the battle group that the remaining seed ship is trying to break contact, and that we intend to pursue and destroy.”
“Pursue a Lanky ship,” Lieutenant Colonel Campbell says with a dry smile. “I don’t think anyone’s ever put those words in that particular order.”
“How are you doing, Major? You’ve had a bitch of a day so far. Looks like it’s not getting any better anytime soon.” “Could have gone worse,” I say. “At least I’m still around to feel tired.” “For now,” she says. “Day’s not over yet.”
Combat soldiers don’t get hooked on war. They get hooked on the exhilaration of being alive.
He runs both hands through his hair and exhales a long breath. “Join the Fleet, see the galaxy,” he says. “I need to track down my recruiter and break his jaw in three places.”
“You’ve been in for fifteen years, Drentlaw,” I say. “Since before the Lankies. You didn’t have a recruiter. You applied for this. Just like I did.”
“Well, sir,” he says. “Then I guess we’re both colossal dipshits. No offense.” “None taken,” I say. “I’ll never ding someone for stating the truth.”
