***
Jodi dreamed. Her nose was filled with the heady aroma of meat cooking over an open fire, and saliva flowed in her mouth like the warm waters of a deep subterranean river. Her stomach growled in her dream, and she moaned with almost sexual pleasure at the prospect of feasting on a thick, juicy steak, even one out of the shipboard food processors.
The dream, strange though some might have considered it, was rooted in one of Jodi’s deepest desires since she had been marooned on Rutan. Penned up within the village walls for most of their stay, unable to hunt because of the threat from the Kreelans, the Marines had been eating little more than the stored bread, beans, and some vegetables of dubious origin. The Rutanians, being vegetarians, found this no great hardship, but Jodi and many of Colonel Moreau’s people had become almost desperate for the taste of meat, especially when edible game was so plentiful in the nearby forest. Father Hernandez had chided her that it was an addictive vice akin to overindulgence in alcohol, and Jodi had not argued the point. If he and his people were content to live eating nothing but what came directly from plants grown and harvested by their own hands, Jodi would be the last to condemn them. But she and many of the others wanted something more.
She turned over on her side as the object in her dream floated into crystal-clear focus: a thick tender sirloin, this time not lean and healthy, but edged with a centimeter of delicious fat. Its plate-sized sides were streaked with the charring marks from the grill and carried the scent of the rare mesquite charcoal used to cook it.
Her stomach growled so loudly that it woke her up. Up to that point, the dream had been more satisfying and pleasurable than any sexual fantasy she could recall, if not because of its vividness, then perhaps because she had not eaten since the afternoon two days before.
“Oh, shit,” she moaned, putting one hand over her empty belly, wishing she were back in the village rather than out here. But even though the villagers had all peacefully returned to their homes and the village was quiet, there was still a great deal of uncertainty regarding Reza. In light of that and Jodi’s unusual orders regarding Reza’s safety, she, Braddock and the priest had decided to remain in the tree grove – surrounded by the remaining Marines – to await the arrival of TF-85 and keep Reza company.
The culinary dream fading, Jodi came fully awake, her stomach grumbling even louder. The bedroll next to hers, where she had finally convinced Reza to lay down and sleep, was empty. “Where’s–”
As she turned toward the fire and where Braddock and Father Hernandez had made their beds, her breath caught in her throat. Not five feet away, suspended on a spit over red-hot coals, was a forest gazelle. The aroma of cooking meat was nearly overwhelming, and she realized that this is what had prompted the dream about the steak. Her mouth suddenly was awash in saliva in anticipation of biting into the golden brown meat.
“Maybe there is a God,” she murmured.
“To hear such words from your lips,” came Father Hernandez’s cheery voice from somewhere on the other side of the roasting animal, “makes me think that you are not quite as stubborn as me after all.” His head popped up, his cherubic smile clearly visible through the smoke of the mystery barbecue. “Would you care to be baptized in the river this morning, good daughter?”
“Very funny, pious priest,” she said. She was not sure which was worse, being baptized into something she had never understood, or having someone dunk her in the freezing glacier water of the nearby river. She had always thought that was a truly moronic idea. “Where’s Reza? And where did this come from, besides heaven?”
“Reza and your gunny,” he said, as always emphasizing the term as if he had never heard it before, “headed off toward the river a short while ago, presumably to take a refreshing dip while leaving me temporarily in charge of this most awful effort.” He made a show of rotating the carcass a quarter turn on the spit, his face a tight grimace of disgust. “I awoke to this horrid vision when dawn broke. Reza must have killed the poor thing some time during the night and prepared it for your culinary pleasure.”
“You just don’t know what’s good for you, Father,” she said, taking one last look at the savory meat and wondering how Reza could have done all that without any of them waking up. Then again, they were all exhausted, and Jodi knew she probably could have slept through a hailstorm. “Since you’re doing such a good job, I’ll let you be and check out what the boys are doing down at the river.”
