For Love of Tiger, and Family

Taking aim was easy.  The red hull of her target was easy to spot in the darkness.  The enemy was close enough to see.  Her copilot was taking care of their defense.  Now it was up to her to win the fight.  It was a challenge she was up to.  Precise aim.  A maneuverable enemy.  The flashing lights all around.  Such a fierce battle.  The Protectorate was putting up a good fight.  But the Directorate was pushing hard, and cracks were starting to appear in the armor of the enemy.  A defense line of countless battleships, fighters, bombers, armors, and even the asteroid that they were fighting at being turned into a fortress.  The sole base of a planet that was central the Protectorate’s ability to continue their war machine.  If they lost here, it was all over.
Focusing on her target, the red armor danced around with everything it had.  This pilot had skill.  But whoever it was, they knew that their time was running short.  She was right on them, and there was nowhere to run.  Sending out lances of particle beams, a smile grew on her face.
“Stop running and fight, you coward!”
One last particle beam, right into the leg of the enemy.  It blasted it open, sending the armor spiraling out of control.  Now she had it!  Aiming her cannon at the machine desperately trying to right itself, she changed firing mode.  Switching over to the physical ammunition, she send rounds right at the body.  Ripping open the synthetic muscle and machinery, it was a twisted mesh of red and black metal, with red circulator fluid flowing out like blood.  Then it struck the cockpit, and the enemy stopped moving.  A round straight through the cockpit, whoever the pilot was had to have been blown to bits.  Nothing but red chunks inside.
“Too bad he didn’t fight,” her copilot said.  “Maybe he would have lasted longer.”
She shook her head.  “He was dead before this started.  Just didn’t know it.”
On to find a new target.  That red color, with the black metal, it brought memories back.  Of speed, and who she used to be.  The memories were a harsh feeling.

