Marsh Silas II: Bloody Platoon

Chapter 24

It was like waking up with the warmth of the afternoon sun in his arms.

When Marsh Silas opened his eyes, he found Carstensen lying on her side and nuzzling against his chest. Her head was tucked under his chin and her cheek pressed to his skin. One arm remained draped around him while her other hand nestled in his chest hair. Carstensen's mouth slightly parted and her warm, gentle breath washed over him. Some of her orange locks covered her eyes and one particularly long strand hung to the corner of her mouth. Both of their bodies were exposed nearly to the waist, the blankets having been pushed down in the night. His eyes traveled down her toned musculature, the defined lines along her shoulders, arms, and criss-crossing her abdomen. The battle scars along her forearms and midsection, the subtle curves of her torso, her small, athletic breasts, the veins in her arms, the strength to the angles of her jaw.

How could he not stare? Wearing a sleepy smile and still blinking himself awake, he just took her in, unable and unwilling to look away. Reaching over, he gently clutched her chin and ran her thumb along, just as he had last night when they drifted off to sleep. Finally, he kissed Carstensen on her forehead. At this, she stirred a little bit, smiled, but then fell back to sleep without ever having opened her eyes.

Marsh Silas knew he would not be so fortunate. He pawed at the wrist-chrono on the nightstand and checked the time. It was 0600. He looked up and was greeted by pale morning light flooding through the windows. Fluffy snowflakes fell lazily and created a small shelf at the base of the glass.

Slowly and carefully, he extricated himself from her arms. Finally on his feet, he drew the blankets up to her shoulders. Stirring again, her lips pursed and she made a small mewl, but soon her face relaxed. Marsh brushed the hair from Carstensen's mouth and tucked it behind her ear. Then, he went to the window.

A column of troops marched down the crooked street while sentries patrolled on the sidewalks. On a motor-bike came a dispatch rider who wore leather satchels on both shoulders. Of course, there were many vox-drones zooming in every direction overhead. Not long after the rider entered the garrison, a Chimera rolled by, its treads leaving dark tracks in the snow. Eventually, a pair of servitors came along and cleared the streets, sidewalks, and barricades of snow.

Cold air filtered through the glass and his skin prickled. The air of the room was heated but standing undressed, he couldn't help shivering. So, he hurried back to his side of the bed, knelt, and made the Sign of the Aquila.

"My Emperor, my Creator, my Guardian. I thank Thee for bestowing unto me another day in Your light." He opened one eye, peeking at Carstensen, then closed it again. His smile grew. "And I thank Thee for bequeathing me with a gift greater than my own life: the life, heart, and soul of another of your loyal and faithful servants. It is through her You have made the future seem so much brighter. I can offer no greater repayment than what You already have from me: my life and my service. Gifts small and unequal to those You have given me. For that, I am sorry and ashamed my Lord, but know you will always have them in me."

He collected his grooming kit and went to the washroom where he first used a brush and cleansing paste to scrub his teeth, knowing Honeycutt would be performing an inspection at some point. Any man who hadn't cleaned his teeth was going to be subjected to a cuff on the ear, a colorfully creative reprimand, and remedial training that would leave his wrist and forearm burning by the end. Then, he ran the water in the shower until it was warm. He took his time, scrubbing hard with the soap provided by the establishment. This stuff was different from the regulation cleanser provided by the Astra Militarum. It was softer and the scent was sweeter than the sterile smell of Militarum-issued bars.

Just as he closed his eyes and ran his head under the water, he heard the sliding glass door open. A cold hand touched his back and he smiled. "I bid you a fair morning, Commissar," said Marsh.