Alas, certain aspects of such an intense physical were physically debilitating in their own right. Notably, the chemicals used for the brain mapping were similar in composition to those used for chemotherapy. With similar results. Headache, “flulike” symptoms and, most notably, the sort of nausea usually only experienced in really bad hurricanes at sea.

“Dr. Chet will, of course, be accompanying you,” the admiral said. “You can do pre-mission physical en route. You have, after all, nearly a month before you get to the AO. Takeoff by midnight Tuesday, Captain. With whatever Marines, SF and crew you have available. That’s a hard date.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” Blankemeier said.

“Dismissed.”

Eric had taken his truck for the drive to the church. While he’d taken Josh over with him, he’d asked his brother to let him drive home on his own. He just needed some time.

After church all sorts of people had wanted to shake his hand. Too many of them had asked why he’d gotten the Cross and all he could do was repeat the mantra “I’m sorry, that’s classified.”

The Piersons had been one of the groups that stopped to talk to him. Mr. Pierson had just shaken his hand and nodded. Eric remembered he had been in the military but for the life of him he couldn’t remember where or when. Mrs. Pierson had hugged him and seemed to be tearing up. He wasn’t sure why. A lot of people had been that way. It was like they all really knew what had happened but he was pretty sure it was still fully black. Was she reacting to something he was radiating? Hell, he wasn’t that pessimistic.