Rating: NC17

Spoilers: None

Author: Vasalysa, with many undying thanks to Geek.

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

Thirty hours later, the insertion went perfectly and Silver worried. She hoped the majority of the Chigs had been pulled away to the conflict the 6th Fleet was initiating, but no Chig air patrols bothered her. With a silent curse, Silver told herself to concentrate on the mission at hand. The planet's dawn was only an hour in the past.

She tapped West on the shoulder. "Cue."

It took West a second to remember that meant to signal the Saratoga they were down and safe for the moment. He nodded and activated the radio long enough to say, "Where the deer and the antelope play."

Stepping outside the transport, Silver spotted the two Hammerheads parked nearby. Both Vansen and Hawkes were busy camouflaging their ships. She started pulling the camouflage tarp over the ISSAPC.

Ten minutes later, satisfied with the job, Silver gathered the 58th together. As they shrugged into their packs, she said, "All right. Just as I laid it down. No one shoots unless fired upon. Got it?"

Everyone nodded.

"Hawkes, Russell, take point. Finch, tail end Charlie. Let's move it."

"Where the deer and the antelope play."

McQueen heaved a sigh and felt a hand on his shoulder.

"They'll be fine and back before you know it." Ross spoke softly.

"Yes, sir," McQueen said bleakly. He was shaken slightly. "Sorry. I have a bad feeling, that something's going to go wrong."

"Get some sleep, McQueen."

"Yes, sir."

McQueen found it hard to concentrate on the various mission reports he had wanted to go over. His eyes kept closing of their own volition. Wryly, he noted to himself he really ought to just go to bed even if it was only 1500 hours. He tried to rise and discovered his body wouldn't move. His arms fell to his sides heavily.

'Damn, I've been drugged!' McQueen thought to himself, struggling to stay conscious.

When the hatch opened ten minutes later, McQueen lay sprawled in his chair, unconscious.

Jerking awake as an ammonia tablet was cracked under his nose, McQueen knew he was in trouble. He lay naked on the deck; his hands were bound tightly as were his elbows, pulling his shoulders painfully back. A slight movement of his feet informed him that some sort of binding secured his ankles. Even in the semi-lit conditions, he could make out ten individuals surrounding him. Two approached him and lifted him up onto his feet. He used the opportunity to discover he had about two and a half feet of reach with his feet, unfortunately not enough to seriously injure any one. He was left standing in the center of a circle of ill wishers.

A fist slammed into his lower back and McQueen gasped, but remained on his feet. The blows started in earnest. When knocked off his feet, sheer stubbornness and pride forced him to regain his feet. He refused to speak, to give them the satisfaction of hearing him plead for his life.

It became harder and harder for him to stand, taking longer each time. The deck beneath him was awash with his blood and vomit. And still he knew it wasn't enough for these men.

Then two of his assailants pinned his legs and started stomping on the artificial leg. Several times they landed on his knee and he choked on the screams the pain caused. When the false leg lay in several pieces, they released McQueen as if daring him to stand now. He struggled to his knees and waited.

The point came when McQueen could not longer gather the strength to get to his knees. Then came the part McQueen had prayed he would be unconscious for. He was propped up into position and held in place by two of the men. The first one used a slight amount of lubricant. McQueen closed his eyes, determined to swallow his screams for as long as possible. He hated to give his torturers any satisfaction.

The screams finally tore their way from McQueen and someone stuffed a rag in his mouth, tying a towel around his head to keep it in place, further muffling the sound. McQueen damned his own stubborn nature that refused to let him sink into oblivion.

A large river blocked the 58ths path, causing them to lose almost an hour just trying to find a way across. It took them another two hours of hiking through dense undergrowth and light forest to reach their objective, a hillside overlooking the POW compound. Settling down on the ground with a boulder to shield her, Silver used her binocs to survey the scene. Others did the same.

"Ah, hell, AIs," groaned Vansen.

"Told you there was a possibility." Silver spotted four AIs patrolling the far side and two on the near side. She could see some ten human bodies in various uniforms stretched out on cots just outside the doorway leading into the complex. Navy, Marine and Army uniforms were identifiable, despite the bad condition of most of the uniforms. A twelve-foot tall wire fence surrounded the side of the complex with only one gate in the middle.

A form stepped outside and immediately leaned over the nearest cot. Silver concentrated on the bent form. When it straightened, she gasped, recognizing the black hair, square jaw, rugged good looks. "An Adam! Thank God!"

"It's an AI! What's it doing to the POWs?" Vansen edged forward.

"Can it, Captain! The Adams are doctors," explained St. John.

"All the better to torture helpless humans," accused Vansen.

"Watch your mouth, Vansen." Silver's tone was sharp. "I haven't met an Adam yet that had accepted the damn Stranahan virus voluntarily. They are dedicated doctors. And the only Adam I know who was forced to accept the virus in order to save his human patients went mad between the conflict of the virus and his Hippocratic oath. That Adam down there is probably the only reason these POWs are still alive."

"How sure of this are you?" demanded Vansen.

"Enough to bet my life." Silver glanced around and settled her gaze on Hawkes. "I need a sharpshooter. Coming?"

Hawkes bit his lip, then nodded, not looking at Vansen.

As Hawkes followed Silver, he kept a careful lookout. He admitted to himself she was good at her job as he carefully stepped in her footsteps and forced himself to stay low.

Just as he spotted an AI patrol, she waved him down. It seemed like forever before the patrol had gone far enough that Silver thought it safe to continue.

"Damned AIs!" Vansen hunched her shoulders.

"Hey, Captain. Don't badmouth the Adam models."

Vansen stared at Finch. "Why the hell not?"

"You remember what we told you about Dicte?"

"Yeah. So?"

"While we were busy trying to find all the wounded, we ran across two guys trying to save our guys, human and tank." Finch settled back against the hillside. "They were Adams, one a M, that's like the one down there, and the other a J. Those are blond with different features. Neither of them had taken the virus. They had found our dead medics and were working to keep four men from bleeding to death. Turns out that the Adams had been dragged around by the other AIs because they could be used to keep any human prisoners alive."

"Right."

"Hey, just like you don't judge all humans or tanks the same, do the same for the AIs. There are several models out there that won't take the virus."

Vansen shrugged.

"All right. Just listen. We took the Adams back with us. Silver created cover stories for them. But the medical staff didn't care who they were. They needed capable medical personnel. We took one or the other Adam with us on missions. It kept our survival rate up. The M we called Adam and the J, well, Jay. Then about six months later, we had a run of really bad luck. Silver, Russell, two others, along with Jay, and me were caught by AIs. Black and Stone, they were badly wounded. We were all thrown in a cell together, but they left Jay with no medical supplies at all. He was doing his damnest to stop their internal bleeding, but everyone knew it was a lost cause without supplies. Then the Elroy and Felicity came in, with Jay's pack. They told him that they would give him the pack if he took the virus." Finch's eyes closed. "They put the supplies out on a table by the door. Jay stood there staring at the blood covering his hands for about five minutes. Then he looked up at Silver and said, I have to try.' She nodded and he went to the Elroy and took the virus module. These shudders went through Jay, his eyes closed, and he started jerking his arms. Then he went real still. All of a sudden, Jay dropped to his knees and threw back his head and screamed. There was so much anguish in his voice and it went on and on. Forever it seemed like." Her voice trailed away. Tears ran down her cheeks.

