CH: 5 NIGHTMARES AND DREAMS
*The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all your Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it.*
..................................
August 8, 2064, 0105 hours
Jenny ran out of the Wildcards' quarters as fast as her legs would carry her. Her head swimming and her heart pounding. She had to get away. She had to hide, but where? Where on this huge ship could she be alone, and be sure McQueen couldn't find her? Deciding the effort would be futile, if he wanted to find her, he would, she headed for her quarters. There at least she could lock the hatch.
It took forever to go the short distance to her cabin. Slamming the hatch and securing it, she took a deep breath and let the tears come. She'd made it. Here there were no eyes to watch or see her guilt. Moving quickly in the dark she leaned her head against her porthole. "Don't let anything happen to any of them! I'll never slip up again, I promise! Pax?" She begged as she lay her hand on the window to reaffirm her bargain.
"Oh God, Gloria," Jenny whispered, as she got up and moved stiffly to her bunk. "I wish you were here to talk to. I've really made a mess of it this time," she cried as she fell into a restless sleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Hey, Kirkwood," Gloria Collins stepped to the table in the Tun
Tavern where Jenny was sitting. "Your mind go walk-about, again?"
"Hmm," Jenny looked up at the tall blond who was watching her with some concern. "Gloria! I'm so glad to see you!"
"You just saw me ten minutes ago," Collins grinned at her friend. "What happened that's so important?"
"I don't know," Jen shook her head, feeling as if she was watching herself from a great distance. She looked around the Tun and saw all the people she knew. Time and space had taken a strange twist.
The Angry Angels were drinking and laughing at a corner
table. Hawkes, West, Winslow, Wang, Vansen, and Damphousse were playing
poker across from the Angels. Ross and McQueen were at the bar having
a drink. Both the bartender from the Saratoga and the Yorktown, were
working the extra large crowd.
Over in a far corner of the room, on a little section of dance
floor, that looked like a slice of the Casino Ballroom on Catalina, Frank
Savage and Patsy Howard were dancing. A soft sweet song was heard
in the background. The shadows of a large dance band were moving
on the wall behind the dancing couple. Jenny could just make out
the words of the invisible singer, 'fly the ocean in a silver plane, see
the jungle when it's wet with rain, just remember 'till you're home again,
you belong to me.'
"This doesn't seem right," Jenny muttered as she tried to shake
some sense into her head. Her eyes coming to rest on McQueen.
"You've gotta stop sniffing that anesthesia, Angel-Doc," Collins
teased. "So what was so important that you needed to see me?"
"I..well, I.." Jenny pulled her eyes away from the silver-haired man at the bar and met Gloria's hazel ones.
"Oh, I get it," the tall woman grinned. "So you finally figured it out, did you?" Gloria lifted her beer mug and toasted McQueen's back. "So tell me is he a good kisser?"
"Gloria!" Jenny gaped at her friend.
"Yup," Collins laughed. "That's what I thought. Don't tell Philip I said this, but McQ has a great mouth. I figured he'd be a good kisser. I know, I know, you're attracted by hands......of all things?" Gloria rolled her eyes.
"It's not like that!" Jen argued.
"He's not a good kisser? What a disappointment," the sassy blond sipped her beer. "I guess it's something you two'll have to practice until you get it right. In the mean time, those hands can be doing....."
"Gloria, shut-up!" The Doctor interrupted, "That's not what I need to talk to you about."
"Jenny, did that Iceman hurt you?" Collins shot McQueen's back a dirty look.
"No, well yes, but it's not his fault. I made this deal with the Universe months ago, 'if it kept Ty and his squad safe, I'd never let my emotions show. Never let him know how much I love him.'" Jenny felt tears forming as she talked. "I didn't mean for it to happen, really I didn't. I didn't tell him what I felt, but I let him kiss me." She bit her lower lip as she tried to convince herself as much as Collins, that the kiss didn't matter.
"A deal with the Universe?" Collins nodded her head. "That can be a tricky thing. The Universe makes it's own rules, and bends them when it wants to. Did you kiss him back?"
"Yes," Jen whispered. "I figure it doesn't count though, because he doesn't want me."
"How do you figure that?" Collins had seen the looks McQ would aim at the little doctor, when she wasn't looking. The Angels had a betting pool going, on how long it was going to take those two to figure out they were more than 'just friends.'
"He got carried away," Jen reasoned. "Because he's afraid
that the Wildcards have died on Demios," she shrugged as if that explain
it all.
"We're talking about McQ here," Collins reminded her friend. "The man doesn't know the meaning of 'carried away' or 'afraid.'"
"We were alone last night. I've always been someone he could count on. He needed human contact, so he kissed me and....well. When he realized......" She blushed as she moved her hand toward her left breast, remembering him pulling back as she had felt his warm palm through the lace of her bra. "When he realized who I wasn't, or rather, WHAT I wasn't, he stopped."
"Pleeeaassee, give me a break," Gloria cut in. "He did more than just kiss you, or you wouldn't be this upset."
"It's not what you think....."Jen flushed as the klaxon began to ring in the distance.
"You forget how well I know you," Gloria stood with a grin. "Gotta run, take care. Oh, by the way, they're safe, *this time.*" Then all that was left of Gloria Collins was the echo of her voice and an empty beer mug.
The klaxon sounded louder and the speakers blared to life "BATTLE STATIONS, ALL HANDS REPORT TO BATTLE STATIONS, BATTLE STATIONS, ALL HANDS REPORT TO BATTLE STATIONS"
In the blink of an eye, Jenny found herself sitting in an empty Tun Tavern. She had to get to Sickbay, but she couldn't move, her body felt too heavy. Taking a deep breath, she gathered her strength and pulled away from the table.
"Ouch!" Jen gasped as she fell out of her bunk, landing on the
deck. The loudspeaker still going off. She shook her head to
clear it, "Gloria?" It had been a dream, but it had seemed so real. It was weeks later before Jenny remembered all of the dream. And
the importance of what Gloria had said to her.
.......................................
August 9, 2064, Wildcards's Quarters 0430 hours
The sound of the klaxon and the call to battle stations awakened McQueen from a restless sleep. He knew instantly where he was and what day it was. The Saratoga must be within range of Demios.
Sitting he rubbed his eyes and tried not to look across the room at Hawkes' bunk. His dreams had been haunted by Jen in the few hours he'd slept. Jen sitting on the deck looking at him with trust. Jen's soft mouth under his. The feel and taste of her. The look of fear and hurt when she'd run from the room.
"Damn," he muttered. He could still smell her in the empty
room. He had slept on the bunk where Jen had been sleeping when he
came into the Wildcards' quarters the night before. The bunk that
had been Winslow's and Jen's. Pulling the pillow to his face,
he took a deep breath. No wonder he had dreamt about her, her rose
scent was on the pillow. He stood, quickly stripping the casing from
the pillow and stuffing it in his flightsuit as he strode out of the room,
taking what little bit of her with him that he could.
...................................
August 9, 2064, Sickbay 2135 hours
Jenny moved quietly from bunk to bunk, checking on the 58th. She had been in surgery when McQueen had brought them in. The day had been a messy one. Out of the 25,000 troops that had been left on Demios almost three months ago, only about 2000 were recovered. Many of those in need of emergency medical care. The casualties had been divided between the Sickbays of the three ships that had returned for them. Even now, many of the survivors were being sent on to hospital ships in safer areas.
"Jenny?" Vanessa Damphousse whispered, from the bunk below Shane's.
"Shhh," Jenny knelt beside the young woman. "How're you doing there?"
"It was pretty bad, Lady-Doc," the Marine shuddered as she remembered some of the things they had seen and done to stay alive. "You don't look like it was much easier on you guys."
"When your radio stopped transmitting, it was like living in hell. We had to keep fighting to take Ixion, when all we wanted to do was be here." Jen leaned over and hugged the young woman, then sat on the deck, holding her hand. "We were so worried about all of you."
"We were pretty worried ourselves," Coop turned over to face the doctor, from the bunk next to Vanessa's
"But you're back," Jenny reached for one of Coop's hands as she sat between the two Marines, holding on tightly to what had almost been lost. "You're safe now." Jenny gave a silent *"thank you,"* that her slip of the night before had been over looked.
McQueen stood, at the partially opened hatch, with his hands fisted at his sides. He wanted badly to be part of the group that was on the other side of the door, but he had let them down. The 58th by leaving them on Demios and Jen by taking advantage of her. He couldn't make himself go in. It had been one thing when he had gone in with Ross earlier, but now? No, not now.
"Colonel?" Joan Brill whispered to the man standing and watching. "Go on in, they'll be glad to have you there."
"No, Commander," he turned back to face the sad eyed woman. "I don't belong."
"Ty," Joan smiled as she watched him look with longing at the group through the small opening. "I think you're wrong about that, but why don't you let them decide?"
She watched as he reached for the door. His hand froze on the handle, as something very much like *pain* crossed his face, causing his features to stiffen. He shook his head as he turned and walked away. Watching the Colonel's straight back as he disappeared out of sickbay, Joan felt a stab of loneliness that cut her to the heart.
*"No, it hadn't been pain, she'd seen in his eyes,"* she thought. *But fear?"* What had McQueen seen that would cause him to react like that? She took a quick look in the darkened room, but all she saw were six people
enjoying each other's company.
..................................
August 18, 2064, Catalina Island 0800 hours
"I want to thank you for coming, on such short notice," General Frank Savage smiled at the men who were seated with him in Jenny's study. With one exception, the men who were gathered there had been part of a monthly poker game that had been going on for years. They were also, the men that Savage trusted the most.
"What's this all about, Frank?" Thomas Harding, Admiral USN, asked. "Are you really going to get married, or is it just a cover to bring us all here so we can talk openly?"
"I'm getting married, Tom," Savage grinned. "At least I will be, if Pats doesn't take one look at you guys and decide she's not up for a package deal."
"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" James Alexander, US Senator from Oregon, shook his head. He and Savage had been roommates at Lewis & Clark College in Portland, and friends ever since.
"I've never been more sure of anything in my life," Frank grinned at his friend. "What, no comment from you, George?" Savage looked at General George Robertson, USMC.
"Hell, Frank," the Marine, snorted. "You know my opinion on marriage! A soldier is married to the Corps, all the rest is just a distraction."
"Well, I'm looking forward to being distracted for the rest of my life," Savage laughed. "Now, down to business, gentlemen."
"Sirs," Maj. Mark Gomez, Savage's attache, stepped forward, along with another man. "I'd like you to meet Jack Longley he's the genetic engineer who's been working on the information that was sent to us from General Savage's source."
The slim red haired man stepped forward, a bit in awe of the company he was keeping now-a-days. When his cousin, Mark Gomez, had brought him in on this, he hadn't realized the scope of the project.
"Well," Jack pushed his glasses back on his face, as he dug through his notes. "I've been going over what was sent to me, and doing some research of my own. What I've found leads me to believe that the hypothesis set forth in this report may be correct."
"Hrumph," Gen. Robertson, shook his head. "Then you think Aerotech was breeding Tanks that would be addicted to phyllophetamines?"
"I didn't say that, General," Jack pulled out the graphs he was looking for. "All I am willing to say, at this point, is that the triplet amino acid in question, is present in all of the in-vitro DNA that I sampled, except Miss Howard's. Of the seven other in-vitros I sampled, five had taken phyllophetamine and had addiction problems, at one time. Miss Howard is, by the way, the oldest of all the in-vitros sampled. And the only one to have taken the drug and not become addicted.
"It should be noted, that all of the natural-borns I tested have a double amino acid and of course there has never been an addiction reported in the natural-born population, even on large doses of phyllophetamine."
"Where does that leave us?" Senator Alexander paced the room.
"Take it easy, Jamie," Frank always thought his friend wasted a lot of energy pacing. "I am doing a quiet search for in-vitros that are within a year of Pats' age, but it's going to take time, if I don't want to tip our hand."
"Senator," Dr. Longley added. "We need to find other in-vitros with the double amino acid and test them to find out if they are susceptible to phyllophetamine addiction. And we need to find out the reason behind the change of that amino acid from a double to a triplet. It could be nothing more than a fluke. An improved way of gene splicing that had a bad side effect?"
"No offense to your lady, Frank," Tom Harding cut in. "But is this what's really important? I'm more interested in the fact that troops may have been massacred to hide this, not what Aerotech may or may not have been doing."
"It's important," Savage looked each man in the eyes. "Because there is only one person who has the power to disband the In-Vitro Health Facility; send them all out to vulnerable positions; and then get them killed. Only one person, that is, who has an affiliation with Aerotech, and that's Diane Hayden, Secretary General of the United World Federation."
"Jesus, Frank!" Jamie Alexander glared. "You sure know how to open a can of worms!"
"Got any bourbon around here?" Admiral Harding suddenly
needed something to fortify him. "A sun is over a yardarm, somewhere
in the universe."
...................................
August 18, 2064, New York City, Diane Hayden's home 1900 hours
"Carleton, I didn't expect you until tomorrow," Diane felt for her wine glass and sipped. She could hear Stryker doing a search for bugs. It told her this wasn't a casual visit. "Have you eaten?"
"No, but I can get myself something later," Carleton Stryker kept searching until all seven rooms were carefully checked and he was sure that all of the staff had gone home.
"Here drink this," she offered him a glass of wine as he came over and kissed her.
"We may have trouble," he took the glass from her hand and seated himself were he could hold her other hand.
"What kind of trouble?" Diane didn't like trouble, and she hated surprises, especially this kind.
"Someone's been doing some snooping around in-vitro DNA structuring from years ago," he rubbed the soft skin of her wrist. "There's also a quiet search for older in-vitros going on. I can't pinpoint the source."
"Are they going to be able to find anything?" Hayden felt recently, that too many things were slipping out of control.
"I've got a search of my own started," Stryker kissed her fingers. "With access to Aerotech's records, it should be easy for us to get to them first."
"That damn Kirkwood woman is still alive, isn't she?" Hayden vented her frustration. "I had hoped she would die on Demios, when I heard about it, but they didn't have time to drop medical personal before the Chigs attacked. I'm not even sure she was scheduled to be in on the drop. Anymore overt attempts to rearrange her assignments will red flag them."
"Too bad she wasn't on the Eisenhower," Stryker shook his head at their luck.
"The Saratoga has been very lucky, what if it's luck were to change?" Hayden smirked, "what do you think, give you a little revenge, as well?"
"They've messed up our plans before," Stryker thought back to how close he had come to being caught when he had injected that damn Tank with the mind control drug phyllophetamine-3. One of the few drugs in that family that didn't cause addiction, due to its odd neutron, but it made in-vitros highly susceptible to hypnotic control. "But if we do it, we need to be very careful. With all that's going on, I'm not sure how much longer we can depend on Wayne."
"Hhmm," Diane leaned her head back to think. "Maybe there's a way we can get him out to the Saratoga, and get rid of a number of problems at the same time."
"What do you have in mind?" Stryker could tell Diane had been giving this some thought.
"We could leak Operation Roundhammer to the Chigs, by way of the AI's. The last message I had from them informed me that the Chigs blame Wayne personally for the encroachment on their space and the theft of the Sewell Fuel.
"What good is that going to do us?" Diane had been keeping secrets from him again, and he didn't like it. They were a partnership and partners were supposed to work together.
"The Chigs will do anything to protect that moon of theirs, though I've no idea why. If they knew they could take out Wayne and prevent the invasion of their moon, they'd do it. From what the AI's tell me, they have a special assassination team waiting for the chance to get at Wayne."
"Will the Chigs be that easy to manipulate?" Stryker, liked the plan, but wanted to make sure it would succeed before committing to it.
"The Chigs have no more understanding of us than we do of them," Hayden smiled. "I think that's why they allied themselves with the AI's, in the first place. I think it's worth a try."
"Is that Tank Lieutenant Colonel still on the Saratoga?" Stryker hated the in-vitro, not only for having interfered in Chaput's assassination attempt, but because there was something about him that held a fascination for Diane.
"McQueen?" She grinned like the Cheshire Cat, "don't tell me you're
jealous, my dear?" *"Yes, she would settle all her old scores at
one time."* Years ago when working in the In-Vitro Rights Movement,
she had been attracted to the brooding Marine. He had pretended to
be oblivious to her come-ons. The rebuff still stung.
........................................
Planet: Minerva, August 22, 2064, McKendrick's Bunker
Major Cyril McKendrick looked around his bunker in the side of
a burned out hill. He hadn't spoken to another human being since
those Marines tried to take him with them in late April. Too often,
recently, his mind wandered back to the conversation he had had with that
young in-vitro. At times he could almost see Lt. Hawkes as they had
talked in the tank. Yes, he had been lonely then, and he was lonely
now, but he was getting close to completing the task he had set for himself. Too close to give up, no matter how lonely he had become.
Tonight he had deviated from his well scheduled life. Bedtime could wait! More of the strange AI code was being transmitted again. He was working frantically to break the code. Over the last year, he had become adept at deciphering Chig messages, but this AI mumbo-jumbo had him stumped.
He was worried because there had been an increase in the traffic of messages over the last 24 hours. His eyes blurred as he threw down his pen. "I may be lonely, Lt. Hawkes," McKendrick muttered. "But if I'm very lucky, I may have this figured out soon." *"Well, Cyril, my boy,"* McKendrick grinned to himself. *"I guess I'm not to old to have an imaginary friend. As long as I realize he's imaginary, I haven't lost it completely."*
Hours later, when he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer, McKendrick
stood and saluted his Colors, "God save the King." Turning
toward the Seventh Calvary Flag that was hanging next to the flag of England
and his regimental flag, he gave a moment of silent respect to the American
allies. He had taken that flag off the old tank when it had given
out thirty kilometers from his bunker when returning after taking the Marines
to their landing zone. "When one is too tired to do ones job, even
an Englishman must sleep," he whispered as he headed toward his bunk.
........................................
August 30, 2064 New York City, Diane Hayden's home, 2350 hours
The phone ringing woke Hayden and Stryker. It was the Secretary General's private phone, used only in emergencies.
"Hello," Hayden answered and listened as she received the news.
"What is it, Diane?" Stryker reached over and covered her hand that was resting on the phone that she had closed, ending the conversation.
"They say the Chigs want to open peace negotiations," she shook her head. "I don't understand, didn't my AI's do as I told them to do?" She stood to dress, "General Cartwright is bringing over a copy of the proposal. There may still be something we can do about this."
An hour later, Stryker and Hayden sat in her study going over what the General had brought. Diane's graceful fingers moving over the Braille swiftly and carefully.
