Disclaimer: The names of all 'Space: Above and Beyond' characters contained herein are the property of Glen Morgan and James Wong, Hard Eight Productions and the Fox Broadcasting Network. These names have been used without their permission. All else is my own creation.
Rating: NC17 Language, violence and graphic sex.
Spoilers: None
Prequels: Blood and Souls
Author: Vasalysa, with many undying thanks to Geek.
2 Souls Bound
Chapter One
Hard, bright sunlight burned down onto the rocky scrub land, driving three men and two women under cover, seeking relief from the heat in a narrow six foot deep ravine. Red brown dust coated their uniforms, occasional spots revealing the fabric's true color, khaki brown on four and black on the last.
Wiping his brow and smearing the sweat into the dust, Lt. Colonel McQueen sighed, giving the others a quick look. Both the dark skinned St. John and Damphousse appeared to be dealing better with the heat than either of the other two lighter skinned Vansen and Hawkes. It was at times like these that McQueen regretted continuing to wear his black flight suit, but he was accustomed to the signature it gave him, the last Angry Angel of the Marine Corps.
Damphousse rolled her shoulders. "Colonel, this planet is a damned desert. I can't see the Chigs wanting to live here. Not if they're used to a more jungle environment."
Running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair, creating streaks of his natural white blond in the red brown dust, Colonel McQueen nodded. "I know. But Intel is positive that the Chigs have a base here on the planet." He quirked up the corner of his mouth, continuing with, "So, being the miracle workers that we are, we have to find it."
"Colonel." Vansen crouched under the meager shade of a nearby overhang, tucking her dust coated auburn hair over an ear. "The briefing... it was so sketchy. Doesn't Intel have any idea why the Chigs are interested in this planet?"
"No. All we know is that the Chigs keep sending transports here. There must be a reason. We're here to find out why." McQueen stretched, easing the kinks in his neck and back. "Remember that even though we think it's too dry for the Chigs, it's not for the AIs."
"Wonder how Silver and the others are doing?" Hawkes somehow managed to squeeze his six foot two frame under a small bush to shelter in its meager shade. Bringing his M-590 rifle down before him, he pulled the clip, frowning as he found sand in the mechanism. "Damn sand." He started blowing the sand out.
McQueen hid a grimace at the thought of his Marine wife of only thirty-two days finding the enemy first. He knew she was more than capable of dealing with anything that came up. After all, there are few things that worry a vampire at full strength. Alone, he had no doubt Lysa would destroy any Chigs or AIs she came across, in human or four-footed primal form. It was the fact she was not alone that would cause her problems. Trained to conceal her nature from an early age, she would not use her vampiric strength or abilities in the presence of the enemy if captured. As a result, she had an even nastier a history with the AIs than he did. Still, as her husband, he figured that it was his right to worry.
Giving her CO a quick look, Damphousse grinned, retying her hair. "They'll be fine, Hawkes. After all, you're the trouble magnet."
Beneath their feet, the ground shifted, causing them all to curse. The ground grew still after several seconds.
Shaking his head, St. John said, "That's the twentieth earth tremor in eight hours. This planet is not very stable, sir."
"I had noticed that," McQueen said dryly. He shrugged. "Nothing we can do about it except be careful. Let's keep moving."
With groans of protest, the four young Marines rose and started walking.
Hawkes frowned at St. John. "Leave it to you to count the damn things."
"Hey, with no Chigs or AIs in sight, I have to entertain my brain somehow."
Twelve hours north of their starting point, a pair of men and women, struggled across rough, uneven ground. Red brown dust clung to their khaki uniforms, coating revealed skin. Pausing for a quick look around, one of the women straightened, frowning as she looked over the surrounding countryside and retied her dust streaked hair. Cliffs and ravines showed clear evidence that the earth tremors escalated frequently into full blown earthquakes.
"Colonel," one of the men called out, shaking his head, revealing red hair under the dust. "I don't like this country."
"I don't blame you, Russell. It's raising my hackles." Silver crouched down, running her fingers through the disturbed dirt on the trail they currently followed. The trail wound half way up a hundred foot cliff, slowly heading up from the ravine floor where a stream struggled to trickle along. It would be a challenge to get across this terrain. A challenge her husband would enjoy under most circumstances. As she stood back up, Silver wished he was beside her now.
The other man shivered. "I have a bad feeling about all this." He fingered an identification tag around his neck showing a blond woman. His narrow face held uneasiness.
Tall and willowy, the blonde, hair tied back in a braid, rubbed her upper arm where she had hit it on a rock during a slip. "I agree, West. This place is bad news. So let's get the hell out of here."
"I'm with Finch, Colonel. Let's get out of here." West gave the narrow trail a sour look. "The sooner we're at the top, the sooner I'll feel better."
The ground shook, harder than they had experienced so far on this mission. As the tremor appeared to stop, Silver heard a continued rumbling coming from above. "Run!"
Running for their lives, the four Marines sprinted up the trail.
Trudging through the sand and heat, McQueen wished the sun would go down, despite knowing that the temperature would drop dramatically. His squad needed rest, but they had all wanted to continue on for another couple of hours.
The ground started shaking harder than before.
He stumbled to a halt, terror spearing through him. The terror changed into agony and he sank, unaware, to his knees, head thrown back in a silent scream. Mercifully, the pain vanished as suddenly as it had appeared. His panicked thoughts whirled around in his head. What had happened? Lysa was in trouble, big trouble. That meant the others as well. Where were they? Why had the pain disappeared? Was Lysa dead?
Frantically, he tried to extend his mental senses along the bond he shared with his wife, closing his eyes, hoping he could do it under such trying circumstances. So far, he had only done it on board the Saratoga. He reached out to her and touched the faint spark of her life-force. Relief flooded him. The relief changed to terror as pain radiated out from Lysa's life-force toward him. He pulled back, attempting to narrow the bond to just letting him know she continued to breathe.
"Sir! Sir!"
Vansen's voice penetrated his concentration and he collapsed as the pain found him, racking his body. With desperate speed, McQueen struggled to lock down the link between him and Lysa to the narrower stream. Sobbing from the effort, he felt his body relax at the sudden cessation of the phantom pain.
"Sir, what happened?"
