The War Commences, an odyssey 5 fanfic

ODYSSEY/ISS

An 'Odyssey 5' tie-in series

Disclaimer:

Odyssey 5- and its characters- are the property of Manny Coto, Showtime Networks, and Sony Pictures Television. The characters of the series are used without authorization, but with respect. All other characters are the creative property of the author and may not be used without permission.

Author's Note:

This story has adult themes. Abortion is mentioned in this episode. I would counsel those with strong views to remember that this is a work of fiction, not fact. What is expressed is not done to inflame an already divided issue. It is done only for creative purposes.

Rated 'M' [AO] for mature content, language, and violence.

Story 5- The War Commences

March 4th, 2003

Houston

Angela Perry saw the building and all the protestors that crowded the front of it.

She swallowed dryly as the driver- an older, black lady in her fifties- drove in a side driveway and past the ring of security guards. Flashes of a grisly, anti-abortion sign waving in the air. Its sight was obscene to any who had to drive or walk past the building.

She hid her face from being glimpsed through the windows. It would only take one person with a cell phone camera and a Photoshop set-up at home to blackmail her, or her father. Not like Brian Perry would understand her motives. She had damn few who would have really cared what her motives were. Even her mother, Senator Perry's ex-wife, had taken his side to ask Angela to be more 'understanding' of her father.

In the end- it was all about Brian Perry. Never about anybody else, or what they might need.

The woman put a reassuring hand on Angela's shoulder.

"Hot air, sweetie. That's all the Bible-thumpers care to do."

Angela nodded and cautiously peeked out from hiding her face. The protestors were gone. Texas always was a strongly pro-life state. Hell, the entire South was a pro-life region. A woman had a far better chance of getting an abortion if she went north. Angela didn't have much of a choice, not with NASA training schedules. She straightened up in the seat once more.

The driver noticed it.

"We don't even want women to use the front entrance anymore. The Clinic knows how dangerous it is. Some protestors have even gotten violent in the past. If they try anything now, they are arrested and jailed without hesitation."

The car came to a stop. The woman got out as clinic workers flanked the car at both ends and pulled sheets across the private driveway to obscure the camera lenses of the protestors who could only film from across the streets at either end. Their stated intent was to expose the faces of women needing to end pregnancies to the glaring scrutiny available through the internet. The ability for a woman's life to be destroyed rested on the exposure from a few with cameras. In ruining her life it was felt that an abortion would never be again sought by a woman so exposed. They found that tactic never quite worked the way they wanted it to. Especially after exposes and news coverage of violations of privacy, not to mention several, lucrative lawsuits against the religious organizations.

Distant shouts of "Murderer, show your face!" and "Your baby will die because of you!" could still be heard. It didn't carry the kind of impact as a face-to-face confrontation would have. Those who judged so harshly couldn't even muster the range for their condemnations to carry. Nor had they likely ever been in her situation.

It was easy to complain and protest when one didn't have painful, personal experience to deal with.

Safely hidden, Angela Perry got out and was whisked inside without delay. At least things seemed normal. She could have expected Malinda to have helped her. She knew Mali wanted to. Had even had her own experience with the matter. Angela had never been able to find out exactly how or why, but the woman was prepared to drive her to get the help she needed.

Angela took a seat and was given a clipboard of papers to read over, fill-out, and sign. It was the beginning of a long process to ending what an hour of impetuosity had caused. It would be the end to what had threatened her future career at NASA.

She tried to clear her mind and began to fill out what was needed. Only a couple other women were in the clinic today. All waiting to continue on with their lives once their bodies were done being held hostage to their biology.

Phoenix

"Actually, its rather remarkable how the new blood that was infused has been 'treated' by the vaccine already present in the Major's body. There was no significant reaction, nor was there

any detrimental effects otherwise to her. As it stands, she's as immune now as she was before the shooting."

Dr. Kyle Haller looked over at Dr. Marks and saw the man page through the past, few days of charts. The sedatives that had kept the Major asleep were being gradually lifted. His fellow doctor had been most committed to Major Flynn for the past month. Haller had to wonder if perhaps the man wasn't becoming too enmeshed with his patient.. The man seemed to live more out of a hotel room than even to go back East to be with his wife and family. Hell, even Major Flynn's 'boyfriend' finally had to go back to Houston and trust that she would wake up soon.

Dr. Douglas Marks was mostly unaware of how he was getting viewed for almost 'hovering' over his one, primary patient. It wasn't that he wished to neglect his duty. It was that he didn't have much to go home to.

It was always messy when the separation was more desired by one party than the other. Marks was simply tired of being treated like a walking wallet for a champagne-tastes wife It felt better to immerse himself with caring for Major Flynn and deal with family issues. He knew it was 'escaping' things; things he wanted to deal with much later.

"It's a good sign. Make sure you pass it on to the proper channels. How's Sgt. Hutchins doing?"

"He's awake now. His family has been in to see him. He's being readied to fly back East next week."

Haller said, glancing out the window, He wondered if he'd be able to maybe get a day or two off to go home to his family in Ohio. He'd love to be home for Easter.

"I'm sure that the Major will be ready to go back to Houston for rehab, too."

Marks nodded.

He hadn't considered that yet. She was an astronaut, though. Seemingly, her new home was now in Houston. Marks still had mixed feelings about her going back there. NASA was notorious for running folks ragged. Becoming- and remaining- an astronaut was one of the top, toughest jobs in the world. The Major had a long road of recovery before she could ever get back to that level again. It was hard to forget that she also had a boyfriend as well.

"We'll see. It depends on when she wakes up and how she'll feel."

Haller looked up and shut the chart. He'd seen the near-obsessiveness. Even seen flashes of unprofessional 'jealousy' peek out when Major Flynn's lover had been around. Haller didn't know why, but he broached the subject. As much as Marks might hate him for doing so.

"Doug, you really should go home for a bit. You've been at this for weeks now. It seems you regard the Major far more than you even regard your own health."

The face that many could say was almost 'angelic' in its features betrayed a coldness that Haller had only seen very rarely in the past. Doug Marks and he had gone to Medical School together and had known each other for years. He very seldom saw this come out of his friend. That it did now was disturbing.

"Thank you so much for your overly-concerned 'advice'. I'll give it proper consideration, in due course."

When Neil pulled up to his high school in the car he drove, jaws dropped.

It didn't matter that he had business at NASA and that he had to zip over there immediately after school. It didn't matter that he drove the car as carefully as he once drove the Porsche he used to [and would] have. It sure as shit didn't matter that his license was brand-new by a few weeks.

What mattered was that it eclipsed every car in the Student Lot. It also drew some of his friends out to gawk.

His father wanted him to get some of the cobwebs out of Mali's Impala. It had sat for nearly a month and needed to get some fresh air. Not that Neil complained. He'd sold his motor bike to help pay for taking over the insurance, and other costs, of using his late-mother's car. It would have to do until NASA paychecks enabled him to buy his Porsche.

Hell, to even have a car to get stuff done was something he wouldn't bitch about.

Neil drove to the far-end of the fenced lot to avoid 'door dingers' and found a suitable spot. One of the lot monitors- usually a teacher or aide- walked over. It was customary for all cars to be checked over before the lot was locked down and the students were herded into the school for classes. The monitor now was occupied checking in other cars.

Now, the 'Blackbird' sat like a ruler over the other cars in the lot. Neil had to face the fact that he would be worried sick that somebody was going to do stupid shit to it until he was able to get it off school grounds.

The fallout from the deal with 'Rapture' was still circulating. His old group of friends had seemed to each go into their own, small worlds since. There might even be a few who hated him covertly.

"Holy Shit, Taggart! Where'd the wheels come from?"

Bodanis said, walking up and slapping hands with Neil.

"My dad's friend is in the hospital. The car was left with us to keep it safe."

Neil didn't feel like elaborating about who Mali was, what her relation to his father was, or the fact that he was anxious about it even being here.

"Took it here to get it some fresh air."

"Damn! Sweet! Do we get to ride in it?"

Kelsey said, walking up. As usual, he was the mirror image of his brother. Right down to the clothes he wore.

"Afraid not. I got to leave school early. Its why I drove it in today."

Neil looked up to see the lot monitor come over.

"License, registration, and school ID please."

"See you inside!"

Bodanis said, still shaking his head that such a car would ever find itself into the lot at all. He walked away with his twin brother.

"Not your car, that's for sure, Mr. Taggart."

A chunky, middle-aged man with a dark, jowly mustache looked at him, then at the car.

"Maybe my folks had a windfall and bought it for me, Mr. Moore?"

The history teacher gave Neil the look that translated as 'Not in a million, fucking years!'

and looked at the paperwork.

"Who's this Malinda E. Flynn?"

"She's a friend of my dad's. She's in the hospital and she left permission for one of us to be able to take the car out for drives while she's away."

"You have written authorization for that?"

"I do not. If you want, I'll give you my father's number over at the Johnson Space Center. I wouldn't have been able to get it out of the garage without his permission. The only reason I drove it in is because I have to leave school early today."

"Where is Ms. Flynn at? Is she here in town?"

"No. Phoenix."

"Do you have a number she can be reached at?"

Neil slyly looked around to double-check nobody was in earshot. If he misplayed this, the police would be called to impound Mali's car and he'd be fucked in getting to his NASA Aptitude Test time on time.

"No. She hasn't awoken yet. She was one of the survivors of the Silver City massacre. She's an astronaut, like my father. "

Moore looked at Neil in disbelief a moment, almost not buying what he just heard. Neil felt sick. He knew he should have obeyed his gut and not the 'be cool' factor. 'Cool' factor won out. For a moment, Neil thought Moore was going to call on his radio for the Office to call the Police.

"Don't bring it here daily, Taggart. If somebody catches wind of whose car it is, you might not be able to make it out of here because it'll be swamped."

Mr. Moore scribbled out a parking pass and gave it to Neil.

"Make sure its locked."

"Thanks, Mr. Moore."

Neil almost breathed a sigh of relief as he took the pass and opened the driver's door again.

Moore looked inside and nodded. Before walking off to wave in more cars that waited. The 'early warning' bell rang out that students had fifteen minutes before the start of the day's classes.

Neil hauled out his pack and locked the 'Blackbird' up tight. Only four more hours to go before he was able to get out to something he really wanted to get done.

Mali wanted to open her eyes as the heavy darkness fell away from her.

She weakly tried to raise her hands to her eyes. She was only able to lift one hand. The other felt tied down. It reached and flinched at the tape. She tried to swallow and gagged at the tube down her throat. Her ears heard an alarm go off at her bedside. She heard footsteps enter her room and hands held down hers.

"Just relax, Major. Let us get this tube out of your throat first."

She felt the tape that kept the tube down her throat get peeled off and the tube got pulled out.

Mali gave a dry retch and laid back. Relieved that the thing was out of her. The hands still held hers down.

"Just a minute. Let us turn the lights down and take the tape off your eyes."

"When it comes off, open your eyes very slowly, Major."

A different voice- a male voice- said. She heard more footsteps with it. It was the voice that caught in her mind. She knew it. It was an old one, from her past.

Mali felt the tape on her eyes slightly pull, then lift away. She tried to open her eyes, but the brightness and swirl made her start and turn from it.

"Cut the light down more. Close the window blinds."

The male voice said. Then spoke to her.

"Alright, try again. Open them slowly."

She flinched a bit at the prospect of more light. She saw the blurry forms of a few people and tried to blink a little. Her hands were freed. She wanted to bring them up, to get the grit out of her eyes.

"Hold on a moment. Get some eye saline and a cloth. Wipe her eyes down."

Mali felt somebody sit beside her. Could smell, faintly, a man's cologne. It wasn't Chuck, she knew that much. She felt wetness over her eyes and a cloth wiped her lids down. She blinked and squinted. Then, finally, slowly opened her eyes. She saw the blurry outline of a man in a white lab coat. The face coalesced into features that were boyishly handsome. She looked at the three others in the room a moment. The bright colors of their scrubs set off their faces.

They were all smiling.

"Welcome back, Major."

The man who sat on the side of her bed said. His face.....

"You've been through one hell of a fight."

"Where am I?"

Her voice began again as a croak. Her eyes still blinked in disbelief at him.

"St. Mary's Hospital, Phoenix. You were airlifted here from Silver City."

Mali blinked a little more, but her eyes stayed open. She remembered the faces of her buddies.

"How many made it? Of my unit?"

She saw the man hesitate a moment. Looked away a second. It wasn't a question they really wanted to answer.

Oh shit. Not good at all.

Dr. Marks really would rather not have said. Still, he couldn't afford his patient going apeshit with not being told.

"Only you and one other survived, Major. I'm sorry."

Everybody, save one?

Mali knew her mouth dropped open a moment. She shut it with a purpose.

Chuck.

"Can I call somebody?"

"I think you need to rest a little. You've only just woken up. You'll be pretty drowsy for a few more hours. Later on, a nurse will help you call out."

