20 Months Prior
Treasure Valley State Veteran’s Home
Someone was pounding on my door. I’d been asleep for about four hours, which wasn’t bad for me, when the knocking started.
“Get up LT, the night is too nice to stay in,” A husky west Alabama accent jarred me awake, and I heard the electronic lock buzz and click just before light flooded into my room.
“What? Who?” I stammered and struggled to get up, but the movement sent my empty pint bottle or vodka crashing to the ground. I gave up and laid back down.
“Drink this glass of water, then drink about nine more. You’re so hung over that you smell like rotting fruit and sweat,” Rooker said, then added, “It kind reminds me of my mother’s house.”
Opening my eyes, I could see SSG Rooker was standing there with a glass of water in his thick hand, but despite his angry words, his soft gray eyes shined with concern. So, I’d accepted the glass and took it down in two swallows. Detox tabs could clear your body of the left-over chemicals, but you still needed to re-hydrate if you wanted to get over the headache.
“At least I didn’t shit myself,” I objected and reached out to him. “Help me into my chair, would ya, then tell me what the hell you are doing here, Staff Sergeant Rooker?”
Rooker pulled my wheelchair over and extended a beefy arm. Using his arm and the railing from the bed, I pulled myself into it easily.
“What, a former subordinate can’t come see his old battle buddy? Can’t take her out to dinner and catch up? Besides, I heard they promoted you after you went and got your back broken. I had to come say congrats,” He shrugged then added.
“I mean, I knew you were ambitious, but just for a promotion? That was overkill.”
I flipped him off and rolled myself toward the bathroom, trying not to focus on the fact that I was still in my panties and a sports bra.
“I never wanted promoted out of the enlisted ranks, let alone to be medically discharged as a brevet First Lieutenant,” I grumbled.
“That’s because you never have your head in the right place, Bro. With the promotion comes a bigger paycheck,” Rooker said with a big Ol dumb country boy smile.
“Not everyone is all about the money, Rooker. I’d rather be enlisted and have kept using my legs,” I countered
Looking over, I could see Rooker inspecting items on my dresser. He’d always been nosey, but for some reason it bothered me more than it used to.
“You can’t have your legs, might as well have the money. Hell, you don’t need legs for a lap dance anyway,” he said, as if I weren’t staring daggers at him.
“Hey, grab me some clean pants from the three-drawer chest and toss them to me,” I said, then paused as I considered the situation. “Grab the detox tabs, too. I can’t even think straight enough to put on my pants right now,” I said.
“Detox tabs and pants, you want a shirt to go with that order, or are you just going to run around turning on old vets when you feel a cool breeze?” He said as he found the items, including a shirt, and tossed them to me.
"I guess if my legs don’t let me show off my strut, at least my tits are still a distraction. just what ever girl wants,” I didn’t even try to keep the snark out of my voice with that comment.
With a start, I realized they were my good clothes, the ones I wore to the Veterans Hospital appointments or meeting with the financial officers.
“You’re out of your mind if you think we are going on a date, Rooker. I don’t have the physical needs anymore, I growled, then added, “I’d think more than my spine got damaged if I ever thought of having sex with you,” I attempted to tease.
Rooker sat on the bed and watched me curiously as I put on my necklace. It was a simple chain with the ring I’d earn when I’d become part of Strike Force Ram hanging from it. “Yeah, well, I haven’t exactly spent many nights pining after you either. You have arms as big as a mans, and your breath smells. But that’s not why I’m here LT. I’m sure there are enough fucked up perverts in here who would have you,” he grinned.
“Gee, that sure makes me feel great. So, what do you want?” I said straight faced.
He sighed and ran a thick hand through his short brown hair as looked around my room. “I think you need to get out of here, Kate. I think you need a job, and I had something come up you might be interested in,” he shrugged.
He grinned wide and leaned against the sink with his legs and arms crossed as he put on an exaggerated composed expression. “Have you ever heard of Yōkai Nano-technology?”