"I don't believe this," Stryker murmured as he read further. "Diane, they want E. Allan Wayne present for the peace talks, and they're going to take place on the Saratoga. The question is, are they genuine?"
"I doubt it," Hayden shrugged. "Even if they haven't gotten the information about the assault coming at them from their moon. I think it's a way to kill Wayne. I think that's their motive. Plus it will slow us down while we're negotiating, so they can be moving troops."
"Is this the result of your message to the AI's?" Stryker wondered.
"Does it matter, the out come is the same," Hayden smiled. "Wayne will be on the Saratoga, along with the added bonus of, possibly
a major player in the Chig chain of command."
"I have the man for the job." Stryker grinned. "He's careful, quiet and expendable. He can plant a little something in the room where the negotiations are taking place, and it'll never be found. And I'll plant a little present in his belongs, that'll make him disappear."
"I think I'm going to start tomorrow off with a news briefing. Bringing good news to the world," she grinned at Stryker. "We're ending the war. Will it be our fault those lying Chigs can't
be trusted, when they blow the peace negotiations to bits, along with the
Saratoga?"
...............................
September 1, 2064 Saratoga, 1100 hours
"Damn that woman," Commodore Ross glared at the television monitor in his office. "I thought she wasn't going to announce this until we figured out if it was real or not?" The question was more rhetorical than anything else. Who was going to argue with Diane Hayden? The Secretary General had gone public with the peace offering by a lone Chig. *"Was she so interested in making peace, that she'd grasp at straws?"* Ross wondered, as he reached for an aspirin. His head was pounding and his throat was getting scratchy.
The night before, a single Chig vessel had approached the Saratoga,
requesting permission to board, carrying with it a peace offer. Now
all there was to do was wait until the Alien Interpretation Unit and people
further up the chain of command, than the Commodore, figured out what to
do. For the first time in over a year, the Saratoga sat anchored
in space and waited. What they were waiting for would only be known
in time.
....................................
Mess Hall 1340 hours
Ross and McQueen had sat down to lunch, but neither man was very hungry, though both knew they needed to eat. The Alien Interpretation Unit had arrived an hour ago. The 'spooks' as the shadowy men were referred to, came and went as they pleased. Seeming to have all the authority in the world, but never responsible to anyone.
"Dr. Kirkwood," Ross called out. "Jenny, join us please." He made it more of an order as he saw the doctor's eyes move over their table then past them. The woman had seen them, but was going to pretend she hadn't. The marked change in her since the siege of Ixion, made the Commodore wonder what was going on.
"Yes, Sir," she pulled out a chair and sat. Jenny could feel her stomach clench. She knew McQueen was avoiding her, since they had let things get carried away the night before picking up the Wildcards on Demios. But then she had been avoiding him as well. "Glen, you look ill."
"It's just a headache, Jenny," but even as he spoke, he could tell that he had managed to catch something.
"Excuse me for having to contradict the Commodore," Jenny lay a hand on his forehead. "but, Glen, you're running a fever."
"You think so?" Ross sipped coffee that didn't taste right.
"I know so," Jenny smiled. "After you're through eating, you should go to Sickbay and have them give you something. I think you're coming down with a cold."
"Actually, Doctor," Ross stood and reached for his tray. "I'll head there now. It's going to get busy over the next few hours. Anything they can give me, to get through it, will be a help."
As Ross walked away, the two people left at the table began to concentrate on their food. Both uncomfortable with being alone together, neither wanting to leave the other.
"I really need to be going," Jen couldn't meet McQueen's eyes. She had lost her appetite and if she wasn't going to eat, she couldn't think of an excuse to stay.
"Wait, please," the Colonel reached for her hand, but pulled his away before it came in contract with her. He could see the fear and doubt in her eyes and he couldn't stand it. "I'm sorry for the other night, it shouldn't have happened."
"I'm sorry too," Jenny fought to make herself smile. She knew why she had been avoiding Ty. As long as they didn't have this discussion, she could pretend that it had only been their inopportune surroundings that had caused him to pull back.
"Jen, look at me?" McQueen whispered. He was tired of her avoiding him, when she always used to look at him with trust, even when she was angry with him, she had met him straight on.
"I..." She raised her chin defiantly and gray eyes met blue ones. "I'm looking at you."
"I don't know what came over me that night," McQueen was ready to tell the biggest lie of his life, if it would bring things back where they belonged between them. "I wasn't thinking straight. I wasn't myself."
"If I remember correctly," Jen sat very straight. His words had been the final blow to any hopes she had entertained that things were changing between them. "Ty, you weren't alone in your actions. I didn't exactly...exactly..put up a fight," she whispered. "And it's not as if anything really happened," she rushed on, a clear picture in her mind of them crushed together on Coop's bunk.
"Jen," he spoke quiet and low. "You don't need to be afraid of me."
"Afraid of you?" It caught her by surprise that he would think he had frightened her, "I've never been afraid of you."
"No, you never were, until that night," McQueen wasn't going to let her hide behind politeness.
"I wasn't ......." Jen stopped, realizing that it would be better for him to think she had been afraid, than to know the truth. "I was just caught by surprise, that's all."
McQueen watched her fiddle with her bracelet. Something wasn't right. She was showing sighs of fear, but she didn't appear to be afraid of him. If she had been afraid that night, she wasn't now, though something was definitely wrong.
Searching for anything to change the conversation, Jen grabbed the first thought that came to mind. "So, do you think these peace negotiations are for real?"
McQueen could tell she didn't want to talk about that night anymore, but she was talking to him again, and that was a start. "I'm not sure what to think. I've learned that Chigs aren't to be trusted."
"What if it's really the ending?" Jen shook her head, having trouble imagining it all being over. "What will you do?'
"I'm a Marine," McQueen couldn't admit, even to her, the doubts he had felt when he had to leave all those people to die on Demios. His head had known it was the correct decision, but his heart was another matter. "I'll do as I always do. What about you?"
"I can't go back to life as it was," Jenny reached in her pocket and pulled out the most recent letter from Patsy. Her fingers playing with the edges of the envelope. "I had planned to go home to Catalina, but now, I don't know?"
"What do you mean?"
"Patsy is about to make some decisions that could change her life. She's really in love with Frank Savage, I don't want her to have to factor me into the equation when she's deciding what to do. And they do say that 'three's a crowd,'" Jen shrugged, as if that explained it all, but she knew it didn't. "She's always put her life second to mine, but not this time. I won't let her do that."
Jenny couldn't very well tell McQueen how much she was going to need someone to hold onto in the months to come. How much she needed someone to be there for her, after all the death she had seen. How much she needed the one person in her life that she knew loved her, when she was going to be saying good-by to the one man she had discovered she would love. No, she couldn't tell Ty any of that.
"You could stay here, there's always need for a good doctor, even in peace time." McQueen wanted to picture Jen always here, safe on the Saratoga.
"No. No I can't. The Navy isn't for me," Jen shook her head. "More importantly, I don't think I'll ever pick up a scalpel again, when this is over."
"Jen, don't make any sudden decisions," McQueen knew that war changed people, but this wasn't something he had expected to ever hear.
"There's nothing sudden about this," she shook her head. "I've known for a long time that when this was over, I was through as a surgeon. Too many people died on my operating table during the siege of Ixion, because I lacked the skill to take care of them. I'm a darn good general surgeon, but I was doing surgeries that called for speciality training in vascular, cardio-thorasic and God forbid, even neuro! We all were."
"That happens in war time, when you're on the front lines." It was hard for him to imagine Jen as anything except what she was. "But how many did you save, that would have died if you hadn't been here?"
"No, it won't work," Jen met his eyes. "It takes a certain something.....Many call it ego, to be able to take a knife and cut into another human being, to decided to save this part, but sacrifice that part. I don't have that anymore. I make myself do it everyday, and I will until this is all over, but then I'm through. Besides, I took an oath that starts out 'first do no harm,' not 'first do no harm, except in time of war'."
"If you've felt this way all these months, all during Ixion, why didn't you tell me before this?" McQueen was troubled, things were changing too fast. "We ate dinner together almost every night. Why didn't you say something?"
"Those dinners," Jen smiled. She thought of them as an oasis of calm in the storm that had raged all around them. They had been all that kept her together during those months. She and McQueen had been like two raw and bleeding people leaning against each other for the few minutes it took them to exchange news about the battle and take a deep breath before returning to fight their own sections of the war. "Those dinners were about the 58th, I couldn't add to what you were carrying around by telling you what was going on with me. Anymore than you were able to tell me what you were really feeling about the Wildcards."
"You don't lean on anyone, do you, Jen?" McQueen accused.
"That's the pot calling the kettle black," she smiled as she danced around the question. "Besides, going to medical school was my last attempt to please my father. It was never my 'genuine path'."
"'Then a little bit of crookedness in the mind, will later turn into a major warp.'" McQueen quoted from The Book Of Five Rings. "Is that what you're thinking," the quote came easily to mind, because he had been studying it lately himself.
"This isn't the time for Japanese philosophy...." Jen was remembering
the last time they had quoted Miyamoto Musashi and what it had led to.
"Maybe you're right," he murmured as he searched to find a topic
that wouldn't keep bringing his mind back to kissing her. "What will
you do, if you don't go back to Catalina, it's your home?"
"Home? No, McQueen, home is where the heart is," she was
on dangerous ground. Sitting at that table, she knew for a certainty
that her home was where ever this cool strange man was, so she would have
to settle for never having a home. A place where they had been together
often, would have to do. "I'm going to write Lars asking him to get
the Windswept out of dry dock. There are so many places I've wanted
to see. Now's my chance." She closed her eyes and could picture
herself on her boat. *"Yes that would do. She knew she would
find a piece of him on the Windswept."*
"Where would you go, if you could go anywhere like that," McQueen needed to be able to carry a picture of her in his mind, doing all the things she wanted to do.
"I've always wanted to fall asleep under the Southern Cross,"Jen smiled. "Go through the Panama Canal and down the east coast of South America. Then test my seamanship, like the sailors of old by fighting my way around Cape Horn. Can you imagine that, Ty, being right there at the bottom of the world, where there is nothing but water circling the globe, as you go from the Atlantic to the Pacific?" In her mind, they were no longer on the Saratoga, but following a tossing sea to all the places they wanted to go. "Then I'll keep heading west and explore all the islands of the South Pacific. I'll keep on going until it's no longer the Pacific. Seeing the Greek Islands, the Aegean Sea, and the Mediterranean. Search the coast of Africa, for the perfect beach where every wave that hits the shore is a perfect wave."
"Damn, Jen," McQueen didn't like what she had planned at all. "Now I know why Patsy worries about you on that boat. You'd be safer in the middle of the war, than to take on a trip like that by yourself."
"Please, Ty," Jenny picked up her cold coffee cup then put it back down. "This isn't something that's open to debate. Why can't we just talk anymore without ending up either arguing or....." Jumping up quickly, as she realized what she was going to say, she grabbed her tray. "I really need to get back to Sickbay. Have a good day."
McQueen sat for a moment watching her back as she moved swiftly
out of the mess hall. *"Ending up arguing or.... what? What
were you going to say? And why couldn't you say it?"* He had never seen Jen pull in her words before. This was the woman
who had faced down Spencer Chartwell on the issue of in-vitro civil rights,
and written a book that would have made Harriet Beecher Stowe proud, but
sitting here with an old friend she couldn't say what was on her mind. Later when he had time, he was going to have to think about it all.
......................................
ISSCV en route to the Nebraska from the Saratoga 1700 hours
Major Craig Rabwin looked at his watch, if everything went as planned, the peace talks should end at 1800 hours, only 30 mikes after they had started. He had spent the early afternoon with E. Allan Wayne, who due to the time inversion potential of space travel had arrived on the Saratoga from Earth, just hours after he had been sent for. The two week difference in time allowed Wayne to make the long trip and not delay the peace talks with travel time.
Wayne's speedy arrival had made it difficult for Rabwin to do
as he had been ordered, but he had been successful in his mission. No one would suspect the innocent looking computer that had been left in
the corner of the room to be housing a time bomb. Once the dust settled
from the destruction of the Saratoga, no one would be able to prove anything. Each side would blame the other for duplicity in the peace negotiations.
....................................
Saratoga Sickbay, 1758 hours
Everyone sat transfixed by the argument that was breaking out in the peace talks. All Jenny could do was stare at the loud speaker as shouting voices jumbled and the sound of breaking glass could be heard. Moments later the rumble of an explosion was broadcast throughout the ship, then everything was silent. Whatever had exploded, had destroyed the intercom system.
"No, Ty?" Jenny gasp as she grabbed the emergency bag and ran for the door.
"Jenny, stay here," Chico Voss had heard the pain in her voice. "Joan and I'll do triage."
"Win," Jenny called out for Corpsman Winston Trosper. "Get the OR's ready, if we're lucky, we'll need them."
Twenty minutes later, Sickbay was full of people and bodies.
"Jen," McQueen choked out. His lungs were on fire from breathing the ammonia that had filled the room when the Chig Envoy and broken through the glass. "Jen!"
"I'm right here, Ty," she held onto his hand as Trosper cut away what was left of his uniform.
"I trust you," he coughed. "Do what needs to be done, you have it...the ego...do...it. Only you," knowing he was safe with her there he finally let himself give in to the pain and horror of what had happened and passed out.
"Oh God," she shuddered as she got her first look at the shattered bone and muscle that was all that was left of his right leg below the knee. "Okay people, listen up," she had fallen into his speech patterns without realizing it. "Get some lines in this man and prep him for surgery. Win, pull the ortho basic and amputation pans. Type and cross match at least five units of packed cells. If we don't get the damn bleeding stopped......"
"Jenny," Joan Brill grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. "Stop it Jenny. You don't have to do this."
"Yes I do," she smiled at the older woman, thankful for the interruption. She had been going off half-cocked and it wouldn't have helped Ty if she tried to do surgery in that condition. "I promised him I would."
"Jen," Voss cut in.
"Do--not--call--me--that!" She glared at Chico, pronouncing each word as if it were her last. Tears filled her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.
"Jenny," he chose his words carefully, finally understanding the bond between the Doctor and the Colonel was much more than it appeared. "You shouldn't do this, you're too close to the situation."
"He's a MAN, not a situation!" Jenny met Chico's eyes, knowing he was right, but needing to do it anyway. "Please, my medical skills are all he's ever wanted from me. Let me give him that. I can do what needs to be done."
"Okay," Chico saw the truth in what he was being told. "I'll
assist you, though. Between lung damage from the ammonia gas and
the condition of his leg, it'll take two of us."
"I'd like that, but what about the others?" Jenny looked
around Sickbay for the first time since McQueen had been brought in, but
didn't see any other patients.
"He's the only survivor," Chico watched as body bags were being taken out of Sickbay. "Come on, let's get scrubbed." Voss wasn't sure that McQueen would survive surgery. He owed it to the Colonel to be there for Jenny. If things went bad, he would have her taken forceable from the OR, if necessary.
They had used an epidural for anesthesia due to the condition
of McQueen's lungs. Then decided to leave it in place for pain
control. Surgery had been touch and go getting the bleeding stopped,
without damaging the nerve and vessel endings to the lower leg. Jenny
had hopes that a transplant or possibly cybernetic prosthesis could be
used. She and Chico had been as sparing as possible to the tissue. Only time would tell. They left the stump bandaged with a pressure
dressing. A flap would be done when the type of prosthesis was decided
on.
......................................
Sickbay 2330 hours
Sickbay was full of people again. This time it was the prisoners of war that had been traded when the peace talks started. At least something good had come out of that mess. They looked tired, dirty and beaten. Jenny knew just how they felt.
She quietly entered the bay where McQueen was sleeping. There was one more thing she had to do, and she needed to get it done quickly. They were readying the ISSCVs for departure. The war was back on,
so civilians and casualties needed to be evacuated as soon as possible.
"Jen," McQueen muttered as he saw movement in the darkened room.
"I'm right here," she pulled up a chair and held his hand. "How did you know it was me."
"Smelled roses," he tried to smile, but even his face hurt. "The letter," he coughed. "Do you still have the letter?"
"What?" She leaned closer to him. "Don't try to talk."
"The Kazbek letter," McQueen tried to raise his hand to wipe away her tears, but he didn't have the strength. "Give it to Ross."
"There's no need," she pulled his hand to her face and felt him gently cup her cheek. "You'll be back, I promise."
"No Jen," he tried to smile but couldn't. At that moment he was holding all he wanted in his hand and for the first time in his life, he didn't have the strength to go after it. "You've never promised anything you couldn't deliver, don't start now. Give Ross the letter."
"But..."
"Ma'am," the curtains to the bay fluttered as a young Corpsman stuck his head in. "We need to load him up now."
"Give me a minute," she called over her shoulder. "Alone, Sargent!"
Working quickly, she unfastened her bracelet from the large safety pin attached to the pocket of her scrubs. "Ty, are you still awake?"
"Barely," things were fading in and out of focus, only Jen was clear in his vision.
"I want you to take this," she worked quickly, pulling out his dog tags and fastening the bracelet to the chain that held them. Then she tucked them under the hospital gown he was wearing. "Listen to me, Ty. You have my bracelet. It's always brought me luck. It'll do the same for you."
"But Jen..."
"No, Ty," she wouldn't listen to what he had to say. "I want you to bring that back to me. It's my luck, I'm loaning it to you. You bring it back to me."
"Sorry Ma'am," the young Sargent entered the room. "I've got my orders. It's going to get rough out there, we need to get out of here. The Colonel is the last to be loaded."
Half an hour later Joan Brill went into McQueen's empty bay. Jenny hadn't followed his stretcher out and the older nurse was beginning to worry. What she found was far worse than the tears she had expected.
"Oh my God, Jenny," Joan rushed to the young woman who was sitting on the floor, her back tight against the wall, legs drawn up to balance an emesis basin she was gripping. Her body racked with dry heaves. "Chico, get in here, NOW!"
"No, please," Jenny begged between choking. "Get me a wet cloth, I'll be all right."
"Jenny, you're not all right," Chico Voss knelt between the two woman, with a hypospray in his hand. "I'm going to give you something to calm your stomach," as his hand came up, Jen surged to her feet.
"NO!" She yelled, feeling hemmed in. "Please, all I need is a little time. Don't you dare drug me!" She had her hands raised in a defensive stance. It had been over a year since Gloria had taught her how to protect herself, but if either of them tried to get any closer, they would find themselves on the deck. "Both of you, back away and Chico, put the hypospray on the floor."
"Jenny, there's more," Joan spoke softly. "Come over here and sit down, we need to tell you what's happened."
