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“Where’d you get that?” Riggs askedthe flesh of my left flank His voice was still dopey as a result of post-coital hormones “The scar, I mean”

I laid on s, and looked down at the white welt to the left of h, the injury was still obvious: unless I paid a skintech for a patch, it alould There see with cosmetics while I was still a line trooper Well-healed scars linedto complain about, but reminders nonetheless My body was a roadmap of my military service

“Never you s’ hand away, irritated “And I thought Iafterwards That terotiable”

Riggs got like this after a session He got chatty, and he got annoying But as far as I was concerned, his job was done, and I was already feeling detachment from him Alain; felttoof sweat and sex—had started to press in around me

I untangled myself from the bedsheets that were pooled at the foot of the cot Pulled on a tanktop and walked to the view-port in the bulkhead There was nothing to see out there except another anonymous sector of deep-space We were in what had once been known as the Quarantine Zone; that vast ranch of deep-space that was the divide between us and the Krell Empire A holo-display above the port read 1:57:03 UNTIL DROP Less than two hours until we reached the assault point Right now, the UAS Bainbridge was slowing down—her enor that e reached the appointed coordinates, ould be travelling at just the right velocity The starship’s inertial damper field meant that I would never be able to physically feel the deceleration, but the ht was another matter

“Get dressed,” I said, ot work to do”

I tugged on the rest of ues, pressed down the various holo-tabs on my uniform tunic The identifier there read ‘210’ Those nuramme—sufferer of an effective two hundred and ten simulated deaths

“I want you down on the prep deck, overseeing si into command-mode

“The Jackals are pri the suits, and I ordered Private Feng to check on the ammunition loads—”

“Feng’s no good at that,” I said “You know that he can’t be trusted”

“‘Trusted’?”

“I didn’t et dressed”

Riggs detected the change in my voice; he’d be an idiot not to While he wasn’t exactly the sharpest tool in the box, neither was he a fool

“Affirmative,” he said

I watched as he put on his unifors was tall and well-built; his chest a wall of muscle, neck almost as wide as my waist Hair dark and short, nicely messy in a way that skirted ed planet on his left bicep indicated that he was a forlobe on his right marked him as a paid-up Gaia Cultist The data-ports on his chest, shoulders and neck stood out against his tanned skin, the flesh around thes hadn’t yet been spat out by the war machine