“Nope. And I have a job,” I answered and rolled into the bathroom. I left the door open so I could hear him. All modesty went out the window ages ago. You can’t deploy with someone in small teams and not end up seeing each other in your underwear. Though the idea of being seen so out of shape bothered me a little.
“You work out at the Orchard Combat Training Center, running weekend warriors through simulated training scenarios,” he waved off my career like it was a missed Saturday night tryst.
“I’m sure that having someone with our talent set is nice for them, but don’t you want to do something a little more rewarding than immersive video games? Besides, I need you on this one,” he said.
“In my games, as you call them, no one gets killed. There are no funerals on the OCTC.” I growled.
“Sure, but you also don’t live. Just hear me out on this, Kate. It will change your life,” he said.
“How so?” I said but held back the venom I wanted to inject into the comment.
“Well, get dressed, put on some dancing shoes and let’s go get dinner and talk about it,” he grinned, and for a moment I laughed at the absurdity of it.
“You know, telling a cripple to put on her dance shoes is kind of cruel,” I retorted.
“Sure, but telling a wounded warrior she’s being a pussy is politically incorrect,” he chuckled, and I knew Rooker hadn’t changed a bit.
Laughing at his brashness, I transferred myself from my chair to the shower seat and closed the curtain.
“You’ve sure gotten brave since you figured out that I can’t leap over there and slap you on the back of the head,” I jested, “What’s this job, and where is it you think you’re taking me?”
I called as I let the water soak my skin. It had been months since I’d gotten any proper exercise, and as I washed, I couldn’t avoid seeing the loose folds of skin where powerful muscles once stood out, though my triceps still had tone from pushing the chair.
“I’ll tell you about the job at dinner. Just get cleaned up and let’s go. You don’t need to put curlers in your hair and get gussied up, you’re with me so I’ll make you look good,” he said loud enough for me to hear.
I barked out a laugh.
“Don’t laugh, I’m treating you to a steak, with the biggest baked potato we can buy, Bro,” he said as if potatoes were the star of any dish.
“Don’t call me Bro! For flips sake, I’m a woman,” I replied.
“That’s evident, Kate, you’ve got them big baby feeders for a reason. BY the way, have you consider a real bra? That thing makes it look like you’re smashing water balloons against your chest,” He laughed, and added, “I sure as hell can’t call you, Sis. That’d make my jokes sound crude.”
“Dude, you are seriously messed up, you know that, right? It’s a sports Bra, so I don’t have things flopping around,” I asked, but he just laughed and waited for me to get dressed.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
An hour later, he pushed my chair into Chandler’s Steak House. The river side restaurant was swanky in a classic way but nestled in the near-by city of Eagle, it was a little out of place.
Around it was a worn-out shopping mall, and the crime ridden apartment building that once was a Hilton, in the middle of a high-class neighborhood. But that was all part of the past. These days, Chandler’s was an oasis in the desert of decay.
“Don’t worry about the locals. Chandler’s security staff keeps them far away from the patrons.” Rooker said with amusement, his finger directing my glance at three men that stood over six and a half feet tall with Stun Wands and wearing military grade surveillance goggles. Despite the hardware, they were all wearing nice shirts and vests, and their attire was impeccably clean.
“Thugs to handle the thugs?” I asked with a smile on my lips.
After I got off loaded, Rooker lead me to the front and immediately a server took us to a table. I had to give him credit. After knowing him for years, I’d only ever seen him in uniform or PT clothes, unless a family event required casual wear. But he fixed up fairly well.
“Standard security for around here, besides I want you to feel protected, I know you are vulnerable and timid you are,” Rooker said patronizingly, but stayed out of hitting distance.
I hadn’t noticed before, but he was dressed in an expensive black shirt that he wore under an equally expensive black leather coat. He was the picture of a former operator gone private sector, even silver rings that indicated his affiliation with Spec Ops, and the Ram emblem of our unit. His hair, though thinning, was still curly and dark, not a gray hair in the mix.
Despite my razzing him, he cleaned up okay for a country boy. He was lean and chiseled from years of working out and working hard, but nothing that would speak to a display of vanity. Though from experience, I knew he was arrogant.
