Not With A Whimper: Destroyers

by D. A. Boulter

  Paula led Karl up the walk to the front door, which she opened without hesitation. He, however, hesitated before entering.

  “I desire this,” she said. “And you desire me – at least for the night. I can feel that. Can you tell me differently?”

  “I can’t.” And he couldn’t. But he had to give her one last chance. “You may regret this tomorrow.”

  She canted her head and pursed her lips. Then the lips curved in a smile. “True, but tomorrow is made for regrets; let us, at least for a short time, live for the moment and speak no more of the future.”

  Karl stepped across the threshold. She did not turn on the lights, but led him by the hand through the entrance room, down a dark hallway to her bedroom. A small glow from a nightlight allowed him to see her outline and not much more. Paula moved away from him, and pulled back the curtain that had blocked the light from outside, but she did not turn on the room’s light. Now he could see her slightly better, for the moon shone brightly.

  She began to matter-of-factly undo the buttons on her dress, and then lift it over her head, giving him a look at the shape it had covered. He moved forward, but her hands stopped him, and began undoing his uniform jacket.

  “You must join me in this,” she said, humour in her voice. “It would do neither of us much good were I the only one to undress.”

  Karl laughed, and began to remove his own clothes, to join her. She reached her hands up and held his face between them. He started to shrug off his shirt when she pulled his head down for their first kiss. Her arms went around him and pulled him tight to her, with a strength born of need. Karl took the opportunity to unfasten her bra, and then returned the hug, even as they kissed.

  They broke apart, breathless, and the remainder of their clothes fell to the floor. She grasped him, and began pulling him toward the bed, but he resisted. He reached for his pants, intending to get the condom that had resided hopefully in his wallet for some time. She stopped him.

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “We have no need of it.” Her quiet voice came forth, sure and clear.

  “You have had shots?” he asked, wondering at that. For if she had wanted a child with her husband, there would have been no need, and she had said that she had found no one to replace him – again, no need.

  “No.” She pulled him to the bed, and lay down.

  He sat next to her and ran his hands over her warm, soft skin, finding her breasts and the nipples, which he stroked lightly. She groaned.

  He wanted her badly, but not so badly that he would make a foolish mistake. Did she want a child from him? If so, for what purpose?

  “Why?”

  She sighed, obviously not wanting this conversation. “Must we?”

  The moment seemed to fade, and his excitement waned. “We must.”

  “Very well.” She sat up next to him, found his hand and placed it over a breast, the nipple like a hard point pressing into his palm. “We wanted a child, Marco and I. It didn’t happen. I had just ceased the prevention program, and then he vanished into the ocean before I could conceive. I have found no one on these islands with whom I would have a child.”

  He nodded his understanding. “But why me, then?”

  “I am weak tonight. I still desire, and something tells me I cannot wait much longer. You, you are a good man, Karl. But you will go where your superiors send you – and that is good.”

  “Good?” He wondered at her convoluted thinking.

  “If you will not take off that uniform and return it to your army, I do not want you with me. So we have this one night of weakness, and I leave the rest in God’s hands. If He blesses me with your child, you will not know. I will not come to you later, to trap you. And I do not want you to come to me unless you have given up your profession. After tonight, we shall not see each other again. So, I want this for me only.” She paused before continuing. “Likely, we will not create anything this night – except for memories. It is not the most auspicious of times.”

  “Then why?” He still didn’t really understand.

  “No more words,” she said, a plea in her voice.

  He reached up to touch her face, and found it wet with tears. Suddenly he knew. He understood the lack of light, the reluctance to speak – to have him speak. He understood, and didn’t know what he should do with that understanding. A small sob, almost unheard, decided him.

  “Let us,” he whispered as he bent to capture her lips once more, “let us create good memories.”

  He spoke not again, and nor did she. But the tender touching, the soft sighs and the movement of their bodies spoke for them. And if, in the throes of passion, Karl heard another man’s name, he gave it no regard.

  She still slept when the dawn came, and Karl quietly got out of bed. He looked down at her face, determined to capture its lines in his memory. He gave a quick shake of his head, picked up his scattered clothing, and left the room.

  He dressed quickly, and quietly exited the house, walking in the fresh air, feeling strangely content. Then he saw the hotel ahead, and something shifted in him. He became the major again.

  Many of the personnel of his flight met at the hotel to take the scheduled transport back to the base.

  “I didn’t see you at the hotel,” Erich Schmidt said, a grin on his face.

  “Didn’t sleep there. I tire of the same thing every time I take my leave in town.”

  The grin grew wider. “I think you found a woman – someone not in the forces, an islander.”

  Karl climbed aboard the transport and took his seat at the front – as befitted the ranking officer. “And if I did?” he asked.

  Something in his tone removed the grin from Schmidt’s face – something he had not intended to do, but found gratifying, nonetheless.

  “Then I congratulate you, sir,” Schmidt said, with a quick salute. “Many of us have noticed that they have cooled towards soldiers in the past few weeks.”

  And Schmidt had let some of the anger through that he had noted in other soldiers, heard in conversations not meant for his ears.

