Disclaimer: 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

Spoilers: None

Author: Vasalysa, with many undying thanks to Geek.

E-mail: cmbower@ennorath.net Comments are always welcome

PG-rated


Chapter Three

Running onto the bridge, McQueen found that, again, Silver had arrived before him and already authorized the launch of the seven squadrons called to fight. As before, when she saw him approaching, Silver relinquished his chair.

As he sat down, McQueen tried to gauge her mood. It boded ill that she looked through him. He dragged his attention to the combat outside.

Listening to McQueen's cool, calm voice giving orders, Silver nodded slightly to herself. She had spotted the fact his hair was still damp. And she had heard him screaming, pausing outside his quarters. She had almost given in to the impulse to knock, to offer her help again, but she had decided that he would have to ask next time.

She stepped over to an empty LIDAR station, studying the forces, glad that the Saratoga had received the newest in LIDAR technology, a 3D hologram. Rotating the LIDAR display slightly, Silver noticed something peculiar. None of the Chigs crossed a certain open spot. They flew all around it, but never through it. And the open area was slowly moving, shifting toward the Saratoga.

Silver's eyes narrowed. She remembered McIntyre idly talking about the possibility of the Chigs being able to hide a Hive ship from LIDAR. There was only one way to find out. "Colonel McQueen, send someone to visually check on 44, 54 by 45." She gave the pitch, roll and yaw points with the Saratoga as 0 in all three axis.

McQueen frowned at her.

"Call it a hunch."

After a moment of studying her, McQueen spoke into his mike. "Queen of Hearts, proceed to coordinates 44, 54 by 45. Visual inspection."

"Roger, Queen 6."

Silver felt a chill run down her back and knew she was right. "Send the whole squad, colonel. One won't be enough."

"Queen of Hearts, take the deck."

"Understood, Queen 6."

The commodore approached Silver. "What is it, colonel?"

She pointed to the rotated LIDAR display. "There's something out there that the Chigs don't want to get in front of. The only thing I can thing of is big and nasty and wants to blow a hole in the Saratoga."

Studying the display, Ross nodded. "You just may be right. McQueen, take a look at this."

McQueen stepped over to the display and frowned. Seconds later, he spoke into his mike. "Queen of Hearts, report."

"Nothing here, Queen 6. A whole lot of noth- Holy shit! Juke! Juke!" Vansen screamed over her mike. "Evasive! Get the hell out of here!"

"Where the hell did that come from?" Hawkes sounded panicked.

"Report, Queen of Hearts."

Silver could hear the effort it took McQueen to sound calm.

"Must be a super Hive ship, Queen 6. Three times as big and it's got one helluva gun on it. But it's slow. No fighters around it - scratch that. Fifteen fighters just launched." Vansen's voice shook.

"Get back to base, Queen of Hearts. Down out of its way."

"Roger that."

Ross turned to the helmsman. "Take her down thirty degrees off the elliptic. Roll fifty degrees to port. Full speed. Bring all starboard tubes and guns to bear on," he checked the LIDAR, "43, 53 by 44."

"Aye, aye, sir."

The recoil of the massive fifteen starboard missile launchers shook the Saratoga. Numerous lesser recoils marked the firing of the faster thirteen starboard laser cannons.

"Doesn't look like much damage done so far," reported Vansen. "The gun has shifted position to follow you, Saratoga."

"Get back to base, Queen of Hearts."

"Someone has to report what's happening, Queen 6. Here come the missiles. Damn, the Chig fighters threw themselves on the missiles. Shit! It's firing, Saratoga! Repeat, it's firing! Juke! Out of the way! Scatter! It's a massive plasma bolt, Saratoga!"

Every head, except the helmsman, turned to gaze out the starboard view port. Two minutes later, at thirty feet in diameter, the plasma bolt became visible and sped past the view port. Everyone held their breath. Ross, McQueen and Silver gripped the consoles before them.

The Saratoga lurched and spun on her aft quarter.

"It's firing again, Saratoga!"

"Roll the ship! Bring her belly up!" Ross' knuckles were white.

"She's sluggish, sir. We lost some engine power and a quarter of the rear thrusters," announced the helmsman even as he was obeying.

Silver knew they had to get the top of the ship up out of the way or this shot would strike the bridge head on. The belly of the ship could take more damage; fewer vital areas were situated there, though that's where the landing bays were.

Slowly, the Saratoga's orientation changed. The human components could only pray it was enough as the second plasma bolt disappeared from their view.

The Saratoga bucked, knocking everyone off their feet or out of their seats. The bridge pressure doors slammed shut and Silver's hearing picked up the whistle of escaping air. Grabbing a solid metal clipboard, Silver prayed the hole wasn't too big. She could feel the air pressure dropping rapidly.

"Over here."

McQueen had struggled over next to the bridge doors. He had wrapped his arm around a rail and pointed to a palm-sized hole in the side of the bridge.

"Hold me." Silver moved closer to the hole, holding the clipboard vertical before her. She felt a hand gripping the back of her flight suit and edged as close as she could. Judging the angle to be right, Silver released the clipboard.

It slammed in place across the hole, sealing it.

"Damage control, seal that hole." Ross stood, breathing hard. Too much air had escaped for easy breathing.

Released from McQueen's grip, Silver pulled open the emergency air mask supply. She started tossing them to McQueen, letting him decide who got them.

The last one in hand, Silver turned to face McQueen. He didn't have one either. She took a deep breath from the mask and tossed it to McQueen. "You'll need it more."

McQueen started to toss it back, but Silver had turned to face the view port, forcing him to keep it.

"Saratoga, are you there? Come in, Queen 6!"

"Queen of Hearts, more fighters coming in!" yelled Phousse.

