Scott came into Dr. K's lab, finding her working hard as usual on a project. At times he wondered if she ever stopped working. She always seemed to have half a dozen schematics or simulations running on the computers, several projects awaiting a road-test on the practice range, one or two marked as ready for field testing and literally hundreds of random pieces in various stages of progress littering the benches all around the lab. With the exception of the 'in-progress' benches, everything was meticulously racked away and surgically clean. It was just one of her little eccentricities that she had an almost obsessive need for order. If there was one tool, or even so much as a screw in the wrong place, she went into a foul mood for most of the day. Scott knew that it was at least partly down to the fact she had Asperger Syndrome, a fact that she had only really shared with him.
She was working away on something at her favourite work bench. She was completely lost in the task at hand, working away on her latest project. He crossed the room, coming over behind her and coughed to attract her attention. Unfortunately because she was working with power tools she couldn't hear him. Finally giving up on attracting her attention through normal means, he reached over and hit the emergency power switch on the desk, shutting down the tool in her hands. Dr. K looked at it a little puzzled, before looking around, finding him standing by the power switch.
"Ranger Se...Scott." She began, correcting herself as she saw him. She was still trying hard to get used to calling the Rangers by their names and not their Ranger designations. It was something that was taking a little getting used to. She had to reverse a habit she'd had for well over a year. Habits were hard to break for her. "Why did you turn off the power?"
"I found my jacket in my bedroom." He told her nervously. He had been somewhat neurotic about the fact he had lost the flight recording earlier. He had completely forgotten that it was in his jacket pocket when he spoke to Dr. K on the roof.
It was a cold night, and he had lent her his jacket for warmth. When she had returned the jacket to his bedroom, he had found the disk in the pocket. He wanted to just believe that she hadn't found it, but he couldn't be certain. She had been brought up in the Alphabet Soup programme for most of her life, and had a deeply set sense of commitment to the Government. He knew that by procedure he was meant to turn it in to central command. If she had found it, she would have turned it in, and likely reported him for not doing so wouldn't she? He wanted to ask her to be sure, but he couldn't really. If she hadn't found it, then he would only incriminate himself if he said anything. He hoped to gauge her reaction, hoping she would give herself away.
"Thank you for lending it to me." Dr. K answered him, putting down her power tool. "It was quite cold that night."
"I'm just glad I could make you feel better." He replied. "We all need to hang onto things that make us feel better."
Dr. K saw through this statement. He was talking about the flight recording she had found in his jacket. She knew she should turn it in, but after he had taken the time to talk to her and convince her to stay with Project Ranger, it just didn't seem right to do so. If he was holding onto it, it was obviously important to him. She felt a little guilty about uploading a copy onto the computer; sometimes her curiosity got the better of her. She didn't want to admit that she had found the recording, much less copied it. She felt like she owed him something after the time he spent with her, she couldn't turn him in to his father. Of course she also couldn't admit she knew about the recording. That would risk him turning his back on her, and she couldn't bear to feel that lonely again.
"I suppose we do." She responded, turning back to her work. Scott looked to the bench, seeing her working on some form of blade.
"Is that a new weapon?" He asked her.
"In a manner of speaking it is." She answered him, taking the blade carefully and setting it aside. "It's nothing to do with Project Ranger though, this is for central command."
"Central command wants you to make blades?" Scott asked her. "They do know that blasters have been invented right?"
"They do, but these weapons are ceremonial." She informed him. She saw the slightly curious look on his face and decided to satisfy his curiosity. She opened one of three polished mahogany cases sitting on the bench next to her and handed him a sword.
It was highly ornate, with a gold hilt and hand guard, and a leather-bound handle. The scabbard was inlaid with a Latin inscription in what appeared to be gold leaf.
"These are nice." He remarked. "May I?"
"By all means." She replied. He drew the sword and inspected the blade. The same Latin inscription was traces down the length of the gleaming blade. It was about four feet from the tip to the end of the handle, and felt almost weightless in his hand. He smiled as he inspected it.
"These are beautiful." He complimented her. "I never knew you were into stuff like this."
"In order to make weapons, one must have an appreciation for all weapons." She told him. She gave a nervous little smile. "I also have to admit loving a lot of the old stories. When I was asked to make these ceremonial swords, I jumped at the chance."
"What does the inscription say?" He asked her.
"When a soldier was given a knighthood in ancient times, he was made to take an oath on his sword." She explained. "The legend has it that if he failed in his duty to protect the innocent through cowardice, then he dishonoured his sword and it would fail him in battle. The inscription is that oath."
