War on the Horizon
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Book 2: Chapter 6
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MarkWarrior
Well-known member
Book 2: Chapter 6
My Warhammer shook as heavy winds battered against it; the consistent rain drowned out even the subtle vibrations of the seventy-five-ton war machine’s fusion engine.
“Colonel, we’ll have to pull back into nearby structures!” Julia Watson’s voice was complimented by static on our secure frequency. “We’re starting to have to use the tank’s ballast pumps!”
“There’s a parking garage a thousand meters to our south,” I checked the current map layout we had been using. “Park on one of the higher levels and get dried out. I have a feeling that this rain will stall them out before long.”
After watching the lights on the vehicles move further away, I backed my ‘Mech into an alleyway and shifted into a stable crouch.
“Monsoon season,” I sighed as I set an alert chime on my sensors and pulled out the sleeping bag I kept in the cockpit. “It just had to be Monsoon season.”
The enemy wouldn’t be moving through the night. It was dark enough in the day during the monsoon season. But at night? No, no one with any sense moved at night in this weather. Not when you might turn a wrong corner and be face to face with a tornado or some other Act of God.
I double-checked that the searchlights were off and then slid into the insulated bag, a small pillow separating my cheek from the cold metal surface of my cockpit.
As the raindrops shattered harmlessly against the external armor of my ‘Mech, I closed my eyes and drifted away into Morpheus’s realm.
–
–
Six hours later, I opened my eyes to a gray sky. The rain still fell, but the pitch black of the night had given way to a blurred light.
Groaning, I climbed out of the sleeping bag and packed the kit, storing it before groaning as I stretched.
“Fucking back,” I put my hands under my shoulder blades and leaned back to a series of ‘cracks’ running down my spine.
Grabbing my cooling vest, I slid it back on and climbed into the command chair, the active sensors powering on once more as I secured my neurohelmet.
“Peterson, you got a sitrep for me?” I keyed my mic.
“No movement as of yet, Colonel,” he replied. “Rain’s not comin’ down quite as fierce. I expect they’ll hit us soon.”
“Roger that,” I pulled my ‘Mech out of the crouch and shifted out of the alleyway, moving down the street towards the shield generators. “I’m Oscar-mike to your position,” I then changed frequencies. “Watson, get your vics in position. We’re expecting enemy movement soon.”
“Copy that, Colonel, mounting up and moving out!”
While the short company was preparing to stave off what was left of the Trade Federation’s ground forces, something else was happening in the skies above.
“The Monsoon will go on for a few more days!” the shuttle pilot yelled over the sound of the wind. “But it’s died down enough for us to set down more troops. We can’t land inside the city. The wind’s too strong! So we’ll put you down on the outskirts, let you move in.”
Count Dooku was silent as he braced against the handle above him, his armored fist clenched tightly as the shuttle hovered off of the ground, the Marksman troops jumping off as a few tanks and ‘mechs fell from other shuttles in front and behind them.
“Major Sheppard,” the Count’s smile was grim.
“Yan,” the Marksman XO grinned. “Good to see that you took my advice on the armor. You ready to shred these fuckers?”
Dooku raised his hand, and his lightsaber flew to it, the blue beam igniting before vanishing again.
“Lead me to the front lines. It is high time that I faced the enemy.”
“Well, follow me,” Sheppard climbed the ladder up into the cockpit of his Cyclops, the aging Chief of State following him.
“There’s a fold-out chair behind you,” Sheppard handed the other man a cooling vest. “And you’re going to want to put this on. My ‘mech doesn’t generate much heat, but there’s always a chance of something going wrong.”
The Assault ‘mech moved behind the rest of the armor and ‘Mechs, the rain coming down around them while troops in powered armor held onto the outside of hovercraft, APCs, and other vehicles.
As they followed, Sheppard connected Dooku to the ‘Mech’s communications systems and demonstrated how the command console worked, allowing him to glimpse what the battlefield looked like before they moved into proper combat.
“Command, armor is taking heavy fire from the nearby buildings. Looks like someone wised up on the enemy side.”
“That’s why we have infantry and armor,” Sheppard replied. “Dismount and start clearing houses. We’ll take care of enemy armor.”
APCs sped through the streets, and powered armor clad infantry moved from building to building while the tanks and Mechs offered support.
“Colonel, we’ve got limited contact here,” Sheppard’s battlecomputer pushed through the storm's interference to link up on the battlenet. “What’s your status?”
