Read Online Going Grey by Karen Traviss - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Karen Traviss
Tags: Fiction, Science-Fiction
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get giggly and take your pants off after two beers."
"The curse of extreme fitness, Zombie. Come on. Skip the pills and join me."
They clinked cups. "Good day's work there, Royal."
"You too, mate. I didn't even see him raise the bloody launcher."
Mike was now in the pit of an adrenaline dump. As far as his body was concerned, it had been in a car crash and there was no convincing it otherwise. He spent the rest of the afternoon finishing the heavily dosed coffee with Rob, watching the sports channel in near silence.
"Brad keeps asking me to do yacht work," Rob said. "Fancy it?"
Mike shrugged. "I haven't done my maritime courses yet."
"If you're going to be siring Brayne heirs, you need to reduce your risks."
"It never stopped me before."
As soon as Mike said it, he felt guilty about Livvie. IVF treatment was no picnic, physically or psychologically. Did he have any right to keep putting her through this? It would be the thirteenth cycle. It wasn't the unlucky number that troubled him as much as the stress on her. All he had to do was aim into a container. She was the one who had to put up with the hormone treatments and endless tests.
He'd never missed her as much as he did right then. He checked the time.
"I'll be back later," he said, draining his cup. "I need to call her."
It was Mike's daily ritual. He'd prop his tablet on the small desk in his cabin and try to pretend they were having dinner instead of thousands of miles apart. Livvie's auburn hair was a little untidy, as if she'd just untied her pony tail and raked her fingers through it. They chatted aimlessly for a while.
"What's wrong with your neck?"
There was no fooling her. "Oh, rough-housing. So, one more IVF?"
"Do you want to?" She sounded tired. "Tell me straight."
She wasn't keen. He knew it. "Only if you want to."
"Okay, try not to widow me, then."
"I've got Rob watching my back. I can't lose."
The decision was made. Mike changed the subject and they chatted about the garden and plans for homecoming. It occurred to him that he might simply have been holding her up. It was too easy to forget that she had a job and a life while he was away, even if she was stuck on her own in her office. She never complained.
"I'd better go," she said. "I've got a live interpretation for a client in Paris in half an hour."
She lived in a virtual world. After Mike rang off, he struggled to remember the last time they'd actually been to Paris. He reminded himself that this deployment would be over soon, and that military wives coped.
But we don't have to live like this. I don't have to be here. I've never needed to earn a cent.
The worst thing about compulsions was that even the apparently noble ones were no different to a drug habit for the people you loved. Mike couldn't blame his sister for trotting out the same line every time they had a fight – that he was playing at it, Marie Antoinette indulging in a fantasy of being a simple milkmaid while courtiers worked to maintain the illusion around her.
Livvie was chipper again for the rest of the week, but he couldn't shake his guilt. He needed to accept that he couldn't do this forever.
"Did she bollock you?" Rob asked. They were back on escort detail, with plenty of time on their hands to gossip while they sat in the Suburban waiting for trucks and buses. "You've been a sulky sod this week."
"No. I'm just fretting. You know what I'm like."
"Well, I'll bollock you, then." Rob rapped his phone on Mike's forearm. "You did it again, didn't you?"
"Ouch. What?"
"Fifty grand. You sent Tom fifty grand ."
"Come on." The easiest way to give Rob or Tom anything was to dump it on them and beg forgiveness later. "My nematode of a brother-in-law spends twice that on a new car every year."
"It's not a book token, Mike." When Rob was serious, it was always Mike . He shoved the phone back in his pocket. "It's fucking serious money."
"I'd only spend it on polo ponies, and I can't even ride."
"Sorry, mate. I must
"The curse of extreme fitness, Zombie. Come on. Skip the pills and join me."
They clinked cups. "Good day's work there, Royal."
"You too, mate. I didn't even see him raise the bloody launcher."
Mike was now in the pit of an adrenaline dump. As far as his body was concerned, it had been in a car crash and there was no convincing it otherwise. He spent the rest of the afternoon finishing the heavily dosed coffee with Rob, watching the sports channel in near silence.
"Brad keeps asking me to do yacht work," Rob said. "Fancy it?"
Mike shrugged. "I haven't done my maritime courses yet."
"If you're going to be siring Brayne heirs, you need to reduce your risks."
"It never stopped me before."
As soon as Mike said it, he felt guilty about Livvie. IVF treatment was no picnic, physically or psychologically. Did he have any right to keep putting her through this? It would be the thirteenth cycle. It wasn't the unlucky number that troubled him as much as the stress on her. All he had to do was aim into a container. She was the one who had to put up with the hormone treatments and endless tests.
He'd never missed her as much as he did right then. He checked the time.
"I'll be back later," he said, draining his cup. "I need to call her."
It was Mike's daily ritual. He'd prop his tablet on the small desk in his cabin and try to pretend they were having dinner instead of thousands of miles apart. Livvie's auburn hair was a little untidy, as if she'd just untied her pony tail and raked her fingers through it. They chatted aimlessly for a while.
"What's wrong with your neck?"
There was no fooling her. "Oh, rough-housing. So, one more IVF?"
"Do you want to?" She sounded tired. "Tell me straight."
She wasn't keen. He knew it. "Only if you want to."
"Okay, try not to widow me, then."
"I've got Rob watching my back. I can't lose."
The decision was made. Mike changed the subject and they chatted about the garden and plans for homecoming. It occurred to him that he might simply have been holding her up. It was too easy to forget that she had a job and a life while he was away, even if she was stuck on her own in her office. She never complained.
"I'd better go," she said. "I've got a live interpretation for a client in Paris in half an hour."
She lived in a virtual world. After Mike rang off, he struggled to remember the last time they'd actually been to Paris. He reminded himself that this deployment would be over soon, and that military wives coped.
But we don't have to live like this. I don't have to be here. I've never needed to earn a cent.
The worst thing about compulsions was that even the apparently noble ones were no different to a drug habit for the people you loved. Mike couldn't blame his sister for trotting out the same line every time they had a fight – that he was playing at it, Marie Antoinette indulging in a fantasy of being a simple milkmaid while courtiers worked to maintain the illusion around her.
Livvie was chipper again for the rest of the week, but he couldn't shake his guilt. He needed to accept that he couldn't do this forever.
"Did she bollock you?" Rob asked. They were back on escort detail, with plenty of time on their hands to gossip while they sat in the Suburban waiting for trucks and buses. "You've been a sulky sod this week."
"No. I'm just fretting. You know what I'm like."
"Well, I'll bollock you, then." Rob rapped his phone on Mike's forearm. "You did it again, didn't you?"
"Ouch. What?"
"Fifty grand. You sent Tom fifty grand ."
"Come on." The easiest way to give Rob or Tom anything was to dump it on them and beg forgiveness later. "My nematode of a brother-in-law spends twice that on a new car every year."
"It's not a book token, Mike." When Rob was serious, it was always Mike . He shoved the phone back in his pocket. "It's fucking serious money."
"I'd only spend it on polo ponies, and I can't even ride."
"Sorry, mate. I must
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