"Silver, the others," he croaked with a mouth and throat gone dry. A canteen touched his lips and he sipped cautiously of the tepid water. He pushed the canteen away after several swallows. "Something's happened to them. I think they've been caught in the aftermath of the tremor."
"We need to go find them!" Hawkes looked around desperately as if he could spot the missing members of the squad.
"We don't even know where they are, Hawkes!" Vansen gripped his arm tightly, bringing him under control.
"I can find them." His voice sounded weak to his ears and McQueen forced himself to sit up, feeling the tremble in his arms as he did so. "The bond between me and Silver will allow me to find them."
"What happened, sir?" asked 'Phousse, crouched beside him with the canteen still in her hands. "You were walking along and then you just collapsed."
"I felt her... I felt Silver getting hit by..." He frowned, thinking. "A landslide, I think. It's not words or pictures, just feelings and sensations. I had the sensation that she was being tumbled over and over, struggling to reach someone else."
St. John moved into McQueen's sight, face impassive, only his eyes showing distress. "We better get moving then, sir. They were moving north from our LZ, while we've been moving southwest, so they're at least ten hours away, even at our best speed." He held out his hand to the colonel.
Taking the offered hand, McQueen scrambled to his feet. He cautiously felt along the bond, turning until it felt the strongest. "That way," he said, pointing north northeast.
Two hours later, the sun granted his earlier desire, sinking over the horizon, even as he silently cursed it for disappearing on him now that he needed its light. The weary group stumbled along for nearly an hour before McQueen reluctantly called a halt. Since they were in enemy territory, they couldn't use their lights and he didn't want someone getting injured in the darkness. He watched them sink down into the hollow that St. John had discovered by stumbling over it.
"Sir, you need to rest too." Vansen struggled to her feet, moving up to stand beside him. Lowering her voice, she said, "She'll need you rested, sir. You'll be no good to her if you're exhausted."
He shook his head slightly. "I can't yet. It's too raw right now."
"Sir?"
"I can feel her, Shane." He dropped the formality of their ranks, needing to speak to a friend. "She's alive, but she's injured. She's trying to keep the pain under control, but it spikes occasionally and gets through."
"What is she feeling?"
"Fear and worry." He absently rubbed his left upper arm as if it hurt.
About to ask him another question, Vansen saw him stiffen in the starlight. "Sir?"
"The fear intensified. She's clamped down on the bond. As if..." He chewed his lip, staring out into the night, his fingers digging into his arm.
"As if what, sir?"
"As if they've been found."
"Then it's more important then ever that you rest, sir." Daringly she invaded his personal space and loosened his hand from his arm. "Come on, sir. We'll find them, wherever they are. We'll rescue them no matter the odds."
Freeing his hand from hers, he lightly touched her cheek. "I don't deserve any of you, Shane."
"Yes, you do, sir." From her resting place, 'Phousse rose. "Any one who dares to care deserves to be cared for. You dared to care about us, a bunch of young recruits who had delusions of grandeur. You dared to care enough to help us live through odds most didn't. You've never stopped caring, sir." She took his left hand. "We know it, deep inside. It keeps us going. Now, let us help you rest, sir."
For a moment, McQueen resisted the steady pull 'Phousse gave his arm. He sighed and allowed her to pull him into the hollow. She led him over by Hawkes and tugged him downward. Onto his side, arm curled under his head, he settled into place, feeling 'Phousse rest her hand on his shoulder for several seconds. A crumb of comfort for a man who they knew would never ask for it.
Even knowing he needed to sleep, McQueen stared over Hawkes' head into the darkness as the stars slowly wheeled across the sky. In his heart, he cried out for his missing wife, wanting her beside him in the night. Silent tears ran down his cheeks as he waited for the chance to find her. He settled for trying to send his love through their soul bond.
Stumbling for the dozenth time, Silver cursed under her breath as the AIs dragged them across the countryside in the darkness, a bare sliver of a moon not helping the situation. The landslide had torn their rifles away, leaving them armed only with k-bars and pistols. They had been busy digging out West and an unconscious Finch when the AIs arrived.
Ahead of her, Russell limped along, the nasty cuts on his right leg temporarily patched by the AIs so he could travel. West staggered behind her, his broken right wrist hugged tight against his cracked or broken ribs. She had been able to get him to drink briefly before the AIs pulled them apart and could only hope he remembered to think of his body as healing in order to utilize the drink he'd had. Her own injuries appeared to be cracked ribs, cuts and bruises and a sprained left wrist. Risking a quick glance around, she saw Finch, still unconscious, slung over the shoulder of a Jasper model AI.
"Move it, human." The Morgana model shoved Silver's shoulder.
Recovering her balance, Silver growled low in her throat, but fought down the urge to destroy the AI. Years of training kept her in control of her vampiric abilities and she knew the odds were against her being able to disable all six AIs before they got a modem message off, revealing her to the AI community. They were already interested in her as a Marine colonel and a major in the highly secret Black Forces. The AIs didn't need to discover that she was a vampire in addition.
She could only hope that West understood why she didn't lash out at the AIs. Russell knew from previous experiences that she could only act as a normal human in circumstances like these. It would be as frustrating for West as it was for her, knowing that she could easily tear the intelligent machines apart, but she was constrained not to due to needing to keep her vampiric self secret.
Stumbling again, Silver felt the presence of her husband, even though he was far away and took comfort from the sensation of his love. Sending her own love back to him, she blocked off the pain, fear and worry into another compartment of her mind. Experience with lesser bonds, such as those she shared with Russell, St. John and Finch, allowed her to limit what went down the pipeline to McQueen and she knew she would have to pinch the bond to the breaking point if she wanted him to survive her upcoming ordeal. He would come to the rescue, her black knight, but it would take time. Time the AIs would use to advantage. A smile curved her lips as she thought about the fact that it was a good thing she had argued for 'Phousse to keep the radio, even though no one would be calling for another four days.
She heard the sharp hiss of pain as an AI jostled West. "Keep it moving, human."
"Then give us a light," snapped West.
False flesh hit real flesh with a crack and she heard West fall. "So feisty. We'll see if you are still so defiant when we've played with you a bit."