"Please don't get any worse," whispered Silver.

"Saratoga, it's still homing in on your position! It's firing again."

"It just got worse," McQueen stated quietly.

"Helm!"

"I'm trying, sir." The helmsman did not look up from his controls, blood pouring from a scalp wound over his forehead. A second lieutenant fastened an air mask over the helmsman's face. "We've lost all starboard thrusters. I'm trying to compensate with the port side."

Ross refrained from badgering the man. He knew the lieutenant commander was doing everything in his power to move the ship.

"Sir, permission to do something radical?"

"Do it, helm."

"Give me intra-ship. Attention, all hands! Prepare for zero G maneuvers in one mike."

"Cutting it a little close, aren't you?" remarked Ross.

"It'll take me that long to get it ready. Engine room, prepare to cut all grav power on my mark."

"Understood," came a shaken voice over the intercom.

The helmsman stood up, flipping switches, ruthlessly shutting down screaming alarms. "If this doesn't work, sir, we'll be dead in the water."

"One way or the other, we'll be dead, son."

"Yes, sir." A deep breath and the lieutenant sat down, gripping the wheel. "Engine room, ready, ready, mark."

The gravity through out the ship ceased and the lieutenant sent all the extra power into the port thrusters, which he had reversed the direction on.

The Saratoga snapped through its roll.

The plasma bolt struck.

The Saratoga's bottom took the punishment back by the engines, but the force of the impact forced the ship into a vertical position, nose up.

McQueen fought to get his feet under him on the rail. He launched himself toward his command seat.

"Is anyone alive in there? Saratoga, answer!"

"Queen of Hearts, status." McQueen's voice still managed to sound calm, collected.

"Alive, but barely. We're losing pilots out here. There's too many of them and we're running out of ammo."

Commodore Ross bellowed, "Bring the port tubes to bear. Program the course into the missiles manually. If we take it out, maybe the fighters will retreat. Use the laser cannons as a guide for the missiles. Multiple salvos."

"It's the only chance we have," McQueen muttered.

"Get the fighters out of there. There's nothing they can do, but die, now." Silver sighed.

Ross looked over at McQueen. "You heard the lady. Pass the order."

McQueen took a deep breath and tossed the air mask to Silver. She caught it as she launched herself to his position, breathing in the cool air. She wrapped a leg around the rail.

"Queen 6 to all fighter units. Break off and retreat."

"Where to, Queen 6?"

"Just run, Queen of Hearts. You aren't doing any good out there now. Save yourselves."

"Roger that, Queen 6."

"Can we re-establish gravity?" asked Ross.

"No, sir. The maneuver stressed out a third of the relays," reported the helmsman. "Told you it was radical, sir." He was wiping blood from his face again. "And only half of the port thrusters are responding now."

"If we don't hit this thing, McQueen--" Silver leaned over McQueen's shoulder, whispering, "sorry if I made you mad."

He flashed her an intent look. Equally soft, McQueen replied, "I overreacted. I'm sorry."

"Is this a red letter day or something?"

He saw the slight smile, taking the sting out of the words. "Not quite. I have been known to apologize, on those exceedingly rare occasions I've been wrong."

His effort was rewarded with a real smile, though brief. She pressed the air mask to his face. "Breathe."

Holding the mask and taking a deep breath, McQueen forced his body to relax. There was nothing left for him to do but wait. It was out of his hands. He glanced up at Silver.

She stood, staring out the view port with a longing look. When he touched her hand lightly, Silver gave him a quick smile and answered the question in his eyes. "I was just wishing we could have traveled the stars in peace."

McQueen nodded.

"Lasers cannons ready to fire. Missiles ready in five mikes," reported the gunnery sergeant.

"Acknowledged." Ross muttered to McQueen, "Let's hope we have that long."

The Saratoga started to shudder under the onslaught of the Chig fighters. Laser cannons that could not fire on the Hive vessel targeted the smaller craft swarming around the carrier.

"My poor ship," Ross sighed. "Where the hell are those missiles?"

"Missiles ready, sir."

"Acquire laser cannon target."

"Acquired, sir."

"Fire repeatedly."

"Firing, sir."

"Launch missiles."

"Tubes 1 thru 15 launching." The Saratoga lurched as the fifteen port missile tubes emptied.

"Reload missile tubes."

"Reloading, sir."

"Fire when ready."

"Firing, sir."

"Reload."

"Reloading, sir."

"McQueen, we need a visual. The damn thing isn't showing up on LIDAR."

Heavily, McQueen nodded. "Queen of Hearts, status."

"Two mikes off your bow, Queen 6."

"We need a visual."

"Understood. 64, 58, we're going in hot and fast. 64, fly in our ten. Full throttle. Shoot only if you have to. Conserve what ammo you have."

McQueen listened to the chorus of acknowledgments and closed his eyes, head hanging down slightly.

The Chig fighters ignored the Hammerheads, concentrating on the larger target.

"Queen 6, it looks to be retreating. Heavy damage to its starboard side. Adjust firing five degrees up elliptic."

The gunnery sergeant passed the information on to the missile loaders.

"Last salvo ready, sir."

"Fire."

"Firing, sir."

Minutes later came, "It's definitely on the run, Queen 6. It's still kicking, but it is badly damaged. The last several missiles ran out of fuel before reaching it."

"Fighters breaking off, sir."

"Queen of Hearts, get out of there. Fighters headed your way."

"Understood, Queen 6. Let's go home, folks. Full throttle. Blow through these bastards."

The pressure sealed doors opened and the damage control parties swam in to repair the damage to the bridge.

Silver glanced at the time. 0343. Not a lot of the night left.

