The muscles in my arms started to tremble. Then, purposefully, she walked away. Somehow she’d heard my prayer, making a ninety-degree turn right in front of me and heading toward the brigadier general where he sat under the tent. She snapped a perfunctory salute. Not so sloppy as to be insulting, but not so stiff you could hear anything cracking, either. A fitting salute for the Full Metal Bitch.

The brigadier general cast a doubtful glance at Rita. Rita was a sergeant major. In the military hierarchy, the difference between a brigadier general and a sergeant major was about the same as the difference between a four-course meal at a snooty restaurant and an all-you-can-eat buffet. Recruits like me were strictly fast food, complete with an oversized side of fries. But it wasn’t that simple. It never was. Rita was U.S. military, the linchpin of the upcoming operation, and one of the most important soldiers on the face of the planet. Rank aside, it was hard to say which one of them really held more power.

Rita stood in silence. The brigadier general was the first to speak.

“Yes, Sergeant?”

“Sir, would it be possible for me to join the PT, sir.”

The same high voice from my dream, speaking in perfectly intoned Burst.

“You have a major operation coming up tomorrow.”

“So do they, sir. My squad has never participated in this form of PT, sir. I believe my participation could be vital in ensuring the successful coordination and execution of tomorrow’s joint operation.”

The general was at a loss for words. The U.S. Special Forces around the field started to whoop and cheer.

“Request permission to participate in the PT, sir,” she said.

“Granted.”

“Sir, thank you, sir!”

She flashed a quick salute. Doing an about-face, she slipped among the rows of men staring intently into the ground.

She chose a spot beside me and started her iso push-up. I could feel the heat coming off her body through the chilly air between us.