Only the chair gave me an excuse for my attire. I’d put on clean jeans and tucked the ragged ends into my knee-high boots for an equestrian look. Paired with a khaki short sleeve button-up shirt and a green sweater, I looked like a rejected host from some wild adventure show.
“Seriously, Chandlers?” I remarked lightly as the server waited for our drink order.
“Oh, cool your jets. I’m paying for it. Just order what you want,” he laughed and turned to the server. “I’d like a lager, something local. Get the lady a ginger ale, she doesn't need any -”
“Make that Jameson on the rocks,” I countered, and the server hurried off before it turned into a bickering match.
For almost an hour, we enjoyed small talk and the bread sticks as we awaited our steaks. I’d always liked that artificially flavored garlic infused dipping oil, but the real stuff was even better. I knew I that cost a pretty penny, and it made me even more curious about what he was doing for this new outfit.
As I wondered about it, I told him about my job. How I was training soldiers in virtual reality where I could run them through exercise after exercise, as individuals, teams, or part of larger task forces.
Rooker listened and faked interest, then when it was his turn, he sat back and grinned.
“I’ve been working as a VIP security. It’s not my favorite gig, but it paid well. I was working for some stuffy government lobbyists when this job came about. I’m telling you, Kate, you’ve got to get in on this.”
Our steaks arrived, and I cut into mine to find it was a perfect medium rare. It’d had been some time since I had a good steak. Not just the pieces of beef flavored cardboard they served at the veterans’ center.
“What exactly is this job?” I countered.
“Let me start by asking you a question.” he said, growing serious. “Are you happy, Kate?”
“What do you mean, am I happy? Are you happy?” I said, failing to keep the heat in my voice under control.
He raised a brow, and I forced myself to chill out. “I have wonderful work. Work that means something. So, I guess all things considered, I’m as happy as I can get,” I said as I chewed on some bread.
“Kate, you ‘re hiding in a VR simulator all day training thick headed kids the basic tactics an of infantry squad. Then you go back to the vet center, piss off anyone trying to be friends with you before going to your room and drinking yourself to sleep.”
“That is not all I do,” I bristled. “I have hobbies.”
“You listen to audiobooks about war and play Delta-Strike on your gaming system. When it’s really boring, you work in a hobby garden. Kate, you are still young, beautiful and talented, you shouldn’t be locked away like old vet, you’ve still got a lot to offer,” he said with a nearly insulting level of certainty. Then, stuffed a piece of meat into his mouth, and chewed it with his mouth open as he looked at me.
Another long moment passed as I glared at him, then my gaze dropped and looked down at my hands.
“Yeah, I hate this.” I finally admitted. “But what else am I going to do? There aren’t many people who want to hire a broken war fighter. I’m doing the best I can,” I admitted.
“Oh, horse crap.” He replied simply and waited for me to take the bait.
“Right now, I am working with these kids, but Ted, they’re worse than green. They’re infested with dangerous concepts, and they don’t possess an ounce of critical thinking,” I dropped my fork onto the plate and leaned over closer.
“I mean, they have a map display that leads them to where they need to set up an ambush, tells them how to set up, and they mess it up. How do you mess up following the highlighted trail until you sit down?”
“They shoot themselves, don’t they?” He laughed. “Blue Falcon murders,” he added with a knowing grin.
“Oh, you don’t even know. I had one dive for concealment in an irrigation ditch, a cement irrigation ditch. There was no way out, so when he was drowning, his squad leader shot him to stop the noise,” I said with a sad laugh.
“This isn’t for you, Kate. You’re a war fighter, a badass, a pipe hitting hot momma.”
Laughing, I sat back in my chair and shook my head. “That’s over, Ted. The Boise VA Medical Center can’t fix a severed spine. Sure, they can hook me up to nerve impulse conductors and put me in a power walker, but I’d just walk around like a clumsy Frankenstein. I’m freaking useless,” I said.
“Oh, bullshit Kate. Look at you. You’re sitting there in a wheelchair, but you’ve identified six ways out of here if the need should arise. You’re the real deal, not some Fobbit that comes home and claims that he has to sit with his back to the wall because he saw some movie actors do it.”