"Ty?" She looked at Chico, understanding why she was feeling so much pain, McQueen must have died on the ISSCV. "He wasn't stable enough to travel, was he? His lungs... he didn't make it."
"It's not McQueen," Joan's throat hurt from crying, she didn't think Jenny could take much more, but it was better for her to hear it from them, than someone else. "It's the Wildcards."
"No," Jenny moved stiffly through the curtains. Looking around, at the now empty Sickbay. "All of them?"
"Vansen and Damphousse had to eject. Search and rescue has been started over planet 2063Y," Joan's voice faltered. She cleared her throat and went on, "the camera from the ISSCV that brought the POW's in,.... well,..... it recorded the explosion of the cargo carrier where Paul Wang was providing cover for them, to get away. Ross says there is no way Paul survived. I'm sorry Jenny."
"Vansen and Damphousse, missing? Paul...dead..?" Jen stumbled over the last word. "West and Hawkes?"
"In their quarters," Chico had checked them out himself. "Physically, they're fine."
"Thank you both, for your help and concern," Jenny stood very
straight and made herself smile. "I'm fine now. I want to apologize
for my behavior a few minutes ago. I believe my shift has ended,
will you excuse me, please?" She turned and walked out of Sickbay. Her calm appearance in total contrast to the woman who would have fought
them off. Her eyes the only clue that anything was wrong.
.............................................
Wildcard's Quarters
West was laying on Paul's bunk and Hawkes on Vansen's. Neither had moved since Cooper came in, both were still in shock.
"Please, may I come in?" Jenny opened the door to the quarters she swore she would never enter again. Her eyes strayed to Hawkes' bunk on the far wall, but she pulled them quickly back.
"Jenny....," Cooper called out to her, but what ever he was going to say, lodged in his throat when he saw the stricken look on her face.
"Please, don't make me go away?" She begged as she walked between the two bunks, and fell to her knees. Her arms open, reaching a hand for each man. The tears she had been holding in for hours falling fast and hard. "Please, don't make me be alone?"
Both Marines slid to the floor and all three of them held on tightly. The men relieved because they had something to do. Jenny, finally giving vent to all the pent up emotion of the day.
"It's okay, Jen," both men felt her stiffen when West inadvertently
used McQueen's pet name for her. "It's okay, Jenny," he corrected
himself. "You stay right here."
"Right here," Hawkes echoed, as he and West held onto her and
she held them together.
The Jack, the King, and the Lady sat there holding on tightly
to each other. Somehow, the three of them would make it through the
night.
................................
McQueen's ISSCV September 2, 2064 - 0025 hours
McQueen was cold, but it was a good cold. A cold that let him drift away. Away from the pain in his lungs as he tried harder and harder to breath. Away from the numbness in his lower body from the epidural, that he knew was blocking pain. Away from the darkness in his soul when he thought of all that he had lost in the last 24 hours. He felt his breathing become slower and slower as the effort became too great. He was tired of fighting for air, it was so much easier to just...........let...................it............................stop.......................................!
It was strange, he knew his eyes were closed, but he could see Corpsmen moving quickly, as they pushed the POW's to the back of the ISSCV and curtained off his bunk. The incessant beeping that had been keeping pace with his heart rate was erratic. The voices of the people around him were growing dimmer.
He felt good, wonderful, in fact. What was he doing on this hospital shuttle and who was the pale, silver haired man who the Corpsmen were working on so frantically? McQueen watched as the Sargent at the patient's head threw down a laryngoscope in frustration and barked out some orders. *"Poor bastard,"* McQueen though. *"They're not going to be able to save him."*
"Colonel," Wang was standing beside him, watching the Corpsmen as they quickly opened a tray that contained a number 11 blade, retractors, and a tracheotomy tube. "That's you, they're working on. You."
"No," McQueen argued. Then he looked again. "Me? I'm dying? Does that mean you're dead?"
"Yes," Paul watched the Colonel digest the information. "I died a few hours ago, but we saved the colonists."
"What about the others?" McQueen looked around him afraid he would see Vansen and Damphousse. "Did they die, too?"
"They aren't with me, yet," Paul answered cryptically. "You are the one whose dying."
"Considering everything," McQueen shrugged. "Maybe it's not so bad. Maybe it's a....."
"Bull shit, Colonel!" Wang was angry. He had never seen McQueen give up before. He hated to see it now. "You're always telling us 'it's a good day to die.' What exactly does that mean?"
"I'm not sure," McQueen faltered. He knew that he could have answered that question at one time, but standing there watching as they performed an emergency tracheotomy on him, and forced oxygen into his lungs with a ambu bag, the answer was slipping away from him.
"Well if you can't answer that," Wang pushed his advantage. "Tell me why isn't this a good day to live?"
"Oh, come on Wang," McQueen pointed to the stretcher. One of the Corpsmen was bagging him as the other attempted to stop the flow of blood, that had begun to seep from his stump. While they worked, the older Corpsmen was giving worried looks to a strange rhythm pattern that would appear sporadically on the cardiac monitor. "Look at that, and you tell me if it's a good day to live."
"Colonel," Wang tried the easy argument first. "You gave me the courage to go on living when I needed it. You also gave me the courage to die when it was my time. But, in those instances, it was a choice I made. First: to go on living after Kazbek and then Minerva. Second: to die yesterday. All three times it took courage, but those times they were my choices. The choice to live after making mistakes. And the choice to die fighting to keep the POW's from being killed. I knew I was helping to bring Kylen back to Nathan; to complete a job that the 58th started over a year ago. My choices, Sir, not someone else's. That made them the right choices. You gave me the ability to do that, now you stand there and let two Corpsmen make the choice for you?"
"It's not that easy, Paul," McQueen couldn't take his eyes away from the body the Corpsmen were working on. It was hard to believe it was him.
"You say the right choice is rarely the easy one," Paul shot back. "Besides, Jenny said you'd be back." Bringing out the heavy artillery, he continued, "why don't you believe her? More importantly, what will happen to her if you die here?"
"Jen'll be fine." McQueen clenched his fists, not wanting to think about it. "She has Ross, I've seen to that. She has others to take care of her, as well."
"Does she? Look for yourself," Wang pointed out the porthole. Instead of seeing the stars, the two spirit-men saw Jenny huddled against the wall in the bay that had been McQueen's. She couldn't stop throwing up as she gripped an emisis basin. Then she surged to her feet to driving off Joan Brill and Chico Voss, as they tried to help her.
"What's wrong with her?" McQueen stepped closer to the window. "Why is she like that?"
"She can feel you dying, Sir." Paul wondered why the Colonel couldn't see what was in front of his eyes. "She kept her promise to you and was the one to do your surgery, look what it's doing to her."
"Why the hell aren't they helping her?" McQueen gasped as he watched Jen keep Joan and Chico at bay.
"You said it yourself, just yesterday," Paul looked at him knowingly. "She doesn't lean on anyone. Though, that's not exactly true is it, Colonel? There is someone she has been known to lean on. Tell me who it is."
The images of Jen faded and the stars returned on the other side of the porthole. McQueen closed his eyes, trying to deny what he had seen, and what he knew. "Me? I'm the one she's........." The older man shook his head. "But why me?"
"That's something you're going to have to figure out yourself. You're running out of time, Colonel," Paul warned, then began to quote McQueen from that memorable talk, before the Battle Of The Belt. "'Courage. Honor. Dedication. Sacrifice. Those are the words they used...to get you here. But now..the only word that means a damn is life. The one certainty in war... is that in an hour, maybe two, you'll either still be alive...or you'll be dead. And one more thing...It's okay to be scared.'"
McQueen looked Paul in the eyes, but found only deadly earnest looking back. "What, no dog act this time, Wang?" He questioned, a cynical half smile on his lips.
"No Sir," Wang shook his head, both men remembering an overheard conversation from months ago. "So what's it to be Colonel, live or die?"
"Live or die," McQueen muttered as he looked out the porthole again, but saw only stars. Something shifted in him, as he knew he had to go back. He stood straighter and met Paul's eyes with defiance as he stepped toward the Corpsmen who were working on him. "I choose to live! I choose to go on fighting! The hell with being scared!"
"Sir?" Paul called to him. "Tell Vanessa that 'the face of heaven is so fine, that all the world is in love with night.'"
"What?" McQueen faltered, it sounded like Shakespeare, but he couldn't place it. "That means they're alive?"
"Tell her, she'll understand, so will Shane," Paul's voice was a whisper through the air vents as McQueen slipped back into himself.
"We've got him back! Look at that monitor." The younger of the two Corpsmen shouted to his buddy. "I thought we'd lost him for sure."
The senior Corpsman reached for the radio to talk to the pilot. "Sir, we're going to have to divert. The Colonel almost died. Are there any hospital ships closer than the Flo?"
While they waited for a response, the older Corpsman pulled aside the ambu bag and watched the steady rise and fall of the Colonel's chest, "it looks as if he's breathing on his own. Lets hope he keeps it up!"
"Sargent Hopkins," the pilot's voice could be heard by both Corpsmen. "I've just contacted the Clara Barton, she's on her way to meet us. Then we'll take the POW's on to the Nightingale, as planned, for transfer to Earth."
"Sir, what kind of timeframe are we talking here?"
"Can you guys keep him alive for 90 mikes?" The pilot asked. "There's nothing closer, and the situation is heating up back where the Saratoga is, so we can't turn back, not with a bunch of civilian on board."
"Yes Sir, 90 mikes to hand off," Hopkins glanced at his friend. "We only need to keep him alive for 91 mikes, then he belongs to the Clara."
"We never should have accepted him, without a doctor," the younger Corpman shook his head. "Who would have guessed? He appeared stable when we picked him up along with the colonists."
"That's the way it is in a time of war," the older man advised
the younger. "Always remember: you only have to keep them alive
until one mike past hand-off. That's how you'll stay sane on these
runs."
...........................................
The Saratoga 0100 Commodore Ross' Quarters, Sept. 2, 2064
The knocking on his door finally woke up the Commodore. He had fallen asleep in his chair, too exhausted to move to his bedroom.
"This had better be important," he growled as he opened his hatch.
"Sir, I'm sorry to bother you at this hour, but this can't wait." The frightened face of Captain Maureen Fisher looked up at Ross.
"What happened, Captain?" *"This is trouble,"* Ross thought. He had know the forensics expert for a number of years and had never seen her afraid.
"Commodore, I wanted to get a look at the explosion site before.....well, while it was still fresh," she was picking her words carefully.
"Maureen, say what you mean, it won't go any further," Ross smiled trying to put her at ease.
"I wanted to look at it before the Spooks got back on board. What I found, is hard to believe," she shook her head. "Someone planted a time bomb, in there."
"What!" Ross was caught by surprise. Like everyone else, he had thought the Chig Envoy had managed to smuggle an explosive aboard.
"That's not the worst of it, Sir." Wearing work gloves, Fisher pulled a melted and bent computer casing out of a bag she had been carrying. "This is where the bomb was hidden. The worst is this: about a pound of unexploded composite; behind what appears to be a burned electronic trigger." She pointed to areas of the open casing.
"I'm not following you, Captain." Ross trusted Fisher, she was good at her job, but what she was saying didn't make sense. "The bomb went off. Why didn't that explode?"
"That's what I asked myself when I found it. See the bits of burned wiring here?" She moved her gloved fingers over small wires. "I think those were the electronic trigger to the smaller bomb, that should have triggered the main explosive chamber." Fisher pointed to the large block of unexploded composite. "In my opinion, Sir, the bomb that went off a few hours ago, was a trigger incendiary, not the main bomb."
"If the trigger went off, why didn't the rest of the bomb go?" Ross was puzzled.
"I've spent the last hour going over tapes from the five minutes before the explosion." She turned on a recording device and guided Ross through her theory. "Listen to this. There is the argument between Wayne and the Chig; that's the glass breaking, when the Chig moved into the main room. When he does that, he changed the air content. Ammonia mixed with air already present. I think that's what saved our lives."
"But I thought ammonia was used in some explosives?"
"It was, up until about 25 years ago. But what we're dealing with is ammonia gas," Fisher had moved into lecture mode. "If the gas content of that room had been a mixture of between 16-25% ammonia/air, we'd all be nothing but molecules bouncing off the stars. My theory is that the area around the bomb, which was located close to the room where the Chig Envoy had been staying, had a much higher ammonia content than the outer edges of the main room. If you examine the site carefully, you'll notice that the area where I found this computer, has almost no burn or charring, but as you move outward from that area, the damage increases. Gasses, by nature mix, but it would have taken some time for the ammonia to mix evenly with the air."
"Can you give me a short version, in English, Captain Fisher?" Ross' head was swimming with gas laws and laws of partial pressures, that he was trying to remember from college chemistry.
"Bottom line, Sir?" Fisher turned to Ross. "Someone tried to blow up the Saratoga. There is enough composite in this pack, to take out two carriers our size. The only reason we're alive to talk about it is because that Chig Envoy changed the air content of the room, which prevented complete combustion of the trigger bomb."
"You're telling me that the bomb that killed all those men," Ross was shocked. "That bomb, was just a small bomb compared to what was coming?"
"Yes, Sir," Fisher took a deep breath. She was relieved
that Ross was still listening to her. "Combustion needs oxygen in
order to take place. I believe that at the time the trigger went
off, there was very little oxygen around this computer casing. That's
what kept the bomb from going critical."
"Have you told anyone else about this theory of yours?" Ross
had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.
"No, Sir," Fisher shrugged. "There is no one else I trust with this information."
"Thank you," Ross wondered if she realized she had just put herself on a hit list, if her theory was correct. "Is there any danger from that pound of composite?"
"No, that's one of the nice things about composite. It requires a high energy of activation to be triggered," she grinned. "Sorry sir, it takes another explosion to set it off, one of a greater magnitude than the one we experienced a few hours ago."
"Did anyone see you poking around the explosion site?"
"I was discrete, Sir. I didn't see or hear anyone else, but on a ship this size, who knows." She was a bit worried, but tried not to show it.
"I'll keep this locked away here," Ross moved to his wall safe. "The spooks are delayed. Communications are down with the Nebraska, since they went to answer a distress call from the Oklahoma in sector 12. Is there any way we can simulate this?" He pointed to the ruined computer casing. "So we can do an independent investigation."
"I think that can be arranged," Fisher smiled at Ross. "You have a devious mind, Sir."
"That's why I'm the Commodore," he smiled back. "You should have a day or so. Will that give you enough time?"
"Yes, I think it will."
"Good," Ross frowned as his communications console rang. "Watch your six Captain, and if things look the least bit strange, come to me."
"Yes, Sir," Cpt. Fisher felt relieved that she had passed the burden of her find on to Ross. She didn't envy the man his job.
"Commodore Ross, here," he answered his message.
"Sir, I've got a call coming in from the Clara Barton. They say it's urgent."
"Put it through, Sargent," Ross sighed. He was beginning
to wonder if the day would ever end. His head still throbbed and
his cold was as bad as it had been in the morning.
...........................................
The Wildcards' Quarters 0230 hours, September 2, 2064
Jenny was awakened by her wrist unit beeping. She had been asleep in her old bunk in the Wildcards' quarters. Her last memories were of sitting on the deck with Nathan and Cooper as she cried. The three of them holding on to each other. She must have fallen asleep and the Marines had put her to bed.
She knew she had been dreaming about Ty. If she didn't know better, she would swear she could smell him. Was this going to be a repeat of Kordis? She didn't think she could take that, again. Maybe he'd slept in this bunk after she had left the night before landing on Demios. *"Yes,"* she decided. *"That was the answer."* At least the only answer her sanity would accept.
In the light of the corridor, she saw that it wasn't Sickbay that
was calling her, but Commodore Ross. Running her fingers through
her hair, she decided to stop by her quarters and pick up the letter Ty
had wanted her to give to Ross. It was only slightly out of her way. The letter was important to McQueen so it was important to her. She
hoped that Ross wasn't going to be upset by what ever he had written.
.....................
"Commodore?" Jenny knocked on his hatch.
"Come on in Jenny," Ross looked as if he had aged ten years in the last hours.
"Glen, what can I do for you?" Jenny had told herself all the way over here that it was a professional call, that there couldn't be anymore bad news.
"You've got a call from Dr. Stan Turek on the Clara Barton." Ross indicated for her to take his desk chair and showed her how to operate the radio. "It's about McQueen."
"Stan," Jenny spoke into the radio. "What's going on there?"
"I've got this wounded panther you were sending to Earth." Turek's voice could be heard over the radio. "They ran into trouble on the transport, and we were the closest hospital ship, so we caught him."
"What kind of trouble, Stan?" Jenny's voice shook.
"To hear the Corpsmen tell it, he was almost dead, when all of the sudden he was back and fighting for his life." There was admiration in Turek's voice. "They had to trach him, but it's only temporary, until the chemical burns on his mucous membranes heal. Breathing those ammonia fumes caught up with him. It's mostly throat damage, so that we don't have to worry about him going into full blown ARDS."
"Oh God," Jenny gasp. "I shouldn't have let him go so soon after surgery." She had balanced her worry for his respiratory track, with her concern about getting him to more sophisticated orthopedic care, while there were still options regarding a prosthesis.
"If anyone is going to make it, it's this guy. He woke up fighting," Stan continued. "Mike Kelly has just been transferred out here. He's going to look at the Colonel's leg in the morning. From your notes in McQueen's chart I see you were hoping for a transplant or cybernetic prosthesis. Luck is with on that one, because Mike knows more about both of those than anyone else I can think of."
"Will you let me know what he has to say?" Jenny felt the tears begin again.
"Be glad to," Stan cleared his throat before going on. "One other thing Jenny. He was hardly strong enough to hold a pen, but the Colonel has a message for you and Commodore Ross. He was insistent that I get it to you tonight. The guy's a hand full. Short of drugging him to the point of unconsciousness, it was easier to give him something to write with and promise I'd call you."
"A hypospray of 5 mg. of Sleepez, will take him under in about thirty seconds." Jen's voice cracked as she remembered doing just that.
"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind," Turek chuckled. "It sounds as if he has a history of being a bad patient."
"Ross is standing by, Stan," Jenny opened the radio so the Commodore could hear what was being said.
"McQueen says to tell you both that, 'they're alive.' He said 'have faith and keep searching, they're alive.'" Turek didn't know what the message was about, but the Colonel had refused to take 'no' for an answer. "And Jenny I'm to tell you, 'he'll bring it back.'"
"Dr. Turek," Ross had taken over the radio, when Jenny put her head on his desk, unable to take anymore. "Thanks for letting us know what happened. Dr. Kirkwood will call you in the morning."
