Chapter 10: Faux punk fatigues

May 10th, 2023, Creston, California - Earth

It was not the first time in Oliver's life he had been naked around another man. He had served in the military, been in a war zone, lived in a hospital, there were times privacy was a luxury he had to live without. As his new dad put shampoo in his hair, it was still the first time in decades that another man had touched him this intimately outside of his doctor.

Benjamin was not skilled, and often got soap in the wrong places. He spent too much time cleaning one area and not enough time with another. Oliver just sat still the whole time, slightly tensing, and then relaxing every time a hand came up to clean him.

“Oliver, can I call you Ollie?” Oliver hated that name. Victoria would call him that, and it was one of the reasons the relationship did not last. Along with twelve actually important ones, that one was always on the list when he thought about it.

“Can I call you Benji?” That settled it. A perfect talk between men, mutual understanding and respect achieved in two sentences without either answering a question.

“Oliver, I've been meaning to ask about the scars.”

Oliver did not say anything. They were from the crash. He was not sensitive, but he was not happy with them either.

“I know you haven't been with us here on Amazonia long, but usually our doctors clean some of this stuff up before you're adopted. I don't know if it's a battle scar thing, but if you want, I can set up an appointment. You might have to go under for a few hours, but it'd be pretty easy to solve.”

It had been a possibility Oliver had considered, using inter-dimensional travel to cure his wounds. It did not seem right. This was not like eating dodo, this was using the technology to seek out a cure just for himself. Why did he deserve that over anyone else on Earth? Also, this was an Amazon, and one that could not be trusted. It sounded like an excuse to get him under the knife.

“I would like to cure this, but I'm scared of your world's doctors,” Oliver fibbed.

“Doctors are our friends” Nope. The shields are up, that is not happening.

“I would feel more comfortable with a doctor I can look in the eye. Patients have better results when they feel they have representation,” Oliver tried again, rephrasing the point.

Benjamin could not really challenge the logic of it, but the story did not make sense. There were no, wait.

“Oh, like Doogie Howser”

“That's a Tee Vee show.” Oliver chided.

“I used to watch it when I was your age. You're right it's just a television show.”

“Benjamin, I'm older than you.”

That is a strange statement for a three-year-old.

“Do you want me to turn on the bubbles? I'm not sure how to work these controls.” Benjamin looked at the bath confused.

“Let me push the buttons.” It had been his job to push the button. His arm reached over and slapped the Jacuzzi system on. A stream of bubbles exploded along the sides of the large bath. He closed his eyes and relaxed. Actually relaxed. He had been “on” for more or less twelve hours straight. Standing up to a man twice his size, playing with hypnosis, maneuvering conversations, and arguments, all while keeping his shields up, and trying to keep to his predefined scripts. He turned it all off and enjoyed breathing and sitting.

* * *

July 20^th, 2008, Rachel, Nevada - Earth

“I'm the one who pushes the button” Captain Swift, the weapons officer, explained as he reached his hand out to the D-Travel specialist, Eskender Desta. Eskender was a few inches taller than the rest of the crew. Originally, he had been from Ethiopia, but he had been living in Canada for a few years as a portal specialist. Oliver did not know what was going to be stranger for the flight, having the full load of six, or the fact there were non-Americans. Representation was important. This was not America bombing Terra. It was Earth.

“You're the bombardier?” That was Gao Ai. She was an engineer from China, and her job was to verify the physics package was still ready for deployment when they crossed the barrier. Her English was excellent, but she had a habit of using a bigger word when a smaller one was more appropriate. Ai had attended an American college before returning to China, some place on the West Coast, near Bakersfield.

“Oh, don't call him that. It'll go to his head.” Captain Alder said as he approached the group. He carried a bag under his right arm, and wore thick sunglasses, topped off with a short red cap.

“Too late! Going to let all the weapons officers know as well. It'll be our mark on history.” He waved and went over to his equivalent at the nearby plane, The Great Artiste. They chatted for a bit, before splitting to another plane, a chain reaction, one 'wisso' in, two bombardiers out.

Captain Alder shook his head and addressed the two new additions to the crew, “Just to let you guys know there's no bathroom on these things. I don't know if they explained that.”

“Oh yeah, we all just wear diapers” the Co-Pilot, First Lieutenant Alto said. He was the shortest one of the bunch. He had a bit of a nervous tick, but he seemed to lean into it. He had said the line with a delivery that it caused Ai and Eskender to look at each other.

Did they really need diapers? When would those be issued?

The air commander gave Alto his own look, “Well you might still need them Collins, but the rest of us just ...” Alders leaned in “There's a special baggie.” He then got quieter, “It's traditional for, the bombardier, to be responsible for them. So just make sure you give yours to Captain Swift.” Alto and Alder smiled at each other.

Swift returned just as a photographer was lining them up next to the plane. Bright white letters had recently been painted along the B-52. “Necessary Evil.” The crew of six, hands behind their backs, hats forward, glasses on, gear under their arms, and six smiles, this was the picture that would go on the cover of the Blu-ray.

Ai took Oliver aside, “You know, if you want someone to double check...”

Oliver was shocked, hurt even, “It's just calculus. A baby could do it. Besides, I've gotten pretty good with the slide rule.”

Navigator Lange, also a first lieutenant, butted himself into the conversation, “You remember the bomb is in metric tonnes not imperial right? Would hate to have it hit the wrong spot because of a conversion error.”

Oliver had a panicked look for a second, but Ai laughed at that, “I'm not sure it'll matter.”