“You’re on their flanks!” distant explosions were heard. “We’re heavily outnumbered here. I would appreciate some support!”
“Monsoon only let up enough to get us near the city,” Sheppard sighed. “Not enough for air support to assist.”
“Shit,” Hull’s voice responded. “You’re going to have to push in and take them out. We’re watching our fire for now, but if we have to cough up some funds to restore some buildings, I think that’s a price I’m willing to pay at this point.”
“We’ll get there as fast as we can. Just hold out a bit longer.”
Standing in front of a crippled Hunter, I absorbed fire from the AATs while the tank crew scrambled out of the tank and into nearby buildings.
A lucky shot rocked me back before I made the offending hover tank vanish in a swarm of smoke and explosives, my short-range missiles ripping the enemy armor to shreds before I stepped away to dodge the next wave of fire.
I was ignoring the wireframe overlay in the corner of my vision. A desperate hope in my heart that if I didn’t acknowledge it, it wouldn’t be true.
“Heat Sink destroyed!” Betty alerted me to yet another heat sink falling to a luckily placed shot. I was now drenched in sweat, and my heat curve was only helped by the fact that one of my PPCs was gone. It had been deleted by a cluster of hailfire missiles early on, and I had been left without one of my primary weapons for most of this engagement.
“Colonel, my Jaguar’s toast,” Captain Julia Watson coughed into her comms. “And we’re too far apart for you to get us out of here,” I could see the tank through enemy lines, the battle droids surrounding it with heavy weapons ready to finish it off. “Give ‘em hell for me.”
The light tank’s turret shifted and began to fire everything it had left. Coaxial machinegun fire tore nearby droids to shreds while the main gun finished off yet another AAT.
I pushed my ‘Mech to its limits, trying to break through the enemy lines to the last of my tanks. I’d ensured that all my crews made it out of this alive. I wasn’t going to let one die in front of my eyes today!
A missile curved in and slammed into my cockpit, while an AAT round hit my gyro, the sudden hit sending me off balance and into the ground, where things went black.
“Shit,” I groaned as I picked my head up from where it had fallen.
My gyro had stopped moving entirely, and the wireframe readout showed that everything had been stripped down to nothing more than the bare skeletal structure of my ‘mech’s chassis.
“Sensors offline, gyro offline,” Betty began listing the critical damage before I muted her and tried to restart the gyro.
“C’mon,” I tried to restart the stuck balancing device, only for grinding and a screech of metal to stop them from spinning. “Work you piece of shit!”
I slammed my fist into the panel and button.
The sound was worse this time, and I grit my teeth as the gyro hesitated and then smoothed out.
“Hell yeah,” I grinned, reaching out with my remaining PPC to stabilize and assist in moving my ‘Mech upright. “Well fuck.”
The droids had seemingly left Watson’s tank alone, but now they were entirely focused on my fallen ‘Mech, the last fifty or so remaining AATs weapons pointed directly at my center torso.
Sighing, I reached for the ejection handle and began to pull it down before I paused at the sound of explosions.
My mouth dropped open, and I watched in awe as a Hetzer drifted around a corner, it's AC-20 carving open everything in its path before a lance of Toros and Centurions followed. The ‘Mechs blazed a path forward as a Cyclops turned the corner, its bulk towering over the droids before a blue beam of light dropped down to support the Mithril squads that dropped off the ‘Mechs.
I closed my eyes and rested my head against the back of my command chair. It had been a fucking long day, and the cavalry had finally arrived.
My Warhammer shook as heavy winds battered against it; the consistent rain drowned out even the subtle vibrations of the seventy-five-ton war machine’s fusion engine.
“Colonel, we’ll have to pull back into nearby structures!” Julia Watson’s voice was complimented by static on our secure frequency. “We’re starting to have to use the tank’s ballast pumps!”
“There’s a parking garage a thousand meters to our south,” I checked the current map layout we had been using. “Park on one of the higher levels and get dried out. I have a feeling that this rain will stall them out before long.”
After watching the lights on the vehicles move further away, I backed my ‘Mech into an alleyway and shifted into a stable crouch.
“Monsoon season,” I sighed as I set an alert chime on my sensors and pulled out the sleeping bag I kept in the cockpit. “It just had to be Monsoon season.”
The enemy wouldn’t be moving through the night. It was dark enough in the day during the monsoon season. But at night? No, no one with any sense moved at night in this weather. Not when you might turn a wrong corner and be face to face with a tornado or some other Act of God.