Marks smiled. He knew exactly who she would call. Truth told, he'd rather she not tax herself doing so. Knew exactly who she would call. The cadre have given him a full dossier on her.

"Are you hungry?'

"No, not really."

Mali said, her eyes scanned the room. Its edges were full of flower arrangements. She began to smell them. It was like being in a garden.

"I think you should know, the President has asked about you. He'll be happy to know you are up and awake."

Mali shifted her upper body and her right shoulder screamed out in pain.

"Easy. Your right shoulder is not in good shape. You took two bullets in it. It didn't shatter the bone, but it did take out a lot of muscle."

"Where else did I get hit? I felt some in my gut."

Marks nodded. Surprised that she wanted to know the extent of her injuries.

"Two there. You took one above your left breast. It nicked you aorta. You lost half of your blood supply before the paramedics got you stabilized. You also seem to have a graze trail on the top of your scalp. If it had been lower, we wouldn't be talking."

She laid back and shut her eyes. Her throat still burned from the intubation. Took a dry swallow.

"Where's Chuck?"

"Chuck?"

"Commander Taggart. I heard him. He was here."

"He had to return to Houston. You need to rest. If you can do that for me, in a few hours one of the nurses will let you call out."

Marks wondered at her obstinate desire to talk to the man. Even though she was still recovering and wasn't only in fair condition. Taggart had last been in to see her a few weeks ago. As an astronaut, like her, he couldn't leave his duties indefinitely to sit by her bedside.

Mali sighed and let her head sink into the pillow. She felt useless. However it lasted only a moment before she drowsed off again.

Marks rose from her bedside and looked at her. Looked at the main nurse in charge of her.

"Clear liquids only, for now. If she can tolerate them, then full liquid later. No solids. Let's see if the surgery will cause a problem for her, or not."

The nurse nodded.

"What about the call?"

"I doubt she'll be in shape today, for it. Try to keep her from moving too much, for now."

Marks grabbed her chart and began to make some notations in it

"No visitors."

"Yes, doctor."

The nurse said and watched the man leave. She could have sworn that his look was one of annoyance when the phone call had been mentioned. Still, she had to obey his directive for the patient.

Houston-

Chuck Taggart entered his third lap around the track at a steady jog. Sweat soaked his sweatshirt as he made it past younger, seemingly-fitter astronauts. His mind was not on his running, but on a much different matter. He knew Neil was inside taking the Aptitude test. 17-going into-18 and the kid had a twenty-three year old's brain. It still was not what was on Chuck Taggart's mind as his feet crunched on the packed dirt of the oval.

He missed Mali.

Last night's dream had been more of a flashback to when they'd last had sex. Just before she left for New Mexico and he began work over at the JSC. He hadn't counted on her not being gone for nearly a month and a half. He missed her terribly. Certainly had the hard-on this morning to prove that.

He was still in his own world when he heard a voice calling to him. His eyes blinked a moment before seeking where the voice was coming from.

"Commander! Hey, Chuck!"

Taggart looked about and saw Ben Markham standing off to the side of the track. Slowed down.

"You got a phone call. Phoenix."

"Where?"

Taggart stopped, walked over to Ben.

"Inside. Line 10."

Angela Perry still felt some light cramping, but it was nothing that couldn't be handled.

She felt one of the nurses help her sit up and stayed with her. The procedure was done now.

Had almost waited too long. She just could never find the time to get in earlier.

She thought back to being with Kurt. Mulling over the idea of them having their son- 'Anthony'- together. The 'Travelor' had shown them both what could have been, but for the mission to save the world. She had actively turned him down. Only to have become pregnant by Enrique Pena instead.

Now, she was free of both of them. Honestly, she didn't want to be close to anybody for a while. She hadn't closed the door on children, she was just determined that the next time she got close, it would be with somebody who wanted her for more than mutual lust.

The doctor who did her procedure came back in with a small pamphlet.

"No strenuous exercise for a week. Take it easy for the next few days. You will have some cramping and bleeding, but it will subside. Take some Tylenol or Advil for pain. Go easy with other things. No sex for thirty days."

"No worries on that. I'm fine for a while."

Angela muttered.

The doctor smiled.

"If you have a fever, bad discharge, or feel sick get yourself to a hospital. Infections are nothing to play with. Just rest here for a little bit. Then we can arrange a ride home for you."

"Thank you, doctor."

Angela wanted to get up and walk out, but didn't feel quite up to moving on her own just yet.

"Take your time getting dressed. There's no rush."

The doctor left the papers with her.

"Take care of yourself, Ms. Perry."

"You too. Thanks again."

The doctor left her with the nurse. Angela began to feel like she'd gotten her freedom back. The only problem would be in needing to get back into all that she'd had to cut back on.

There were nothing more than two or three people at the other end of the space. He mighty be sweaty, smell and in bad need of a shower, but he could not help wanting to get to the phone as quick as he could. When he heard a raspy voice on the other end and couldn't help but smile.

"Hey, how are you?"

"Been better. I'm getting sick of hospitals."

Taggart understood that sentiment. It seemed that was damn near all that had been happening for her since late-December.

"When did you wake up?"

"A few hours ago. The doctor thought I would stay awake too long. I just wanted to call you."

Taggart turned to walk to a more secluded part of the JSC's solarium. The phone's cord stretched a ways from the wall jack. As the area was only open to personnel, it was fairly private to talk in.

"Listen, I'll get a flight this weekend to see you."

"I'd like that. I have some things to tell you. I can't really talk. I'm tired."

He found himself nodding at Mali's statement.

"God, darling, I've been worried sick about you. I'm glad to know you're back with us."

"Heh! I'm too damn durable to kill, kind of. How's Neil?"

"Taking his Apt. Test today."

"No shit?"

"He took the 'Blackbird' out to get it moving. He's here now. Should have the results in a week or two."

"Make sure he doesn't hotrod around. There's a few people we don't like who might like to cause trouble if they see my car."

"Don't worry about it. I made the rules pretty damn plain."

"Hey, I gotta go. Room service is here, things to do."

"No problem. I'll get in this weekend to see you. We got some catching up to do."

"Later."

Taggart hung up the phone and was still smiling. He looked up and saw Ben come over.

"She's awake. First time in nearly a month."

"Happy to hear it. I kinda figured that was the case. Especially when I heard that it was her."

Markham's nose sniffed the scent of sweaty astronaut.

"And get your ass to a shower, eh?"

"I shower far more than you do."

Chuck said, with a mock snide tone he reserved only for those he regarded as his friends.

Mali gave the nurse the phone again as two FBI agents came into the room. Dr. Marks might have said 'no visitors', but there were some that didn't apply to. The woman set it down and looked at her.

"If you need anything, you know the button to push."

Mali nodded and looked at the two men. She knew that she had to start to recall so she could begin healing. Knew she should call her lawyer, but for what? Besides, he was nowhere near Arizona to even begin. She was about to speak to the two men when there was a knock.

Another man came in. Save that this time, it was somebody in uniform. An Army uniform.

His dark eyes looked over the two, then at her.

"Have you said anything to them yet, Major?"

"No. They only just got here."

"I was wondering if you folks weren't going to try and end-run this. I am the Major's legal counsel. If there is anything to say to her, you are saying it to me as well."

Mali watched the three of them and wondered why in hell the Army had chosen to wrangle with the FBI. None of the three had even introduced themselves yet. She was baffled. Then she grew perturbed. There was no way the Army should even have felt the need to send in a lawyer.

"Counselor, I'd like to talk to you for a minute." She looked at the agents. "Gentlemen, would you step outside and shut the door behind you?"

The two men seemed surprised at what was going on, but they did as she requested. Only when the door clicked behind them did Mali speak.

"Who are you and why is the Army sending in a lawyer for me?"

"I'm Captain Robert Tsu. General Pierce sent me in. The FBI tried to do the same thing with your Sgt. Hutchins. They are wanting to know more than what the security cameras in the dining room showed."

"Cameras?"

"Recorded the whole thing. I've been asked to assist you and I can say this: they will bait you and make you think it was something that you or your unit did. Answer truthfully. You do know that no mention is to be made about the composition of the shooters. Other than that, tell them what happened."

"And how do I know you are legitimate?"

"Leave no man behind. The Cadre believes in that saying too."

Tsu smiled.

"Ready?"

Kurt walked through the small, hole-in-the-wall shop.

He'd never considered having the things he saw in this place before. Than again, a place like SilkRoad Rugswas not dealing in the type of fashion he normally liked for his modern loft.. The smell of dust and wool met his nose as he looked about. Rawhide-covered, pyramid-shaped lamps caught his eye with their colored hues. Soft strains of Middle Eastern music wafted about like incense.

He eyed the price on one of the Moroccan lamps. Like everything else, their being imported was reflected in the price. He was so engrossed that he hadn't seen the slim, dark-haired woman who sat in an old, wingback chair and eyed him.

"If you have any questions, let me know."

"Actually, I do. Where are these from?"

"Iran and Afghanistan. A few are from North Africa and Central Asia. All of them are handmade. There's no machine works here. Most rugs are wool with a cotton backing. A few are silk and are further back."

The better to keep from getting lifted out.

Kurt looked back towards the huge rack hung with area rugs. He hadn't planned on blowing money, but this place was very intriguing.

"Are you looking for a particular style or size?"

"I live in a loft. The floors are sealed concrete pretending to be hardwood."

Kurt began noting the sizes.

"I do have a 7 foot by 2 foot wide area that needs help."

"Runners are towards the front. There, under the front display table."

The woman got up out of her chair, followed him.

Kurt looked at them. He almost felt like he was young again and exploring a museum. His father had frowned on his son's early, historical bent. Pushed him more towards science and biology. Said- with the air of somebody who thought he knew better- 'History will never pay your bills when you grow up, son.'

Kurt had taken Anthony Mendel's advice to heart. He didn't go back to history after that. He decided to forsake it all to become what he was now: lonely, frustrated, and lacking a real passion for most things.

He thought of the Odyssey. He had watched the Earth implode. All of human history had been destroyed along with it. A planet billions of years in the making wiped out in minutes. The history of an entire species meant nothing to the destroyers. All for what? To satisfy the ambitions of an alien species?

Kurt knelt down and looked at the rolls of rugs. He pulled out a few, until he came to a cranberry-red one. He felt the woman tower over him.

"Usually folks have to hunt for the one they like. That one is a Balouch from Iran."

"Looks newer."

"You have a good eye. It is."

Kurt looked at the price. $675 wasn't bad for a 6 foot runner that was handmade. Its geometric design was captivating without being overwhelming.

The woman noted his interest.

"These rugs will always hold their value, with proper care."

Proper care.

Kurt thought. He wondered if Synths gave two shits about a damn thing. Even for a simple rug like this? He unfurled it to its full length and stood up to look at it. After a few moments of regard, the cautioning words of his father intruded. Taunting.

Fuck him!

"I'll take it. I would like to look around a little more."

"Sure. I'll get this ready for you in the meantime."

Kurt meandered back to the area with the area rugs.

"How are your sales here? It seems an interesting area for such a store."

The woman chuckled at his choice of words.

"You're very kind. The area is improving. We have an influx of new people coming in. Some Yuppies and families. Most seem to be single, though."

"How long have you been here?"

"We're pretty new. Three years. Its young, by business standards."

The woman said, rolling up the carpet. She stood up and caught his eye. Extended her hand.

"I'm Tamara Delling, by the way."

Kurt looked at her. She wasn't Claire Ambrose. Nor was she as reticent as the long-suffering mother.

"Kurt. Kurt Mendel."

Five Days Later- Saturday

It had taken a bit of time to sit up and make the slow progress over to the window's large sill so she could sit and look out at the desert just beyond the fringes of Phoenix. Her stomach still ached and her shoulder hurt like a bitch. Her left hand had to grip the 'christmas tree' IV rack that held the saline and the other drugs she needed.

Dr. Marks hadn't been overly optimistic about her being discharged any time soon. Mali was getting thoroughly sick of being in the hospital. It didn't matter that she'd been awake less than a week and that it had taken her a month for things to even start to heal. She wanted to be back in Houston and wanted to try and get back to NASA as soon as she could. Hodge had called and informed her that 'Expedition 8' was out of the question now. 'Expedition 9' was more certain, if she could get out of the hospital soon. Hodge had also been- surprisingly- quite affable.

Mali looked out the window and hugged the thick bathrobe to her. John and Connie had paid her a visit on Wednesday before they left to go back home. Connie had bought it for her, along with a nice bouquet of flowers. Mali was glad to know that 'Hutch' made it through alright. They hadn't talked of how few remained of their unit. It was only them and 'Blackie' Johnson now. Connie was the only one of the unit wives that lived. The rest had died, along with their husbands. She lived only because she couldn't attend. Her having to go to work had saved her life.

