HomebodiesChapter 9
“Incoming!” the voice cried over the emergency frequency. “Mortars from the east!” Gath had been dozing. Like everyone else on this deployment, he was exhausted. This was day five of the intervention assignment, day three out in the field. In that time, he had gotten perhaps six hours of good solid sleep and maybe another six of scattered dozing that was often broken up by cries such as the one that had just awakened him. “Tork me,” he muttered, rolling from the semi-reclined position he...