Getting back to base was a chore. I was sore, sure, but I was used to being sore. It was the complete mental drain that was getting to me. I hadn't felt like this for years, not since the day Kate and I had paired. Lucky for me the calvary had figuratively and literally arrived. MI had taken charge of the Thelpot, and I didn't envy the ringer that bastard was about to be put through. Not that I didn't fully support it. Of course, I did. Laying hands on Kate was deserving of a death sentence as far as I was concerned. Still having Psi-Ops peel away the layers of your psyche is a bad day, regardless of age, race, gender, or any other category you can think of.
On top of taking charge of the Thelpot, MI offered me a lift back to base, an offer I am unlikely to refuse even on my best days. Good scouts know that you take any opportunity to rest and recharge that you are offered, whether five minutes or five days. You never know when the next break will come. So here I was in the back of a MagHum, a vehicle reminiscent of the Humvees of the armies of the early second millennia. This vehicle just happened to run on a MagLift engine floating four feet off the ground, is able to tackle just about any terrain, and is covered in nearly impenetrable armor.
Two MI sat in the front, driver and navigator. One MI manned the VMTC, short for Vehicle's Mobile Targeting Console, which controlled the rail gun mounted on top of the MagHum. I sat in the very back, in the portion that was a glorified vehicle bed. It wasn't even glorified, really. It WAS a vehicle bed. My back rested up against the back of the vehicle, and I watched the VMTC operator as he ran scan after scan, looking for life signs that weren't human. On my left was Kate, her large form spread out and pressed next to mine. Her head rested on my chest, and I absentmindedly stroked her back as I rolled with the minor sways the MagHum made as it adjusted to the rocky terrain we were crossing. On my right, bound and glaring daggers at me sat the captured Thelpot.
I studied his face for a moment and then, in an attempt to be a good host, attempted some conversation. "So," I asked, "come here often"? He didn't answer, but whether that was because he was being rude, was bound and gagged so tightly he was probably just trying to breathe, or he didn't speak human standard, I couldn't say.
"How much further have we got?" I asked the navigator at the front. "About 5 mikes Chief". I nodded to myself. Not bad.
I looked over to Kate. Her stomach growled and she was sending me images of T-Bones steaks. "I know," I said softly enough for only her to hear. "I'm hungry, too. As soon as I strip out of this scout suit, straight to the chow hall, I promise".
I felt the MagHum start to slow down. We had finally made it back to the outpost, and not a minute too soon.
"Hey, not that I care," I said loudly to no one in particular, "but this ugly bastard back here is starting to seize again".