Chapter Forty-Seven

An Excursion to England

Corporal Amanda Cole

I have to admit, sometimes I question Commodore Tucker's judgment, if only to myself.

I never would have imagined General Reed might have living family that he would want to see, much less family who would want to see him live and in person as opposed to on television. Family of any kind is the last thing I would associate with the general. If anyone had asked me, I'd have guessed that he had grown up an orphan or a foundling in one of the work camps at best, or in an abusive home with an incompetent mother at worst. The possibility that a monster like him could have been raised in a loving home just doesn't track with good common sense. A creature like the general isn't just born into the world. He is created through regular, unspeakable abuse, mistreatment, and neglect.

Yet here I am, in Northwood, Middlesex, England, searching through the Imperial Navy database for retired Rear Admiral Stuart Leslie Reed, and every time I think about that, I smirk. I've discovered that Leslie is a perfectly legitimate name for a man in the UK (where the -ey ending is the feminine form) but in the US and elsewhere it's more usually given to a girl, so if he was brought up anywhere else than England he'd have had to be a hard bastard to carry it off. That might explain something about the general after all. Even a loving father, if he was relentlessly mocked growing up, could, possibly unintentionally, go to extreme lengths to ensure his smallish son was tough enough to get by.

When the United Earth Empire was formed, the British Royal Navy already had a reputation for superiority stretching back over 350 years to the defeat of the Spanish Armada in 1588. So, when it came time for the Empire to create a force to police the high seas, it was a simple matter to just hand the job over to the people who'd already proven they could do it. My research into the general's background, which led me here, reveals that his father was the sixth generation of Reed men to serve in the navy. General Reed was all set to have become the seventh, but on the eve of his commissioning, following a respectable-if-not-brilliant career as a cadet at the Imperial Naval College, Dartmouth, he jumped ship for the MACOs with no explanation. Someone must have smoothed the way for him, or even pushed him overboard, to make it happen, because, while no name is mentioned in the records, all the fines and fees that come with enrolling in one of the Imperial Colleges and bailing on your service commitment after getting your free education were paid, and no penalty was ever levied against the General or, as far as I can tell, his family.

I can't imagine that Rear Admiral Stuart Leslie Reed, I.N., Retired, was especially pleased when young Malcolm abandoned a guaranteed second lieutenant's commission for the uncertainties of life as a MACO recruit, but at least, after his basic training they made young Malcolm Stuart Reed (I'm guessing giving the father's first name as the son's middle name is another family tradition stretching back centuries) a full corporal. For most MACOs, it takes three or four years to make corporal, the lowest of the non-commissioned officer ranks, but I suppose they jumped him ahead in consideration of his Dartmouth training.

It could not have been easy for young Corporal Reed to be advanced so far right out of basic. It took me two years and nine months to get my rank, after taking command of my squad when our leader was killed in a particularly bloody confrontation with some Klingon rebels on a colony world. I got the rest of my team out safely. Even with my experience and an award for valor pinned to my chest, I was challenged daily by my subordinates because I was young and female. Corporal Reed would have been younger than almost all of the MACOs he commanded. With his lack of combat experience and his slight stature – he's not just smaller than most men in the general population, but even several centimeters shorter than the average female MACO – he would have had to battle every day just to maintain order among his squad, let alone actually command them.

It should have been a recipe for disaster. Without the support of his troops, the young officer should have died in combat, or been executed for a mission gone wrong because of his inability to maintain discipline and command effectively. But apparently a Dartmouth graduate is a bit cleverer than your average MACO. Three weeks into his first posting – and I have to admit, I'm surprised he survived that long without taking action – Corporal Reed hospitalized four of his own men when they jumped him during a training session. One of them eventually died of his injuries, and another, paralyzed from the neck down, was lucky the ship was due to rendezvous with a troop transport, or he'd have been spaced as soon as it was determined his eventual recovery would take more time and resources than a warship's medical staff could provide. Of course the delay in treatment meant there would be no recovery, but at least, if he had a family, there would be someone to care for him – providing he survived the journey home.