I double-checked that the searchlights were off and then slid into the insulated bag, a small pillow separating my cheek from the cold metal surface of my cockpit.
As the raindrops shattered harmlessly against the external armor of my ‘Mech, I closed my eyes and drifted away into Morpheus’s realm.
–
–
Six hours later, I opened my eyes to a gray sky. The rain still fell, but the pitch black of the night had given way to a blurred light.
Groaning, I climbed out of the sleeping bag and packed the kit, storing it before groaning as I stretched.
“Fucking back,” I put my hands under my shoulder blades and leaned back to a series of ‘cracks’ running down my spine.
Grabbing my cooling vest, I slid it back on and climbed into the command chair, the active sensors powering on once more as I secured my neurohelmet.
“Peterson, you got a sitrep for me?” I keyed my mic.
“No movement as of yet, Colonel,” he replied. “Rain’s not comin’ down quite as fierce. I expect they’ll hit us soon.”
“Roger that,” I pulled my ‘Mech out of the crouch and shifted out of the alleyway, moving down the street towards the shield generators. “I’m Oscar-mike to your position,” I then changed frequencies. “Watson, get your vics in position. We’re expecting enemy movement soon.”
“Copy that, Colonel, mounting up and moving out!”
While the short company was preparing to stave off what was left of the Trade Federation’s ground forces, something else was happening in the skies above.
“The Monsoon will go on for a few more days!” the shuttle pilot yelled over the sound of the wind. “But it’s died down enough for us to set down more troops. We can’t land inside the city. The wind’s too strong! So we’ll put you down on the outskirts, let you move in.”
Count Dooku was silent as he braced against the handle above him, his armored fist clenched tightly as the shuttle hovered off of the ground, the Marksman troops jumping off as a few tanks and ‘mechs fell from other shuttles in front and behind them.
“Major Sheppard,” the Count’s smile was grim.
“Yan,” the Marksman XO grinned. “Good to see that you took my advice on the armor. You ready to shred these fuckers?”
Dooku raised his hand, and his lightsaber flew to it, the blue beam igniting before vanishing again.
“Lead me to the front lines. It is high time that I faced the enemy.”
“Well, follow me,” Sheppard climbed the ladder up into the cockpit of his Cyclops, the aging Chief of State following him.
“There’s a fold-out chair behind you,” Sheppard handed the other man a cooling vest. “And you’re going to want to put this on. My ‘mech doesn’t generate much heat, but there’s always a chance of something going wrong.”
The Assault ‘mech moved behind the rest of the armor and ‘Mechs, the rain coming down around them while troops in powered armor held onto the outside of hovercraft, APCs, and other vehicles.
As they followed, Sheppard connected Dooku to the ‘Mech’s communications systems and demonstrated how the command console worked, allowing him to glimpse what the battlefield looked like before they moved into proper combat.
“Command, armor is taking heavy fire from the nearby buildings. Looks like someone wised up on the enemy side.”
“That’s why we have infantry and armor,” Sheppard replied. “Dismount and start clearing houses. We’ll take care of enemy armor.”
APCs sped through the streets, and powered armor clad infantry moved from building to building while the tanks and Mechs offered support.
“Colonel, we’ve got limited contact here,” Sheppard’s battlecomputer pushed through the storm's interference to link up on the battlenet. “What’s your status?”
“You’re on their flanks!” distant explosions were heard. “We’re heavily outnumbered here. I would appreciate some support!”
“Monsoon only let up enough to get us near the city,” Sheppard sighed. “Not enough for air support to assist.”
“Shit,” Hull’s voice responded. “You’re going to have to push in and take them out. We’re watching our fire for now, but if we have to cough up some funds to restore some buildings, I think that’s a price I’m willing to pay at this point.”
“We’ll get there as fast as we can. Just hold out a bit longer.”
Standing in front of a crippled Hunter, I absorbed fire from the AATs while the tank crew scrambled out of the tank and into nearby buildings.
A lucky shot rocked me back before I made the offending hover tank vanish in a swarm of smoke and explosives, my short-range missiles ripping the enemy armor to shreds before I stepped away to dodge the next wave of fire.
I was ignoring the wireframe overlay in the corner of my vision. A desperate hope in my heart that if I didn’t acknowledge it, it wouldn’t be true.