Russell took Finch in his arms. "Then he lurched to his feet and opened his eyes. Don't tell me how, but we could see the madness in them. He grabbed a scalpel and rushed the two AIs. He disabled the Elroy's modem in one slash and the Felicity's in another. But he couldn't stop at that. With his bare hands, he ripped them into pieces. Then he stood there, covered in oil and hydraulic fluid, staring down at them. He picked up the scalpel and looked at Silver. I don't dare touch them Silver. I can't help them now. The virus and my oath are ripping me apart. Tell Adam the virus makes us mad. He'll understand.' Before we knew what he was going to do, Jay plunged the scalpel into his modem. Then he took out his memory cores, one by one. Then he decapitated himself.

"So don't you dare judge an Adam."

"What happened to the other Adam?" asked ''Phousse.

"He stayed behind with wounded on a mission a year ago. Our CO, Major Dupre, took a Chig bolt to the back and head. He ordered Silver to bug out. Adam wouldn't leave him alone. We haven't heard hide nor hair of them since."

''Phousse sighed. "Must be hard."

"We lost two members of the 110th that day."

The path Silver took zigzagged down the hillside as she avoided traps and mines. She slithered on her belly the last twenty feet.

By this time, the Adam model was at his closest point inside the wire fence.

"Adam," whispered Silver before Hawkes knew what was happening.

Slowly, as if the AI were merely looking out at the scenery, he raised his head. The cross-haired eyes spotted the two humans even as voices came from the doorway. The Adam quickly looked down at his patient.

An Elroy-L model accompanied a Morgana-B model in strolling up behind Adam. "Well, well. Looks like doctor boy is still keeping the entertainment alive for us."

"Maybe we should reward it with the virus?" purred the Morgana, running long fingers down the Adam's arm. Long brunette hair slid down her bare arms.

The Adam rose and faced the two. "And maybe you should back off. You've killed five of my patients already. The Chigs specified that the prisoners were to be kept alive. Your interrogation techniques are obviously rusty."

"Maybe it's your doctor routines," snapped the Elroy.

"I can't keep them alive when there is so little to work with."

"Don't worry about them. The Chigs will have other things to worry about soon enough. Then you won't have any patients," announced the Morgana.

"Go fry yourselves," and the Adam pointedly turned away, returning his attention to the patient.

"Ah, and how is this patient? I have a special interest in him." The Elroy leaned over the Adam's shoulder. "How are you, Wang-boy?"

The only thing that kept Hawkes on the ground was Silver's hand on his neck, pinching.

"Jump in a lake," came a weak voice.

"So feisty still. Well, we'll see about that soon enough. I'm looking forward to renewing our acquaintance, Wang."

"Oh, joyful day," deadpanned the weak voice.

"Come on, Elroy. Let's go share our power packs."

Smirking, the Elroy turned to follow the Morgana.

Hawkes gathered himself to charge forward and received another pinch. Forcing himself to lie back down, Hawkes glanced at Silver. She was staring hard at the Adam, whose hands were shaping signs. Unbidden into his memory, Hawkes knew the language. It had been developed for deaf people before such injuries could be repaired. Then it had fallen into disuse, only to be resurrected as a military code.

"-Eight on patrol, six inside. Fifteen Chigs inside. Twenty-eight POWs. Hi Ho Silver." The Adam smiled.

Silver quickly signed back.

The Adam looked down at his patient as the two Marines started back up the hill. In a whisper, he said, "The 5-8 are here for you, Paul."

"About time," Paul Wang whispered.

Hawkes wanted to protest when Silver indicated that they return to the rest of the squadron, but he finally started moving. The trip back seemed to take ten times as long, but they finally reached the others.

Silver hunched down in the middle, speaking in a low voice. "Here's the situation-"

"Wang's alive!" Hawkes burst out with.

Closing her eyes for a second and shaking her head, Silver cocked her fist and slammed it into the side of Hawkes' head. The blow bowled him over and he scrambled to his feet, ready to fight.

"Don't you ever interrupt me again, lieutenant." Cold and hard, her voice little more than a whisper, "You obviously didn't get all of Adam's message, so shut the hell up." Looking back at the rest of the 58th, Silver said, still in a low voice, "Yes, Wang is there. Don't start celebrating yet."

"What's wrong?" demanded 'Phousse.

"Out of twenty-eight POWs, only seven can even walk. Wang is not among that number. He is in the large majority of badly injured. It has taken all of Adam's skill to keep Wang and the other twelve alive this long. He has run out of supplies, including painkillers."

"Let's go." West stood up, ready to attack.

"And we lose them all." Having their attention again, Silver started drawing on the ground. "Adam said that the POWs are kept in three rooms near this door. But there are always four AIs and six Chigs in the two rooms immediately on the other side of the door. The Chigs are afraid our wounded will just up and walk out. On both sides of the compound, there are four AIs in teams of two patrolling. Two AIs are in the radio room, five rooms in on the left from this door. The other nine Chigs are bunked down across from the radio room. Their weapons are with them. They will respond immediately to any threat. The radio AIs will immediately call for back up at the first sign of trouble. There's a Chig air base fifteen mikes flight away."

"So we have fifteen mikes to secure and get away with twenty-eight badly injured POWs?" West laughed hysterically. "No fucking way."

"Twenty."

"What about the other eight?" asked 'Phousse.

"Adam says they're basically dead already. Most of them have slipped into a coma-state. They'll be dead by nightfall, if not before."

"So, let's get them out of there."

"No, Hawkes. We have to wait three and a half hours. Adam will be taking these POWs back inside. He will secure the three rooms so that the other AIs and Chigs can not get in."

"So how are we getting in?"

Silver looked Vansen in the eyes. "You and West are going to fly the Hammerheads and strafe the air base. Lure as many of them out as you can and destroy them. Take out the base. Especially the communications tower. The rest of us will take out the guards here fifteen mikes after you hit the base. Then fly back and get the ISSCV. We fly out of here."

"It's suicide." West glowered.

"It's the only way. Otherwise we might as well leave now. There won't be a live POW left for us to rescue." Silver saw that Finch, St. John, and Russell were studying the crude drawing. "Yes?"

"The POWs will be situated where exactly?" Russell drew in four rough rooms, two on each side of a central corridor.

