The fleet slowly crept along the path of the Kihnes Asteroid Belt, in search of the elusive Galaxy fleet. Captain Wilder sat in his chair on the bridge, watching over the fleet with vigilance. Monica was standing next to him to work with him during his shift. However, she had a question burning in her mind as she also watched the ships moving along the asteroid field. "Captain, I was wondering..." Wilder looked up at her as she continued asking her question. "When is it a good time to act upon your own volition, despite being ordered to do something else?" Wilder was a bit stunned at the frankness of her question, but he understood that she may be a little confused about his recent rogue decisions.
"Sometimes when you're on the battlefield, you see things that your superiors might not see. One thing that I love about being a Captain is that I am still privy to all that goes on in and around my ship. Once you reach the rank of admiral, command seldom allows you the privilege of working on the front lines. It's almost as if you're put into a home for the retired. Your every move is constantly tracked and you can't get out on your own to do what you want. I mean this with the utmost respect for my superiors, but sometimes they are too inundated with their own desk jockey work to keep an eye on the reality of the battlefield," he replied. Even though Monica understood his words, the concept still seemed somewhat foreign to her.
Captain Wilder took a moment to think of a way to get her to understand better. "You know how sometimes when you are monitoring your radar station, the information comes to you much faster than it does to me. Even though you relay that information to me, you must first process it in your mind to deliver it in a concise sound bite for the sake of efficiency." Monica nodded to indicate she was still following his words and he continued, "You already know the correct course of action, but you tell me anyways and wait for your orders. If you could, you'd issue the orders yourself. Your perspective is far clearer than mine could ever be, when it comes to your designated position. The same applies for ship captains and squadron leaders. A good leader listens to his subordinates and weighs their opinions against his or her own. They are then forced to act upon the information available to them, despite what their higher-ups may say. That same information takes time to disseminate up the ranks and sometimes, it may be too late to be able to afford to wait."
Monica began to understand the concept a little better. "So, sometimes you have to disobey orders?" Wilder shook his head and answered, "I wouldn't put it as bluntly as that, but there will be some times where you can't afford to wait for deliberation. Being a ship captain is about having quick and decisive judgment. Quick and concise orders are the easiest ones to follow when you're under extreme time constraints. I would not recommend going against orders, though. At your level of experience right now, you'll be wrong 9 out of 10 times. Only when you absolutely know that you're right, would I suggest doing it."
Monica nodded and slightly laughed at the notion of her not having much experience. "You're right about that. I was just curious after watching the exchange you had with Fleet Admiral Perry. You gotta do what you gotta do, huh?" Captain Wilder just nodded and turned his gaze back to the fleet in front of his ship. "As grim as it sounds, war is a lot about inflicting as much attrition on your enemy as possible, while taking as little attrition in return. In the game of chess, you are sometimes forced to put your pieces into the role of sacrifice in order to draw out your opponent, or to protect vital pieces from capture. You must weigh out the value of your sacrificial pieces and make the decision to give them up if you know that you can cause more damage to your opponent than you will take."
Captain Wilder's words give Monica a lot to think about. Commanding a ship is not just about being the head honcho on the bridge. It's about making the decisions that might send some soldiers to their deaths. If that responsibility is something one cannot handle, then they'll never make it as a commander. She processed his advice in her mind as she turned her gaze outwards towards the fleet as well.
...
Down in Ozma's office, Will and Nene met with their commanding officer to discuss the future of their team. Ozma sat in his chair wearing his flightsuit, as he was due to launch soon. "Lieutenant Wagner has kept me up to date on Klan's condition and it looks like she's going to make it out of there very soon," he said. "We know. He's been texting us at regular intervals," Nene replied. Ozma smiled at her response. "I can't deny that I'm glad to see that you all are getting along so well. I can always rely on Pixie Team to get the job done when their pilots operate with that kind of synergy."
