Title: I'll Return…..Someday: Chapter 1
Author: JadeHeart
Located/Archived: Found on If anyone would like it, please ask me first!
Fandom: Space: Above & Beyond
Rating: M
Created: December 2005
Warnings: violence, angst,
Timeline: Not sure exactly when. Just somewhere in the middle of the season I guess.
Characters: Wildcards/McQueen/Kitra and a cast other OCs)
Summary: Love finds the battlefield a difficult place to bloom, and the machine of war will most likely crush such a flower beneath its wheels.
Author's NotesA friend of mine was recently overjoyed to get this series on DVD as he thought it was great. That meant that I have been subjected to watching various episodes through the season. It's not that I dislike it, but I just never paid much attention to it as a programme previously. However, I began to get a few ideas and decided to try and write something relating to it, to see how it might turn out, although I'm not good at 'military speak' or anything like that. I am more than happy to hear readers' thoughts on it, if you think I managed to keep the individuals in character, or even if it just doesn't do the series justice at all.
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, they belong to the creators of 'Space: Above & Beyond', nor am I making any profits from this.
Chapter 1
The ground seemed to rise on its own, until two eyes gleamed in the darkness. A hand was raised and pumped once, then swung horizontally to the right. Two more mounds rose and slipped off in that direction. After a few moments one returned, beckoning, and four more rose and followed. Keeping to the shadows the seven figures moved silently through the darkness, barely a leaf stirring at their passing. Guns were held at the ready and eyes peered through the darkness, whilst ears strained to catch the slightest sound. A number of times they would stop, almost as though controlled by one mind. They would wait, poised for action, and then carefully move forward again.
Suddenly, some distance behind them, three fireballs erupted into the night, and the loud 'whump' of the explosions reached them. As if that was the awaited signal, the seven people threw caution to the wind and ran for their lives towards a dark, bulky shape in the distance.
Reaching their ship, two flung themselves inside as soon as the door was open wide enough to allow passage, whist the rest yanked the camouflage netting from the craft and quickly piled in after. As the last one entered and the door snapped shut, the engines were lifting the ship from the ground.
Speeding towards space, they strapped themselves into their positions. It was going to be touch and go. They had been able to slip past the patrols when coming in stealthily, but now those same ships would be on the alert, and they would have to be very lucky to get by unscathed. Sure enough their ship rocked with the concussion blasts of the Chigs' fire. There was little talk, except for called orders here and there. Every person knew their job too well to warrant unnecessary chatter. Finally they managed to outrun their pursuers, with luck and more importantly, skill.
"What's the damage?" Kitra said, unbuckling and standing up, making her way towards the back.
Van looked up. "Shields are barely holding. If we run up against any more we've had it."
"A certainty?"
"A pretty good possibility."
She nodded, eyes running over lights and dials. "What about the rest?"
"Communications has been damaged, we've got a slight time delay. Shouldn't be a problem. The rest is the usual."
"Fine. Get on to what you can. Shields are priority." She turned to the others. "The rest of you, strip off and clean up."
For the next two hours they worked. Most of the minor damage was able to be repaired immediately. Some would have to wait till they found a safe haven. They studied the information banks to find such a place.
"This has just come through." Van said, tapping the screen before him. "I've got word that the 'Saratoga' is in this sector. We've been advised to contact them and get repairs. Orders will come through there."
"Suits me. Be good to get off this bucket of bolts."
Soon the "Saratoga" came on the detector screen. "There she is." Van said, staring out into space.
"Fire up the com." Kitra said, leaning on the back of the seat. "Better let them know we're coming."
Just then the 'Saratoga's' hail reached them, and they prepared to answer.
"Our detectors have picked something up!"
"What is it?" the Commodore asked.
"I don't know. It doesn't fit the usual Chig ships, but they're not answering the hail."
"Then let's not take the chance. Fire a warning shot."
"Aye, aye!" The private fired as ordered.
"What the...!"
Kitra saw the light racing towards them in a blink of an eye before the impact. She was thrown backwards, to collide with the bulkhead solidly, catching a ringing blow on the back of the head that made her see stars and her vision faded in and out of blackness. She pushed herself upright, and back to the front.
"The bastards fired on us!" Flece shouted, as they all grabbed for hand holds and interior lights dimmed.
"Shields are down! We're losing the helm!" Van called across the erupting noise of electricals shorting and the emergency klaxon.
Kitra slammed the com button down, as sparks leapt across the control boards. Another hit and they were finished.
