Adeste Fideles – Chapter Three Page 13
The names of all 'Space: Above and Beyond' characters contained herein are the property of Glen Morgan and James Wong, Hard Eight Productions and the Fox Broadcasting Network. These names have been used without their permission. All else is my own creation.
Rating: NC17 Language, violence and graphic sex.
Spoilers: None
Author: Vasalysa, with many undying thanks to Geek.
Adestes Fideles
Chapter Three
"Captain McQueen, I expect." The base commandant rose from behind his desk, returning McQueen's shaky buy quick salute.
"Yes, sir." McQueen found General Thompson to be younger than he had expected, no older than Crosby, fifty or so. The black hair was graying at the temples and the brown eyes were sharp as they studied him.
"Sit down before you fall down, Captain. Doctor Stewart called from the hospital shortly after you arrived to explain you would be late. Apparently, you were quite determined to keep our appointment." Thompson remained on his feet as McQueen sank gratefully into the indicated chair. "I've already read the preliminary report on the incident and the lieutenant will be dealt with. Attacking a superior officer over so minor a matter is not tolerated, no matter how one feels about that superior officer."
"Sir, I-"
"No defending him, Captain. Lt. Lawrence is a good fighter pilot and soldier, but he's a fool and he's going to be treated like one. From everything I've read about you, Captain, you're ten times the man than the lieutenant. His only saving grace is he attacked you on his own, not with a gang. I understand that he'll be hospitalized for at least four days."
"He caught me in the shower when I wasn't expecting it." McQueen shrugged and winced as his left shoulder flared with pain despite the pain killers. "He managed to hurt me before I got over the shock of being attacked. I guess I'd gotten used to feeling safe." He flinched as Thompson's hand came to rest on his good shoulder.
"Don't let one man destroy everything you've achieved, Captain. Nate tells me good things about you."
"Nate, sir?" McQueen harbored his suspicions.
"Nathaniel Crosby. He and I grew up together. We planned on joining the Marines together and rising through the ranks, side by side. It was a bitter blow to him when he was informed that he could never join the military." Thompson squeezed lightly and walked around to sit down. "You realize, don't you, Captain, that you're flight status has been put off for another two weeks?"
"Yes, sir," sighed McQueen, a bitter twist to his lips. "I had hoped to be able to fly by the new year, but now it'll be the middle of January before I'm allowed in a cockpit."
"The flight bug's got you good, Captain. I recognize the look." Thompson chuckled. "Now, you didn't ask for an appointment this close to Christmas for a trivial reason."
Understanding it to be a subtle order, McQueen said, "No, sir. At least, I don't think it is."
****
Entering his quarters that night, McQueen dreaded the task that lay ahead of him. Somehow he had managed not to be late for his duty outside Crosby's store, but the painkillers had worn off half way through the shift and he had put off taking another for almost two hours until he couldn't stand the intense ache that shifted into outright agony whenever he had to use his left arm. Crosby had insisted that he take off an hour early and had ordered, as well as paid for, a taxi to take him home. Now all he had to do was prepare his dress uniform for tomorrow morning.
He spotted his message light flashing and sighed as he walked over to see it. Captain Collins appeared and he saw the signs of her anger. "Captain McQueen, I have been informed both of your needs and your injuries. If there's anything left of Lt. Lawrence when the general gets done with him, I'll teach him some manners myself. I am sorry that his bigotry has caused you injury. To make amends, I've detailed three of the squadron to prepare your dress uniform and intend to oversee the preparations myself. I apologize for the intrusion into your privacy, but I sincerely doubt you'll be looking forward to doing the work yourself. I will be by at oh six thirty hours to help you dress. Again, I am sorry for the lieutenant's rash actions. Captain Collins, out."
Blinking at the now blank monitor, McQueen sat down with a thud, wincing as both his left hip and left shoulder protested the sudden movement. The anger in her voice wasn't directed at him exactly, he knew. She was angry that Lawrence had made the squadron look bad and was intent on rectifying the damage done. Whether or not she even liked him had nothing to do with her anger since he had understood from the first that she considered the squadron to be the pinnacle of her career so far. Lawrence's actions had smeared the squadron's reputation with the base commandant and she would go to any length to restore it. He wouldn't want to be in Lawrence's boots when she got a hold of him.
