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I reached my hand out to his. “Hello. It’s nice to meet you, Mr…?” He returned my small smile, his eyes sparkling in the dim light, and took my hand. “Don’t worry about that, you can call me John. It’s nice to meet you too.” His hand was warm and a bit rough, and my skin burned with excitement when he touched me. My eyes ran over his face, lingering on his lips. “It is a shame that your wife couldn’t make it.” I couldn’t believe those words tumbled out of my mouth. “Mmm,” was his response, his lips twitching, fighting a smile. He let go of my hand then stepped closer to me, surreptitiously putting his hand on the nape of my neck, nudging me around. With his other hand, he pulled the chair out from the table, then guided me into it. He slid his hand down from my neck to the small of my back and, when I slid into the chair, gave me a very light squeeze on my hip. “Thank you,” I said, a bit breathlessly. He grinned at me then took his seat adjacent from me and proceeded with. He watched as one of the remote turrets on top of the sloping hull of a nearby IFV rotated of its own accord. The dome-shaped camera array examined him with its reflective lenses, its simple machine intelligence making sure that he wasn’t a threat.Ben proceeded along the walkway between the trolleys, the side skirts of the tanks rising up to either side of him like walls of composite armor. He dodged around an engineer who was inspecting the tracks of the vehicle to his right, a tablet computer held in his hand, his fingers tapping frantically at the touch screen. The crews were already beginning to line up beside their respective vehicles, standing in rows as they prepared to follow them to the dropships when their number was up. Vehicle crews wearing their pressure suits and helmets stood idle, chatting with one another as they adjusted their seals, and slotted on their helmets. There were Marines gearing up beside their troop transports, their signature black body armor reflecting.
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