"Good job, people. Now let's clean up this mess." Ross rested his hand on McQueen's shoulder. "Better find out what shape our bays are in. I want to bring our people in."

"Yes, sir."

Ross' look dismissed both colonels and he turned to the business of discovering how much damage had been done to the carrier he commanded. The two colonels kicked off the deck, swimming out the open hatch, dodging various personnel.

After several near collisions with people and bulkheads, McQueen and Silver reached Docking Bay 1. Crews were diligently working to clear the debris from the cockpit cradles, but at least two would need to be completely replaced.

"This doesn't look good." Silver floated just inside the hatchway.

"Let's try number two."

Only one cockpit cradle was free and clear.

"I hope three is all right. It looks like we're going to need every cradle available." Silver sighed and pushed off.

"It's further aft," warned McQueen. "I doubt it will be."

Docking Bay 3 had suffered surprisingly light damage. It was the landing bay below that had taken heavy damage. A damage control crew member informed them that the cradles were all functional. There just was no way to get a Hammerhead in so that they could use the cradles.

"Let's go see it first hand." McQueen unclenched his fists. "Maybe if they fly slow enough, it's possible."

Outside the landing bay, they found the view port still intact. Looking in, they could see structural beams cluttered the bay, but the area under the docking bay remained comparatively clear.

"It'll be hours before any of the bays are fit to use." sighed McQueen.

"And our people need to get in, at least to rearm." Silver watched the vacuum-suited damage control crews work. "I'm suiting up."

McQueen accompanied her, knowing what she intended. In the airless bay, they ducked and floated over the obstacles. One particular beam blocked the bay quite thoroughly.

"If we can get this one shifted, the pilots should be able to navigate around the rest of it, if they go slow. One at a time."

"I'll get the damage control people." McQueen headed back to where the crews were working.

The crew chief agreed with their assessment and assigned it priority.

An hour later, the first Hammerhead landed. Those Hammerheads too badly damaged to maneuver through the tight spots were directed to Landing Bay 1. There the cockpits were manually removed and hooked up to air for transfer out of the bay.

It took two hours to get all the pilots in. The pilots were sent to either Medical or their quarters. Squadron COs were informed of lost pilots. The 58th had suffered no losses.

Once all the pilots were in, McQueen allowed himself to sag against a wall.

"Attention, all hands. Gravity will return in five mikes."

"Better get situated. Hate to fall from the ceiling." Silver rotated and pushed gently off the ceiling. Reaching up, she tugged on McQueen's leg, bringing him down beside her.

They waited patiently until the gravity had been restored.

"The state things are in, I think I'll have to postpone the lectures and simulator practice. The squad needs the rest."

McQueen nodded. "Let's inform them."

The 58th were sound asleep, stripped down to tank tops and shorts. McQueen gently woke Vansen, informing her that their duties were suspended for the day and that the lectures and VR simulations would be tomorrow.

"Thanks. I'll shut off the alarm." Vansen reached up and missed her timepiece. "God, I can't even see straight."

"Let me." McQueen turned the alarm off. "Go back to sleep, Shane."

"Thanks, sir."

Dogging the hatch behind them, McQueen looked at Silver. "Hungry?"

"Not really."

"Neither am I."

"I can feel the fatigue catching up with me."

McQueen decided to risk a rejection. "Silver, I would appreciate it if you would come to my quarters." He glanced at the floor. "I would like to get some sleep."

"Tell me something. How much sleep do you average a night?" Silver started walking.

"Three to four hours, on a good night." McQueen did not look at her.

"Are you satisfied with that?"

"No. I may be engineered to function on that little sleep for long stretches, but I eventually crash. And when I do, nothing gets me up for twenty-four straight hours. Literally."

"I believe it. Are you willing to work with me so I can help you?"

McQueen took a deep breath and committed himself. "Yes."

"Even if I have to dredge up stuff you don't want to remember?"

"Will it be confidential?'

"Very."

It took McQueen a moment to answer. "Yes."

"Are there sounds that you associate with good memories?"

"Children's laughter. The ocean. Running water like a stream or a river."

Silver stopped before his quarters. "Do you have an optical player?"

"Yes."

"I'll be back in a moment."

"Silver, I... I want to thank you." He rushed the words out.

"I can't make any promises, but I'll see if I can help you." She squeezed his arm gently and headed down the corridor.

McQueen straightened his cabin while waiting for her to return. When ten minutes had gone by, he reasoned that she had stayed to tidy up her own cabin. Twenty minutes and he decided that she was not coming back. His insecurities made him his own worse enemy. He slumped down on his bed.

He was still there when five minutes later a knock came on the hatch. "Who's at my hatch?" he asked dully.

"Silver. My hands are full."

McQueen sprang up and opened the door.

As she entered, Silver saw the relief in his eyes even though his face showed its usual mask. "What, did you think I wasn't coming back?"

"It occurred to me." He shut the hatch and eyed the armful of items she carried.

"I keep my word, McQueen."

"It's just-"

"It's just too many people have treated you like dirt and you expect it."

McQueen nodded curtly.

"My room was a mess. Now, tonight, I just want to get you to sleep. Go take a hot shower, as hot as you can stand it. Then come out and lie down on your stomach. Don't dress." Silver started setting items down on the desk nearest the bed. "Go."

When McQueen stepped out of the bathroom, toweling his hair dry, he found Silver sitting in a chair, eyes closed. He hesitated until she waved a hand at the bed. The covers lay folded down to the foot of the bed so only his feet would rest on them.

"Make yourself comfortable."

McQueen stretched out, hands under his head, which he turned so he could see Silver. She rose in a smooth motion and unzipped her flight suit, letting it fall to the floor, leaving on her tank top and shorts. Her boots were already tucked under the chair.