It took him a moment to rally his strength and will to get up. Opening his bedroom door, he was almost prepared for the sight of a mannequin standing there with his dress uniform, freshly polished, medals pinned neatly in a row, including the bronze Prisoner of War star. Drawing the sword out completely, he saw it had a bright sheen the entire length and nodded. Indeed the captain had insured a thorough job.
Returning the sword to its scabbard, McQueen sighed, thankful he didn't have to use his left arm tonight. He decided to pass on a bath, opting to set his alarm for five in the morning. The extra sleep would do him more good and he could soak for nearly an hour after getting up.
****
McQueen opened the door on the fourth knock. "Captain, I appreciate this."
Collins entered at his nod. "God, McQueen, you look awful. He sure did a number on you."
Shrugging, McQueen closed the door, wincing as his hip protested.
She looked him over seriously and sighed. "Damn. You need help with more than dressing, don't you?" Irregular patches of stubble remained on his jaw and cheeks underscoring the spectacular black eye on the left.
Pride warred with necessity and McQueen had to glance away before he could look at her and say, "Yes."
"You're lucky I happen to know how to shave. Just don't tell me you're one of those guys who prefer a straight blade." She headed for the bathroom.
"Actually I do, but I have an electric. For speed." He followed her, remembering that before arriving on Earth, he had never shaved. The feel of the steel blade as it cut away five years of beard had been a sensual sensation and he liked to reenact it every morning possible. Sometimes, though, time was of the essence and he used the electric for those occasions.
"Certainly wasn't for neatness." Collins gave him a quick smile. "Don't mind me, Captain. I understood from the general that the Corps honor is at stake here, so I'll make sure you look good. If you'll take a seat, I'll neaten up that shave."
"Thank you.. It's hard to do with only one hand." He sat on the toilet seat cover and tilted his head up.
"Just how bad are you?" She picked up the electric and turned it on.
"It'll be the middle of next month before I get my flight status back."
"Hard." She started shaving his jaw.
By seven ten, they were struggling to get his left boot on. Collins paused, looking up at him sitting on the bed, seeing the sweat run down his face. "How did he hurt your hip?"
"He aggravated an injury I sustained in the camp. The AIs wrenched the muscles, dislocated my hip and twisted my leg beyond its normal limits. It took me twelve hours to manage to put it back into place and another four days to even be able to touch my foot to the floor without screaming. Lawrence partially dislocated it again with his knee slam. The doctors think in about five days I'll be fine."
Collins looked down at his foot, stuck in the boot and sighed. "I hate to say this, McQueen, but I think you're just going to have to bite the bullet."
He swallowed and nodded. "I think you're right, unfortunately."
Taking her offered arm, McQueen struggled to his feet. "Don't let me fall, hm? I'd hate to wrinkle this more than I already have."
Collins snorted and shook her head slightly. "Dammit, man. Here you are about to cause yourself some intense pain and you're cracking jokes? You're right. You do have a morbid sense of humor."
He took a deep breath, set his jaw and shifted all of his weight onto his left leg. The intense flash of pain strained his throat with a strangled scream, caused his vision to darken and he started to collapse. Strong arms caught him and lowered him onto the softness of the bed, something he had never thought the mattress to be. The darkness overcame his vision.
"McQueen?"
The anxious sound of Collin's voice penetrated the fog of pain clouding his brain and he slowly opened his eyes, surprised that they were closed. "And just think, I have the lovely experience of taking it off to look forward to," he croaked.
"Here, I got you some cool water."
A hand lifted his head and he sipped the water she offered. After a moment, he lifted his head. "Do you think someone would notice if I left the boot on?"
"Afraid so. Don't worry. I'll have two people here to help you undress when you're ready. They'll deal with removing the boot." She picked up a washcloth from the nightstand and started wiping it over his buzz cut. "Good thing you keep your hair so short. I can just wipe the sweat away and leave your hair clean."
"Why'd you think I kept the style? After what I've been through, I never want it long enough for someone to grab me by it." He used his right arm to lever himself up to a sitting position, paling from the intensity of the residual pain. A deep breath and he sought to center himself, letting the pain reside elsewhere momentarily. With a groan he lurched to his feet and stood, swaying.