“Heat Sink destroyed!” Betty alerted me to yet another heat sink falling to a luckily placed shot. I was now drenched in sweat, and my heat curve was only helped by the fact that one of my PPCs was gone. It had been deleted by a cluster of hailfire missiles early on, and I had been left without one of my primary weapons for most of this engagement.
“Colonel, my Jaguar’s toast,” Captain Julia Watson coughed into her comms. “And we’re too far apart for you to get us out of here,” I could see the tank through enemy lines, the battle droids surrounding it with heavy weapons ready to finish it off. “Give ‘em hell for me.”
The light tank’s turret shifted and began to fire everything it had left. Coaxial machinegun fire tore nearby droids to shreds while the main gun finished off yet another AAT.
I pushed my ‘Mech to its limits, trying to break through the enemy lines to the last of my tanks. I’d ensured that all my crews made it out of this alive. I wasn’t going to let one die in front of my eyes today!
A missile curved in and slammed into my cockpit, while an AAT round hit my gyro, the sudden hit sending me off balance and into the ground, where things went black.
“Shit,” I groaned as I picked my head up from where it had fallen.
My gyro had stopped moving entirely, and the wireframe readout showed that everything had been stripped down to nothing more than the bare skeletal structure of my ‘mech’s chassis.
“Sensors offline, gyro offline,” Betty began listing the critical damage before I muted her and tried to restart the gyro.
“C’mon,” I tried to restart the stuck balancing device, only for grinding and a screech of metal to stop them from spinning. “Work you piece of shit!”
I slammed my fist into the panel and button.
The sound was worse this time, and I grit my teeth as the gyro hesitated and then smoothed out.
“Hell yeah,” I grinned, reaching out with my remaining PPC to stabilize and assist in moving my ‘Mech upright. “Well fuck.”
The droids had seemingly left Watson’s tank alone, but now they were entirely focused on my fallen ‘Mech, the last fifty or so remaining AATs weapons pointed directly at my center torso.
Sighing, I reached for the ejection handle and began to pull it down before I paused at the sound of explosions.
My mouth dropped open, and I watched in awe as a Hetzer drifted around a corner, it's AC-20 carving open everything in its path before a lance of Toros and Centurions followed. The ‘Mechs blazed a path forward as a Cyclops turned the corner, its bulk towering over the droids before a blue beam of light dropped down to support the Mithril squads that dropped off the ‘Mechs.
I closed my eyes and rested my head against the back of my command chair. It had been a fucking long day, and the cavalry had finally arrived.
Book 2: Chapter 7
New
MarkWarrior
Well-known member
Book 2: Chapter 7
The day began with a funeral…
It wasn’t the first funeral I’d overseen as the head of a mercenary company, and it wouldn’t be the last. I had had men and women die under my command. I’d seen death up close and laughed in her face as she attempted to snatch my life from me.
Regardless of how things went, there would always be a part of me that felt guilty for living when others died. There was something inside that screamed and railed against the cold and brutal reality of the world. I had done everything possible to ensure that those under my command lived. I Had nearly paid the ultimate price myself. But it was never enough.
The bright young commander of the combat vehicle Fireteam would probably never walk again. Most of her command was dead. And Peterson’s infantry had been whittled down to a mere handful before Sheppard had broken through and came to our aid. For all that people would believe that we had won, we had still lost.
–
–
We had pried the ground-side leader of the Trade Federation out of his tank and began interrogating him. I knew I couldn’t handle the questioning, so I withdrew myself and buried myself in other work. All of this resulted in what I was doing right now.
“Are you ready, sir?” Julia moved the hoverchair beside me.
“No,” I shook my head. “No one’s ever ready for what we’re about to do.”
The two of us made our way to the first house, one of many we would visit today.
“Mrs. Jefferson?” I questioned the woman who stood at the door.
The woman knew what we would say before we opened our mouths to speak again, and tears began flowing.
“Please, come in,” she choked out through broken sobs.
Entering the house, we helped her to a small sofa in the living room of their comfortable home.
“Mrs. Jefferson,” I allowed a tear to trail down before steeling myself for what came next. “I regret to inform you that your husband Kyle perished during the battle against the Trade Federation forces.”
“How did he die?” She asked.
“He was a hero,” I tried to smile and failed. “One of our tanks was disabled, and the rest of the crew was injured. He pulled each of them out and into safety before finally succumbing to his injuries.”
