4. McQueen.
Next morning McQueen found himself standing, on the Commodores orders, once again in front of her door. He rapped loudly.
"Hello?" came the hesitant response. "Who is it?"
"Colonel McQueen, ma'am. The Commodore sent me to escort you to his office." He fairly barked the response at her.
He waited.and waited. God - this was bad enough without being kept waiting in the corridor like some rookie grunt, he thought. He could feel his anger rising. Who the hell did she think she was? Was she ever going to open this damn door?
Passing crewmen were starting to stare at him; he was becoming more and more furious every second he stood there.
"I don't know how to open this door." came a very quiet voice from inside the room.
He almost hadn't heard her, and he shook his head as if the very act of shaking it would dissipate the fury that was in him. Civilians! Goddamnit! Why couldn't they do the simplest things?
Drawing a breath he spoke very calmly, "The lock. Twist it to the right and pull, hard."
He could hear the sounds of her twisting, and some grunting as she pulled. Then silence. He raised his eyes to heaven, sighing. "Step back ma'am, and I'll push."
Once the door was open he stepped into the room. She was sitting on the bunk, pulled up into the corner, her back pushed about as close to the wall as she could get. She was staring at him with those wide blue eyes, unfallen tears glistening. She looks terrified, he thought. Like a caged animal. His anger dissipating with the thought. He almost reached out to stroke her head, but remembered just in time who he was and why he was there.
"Have you been locked in here since yesterday?" he asked gruffly.
She nodded at him, her pale face flushing a bright crimson red. He almost laughed out loud.
"So you haven't eaten then?"
She shook her head.
"Well, come on." he said more gently this time. "I think we can squeeze in some breakfast before I deliver you to the Commodore."
With that he turned and led the way out of the room and up along the corridor.
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Next morning McQueen found himself standing, on the Commodores orders, once again in front of her door. He rapped loudly.
"Hello?" came the hesitant response. "Who is it?"
"Colonel McQueen, ma'am. The Commodore sent me to escort you to his office." He fairly barked the response at her.
He waited.and waited. God - this was bad enough without being kept waiting in the corridor like some rookie grunt, he thought. He could feel his anger rising. Who the hell did she think she was? Was she ever going to open this damn door?
Passing crewmen were starting to stare at him; he was becoming more and more furious every second he stood there.
"I don't know how to open this door." came a very quiet voice from inside the room.
He almost hadn't heard her, and he shook his head as if the very act of shaking it would dissipate the fury that was in him. Civilians! Goddamnit! Why couldn't they do the simplest things?
Drawing a breath he spoke very calmly, "The lock. Twist it to the right and pull, hard."
He could hear the sounds of her twisting, and some grunting as she pulled. Then silence. He raised his eyes to heaven, sighing. "Step back ma'am, and I'll push."
Once the door was open he stepped into the room. She was sitting on the bunk, pulled up into the corner, her back pushed about as close to the wall as she could get. She was staring at him with those wide blue eyes, unfallen tears glistening. She looks terrified, he thought. Like a caged animal. His anger dissipating with the thought. He almost reached out to stroke her head, but remembered just in time who he was and why he was there.
"Have you been locked in here since yesterday?" he asked gruffly.
She nodded at him, her pale face flushing a bright crimson red. He almost laughed out loud.
"So you haven't eaten then?"
She shook her head.
"Well, come on." he said more gently this time. "I think we can squeeze in some breakfast before I deliver you to the Commodore."
With that he turned and led the way out of the room and up along the corridor.
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