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The Captain stared at him for a moment, then said "I think you'd better get back to finding those shoes, don't you, ensign?" No sooner had he spoke then another Sean approached, gave a sharp salute and reported, "We have the shoes, sir." The Captain gave a small, serious smile. "Very good. Let's start running some warm-up routines. Stretching, calisthenics. Search the vessel's memory for the routines from junior high phys-ed. Crew to action stations" He turned his head towards the ensign he had been speaking with earlier. "That means you, sailor." "Yes, sir." The Sean replied, and he hurried to his post. # The next morning, Sean got out of bed at the same time as Trishell. Usually, he was just stumbling downstairs when she was already showered and dressed, but today, they were both ready to leave by 7:30. "My little Gundam's up early today," she said. "Big day at work?" "Not really," Sean said. She looked him up and down, her expression showing both approval and mocking disbelief. He was dressed very well for Sean, in khakis and a collared shirt. "What did you call me?" he asked. "My little Gundum," she said. "You know, like the Japanese robots." "I know what Gundum are." Trishell was getting his geek up. "I watch way more anime than you." "So you know what it is." "Of course I know what it is," Sean said. "But why am I one?' She hugged him, pressing her body against his. "You're my Super Dimension Fortresses," she said in his ear, "with your little men driving you." Sean shivered, as he always did when she got close to him. She broke off and his senses returned. Where had she learned what a Super Dimension Fortress was? And was this about the little men again? "You don't like anime," he said. Trishell shrugged. "I don't mind it." She grabbed her purse and brown bag lunch. "Come on. I'll give you a ride to the train station." They left together. He watched her backside as she crossed the parking lot to their car. He was crazy about Trishell, and it was getting worse. # The Captain watched the dials closely, hand raised, ready to signal a full adrenaline dump if things went further. Instead, he watched the dials fall, and let his hand dip a few degrees as a signal to ease up on the arousal throttle. The Sean who controlled the pedals and grips of the central arousal command slowly leaned the arousal chair back from full attack. The Captain let his hand fall, and the crew on the bridge breathed a unanimous sigh of relief. These constant arousal drills were driving the crew crazy. Things hadn't been this bad since Sean had been a teenager. This was even worse than when the vessel had discovered the Internet. Sean was getting older. Everything the Captain knew about ships told him that Sean was supposed to be showing less interest in sex, and that had indeed been the case, before he had met Trishell. Now, there were arousal drills several times a day. And it was getting worse. # Tuesday night was game night, and Sean only just made it to Randall's by seven. Trishell didn't miss him. Tuesdays she watched Charmed, a show that always drove Sean from the room anyway. Sean was running late because he had stayed a little later that usual at work, and then he gone for a quick run as soon as he'd got home. During his drive to Randall's apartment, Sean was surprised to find himself thinking more about his assignments than the coming game, but then it had been like that all day. The other players had spent the day emailing each other back and forth about what strategies to employ during tonight's session but Sean hadn't kept up. He was all at once too involved in his work. He hadn't even had time to review his character, Gilladin, as closely as he would have liked, but he should be all right. He had been playing Gilladin for ten years now, and he knew the Paladin as well as he knew himself. The others heckled Sean a little for being late, but then got right to playing. Sean rolled low for initiative and his turn would come last. That was fine, he needed a moment to collect himself. He reviewed his notes from the last game, but his mind kept wandering. The game seemed less interesting than it had always seemed before. The beer seemed stale, the snacks unappetizing. He looked over the other players, and saw that they were as engaged as ever, married to the action taking place in their collective imaginations. Sean's train of thought caught him up like a slap. Engaged? Married? Trishell appeared before him, smiling, her long hair framing her face. He reached through the hallucination and popped another beer, although the one on the table before him was still nearly full. Engaged. Married. Where the hell had that come from? It was way too soon to think about marriage, too soon in the relationship, too soon in life. He could just see it: all the hassle a wedding involved, choosing a date, invitations, renting a hall. Trishell would spend $5,000-plus on a white dress. Not that she couldn't afford it; she earned more than he did. She'd probably look great in a white dress. He imagined how Trishell might look on their wedding day, her auburn hair swept up in a graceful wave, seeming more gold than brown in the bright sun of a summer afternoon. Her face would be a little flushed from dancing and from the excitement. Sean had his arm around her waist and they looked out together over their gathered family and friends. Sean was wearing the first tuxedo he had worn since his prom. He knew that he looked good, perhaps even great. His modest, appreciative smile came easily to him as Traven the Thief rose to make the toast . . . . "Dude, it's your turn." Christian, Traven's player, said. "What?" Sean looked at the table. The small plastic figures that represented the adventuring party had been rearranged on the battlemat, all save Gilladin, who stood off to one side, closer to a bowl of tortilla chips that the group of garishly miniature ogres that threatened the adventuring party. "Oh," Sean said as he used a move action to bring his paladin closer the ogres, and began rolling dice. # Sean
was home by eleven-thirty. Trishell was waiting up for him, watching
the end of the late news. "How was the game?" she asked.
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