A Soldier’s Passion

by Jon Cunningham

  “Thanks, Doc,” I said.

  “My pleasure...hey when do I get invited for a fabulous meal a la chef Hardcase?”

  Vincent flushed, rolling his eyes. “Anytime, Doc. Later.”

  I sighed. “His eloquence is why I adore him. I’ll call you after we talk to the reporter.”

  Fritz was pleased to see us twice in one day. He offered and we accepted a special salad of delicate greens, sweet tomatoes, crumbled tangy cheese and thinly sliced salamis. Along with that came warm pumpernickel bread and a nice pilsner of cold beer. It was delicious and Fritz enjoyed our frank enjoyment proudly.

  We were having a great cup of strong coffee when we noticed her. She was tall and trim with a chic, serviceable haircut and a classy, casual suit that could work in almost any environment. The woman approached our table with a friendly smile and a purposeful stride. I waved Fritz off when he moved to stop her.

  “It’s okay, Fritz. She is expected,” I said.

  “My name is Eloise Kramer,” she said as we stood. “National News Service.”

  “Have a seat,” I replied. “Would you like some coffee?”

  “Yes, please, black.”

  Fritz nodded then hurried into the café.

  “Please, don’t be nervous,” she began. “I’m not here to do a hatchet job on your careers nor to endanger you by violating your security.”

  “I suppose we don’t understand what you hope to learn,” I said. “Most of what we are and do is classified.”

  Ms. Kramer pulled out a recorder-viewer and set it in front of us.

  “Please, look at this,” she said.

  It was a closer image of us attacking the behemoth than we’d seen to date. We looked really scary.

  “The public wants to understand how these two images relate,” Ms. Kramer explained.

  The second image was of Mrs. Schmidt and Mrs. Forrester hugging us in the Market. Vincent looked particularly adorable blushing to his hairline.

  I understood her angle then, but I had to satisfy my own curiosity.

  “We’ve never seen that battle footage before,” I said. “May we see more?”

  Ms. Kramer hit the menu to pull up the footage.

  “In all of the confusion, our network was able to send a camera drone close to the battlefield,” she said. “It has a great telephoto lens.”

  “Why didn’t you use any of this on the air?” Vincent asked. “Everything we’ve seen was from the military.”

  “The official story matched the Military footage and our own,” she explained. “We didn’t need to pick a fight with Joint Command, so we didn’t.”

  The footage was brutal. It showed how badly we were hurt toward the end. The flash of the behemoth’s explosion obscured us for a while, but as the intense flash subsided, the picture showed me cradling Vincent in my arms before we were rescued. The end of the clip revealed how hard it was to pull Vincent from away from me.

  “This would have made for great TV,” I commented.

  “Yeah, but it would have closed a door we’ve been trying to open for a long time,” Ms. Kramer replied. “We can be responsible. What I’d like to do is follow you for part of a day and watch you interact with your neighbors. Then, I’d like to interview you in a place where you feel comfortable.”

  “Can we not answer questions and not look like sweaty jerks?” Vincent asked.

  Ms. Kramer laughed with delight. “Absolutely. Just say out of bounds. I promise to edit it out.”

  Vincent and I looked at each other. My lover shrugged leaving it up to me.

  “We’ll meet you here tomorrow at 0900,” I said. “I think a picnic in the foothills would work. We’ll hike from here. How big is your crew?”

  “I’m my own camera and sound guy.”

  “Great.”

  I introduced Ms. Kramer to Fritz and let him know what would be happening in the morning. He promised to smooth the way with the vendors while we headed home.

  9

  The next morning was odd by even our standards. Bobby had decided to stay up late watching the recordings of our development and wasn’t his normal chipper self. I couldn’t say he was grumpy. Bobby Greven was never grumpy. He was punchy. Vincent was edgy, because he didn’t know what to expect. And I was wary for much the same reason. We certainly weren’t the friendliest people to turn up for an interview.

  Ms. Kramer seemed to find us amusing. “I can’t possibly be as scary as a 100 yard enemy ship on fire.”

  “We don’t know that, yet,” Vincent groused.

  “Just go about your shopping as if I weren’t here. I’ll start the interview later,” she said.

  Ignoring a reporter was something Vincent could get behind. He headed for the produce stalls with us trailing behind.

  “Don’t go crazy, Hardcase. We have to carry that uphill,” I muttered. “And by we, I mean you.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Vincent muttered.

  “Are you guys fighting?” Bobby asked with a yawn.

  “No, go back to sleep,” Vincent retorted.

  Vincent stopped at a fruit stand and selected some great looking fruit and tomatoes. At the deli, he picked out some smoked ham, salami and cheese. A couple of baguettes completed the picnic. I was carrying a bottle of wine in my rucksack along with a corkscrew and some frozen bottled water and juice. Each time we finished with a vendor, Ms. Kramer briefly interviewed them.