"Sure thing, Commodore," Turek could hear the sound of soft weeping in the background and it unnerved him. He had known Jenny for ten years and had never seen her cry. "Tell Jenny we'll take care of things on this end. Turek, out."
"Jenny," Ross stooped beside her chair and pulled her head onto his shoulder, while awkwardly patting her hair. "Come here, you cry all you want, it's been a hell of a day."
"I'm all right," she pulled away from him and sat, looking down into his face. "Really I am. You're right, it's been a tough day. Was Ty talking about Shane and Vanessa?"
"You can't put any faith in that." Ross wanted to believe it, but couldn't make himself. "McQueen must have been rambling."
"You're wrong, Glen," she argued. "Ty wouldn't say it if he didn't believe it. The night before we picked them up on Demios, he was worried sick about their fate, because he was uncertain. It's not in his nature to believe like that, unless he knows something we don't."
"Jenny, you're a doctor." Ross hated to have to convince her that she was wrong, but he knew that for her own good, he had to make her understand that there was very little chance the women had survived. "You know the shape McQueen was in when he left here. Tell me how he could have learned something that we haven't?"
"Glen, I don't know." She sighed, as she leaned back in his chair, feeling equal parts defeat and conviction. "But he used the word 'faith', he said, 'have faith, they're alive.' He wouldn't use those words unless he knew something."
"I think that he believes it." Ross stood and poured himself a drink, Jen shook her head, 'no,' when he offered one to her. "That doesn't mean it's so. You need to prepare yourself for that, we all do."
"Anything from the SAR teams?" Jenny whispered.
"Nothing as yet, 2063 Yankee rocks on it's axis, at a rate of twice during it's 15 hour rotation. That causes shifting magnetic fields that play hell with our communications." Ross wasn't happy with the situation. "We could drop a Com satellite, but that would be like leaving a sign for the Chigs that we've got a craft down."
"This keeps getting worse and worse," Jenny sighed as she rubbed her eyes.
"Yes, it does." Ross hated to add to what had happened tonight, but he knew in fairness he had to tell her what Maureen Fisher had found. "There's something else I need to talk to you about."
"What more could have happened?" Jenny looked at Ross and backed away from him.
"Sit down, this is going to take few minutes." He led her to the couch and sat across from her. As he explained what Cpt. Fisher had found, he watched her grow pale and silent.
"Time bomb, you say?" Jenny took a deep breath and got up to look out the observation window in Ross' office. "Was the intended target the peace talks, or was it something more personal?"
"I have no way of knowing at this time," Ross knew she was referring to herself. "Savage has been notified of all that's taken place in the last 24 hours."
"Glen, months ago, you told me the people around me were safe," she was too tired to keep her temper under control. "Was that a lie to keep me from asking questions, or did you really believe that they wouldn't try anything like this?"
"We thought the odds were so small, that it wasn't anything to worry you about," Ross admitted. "Keep in mind that we have no proof that the bomb had anything to do with you."
"Who is 'we'?" The Doctor glared at Ross, white-faced and furious. Her fists clenched at her side.
"McQueen and I," Ross moved toward the woman and placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Well he certainly paid the full price for that didn't he?" Jenny snapped out at Ross. "He believed in me and look what it cost him! People he cares about are dead or dying. He may die himself. And if he does live, his life will never be the same again. My God, Glen, it cost him his leg! He's a Marine! The Corps is his life. You two had no right to make that decision for me, because now I have to live with the consequences."
"Take it easy, Jenny," Ross gripped her shoulders and gave her a light shake.
"I will not take it easy!" She shouted at the Commodore. "I made a promise and I broke it." She was pointing toward the stars to her right as she exploded at Ross. "I should have known the Universe would exact it's full price. Gloria warned me, but I was so glad to have them back from Demios, that I didn't remember all that she said to me."
"What the hell are you talking about?" Ross pulled her close to stop her raving.
"Between my broken promise and what you and Ty were keeping from me, disaster was a sure thing," she bit her lower lip to keep from crying again. "Please Glen, tell me this day has been a nightmare and I'll wake up soon?"
"I wish I could," Ross held her close and wanted with all his heart to keep her like that, but he knew she wasn't his and never could be. "I wish I could."
"I'm all right, Glen." Jenny stepped away from him and turned her back, not wanting him to see the pain and guilt she was feeling. "Really I am, I just need to get some sleep."
"What I told you about the bomb," Ross placed a hand on her shoulder from behind. "That isn't to leave this room."
"Yes, Sir," Jen took a deep breath as she turned back to him. "I nearly forgot, this is for you," she pulled the letter from McQueen out of her pocket and handed it to Ross. "The last thing he asked me to do before he was shipped out, was to give you this."
Ross took the rumpled envelope from her shaking fingers. His name was written in McQueen's familiar handwriting. "Where did you get this?"
"He gave it to me months ago," Jen smiled as she remembered a night when she had slept held tightly against Ty. "The night before they left for Kazbek. I was to give it to you if he didn't come back."
"What's in it?" Ross held the envelope with unsteady fingers.
"I've never read it," Jen smiled for the first time that night. "It's addressed to you." She reached for his hand and curled it around the letter. "You're a good friend to him. He spoke fondly of you as far back as when he was in detox, four years ago."
"Ty, did?"
"Yes," Jen searched for the right words. "He had spoken of his friend Glen, but the thing that sticks out in my mind the most is when I began calling him Ty." She smiled, remembering a late afternoon on a sailboat. "He said that the only other person who called him that was Glen. Later he said that when people called him TC, it made him feel incomplete."
"He said that?" Ross had never realized how important a thing like a name could be. "I never knew."
"Umhmm," she shook her head in the affirmative. "I think it meant a great deal to him. You helped give him an identity as a man."
"Thank you for telling me that," Ross felt at peace for the first time that night. He knew the feeling wouldn't last long, but he needed it for every second it was there. "Now you get to bed, it's almost morning and I doubt today will be any easier than the last 24 hours has been."
After the doctor left, Ross sat at his desk staring at the envelope. Part of him wanted to tear open the paper and read the words his friend had sent to him. Another part of him believed that as long as the letter stayed unopened, McQueen would stay alive. It was a silly superstition for a Commodore of a space carrier to have, but it kept him from opening it.
Carefully placing the letter on his desk, with the picture of
his sister and children, he thought, *"you guys take care of him for me?" It didn't make any sense, but it was how he felt. McQueen was family,
so the Commodore was putting all he had of the man with the one part of
his children he could touch at a moment's notice.
.....................................
The Clara Barton, September 2, 2064, 0700 hours
McQueen lay there, his consciousness suspended in that moment between awake and asleep. He could hear noises that weren't familiar to him. His body didn't feel like his own. As he fought to open his eyes, a hatch banged and the events of the last 24 hours came rushing back.
"Jen," his lips formed her name, but no sound came out. He hadn't learned the breath control necessary for talking with a trach tube in place. He hoped that it wouldn't be there long enough for him to have to.
"Easy does it Colonel McQueen," Sgt. John Stark finished recording his patient's vital signs, then moved closer to the bed to talk to him. "You and your team saved my life, when you pulled us off of Kordis, Sir. Anything I can do for you, let me know."
McQueen shook his head as he recognized the Corpsman who had been trapped with Jen. He had many questions, but was too tired to write them out. For the moment, they would have to wait.
Two men came into his room. He thought he recognized one as the man who had transmitted his message, the night before, but he wasn't sure.
"Colonel, I'm Dr. Turek, I don't know if you remember me from last night, but we talked." Stan motioned for Stark to stay, and continue his charting. "This is Dr. Kelly, his speciality is transplant and cyber orthopedics. Do you remember what happened to you?"
McQueen nodded his head, as images flew through his mind. He knew he had been at the peace talks. He knew he had lost part of his right leg. Then there was Jen in Sickbay? His fingers rubbed against his chest, where his dog tags were resting, under his gown. She had given him her bracelet? That hadn't been a dream. After that it got hazy, as if he was watching, as well as participating. He kept trying to remember a conversation with Paul, but his mind didn't want to accept it. Somehow he knew Paul was dead, so he couldn't have talked to him.
"Colonel McQueen," Mike Kelly sat in a chair next to the patient's bed, bringing Ty's attention back to the present. "Dr. Kirkwood's notes suggest the use of a new kind of prosthesis. It would be the ideal, but involves the use of stem cell therapy and transplanted muscle and bone. The stem cell therapy can be hard on the body and in many cases the patient rejects the transplants. But when it works, the prosthesis becomes a living part of your body. It would be as if you had never lost a limb. You are young and healthy so the odds are good that this will work for you, but in case it doesn't I want to explain to you what is involved with the computerized version." Kelly waited a beat, while he watched McQueen absorb what had been said.
"I understand you are a veteran of the AI war? Since that's the case, it's important for you to understand that the second option isn't an AI prosthesis, as people like to call it. In actuality, the AI's grew out of the combined sciences of Cyber-medicine, not the other way around," Dr. Kelly had caught McQueen's attention.
"In the late 1980's doctors began experimenting with ways to give para and quadriplegics natural movement. By 2015, the research had progressed to the replacement of limbs." Kelly began drawing a diagrams of both options for McQueen. "Unfortunately, somewhere along the line, ethics were tossed out the window and Aerotech decided to try and build people. The rest is history," he muttered.
McQueen interrupted Kelly's lecture by reaching unsteady hands for the doctor's pen and paper. He scribbled, "do it," then let the pen drop from hands made tired from that small job.
Sometime during the night before, the Colonel had decided he would take a leg from the devil himself, if it helped him get back to the Saratoga. He had never been vain about his body. *"Hell, what was one more scar,"* he had thought. Besides the prosthesis was only a means to an end. He could picture Jen sitting beside his bed quoting from The Book Of Five Rings. 'When your life is on the line, you want to make use of all your tools.' He was sure she would prod him along by saying. *"Come on Ty, after all, whatever gets the job done!"*
"All right," Kelly was caught by surprise. Very often it took careful explaining to convince soldiers who had fought against the AI's to let him use one of the more advanced types of prosthesis. If the newer transplants didn't work. He could understand why they were repelled by the idea of possible AI technology. Many of them refused to even listen.
"We'll schedule your surgery for 0700 tomorrow. I realize it's fast, Colonel, but the sooner we do the procedure, the better the chance of a positive outcome. Dr. Kirkwood was careful when she did the original repair. It was obvious she had this kind of prosthesis in mind from the start. You were lucky to have her there to do the surgery."
McQueen closed his eyes, nodding his head in agreement,
as his hand moved to grip his dog tags through the hospital gown. He was able to feel the bracelet Jen had attached there the night before
and it gave him comfort.
.........................................
Planet 2063 Yankee, 0700 hours September 2, 2064
The little planet was the third from it's yellow sun. Both the sun and the planets caught in it's orbit were small by comparison to many of it's much larger cousins throughout the universe. Though the planet was going on 2 billion years old, it didn't support any humanoid life forms as yet. It was lush and green, with a high oxygen content in it's atmosphere. Due to it's proximity to it's sun, and the odd shifting along it's axis, the temperature between poles and equator was a constant 33 degrees C. to 36 degrees C. all year long.
The Chigs had checked it out years ago for possible colonization, but found the atmosphere not only unbreathable, but between the constant rain and the high oxygen content of the air, it corroded their survival suits. Added to that were poor communications due to the flux in magnetic fields, making the few minerals found, uneconomical to mine.
As one moved further from the equator, an odd phenomena occurred. In the fifteen hours it took to complete a turn on it's axis, 2063 Yankee had two nights. A true night, when the face of the planet was turned away from the sun and a false night, when only partial light was present, as the planet rocked away from the sun, then back again. The poles getting the longer false nights, the equator none.
In a mountainous area, of the largest continent, mid-way between equator and the north pole, a little cockpit was covered with it's landing 'chute. It had come to rest in the deep water of a huge lake or inland sea. Between the water and the 'chute' the cockpit had been cushioned enough to keep from breaking up on impact. During the night, it had drifted to the southern shore of the lake.
"Ohhh..." Captain Shane Vansen's eyes fluttered open as she tried to make sense of the strange rocking sensation. If she didn't know better she would swear she was in a boat. "No!" She gasped as she remembered the last few hours. *"No quick moves,"* she thought. *"my head and stomach can't take it."*
"'Phousse, Vanessa...," she gently shook the shoulder of the unconscious woman beside her. "You gotta wake up!"
"Paul," Damphousse murmured, as she forced her eyes open. Her body hurt everywhere. The last thing she remembered was Paul telling her everything was going to be all right, if she just hung on a bit longer. "Shane, what happened?" She looked out the front of the cockpit and couldn't make sense of what she saw.
"The pit got separated from the cargo bay of the ISSCV," Shane tested her own memory to see if she was on track.
"What about the POWs, did they make it?" Vanessa had been knocked unconscious when they had taken the hit that disabled them. "Did Nathan get Kylen back?"
"I don't know, but I think so," Shane began undoing her safety harness. "I have to believe so, or this was all for nothing. We better see where we are and get this cockpit hidden, or we may end up being POWs ourselves. If the readings on this thing are still working, we've got a high oxygen, nitrogen content, and traces of other gasses, in other words, breathable. I'm going to pop the top and see where we are."
"Ohhh, Shane," Vanessa was struck by dizziness as she moved to unstrap her safety harness to give Shane a hand with the emergency hand crank. "I'm really dizzy and I think I may have broken my wrist."
"You sit still." Shane was a bit dizzy herself, but she was determined to get out of the cockpit before their oxygen ran out. "You knocked your head pretty hard when we were hit last night."
Vansen finally worked open the emergency hatch and stood on her seat to take a look around. Part of the chute had flopped over the view screen, the rest was dragging in the water, where it had tangled on something. Pushing it aside, Shane saw it had anchored them to a large log that was sticking up about ten feet from the shore of a huge lake or ocean.
"Damn, we were lucky," Shane looked down at her friend. "We must have come down in the water. Last night, I kept dreaming I was on Jenny's boat," she laughed. "I guess we really were floating."
"Shane," Vanessa was trying to get her eyes to track properly as she concentrated on a section of the command console. "We've got some fused circuits boards in the homing beacon."
"If we're going to be found, we gotta get that thing fixed," the Captain stood in the sunshine of a lovely green world and knew that she would give almost anything to be back in the cold dark of space. "Do you think you can do it?"
"Not while this pit is rocking," Vanessa grabbed her head to steady herself. "If I can get on dry land, I think I can do it, but it may take some time, and I'll need your help."
"I'll get that section out of there, you lean back and relax,"
Shane began pulling out the radio and homing beacon. "Then we'll
see about getting out of here."
.........................................
The Saratoga, September 2, 2064- 0935 hours
Jenny knocked hard on Commodore Ross' door. She could hardly contain her anger at the latest rumor she had heard.
"Come in, Jenny," Ross opened the door for her. He could tell by the look on her face that she had heard the news. She had just missed the visit by West, Hawkes and Connelly. Too bad they all hadn't come at once, then he wouldn't have to be going through this argument twice in the same day.
"I've heard that you're calling in the SAR teams for Vansen and Damphousse, is that true?" She demanded, "I realize I'm a bit out of line here Commodore, but the rumors are everywhere."
"They're more than rumors, I'm afraid," Ross hated breaking the news to her, but there was a war on and he had orders. "The Saratoga is needed elsewhere. We'll be weighing anchor by 1100 hours."
"If you're recalling the SAR's that are out," Jenny argued. "Then send one. Hawkes, West and me. They're alive. McQueen said so. We have to find them."
"Are you out of your mind!" Ross turned on her, "even if I would let West and Hawkes go, that's not a mission for you."
"I beg to differ with the Commodore," Jenny moved in close to argue with him. "I'm a doctor, when we find them, they'll need me."
"That could be trading your lives in an attempt to find bodies." Ross had to believe that they were dead, or he wouldn't have been able to move the Saratoga. "I refuse to do that!"
"You wouldn't be doing it, we would be. And we're not going to die, any of us." Jenny grabbed his hand and held it tightly. "Please, Glen I have to do this."
Ross looked carefully at Jenny. For the first time he realized there was a desperation behind her words. "Why? What aren't you telling me?"
"I...a..I..don't know what you mean," Jenny chewed on her bottom lip.
"I think you do," Ross pushed harder. "I know you care about Vansen and Damphousse. We all do, but this goes deeper for you, much deeper!"
"We, you and I, have to do this for McQueen," she turned and walked the few feet to the porthole. "We owe it to him. You owe it to him!"
"You're a dirty fighter, Doctor," her words had stung. If he hadn't been ill and asked McQueen to take his place at the peace talks, Ross knew he would be the one on the Clara Barton. "I didn't expect it of you. Tell me how letting the three of you get killed would be paying a debt to Ty?"
"I won't let them die. So much of this is already my fault," she raged at him. "Don't you understand, they have to live, all of them!"
"Wang is already dead," Ross argued. "And the odds that Vansen and Damphousse are alive are slim."
"I'll take those odds any day!" Jenny raised her chin, refusing to believe that the others hadn't made it.
"There's more to this than you're telling me," Ross squinted at
the woman in front of him. "What's going on here?"
"You want the truth?" Jenny wrapped her arms around herself to
keep from shivering. "My God, it can't do anymore damage than it's
already done! Ty loves them, we have to get them back for him."
"More! You promised me the truth," Glen pushed.
"All right, you want it all?" Jenny stood very straight, refusing to be embarrassed. "I'm in love with him. I think I've loved him for a long time, but didn't realize it until the morning he left for Kazbek."
*"Well that explains it,"* Ross thought. *"It's nice to know it wasn't my lack of charm, but McQueen's considerable charm, that had her so entranced."*
"Somehow, I think I assumed that all he needed to do was understand what love was about, and he'd love me back." Jen had needed to say these things for so long, it was a relief to be able to talk to someone about it. "It didn't work that way. It didn't take me long to realize he had learned to love, but he loved the Wildcards, not me. I can't take that away from him! We can't take that away from him."
Reaching for Jen's left wrist, the Commodore realized what had been out of place when he looked at her. "Where's your bracelet, Jenny?" He whispered as he felt a pang of regret that he hadn't read the letter from McQueen. *"No,"* he thought. *"This is my decision, I can't let McQueen influence it in anyway."*
"Ty has it," Jenny took a deep breath. "It gave me strength when I was on Kordis. I hope it will do the same for him, now. It brought me luck. It'll do that for him and he's going to need all the luck he can get."
"He's the one who gave it to you, isn't he?" Ross was remembering remnants of a drunken conversation with McQueen He didn't need to see Jenny nod yes, to know the answer. "He's the Major from your stories!"