Silver darted to where West had struggled to a sitting position. "Now, Captain, I'm sure that the AIs would give us some light, if they thought there was a suitable reason for it. Such as, perhaps, getting to our destination sometime before the next ice age." She helped him onto his feet. "After all, the longer it takes us to get there, the longer it is before they get to torture the only Marines on the planet. I'm not too keen on that last part, but stumbling around in the dark isn't too much fun either."
"No, it's not." West squeezed her wrist as he straightened up. "I'm not sure what Command was thinking, sending four Marines down here."
The Morgana grabbed Silver's arm and pulled her roughly away from West. "None of that. Get moving."
When all three prisoners stumbled again seconds later, the Morgana gave an impatient sigh and turned on a flashlight.
The slim moon offered hardly more light than the stars, but McQueen pushed on, determined to gain as much ground as he could before he being forced to allow the others to rest again.
Hearing Vansen and 'Phousse laboring to keep up finally brought him to a halt. Pushing the two women to exhaustion would hamper his progress. He bowed his head to the inevitability of it and found a suitable resting area, a small cave. A quick check with his light and he ushered the two women followed by Hawkes and St. John. Settling in at the cave mouth, McQueen rested his rifle across his lap and stared out into the night.
The coughs and restless movements slowly died away inside the cave as he kept his vigil.
"Sir, she'll be fine."
McQueen nodded. "So will Finch."
St. John chuckled softly. "That girl will survive anything that nature or the AIs can throw at her. Same with Silver. I know the kind of punishment Silver can take. So do you, sir. She'll be expecting you to keep your head, no matter what."
"Tough to do."
"I know, sir." St. John sighed. "It's never easy, sir, caring for someone else. I've been forced to wait, hearing Finch scream the whole while, until we could move in together. I've watched both her and Silver tortured by the AIs and kept my mouth shut. How I don't know, only that I knew that was what Silver expected of me."
Shifting about on the hard ground, St. John was quiet for a moment. "With us being tanks and all, we just don't have the training to understand the finer points of emotions. I think part of the reason we were grown in tanks was for the purpose of handicapping us emotionally. Only, they forgot that we're still human, no matter how much they tinkered with our genes. We can learn caring and we can also learn how to show that we care. The three of us, Finch, Russell and I, we lucked out. Silver became our officer and she taught all of us tanks in the 112th, but the three of us especially. If we not so smart tanks can do it, sir, so can you. It takes trust, trust that the other person isn't going to laugh at you or scold you, but that they recognize what you're giving them. Sir, she does. I see it in her eyes every time she looks at you."
"I have a hard time showing her," admitted McQueen softly.
"She can see it in you. It's there in your words, your looks, your body language." St. John paused. "Sir, it's going to be hard when we find them. The AIs will most likely be torturing them, but we can't go in there half-cocked. We have to do it right. They're expecting us to save them."
"I know." McQueen bowed his head, wanting to cry out his despair.
"We'll do it, sir. Just plan it and we'll carry it out. Don't let what's happening to them trick you into moving too soon, sir."
"How do I block it, St. John?"
"The bond? I'm not sure that you can, completely."
McQueen's voice dropped to a whisper. "I don't think I can handle her being tortured. Not if I'm feeling it, too. The landslide was more than I'd expected. All encompassing. There's never been anything bad through the bond before. I... I don't know how to handle it."
"Remember whatever she told you about controlling the bond. I'm sure she's talked to you about it. Especially before we came on this mission."
The darkness hid his tears and McQueen was grateful for it. "A bit. Frankly, I was more interested in other things."
St. John chuckled. "Don't blame you." In a serious tone, he continued. "Whatever happens, you'll have to figure out how to use the bond yourself. I can't help you out much."
"You have a bond with her?"
"Yes. It's a bond that's developed over many years. Being a remal to a single vampire can lead to a tight bonding without ever doing a ceremony. But there's nothing conscious about it on our part. She can summon us, like she did on the 'Toga when you were hit by that cradle. I couldn't do it though." St. John shrugged. "I've wished I could from time to time, but I suspect that the need has never been great enough."
"You better get some sleep, St. John."
"Yes, sir."
McQueen sat, leaning against the entrance, the fingers of his right hand rubbing the spot where his wedding rings would normally sit. Both his rings and Silver's were on the 'Toga in the care of his long time friend, Glen Ross. The commodore had agreed to take the rings as a precaution and now McQueen was glad they had talked Glen into it. The AIs would not be able to use him against Silver. At least, he hoped that they were not up to date on who had married who in the Marine Corps. The last thing he wanted right now was an AI gossip columnist spreading the word.
He could see it now. 'Tank McQueen takes a Wife; Will the Second Time be the Charm? Silver's her Name.' The image made him shake his head, wishing he could chuckle about it, but he knew the seriousness of the situation.
The yellow sun threatened to peek over the distant mountains. Through the twilight, McQueen led his squadron, having rested and fed them. His own MRE he had wolfed down without a second's thought, far too distracted to concentrate on the awful taste. Five hours after McQueen had talked with St. John, the AIs started paying serious attention to Silver, the muted pain had sneaked through the bond, keeping him from sleeping. Beside him, St. John had moaned in his restless sleep, nearly waking the other three. Resting his hand on St. John had helped to quiet the Invitro and McQueen had wished someone had been able to help him. Nearly two hours had gone by before the pain had ceased. At unpredictable times, the pain returned, breaking into his brief three hours of restless sleep. Now that dawn approached, they would be able to make better speed than they had for the last three hours. He estimated that they had come a grand total of ten miles from the time of the landslide.
The terrain shifted from scrub land to rocky foothills six hours later. So far they had managed five hours of marching in the dark since the earthquake and another five hours of steady marching, even with breaks scattered throughout. He knew there were most likely at least another ten hours of marching ahead of them, and they would have to camp for the night somewhere. Running his team into the ground would serve no purpose. They had already managed nearly fifteen miles since waking.
Once they reached the bottom of a incline, he let them rest for five minutes. From the lack of pain, he knew the AIs were leaving Silver alone for the moment. That meant either they were torturing one of the others or something had diverted their attention. As much as he did not want any of his people tortured, he also did not want the AIs searching for him yet. He had to hope that Silver and the others could hold out until he could get there.
"Sir." Vansen looked up from the map they had received on the APC. "I think we have a problem."
