The first horned child to touch his armor looked like his daughter in everything but the horns.
Riko stood at the edge of the square — a giant in black armor, a machine gun across his back, on an alien planet billions of kilometers from home. And a child of about five ran up to him without a trace of fear, looked up at this mountain of metal and man — and touched his knee guard with one finger. The metal was cold, foreign, made for war. The child laughed, as if she'd touched something funny, and ran back to her mother.
Riko went still. Watched her go.
"Just like home," he said quietly.
Because at home they didn't fear him either. At home a smaller one and a bigger one ran to this same armor, and both knew what no enemy knew: that under Earth's thickest armor hid the softest man they ha
