AUTHOR'S NOTES: Wow. I just started rolling with this story for some reason today, so here's another chapter. It's what the late and legendary Inu-Yasha fanfic writer Katherine Batey referred to as "terribly poignant and middle aged" (referring to her superb story "Rebound," not my story), but I hope that it resonates as being a commentary on getting older—something I've been feeling lately…
The point I'm trying to make here is that there is a definite gap between the "old heads," the veterans of the Sentinels and the Snowbirds who have been MechWarriors since the Fourth Succession War, and the "noobs," the people of Sheila's generation who are in their first war. They're two very different generations fighting two very different wars: the old heads have to learn new tricks, and the noobs have to learn as they go. There's a generational gap here, and one that maybe can't be closed. I've seen this echoed in conversations I have had with both Vietnam vets and guys returning from Iraq. Similar experiences, but yet not the same. I just hope it is poignant and not cliched.
The next three or four chapters to close out the story arc are going to be short vignettes, kind of a way to tie up loose ends and introduce plot points that will come up later. Not much action here, but I didn't want to have Sheila give her briefing and the Snowbirds head out the next chapter. From your comments, you've gotten to "know" these characters, so I wanted them to get a little air time too.
And because I haven't mentioned it in awhile: please note that my stories are definitely rated PG-13, maybe even R for profanity and implied sexual situations. War brings out the best and worst in people.
One final note: I am quite sure that Lifetime will still be around in a thousand years. Something so insidious and evil as the Lifetime Network simply won't die…
The first part of this story is somewhat humorous, while the second part is most certainly not. I'll write something funny next time to make up for it.
REVIEWER'S CORNER:
SulliMike: Heh. Yeah, they will…
FraserMage: Actually, you're confused, but I bear the blame for it. I hadn't emphasized as well as I should've in the tank crews' chapter that the Lynx is a hover APC of my own design. (The Canadian Army names their uparmored M113 APCs Lynxes, which is where I got the idea.) I actually designed the Lynx waaay back when I was playing Renegade Legion, and adopted it in Battletech before the LNX-9Q 'Mech came out. So the Lynxes in the Snowbird stories are hover APCs, which should clear up the confusion.
GreenKnight: I have indeed heard of Gene Valencia! You don't get much past an old Navy hand like my dad. BTW, you should be pleased to know that I included a certain Philippines dish in this chapter…and a certain Filipino guy I've been hearing so much about…
Panzerfaust: I initially thought about making Poulin a jerk, but decided that didn't contribute anything to the story. He evidently does survive Tamar, as he's still commanding the Tamar March's forces postwar, according to the Objective Raids sourcebook. As for Curaitis' "burn after reading" info, that's a great idea and I'll keep it in mind. The change of targets thing as well.
MUSIC CORNER: Certainly Rush's "Time Stand Still," and maybe "The Lonely Shepherd" by Zamfir (from the Kill Bill soundtrack).
Sentinels Officers Quarters, Sentinel Base Sudeten
Sudeten,Tamar March, Federated Commonwealth
10 October 3051
Marion Rhialla looked down at her plate. "Good God."
Catherine Houndlikov did the same. "Holy damn."
Elfa Brownoak put down her own plate and looked at them both. "What? Don't tell me you don't like chicken with adobo sauce."
"It's not that," Marion said, "it's just that there's so much of it."
Elfa shrugged. "Sorry. It's just that I've been cooking for myself and Tooriu lately, and he eats like a horse. And occasionally I have Sheila and Max over too…and you'd think for two skinny people like those two, they wouldn't eat much—but they can pack it away."
Marion and Catherine exchanged a glance, then both of them also shrugged and went to eating. "So," Marion said around a forkful of chicken, "where is your fuck buddy tonight?"