McQueen closed his eyes briefly. "What is it, Vansen?"
"There's a river between us and where we're currently headed." As he moved over to crouch beside her, she continued speaking. "If Silver and the others made decent time, they should have been about here." She pointed to a spot on the map fifteen miles north of the marked landing zone. "Now that's a conservative distance, sir, since I know how Silver can push the pace. But anyway I look at it, sir, they crossed this river at some point." Her finger tapped the blue ribbon that snaked across the upper portion of the map.
"Any idea where they could have crossed, Shane?" asked Hawkes, using his binocs to scan the nearby hilltops.
"It's ravines and gorges through that area, Coop. They'd have to make their own crossing wherever they decided to. Problem is, we don't know where that is or how far along the river they went before crossing. I think it'll take us two hours to find a crossing once we reach the river, sir."
"Worse yet," remarked St. John, looking over Vansen's shoulder, "we're crossing down river from wherever they crossed. It's going to be wider or, worse if narrower, faster."
McQueen bit his cheek in an effort to keep from speaking sarcastically. "Very well. Once we reach the river, we'll find a way across. We have plenty of rope in our packs if we need to construct a bridge." Turning to the direction he knew his wife and the others were at, his hands tightened into fists. The AIs had returned to their 'work' and his jaw clenched. "We had better get moving while we still can."
The others exchanged looks and nodded.
"I'll take point, sir," volunteered Hawkes.
Tears blinded McQueen momentarily and, as he blinked them away, he nodded reluctantly. "North northeast, Hawkes." Roughly he wiped the tears from his cheeks.
The river crossing delayed them longer than Vansen's estimated two hours. Three and a half hours, a quick lunch, and seven miles from the spot where Vansen had pulled out the map, the river roared through a gorge forty feet below them, fast and furious, running to the northwest. Sparse undergrowth grew about the gorge, useless for attempting to anchor a rope long enough for even one person to get across.
Hawkes scanned the countryside to the east and southeast with his binocs as 'Phousse rubbed her shins and calves at his feet. "Anything, Coop?" she asked quietly.
"Not a thing. All we need are two trees."
"On opposite sides of the river," added St. John, from where he looked to the north and northwest. "No trees in sight, sir."
Vansen glanced at McQueen. "Sir, we could follow the river upstream. We'd find their crossing point eventually."
With a heavy sigh, McQueen nodded. "That's the best course of action."
Nearly three hours later, they found the rope bridge suspended between two sturdy trees. Getting them all safely across took almost a half hour with both St. John and Vansen nearly losing their grips.
McQueen had watched white-knuckled as they dangled over the raging river, ropes tied about their waists for dubious safety. A third of the way across himself, he staggered to a halt, transfixed by the spikes of pain seemingly originating from his kidneys. It took him long seconds to crush the phantom pain enough to finish the crossing. He ignored the questions from the squad, needing to concentrate on finding his footing and not getting distracted again. On the far bank, he resisted the urge to sink to his knees.
"Sir, we need a break." Vansen stepped up to him as Damphousse, the last of them, made her crossing. "This planet's days are just enough longer than we're used to that we're starting to feel exhausted."
"No, you're exhausted because I'm running you into the ground," admitted McQueen with a sad smile. "Don't mince words, Captain. I know it's what I'm doing. Look, night is less than four hours away. If we find a suitable campsite before then, we'll stop for the night. The entire night."
"If we don't, sir?"
"We'll make do for the night. Twelve hours of rest." He couldn't help glancing northward, following the pull of the bond.
"How... how is she..."
"Still alive. That's all I know."
"Don't worry, sir. We'll get her out of there." Vansen started to put her hand on his arm, but dropped it as Hawkes called out, "All right, 'Phousse. You made the best time across."
"It's all the gymnastics my mother insisted I take," grinned 'Phousse. "She said I had to do something physical to offset all the academics."
"Ten mike break. Use the time to eat a ration bar and drink some water," McQueen announced. He saw Vansen's satisfied nod and forced himself to sit down and follow his own orders.
They made camp three and a half hellish hours later. Up and down ravines and small gorges, following trails that petered out half way up or down, once forced to scale a small cliff where the earthquake had shaken away the trail. Halfway up the cliff face, McQueen nearly slipped off as the pain spiked again. He dug his fingers and boot tips into the cliff, hugging it as he fought for his balance, both mental and physical. Heaving a sigh of relief as the pain faded, he leaned his forehead against the stones briefly before reaching up for the next handhold. At the top of the cliff, Hawkes held out his hand and, after a second's hesitation, McQueen took it, gave him a stiff nod, and started trudging off in the direction he needed to go.
Their campsite for the night was a crack in a huge basalt upthrust they had been walking around. Hawkes had spotted the opening and, before anyone could stop him, he had darted inside. He had come out grinning, announcing that the crack opened up into a large cave after three feet, more than enough room for them all to stretch out and sleep.
"A fire, sir?" asked 'Phousse hopefully.
McQueen nodded and couldn't help being amused at the speed with which St. John had his Sterno can whipped out and lit. Hot MRE's were a lot better than cold ones, he admitted to himself. Slipping his pack off, he set it down in the rear of the cavern and sat down beside it. A yawn took him off-guard and he missed the looks Vansen shared with the others.
"I'll take first watch, sir," Vansen said quietly. "You didn't get much sleep last night, sir, so we'll give you one of the later watches."
"Wake me for the third watch." McQueen knew he wouldn't sleep through the twelve hours.
"Yes, sir."
From her tone, McQueen could tell she wasn't happy about his order. "Shane, I won't sleep through the night in any case. I rarely do."
"Yes, sir."
He dug through his pack and pulled out a MRE at random, tossing it to St. John. "I'll have that, sirrah, plenty of disgusting taste and little of real meat in it."
"Yes, sir," grinned St. John. He hung his old WWII helmet over the lit Sterno with water in it and piled the other MREs nearby.
Where the hell St. John had found a helmet from a war over a hundred years ago remained a puzzle to McQueen. Finch, Russell, and St. John had come to the unit with Silver nearly a year and a half ago. He still knew little about them. All three loved to sing, something Silver had taught them. Russell loved various types of music and was still educating Hawkes about something called rock and roll. The music sounded too raucous for his tastes. He preferred the classical music with its more structured styles. Finch and St. John were lovers, they enjoyed singing and classical music as well as folk and they were devoted to Silver as was Russell. Acting as a third from time to time with the other two, Russell had fallen for Silver's brother, Patrick, of all things a scotch whiskey distiller.