"The eight Adam thinks have the least chance of survival are here on the left, with an empty room between them and the guardroom."

Russell nodded. "And the radio room is two doors further on the left. All right, I'll take the left. St. John?"

"Right. Finch?"

"Right." Finch looked at Hawkes.

After a moment, Hawkes said, "Left."

Finch smiled. "Good. Russell always needs a dependable backup."

Russell chuckled.

"Hawkes!"

Hawkes looked at Vansen. "She's CO. If she says it's the only way to get Paul back, then I'm doing it, with or without you. 'Phousse, are you coming?"

After a pause, 'Phousse sighed. "Yes. I'll take right."

"That leaves left for me." Silver nodded. "Are you in or out, captains?"

"Any idea how many Chig fighters are at the base, ma'am?" asked West, scuffing his boot.

"Adam didn't know. He thinks at least ten."

"Great. I love five to one odds." West looked down at Vansen. "I can't do it alone."

"All right, but I still think it's a suicide mission."

"Let's synchronize, Three hours and forty-five mikes from now. Ready, ready, hack. Good luck on the trip back."

Once West and Vansen had started off, Silver asked for volunteers for guard duty. Russell and Hawkes both nodded. Silver settled down for a two-hour nap.

An hour to the dead line, Silver led the squadron on the slow descent down the hill. Successfully avoiding the two patrols, the squad was in place with fifteen minutes to wait.

Out of the sun screamed the two Hammerheads, rail guns blazing away.

"I've got the tower," announced Vansen.

"I've got the runway." Chig fighters exploded under West's shooting. "Pay back for Deimos."

With care, Hawkes cut the fence near the wall. A hole just big enough for him to get through would allow the others easy access. In a painful crouch, he advanced and waited on the right side of the door. St. John crouched opposite him. When Hawkes reached up and pulled a smart grenade down, St. John smiled and copied him. The others ranged behind them.

Counting the seconds, they both stood and kicked the door in. Smoothly, they yanked the pins on their grenades and tossed the grenades into the rooms opposite them before ducking back against the wall.

Hawkes felt the wall behind his back reverberate with the concussion. He held up a hand, fingers spread. One by one, he lowered them. None left, he and St. John crossed paths and entered the rooms they each had bombed, ready to shoot anything that moved. Nothing did.

Next Russell and Finch entered the corridor, working their way back to the radio room. Silver and 'Phousse stepped inside the corridor, keeping their eyes toward the outside, waiting for the patrols to react. Even as Hawkes and St. John moved up the corridor to support Russell and Finch, Silver and 'Phousse were engaged in a firefight with the AIs.

Russell tossed two grenades into the radio room and ducked back. Pieces of AIs flew out the open doorway.

Not to be outdone, Finch pulled the pins on three grenades and tossed them into the Chigs' barracks one after another. Crouching, she shut the door on a Chig charging her.

The blasts shook the door. Hawkes crouched beside her, M-590 ready. Behind him stood Russell while St. John stood behind Finch. After a five count, Finch opened the door. They saturated the room with bullets.

Shots hit the ground near Russell and Hawkes, coming through the door leading outside near them. With a curse, they fell back, firing.

"West, where are you? I've got two on my tail and I can't shake them!"

"Juke! Juke!" screamed West.

Obeying, Vansen wrenched her Hammerhead to the side. Debris from one of the Chig fighters peppered her ship. Lights started flashing. "Damn! Where's the other one?"

"Immelmann! You can take him."

As she pulled her craft into a steep climb, Vansen spotted West, chasing another Chig with two on his tail. "Juke! Juke!"

West's craft rolled to the side and the rearmost Chig's fire speared the fighter West had been chasing.

Swapping her Hammerhead end for end, Vansen dived back down on the fighter chasing her, cursing as she spotted another four Chig fighters headed into the furball.

The AIs dead on her side, Silver dragged herself back upright, hissing in pain. She managed a smile for 'Phousse. "Getting too old for this."

"Huh, I bet. You'll never be too old."

"Go see how the others are doing."

"Should be over with four of them shooting."

"Yeah, but that's twice as many targets on our side."

"Coop'll just stand there, daring them to hit him, too." 'Phousse grinned. "Be back."

Silver walked to the nearest door and leaned against it. "Adam. Hi Ho Silver."

The rich tenor voice responded, "Tonto no go to town."

Laughing, Silver managed, "I think it's over. Open up."

The door opened and the Adam stood before her. "It's about time you showed up, Lone Ranger."

"I was detained, Tonto."

"For a year?"

"Unfortunately. Is he still alive?"

Adam nodded. "But, Silver, he's one of the eight."

Silver closed her eyes briefly and nodded. "Got it. Where is he?"

Adam led her across the hall and unlocked the door. He entered first, intent on checking each patient. Right behind him, Silver stopped at the first cot. She crouched down. "Dupre."

"God, Silver, I thought I heard you out there." A weak voice belied the bright grey eyes buried in a scarred face. He managed to lift a hand to her face. "You finally came."

"It took a direct order from McIntyre to keep me from coming for you sooner."

"It's all right. They had everything useful from me by the end of the first week. It was just spite that caused them to continue working me over for the last year. I refused to die on them. Thanks to Adam."

Silver brushed the dark blond hair back from Dupre's face. "The 110th is gone, Dupre."

"How?"

"Chig fighter took out the landing bay. There are only four of us left."

"Let me guess. Finch, Russell and St. John." At her sad smile, the man stroked his thumb across her cheek. "I ordered you to leave me behind, Silver. You had to get the others out."

"I know."

"So who are you now?"

"The 58th."

"Ah, the Wildcards. They'll be happy to see their mate again, I guess."

"Yes."

"They're a good bunch. I talked with Wang a lot. Keep them alive, Silver. We'll need them in the future."

"Do my best."

"Did the colonists make it? Wang couldn't say."

"Yes, the 58th pulled it off."

"Good. It was a weight off our minds when we heard the colonists had been released. War is no place for civilians." With his other hand, Dupre reached under his tattered flight suit and pulled out his dog tags. He pulled them over his head and pressed them into her hand. "Take me home, Silver."

"Dupre-"

"I'm already dead, Silver. The others died while you were out there in the hall. It was only the fact I thought I heard you that kept me alive this long. Take us home. Adam has the other dog tags. Burn our bodies and take us home."

Silver nodded, wrapping the tags around her hand.

"That's a good girl. Say good-bye for me."

Holding tight to his hand pressed to her cheek, Silver closed her eyes as the tears rolled down her cheeks. She felt his lips on her other wrist.

Hawkes found her there, holding the hand of a dead man, slowly rocking back and forth. "Ma'am?" The sight of her tear-streaked face shocked him. "Ma'am?"

"Yes, Hawkes?" Silver struggled to speak calmly.

"All secured."

"Good. Find out if there are any incendiary explosives stored here. After you say hello to Lt. Wang."

