Free The Secret of Excalibur by Sahara Foley

breath. He gingerly clasps my hand and we shake, then I pass his hand to the Major. “These men should get the credit, Commander. See that they do, sir.” I take Ruth's hand and head away, saying to the Major, “It's all yours.” He's saluting me again, spotlighted by the blaze of the minicam lights and strobe effects from flashbulbs.
    There's still a line of news people walking single-file from the terminal building, where guards are stopping and checking everyone. We're now by the side of the building, heading for the shadows near the chain-link gate. Several reporters see us, hurrying our way.
    When we hit the shadows, Ruth says, “Ready, eyes closed.” BLIP! back to the library.
    “Okay, kid, you're home,” I say, releasing her hand and slumping in a chair in front of the desk.
    Ruth stands a few seconds with eyes closed, and I'm about to scan her, to make sure she's okay, when she says, “I still never felt any sensations, except maybe a coolness, then warmth when I knew we arrived.” She lays her hand on my arm. “Are you sure you're okay? Would you like some brandy?” she asks with worry lines creasing her forehead. My whole one-thirty-second inch of skin tingles where she gently strokes my arm.
    “Thought you'd never ask,” I answer wearily as she goes for the booze. She comes back with bottles, my brandy, and her cognac. Some brandy drinkers say they never taste the difference between the two, but I always can.
    Settling on the arm of the overstuffed chair I'm reclining in, Ruth muses, “Those poor reporters. What will they think when they get to the gate, and no one's there?”
    Staring into my glass of brandy, I ask, “Are you worried about them?”
    A little chuckle. “No, but I'd love to see their faces when they realize there isn't anywhere to go, short of climbing the twelve foot-high fence, with barbed-wire on the top.” In a more serious tone, she asks, “The firefight was pretty bloody, wasn't it?”
    I just go, “Umm, he who lives by the sword.”
    She kneels in front of me, looking up at my face. “Is it bothering you much? I mean, you look all drawn out.”
    With the tiniest grin I can manage, I reply, “I think that's the after effects of my worm medicine.” She lets out a little sigh, peering down at the carpet between her knees. I watch her a few seconds. “Oh, hell, I can't be angry when you're trying to be nice, kid.” Rubbing my forehead, I explain, “I'm always affected by those types of men. So much hate, and they aren't even sure why they hate, and it's more than that. I guess it's man's inhumanity to man, plus I can't stand the smell of gunpowder.”
    She props her elbows on her knees, studying my face. “That's really something, Arthur. Here I meet a man who lives through nuclear explosions, and he hates the smell of gunpowder. Kind of like an elephant afraid of an ant.” I shrug as she rises, standing in front of me. “Tell me, do you sleep much?” she asks with a hint of a smile.
    “Oh sometimes, but usually about four to six hours. Why?” I ask as she glances at her watch.
    “It's almost 1:00 a.m. and I'm far too wound-up to sleep right now. Usually when I can't sleep, I go down to my tub room, turn on the hot tub bubbles, and soak for a while. It's very relaxing. Want to try it?” She gives me a coy smile.
    Never having been in a hot tub before, I think,
why not
. “Do you have a suit I can wear?”
    Grabbing bottles and glasses, Ruth tilts her head with a crooked grin. “Sometimes, as intelligent as you are, you're just plain stupid. We don't wear any, we go nude.” She's gliding away, looking over her shoulder. I swear she's taunting me. “You've seen me naked a few times; I guess you can stand to see me naked again. Besides, once you sit down the bubbles come up to your neck, so you won't see anything. C'mon, follow me.” She's halfway to the door, so I follow, just as a calf to the slaughter.
    We walk through several halls, down a few flight of