"Ok, St. John, I have to ask." Leaning forward to set her own MRE beside the others, 'Phousse smiled. "Where the hell did you get hold of a World War Two helmet?"
Chuckling, St. John said, "Would you believe a museum?"
"What?"
At the astonished looks, St. John laughed out loud. "Honest. I was on leave with Finch. We decided to stop in this city, don't remember the name, and saw this really neat museum. A sign hung on the door stating that items were for sale in the shop. All sorts of stuff was in there. Certain things were considered to be clutter and not of any importance anymore, so they were selling off the surplus. Finch bought herself a genuine dinosaur bone fragment. I found a World War Two pile of clutter, mostly American helmets. The desk clerk said that people had bought all the German ones within two hours of knowing they were there, but no one wanted the American helmets. I saw the possibilities for it immediately. I bought four. Two are back at the estate in our permanent quarters there, one's in my foot locker and the other I keep in my helmet." He rotated the helmet around, pointing to a small ding. "See that there? That bullet had penetrated my issued helmet. This stopped the bullet. It's kept me alive."
He dropped two MREs into the boiling water. "I've cooked in it, boiled bandages, made coffee, done a great many things in it when needed."
"Sounds like you certainly got your money's worth," remarked Vansen.
"Yes."
By the time the MREs were ready, McQueen was feeling his exhaustion. He sat, arms over his knees, hands hanging down, staring into the darkness, his mind mercifully blank for the moment.
"Sir," came 'Phousse's voice to his right.
He blinked and turned his head toward her slowly.
"Your dinner's ready."
"Thank you." He took the opened and prepped MRE from her.
He ate mechanically, too tired to care about it. Now that he was no longer moving, he just wanted to sleep. Finished eating, he set the empty packet aside and leaned his head back against the rock wall.
Vansen moved over and took the empty packet. "Sir, why don't you go to sleep? We have everything under control here."
Nodding, he pushed his pack over, stretched out on the not so smooth ground and used the pack as a pillow as he faced away from the fire. Oblivion reached out to him and he let himself sink into it, eager for the escape.
Vansen was shaking 'Phousse awake for the second watch when a gut-wrenching scream shattered the quiet. Even as the two women wrenched their heads around to the source of the on-going scream, St. John groaned, "Hawkes, hold him. He's feeling her pain. Wake him up. He can't control it in his sleep yet."
Shaking the sleep from his head, Hawkes stumbled over to where McQueen writhed on the rocky ground. He wrapped his arms around the flailing arms and the heaving chest as more screams poured forth. Fighting to hold the bucking body, Hawkes pinned McQueen to the ground, realizing how much strength was hidden in the lean, hard body as he was nearly dislodged. "Shane, I can't hold him for long. It's like holding onto a tornado. Wake him up!"
Vansen scrambled over and reached out to shake McQueen's shoulder. Realizing he wasn't waking up being held by Hawkes, she slapped his cheek hard. "Sir! Sir!"
Back arching, McQueen's head snapped back into Hawkes' face, still screaming. The blow dazed Hawkes, loosening his grip a fraction and McQueen twisted free as blood started flowing from Hawkes' nose. Rolling into the wall, McQueen slammed his head into the rocks. To Vansen's horror, he repeatedly bashed his head on the wall. Despite her desperate attempts to stop him, he did continued to do it, hitting his head against the floor when she pulled him away from the wall.
"Let him," St. John croaked. "He's trying to stop the pain. If he's unconscious, it'll stop."
Aghast, Vansen continued to protect McQueen's head until 'Phousse reached over, taking hold of her hands. The ear-splitting screams continued non-stop. "Shane, he's trapped in there. We can't break him out of it. Let him go. We'll deal with the results."
"I can't let him hurt himself." Vansen's eyes were filled with tears.
"The sooner he's out, the sooner he's free of the pain, the less the damage will be. Come on, Shane."
With a sob, Vansen threw herself away from McQueen. Two more hits and he sank into silence and general stillness, his chest laboring to breathe, his limbs trembling.
Using a rag, 'Phousse dabbed at the blood trickling from the cuts on McQueen's scalp and face. "St. John, I could use some of that..." Her voice trailed away as she looked up at him and saw St. John lay shaking on the ground. "Oh, God, you're feeling it too!"
He nodded jerkily. "My bond isn't as strong. The AIs are really working her over. She must have really pissed them off. It's the worst yet. Thank the Creator they chose a mid-level bond. He'd be uncontrollable if it were a high level bond."
Pinching his nose closed, Hawkes moved over to the Sterno can and struggled one-handedly to light it. Vansen shook herself and took the lighter from Hawkes and lit the Sterno to heat the water left in the helmet.
"That's what he's been feeling and hiding all day?" Vansen didn't look at either St. John or McQueen, staring at the fire.
"Yes. So have I to a far lesser degree. It's been like a muscular ache most of the time. This... this was serious. I've never felt her like this before."
"Why didn't you act like this before? Like when we went to rescue Silver the first time?" Dipping the rag in the tepid water, 'Phousse paused in her ministrations. "Coop, lie down."
As Hawkes stretched out on the ground, St. John said, "It wasn't until later, after we got back that she started using the bond again with us. Before that, she had pretty much shut it down."
"Why isn't she doing that now?" accused Vansen.
"What makes you think she hasn't?" challenged St. John. "What he's getting is just an echo of what she's going through. A tenth, maybe a fifth of what she's enduring. I've been there. I've seen the torture. I've endured it. So has he. Between what she's going through and what he has personally gone through, his body knows what's happening. Sleep lowered all of his conscious protection from the pain."
"But he needed to sleep."
"Yes. And it was a risk. We both knew it." St. John shuddered violently. "Oh, yes, she's pissed them off royally. That's my Silver."
'Phousse reached out and stroked his forehead. "Rest if you can. We're here."
"That's all that makes this endurable." St. John closed his eyes and put his head down.
"Shane, take care of Coop. He's bleeding all over the place." Rewetting her rag, 'Phousse turned her attention back to her superior.
