What If Lt. Razak Had Been Crippled, Not Killed?
Pain shot through Jean's back. His mind was hazy, and he didn't know where he was. He forced his eyes open and cast a bleary glance around the room. Four stark white walls stared blandly back at him. He tried to lift his arms to prop himself up better, but one arm fell short. He looked down to discover that his prostatic hand was missing.
His mind was starting to clear some, but he still did not know where he was. The last thing he remembered was reaching out for a hand, grasping desperately for Johnny's hand. Johnny! What had happened? He remembered now, his fake hand failing him in his moment of need, Johnny's defeated look as he gripped the useless appendage, watching his LT fall beneath the surface of the water in the San Francisco Bay. After that, Jean's mind drew a blank. Where was he? How long had he been here? The thoughts seemed to heavy for his mind to support, and the clean white walls disappeared into the thick blackness of unconsciousness.
"Doc! I think he is coming around!" Jean could hear the words deep in his brain, and forced himself to recognize the sounds. He pushed his eyes open with great effort. The first thing he saw was the concerned eyes of a young woman. "Doc! He's awake!" The girl practically squealed. Recognition hit Jean.
"Hello, Dizzy." His voice sounded harsh and gravely to his ears, and his throat felt cracked and dry. He tried to clear his throat, but a man approached him first.
"Wait, LT! Here, drink some water." Jean recognized the voice of Doc Lecroix. As soon as he could speak, he addressed him.
"How am I doing, Doc? Ready to lead today's mission?" he joked.
A worried look crossed Doc's eyes. "Not quite, LT. You are in a hospital. The squad got twenty-four hours of R and R, so we came terra-side to see you. We didn't expect to be able to talk to you, though. You have been out for a month."
Razak's face drained. "A month?"
"Yes, Sir." Doc hesitated before continuing. "Things have changed quite a bit, Sir."
Razak nodded. "Tell me," he ordered.
Doc looked to Dizzy for help. Dizzy grimaced at him and backed up a few steps, so Doc sighed and turned back to Razak. "Of course, with you out of commission, we have been under new leadership. The Roughnecks are now referred to as..." he hesitated before continuing, "Rico's Roughnecks."
A thoughtful look came over Jean Razak's face. "He is a good boy," he muttered thoughtfully. "he deserves to lead." He turned back to Doc. "I couldn't have picked a better man myself to be in charge in my absence."
Doc cleared his throat uncomfortably. "That's not all, Sir. You have been down for a long time. Sicon thought it best-- I mean, they felt that-- well--"
"Spit it out, Lecroix!" Razak demanded.
"You've been honorably discharged from the Mobile Infantry, Mr. Razak." The words fell over each other in their haste to exit, but the meaning came over loud and clear. Razak sat in a stunned silence for a long moment.
"Discharged?" Jean felt the need to make sure.
"Yes, Sir." Doc's voice was low. Razak's head was spinning. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to make since of his new circumstances. Finally he opened his eyes. Dizzy and Doc where both leaning over him, concern written on their faces.
"It's ok," He assured them, "I'll work it out. If I have to start from private again, I will. The MI is my life."
If possible, the Doc's eyes grew even darker. "It's not that easy, Sir," he whispered.
"Well, why not?" Razak countered.
"This is why." Doc moved to reveal a machine at the foot of Razak's bed leading up to his legs. For the first time, Jean noticed the wires wrapped around them, twining their way up to the base of his back, where they disappeared from his view. He tried to wiggle his legs around to where he could see better, but the truth hit him just as Doc spoke those life changing words. "You are crippled."
The next week passed in some state of unbelief for Jean. Too much had happened for him to comprehend. His mind rebelled against the fact that he was crippled, he felt sure that there had been some mistake in the tests. He had to walk again!
No matter how much he wished for it, though, it didn't change the truth. He was a cripple. The day that he had finally admitted the fact to himself was the day another bombshell hit in the form of a visit from an old friend.
"Jean? Are you awake?" The voice was barely a whisper, but Razak's fine tuned nerves where alert the second after the voice reached out to him.
"Yes."
"Good. I received a day of leave, and wanted to see you."
Silence reigned for a moment before Razak answered. "Thanks."
Quiet again invaded, and the visitor waited for a long moment before admitting temporarily defeat and retreating silently from the room with only a goodbye.