"Is this really worth it?"
"Yes." He looked at her. "Would you get two pills from the bottle on the top shelf, please? I think this qualifies as a pain killer moment."
She hurried away into the bathroom as he forced himself to take a step, swaying dangerously.
"What the hell do you think you're doing? Trying to find out how the carpet tastes?" She grabbed his hand, depositing the two pills in it, before turning to the nightstand for the water.
"I have to be able to walk." He popped the pills into his mouth and drank deeply of the water, feeling himself slowly recover.
She hovered by his side as he forced himself to walk. By eight, he felt about the same as he had the previous night. When a knock sounded, it was Collins who answered the door. Three lieutenants, in dress uniforms, stood on the doorstep.
"Captain, we're here to provide escort for Captain McQueen," one of the lieutenants said.
All three of the lieutenants stared wide-eyed when McQueen approached the door, his hat tucked under his arm.
"The captain is injured and I want you to make sure he does not overdo it. General Thompson is expecting this to go without a hitch." Collins glared at the lieutenants, hands on her hips.
"We'll take care of the captain, Captain," the first lieutenant said, straightening.
McQueen glanced over at the wrapped presents. "I don't know where the general is planning on having this. I need to get the presents there."
"Don't worry about it, McQueen. I'll take care of it. The general's aide will know and I'll remember to send word to the gate so that they'll tell you where to go."
McQueen grinned. "A great many people have done that, but never for anything like this."
Shaking her head at him again, Collins waved him toward the door. "Go get this ball rolling."
"Thanks, Captain." McQueen paused in the door. "I appreciate it."
"Just get going. You don't want to keep the general waiting."
"No." He put his hat on and limped outside. Grimacing, he turned back around, keeping Collins from shutting the door. "Doped up the way I am, it's surprising I haven't forgotten my head this morning." He glanced at the first lieutenant's name tag. "Lieutenant Meeker, on the kitchen table are three white boxes. Would you please fetch them?"
"Yes, sir." The lieutenant darted inside.
A long officer's car, reminiscent of a limousine, waited on the street and McQueen eased himself into the back seat with some help from Lieutenant Meeker. He gave the address and directions before removing his hat, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.
"Sir, we're here," came the quiet voice from beside him.
"Thank you, Lieutenant." McQueen sighed and opened his eyes. He found that his door was already open and that Meeker had been addressing him from outside. Shaking his head at his own folly, he accepted the arm Meeker held out and wrenched himself to his feet, barely suppressing the hiss of pain.
"Sir, are you sure about this address?" Meeker gave surreptitious glances up and down the dingy, dark street.
"Unfortunately, yes." He glanced around, and smiled on seeing that another lieutenant held the three boxes. "To the front door, gentlemen. I'll do my best not to fall down and disgrace the uniform."
McQueen knocked on the door, preparing for the outburst sure to follow the opening.
The door opened and Mary stared at him, surprised, for a few seconds. Then she snapped, "You look like hell, McQueen, and what do you think you're playing at? It's Christmas morning and I don't need some silly game."
"It's not a game, Mary. May we come in, please?"
She searched his face and slowly backed up away from the door. "It's about Joe, isn't it?"
"I'm afraid so." McQueen reached into his pocket and took out the first of two small boxes. "I regret to inform you that Lieutenant Joseph Campbell, of the 51st Marine Corps Squadron, was killed on March 10th, 2058, in action against enemies of the United States of America. As he was an orphan and it was to have been his wedding day, General Thompson, commandant of Loxley Marine Corps Aviation Cavalry Base, has authorized you to receive his Silver Star, earned while saving the lives of ten civilian scientists." He held out the box, having decided to not tell her there was no body.
Slowly, Mary took the box and opened it. Tears slowly rolled down her cheeks as she ran her fingers over the medal. She looked up at McQueen. "Why? Why did you do this?"
He brought out the second box. "Mary, Lt. Joseph... Joe gave this to his best friend for safe-keeping, telling him to give this to you, only he never got to tell him your name. So, I've tracked down his best friend and he sent this to me, telling me to let you know that Joe was a good man."