An hour later, St. John slept again, the pain through the bond having subsided.
McQueen groaned softly, a hand going to his head. He opened his eyes, confused by the feel of someone's thigh under his head and the pounding headache he had.
"Easy, sir." A soft hand stroking his sore forehead accompanied 'Phousse's voice. "We're taking care of you."
"What happened?" He started to sit up but she held him down.
"No, stay down, sir. You didn't give yourself a concussion, but it wasn't because you weren't trying." She allowed him to roll onto his back and she smiled gently down into his confused sapphire eyes. "They started torturing Silver while you slept."
Closing his eyes, he shut out the understanding in her eyes, turning his head away. "I had hoped it was just a bad dream."
"You woke up screaming, sir. We tried to wake you, but we couldn't. Hawkes had difficulty holding onto you. You broke free and started hitting your head on the wall and the floor. I... we finally let you knock yourself out." Vansen's cool, clipped tone barely disguised the pain in her voice.
Looking at Vansen, McQueen could see the pain reflected in her eyes. It had to have been hard for her to allow him to beat himself into unconsciousness. Softly, half afraid to explain, but driven to, he said, "I was trapped in the pain. I was helpless, unable to help her, frustrated at my helplessness. There was nothing I could do and I couldn't keep enduring it. I needed oblivion."
"Why hasn't she worked with you on this bond thing?" snapped Vansen.
"Who says she hasn't?" he snapped back. His head pounded and he sighed. "Look, Shane, it isn't her fault. She's been pushing me to work on it more often. I haven't been doing the exercises she gave me." He saw the quickly concealed startled look from Vansen. "Yes, I was deliberately not doing them. They're hard, mental work and I prefer spending our time doing other things."
Vansen blushed, looking away briefly at the thought of what the other things were.
"So, what I'm experiencing is partly my own damned fault. Which increases the frustration I feel over it even more. I could control it if I had done the exercises." McQueen sighed. "Sometimes it doesn't pay to be stubborn."
"Or convinced you already know it all," sighed 'Phousse, her hand gently massaging his tight shoulder.
"That too. When we get out of this, I'll practice every night or whenever she wants. This is agony to go through. Suffering someone else's pain." He put his arm over his eyes.
"I know it's tough, sir, but you made a commitment." Her hand now on his chest, 'Phousse said, "You knew you were getting more than a woman when you married her. You need to remember she knows more about what she is and what is necessary to live with her than you do."
Dropping his arm, he smiled sadly at 'Phousse, focused on her and the fact she seemed almost empathic in her ability to figure out other people's emotions. He found it easy to let down his guard with her. "It's not that I don't know it. I do. Every day I am confronted with the fact that my wife is a vampire. A creature of legend among humanity. That I've married into a vampire clan. She accepts me for who and what I am. She isn't looking to turn me into some other person."
"And it scares you that she does care so much." Nodding, 'Phousse said, "Love is scary, sir. I think it is the scariest thing in the universe to have to deal with. But if you have the courage to face it, it has the greatest rewards."
"Yes." His eyelids refused to stay open, suddenly weighted with lead.
"Go to sleep, sir. We're here."
As sleep slipped over him, McQueen concentrated on an exercise to virtually shut down the link between him and Lysa. He would reactivate it in the morning, he hoped.
Twice more during the night, McQueen thrashed in his sleep, trapped, but never waking or screaming again. He woke to Vansen's gentle touch to the shoulder, rolling onto his side away from her. Blinking he brought her into focus.
"Sir, your breakfast. We'll be ready to move out in twenty mikes." She handed him his food and backed away.
"Thank you." He ate quickly, seeing that the others were mostly done. "What's the weather like?"
"Looks to be a bright sunshiny day," groused Hawkes by the entrance.
Spotting the swelling of Hawkes' nose, McQueen frowned. "How did... Did I do that, Hawkes?"
Hawkes dropped his gaze to the rock floor. "You didn't break it, sir, just bloodied it."
"Hell. Wasn't much of a restful night for anyone, was it?" McQueen speared some mystery meat out of the packet, grimacing.
"We got enough sleep, sir. We feel rested and able to continue. What about you?" Vansen sat on the far side of the Sterno fire.
"A bit achy, a splitting headache, but basically fine."
"Can you lead us to them?"
Pausing in his eating, McQueen worried out the link and almost sighed on finding it still strong. He nodded.
"Then when you're ready, sir, we'll head out."
After six hours of hiking, the sprawling single story building came into sight and they quickly hid from view. On their stomachs, the group surveyed the surrounding area.
McQueen grimaced, studying the building. He'd spotted at least five entrances so far and they hadn't even walked half way around it. Three of the entrances appeared to be in disuse, the planet's version of grass growing thickly before the hexagonal openings. The grass barely survived before the other two. Not a Chig or an AI was in sight, yet black smoke belched forth from a smokestack every so often, so someone was there, working some sort of machinery. Why he didn't know. The building did not look like the one on Kazbek where the Chigs had been mining, but he couldn't think of what they could be doing on this desolate rock if not mining. The few windows opened onto barren rooms, no furnishing, nothing.
"Shall we keep circling, sir, or shall we try for an entry here?"
"Keep moving. She's not on this side."
Ten minutes later, he froze in place, head turned toward the building. "Here."
Hawkes had his binocs out and started scanning the building. "There," he breathed. "I can see her..." His voice trailed away.
McQueen didn't remember grabbing his binocs and throwing himself down onto the rocky ground. Desperate for the sight of his wife, he moved the binocs quickly along, scanning empty window after empty window until... He swallowed down the bile rising in his throat and forced himself to study the room around her naked, bloody body suspended from the ceiling. To the side, he saw the beaten, naked remaining members of his squad: West, his face twisted with pain, hatred and anger, twisting futilely at his bonds; Finch slumped in her shackles; Russell lunging against his bonds, hatred evident in every fiber of his body.
The object of the two men's hatred stood on the far side of Silver, an Elroy model. This one had seen better days and needed some major cosmetic work, McQueen noted, scowling at the AI. Beside the Elroy stood a Morgana model, her auburn hair tied back, revealing a missing patch of skin on her neck.
"Hawkes, can you make the shot? Can you take out the Elroy?"
