Chapter Six - Franklin
On board the Nightingale
Kylen decided that cavorting with officers did have advantages. She continued in her best "Queen of All She Surveys" mode with the Private. He seemed very very young to her after life in the mines. To get her Private to talk she turned on the charm, and received a wealth of knowledge for her trouble. It only took a couple questions on her part as he led her through the hallways to the Mess hall.
The second transport with the rest of the survivors was expected to land within the hour. They would all be on board The "Flo" for approximately fourteen hours after which they would be transferred to a light speed endo/exo transport for the trip to Earth. " Two, maybe two and a half days, " he said. Kylen expressed her alarm at another dark and cramped ISSCV ride and the Private assured her that this was a real ship, small in terms of Naval ships, but built for high-speed transport of material or up to a company of marines (whatever that was).
"Beds and Heads, Ma'am, and real food."
In the mean time, they would get "Three hots and a cot." Everyone would get a "Hollywood" shower (whatever that was, but the private made it sound like something to be devoutly desired). They would receive more complete medical exams and their debriefing would begin (she noted that he rushed through that). Everyone would be given an appointment to use the video phone to speak with family who were being brought together to spend time with them when they got 'Earth side.'
"For 5 mikes, Ma'am."
This last was delivered just as they reached the Mess where the POW's were being divided into smaller groups. Kylen surveyed the room, and the organized chaos as the survivors lined up at various tables to give their names and vital statistics and to get their temporary "assignments." After all the pain, confusion, loss and the general mess of her life in the past eighteen months, she had only one sudden and unexpected desire at that moment. She wanted her mother. Her mother who had died years ago. She wanted to see her mother with an urgency and a pain different from anything she had felt during her imprisonment. Wanted her like she hadn't since she was five years old. Paradoxically, Kylen felt that it was the first step in letting go of the survival mode she had adopted. Maybe she would be able to have a life outside of the mines after all.
McQueen was hustled through the ship with Howard in tow. They took him into a scanner suite and left him with a full trauma team. The amputation was obvious, but it wouldn't kill him. It was frequently the unseen injuries that killed. The team was looking for the hidden dangers. Major Howard stood out of the way, but placed himself where he would never loose sight of McQueen, who hadn't opened his eyes since leaving the loading bay.
The team catalogued a list of new injuries to add to the already hefty medical record: Concussion, broken ribs, inhalation injuries the entire length of the airways, partially treated already with surfactant therapy, percussive contusions to a number of internal organs but no evidence of active bleeding. Massive blood loss (O-) with four units transfused. He was still a train wreck but remarkably stabilized. The medical team on board the Saratoga had done well. "Damn fine job."
Now, the bad news. The team turned to the most obvious injury and the cause of the blood loss, the traumatic below the knee amputation of the right leg. Complicated by chemical burns.
The Flight Surgeon sighed heavily: "Well, people, I don't have much hope but let's give it a try." Spitting out a stream of invectives worthy of a Gunny, calling into question the parentage and sexual habits of Chigs in general and the Ambassador in particular, he moved off to scrub for surgery. The team began preparing Colonel McQueen for a procedure that gave them no hope. A nurse pointed the way to Howard.
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Kylen stood in the shower. She had learned that a Hollywood shower was five minutes of uninterrupted water flow at any temperature she wanted. She had soaped up as fast as she could and was now letting the hottest water at the highest pressure she could stand beat down on her head. The vid/phone call to her family had been disturbing on several different levels. She needed to come back into herself if she was to get through the debriefings.
Kylen realized that Intelligence had done that on purpose - had allowed them to speak with family to unbalance them emotionally. All the easier to get information. She didn't have anything to hide from them and had resented the manipulation. She had resented the lecture on security from an intelligence officer before the call, and had resented the fact that the conversation had been monitored. Someone had been present out of the line of sight ready to hit the censor silence switch.
All her brothers and sisters, the gang of "Indians" - the circus that was her loud, large and boisterous family were intact and well. She was deeply relieved. She had been afraid that someone would have been killed in the War. She also knew that this safety would probably not last. Sooner or later the Celina tribe would sacrifice in this war. At least Kylen would have the chance to tell everyone the things she had spent eighteen months thinking about. She knew that it was a gift not many people truly understood.
