“Yes, sir,” Megan said, smiling faintly as he tossed it on her shoulders. She closed her eyes and shivered again at the brush of his hand and arm. “We have to talk,” she added, quietly.
“That we do,” Herzer admitted.
“I’m… strongly attracted to you, Herzer Herrick,” Megan said, turning back to look out over the waves. She wasn’t really seeing them and at the moment it was a better place to look than into his face. “But… I was attracted to Paul. I don’t trust myself when it comes to being attracted to men. Do you understand that?”
“Yes,” Herzer said, stepping forward to stand beside her. He kept a respectable distance between them, however.
“I was… with Paul for a long time,” Megan continued, carefully. “Many times. I did not like it. At first. Later… I came to enjoy his company. I fell in love with him, Herzer, and I had to kill him. That was hard. Very hard. And knowing… feeling how wrong it was to fall in love with…” She stopped and shook her head.
“Your rapist,” Herzer said, clearly.
“Thank you for pointing that out,” she replied, angrily.
“It’s called psychological trauma,” Herzer said. “There are those that think that you don’t have to talk about it. Strong people will just ‘get over it.’ ‘Talking about it just makes it worse.’ Bullshit. Everyone who lives through psychological trauma, who really lives through it, finds a way to talk about it. Hell, that’s half the purpose for debriefings. It’s the reason for ‘trooper blasts.’ That’s why when the fleet got its ass handed to it the first time, the duke made sure there was one hell of a party when they came in. People get hammered and they talk. You get some of it out of your soul by sharing the pain with others, even if they’re people who have had the same pain. There are dark things that happen in people’s heads. Everyone who has been in a traumatic situation has them. One of the main reasons to talk about it, especially with people who know what you have been through, have been in the same situation or have studied the reactions, is to learn that others have the same dark things.” He sighed and shrugged.
“I’m gonna tell you a little parable,” he said, glancing at her.
“Am I going to like the story?” Megan said, smiling faintly.
“No,” Herzer assured her. “Once upon a time there was a young man who went for soldier…”
“That would be you?” she asked, jokingly.
“No, not me,” Herzer said. “That will be obvious in a bit. Anyway, he joined the Blood Lords figuring it would be better than cutting wood the rest of his life. And he did pretty well. He didn’t do so well that he rose really high, but he was a pretty good soldier. Maybe too good. Always in the thick of it. Lots of combat, even when it was scarce. Always wanted to be out on the line. Then, one day, he got sent off to train some militia who were having bandit problems. He had a real… thing for bandits. Anyway, the militia, with his help, managed to trap the bandits.” Herzer paused and frowned. “Under certain conditions, legally, such persons can be given a summary field trial and executed. My… friend didn’t do even that. He had them tied up, lined up and then he slit their throats.”
“Ugh,” Megan said. “You’re right, I don’t like the story.”
“The militia was a little shaken and they tried to hush it up but it got back to the UFS authorities who, after an investigation, gave him a choice: full court-martial or resign. He resigned.”
“They didn’t try him?” Megan said, surprised.
“No, they didn’t,” Herzer replied. “Despite the fact that I recommended it and so did Edmund. You see, my friend had a problem; he enjoyed killing too much. That was why he was always in the thick of it. He’d gotten addicted to the… sense of power that comes from taking a human life. That is one of those things that doesn’t get talked about nearly enough. That, horrible as combat is, there’s a… rush to surviving it and a positive sense of… godlike power when you take another life. There are lots of people that say they don’t enjoy any aspect of combat. Most of them, the ones that keep going back, are liars.”
“You feel it, too,” Megan said, quietly.
“I feel it,” Herzer replied. “That’s part of my dark side, one part. But I don’t like that dark side and I sure as hell don’t nurture it. But my point is that you are going to come out of what you went through with a dark side. Your own. You’ll think that that side is something different. That there are things in there you don’t want to share because nobody could feel the way that you do. But that’s not true. Others have the same thoughts, the same shameful thoughts, and feelings. And by talking to people who understand, who have been through the same things and have studied them and understand them, you can come to understand them, too.”
“Those people are few and far between,” Megan said, turning to look at him. She stared at the profile for a moment and then frowned. “I’m… sort of surprised that you’re an expert.”
“I’m not on rape trauma,” Herzer replied, continuing to look out at the ocean. “But combat is psychological trauma. One of the classes I teach is how to reduce post-combat stress, otherwise you lose too many troops to it. One way or another.”
“One of the soldiers at the castle was talking about that,” Megan said, frowning again. “But he didn’t put it that way. Just that some of the soldiers couldn’t handle the fighting…”
“We put a lot more effort into training than Clan McClure does,” Herzer said, turning his head to glance at her, then looking back at the ocean. “One of the purposes is to weed out the soldiers that won’t be able to handle the mental strain. But even the ones that make it through standard training have problems. Either they lose the edge, lose the ability, to fight or… they go the other way. Losing them is a logistic and economic failure, one we can’t afford. Spending a certain amount of time and money on making sure they can make it through more than two battles is worth it. So we do. Debriefs, unit counseling, individual counseling at unit level, trooper blasts, they all play a part. Humans are social creatures; we manage our pain by sharing it in one way or another. You wouldn’t believe the sorts of practical jokes that combat soldiers play on each other. That’s a way of bonding and sharing the pain as much as anything else.”
“I don’t have anyone to share it with,” Megan said, softly.
“Bast is the only expert we have available on rape trauma,” Herzer said, shrugging. “Daneh, Edmund’s wife, is probably the person you could talk to best, but she’s not here. Bast is. And you’ve been avoiding her.”
“You know why,” Megan said, turning away.
“Yes,” Herzer said, glancing at her again. “And you don’t need to.”
“So you say,” Megan replied, bitterly.
“Bast and I…” Herzer said, then paused. “I was about to say ‘we go back a long time.’ But we don’t, only a few years. Very… hard years but not so long, really, especially not to Bast. She has already told me that I’m lost to her.”
“Are you still sleeping with her?” Megan asked.
“Yes,” Herzer replied. “We’ve been sharing my bed. It’s barely large enough, but we’re used to that. Oh, you mean sex?” he asked, as if it was a surprise. “In that case, no.”