"Yes, ma'am." Spinning around, Hawkes bellowed, "Paul! Where are you, man?"

"Hawkes, is that you? Mangy tank, get your ass in here."

"Compliments, Wanger? Hey, maybe I better just go home."

"Don't you dare!"

A cool hand fell on Silver's shoulder. "He wasn't suffering any pain at the end, Silver. His spine was severed so that he couldn't feel anything below the arms."

"Thanks, Adam."

"I collected their tags." Adam held out seven more sets of dog tags. "I'll get the others as well before we leave."

"I'm glad you stayed with him." She took the dog tags, shoving them into her pocket.

"We all have our duty, Silver."

"They never made a better AI than you, Adam."

"How many transports do you have?"

"One."

"Most of them have to stay flat, Silver."

"We'll deal with it, Adam. I'm not leaving any of them behind. First, though, our transport has to get here."

"58th Marines?"

"Yes."

"They'll be here."

Silver smiled sadly. Shaking herself briefly, she forced her mind back to the job at hand. "St. John, Finch."

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Find anything we can use to secure people to their cots. We have to accommodate thirteen people flat on their backs on the ISSCV. I know, sighed Finch, we don't have that much room. I'll work on it."

By the time the ISSCV landed half an hour later, Silver had an idea of what to do.

Vansen jumped out of the ISSCV as West landed his Hammerhead next to the transport. "I lost my Hammerhead, ma'am," she informed Silver as the colonel approached. "Too much damage. Not space worthy. I managed to make it back to the ISSCV, though."

"All right, you get to pilot the transport." As West approached, Silver said, "Now, why don't the two of you go see your friend?"

Silver watched their eyes light up and stepped to the side to let them pass. "Finch, Russell, St. John. Let's get busy."

Inside the transport, Silver shook her head. "Damn. It'll take us at least a couple of hours to make this work. Let's pray we have that much time. Finch, go get that lieutenant who can barely walk. Then activate the LIDAR and let him keep an eye on it while we work."

"Yes, ma'am."

Silver's plan called for securing the cots to the walls and the deck of the transport. In places, though, she feared they would have to stack the cots one over the other. But they couldn't be more than two tall. Adam had to be able to get to his patients. And the cots had to be secure enough to withstand the ISSAPC doing maneuvers while trying to evade Chig fighters.

Three hours later, they were able to start loading the wounded men and women.

McQueen could not be sure he was conscious. Trying to open his eyes didn't bring him any light. But the pain when he moved told him he was conscious and nearly made him black out again. Slowly, McQueen turned his head from side to side. There, a bit of light. He pushed himself toward it with his foot, blocking out the agony the movement shot through his throbbing, battered and broken body. How long the journey took, he never knew, but as he got closer to the light, McQueen saw something else to aim for. An unsecured hacksaw on a table edge. Having a goal in sight enabled McQueen to focus, to shut down the agony for a short time longer.

Using his foot, it took McQueen a despairingly long time to knock the hacksaw to the floor. Then with his mouth, he wedged it between some boxes under the table. Turning his back to the hacksaw, McQueen nearly blacked out again as he tried to move his arms, desperate to cut through the duct tape that held his elbows together. Blood flowed from new ragged cuts as he struggled to use the hacksaw. When his elbows finally fell free, McQueen screamed into his gag as his broken shoulder shifted. Darkness threatened, but he narrowed his world to only the task in hand.

The hacksaw cut his hands and wrists as he sawed slowly free. Another scream tore his throat raw when the tape released his blood slick hands and they hit the deck beside him. Removing the gag took an enormous bite out of his pitiful remnant of strength and he had to rest before the next step. Sobbing with the effort, McQueen dragged himself upright onto his knees with his good arm holding onto the workstation. It took him a long moment to be able to see well enough to find the intercom. Another eternity crawled past as he struggled to key in Ross' number.

"Ross, here."

"Glen...." whispered McQueen hoarsely.

"Ty? Where are you?"

"Be...low....decks."

"I'm on my way. Hold on, Ty."

The strength drained away from McQueen and he collapsed with a scream, which cut off abruptly, as his head hit the floor.

"McQueen!"

When the commodore finally found McQueen nearly two hours later, he stopped in shock. The pale bloody body lay sprawled in a pool of blood. Only the slow rise and fall of the caved in rib cage told him he wasn't too late. "Medic!" bellowed Ross.

The medic took one look and stated, "He's dead. No way he'll survive that."

Ross grabbed the medic by the collar and lifted him up so he could snarl in his face. "You will keep him alive, you bastard, or I'll tear you inside out and feed your entrails to you. Then I'll have your hide as a throw rug. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"He dies and so do you." Ross threw the medic toward the broken, bleeding body of his best friend. "Get to work."

Two hours into the flight, Vansen snarled, "Chigs, two o'clock. Strap in back there. Hawkes, scrag them."

"On it."

Five minutes later, Hawkes reported, "Chigs destroyed. How is everyone?"

"Alive. Thanks, Hawkes."

"Nothing to it, Shane."

Vansen listened through the open cockpit door as she heard Wang's voice.

"Adam, sing the Old Northern Shore."

As the rich tenor started to fill the transport, Vansen heard the weak voices take up the song.

"I miss ancient rock and wild fjord
Where my grandparents stood by the door
And sometimes at night I regret the sad day,
I sailed from the Old Northern shore

Oh some us left out of hardship
Starvation, misery and pain
And some of us left for adventure
To find greener pastures and gain
But all of us left our loved ones behind
Oh, our heartaches drill deep to the core
And those heartaches are always awakened each night
When we dream of the olde Northern shore

Praise God for the health of our children
Praise God for his kind loving grace
Praise God for the food on our table
When we die we shall see his kind face
Praise God for this land of great freedom
May there be no more bloodshed and war
Praise God that before I pass from this life
I'll lay eyes on the old Northern shore"

"In this case, it'll be the Saratoga," laughed Wang. "Oh, god, it's good to be going home."

"Saratoga, this is Queen of Hearts. We have twenty injured POWs. Thirteen severely injured. Please have medical teams standing by."

"Roger that, Queen of Hearts. Medics will be ready. Good to hear from you, 5-8."

As the ISSCV was moved into the landing bay, Silver looked at the squadron. "Wang goes last. Adam, stay with him. McQueen will need to hear your report on his condition."

"Yes, ma'am." Adam stood beside Wang's cot, monitoring his vitals.

When Silver stepped out of the transport before the medics rushed in and followed by the rest of the 58th, she saw the commodore and frowned when she did not see McQueen. She strode over to Ross. "What's wrong, sir?" she asked in a low, urgent voice. She could see that Ross had not slept well.

"Someone attacked McQueen. He's in Sickbay. They don't know if he'll make it." Ross looked at the rest of the squadron. "He's been unconscious since I found him. He managed to cut his way out of his bonds, but there's massive blood loss, broken bones, and internal injuries."