“Wait! Don’t leave me with this… this thing,” Hernandez called, but Jodi paid him no attention as she trotted toward the sound of the rushing water. “Lord, forgive me for saying this,” he muttered, glaring at the roasting beast, “but great should be my reward in Heaven for enduring such trials.”
Jodi found Braddock sitting on the bank, a slender blade of grass protruding from his lips. Beside him Reza’s armor and clothing lay in a meticulously ordered stack, but its owner was nowhere to be found. “Where is he?” she asked.
Braddock pointed to a group of rocks in the middle of a swirling mass of white water a few meters from shore. “In there somewhere.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, panicked. “Can he even swim?”
Braddock chuckled. “He’s already been to the far side and back. Underwater the whole way on a single breath. I don’t think we have to worry about him drowning any time soon.”
Jodi eyed the river, gauging its width. She figured she might make it a quarter of the way to the far side in one breath on a good day with a tailwind, but certainly not in the current that flowed here. “Shit,” she said.
“Yeah,” Braddock agreed.
Sitting down beside him, she asked, “Why didn’t you wake me up?”
“Officers get cranky when they don’t get enough sleep,” he said lightly. “And you haven’t had much sleep since you bailed out over this rock.”
“So, are you saying that I’m cranky?”
Braddock laughed. The atmosphere around them had changed; the battle was over, the pressure was off. Reza’s appearance was an enigma, but no immediate threat had materialized from him. Braddock felt like a human being again, instead of a cornered animal fighting for its existence. “No comment.”
“Braddock,” she said, serious now.
“Yeah.”
“For whatever it’s worth, thanks for keeping me in one piece.”
He nodded, then gave her a mischievous smile. “It’s only because I kept hoping you’d go straight and surrender to my masculine charms.”
Jodi laughed so hard that her stomach began to hurt. “I’m sorry,” she said finally, trying to control the spasms when she saw his face redden slightly. He had said it as a joke, but she could tell that there had been more than a grain of truth to his words. “Tony, really, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… well, you know. Make you feel bad. I mean, off-duty, I’d like to be friends,” she shrugged, “as much as officers and NCOs are supposed to be, anyway. But that’s all I can ever be with you.”
“Oh, hell, Mackenzie,” he sighed wistfully, “I know that. It’s just wishful thinking, is all. I won’t hold it against you. Too much.”
“Thanks,” she said, patting his arm. He was a good man, a rare commodity on any world, and a good friend, which sometimes was even more difficult to find.
He suddenly nodded toward the water. “There’s our boy.”
Jodi looked up to find Reza standing chest-deep in the water, his gaze fixed on her.
“Hey, I think he’s got the hots for you, too.”
“Oh, stop it,” Jodi chastened him, but she wondered if what Braddock said wasn’t at least partially true. While Reza seemed to have bonded to Braddock and at least tolerated Father Hernandez, he related to her almost like a newborn chick that had imprinted itself on a surrogate mother. The bond did not seem to be sexually motivated; then again, there was no way for Jodi to really know, either way. Until Reza could be taught Standard – or he could teach someone Kreelan – only the most rudimentary communications could
be exchanged. “He’s only interested in me for my mind.”
“Oh, Christ,” Braddock moaned, “he can’t be that desperate.”
Reza watched them curiously, then energetically gestured at them with an outstretched hand, beckoning them to join him.
“Looks like he wants some company,” Braddock said, shaking his head and holding up his hands in deferment. “He tried to get me in there earlier, but this is one I’ll pass on.”
“What’s the matter? Is tough old gunny afraid to show off his wares?”
Braddock snorted. “Come on. You know how cold that water is. One step in there and I’d be groping around for a week trying to get a grip on myself again. If Reza can swim around like a beluga whale, power to him. I’ll just sit nice and dry and stinky for right now, thanks very much.”
“You better turn around, then,” she told him as she began to undo the catches on her combat smock. “No free peeks unless you do the same.”
“Jodi,” he cried, “are you crazy? You’ll freeze in there!”