Elfa dropped her fork on her plate loudly and gave Marion a glare that would melt 'Mech armor. "Marion, shove it. I don't like you referring to Tooriu like that. We're a lot closer than just screwing around. Yes, he lives with me. Yes, we share a bed, and yes, that boy can send me climbing the walls at the wee hours of the morning. As you probably know, since you live next door. And no, he is not here; he is helping Sheila with mission planning. So, now that we've established that I am shacked up with someone young enough to be my son, can we can your usual profanity and have a nice meal together?"
The light of battle died in Marion's eyes. She had been out of line. "Sorry, Elfa. Maybe I'm just jealous."
"You should be, you old slut."
Catherine let out a cackle and reached for the wine. "Such a collegiate atmosphere tonight. Makes me want to demote myself and join the Snowbirds." She poured for them. "Whatever's between you two, can you both knock it off? We're not going to have many more opportunities for the Old Hag Club. Bad enough that Gina Carabinera bailed on us tonight."
The tension in the room eased at Catherine's mention of the Old Hag Club. It was an informal group of female MechWarrior or aerospace pilot officers: the requirements were that you had to be over forty and have at least ten years of combat service under your belt. Besides the three of them at the table and Gina Carabinera, the Sentinels' resident city-fighting expert, Calla's sister Mira Canis-Vlata was also a charter member, though she rarely attended. Marion had invited Kaatha to show up, despite Kaatha not being an officer, but the other woman had begged off, as she was clearly exhausted. Allegra Grant had similarly politely refused, stating that she had her hands full with a new liasion staff. Normally, Elizabeth Dowlings could be counted on to show up every time, but Dowlings had been killed on Vantaa. So now there was just the three of them, and an atmosphere of gloom had settled on the trio from the moment they had gathered—not helped by another bout of snow that was currently making Reichenberg miserable.
"So why did Gina bail?" Elfa asked, trying to restore some harmony to the table.
"Her company performed poorly during exercises yesterday. She got so pissed that she's keeping them out all night on a field march," Catherine answered.
"Gina's been riding them hard," Marion stated.
"True, but she figures that the fighting on Sudeten's going to end up right here, and she wants her people to know this city like the back of their hands." Catherine motioned with her glass at Marion. "And you're one to talk. You've been riding the Snowbirds hard and putting them away wet. What kind of sadistic bitch orders calisthenics in the middle of a snowstorm?"
"One who's trying to make a bunch of misfits into a combat battalion," Marion smiled. Actually, she was quite pleased with the training. Marion had been ordered by Sheila to integrate the new hires and the tank crews into the "old heads" of the Snowbirds, and Marion had taken to the job with customary gusto. Unlike on Outreach, however, she was dealing with an overwhelming majority of combat veterans, who knew the value of teamwork and hard training, and responded much more quickly and easily to the tough regimen. They griped at MechWarriors and tank crews having to mess together, and having to do full field pack runs and basic weapons training, and at plenty of other things—but it was good natured griping. No one knew what the Snowbirds would be doing or where, but they knew that Marion was being hard on them for a reason. Also unlike on Outreach, where the median age of Marion's trainees had been eighteen, here it was thirty. Only a small handful had never been in a fight, and easily two-thirds of the battalion had fought the Clans. They knew what was at stake, and that the training would save lives—namely, theirs.
Marion too was helped by Senefa Malthus, who had become a treasure trove of knowledge. Along with the physical routine, there was also classwork, which the Snowbirds loathed. Quickly, however, they began to appreciate it. Senefa was passing on everything she knew about her former brethren, and if Senefa had a bad tendency to go off on tangents and drone, she was giving them precious hints on how to beat the Clans. Already Marion had recommended Senefa expand her lectures to the rest of the regiment's officers. The former Clanswoman had readily acquiesced; Marion had already noticed that Senefa was a workaholic. Then again, she was from a culture where everything in society was geared towards war, so that was understandable.