"Hawkes, West, find McQueen and stand guard over him. Keep your rifles. No one except the 5-8, the commodore and Adam are allowed in." Silver spotted Adam coming out. She raised her voice. "Adam, Wang and McQueen are YOUR patients. No one else's."

"I understand."

"Vansen, get a private medical room big enough for two. Move McQueen and Wang into it. Get Adam everything he asks for. And I mean everything. Finch, serve as Adam's nurse. 'Phousse, you're with me. Russell, St. John, stay ready in Medical. Expedite things for the others, hm?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Silver stared at the 58th. "What are you standing around here for? Move it!" She turned back to the commodore. "Where did you find him?"

"I'll take you there."

Ross filled Silver in with what little he knew. "McQueen stayed on the bridge until you checked in. Eight hours later, I was awakened by a call. It was McQueen, sounding weak and barely conscious. He tried to tell me where he was, but he lost consciousness. They had bound his hands and elbows behind his back, tightly. He used a hacksaw to cut himself free."

"Cutting himself in the process."

"Yes. Colonel, he's in really bad shape."

"Did they do what I imagine?"

Sparing 'Phousse a sad look, Ross said, "Yes. They beat him, raped him and beat him again. I think they figured he would die."

"If he weren't so stubborn, he would have."

At the cleaned isolated workstation, Silver took a quick look around. She didn't expect to find anything, but she intended to return with at least one person in the near future. "All right. I've seen what I need to."

"Colonel, what can I do to help?"

Silver heard the pain in his voice. "Being his friend is a great help. On the practical side, I need Adam transferred over as a member of the 58th. I intend to keep him."

"He looked to be in fine shape."

"He should; he's an AI."

Ross looked surprised for a moment. "He's an Adam model? The super doctor?"

"Yes."

"A helluva find."

"He used to be a member of the 110th until we were forced to leave him and our badly injured CO. He's the reason those POWs are alive."

"Consider him transferred. I'll find all the relevant paperwork."

"Thanks, commodore. Now, let's go see McQueen."

"You won't like what you see."

"I know, but I need to see him."

They made their swift way to Medical and found Adam ensconced in a large private two patient room. Equipment was hooked up to both unconscious men. When Silver glanced over at Wang, Adam said, "I needed to sedate him. He was getting too agitated by the sight of the colonel."

"You know about McQueen?"

"Everything. I've downloaded his medical history and his personnel file. I have all the information I need."

"Good. I need you to bring him around for a couple of minutes."

Adam studied her for several seconds. "I don't know if I can, Silver."

"Try. I want to know who did this."

"I should have known. I'll do my best."

Adam started lightly slapping McQueen. He spoke in a low, quiet voice designed to penetrate the pain engulfing his patient. "Colonel, wake up. You need to report." His slaps became harder.

'Phousse and Ross started forward, but Silver held them back. "He knows what he's doing. He's got McQueen's psychological profile and intimate knowledge of Invitroes."

"Colonel, the 58 are back. Wang is back. You must report." Adam slapped McQueen hard repeating the three sentences. Slap. Repeat. Slap. Repeat.

With a gasp, McQueen jerked awake. "Wang!" he called out in a raw, torn voice.

"He's in the bed beside you."

"Who are you?" Voice dropping to a whisper, McQueen glared at Adam.

"Adam. I am your doctor. Special order by Silver."

"How did he survive?"

"Later."

"How!" The rasping hoarseness sent winces through the listeners.

"There was another fighter behind the one that hit Wang's cargo unit. When Wang was thrown into space, he hit the fighter and was taken in by the craft. The pilot brought him to the camp."

"Thank god." McQueen's voice lost what little strength it had.

Silver stepped up. "McQueen, I need to know who did this."

She leaned over when he whispered. Listening to him, Silver's jaw tightened. She stood up, fighting her anger. "McQueen, listen. I brought them all home safe. The 58th is safe and guarding you. Let Adam work on you. He knows what he is doing. He was the medic for the 110th. Trust him."

McQueen nodded slightly, unable to stay conscious any longer.

"Everyone out."

Silver nodded to Adam.

Outside the room, Silver spoke to the anxious 58th. "All right, McQueen's in the best possible hands. I want around the clock coverage of this room. I want three of you here at all times; two to guard, the third to fetch whatever Adam needs. Got it?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"I'll be back."

"Ma'am, did he say who did this?"

"He couldn't say for certain. But there were ten of them."

"Damn." Vansen sagged against the wall. "Why did they do it?"

"Because he's a tank," stated Hawkes dully.

"Yes. And if they find out he's still alive, they'll come to finish him off. So stay alert."

It took Silver three hours to track down and isolate the name McQueen had given her. She dragged him down to the workroom where McQueen had been violated, and administered a drug known as Free Speaker, an inhibitor reducer, hooking him up to a lie detector. The screen displaying the enlarged view of the man's eye stood behind the bound man and a video camera was set up to record the proceedings.

Silver brought the recorded disc to Ross. "Sir, you might want to look at this. It is in regards to the attack on Col. McQueen."

"How did you-"

"Your questions will be answered on the disc, sir. I'm going to Medical to check on McQueen and Wang."

McQueen had regained consciousness, but was incredibly weak, when Ross brought the disk down to Medical and insisted that he and Silver view it. Adam left the room, having sedated Wang. The disc started, showing Marine Major Danson bound in a chair.

"Let me go!"

"Is your name and rank Major Roger Danson?" Silver's voice was cool, impersonal.

"Yes. Release me. You have no right to do this."

"You are currently stationed aboard the USS Saratoga?"

"I'm not answering your questions."

Menace entered Silver's voice. "You will answer my questions, Major Danson, or I will do more than administer Free Speaker. I will start enacting what you did in this room earlier. And I promise you, I will do a far better job of it than you did. Do I make myself clear?"

Danson paled. "Yes."

"You are currently stationed aboard the USS Saratoga?"

"Yes."

"Do you hate Invitroes?"

"Yes. Damn things don't belong with humans. They're just slaves."

"Have you ever killed Invitroes in cold blood?"

Danson clamped his mouth shut.

"Answer me, Major." Silver placed her hand on Danson's shoulder and squeezed, her fingers digging into his flesh.

"Yes." Fear flashed across Danson's face, followed by resignation.

"Did you mastermind the attack on Col. McQueen?"

"That creature is masquerading as a colonel."

"Did you mastermind the attack on the Marine known as Lt. Col. McQueen?"

"Yes."

"How many people were involved?'

"Me and nine others got together to teach that thing its place."

"How did you do it?"

"Vented knockout gas into its room. Dragged it down here. We knew the crew wouldn't be back until the next day."

"What did you do then?"