He shifted in his chair and leaned back. "However, I have to inform you that there are plans to give Klan her own squadron. Obviously, this means that there will be some pretty significant personnel changes if and when that does happen." Will and Nene looked at each other with worry. Ozma turned and looked at Nene to ask her something. "I am assuming that you'll request to transfer with your sister, Nene?" She thought about his question for a moment as she looked at Will. "At this point, I doubt it," she said, "It's time I follow my own path and stop living under her shadow. She'd want this for me, anyways. I have good reasons to stay in this squadron without her now."
Ozma was a bit surprised at this development. He had assumed that Nene would follow her sister to wherever she went. He started to look back and forth between Will and Nene a few times. He had seen the two of them spending a lot of time together and could sense a strange aura emanating from them. A smile began to creep across his face as his instincts told him of the connection the two shared with each other. "You guys...?" he started to ask. They both smiled in embarrassment at his fragmented question. He leaned back in his chair and began to laugh before continuing, "Ha ha ha... Alright, I got it. I'll try not to make a big deal out of it, I promise."
Ozma leaned forward on his desk again to get back to the point of the conversation. "Nene, with your sister in the hospital, you'll be in charge of your team, of course." She nodded since she had already guessed this. "How long do you think it will be before she returns to duty?" she asked. "The doctors reported to me that she should be okay to return to the ship and to her duty within a couple of days, but I'm going to order her to stay off-duty for five days at minimum. She needs time to recuperate, or I'm afraid she'll aggravate her injuries. We all know how stubborn she is about that kind of thing." Will and Nene chuckled in agreement.
"Since her Queadluun has been completely destroyed, she's going to have to return to Aimo to have a new one built and customized. I think she'll be distracted enough by that to keep her from getting back into trouble before she's allowed to return to duty." Ozma looked at his computer terminal to check the time. "Wagner is due to return in a few hours. I'll probably have you three flying light duty, since you'll be down a pilot." Will and Nene clicked their tongues in disappointment. Upon hearing their audible disapproval, Ozma looked up from his computer without moving his head. He leaned back in his chair once again to continue, but smiled as he spoke. "I know you guys think you can handle anything, despite any disadvantages you may have. Just try to see things from my point of view. You guys seem to attract trouble out there. As far as I know, you have seen more actual combat as a team than the other teams in the squadron. I almost lost my squadron XO because of it and I don't intend to take any chances on losing any of you because you thought you could handle it while shorthanded. That is my decision; deal with it."
It was as if Will and Nene were grounded until the other half of their team returned to duty. At least they could keep each other company while they stayed leashed to the Quarter for now. The other half of Pixie Team was leashed to the confines of a hospital room on the Zentraedi medical frigate. Although he was free to come and go as he wished, Cal stayed put and waited for Klan to wake up from her sleep. It was difficult for him to patiently wait in one spot for so long, but he didn't want to be off somewhere else when she finally woke up.
He leaned back on the chair he had constructed, looking up at the ceiling to count the number of lights in the room. Just as he was becoming mesmerized by the hum of the lighting, he heard Klan shifting on her bed. He turned his head to watch her softly grimace as her eyes quivered in preparation to open. Still lying on her side, her field of vision pointed in Cal's direction. The green irides of her eyes adjusted to the incoming light levels and she recognized her surroundings once again. Cal studied her every minute movement; an eager student of the intricacies of everyday life.
Upon seeing her finally awake, he initiated the conversation with a little playfulness, "Hey, Half-pint... How're you feeling?" Klan took a moment to answer. She could swear he just called her a "half-pint" again and looked at him in disbelief. "You know, just because I'm laid up in a hospital bed, it doesn't mean that I can't still reach over there and hurt you for making comments like that." Cal laughed as he responded, "Ha ha ha. It sounds like you're doing just fine, then."
Klan sat up in her bed and adjusted its position so she could be more comfortable. As she pulled her hair back to one side of the bed, she felt the tightness of the bandages and surgical scars on her abdomen. She slowly reached down and ran her hands over each bandage to catalogue the damage. She turned to Cal to ask about what had happened to her. "Did they tell you anything about what they had to do?" Cal's expression was indifferent. "Apparently, you had a lot of internal bleeding and they had to repair it. They said that it was probably caused by concussive blows from your Queadluun's explosion." She put her hands back down at her side as she processed the diagnosis. "Makes sense..." she said.
