“You’re thinking about the patterns on uniforms, so if someone is using near infrared. Yes, that’s been around for a very long time. I’m talking about heat-sensing night vision, and the only way to do that is to use a thermal shield that encapsulates a person’s body heat. They did come up with prototypes of ponchos. In the last five years, they’ve started using them in the field, mostly in Ukraine. Right now, Ukraine is setting a new bar for warfare. We’ll never go back to the tactics used in the Gulf wars.”
“By using drones, which was part of AWG’s predictions,” Rylee said.
“Yes. But when I realized that warfare was heading toward gamification, I lost interest. I figured I’d try something different. And then I had my career changed for me, whether I was ready for it or not. I was the recipient of a medical discharge.”
Her brow furrowed. “Combat injury?”
“I was on a bridge when it blew. I missed the blast but took the tumble. I broke my back in a couple places when I hit the water. My brothers pulled me out of the river and stabilized me, so I came through in better shape than the potential. The docs fused me together.”
“But I saw you run,” Rylee said.
“I was in good shape before the accident, and I had a great trainer working to rehab me. It took a couple of years before I could compete again. I still have issues with numbness and tingling in my extremities from nerve damage. That made my fine motor skills under the pressure of adrenaline unreliable. Sometimes my back seizes up out of the blue. And that’s not compatible with keeping my team safe and accomplishing my mission, so I bowed out.”
“Your ongoing training helps, I’m sure.” Rylee had dealt with enough injured Marines that she knew not to offer a drip of pity. They hated it.
“My personality is the thing I fight most. When someone’s competing next to me, I push to meet that standard.”
“Like running with Cerberus?”
“They’re hard core,” Dakota stretched long, crossing his ankles. “How did you move from Navy to WorldCares?”
“Much like you did. I was injured. Our packs were hundred-twenty pounds, and I weighed a hundred and sixty when I put on as much muscle mass as I could. I ended up with a back injury—not like you, I didn’t break anything. It was just that it wouldn’t let me get down next to my injured Marines as fast asI needed or wanted to. I wasn’t willing to risk their safety for my bad back.”
“No more sliding into base.”
“Yeah. Well, that is a loss. I liked being out there and getting my hands on my boys first. And sexist or not, I think a female face hovering over in dire moments probably reminded them of mom when they were sick as kids. Stereotypically, it’s mom who was cleaning up the puke. But case studies show it’s stylistic. Women tend and befriend, and that empathy, I think, goes a long way to the Marine being optimistic about their outcomes.”
“Mindset is crucial."
“How did you get involved with the Secret Service? You had to pass their physical standards test, so that tells me you’re doing okay. And I’m really glad about that.”
“I got my law degree with an emphasis in financial and monetary institutions—something to keep my mind busy while I was working on my rehab. The Secret Service was recruiting, and it seemed cool.” Dakota picked up the pizza box and held it out to Rylee.
“No, thank you. I’m full. Putting you back into the conversation where I broke in and meandered about.”
“I like to meander about in conversations. It means that there’s more to explore and dig into.”
“But not all conversations, right?” Sometimes, Rylee just needed to get to the point and have a solid outcome.
“No. When I’m on task, I want the information to be clear and concise. Give me the facts and the action steps, boom, I’m out the door.”
Good. Same page, Rylee thought. “We were talking about intimacy. How do you fulfill those needs now?”
“Friendships. Mostly Tank, to be honest.”
“A brother that you can cuddle.” Rylee thought she might consider getting a dog. She’d wait for her diagnosis to see if she’d be around to care for one.
“When I got Tank as a puppy, my training mentor, Joe, taught me that you had to be precise with the dogs during training and real with them when you weren’t. The dogs knew their humans' anger, joy, sadness, the whole emotional spectrum, even if the human didn’t know what they were feeling. Joe had me do dog therapy. I started talking through everything with Tank. We’d lie down together, and I’d process my day. And as I told the story, I had to let emotions bubble up and ride out in my words. Joe insisted that, over time, Tank would learn to trust me more. Our connection would become deeper because I wasn’t masking in front of him.”
“Yeah, well, you were trained for stoicism, so I bet that was a challenge,” Rylee whispered. Could this be real? A man who owned his emotions and could talk about them? Good job, Joe.
“Truly a challenge.” He looked down at the floor, thoughts obviously jostling around in his head. He brought his gaze up slowly. “I was away for work for a couple of months while Tank was training with Cerberus, and, man, the homesickness was real.” He moved his hand to his heart. “A blessing and a curse. To love and to know that in all probability you will lose the one you’ve given your heart to? Yeah, even the shadow of that pain can be intense.”
“You know,” she whispered so as not to churn the air in what felt like a sacred space, “it’s rare that someone would say something that vulnerable to me. Men, in general, don’t seem okay with exposing the places where they could be wounded. I’ve noticed that they like to keep their shields up. This level of sharing isn’t something I’m used to outside of my close-knit friends circle.”
“Too much?” Dakota asked softly.
“New is all. And if I’m being honest, I’m a little off kilter, but only because I don’t have any practice with a man speaking about their emotions. With men, I usually discuss practical steps that need to be taken, possibly a debate about a movie or a book.”