"We beat that damned thing. We beat it and beat it. But he kept getting up, kept struggling to stand before us, until we broke that fake leg; A waste of good equipment, using it on a thing like him. He still struggled, but he couldn't get up any more."

"And then?"

"We fucked it. That's what they're for, isn't it? Fucking. We fucked it until we couldn't any more. Then we beat it some more and left it. It should have died."

"Do you admire that fact that McQueen kept getting up? That he kept struggling to face you? That he continued to fight you?"

"No!"

"Ah, but look at the indicator, Danson. It says you're lying."

"No! It's a thing. I can't admire that thing!"

"The indicator doesn't lie, Danson. You know that. It is incapable of indicating anything other than the truth. And the truth is, Danson, that you admire McQueen. You admire him because, despite ten to one odds, he kept fighting, he kept proving himself worthy of the title he holds, he kept proving that he was a better man than you. Isn't that so?"

"No!"

"You're still lying."

"No!"

"Why don't you admit that you beat and raped a better man than yourself? That you did it because you couldn't stand the thought that he was better than you will ever be? That you did it for the simple pleasure of knowing that you could, to prove that you could do whatever you wanted to a better man? To prove that you could destroy a man whose only fault was that he held himself to higher standards than you did yourself."

"No!"

"Danson, did you enjoy what you did to McQueen?"

"Yes!"

"Explain yourself."

"It was delightful to feel his hard, smooth body in my hands, to feel him jerk and shudder as I forced my way into him. To know there was nothing he could do to stop me from fucking his gorgeous body. And the blood, the sight of it as my knuckles broke his perfect skin made my heart beat faster. It tasted delicious. And it felt wonderful to know there was nothing he could do to me in return."

"So you resented the fact he was better than you?"

"Yes! No! Damn you!"

"Do you admire the fact he kept fighting you?"

"Yes! No! Stop putting words in my mouth!"

"I merely asked you a question. You answered it. The machine merely verified the veracity of the first answer to both of the last questions. Tell me, Danson, did you fantasize about McQueen? Perhaps having him in your bed?"

"Yes!"

"So, you partially acted out your fantasy?"

"Yes."

"Did you enjoy watching the others beating and raping McQueen?"

"Yes. To see him beaten, and unable to keep them away, to see them forcing him to submit. I loved it."

"And yet, you admire him for fighting you."

"Yes. Sweat covered his body. He would stand there, swaying, barely able to stand. And that arrogant, superior tilt to his head, that said he'd keep on getting up until he couldn't, that we would have to beat him and beat him before he would surrender. And he never really did surrender. He kept trying to fight us even when we fucked him. It wasn't until we beat him into unconsciousness that he stopped fighting."

"He responded as you would wish you could have."

Danson slumped in the chair. "Yes."

"He acted as a Marine should."

"Yes."

"And you did not."

"Yes."

"Did I do anything to you besides knock you down, drag you down here, tie you to that chair and inject you with Free Speaker?"

"No."

"Who accompanied you on your escapade?"

Ross turned the volume down. "They're in custody already. Silver, how could you manage such a detached manner?"

"Intelligence training, sir. You don't learn what you want to know if they're dead. And I very much wanted what he knew."

"I sincerely hope I never give you cause to come after me." Ross turned to McQueen. "Did he give an accurate portrayal of what happened to you?"

"Yes," he whispered, eyes closed as he turned his head away.

"Why didn't you say so?"

McQueen's voice grated on his friend's ears. "Because it was my word against his. And he could have any of the others back him up in some sort of alibi. And there was no way to prove it was against my will."

"You don't get injuries like yours when its of your free will, McQueen."

"Sir, juries have found against defendants like McQueen. They decide that the victim must have wanted it to happen."

"But any one can see-"

"They have to want to see it, sir." Silver smiled sadly. "I know all about it, sir. That's why I did this. A test of Danson's blood will show that indeed the only drug I administered was in fact Free Speaker."

"So you want me to turn this over to JAG?"

"Actually, no, sir." Silver glanced over at McQueen. "We have another major offensive coming up. Keep them in the brig and then send them in the first wave. They may as well die doing something for us."

"And spare us the time and cost of a trial," growled McQueen before he started coughing.

Silver brought McQueen a glass of water.

"McQueen, do you agree to this? We're being judge, jury and executioner."

"Yes."

"Under martial law, it is in your jurisdiction to do that. You have been given the evidence, sir. It is up to you what you do with it." Silver eased McQueen's head down.

When Silver finally left McQueen and Wang, she told the 58th that the culprits had been apprehended and would be punished accordingly. And that no, they would not be informed as to who had done the vicious deed.

The squadron was angry, but also relieved that they no longer had to guard McQueen and instead could actually spend a few minutes with him.

Silver went to her quarters. There she found a message waiting for her from her family. Several published medical papers were included as was the simple message, Ready for the candidate.'

Silver gathered together the 58th, getting them in their barracks, merely saying that it harkened back to her first night on the Toga.

"You've heard?" asked West.

"Yes. And it is positive. They're ready for him."

"Then what are you waiting for?" Hawkes looked angry.

"He's in no shape for the trip to Earth."

"Shit."

"I have an idea that I need to talk to the commodore about. If he ok's it, I'll let you in on it. Now, don't tell McQueen. I have to find out a few things from him first. Got it?"

"Yes. We won't tell." Vansen glared at Hawkes.

"What are you looking at me for?"

"Cause you can't keep a secret, Hawkes," laughed 'Phousse.

"I'll keep this one."

"Good."

McQueen was sleeping when Silver arrived in Medical. Adam worked on removing the remnants of the artificial leg. She talked quietly with Wang for half an hour, listening to him tell of his experiences as a POW.

"Is the colonel going to be all right?"

"Yes."

Adam looked up. "Silver, I've removed as much of the artificial leg as I can. What are the plans for his recovery?"

"Hopefully, back on Earth. Look, I need you to read some medical papers my father sent. Tell me if you think the POWs we brought back would benefit." Silver handed a print out of the papers to Adam.

McQueen woke up and saw Adam flipping through papers rapidly.

Silver waited patiently as Adam finished and stood perfectly still.

"I compute that the POWs would benefit from forty percent to one hundred percent from the procedures. Including Wang, here. Any chance of mobility is better than none, in my opinion."

"An AI?" McQueen stared shocked, his voice nearly normal.

"Sir, I am an Adam M model, number 539, programmed as a doctor. I have not been exposed to the Stranahan virus. To do so is to die. I prefer to live and serve as programmed."

"Colonel, Adam here kept us all alive. If it hadn't been for Adam, I wouldn't be alive." Wang struggled to raise himself on an elbow. "He's all right, sir. He even helped me to deal with the Elroy that was in the camp."

McQueen bit back his reaction, especially when he saw Silver pat the Adam on the arm.

"Can you explain the procedures to the other POWs in English, Adam? See how many are interested in trying it."