This was not to say that there were not a few problems. Kahvi Falx was as green as grass: her English was still only fair, and she had insulated herself from the rest of the battalion—a result, Marion knew, of her ostracization at Sun Zhang Military Academy. She was a capable MechWarrior and responded to orders with crisp efficiency, but she was timid and scared, if determined. Sheila had noticed it as well and assigned Kahvi to Senefa's lance, where she would team with Maysa Bari. If anyone could bring Kahvi out of her shell, it was the gregarious Maysa. Marion felt a burst of pride for her adopted daughter, who was not only becoming a great MechWarrior, but also a great young woman.
As if reading her mind, Catherine spoke up. "So what happened the other day at Wilhelmina Bay? I understand there was a bit of a kerfuffle."
"Oh Lord," Elfa laughed. "You want me to tell the story, Marion, or do you want the honors?"
"Allow me," Marion said. She took a drink of wine. "Well, Cathy, I figured the best way to get the Snowbirds acquainted with each other was to take them swimming. It was a beautiful day down south, so I stuck them aboard a DropShip and we went down there."
"And you of course didn't inform them they'd be swimming," Catherine observed. "You didn't, Marion."
"I did. Made 'em strip to their underwear. Found out that our resident goth girl Kassy Holliday doesn't believe in underwear." Marion chuckled. "I was tempted to make her swim around the bay naked, but decided that the guys didn't need to be distracted. Lucky for her I brought a spare swimsuit."
"Did they all know how to swim this time? I remember you pulling that stunt when you had Ceta/4 and damn near drowning Yoriyoshi Kazakawa because he didn't know how."
"Yeah, they all knew how to doggy paddle, anyway. So, anyhow, one of the new guys, Daniel Polycutt, he's got to prove he's a tough guy, and he's a damn good swimmer. He takes the lead on everyone. That treadhead Eric Sykes, who supposedly was a Blackjack School champion triathlete? No chance. Maysa, who could outswim a dolphin? Forget it, she's left in the dust, a distant second--"
"Is there anything that prodigy of yours can't do?" Elfa interrupted. She looked at Catherine. "The battalion's started calling her Saint Maysa, because she's good at everything."
Marion looked indignant. "Hey, this is my story!" Elfa made an elaborate show of yielding the floor to Marion. "So anyhow, Dan gets to the beach before everyone else, comes out of the surf like friggin' MacArthur, and…" She stopped, grinning at Catherine. "Can you guess?"
"With your weirdos, there's no telling," Catherine replied deadpan.
"Apparently our little speed demon lost his boxers somewhere in the bay. So he gets out, turns around and, well, Mister John Thomas is there for everyone to see. The dumbshit didn't realize it for a few seconds either, or he's a pervert."
"Oh, I doubt that," Elfa snickered, "because he hit the dirt like we were being shelled. Not before our little Saint Maysa got an eyeful, though. I wish I could be a fly on the wall in Father Mac's confessional on Saturday! She turned as red as a heat gauge. I thought I was going to have to fold Maysa's tongue back up in her mouth."
Catherine let out a great sigh and shook her head, but she was smiling. "Sick. You Snowbirds are really sick. I need some wine to put these fires out…" She took another drink. "Good wine, Elfa. Surprised we're not drinking something a little harder, though."
"I'm trying to cut back," Elfa said quickly, a little too much so. Marion raised a finger, got up, and reached into the duffel she had brought along. She held up a six pack of Timbiqui Dark. "After dinner," Elfa insisted. Marion ignored her and popped open a can.
"Any other tangy tales?" Catherine asked. "I heard you've got some real macho types over there too."
"Peter Nicholas?" Elfa looked at Marion.
"Oh God," Marion moaned. "That little bastard is gunning for a medal or a promotion. He thinks screaming at his lance at the top of his lungs is motivating the troops."
"Must've learned it from you," Catherine quipped.
Marion ignored her as well. "He got Maria Thyatis to the point of tears. We're going to have to keep an eye on her and Charles Badaxe, too. They might just frag him. He'd better not turn his back to Chuck or he's going to get an AC/20 shell as a suppository."
"He's your problem, not mine," Elfa smiled back sweetly. "I've got our new friend Robert 'Call Me Bob' Copeland and Stefan Jones."