Jean waited until the footsteps had disappeared down the hall before forcing his body to turn and burying first his fist, then his face, in his pillow. He gritted his teeth against the luxury of tears. He had just sent away his dearest friend. The friend who, though surpassing him at every turn, had remained faithful. The friend that knew his heart and soul. The wonderful, beautiful, General Miriam Redwing.
Jean learned to live without the use of his legs, slowly but surely. Several times he was visited by his close friend Sargent Zim, but Miriam did not return. Jean was glad. He was not sure that he would be able to appropriately explain his actions in the hospital. He and Miriam had always been close. He had once considered proposing to her-- then she got promoted. It had been a hard blow to his pride to salute his girlfriend, but he had been working through it when operation pest control had claimed his right hand. After that, it seemed to him that their worlds were to far apart for him to even consider pursuing a relationship. He had not seen her for several years when he had been drafted back into the M.I.
Jean shook his thoughts from his head as the doorbell to his small apartment rang. "Door's open!" he called out. He could hear the door creak open, and a few moments later, Johnny Rico was standing before him.
"Hello, Sir." Johnny greeted him.
"Enough with the 'sir', Johnny. I'm not you superior anymore." Razak gruffly reminded him. He was sorry for his tone immediately. "Sit down, Johnny," he said in a quieter voice.
"You where 'sir' to me long before you were my commander, Mr. Razak. Remember, I was in your class in high school." Johnny took the offered seat.
"So you where," Jean commented. "You and Carl and Dizzy. The terrible three. How are those two doing, these days? I haven't seen them since they came by the hospital."
Rico cleared his throat. "Well, Sir, I guess they are fine."
"Aren't they still with the Roughnecks?" Jean was alarmed.
"Yes," Johnny reassured him. "but, well, things have changed."
"What do you mean? You three where inseperatable."
"That was before. We are just, well, going our own ways, now. We are sill friends," Rico rushed to add, "but, well,"
"You've been saying that a lot, Johnny," Razak admonished him. "Tell me what is going on. That was all Johnny needed. The floodgates opened, and words tumbled out.
"Ever since I became a Lt, things have just changed. It's not the three privates who grew up together anymore. I know that things have to change, but Dizzy is completely ignoring me, Carl is spending more and more time with the guys from Special Forces, and he never talks anymore. I think that his whole psychic thing is getting to him, but he never will say anything. The rest of the squad are taking my leadership ok, but I'm worried about Gossard. After all, this is twice now that he has been passed up for a promotion, and he has much more experience than I do. We got a new boy to fill the ranks. His name is Max-- he is Brutto's son. He has a major additude problem, and I'm worried he will cause trouble. The rest of the squad aren't buying into his act, but I'm not sure what will happen when he is under pressure. Then there is the new Sargent, Zim. He was my Sarge in Boot! It is almost impossible for me not to call him sir, much less give him orders..."
"Stop!"
Rico jolted to a halt at the command. He looked at Razak for a reason, but the older man was fighting to hold back laughter. "I don't think this is funny, LT! I came here for help!" The old nickname slipped out. Johnny looked so wounded, it took a few moments for Razak to finally stop laughing.
"First of all, Zim requested to have you as his commander. He is an old friend of mine and I kept him up to date on you through the whole campaign. He just visited me and told me that you where doing great. Next, I've met Max. He is just like his dad was when he was that age. Keep a sharp eye on him and make him toe the line, and he will be one of your best soldiers. Gossard was in line for your promotion-- he passed it up. He said it would be an honor to serve under you. The reason he never made Sargent before was simply he doesn't have the leadership skills it takes. He's a great soldier, but he wasn't meant to be a paper pusher." Razak took a deep breath. "Now, what about your friends? There is no reason for them to resent your promotion."
"They don't resent it, I don't think," Rico said thoughtfully, "they just don't know what to do about it. We are just going three different directions now."
"Son, don't lose your friends over your job." Razak gave him a pointed look. "No promotion's worth that."
Rico left a few minutes later, leaving Razak to think over his own advice. He picked up an old photo of three young people just out of boot. They where smiling and waving their hands in victory. Him, Zim, and Miriam. He remembered when they had chosen different paths. Miriam was quickly climbing the ranks, Zim took over a boot camp, and he had mustered out and taken a job teaching. Three different directions. He had chosen, not his job over his friends, but his pride. They had been doing what he loved, and he was teaching.
Jean let out a heartfelt sigh. If he could do it over... but you can't do it over. Just go on.
