2175

Muffled voices surrounded Gorman. He could feel his heart still throbbing. He could feel himself being lifted off the ground. Pain was searing through his left arm.

"Hold his IV!" Maxie shouted.

"Gorman! Gorman!" Towers cried.

"Calm down! Hold his fucking IV bag! He'll be alright!"

Whatever consciousness was left faded. The only thing he could feel was his heartbeat.

Soon, there was nothing.

It felt like only five minutes had passed when Gorman's senses weakly attempted to return.

"He's going to need a transfusion ASAP!" Maxie called. "Get us out of here, now!"

The ground below moved. Gorman could hear the dropship engines. He couldn't react in any way. His consciousness faded again, but not before he heard Towers sobbing. "Gorman, no . . ."

The first sensation he felt was a dull ache in his left arm. Next, he heard a steady beeping, in time with his heartbeat. He was sleepy, but he managed to open his eyes. It didn't take him long to see he was lying in a hospital bed, in a clean white room. He was flooded with weakness, unable to move anything except his head and neck. Even that was limited, and he made a slight groan.

A door opened. Maxie walked in, all smiles. "How're you doing, Gunny?"

Gorman worked his jaw a little, then swallowed. "Very weak," he moaned, voice hoarse from not using it in awhile.

"You lost a lot of blood. You've been receiving a transfusion for the last few hours. I gave you something to help you sleep through it and let your body recover."

As his senses continued to wake, his thoughts began returning as well. Gorman drew in a breath. "The files," he rasped. "Where're my drives?"

"Towers took them when they finished. We gave them both to intelligence, but . . . they were a bit confused with one of them. Did you intend to download Seegson's records on a . . . Marshal Jethro Waits?"

"My great-uncle."

Maxie searched for words. "Would you . . . like that drive back?"

"Yes."

Maxie nodded. "Anything else? Do you feel like you can eat?"

Gorman shook his head. "No. Where's Towers?"

"Waiting to see you."

"Let her in."

"Are you sure?"

Gorman weakly nodded.

"Alright." Maxie left the room. A second later, Towers walked in. She was covered in soot and bruises, and her hair was a mess. Her face showed a mix of emotions; she didn't look sure whether to smile or cry. Without saying anything, she gave Gorman a hug.

"Easy, Towers," Gorman said. "Not so hard." He could feel and hear her crying in his hospital gown. Her tears soaked easily into the flimsy material.

"Dammit, Gunny, why didn't you listen to me?" Towers sobbed, looking at him with red, wet eyes. "Someone else could've taken care of those files!"

"You'll understand when you see what's on the drive." Gorman put his right arm over Towers. "I'm OK. That's all that matters."

"I don't need my sergeant getting killed on my first mission."

"Well, I didn't get killed. I'm alright." He gently rubbed her back. "I'm proud of you."

"Thanks." Towers's hug tightened, just a little. She didn't move, and Gorman didn't object to her staying.

Several minutes later, Maxie walked in, carrying a drive. "Got it. I'm not entirely-am I interrupting something?"

"No. Just leave the drive on the table. I'll get something to read the files when I feel better." Gorman was worn out from just talking. He had an overwhelming urge to sleep. Eyes half-closed, he looked down at Towers. "I'm not gonna wake up to random shit in my bed, am I?"

"No. Just me. I'm your random shit," Towers replied.

Gorman smirked. "OK."

He next awoke to find Towers was still with him. He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but it was enough for the transfusion to have finished while he was asleep. He felt a little more rested, but not enough to get up and walk around.

Towers stretched a little. "I think you're ready to eat," she said.

"What makes you say that?"

"I woke up a couple times and all I heard was your stomach rumbling."

Gorman was a little embarrassed, but couldn't deny he was hungry. "Yeah. Guess I'm ready for some breakfast." He sat up in bed when Towers let go. His left arm was still sore, and wrapped tight in bandages.

"Want me to go tell Maxie?"

"Sure." It was a challenge with one hand, but Gorman managed to prop up some pillows behind him to sit more comfortably. Towers left the room, and Gorman spent the next several minutes looking at the drive on the table next to him. He sighed, hoping he'd be able to leave the hospital soon so he could really read those files.

Maxie and Towers came back, with Towers holding a glass of orange juice. Maxie checked Gorman's vitals before giving him the OK to eat and drink. "They'll probably release you before noon," he said. "After that, you'll be allowed to recover before we have to head back up to Violet Rose for departure."