Mary set the first box down and hesitated on taking the second box from McQueen. When she opened it, she stared for a long second before dropping it and covering her face with her hands, sinking to her knees on the floor. Her sobs reached McQueen and he bit his lip, forcing himself to wait.
"Mother?" He looked up at Becky's voice. "What did you do to her?" Becky, dressed in patched and worn pajamas, raced into the room and wrapped her arms around her mother.
"It's ok. He didn't do anything, Becky." With a shaky hand, Mary patted Becky's arm while retrieving the box from the floor. She stood up and set the box on the table beside the other one. "Thank you, Captain. It's good to know, finally. Even if it dashed all my secret hopes."
"We're not quite finished, Mary. I didn't dress up just to inform you of his fate and give you the ring. There's more." He waved the lieutenant carrying the boxes forward. Handing her the smallest box, he said, "Becky, take this box and dress your brother. You get dressed in what's in this box, young lady," he told her as he handed her the medium sized box.
"Why?" Becky clutched the boxes close.
"You can't go meet General Thompson in what you normally wear and I sincerely doubt you have anything suitable."
"Really?" Becky raced from the room. "Joey! Wake up! We got to bathe really fast."
"McQueen, we can't go." Mary looked at him, scared.
"It'll be ok. Trust me. Now, this box is for you. Go get dressed. Hurry up, Mary. We're due to meet the general in forty mikes.. ah, minutes."
For just a moment, she stared at him, her eyes staring deep into his, her hands over her chest. Then with a swift movement, she grabbed the box and ran from the room. "Help yourself to something to drink," she called out over her shoulder.
Dryly, McQueen said, "Unfortunately, the only thing I would really like, I can't have for another three weeks."
"It's tough being pulled from flight status," Meeker said in a low voice to him. "I lost it for a month and a half after a fool had disabled his computer safety programs and went driving drunk. I was lucky, he caught me a glancing blow, broke my leg in two places and three ribs. Two others weren't so lucky. They would have thrown the book at him if he'd lived." Meeker shrugged. "No beer, no wine, nothing... and locked behind a desk for six weeks. Agony it was. The first thing I did when I could was go to the Officers' Club and drink two beers."
"I think I would like a scotch." McQueen eyed the sofa, wondering if he dared to sit down.
"Go sit down, sir. I'll help you up."
McQueen glanced at Meeker warily.
Meeker met his look squarely. "I have no problem with Invitroes, sir. I've known several, including two who served my family. With pay."
Seeing no guile in Meeker's eyes, McQueen limped over to the sofa and eased himself down.
A few minutes later, Becky walked out, holding Joey by the hand, and McQueen smiled, pleased with his choices. Dark blue slacks, vest and jacket over a cream colored shirt made Joey the little gentleman, finished off with a pair of black slip on shoes. The full length, powder blue dress he had chosen for Becky complimented her tanned skin and the lace across the V-neck stood out beautifully. The black shoes were on wide, raised heels, only an inch so as not to interfere with her walking or dancing.
"I love it," Becky grinned, releasing Joey long enough to twirl in place. "Thank you."
"You're welcome."
She brought Joey over to the sofa and sat him as far from McQueen as she could. "What happened to you?"
"Someone didn't like me."
"Hope he looks worse than you."
"He does. He's still in the hospital." McQueen shifted, trying to take some of the weight off his left hip.
Becky bit her lip and looked at her brother. "Joey, come in the kitchen with me."
Several minutes later, the two children returned, Becky carrying a steaming cup. "Try this tea. Mom gives it to us all the time to help ease aches and pains." When he looked at the cup uneasily, she added, "It's ok. It's all natural herbs and stuff. Nothing to worry about. It even tastes good. I added a bit of honey since you haven't had it before."
Taking the cup, McQueen sniffed the steam, identifying only orange and honey. The rest were beyond his meager knowledge of herbs and foods. Cautiously he sipped the tea and found he liked the taste. Warmth spread through him quickly, making him realize he had been feeling cold. The tea disappeared quickly.
Handing the cup back, he said, "Tastes good. What exactly is in it?"
"Family secret, but if you come back, I'll teach you how to make it and some other handy ones," Mary said from the hall.
McQueen heard the intake of the lieutenants' breaths and knew he had made another good choice. He turned to look.