She'd read through the cards and letters. The well wishes from those she knew and didn't know. Billy had written her. So had T.K.. He was upset that anybody would go to the length of killing military veterans and a fellow astronaut.

Some of the other astronauts she knew had also wrote to her. One of them- Gary Lansing- even invited her to go boating down in the Florida Keys when she was able. It was an invite that got her serious attention. She heard from the folks up in St. Mark's. No more Synths had tried to come to the island since she left and things were alright and quiet at her place.

Perhaps the one bit that didn't shock her at all was that what remained of her true family seemed to little note, or care, that she had been through what had happened. The 'get well' cards from them were brief and perfunctory. Since her parents died, what was regarded as her 'relations' didn't give two shits about her. She had bucked the authority of her overbearing parents and the rest never forgave her. They likely even blamed her for somehow having made them drown up in Alaska years ago.

She shut her eyes for what seemed a moment.

Marks would have a fit if he came in and saw her sitting up, out of bed. She knew he was a bit more than professionally interested in her. She saw it in his eyes. He seemed to be in her room far more than most doctors had been with her in the past. Her being an astronaut always got the attention of males who came into contact with her. Thing was, they were blinded by the aura, not the fact of who she was. Marks seemed little different in that way.

Mali thought he might have been brazen enough to have been the one kissing her now. However, when she opened her lids and saw the blue eyes in front of hers, she knew that wasn't the case.

The kiss ended. She smiled, then winced as she forgot that she couldn't really hug Chuck Taggart like she badly wanted to. She hadn't expected him to get in so early. Hadn't even heard him come in.

"Hey, easy. Don't rip out the IV."

Taggart said, hugging her instead. He felt her melt against him, though he tried to be considerate of her wounds. He took a look at her. She'd dropped weight and was very pale. Still, he was relieved to see her up and awake. He put an arm about her.

"Let's get you back to bed."

"You got in quick. You have a good flight?"

Mali said, setting the IV tree back in its spot. She really didn't want to lay back down. Had done too much of that lately.

"Hodge almost didn't let me off this weekend. I don't know what was biting her ass to keep me at Johnson."

Taggart settled the sheets over her as she got back in.

"Are you even supposed to be out of bed?"

"Technically, no. My doctor is dragging things out about giving me clearance."

Mali sat up. She saw that he was tired. He couldn't have gotten a hell of a lot of sleep last night.

"How's the group?"

"Sends their wishes. Kurt's found a new interest. Sarah's busy with Corey. You know about Neil's Apt Test and Angela is down with some bug. She's gutting it out."

If you only knew what it really was.

"I hope she's getting better. She'll get through it."

Mali flicked on the TV and let it play while they spoke. There was probably little chance that the room wasn't, somehow, bugged.

Taggart looked at her and smiled. Then his face turned serious. He leaned closer so they could talk quieter.

"What was the news you wanted to tell me?"

"If you haven't been told already- the shooters were Synths. I had to cover with others. I had the FBI, police and other agencies grilling me this past week. I'm sure the Cadre knows the truth about the matter."

"Angela told us, before we went to Washington, that her father had a 'chat' with her. He intimated that something was going to happen."

"What did he warn her about?"

Mali knew that the 'us' was the Odyssey 5 crew. The pieces fit. She knew they would.

"Her associating with us. It seems that her father is concerned she might come to harm from it."

Taggart saw Mali look away a moment. Then looked back at him.

"Her biggest threat is from him."

Mali said quietly.

"Senator Perry has...turned."

Taggart's face betrayed the type of shock Mali might have had, were she not a member of the Cadre. It would have never occurred to any of them that the Synths might be able to turn a Cadre member at all.

"How did..Was it General Pierce?"

Mali nodded.

"He wanted to inform me, before I left for New Mexico. It was why he called me in. He seemed worried that something would happen. That came to pass, didn't it?"

She looked at Taggart and raised her hand to his cheek. He looked very tired indeed.

"You're looking beat, hon."

"I sure as hell feel it."

He admitted and looked at her.

"Take off your shoes and climb in. I'd like to have company for a change."

Mali scooted over. Forgot about the pain in her shoulder as he snuggled next to her. He might have been laying on top of the blankets, but it was the closeness of him that she wanted.

"Its not a luxury bed, but it will do."

Chuck said, not really giving a damn if anybody walked in on them. With luck, she would be going back to Houston soon. Then there would be plenty of time for them to get reacquainted with each other. He felt her chuckle, then flinch.

"Careful. My gut is still touchy."

Mali moved his arm up over her ribs and held him close. She enjoyed the closeness and silence with him. The TV was simply white noise that, as much as Taggart hadn't wanted to, lulled him to sleep for the first time in a long time.

In the days of slaying and being slain, he disregarded his own life.

In the days of killing and being killed, he strove to advance.

From: 'The Secret History of the Mongols'

1987

The laugh was a haughty one.

It rang through the small house and echoed off the walls. Maybe even was amplified by the usual disdain of things she tried to do in the past, and had failed at.

It made Malinda- freshly returned from Basic Training- wonder if her father could ever approve of anything she did, or would do. Most kids she'd grown up with in Omaha could play either their mother or father if the other was- bluntly put- being an asshole.

In the Flynn household there was no respite: both parents were united against a daughter who stubbornly had gone her own way.

George Flynn would have likely been overjoyed if she had been the longed-for son. A child fit to be the proper heir to his name and bloodline. Instead, he was saddled with a daughter who tried to be too much that child he would never have.

There was a time when he thought his child would be tractable enough to mold into at least something that could land a marriage to a son-in-law he could dote on instead. Make up for lost years, and hopes.

Now, as he looked upon his daughter in her Army greens, he knew that she would never even be a proper wife for any man. She was beyond all redemption. Nothing expressed his disappointment than the laugh he'd just uttered. She wasn't even in a proper, female uniform. She'd opted for the male version which- in the interests of 'fair play' for females- the Armed Services extended to all its female members as a choice. Then too, the Army and Navy hated each other on principle alone. Though, in the Flynn household, things ran way deeper than that.

"You think the Rangers will ever accept a split-tail into their ranks? Get all the Cracker-Jack medals you want. They still won't let you in!"

Mali wanted to retort to such ugliness, wanted to lash out and strike back. She felt that the very uniform she proudly wore had been maligned. That all the sweat and tears were wasted on these two people who should, above all others, be proudest of her achievements. Especially the 'Ranger' shoulder flash she would, one day, bear.

It was then she realized how fatally-flawed both her parents were. They had married out of how similar they were and had a daughter who would never...was never to be a carbon-copy of them and their selfish dreams.

She could smell the booze on him. George Flynn was never to be toyed with when he was on his way to drunk. The Navy taught him well how to 'swim' in his alcoholic haze. It also taught him how to be a cruel jackass. Mali chose to respond with the truth and tried to keep her voice dispassionate.

"Its too late. They did accept me. My shooting got me in."

George Flynn was stumped for a minute. Maria Flynn came out of the kitchen, equally aghast. Both were speechless. Mali knew that even her prim mother was fuming now. There would be no grandchildren for her to coddle in her immediate future. Seemingly, the only job for Mali should have been to marry and have children. That was almost lost beyond hope.

"You won't be of use anyway. You'll be nothing more than a rear-area, pencil-pusher, with tits."

"I'll be whatever my superiors wish me to be. I'll also be wherever my superiors choose to send me, father."

Mali looked at her mother a moment. Thought the woman might reach out to slap her for talking so to her father. The desire to crush her mother's hand was still there, buried deep. She'd endured enough face-slaps in the past. Never again would she tolerate another. There was little compassion, or understanding, from a woman who obviously wanted a more malleable child than Mali.

"My orders have already been cut. I report to Fort Benning at the end of the month."

"Hmph! Ignorant bitch. You really want to hit the ground hard, don't you?"

"Goodbye, father. We'll talk later, when you've sobered up enough to be civil."

Mali tried to not spit the words out before she turned and left. Not knowing that the next time she would see them again would be after the Gulf War. After she'd become a sniper. After she had totally shut-down any affection she ever had for both of them, forever. That she would only be seeing them out of the barest, filial duty.

She was shaken awake by the stewardess touching her shoulder.

Mali felt the sensation of the plane being on solid ground and at the gate. She woke up from her flashback of long-ago and shoved the anger at her parents deep again. They would little see her. Even after she became an astronaut.

She was back in Houston once more and hopefully anonymous after the ballyhoo and well-wishing sendoff she'd gotten in Phoenix. Or at least as anonymous as astronaut could be in NASA's hometown. The cramped confines of the commercial jet she would be gladly rid of.

"We're in Houston, Major. Do you want a wheelchair brought for you?"

The stewardess asked. Unlike Mali's flashback, she actually was kind enough for the question to be genuine. Not everybody was as nasty as her parents had been. Her many travels had taught her that.

"No, I'll manage. Thank you."

Mali stiffly got up from her seat. She took the briefcase that had been under her seat and gave a smile to the stewardess. The plane was empty. Gods, she must have slept nearly for the entire flight. Few had noticed who she was, in her shirt and jeans. It wouldn't have been the case if she had been in uniform. She was able to blend in.

After shaking hands with the crew and making it onto the jet-ramp, Mali felt free once more.

The Synths had their last potshots at her. She still had rehab to undergo, but she was determined to go on the offensive from now on. There would be a hellish payback for what she'd been through. The payback was going to be more severe than that for the Synths.

Mali looked down the jet ramp to the concourse outside it. Saw passengers going to and from outside of it. No gathering, no camera lenses, no bright lights. No party greeted her and she was quite relieved about it. At least, not until she saw the gray-white hair and familiar face of a person who- unlike her parents- truly gave a shit about her.

T.K. Mattingly smiled back at her. The former Apollo astronaut, Shuttle commander, and retired Rear-Admiral was clad in a business suit and looked returned from a trip. He looked quite happy indeed. Age aside, she would never forget the man's face. His short, silver hair betrayed his age..and wisdom.

"T.K.!"

The man smiled.

"Hey, Mali!"

He stepped forward to hug her, gently. Took a step back to look at her a minute.

"What are you doing here?"

"Just got back from New York. Gave a talk to some folks. More important, how are you doing?"

"I'm alright. Damn glad to be out of the hospital."

Mali saw the airport driver and electric cart nod at her. The man smiled at them.

Mattingly turned and gestured to it. Kept quiet about how she had gotten into the hospital in the first place. Knew she wouldn't talk about it. Especially not here.

"Behold, the old fogey and gimp-mobile. There's time later to hoof-it everywhere. Especially for somebody slated for Expedition 9. I'm sure you'll be going to Russia in a few months."

They both got on and the driver turned the rig around. Then they began to pass everybody else who walked. A few did recognize her and point.

"You been to 'Johnson' lately?"

Mali asked. It was hard for her to express how amazed she was that he would take such time-out for her.

"Stopped in two week's ago. Ran into your new beau. He and I talked about you a bit."

"Talking behind my back again, no doubt. Both of you are hopeless."

Mali kidded and saw her old mentor smile.

"He never said a damn thing to me that he had talked to you."

"Eh, you know how us older farts talk."

Mattingly looked at her.

"I think Chuck Taggart is a keeper, Mali. He does love the hell out of you."

"I know, Ken. He's grown on me too."

"Oh, did you hear that Layton Scott passed?"

"No. What of?"

"Brain aneurysm. His funeral is on Friday."

He saw her nod. The cart slowed and the entrance to the terminal came into view. He looked up to see three faces he knew would be waiting. He'd talked to them briefly before going to the gate to meet her.

"Well, there he is. Along with two chaperones so you both don't get into mischief."

Mali laughed as they pulled past the security checkpoint and stopped. Chuck, Neil and Kurt were waiting for her. No doubt, Sarah was at work and Angela.. Maybe was back at Johnson after her recent 'illness'. She saw Taggart smile at her, then look at Mattingly.

"Admiral, I really wish you'd stop trying to add to your string of women."

"I do have a few, but what's one more?"

"Actually, you gentlemen have that wrong. I'm starting my own stable. Deal with it."

Mali said in her off-hand way. She looked at Ken and moved over so Chuck could sit with her. They briefly kissed, before the cart moved again.

"Baggage claim, my man."

Mattingly said to the driver.

Chuck put his arm about her shoulders as the people they went past began to blur again.

They were back together. No doubt the Synths, the Cadre and everyone knew this as well.

The computer imaging came up before General Pierce's eyes.

He was scrutinizing such photos before most of the men about him were even born. He'd been a very young man for Korea. Had graduated West Point and had gone right into Army Intelligence afterward. Knew how to spot Soviet and other installations merely on a glance. It was good work for him and a solid, stable base for the new wife and the children to come. That had been decade upon decades ago.

Now Pierce saw something that could halt the lives of even his grandchildren and their progeny. He didn't even want to utter its name in his mind. However, it was what it was. The Synth's 'Main Hive' in Arizona was larger than anything now. It had grown in the short span since the last set of photos had been taken. Surveillance proved that.