Cal continued with his answer, "You didn't suffer any broken bones nor do you have any signs of a concussion. I'm very impressed!" Klan looked at Cal with an inquisitive expression. "Impressed by what? I'm in a hospital bed." "It's better than being inside of a pine box. I'm impressed that you are sitting here talking to me so soon after suffering what could easily have been fatal injuries. Even the doctor was amazed at how quickly your body is recovering. It was either the Queadluun's superior structural design or your body is nearly indestructible... or it could be a combination of both," he said with a shrug.
Cal turned back to look at Klan. "The doctor mentioned that he thinks that you may have commander-class Zentraedi lineage. It would explain a lot about your durability and recovery abilities, that's for sure." Klan raised her eyebrow to answer, "When you put it that way, you make it sound like I'm some kind of robot." "Sorry, I didn't mean it that way. I'm just curious, that's all." Klan looked forward to decide on whether or not she should bring up her past. "He's right, though. My family has a strong military tradition. There have been several commander-class Zentrans in my lineage, including my mother and my grandfather. My sister and I inherited a lot of their genetic traits, for sure."
With his curiosity piqued, Cal went into his usual analysis mode. "That would explain why your sister is pretty tall for a Meltran..." "Yeah, she's actually taller than I am. It was a bit weird to get used to, since I was the bigger one when we were growing up." Cal began to chuckle a bit at Klan's little factoid. "I can't tell your relative heights because when you're micloned... well, you know. When you're both macronized, I can't really tell because of my perspective... hah." Klan gave him a courtesy laugh, even though his attempt at a joke was not very good.
"Anyway, it looks like they'll be releasing you very soon. That's not bad at all for having teetered on the edge of death a little less than a day ago," Cal remarked. Klan rolled onto her side and asked a question that's been bugging her since she first woke up after her surgery, "What are you still doing here, anyways? You should be back with the squadron instead of wasting your time here." Cal reset his demeanor to reflect the serious nature that he was going to need to answer this question. "I was ordered to stay here and report back when your condition stabilized."
Klan initially frowned and then smiled at his response. "Liar." Cal suddenly felt a lot warmer as he realized that she wasn't going to fall for his ruse. She followed up her accusation with an explanation, "I could hear the exchange between you and Ozma back on the Quarter's flight deck. I didn't have my helmet on, but it was right next to me and the radio was still working..." Cal knew he had been found out and looked downwards; his gesture admitted his guilt. The time for frankness had come.
"You know how you told me that you suspected that I was holding something back because I couldn't finish that sentence from awhile back?" he asked. Klan shifted in her bed to get comfortable. A look of interest ran across her face. "This oughta be good... Go ahead, tell me." Cal looked at her for a moment; a little put off by the hint of sarcasm in her voice. She didn't sound like she was going to take this very seriously. He continued after a few seconds of silence, "Well, the answer finally came to me sometime in the middle of the night." Once again, Klan made things a bit uncomfortable for him. She quickly nodded; like a child who was being asked if she wanted some ice cream.
"I looked back to where things started. When I first met you, I felt like I had something to prove. Having spent several months in the hospital to recover from my injuries, I had lost all sense of direction in my life. Like the seaweed that rises from the bottom of the ocean, I felt like all I could do was let myself be bent whichever way the current was flowing. But when I finally returned to duty, it seemed like a road was being constructed in front of me as I continued to walk along. It was as if I was being guided in a certain direction towards an unknown destination. The only explanation I could think of was that my late fiancee had figuratively left a trail of breadcrumbs for me to follow," Cal said while he reached up to clutch the engagement rings he still wore around his neck.