The danger was unbelievable.  The track was suspended 200 stories up.  It was built on the most elaborate skyscraper of all time.  A palace for the opulent, who came to bet on the most dangerous race that has ever been.  If you fell from this place, you died.  It wasn’t a question of if.  It was a mathematical certainty.  There was no way to survive an impact from this height.  Fear was in the air with all the people with any sense.
To her, it made her feel alive.  When the light went green, and she slammed on the accelerator, this was everything she had dreamed of for so long.  The racers all blasted forward at speed that made you barely able to comprehend what you were saying.  A beautiful, sunny evening.  So much ambiance.  It was amazing.  Setting sunlight shimmered on the red paint on top of her racer.  Tiger was its name.  A racer that had passed down through her family for three generations.  Listening to her father talk about it with her and her brother, it was her legacy.  A legacy which stood with her now, as the machine blasted forward.
There was no guard rail.  Just gravity plating that kept them suspended and on the track.  Blasting forward, it was tight.  Every racer knew the score.  Whoever took this race took home the Platinum Cup.  The last race in the season.
Flying forward, she banked through turns.  This course was tight, and with no guard system, any onboard navigation assistance was good as useless.  She never turned that on anyway.  It was her racing skills that were going to carry this!  A voice in her ear, telling her about the track and the position of other racers.  Her crew.  Every racer had one.
A purple racer came up beside her.  It smashed into her side.  So that’s how this is!  She snarled and took the hit.  A turn was coming up.  It was trying to edge her out to get close to the edge and keep it tight on the inside.  Or push her off and kill her.
It made another move to edge her out, when she did the unthinkable.  Suddenly hitting the brakes, it aimed over, flying right off the edge.  That’s one piece of competition out.  Whoever that pilot was, he had a good 30 seconds to really think about how dumb that was.  Smashing the accelerator again, the g-forces hit her like a load of bricks.  A couple racers had pulled ahead, but no matter.  These guys were amateurs.  Hence why she had gotten ahead of them before.
Second lap, and now it was tighter.  The lead racer was a black and green machine.  It got into a bad battle with a very robust blue machine.  A muscle racer.  Not at all like hers.  Made for handling and speed, it wasn’t made to fight it out.  This could be trouble.  The green machine was made exclusively for handling, and had some muscle.  Enough that the two of them were fighting it out at the front.  Coming up behind them, she looked for an opening to make a pass.  Don’t play your hand yet.  Let them fight.  Let them damage one-another.  Her time would come.
That’s when it happened.  A yellow racer was taking the same approach as her.  It had an opening!  Right as she was going to pull ahead, the racer swung on the inside.  Not even made for handling, this tiny thing was built for speed alone.  A glass vehicle.  Taking a clear lead, she swore.  Now her chances were down.  Second place?  The second place purse was no slouch.
No!  This wasn’t how the legacy of the Tiger and her family was going to go down!  Third lap.  One more after this.  Green racer couldn’t handle the pressure anymore and decided to drop back and let the blue racer pull ahead.  Smart move.  The blue vehicle was a monster.  This track had so many turns, though.  Muscle vehicle had to sacrifice speed during the dangerous curves.  Got her closer.  But too close and it would turn its eyes on her.
Meanwhile, the yellow racer was losing some lead.  It didn’t have the handling to take these insane corners and risk falling off the edge.  This pilot was good, but not brave enough to go the distance.  Blue racer was much moreso.  These two were a risk.  At the top of the track again, now a winding way down for the final lap.  She knew this had to be it.  Either she would do something daring, or fail.
Seeing a curve ahead, with a path right below.  She knew what she had to do.  In a flash, she disengaged the gravity controls.  Her pit crew was screaming at her, but that didn’t matter.  This was it!  She steered right at the edge!  Able to hear the crew screaming, she began a swift descent almost straight down.  Seeing the endless abyss below, if she hadn’t timed this right, it was a fact that she’d be dead in 50 seconds.
“Fuck it!” she swore.  Hitting the accelerator, her boosters kicked on.  Just a little further!  Down further and further, then hit the gravity controls.  The machine damn-near smashed into the track, but she made it!  Dropping a Naseel Crystal into the engine, the machine roared back to life and took off with a mind of its own.  This was it!  No one even close to behind.  But that wasn’t enough.  Not just to win, but to fly through that finish line and have the entire Directorate seeing what a master she was at this race.
This level of g-force was crushing her chest.  It was blazing through her entire body.  If it wasn’t for the g-suit, this would surely be killing her.  Keeping the blood flowing.  The Tiger was barely able to be controlled.  It had a mind of its own!  The speed was beyond the ability of the cameras recording and broadcasting the race to keep up with.  Her pit crew was pissed at her.  Who gives a fuck?!  In that moment, she didn’t just feel alive.  She knew she was.
Last leg.  Blue fire coming out the back as the Crystal made its way through the engine liquid.  The final segment was the blaze down the last wall of the skyscraper.  A straight shot down.  So freaky to see the ground coming up at her so fast, but the gravity plating guided her up at the last second.  Through the finish line, blazing through in a way that blasted over all of the spectators and announcers there.  It was chaos!  Sliding in to the winner’s circle, her racer came to a stop.  Smoke and steam was pouring out of every single linking compartment.  The Crystal had done so much damage.  Pushed the machine well past what it was capable of handling.  She didn’t care.
Breathing so hard, the yellow and blue racer tied for second.  It was a perfect tie.  The judges couldn’t call it for either, so both had to be given the second place purse.  But the trophy and Champion’s purse went to her.  Opening the cockpit, she stumbled out and hit the plating, unable to stand.  Her pit crew ran to her side, helping her up.  Taking off the helmet, her ears were greeted to the thunderous applause of the crowd.  Everyone was in awe of what they had just seen.  Announcers could be heard saying this would go down in race history for both the most dramatic finish, and the most insane stunt ever pulled.  The name of the racer was being shouted into screens everywhere – Tiger.
In that moment, her father and brother could be put to rest.  It made her smile.