There were no moles good enough to infiltrate the Synth network. Few agents would wish to go into becoming a Synth with how strong the 'conversion' and subsequent 'programming' was. Nobody was willing to risk walking away from lives and families in that instance. Nobody wanted to turn into Senator Perry- even if he hid his 'new self' very well.

It left only one option- destruction of the 'Hive' itself.

The 'Hive' could not be allowed to exist. It was a grave threat to all human life.

Pierce went closer to the screen and squinted.

He knew enough about how it would have to be done. Also knew who would gladly do what it took to bring the 'Hive' down. A person who had enough of a reason to wipe all Synths from existence and had more than just a few skills to do it.

Three days later-

The headache Mali had simply would not leave.

She tackled her stacks of mail gamely and the shredder did ample overtime in processing what it needed to. All the work didn't take her mind off the pain. It was still ongoing and increasing. Being back in Houston was not an overall joy.

She noticed that Chuck had cleaned out more of Paige's things from the house. It was not in Mali's nature to tell him how to tend to such things. The woman had shared 25 years with Taggart. Mali knew Chuck did care about how she might view such reminders of his dead wife. He never had asked her directly. Honestly, Mali was glad he hadn't.

She didn't care if he remembered Paige. What would have sent up a red flag would be if he didn't give a shit about Paige at all.

Mali yawned and paused to sit up in the chair.

She sometimes wondered how the woman would feel about her being here. If spirits were all-knowing and that Paige would visit the house where she used to live. To know that her husband was loved by a woman like Mali. One who move heaven and earth- even die- to protect Neil and him. That Mali would gladly leave if Paige were to somehow come back to life, rather than cause her pain.

She never spoke of having 'feelings' about certain places. A sense as to whether or not she was 'accepted' by the spirits that could be found in some areas.

She had visited a few battlefields in the US and abroad. She had gotten a few feelings- mostly good, but sometimes- rarely- she felt like she was not wanted there. Perhaps it was the residue of what she did as a soldier that irked those in another plane of existence. To ever openly admit such was near-suicide in the profession she was in. The Army expected realists, NASA wanted scientists. There was no real room for those who might have thoughts aside from those.

Rubbing the bridge of her nose, she sat back in the desk chair. Needed to get up and get some aspirin. She shut her eyes for a minute....

.....then woke up.

She was laying on top of the bed and Chuck was sitting beside her. A look of worry on his face. He had been as watchful as a sentry about her doing much of anything since she got back. That is, when he wasn't at the JSC. She hadn't even recalled being carried by him.

Mali took a look around and breathed.

"What the hell?"

"You were out cold, at the desk, in Mark's room."

Taggart finished her thought. His face was far from relaxed.

"I was working on my mail. I had a headache, shut my eyes..."

She looked up at Chuck.

"I'm alright. I just pushed it a little far."

"TOO damn far."

Taggart cautioned. Seeming relieved, he bent down and kissed her.

The smell of tobacco and a day's work met Mali's nose. She let her hand run through his hair.

Found herself looking into his eyes. A look passed between them. One she certainly knew. It could have been entertained, if she felt better than she presently did. Had to forget it, this time around.

"How was work?"

Taggart gave a shrug of his shoulders, then got up to take off his work clothes.

"The kids are smart. Its just that their smarts are more in books. Not in how to get shit done up in space."

"Ah, but it's the scientific 'mandate', is it not?"

Mali smiled and heard Taggart guffaw.

"Hodge's brand of bullshit floats that crap. Even Ed knew that it takes more than being a brain to fly up there."

Mali listened and tried to sit up. Found that she couldn't do that very well. Decided to lay still and closed her eyes for a moment. Hadn't realized that Taggart had turned to look at her. Saw her effort, then lay back.

"You ok?"

"I'm having a hard time negotiating even being able to sit up."

Taggart frowned. Went over and reached into the closet to grab out another shirt.

"I was wondering if they didn't let you go too damn soon. I asked about whether you'd recovered enough to even come home. That doctor of yours, Marks, gave me every assurance that there was no problem."

"He was pissed with me."

"Why?"

Mali opened her eyes and looked at Chuck.

"Told him to 'fuck off'. He tried to put the make on me. The fuck was thinking more with his dick than with any professionalism. Sonofabitch knew I was already spoken for and thought he could blow me over."

"You report him to the hospital admins?"

"He's an Army doctor, Chuck. I'll make waves, just not at this time."

Mali said, shutting her eyes again. Put a hand to her aching head.

"Could you get me two Vanquish, please."

"What about your painkillers?"

"No. I hate the fucking stuff. I'm loopy constantly on it. It won't react with my antibiotics anyway."

"And your blood-thinners?"

Mali knew she'd forgotten that small fact. With her surgeries, she might still throw clots.

"Fuck! Make it the damn Tylenol. Shit's mostly useless anyway."

"The number one recommendation of doctors..."

Taggart poked, going to the bathroom cabinet.

"Who are busy taking shit that really works, while their patients take far-less-effective shit."

Mali watched him at the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. It wasn't the first time she felt uneasy about his being so attentive to her. She couldn't tell him about the call she'd received from the Cadre, or of the notice about Senator Perry moving back his trip to Asia. The man still wanted to seal some lucrative trade deals with Korea for products made in Texas. There was also talk of technology being sent over to Korea in return for a new auto plant, or two, in Texas.

The Cadre wanted her ready to go in two month's time. NASA, rather Director Hodge, would cover it as 'specialized training'.

She watched him, then shut her eyes once more. Felt incredibly tired. The thing with Dr. Marks was only partially true. The other part was that she wasn't healing as fast as she should be. Still, keeping her in the hospital would raise a red flag that she was able to be targeted by Synths. The security couldn't be maintained forever, not without scrutiny of an unfavorable nature. The military was in its own budget crunch; to have an officer with such stops taken out solely for her would not look well when VA hospitals were flat-out pits to veterans.

Mali felt her good shoulder get shaken. Saw Chuck beside her. He lifted her to a semi-sitting position to take the pills and a drink of water. Wished like hell that he didn't have to bother with her so damn much. Her right shoulder howled with being lifted off the bed. It would take longer than two months to get that back in full, working order.

She stopped in mid-sip when the doorbell rang. Finished swallowing the pills and laid back down.

"Who the hell could that be?"

Taggart muttered. He set the glass on the bedside table and rose to go downstairs.

Mali didn't allow herself to doze off. She heard his footsteps down the stairs. Heard him open the door. Heard the gunshots........

Her head snapped up so fast that it brought screams of pain from the rest of her.

The muscles in her neck tinged with pain as she looked up and around. She was still seated at Mark's desk. Sweat had dripped off of her face and neck and slicked the wooden surface. She backed away and got to her feet abruptly. Her ears cocked for the slightest sound. Her eyes looked at a clock: 1534.

Mali breathed again.

Chuck wasn't due home for another hour and a half. The episode had been yet another 'dream' gone bad. What wasn't a dream was the fact that the Synths were still looking for a way to kill her. Might even wish to...no, would TRY to send Chuck Taggart with her.

Fort Bragg

'Blackie' Johnson pushed the cart through the narrow aisles of the Fort's PX in another bid to try and find something he might be remotely interested in eating. The flu he'd gotten a week ago served as quite a weight-loss solution, until he felt like he simply didn't want to eat at all. Atrip to the doctor confirmed that it would be best for him to try and down something. The PX wasn't jammed by any stretch. Usually, there were Army wives and kids jostling in the rows. Their noise mingled with the soft 'music' [if it could be called that] streaming over the PA.

Johnson paused to looked at the canned fruit.

How in hell a Ranger would eat anything other than meat and starch was a miracle. Johnson had always been odd that way. Growing up on a farm, he missed the produce grown on his family's own land. He dared not to get fresh vegetables, for fear they would turn before he got to them.

He was busy looking at what cans of fruit there were: the variety wasn't much, but it was cheaper than civilian stores. Considering his Army pay, it was what he gladly made do with.

Even his being alone now made buying food a still-important use of his pay.

He hadn't noticed the fellow shopper who eyed him from the other side of the store. Thought that the sharp pain in his left arm was a muscle spasm. He picked out his cans of fruit. Eventually paid for his groceries and went home.

He never showed the next morning to his post. He died of an aneurysm.

Neil tried to not eye the clock as he sat in his 7th Period Trig class.

He also tried to not fall asleep as Mr. Watson explained the formula to the class. He hadn't been joking to Mali and his dad when he said that repeating high school was another form of torture. Being 23 in the mind had begun to wear upon him in many ways.

He wanted his condo, Porsche, and Harley back. Having driven Mali's 'Blackbird' had come close to the life he used to have. Of course, the life he used to have also had Mom and Mark in it. There were times he would have enjoyed having them back, more than anything. Even if he was always the 'little brother' to his older sibling and was the 'problem child' to his mother. At least until he made it into NASA as one of its youngest astronauts ever.

Neil took note of the homework assignment that got passed out as the bell rang.

His grades were very high, since he was now working at a level he'd been used to before. He hadn't noted the teacher walking up to him as the other kids cleared out of the room to go home. Among them, was a petulant Holly who tried to get near him again. Tried and found she could not. The teacher watched Neil as he finished writing down the assignment. Neil finally looked up and saw the man.

"Mr. Taggart, I was wanting to ask you something. How would you feel about getting directly put into Mr. Fellows' Calculus class early?"

Neil's eyebrows raised.

"I hadn't looked at it."

"Senior year course, true. You do have the talent for math. I'm sure the jump might help you with getting accepted into a college much faster than your....compatriots."

Neil noted the careful reference to the mostly-lacking ability of his peers.

"Let me consider it. I'm already swamped with stuff."

"OK. By the way, I'm glad to see that you've really turned around on your diligence. Was there a school that really peaked your interest?"

"Not a school, actually. I'd like to look at getting into NASA."

Mr. Watson smiled.

"Ah, your father's son. Let me say that your potential would be best forged in a good college or university first. You know that NASA doesn't accept lesser-quality people. Might I ask what you would wish to major in?"

"I don't have a definite pick. I was thinking of IT and computer systems."

"You kids do like your machines."

Watson said, almost wistfully.

"Let me know what you'd think about getting into Calculus. Preferably soon. Mr. Fellows would be happy to have you on-board."

"Thank you, sir."

Neil could've winced that he'd slid into his old, adult habit of using such titles at his perceived 'age'. Well, there was no way to get the genie back into the bottle. He gathered his books and stuff. Left his school-bound world behind for another day. He hadn't expected to see Holly waiting for him in the hall. Thought she would have gone to catch her bus home.

For the first time that Neil could recall, he also thought of Asli- his girlfriend from right before the fateful, Odyssey mission. The woman he'd been ever more attracted to. He'd seriously considered announcing an engagement to his parents, if they would have gotten back to Earth. If anything had gone normal that day, and after. Asli and he were as much in love as anybody could be. Still, he couldn't face her if he didn't become the astronaut he used to be. She always had made him reach higher, and farther. Perhaps would do that again, for him.

Asli was the sort of Italian-Brazilian computer scientist who had as much in brains as she had in super-model looks. When they said you could have one or the other and not both, the odds never banked on somebody like her coming along. What he saw before him now was not the tall, sultry woman who [by the way, the sex with her was mind-blowing] entranced him, but a high school romance that was fast-fading to what might be there in the future. If he played things right.

Holly tried to give him a coy look, but barely got a visual. She looked at him again.

"Hey, I wanted to know if you wanted to come over to my place tonight."

"I'm pretty locked up with homework, Holly. I can't."

"Can't, or you won't?"

"Both."

Neil gave her a look and walked on.

Holly was taken aback by his response. Almost felt like it had been leveled at her with intent to hurt her. Caught up with him and grabbed his shoulder. Tried to meet his gaze and got skewered by it now.

"Neil, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. Our relationship is over, Holly. I got places to go. I don't have room for you."

Neil responded coldly.

Nicholas Peyerson would meet her very soon anyway. Neil would get dumped for the guy's football-star looks in no time. HAD been dumped in that fashion. She had played the utterly-cold bitch then. Tit for tat was never a really good option. Neil, like Kurt did to Tovah, was cutting his losses before the far-larger losses later. He knew Holly was hurt, but Peyerson would wash all of that away. Maybe in two or three weeks, tops. If Neil clung to the bitter end, it would wind up only hurting him when he really didn't need to be.

Neil didn't turn to see the tears form in Holly's eyes. Didn't stop to comfort her or allow himself to be swayed back to her. He hurt inside too. Everybody around him had lost a lot to gain what they now had. Ultimately, all they had was each other. Just the six of them.

He had nearly wanted to throttle Neil for recording the damn program.

Had forgotten to get around to erasing the thing before Mali had gotten home from the hospital. The work at NASA was as much a load as ever and he hadn't been able to get around to it..