"What about the Morgana unit?" asked Vansen.
"Your task, Captain. Right through the middle of the head. Hawkes?" He saw Silver flinch even as pain snapped at him.
"It's going to be tricky, sir. She's directly in front of him." Hawkes knelt, bringing his rifle to his shoulder. For a few seconds, he studied the scene through his scope, finally growling in frustration and throwing himself down onto the ground. "Let me know when you're ready, Shane."
"Right." Having the less difficult shot, she acknowledged the fact she would be waiting on his signal to fire. Down on the ground herself, Vansen took her time to find the window and bring her rifle to bear on her target, the center of the Morgana's head. "Ready."
"On my mark. Ready..." Hawkes took a deep breath, letting it out quickly. "Damn. Ready... Ready... Mark."
The two rifles spoke as one and McQueen saw both AIs jerk and shudder before falling to the ground. At a dead run, the entire squadron bolted for the building. Hawkes threw himself through the window, rolling onto his feet and snapping a few more shots off into the AIs. On his tail came St. John, vaulting in, landing on his feet and rushing over to where the controls for the rope holding Silver up were. McQueen scrambled through the opening with the two women right behind him.
Coming around the front of Silver, McQueen caught his breath at the cuts, blood, bruises, and burns that covered her body. "Lysa," he said softly, reaching up to take her weight off her bloodied wrists.
Her eyes opened, grey with the pain, but she smiled briefly. Dropping her head so her forehead hit his, she growled, "You...are...going...to...practice. Bloody feedback loop with you not controlling your end."
"Yes, Lysa. I've already determined I am going to." He couldn't help grinning at her. When her still bound wrists dropped down over his head, he held her upright until someone could release her cut and bruised ankles. "I'm sorry if I made it harder on you."
She pulled his head forward and kissed him hungrily. Letting her head drop onto his shoulder, she said, "Knowing you were coming kept me going. They've learned a few things since last time. St. John, be careful with Finch. She hasn't regained consciousness since the slide. She's badly hurt. I'll do what I can for her, but I'm not in the best of health right now myself."
As her whole body started shaking in his arms, McQueen sank to his knees, holding her tight. St. John released her wrists and she wrapped her arms around her husband's chest.
"Russell, how bad are you?"
"Not bad enough for the AIs." Russell wrenched his hands free once the shackles were barely loose enough and crouched beside McQueen, his fingers brushing Silver's cheek. "We'll make it safe for you, Silver. Soon. Hang in there." He turned his bruised face to McQueen. "May I borrow your rifle and k-bar? I have some unfinished business to attend to."
"Yes."
Vansen stood near the doorway as both St. John and Russell approached. "Now wait a moment. We have injured to take care of."
"We have to make sure nothing about her is recorded here. Every AI has to die, every record has to be destroyed, every surveillance shot wiped, before it is safe for her." Russell, who normally did not challenge Vansen, stood on his feet, swaying. "Now, either help us or help the others. West has a broken wrist and broken ribs."
For a second, Vansen stayed in the doorway. "Hawkes, go with them."
"Yes, ma'am." Hawkes' mouth was set in a grim line as he stalked out into the corridor.
As Vansen and 'Phousse released him, West paled and nearly fell, his broken wrist swollen and discolored. "Get Finch down, Shane." He leaned against the wall with 'Phousse's help. "I'm ok for now."
"What the situation?" McQueen asked as he shifted to sitting, holding Silver in his lap.
"It's a mining facility, sir. More of that ore AeroTech is so eager to get their hands on. It's been really weird, sir. The Chigs never even looked at us. In fact, I haven't seen a single Chig, but they are here. The AIs were pissed off because the Chig mine supervisor didn't let them leave on the last transport. They were taking their anger out on us. We convinced them that only the four of us were here, on a routine patrol. They were hard to convince. They kept wanting to know why she was here if it was a routine patrol. She told them she had been assigned to the 58th as a punishment since the squad had been dishonored by the peace talks. I think they finally bought it. Especially after when they asked about the radio, we told them Finch had been carrying it and it was most likely buried under tons of rocks. They wanted to know when the transport would be arriving and we told them that it wouldn't. That members of the 58th were in such disgrace that rescues were not performed for them. They got really mad then. They had wanted to hijack the transport and leave." West coughed and he wiped his good wrist across his mouth, smearing the blood on his skin. "They worked her over good, but didn't neglect Russell or me. Hurting Finch turned out to be no fun so they gave up on her."
The woman in his arms had stopped shaking. "Bring Nathan over here," she said, in a voice roughened by far too much screaming.
'Phousse and Vansen helped West over next to McQueen.
As if every movement hurt, Silver brought a wrist to her mouth and cut it with a tooth. "Drink, Nathan. Several deep swallows." As West drank, she added, "Tell your body to route out the infection in the broken bones, to stop the bleeding in your lungs." Pulling her wrist away and licking it, she reached out with her other hand and stroked the injured young man's forehead. "Close your eyes. Concentrate on what I've told you."
West's breathing slowed and his body relaxed.
"Move him back by the wall. He'll wake in a few mikes. Bring me Finch."
McQueen turned Silver's head toward him. "Lysa, you can't give up enough blood to heal them. You need healing too."
"He was the hardest, love. Finch and Russell are used to drinking my blood. Their bodies are used to utilizing its benefits. He is not. Just like you haven't become used to it either. It takes time." She kissed him again. "It's ok. I'm nowhere near as bad off as the last time you rescued me. When everything is cleared, I can go hunt. No broken bones this time." She chuckled. "This is getting to be a habit, rescuing me."
Vansen and 'Phousse held Finch, her body cut and badly bruised, in a sitting position beside Silver. "Any idea what's wrong with her?" asked Vansen, her hand caressing the limp blonde hair.
"Not sure. Concussion, internal injuries. I just don't know. She was buried under a lot of rock so she took some pretty bad blows." Cutting her wrist again, Silver pressed it to Finch's lips. "Ok, love, drink. You know what it is. Drink. Ok, that will do. Heal, Finch."
With a sigh, her wrist closed up again, Silver settled back against McQueen. "Good to see you, by the way."
"And you." He stroked his hand across her dirty, matted hair, ignoring the blood, holding her, glad she still lived.