  She then watched as Vincent ordered breakfast for three at the café. Fritz was especially attentive and he seemed to have a fresh haircut.

  “You seem to know a lot about food, Major Greven,” She observed.

  “I’ve never eaten so well,” I remarked.

  “Brother learned to cook, because he was afraid of creamed corn,” Bobby offered.

  “I wasn’t afraid of creamed corn, lunkhead,” Vincent retorted. “And someone is a blabbermouth.”

  I tried to look innocent in the face of that golden glare.

  “The food at training may have been nutritious, but it sucked,” Vincent said to Ms. Kramer.

  “Altereds require high levels of nutrition because of the way our bodies work,” I explained. “And there was a school of thought that all of our requirements could be concentrated into a hot cereal or a creamed vegetable.”

  “Sounds appetizing,” Ms. Kramer quipped making a face.

  “You have no idea,” Vincent muttered. ““I learned to cook in self-defense. But nothing beats Fritz for breakfast.”

  That was said loudly enough for Fritz to give us a big grin.

  We talked about innocuous things as we enjoyed the meal. Ms. Kramer did not spend much time in the city, and thus didn’t know much about the Market. Though we were admittedly new civic boosters, we did our best to fill her in on where to shop and eat.

  Ms. Kramer showed a lot of wisdom in holding her questions until we were on the trail to the foothills. I was very glad there weren’t any extra ears about. I don’t know if I could have been really candid.

  “How do you feel about being a military weapon?” She asked as we walked along at a leisurely pace.

  “That’s what we are,” I replied easily. “We were altered at the cellular level to be a living weapon. We are a force of destruction. We accept that.”

  “Hell, we train hard to be good at it,” Vincent added.

  “We were altered to protect conventional soldiers from extreme risk. Our purpose is to deal out death and destruction to protect our military,” I said. “It is not an easy thing to do physically or emotionally or psychologically. But it’s all we’ve known since we were young.”

  “But you want our viewers to know something else about you,” Ms. Kramer prompted.

  “Yes. We’d like people to know that we have some highly enhanced skills, but we are human in every respect,” I said. “We can and do get hurt.”

  “Boy, can we get hurt,” Vincent snorted.

  “They can get snarky,” Bobby offered.

  “Hey!” Vincent re
torted.

  “Some say we have a sense of humor,” I said dryly.

  “Bobby, stop helping,” Vincent muttered.

  “Just trying to be candid like Ms. Kramer said.”

  “I’ll give you candid!”

  Bobby yelped then ran up the trail with Vincent in pursuit.

  “Brother, think of your image!”

  “I’ve got an image for you!”

  I shook my head, smiling.

  “They need to work off breakfast,” I explained.

  Ms. Kramer laughed. “They certainly act like normal, human brothers.”

  “Yep, they are,” I said. “All of our Altereds have a vulnerable side. One of my biggest and strongest Altereds likes to grow delicate orchids and nurses injured birds – he’s a sensitive soul except when he’s beating up a tank. If I accomplish nothing else in my retirement, I will succeed in making sure everyone understands that we are human beings – not a piece of ordnance.”

  “Are you proud to be an Altered?”

  “Yes,” I replied without hesitation. “I am proud of my service record and that of my squad.”

  We continued along the trail to a turn off that lead to a meadow with a beautiful stream gurgling nearby. My lover and his brother were lying on their backs with their rucksacks to one side.

  “Well, we are heading up a mountain,” I said by way of an explanation. “And the sacks are heavy.”

  “And we were running in the thin air, because some people wouldn’t stop,” Vincent muttered breathlessly.

  “If I stopped you were going to clobber me,” Bobby huffed reasonably.

  “Can this be out of bounds?” Vincent asked with a plaintive plea in his voice.

  I laughed.

  “Fat chance,” Eloise replied with a chuckle.

  I put my rucksack down and went to help Vincent up. He took my hand then promptly pulled me on top of him, his eyes were laughing into mine. He was so beautiful in the morning light. His expression made me forget the reporter and the camera. I rolled over so that he was on top of me. Vincent paused an instant before kissing me with great relish as I held him close with one hand in his hair and one at the small of his back. We parted reluctantly and got on our feet. Ms. Kramer was still filming with a big smile on her face while Bobby covered his eyes.

  “Hmmm, I don’t suppose...”

  “It’s out of bounds, but it was spectacular,” she said. “I’ll give you this part of the tape.”

  “Thank you,” I said gratefully.

  “But I have to say, part of what makes you two so compelling is how deeply you care for each other. It’s in every glance between you,” Ms. Kramer countered. “The images of your collapse at the Market were heart wrenching because of Vincent’s reaction. The public loves a love story.”