"The new liasion officer?" Catherine asked. "He a problem?"
"Maybe. Apparently he got into it with Sheila. Said the wrong thing, and she let him have it. He's been trying to make it up, but he sounds more like a used-car salesman. Bob's got a wheedling tone I can't stand."
"So what's Stefan's problem?" Marion asked. "He's a good joe. Solid as a rock."
"Not lately," Elfa corrected. "The man absolutely loathes Senefa. I transferred him over to Copeland's lance, but it hasn't gotten any better. It's not that he's been slacking, but he's been saying some things when he thinks I'm out of earshot. Copeland's so afraid of making waves that he won't tell Stefan to shut his trap. I suppose I'll have to do it, but I hate undercutting a new lance commander."
"I don't know why you cotton so much to that Clanner," Catherine said.
"Because she's a damn fine MechWarrior and she's willing to put her ass on the line," Marion shot back, the light of battle in her eyes.
Catherine didn't give an inch. "She turned on her own people, Tigerstripe. How can we be sure she won't do it to us?"
"Cathy." Elfa's tone gave a warning. "Senefa's a Snowbird. End of story. You know the rule."
Catherine hesitated, then went back to finishing her plate in silence. The Snowbirds might say plenty about Senefa in the privacy of the battalion barracks, but they would not tolerate someone of another battalion badmouthing her. The same was true of the other battalions, and of the Sentinels themselves: fight with one of us, scramble with all of us. Since that sort of solidarity was something Catherine herself strongly promoted, she could not and would not go against it.
Once everyone was done with dinner—Elfa went back for seconds, and Marion had another beer—the three retired to "the parlor," better known as Elfa's small living room. Quarters had been assigned by seniority, which meant that older MechWarriors tended to get better spots than newly minted lance commanders; it was one reason why Sheila and Max were staying at the Hyatt rather than the officers' quarters on base. Elfa took the recliner, while Marion and Catherine curled up on the sofa. Marion's joints creaked audibly when she sat down. "Oh damn," she said. "Getting old stinks."
"Just how old are you now?" Elfa chided.
"Ten thousand." Marion took a draught of beer. "So what now, girls? Shall we sit around and maunder about our advancing age? Or should we watch Lifetime? Or—my choice—should we get stupid drunk and talk shop?"
"I'm up for option three," Elfa replied, pouring herself some mineral water, "except for the stupid drunk part. I've got the duty in the morning."
"Sounds good to me," Catherine agreed. "I, sadly, can no longer drink all night and stay up all day. You were right, Marion…getting old stinks." She finished off the wine. "So, Elfa, how far along are you?" Elfa choked and actually spit out her water. Marion laughed, thinking it was an act, but Catherine was as serene as a monk. She merely waited until Elfa had finished hacking, then raised an eyebrow at her. "Well?"
There was silence for a long few moments, then Elfa sighed. "Two months, thereabouts."
Marion suddenly realized that Elfa and Catherine were not joking. "Wait…Elfa, you're really pregnant?"
It was Elfa's turn to raise an eyebrow. "That does tend to happen when you're having regular unprotected sex, Marion. Don't they teach that in Liao space?"
"But you're—"
"Forty-three." Elfa laughed softly. "Nice to know I'm fertile. I tried to have a baby with my first husband, but we never could concieve. All this time, I thought it was me shooting blanks." She tossed back the water. "Oh well."
Marion was stunned. "But Elfa…Tooriu's young enough to be your son!"
"So? Melissa Steiner's damn near young enough to be Hanse's. That didn't stop them, and she's shoved out how many kids? Six? Political marriage, my ass."
"Are you going to keep it?"
"Of course I'm going to keep it, moron! Some Catholic you are."
"When are you due?" Catherine asked, though all three already knew the answer.
"April or May. I'll have to come off of ops around Feburary. I expect we'll be back from whatever Sheila's planning by then. If not…" Elfa grinned. "Remember Kaname Stykkis having to deliver her baby in her Commando? No wonder Mimi turned out screwy."