After the Battle of Training Room Six, the number of disciplinary issues dropped sharply in Corporal Reed's squad. The powers that be soon steered him into the Enlisted Commissioning Program. He was promoted to sergeant, sent away for some special, classified training, and returned a staff sergeant. From there, success built upon success, the record written in the blood of those who would defy him, until he was promoted to major and posted to the ISS Enterprise as head of security. There was a bit of a bobble when Captain Maximillian Forrest lost the Enterprise, but Reed was one of the fortunate ones to make it over to the Defiant. The record shows he was injured in a confrontation with a saboteur, but then it all gets a bit vague until he emerged as one third of the Triad along with Generals Alpha and Gomez.

I wonder if Admiral Reed is proud of what his son has accomplished, if he even knows how many bodies the general had to climb over to get where he is. What must his mother have felt to watch him on television, slicing a screaming man to ribbons, unmoved by his sobbing pleas for mercy? Or were his family among the small handful of people who might have been excused from witnessing the general's triumph in cruelty? Does his younger sister, Madeline, admire her big brother, love him, or fear him?

Ever since Charles laid down the law the general has been very respectful of all of the Tuckers. He seems genuinely fond of Elaine, always has a smile for her, and seems pleased to help her in the kitchen. He's told Rachel she reminds him of his sister and has shared several apparently happy childhood memories with her. He and Bert argue constantly over some of the laws that have been passed since the Triad rose to power. The general seems to be making an honest effort to keep it civil, though it's anybody's guess whether Bert has managed to change his mind about anything. Nobody knows what Charles and the general talk about, but the old man spends time with him every day after dinner in a quiet corner of the dining room. I've seen the general listening earnestly, nodding occasionally, and asking a question every now and then.

General Reed is more than clever enough to fake interest, attention, and respect – and even affection for Elaine – but when I mentioned this to Commodore Tucker, he insisted we accept them all as genuine.

"Sometimes, 'Manda, all it takes to get the best out of someone is to choose to see it in 'em," he told me. "I don't know if it'll work that way with Malcolm, but it's worth a shot. So we're all gonna be honest with him, an' act as if he's doin' the same with us, within reason. Now, we're keepin' a close eye on him, an' I've got him on a short leash with a choke collar. He can't do much more'n hurt somebody's feelin's right now."

"But what about later," I insisted. "What do you plan to do then?"

"Well, I can't say I exactly have a plan," he admitted to my horror, "but I've set a headin'. If Malcolm's to make the trip with us, he's gonna need a lot of help. If you can't do that, I'm gonna have to ask you to stay away from him."

I stood to attention then, recognizing the challenge being issued, however gently it was worded. "I'll do whatever you ask of me, Commodore. I just don't understand what we are trying to do."

"Good girl," he nodded. "What we're tryin' to do, basically, is to turn a monster back into a human bein'." Then his face brightened with a genuine grin. Alluding to one of his ridiculous horror movies, he told me, "We're tryin' to cure the Curse of the Werewolf." Chuckling, he added, "Maybe that's a good sign. The werewolf was played by a fella named Reed."

I couldn't help rolling my eyes. The commodore has a really peculiar sense of humor. "I've seen that movie, too, sir, and as I recall, the 'cure' was a well-aimed silver bullet."

He sobered immediately and grunted softly. "You're right. Maybe that isn't a very good comparison. You're also right to question me, 'Manda."

"Respectfully, sir, I wasn't questioning you, exactly, I just…"

"Of course you were," he said amiably. "It's all right, when you do it privately an' respectfully. That's what I want you to do, 'cause if I'm doin' somethin' that doesn't make sense to a sensible young woman like you, maybe I'm missin' a piece of the puzzle."

"Sir?"

"Well, you make a valid point," he told me, leaning back against the table where we'd been stacking plates ready to put them into the dishwasher. "General Reed could be fakin' it with my family. I happen to think he doesn't yet have the mental energy to keep up such a fraud for as long as he has, but even if you're right, a man doesn't learn overnight how to fake it with family."