Klan changed her attitude back to a serious tone. "I know you told me the overall synopsis of your past with her, but if you don't mind me asking, what really happened to her? How did you two meet?" Cal stared at her for a moment and gritted his teeth with his mouth closed. For some reason, telling the story was extremely difficult this time. After taking a breath, he answered her question, "Marie and I met in school. We spent a lot of our early teens as good friends while we gradually grew into adults. At some point, our friendship became something more; a feeling of mutual symbiosis where we knew that we enhanced each others lives significantly. Once we reached high school, we understood that this must be love. We grew inseparable and when we graduated, I proposed marriage and she accepted. We decided to wait for a bit before getting married. We felt that we should get our careers on track before focusing on starting a family together."
He was noticeably struggling to continue his story, but seeing Klan's look of interest gave him the incentive to continue. "She had graduated as valedictorian of our class and her aptitude in her engineering classes were recognized by several aerospace industry giants. I, on the other hand, had not done terribly well in school, but I excelled in my piloting classes. Aside from Marie, flying was the only thing I truly enjoyed about school. I didn't give two shits about anything else. Everyone saw us as the odd couple, since she was the ambitious brainiac and I was the daydreaming pilot who couldn't keep his head below the clouds." Klan laughed a bit at the comment. "That does sum you up in a nutshell, doesn't it?" she asked. Cal smiled as he moved on with his story.
"She signed a lucrative contract to work for Bell-Casse Dynamics and her career took off immediately. I spent my time goofing off and couldn't hold a job to save my life. Being on the colony ship, there wasn't a lot of demand for flying outside of becoming an NUNS pilot. However, I felt that I wasn't quite ready to be a soldier. As you can already tell, I have problems following orders," he said with a chuckle. Klan just nodded in agreement before she rolled her eyes and sighed.
"Just as I was about to throw my hands up on becoming a productive member of society, Marie pulled some strings and got me a job as the test pilot for Bell-Casse. Being able to work with her was all I needed to keep myself focused on the job at hand. You may know what it's like to be able to share your passions with the one you love. She enjoyed designing and building weapons, munitions, flight systems, and other various VF enhancements. I enjoyed bringing her dreams to fruition by being the instrument of her aspirations," Cal said with a smile as he remembered the good times he had with his high school sweetheart.
His glow faded as sadness overcame him. "We were both happy with life, living out our dreams together. One day, that all came to a screeching halt." Klan's temporary smile vanished as she realized he was getting to the toughest part of the story to tell. Cal continued with his melancholy story, "I'm not sure exactly how it happened, but I'm sure one of us in the lab had bypassed a safety procedure on one of our tests. Long story short, Marie was bombarded with thousands of rems of radiation because of it. We spent our last hours together in a quarantined room of the hospital. We knew that it was only a matter of time before she passed, but we tried our hardest to keep each other smiling." His eyes had glazed over and he tried not to make eye contact with Klan, but she knew that he was holding it all inside.
"With her last few breaths, she told me that she wanted me to move on in life without her. She told me that she would not allow me to give up on myself and that I needed to fulfill my dreams and live in happiness. Because of her wishes, I have accepted the reality that she is no longer with me on this plane of existence. It's helped me to keep enough strength to trudge on without her near me. In the hospital, it was so difficult to sit at her side, unable to touch or feel her skin against my own. I had to wear a radiation-shielding suit or I'd have been killed too. You see, I too know what it's like to helplessly watch the love of my life die in front of me." Cal finished his story with a sigh and wiped his eyes with his hands. He could see Klan was empathizing with him; her eyes had also glazed over as she took in his story and began to feel the same way as him. Her memories of Michael came to mind and replayed side-by-side with Cal's story.
He saw her reaction and immediately sought to change the atmosphere. The last thing he wanted to do was to make her sad like that. "It's funny how our roles are reversed right now, isn't it? Just last week you were sitting next to me while I was in the hospital, telling me a similar story of your past," he said with a bit of a laugh. Klan smiled again and nodded. A pregnant pause occupied the time as they looked at each other for a moment.