Reaching onto the desk, Silver pressed a button on the optical player, setting it to repeat. The sound of the ocean filled the room. She picked up a plastic bottle and carried it onto the bed, settling her weight across his buttocks.

Pouring some oil on her hands and rubbing them together to warm the oil, Silver studied the scarred back before her. Fine white scars crisscrossed his back and she knew someone had taken a cat o'nine tails or a baton to his back. Hard enough and deep enough that his body still had not healed them completely in ten years. Forcing her anger at the thought deep down inside, Silver took a cleansing breath, exhaling through her nose. Slowly, she started to spread the oil across his shoulders, working it into his skin firmly.

The tension in his body slowly eased and he did not tense up even as she worked her way up to the base of his skull. She massaged down to his elbows and then returned to his back. As she started to move down his back, Silver scooted herself down to his thighs. Taking her time, Silver worked out the muscle knots that seemed to encompass his back. She settled into a rhythm, returning to his lower neck and working downward until she encountered no more knots. Moving further down his body allowed her to work on his hips and buttocks. Again she worked until the muscles had relaxed before moving. Each thigh she did separately, followed by his knees. His left lower leg and foot she placed in her lap as she worked on it.

When she finally stood up and stretched, Silver saw his eyes were closed and he breathed deeply, slowly. No frown marred his brow and he looked more peaceful than she could think of ever seeing him. Drawing the covers carefully up over his body, Silver stroked his cheek and kissed his temple lightly.

She took a hot shower and dressed again. He had not moved at all.

A spare blanket and pillow comprised her bed on the floor. Yawning, Silver settled down, ready to wake if needed.

Waking slowly, McQueen heard the ocean waves and smiled, knowing that at least three hours of restful sleep were behind him. He lay on his side, pillow tucked between his arm and head, covers down to his waist. Sitting up, he saw Silver on the floor, sleeping on her back. Guilt immediately assailed him, knowing she couldn't be very comfortable and that she had slept there to allow him to rest. He knew he had drifted to sleep while she had been working on his lower back and from the feel of his body; she had gone all the way to the foot. It had been so long since he had felt so relaxed that it made him feel even guiltier.

He knelt down, intending to put her on the bed, when her eyes opened.

"Feeling better?"

"Yes. You didn't have to sleep there."

"I wanted to be near, but not too near, in case you needed me." She reached up and stroked his cheek. "Better shave before you go out."

"How long have I slept?"

Silver checked her timepiece. "Five hours."

His eyes closed briefly. "I haven't slept that long in months."

"And you didn't have nightmares. It's a start."

"How much sleep did you get, Silver?"

"Hm, almost four."

The guilt hit him harder. "You spent over an hour after I fell asleep giving me a massage?"

"Tyrus Cassius McQueen, it was my choice. Do NOT feel guilty about it. I wanted to make sure you got some real sleep. And I didn't want to be on the bed in case you didn't. I do not relish the idea of being attacked in my sleep."

"I would never-"

"McQueen, I know the type of nightmares you have. I have had them and friends of mine still have them, though not quite so frequently now. That's because, unlike you, they have had people to care for them and help them. I told you, I've spent nearly three months as the guest of AIs. I know what can be done to the human body and what it does to the soul."

His mind switched tracks and it occurred to McQueen that he was kneeling beside her, still naked and sporting his usual morning erection. "I-" He looked away, embarrassed.

"It's all right. I've seen it all once already."

Remembering what she had done only caused him to harden further. "Silver, I'm not used to someone being with me, like this. It's been a long time since I woke up with someone even in the room with me."

Smiling, Silver rolled over onto her stomach and quickly rose. She cupped his cheek and looked him intently in the eyes as he stood up beside her. "Don't worry. You're doing just fine. Tonight, I want you to play one of the optical discs I brought and try to sleep. If you can't, or find yourself clawing your way out of another nightmare, come get me. All right?"

He nodded. "You're leaving."

"I need clean clothes, food and some more sleep. And if I stay here, something might happen that you are not ready to handle just yet."

"May I join you for breakfast?"

"It's more like lunch, but yes, I would enjoy the company. As long as you promise not to close up on me just because you're in public. There's no reason you can't talk to me."

"I'll do my best."

"That's all I ask. Half an hour, Officer's Mess."

"I'll be there."

Silver and McQueen ate a substantial meal, talking about people they had known, good things they had done. While they were eating, the 58th came in. McQueen hesitated, but seeing the challenge in Silver's eyes, beckoned the squadron over to join them. The discussion changed to the battle only hours in the past.

Watching McQueen with the squadron, Silver saw how surprised and grateful the squadron was that McQueen had invited them over. They respected McQueen, even loved him as a father, but knew how he hated to have his personal space invaded. But they were eager for his signs of approval, just as they dreaded his disapproval.

Silver looked over at Finch. "See how much of the run is intact and figure out changes as necessary."

"Yes, ma'am."

"The run is still on?" groaned West.

"Every night. We have a tough mission coming up and I want you all in top shape. Lives will probably depend on it."

When the squadron showed signs of getting ready to leave, Silver rose. Fingertips on McQueen's shoulder, she said, "I have work to do for tomorrow. Plus I need to check out my Hammerhead. The flight chief said he'd fix the fuse problem I've been having. But I still need to take a look at it.

"Is that why you haven't flown with us yet?" Hawkes asked.

"Yes. Randall said replacing the fuse relays was a thirty-hour job and he started it soon after I got here. I really didn't relish getting in a furball in a craft that every time I pull a hard turn, the engine cuts out."

"Bummer." Hawkes shook his head.

"Good thing you weren't out there this time. I missed what was happening," admitted McQueen.

"You would have figured it out. Especially after the first shot landed."