Pain shot through Jean's back. His mind was hazy, and he didn't know where he was. He forced his eyes open and cast a bleary glance around the room. Four stark white walls stared blandly back at him. He tried to lift his arms to prop himself up better, but one arm fell short. He looked down to discover that his prostatic hand was missing.
His mind was starting to clear some, but he still did not know where he was. The last thing he remembered was reaching out for a hand, grasping desperately for Johnny's hand. Johnny! What had happened? He remembered now, his fake hand failing him in his moment of need, Johnny's defeated look as he gripped the useless appendage, watching his LT fall beneath the surface of the water in the San Francisco Bay. After that, Jean's mind drew a blank. Where was he? How long had he been here? The thoughts seemed to heavy for his mind to support, and the clean white walls disappeared into the thick blackness of unconsciousness.
"Doc! I think he is coming around!" Jean could hear the words deep in his brain, and forced himself to recognize the sounds. He pushed his eyes open with great effort. The first thing he saw was the concerned eyes of a young woman. "Doc! He's awake!" The girl practically squealed. Recognition hit Jean.
"Hello, Dizzy." His voice sounded harsh and gravely to his ears, and his throat felt cracked and dry. He tried to clear his throat, but a man approached him first.
"Wait, LT! Here, drink some water." Jean recognized the voice of Doc Lecroix. As soon as he could speak, he addressed him.
"How am I doing, Doc? Ready to lead today's mission?" he joked.
A worried look crossed Doc's eyes. "Not quite, LT. You are in a hospital. The squad got twenty-four hours of R and R, so we came terra-side to see you. We didn't expect to be able to talk to you, though. You have been out for a month."
Razak's face drained. "A month?"
"Yes, Sir." Doc hesitated before continuing. "Things have changed quite a bit, Sir."
Razak nodded. "Tell me," he ordered.
Doc looked to Dizzy for help. Dizzy grimaced at him and backed up a few steps, so Doc sighed and turned back to Razak. "Of course, with you out of commission, we have been under new leadership. The Roughnecks are now referred to as..." he hesitated before continuing, "Rico's Roughnecks."
A thoughtful look came over Jean Razak's face. "He is a good boy," he muttered thoughtfully. "he deserves to lead." He turned back to Doc. "I couldn't have picked a better man myself to be in charge in my absence."
Doc cleared his throat uncomfortably. "That's not all, Sir. You have been down for a long time. Sicon thought it best-- I mean, they felt that-- well--"
"Spit it out, Lecroix!" Razak demanded.
"You've been honorably discharged from the Mobile Infantry, Mr. Razak." The words fell over each other in their haste to exit, but the meaning came over loud and clear. Razak sat in a stunned silence for a long moment.
"Discharged?" Jean felt the need to make sure.
"Yes, Sir." Doc's voice was low. Razak's head was spinning. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to make since of his new circumstances. Finally he opened his eyes. Dizzy and Doc where both leaning over him, concern written on their faces.
"It's ok," He assured them, "I'll work it out. If I have to start from private again, I will. The MI is my life."
If possible, the Doc's eyes grew even darker. "It's not that easy, Sir," he whispered.
"Well, why not?" Razak countered.
"This is why." Doc moved to reveal a machine at the foot of Razak's bed leading up to his legs. For the first time, Jean noticed the wires wrapped around them, twining their way up to the base of his back, where they disappeared from his view. He tried to wiggle his legs around to where he could see better, but the truth hit him just as Doc spoke those life changing words. "You are crippled."
The next week passed in some state of unbelief for Jean. Too much had happened for him to comprehend. His mind rebelled against the fact that he was crippled, he felt sure that there had been some mistake in the tests. He had to walk again!
No matter how much he wished for it, though, it didn't change the truth. He was a cripple. The day that he had finally admitted the fact to himself was the day another bombshell hit in the form of a visit from an old friend.
"Jean? Are you awake?" The voice was barely a whisper, but Razak's fine tuned nerves where alert the second after the voice reached out to him.
"Yes."
"Good. I received a day of leave, and wanted to see you."
Silence reigned for a moment before Razak answered. "Thanks."
Quiet again invaded, and the visitor waited for a long moment before admitting temporarily defeat and retreating silently from the room with only a goodbye.