He knew what the program was by the sound; the marching feet, the sound of the wind, and the type of silence only found when among a large, respectful group of onlookers. C-Span 2 had the coverage. None of the major networks touched it. It had only been a minute blurb on the evening news, at max. It played again now. Taggart didn't relish going into the family room.

Mali hadn't been able to get to the memorial service, at Arlington, for her fallen comrades and their wives. Hadn't been among the grieving families and service members. She had been tied to machines, in a hospital bed, trying to recover from being shot five times. Somehow surviving it all. She didn't really have the chance to mourn the loss of her comrades. Likely hadn't really dealt with it until Neil's 'program' was found.

He saw her sitting in the one chair farthest from the TV screen; like she didn't want to be in the space but was hostage to it. Her red-rimmed eyes and tear-streaked face partially hidden behind the contemplative, templed hands over her mouth. It was obvious that she didn't notice him even being there.

Her eyes were nearly unblinking as they watched every second of what was on the screen. Taggart thought the program must be just a little past the midway point.

This massacre had never happened in the old timestream. Everybody's life had been boring, normal, and serene. Death had only visited as an unexpected- and violent- affair at the very 'end' of all they could recall. Paige hadn't died. Mark hadn't died. Nobody dearly loved- save for Corey Forbes- had died in the old timeline.

He never had with Mali what was there now. Hell, he never really knew her at all. Life had gone on and they both were unaware up until the end of everything.

Taggart silently backed away from the doorway and left Mali alone. Everybody needed space. It was clear that Mali needed time to digest what she was seeing. She would come around when she wished to.

Detective Julia Marsden hadn't given up probing into Commander Chuck Taggart's life.

Nor had she given up trying to get to the bottom of the strange behaviors of the group he was part of. The abrupt end of her investigation, months ago, still clung- like a bad odor- to her mind.

The fact that one of the two survivors of the Silver City Massacre had moved in with the man and his son was not lost on her either. If anything, it made him even more an object of scrutiny.

Marsden found Major Malinda Flynn an interesting character.

Not for how much about her was known, but for how much was not. She could not find much that was open to her past rudimentary NASA public profiles and her Army files were so shielded that attempts failed miserably. Marsden was dogged, but the Army was a perpetual stone wall.

She sat at her desk at the Houston Police Main Headquarters and stared into a computer screen as her first-shift comrades went home. Their desks would be unmanned while she still remained.

Per her job, she'd taken on other cases, but this was the one she returned to when those were completed.

"Snooping the shit on the astronaut?"

Marsden looked up at Detective Bruno Urban and gave him a look.

She was joked about in the locker room and the break room. Nearly everybody had an opinion about her. Most thought it rather odd that she took an interest in a case better left alone. Especially after the way it ended. It was also made abundantly clear that she should let it go and move on. She obviously had not.

"No, I'm looking into the woman shacking up with him."

Urban, himself a Marine veteran, looked at Marsden. With much the same look as he would give an annoying, yip-yap dog. He knew enough ex and active military folks to know that they didn't want their shit probed unless the reason was a legitimate one. He had read and seen the coverage of it all. Knew that his military buddies were beyond pissed that anybody would stomp into a room full of Rangers and shoot it up. Would kill many soldiers and wives before those men could even get to their sidearms. At least, those who had been armed. Some had chosen to not carry weapons and most had been shot dead with their spouses. Only 'the woman' and another man survived the whole ordeal.

"Maybe your efforts would be better spent looking for those who would do the shooting. At least that's what I would do, if I were you. By the way, its not your case to take."

"You seem awfully opinionated, Urban. Is it because she's military, like you?"

"What I'm saying is that I think your focus misdirected. The sort of people who would have the balls to shoot up a room full of Rangers is far more of a threat, Marsden. By the way, didn't the Chief himself tell you to drop looking into Taggart?"

Marsden chose to not answer that one.

Urban was right; the Chief had told her to drop it, and in a way he seldom employed- overt bluntness. She looked back to her computer screen.

"Don't you have a family to get home to, Urban?"

"I thought you did as well."

Try as she might, the detective couldn't help but blink at that one. Her son and daughter might be grown adults, but it still didn't cover for the fact that she was seldom seen by either. After Lawrence died, back in the early-90s, Julia hadn't taken much to filling the void in her life. It was true that Taggart was of more interest than a professional one. A handsome widower always was. Likely too, was the fact of his being a command astronaut. That alone would have ensured her casual interest, if not rapt attention.

Tomahawk, Wisconsin

Staff Sergeant John Hutchins braced himself against a wall and shoved another magazine into his .45. He could shoot all he wanted at the intruders, but there was damn little that seemed to stop these people. At least, until he could get into the basement.

There weren't many things he could fault Connie Hutchins for.

She had been a loving, dutiful, even strict wife and mother. Her pet-peeve- a pretty uncommon one for a military family- was that no firearms were to be kept 'above ground' in their house. Even coming from a pro-gun family still made her leery. Being married to a Ranger made it worse.

John was very grateful that Connie was with her elderly parents. Weeks of vigil and worry had taken a big bite of her energy. She'd left for Portland, Maine with a bit of relief. Things would certainly not be so chaotic there. He doubted these assholes wanted her life more than his.

He wanted to leave with her, but decided to stay put until the authorities were finished with hashing over Silver City.

Now he was mere feet from the mudroom and the backdoor, at the landing, was wide open to the shooters. The basement had the ammo and the shotguns. It also had an old coal chute he could use as an egress- if he could get there and not get killed over it.

His chest, which bore the deep-red scars from the shooting, throbbed as he calmed his breath and listened to what sounds could be heard. The light of late-afternoon in Spring was waning with the approach of grey clouds.

If he could make it to the woods he could make it to town. He knew the land far better than his adversaries. He also knew people who could help him, far beyond what the police might be able to do.

Next Day-

Mali wasn't too surprised to see Dr. Marks in the Flight Surgeon's office. He hadn't, technically, signed off on all aspects of having her as his patient. What was unusual was that he hadn't made any word of coming to Houston. He just showed up.

She was professional to know that she would be a liability to a flight crew if she was not completely honest in admitting how far she could use her right arm. Her gut still ached from getting back into doing sit-ups to strengthen her abdomen. As it was, she could barely squeeze out ten before the throb became too much. She was a long way away from even being able to get forty in, much less the eighty she used to do without breaking a sweat. Push-ups were damn near still impossible. That she was working the shoulder to get her shooting ability back up to par wasn't mentioned. It was all painful. That could not be hidden. Not like she was able to hide her renewed 'firearms rehab'.

As they tested the range of motion in her arm, Mali tried to not see the critical look on Marks' face as he watched it. His face had a bit of fatigue in it. He wrote down a few notes on the paper the clipboard carefully hid from view. She might be able to snow the shrink, but physical limits were far more obvious.

Especially to him. How in hell he'd gotten into this position still intrigued her. That he'd changed his speciality to rehabilitative medicine was very interesting to her.

She knew they were being pushed to clear her in time for her to go to Russia for rocket training at 'Star City'. The early Summer schedule would not be adjusted for her. She had to be able to meet its requirements to even have a hope of getting up for 'Expedition 9'.

Mali abruptly brushed thoughts out of her mind where Marks was concerned.

She was damn capable of 'playing the field', even at her age, though the inclination was not there. There had been a fair number of men who would have liked nothing better than to get into her pants at some point. She was well aware that Marks was going into a divorce and that opened him up even more. The initial attraction was certainly there to be manipulated. It would have been nothing to coerce him into some variety of 'arrangement'.

The two things that stood in the way was her sense of honor and Chuck Taggart. Both items were far more important to her than any fling with Marks could ever be. She'd dispensed with 'flings' long ago. Ultimately, they sapped more energy out of her than she could deal with. Chuck was an anchor where others were little more than a 'ball and chain'.

It didn't dispel the discomfort she felt at having the man hover over her like a specter.

It was a hope for Angela that she would recover quickly from the abortion.

At least physically. The bleeding and cramping went away shortly after the third day home. The mental wound would be longer. Enrique had left a slightly less terse email than his previous. One that wasn't so bitchy as he was wondering what the hell was going on.

Hispanic men normally were controlling of their women. However, it was hard to pull that on a woman who was an Air Force officer and NASA astronaut. Angela let the email go, more out of not wanting to talk than anything. She didn't know if she'd be able to, or when that would ever happen.

She was able to enjoy the quiet of the apartment now. Was even grateful for it. Ever since Gina moved-out and had taken all her drama with her, Angela was able to think and be home more. There were other aspects, ones best not dwelled on given her present state.

She wasn't expecting company when the doorbell rang. It took a moment to register that it was, then to make her slow way to the door. Thought for a moment that it might be her father, again.

Really not the person she wanted to see. He'd been angry since his Texas delegation to Korea had been postponed. The lucrative economic contracts- of which he'd get a sizeable kickback- would be greatly delayed.

Angela opened the door and saw Mali looking back at her.

"Mali! Shit, I wasn't expecting you."

"If it's a bad time, I can leave."

"Hell no. Come in. I thought you might be Kurt for a moment."

Angela noted the brown shopping bag that Mali had in her left hand.

"I thought you might be down at Johnson."

"Already was. Undergoing my new, weekly ritual of meeting with the doctors and getting grilled about my rehab."

Mali looked about the apartment as Angela shut the door. It wasn't as spare as her old one, but it still spoke of an occupant who spent more time out of it than in it.

"How's it going?"

"I'm not getting back my right arm strength as quickly as they would like. You can tell by the sour looks they try to hide."

"Fuck, you're only a few weeks out of the hospital. Hodge has to be aware of that."

"She is. There's higher powers cracking the whip over her, though."

Mali knew that was patent bullshit. Truth was, she was being prepped for going over to Korea to take out this woman's father. She knew the Cadre's dictate about keeping such matters absolutely private. Even with a woman who would soon lose her own kin to an action Mali would do. She smiled and looked about the apartment.

"You got a good eye for design."

"Thanks. Its really cleaned up since my pig of a roommate left to get married."

Angela eyed the bag again.

"What'd you bring?"

"Some food. I know how it is to have medical crap done and not being in great shape for cooking."

Mali hefted the bag onto the counter.

"Besides, I didn't want you to think I'd forgotten about things. I also thought you might want to talk with somebody who's also 'been there and done that'. At least where things like this are concerned."

Angela couldn't fault Mali. How would she have known of the abortion Angela had after she and Kurt got back from overseas and things broke up between them? Then too, that was back in the old timestream. This was the new and it still had the parts that sucked. She was a bit surprised that Mali had also had an abortion in her past.

"You've been through it too?"

Mali tried not to let her true feelings on it show. The only good about it was in that it had been done long before she had been turned into a Plastic. Had it not been, they likely would have forced her to bear. The Network wanted to begin replicating without the costly- and obvious- gestation-tank warehouses.

"Took only one, then I ramrodded having a hysterectomy. What I am and what I do isn't good for having children anyway. Its not even very good for being married."

"Well, I think you might be able to land the husband part of things. I can't say that Chuck isn't into you. He is. Its more than can be said for my so-called 'boyfriend', at present.."

"Don't ring the wedding bells yet. Chuck is damn decent, but it can't hide who I am, Angela."

Mali watched Angela peer into the bag. Curiosity getting the better of her. Thankfully, she wasn't interested in what Mali really was. Which, given the circumstances, was good.

Angela drew out a 1lb. Hershey bar and grinned.

"You do know how we astronauts eat."

"Astronaut fuel. Didn't bring the peanut butter, though."

Taggart came in the house and took off his NASA windbreaker.

It was odd to get home and not see the 'Blackbird' in the garage. He could only assume that Mali's appointments had taken longer than expected. When he hadn't seen her car in the JSC lot, he'd thought that she had gone home. It wouldn't have been advisable to pay a visit to the Flight Surgeon's offices.

He went to the stairs and called up to Neil. Could hear the clicking of the computer keyboard even from downstairs.

"Neil?"

"Yeah, dad?"

"Mali leave a message?"

"She's at Angela's. Said she was going there after her appointment."

Taggart digested that for a moment.

It wasn't as if Mali was married to him. He was quite attached to her, though. His mind went back to before all this mess occurred and the 'Columbia' had blown up. He could only think that there was some stuff Mali and Angela wanted to catch up on. Ever since NASA had gone unisex in the late-70s, men like him had to adjust to the way men did things and the way women did things. Some times, the way women did things mystified him. He still let it go. It likely had nothing to do with him anyway. Even NASA's women had their own 'sisterhood' for talking shop.

They'd nearly wiped out the chocolate by the time it turned 4. Angela stored the rest of the food away for later. They had talked shop a little bit, but Angela broached the question she'd been wanting to ask since Mali first got there.

"You know, the first time you had an abortion- who was it?"

Mali looked at Angela, took a drink of water, and settled back in the overstuffed chair she sat in. Tried to hide the unbidden emotions that came, along with the memories.