"The first shot would have finished us."

"Maybe. But the Toga's a tough old gal." Silver shrugged. "That was good flying, 5-8."

"Thanks." Hawkes grinned, then turned serious. "Can I help you with your Hammerhead?"

"Sure. Come on."

Disappointed, McQueen watched her leave with Hawkes.

"Sir, is something going on?" asked Vansen.

"I don't know, Vansen. I really don't know."

McQueen did not see Silver before 1800. It turned out that most of the run was intact. He could not help but be pleased that his leg did not malfunction once. In the shower, Silver washed only his back. When he glanced at her, she appeared to be distracted, thinking about something. With a sigh, he knew nothing would happen this time.

Keeping herself away from McQueen physically proved to be harder than Silver had anticipated. Her shower was a lot colder than she liked under normal circumstances.

Heart pounding, screaming, McQueen snapped awake. He cursed fluently as he sat up, pressing the heels of his hands into the blinding headache just above his eyes. Briefly he considered getting Silver, but decided to try and sleep once again. The sound of the ocean did help him relax.

Two hours later, fighting his covers and screaming, McQueen rolled onto the floor. It was a lost cause. There was no way he was going to get any real sleep on his own tonight.

He flung on his flight suit and boots, raking his fingers through sweat soaked hair.

The pounding on her hatch woke Silver. She opened the hatch. "In."

He lurched in, collapsing in a heap at the foot of her bed. Arms on his knees and head on his arms, McQueen breathed heavily. "I can't sleep. I've woken twice so far tonight, screaming."

"All right. Go back to your quarters. Heat up enough water for two mugs."

"Coffee?" He dreaded the thought of caffeine.

"No. I'm going to bring over a special herb tea. No caffeine. It helps relax and ease tension."

He looked up at her, dressed in the khaki tank top and shorts, and wanted to pull her in his arms. But she did not look interested. So with a sigh, McQueen rose and headed back to his quarters.

Several minutes later, she knocked and McQueen let her in. "Water's hot." He gestured to where two large mugs of steaming hot water sat on his desk. McQueen stared at her feet.

"Good. Go take a quick shower." Silver had dressed in her flight suit. She noticed his stare and glanced down with a smile. Bunny slippers. "I wanted something comfortable and they were a gift."

He raised an eyebrow. "But bunny slippers?"

"My daughter got them for me. She has this idea that I need some homey things. So she sends me stuff like this all the time." Silver pointed to the bathroom. "Now, go shower."

As he obeyed, Silver smiled and started the tea steeping in special reusable tea bags.

The tea was ready five minutes later. She looked up as he came out, toweling his upper body dry, dressed in khaki shorts. "Good. How's the headache?"

"Barely manageable."

"Drink your tea. It's still quite hot."

Sipping her own tea, Silver tapped a book. "May I?"

"Yes." He sat on his bed.

"Shakespeare's Sonnets. Good choice." She flipped through quietly, every so often stopping and reading quickly.

With surprise, McQueen noticed that Silver appeared to read as quickly as himself when he chose to. Most of the time, he liked to take his time, savoring the words. He felt the muscles in his shoulders and neck ease slightly, which helped the pounding headache.

She finished her tea first. Setting the mug and the book down carefully, Silver gestured to his mug. "Going to take all night?"

"Will it keep you here?"

"That's not what you need right now. Trust me. And I'm not looking for some quick sex. I need a deeper relationship than that. When you're ready for me, you'll know and so will I. In the meantime, I'll do what I can to help you deal with your sleeping problems."

"Silver-"

She placed her hand over his mouth lightly. "Don't. Don't make this harder than it already is. Yes, I want you. Yes, I crave the feel of your body against mine. But, you aren't ready for a deep relationship. So, for now, I will be your friend, if you will let me." She removed her hand.

McQueen nodded, hearing truth in her tone. Tears stung his eyes and he looked down at his hands.

The optical disc started playing and he drank the last of his tea in two gulps, control back. Setting the mug on the desk, he asked quietly, "What do you want me to do?"

"Sit in the chair." She spun it to face the work desk and moved everything to create a clear space for his arms.

Like in the briefing room, Silver worked his neck, shoulders and upper back. Satisfied with the lowered level of muscle tension, she sent him to bed. He stretched out on his stomach again and she sat beside him working his lower back.

It took time, but he eventually fell asleep. Silver waited for a while before leaving.

McQueen's alarm woke him at 0530 and he sighed on not seeing Silver.

Vansen showed up at the briefing room at 0800 and found Silver there alone. "Capt. Vansen reporting as ordered, ma'am."

"At ease."

"The schedule you requested, ma'am."

"Thank you, Capt." Silver took the ledger and looked steadily at Vansen. "Captain, I know you don't trust me."

Vansen remained quiet.

"Just try to keep an open mind, hm? Don't undermine me. I know my job and I'm damn good at it."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Dismissed. See you in half an hour."

Silver looked at the eight people seated before her, including McQueen. "Colonel, do you know what the Immelmann is?"

"It is an atmosphere maneuver from WWI. Named after Max Immelmann, a German pilot. He would dive on an enemy pilot, zoom past, and pull up. Before he stalled, he would snap his plane around, and dive back down on his target."

"When did you look it up?"

"This morning, to refresh my memory."

Silver nodded. "Did any of the rest of you think to do so?"

Hawkes raised his hand. "I did, ma'am. Of what use is it in space?"

"It is an excellent tactic to remember when in an atmosphere. Because of the Hammerhead's design, you are actually able to do an Immelmann that leaves you facing your enemy at all times. It requires some practice since you need to use your forward and reverse thrusters alternately. A modified Immelmann can be used in space."