“And the bastards that killed him?” She lifted her eyes. A harsh, bitter anger shone through them. “What’s going to happen to them?”
“We destroyed all of the droids,” Julia said after a minute.
“No,” The widow replied. “What are we going to do to the Trade Federation?”
She wasn’t the only one with that question, and after two weeks, we finally had an answer.
“You understand that I cannot sanction this as the head of the Confederacy of Independent Systems,” Dooku sat on the other side of my desk, a sad, tired look in his eye.
“I know,” I replied. “But if I don’t retaliate, there will be even more consequences.”
“You didn’t let me finish,” the older man smiled sadly. “I cannot sanction the action as the head of government. But as a friend, I wholeheartedly support this action.”
“I thought vengeance wasn’t something the Jedi favored?” I raised an eyebrow.
“It is good that I am not a Jedi, then,” Dooku replied. “I understand the political ramifications of what will happen if you do nothing.”
“I’ll try to leave the Confederacy out of things,” I tapped the desk. “But I can’t promise that the Republic will have a good reaction to things.”
“Beloria is an independent world,” Dooku shrugged. “The politicians will scream regardless of what you do.”
“Then I might as well go all out then.”
We continued discussing plans for a little while before the other man departed; he had to return to Raxus and ensure that the CIS was seen as blameless in anything that happened in the near future.
But I wasn’t alone for long.
“Need someone to break you out of here?” Siri asked, her arms crossed underneath her chest.
“My knight in shining armor,” I grinned back. “Here to save me from the dreaded bars of paperwork!”
“There are droids that can do this,” she picked up one of the sheets and frowned at the language she couldn’t read.
“Sure,” I agreed. “But I’d rather have a medium that no one can hack, slice, or understand outside of my inner circle.”
“Right,” she blew a piece of hair out of her eyes. “You look like you need a drink, and I want a story.”
“What I need, is a damned cigar,” I sighed. “But I haven’t found any yet, so I’ll have to settle for a drink.”
I stood up and walked to the door, the Jedi Knight following as I closed and locked the door.
So we headed for my house, I needed a break after two months of a hellish siege and living in the cockpit of my Warhammer, and Siri wanted to make sure that her friend wasn’t too close to the edge.
“Listen,” I said after I opened the door to my small house. “I already did my twenty-two today. You don’t have to worry too much.”
“I don’t even know what that means,” she frowned. “But no one needs to be alone in a time like this.”
“We’re corrupting you,” I chuckled as I flipped lights on and pulled a mostly-full bottle of whisky out of a cabinet.
“I suppose,” she set the bottle down on the small four person table while I grabbed glasses. “Now, tell me what happened on the ground and I’ll do the same for the space battle.”
We shared stories of the conflict long into the night, the bottle still mostly full as we only drank sparingly when we needed to wet out tongues. Because sometimes, all you need to make it through the darkness is a solid friend by your side and enough ammunition to kill anything that stands in your way.
“Hmm,” I woke up gradually, for once the klaxon of my alarm clock having been silenced the night before.
“Fuuuuck, that was some good sleep,” I sat up and stretched, the endorphins making me sleepy for a moment before the fog of the morning vanished.
Even through the stress, I had been able to find some rest and peace, and that was something I hadn’t had in years. Then the warm body next to me shifted and the memories of the night before came back like an F-15 beating the atmosphere into submission.
“Whelp,” I glanced at the nude blond next to me. “Might as well enjoy it.”
I scooted back down and pulled the comforter back over me. I’d deal with that potential issue tomorrow…
The day began with a funeral…
It wasn’t the first funeral I’d overseen as the head of a mercenary company, and it wouldn’t be the last. I had had men and women die under my command. I’d seen death up close and laughed in her face as she attempted to snatch my life from me.
Regardless of how things went, there would always be a part of me that felt guilty for living when others died. There was something inside that screamed and railed against the cold and brutal reality of the world. I had done everything possible to ensure that those under my command lived. I Had nearly paid the ultimate price myself. But it was never enough.
The bright young commander of the combat vehicle Fireteam would probably never walk again. Most of her command was dead. And Peterson’s infantry had been whittled down to a mere handful before Sheppard had broken through and came to our aid. For all that people would believe that we had won, we had still lost.
–
–
We had pried the ground-side leader of the Trade Federation out of his tank and began interrogating him. I knew I couldn’t handle the questioning, so I withdrew myself and buried myself in other work. All of this resulted in what I was doing right now.
