(Twelve)

11 March 2065

Marine Corps Air-Ground Combat Center

Twentynine Palms, California,

USA

2235

Putting this task force together had been a major challenge. There was the time element. There was the size element. The Marine Air-Ground Task Force - the MAGFT - was twice the size of what had normally been put together. People living in tents in the desert, in the winter. There was the personnel and readiness element. The blending together of experienced and green units - building teams - pairing people together. "Spreading around the experience and success, as General Green would say." McQueen had remembered Becca's phrase numerous time over the last several weeks. The General herself had been calling him almost weekly. She had sent McQueen a new black flightsuit - with all his patches sewn on - with the "request" that if and when McQueen was supervising Forward Air Control that he wear it. McQueen complied and had now gotten used to General Wierick grumbling about 'Becca Boyington and her damn horse trading.'

Training in the field had begun with an almost horrifyingly low performance. General Wierick hadn't been - or hadn't appeared to be - upset or even surprised. The poor level of accomplishment was initially to be expected. For McQueen, those initial debriefings had been exercises in diplomacy. "Always give some positive feedback. Train your men and women for success - not failure. The philosophy works, but it isn't always easy," he thought. It was now eight weeks later. "They are good to go," he said to himself.

Idle stargazing had become a way for McQueen to unwind, and it was easy in the desert. No light pollution - or very little. McQueen lay on the ground at what had been his forward observation point earlier in the day. Looking up into the sky, he found the constellation Draco. Omicron Draconis - he found that star first. He always did. He looked for Kylen's star, and could not find it. The Evening Star must be below the horizon. Finally, he looked up at the North Star. It was kind of hard to avoid. Polaris - The Nail of the North - The Polestar - The Jackal of Set. It had been "his" since New Year's Eve - since before New Year's Eve. Kylen had given it to him. Had given him the "responsibility," as she had called it. And tonight it made him feel uncomfortable. It was no longer a dispassionate light in the sky. It was now a memory and a connection, and for the past three nights it had been the voice of his conscience.

He had known for three days that he would be shipping out soon. McQueen had known that Kylen - pillar of fire that she was - had known it as well. It had taken him less than an hour after landing in Twentynine Palms to figure out why the Corps had hired her. His suspicions had been confirmed. Kylen didn't have to tell him what she had been doing for the last two months. McQueen had become intimately familiar with her work.

"The North Star - The Steering Star - Lodestar - The Lance of Longinus - The Angel Star," he thought. He looked at his watch and laughed. By the time he called Kylen it would be 0300 in Virginia.

"Colonel McQueen?" The voice belonged to Captain Marshall Chan, an earnest and effective man who had been functioning as McQueen's aide since his arrival. In the two months that they had been working together, Chan couldn't remember ever hearing Colonel McQueen laugh. And now the man was up there alone in the dark - laughing out loud. The Captain wondered if he would ever truly understand McQueen. "We are all squared away below, Sir. Would you like a ride back to your quarters?"

"Thank you, Captain. I'll be down presently."

12 March 2065

Female BOQ

Marine Corps Command and Control

Quantico, Virginia,

USA

0300

Kylen had awakened a little after 0200 following a vivid dream. It had almost been a nightmare, but she had been able to wake herself up using the trick that Dr. Feller had taught her. In her dream, Kylen had looked at her hands. After shaking off the worst of her jitters, Kylen had taken a shower and washed her hair to relax her nerves - and her psyche.

The phone rang. Kylen looked at her clock and hastily put on a robe. She had been half expecting this phone call for the past three days. Sure enough, when she hit the 'accept' button, McQueen's face appeared.

"Is this the right time?" he asked, clearly amused with himself. It was a three am. phone call that only friends can make. She had introduced him to the concept.

"My time is your time, McQueen," she jested right back.

"I thought about you tonight," he admitted. "I thought about something that made me laugh."

"That's why I'm here, Six. I provide the comic relief."

"Working hard?" he asked with a bit of concern. She couldn't have had an easy time these last two months.

"Hardly working," she joked back. Kylen had been pushed to her limits the past eight weeks. The Corps basically had her doing double duty. She was attending classes, training in defensive tactics, getting crammed with cryptography and security ... and at the same time being pulled hither and yon to answer questions, analyze new data, and offer her opinions. Either one could have been a full-time job.

McQueen had, of course, immediately seen that Kylen's hair was wet. And he knew what that usually meant.

"Nightmare?" he asked.

"Not surprisingly. They told me to expect it. It wasn't a bad one. I was able to wake myself out of it," she said, holding up her hands to the camera.

McQueen noted that the last of the blackness had disappeared from her fingernails. Kylen sported an immaculate manicure. "They look good," he observed.

"They do, don't they," Kylen said with a touch of satisfaction, looking at her hands. "But, it's funny, in my dreams they are still all beat-up and ugly. Oh, Bee asked me to say hello."

"Bee? Bee?" he thought. "She means Becca Green."

"Give Bee my best," he said.

They were communicating on McQueen's secure channel, but it was only a 'secure' and not a 'compartmentalized' channel. They both knew that they could not talk about what was uppermost in their minds. They both knew that McQueen was skirting the boundaries of security by contacting her at this time - so close to the start of a mission. They both were determined not to say or do anything that could ever be considered a breach in security.

"Well, this was just my usual 'checking-in-with-you' call. I better let you go back to sleep," he said, having grown tired of the charade. He had never made just 'checking-in-with-you' calls.

"Fat chance. Wait ... what made you laugh?" Kylen asked.

McQueen had remembered the fight that he and Kylen had had in Maine. At one point he had told her: "One day you will do what I tell you." And she had waspishly replied: "And one day I will get to hear you really laugh out loud."

"You missed it," he said. It seemed important to McQueen - urgent - that he tell her this story before he left Earth.

"Missed what?"

"I asked Dale Steinbeck why you didn't want me to read that book," he said. "And yes, he did tell me."

"So," she said a bit defensively.

"Kylen, I have to tell you ... It made me laugh out loud."

The sounds of Kylen's laughter rolled through the air.

"See you soon, Six."

"See you soon, Small Change."

They both knew that would not be seeing each other any time soon, and reluctantly signed off. They both had big responsibilities to attend to.

Operation Brass Ring.

Kazbek.