Russell came back in. "Ok, we took care of the six AIs left. Everything that looked like it might record is destroyed."
"Come here, Russell."
"I'm ok, Silver. Keep it for yourself. In fact, I'll give you some. I'm not the one that's been beaten and burned." Russell knelt and bared his throat.
McQueen could see the hunger in her eyes as she said, "No, Russell. You need to heal. If everything's been destroyed then I am free to hunt."
"Is there anything to hunt?" asked Hawkes, entering the room as Russell sat back, dismayed.
"Yes. I saw small animals scurrying around near the landslide. I should be able to find suitable prey."
When she started to move in his arms, McQueen tightened his hold. "Not yet."
"Ty..." She cupped his cheek, rubbing her thumb over his cheek bone. "It's not necessary."
"Yes, it is." He looked at Vansen, unable to ask, but hoping she would understand.
"Russell, St. John, Hawkes. Find something to use as a stretcher for Finch." Vansen pushed the three out of the room and gestured for West and 'Phousse to follow her into the corridor.
"Ty, you're such a stubborn ass sometimes."
"Tell me about it." He kissed his wife's forehead and sighed. "Drink from me, Lysa. You need the strength."
"You just want the high it gives you," she grinned briefly. As he ducked his head with a smile, she chuckled, the laugh turning into a bloody cough. "Ok, Ty. Just a bit."
He tilted his head back, baring his throat and felt her breath on the exposed flesh. Closing his eyes, he waited, feeling her lips brush his throat and then a soft sigh escaped him as her fangs sank into him. Pleasure sang throughout his body, hiding the fact she was drinking his blood. Four, five swallows and then she licked his throat, letting him come down gently.
"Ok, Ty, now just hold me."
"Yes, bossy." Smiling, he rested his chin on the top of her head and waited, holding her tight to him. Several minutes passed before she pushed gently away from him and he let her. "Better?"
"Yes. Thank you. Though you didn't need to do it."
"Now who's being stubborn?" He raised an eyebrow with a grin.
"All right. I just don't like drinking from folks just because I'm a bit banged up."
"A bit banged up?" He gave her battered, burned, bloodied body an incredulous look. "So at what point are you willing to accept blood? Death's door? If we offer it, you should accept."
"But I have to know when not to, love. I don't want to hurt you inadvertently."
"You won't." He started to shift his weight in order to get up, still carrying her.
"You'll hurt your back, Ty."
Knowing she was right, he still hesitated, wanting to protect her. With a reluctant sigh, he slid out from under her, crouched, and helped her stand up. Her arm around his waist and his around hers, he steered her toward the doorway. "What happened to your flight suit?"
"Cut off. Fortunately there was nothing in it I can't replace. Our packs were all torn off during the landslide. Lost everything but our pistols and the k-bars, which, of course, the AIs took away."
In the corridor, Vansen and 'Phousse were talking. The captain looked up at McQueen. "Sir, as much as I want to call the transport in, we're sitting on top of a Chig installation. We have to vacate the area before we risk the call."
"Yes." He shifted Silver against the wall. "Did anyone bring spare flight suits?"
Everyone had and after some juggling around of uniforms, three of the former prisoners once again mostly resembled Marines. Replacement boots was out of the question, which McQueen knew would slow them down even more than the injuries. In desperation, he had Hawkes cut one of the emergency blankets into strips and used the strips to wrap West's and Russell's feet.
Silver took one of the emergency blankets, wrapping it around her torso with difficulty. "I won't need it for long. Once we're clear of the immediate area, I'll change."
He gave her a sour look, but nodded. It didn't make sense to clothe her only to have her undress within a half hour or so.
It took them nearly an hour to make a single mile. West and Russell were in far worse shape than they had let on and the emergency blankets shredded within half a mile. Bloody footprints soon marked their trail. Silver hadn't even waited the half hour he had supposed. Once out of the building's immediate sight, she had changed into her primal form, four footed and faster. After nuzzling his hand with her muzzle she had vanished into the surrounding countryside, hunting.
Despite the close proximity to the Chig mine, McQueen was forced to stop. West and Russell collapsed to the ground, wordlessly, wincing as various injuries made themselves known again.
Hawkes and St. John approached McQueen. "Sir, we could go back and see if we can find their boots."
Resolutely, McQueen shook his head. "No. We don't know when the Chigs will discover that the AIs are destroyed. It could be next week or ten mikes from now. We'll just have to keep going as best we can. Cut more strips and put more inside under their feet as a cushion. That might help."
"Quartermaster is going to be pissed with us." Hawkes shook his head as he sat down to cut a blanket up.
They made two miles in the next hour and a half, with frequent stops to repack the makeshift shoes. As Hawkes and St. John were cutting strips and Vansen and 'Phousse were packing the strips, Silver returned, walking on two feet, limping. She took the flight suit McQueen handed her and slipped it on before crouching before West.
"Nathan, you need to drink some more. Come on." Silver held her slowly bleeding wrist to his mouth. "Just like before." As he slowly drank, eyes closed, Silver felt his forehead, frowning at the heat his skin gave off. "Ok, that's good, Nathan. Lie back, just relax. Think of healing, your body whole and healthy. Keep thinking it over and over."
Russell drank from her wrist and settled back against the rock behind him with a sigh.
Rising, Silver staggered as her stiffened leg didn't want to hold her weight. McQueen caught her and sat her down beside him. "Rest yourself, Lysa. We'll stay put for ten mikes or so. Give everyone a chance to eat and drink."
"Eat?" West cracked open an eye. "Oh, that would be nice. Haven't had anything since before the landslide." His eye closed again.
"What?" Vansen jerked her head up, aghast. "You haven't eaten for two days? What about water?" On seeing both West and Russell shake their heads, she immediately stopped what she was doing and started going through her pack.
Silver shook her head at the offered ration bar and water packet. "I've already had both. In my other form, I can drink from sources you can't. Give it to them. They need it. You might be able to coax some water down Finch." She laid her head down on McQueen's leg and closed her eyes.
They made better time, managing nearly three miles in the next hour. McQueen told 'Phousse to go ahead and contact the Saratoga, requesting a transport. He spent the hour until extraction tense, waiting for discovery. It was with a sense of relief that he helped Silver aboard the ISSAPC.