"Yes, ma'am."

As Adam turned to leave, McQueen saw the patch on the AI's clean uniform. The 58th, the Wildcards.

"He's a member of the squad?"

Silver sat down beside McQueen. "Yes. He was the medic for the 110th. He stayed behind when our CO was badly injured on a mission. They were both transferred to this camp before Wang."

"Where is this CO?"

"He died in my arms once we had secured the camp."

The pain in her voice penetrated McQueen's sense of shock. "I'm sorry."

"He was a good man. He deserved better. But even if I had gotten to him sooner, he would not have survived for long."

"Silver, this AI-"

Silver stared at her hands. "His name is Adam. He can't accept the virus, literally. There were two Adams with the 110th. One we called Jay, since he was a J edition. He was captured with several others and me. Lt.'s Black and Stone were badly injured. Jay's medical kit had been confiscated by the AIs and he was desperately trying to keep them alive. An Elroy and Felicity came in and offered a bargain. If Jay took the virus, they would give him the medical supplies. He took the bargain and the virus. It drove him mad. He destroyed the Elroy and Felicity. Literally ripped them into pieces. He told me that he didn't dare touch Black and Stone; that he would not be able to keep from killing them. Then he drove a scalpel into his modem and memory cores before decapitating himself." Her eyes shone with unshed tears.

McQueen stared at her for several seconds before closing his eyes at such self-sacrifice. "Do the others know what he is?"

"Yes. They're a little testy around him, but it's only natural. I asked Commodore Ross to transfer him to the 58th."

Looking at her, McQueen said quietly, "We could use a permanent medic."

Silver nodded quickly. "There's something I need to talk to you about."

"Besides adding an AI to my squadron?"

"Yes." Silver took a deep breath. "There's another procedure among the ones that my father sent. It concerns you."

"Me?" McQueen instantly became wary.

"Will you wait until I've explained before you turn into a porcupine?"

McQueen couldn't maintain a stony face when Wang suddenly burst out laughing.

"A porcupine? Oh, yeah, that's him!"

"There, see what you've done to my reputation?" McQueen failed to keep a smile from his lips as he waved at the laughing Paul.

"You'll survive." Silver stood up and paced. "Look, my father has been involved in trying to spur human regeneration of missing limbs and organs. Fifteen years ago, he realized that it wasn't going to happen with humans for the most part. But that Invitroes just might be able to, if properly prepared. He sent me word that his latest experiments on volunteer Invitroes have been one hundred percent successful. No mishaps, no rejections."

"What kind of volunteers?"

"Colonel, my family has always treated Invitroes like the people they are. Over a thousand of them have been bought over the years and they work with us at current so-called human wages. My family is very wealthy, as you might gather. My father's interest is his own. Accidents do happen and the volunteers came from within our own ranks. They trust us." Her back was ramrod straight.

"I'm doing it again, aren't I?" McQueen sighed. "I am sorry, Silver. I don't mean to anger you. It's just I-"

"Have a very difficult time believing someone might really want to help. No strings attached."

"Yes."

"You must be hurt. You actually admitted it."

"Could be." McQueen felt rewarded when she gave him a soft smile. "All right. What does this procedure you want to subject me to entail?"

"After getting you back to Earth, you would be installed at my father's medical center. He needs to run some preliminary tests on you before getting started. In addition, he wants to see what kind of damage has been done to your inner ear. Then comes the part I know you won't like."

"Can't be worse than what those butchers did to me getting me ready for the damn leg. And after."

"You have to go back into a tank. Conscious."

Alarms started going off on McQueen's monitors. Adam hurried in, took one look, shut down the alarms and wisely left without a word.

Through a clenched jaw, McQueen managed, "I was wrong. It can be worse." He looked away. "How long?'

"Four days at a time. A day out for tests, then back in. Thirty five days total."

McQueen swallowed hard. "Twenty-eight days in a tank." His voice trembled. "Conscious."

"It will heal all your current injuries plus regenerate your leg and fix your inner ear."

"Twenty-eight days." McQueen closed his eyes. "Will it work?"

"Yes."

"And afterward? Then what?" He looked at Silver, letting her see his fear.

"A month of physical therapy. At the end of which, you pass your qualifications tests and return to full active duty. As a pilot and a grunt. A full CO again."

"Really, Colonel Silver?" Wang could not help smiling. "That would be great! It would help a lot knowing that he was back here with the others."

Silver smiled at Wang. "The procedure that Adam is explaining to the other POWs is out of the research my father did on the Invitroes. He found a way to cause partial regeneration in non-engineered humans."

"Like me?"

"Yes."

"OOH-RAH! Lead me to it. I'll even live in a tank for a month. I've been stuck on my back, helpless for over four months. I'm sick of it. I want to walk."

"There's no guarantee how much mobility you'll regain."

"Like Adam said, I'll settle for just being able to get up and ooze somewhere. Sign me up!" Wang glanced at McQueen. "What about you, sir? I know the idea of a tank is hard for you. I've seen how Hawkes reacts to tight places. Will you come with me? Let me help you through it?"

Before he could back out, McQueen said, "Yes."

"OOH-RAH!"

"What's going on in here?" Vansen had opened the door. Hawkes, 'Phousse and West were behind her.

"The colonel and I are going to Earth together."

Adam slipped in between the suddenly exhilarated squadron members. He checked Wang's vitals. "I take it, Colonel, that you've informed him of the program?"

"The idea. Not the full disclosure. That I leave to you."

"Always leaving me the hard tasks." Adam smiled at her gently. "Have you slept at all, Silver?"

"What's sleep?"

"Silver, you know the drill. You've been through it enough times. Go sleep."

"Soon. There's one thing left for me to do before I can sleep. Then I will. I promise."

"I'll hold you to it. And of the ones I've talked to, they've all agreed to try the program."

"Thanks, Adam. Let me know when you've talked to them all."

Adam nodded and watched her leave. "Hasn't changed a bit in the last year."

McQueen looked at Adam. "You really were the 110th's medic?"

"Yes, sir. I've been on six hundred and twelve combat drops."

"Six hundred and twelve?" Hawkes' jaw dropped. "Hell, I've only been on a hundred."

"I have five years of combat service on you, lieutenant."

"Call me Hawkes."

"Very well, Hawkes."

"Did you fight?"

"Yes, though I am a doctor, I have defended my patients against both humans and the Chigs."

"What about the AIs?" asked Vansen.

"I've done what I can to protect my patients, captain. But I cannot risk contracting the virus. Or else I'll be utterly useless to those same patients. Humans and the Chigs I could at least reason with to a degree. Both preferred the prisoners to be alive while my so-called fellow AIs delighted in trying to kill my patients. I did not enjoy my time as a prisoner."

"But you are an AI."