  “They don’t see how we protect them – put our own lives on the line to protect them.”

  Karl doubted both the wisdom and efficacy of explaining the islander viewpoint that he had come to understand but lately. So he brought forward a half-truth that might placate his subordinate.

  “They are not soldiers, Erich. They do not see as we do; they do not understand.” He forced a soft smile to his lips. “They have had no training, no briefings; they do not know. Instead, they watch the news and fear.” Yes, that might be the tack to take. “They fear, Erich, and they have no means to fight back. We, at least – should it come to war – can do something. We have the training, the means, and the will to strike back. They can only wait to become a target for the missile, bomb, or bullet to strike. We have reinforced concrete bunkers; they have no defence at all.”

  Schmidt grunted. Whether his little speech had any effect, Karl didn’t know. But they passed the rest of the way back to the base in silence – which suited Karl. He would rather remember the past night and the softness of Paula’s body than to engage in conversation with anyone about anything.

  The big transport rolled through the gates, finally stopping before the main building. Karl walked with the others to the mess hall, where they downed breakfast efficiently, then took up their place in line. And it all began again. Another four days of shifting readiness and tension before the next welcome break.

  * * *

  DENVER

  Monday, July 12th

  “Take a break,” Christy told Arch. “I’ll go over the requisition forms and see if we’ve missed anything. Then we can get back to the plans.”

  And those plans sat before her – on paper rather than on a screen. Colonel Westorn had acquired a good deal of space aboard Topside One, the space station in which she would conduct her experiments until the soldiers found a way to escape.

  She looked aga
in at the deck plan. That ‘good deal of space’ would shrink considerably when they had installed all the equipment that they had requisitioned.

  “Hard at it?” Westorn’s voice came from close behind her.

  She started, and he chuckled.

  “Sorry,” he said, but she could tell he didn’t feel that at all.

  “It’s okay. I’m just trying to figure how best to position all the equipment.”

  He glanced down at the deck plan. “You could use the VR glasses and program,” he suggested. “I would have thought a scientist would take advantage of tech.”

  She pulled up her special smile for him, one that said nothing. “I will. But I like to have an overview first – and the deck-plan clearly shows the electrical outlets that we’ll have access to.”

  Westorn shook his head in mock dismay. “You’re not going to an Earthside building, Doctor. Up there, they are used to changing things about. They’ll run the power lines wherever you want them to – in cable trays along the deckhead and then down.”

  “Deckhead?” She hadn’t heard the term before. “What’s that?”

  Westorn laughed. “The ceiling, Doctor, the ceiling.”

  Christy pursed her lips. “Yes, that will make everything much easier. Yes. Good. If you’ll excuse me Colonel, I’ll get started.” She paused. “Oh, did you come by for a reason?”

  “Just checking up on you, Doctor,” he replied. That reply sent a shiver down her back. Just how deep did his ‘check-ups’ go? Had he some intimation of what she and the others had planned? “I want everything to go smoothly, and we’re running short of time.”

  “We are? I thought we were scheduled to go up to Topside One on August 7th.” She did some mental arithmetic. “That’s 26 days.”

  The Colonel looked her straight in the eyes. “And we will need every one of them. After you’ve decided on the arrangement of your equipment, we’ll need to set it up here – and some of it hasn’t arrived yet.”

  She blinked. “Here?” Could he have come with a change of plans, decided to conduct the experiments here first in order to indoctrinate the soldiers before they went up? Her stomach felt hollow.

  “Of course, Doctor Burnett, here. As we speak, my men are building a replica of the station deckplan that we’ve rented. As the requisitioned equipment comes in, we’ll set it up just as you’d have it, test each piece and the system entire to ensure everything works as you wish it to, and then we’ll have to take it apart, repack it, move it across the country to Spaceport, and ship it up.

  “As you mentioned before, when you first learned of this, we can’t just go down the street to the local hardware store for a screw if we forget it. Or, more to the point, we can’t go up there and find out we have non-functional equipment or that the set-up doesn’t do what we require it to do.”

  Christy nodded at him; he had the right of it. Her stomach relaxed.

  “And, as we want to get set up quickly once we get up to Topside One, you’ll want to disassemble the system in an orderly fashion, so that we do a minimum of shifting stuff around when we re-assemble it up there.”

  Christy nodded again, and looked down at the deck plan. “You’re right, Colonel. We may receive the equipment in a haphazard way, but we’ll want to pack it in order of set-up from the least accessible spot to the most.” She brought up her bland smile again. “It seems I have much to do. I’d better get to it. Yes, a practice run will do us good.”

  FIFTEEN

  AZORES

  Saturday, July 17th

  “You will continue to practice until you can do it in your sleep,” Müller told Kelner, glaring at the oberleutnant. He could see the protest leap to the young man’s eyes, but discipline held, and the man swallowed the words before they could come out.

  “It shall be as you say, Herr Major.”

  Hauptmann Schmidt raised an eyebrow after Kelner had gone to the simulation room.