“I know,” she sighed as she made him turn around to face the sloping wall of the river bank, “but they don’t heat the water in the village, either, and I’d rather not be the star of another peepshow for Hernandez’s monks. I found the little hole they drilled in the wall of the bath.” After this little discovery, the priest had been livid with his charges, and a severe tongue-lashing left them suitably terror- and guilt-stricken. But that was all ancient history now, having taken place soon after Jodi had bailed out, when such luxuries as personal hygiene had still been possible for the human combatants. “I figure I can jump in, scream, rub off some of the scum and get some of the shit out of my hair, and then jump back out and dry off with my smock and get dressed again before I turn into a popsicle.”
“You’re nuts,” Braddock said, exasperated, as he faced the opposite direction. He heard the whisper and rasp of the heavy combat uniform against Jodi’s skin as she undressed behind him. With a subtle movement, he extracted a small mirror, much like those used by dentists before more sophisticated scanners became available, from a cargo pocket on his uniform. He had used it on many occasions to see around corners without exposing his head to attack, and the seemingly primitive device had saved him from becoming a headless wonder on more than one occasion. He had to smile to himself. The young Navy lieutenant was going to have to work harder to outwit this Marine.
Holding it up in such a way as to not be too obvious, he took a surreptitious look at the scene behind him. He let his breath out slowly at what he saw when Jodi’s undershirt and panties slid to the ground. Braddock had intimately known more women than he sometimes cared to admit, but none of them compared to this one. A non-practicing Christian, he marveled at how Jodi could look at herself in a mirror and still not believe that the Universe was a divine creation.
Feeling a rush of heat, he decided that he better put the mirror away.
“You can look after I get in the water,” she told him firmly.
“Whatever you say, ma’am,” he replied innocently.
Jodi gingerly stepped toward the water, suddenly wondering if this was not a serious error in judgment on her part. “What the hell,” she sighed as the icy water touched her feet, bubbling around her ankles. Reza watched her patiently. “Here goes,” she cried, diving headfirst into the water.
There was cold, and then there was cold. Jodi’s reaction left no doubt as to what her body thought.
“Shit!” she cried as her head broke the surface. Her heart was pounding and she could barely breathe, but she was still alive. As she stood precariously on the bottom, resisting the swirling currents around her, the water came to just above her breasts. “God, Reza,” she exclaimed, “how can you stand this?”
Reza, of course, did not reply, but watched with great interest as Jodi began to rub her skin with her hands and then rinse out her hair to clean off some of the accumulated grit and grime.
As she was dunking her head under, coaxing water into her hair, a sudden surge of the current knocked her off balance. Her arms flailing desperately, she lost her footing and was pulled under. She opened her mouth to cry out, but there was nothing but water, and it eagerly rushed into the void between her parted lips.
But just as suddenly as the crisis arose, it was put to an end. She felt a pair of strong arms gently grasp her around the chest and pull her away from the current. Her head broke the water, and the first thing she saw was Braddock, quickly wading into the water toward her, his face torn with concern.
“Are you all right?” he yelled.
“Yes,” she managed, spitting water from her mouth. Luckily, she had not inhaled any water. “I’m okay.”
“Goddamn stupid officers,” he grumbled as he watched, unsure if it was necessary to go any further into the water. “Never have a lick of sense.” After another moment of hesitation, he decided that Reza could handle her safety better than he could, and he beat a hasty retreat to the shore, already wet up to his waist and feeling every inch of it.
As Braddock was trudging back to dry land and comparative warmth, Jodi turned to Reza, who had one arm around her torso and the other under her legs, holding her like a groom carrying his bride across some watery threshold. She thought she could feel the heat of his body where his skin touched hers, although she knew that was impossible in water so cold. The muscles of his arms and chest, difficult to see in the water, felt as hard and resilient as his armor.
“Thank you,” she told him. She kissed him on the cheek, just below an old scar that ran down his face over his left eye. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she let him carry her from the water, overseen by the ever-watchful gunnery sergeant.