"So what if he is?" She branzened it out, "I was just telling stories about the Angry Angels to help pass the time while we were waiting for rescue!"
"It may have started out that way, but no, Jenny that's not all it was and you know it," Ross challenged.
"I don't think he knows about the stories and if he does, he hasn't read anything into them," the Doctor sighed. "Please don't tell him otherwise. If he knew how I really felt, it would cost me his friendship."
"Jen," Ross saw her flinch and he realized that McQueen was the only one who called her that. "Jenny, I think the next time you see him, you need to sit down and have a long talk with him."
"As I said, we're friends but nothing more," she sighed. "He's made his intentions very clear to me." She flushed as she remembered how he had pulled away from her that night. "I've never understood how intelligent men can prefer their women to be a bit light in the brains and heavier in the curves. Lets face it Glen, that just isn't me. Besides, you've seen that picture on his desk. No matter how much I want to change it, I can't. There may not have been real love in his marriage before, but he's learned to love, now. If he wants, he can go back and change his past."
"You know you can't change the past, though it sounds as if you've given this plenty of thought. I still think you may be wrong," Ross spoke quietly, not wanting to get her hopes up, but wanting so much more for both his friends. "Now tell me, what makes you think all that has happened in the last 24 hours is your fault."
"I made a deal," Jen sighed. "That morning that I realized that I loved him. I made a deal with the Universe. If it would keep them safe, I'd never let him know how I felt. The night before we picked up the 58th from Demios, I let him kiss me." She shook her head at her own stupidity.
"Wait a second," Ross cut in. "McQueen kissed you?" He watched as she flushed and knew without a doubt it was more than a friendly peck on the cheek. "He isn't one to do that lightly."
"Please Glen, get real. He's a man, a Marine and I'm not blind. I saw him in action when I was with the Angels. Ty may have been more discrete than most, but he liked the ladies and they liked him."
"You've got him wrong," Ross defended his friend. "Sure he did a lot of looking, back then. We all did. But even then he was never much of a womanizer, though they were attracted to him. By the way, 'lady' is not the correct term for them." The Commodore looked the Doctor over closely. He had always assumed that Amy had been the reason McQueen had gone a bit sour on women. Maybe what Ross had interpreted as hurt had been waiting. He would have to think about it. Yes, this was getting more interesting by the minute.
"Men, you all stick together, but it doesn't matter. I was there that night, I know. He realized his error quickly enough," she turned her back, it hurt to bring all this out into the open. Ross had become a friend to her in the months she had been on the Saratoga, but he was Ty's friend first. She wanted to be careful what she said.
"Jenny, I think you're reading this incorrectly," Ross knew that she wasn't the kind of woman to be taken lightly and he was sure McQueen did too.
"Please, this isn't something I want to talk about anymore. Just know that it happened and it shouldn't have. Now there are consequences to pay. I thought I was safe. That the kiss had been overlooked, when we got the 'Cards back. Then all hell broke lose yesterday. Now it's time to pay the piper, and the price is dearer than I ever imagined. I have to get them back for him!" Jenny stepped very close to Ross and gripped his arms.
"That doesn't make much sense," he shook his head. "You're a woman of science. Do you really believe that this deal of your's either helped or hurt them, at anytime?"
"I don't know Glen," she closed her eyes for a moment to get her balance. "All I know is that this is something I have to do for Ty. He's lost so much that he's cared about in his life. Please, please let me do this!"
Ross watched her as she fought the emotions that were passing over her face; fear, pain, desperation and love. What she was asking didn't make any sense, but little did anymore. There was so much hatred in the world, in the past years, who was he to argue with anyone who wanted to do something for love.
"All right," Ross saw the relief that filled her eyes. "On one condition. Hawkes and West have to give their okay on this. They've already been in here, by the way, with Lt. Mitch Connelly. If this is a go, there will be four of you. I can keep the Saratoga here for another twenty-four hours and that's all. If you don't find them in that time, you'll have to come back. Deal?" He held out his hand.
Jenny stared at his hand, as she heard McQueen's voice echoing
in her head, *"pax?"* She forced herself to take Ross' hand and shake,
though she had no idea what she had just agreed to.
..........................................
Saratoga Landing Bay, September 2, 1110 hours
Jenny walked up to the three Marines that were waiting for her. They were all dressed in battle gear. A grim smile crossed her face, as she realized what it had taken to get her to admit that 'once an Angry Angel, always an Angry Angel,' included her as well.
"Dr. Kirkwood," Ross came down from the observation deck. "May I have a word with you?"
"Yes, Commodore," Jenny moved to meet him.
"I've got something for you," he held out a k-bar in an Angel black scabbard, turning it over so they could both see 'McQ' inscribed in silver on the back.
"I can't take that," Jen backed away. She had recognized the knife before Ross had shown her the initials.
"Consider it a trade." Ross smiled as he attached the scabbard to her vest. "He always said this k-bar brought him luck. Besides, I've never seen an Angry Angel go into a hot spot without one."
"How did you know?" He had caught Jenny by surprise.
"I figured that if anything would bring you out of the closet, this would," Ross stood back and looked at her.
"I tried to convince them for the better part of a year, but even Gloria Collins never understood that if I could handle a scalpel, I could handle one of these things," she nodded as she touched the cool black leather of the scabbard, when she peeled her vest aside revealing her hastily sewn on Angry Angel's insignia and the call sign Angel-Doc written in laundry marker above her name patch.
"I expect you to bring that back," the Commodore warned. "He'll have my head if anything happens to it."
"Thank you, Glen," she smiled. "Not just for that, but for everything."
"Jenny, I mean it," he looked her in the eyes. "I expect
you to come back." He had a terrible feeling that she didn't care
if she returned or not, as long as they were able to find the missing women. "And remember 24 hours is the deadline!"
.......................................
The Clara Barton, September 2, 2064- 1530 hours
"Colonel, may I come in," Corpsman Stark stuck his head around the hatch to McQueen's room and entered when he saw the man nod in agreement. "These are for you," he placed two books on the stand next to the Colonel.
"Dr. Turek talked to the Lady-Doc this morning about 1030 hours," Stark saw the slight movement of McQueen's head and knew he was listening to him. "She asked him to get those for you. She also, had a message. She said to tell you, 'we'll find them.'"
"Jen," McQueen's lips formed her name, as his eyes closed. They were keeping him drugged for pain control, since pulling the epidural in the morning. Dr. Kelly had told him they needed to be able to test his nerves' responses to stimuli during surgery, so the regional pain block had been removed. As more and more feeling was returning, he was needing stronger drugs to keep the pain manageable.
He had a sneaking suspicion that they also opted to keep him drugged due to the hard time he had given them when he had first arrived. Last night he had been in no mood to be trifled with. His weakened condition only added to his frustration. He had come very close to an old fashion temper tantrum, but at the last moment, realized, it was impossible to do that with the damn trach tube preventing speech. He had settled for being as noncooperative as possible. In the end, he had gotten his own way. Dr. Turek had contacted Jen and Ross and it had the added advantage of keeping most of the staff from wanting to have much to do with him.
The Commodore and the Doctor would take care of things until he got back. Though he didn't envy Glen having to keep Jen in line. He could picture her driving the man crazy as she pushed him to have more SAR teams looking for his girls. She would make sure he found them.
"Sir," Stark rested his hand on McQueen's shoulder, for a moment, to bring him back to the present. "I hope you don't mind, but I've requested to be your Corpsman. I know with your rank, you rate at least a Lieutenant Commander, maybe even a full Commander, but Sir, I'll do my best for you." He had seen the Lady-Doc's bracelet attached to the Colonel's dog tags. This man was important to the Lady or she never would have given it to him. Therefore, he was important to Stark. "We have a bond, Sir," was as close as Stark would go to mentioning the bracelet, or Kirkwood, unless the Colonel brought it up.
McQueen nodded his head, acknowledging both the Corpsman's request and the bond. He wanted to feel the gold rope against his fingers, but wouldn't give in to it as long as someone else was in the room, even Stark. He had to be content with holding it against his chest.
Jen was still taking care of him, after all this time, and all this distance. It took him a moment to realize that he didn't mind it anymore. He only wished she would let him take care of her. What the hell was he thinking! He didn't want the responsibility of another person, especially now.
"Colonel McQueen," Stark stepped close to the bed. "I'm off duty for now, but I'll check on you this evening, and will be back on duty tomorrow before they take you to surgery. Is there anything I can get you before I go?"
McQueen pointed toward the books the Sargent had brought in with him. He was too weak to read, let alone hold a book, but he was interested in knowing what Jen had picked out for him. He had always thought a person's bookshelf told a lot about them.
Looking over at the books Stark held in his hand, he smiled and shook his head. The woman had his number, she had chosen, Te-Tao Ching and The Book Of Five Rings.
After he heard Stark quietly put the book down, and leave the
room, McQueen reached beneath his hospital gown and pulled out his dog
tags. His fingers feeling in the dark for the gold chain that hung
there. Fisting his hand around it, he took a deep breath and feel
asleep. Finally understanding why Jen wore it all the time. It brought him peace. He had to get well and get it back to her,
she must be missing it.
.....................................
ISSCV heading for Planet 2063 Yankee September 2, 2064, 1545 hours
Nathan West piloted the small troop carrier through the atmosphere of Planet 2063Y. The craft bucked as Nathan fought with the controls. He shook his head trying not to think what it must have been like coming down in a severed cockpit.
"Look alive back there," Nathan called out to Hawkes who was manning the waist gun.
"We're alive and kicking," Hawkes responded as he checked the sights of his weapon for the fourth time in an hour.
"Connelly," West called back to the man at the radio. "Anything on the signal tracker?"
"Zilch, so far," Mitch Connelly called back. He was an attorney from Ann Arbor, Michigan, who had been flying since he was twelve. His sister had been a Vesta Colonist. When news of the attack had reached Earth, he had joined the Marine Air Calvary.
"Jenny, you all right back there?" Nathan was worried about the woman. She had been strangely silent during the trip. He would give a lot to know how she had convinced the Commodore to let them go on this mission. Even more to know how she had convinced him to allow her to go along. Sure, Ross had left the final decision up to them, but how could they deny her, when she had been the one who had been able to make it all happen?
"Just checking to make sure all the medical gear is strapped in nice and tight," Jen had been trapped on one planet without adequate supplies, it wasn't going to happen again.
"I'm going in for a closer look, so everyone keep their eyes open." Nathan warned. "Jenny, back up Mitch, will ya'?"
"Sure thing," she was glad for something to do, the trip out had seemed to take forever. They had to find Vanessa and Shane. They just had to.
The determined people in the ISSCV began doing a low altitude search pattern over the planet. Starting with the equator, they circled 2063Y, moving further and further south. When that resulted in nothing, they went back to the equator and began to search north.
"We've got to turn something up soon. We've been searching for fifteen hours," Jenny looked at her watch, refusing to admit defeat. "Can we go in any lower, Nathan?"
"Not safely," the pilot shook his head. "An extended search like this is going to attract attention sooner or later. If we go in much below the 100 mile mark, we'll be seen by anything down there."
"Nathan," Connelly called. "I think I've got something, it's faint and it just started transmitting after we flew over." He quickly fed the coordinates to the pilot's computer.
"That's one of ours all right," Nathan examined the signal. "The question is who's sending it?"
"Chiggy could've picked us up on LIDAR and decided to play a little game with us," Hawkes tossed out. "But we gotta check it out."
"I'm getting a garbled, message from the Saratoga," Mitch called out. "I'm trying to clear it, but it doesn't sound good."
"5-8 this is Commodore Ross," Connelly got the message stabilized enough so that they recognized Ross' worried face. "We are taking fire, repeat the Saratoga...........fire." In the background, the sound of guns blazing echoed through the small craft. "We are going to try.......lead them......from you. Will return in..........six days.......maybe.....longer......drop a com-sat.......that time. Good luck, Ross out."
An hour later the ISSCV was headed in for a landing on 2063 Yankee. They had all wanted more time to search, but this wasn't the way they had wanted to get it. Everyone was worried about the Saratoga, but focused on the job they were doing. Ross said he would return, if it was humanly possible to do so, they knew he would. He had proved that once before, and they all believed him now.
"How close in do we dare get?" Jenny asked, her eyes glued to an observation port.
"Dare, is the right word, Dr. Kirkwood," Connelly sighed. "That homing beacon is located in some rough terrain. I figure it'll
take us a day or so to get there. Nathan, I'm sending you the coordinates
of the closest place we can land this thing."
................................
The Clara Barton September 3, 2064, 0615 hours
"Colonel," John Stark arrived at McQueen's room minutes before they were to take him to surgery. "If you'd like, I'll keep these books for you until you're well enough to read them?"
McQueen nodded his head and reached for his dog tags with the hand not attached to an IV. He held the tags out, needing the Corpsman's help to get them over his head. The Colonel had been through enough surgery to know that they would be taken off of him very soon. For some reason, he knew that Stark would understand it was a private thing, so he wanted him to keep them for him.
"You want me to take these?" Stark's blue eyes met McQueen's, as he helped him take off the chain containing a set of dog tags and a gold rope bracelet. "I'll keep it safe for you, Sir. Don't worry, by the time you wake-up, you'll be wearing it again." Both men understood Stark was referring to the bracelet, and could give a damn about the tags.
That was the last thing McQueen remembered, that he knew was real, for the next twenty-four hours. He knew he had been taken to the OR, but the dreams he had under anesthesia and while recovering were so intense that it wiped everything else from his mind.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
*'Over The Mountains Of The Moon'*
It was a warm day. McQueen could feel the sun on his face and smell the sea air. He was walking a path up a mountain. His body felt light and he moved easily in jeans, hiking boots, and a t-shirt. He was carrying a light jacket against the possibility of wind. He knew where he was. He was climbing Mount Iwato in Higo province of Kyushu, Japan. His climb had a sense of purpose, but he wasn't sure what it was.
When he finally reached the top, he saw an old man sitting on a mat writing in scrolls.
"Warrior McQueen," the old man motioned for him to join him. "You have come at last. I have waited a long time for you to seek me out. Do you know who I am?"
"You are Miyamoto Musashi?" McQueen didn't know how he knew, but he did. "What am I doing here?"
"You have come to learn, McQueen," Musashi paused and watched the man before him. "Up until now you have lived a life of 'shin-ken' or as you would say, 'real sword,' you have walked the path of a warrior with 'utmost earnestness.' But of late, you worry much. You have many questions. I am here to help you answer them."
"Am I dead?" Standing there, McQueen remember all of his conversation with Paul.
"No, McQueen, your warrior's body is resting," Musashi reassured. "They have made you new again. Now is the time for you to 'become new', as well."
"New? In what way?" McQueen sat cross-legged on the mat facing the old Warrior.
"'If you get to feeling snarled up and are making no progress, you toss your mood away and think in your heart that you are starting everything anew. As you get the rhythm, you discern how to win.' So tell me, McQueen what has you snarled up?"
"I made a decision a few months ago," he paused. "It was a Soldier's decision. It was the correct thing to do and we did it, but my heart wouldn't accept it, because it almost cost me the lives of five people who mean a great deal to me." McQueen felt again what he had felt during those three months while the Saratoga fought the battle at Ixion and the Wildcards had been left on Demios.
"I had hoped 'a mountain and sea change.' would make the newness complete, but now I'm not so sure," the old man thought carefully.
"'It is bad to do the same thing over and over again.'" McQueen squinted his eyes as he tried to remember the quote. "'You may have to repeat something once, but it should not be done a third time.'"
"Yes, you have read this well," Musashi pointed to the unfinished scrolls, but you need to remember, 'this requires careful reflection.'"
"But Sir," McQueen knew The Book Of Five Rings well, there was much he wanted to ask. "What you are talking about is changing fighting strategies."
"Ahhh Warrior," Musashi shook his head in disappointment. "Just as I thought. You are only looking at the fight without, but what about the fight within? The 'reflection', McQueen, the 'reflection'! It is as important as the fighting."
"I've been fighting all my life, Sir," McQueen looked far out over the valleys below. "Sometimes the fight has been just to stay alive, but most of the time it has been as a warrior."
"Ahhhh, it is as I thought," the old man nodded his head. "Your fight has been a long and hard one, and it isn't over yet, but your heart is straying from the battle, is it not?"
"It can't," McQueen denied what he was feeling. "I won't let it! I am what I am. This is what I was born to do!"
"Is it, Young Warrior?" Musashi whispered. "But what of your 'genuine path'?"
"How did you know?" McQueen was surprised, "how could you know what has been on my mind so much lately?"
"I know what you know, Warrior," the old man sighed. "You must look into your heart and remember what I say. 'Even if you strive diligently on your chosen path day after day, if your heart is not in accord with it, then even if you think you are on a good path, from the point of view of the straight and true, this is not a genuine path. If you do not pursue a genuine path to its consummation, then a little bit of crookedness in the mind will later turn into a major warp.'"
"Why do you keep calling me Warrior, if that isn't my path?"
"One doesn't need to take up a sword or weapon, to be a warrior," Musashi smiled at his student. "There comes a time in each man's life when the killing must stop. If one is a strong warrior, one can choose the time. If one isn't, then he dies and the killing stops anyway. Tell me McQueen, how many years have you been a 'killing warrior'?"
"This is my sixteenth year in the Corps," McQueen thought back to all the fighting he had done in that time. "I am a soldier, a warrior by trade."
"We are much alike," the old man looked up and smiled. "I killed my first man at thirteen and my last at twenty-nine. For that sixteen years I was a killing warrior, just as you are."
"Master, I have read that, but when you stopped killing, you didn't give up fighting," McQueen argued. "You went on to gain deeper knowledge and fighting skills. You were still a warrior."
"That is so, Young Warrior," the Old Warrior nodded. "But that was my 'genuine path'. I followed it to the end as should be done."
"Are you saying that it isn't mine?"
"I am saying that you need to take this great worry that is upon your heart and cast it away," the old man's words became light and breathy. "Look at your life, all you have become, all you want to become. Follow your 'genuine path,' McQueen. There is one who will help you, but you must see her for what she is, first." His words moved on the breeze as the old warrior began to disappear.
"Wait come back," McQueen called, still having many questions.
"Remember this," the wind called back to him. "'Efficiency and smooth progress, prudence in all matters, recognizing true courage, recognizing different levels of moral, instilling confidence, and realizing what can and cannot be reasonably expected,' these are the principles that count. Live your life with 'shin-ken', and you will be a warrior in all your endeavors."