  “You’ve become a taskmaster, Herr Major. The crew finds it … difficult.”

  Müller turned on him. “You, too, Schmidt?”

  Schmidt laughed. “No, Herr Major, I find it refreshing, although I do wonder at your necessities. Kelner needs discipline, yes, I see this, too. And the others do, as well. Yet….”

  “Yet?” Müller stared at him, daring him to go on.

  “Yet,” Schmidt continued, “I think that we will lose our edge if we over-train.”

  The man had a point, and Müller enjoyed his reputation as a man who listened. He forced himself to relax, taking a deep breath and allowing it to exit his lungs slowly.

  He gave a negligent wave of his hand. “I appreciate the input, Erich. Tell the troops you spoke to me, and the drills are over for now. Tell them I am pleased with their progress. Two days to relax before we start again.”

  “Thank you, Karl,” Schmidt said. “But tell me, if you can, what drives the commanders of the fighters? You have not started this intensive training alone. All the crews talk of it.”

  Müller put his hand on Schmidt’s arm.

  “Erich, if something were happening and I could tell you, I would.”

  Schmidt’s smile faded. “So, either nothing occurs, or something occurs, but they do not permit you to tell me. I understand. I will draw my own conclusions.”

  “Draw whatever conclusions you wish, Erich, but keep them to yourself.”

  “Naturally.”

  He sighed again. “And remind the men that we do not discuss what goes on in our flight with the crews of other flights – or anyone else.”

  “I shall do so.” He then shrugged. “I doubt that this will do much good; men like to grumble.”

  Müller left the simulation control room, almost running into Major Baumeister, who sidestepped in order to avoid him.

  “My crew complains,” she told him.

  “All crews complain.”

  “True.” She turned to walk with him. “Where do you go?”

  “Outside to breathe some fresh air.”

  “Fresh air is good for the health,” she agreed. “Have you spent much time on Station Alpha? The air there has no life.”

  She continued to speak in riddles. He grew tired of it. He wondered if his now-ended relationship with Paula – ended before it had properly begun – had anything to do with that. He put the thought away before he replied.

  “No, it doesn’t. They cleanse it of unwanted contaminants.” He opened the door and stepped out into the sunlight, which surprised him. He had somehow thought it much later in the day. He took a deep breath. “Like the salt in the air.”

  “Salt corrodes.” She took a deep breath as well. “Likely the landing strip will not survive an attack,” she said.

  The non sequitur brought his attention fully back to the problem at hand. “Likely not,” he agreed.

  “We’ll have to obtain re-supply and repair from Station Alpha or Beta.” She held up her hand to shield her eyes from the sun as she looked to the sky. It reigned blue, with not a cloud or contrail in sight.

  “Alpha and Beta keep stocks for us,” he said, continuing the thread, wondering if it might continue past where it had gone before.

  “And mechanics. I hope enough survive the initial attacks to service our ships – those of us who make it that far.” She turned around. “I must go back inside. My duty shift commences shortly. My crew will enjoy the ready room for its lack of drills.” She laughed.

  Müller nodded, but did not laugh. He felt a hollowness that swallowed up his stomach and intestines. Could she really have thought that through? Did she really mean what he thought she meant?

  Because of the cost of maintaining personnel on the stations – and the lack of room – Command had stationed only a small maintenance and repair crew there. They would have their hands more than full with the survivors of the initial battle. And that could cost Müller and his compatriots if they needed a quick turnaround, could cost them everything.

  He turned, and began walking to the hangar. The ma
ssive structure lay underneath metres of reinforced, armoured concrete. Despite that, he never felt safe when entering. He wondered how the ground crews could spend their days – and sometimes nights – inside.

  “Feldwebel Hirsch.” Müller spotted the chief of his flight’s ground crew. “How do you find my ship?”

  “She’s ready to go at a moment’s notice, Herr Major. The oberst demands nothing less.”

  Müller clapped the man on the shoulder. “And you deliver nothing less. Come, let us inspect her.”

  As they walked around the shuttle-fighter, Müller began to make small talk. “Have you family back in Deutschland, Hirsch?”

  “Parents, a brother.”

  “No wife or children?”

  Hirsch shook his head. “No. Command selects single men and women for this duty. We work here four or five years, and then transition back into civilian life with enough money to start a family.”

  And Müller knew exactly why they assigned only unattached personnel. He wondered if Hirsch did as well. “Only singles?”

  Hirsch turned his head from the fighter and regarded his officer. He canted his head slightly to the side and looked out of slightly narrowed eyes.

  “Only singles,” he agreed, speaking in a semi-amused tone that stated he, too, knew the odds should war break out.

  “Ach,” Müller said, smiling, “then you have the ability to travel – for family men must always consider their wives and children first, whereas the single man can leave at his own whim. Tell me, have you ever taken a trip up to one of our stations?”

  “No, Herr Major, I have not. The opportunity has never presented itself.” But the feldwebel cast a glance over to the shuttle-fighter and then back to the major.

  No one ever complained about the intelligence of his flight’s chief mechanic.