"Thanks," Gorman replied. "How long will the recovery be?"

"About a day, maybe two. Just don't strain yourself."

"Shouldn't be problem if Towers behaves." Gorman looked at the juice glass. "You didn't put salt in that, did you?"

"I kept an eye on her," Maxie said. "No salt."

Towers grinned. "Saving my pranks for when he gets better." She grabbed a chair when Maxie left, sitting next to the bed.

Gorman sighed, looking down at his drink. "I'm not sure I should tell Lydia what happened before we leave. I'd hate for her to be worried while I'm in hypersleep."

"I think she's gonna worry either way."

"Yeah." Gorman took a sip of the juice. "I'm going to call her as soon as I get out of here."

"Want me to leave you alone when you do?"

"You don't have to if you don't want to. Just don't be making faces behind me when the video feed is on."

"I'll try not to." Towers gave him another grin.

"You know, I don't like that smile of yours. Always makes me feel like you're up to something."

"Maybe I am. Maybe I'm not."

"Right. I'll still keep my guard up around you."

Gorman was released from the hospital as Maxie predicted, under orders that he was barred from strenuous physical activity. He was fine with that, as he felt too tired to do much of anything.

He kept feeling his pocket for the drive as he headed from the Netrayas hospital to the Marine base just outside the city. Despite his exhaustion, he was excited and nervous to see what all was on it. The mystery of Great-Uncle Jethro wasn't something that plagued him day-in and day-out, but everything Gorman had learned over the years had kept him interested in finding out what happened. The fact that his grandmother had told him repeatedly that he looked like her brother kept him interested, and the fact that he had overheard her saying, "He's starting to act like Jethro."

How was he like his great-uncle, though? It seemed like he asked at all the wrong times, because he never got an answer. He remembered the story about his uncle going out at an ungodly hour to get a part for his truck. I would've set everything down and waited until morning to keep working on it.

He remembered being told that Jethro was bad at communicating verbally. I guess I can see myself in that. After all, I did fail public speaking a few times.

He remembered being told that Jethro tended to love strongly. That he was extremely loyal and more selfless than most people who knew him believed. I love pretty intensely. My wife, my family . . . even Towers. She's just a friend, but that doesn't mean I love her less than anyone else.

Gorman sat in front of a screen, typing in a code to contact Lydia. He was patient, waiting a full ten minutes before his signal connected. He smiled when he saw his wife's face flicker on the screen. "Hello, my darling."

Lydia smiled as well, and she looked like she was about to cry. "Scott."

"Sweetheart, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. Just happy to see you. I was . . . I-I dunno. I was worried the last couple days. I had a bad dream something happened to you."

"I'm alright. I . . . did get hurt-" Gorman lifted his left sleeve to show Lydia his bandage, "I lost a lot of blood, but I'll be OK."

"Do you know when you're coming home?"

"They're giving me a couple days to recover and take it easy. We should be heading out at some point this week, so . . . I guess be ready in three weeks."

"I will. I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you, too." Gorman's heart ached with longing. "I've been thinking about you. I know I missed Saint Patrick's Day, but I'll make it up to you when I get back. Whaddaya say? Corned beef, tea, and music for my first night home?"

"Scott, you're going to be too tired to cook."

"I will always have the energy to do things for you. Even if I'm a bit anemic now."

A happy little girl's voice in the background said, "Is that Uncle Scott?"

"Yes, sweetie, it is." Lydia disappeared and returned with her young niece, Olivia. "Say hello."

"Uncle Scott, Uncle Scott, look-" Olivia opened her mouth, "I lost a tooth!"

Gorman grinned. "You did? Well, don't forget to put it under your pillow for the tooth fairy."

"When are you coming back?"

"Soon."

"Today?"

"I wish. Couple weeks, OK, honey? Hey, if you're really, really good, and you pick up all your toys and practice your handwriting for kindergarten, maybe Aunt Lydia will take you to South Carolina to see me when I return to Earth." Gorman winked at Lydia.

Lydia shook her head, grinning. She set Olivia down. "You really think putting a six-year-old on a plane is a good idea, Scott?"

"She was the most well-behaved flower girl at the wedding. I think she can handle flying."

"Alright, I trust your judgement."