"Not who, what. You went through a variety of SERE when you became an officer?"

Angela almost immediately grasped what Mali might potentially say. It was a scenario male officers and enlisteds were forbidden to 'practice' on their female counterparts during that training. It was roundly discussed, just never executed. Criminal charges would definitely be leveled.. The situation might come up in real-world situations. It was just one that didn't need to be actually done in a training environment. Rape was still rape. Even in training venues.

"We had a classroom course. You don't mean that...."

"The Ranger...version is as real-life as you can get. At the time it was done, there were no criminal charges to be leveled. Not if you wanted to remain in the Rangers- and I did wish to remain. Even if only in a support position. I found an Army doctor who was very sympathetic to my plight to do the job. He also did the hysterectomy. It set me back a couple months for recuperation, but I was free of the whole mess."

"Is the doctor still practicing?"

Mali looked at Angela. The question was innocent enough, if unexpected.

"He's still Army, if that's what you mean. He's also the doctor that took care of me in Arizona."

She saw Angela's surprise very plainly. She, too, had never guessed that Dr. Marks would have been the one called up to take care of her. She hadn't even guessed that he would have remained in the Army if not for some very specific conditions being offered to him. It was almost certain that the Cadre financed his paycheck in some form. He also had drastically changed his field of specialization.

"Suffice to say, it is a small world."

Later that evening-

Neil answered the phone.

It might be supper and they might all hate calls during such a time. They had little choice but to acknowledge it, but they didn't have to enjoy doing so. NASA was prone to call at any hour. Even their friends would be able to do so.

Mali had taken another fork of mashed potato and was enjoying its taste when Neil came back into the room. He looked at her.

"For you, Mali. Some guy."

Mali gave a sour look.

If it was fucking Marks she would damn near come close to going to off him for intruding even into her private life. She got up from the chair and knew Chuck's eyes were on her and would follow her out of the room.

She saw the receiver laying on the counter. Picked it up and heard breathing on the other side.

"Hello?"

"Redoubt."

John Hutchins' voice came through without the need for confirmation.

"Copy."

Mali heard the disconnect click, but she was nearly as quick in hanging up the phone. It was fortunate that she had no other appointments this week.

Chuck Taggart couldn't have been more surprised at Mali's actions than if she had just offed somebody, in cold blood, in the house. He'd followed her up the stairs like an angry stormcloud.

"Going? Where the fuck are you going?"

Mali calmly looked up at him, but it didn't stop her from packing her duffle bag. He was shaken and he was baffled at her actions. He never would understand why she acted the way she did sometimes. Had watched her rummage through the closet until she pulled out a substantial wad of cash, filled her wallet, and shoved that into her back pants pocket..

"Its simple. You have two choices- stay here in Houston and twiddle your thumbs with the newbies until I return or.....follow me, don't ask shit, and I will inform you in due course. You will take only clothes and cash. No plastic, no cell phone, nothing else."

Taggart didn't say anything more. Blinked a minute in surprise, but opted for the go-along. He went to pull out his own duffle to load it, before he called Ben Markham to arrange for the man to sub for him at NASA. They both barely stopped when Neil appeared in the doorway.

"OK, where are you both off to now?"

Mali pulled out her concealment holster. She had to admit that the kid's abilities would come in very helpful. That he might be needed for it would excuse the time off of school. As it was, there already was one passenger. So what if there was another?

"You up on your classes?"

"Yeah."

"How about your grades?"

This time Taggart questioned his son.

"I'm at a 3.8 right now."

Neil saw them both packing duffles, not suitcases. Saw Mali look up at him.

"Start packing. No cell, no plastic, no laptop, Neil. Just pack your clothes and what cash you got."

Mali said, pulling her dopp bag and putting it into its location in her duffle.

"What? Is there going to be a war or something?"

"That has already started. No, there will still be a Houston to return to. So it won't be that type of war."

Mali gave him a look, before she reached into her nighttable and drew out her Glock. She saw him go off to his room without a further word. The gun went into her holster inside her pants waist.

"How many days?"

Neil's voice came from a distance.

"At least a week. Maybe two if the shit is deep."

She looked at Taggart and saw him looking at her.

"Let's hope it hasn't gotten that far."

The last thing she did was remove the Cadre's watch from her wrist and laid it on the dresser. She certainly couldn't afford them latching onto her now. Then went to the closet and, after a moment of rummaging, emerged with a black pistol case and a box of rounds. She set it in front of Chuck on the bed, beside his duffle..

"I wanted to save it for your birthday in July. I don't know how you feel about carrying one. I figure it could try to sub for your grandfather's Colt. I opted to get you a 19, not 17. Seems more your type."

Chuck Taggart looked at the Glock case. It was true that he didn't mind Mali's gun. It was a simple, reliable weapon. It was also very easy to strip and clean. With the custom hollow-points that Mali created, it had drop power equal to any .45 caliber out there. He undid the snaps and opened it The automatic gleamed back at him with its odd, blackened finish.

"I got an extra magazine for you. There's enough rounds to fill all of them and one for the snout."

She went in the closet and came back out with a concealment holster similar to hers. Gave it to him. Saw him look at her.

"I guess my taste in gifts isn't always....normal."

Taggart stood up, still looking at the gun. Then looked at her. After a moment, drew her into his arms. It wasn't the type of gift Paige might have gotten for him. Still, that Mali had gone through the trouble said a lot about her.

Moby's New Dawn Fades played on the CD player with the same intensity it always had.

She'd heard the track so many times that she knew every bit of it by heart. Its hard-driving music and lyrics were things she used to 'click on' to a mission. It was usually something done solo- a personal gear-up for the hardships to be faced. Not normally done with others around.

Mali watched the lights of Dallas fade in the rearview. Chuck was in the co-pilot seat and Neil was in back. Both men were still up and it was well after ten at night. With the adrenaline coursing through her, she knew that it would be o-dark-ugly before she'd be stopping to get a refuel. Namely, in the form of a huge cup of hot tea, if she could locate a decent truck stop or diner. Probably once they got into Colorado or, maybe, southern Wyoming.

The track faded, to be followed with the piano strains of God Moving Over the Face of the Waters.

Her hand reached up to turn the volume down. Not that it was the blast-out level that she would have reserved for an empty car. She knew Chuck had more of a country bent for music, so she tried to be considerate. She knew Neil definitely liked Moby, though.

Well, best to begin.

"What I am about to tell you gentlemen stays with you. Do not discuss it with anybody. Nobody needs to know the particulars anyway."

Mali knew she got their attention when they looked at her. Neil leaned forward from the rear seat.

"When you enter the military it is assumed that those you train with, obey, and come into contact with are likely on the same page with you. Hard experience will teach you that not everybody will live up to being shown due respect and loyalty. My unit had a policy of looking out for each other, outside of the Army. We all knew that the Army might one day not be there to care for us. That situations might arise and our fellows might wind up in a situation that the Army cannot, or would not, help them out of. My unit has made its share of enemies through the years. That said, we knew that CYA- Cover Your Ass- was a definite for all of us. No matter if we were in- or out of- uniform."

"I'd like to say that I heard of the same in the Air Force. Can't say that I ever did."

Taggart commented.

"Maybe it's only a 'Special Forces' thing. Anyway, to this end, my unit created a system of being able to care for those who might fall into such a nasty situation. Of course, Silver City has....reduced the membership to three now. The person who called me tonight was John Hutchins. He only said one word to me. I know now that he's in the shit and is in hiding. I'm bringing the both of you along because I think I know who is likely trying to get at him. You both know those folks as well. I want you both there to bounce ideas off of. The rest of the gang will need to be told as well. Once we get back to Houston."

"Where are we going?"

Neil asked.

"Cut Bank, Montana. Actually a little bit outside of it. About twenty miles from the Canadian border. The reason why I had all of us drop the electronics is so we can't be traced. Where John is staying is meant to be a safehouse for him. He wouldn't have done what he did if his life wasn't under direct threat. I'll be damned if I'm the person- any of us are the one- who brings the enemy to him."

"That's a damn day full of driving to get up there. Montana's a leap."

Taggart muttered.

"It is. I could do it solo, but I'm grateful for those to switch-off with. The biggest thing is to avoid speeding tickets and police scrutiny. I guess my advice now is for you both to catch a nap or two."

She looked at Chuck.

"Your seat does recline. If I make a stop, I'll wake you."

"You think the Plastics got to him?"

Chuck asked. He was beginning to feel somewhat tired. The purr of the engine was a slow, steady white noise, when the music was off. It wasn't now, but he knew he could sleep with having Mali and his son near. The number of those he truly gave a shit about had gone down drastically since he awoke five years in the past. With Paige and Mark gone, the number was very low.

"Tried to. It's the only thing that would make him book. He didn't say if Connie was with him. I hope she didn't catch the shit."

Mali said.

After a few minutes of silence, she saw Neil's head drop out of sight and knew he was settling down to sleep. Astronaut training taught you to get your sleep anywhere you could get it. Even with noisy computers and environmental systems as background noise. Its one reason why NASA did its best to not try to wake a sleeping crew unless it was really needed. However, there was no zero-G to cradle anybody.

"There's space blankets in the rear window pit, Neil."

"I'm alright."

"Sweet dreams."

Taggart said, then looked at Mali.

"You think he'll be able to get out into society again?"

"With the fucking Plastics? Honestly, I don't know. I just hope the fucks don't get to Connie. She was on the East Coast, last I heard. Went to see her folks, after all the worry over John in the hospital. They're sick and she's being torn three ways, you could say. Their eldest kid's wife is expecting. It just makes things all the more stressful."

"You really seem tight with this guy."

"No different than friendships with astronauts or soldiers, like we both have. Thing is, I only know of a handful I'd go out of my way for without question. Aside, of course, from Neil and yourself."

Mali glanced at Chuck. Reached to grip his large, warm hand in hers. Saw him look at her.

"If I didn't give shit, the both of you wouldn't have been asked- or allowed- to come with me."

Chuck awoke with a start.

The car had stopped and it was still dark. Thought for a second they might have crashed but saw the amber-colored light of a stoplight turn red. The lights of a large town came to his view, before he realized it was the outskirts of a city. Felt the car accelerate to a city-driving speed.

"Where are we?"

"Cheyenne, Wyoming. About 0430. Pulling into a truck stop. I need some zip juice."

Mali's voice was heavy with fatigue. She stifled a yawn with the back of her hand.

"Bathroom break too."

Neil's sleepy voice said as he popped up again from the back seat. The space blanket crinkled as he sat up. Had finally reached for one after the second hour of shut-eye. Then slept straight until now. Mali needed the cold air to remain alert.

"I'll take the helm for the next round."

Taggart offered.

"You Navy or astronaut? I forget."

Mali teased as she pulled the Blackbird in under the fluorescent glare of the gas bays. It made her squint a moment. His response was the type of phrase used up on the Shuttle sometimes.

"Might want to grab breakfast here too. It's a good joint. Does a bit of business with F. E. Warren. Owners are ex-Army."

"I thought it was the number of vehicles out front."

Mali smiled at Neil's appraisal.

"That too. Point is, friendly faces are always welcome."

The truck stop was garish, even at o-dark-ugly in the morning. Still, it was an oasis for those that traveled through. She had paid for the gas and sought out a restroom. Chuck and Neil practically beelined for the men's room after they got in the building and had parked the car.

She took note of many things when she exited it: the exits, locations of phones, the main sections of the place. The smell of bacon wafted from the café and the smell of detergent from the laundry facilities for truckers at the back of the other end. They probably had showers too.

Then she noticed the employee area and went to knock on the door. A very tired looking girl answered it.

"Good morning. Is your manager or an assistant manager available?"

"He's back there, in the office."

The girl ruffled her semi-tied mop of black hair and went back to the table to nurse her half-drunk cup of coffee. Mali walked past her and knocked on the semi-open door.

"Yeah?"

A voice came from beyond the hollow-core barrier.

Mali pushed the door open.

"Sorry to disturb you. I was wondering if there is a computer I might borrow. My Uncle is in bad shape. I'd like to send an email to him."

"You got proof of that?"

The man said, after a moment to digest what she had said. Mali could see the comprehension on his face.

She flicked out her military ID.

"I'll only be a minute or two. It won't be a chat room."

"Use mine. Its cleaned regularly."

"Many thanks, Mr..."

"Bates. Randy Bates, general manager. Marines, 82-97."

Mali shook his hand.

"Many thanks, sir."

"You going to eat after this?"

"Yeah."

"It'll be on the house. I'll let the café manager know to expect you."

"Thank you."

Mali watched him leave, then settled to whip off an email to General Pierce.

Taggart never thought he'd be glad to see a cup of hot coffee at a truck stop. He did, however, and was into his third cup when Mali finally came into the restaurant. Blue eyes flickered up at her before she took the seat beside him and hauled out a bottle of pills. She popped a couple and took a drink of water.