At the awards ceremony, the pilot of the yellow racer went over, eager to meet who had won.  This girl was so cute.  Naturally blonde hair, a product of genetic engineering.  Hadn’t been a natural blonde in three generations.  The girl gave her her number and told her to call.  Sounded like a good idea.  Why not celebrate with a gracious loser?  No point letting that perfect body go to waste.
At the end of the day, the pit crew was taking Tiger back to their base to begin repairs.  Everyone was talking about how after this they’d enjoy some time off.  No other races for months.  Heading up to the apartment above the garage, a voice called after her.
“Can we talk?” her chief mechanic said.
Looking over, she let out a sigh.  “Sure.”
Heading into the office, he poured her a cup of coffee.
“What the fuck was that today?”  It was clear there was barely-contained rage.
“What was what?”
“You know what I mean!  That stunt you pulled on the track!  What the fuck was that?!  Were you trying to get yourself killed?!”
She shrugged.  “It was the best way to get ahead.”
“Bullshit!  You could easily have waited and then used the Crystal to get a last boost on the final leg.  At that speed, you easily would have passed the two from where you were.”
“Maybe.  And maybe that muscle racer would have smashed me to bits as I tried it.”
“No way!  Nobody is that crazy.  Not at the speed you’d be going.  It would have fucked up both of your vehicles beyond repair.”
Another shrug.  “I guess we’ll never know, will we?”
“Spirits, woman!  If you’re looking for a way to die, there are much easier ones than this!”
Looking him right in the eye.  “I was looking for a way to win.  I just didn’t care that I was risking my life.”
“Yeah, and that scares the hell out of me!  There are a lot easier ways to kill yourself than this.  What if you had died?  What would happen to the Tiger?  It’s legacy would be the last racer in your family destroying it in a foolhardy stunt!”
A cold look.  “But it wasn’t!  Its legacy is to go down as the racer the won the Platinum Cup from a pilot who has no sponsors.  Tiger will go down in history!  So will I!  I should have died doing that.  Now, dozens of pilots are going to get themselves killed trying to outdo me.”
He walked away, shaking his head.  “And what will it be next time?  When the next race comes up, what insane stunt will you try?!”
Looking out the window.  “There won’t be another race.”
Genuine shock.  “What?!”
“I’m done.  Me and the Tiger are retiring.  I just did something that should have gotten me killed.  There’s nowhere else to go from this.  I can retire easy on the Champion’s purse, even after paying for repairs for Tiger.”  A little smile on her face.  “You gotta know when to bow out.  I’m gonna go out on top.  Forever have the respect my dad always wanted.  That’s fine by me.”
The mechanic thought for a moment.  “So it was go out on top or die?”
She nodded.  “Yeah, pretty much.”
“You’re insane, you know that?”
A little chuckle.  “I’d rather be known as insane than weak.”

Breaking the news to her crew wasn’t easy, but they took it better than she expected.  A lot of them liked the idea she had.  They would be known as the pit crew for the greatest racer who had ever been, on the best racer ever built.  That was a phenomenal thing to put on a resume.  They’d have no trouble finding jobs after this.
There was a fairly epic party planned to go out on.  Retirement for the now-legendary Tiger.  A call to the cute blonde who had given her her number.  Time for some fun?  Heading over, she took that woman and did things to her that she’d remember forever.  All fun and games.  Getting back home was hard.  Would she see her again?  Why not.  An offer was made for next time she was on this planet to come have some fun.
Saying goodnight to Tiger, it was a slog up the stairs.  The tiredness hit all at once.  Her head hit her pillow at what she assumed was mach five.

What woke her was the blast that sent her and her bed careening toward the wall.  The impact brought her to her senses in a millisecond.  What had happened?!  Getting to her feet on wobbly legs, she looked out the window to see impacts happening everywhere.  An attack?!  Who would attack the Directorate on a core world?!  It was madness!  Then the thought came to her – the Tiger!
Not even putting on pants, she went running toward the garage.  Slamming the sensor to open the door, she was greeted with flame pouring in.  Inside was a twisted mess of burning metal and destroyed parts.  No!  Peering through the burning metal, she saw Tiger.  Or at least what was left of it.  The last legacy of her father and brother.  All that remained of them now.  Tiger was torn up and burning.  It hurt her.  Charging into the fire to reach the last remnant of her family, using her jacket to try and wipe the flames away, she desperately ran to her machine.
The torn parts, broken glass, and hot oil on the floor was murder on her feet, but the pain didn’t register.  It was all about getting to the machine.  There had to be a way to save it!  Coming out of the fire, it was a clear path to it!  Like a demon possessed, she charged toward the cockpit.  The damaged was all on one side.  The one facing the exit that was blasted open.  Could it be saved?!  A dream.  The only dream that mattered.
Hitting the sensor, she brought her regular vehicle online.  All she had to do was hitch Tiger to it and get the hell out of here!  The seconds that the car came over were the longest in her life.  It came in, stopping right in front of her.  Grabbing the gravity tether from the back, she attached it to Tiger’s cockpit block.  Once it was secured to the back of the car, it was time to go!  Running for the entrance, time suddenly stopped.
She registered the rocket right as it impacted at the entrance.  The force hit her like bricks.  Lifting her off her feet, it was blind, stupid luck that she just happened to be right in front of the office door, which opened as soon as it detected her coming.  Sliding along the floor and smashing into the desk, her crumpled, broken body went unconscious.