"Thanks." Gorman was suddenly aware of a presence behind him. A finger poked his cheek, then his jacket hood was pulled over his head. He sighed and smirked. "Hello, Towers."

"Hi." Towers dragged a chair over, and waved to Lydia on the screen. "Is this the Mrs. Gorman he keeps going on about?"

"Yes," Lydia said. "Are you the young lady who's been torturing my husband with pranks?"

"That would definitely be me, ma'am."

"Shockingly, we're friends, now." Gorman took his hood off. "She'll be a disciplined Marine eventually."

"I saved your ass this past mission."

"You did, and I thanked you." Gorman pushed Towers away by the back of her chair. "Honey, I'll call you again when we're about to leave Violet Rose."

"OK," Lydia said. "I love you, Scott."

"I love you, too."

"It is not that cold out, Gorman, why are you wearing a jacket?" Towers asked as the two entered a café.

"I'm cold," Gorman replied. "I'd like a big cup of hot chocolate, that's for sure." He set a small computer on a table. "Could you get that running while I order drinks?"

"Sure. Get me a glass of rum."

"You are eighteen!"

"I'm just kidding. Can I have a hot chocolate, too?"

Gorman glared at her. As he approached the counter, he noticed there weren't a lot of people in the café. A pair of Marines were seated by a window, playing cards, smoking cigarettes, and drinking coffee. A tired-looking woman was sitting at the counter, looking down at the glass of liquor in front of her, a lock of dark hair hanging down over her forehead. She looked at Gorman once, but Gorman could have sworn she looked at him again.

He carried the two mugs of hot chocolate, both overflowing with whipped cream, back to the table where Towers had the bulky laptop open.

"I put the drive in," she said. "Who's Marshal Waits?"

"That's my great-uncle," Gorman replied.

Towers's eyes widened. "Wow. He looks . . . a lot like you."

"Yeah." Gorman sighed. "That's what my grandmother said, too. He was her brother."

"So, this is what you risked your life for?"

Gorman nodded. "Gran passed away a couple months ago without knowing what exactly happened to Jethro. According to these files, his last known post was on the Seegson station Sevastopol, where he became Head Marshal. The station apparently had a severe malfunction that resulted in the whole thing descending into the atmosphere of KG-348, where it burned up. Kinda suggests he died on the station-" Gorman paused. "There's a ton of messages in here . . . from him to Gran . . . all unreceived by her. Odd."

Towers read through them along with Gorman. "Look, he mentions the long-range comms were down."

"It sounds like something really bad was going on . . . Jesus, right around the date the station blew."

Towers frowned. "Does he say what?"

"Not really. He talks a lot about feeling lost and uncertain. No details about what was going on."

"Sounds like kind of an emotional person. Or he can't really discuss what had happened."

"My guess is a bit of both. Gran said he wasn't great at communicating his emotions, but when he was upset, he'd let you know."

Towers glanced at one of the images on-screen. "He looks like a sourpuss. Bit like you when we first met."

Gorman opened the picture files. His jaw dropped slightly when he found several photos of a much younger Jethro Waits. "Huh . . . Some of these are from 2127. I believe . . . that's him in this group photo for the LV-112 Marshal staff."

"Gotta be. Looks like you."

"Yeah. Right before the sudden attack by the Dheldroi. I knew he was involved with that, but I never found out to what extent. Doesn't look like there's anything here about it." Gorman took a breath. "I'd have to go to LV-112 and see if I can access the colony's records. That's a bit of a trip, though; a month from Earth, but only two weeks from LV-510."

Towers took a sip of her hot chocolate. "Who's that?"

"Who's what?"

"This woman."

Gorman recognized the woman in the photo Towers was pointing at as the same he had seen in the birthday message to his grandmother. Doctor Lingard. "I think . . . she's Jethro's girlfriend."

"Girlfriend? He looks kinda old to just be on a girlfriend. Was he divorced?"

"No. He never married at all."

"Was he a womanizer?"

"No. He was very loyal, I heard." Gorman eyed the pictures. "He looks happy with her. They both look happy."

"They're kinda cute, to be honest with you," Towers said. "You're right; they do look happy."

From the corner of his eye, Gorman noticed someone approaching them. The woman from the counter. "How do you know Waits?"

Gorman glanced up, a little stunned at the woman's approach. She was struggling to conceal some kind of emotion, but her bloodshot brown eyes betrayed everything.

