”She’s fine. She’s sleeping. Don’t worry,’ you say. I reach to you as my eyes adjust, finally seeing you. My hands touch your arms, which ar... bare. Then your shoulders, which are, also. Finally I touch your chest, and I feel your skin and the muscles beneath it. You’ve taken off your shirt. ”You shouldn’t be here,’ I say. ‘You need to go home.’ I try to sit up, but you push me back down–but not roughly. You have climbed into bed next to me. I feel the soft denim of your jeans through my sheets.. One Marine dug into a satchel and came out with a transporter nexus. All three Marines were well-armed with stinger rifles, and the Tribune had his palm stinger also ready to go."Now, if we can have everyone disarm themselves first? Things always go so much better when nobody's shooting at anyone else."Two men in the corner stood up and started assuming a firing stance. Before either got a shot from their cheap revolvers off, both hit the floor, unconscious. "To 'disarm' oneself, one places. More

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