“Are you ready, sir?” Julia moved the hoverchair beside me.
“No,” I shook my head. “No one’s ever ready for what we’re about to do.”
The two of us made our way to the first house, one of many we would visit today.
“Mrs. Jefferson?” I questioned the woman who stood at the door.
The woman knew what we would say before we opened our mouths to speak again, and tears began flowing.
“Please, come in,” she choked out through broken sobs.
Entering the house, we helped her to a small sofa in the living room of their comfortable home.
“Mrs. Jefferson,” I allowed a tear to trail down before steeling myself for what came next. “I regret to inform you that your husband Kyle perished during the battle against the Trade Federation forces.”
“How did he die?” She asked.
“He was a hero,” I tried to smile and failed. “One of our tanks was disabled, and the rest of the crew was injured. He pulled each of them out and into safety before finally succumbing to his injuries.”
“And the bastards that killed him?” She lifted her eyes. A harsh, bitter anger shone through them. “What’s going to happen to them?”
“We destroyed all of the droids,” Julia said after a minute.
“No,” The widow replied. “What are we going to do to the Trade Federation?”
She wasn’t the only one with that question, and after two weeks, we finally had an answer.
“You understand that I cannot sanction this as the head of the Confederacy of Independent Systems,” Dooku sat on the other side of my desk, a sad, tired look in his eye.
“I know,” I replied. “But if I don’t retaliate, there will be even more consequences.”
“You didn’t let me finish,” the older man smiled sadly. “I cannot sanction the action as the head of government. But as a friend, I wholeheartedly support this action.”
“I thought vengeance wasn’t something the Jedi favored?” I raised an eyebrow.
“It is good that I am not a Jedi, then,” Dooku replied. “I understand the political ramifications of what will happen if you do nothing.”
“I’ll try to leave the Confederacy out of things,” I tapped the desk. “But I can’t promise that the Republic will have a good reaction to things.”
“Beloria is an independent world,” Dooku shrugged. “The politicians will scream regardless of what you do.”
“Then I might as well go all out then.”
We continued discussing plans for a little while before the other man departed; he had to return to Raxus and ensure that the CIS was seen as blameless in anything that happened in the near future.
But I wasn’t alone for long.
“Need someone to break you out of here?” Siri asked, her arms crossed underneath her chest.
“My knight in shining armor,” I grinned back. “Here to save me from the dreaded bars of paperwork!”
“There are droids that can do this,” she picked up one of the sheets and frowned at the language she couldn’t read.
“Sure,” I agreed. “But I’d rather have a medium that no one can hack, slice, or understand outside of my inner circle.”
“Right,” she blew a piece of hair out of her eyes. “You look like you need a drink, and I want a story.”
“What I need, is a damned cigar,” I sighed. “But I haven’t found any yet, so I’ll have to settle for a drink.”
I stood up and walked to the door, the Jedi Knight following as I closed and locked the door.
So we headed for my house, I needed a break after two months of a hellish siege and living in the cockpit of my Warhammer, and Siri wanted to make sure that her friend wasn’t too close to the edge.
“Listen,” I said after I opened the door to my small house. “I already did my twenty-two today. You don’t have to worry too much.”
“I don’t even know what that means,” she frowned. “But no one needs to be alone in a time like this.”
“We’re corrupting you,” I chuckled as I flipped lights on and pulled a mostly-full bottle of whisky out of a cabinet.
“I suppose,” she set the bottle down on the small four person table while I grabbed glasses. “Now, tell me what happened on the ground and I’ll do the same for the space battle.”
We shared stories of the conflict long into the night, the bottle still mostly full as we only drank sparingly when we needed to wet out tongues. Because sometimes, all you need to make it through the darkness is a solid friend by your side and enough ammunition to kill anything that stands in your way.
“Hmm,” I woke up gradually, for once the klaxon of my alarm clock having been silenced the night before.
“Fuuuuck, that was some good sleep,” I sat up and stretched, the endorphins making me sleepy for a moment before the fog of the morning vanished.
Even through the stress, I had been able to find some rest and peace, and that was something I hadn’t had in years. Then the warm body next to me shifted and the memories of the night before came back like an F-15 beating the atmosphere into submission.
“Whelp,” I glanced at the nude blond next to me. “Might as well enjoy it.”
I scooted back down and pulled the comforter back over me. I’d deal with that potential issue tomorrow…