Her eyes opened in a white room.  She looked over to see flowers on the table by the bed.  Were these real?  That sure was nice of whoever it was who bought them.  There was a screen playing the news.  It talked about something, but she couldn’t focus.  Mobilizing?  A call to action?  That was all so distant.  Black again.
When she woke up this time, there was a voice.  “The whole crew got this.  We had to dig through the rubble of the garage, but we got it.  Figured you’d want it here.”
Her eyes saw metal.  It was the Tiger’s insignia!  Why was that here?!  Where was Tiger?!  That’s when she realized, they had to dig through the rubble to get it.  Tiger was destroyed.  The legacy of her family, destroyed.  Pain gripped her heart, agonizing.  Then she was out.  In her mind, there was a little voice – the people who did this are going to pay!  Oh yes, they would pay.

Three weeks later, she stood at the entrance to the Directorate Naval Enlistment Office.  Still with a limp from the work they had done to fix her legs, she walked inside.
A young man in uniform sat there.
“May I help you?”
“I’d like to know who I talk to about signing up.”
“That would be me.”  His eyes went wide.  “I know you!  You’re-”
“So it’s you I need to talk to.  Good.  I’d like to enlist.  Figure you need pilots.”  The anger was a dull, burning rage.  On her arm, there was a tattoo.  It was the Tiger’s insignia, with a line underneath.

Kill Everyone Now

Until next time, a quote,

“Kill everyone now!  Condone first degree murder!” – Divine, Pink Flamingos

Peace out,

Maverick

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Women Should Be Discouraged From Serving in the Military…?

I saw this rather terrible review of Star Wars: The Last Jedi that made me cringe a little.  It hated the movie as much as I did, but their reasons for hating it were just ridiculous.  It made these huge assertions about what the film promotes that just blow my mind.  I hate the film because it is a dumpster fire that butchers Luke’s character, has the biggest Mary Sue ever, and decided that instead of making a film that follows the plot from the last film, it is going to just go its own way.  Along the way we’ll get Leia Poppins and Tumblrina captain.  Great work.

But the video I mentioned had this weird contention that it said The Last Jedi was promoting – the idea that more women need to join the military, which the maker of the video said is wrong because women are weaker than men, on average.  To be fair, biologically that is true.  We are a sexually dimorphic species, and women are weaker than men on average.  Here’s the thing – how does this invalidate the idea that women should serve in the military?

One of my favorite women joined up with the Navy last year.  She is going into intelligence work, and her stories about life in the military fascinate me to no end.  Just makes me wonder what might of been had I not busted my skull open when I was 14.  I am immensely proud of her, and listening to her talk about her career with the military never stop being interesting.  She was telling me one day how she read an article about how the Navy SEALS were letting women join up.  She was skeptical of this for one simple reason – the physical requirements to be a SEAL are insane.  She broke it down for me, and to hear about that told me that unless these women were Olympians who train every day for it, the odds that they will meet the physical requirements to get past the initial phase that weeds out those who can’t measure up is ridiculous.  What’s more, she expressed the desire to not see the Navy lower their standards for women, because to be a SEAL, you need the physical conditioning that they require.  I totally get that.

Here’s what bothers me about this idea that women should not join the military – does this guy think that people see female soldiers as Black Widow from the Marvel films?  Yeah, in the regard it sounds ridiculous.  Seeing a woman who weighs very little taking on a ton of guys who would throw her against a wall is kind of silly.  But here’s the thing – that’s fiction.  And anyone with sense knows that.  Real combat, especially in the modern era, is so much different.  The reality is that you will hardly ever see combatants like in a CoD game shooting each other at damn-near point blank range.  In war you typically have combatants exchanging fire over huge amounts of distance and firing a ton of shots with very few hitting home.  Real war is messy, and complicated.  This isn’t Hollywood, and people know this.