"Don't remind me," Catherine groaned. "We had to tie her ankles to the console sides while Mira Canis acted as midwife because she was the only one small enough to get in the cockpit with Kaname. Meanwhile Doc Rabbit is squatting on top of the head yelling down instructions, and I'm sitting there next to him with a pair of binoculars looking for Kurita infantry. I wasn't sure what scared me more—that or the fact that Kaname kept flailing around and I thought for sure she was going to accidentally pull the ejection handles. It's funny now, but damn, that was scary."
"And Calla cussing a blue streak over the radio because he thought Kaname had lied about how far along she was. He didn't know Mimi was a preemie." Marion laughed. "Man, if the civvies only knew some of the shit that happens to us…" She pulled another beer from its box. "Well, let's celebrate. It's been awhile since I've been to a christening."
Base Hospital, Sentinel Base Sudeten
Sudeten, Tamar March, Federated Commonwealth
11 October 3051
Kaatha looked out the window over the courtyard of the hospital. It was adjacent to the barracks assigned to the Snowbirds, and, with space at a premium on base, Marion Rhialla had quickly appropriated it as an exercise yard for the unit. Sudeten had gotten a good snowfall the night before—six inches, about as much as it ever did—but Marion had not let up on the training. In fact, she had emphasized that it was going to intensify. Battalion rumor had it that the Snowbirds were due to leave Sudeten for the front very soon, perhaps as soon as the end of the month. Sheila had told Kaatha nothing and Kaatha knew better than to ask, but the old veteran saw the look in her commander's eyes and knew the Snowbirds' days on Sudeten were now numbered. Since it was required for everyone in the unit to get a full health check before they went on extended operations, Kaatha decided to get a jump on everyone and made an immediate appointment. She hadn't been feeling well lately anyway, and wanted to be at the top of her game for the upcoming operation.
She smiled as she watched the scene below her. Contrary to popular belief, Marion was not completely heartless, and in response to the Snowbirds' request to emulate their namesake bird and play in the snow, she had allowed them to do that instead of physical training. Sides had been chosen—inevitably, MechWarriors versus tank crews—and were now going at it in the form of horseback fights. Two people served as the "horse," linking their arms together to form a saddle for the "rider," who put their legs around the "horse's" necks and did the fighting with their hands. The "horse" used their legs to fight as well. Kaatha reflected that it was just as well that they were doing the horseback fights next to the hospital, since it could easily end in contusions and broken bones. Certainly Kaatha had suffered her share of bumps and bruises. MechWarriors, and tankers too it seemed, lived life hard and played hard.
In the crowd of horses and riders, Kaatha quickly picked out her daughter among them. Felisanna enjoyed the notoriety her shockingly pink mohawk gave her, and had quickly formed an alliance with the other Snowbird resident battalion rebel, Kassy Holliday. Completing the trio was Bien Canonizado, who evidently thought a great deal for Felisanna. Now Bien and Kassy formed the horse, and Felisanna the rider. Felisanna had discarded her field jacket and fought in a decidedly non-regulation—and, Kaatha thought with a sigh—too small halter top, despite the cold. Kaatha knew she did it to distract her male opponents, who would be too busy staring at her breasts and would relish the idea of grappling with Felisanna.
Kaatha wondered where she had gone wrong. Kaatha and Renni had decided on just having one child—"Better just to have one orphan," he had joked with gallows humor so typical of him—despite the sect they belonged to insisting on large families. Because of their religious beliefs, they did not take a last name, because all they owned was communal with the church they belonged to. Felisanna had gone to school, been a model student and child, and even refused to play with the other regiment's children, such as Sheila Arla-Vlata, Maysa Bari, and Mimi Stykkis, because she was afraid it would interfere with her studies.
