I write a lot; however, most of what I write ends up being incomplete or abandoned.
The following chunks are from an original sci-fi story I began about fighter pilots in the near future. As you can see, I did so well that one of the chracters is still unnamed even at this point. Great, huh?
“Just give me a couple of minutes, okay?” Kayla began as they reached the door to her quarters. “Just want to straighten the place up a bit, make sure that there’s no classified material lying around, that sort of thing.”
“Understandable” (m) replied, knowing full well that, whatever it was she was involved with, he wasn’t cleared to know.
“You’re such a pet.” Kayla shot back with a grin as she opened the door. “Back in a minute.”
That’s such a loaded statement, and you know it. He thought to himself as she closed the door. Sighing, he leaned back on the wall, waiting for her. There’s still so much I’d like to know about what happened, and how you got back in the air. Of course, he also couldn’t help but again think about what they’d had in past, what he’d lost in the incident that had maimed her.
An incident that seemed not to have left its mark, despite all evidence to the contrary. He’d seen her in the immediate aftermath, her body a wreck. She’d been maimed by enemy fire. One eye gone, one arm a shredded mess of flesh and bone, her abdomen punctured by shrapnel, leaving her barely alive. She was lucky to have lived. The doctors predicted that she would be fortunate if she could walk again. Flying a fighter should have been impossible.
“Ready” She called out through the door. Nodding to himself, (m) opened it, then quietly slipped in, shutting the door behind him. Inside, the room was dark, the light dimmed. He was about to glance around, see if he could find some signs of what had happened, what Kayla had been through. But then something else caught his eye.
There she was, clad in slinky, black negligee, stockings and long gloves. Her body seemed very much as he remembered it; seemingly flawless despite what she had been through. “So, did you miss me?” Kayla asked as she sauntered forward.
A part of him was definitely saying yes. Another part still had a lot of questions, but they seemed to vanish in an instant.
(m) stirred awake, a feeling of contentment spreading through him as he recalled the previous night’s events. All he had lost, they had lost, had been reclaimed in that single moment of passion, their reunification after so much time spent apart under what could only be described as a forcible separation. She was whole, just as she had been before the attack that had almost taken her.
He rolled over, gazing fondly at the sleeping body lying next to him. Naked save for a single glove, she seemed perfect to his eyes. He longingly gazed over her, studying every detail of her lithe, sensual form as she slept. “Beautiful” he quietly whispered as he took everything in, remembering fondly the times he had been in this place before, lying here with her.
And yet, he couldn’t help but remember seeing her being pulled from her wrecked fighter, bleeding and broken, her body riddled with shrapnel. And yet, her she was now, perfect, flawless...
Flawless. Her skin was just that, flawless. There was no sign of the injuries she had sustained, of the horrific wounds that had been inflicted upon her. It was as if nothing had happened, as if she had never been injured. While he could accept her initial reappearance as some form of disguise, a necessary deception, what lay before him was more then just that.
How has this happened? She showed no signs of surgery, or any other scars. And yet, it was obvious that somehow she had been restored. She had gone from a crippled wreck to a seeming superhuman, capable of operating a fighter that nobody else was able to, to perform manoeuvres that nobody should be able to and withstand pressures and strain that should have killed her.
What are you?
“Morning.” She blinked, and smiled, looking up at him. “Sleep well?”
He knew one of those beautiful blue eyes was artificial. He now had to wonder if that wasn’t the only thing. Instead, he offered a quiet nod.
She brushed his face with her gloved hand. “You look wonderful.” She commented. “So peaceful and so contented. I think that somebody had a good time last night”
“Well... I guess that you’re right there.” He admitted.
“Tell you what. I’m going to have my shower. Have yours when you’re ready.” She winked her eye - her real one – and rolled over, standing up. Without making the slightest concession to modesty, she walked over to the bathroom, naked save for that one, rather stark glove. He couldn’t help but watch her move, the sway of her hips, her firm rear, but at the same time, think about what else was there.
He lay back on the bed, thinking. There was so much that was so wrong about it all. Yet, at the same time, here she was, just as he had last seen her before that fatal mission. He should be happy. He should be elated. He should be filled with passion at this miracle. And yet, there was something so wrong about it all.
What happened. What is she?
And then he heard the sound of the shower. She would be in there, the water coursing over her body. Her beautiful, naked, flawless body. And then, as they had last night, all those doubts vanished.