But when you hear stories about the Kurdish women fighting ISIS and scoring real victories against them, or how women in Eastern Europe are forming militias that can stand up under fire, it really makes this argument that women should be discourage from serving not only sound kind of stupid, but more than a little sexist.  Can’t wait to see who calls me an SJW for that.  I said that an opinion someone has is sexist.  It’s true.  And I believe it too.  This guy is a sexist idiot who can’t look at reality and see that things are not as simple as rejecting the stereotypes in Hollywood.

Now look, I do firmly believe that the military shouldn’t lower their standards for women.  If you want to serve in a combat role, then you damn well should prove that you can measure up.  That’s only fair.  Demands for those roles are high, and those who want to take on that responsibility should have to prove themselves.  But while there are going to be less women up to the task than there are men, I whole-heartedly know that such women exist.

The real thing that irks me about the attitude of that guy is that that is part of the reason that the military has such a huge problem with sexual assault.  Sex crimes in the military is a fucking epidemic.  I can’t disclose what I have been told about what they tell women who join up behind closed doors about how to protect themselves, but it is scary stuff. Now granted, there are plenty of guys in the military who have just as much respect for the women they serve with as men.  But it’s like the cops.  You have a job that promotes gung-ho male toughness, you’re gonna get a lot of dumb-shit masculine guys with more penis blood than brain blood.

But the tide may be turning.  Now that women are being allowed into combat roles, things might get better.  For the women looking to serve, just make sure when you go places, you never go alone.  Build up a network of people you can trust.  It’s only smart.  See, unlike the people who say we need to tell men not to rape, I tell you to take sensible precautions because you are in a field where there are plenty of guys who only think with their cocks and leave their morals at the door.

I honestly would love to see the guy who made that video say that shit to one of the Kurdish women fighters.  They’d probably punch him in the dick.

Until next time, a quote,

“We have women in the military, but they don’t put us on the front lines.  They don’t know if we can fight, if we can kill.  I think we can.  All the general has to do is walk over to the women and say, ‘you see the enemy over there?  They say you look fat in those uniforms.'” – Elayne Boosler

Peace out,

Maverick

The Night Before Deployment

They gave me a new uniform.  It was so strange, to be looking at myself in uniform again.  The worst part was getting my hair cut.  Looking at myself, with hair like a pixie doll, it was strange.  I spent years growing that hair out long.  It had become part of my identity.  But I was a pilot too.  That’s how it goes.  The bucket hat that I was wearing, in this black getup, made me feel powerful again.  Getting into uniform was fun.  I was glad that somebody remembered that my hips are wider than other girls.  Jack used to joke that I was “a white girl with a big black booty.”  Always acted annoyed, but you can’t fight the way your body is made.  It has only been an inconvenience when getting pants and getting into uniform.  G-suits are made to squeeze around a body, so they fit loosely when you first put them on, then tighten when you hit the sensor.  Since men and women pilot, they knew to keep the design open to different body types.  I respect that.
Pinning the last of my medals and rank identifiers on my chest and arms, I was ready to face him.  Jack was sitting in the other room.  He told me he was stoked to see what I look like in uniform.  The old uniform I had was blue, back in my days serving alongside the Earth Forces Navy.  My outfit was the part of a special Colonial section.  This new uniform was black, with red on the trim.  It was imposing, and a sign of Colonial solidarity.  The fatigues were black as well, but without the red.  I would have to wear those on the ship.  Told Jack I would model them for him next.
“Geez, honey, you ever coming out of there?”
Snapped back to reality, I groaned.  “You try putting on a uniform and tell me how quickly it goes.”
“Don’t know if I would fit in yours, babe.  Care to find out?”
I rolled my eyes, but still felt good.  He was trying to be positive, so I didn’t worry.  I love him so much.  The idea of leaving him to go fight in a war, it scared the fuck out of me.  But then I remember what it was like, watching that Colony explode when the Earth Forces attacked.  What if that had been here?  What if Jack had been one of the bodies that I saw floating up into space?  Couldn’t breathe, couldn’t handle the thought.  That is why I am fighting.  If there was a chance that I could watch the man I love be that person…no, I wouldn’t.  I will fight, as hard as I possibly can, to keep him safe.  He’s my man.  Mine.  No planetside fuck is going to take him away from me.  I laced up my dress boots, straightened my hat, and walked out.
The look on his face, mouth agape, made me blush a little.
“That good, huh?”
He smiled at me, raising his Band and snapping a pic.  “You fucking know it!  Holy shit, babe!  You look incredible!”  Getting up he came over.  Looked me over, felt weird.  Then he ran his hand over the name insignia on my chest.
“Pilot Barnes.  Awesome.  That uniform is so fucking hot on you.”
“A pity it’s a dress uniform.  Wouldn’t mind being peeled out of it.”
A wink.  “Well, maybe we’ll get to find out what that’s like yet, Pilot.”
“Yes sir!”
“Now, go change into your fatigues, Pilot!  I want to see how it looks!”
I snap to attention.  “Sir!”
Heading back into the bathroom, he pinches my ass.  I wheel around, looking indignant, but he just grabs me and kisses me.  This commanding officer role-play could be fun.  He seems to be enjoying himself.  Plus, given how nervous I feel, this makes me feel a lot better.
“Snap to, Pilot.”
“Yes sir,” I whisper, pulling back.