The simple, yet classic, strapless dress clung to her upper body while swirling freely about her legs. A black shawl with silver stars wrapped around her shoulders and he saw she had taken the time to put her hair up in a French bun leaving ringlets by her face.
She flowed across the floor to stop before him. "Well?" she asked nervously.
"I regret the fact that I will not be able dance with you." McQueen accepted the hand that Meeker gave him and dragged himself to his feet, wincing as he had to put weight on his leg. "We better go now."
The drive back kept McQueen amused as both Becky and Joey bounced excitedly in their seats, only their seatbelts keeping them in place. Beside him, Mary clutched her purse nervously, chewing on her lip from time to time.
Meeker drove to the Senior Officers' Club, pulling up smoothly before the door. Quickly the other two dove out their door to open the back doors. Pulling himself erect outside the car, McQueen held out his arm for Mary, nodding with approval when Meeker took Becky's arm and took Joey's hand.
Inside the club, McQueen turned right, trying hard to mask his limp. One of the other lieutenants darted ahead to open the door. A glittering array of Marine uniforms, twenty in all, were revealed on the other side. In the center of the room stood Major General Thompson who snapped to his head up and called, "ATTEN-hut!' as he spotted the entourage entering.
Mary gasped as all twenty Marines snapped to attention and saluted. "What is going on, McQueen?"
"We're about to rectify a wrong done to you, Mary." McQueen looked at Becky. "Stay back here with Joey, Becky. Ok?"
The girl nodded, her eyes wide. She immediately knelt and wrapped her arms around her brother.
Stepping forward, McQueen felt Mary falter briefly before quickly keeping pace with him. He stopped before the general and returned the salute, slipping into an attention stance. "Sir, I bring before you a matter touching on the honor of the Corps. I bring to you, Mary Carpenter."
Thompson nodded and turned his gaze on Mary, who shivered once and forced herself upright. "Mary Carpenter, I have been informed of the circumstances surrounding you and Lt. Joseph Campbell. Having talked to Captain Petersen, Father O'Reilly and Captain McQueen, I spent yesterday making arrangements to rectify the situation. Major Kirby."
From the side, Major Kirby stepped forward, holding a flag with a manila envelope on the top. "Mary Carpenter, we give to you this flag as a remembrance of Lt. Campbell's life and death. He died bravely. We also give you the rights and privileges of being his spouse. Your children are granted the rights and privileges of being his children."
As Kirby held out the flag and envelope, Mary hesitated, looking at McQueen almost franticly.
"Go on, Mary," McQueen said quietly. "Our honor as Marines is at stake here as is our oath of faithfulness. For we pride ourselves on being always faithful. Semper Fi is more than just words to us."
"I'm sorry. I just was so hurt...."
"Take it, remember him. Know he was a good man who died bravely, defending others who could not defend themselves." McQueen pushed her gently toward Kirby.
Tears started down her cheeks as she took the flag from Kirby. "Thank you," she said softly. Looking at Thompson, she said, louder, "Thank you. It's more than I ever expected. I think... I think I can forgive him now, for leaving without a word."
"Ma'am, he never had a chance to let you know." Thompson stepped forward and took her hand, giving her a sad smile. "From what I've put together, the moment he returned to base, he was ordered to get his kit and shipped out within fifteen minutes. There was no time for him to contact you and, once at his destination, he was under blackout orders. I'm sorry you've thought he was faithless all this time. The only thing I can fault him for was keeping you a secret for so long. No one knew who you were, not even his best friend."
"He wanted to surprise everyone." Mary hugged the flag to her.
"I've arranged for you to be able to stay through the day and enjoy our festivities. There is a small room over there set aside for you and your children to retreat to, if you get a bit overwhelmed." Thompson gestured to a door on the far side of the room. "Will you please stay?"
"You're asking me?"
"I have no right to order it, you know." He smiled at her. "I understand there are even some presents in there for you and your family."
"But who?" Mary looked around, clutching the flag, and saw her children watching her anxiously. Forcing herself to calm down, she nodded. "Yes, we'll stay, at least for a while."
"Good." Thompson nodded to the others. "At ease. Finish the preparations, ladies and gentlemen. Captain McQueen, why don't you escort them and get off your feet."
