In the dark, Ryck and Sophie put their backs to the bed's woodwork. The laughing was over, and the adrenaline had gone down. They stared blankly into the darkness ahead of them, Sophie's head on Ryck's shoulder, her arms across his chest, and his arms around her back.
"I've been wondering. What did you do before the war?"
"Me?" She chuckled. "College. Got hooked up with a navy program in the last year. Halfway through, the Dominion started blowing up colonies... I opted for enlisted service, but they said no. So here I am, almost two years late. Six months pilot training and extra two months space combat specialization. You?"
"Believe it or not, I used to be in the RMC Signals Reserve back in New Albany. Did my time in college. Got my degree just as the war started. Started piloting AFUs after passing the pilot's exam two years ago. Heh. Sweet times. Lost a lot of friends since then. It’s terrible, sometimes. You just have to live with it. Killing. Getting killed."
Ryck lit a cigarette. He inhaled. Sophie took it from him and in turn, sucked on the cigarette, puffing upwards.
"Where'd you reckon we go next?" Asked Ryck. The two still had their heads fixed to their front. "There's got to be some talk at the officer's mess, yeah?"
"Our rotation is three months at space then back to port. We're one month past three and still awaiting orders for a reason I don't even know."
"I've got a feeling they're setting us up for something. We're probably the only Alliance unit in the Graveyard as far as I'm concerned." Ryck said, smoking. "But that doesn't matter, does it? We've been sinking ships and shooting down AFUs week in week out with minimum losses for the last four months. Let's just hope the Doms don't send in a task force and burn the rathole. And even if they do come, we'll take as many of them as we can."
"Of course we will. I haven't had my ace stripes either." Said Sophie. She too was smoking now, taking one of the last two cigarettes in Ryck's pack.
"What's the count?"
"Three. Three bandits."
"Two to go. Not bad for an ensign.”
"Can’t blame the Doms for having such shitty pilots. Yourself?"
"I've been piloting AFUs in combat for the last eighteen months. Just check it up the records, darling, and you'll find out. "
Sophie chuckled. She curled herself up to the woodwork, blanket covering her whole body up to her chest. She sighed. "You don't have anyone at home?"
"You mean, a girl? Nah. Girls are all full of bullshit anyway."
"So I'm full of bullshit, too?" She looked at Ryck. She already knew the answer.
"You?" Ryck chuckled. "I guess my criteria for a good woman is them being able to pilot ten million pounds' worth of equipment and having a few screws off their heads."
The two finished off their cigarettes and put the butts on the ashtray. A moment of silence followed. The two curled up against each other. Sophie put her head on Ryck's chest, and Ryck, a considerably buff man, put her hands around her waist. He played with her hair, as she breathed down his chest.
"Getting a bit sleepy?" Asked Ryck.
"Yeah."
"Get some shuteye. We got another sortie tomorrow."
"Of course we do. We have sorties all day everyday until-" she stopped and yawned. "-this fucking war is over."
She rested her head and closed her eyes. A few moments later she was snoring lightly and fast asleep. Ryck followed suit in closing his eyes. He couldn’t help but think. They have been at war for two years now. The frontiers perhaps changed from time to time, but in reality it was a stalemate. Unless something daring, something extraordinary, happens, the Dominion will never cease invading the war-weary alliance. People will continue to die meaningless deaths, and Ryck had no way of stopping it. He sighed.
It’s true, Ryck thought, For only the dead have seen the end of war.
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