She was scheduled to have a meal with a representative from Aerotech. McQueen's advice echoed in her ears. She made a conscious decision to follow his lead. He knew a lot more than she did. "Tell them as little as you can."
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McQueen lay in the recovery room. Asleep again. Howard still at his side. The surgeon had been correct in his assessment. There was no surgical reattachment of his leg. Well, it had been worth a try. Howard was chilled by the equanimity with which McQueen received the news. A nod, nothing more.
"He that lives upon hope will die fasting," Major Howard thought. He was reminded of nothing so much as Robert E. Lee: the Marble Man. His grace, courage under fire, the lowest number of demerits in the history of West Point, disciplined in all areas of his life, an abundance of honor. Perfection. Well, from the record he could see that McQueen's career patterned Sherman as much as Lee but he wondered idly if McQueen consciously emulated Lee, The Gray Fox - or if it was just the inner nature of the Colonel.
It was what Howard hoped. Hell, he needed heroes too and he felt McQueen was the real deal. Colonel McQueen was the type of man that people wrote books about. Howard had read McQueen's jacket and knew him to be a man with an almost pathological desire for privacy. There would never be an authorized biography only official press releases from The Corps that McQueen could not control. God help the person who tried to research the man. Howard whispered the old Franklin doggerel to himself:
"If you would not be forgotten, as soon as you are dead and rotten,
Either write things worth the reading, or do things worth the writing."
It was almost a shame, this need for privacy. People should know about men like the Colonel.
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Kylen knew with certainty that she had been "handled." These people were smooth. They were astute enough to not separate the survivors but also aware enough to keep them in smaller groups. One staff member for every four survivors. They were never alone. There was always a "Keeper" close by. Everything they talked about was overheard by someone. Their families were being brought to meet them. That meant that they were going to be sequestered somewhere for who knew how long. By making frequent trips to 'the head,' she managed to exchange snips of information with a few of the other women. Some got the picture and some didn't. The whole thing was starting to really piss her off.
Kylen reviewed the last few hours. She had gotten through the Aerotech ordeal pretty well. By going on the attack, she hadn't allowed them too many questions. She had barraged the man with questions about her backpay, benefits and release from her contract. That thought frightened her more than a little: Could they really still hold her to the contract? Certainly public opinion would help. One problem at a time.
She had met "the Spooks." Kylen had almost laughed when they were introduced. McQueen had been wrong. You didn't have to be smart to figure out why these guys were called "Spooks." Self-important, dressed in black they made no attempt at blending in but seemed to enjoy throwing their weight around. Kylen had detested them immediately. They acted as if they knew more than anyone else did, and weren't telling.
The Spooks were the 'Alien Interpretation Unit,' and they had wanted to know about the aliens, Chigs, they called them. How they had acted. How they had communicated. What Kylen knew about them. Well, after the first couple of months she had rarely even seen one of them so she had very little to tell. McQueen had said they would press her and they hadn't yet so she figured she would be seeing them again.
No one had left her alone long enough to organize her thoughts. The trip home was shaping up to be a real pain in the ass.
After her shower there was another meal. The Keepers started to round up their charges and head out to the wards to grab some "rack time." Kylen was ready to sleep in a real bed even if it was only a cot in a medical ward. As they made their way through the passageways she came to the startling realization that her newest "captors" had told her no more about the war than the AI's had. Less in fact. They were keeping them in the dark. Part of her knew why they would do such a thing and another part of her jumped over the slow burn and immediately hit full-blown white-hot burning mad.
"Like Hell," she growled, turned on her heel and headed off to find Major Howard. "Smarmy son-of-a-bitch!" She made it as far as the Mess and stopped. Her "Keeper" would be after her soon. "This will serve no purpose. I'm not going to get any information and I'm only going to drawn attention. If I want Aerotech and The Spooks to forget I exist, this isn't how to do it. Wait for Howard, Kylen. Watch for the patterns and wait for the moment." She went back to the ward and slept fitfully.
End Chapter Six
Literary Giants M.Wheels
