-DR. DANIEL RUDMAN Surf the moment. Ride the contingencies. Improvise. I woke to pitch-darkness, interrupting a nightmare about frigid, mind-numbing thunder. But it was no dream. The icy floor rang beneath me like a gong. That gunship was firing again. Sheeba! In panic, I thrust out both hands—and Shee was there, curled next to me in the thin blanket. How could she sleep through this dreadful booming? The steel deck transmitted subzero cold, so I eased my broken leg aside and pressed myself full length to Sheeba’s warm body. With no NEMs to clean her skin, she smelled pungent, and her aroma stirred me. Her firm round belly swelled against my abdomen, and the sweet flesh under her chin molded to my mouth. Her skin tasted of spice and salt. She didn’t wake when I licked her ear, so I sucked her throat, and my hands wandered lower, along the curve of her hip and down between her legs. My fingers fumbled with snaps, then slid into the damp sweet warmth of her crotch. Velvet wetness. My organ throbbed against her thigh, and I shifted carefully, easing closer, hoping the gunship’s barrage would drown my groans.