Hearing it for the order it was, McQueen nodded. "Yes, sir."
He shut the room's door behind them and limped his way over to the table where the presents he had bought sat. He noticed that there were more than what he had bought though. Sitting down, McQueen said, "Hm. I see what the general said. Seems to be a few presents for you here. Let's see." He started sorting through the boxes. "Ah, Joey, here's one for you."
The little boy took the box and promptly sat down, his hands eagerly tearing at the paper.
"Becky, here you go." He pushed a present toward the girl and placed his hands on the biggest box, the one from him to Mary. "And Mary, this is for you."
Mary slowly tore the paper off and stared at the picture of the sewing machine on the unopened box. Her eyes flashed to his. "Why did you..."
"I saw the condition of yours and I got this at a good price, at least I think so." He smiled briefly. "I wanted you to have something practical yet something you couldn't get for yourself."
"You shouldn't have. You should have kept your money for yourself."
"What's better? The money sitting around in my bank account or my buying someone presents for the first time? I've never had money to buy presents or anyone to buy for. It took me a long time to decide what to get you and them." He gestured to where the two children were playing with the toys they had found in their gifts.
"You've never done this before? But why not?"
"I'm an Invitro, Mary. No family. And the number of people who I might consider friends can be counted on one hand. Or possibly half a hand. I had hoped to include you in that number."
"McQueen, this is just too much." Mary sat down abruptly.
"I'm not looking for a romantic entanglement, Mary, just a friend. Someone I can talk to once in a while."
"Like about what happened to your face?" Her hands dropped into her lap.
"Like that." He sighed, leaning back in the chair. "So, how about it? Can we be friends?"
"I think so." She looked down at her hands and then up at him. "Have you had lots of women friends?"
"As friends?" He shook his head. "No. They view me as a conquest, something to brag about, much like my fellow male Marines do about their women. When I feel the need, I'll let one have their 'conquest'. I've learned what I hate to see a woman in and what I really like." He felt his cheeks redden as he continued. "You should have seen me in the store, trying to find you a suitable dress."
Hand over her mouth, Mary laughed. "I can imagine."
"I looked at all the dress sizes and had no idea which one was the right one. The saleswoman stepped up and asked me if I needed help. I'm sure I looked completely helpless."
"I can just see it. The big, strapping Marine rendered helpless at the sight of all those dresses." Mary giggled.
With a chuckle, McQueen continued. "Definitely. Must have been a sight. She started off asking me if she was roughly the right size as who I was buying for. Height wise she was, but she was much slimmer than you, everywhere." He shook his head slightly. "I told her that I only knew what you were like in my arms. She laughed at me and said she was amazed at what lengths Marines would go to in order to cop a feel."
"Oh, I bet that put your back up."
Wryly, McQueen said, "I stiffened and told her that I was seriously looking for a dress and if she was going to laugh at me, I would have to go somewhere else."
"Put her in her place, all right."
"She looked at me, shook her head, and said that she guessed it was. So what did I have in mind?"
"What did you?" Mary leaned forward slightly, putting her elbows on the table.
"I asked her if she could waltz." When Mary laughed, he continued. "She said she could and I was able to figure out what I needed to. I was close to the mark, wasn't I?" He looked at her anxiously.
"You did very well, McQueen. It's not too tight anywhere and just a little loose in a couple unobtrusive spots. Nothing I can't handle." She reached over and patted his hand.
"McQueen, you said there were more presents for us?" Becky looked up from where she knelt on the floor.
"Sorry, I got talking to your mother. Here." He handed each of them a couple of presents, including what he had gotten them, then pushed the couple of presents for Mary over to her. "Go on."
A while later, a knock sounded on the door and it opened. Meeker stepped inside. "Excuse me, but the general asked me to inform you that the party is about to start." When Mary looked at her children worriedly, he said, "Don't worry. There's a bunch of kids here and folks to keep an eye on them all. They'll be fine. There's another room set aside for the kids to play in."
"Guess it's time then." Mary rose and held out her hand for McQueen.
"Too bad I can't have the pleasure of a dance with you today," he said once standing.
"Not even a slow waltz?"