"Beginning to wonder where you went."

"Had to dig a bit in the food mart to find these. Sorry."

Mali gave a topical look at Chuck's menu and shut it.. Truth told, she wasn't keen on eating at the time of morning it was. Still, it would help her get to sleep. Figured that fresh fruit and doctored-up Cream of Wheat might be just the ticket. At least her stomach wouldn't turn on it.

"Once we meet up with I-90, we'll take that west, until we hit I-15. Go through Helena and it's a straight shot north to Cut Bank. You'll like Wyoming. It's the true West.. Montana's prettier, though."

They looked up at the waitress who came back to the table. She had a third menu under her arm but got waved off.

"Ready to order?"

Chuck looked at Neil.

"Go for it, growing boy."

"That damn bitch!"

General Pierce couldn't fault Col. Tyes rough appraisal of Flynn's action. Nor was he prepared to fault Flynn for taking off to wherever Hutchins was holed up. What soldier wouldn't go to the aid of a comrade; especially if they now happened to be the last two of an entire unit? Sgt. Johnson's abrupt death was too abrupt to point at anything other than the Synths having made another kill. It was something that made Pierce wish that plans to move on with terminating the Arizona 'Hive' would move that much quicker.

He'd read the latest report on Flynn's rehab.

She wasn't the only great sniper the Army had. Hell, the military had others equal to her. The war in Afghanistan- and the looming one for Iraq- made hiring on such men very difficult. Every shooter was needed in their respective areas. As it was, the Cadre's shooters numbered only Flynn at this time. It was something they would've liked to remedy- except there were damn few shooters who would ever come close to be good enough to get into NASA. Being able to shoot and being an astronaut were about as opposite as one could get in terms of skill sets. Flynn was one of the rarest of all in that she had direct experience with the Synths, an encounter with Sentients, and enough of both to ensure she would not be caught off-guard by either. Snipers with less were liable to be killed before demonstrating any effectiveness.

Listening to Tyes now made him circumspect about exactly how much venom might be warranted in this situation. There was even an idea of training up a crew of Cadre members as snipers and placing Flynn at the head of it. It was something for after the 'Hive' had been eliminated. It would be a bump-up in rank too. Something that would keep lesser types from getting into a command position.

"Colonel, I wouldn't fret. The Major will be back soon. I'd give her credit for at least leaving word about what she's done."

The sound on the other end was silence for a few moments. Then was followed by a terse reply. Tyes had his cornflakes thoroughly soaked with piss this morning. It was early too.

"Yessir."

Pierce gave a slight smile and paged through the latest report on his desk.

"By the way, Colonel, would you contact Dr. Marks and inform him that his patient won't be in-town? That we will inform him when she returns? I know its not your job to be a concierge, but it would be appreciated."

She could hear the sounds.

They were as echoes, queries, perhaps asking about things that no longer existed in the fragile network of organic tissue that comprised her brain. The Seeker sent her back into her organic form, but it hadn't banked on how to translate a body that had been Synth for nearly four years to give up all the programming that went with being that form of life.

It was like a part of her was still trying to access the Network and was baffled as to why she couldn't connect. The human part of her was still in firm control, but it couldn't silence who she had been in another time and place. Chuck had been on the verge of being Synth, but he was nowhere near as immersed as she had been. Certainly hadn't spent years inside a Synth body, subject to commands that subjugated one's free will and. choice.

Neil and her had watched the one Star Trek: The Next Generation episode where Capt. Picard had been turned into a Borg. If such a person had acted as that, the Plastics would have rejoiced at the pliability. Even as speculation, the episode was tough for her to watch without comment or open emotion.

Mali opened her eyes to the back seat of the Impala. Saw Chuck in the driver's seat before looking at her combat watch.

1429 hours.

She shut her eyes and listened to the steady drone of the engine. She had actually managed to sleep for nearly eight hours and it was telling her exactly how tired she was. Between rehab, renewed training, worry about John, and trying to keep a lid on her Cadre dealings- she was burning the candle at both ends pretty heavily. Mali stifled a groan as she turned onto her back and her right shoulder came out from underneath, protesting having been part of her sleeping on her side. Neil cast an eye back at her.

"Hey, was wondering if you'd died back there."

Neil's jab indicated something much better than a normal, petulant teen being taken from normal pursuits. Then too, could Neil Taggart ever have been a normal, 17 year-old again?

"Very funny, punk ass."

Mali muttered and grinned, then sat up- albeit more slowly than she would have liked. Other parts reminded her that they'd slept in a back seat, not on a decent mattress. She saw the landscape ahead dotted with mountains.

"Central Montana. About 20 knicks west of Billings ."

Neil filled her in.

"Should be hitting Bozeman in an hour or two, if that's the case."

Mali squeezed Chuck's shoulder as she leaned over the middle console.

"I'll welcome a pit stop there...and a switch out."

Taggart turned to look at her. Had taken to chomping on an unlit cigar. Enclosed cars made him not want to smoke.

"About time, wheel hog."

Neil said, then looked back at Mali.

"I wanted to drive two hours ago and I got the Death Glare."

"He'd do the same thing in the Shuttle, I'll imagine."

She paused to shove the travel pillow to the side. She never had Chuck as a Shuttle Commander on any of her flights. For whatever reason, Scrivens always kept her and Taggart quite separate from each other. Mali didn't know if Hodge might opt to do the same now.

Not that it would matter with the way things were now.

"He does. I got personal experience with that."

Neil responded.

"Wah! Wah! Wah!."

Chuck shot back.

Mali began to chuckle.

"At least guys like Bill Walters never gave me such grief. He was too busy being a smart-ass know-it-all to everybody else."

"You think he ever guessed that you weren't exactly human?"

Taggart asked.

"Don't think it crossed his mind. Don't think it crossed anybody's, to tell you the truth. I stuck to my job and stayed with it. Nobody gave me grief. At least, from what I recall. There was a lot of being a Plastic that made you ignore anything rude shot at you."

"You know what I can't understand is Matt Walsh. God, what a prick that guy has turned into."

Neil commented.

"Angela will never be on that guy's good side again."

"You'd best remember to stow the views once you get into NASA. Until you make your bones, you are the lowlife pond scum of the Agency. Here's hoping it'll be damn short term of it at that. I never much liked how much I had to suck down, long ago."

"Mali's got a point. Whether you like it or not, you have to have your 'face' on tight when you get in again."

Taggart's eyes blinked into the distance. What a different future it was, compared to what it had been in another lifetime.

"Still, Walsh has turned into a dick. I wish he'd go back to who he used to be- at least the way I recall him."

"Power trips. Hard to avoid that crap."

Mali winced and began to worked her shoulder. She turned to the cooler at her feet and lifted the lid for a bottle of water to take two more pills with. Not everybody in the Agency was congenial and a 'team player'. There was plenty of space, just not for egos.

Tom Flanders watched the forty head of horses make their way back to the barns and corral for the evening. The cowpony beneath him stood placidly as they watched the thunder of horseflesh go past, raising dust into the chilling air. The winter was winding up dry. Unless Spring were to be rainy, it wasn't a good omen for Summer.

He watched the rider on a dark bay come into view and smirked.

The man's riding was getting a little better. Flanders had heard of Spec Ops troops in Afghanistan riding horses with pro-American forces. It was said that the cavalry's ghost was trying to come once more. He couldn't buy that, though.

MacArthur had killed the cavalry back in the early 40s. There was no 'bringing it back'; at least not in the serious, dedicated form it used to be.

He watched John Hutchins turn his mount to double-check that all the horses had come down, then continued on. There was no way to not believe the story of why the man had come up to his ranch in the first place. Like so many, Flanders had seen the footage from Silver City and had been sickened. Had seen a newscaster photograph the floor of the restaurant with its blood-soaked carpeting. Knew, by sight, where the bodies had lain and roughly in what position. He'd expected some Al Qaeda fucks to claim responsibility, but had heard nothing more. The media had shut it down after a week or two. No mention made about an investigation or any leads. The funeral was shown on cable, but the rest of the affair was shut up and taken from the news companies.

He never knew a damn thing until John had shown up on his doorstep; damn near broke and fearing for his life. He'd been forced to leave Wisconsin with little more than the clothes on his back and a run-down car loaned him by a friend.

He tapped the sides of his roan and went to help funnel the stock to their nightly 'bed'. His guest seemed happy now. Not like a few days ago. Flanders knew that Hutchins had called the final, remaining member of his unit. He knew that Major Flynn was booking up from Texas. The thing that sucked was that it had to be by car: airplane was too visible and traceable for somebody trying to keep a 'safehouse' secret..

The man gave a sharp whistle and two German Shepherds bounded out of the weeds to meet with him. Likely had been sniffing after rabbits to play with. When their master called, playtime was over. They came up trotting, pink tongues lolling out as they paced beside him.

The barks of two more could be heard. There were plenty of 'guards' to attack intruders.

Especially intruders that had never 'bled red'.

Mali had a recurring dream.

It was one that kept coming, even despite attempts to purge herself of it. She was in her 'spot', with her Big Girl from Vietnam, the bullets were plentiful, the conditions perfect. True to training, she was like a part of the landscape, hidden beneath face paint and camo uniforms that mimicked the terrain. She was ready. Ready for anything.

But nobody ever came into her sights. Not one person, not one animal, not even a bird. Nothing.

The dream usually ended.

There was a variant: too many people to kill, too little time, too little ammunition. This 'too little' of everything was her worst fear. It made her fearful, made her prepare, haunted her dealings with people. Who was the next enemy? Where was the next target?

Mali didn't know.

Again, the dream would end.

Sometimes these dreams happened when she was sleeping. At other times, she was awake.

She took over the drive from Helena and north. Chuck and Neil were asleep in the car. Their soft breathing not different from the Shuttle or the ISS. A world away from her military life, away from all the death. They all had seen enough of that, though.

They were still asleep, as she drove up to the metal fence on a property way off of I-15, outside of Cut Bank. The gravel and dirt road was dry. The snows had retreated early. She put the engine in 'Park' and got out. It was silent, without the purr of the engine. The insects of summer still had months before they would be seen.

The dark immensity hit her as she stepped out. Her ears picked up distant barking.

She spied the call box on the gate post and pressed the red button. Pressed it a couple times in a specific pattern. Waited two minutes, then did it again.

Heard Chuck and Neil stir and wake up. Heard the passenger door open.

"Stay in the car. There are guard dogs here. They'll tear your face off if you aren't introduced."

Mali cautioned. The barks drew closer. Eyes, illumined in the headlights, bounded closer.

She calmly walked back and shut her driver's door.

The eyes turned into four German Shepherds. Even their teeth could be seen in the glow of the headlights. They barked and snarled at Mali. Retreated only a little as the gate swung open by electronic command. They then advanced slowly- a pack of seeming wolves at the lone human before them. Then- as if by a silent cue- things changed.

Chuck and Neil watched as nearly 750 pounds of four guard dogs went from snarling viciousness into frolicking puppies. Every one jumping and trying to playfully tackle Mali to the ground. She played with each one as they tried to lick her face.

They saw her stand up and her right arm shot out in front of her. The dogs bounded off into the dark as if on cue. Barking and announcing- in their fashion- of her arrival.

Mali walked back and got in the car. Got in.

"Gotta love military-trained animals."

Morning-

Chuck Taggart's hand flopped to the other side of the queen-size bed. While a nearly-unconscious move, he still became immediately aware that there was no body that he hit. He heard distant pops through the log walls and glass windows of the 'guest cabin' Mali's friends had guided them to in the deep dark last night. Still, recalled the panting of the German Shepherds that kept pace with them as they hauled their duffles and came into this small, musty, but warm venue. It didn't take long for Taggart to sink into the bed in an oddly deep sleep.

Neil's bed was off on the other side of the building. Its rumpled, unmade condition saying that the kid was already up and about. Probably with Mali. They both had left him to sleep.

It let Taggart know exactly how old he was getting.

As he sat up and rubbed his eyes, the grim face of Mali's friend- Hutchins- came to him out of memory. The man might have been pleased to see her, but didn't seem to feel the same for him. Not that it could be considered a surprise. Most males felt rivalry when there were females involved. It was something Chuck Taggart knew how to wrangle with.

He heard more pops and looked at an ancient, plastic, battery-powered alarm clock. The thing looked to be from about the 70s. It was 10:10 in the morning.

Chuck Taggart got up and grabbed a pair of jeans to pull over his boxers. The pops- which he now knew to be gunfire- were not too far-off.

Mali lowered the monocular from her eyes and gave a nod to Hutchins. She watched Neil chamber another round into the hunting rifle and settle for another shot. Her ears picked up the sound of footsteps and heard Flanders' Montana drawl like a bell

"'Bout time you woke up, spaceboy!"