Cal spoke up to break the silence and keep the story moving forward. "You already know this part of the story, but after spending some time off to mourn, I decided to leave the private sector and fly as an NUNS pilot. Due to my credentials and several positive references from my superiors at Bell-Casse, the NUNS gave me the rank of 2nd Lieutenant right out of the academy. I only got to fly in real combat for a couple of missions before the final descent operation onto the planet which we now call Aimo. My mothership had been destroyed by Vajra artillery fire and I was shot down by one of Galaxy's 27's. I ejected just as my VF was hit; the explosion violently propelled my body forward and I was slammed into a large chunk of debris, face first. The concussion shock from the explosion broke several vertebrae in my back and I suffered numerous broken bones from the impact against the debris." He could see Klan grimacing from the visualization of his injuries in her mind.
"Miraculously, I was rescued amongst the floating debris and spent several months in the hospital. The initial prognosis was that I would never walk again and I'd be pretty much an invalid for the rest of my life. I sure showed those egghead doctors, didn't I?" he said with a laugh. Klan was smiling at him, slightly awed by his physical resilience. Her resilience was why she was able to live through her injuries and be there at that very moment to hear Cal's story.
Cal shook his head because he realized how far off track he had gotten from his original statements. "Sorry, I guess I just went way out on a tangent there." Klan looked at him with an apologetic appearance, "No, it's okay. Your story answered a lot of questions I had about you. I now know a little bit more about what makes you tick." Cal smiled before getting back to his response to her primary question.
"Anyway... when I came back into service, certain things kept happening around me, as if they were predetermined. I was convinced that she was helping me to get my life back on track. Just the extreme coincidence of events was enough to assure me of her heavenly intervention. That series of developments led me to where I sit now. When I met you, I could sense that you were someone who'd give me the motivation I needed to move forward in life. When I originally told you the story of my past, I could tell by the look on your face that you had gone through a similar loss of a loved one. Immediately, I felt compelled to help you get through your pain. Not only was I trying to get your attention as a pilot, but I wanted put myself a bit closer to you so I could help you relate better. Pretty cheesy, huh?" he asked. Klan didn't quite know how to answer. She just said what came to mind.
"I must have made you think that I was a stone-cold bitch because I didn't want to have anything to do with you." Cal shook his head as he laughed. "Well, yeah... but that's just how you were being affected by it. I know you're extremely stubborn and hard-headed about a lot of things, but I could sense that there was a better person behind all of the defense mechanisms and walls you had built around yourself because of your loss." His response was honest and concise; just the way she prefers it. "See, I appreciate that you can be so frank about your opinions of me." Cal looked back at her and smiled, "I hate it when people just can't say what they mean... but then again, I am guilty of beating around the bush about your question. That's why I'm having this conversation with you right now." Klan relaxed again in her bed and invited Cal to get back to the point, "Oh yeah. Go on."
"Being reunited with my love of flying was more than enough to keep me busy, but then came the time when I had to fly against a red Queadluun in the mock battle exercises," Cal said as he nodded at Klan. "Those two dogfights against you were probably the most exhilarating experiences I had while at the controls of a VF. My desires changed into surpassing you as a pilot. I did whatever it took to make sure I stayed near you, and that led to me joining Skull Squadron. I didn't expect to be placed under your command, though." Klan raised her eyebrow at the ridiculousness of his expressed desires. "Surpass me, huh? Well, how has that worked out for you so far?" she asked with a hint of sarcasm in her voice. Cal glared at her for making smartass comments in the middle of his monologue.
"Anyway, I found that flying with you, instead of against you, was far more preferable. After arguing with you in person, I thought it'd be a good idea to stay on your good side, if that was possible," Cal said with a nervous laugh. Klan just smiled as she realized that he did turn out to be a little intimidated by her during their altercation in the Quarter's hangar. However, she also did not get her way from him then; his willingness to stand up to her because he knew he was right was something she couldn't help but respect. He did just give her the stare for her recent comments, too.