Fog moved up from the valley below, as McQueen sat on the old
warrior's mat thinking about all he had seen and heard. He reached
an involuntary hand for his dog tags and the bracelet that hang between
them. His fingers touched the warm gold and he thought of Jen, as
the fog closed in. His body grew heavy and he heard the beeping
of monitors in the background.
..................................
The Clara Barton, September 3 2064, 2300 hours
"Easy there Colonel," the quiet voice of John Stark pierced the fog. "You're doing just fine. The surgery went real well!"
McQueen fought to open his eyes, but it was too much effort. "Jen," he mouthed her name and was surprised that he had forgotten about the trach tube. In his dream he had been able to speak and it had seemed so real. It caught him off guard that he couldn't.
"You're going to be good as new, Sir," Stark whispered as he eyed McQueen's hand that was holding onto the gold rope. The Corpsman had seen Dr. Kirkwood hold onto that chain in the same way when she was worried or frightened when they had been trapped on Kordis. "Don't worry, she's watching over you."
McQueen heard the whispered words. Jen was watching over him, so he could sleep. He relaxed back into the fog, not knowing who he would meet there, but knowing it would be all right because Jen had given him a piece of herself.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
*'Down The Valley Of The Shadow'*:
The sound of the cardiac monitor was replaced by the second movement of Beethoven's "Eroica" Symphony. *"Jen never liked that piece, she always said it was too maudlin,"* he thought to himself. *"She prefers Chopin and Mozart."*
Looking up, McQueen realized he was standing in his quarters on the Saratoga. He was wearing sweat pants and a t-shirt. In his hand was his wedding picture. He did a double take when he looked into the smiling face of Amy. The glass covering the picture wasn't cracked? He looked over and Kelly Winslow was looking at him, waiting for him to speak. He realized it was that moment when he had a choice: truth or lie. In his anger after lying to her, he had thrown the picture across the room and cracked the glass. A short time later Winslow was killed.
What had Winslow just asked him? *"Yes, I remember now, she had asked about the wedding picture and if Amy was on my mind,"* he thought.
"I'm sorry Lieutenant," McQueen was finally able to apologize for lying to her all those months ago.
"Colonel, I didn't mean to pry, Sir," she pulled herself to attention, thinking that she had gone too far in inquiring into his personal life.
"Wait," the Colonel stopped her from leaving. "I was about to lie to you, that's what I'm sorry for."
"Sir?" Winslow didn't think she had ever heard him apologize to anyone.
"When I told you 'SHE Was on my mind a bit,' even that's a lie, of omission," he moved away from her and turned off the music. He didn't want any misunderstanding between them. He had been given another chance and he wanted to do it right.
"Please, Colonel McQueen, this isn't necessary," Winslow was seeing a side to her commander she had never seen before and wasn't comfortable with.
"It is, Lieutenant." McQueen nodded toward the picture, "yes, she's been on my mind, but only because I keep her there. I make myself look at this picture every day. It's become my shield against anyone else who tries to get in," as he said the words he realized how true they were. Not only a figurative shield, but he had literally put Jen's picture behind Amy's.
"Is that why you've had no one to share your feelings with these last months?" Winslow rephrased her words from moments ago.
"Yes, and I've made sure it stayed that way," McQueen turned away from her. "My life with Amy.....has been on my mind a lot. I deliberately remind myself of what I had and......the hell it turned into. That way I can keep......Well I think you get the idea."
"There's someone the Colonel has come to care about?" Kelly was able to speak freely because she knew he wasn't talking about her. "Sir, a little advice from a woman, who is a Marine. There's a war on, you never know who will be here today, but gone forever in a matter of hours."
Her words caught him by surprise, *"did she know she was talking about herself?"* He wondered as she smiled at him.
"Sir, you said to me once," then she looked a bit puzzled. "No, maybe it's something you're going to say to me?" Shrugging her shoulders she continued, "you believe in asking yourself, then answering 'who am I?' Maybe you should change that to asking yourself, then looking for the answer 'who can I become?' That leaves open so many more possibilities."
"She's going to say that to me," McQueen looked at Winslow in surprise. She was remembering things that had yet to happen. "The night that I kiss her, she told me that, too."
"So then the feelings are mutual?" Winslow squirmed a bit when she thought of the Colonel kissing someone. She realized why Shane had been uncomfortable when they had talked about him in the Tun. "She feels the same way about you?" Shaking her head, she couldn't understand why she had ever thought of him as anything but The Colonel!
"No, Winslow, she doesn't," he admitted. "She thinks of me as a friend."
"Colonel, you're the man who killed Chiggy Von Richthofen," she stepped close to him, not seeming to realized that she was talking about something that happened after her death. "You're known as an excellent tactician and strategist. Plot yourself a campaign. Out maneuver her. Ask yourself, then answer, 'what can my life become?'"
Winslow's voice mixed with Beethoven and the room spun. McQueen closed his eyes to fight the dizziness.
........................................
The Clara Barton September 4, 2064, 0230 hours
He heard the sounds of that damn monitor again, but other then that, his room was quiet. Fighting to open his eyes, he found himself back on the the hospital ship. Someone, probably Stark, had left a pad and pen next to his right hand. Reaching for them, McQueen quickly scribbled a few words. He knew that he needed to remember his dreams.
The effort it took to write the key words left him feeling drained. His hands slid to his sides, still gripping the pen and pad, as music kept beat with the monitor. He thought it was Beethoven again, but it was so faint he couldn't tell.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
*'Ride Boldly, Ride'*:
No, it wasn't Beethoven that throbbed in McQueen's brain, but the honkytonk sound of Johnny Cash. McQueen didn't know the song, but it made him think of..........
"You know, McQueen, you taught them real good," the smoky voice of Lt. Col. Ray Butts caused McQueen to turn quickly. "Yup, real good."
"Butts, what are you doing here?" The in-vitro Colonel looked around and he was no longer in his quarters or on the Clara, but standing beside a table in the Asteroid Bar in Loxley, Alabama. He was wearing the jeans, t-shirt and hiking boots from earlier. Over his arm was his black Angry Angel jacket.
"More to the point is what you're doing here," Butts took a drag on a cigarette and poured himself more whiskey. "Have a drink," the dead man picked up the extra glass on his table and filled it half-full.
"Okay, I bite, what am I doing here?" McQueen pulled out the other chair at the table and sat.
"You're here, we're here," Butts crushed out his cigarette. "To come to an understanding. There are things I couldn't tell you when we met before, that need to be said now."
"The 58th...?"
"This isn't about them, this is about you," the Recon Colonel leaned back in his chair. "That first day on the Saratoga when I told you, 'don't think for one second that we're equals----Tank.' I added the insult to throw you off. We aren't equals, McQueen. You're so far above me that we don't belong in the same room. But we're flip sides of the same coin. You're what I would have become, if things had been different. What I should have become. Keep in mind, you were starting to become me a few years ago and you'll head back down that road if you don't get your head screwed on right."
"You're crazy, Butts," the man had finally gone round the bend. McQueen didn't want to hear anymore of his nonsense. "West was right when he called you Colonel Semper-Psycho."
"Ha, you knew about that did ya? But consider this, you're sitting here talking to a dead man. Whose the crazy one?" Butts grinned, then got very serious, "did Shane tell you what she said, as well?"
"I don't know how I know what they said about you," McQueen looked puzzled. "I'm not talking to a dead man. This is just a dream, or in your case a nightmare!"
They could hear Shane's voice as Johnny Cash grew quiet for the moment. "'No one is born that mean, they either put it on for affect, or something happens. Something turns them that mean and they can never go back. The worst is they know it.'"
"Dreams can be a real bitch," the Recon Colonel shook his head. "Hay, I thought in-vitros didn't dream?"
"You thought wrong," McQueen challenged.
Butts shrugged then went on. "You're worried about those kids of yours," he held the other man's eyes as he spoke. "Don't be."
"What exactly does that mean?"
"It means just that, 'don't be'!" The dead man leaned closer to McQueen, ignoring his question. "You were right back then. I was only interested in me, and my needs. If that squad had belonged to anyone else I would probably have gone on as I always had. Then they would've died. My God, if I couldn't protect my own men, how could I be expected to protect someone elses. But something happened when I met you. I saw me in you, but me a long time ago. When it came time to make that last decision, for the sake of the tiny piece of my soul that was left, I did what needed to be done."
"Have Vansen and Damphousse died?" McQueen ground out.
"I only know about Paul," the dead man whispered. "But if they were to die, you need to know that you have the ability to overcome it. That's the difference between us. Too much death, walking ankle deep in blood and still not having the killing stop, that's what did it to me. You were headed that way. You need to look deep in you and find why you changed. Believe me when I say this, McQueen. If that change hadn't already taken place, the 58th would've been just another group of Marines. Not that different from the Angry Angels."
"No, you're wrong!" McQueen denied.
"Am I?" Butts began to blur and his voice was indistinct. "Ask yourself, then answer, 'who was I? And 'what am I now?' Then if you have the guts, ask 'why?'" The questions echoed through the
empty room, as it too began to blur. The sound of Johnny Cash faded
and McQueen could hear the familiar sound of the cardiac monitor beating
the tempo of his heart.
.......................................
The Saratoga September 3, 2064, 0800 hours
The battle hadn't lasted long, but it had been intense and the Saratoga had sustained damage. They were going to have to find a place to hide while repairs were made. Commodore Ross paced the bridge and cursed himself for letting Jenny Kirkwood talk him into sending the 58th on what was most likely a futile rescue attempt. He had ended up doing something he had sworn he would never do again: leave soldiers behind!
"Com. Chang, the bridge is your's. I'll be on my wrist unit, if you need me," he stalked off the bridge, leaving the impression that they had better the hell not need him, unless they were attacked again!
"Yes Sir," Chang and the rest of the bridge crew breathed a sigh of relief. Ross was usually an easy man to work for, but when his feathers were ruffled, no one wanted to get in his way.
Ten minutes later Ross arrived in the alcove he knew was McQueen's refuge. Up until his talk with Jenny yesterday, he didn't think Ty had shared this place with anyone else. It hadn't been anything she had said, more a feeling he had gotten. Pulling a rumpled envelope with McQueen's handwriting on it out of his pocket, he sat on the ledge and watched the stars.
"I talked to your doctor this morning," Ross muttered. The
letter was a poor substitution for his friend, but it would have to do. "You're in surgery right now. What am I going to tell you if you
beat them back, or if God forbid, I don't get them back for you? I guess I better see how bad it's going to be." The Commodore opened
the envelope and pulled out the letter dated November 19, 2063.
Dear Glen,
When we talked, half an hour ago, you said that anyone who goes on this mission is dead, you may be right. If you are, then my place is with my squadron. I've lost one squad in this lifetime, and I don't plan on outliving another.
You've been a good friend to me, in a time when it is hard to be friends with an in-vitro. I hate to think what that may have cost you over the years. I know that there have been times when I was careless with our friendship. Understand, that has been from lack of practice, not from lack of caring.
Jen Kirkwood was my doctor in detox three years ago, and she was with the Angry Angels for almost a year before the war. She means things to me.........I don't have the ability to describe. When you and General Savage assigned her to the 58th I knew you expected me to protect her. That's something I would have done anyway, because I know I can go out and do what ever needs to be done, as long as I know she is somewhere in this Universe, alive and well. I've known that for a long time.
If the worst happens and we don't return, I have two favors to ask. The first is to take care of Jen. She'll fight you on this, but I know you and I know her. You would be good for each other. You could take care of her and give her things that are beyond my understanding.
The second favor is in my quarters. I would like you to take her there and open up the picture frame that's sitting on my desk. The wedding photo is nothing but camouflage. There is another picture hidden there. Tell her I put it there the night I showed her the alcove. Then, maybe she'll be able to forgive me for not letting her come along with us.
Ty
"Damn," Ross mutter as he reread the letter for the third time. He stood quickly wanting to see what was hidden behind the picture of Amy. "No," he stopped and sat back down. "Ty means that for Jenny to see, not me."
*"Jenny and McQueen who would have guessed?"* Ross thought, and
could only shake his head at the irony of the situation. McQueen
would give her to another man if it would keep her safe. She would
put her life at risk, if it meant the safety of people he cared about.
*"What a mess!"*
..................................
Planet 2063Y, September 3, 2064, 1200 hours
West had landed the ISSCV in a small clearing six hours earlier. Though they had all wanted to head out for the coordinates of the homing beacon, Jenny over-ruled them. None of them had slept since leaving the Saratoga, and with the lower gravity of the planet, footing would be dangerous enough without adding exhaustion to it.
"Jenny, wake up," Hawkes spoke quietly to the woman who was murmuring in her sleep.
"Hmm," she looked up at him with a sleepy smile.
"It's almost time to get up," Hawkes couldn't meet her eyes. "You were a....mumbling in your sleep."
"Sorry," she sat up as she remembered where she was. "I didn't mean to wake you." She had been dreaming of sailing. The night sky was full of stars, she and Ty were together at the wheel as they maneuvered the Windswept into a cove, the Southern Cross above their heads.
"No, problem, I was on guard duty, so I was awake," Hawkes turned away from her, afraid she would ask him more questions. He couldn't tell her that she'd been talking to McQueen in her sleep.
"Any response from the radio signal we sent out?" West joined the group.
"Nope," Hawkes shook his head. "It doesn't make sense. We get the homing beacon, but no radio response. It's as if the radio isn't turned on." No one was going to mention the other possibility.
"Maybe it was damaged in the landing," Connelly added as he helped make up packs for the trip to the large body of water where the beacon was originating.
"Guys?" Jen looked over all that was laid out for the trip and saw only three M-590 assault weapons. "What's the idea, don't I get one?"
"Jen-ny," Nathan stumbled over her name. "See that red cross on your helmet," he pointed toward the rack of helmets. "That means you're protected. Sidearm only!"
"All that red cross means to the Chigs is X-marks the spot." She pulled a black baseball style cap out of her back pocket and placed it on her head. The only red on the cap was the tiny lightening bolt striking through the halo and between the Angel wings. "Now, are you going to give me an M-590 or not?" They had all seen the Angry Angel patch on her fatigues, when she had taken off her utility vest. So far no one had the nerve to ask about it and no one asked her about the cap, either.
"Do you know how to use one of these?" Nathan was beginning to realize that Ross hasn't stood a chance against Kirkwood. She wanted this rescue to happen and it had. He'd never realize how stubborn she could be.
"Yes," she smiled. She remembered lessons on the firing range that she hadn't wanted, but McQueen had insisted she have, after that first trip on the Yorktown. He had seemed to think it was important that she be able to defend herself when the Angels were on missions. "I had an excellent teacher," her fingers brushed against the knife in her utility vest.
An hour later they headed out. The ISSCV left well camouflaged. The lower gravity of the planet made supplies easier to carry, but footing precarious. It was going to be a long day and the strange nights on 2063Y were going to make it rougher. They had planned to hike until they ran out of light, then camp until 'morning.' West led the way, with Connelly bringing up the rear. The three Marines were worried about the Navy doctor, and kept a careful eye on her as they climbed. So far there had been no signs of enemy activity. No one knew if that was a good thing or not.
Seven hours later Nathan called a halt for the night. They hadn't traveled as far as they would have liked, due to the two rain storms that had swept through the mountains making it impossible to go on until things cleared a bit.
As West and Connelly helped Jenny set up a rough camp, Hawkes checked out the parameter. They were wet, tired and hungry.
"Any chance of a fire, Nathan?" Jenny asked as she rung out her cap.
"I don't think we'd better chance it," he looked around. "Even if we could find something dry enough to burn."
"Good point," Jen grinned.
"Connelly," Coop called to the others. "You're the resident computer expert aren't you? Come check this out."
"What did you find?" Mitch Connelly came to a halt as he saw Hawkes leaning over the body of a Faliciti OH model, Artificial Intelligence being. "Shit! I hate those things, they give computers a bad name!"
"Is it some kind of trap?" Coop didn't trust AIs, even one that appeared to be dead. "Nathan, Jenny, you better come over here and bring a flashlight."
"I think we're safe moving it back to camp," Mitch had checked the AI carefully for trip wires and found none. "I'd like to try and figure out what happened here. Though, without a diagnostic I won't know for sure."
"How come you know so much about these things," Jen wondered. As the others ate, Mitch pulled out a set of micro tools and began opening Faliciti's CPU. He was more interested in the inner workings of the AI than food.
"My law practice was Intellectual Properties," Mitch carefully removed the plating from the unit's head. "We still get the occasional copyright dispute, but it's mainly internet and computer law, now days. Anyone who doesn't know the workings of computers, both software and hardware, is going to end up hurting in my business."
"You can make money doing that?" Nathan had applied to law school and would have gone if he and Kylen hadn't been accepted for the Tellus project.
"Sure can," Mitch smiled at him. "They've been trying to regulate the internet for over 70 years. It's what keeps me in business. Governments trying to legislate peoples thoughts, it'll never happen," he shook his head as he shined the flashlight on the heart and soul of an AI.
"What did ya find," Hawkes looked over his shoulder. He remembered McQueen taking one of those things apart on Kazbek. It had held the answers to their problems then, he wondered if luck was still with them.
"Will you look at that?" Mitch held up a small crystal that was dull and murky looking. "No wonder she's dead in the water," he shook his head. "That's her power cell. The indicator says it's drained, but what's that stuff in there? I don't understand how this can happen. I've read that these units have safeties built in that shut them down before their cells can be exhausted."
Hawkes and West looked at each other across the body of the AI, both remembering a story Paul had told them about another Faliciti model with a drained power cell. It had been months ago and a number of sectors away.
"Mitch?" Jenny looked over his shoulder. "I had thought those cells were clear? Do they usually look like that when they're drained."
"Can't tell for sure Lady-Doc," he shrugged. "I've never seen one like this before. I've never heard of it happening, either. Logic says it would be empty. This almost looks like it had power, but something is wrong with it. For some reason the unit couldn't process it."
"We've heard of it happening before," West answered for both Marines. "It was on the planet Minerva, in the spring. We ran into an ElroyL that was searching for a power cell for another Faliciti. They both appeared to be suffering from a computer virus of some kind."
"What kind of virus?" Mitch was fascinated.
"I got this story second hand, from Paul," Nathan hated to remember the damage Paul had suffered from the AI's on two occasions. "He told us that the two AI's were sick. Some kind of virus that made them feel *emotions*. The Elroy said it loved the Faliciti. When she died, the Elroy attacked us and Paul killed him in the battle."
"'Love', are you sure Paul wasn't pulling your leg?" Mitch knew Paul had had a great sense of humor.