Jean waited until the footsteps had disappeared down the hall before forcing his body to turn and burying first his fist, then his face, in his pillow. He gritted his teeth against the luxury of tears. He had just sent away his dearest friend. The friend who, though surpassing him at every turn, had remained faithful. The friend that knew his heart and soul. The wonderful, beautiful, General Miriam Redwing.
Jean learned to live without the use of his legs, slowly but surely. Several times he was visited by his close friend Sargent Zim, but Miriam did not return. Jean was glad. He was not sure that he would be able to appropriately explain his actions in the hospital. He and Miriam had always been close. He had once considered proposing to her-- then she got promoted. It had been a hard blow to his pride to salute his girlfriend, but he had been working through it when operation pest control had claimed his right hand. After that, it seemed to him that their worlds were to far apart for him to even consider pursuing a relationship. He had not seen her for several years when he had been drafted back into the M.I.
Jean shook his thoughts from his head as the doorbell to his small apartment rang. "Door's open!" he called out. He could hear the door creak open, and a few moments later, Johnny Rico was standing before him.
"Hello, Sir." Johnny greeted him.
"Enough with the 'sir', Johnny. I'm not you superior anymore." Razak gruffly reminded him. He was sorry for his tone immediately. "Sit down, Johnny," he said in a quieter voice.
"You where 'sir' to me long before you were my commander, Mr. Razak. Remember, I was in your class in high school." Johnny took the offered seat.
"So you where," Jean commented. "You and Carl and Dizzy. The terrible three. How are those two doing, these days? I haven't seen them since they came by the hospital."
Rico cleared his throat. "Well, Sir, I guess they are fine."
"Aren't they still with the Roughnecks?" Jean was alarmed.
"Yes," Johnny reassured him. "but, well, things have changed."
"What do you mean? You three where inseperatable."
"That was before. We are just, well, going our own ways, now. We are sill friends," Rico rushed to add, "but, well,"
"You've been saying that a lot, Johnny," Razak admonished him. "Tell me what is going on. That was all Johnny needed. The floodgates opened, and words tumbled out.
"Ever since I became a Lt, things have just changed. It's not the three privates who grew up together anymore. I know that things have to change, but Dizzy is completely ignoring me, Carl is spending more and more time with the guys from Special Forces, and he never talks anymore. I think that his whole psychic thing is getting to him, but he never will say anything. The rest of the squad are taking my leadership ok, but I'm worried about Gossard. After all, this is twice now that he has been passed up for a promotion, and he has much more experience than I do. We got a new boy to fill the ranks. His name is Max-- he is Brutto's son. He has a major additude problem, and I'm worried he will cause trouble. The rest of the squad aren't buying into his act, but I'm not sure what will happen when he is under pressure. Then there is the new Sargent, Zim. He was my Sarge in Boot! It is almost impossible for me not to call him sir, much less give him orders..."
"Stop!"
Rico jolted to a halt at the command. He looked at Razak for a reason, but the older man was fighting to hold back laughter. "I don't think this is funny, LT! I came here for help!" The old nickname slipped out. Johnny looked so wounded, it took a few moments for Razak to finally stop laughing.
"First of all, Zim requested to have you as his commander. He is an old friend of mine and I kept him up to date on you through the whole campaign. He just visited me and told me that you where doing great. Next, I've met Max. He is just like his dad was when he was that age. Keep a sharp eye on him and make him toe the line, and he will be one of your best soldiers. Gossard was in line for your promotion-- he passed it up. He said it would be an honor to serve under you. The reason he never made Sargent before was simply he doesn't have the leadership skills it takes. He's a great soldier, but he wasn't meant to be a paper pusher." Razak took a deep breath. "Now, what about your friends? There is no reason for them to resent your promotion."
"They don't resent it, I don't think," Rico said thoughtfully, "they just don't know what to do about it. We are just going three different directions now."
"Son, don't lose your friends over your job." Razak gave him a pointed look. "No promotion's worth that."
Rico left a few minutes later, leaving Razak to think over his own advice. He picked up an old photo of three young people just out of boot. They where smiling and waving their hands in victory. Him, Zim, and Miriam. He remembered when they had chosen different paths. Miriam was quickly climbing the ranks, Zim took over a boot camp, and he had mustered out and taken a job teaching. Three different directions. He had chosen, not his job over his friends, but his pride. They had been doing what he loved, and he was teaching.
Jean let out a heartfelt sigh. If he could do it over... but you can't do it over. Just go on.