Then, at about the time Felisanna had hit puberty at fifteen, something had snapped. She seemed to rebel overnight, doing such forbidden things as listening to acid rock, cutting and dying her hair in bizarre forms, and gorging herself on fast food, all of which were considered sinful. To this day, Kaatha had never discovered what had changed with her daughter. Her grades dropped along with her church attendance, and though Renni had come down on her hard, grounding her and giving her a sound beating across the rear end, Felisanna had only intensified her rebellion. She had managed to keep her grades good enough and easily passed the exams to enlist in the Sentinels as a MechWarrior, but as soon as she was able, she had moved out of the house and into the barracks, where her hedonistic lifestyle had only increased. Renni had decided to disown her formally, though he had agreed to wait until after they had returned from Blackjack to tell Felisanna that she was cut off for good—shunned—from her family and her church.
Then Renni had died, giving his life for his friends in the highest traditions of his beliefs, and had saved a whole company from being overrun. Kaatha had been heartbroken, but had refused to seek another husband as her pastor had advised her, saying that she could never be so blessed twice in a short life. The church had understood, closed around her, and kept her from falling into despair. Instead, Kaatha had volunteered for the Snowbirds, and threw herself into her work, helping her young and inexperienced commander forge the battalion. To her surprise, Felisanna had joined as well. Kaatha had hoped for a reconciliation with her daughter, and initially they had gotten back together, feeling their way towards a rapprochement by "dinner dates" and the occasional holovid. But when Kaatha had opposed the rescue mission for Sheila on Vantaa, that had ended. Felisanna was so angry that she had requested, and gotten, a transfer to another lance. Now she was as stonily silent to her mother as before, though she was certainly enjoying herself as much as one could in the middle of a war. As Kaatha watched, Felisanna ruffled Bien's and Kassy's hair affectionately, her laughter audible even to her mother three stories and some distance away, as they looked for another target, having left Henri Fromage gasping in the snow.
"Sorry to keep you waiting." Kaatha turned to see Doc Rabbit come into the room. Rabbit was well into his fifties and easily could have named his own price at any major city hospital in the Inner Sphere, but chose to remain with the Sentinels despite much less pay; he was devoted to the regiment as much or more than its commanders. He had delivered many of the Sentinels' babies and written the death certificates of its fallen warriors, not a few times for the same person. His real name was Richard Galvas, but he was called Rabbit because of his prominent buckteeth and thick glasses. Kaatha knew that many of the younger Sentinels didn't even know Rabbit's real name. "Have a seat."
"I'll stand, thank you. My back has been giving me trouble lately." She ventured a smile. "I suppose I'm getting too old for this."
"Could be." He consulted his holopad. "You're forty-six, Kaatha?"
"Yes," she answered, though she wondered why Rabbit had asked. Obviously he knew the answer. "A bit of an old maid, I'm afraid—Renni and I had our child a little later in life than most."
"How old is Felisanna now? I haven't seen her in awhile."
"She's twenty-one." Kaatha now knew Rabbit was stalling. He knew very well how old Felisanna was, and as for not seeing her, there was no way he could've missed her roughhousing in the courtyard. "Doctor, we've known each other too long for you to bullshit me." That brought his head up; Kaatha rarely cursed. It was considered something of a mortal sin to her beliefs. "What is going on? Tell me straight—I know that I've been sick, and rather tired lately, which is unusual for me."
"Yeah, it is." Rabbit looked at the pad, nodded once, and faced Kaatha squarely. "Kaatha, there's no easy way to say this, so I'm going to give it to you straight, as you ask. You've got cancer."
Kaatha had steeled herself for bad news, but it still hit like a PPC bolt. "Cancer?" she whispered. That she hadn't been prepared for. "What kind?"
Rabbit's face was unreadable. "Pancreatic." He moved forward to grab her as she slumped against the window, but she waved him off. She managed to stay on her feet, but wrapped her arms around herself. So that explained it: the loss of appetite she had lately, the exhaustion, the yellowish tint to her skin she had noticed. "I thought I had a touch of malaria," she said with a small smile. "I nearly died from that once when the Sentinels were on Zebelgenubi." Not wanting to show weakness in front of the doctor, Kaatha drew herself up. "How bad?"