"Nope, no way," Hawkes shook his head. "Paul wouldn't kid about an Elroy model!"
"I'm going to try and pull her memory chip," Mitch reached for his micro tools and went back to work. "With any luck she hasn't downloaded recently and there'll be stored files intact here. I can't check them until we get back to the Saratoga, but this could be a real break for our side."
That night Jenny was too exhausted to dream. She was thankful
for the grueling physical exercise that day. It keep her mind off
a twelve hour surgery that had taken place on the Clara Barton. *"If
things had gone well, Ty should be in the Post Anesthesia Care Unit by
now,"* she thought as she looked at her watch before drifting off to sleep. *"2350, her watch had said, yes that should be about right."*
...............................
September 4, 1120 hours
"Nathan, the homing beacon is getting stronger," Connelly whispered as he and West crouched in some bushes at the base of the trail. A wide expanse of beach in front of them. The lake so large, that even with binoculars they couldn't see the other side.
West gave the hand signals for Hawkes and Jenny to come the last few feet down the trail, to join them in the bushes.
"We go east," Connelly pointed to the right. "According to this range finder, the signal is about two klicks in that direction."
"I don't like it," Hawkes muttered. "It's all out in the open."
"We'll stick close to the cliffs, lets move out," West headed out. "Everyone keep down and quiet."
Thirty minutes later they discovered the concealed cockpit. There was no sign of either woman. Just the cockpit, with the homing beacon, hidden in bushes. On close inspection, they saw that the radio was missing.
"Hold it right there Scum Bags," the tired voice of Shane Vansen
caught them by surprise. "Nathan, Coop, Jenny?" Then Shane did something
that surprised them more than if she had shot them, she burst into tears.
.................................
The Clara Barton September 4, 2064, 1200 hours
They had made him wake up that morning at 0700. McQueen had hurt all over, but the pain was much less then he had expected. He was still weak, but they were pushing him to get his strength back.
That damn Respiratory Therapist had been in again, as well. Lt. Charles was her name. McQueen thought she could give lessons to the AI's when it came to torture. He had to give her credit though, even if she was making him choke his lungs out, he always felt better after a 'treatment session,' as she called it. As a reward for his cooperation that morning, Lt. Charles, or Chuck as John Stark called her, taught him the technique of covering his trach tube with his finger and pushing air, to his larynx, with his diaphragm. It enabled him to speak in a whisper.
It had been mid-morning when he found the note pad. He recognized his handwriting, but had no memory of writing anything during the night. The words didn't make any sense: 'Musashi, 5 Rings, warrior, genuine path, new again, Winslow, can become, 16 yrs.', then at the bottom, separate from all the rest, 'Butts'. Something was gnawing at his memory. He knew it was important, but the harder he tried to remember the more illusive it became.
"Colonel McQueen," there was a knock on his door then General Savage walked into the room.
McQueen did a double take as the man walked over to his bed. "Are you a dream?" McQueen asked with difficulty, as he used Lt. Charles' method for speech.
"I like to believe Pats thinks so," he grinned at the Colonel. "But other then that, I've never been called anyone's dream."
"What are you doing here?" The effort those few words cost McQueen made him realize how much work there was ahead of him.
The General checked the door, then pulled up a chair next to the bed. "Ross notified me," he looked grim. "There are some things we need to talk about. Since this," Savage raised his left arm, showing McQueen the gloved hand of his prosthesis. "They're using me as a goodwill ambassador to the troops. I took the assignment because it allows me to travel where I need to go. Your doctor tell's me they were able to do much better for you." He pointed to McQueen's right foot. "I have messages for Ross that are too sensitive to go any way but with someone I trust. That's you. We need to get you up and moving. I'd do it myself, but coming here was stretching my cover as far as I dare. If I went to the Saratoga, the game would be up."
"What's happened?" McQueen whispered, "what about my people?"
"Let me do the talking, McQueen," Savage smiled. "I need you back on the Saratoga, so starting tomorrow morning, they're stepping up your rehab program, save your strength and your throat, you're going to need them.
"I believe you've already been told that Lt. Paul Wang died in action while providing cover for the Homeward Bound Mission allowing it to escape. General George Robertson is pushing to have him awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor, post humously."
As Savage told him about Wang, McQueen could see himself talking to Paul as they had stood in the ISSCV and the Corpsmen had tried to force life back into the Colonel. McQueen's eyes strayed to the note pad in his hand. There was no mention of the out-of-body experience he had had. Did he dream it, or had it been real? He knew he wasn't going to forget what Paul had said. Dream or reality, it didn't matter. Somehow Paul had found a way to get through to him.
"Ross tells me that there's a team on 2063Y, as we speak. If they'll find Vansen and Damphousse, I don't know, but they're trying." Savage was careful not to give any details of the mission. If what Pats had told him held any truth, McQueen would go ballistic if he knew Jenny was there. He doubted it would help the man's frame of mind to hear that West and Hawkes were along, as well.
"There's more, much more," Savage sighed. He hated to rush McQueen's rehab, but he was needed to help Ross. "The bomb that injured you and killed the others in that meeting was a time bomb, intended to take out the Saratoga,"
"No," McQueen whispered. "You've got to get Jen out of there!"
"Let me do the talking, and that's an order. Weakness from loss of blood and the damage to your throat are going to hold you back more than the new leg. So you don't talk. You listen!" The General out maneuvered McQueen for the moment. He wasn't about to answer any questions about Jenny or the rescue team.
"As far as we can figure the bomb was set by Major Craig Rabwin. He was the last one to be in the room before the conference and the computer that housed the bomb, belonged to him. Unfortunately, there is no way for us to question Rabwin. Whoever had him set the bomb on the Saratoga, also set one on the Nebraska. We think the second bomb was probably placed in Rabwin's gear, but since the Nebraska was destroyed, we have no way of checking for sure. I doubt he know he was carrying it, given how fast he high tailed it off the Saratoga."
Savage talked and McQueen listened for the better part of an hour. The General filling him in on all that was going on. The best news was regarding the search for information on in-vitro DNA that Jack Longley was conduction for the General. The young doctor had been able to convince Dr. Abaan to come out of retirement and help him with the project. Having the man who invented artificial gestation working with them was going to be a big help.
The General could tell McQueen was tiring, but he had a few more things to say. "These are for you," he handed McQueen two envelopes. "One's from Pats and one's from Lars Morgans. They wanted me to give them to you. Here is another one for Jenny."
As the General handed over the letters, McQueen reached for the older man's right hand. Where before he had worn no rings, Savage was wearing a plane gold band.
"Busted!" Savage laughed. "I wondered how long it was going to take you to notice."
"Patsy?" McQueen mouthed. "Why? How?"
"Of course Pats," the tender look that filled Savage's eyes surprised McQueen. "Why? Because I love her, it's that simple, my boy. I love her! How? I outflanked her, I out maneuvered her. The moment I realized how much I loved her and that she loved me back, I plotted a campaign that would make D-Day look like a stroll on the beach. She didn't stand a chance. That's one of the perks of being a General. I hope Jenny will forgive me for not waiting until she got home, but I wasn't taking any chances of letting Pats get away."
After Savage left, McQueen kept thinking about what Savage had
said about Patsy. He looked at the writing pad again, trying to jog
his memory. *"Winslow? Did it have something to do with her?"* Adding a few notations next to her name on the pad, he let it slide from
his fingers. His eyes closed, his right hand moved to his dog
tags and the warm gold that was resting on his chest, under his hospital
gown.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
*'The Shade Replied'*:
"Colonel McQueen?" Lt. Shane Vansen's voice broke into his thoughts. "Am I doing the right thing?"
McQueen looked around. He was on the Landing Bay of the Saratoga. All around them pilots and flight crew were frozen in action. Only he and Shane were able to move.
"You mean, if you're doing it just for him?...." He started to repeat what he had once told her, back when she still wore lieutenant's bars.
"Yes?" Her brown eyes begged him for an answer.
"There has to be something beyond this war," he listened to the words he had told her months ago, not knowing where they had come from at the time.
"Does there?" She questioned, "do you really believe that, Sir?"
That wasn't how it was supposed to go. McQueen shook his head, confused. "I....hope there is Shane," he answered honestly.
"What's there for you, Colonel?" Shane pulled herself out of the cockpit and sat on the side of her Hammerhead.
"I don't believe that's any of your business," he put his hands low on his hips as he stood over her.
"You're wrong," Shane held out her hand to the older man. "Come with me."
As Shane's hand touched his, they were taken to a different time and a different place. McQueen looked around and knew exactly where he was. They were standing in front of 'Dooley's' a cafe-bar, that was frequented by students that went to Wilkes University in Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania.
"Hrumph," the Colonel grunted at Shane, as they entered the cafe. "What are you, The Ghost of Christmas Past?" McQueen remembered the time he had spent here. He had been staying in Ross' cabin in the Susquehanna River valley of the Poconoes, after his first session with detox, years ago. This was the place where he'd met Amy. She'd been a senior at the University.
"No, Sir," Shane looked up at him, then across the room at the younger McQueen who was sitting at a table with a very pretty blond. "I didn't bring us here, you did."
"Me?" He looked around the cafe-bar, it was just as he remembered it. "Why would I want to go back to this time in my life?"
"I don't know." Shane was fascinated to see the younger McQueen. "I think it has something to do with what you said before. About, 'there has to be something beyond this war.'"
"I couldn't have been talking about Amy!" McQueen knew with a certainty that his future didn't have anything to do with her. "Maybe it was something I said to Winslow?" He fought to remember exactly what he had said to her about his life with Amy.
Shane and McQueen stepped closer to the couple sitting at a corner table. They could just hear the hushed words as the young people made plans for the future. Amy was looking into the young in-vitro's eyes as if he held the secret to the universe.
"It's hard to resist someone who looks at you like that," Shane spoke to the man standing beside her. "I know, John Oakes used to look at me in the same way."
"I didn't resist," McQueen shook his head. Looking at his younger self through older eyes, he saw a lot that he had missed back then. "And I never really listened to the words she was saying. If I had, I wouldn't have asked her to marry me. I was seeing and hearing what I wanted to, not what was really there."
"When John died," Shane remembered a conversation that had helped her. "Jenny told me many things, but I think the thing that she said that helped the most, was when she asked me, 'if I was mourning the loss of a boy who had been a sweetheart, or a man who had the potential to be a life time partner?'"
"How did you answer her?" He smiled tenderly thinking how smart Jen was in the ways of life.
"I couldn't that night," Shane sighed. "But I thought about it for a long time. When an answer finally came, it was that we had only been sweethearts. What John and I had, wasn't enough to build a life on. If we had married, it would have ended in disaster."
"Disaster," McQueen shook his head as he thought of his own marriage. "You mean like my marriage became? I already know all about that!"
"Do you, TC?" Amy asked, as she walked in the door, looking exactly as she had the last time McQueen had seen her. "Sorry I'm late," her smile was as lovely as ever.
"You knew she was coming!" McQueen accused. Amy's constant tardiness had been a source of irritation long ago, and it wasn't any easier to take now.
"I didn't know who was going to show up," Shane shrugged. "It's your dream, Sir."
"TC, don't be angry. I want to make things right," Amy turned serious as she faced her ex-husband. "I'm sorry for all the pain I caused you."
"You're sorry?" He wondered if the simple words were expected to wipe out all that had happened between them.
"Yes," Amy stood up to him, something she had never done in the past. "I'm apologizing for the way the divorce happened, not the divorce, TC. We never should have married, that was our mistake. Getting divorced was setting it right, but I was too young to admit that, so I placed the blame on you, that's what I'm sorry for."
"I couldn't change who I was," he sighed. "I am an in-vitro and you're not."
"That was never a problem for me," Amy smiled. "The man I thought I loved, is over there," she pointed to the young McQueen sitting with the younger version of herself. "The one who danced with me in the moonlight beside the Susquehanna River. It was the Warrior in you I never understood. Unfortunately, he's the biggest part of you. You'll always be a Warrior, no matter what you do in life."
"That seems to be a common theme recently," McQueen shook his head. "There's more to life than moonlight and dancing, you know."
"I know that, I knew it then," Amy could see this was going to end up in one of their arguments if they weren't careful. "You have to remember there is more to life than fighting."
"There's more to being a Warrior than fighting," McQueen wasn't sure where that idea had come from. Turning he watched the two happy people at the table, as he thought about the past. "Were we ever that young?"
"We were younger," Amy giggled. "Too bad we can't whisper some knowledge into their ears. Save them a lot of pain to come."
"Thank you, Amy," he smiled down at the woman by his side. "For what you said now and for setting me free years ago. I was miserable, but all I could remember was this." He pointed to how happy they had been once. "It kept me from doing what needed to be done. Look at us, we were so in love with the idea of being in love we never stopped to question if we loved each other."
"You've learned a lot," Amy nodded in approval. "If you've learned that, why haven't you let anyone into your life? There's got to be someone out there who understands the Warrior in you?" Her words were left hanging in the air as she disappeared, leaving him standing with Shane, watching the younger version of Amy and himself.
"Damn!" McQueen looked around at empty space. His frustration with Amy returning. When they had tried to talk things out in the past, she would leave the room if things got sticky. This time she'd had her say, then evaporated! "I have learned Shane. The 58th is my life, they're family to me," he turned toward the Marine who was once again a captain. "You must know that."
"That's an easy love, Sir," Shane challenged, then repeated his words from the hanger deck. "'There has to be something beyond this war'. What will you have, Colonel? Who will you have?"
"Easy love?" McQueen gasped. "You've got to be kidding. Loving you guys is like having my heart torn out each time I send you on a mission, without me."
"Feeling a bit like Prometheus?" Shane looked at him as if they shared a secret.
"Jen said that," McQueen accused. "How did you know?"
"Yes, Jen," Vansen's eyes danced as she watched the Colonel squirm. "I think you need to ask yourself then answer, 'what's the real reason you wouldn't let her go on that mission to Kazbek?'"
Shane disappeared, the yeasty beer smell of Dooley's was replaced
by the smell of hospital, and McQueen was back were he belonged. But this time the dream stayed with him. As his eyes opened and he
looked around his room on the Clara, he knew he had been dreaming and it
was important.
.............................
The Clara Barton September 4, 2064- 1725 hours
"Here you go Colonel McQueen," Stark brought him his dinner.
"I'm supposed to eat this stuff?" McQueen whispered. It frustrated him, that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get enough air to move over his vocal cords to produce a normal voice. "It's just liquids...and...jello?" He looked with disgust at the first food he'd seen since lunch with Jen on the Saratoga, forever ago.
"I know it's hospital food and only clear liquids, but Lt. Charles has given her okay to start reintroducing foods. She's being very careful regarding your throat. I've seen the schedule the General and Dr. Turek have planned for you. My advice is to eat."
"I don't suppose you could be persuaded to bring me some real food?" McQueen pinned the Corpsman with a steely look.
"No, Sir, but good try," John laughed. "The General wants you up, on your feet and out of here as soon as possible. What he says goes! I'll tell you what. You eat all of that, with no problems, and keep it down. Then I'll see you get some coffee. But don't push it. If you start choking or can't swallow, they're going to put down a feeding tube, so take it slow and easy."
"I'd like to see them try," McQueen challenged, it was hard sounding tough when he could only whisper.
"You are feeling better tonight, Sir," Stark grinned. He would lay odds on the Colonel anytime, even if he lacked the voice to back himself up.
"Coffee, huh," McQueen whispered, knowing he needed to keep focused. Savage said he was needed on the Saratoga and he wanted to get back there for reasons of his own. "I guess that'll have to do. Where you with the General long?"
"Yes, Sir," the Corpsman sat with his patient watching him ate. "I was with the 918th Air Wing for almost a year before Kordis."
"Tell me about it," McQueen looked up, needing to know what Jen had been through.
"I was working in sickbay the day Dr. Kirkwood arrived," Stark knew what McQueen really wanted to hear and he figured it was about time. "I couldn't believe they'd sent her to that God forsaken planet. She looked too tiny to do the things that needed to be done and whenever you got real close to her you smelled...."
"Roses," McQueen whispered. Stark didn't think the older man realized he'd spoken.
"Roses." John cleared his throat and went on, "you could tell from the beginning that Savage wasn't going to give her a chance. Politics," he shrugged apologetically. "Things sure did changed for the General, in the last months." It was hard for John to believe that Savage's anti-in-vitro stance had taken a complete about-face, but it was obvious that it had.
"Kordis.." McQueen mouthed as a reminder.
"Kordis," Stark repeated, thinking back to the early days of the war. "We were deep cover Recon. It was your usual muddy, windy, combat hell. Not enough of anything except dirt, death, and fear and everyone living on coffee to keep going. We didn't have the thunder storms at the air strip that we had in the area where we crashed, but it would rain something fierce, and it could get bone chilling cold. The Lady-Doc went on about her business as if she was at a base hospital on Earth. Nothing seemed to touch her. She was all doctor. She would treat the men she could. The ones she couldn't......well.....she'd make sure they didn't die alone."
"When she first got there, some of the guys tried to make a pass at her. She was the only woman there who wouldn't try to wrap your balls around your neck if you smiled at her." Stark shrugged thinking about how tough some of the female pilots and ground crew could be. "It didn't take them long to realize that she wasn't interested." He searched for the right words. "But it was more than not being interested, it was like that part of her wasn't there, anymore. I caught a glimpse of the woman she kept hidden away, about a week after she arrived. We were all supposed to be undercover. There was a huge firefight going on in the night sky. It was thousands of miles away, but we could see it. I found her huddled in the door to Sickbay. Her eyes glued to what was going on above us. She was..well..she was holding on tightly to her dog tags." Both men knew that Stark was talking about her bracelet not her tags. "The expression on her face was one I'll never forget. When she realized I was there, she pulled herself back, changing from woman to doctor before my eyes. That's the night she became The Lady, to me.
"It wasn't until we were trapped in the cave that I realized the significance of what I'd seen that night. Lady-Doc wasn't seeing the fight that had been going on above her. She was seeing another fight, back at the beginning of the war. The one that killed The Major."
"The Major?" McQueen was caught off guard, wanting to hear what Stark had to say, but dreading it as well.
"Yeah, The Major," Stark shook his head. "The Lady began telling us stories to keep us occupied during the long days and nights in that cave. Most of them were about one of those specialized flying groups. You know the ones, that can out-fly anything. Unfortunately, they couldn't out-fly the Chigs, because they all died."
"What makes you think Jen was thinking about them?" McQueen couldn't have spoken above a whisper, if his life had depended on it.