"What the hell are you doing, Saratoga!" she shouted at the top of her lungs, as the emergency repairs kicked in. "Most wait for a reply before they shoot you out of the sky!" She turned from the console "Shut that off!" she shouted, and the klaxon went mercifully silent. The emergency lighting and life support, mingled with smoke, made the surroundings looked ethereal.
There was a lengthy crackle and then finally a voice reached them. "Identify yourself."
"The guerrilla fighter, 'Predator'! We were told to dock with you! Now, are you going to let us on board since you've succeeded in blowing our flight controls into space particles?"
Another pause before a reply came through. "Docking procedures in place. You're clear to enter."
"You're going to have one hell of a repair bill!" was her parting shot, releasing the com and facing her tired crew. "Strap in and let's try and set us down in one piece." She strapped herself back into her seat.
Back on the 'Saratoga', the Commodore and private looked at each other in surprise. This was definitely not military procedures.
Colonel McQueen and the 58th were waiting at the docking bay. The crippled ship had limped into dock, listing badly, and they had been notified that the crew were coming up to this level via the lift. As the doors opened they were greeted by a very unusual group.
Five people stood in a diamond formation, each carrying weapons. The point was a young woman; hair very short at the front and sides, the rest hung in a long tail tied up at the back. A band was about her forehead, as was a headset. They all wore loose combat trousers and long boots, with only singlets. Every one of them was dirty and grimy, with sweat-marked clothes. Against the military crispness of the 58th, they looked like refugees. They warily stepped out, fanning out behind the girl in front, who was obviously their spokesperson.
McQueen stepped forward to meet them. As of yet he knew very little about these unexpected guests. During the docking process, he had placed a call through the data banks for information on the ship, 'Predator'. He now knew they held an unusual status with the army and were requested for special assignments. There was also a notation to all to provide whatever assistance was required. He would have to wait till later to get more details.
"Welcome to the 'Saratoga'."
"Some welcome!" the girl said sharply. "You've blown our guidance system completely, and every other system that was half way to being repaired has gone. You've just tripled our repair time! What do you think you were playing at?"
The Colonel wasn't the only one taken aback by this outburst.
"We followed normal military procedure. You did not respond to the hail, and so it was deemed you could be the enemy. A warning shot was fired."
"Your warning shot nearly blew us all to kingdom come." she replied, hefting her rifle onto her shoulder with ease. "We barely had any shields left. After that, we had none. If you had continued to follow your 'military procedures' and fired a second time we'd all be space dust."
"Without your identification call we could only make the assumption that you were hostile."
"Our com system had been damaged, along with just about everything else on the ship. That caused a time lag. We replied as soon as we received your hail. If you had checked your diagnostics better, you'd have picked up that we emitting enough strange readings to indicate that we could be badly damaged, which could slow things up. Brush up on your 'military procedures' for that one."
"Are you trying to tell me how to do my job?"
"Looks like someone has to. So far I wouldn't give you a glowing report!"
By this time, the 58th were becoming angry with her arrogance, even if the Colonel was showing little emotion.
West could hold his tongue no longer. "Military procedures keep you alive. If you bothered to follow any, you'd know that! What makes you think you can just come in here and speak like that to us? We could have been anyone, you wouldn't know. Our military procedures at least teach us not to take for granted that you're in friendly territory." he said, spurred by her disdain.
"Exactly. And you shouldn't assume that you know who you're meeting. I don't need military procedures to teach me that."
"You're the one at the disadvantage here!"
She raised an eyebrow. "You think so. If your military procedures are so good, then you shouldn't have made this mistake. Look behind you."
McQueen looked in her eyes and then glanced behind, as did the others. Two figures, dressed as she was, stood concealed against the bulkhead, weapons trained on the backs of the 58th. McQueen turned back and the girl smiled.
"I learnt long ago that you never put all your fighters in one place. No matter where you are. And you always have backup." She jerked her head and her two people moved forward to join them. "Now, have you got some people who can start repairs on our ship?"
McQueen pressed the intercom and called four engineers to the docking hanger. The girl indicated with her head again and two of her people moved back to the lift to return to the ship.
"I'll show you where you can clean up and get something to eat."
"That would be appreciated."
The 58th moved to one side as the motley group walked past.
Kitra watched the brief interplay from the door. She had given her people strict instructions that they were not to have anything to do with the personnel on this ship but for the bare necessities. This was difficult to do, as the 58th had obviously been assigned as their watchdogs. She could understand that duty, it was no less than she would have done had the positions been reversed, but the 58th were young and full of bravado, and her people were just the right sort for trouble to come to a boil. Van was currently in a war of words with the Asian boy. It was only words at this point, but she could see that it would come to blows within the next few moments.