Cal shifted in his chair as he moved on, "My 'reason' for doing what I do around you kept changing as I spent more time with you. When you first asked me what it was, I really didn't know. It was like I was just operating on auto-pilot. I did what I thought to be the best and it put us through a couple of rough moments. The last of which, being when I passed out in the hangar and spent a couple of days in the infirmary." Klan frowned and apologized, "I'm sorry about that. It wasn't my intention to push you that hard. For some reason, I felt compelled to crush your stubbornness. I couldn't handle having someone like you who could get into my face if he thought that I was wrong about something. As I said before, the list of people whom I respect is short. Ozma is one of the people on that list who you know."
Klan sat up in her bed to elaborate, "As strange as this sounds, I've admired Humans for their strength of spirit. Of all the Zentrans I know, none of them can compare to the very best Humans who are a part of my life. Excluding my sister, of course... Although I have no problems intimidating most Humans, every once in awhile, one comes along and puts things into perspective for me. I can't believe I'm sitting here about to tell you this, but you've become one of those people. Now that we aren't constantly at each others throats, I feel good that I can depend on you to be there to prop me up when I fall over from time to time."
She looked down at him with a grateful smile. Cal was blushing at her overly generous compliments. "Geez... You can imagine how difficult it is to process this with poise and not make a jackass out of myself." Cal got up from his seat and turned around. He punched at the air and grunted in celebration. After his little dance, he regained his composure and sat back down. "Thanks for telling me that." They smiled at each other, but Cal groaned in frustration as he began to think about the fact that he was still not done with his answer. Klan put an indifferent look on her face while she waited for him to start talking again.
"Well, that brings me to the final part of my explanation. Ever since you visited me in the infirmary, it felt like you and I shared a better connection with each other. We were now a team... not just you and I, but Will and Nene too. It helped pull the veil away from my perspective on things and questions started to pop up in my head that needed to be answered. I was going to ask you about them when you came to my quarters that one time, but I got cold feet and changed my mind." "I was wondering what that was about. So what was it?" she asked. "Well, I'm about to get to that. Just sit tight," he answered. "Oh, sorry..." she laughed.
"Since I had made my way into a group of good people, I would do nothing more to upset the status quo. However, when I thought that I had lost you in combat yesterday, I knew that I would have to work extra hard to maintain that status quo. I am obviously relieved to be able to sit here and talk to you now. In simple terms, it just means that I get another chance at accomplishing that goal. Perhaps this is what a squad leader feels about his or her chicklings, huh?" he asked.
Klan nodded in agreement, "Damn straight! So, you understand why I do the things I do with you and anyone who is under my command, right?" Cal answered with apprehension, "Yeah, but... with me, that's not the whole story, either." Klan raised her eyebrow in curiosity, "Oh?" "I told you that my 'reason' kept changing as time went on. It finally hit me like a ton of bricks sometime last night. I was finally able to sum things up to where all questions were answered within myself..." Cal stopped talking as he thought about what he was going to say.
He got frustrated with himself and lightly punched the side of his head a couple of times to knock some of the wires back into place in his brain. He looked back up to Klan with an embarrassed smile to finish his answer. "It's because I've been in love with you... There, I said it! That is why I do what I do when it comes to you. Are you happy? You can start laughing at me now...!" he yelled as he got up and started to walk in circles, throwing his arms up in the air to accentuate his ranting.
He sighed before turning around again to see how Klan was reacting. She was doing a terrible job of hiding laughter within herself. As she saw him turn around, she tried very hard to suppress her initial reaction. He could tell that she was amused by his outpouring and began to get angry. "I was being sarcastic about the laughing part, goddammit!" he said out of frustration. Klan regrouped herself and stopped laughing, "I'm sorry! I wasn't laughing at you... er, rather, I was just laughing at your little parade there." Her response was not enough to convince him that she was not laughing at his words. He stood up straight and crossed his arms as he glared at her from the side of his eyes.
She laid back down on her side and took a deep breath to explain herself further. "I guess that does explain a lot..." She started to run the past events through her mind while inserting his motivational factor that defined his logic. "Damn. It makes me feel bad that I was such a bitch to you all that time. Why the hell did you wait until now to say that?" Cal's answer didn't take long for him to come up with, "Because I was too much of a coward to admit it.... both to myself and to you." He plopped down back into his seat and laid back to look at the ceiling once again.