  “I don’t want to hide our feelings, but we have to handle it carefully,” I said. “Despite a change in the laws, the Military can still be...difficult about certain kinds of relationships.”

  “Trust me,” she said.

  Somehow, I did. So did Vincent. Bobby was actually flirting with her. We set up our blankets in the sun. It would get cool in a couple of hours. Vincent quickly set up the food in a simple array of meats, cheese, fruit and bread. I opened the wine and poured it into metal mugs.

  “Do you want to talk about the scar?” Ms. Kramer asked while we ate.

  I smiled. “I’m told it makes me look dashing.”

  “It does,” Vincent said with a soft smile.

  “I don’t usually talk about my injuries,” I said. “To anyone.”

  “None of them do,” Bobby said with an uncharacteristic edge to his voice. “I found out only last night how badly my brother has been hurt over the years, and how much pain there was and how long it took him to recover.”

  “Isn’t talking about the injury part of healing?” Ms. Kramer asked.

  “That has not been the case for Altereds,” I explained. “The concern is that we’d dwell on how we got hurt and that could break our focus in the next battle. We were trained to dwell only on healing our bodies to fight again.”

  “You have to be fearless?” Ms. Kramer asked.

  “There is always some fear,” I said. “They don’t want us to be reckless. It often looks like we are, but we really try to avoid taking risks beyond our abilities.”

  “The focus on our objective must be absolute,” Vincent said. “We must achieve the objective not matter what the cost.”

  “But you are safer if your focus is not on a past injury,” Bobby observed.

  “Yes,” Vincent replied.

  “But why do they let you go through so much pain?” Bobby asked. “To toughen you up?”

  “No, it’s not that,” I said. “Altereds have a great deal of control over their bodies. We have to be aware of how we’re healing. Pain meds disconnect us from that awareness. We are sedated through surgeries, but that’s all.”

  “I see,” Ms. Kramer said.

  “The meditations Rik taught me helped me cope with pain,” Vincent said. “That was the only way I could sleep after an injury.”

  “It looks cruel to the outside world, but it’s the safest way to handle our recovery,” I said.

  Somehow during the meal, Vincent migrated across the blanket to sit between my legs and lean back on me. I asked Ms. Kramer to take some photos of us with my camera. After the meal was cleared away, Vincent and Bobby left us in search of herbs.

  “The Foundation chose you well,” I observed quietly. “Even Vincent is relaxed around you. That doesn’t happen often with strangers. You may even get an invite to dinner.”

  “I can tell, and I am honored,” she replied. “I don’t often admire the people I interview.”

  Vincent and Bobby returned then with bunches of delicate greenery that he placed carefully in the front pocket of his rucksack. He flopped down beside me.

  “So, how do the nicknames happen?” Ms. Kramer asked.

  “The squad leader or training supervisor during advanced training picks them,” I replied. “Mine came from the energy. It looks like lightning sometimes.”

  “And Hardcase?” She asked with a wry smile.

  “I gave Vincent that,” I admitted with a smile. “He was a little stubborn during training.”

  Vincent snorted.

  “Okay, he was a cement-headed pain in the ass,” I amended.

  Vincent smiled at me and batted his eyes.

  “We were at odds from his first moment of advance training. He was always trying to push himself beyond his limits,” I said eyeing my lover.

  “And Rik was always trying to keep me from killing myself,” Vincent said. “He scowled a lot.”

  “And then there was the yelling,” Bobby added. “And the flying furniture.”

  “Being a squad leader can be a hazard on its own,” I chuckled. “I always had to plan skirmishes before the skirmishes.”

  “It took me a while to figure out that Rik wasn’t just being a jerkwad trying to keep me from being my best,” Vincent said. “I had to grow up a lot to understand what Rik was doing.”

  “We’ve talked about the danger and the pain,” Ms. Kramer said. “Is there anything about being an Altered that’s fun?”

  “Yes, of course,” I said. “It’s like the pleasure and athletes have when they are at the peak of their prowess.”

  “We don’t play in battle or even when we do training exercises,”” Vincent said. “But we cut loose with each other sometimes. We play basketball...football.”

  “Frisbee can be very dangerous with us, but it’s fun,” I said with a smile. “Someone sliced through a general’s staff car with one once.”

  “Yeah, someone,” Vincent laughed.

  “Being hyper aware of your body means that when things feel good, they really feel great,” I said wistfully. “There are positive tradeoffs to this life.”

  “That’s it, I’ve got what I need,” Ms Kramer said, turning off the camera. “It’ll be a great pi
ece, believe me.”

  The conversation on the way down the trail drifted to all that Vincent missed during his absence. Ms Kramer was an excellent source of direct information on news and cultural trends. In return, I believe she was surprised and impressed at how well read both Vincent and I were. Bobby also surprised her with his very intelligent questions.