"I think she was thinking about him, not them," Stark looked the older man in the eyes. He figured this man needed to know the truth. He didn't know what there was between McQueen and Kirkwood, but there was something. The Colonel was wearing the proof attached to his dog tags. "When things were real bad for us, she'd grip that bracelet and look upward, sometimes I'd see her lips moving. It was like she was talking to him. I know she heard him talking to her, especially in her dreams."
"Her dreams?" The hairs on the back of McQueen's neck stood up, as all of his dreams came rushing back.
"I don't know who that Major of her's was, but he saved my life, indirectly." As Stark talked, an idea began to form. Hadn't McQueen been with the Angry Angels? Hadn't they been killed in one of the first engagements of the war? What if? No, it couldn't be? The Corpsman shook his head and went on with his story. Though, he planned to do a bit of research when he went off duty that night.
"Without him, I think, The Lady would have crumpled before rescue arrived, and we would have died. I still don't know how she made it. She hardly slept, or ate, just took care of us. The few times I could get her to sleep, she'd dream. I could always tell if it had been a nightmare or a dream by the look in her eyes when she woke up. Toward the end, there were nothing but nightmares, and she gave up sleeping except when her body gave out." A clear memory came back to Stark. He had awakened Dr. Kirkwood from a nightmare and she had called him a name...someone elses name, he wished he could remember. At the time he had known she was dreaming and didn't pay much attention. "I'd try to get her to sleep more, but she'd tell me 'there'll be plenty of time to rest when I'm dead.' Then go on doing what ever she was doing. Do you know what the real kicker is? I don't think she knew."
"Knew what?"
"I don't think she knew that she stopped living the night the Major died," Stark shook his head. "So there was no reason she couldn't have gotten all the rest she needed."
"Why did you tell me this?" McQueen whispered, feeling as if someone had punched him in the stomach.
"Because you asked."
"I only asked to hear about Kordis," McQueen argued.
"Did you?" Stark reached for the Colonel's empty tray. "I'll check you in an hour, and if you still want that coffee, I'll get it for you."
McQueen had heard enough about the stories that Jen had told to know he was probably The Major. Stark was reading his own ideas into what she had said and done. McQueen was sure the Corpsman was wrong. Jen was mourning the loss of the Angry Angels all right, but it had nothing to do with him. Sure, he and Jen had been friends back then, but there was no way he was as important to her as Stark had said, even when she had thought he had died.
The Colonel was nothing if not a realist. He'd known Jen
for a long time and he knew how she felt about him. Their friendship
had grown over the years, but as far as Jen was concerned, that was all
it was. He'd been having problems recently because he discovered
the transient desire he had felt for her over the years had become anything
but transient! What she felt for him, had nothing to do with fire
and need. She had proved that the night in his quarters when she
discovered the problems with the in-vitro DNA, and then again a few weeks
ago.
What he had seen in her eyes both those night, and mistaken
for passion, was nothing but loneliness and fear. The kiss? He smiled at the memory. *"Yes, Jen, I kissed you, but you kissed
me back."* Part of him wondered what would have happened if they'd
been anywhere else but in the Wildcards' quarters. That same part
of him was thankful that it had ended where it had started. Jen meant
too much to him to lose her over a...a....what? Whenever he tried
to think past that point, his mind shied away. What was there about
it that he couldn't look at? What was it about that kiss, that kept
him from asking himself, then answering, 'why not?'
His mind was moving too fast, filled with thoughts of Jen. Jen as Stark had described her, a woman looking to something with no substance
for support. Jen as they had laughed together over the years. Jen being kissed and kissing him, weeks ago. *"Yes, that was his
favorite memory."* He smiled to himself as his eyes grew heavy and he reached
for her bracelet to guide him in his sleep. His last waking thought
being that she never had explained why she wore the gold rope he had given
her.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
*'"If You Seek For Eldorado!"'*
McQueen looked back over his right shoulder, enjoying the view of Catalina and saw that the Windswept's slip was empty. He had come to see Jen, but she must be out. He kept on climbing, pleased how well the new leg worked. He couldn't tell any difference from his own, except when he saw the small scars from the skin graft that covered the anastomosis site. He knew that there were rods made of compressed bone in his tibia and fibula that attached the prosthesis to his leg, but he couldn't feel them. Dr. Kelly had explained more than once how his own, and banked muscles had been attached to the rods and his regenerated nerves were what moved the muscles, making the prosthesis a natural extension of him.
It seemed like a miracle. He lost his foot and half of his lower leg, but it had all been replaced. Even the stem cell injections he had required while his nerves were regenerating were no longer necessary. Jen had taken care of that. Now, he needed to see Jen.
As he came to the top of the cliff, he saw the house were Jen had grown up. It looked strangely quiet and empty.
"Jen," he called out. "Jen, where are you?"
The only sound that came back to him was the whistling of the wind. Walking up to the house he peered through grime covered windows. All the furniture was covered with dust covers and the doors were locked up tight. Patsy's carefully tended rose garden was overgrown with weeds.
"Where is everyone?" McQueen called out.
"There's no one here, Ty," Patsy's voice called from a long way off.
"Where did they go?" McQueen looked around trying to find where the voice was coming from.
"I'm with Frank, but that's not what you really want to know. It's Jenny you're looking for. She told you what she was going to do when the war was over. Don't you remember?" The voice chided. "She set sail weeks ago."
"But the war isn't over," he argued.
"That all depends on which reality you're in," the voice whispered with the wind.
"Where are you? Why can you see me and I can't see you?"
"Do you want to see me?" Patsy's voice was close to his ear.
"Yes, I've got to find Jen," McQueen called out.
"Why?" Patsy appeared before him, on the porch of the old house. "Why do you need to find Jenny?"
"I don't know," he answered, as the older woman moved to the porch swing and sat down.
"That's something you're going to have to figure out," she grinned at him. "You've got some hard choices in front of you, Ty. If you don't want to end up talking to me alone on this porch after the war is over, you're going to need to do something about it, and soon."
"This is another dream, isn't it?" McQueen looked around him. The sun light was very bright off the Pacific, making it sparkle. Every color he saw was bright and fresh. "Why am I having all these dreams?" He shook his head as if to clear it.
"I can only guess," the woman looked him in the eyes. "But I think it's because you're a man who deals best with that which is real. What he can feel, touch and smell. Ideas don't fall into any of those categories. When our ideas begin to change, especially those of who we are, we need an alternate reality to be able to look and study them freely. If we don't have that, our mind rejects, or buries them."
"Colonel?" McQueen looked up at the sound of Cooper Hawkes' voice.
"Coop, I'm so glad you could make it," Patsy smiled, as Hawkes climbed the steps of the porch.
"Patsy!" The young in-vitro gave her a hug then moved over to shake McQueen's hand, "boy, am I glad to see you, Sir."
"What are you doing here?" The Colonel was relieved to see him. "How are the others?"
"Don't worry about them," Hawkes grinned. "We're taking care of it right now. I'm here because Patsy said that you needed me. She said it was in-vitro business."
"Coop, I need you to remind the Colonel of the conversation you two were having, 'about the war being over'," Patsy cued him up. "What did you say Coop?"
"I said that if it was over, 'my sentence would be up, I could go home.'"
McQueen grunted, not liking the direction the conversation was taking. "Then I asked him, 'to what?' I still ask that."
"Coop, what have you learned about home in the last year?" Patsy asked as she watched McQueen squirm.
"I've learned that I didn't have one until I became part of the 58th," Hawkes smiled. "That it doesn't matter where I am, as long as I'm with the people I care about. That's what makes a place a home, not a building or land or possessions of any kind."
"'Home is where the heart is,'" McQueen muttered. "Jen said that, one of the last times we talked."
"She did?" Patsy smiled. "I didn't think she understood. I thought she had 'closed her door too well'."
"Her door too well?" McQueen looked at Patsy. "Is that what you meant in that letter?"
"You're getting the idea," Patsy smiled in approval. "But I suggest you look up the passage in Te-Tao Ching and while you're at it, look up the importance of 'that which has no substance'."
"Why wouldn't Jenny understand?" Hawkes asked. "She loves you a lot," he looked at Patsy. "You're where her home is."
"No," McQueen interrupted. "She told me she couldn't come
back here. Catalina wasn't her home anymore. What did
she mean?"
"I can't give you the answer to that, only you can figure that
out," Patsy looked straight at him. "Ty, she is a natural-born who
was raised by an in-vitro. I'm afraid that she grew up with many
of the emotional handicaps that we have. I'm sorry, I didn't have
the skills to teach her otherwise. Sure, she and I learned about
love. The kind of love that a mother has for a child or that two
sisters have for each other, but I could never teach her about the love
of a man for a woman. The only pattern she had for that was her father. What he taught her was that if a man and a woman loved, the end results
would be pain. Then he added to that, by making her feel that
no man could ever love her. To be fair to Professor Kirkwood, I think
he did that in an attempt to keep her from feeling what he felt when Emma
died. I wish I'd met Frank when I was younger. It would have
made all the difference in the world, and saved Jen so much hurt."
"What does that have to do with her not going back to Catalina?" McQueen looked around, sometime in the last minute Coop had disappeared. "And why are you telling me all this?"
"I think you know the answers to those questions," Patsy smiled and began to grow indistinct. "Just remember what I've told you. It's the key to her feelings. She can be a hard woman to convince sometimes."
"Patsy, wait," McQueen called out.
"Remember, Ty, choices, hard choices!" Patsy's voice spun back at him. "Ask yourself, then answer, 'where is your home McQueen, where is your home'?'"
The Colonel turned over in his sleep as the last of his dreams
ended. Somewhere in the back of his mind they were filed away. Now he had to rest and get his strength back, there was work to be done. This time he wasn't going to attempt to bury his thoughts. Jen had
been right when she said it was a waste of energy to have to always bury
things instead of learning to live with them. One advantage of the
trach tube and being unable to speak was that it gave him plenty of time
to think.
...................................
Planet 2063 Yankee September 4, 1800 hours
They had all moved into the small, well concealed cave where Shane and 'Phousse had been hiding. From the outside it looked like a small crevice in the cliff, but it was really an opening two feet by five, that widened to a cave. The breeze from the lake helped keep it from getting too hot during the day. Jenny was beginning to think she was destine to spend the majority of the war in a cave of some sort or other.
"How's she doing, Jenny?" Shane looked up worriedly from the fire she was tending. She couldn't get her mind off what had happed to Paul and the Colonel. Thank goodness, Nathan had gotten Kylen and the rest of the POW's back to the Saratoga. That was a small piece of good news to try to balance out the loss of the two men.
"Vanessa took a bad hit to the head," Jenny sat beside Shane. "I think she may have a small subdural hematoma. I can't be sure without a scanner."
"I checked her forehead, the bump doesn't look that bad," Shane argue with the doctor.
"If there's a bleed, it can be on the opposite side of her head than the main injury," Jen moved into lecture mode. "When she hit her head going forward, the brain hit against the front of the skull, then bounced back, and hit the back of the skull. If it happens with enough force, then two injuries can result. Often, the second is the worst of the two."
"But 'Phousse was awake," Vansen was filled with guilt. "Even with the damage to her wrist, she's the one who got the emergency beacon going. She could hardly see, she was so dizzy, but she talked me through stripping pieces from the radio and getting the beacon working. She has to be all right!"
"Shane take it easy," Nathan called out from his position at guard duty. "This isn't your fault. I know what it was like piloting a troop carrier through the atmosphere of this planet, I can only imagine how hard it was for you to land that cockpit. It's amazing you aren't both dead."
"Like Paul, you mean?" Shane leaned her face in her hands too tired to even think. "When she wakes up, don't tell her about Paul. She thinks...she thinks....," Vansen looked up at Jenny. "She told me just before she blacked out that Paul was talking to her. Telling her to hold on...to live. Was that just because of the hit to the head?"
"Shane," Jen put her arm around her friend and spoke quietly, just between the two of them. "Sometimes in moments of great stress, we hear, or think we hear, people who are important to us. Those voices, weather our imagination, or what ever they are, help us to do what needs doing. 'Phousse isn't going crazy."
"You've heard voices like that?" Shane whispered.
"Yes," the older woman mouthed as she hugged her friend. "I don't think I would have survived Kordis if I hadn't. But there's good news about Vanessa, too. I've set her broken wrist. It should heal without any problems." Jenny kept her arm around Shane as she spoke. "The marks left by her safety harness lead me to believe she may have some bruised, possibly broken ribs. I've strapped them, to make her breathing easier. We need to give her time to heal. Sometimes waiting is the best medicine, though at the time it seems like the hardest thing to do."
Connelly and Hawkes had returned from scouting the area with a helmet full of berries and two rabbit-like animals. The meat was cooking, and everyone was looking forward to eating.
"That sure smells good," Mitch smiled as Coop divided up the food.
"It beats k-rations," Shane grinned, then gasped as she remembered a dinner when k-rations had tasted like a feast.
"It's okay Shane," Nathan patted her arm. "Paul would hate it if you couldn't look back at the good times and be happy about them."
"It takes some getting used to. I was so sure everyone made it back but us," Shane pointed to herself and 'Phousse. She searched her mind for anything to change the subject, "how long will it take us to get back to the ISSCV?"
"Any chance we can bring it to us?" Jenny asked as she pushed her food around her plate in an attempt to look as if she was eating. "I don't want to take Vanessa over that mountain, if we don't have too?"
"Bringing it here isn't the problem," Hawkes looked over to West. "What do you think Nathan, can we find a place to park that thing?"
"It'll fit on the beach," West commented. "But we can't keep it there for long, there's no cover. I doubt Ross will have the Saratoga back here for at least six more days, maybe longer. When he does get back we need to be ready to take off."
"Tomorrow at first light we should scout around and find a place where we can hide the carrier," Mitch commented.
"Coop and I can go back for it, as soon as we know we can hide it on this side of the mountain." Nathan looked around the group. "Mitch, you stay with Shane, 'Phousse and Lady-Doc."
"Nathan, I'd like to get a better look at that area where we found the dead AI," Mitch suggested. "What if you and I went back, did a little scouting on the mountain, then headed here with the ISSCV?"
"What dead AI?" Shane shivered at the thought of the artificial beings that killed her parents. "I haven't seen any signs of Chigs or AI's since we crashed."
"We found a Felicity unit with a drained power cell," Coop filled Shane in on what had happened. Mitch didn't miss the look that passed between the three Wildcards as they talked about the last time they had found one of those units with a similar problem.
"I think Mitch and Nathan should be the ones to go," Shane spoke like Captain Vansen for the first time since she had been found. "Coop, Jenny and I'll stay here with Vanessa. First things first though, we need to secure a hiding place for the craft before we bring it here. If we can't do that we'll need to move our base of operations." As she talked, Shane turned toward the Doctor, "Jen, when do you think Vanessa could travel?" Vansen didn't miss the way the older woman winced at her name.
"A..well," Jenny found her voice. "We could rig a stretcher and carry her anytime we had to. It's not ideal, but if that's the only way, then we'll have to do it. 'Phousse isn't walking over that mountain anytime soon. Please excuse me, I need some fresh air." The older woman pasted a smile on her face as she put down her partially eaten dinner and left.
"What was that all about?" Shane watched Jenny's back as she moved out of the cave. "What'd I say?"
"I think it's because you called her 'Jen'," Hawkes whispered.
"But," Shane shrugged, confused. "She used to like it when we did that."
"Did she?" Nathan moved close to her. "Jenny's been quiet and grim the last few days. The change in her......well, I'm not sure I want to know how deep it goes."
"Yeah," Coop nodded. "You didn't see her that night, after everything went to hell, we did. The Colonel..." Hawkes took a deep breath so he could go on. "I heard in Sickbay that when they brought the Colonel in, with part of his leg blown off, he wanted her to be the one to operate on him. He said he trusted her."
"Oh God," Shane whispered. "She and McQueen are friends. How could he ask her to do that? How could she turn him down, if he asked?"
"She didn't turn him down, but she hasn't been the same since that night," Nathan continued. "She came to our quarters after it was all over," he could only shake his head at the memory. "Between doing as McQueen asked, hearing about Paul and the two of you, she was so fragile I was afraid she'd break."
"But she didn't," Coop shook his head. "The next morning she took on Ross to get this rescue mission going. She may have looked fragile on the outside, but there was something made of steel on the inside of her. It drove her and everything else onward." As he said the words, his memory was jogged, something Jenny had said months ago, something about......*"it takes a hot fire to temper strong steel, and McQueen is made of the strongest I've ever seen."* The young in-vitro looked out into the dark. In that moment he knew!
"Is she safe out there?" Shane looked toward the entrance of the cave.
"I got my eye on her," Mitch Connelly smiled back from his position at guard duty. "Don't worry about her Captain, she told me once she likes to hear the sound of the sea. I guess the waves on that big lake over there are making her feel right at home."
"Maybe I should go out there....." Shane started to get up when Nathan lay a hand on her shoulder.
"Give her some time. Mitch'll keep an eye on her."
Jenny sat concealed in the bushes by the cliff, staring out over
the water 20 feet away. *"I've got to get a grip on myself,"* she
thought as the two moons rose, casting an eerie light on the water. *"Either he's coming back or he's not, either way I need to deal with it."*
she bit her lip as she worked through her options.
*"I'll be back, Jen,"* Ty's voice rumbled in her ear. *"You
don't think this is over do you? Now go to bed, it's much later than
you think."* His soft voice rang in her head, as she moved quickly back
to the cave.
*"At least when she'd been on Kordis, and she'd heard him talking to her, he hadn't talked in riddles!"* she thought as she passed Mitch Connelly at the entrance, and joined the others who were sleeping toward the back. Her last waking thoughts were, maybe this time I am cracking up!
In those early morning hours, when it's always darkest, the sound of the waves pounding on the sand filled Jenny's dreams. They took her away to a place where all things are possible. She was on her boat, the sails were stretched taught from a strong wind, that drove the craft over a blue ocean. She could feel a man standing behind her, his hands gripping hers lightly on the wheel. When she turned her head to rub her cheek against the arm that was wrapped around her, she could smell Hammerhead fuel and sandalwood aftershave.
"Ty?" She murmured in her sleep.
"Easy there, Jen," a deep voice quieted her.
"Love you," she smiled.
An awkward hand patted her shoulder, until she fell into a quiet
sleep. Cooper Hawkes, watched the Doctor carefully until he was sure
she was sleeping soundly, then moved back to his place at guard duty. When the young Marine had heard her start to murmur, he was glad he had
chosen the early morning watch. He had decided yesterday it was fitting
that he be the one to keep her secret. So keep it he would, until
the man came back, who the secret really belonged to.