Chapter Four - Sitwell
The hum of the atmospheric pumps signaled that the landing bay was secure and pressurizing. The communications officers came over the COM.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, Welcome to the medical vessel, Nightingale, 'Flo' to her friends. We will unload in a few mikes." Kylen realized that she was still holding the notebook and pen, remembered why she had wanted it, and began to write furiously.
The familiar sounds and the unfamiliar phrases pushed a button in McQueen's foggy brain. He changed gears. The loading bays on the Nightingale weren't combat bays and would take longer to reach pressure, but there still was not much time.
McQueen knew what was coming for the survivors. It would be different for them than it had been for him. They were civilians. It would be gentler but every bit as insistent. He had been 'debriefed' after his release as a POW and it had been no day at the beach. They weren't going home yet and they were totally clueless. They had NO idea.
His own experience as a POW had changed him. Profoundly. But the aftermath had been equally crushing. *"They had called it debriefing but it was interrogation. Browbeating. My own people - the Corps - had treated me with such condescension. I had to justify everything that I had done and said. My own people had demeaned and belittled my efforts. The only thing that had prevented me from knocking heads - saved me from another three months in solitary was the fact that the Natural Borns got the same treatment - almost - more or less. "* Though McQueen didn't realize it, the implied and inferred disgrace had inadvertently brought him into a new understanding - a new lifestyle. No one had, or would ever use those tones with him again. He would never again allow himself to be treated in such a manner.
But even worse than the atmosphere of his "debriefing" were the memories that he had been forced to face. It was a bad business all the way around. It had been weeks before he had begun to feel useful and whole again.
*"Aerotech will have its hands all over this operation. The ruling head has just been cut off and they will be jockeying for power. They have to cover this up. The other mouths on this Hydra are going to be snapping and fighting with each other. And they will be willing grind the bones of the colonists to season the stew. Without a second thought. No compunction. No reserve."*
Kylen: He felt responsible for her on some level. He understood why, but he had recently been blown to hell, and didn't have the energy to deal with an FNK cheerleader. If it had been anyone else McQueen would have ignored her. He was too cut up and broken to care, and needed to husband his own resources. As deeply as he wanted her out of his life, to have all of these people, gone - he was unable to relax and let go. The Wildcards had given him their faith and they had thrown down to save these people - to save Kylen. There was one thing that he could do for them - for her. One thing that he knew he could tell her.
McQueen turned toward her. There was a lot to say and too little time. " Kylen Kylen." She nodded but kept writing. *"Damn, but I do not like to deal with civilians!"* "Put it away, Kylen, they will confiscate everything you've written."
"But it's not for me. It's for y...," She was still writing, but her head snapped in his direction as what he said sunk in. The change in him was remarkable. It gave her a jolt. His eyes were still glassy behind the meds, but they looked at her fiercely. His face had hardened. One door of his mind had closed and another one had opened, and behind door number two the 'Colonel' was swimming to the surface.
He had her attention. *"Good, but how fast does she learn? "* McQueen knew that his energy was limited. "They will debrief you." She nodded agreement as if to say she understood. She didn't.
Enunciating every syllable he whispered harshly: "Kylen, they will in-ter-ro-gate you."
Kylen felt bile rise to the back of her throat. He kept going.
"Aerotech will be there - tell them as little as you can get away with." He paused, waiting for a sign from her. She nodded. He waited, giving her 'the eye' like an angry parent.
"Yes, sir," she whispered.
"The 'Spooks' have their own agenda," he continued. "They will press you. They will know if you lie. Think before you speak and DO NOT trust them."
Her mind raced. She asked herself: *"Who the hell are the Spooks? What is he trying to say? "* But she responded,"Yes Sir."
He saw the question in her eyes, but there wasn't time to explain. "You're smart enough - you'll know them when you see them. Now, there will be Naval or Marine intelligence. Try to get alone with them, and if you can, Kylen, you tell them everything. Think hard, you DO have important information. Try to remember details, and you tell them everything. EVERYTHING. Understand?"
"I understand, Sir." But there was a lot that she didn't understand. There was something coming. Something that he didn't have time to explain. Kylen felt fear and the beginnings of panic. *"There are wheels within wheels here and I don't even know the game let alone the rules."* He wanted to gauge her abilities to think under fire. McQueen risked some time to ask her a question, and it wasn't an easy one. "Kylen, I need to know what you learned about surviving when you were a POW - other than water, shelter and food. Right NOW. Kylen, I need to know. What are the rules?"
She responded to his authority and urgency immediately like a child reciting a nursery rhyme. Kylen did not pause to think. She just reacted to his command.
"One. Never draw attention to yourself."
"Two. Stay in the Middle of the pack."
"Three. Remember details." Kylen stopped counting, but kept up the list.
"Keep your eyes open. Know your surroundings. Create a sense of purpose. If you can, help the weaker, but you can't help everyone. Do whatever it takes to survive."
McQueen was, frankly, astonished. There had been brief pauses, and she had stumbled some, but it was obvious to him that she had known the content of the recitation and had only sought the words. She did learn and the little package had a backbone of steel. This was more woman than he had thought.
"Good girl. Think. Find the patterns. Look at their relationships. Don't trust these people automatically, but there will be people you CAN trust. Use your instincts. Choose carefully. These people are NOT your enemies, but not all of them are your friends."
"I will, Colonel."
He had told her what to expect. He had tested her, and did not find her wanting. Kylen felt a strange peace and the confidence given by his tacit approval. *"The Complete Commander. Yes, people would follow him into battle. Nathan would."* He had slogged through a sea of meds, his lungs burned, ribs broken - had pressed himself to the limit to give her this knowledge. At that moment Kylen felt that she would follow him into battle too. She would do as he said. McQueen had given her courage.
He was exhausted. They both knew it. McQueen closed his eyes, sighed, and rested back onto his pillow. Kylen was afraid that he might have pushed too far, and nervously watched him relax and breathe more smoothly. She felt his pulse and relaxed herself when she felt it - strong and even under her touch. Door number two had closed.
Her note...She had wanted to give him the note that she had written. The note that had pissed him off. Kylen was seized with real urgency. She had a need to get this done.
*"He has no pockets, no place to put it."*
"Damn it."
*"He doesn't have any more to his name than I do. No... There had been a bag."*
"Find it."
*"Khaki. Somewhere... Somewhere..."*
"Damn it."
*"I saw it. About so big." (She began to search). "No, not underneath."*
"Remember the details."
*"Smaller than a knapsack. You know you saw it! Someone scrawled his name on it. That black officer had handed it to one of the Corpsmen. Not at the foot of the stretcher."*
"Damn it."
*"It has his serial number on it too. Hand written. A rush job. It had been thrown together in a hurry. And the Corpsman had......The corpsman had.... Done what with it? Ah yes, he had clipped it on the rail at the head of the stretcher.*"
She felt uncomfortable opening the Colonel's only possession but.... Saved again - it was a good day - She rammed the note into the zipper pocket on the flap. No harm/No foul.
Kylen moved back to his side. With nothing else to give him in return - to help him - she smoothed his blanket, tucking him in. His upper lip glistened with sweat from his recent efforts. She touched his forehead with the back of her hand. Warm and dry. No temp. She was a bit surprised and proud that he had accepted her attentions. He had probably fallen asleep.
A quiet voice reached her ear. "Did you find what you needed?" She touched him lightly on the arm. She had but not the way he had meant.
End Chapter Four
Literary Giants M.Wheels