Sure enough, the Asian swung at Van, who responded in kind. The corresponding team mates rushed forward to separate the combatants, whilst Kitra ran across the intervening space and forced herself between them as they were pulled apart.
"Enough!" she commanded, in a voice that demanded obedience.
The two combatants were released by their peers, but continued to glare at each other. Without another word, Kitra swung a backhanded blow and struck Van across the face, spinning him to the ground. She would brook no disobedience to her orders. Van knew this, and accepted the punishment. However the 58th looked on in amazement. This sort of harsh discipline was new to them.
"What ..." Wang began, when a second backhand blow knocked him to the ground.
"The orders, for both parties, were to cause no trouble." Kitra glared at them both, daring anyone in either group to make a move. "Remember that." and she turned and stalked out of the room.
Van got to his feet first and moved away with his peers. West helped Wang to his feet, where he stood rubbing his jaw, looking at the door Kitra had disappeared through.
"Man, can she punch!"
"That's one way to keep discipline." West said.
"I don't get it." Hawkes said. "Some of those people are obviously older than her, and the guys aren't exactly runts. Any of them would be able to knock her flat. How come she's the leader? And they put up with that sort of thing?"
Vansen shrugged. "Obviously they know something that we don't. Besides, she obviously keeps discipline pretty tight. And doesn't take arguments about it."
"You what!" Kitra said shocked. "You've got to be kidding! They're kids!"
"They are marines, and some of the best." McQueen said firmly.
"They are kids who are full of military procedures, and that's all! They don't know anything about our kind of fighting!"
"They have received training on guerrilla tactics. It will be up to you to use them in the best possible way. You've seen the orders. You need help on this one, and they are the best."
"Damn! This is the last time I let someone else pick my trouble spots and call the shots! Okay, we'll take them. But they had better be good, and they had better know how to take orders."
"Okay, that's the target. You know what to do." Her own people nodded and moved off, leaving the 58th there. She stood with her hands on her hips, examining them.
"I've got to take you along. I could do with the extra hands, but I'm going to make some things very clear right now, so listen up." She looked at each of them with her hard emerald-green eyes. "From this point on, I'm your commanding officer. I give an order, you obey it. Immediately, without question, no hesitation. On the trip down and back, you stay out of the way. My people know what they are doing, they don't need you getting in the way. You strap yourself in and you stay quiet until we touch down. Once down, if you don't know what to do, ask one of them and then do exactly what they say. Don't try to go up the chain of command. Consider every one of them as a higher ranking officer. So if they tell you to do something, do it. Let's move out!"
They were hitting the dirt, crawling along on their stomachs more often than not, as the firing was all around them. The ship wasn't far now but the Chigs had located them. Kitra was cursing under her breath. The 58th was good - in its own way- she didn't deny that, but they didn't have the skills her group did, and they had held them up and jeopardised their mission the entire time. Her orders and strategy was based on the skills and abilities of her people, and the 58th didn't fit into that. She ached with the knowledge that she had miscalculated.
She signalled the final rush. It was now or never. Her people were fanned out to try and offer smaller targets, the 58th tried to bunch together. Her people had been allocated 'buddies' in an attempt to provide support to the 58th personnel. Now they were putting her people in danger as well.
Damn them, she muttered to herself, as they rose to their feet and ran for the ship, firing as they went. Laser fire seared the ground around them, from the sides and back. Her group held a rear guard action, each taking turns to lay down a covering fire.
Damphousse ran forward and stumbled, going down. Rolling sideways she could see a Chig taking aim, when suddenly it blew apart and a hand yanked her to her feet, pushing her ahead. A flash of light and a grunt made her glance behind, and she saw the red-haired guerrilla go down, a gaping hole in her back. The Chig who had just fired, blew apart and another figure raced forward, grabbed his fallen comrade, throwing her over his shoulder, and pushing Damphousse forward again, screaming "Go, go!" as he turned to fire again.
.Kitra had seen her team-mate go down. She was always aware of where all of them were positioned. West and Hawkes were firing back at the Chigs, trying to slow them down, but had allowed themselves to be cut off. She cursed again, but continued to run and shoot. Everyone else had reached the ship, Van and West making a run for it, as Hawkes and Bel followed, still firing. A Chig lined them up in their sites. West saw it taking aim at Hawkes and shouted a warning, knowing he was too far away to do anything. As the shot was fired, Bel flung himself at Hawkes, knocking him to the ground and taking the full brunt of the blast in the chest. Van raced back, as Kitra and the others laid down a covering fire. Hawkes was pushed onwards, and Bel was thrown over Van's shoulder.