Back in the bathroom, I am very gentle about removing the dress uniform.  Not going to risk it getting wrinkled.  You wouldn’t believe it, but proper folding is something you learn in basic.  Among all sorts of nit-picky bullshit about the service.  I hang the uniform back up, and then turn to see where my fatigues are sitting on the counter.  It’s then that I catch sight of the implant modulator.  Like most women, I have an implant that I use as birth control.  I can automatically refill it.  It is dry.  Jack and I had been talking about having a baby for months.  Looking down at my hand, I see the engagement ring.  The wedding was supposed to be during the summer cycle.  We had it planned out that we could celebrate being pregnant at the same time as getting married.  Cut down on celebrations.  So many friends had already asked if I was carrying.  No luck yet.  But things had changed.  Now I was back on active duty.
I couldn’t risk getting pregnant now.  Taking out the modulator, I insert the end into skin where my implant is.  Part of me feels real shame.  Not only was I putting my wedding on hold, I was putting all of our plans on hold.  Even if we won the war, how long would I still be on active duty?  When would we get another chance to start a family?  It killed me inside, but it is what it is.  A pop, and the birth control injection is complete.  Another three years where I don’t have to worry about getting periods or having babies.  I’m sorry, Jack.  I’m so sorry.
Getting my mind back on more positive things, I open up my fatigues.  The pattern, so familiar, but just in different colors.  My name is on these as well.  Much easier to put on than my dress uniform, I slip in.  Should get into the issued-underwear.  That’s right, you have uniform underwear in the military.  It’s weird.  And a touch uncomfortable.  Oh well.  I’m doing this outfit, and I want to do it right.  Once I get everything situated, again I look at myself in the mirror.  It’s so strange.  This is some other girl.  Some girl I don’t know.  We’re just meeting for the first time.
“Hey you,” I say into the mirror.  “What’s your name?”  The girl just stares back at me.
“You say something, B?”
“No.  Just mumbling to myself.”  This girl and I would get very close, very soon.

I step out of the bathroom, and once again he is in awe.  Takes a pic on his Band, then sits on the edge of the bed.
“You look incredible.”
“Thanks.”
His eyes pierce right through me.  “You scared, babe?”
Don’t want to admit the truth, but I can’t lie to him.  “Yeah, I am.”
Then came a response I didn’t expect, “so am I.”
I look at him in shock.
“It’s not that I don’t think you’re a good pilot.  I know you are.  You’re gonna kick ass out there.  But wars are complicated.  All it could take is one thing going wrong and the wrong time.  Of course I’m scared.”
“Doesn’t help that if we lose, I’ll probably be taken to a military prison.  Or at the very least, lose my wings.”
“Yeah…”
We are there in silence for some time.
Finally, he looks up at me.  “Come here.”
Quietly, I obey.  He suddenly grabs my arm and throws me down onto the bed.  Pinning my arms above me, He gets on top of me.  My breathing is so fast.
“All we have is tonight.  At 0400, you head out, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Then let’s peel out of this uniform!”
A grin comes to my face.  “Yes sir!”