"It seems pretty sharp." He commented. "I thought it was a ceremonial weapon?"
"Just because it's ceremonial doesn't mean I can't take a level of pride in it." She explained, reaching out a hand to take the sword from him. She began to swing it around. "It's a titanium alloy that I've designed, salvaged from Venjix technology. It's virtually weightless, but can withstand a force of over 800,000 Newtons."
"That's way more than a human can exert." He responded.
"That's correct Scott." She stated. "I've used laser technology to hone the blade to an almost molecular level. In short, these are pretty serious weapons in their own right."
With that, she gestured to a steel bar on the bench.
"Hold that please." She instructed him. Scott shrugged and picked it up as he was instructed. She swung the sword, easily slicing it in half. As Scott put the two pieces back onto the table, inspecting them in disbelief, she showed him the blade.
"Not a scratch on it." He remarked in a gasp. "You are seriously good doc."
"Thank you Ranger Red." She responded, putting the sword back in its scabbard and putting it back in the case. "I just need to finish this one other sword and I'll be finished with this order."
"What order?" He asked her.
"Central Command is holding a ceremony in a few weeks to honour the defenders of Corinth and commemorate those who didn't make it during the evacuation." She informed him. "The rest you'll have to find out in due course like everyone else."
"Come on doc, you can't leave me hanging like that." He said, flashing his huge, bright grin. "You're making ceremonial swords. Normally they're only presented when someone's made an officer or..."
"They will be presenting military honours at the ceremony." She informed him. "A new medal they've created, the Order of Corinth. Four will be honoured for their part in the evacuation and defence of Corinth."
"Well there're plenty of people who deserve that." He replied. "Do you know who?"
"I'm glad you like that sword." She said, pointing to the case she'd just put the sword in. "That one's yours."
"You're kidding right?" He yelled, his excitement obvious. "I'm being given the Order of Corinth?"
"You are indeed." She replied as he tried to restrain himself. "You're father is receiving one for leading the ground forces, and you're receiving one for your part in the aerial battle."
She let out a little sigh and rolled her eyes as she prepared for the next part.
"Summer's ex, Chas, is receiving one for his part in the organisation of the evacuation." She said with more than a little sarcasm. "Central Command thought he deserved it for his work behind the scenes."
"He worked behind the scenes alright." Scott said with a little anger. "He was about 10 miles behind the scenes! He was in the office way behind the shields! There are dozens of others that deserve it more than him!"
"Scott, you know as well as I do there are always politics involved in decisions like this." She reminded him. "He's an officer, and the Winchesters lent the Government a considerable amount of money when they were building the shields. They couldn't snub him by passing him over for this honour."
"Who's the fourth?" Scott asked her. "You said you were making four swords."
Dr. K let out a small sigh.
"The fourth is for Marcus." She told him. "He's being honoured posthumously for his part in leading the air defences."
It upset Scott a little conflicted to hear this. He was upset hearing his brother's name again. Because of the flight recording, he had been thinking about Marcus a lot. He still felt his loss deeply any time he was reminded of the fact he hadn't seen him since they had taken off on their mission to defend Corinth. Of course he more than anyone knew that he deserved to be honoured for his service to the city. It just didn't seem fair that he would be there to receive his medal in person and Marcus wouldn't.
"It's only right." Scott remarked a little sadly. "He's the Hero of Corinth. He deserves to get that honour."
Dr. K didn't know what to do in this situation. She still had a little difficulty with emotional situations. She tried as hard as she could to find something comforting to say to him.
"I know this must be hard." She said softly. "Marcus would want this for you."
"I know he would." He replied. "It just sucks that he won't be there when dad and I are honoured. Instead all I'll be able to think about is the fact I'll be sharing a podium with Chas!"
"It's alright; I know it's upsetting that Chas will be on the stage." She assured him. "When they put that sword on display on the memorial for Marcus, who do you really think is going to care about Chas?"
"I guess that's true." Scott agreed. "I just really wish he could be there."
"I know you do." Dr. K replied. "Thanks again for lending me your jacket."
"Thanks for returning it." Scott said as he started to back towards the door. "It means a lot."
"I know it does." She replied, referring more to the recording than the jacket. "Just try to look forward to this; it doesn't do us any good to hang onto the past too much. I'm sure Ran...Summer would be able to tell you that."