When Hawkes merely shook his head, Silver sighed softly. "I'll show you on the sims. Which is where we are going now."

In the flight simulation room, two Hammerhead cockpits were set up. "McQueen, you take the right one. Phousse, you get in the other one. You are dog fighting one another. Winner gets to take on the next person."

McQueen strapped on the helmet and slipped the gloves on, feeling a part of himself inside relax. He loved flying. It had been too long since he had even done a simulation. As space showed in his cockpit, McQueen allowed himself to become the hunter, immersing himself into the simulation.

In three minutes, Phousse was dead. Russell lasted six, St. John five. Next came West. McQueen destroyed him in six minutes. It took four for him to blow Finch out of space. Vansen made it to seven minutes.

Hawkes was tougher. They battled back and forth, dodging out of each other's fire barely and struggling to get a clear shot. Ten minutes,twelve.

Then McQueen's leg malfunctioned, snapping his leg up into his arm. The resulting movement of the simulation brought him into Hawkes' line of fire.

Over her headset, Silver heard McQueen swearing. She waved West back from the simulator. "Let him be for a minute."

Hawkes snapped his canopy up. "What happened? He suddenly jerked over in front of me."

"That... leg of his."

"It wasn't a fair contest. We can fly it again."

Silver shook her head. "No. You fly against me now."

A moment later, McQueen popped his canopy and got out, silent, his face stony. He took the headset Silver handed him without a word.

Silver looked over at Hawkes. "Are you ready?"

"Yes."

"Very well then." Getting into the simulator, Silver took a deep breath. She had to make a point with this exercise.

Five minutes after engaging Hawkes, Silver killed him.

"Again!" he snarled.

He lasted four and a half minutes.

"Again!"

Silver obliged him, this time deliberately not killing him immediately. She strafed him and, as she sped past him, turned her craft so that the nose continued to face him as she engaged her reverse thrusters and climbed backwards up out of his line of fire, still firing, forcing him to take evasive action. Then as he angled up to try and fire on her, Silver rolled over, engaged her forward engines and dove down on him, firing. As she went past him again, she repeated the maneuver, this time going for the kill.

Hawkes slammed open his canopy, raging. "You were toying with me!"

Calmly, Silver faced down Hawkes, waiting. When he lunged at her, she merely sidestepped. "Forgetting your training, lieutenant?"

West grabbed Hawkes, wrapping his arms around the larger Marine. "Cool it, Coop. Get it under control. She beat you fair and square."

When Hawkes glanced over at McQueen, he saw the colonel nod slightly.

"She did it fairly, Hawkes." McQueen crossed his arms.

"I want to see you do it for real. Not in a simulation."

"It would help if you started considering the simulations more than a game, but all right." Silver stepped over to the intercom. "Hanger Bay 2."

"Hanger Bay 2 here. Warrant Officer Randall speaking." The man sounded irritated.

"Colonel Silver, Randall."

"Yes, colonel. How may I help you?" The man's voice became eager to please.

"I need two Hammerheads outfitted with training ammo. Mine and Lt. Hawkes'."

"They'll be ready in five mikes."

"Thank you."

"Welcome, colonel."

Switching the intercom off, Silver looked at Hawkes. "What are you waiting for? Go get suited up."

As Hawkes trotted off, Silver reactivated the intercom. "Command Bridge."

"Command Bridge here."

"Colonel Silver, here. Two Hammerheads from the 58th will be doing some training maneuvers outside."

"Acknowledged. Just don't shoot the tender, please."

"Will do."

"Command Bridge out."

With that, Silver headed for her quarters to get suited up. "Observation deck should have a good view," she tossed over her shoulder.

In her Hammerhead, Silver took several deep breaths, preparing for a real fight. Hawkes would be a challenge, if he took the duel seriously and did not lose his temper again.

Hawkes had calmed down, she could tell from his flying. Temper under control, he dogged her relentlessly and she kept her maneuvers simple at first. Then she started becoming more elusive and dangerous.

Her first kill on him was just like the final one in the simulator.

His snapped, "Again!" made her grin. "Very well. Engage."

This time she brought her Hammerhead down at him from the rear. At full throttle, she shot past him, hit her reverse thrusters and snapped her ship around a hundred and eighty degrees so she once more faced him. Firing, Silver activated an imaginary computer generated missile and waited to launch. At point blank range, she launched the missile and dove at a ninety-degree angle from Hawkes, full throttle. The computers agreed that Hawkes had died spectacularly.

"Again!"

"Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more."

Silver allowed him to get on her tail, but instead of dodging sideways, up or down, she corkscrewed over his head, coming down on his rear. He died.

"Again!"

"No. I think I've made my point."

On the observation deck, McQueen pressed his hand against the view port. "Where was she when Chiggy Van Richthofen was killing us?" he whispered hoarsely.

"Coughing up her guts," answered Russell. "Friendly fire on a mission."

McQueen stared at the calm man. "Friendly fire?"

"The other squadrons didn't like us. Couldn't report it, of course."

"She was furious that she couldn't fly. But when she heard you had taken him out, she calmed down." Finch looked at McQueen. "She said, he's the only other one who could have done it.'"

"You forgot what else she said, after surgery." Leaning against the wall, St. John recited, "And you, good yeomen, Whose limbs were made in England, show us here The mettle of your pasture; let us swear That you are worth your breeding- which I doubt not; For there is none of you so mean and base That hath not noble lustre in your eyes. I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, Straining upon the start. The game's afoot: Follow your spirit."

McQueen nodded. "Let's get down to the flight deck."

Hawkes had calmed down by the time his cockpit reached the docking bay. He waited by his Hammerhead cockpit. "Colonel, I'm sorry I lost my temper."