Another period of silence hung in the air as they waited for the other to say something. Cal closed his eyes to think to himself while it was quiet. Klan turned her head away to stare blankly at the wall in front of her. She finally spoke up to break that silence, "Well, I don't blame you for waiting this long to tell me. It definitely would have been awkward to hear you admit that to me back when we were still bashing our heads against each other." Cal was still lying back on the chair, but he started to laugh in agreement. "Yeah... At that point, you probably would have laughed me out of the room for real." They both turned and looked at each other while they laughed off the uncomfortable feeling they were experiencing at that moment.
Klan sighed before shedding her own light on the situation, "As much as I appreciate your honesty about all of this, I really don't know what to tell you." Cal stopped her before she could continue, "I don't expect you to reciprocate anything. I just put it out there so you'd know why I do the things I do. Now you know how I feel and you can do whatever you want about it." His nonchalant answer helped Klan, since she didn't have to give any kind of answer to him. Somehow, the lack of any kind of pressure from him was calming to her.
"You do realize the differences between us, right?" Klan said, searching for a way to discourage Cal from becoming too attached to her. "What, that I'm Human and you're Zentran? Klan, I'm disappointed in you for asking that," he said with his arms crossed, "Of all people, you should understand that race and ethnicity don't matter when it comes to loving someone. It didn't stop you from loving Michael. It hasn't stopped your sister from falling in love with Will. We both have 23 pairs of chromosomes in our cells; what makes you think it'd stop me?" Klan was surprised about the news of her sister. "What?" she asked. Cal confidently nodded as he confirmed his statement, "Oh yes. I saw them on the flight deck while you were laid up in the medical shuttle. I can tell that Will loves her. She told me herself that she's attracted to him." Klan smiled and shook her head in disbelief, but she could tell that Cal wasn't lying.
She looked down at the blanket still covering her body up to her stomach. She felt bad about her subconscious attempt at deflecting Cal away from her again. "Look, I don't want to encourage you. You have to remember when I told you that I may be leaving the squadron soon. If that happens, I really don't see much of a possibility of us seeing each other very often." Cal stopped her before she finished again, "Klan! I already told you that whatever you decide is fine! You need to stop making excuses right now for whatever that decision is later. Remember, just be honest and upfront; say whatever it is that you mean. I won't fault you as long as you stick to the truth and only the truth." Cal was getting tired of her inability to convey her true feelings. He had stood up from his chair to give her a piece of his mind and he kept his arms folded, as if he was scolding her.
The look on his face struck Klan like a spear; his gaze pierced through all of her defense mechanisms and breached the walls that held her real emotions in check. She realized that up until now, she'd convinced herself that she would be fine going through life without anyone's help. She admired Humans for their strength of spirit, and there was another one sitting next to her who was not going to let her sell herself short. His words were the stone that shattered the stained-glass window that represented the preconception of her life after Michael. She knew that she'd eventually need someone to give her the push she needs to keep charging ahead in life. The question was "Is he really that person?"
Before any more words could be said, Cal's PDA began to chime from an incoming call. "Shit!" he said, as he reached down to pick it up and answer. "Yes, Sir?" Ozma's voice was inaudible to Klan while Cal spoke with him. "I know, Sir. I will return immediately." He leaned down and away to hide his voice from Klan's ears. "What? Okay, I understand," he dejectedly said. He put the PDA back down into its resting place and turned to Klan.
"He's sending you back to Aimo. You're to pick up your new Queadluun while you're there, but you've also been ordered to take five days off to recover," Cal reported. They both looked downwards upon hearing the news and Klan flopped back down on her pillow. Her mouth opened once again to try to assuage his uncertainty about her feelings for him, "Look Cal, I want you to know that I --" Cal stopped her from finishing her sentence. "Stop! You obviously don't know what you think about it right now. Take five days to recover and think things over while you're at it. If whatever you're thinking now is still what you feel is the right decision after that time, then I will know that you're being honest with yourself and with me. That's all I ask."