“None of that matters now, Rooker,” I said and glanced around to see if anyone had overheard my self-pity.
I tucked into my steak and focused on the pleasure of the hot and juicy meat instead of my flaccid muscles and broken dreams.
“You’ve never been someone who quits. It doesn’t have to be over, Bro,” Rooker said quietly, and his tone captured my attention like a magnet on steel.
“What, do you have some magic spell to fix me?” I said with more venom than I intended.
“I mentioned Yōkai’-tech. Well, they are actually a part of Vision Dynamics. Do you have any idea all the things they are doing these days? They actually have a program to make a space station out of orbital trash. They are training and paying people to be space scavengers,” he barked out a laugh that drew more than just one set of eyes toward our table.
“That’s just one of their projects, I hear they are even developing a faster than light system,” he said, “some think its already in operation.”
"But what's the job you're recruiting me for?" I asked knowing the word recruit would remind him of the fast talking army recruiters and how little their words can be trusted.
"Standard stuff, protect the area from insurgents and maintain operation security for the project. I admit the insurgents aren't the best we've had to deal with, but they're still dangerous to the project. It would be like FOB Dread, we maintain a presence, conduct patrols and if the bad guys strike, we remind them who the baddest mother fuckers are," he reached for a fit bump and on reflex I met my knuckles to his.
"That doesn't change that fact I can't walk, let a lone be part of a forward action team," I responded.
Leaning over, he whispered to me conspiratorially, “I got to know one lobbyist I was protecting, and what would you say if I told you they could make you walk again?”
Hope surged through me just ahead of confusion and doubt. I’d say bullshit,” I shot him a look, but Rooker was giving me an annoyed glower that said he was serious for a change.
“Why would the world’s largest international company do that for someone like me? I doubt it’s out of admiration for my patriotic service, and I sure as hell don’t want to float around in space collecting junk satellites,” I said.
“No, they’d want a commitment of service for a few years, but we’d be doing what we do best,” a wolfish smile crossed his lips.
“It’s this whole new program they have been trying to get the government to offer to elite soldiers like you. People who were the best of the best but got taken out of the game early. But now, with the active military on stand down, they pushed it through the approval process as a security measure,” he said.
“So, I work for them, doing who knows what, and I get to walk again? How is that even possible?” I asked.
“We’d be working as corporate security over a highly classified project. I don’t know the details, but I think it has something to do with mining a meteor,” then leaning back, he scratched the back of his arm, and added, “As for how they fix your legs? Fuck, I don’t know,” Rooker spread his hands out in a shrug.
“You’ve known me for years. Have I ever been able to explain something technical? I ask my sister’s kid to program my media pad. Just meet with this lobbyist. He can tell you all about it, and then when you have the facts you can decide.
Besides, they are paying a ridiculous finder’s fee if I get you to sign,” He grinned.
“First off, you don’t have a sister. Second, if you don’t know the difference between a sister and a call girl, how can I trust you on something like this?” I said, adding a tone of suspicion to my words.
Laughing, he shook his head a little. “I meant to say a sister, Sister Jasmin from the Temple of Barbie’s Steak and Legs,” he shrugged, “it’s a Quasi-theistic order.”
I nearly spit out my Jameson but got a white napkin to my lips in time to keep it from going all over the food.
He laughed as I coughed, and after a few minutes we both regained our composure. For a moment, we both just sat there in silence, our minds wandering over memories and moments we’d shared over so many nights like this.
“Kate, this isn’t you. You’re upbeat, positive and sweet, if sassy. Since you got wounded you’ve started acting like a mean old asshole vet, taking out his self pity on nurses and providers, you need more in your life, and I need you on this one,” he said with a sympathetic smile.
“Just go hear him out?” I asked quietly.
“Sure, hear them out. If you’re not interested, they will pay you for your time and you can roll back to your VR simulators,” he responded with a little contempt.
“You’re an asshole. You know that don’t you Ted?”
“Yep, I know,” Rooker lifted his beer in mock salute.
I tilted my glass in return, and we both downed our drinks.