She turned to see Chuck crack a smile at Flanders. The white-haired vet seemed to take a shine to Taggart almost immediately. Chuck's being Texan and Flanders feeling a 'cowboy' kinship with a far-south variation made them both warm to each other. Mali turned her sight and raised the monocular back to Neil's next shot.

The four of them watched Neil send off another shot. A white puff off smoke hit the dirt berm.

"What the fuck was that? Lose your focus?"

Hutchins jabbed.

"Hey, I don't do this for a living."

Neil shot back.

"True. Seems when your Dad shows, you choke."

Hutchins retorted.

"You are asking me to hit a target that has moved to nearly a mile off, Sergeant."

Neil said, trying not to grimace at Hutchins comment about his 'choking' when his father came into range.

"Distance doesn't have a fucking thing to do with it."

Hutchins said. He watched Mali come forward, handing off the glasses to him.

"You lost focus. No matter if a space alien pops on your six and is set to zap your ass, you stay on-target. You were shooting good enough to hit a nearly mile-distant shot before."

Mali's hands gestured for the rifle. Neil rolled on the ground to look up at her.

He handed the rifle off and saw her unlock the scope and hand it off to Hutchins.

Neil turned and walked back to his Dad. They both stood back. He made a comment to his father.

"They're hard-core on this stuff."

"Its their job."

Chuck commented dryly. Looked at Neil. Despite the criticism, his son seemed to take things well. He doubted the men would jab on him out of spite. He'd been around enough military to know the difference between ripping a new one on somebody and when they were giving advice. Neil had been getting sincere advice, even if a bit hard to hear.

"How was your shooting?"

Neil shrugged his shoulders, but got a reassuring pat from Flanders. The man stepped up beside them.

"Your boy isn't bad at all. If he joins a branch, it'll sharpen him good. He's got a good, natural eye."

Flanders commented, spitting out a squirt of tobacco juice into the hard dirt of the range.

"Just needs a little training."

They watched Mali sit on the ground and cradle the gun into her favorite, seated position.

It seemed only a brief moment before she sighted on the weapon's hard sights and the rifle barked. The weapon didn't even seem to rock her at all. Nor did she seem to wince at the impact on a shoulder that had taken rounds only a month or two ago. That fact made Taggart curious.

"Nice!"

Hutchins commented, the glasses up at his eyes.

Taggart watched her cycle the weapon and raised the glasses to sight in the target.

Another crack and a hole appeared a fraction away from the last shot. He heard the rifle cycle again, another shot and a third joined the pair. The tight cluster was now there. He stifled the chill that went through him. It brought back memories of Penny and Mark getting shot at Trinity River. Tore his sight from the holes in the target paper.

He lowered the glasses and saw Mali rise up to her feet.

She looked at Neil, then at him. Walked up to him, slinging the rifle across her back.

"You're up."

"I am."

Chuck saw her step forward and gave him a quick peck on the lips. Would have liked more of it, if the crowd wasn't around.

"Good. Let's get breakfast. After four hours out here, I'm starving."

"Honestly, I don't know how Connie will take it. Silver City really drove her to the brink. She's not the kind of woman who likes upheaval at every turn."

Hutchins picked up a stone and lopped it off the edge of the cliff. Below them, a silver-tinged river snaked its way southward, into Montana.

Mali listened to the horses grazing behind them. John's whole situation was growing more confining to him. She felt it acutely.

"Have you thought about re-upping?"

"That's the last, fucking thing she'd dig. I'd be divorced for sure."

"Divorce, or your life. These fucks don't play around military sandboxes. Such has been my experience."

"They only fucking come after you in NASA!"

Hutchins barked. More out of anger and confusion at his situation than at her.

"Yes they do. However, I'm part of a group they have learned to stay back from."

Mali watched John snort.

"Your 'flyboy' covered by this 'group' too?"

"Chuck? Yes, him and his son."

Mali knew better than to give in to John's baiting her about Taggart. There had always been a tension between them. Of course, before he'd married Connie, the advances had been made- and rebuffed. Not unkindly, but enough to say that Mali wasn't up for a relationship. Especially one that might well kill her ability to be a sniper. Close relationships usually meant one party had to transfer elsewhere. To avoid the inevitable 'conflict of interest'.

"You actually like that guy?"

"Commander Taggart is as stand-up as any man I could ask for. The fact that we both have experience with the Plastics makes things even more close between us. Yes, I actually do 'like that guy'."

Hutchins smirked. It faded a little as he seemed to recall something else.

"You haven't had anybody for the longest time. Especially after you went into NASA. We were all shocked when you made astronaut. Especially the late-Colonel Davis. Christ, he was pissed off."

"The man who tried to rape me back in the late-80s 'pissed'? I hadn't heard this one."

"He thought you were getting too out-of-your-league going there. Blackie told me that Davis had friends in the Agency. He tried to work you out of the Astronaut Corps by way of them. Once you made it onto the Shuttle, he knew he was fucked. Of course, it didn't help that somebody casually informed his wife of his 'undue interest' in you."

Mali almost laughed at John's words.

"Ah, the glares at Silver City wasn't just due to my spinsterhood?"

"Afraid not. Hell, all those bitches had their own bun-ons, even ancient ones. Their sewing circle made up all sorts of tales of who you were, and were not, fucking. You should have heard some of the stuff Connie told me through the years. Its why she dropped out of the annual 'Girl's Getaway'. There was also the fact they were getting too-expensive and too many other wives were joining on. Mostly officers' wives from units Connie knew were not around ours."

"Wasn't the last one on a cruise ship?"

"Yeah. They made a point of trying to see who could fuck their way up the chain of ship's officers. One 'lady', who will remain anonymous, made it to the Second Officer. She later came up with an interesting case of uterine cargo. Take an educated guess."

Now Mali did laugh. An unplanned pregnancy out of women who prided themselves on being paragons of virtue and dutiful wives to their husbands? Everything Mali wasn't- to them.

"I would have loved to hear the debrief on that one!"

"Yep. The Old Colonel was none-too-pleased. She had to go to an overseas clinic to get 'cured' of her ailment. It was worried that word might spill here. "

Recovering from the laughter, Mali eyed the horses to see their position, then turned back to John.

"Kinda sick, at this time, given what's happened. Still, things work out."

John looked over the lands that stretched north into Canada.

"Fowler's working on me getting away from harm. I don't know if Connie will follow, or not."

"You got whatever funds you need. Lord knows, there's plenty of them."

"I'd hate to think I'd be using it all, though. The guys didn't leave it so I could go on perpetual easy-street."

"They 'left it' so we'd never be on the street and living out of a box, John. You know, there's a few, good employers down in Dallas and Houston. T.K. might be able to help with leads, if you want me to let him know. I also got friends elsewhere."

"You know I don't get into the computer shit. Not like Steve used to."

"A man with your chemical expertise would never be lacking in avenues of employment. Give it a thought. It is a chance to start again."

"And what of our 'mutual friends'? They would not notice?"

"Our 'mutual friends' will have their own worries quite soon. Very major worries."

Mali said cryptically. She got to her feet and went over to grab the reins of her mount. The blood bay gelding snuffled her shirt and got grass spit on it. The 'Hive' had yet to be cleaned of its occupants.

"Thank for the baptism, Fernando."

"He goober you?"

John said.

"True to what was said."

What was mentioned as 'major worries' was never hinted at again. The two simply mounted up and rode back to the Fowler ranch house, before the cast-iron dinner bell rung out to even the far-corners of the 'Triple F' Ranch and announced dinner.

Outer Mongolia

The night was already gathering as the little girl looked up at the stars.

Her dark eyes could pick out many in the clear air of the steppes. The pollution of great cities like Ulaan Baatar were not seen out here. Except, perhaps, in winter when the air was cold and heavy. Spring winds had cleared out the winter chill and haze.

The girl heard another cry emit from her mother. The ger seemed far-away, but the voice carried. It was no secret to the girl as to where her sibling would come from. She'd seen enough sheep and horses mate to know what her father and mother did nearly a year ago was no different. She would have a tiny brother or sister before the night was through.

The little girl, who was only five or so, yawned and wished she could go to her bed and sleep. She also knew that the light, smells, and noise would keep her awake. She heard her mother give another breathy scream and heard the coaching voice of the midwife.

The little girl kicked at a stone, then made her way to a small, two-wheeled cart. Tiredness was getting the better of her. Rather than sleep on the cold, hard ground, she clambered into the cart and laid down. Her mother might scream all night in labor pains before she squirted her sibling into the world. Her father was busy drinking airag with his friends in another ger.

There was little doubt she might be able to sleep under the stars until the morning sun.

None of them would recall that she existed until tomorrow woke them once more.

The midwife choked back amazement when the crown of the baby's head turned into an entire, tiny human being coming into the world. She had never seen such a bloodless birth.

Most women cracked open like a bloody fruit when they pushed a baby out. Not so here.

This woman only seemed to have a clear and whitish discharge. The baby was covered in this and was very pale.

The mother's huge, distended stomach quivered with the strain. After a while, it would push out the placenta and things could begin to get cleaned up.

Grabbing the small boy by its feet, she slapped its rear and used her free hand to clear out its mouth of mucus. She was rewarded by a hearty squall and a huge sigh of relief from the mother before the woman slid into a doze. The baby's flesh turned pinkish in the smoky air of the ger.

She went to wash the newborn in a basin of warm water when the door opened and the woman's husband came in, followed by the proud, new father.

"You have a son, Batbayar!"

The midwife's husband clapped the twenty-something man on his shoulders. Both were so loaded with airag that she doubted they were even aware of much.

The midwife wrapped the baby into a light blanket and exposed one of the mother's breasts for it to suckle at. The baby needed no encouragement as to how to feed and became an automatic machine of feeding after a minute.

Among all of this, none of them was even aware of the other people who emerged out of the night. Surely, would have little noted the weapons they carried and the hushed, foreign tongue they spoke. That they approached the ger and the weapons came out.

It was easy to appear to be other than what one was in the wild outback of Mongolia.

The little girl was awoken by muffled gunshots.

The sound was little different than what she sometimes heard when animals were killed. Her uncle liked to kill marmots to roast. She recalled the fatty, gamey meat with pleasure.

As she opened her eyes, she saw that it was still deep night. She wanted to go to the ger, but something told her to stay put. She heard muffled voices now. Voices not at all like those of her family and the midwife and her husband. The girl peered over the side of the cart. She saw the ger's door swing open and three people emerged. One held a tiny baby by its feet. It was dead. Its blood, like hers, dripped oozy white onto the ground. The girl tried hard to not scream. She knew where her uncle lived and would have to get to him.

Huddled in the corner of the cart, she heard the distant sound of an engine start up. It moved off after a few minutes.

The girl found no energy to move for some time. It was only later that she would even venture to the ger. Back to what had dead bodies that bled both red and white.

Kabul, Afghanistan

General Pierce read the morning report and wondered at what was being brought back.

It was rumored that Synths had finally found the means to procreate. The long-lost science-project that the Soviet space program had tinkered with [nevermind the bastard who had taken a 'moon rock' long ago to Mother Russia] finally bore its fruit in Mongolia.

He shut his laptop as the military plane descended into the troubled skies of Afghanistan.

Arrangements had been made. He would take possession of the baby corpse for its trip back to the States for dissection. No doubt, the white coats would be full of joy at finding out exactly how Synths had found the means to procreate themselves. It was the type of leap seldom seen in artificial constructs. It also was a frightening development for a species that had an ultimate goal of supplanting all, organic, human life on Earth.

General Pierce knew better than to underestimate the enemy. Especially one that flitted on the fringe of human society. Much like the Taliban that the Army was now trying to wipe from this beleaguered country.

North Texas

Mali couldn't claim to be unhappy about seeing Texas again. Or in seeing its welcome, happy sign that marked the border of it. She didn't even think Hodge might be so seriously pissed. Then again- she might well be wrong about that.

As it was, the trio was making its way back to Houston. What waited was little more than the same thing they'd left- jobs, school, and training. Her shoulder twanged every now and then, but it was quite functional. 'Star City' loomed on the horizon. As did a trip to Asia to take care of a delayed matter. There was no avoidance of that

Chuck's mind, however, ran with different thoughts. Certainly not thoughts about a return to 'life as normal'- though he knew what was waiting for him with his group of 'newbienauts'. He wondered at Mali's ability to shoot like he'd seen up in Montana. That, for all her injuries, she was still able to work with that weapon and not show much pain. There was also a thought that had germinated in his mind as well on that Montana ranch. One never entertained- except with Paige. Whatever else might be there where Malinda Flynn was concerned, Chuck Taggart knew well what he'd like to keep around him.

Neil Taggart sat in the back seat and wondered if a letter from NASA might be in the mailbox at home. His whole future- and the Odyssey'- rested on finding out what that small bit of dried, tree-pulp and ink had to say. For all its advances, NASA still had its traditions.

All of them were now going back to what had been left. The only question was what would be facing them that was new.