"I'll accept it this time. I hope you learned something from all of that." She saw the others approaching.

"Yes, ma'am. I'm going to start practicing those maneuvers immediately."

"Good. All right, everyone. That's enough for today. Study what you've learned. Practice it. I'll see you at 1800 for the run."

McQueen walked beside her. "What's next on the agenda?"

"Reports, lunch, some light reading, more reports, dinner, reading, the run."

"Um, nothing else?"

"No."

"Oh."

"Don't push, McQueen. You hardly know me."

"I want to get to know you."

"You will. Feel free to join me in report generating and reading of."

"What fun. I think bureaucrats enjoy coming up with new ways to create paperwork."

"I believe you're right."

Six days later, Silver tested them out on the simulators again, this time against Chigs fighters. They used her maneuvers.

"Good. All right. That's all. Lunch will be served in half an hour. Warning, tonight's run will be a bit different. A ruck run. Which you might remember means, full combat gear and packs, including rifles."

"What!" They all stiffened.

"You heard me. Consider it practice for tomorrow. We're ALL going planet side for some down and dirty training. Dismissed."

Alone with Silver, McQueen asked, "How did you manage it?"

"Since the Toga had to come to this system for repairs and there just happened to be a habitable planet under our control, I asked the commodore if I could conduct a training mission. He agreed."

"And why am I going?"

"You have a lot to teach these youngsters, McQueen. Don't sell yourself short. You are the head of the 58th. Don't forget that." She headed for the door. "Now, I need to coordinate with the flight crew for the use of an ISSAPC tomorrow. I'll let you know when we leave at the run tonight."

The run went well, Silver thought. The entire squad stayed together, despite the extra encumbrance. Back at the gym, she worked them hard, pleased to see that no one was exhausted after three hours of intense workout.

Before they hit the showers, she announced, "Not bad at all, folks. Tomorrow, be at Landing Bay 2 at 0900. Same kits as tonight. McQueen and I will fly us down. Special training ammo will be issued planet side. Dismissed."

On the flight down, McQueen noticed that Silver appeared preoccupied. He asked her a question concerning the training ammo at one point and the look in her eyes reminded him of a hunting cat.

"What was the question?" Her mind clearly was not on him.

"Never mind."

She looked at the flight controls and nodded absently.

Planet side, they disembarked onto a rocky plain. No trees, but there were bushes and grass of sorts. A quarter mile away, a single hill rose up to five hundred feet.

"All right, listen up. This is the training ammo. It'll spray a special paint to designate a hit. If you're hit, lie down and shut up until the exercise is over." Silver handed everyone three clips. "No one should need more than three clips. If you do, then you are wasting ammo and need to spend more time on the firing range."

"Three clips is more than enough," McQueen stated.

"Here's the drill. We're splitting into two teams. Finch, Russell and St. John are with me, the rest of you with McQueen. Your objective, colonel, is to get to the top of the hill and capture the flag, on foot." When McQueen looked at her, Silver said, "I had a team who used their initiative all right. They took the ISSAPC. But that was not the object of the mission."

McQueen chuckled. "Sounds like a good group."

"We are." Russell grinned.

Silver punched Russell's arm. "Be quiet. Now, my objective is simple, to keep you from getting the flag. We'll be on a different frequency so don't worry about us listening in. I expect the same courtesy from you. You will advance in fifteen mikes." She brought her timepiece up and the others did the same. "Time will be 1025, ready, ready, hack."

McQueen kept his eyes on the rapidly moving people. He blinked and they were gone. How the hell did they disappear so fast?' he wondered.

Fifteen minutes later, McQueen signaled and they headed out.

The first of his team to go down was Vansen. She was advancing, crouched down.

"West, advance to-" Suddenly Vansen's head rocked back and something sprayed her face. "What the hell?" She started to wipe her face clean. "Damn. They shot me."

Glancing over, McQueen saw her splattered with red paint. "You're dead, Vansen. Lie down and shut up so you don't distract us."

"Yes, sir," Vansen replied sullenly.

West died next, two hundred yards from the base of the hill. Weaving in a crouch to the next piece of cover, the shot came in just under his throat, sending red paint spraying all over his chest. "I'm hit!" He lay down and stayed quiet.

At the base of the hill, Phousse took her hit. The shot came from behind and hit her square between the shoulder blades. "I'm down!"

Hawkes was halfway up the hill when two shots caught him in the chest. "Shit! They got me!"

On his own, McQueen crawled up the hill. He waited below the lip of the hill, looking for the enemy.' Seeing no one, he rose to a crouch and started to advance. Ten feet from the flag, three people rose before him even as he felt a blow between his shoulders. As he staggered under the shot, two more slammed into his chest and another hit his helmet. He sank to his knees. "I am definitely dead."

"Down the hill, everyone."

Silver extended a hand to McQueen with a chuckle. "Going to a barbecue?"

"You play rough," he quipped.

"The better to keep you alive."

At the base of the hill, Silver tossed a bottle to each of the dead. "Spray it over the paint. It will turn into dust. No stains to worry about."

As the dead became living again, she continued. "You did rather well. A lot better than other teams we've gone up against. Now, turn abouts fair play. You defend and we attack. We'll go back to the ISSAPC and will start our assault in twenty mikes. Time will be 1115, ready, ready, hack."

McQueen opted to stay on the hilltop with his people deployed on the sides. Twenty minutes later, he heard Phousse say,

"I got one. Damn, they got me."

McQueen grimaced. A one for one exchange, not good.

Hawkes took out the next one and managed to avoid the spate of bullets. "OOH-RAAH!"

McQueen waited, crouched a few feet from the bottom of a rock outcropping. He kept constantly looking from side to side.