“Hell,” Braddock muttered, “I should have just gone skinny dipping.” He was soaked past his waist and already shaking with cold, and now had no dry clothes to change into.
“We can dry off near the fire,” Jodi told him as they reached the bank, “while we’re having something to eat.”
“Amen to that.”
“Is everything all right?” Father Hernandez appeared from the direction of the camp. “I came to tell you that this barbarian ritual of barbecue appears to be nearing…” His voice trailed off and his eyes grew suddenly wide. “Sweet Mary, mother of God,” he whispered.
“What’s wrong, Father?” Jodi asked as Reza set her down. She thought for a moment that he was looking at her, but he was not. As alluring as any man might normally have found her, particularly naked, the old priest’s eyes were firmly fixed on Reza. She turned to see what he was looking at. “Is Reza well-hung, or some…thing…”
Following Hernandez’s gaze, she saw that Reza’s skin boasted some differences that she at once found fascinating and repellant, things that she could not have seen with his armor on. For one thing, he had no hair except on his head. His groin and underarms were bereft of even a single pubic hair, and she could not see a single strand on his chest or arms, either, even a patch of downy fuzz. And on his face, there was not even a trace of a beard’s shadow.
But that was not what really caught her attention. It was the scars. She had seen the half-dozen or so on his face, of course, and had thought it unfortunate that such a handsome man had to carry such terrible marks, especially the long one that ran over his left eye. But the highways of pinkish tendrils that coiled and meandered over the taut muscles of his body was like nothing she had ever seen. It was like a catalogue of pain and suffering, from the tiny puckers that seemed little more than oversized pinpricks to the scar in his side that looked like someone had skewered him like the gazelle now roasting on the fire. Leaning to one side, she caught a glimpse of a matching scar in his back. She had seen enough entry-exit wound combinations to know what one looked like. He had been stabbed clean through with what must have been a sword, just below the heart, and had lived to tell about it.
Urged on by morbid fascination, forgetting both her nakedness and the cold water that clung to her skin, she slowly circled this
stranger, marveling at the unspeakable cruelty he must have endured.
“My God, Reza,” she whispered, “what did they do to you?” She gently touched his back where seven jagged scars remained where the Kreelan barbed whip must have once struck him. Running a finger over the scar where another sword had pierced him, she traced the gnarled tissue that was as long as her palm and almost as thick as her hand.
“Yeah,” Braddock said quietly, “he carries quite a history, doesn’t he?” He had already seen the scars, when Reza undressed to go swimming. Braddock had seen enough scars to not be shocked by Reza’s appearance, but he was still impressed that a man, any man, could endure such punishment and still function. “Look,” he went on, “I don’t know about you all, but I’m heading back to the fire. I’m freezing my ass and I’m starving.” He looked at Jodi until they made eye contact. “And I’d recommend you get dressed and do the same.”
“I will… ah, prepare some dry things for you,” Father Hernandez said quickly. He had gotten an eyeful of Reza, and was not about to stay long enough that his attention wandered to the other exposed body standing on the river bank. He hurried back toward the camp, trailed only slightly by Braddock, who was now so cold his teeth were chattering.
Entranced as Jodi was by the tale seared into Reza’s skin, her own body finally made known its own needs. “We’d better get dressed before we freeze,” she said. Despite the warmth of the morning air, the cold water had penetrated to her core, and the last thing she wanted was to catch pneumonia just as the task force arrived and she had to start answering a lot of questions. She hurriedly wiped herself off with the battered smock. “Here,” she said, turning to hand it to him. “I know it’s grungy and a little wet, but you can still dry yourself off…” She felt her knees turn to rubber as she turned back around to him and saw what was happening. The camouflage smock dropped from her hand to the ground at her feet.
Reza still stood beside her, except that now wisps of steam were streaming from his skin and hair like cold water evaporating from hot pavement. She could feel the heat radiating from him like she was standing near an open fire.
In Her Name Page 43