Scott just smiled at her and left the lab, leaving her to her work. Despite everything, he still couldn't shake the hope that Marcus would one day return. Until then, all he could do was be happy that if he had died, he hadn't done so in vain. The people of Corinth were showing him their appreciation. He was the Hero of Corinth, and in a few weeks time, the day would be all about him.
Meanwhile, Dillon took Summer over to her parent's apartment, parking his car outside. Her latest hypnotherapy session had brought more than a few things to the surface concerning her parents that she had long since buried. Now though, she wanted some answers. Dillon killed the engine and turned to look at her.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" He asked her. "They are your parents."
"There are so many questions that only they have the answers to." She replied quietly. "I need to know the answers, even if I don't like them."
"Do you want me to come with you?" He asked her. Summer thought about it for a while. She really did want him to be there for her. When he was nearby, she felt protected and she felt so much stronger. Of course she also knew that if he had a fault, he was too protective. He was right about one thing, she might have to ask some uncomfortable questions, and she would certainly have to hear some answers that would be far from pleasant to hear. She knew he would jump to her defence if he saw her starting to become upset, and given his attitude and his defiance when he met her parents originally, they would be reluctant to talk around him.
"If I'm going to do this, I need to do it alone." She told him, fidgeting with her bracelets nervously. "If I can't face this myself, I don't know if I'll ever be able to."
"Well you know I'm here." He reminded her. "If it gets to be too much in there, just let me know and I'll come in and collect you."
"I love you, you know that right?" She asked him. Dillon gave her a smile that warmed her heart when she saw it and leaned in, kissing her cheek.
"I love you too." He responded. "I'll be waiting right here."
Summer took a deep breath and got out of the car, making her way up the path towards the apartment block. Since they were bankrupt, her parents had been allocated a standard apartment. It wasn't a bad neighbourhood, there really weren't any bad neighbourhoods in Corinth, but it was the kind of neighbourhood they'd never have even gone near given the choice back at the height of their fortune. It was "the slums" as far as they were concerned, somewhere normal people lived. Of course, now they had fallen down to earth with a bump and had become normal people as a result of losing everything.
She made her way inside and hit the call button on the elevator, taking it up to the fifth floor. Making her way to the door, she took another deep breath. It would be the first time she had seen them since her aborted wedding to Chas, and she was going to be confronting them over their treatment of her as a child. She rang the bell, and a short time later her father answered.
"Summer darling, this is a wonderful surprise." He greeted her, hugging her. She returned the gesture half-heartedly.
"Can I come in?" She asked him. "I really need to talk to you about some things."
"Of course you can." He answered, showing her inside. "Please, come in."
Summer made her way inside, finding her mother in a position she would never have foreseen her in. She was actually in the kitchen cooking dinner. She clearly had more than a little to learn about domestic work, but given the life she had before it was a miraculous change.
"Sweetie, how are you?" She gushed, running over to her daughter and hugging her. Again, Summer returned the gesture politely, though half-heartedly.
"I've been better." She admitted. "How have the two of you been?"
"Well things could be worse." Her father told her honestly. "I might not have my own business anymore, but my previous experience opened a surprising number of opportunities. I've managed to get an accounting job for the Government."
"I've managed to get a job on a nearby farm." Her mother chipped in. "I wasn't qualified for much, but I'm getting used to a career in agriculture."
"So what's wrong honey?" Her father asked her. "What can we help you with?"
"Ever since I got out of prison, I've been having a few problems." She began, taking a seat on the easy chair across from the couch. Her parents looked a little uncomfortable at the mention of this. It was still a painful subject for them. "I've been seeing a therapist."
"Is there anything we can do to help?" Her mother asked her. Summer took a deep sigh and prepared to begin.
"The thing is, a lot of things have come up in my sessions that I need to talk to you about." She started, struggling to find the words. "There're some things about when I was a kid..."
"Honey, you know we're sorry about trying to force you to marry Chas." Mrs. Landsdown interrupted her. "It wasn't long ago you'd have jumped at the chance. We thought you wanted it as much as we did, but when we saw who you are now, we knew we were wrong. We've already said we're sorry for that."
"No mom, it goes a lot deeper than that." Summer stated flatly. "Some of my problems are rooted in a lot of stuff I'd forgotten about, stuff that happened long before then."
"Sweetheart, we know that we've made mistakes." Mr Landsdown assured her. "We're all different people know. We've all changed as a result of what's happened. We always did what we thought was right, even when it was based on outdated beliefs."
"Dad, I'm sorry but I need to talk about some stuff that's going to be uncomfortable." She whispered. She looked into his eyes, hoping for years of answers. "Dad, do you and mom love me?"