Chapter Thirty-one - Kipling
Kylen looked at McQueen as he poured a scotch for himself and, as an afterthought, one for her as well.
"It's a highly ordered and structured way of life, Kylen." McQueen shifted his gaze back to her, only to find that Kylen was looking at him as if he had two heads.
"Colonel McQueen, I may not know much about the military, but my head doesn't screw on and off," she said evenly.
"That's one thing I know for sure," he said, giving her his 'almost' smile. "But can you follow orders? Can you live without questioning everything?"
"Colonel, the Marine Corps has obviously worked for you. It is a way of life that answers a particular need in you. Nathan seems to like it well enough. Why not me? Besides, I'll be a civilian employee - and my job will be to question things." McQueen did not answer her. Kylen had asked him another question and he thought she had just proved his point.
Kylen went on: "So, you obviously don't think I have what it takes to be one of the Few and the Proud. Does that mean you also think that I don't have what is needed to even work for the Corps?"
McQueen was able to answer without hesitation. "I don't question your sincerity, Kylen. You are just too much the civilian. It is the difference between involvement and commitment."
"How so?"
"You see it at breakfast all the time," he said. "Ham and eggs. You can say that the chicken was involved, but the pig was definitely committed."
It made Kylen giggle. She was surprised at how often his maxims about The Corps made her laugh. She knew that he did not catch the irony of eggs: He certainly knew the military definition of scrambled eggs and undoubtedly used the term, but he probably wouldn't appreciate the joke right now. The term was used to describe the gold metallic decorations on the brim of an officer's hat. He would have scrambled eggs on his cover. "I'll never be able to read or hear 'Green Eggs and Ham' again without thinking of McQueen and the Marine Corps."
McQueen continued. "Eisenhower once said: 'When you put on the uniform you accept certain inhibitions.'"
It clicked inside her mind. "That's it. Putting on the uniform may come with its own set of responsibilities and inhibitions, but it also came with an identity and a belonging that was historic and honored. It came with rights and privileges. Esprit de corps." The Marine Corps was not temporary. She had been right - he had been grandstanding. Part of her relaxed. Kylen then leapfrogged at least one of his thoughts.
"Our relationship is going to change anyway," she offered.
"How so?" McQueen asked. He had recognized this fact since the night that Kylen had broken into the Clinic. She had earlier even written him the words: 'This is a season we have to live through.' It wasn't what Kylen had originally meant, but it would serve. 'A season.' Yes, it would change, but he was interested in knowing her take on things.
Kylen took a deep breath and spoke. "Well, I hope our relationship - whatever you want to call it - But I hope that our real relationship doesn't change; our inside relationship. How we ... oh, I don't know the right word.... How we connect with each other; it is going to change. You have the birds on your shoulders already but someday, before too long, there will be a formal ceremony. They will pin them on your dress blues and you will get your newest medals and cameras will flash. You will be the highest ranking, most decorated InVitro in the history of The United States. I don't know where they are going to put you, but I doubt you will be hidden away. They are going to want you out front somehow. Equal opportunity in the military. Interviews with the heroic InVitro. And how you will hate it all. Even if you get back to the Saratoga, there will be another layer of command between you and the 5-8. There are going to be layers of security and protocol between your duties and walking along the pier with me in Maine. I hope I can stay your three o'clock buddy, but I know that you will probably be unable to stay mine. Even if you wanted to be."
"Three o'clock buddy?" he asked.
"The truest friends are those people you can call at three in the morning. And, I want you to know, I thought of that before I ever read it anyplace else."
This was new stuff to McQueen. He wanted to consider the concept.