"Sir?" I repeated. When the commodore has to explain something to me, he often confuses me more before ultimately making his point. He sees the way things work versus the way they should work, and then drills down through the layers until he finds the difference between what is and what ought to be, and fixes that. So far, his technique seems to work as well for human problems as it does for engineering, though I imagine General Reed will prove the ultimate test of its efficacy.

"Well, think about the people here in the bunker," he suggested. "Can you guess which two never had a family?"

It didn't take me long. "Sturges and Lymon," I concluded.

"How did you guess?" he asked. "They're as friendly an' polite with my family as anyone here."

"Well, that's just it, isn't it?" I said. "They're friendly and polite. Everyone else is comfortable and casual, and, giving the general the benefit of the doubt, honest. For example, Liz is a grouch in the mornings, and while she might not be rude, she doesn't fake being cheerful for your folks either. Even when your father just says, 'Good morning', she'll tell him, 'Not until I've had my coffee'."

The commodore chuckled at that, and said, "That's exactly what I'm talkin' about. You only learn to interact that way with family by growin' up in one or havin' one of your own. Despite the fact that he just recently gave birth, the general is no parent, so he must have been somebody's kid, an' I can tell you from experience, that nothin' soothes a battered soul like the love an' acceptance of family.

"I want you to find the general's folks, 'Manda, an' I want you to find out if they would be agreeable to visitin' him to boost his spirits while he recovers from a serious illness."

"And when they say he didn't seem ill in his last public address?" I asked.

He rolled his eyes and puckered his face into a thoughtful frown. "Tell 'em he's puttin' up a brave front for the good of the Empire, but he's really not well. Tell 'em he needs a little encouragement from the people he loves an' we would all be very grateful if they would come visit.

"Of course, you know you'll need to do all of this on the down low," he reminded me. "There's no tellin' who's watchin' them, lookin' for an opportunity to use them against Reed."

"Like us, you mean?" I teased with a grin.

"What we're doin', Corporal Cole, is for his own good," he hissed, startling me. The commodore's mercurial temperament is well known on Jupiter Station, but I'd never seen him get so angry so quickly, and I'd never had him get angry with me before. With his blue eyes sparking with anger, his fists clenched tightly at his sides, and a muscle in his jaw twitching, it didn't take much to imagine him physically hurting me – even though with this man, that's a step I don't think he'd take without extreme provocation and excellent reasons.

"I…Of course, sir," I agreed a bit breathlessly. "I was only making a joke."

"I didn't find it very funny," he growled. "Only a snake would threaten a man's family."

Anyone who sees the commodore with his family can tell how protective of them he is and how close they all are. It never occurred to me that he might feel they are under threat. Commodore Tucker seems so open and friendly that I sometimes forget how much there is that I don't know about the man.

"I apologize, sir," I told him. "I meant no offense."

He took a couple of slow deep breaths and seemed to make a conscious effort to change his expression. "Of course you didn't, 'Manda. I know that. I shouldn't have got mad. Let's just say you hit a sore spot an' leave it at that, ok?"

"Yes, sir," I agreed readily.

"Now, if Reed's family agree to visit him, you'll have to set up a secret meetin' between me an' them," he says. "I need to speak to them myself before I bring them into this bunker. I need to know for sure that their intentions are sincere, an' that they're not gonna try to give us away at some point in the future. However important it is to me to help Reed, I'm not riskin' the security of this place just to let him see his mama."

Typically, he's taking full and final responsibility for everything that happens on his watch and the safety of everyone under his command, including his own parents. Even if I think his scheme is crazy, I can't deny how kind and thoughtful he is to go to such lengths for the general.

Like I said, sometimes I question Commodore Tucker's judgment, but never his intentions.

As it turns out, Madeline Reed lives in London, just a few Tube stops away from the airport. She can confirm for me whether her parents are still in Malaysia.

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