I wake up in his arms.  Naked, sticky, with my uniform and regulation underwear all over the room.  That was incredible.  I haven’t had sex like that in years.  Jack was an animal, but not once did I take issue.  All we had was tonight, and he made the most of it.  Still a little tingly.  Guess the orgasm didn’t fade just yet.  Ride the high, as it were, right?  Girls have it so much better than guys in this regard.  Pleasure is a different thing for women than men.  Get us into enough of a mood, and every part of our body is basically like a sex organ.  Our entire body becomes sensitive and reactive.  Erogenous zones become a none-issue.  That’s what happened to me just now.  Amazing.
Still, I won’t be able to go back to sleep.  Gotta do something.  Maybe a run will help.  I grab a quick shower, to get the sticky off.  Some places are just going to stay sticky for a while.  Can’t get up in there.  But it still feels good.  I throw on a tanktop, sweats, and my Colonial Navy sweater.  They gave us exercise clothes too.  Thought of everything.  Lace up my shoes, then head out.  It’s still cool.  The weather cycle is still in the morning.  I see my breath in the recycled air.  Still dark, too.  The night-time filter is still active.
I take off.  Moving at a gentle pace, the rhythm of running helps to calm my nerves.  It feels so good.  As I move down the dimly-lit pavement, I think about what Jack said.  He’s right.  Wars are unpredictable.  Anything can go wrong.  Everyone keeps telling me what a kick-ass pilot I am.  They might be right.  But I can’t go allowing myself to think that way.  The moment that I allow myself to start thinking that way is the moment I die.  I’ve watched far too many pilots get swept up by their own ego.  They stopped being cautious and careful.  And they paid the price for their arrogance.
Each step, I can’t help but notice that I am heading toward a destination – the port.  Why?  It then hits me – there is someone else that I need to say goodbye to.  A girl that I am not going to be seeing for a very long time.  Depending on how this plays out, maybe ever again.

She’s right where I left her.  The marks from where I was dodging impacts are still there.  Time was, I would already be here, around the time that I will be heading out, working on getting her back up to shape.  I’ve had some dangerous run-ins with meteors and other space weather.  Since the only person who touches my bird, outside of the crew who does replacements of hull plating, is myself, I took repairs very seriously.  Would test the girl after I was done, just to make sure everything was running smoothly.  Part of me couldn’t wait to be doing that to my new bird, whatever it would be.
My rig looked very sad, sitting there.  Like a wounded pet that you have to abandon.  That’s how I felt.  Like my dog got hurt and I had to leave it for a few years.  Yeah, kind of felt like a piece of shit.
“I’ll make sure she’s here waiting for you, when you get back.”
I turned and saw Red, standing there.
“I knew you’d come in to say goodbye to her.  I don’t care if we are back-logged to the point that ships have to wait outside, I won’t be moving her.  Hand to god.”
Walking over, I put my hand on his big, old, bushy beard.  “Thanks, Red.  But I don’t know when I’ll be back to see her.”
“Don’t matter to me.  If you never show up again, she’ll be right where you left her.  So long as I’m tending this dock, that’s how it will be.  And I’ll make sure that whoever replaces me knows it too.  The Queen Bee ain’t goin’ nowhere!  But I know you’ll be coming back.  Might be parking a fighter next to your girl, but you’ll be back.”  His big, gentle smile from beneath the gray hair.
I hug him tight.  “Take care of yourself, Red.”
“You too, Queen Bee.  Go kick ass out there!  Make those planetside bastards pay for the lives they’ve taken.”
Pulling back, I nod.  Time to get back home.  It will be a much longer jog back.

When I arrive, I see that the lights are on.  A familiar scent greets me as I get to the door.  What a man, I have.  A miner, and a cook.  When this is all over, he’s going to make one hell of a father.  That’s the plan.  After the war, no more modulation of the implant.  I want a baby with him.  First thing after I get back, we get married.  Then, we get pregnant.
Opening the door, he looks up at me.  “Welcome home, B.”

Until next time, a quote,

“Do your duty as you see it, and damn the consequences.” – George S. Patton

Peace out,

Maverick