A hand clamped over his mouth and another gripped the back of his head. With a jerk upright, his attacker pulled him back and twisted his head to the side swiftly. Even as his body responded, McQueen knew that if it had been for real, he would have died. He forced himself to relax, to not fight back. Getting his feet under him, McQueen tapped the hand over his mouth once and was released.

Before he could speak, Silver covered his helmet mike.

McQueen deactivated the mike, leaving the headphones on.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes. You didn't hurt me, Silver."

"Good. Play dead. Really play dead."

"You want to see how they respond."

"Yes."

"All right." McQueen watched her take the flag and slip away behind the rock outcropping.

With a soft sigh, McQueen leaned back against the rocks staying in the shade, letting his rifle drop from his hand. He wondered how to appear dead. Well, she had supposedly broken his neck. Turning his head, McQueen rested his chin on his right shoulder, allowing his head to fall back against the rock. Not too uncomfortable. He had stayed in worse positions for hours.

Ten minutes later, McQueen heard Vansen trying to raise him over the helmet intercom. "Colonel? Sir? Can you hear me? Report, Colonel!"

"I'm near the top of the hill. I'll go see if everything is all right," volunteered West.

McQueen closed his eyes until he could hear West about to reach to the hill's crest. He opened his eyes and allowed his jaw to sag slightly.

West's head appeared before him, barely topping the grass.

"Colonel!" hissed West. When McQueen did not respond, West reported, "Colonel's down. Shit! The flag's gone!" West started to crawl forward. "Colonel? Can you hear me? Shane, he's not responding!"

McQueen could see and hear West's panic.

"Check him out." Vansen's voice shook.

To himself, McQueen thought, They're scared to lose me.' The idea made a warm spot in his gut.

West gathered his feet under him and started to approach in a deep crouch. "Vansen, his head's at a funny angle. I think he's really hurt."

"Keep down, West!" snarled Hawkes. "It could be a trap."

"But he's on our side."

"He's dead! Stay down!"

West hesitated a second too long. Two shots hit him rapidly, spreading red across both sides of his chest. "Gak!" West managed as the impacts bowled him over, knocking the wind out of him.

Once West was down, rolling onto his side so that he could keep his face out of the sun, McQueen turned his head and smiled at the sheepish look on the young man's face. Covering his mike, West whispered, "You're ok?"

McQueen nodded once.

West sighed deeply and relaxed.

Down the hill, Hawkes was being stalked. The first he knew it was when Russell tackled him, wrapping an arm around the larger Marine's right arm and chest. He grabbed Hawkes' jaw and forced his head around to the side far enough that Hawkes felt the muscles protest.

Even as Russell smiled and whispered in Hawkes' ear, "You're dead," he felt the shot hit him in the back. "And so am I," he laughed, rolling off Hawkes.

Vansen, now the lone defender, circled the hill warily. After a circuit, she started moving upward, still circling.

Again acting dead, McQueen had a perfect view as Vansen crested the hill in a low crouch. She paused when she saw both himself and West. Smoothly, silently, Silver rose behind Vansen, K-bar in hand. Vansen never had a chance. She was jerked up and back by the hand over her mouth, the K-bar tip under her jaw, poised for the strike into her brain.

"I'm afraid you're dead, captain." Silver released Vansen. Keying the mike to broadcast over both frequencies, Silver announced, "Exercise over. Everyone back to the transport for lunch. Five mikes."

"How did you do that?" asked West, having seen Silver take out Vansen.

"Lots of training, under fire." Silver gave West a hand up before Vansen could. She walked over to McQueen. "Doing all right?"

"Yes." He accepted her hand up. "I've never seen anyone move like you do. Are the others that good?"

"Not quite. After all, they died."

"What was the point of that stunt?" demanded Vansen.

"I wanted to see how you responded in a combat situation before I take you into one." Silver started down the hill.

"No, I meant with the colonel."

"Same thing."

"You mean-" Vansen shot a quick look over at McQueen. "If he's- Shit!" Vansen ran down the hill.

Feeling like he had missed something, McQueen gave Silver an inquiring look.

She did not enlighten him and neither did West, who jogged ahead without looking at McQueen.

"What am I missing here?"

"Nothing. Just something I discussed with them the first night. Come on. The base here has real food."

That made McQueen's mouth water and he picked up the pace.

Over lunch, Silver said, "You did very good, folks. Better than ten other squadrons against me and these three. Of those ten, only four took out two of mine. Two squads got one and the rest failed miserably."

"Really?" asked Hawkes, around a mouthful of real mashed potatoes and gravy.

"Really. Now, shut your mouth while eating. It's rude to talk with a full mouth."

"Sorry," mumbled Hawkes.

Finch laughed as did West and Phousse, causing Hawkes to blush beet red.

"Enough. Leave him alone. Eat." McQueen pointedly dug into his own mashed potatoes.

That afternoon, Silver started them practicing their grunt work. Crawling through scrub, dirt and water, determined to keep as little of their bodies exposed to enemy fire as possible. McQueen matched Silver on kills' and managed to get the drop on her once, repaying her for the morning death.' Later came the 'hide and kill' tests. His leg not malfunctioning once, McQueen proved himself still fully capable of being a deadly, killing Marine.

The squadron was exhausted by1730 when Silver called a halt to the fun and games. She forced them to double time it back the transport after telling them it would allow time for a shower before dinner.

"Are we flying back to the Toga?" asked McQueen quietly as the squad disembarked.

"No. I've arranged for guest barracks down here. We'll go back in the morning."

"Good. I don't think I'm in any shape to fly."

"By the time we leave for the mission in four days, they'll be ready."

"I hope so. Bring them back to me, Silver."

"I will."

Next : Chapter Four
Previous : Chapter Two
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