He shook his head. "I'm under orders to stay off my feet as much as possible. Once I've escorted you out, I'll find myself a quiet nitch and settle down in peace. I'm not one for parties. They are a necessity I do my duty at."
"Well, just remember you've got at least one friend here." Mary tucked her hand into his elbow and matched his steps.
To McQueen's surprise, he saw Crosby in the room, talking to Thompson.
****
Watching McQueen escorting Mary into the filled room, moving amongst the officers and their spouses, Crosby smiled. "He's a good man, McQueen."
"He's everything we want a Marine to be," remarked Thompson. "I think the Army is going to regret losing him."
"You would need a heavy duty war for people to forget who and what he is, Mike." Crosby shook his head slightly.
"You never know, Nate." Thompson lowered his voice. "I've been hearing rumors about AeroTech. They've gotten permission to shoot for some colony ships and they seem far too confident about things. Yet, if the planets are as safe as they proclaim, why the hell are they investing so much time and energy into developing new fighters? Space capable fighters at that? And new weapons systems?" Thompson grimaced. "I think there's going to be a war, a bad one, and I'm more than happy enough to know that McQueen will be in the forefront."
"That doesn't make me happy about it, but I know what you mean." Crosby sighed. "Well, between the two of us, we should make him a damn fine Marine."
"I'll leave his mental education to you, old friend. I'll work on his soldiering skills." Thompson clapped his hand on Crosby's shoulder. "Now, let's go sample the buffet."
****
McQueen glanced at the setting sun, grateful to be going to his quarters at long last. He found himself leaning heavily on Meeker's arm on the walk up to the door. Meeker stayed with him all the way inside and he headed for his bedroom. At the foot of the bed, he removed the sword's scabbard and set it onto the chair. The coat followed.
"Just sit down on the bed, sir. Even better, lie down. I'll get the boot off and then we'll take care of the rest." Meeker waited until he had obeyed before lifting McQueen's left foot, straddling his leg. It took him a couple of minutes to work it off and he set it down before easing the leg down. He removed the other boot before turning around. On seeing the paleness in McQueen's face, he sighed. "Good thing you've been relieved of duty for the next two days. Are you going to need a go-fer?"
"I think I have some meals in the freezer. I should be able to manage." McQueen sat up and started to unbutton his shirt.
"Any preference as to what you would like to change into?"
"How about someone with no injuries?"
Meeker chuckled. "Yeah, I know that one. A flight suit?"
"That'll do."
Meeker pulled out a flight suit from the closet and set it on the bed. "I'll just go check out your freezer."
Fifteen minutes later, McQueen entered the kitchen, barefoot, having managed to hang up his dress uniform. He found Meeker sitting at the table writing. To his surprise, he saw there were two wrapped presents on the table. "What..."
Meeker glanced up and saw his surprised look. "They were already here. I'm just writing up a list of stuff to get from the commissary. Even I don't let my fridge get that bare." He chuckled. "I'd say you don't know anything about cooking."
"Not really."
"If I may make a suggestion, then. Find someone to teach you. It can come in handy, even in the field."
"I might be able to, thank you."
Meeker stood up, tucking the list into his pocket. "I'll be back in a bit with some dinner for you, sir. The rest of the stuff I'll drop off in the morning."
"Thank you, Meeker."
"You're welcome, sir."
Once Meeker had shut the door behind him, McQueen turned his attention to the presents, still amazed that someone had given him some. One was from Crosby and another was from Mary. Opening the one from Crosby first, he found it was several of the books he had been reading most avidly in the office. He set the one on meditation aside from the others to read that night. Mary's present was a two foot tall teddy bear in a Marine dress uniform, complete with a little saber.
Smiling and shaking his head, he carried the book and the bear into the living room. The bear went on the spare chair while he sat down in his favorite chair with the book. Contentment such as he had never known filled him. A bit of bright color caught his eye and he picked up the small wrapped box. He checked the card. 'To McQueen, From Ross.' Inside he found a miniature bonzai tree, complete with care instructions and a card. It said,'May it grow as you do.'
Sitting back, McQueen smiled, knowing that for him, the world was a better place. A month ago, he hadn't a friend in the world and no desire to have any. Now he had three. Quietly, he said, "Merry Christmas, McQueen."