Towers gave a confused look first to the woman, then Gorman. Silently, she reached into her jacket for her sidearm, and Gorman gestured for her to stop.

"Relax," he mouthed. He looked up at the stranger. "I'm Waits's grand-nephew. I've been trying to find information about what happened to him on Sevastopol."

"Isn't it obvious? Plus, that was thirty-eight years ago. The station exploded and the bastard died with it. There's your answer."

Towers frowned.

Gorman gave the woman a sympathetic look. "I don't think Jethro was a bastard. None of these documents or messages suggest he was, and my grandmother certainly didn't think he was."

The stranger's eyes closed, and she pulled out a chair to sit across from Gorman. She looked down at the table, taking a deep breath. Tears rolled down her face. "Why do you want to know what happened?"

"Gran passed away not that long ago. She knew Sevastopol was destroyed, but she was somehow convinced Jethro escaped and just disappeared. He was her older brother, and they were pretty close, even though he was distant because of his job. I just . . . I-I know she'll never know now, but I was close to her, and she told me that I looked like him quite a bit."

The woman looked Gorman in the eye, and studied his face. She let out a soft sigh. "You do look like him. I thought I was imagining things when I saw you up at the counter, but . . . turns out I wasn't. You're actually related to him." She fell silent again.

"Did you know him somehow?" Gorman asked. "I'm getting the impression that you did."

The woman nodded. "Yes." She drew in a breath, and took a napkin to dry her tears. "My name is Amanda Ripley. I . . . was the only person to escape Sevastopol."

"Did you live there?"

"No. I went . . . I went with a ship to get some personal things. The . . . The flight recorder of the Nostromo. My mother was on that ship, and I'd been trying to find out what happened to her. When we got to Sevastopol, it was in chaos. A creature . . ." Amanda looked as though words had caught in her throat. "A big . . . nightmare . . . alien creature. It . . . got on board the station . . . through another ship. Waits was trying to kill it. From what I found, the entire station had been dealing with this . . . thing for about a month. His explosive traps hadn't worked, so . . . he . . . he made a new plan, and I . . . volunteered to do it. I volunteered before ever knowing what it was. His plan was to trap the creature in one of the spires. When that didn't work, he sent me up to a lab. The lab was able to be detached from the station entirely. That much I knew. What I didn't know was that . . . he'd jettison it before I was able to get out and leave the creature behind."

"Was it an accident?"

"No. He said he was sorry before . . . actually doing it. I was able to escape with a spacesuit, and when I got back on Sevastopol . . . I didn't want to hear his side."

"It sounds like he was desperate to get that creature off."

"I know that now." Amanda took a moment to breathe and collect her thoughts. "He died before we were able to discuss what happened."

"So, he didn't die when the station detonated?"

Amanda shook her head. "No. The station's central computer system was under orders to protect the creature. Their androids . . . Their androids were turned loose and they attacked everyone they saw. They . . . ended up breaking into the Marshal Bureau, and . . . Waits had been strangled to death by one of them. I can still hear it. He was trying to get the androids to leave the civilians he was guarding in the Bureau, and I could hear him being choked out over my radio."

Gorman felt nauseated. Jethro was murdered. That would've been hard for Gran to take . . . Either way, she should have known the truth. "I can tell this wasn't easy for you to talk about."

"I haven't told anyone since it happened, and . . . there's a lot more, but I'd rather not talk about it in a public place." Amanda glanced around. "What's your name?"

"Scott Gorman."

"OK. Gorman . . . If you want to know the whole story, we need to meet somewhere private. I have to get back to work, but . . . could we talk again tonight?"

"Sure. Where would you like to meet?"

"There's a big alley between the Emerald Hotel and a Greek restaurant. I'll be there around-" Amanda look at her watch, "six-thirty."

"Six-thirty. I'll remember that." A brief thought came to Gorman's mind. "If you don't mind me pointing this out, I think you look nice for someone who had to only be in their twenties thirty-eight years ago. Don't look like you've aged at all, to be quite honest."

"I'll explain everything later." Amanda turned to leave them quickly, but paused when she saw Gorman holding out his hand. "What?"

"Thanks for telling me, and it was nice meeting you."

She looked like she was resisting a smile, and she took Gorman's hand to shake it. "Nice to meet you, too."

Question: Is the way Gorman convinced Amanda to talk about her past similar to how Waits convinced Lingard to open up about hers?