Now Rabbit's face was working—he was trying to hold back tears. This from a man who regularly saw friends and old comrades come in with limbs missing, who had seen Mimi Stykkis carted in, unable to move below the waist, who had made the decision to amputate the arm of Sheila Arla-Vlata, both who had once been little girls he had delivered. "Very," he struggled out. He went back to the holopad, taking comfort in the familiar. "Pancreatic cancer is just about the worst I've come across. It doesn't give a lot of warning signs."
Not that I would've noticed, Kaatha thought to herself. She had not allowed herself to notice her symptoms; there was too much to do. "How long?" was her next question.
"Hard to say. Three to six months." He put a hand on her shoulder. "But that's if you leave it untreated, Kaatha. We've developed a lot of new treatments in just the last few years alone. Hell, we've virtually cured breast cancer! With aggressive chemotherapy and surgery, you could beat this. The survival rate has jumped to twenty percent—and you're in pretty good shape for a woman your age; it might be as high as thirty percent."
"Hm. That's about my survival rate in combat against the Clans."
"Exactly," Rabbit nodded. "You can beat this, Kaatha. It's not like you haven't paid your dues. You can retire with dignity."
Kaatha looked back to the courtyard. "Chemotherapy and surgery." Rabbit nodded again, more vigorously. "I lose my hair, possibly my bodily functions, and I'll be so weak I won't even be able to play cribbage. For a thirty percent chance at life."
"Kaatha, thirty percent—"
"Which means there is a seventy percent chance I will die anyway."
"That's not the way you look at it," Rabbit said angrily. He tossed the holopad on the bed. "I know what you're thinking, Kaatha, and I'm not going to condone it. I won't sign off on your medical release. I'll march right out of here and tell Sheila to her face what's wrong with you."
Kaatha whirled on Rabbit, the look on her face so intense that he took a step backward. "No, you will not, Richard. Because if you do, I will claim religious discrimination. You do know that my faith believes that God fixes one's life at the very beginning. It is my time. If you truly care about my dignity, then you will let me end my life as I have lived it."
"As a MechWarrior?" Rabbit threw up his hands. "Jes—I mean, damn," he hastily corrected, because Kaatha did not like blasphemy and packed a mean left hook. "I expect this macho bullshit from MechWarriors, but this is ridiculous, Kaatha! You're throwing your life away."
"Can you prescribe medicine to keep me going? I don't want to be a burden."
"I won't do it," Rabbit insisted, but his shoulders slumped, and Kaatha knew that he would. "It's not fair," he said quietly. "I can save your life, Kaatha."
"For what, my friend?" Kaatha replied gently. "My husband is gone. My daughter hates me. What remains of my life is out there." She pointed out the window. "The Snowbirds can ill afford to lose a MechWarrior of my experience. I don't want to die by inches alone."
Rabbit was silent for a moment, then picked up the holopad. "You know, Kaatha, my religious beliefs say this is a sin. Maybe a mortal one." Then he pulled out the stylus on the side of the pad and signed it, giving Kaatha clearance to return to operations. "Sheila and Calla are going to have my head for this."
"Don't tell them." Kaatha paused. "Don't tell my daughter either. I don't want anyone to know."
"They will soon enough." Rabbit tucked the holopad under his arm. "I'll go write your medication. Might take a while; Pharmacy's backlogged, as usual. Do you want to come back in an hour?" Secretly, Rabbit was hoping Kaatha would return to her senses, but he knew that she was set in her decision. Throughout a long life of medicine, Rabbit had seen many—too many—face their own death. Some faced it quietly. Some screamed in terror until death at last took them. Some died cursing their enemies, and some died blessing others. None, he thought, seemed so serene as Kaatha did at the moment. "Where will you be?"
Kaatha smiled. "I think I'll go play in the snow."
"Well, don't break anything." Rabbit sighed and hesistated at the door. "Kaatha, I don't know whether to ask God to bless you or to damn you."