Chapter 55 – Baby Steps

  The brightness of Earth stabbed through his eyes—protected didn’t mean painless, and it still took his pupils a moment to contract in response to the harsh interior lighting of the pit. But Cole still welcomed the sight of those Browning M2s tilting back up to index and the medics waiting to receive their charges.

  Neither Leon nor Burthan handled the transition well, and it even left Cole a bit queasy. Having heightened acuity meant Cole was more in touch with his kinematics system, which was how the body interpreted motion, gravity, and all the other senses travel by portal made go haywire. Which probably meant it would never be completely comfortable for him—but at least he wasn’t spilling his last MRE over the side of the vehicle.

  The Kickers dismounted and cleared their weapons before dropping packs on a pallet to be taken to the armory. The Lewis Field wound down, and suddenly he could feel the weight of his weapon and armor, again. Both teams followed the forklift to the armory and dropped equipment in the waiting bins. Cole felt like he needed about ten showers and doubted the salt-stained and bloody DOR fatigues would ever see service again.

  Moriarty approached him after pulling off his helmet and vest. The man checked his watch. “Debrief tonight at 2200 hours,” he said.

  “2200 hours,” Cole acknowledged. That accounted for their eighteen hours mandatory downtime, as it was only 0400 local time in Virginia. With the relatively relaxed pace of their return from the front, due to accommodating Leon’s limits, Cole actually felt somewhat refreshed—if absolutely filthy.

  Getting back to his billet, Cole stripped off everything and stood under the hottest water his shower was willing to produce, letting the salt and grime run off him. He was just getting out and pulling on a fresh pair of DOR uniform trousers when someone pounded on his door.

  “God damn it!” he growled. “I swear to God, this eighteen hours downtime thing is barely even…”

  He looked through the peep-hole. Roxy stood on the other side, already in shorts and t-shirt with her wet hair loose around her shoulders. Ah. It was about breakfast time. Cole opened the door.

  Roxy looked up at him. “Hey,” she said.

  “Hey,” said Cole. Then hesitated. “What’s up?”

  Roxy looked away for a moment. “You know that thing that… you know, didn’t happen the other night before we left?”

  Cole nodded. “Yeah.”

  Roxy met his eyes, chewing on the corner of her lip. “I think I want it to happen now.”

  Cole opened the door to let her in.

  * * *

  “That was… not what I expected,” said Cole.

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  Roxy sprawled across his chest, giggling. “I get that a lot.”

  “A lot?” Cole raised his eyebrow.

  Roxy smacked him on the arm. “Not that kind of a lot! But everyone always expects me to be some sort of feral beast in bed. I guess it comes with the whole muscle mommy look. And you gotta be tough when you’re a woman in the military.” She brushed her hair back. “But when the door is closed and the lights are out, I just want to take off the mask and be treated like a princess.” She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t you dare tell anyone my secret,” she threatened.

  “Never been one to kiss and tell,” said Cole. Between the track and field locker room and the Bubbas in Basic and AIS, he’d had more than his fill of what his grandfather called ‘empty machismo’.

  As a response, Roxy stretched out her neck and kissed him, then rested her head on his chest again.

  “We did a good thing,” she said, tracing lazy circles on his stomach with her finger. “I’ve been where Leon was. And being able to help him? God, it’s everything I wanted it to be.”

  “I know what you mean, but in a different way,” said Cole. “I never even thought about going for rescue ops. I probably would have done my share of high value hostage extractions if I’d gone Delta, but it was never why I wanted to go Delta. The challenge, the thrill… otherworlds have everything I was looking for.”

  “And we’re just getting started. Argh, I’m so excited!” her head perked up, and she twisted to face him with a grin. “Speaking of getting excited,” she teased, walking her fingers down his abdomen. “They don’t stop serving chow until 1000 hours.”

  “Round two?”

  Roxy rocked herself upright and swung her leg over to straddle him. She leaned in and cupped his cheek. “This time, let me take care of you.”

  They barely made it to chow, but Cole felt like he’d worked out an appetite to rival Roxy’s, for once. The late diners watched in horror as they devoured a mountain of food between the pair of them. Cole’s phone buzzed partway through. Cole checked it.

  “Mmph, s’Sophia,” he mumbled.

  “Swallow your food first, you barbarian,” said Roxy around a mouthful of hashbrowns. Her tough-girl mask was firmly fixed back on her face. “Your squire?”

  Cole nodded. “She found me a couple places to look at, and she’s got my truck and guns from my granddad’s place. I promised Nona I’d teach her to shoot.”

  Roxy’s eyes darkened at the mention of the other woman.

  Cole felt a chill down his spine. “Still don’t want her on the team?” he asked carefully.

  “I just hate admitting when I was wrong,” said Roxy. She chuckled, and then Cole snorted, and they both started laughing. “I still don’t know if I trust her. But… she came through for us—even if she almost got herself killed.” Roxy pursed her lips. “But, like you said, I trust you. Moriarty’s team came up with her callsign. Alexa mentioned it to me when we were checking in gear. It’s Blink.”

  “Blink…?”

  “As in blink and you’ll miss her,” said Roxy. She waved her hand in the air. “That whole disappearing act she does. She tell you how that works, yet?”

  Cole shook his head. “Nope. I saw her other ability, though, and it’s definitely got some use.” He thought for a minute. “What’s your callsign?”

  Roxy wrinkled her nose. “Riot.”

  “Cause of the shield?”

  “Cause of the shield. I just think it sounds like a lame roller-derby name. Roxy Riot?”

  “Not amazing,” said Cole, spooning some cereal into his mouth as he considered. “Not that mine is anything to write home about. I know Howie is Howitzer, what’s Besson?”

  “He’s Tyson, Nutmeg is Fury.”

  “Cause she’s a boxer?” asked Cole.

  “Cause she’s a boxer,” confirmed Roxy.

  “Someone else needs to be coming up with these names,” said Cole.

  Roxy giggled. “Don’t worry. Soon we’ll be able to do unto others as others have done unto us and perpetuate the cycle of terrible callsigns on the next generation of Kickers.” She nodded at his phone. “You gonna go check out the places with Sophia?”

  “After I swing down to the lab and knock out a couple armaments,” said Cole. “You?”

  Roxy grinned. Cole held up his hand.

  “Right. Dumb question. Enjoy your workout.”