They piled into the ship as the engines wound up. Dana stood at the door, giving a helping hand to each one, and trying to prevent any further fatalities. Vansen's pack straps caught on the door and Dana had to drop her weapon to wrench them free, so the door could close. A last shot came straight through and caught her on the shoulder, spinning her to the floor. The door slammed shut as the ship flung itself skywards on as sharp an angle as it was capable of doing so. People and equipment lost their grip and rolled across the floor, being bumped and bruised as they went.
They reached the 'Saratoga' in short order, and it took them out of that sector quickly before pursuit could reach them. As the weary combatants came through the door, the Colonel greeted them. He noticed the dirt and grime, and the wounded Dana being helped.
"Well done. It's been verified that the complex is completely destroyed."
"Well done!" Kitra spat, pulling her headset off and flinging it to the floor. "I've got two dead and one wounded! And you say well done!" She was nearly shaking with rage, as she glared at him before turning to her wounded colleague and throwing an arm around her for support. "I am not taking your kids on the next run. Because I'm not going have a crew left if I do!" was her parting remark as she stormed away.
West and the others found Kitra and her crew in the ready room later on. They had all had the opportunity to clean up, but they still sported small injuries and were looking drained and tired. Kitra was drinking alone at a table and didn't look up as they approached.
"Um..." West hesitated, not knowing what to call her. They only knew her name, not her rank, and that seemed too familiar. Especially with what he wanted to say. He decided to just say what he had to. "We're sorry for what happened. It's different to what we were expecting."
"That's because you don't know anything about it." she replied, still without looking up, taking another sip of her drink. "Stick to the things you're good at, and leave the rest to those of us that know what we're doing. You kids should never have gone."
"Kids? You're about the same age as us." Vansen said.
Kitra looked up. "And I've done a hell of a lot more." she said and went back to drinking.
"Look, we're not some wet behind the ears kids!" West said sharply. "We're marines. We've been trained..."
"You've been trained for military procedures, and that's all!" Kitra said sharply, glaring up at them. "You don't know anything about the type of fighting we do! I don't try and tell you how to fly a hammerhead so don't try and tell me how to fight guerrilla warfare. My people died for you!"
"We didn't ask them to!" West shouted before he could think.
"Didn't ask us to?" one of Kitra's people stood up quickly, the chair falling over. He walked over to stand next to Kitra. "Is that all you can say! Flece and Bel are dead because they saved your necks instead of looking after themselves! And all you can say about it, is that you didn't ask them to!" His hands were clenched in fists at his side and the others of her group were now on their feet. The 58th knew there was a fight coming.
"Kez." Kitra said, putting an arm out, defusing the moment by that one word. Kez looked down at her and then turned away, moving back to his comrades, who also returned to their seats. The 58th were constantly amazed at how she was able to control a situation so completely.
"How many times do we have to say we're sorry?" West said in frustration.
She didn't look up. "Sorry won't bring his wife back."
"Wife?" Damphousse said falteringly.
Finally Kitra did look up at them, her face unreadable. "Most of us have close ties to each other, in some way. Now," she said, standing and facing them. "If you'll excuse us, we have our dead to mourn." She merely looked at them until they had no choice but to turn and leave. They could feel that their presence was most certainly not welcome.
"Oh, god!" Damphousse said, almost in tears. "That girl was his wife. He didn't do anything but pick her up and keep us going. Even after we got back he didn't seem to act any different, just went on with his job. Why did I fall! I should have been watching where I was going!"
"It's not your fault, Vanessa." Vansen said, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. "It could have been any of us. Or we could have been the ones dead."
"But we're not." West said quietly.
Kitra and her group were in the docking bay. They were dressed as they normally were, albeit that their clothes were clean. Before them were two small urns, holding the remains of their comrades. She and her people believed in cremation, not submitting the entire body to space. As one of her people intoned a short prayer, the 58th entered quietly. They were dressed in their best dress uniforms, and stood to attention at the back. The air lock door closed and the urns were jettisoned into space, opening to spread the ashes through the stars. The 58th saluted smartly in response.
Kitra's eyes locked with McQueen's for a moment. He of all of them could well understand what she was feeling at that moment. The pain any good commander felt when they lost one of their people. She gave a brief nod of her head, acknowledging their recognition of her fallen dead. She then turned her back on them all to look out the porthole, and her people silently filed out, with the 58th following. Hawkes looked back for a moment to see her still there, staring into the blackness of space, alone.