"People you can call at three am; who aren't surprised or angry when you do. I bet West would really appreciate that. Calls from the 'Old Man' at 0300. But then again.... I can see Kylen rolling over in bed and handing Nathan the phone saying: 'It's Coop,' and then rolling back over and going back to sleep without missing a beat. They will probably always have three am friends; accepting it as a reality like the sun coming up and of equal importance. Oh yea, she is a Little Puke all right. Gees, McQueen, open mouth, insert foot, chew vigorously. "
As usual Kylen had already moved ahead. "Politics and misery make strange bedfellows. Isn't there a line about war doing the same? If there isn't - there should be. You know, McQueen, I sometimes think that we both need to wear signs around our necks that say "Under Repair." She paused and prepared herself to speak an uncomfortable truth.
"I recognize certain facts," she said. "I recognize that we are both sitting here in Dale Steinbeck's kitchen due to some pretty outrageous circumstances. The circumstances of the war and the peace conference - the very fact that my family lives in New England," she chuckled. "If we would have met any other way.... If there hadn't been any aliens.... If I was living on Tellus.... If, somehow, you had been made the C.O. of the 58th. And if you were posted to sentry duty. I may have met you.... If there had been some official reception on Tellus perhaps.... We'd have been introduced by Nathan. If that would have happened, you would have been stringently polite.... I'm sure that the Marines have the protocol all laid out. 'Recommended Customs When Meeting the Family of Subordinates'.... You would have taken my hand, made a minute's worth of 'Pleasure to meet you' small talk and then passed me off to the next person in the receiving line, mentally crossing me off the list of dull civilians to whom you had to make your manners. Happy to be done with me and hoping that there wouldn't be dancing after the dinner. If If...If..." She gave a sardonic smile.
McQueen was flattened by her seemingly casual analysis. Kylen was absolutely correct in her assessment, and it hit him in the solar plexus.
"If my leg hadn't been blown off. If she hadn't spent almost a year and a half in the mines. If she hadn't met me half-naked and high. If she hadn't held my head while I puked my guts out. If she hadn't recognized the Goethe quote." McQueen shook his head. "I have wanted so many times to be rid of her. To not have to bother. But here I am again, sitting with her in someone else's kitchen, after midnight, drinking scotch."
"If," he whispered.
"It sounds like we are going to break out into a Kipling recitation. 'If you can keep your head... '" she said.
"I don't know Kipling," he admitted, once again glad for her rapid-fire change of direction.
"British; the Raj in India. Victorian, therefore sentimental by definition. Unfortunately, made far too charming by Disney. But he did write some great short stories. Fables. A few really good poems and verses. One in particular is titled 'If' - which like Hamlet's 'To be or not to be' has been watered down and trivialized by overuse and bad readings. "I've been reading that poem a lot lately, but he doesn't need to know that," she thought. Kylen placed one of her callused and battered little hands over his.
"Part of it goes: 'If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew to serve your turn long after they are gone, and so hold on when there is nothing in you except the will which says to them: 'Hold on.'"
During the brief speech Kylen had gripped McQueen's hand almost as tightly as she had at Thanksgiving. He was again taken aback by how well Kylen had come to know him. McQueen could think of nothing to say. Kylen came to his aid with a light touch. She changed her tone.
"Look him up. Dale is bound to have a volume or two in his library. He is a 'Captains Courageous' kind of guy." Kylen paused again. They had gotten off topic. It was not the point. Not the point at all.
"So, tell me, Six," Kylen prompted.
"Tell you what?" McQueen responded
"Tell me why you don't think I should take Howard up on his offer to work for Intelligence." Her voice was smooth and reasonable, but the demand was clear.
"You and I know, Kylen, that they want information that they think you may have," he responded with an equally reasonable tone. As he spoke, he started to pick leisurely at the dessert she had cut and placed before him, sculpting the whipped cream into small peaks. "They can get that from you without you signing on, even as a civilian. You are working closely with Howard as it is, so, why is it that you wish to sign on - to work for us? That is my question."
Kylen stared into her scotch. Hoping for a vision. She knew that she didn't have an answer. And she knew that McQueen knew it too.
End Chapter Thirty-one
Literary Giants M.Wheels
