anesthetic. Now that I think about it, I think the only reason this arm isn’t hurting is because the nerves are burned away.”
“Well,” said the doctor, chastened. “If you ever do need me, Commander. Come back.”
I nodded and left. I had the ship lift me back up into its belly. I walked into the chamber of horrors that had worked upon my children until it dumped them into the cold of space. The same chamber full of thin, dangling, black arms that had brought Sandra back to life.
In an hour, I couldn’t scream anymore. My voice no longer worked. It had turned into an endless series of hoarse sobs. Sometime after that, I lost consciousness. In two hours, I awoke with my arm mostly regrown, but I was blind. I had the Alamo carry me to my couch where I fell asleep. Sandra came and quietly touched my brow.
In another hour, I was functional again, but I still felt drained. My arm was pink-white. New skin had grown with unnatural, accelerated speed. Just like the rings of new cells that had glued on Sandra’s fingers. I saw that the rings around her fingers had faded. That was good. I could hope my arm would look normal again someday.
I flexed my repaired hand, and it tingled. But it worked. I nodded blearily, looking around the bridge.
“How bad was it?” Sandra asked.
“Bad. It was bad. But yes, it was worth it.”
“The satellite phone has been beeping for you,” said Sandra. “I answered and told them to give you a break.”
“You did?”
“I told them you were injured and recovering. But they keep calling back. Once every hour or so.”
“Okay,” I said, reaching for the unit. A few minutes later I was back on the phone with General Kerr.
“All right, Riggs. We need to talk,” he said.
“I’m listening.”
“I’ve been checking out your story and reviewing the battle video.”
“Video?”
“Every one of those fancy suits was equipped with a camera or two. Not all of them worked. Not all of them survived, either. But yours did.”
“How did I do, sir?”
“I’m impressed… I’m not a man who is easily impressed, Riggs.”
I believed him. “What do you think about my offer now, General?”
“I think you’re crazy. Did these drugs or whatever they are do that to you? Make you into some kind of berserk? You shot that thing in the butt and nearly ate a biscuit, boy.”
I chuckled. “No sir, I was born crazy, I guess. I can’t blame the Nanos for that.”
“Overcompensation. That’s what a psych would call it. You saw good men die over your idea and you lost it.”
“I got that machine to retreat sir. I damaged it enough to turn it around. Then I chased it into the jungle. If I’d had a full platoon as capable as I was, with heavier weapons…”
“Yeah. Yeah, you did. We did some calculations. You were running over sand in full gear, doing about thirty miles an hour. That’s about how fast a dog runs. Did you know that?”
“You believe me then.”
“I think you’ve been altered somehow. But I’m not sure I want to put all my boys through that. Whatever alien bullshit you have in mind for them.”
“I don’t want it to be that way, sir. I want them to be volunteers. I want them to be from every elite service in the world.”
“A Foreign Legion of freaks, huh?”
“Not the terms I would use.”
“No, I suppose not. But okay. The higher-ups saw the whole thing. I briefed them, ran the vid files for them raw. They are convinced to give it another go. With you leading the charge, if you will do it.”
Sandra caught my attention, flapping her hands at me. I looked up at her. She mouthed a single word: No.
“Yes sir,” I said. “I’ll do it.”
I eyed Sandra. She had her hands on her hips. Her lips were curled in disgust and worry.
“I know a fellow crazy bastard when I see one, Riggs,” laughed the General, sounding like he’d just won a bet. “Welcome to the special forces club. Start building super-sized reactor packs and brewing up some of those injections, pronto.”
“Will do, sir,” I said.
“Oh, and Riggs? The Congress is planning to give you a medal of some kind. You aren’t officially in any of the armed services, so they had to make it something any citizen can get. You are still a U. S. citizen, right Riggs?”
I had to think about that one. I supposed that I was, as Star Force wasn’t exactly a nation. “Yes I am. Are we talking about a Congressional Medal of Honor?”
“That’s what they call it. I guess they really need a war hero about now.”
After I hung up, Sandra was upset with me. “You don’t have to go.”
“Yeah, I do,” I told her.
She crossed her arms under her breasts. Her eyes were half-closed. I felt a sudden urge to grab her and kiss her. But I knew that if I did, I would be rebuffed. She was clearly annoyed.
I threw up my arms. The newly regrown one gave me a stab of pain as I did so. “How can I build a new set of weapons, then recruit another thousand guys to die fighting with these experimental guns against giant robots, and stay home shivering in this ship?”
She sighed and relented, sitting on the couch next to me. “I don’t know. But I wish you would stay out of it this time. Somehow.”
Sandra stared at me for awhile, and I stared back. Suddenly, she threw one of her long brown legs over mine and sat in my lap, straddling me. We made out fiercely for several minutes. It was good.
As suddenly as she’d climbed aboard, she jumped off again. I had to fight to control myself. I almost lunged for her, but I stopped. I’d just gotten my own arms back, and it wouldn’t do to accidentally yank off one of hers. She gave a little laugh and had no idea how I was feeling. Or maybe she did.
I could tell she wasn’t going to give me any more sugar at the moment. So, I decided not to beg for it. Women never respected that. I headed into the shower. Lord, how I needed a shower. The water was hot and I stayed in it for longer than usual.
Sandra surprised me in our makeshift shower stall about one minute before I was going to get out. She wrapped her arms around me from behind. We kissed and touched. It was even better than it had been out on the couch.
“Incoming private channel request from Admiral Crow,” said the ship, interrupting.
“Not now, Alamo.”
The ship was silent for about thirty seconds. I made the best use I could of each second. Sandra was really beginning to respond, and we’d moved several steps past kissing.
“Incoming urgent channel request from Admiral Crow.”
“Admiral Crow?” asked Sandra. “When the hell did he make himself into an Admiral?”
“Do you accept the incoming channel request?” droned the Alamo. Sometimes, the ship really did sound like a computer.
“Just answer,” sighed Sandra, putting her wet head against my chest, “or they’ll never let us alone.”
“Open channel, Alamo,” I growled.
“You there, Riggs?”
“Yes sir.”
“You on the john or something?”
“Something like that, sir.”
“Well, I’m calling because you’ve gone bananas, and-well, I have to tell you Riggs, right now I’m thinking of demoting you.”