He reached for the chickling hat that he had been messing with while she slept. He had somehow pulled fluff out of Klan's pillow and had fashioned temporary wings out of it. "Do you remember this?" he asked. "I was keeping it in my RVF's cockpit as a reminder of you; how your churlish attitude kept me pushing harder to get through to you. It survived my bird's destruction, but the wings had burned off. When I found out that you were going to survive your injuries, I realized that I still had someone to keep me motivated. I replaced the wings with something temporary so that it could fly once again."
Cal hopped onto her pillow and placed it at the corner, where it had less of a chance of being disturbed. He turned to look back into Klan's eyes. "You're the one who created this. I want you to restore it and return it to me when you get back to the fleet." She couldn't believe that something she created as a gag had been turned into such a meaningful possession to him. He truly did worship her in a way that deserved so much more than she had given him in the past.
He put a smile back onto his face as he prepared to leave. "God, it's going to be so boring not having you there to kick me around for a few days," he said with a laugh, "I'm really going to miss you, Klan." She smiled in response and answered in kind, "Same here." She could feel an emotional response coming on, but she didn't want him to see her outpouring before he left. She turned her head to look upwards from her pillow as Cal turned around to climb back onto the table, where his EX-gear was waiting.
As he stood back up on the table, something in his mind stopped him from walking away. He balled his hand up into a fist and pumped it in frustration before he turned around and hopped back onto her pillow. Klan was still looking upwards, instead of at him. Before she realized it, she felt Cal embracing the side of her face in what could be described as a "hug". He had spread his arms out as far as he could and leaned against her cheek. She closed her eyes and inched her face towards him so he knew that she appreciated it. "Get better soon, Half-pint. I'll see you in a few days..." Once again, the "Half-pint" comment came out of his mouth as a reference to her. Klan realized that it's probably going to become something of a pet name only he will use. The ridiculousness of the nickname really made it stick well, though. Her eyes shot open as she felt him place a kiss onto her cheek. Her heart skipped a beat when she realized what that feeling was.
As she could hear Cal climbing into his EX-gear, a horrifying thought came to her mind. She turned to look at him and stopped him before he boosted off, "Cal." He stopped what he was doing and looked back at her so she could say what she wanted to say. "Don't die. If you do, I swear to God, I'll kick your ass when I find you again in the next life," she said while shaking her fist in front of her face. A smile returned after she put her hand back down. Cal smiled back and clicked into the final locking piece of his EX-gear. He saluted her order and took off from the table's surface towards the door. She gently placed her hand on her cheek where he kissed her and began to blush as she watched him exit the room.
Klan could hardly bear watching him leave. The feeling of loneliness didn't take long to fall over her body like a layer of cold air. She looked up at the tiny chickling hat still sitting on the corner of her pillow and picked it up with her thumb and index finger. Several thoughts raced through her mind as she focused on the burnt wings covered by the pillow fluff. To her, it was as if the burnt wings were the friendship between them that had nearly been destroyed. Thanks to Cal's painstaking efforts, the wings had been reconstructed temporarily. It was going to be up to her to finish the job, if she chose to do so.
She began to think about all of the memories that she had of her interactions with him. She sat up in bed and folded her legs close to her chest. Leaning forward to wrap her arms around her knees, she placed the hat into the palm of her hand and focused on its fragility. That fragility also existed in their friendship, but their connection had endured the hardships brought on by her inability to cope with her stubbornness and her emotional stress. Suddenly, all of the memories of her mistreatment of Cal made something snap inside of her. The fact that she had put him through so much and he still wanted to be with her began to echo endlessly in her mind.
No longer able to apologize to him for her mistakes, there was only thing she could do to help make herself feel better. Initially, she wasn't able to explain why there were tears falling from her eyes. Each time she looked up at the hat in her palm, it reminded her of how she must have been hurting his feelings when she treated him like she did. This process went on for several minutes as she bled the remorse out of her body through her tears. Eventually, she could look at the hat and smile; assured that she would be forgiven by him when she returned to duty. Just as long as he doesn't get himself killed in combat before that time comes...