"Captain," Adam sighed in defeat. "Forget it. I do not have the inclination or the energy to try and change your view of me. What was done to you in the past is your problem, not mine. I live to serve, not to harm." Adam turned his back on Vansen. "Colonel, in five minutes, I need to put you under for another procedure."

"Yes, doctor."

Adam left the room.

"Ah, hell, Shane, you hurt his feelings." Wang struck his fist against the head board. "He isn't like the others. Adam is a good guy. I used to listen to him at night, when he thought we were all asleep. He'd sit there, talking softly to himself, wondering how much longer he could keep going. Every death was personal. He sat beside them, talking to them, singing to them, letting them know they weren't alone. Each one tore at him. Every night after someone died, it was the same. He would recite the names of every man and woman he had lost the battle for. A litany of names and he would wish he could ask forgiveness. And every time he came back to, it was his duty to keep us alive in case someone came for us." Swallowing hard, Wang said, "And he was so overjoyed that we were finally going to be rescued." Tears ran down Wang's cheeks. "We were damned lucky to have him and all you can do is treat him like dirt. You're no better than the scum who attacked the colonel."

Vansen went pale at the vehement statement. "Paul-"

"Go away, Shane. I don't want to see you treat my friend like that." Wang turned his head.

"Paul-"

Gently, West took Vansen's arm. "I think he means it. Look, it's almost time for Adam to come back to work on the colonel. Let's go. See you later, Paul."

"Bye, Nathan."

"Get better, Paul. I'll stop by later." Hawkes followed West and Vansen out.

'Phousse leaned over and gave Wang a kiss. "It's good to see you, Paul."

"And you, Vanessa." Wang caressed her cheek. "I'm glad you're alive."

She smiled. "And I about you. Don't scare me like that again, all right?"

"Sure. Next time, I'll ask the Chigs nicely not to blow me up."

'Phousse brushed the hair back from his face. "Think Adam would let me stay if I promise to be quiet?"

"Yes," stated Adam, entering. He picked up a syringe and injected a drug into McQueen's IV bag. "Go to sleep, colonel."

"Yes, doctor."

Silver stood outside Commodore Ross' quarters. After a deep breath, she knocked.

"Who's at my hatch?"

"Colonel Silver, sir."

"Come." Ross looked up at Silver. "At ease."

"Sir, I need to ask you for a favor. It's about a problem I have."

"Speak."

"There is a program on Earth that will make McQueen a whole man, completely healed, leg and ear included. The same program has the ability to give the POWs better medical care than the VA can."

"And why is this a problem?"

"It is a private organization. The Silver Hart Foundation."

"A prestigious medical foundation."

"Yes. My father is the current head of research and director and let's just say, he runs the place, with my mother's help."

Ross nodded. "Have you spoken to McQueen?"

"Yes. He is willing to undergo the program."

"And the POWs?"

"Those that have been asked are willing as well."

"You are figuring that the military will baulk at giving the best care possible to our people?"

"For free, no. It's actually AeroTech I'm worried about. They won't want this to get out and they'll want to get their hands on the colonel again."

"And keep him out of the war as an active participant. Yes, I see. So what's the favor?"

"I would like to arrange transport of the POWs and the colonel on the same vessel. With the 58th as pilots and guardians for the trip."

"That's asking a lot. But..." Ross leaned back in his chair. "The Toga will be out of action for another three weeks finishing repairs. We are far enough back from the front line that we shouldn't see any action. Do you have a vessel in mind?"

"Yes. It should be arriving in thirty-six hours. The Trojan Horse." When Ross gave her an intrigued look, she said, "My brother's private armored yacht. It has a bay large enough to accommodate three Hammerheads and an ISSAPC."

"Pretty big yacht."

"The family hates to do things in a small way."

"So you're related to those Silvers."

"Afraid so."

"What did they say when you enlisted?"

"Once they found out, they just shrugged and said, it figures."

"Not particularly close."

"Closer now than we used to be. They've been letting me know how progress on the programs has been. When we got back from the mission, there was a letter telling me that the latest tests have been successful and that my brother was on his way."

"Convenient."

"They don't listen to anyone else, including AeroTech."

"I guess not. All right. Make the arrangements. Let me know everything. And put the 58th down for forty-eight hours leave when they get to Earth."

"Thank you, sir."

"Just get him back to me in one piece."

"Yes, sir."

Ross stared at the hatch once it had closed behind Silver. The woman intrigued him and it was not sexually. But he had seen the look in her eyes when she thought no one was watching her. If McQueen was in the room, invariably she was studying him, drinking in the sight of him. A powerful attraction on her part. So far, he did not think she had acted on it and he approved of the restraint. He knew McQueen well and a woman chasing him openly would turn him off fast. Ann had quickly snared McQueen despite Ross' warnings to take some extra time and really get to know one another. The divorce had shattered McQueen's already poor self-esteem and the highly addictive Green Meanies that McQueen had turned to had nearly destroyed the man.

He remembered the fierce battle to break him of the Green Meanie habit. Seventy-two hours of sheer hell as McQueen relived the horrendous events of his life and he had stayed by his friend's side the entire time, talking, trying to keep him anchored to the world outside his hallucinations. His voice had kept McQueen calmer than the doctors had anticipated and that had scared him. McQueen had tried to attack him more times than he could remember.

Ross closed his eyes as the memory of the one time he had taken an hour's break. McQueen had been calm for nearly an hour and the doctor had recommended that he take a break and get out of the room for thirty minutes or so. He had returned to McQueen's room to find him in restraints, battling fiercely, screaming, desperate to escape. He had yelled for the doctor and with the appalled doctor had risked serious injury freeing him. Instantly on release, he had curled up into a ball, jerking at imaginary blows. It turned out that an orderly, from another section, had looked into the room, searching for the doctor and McQueen had attacked the man, nearly killing him. Another doctor just coming on duty and unfamiliar with McQueen's case had ordered the restraints. It had taken nearly six hours before McQueen recognized him again as something other than a hallucination.

Another forty-eight hours had gone by before McQueen's system was completely cleansed of the drug, subjecting him to fierce bouts of paranoia. Those had been hard to take as well. Even knowing that McQueen was not truly responsible for the cruel words had not helped.

Afterward, McQueen had apologized profusely, for him, and treated him to dinner. Never again did McQueen turn to drugs to ease his pain.

He did not think that Silver intended to hurt McQueen. Something told him she was serious and obviously up to the challenge of taking on an Invitro as a lover. The slurs and racial remarks would find little purchase on her tough skin. If Ann had been made of sterner stuff, like Silver, the marriage might have survived.

Silver would be filling in for McQueen and he intended to get to know her better.

Silver grabbed eight hours of sleep before searching out the squadron. She found them in the medical wing in with McQueen and Wang. When informed of the decision, the 58th were ecstatic.

To one side, Silver spoke with Adam. "Make sure you get everything you think you'll need for the trip. Jake'll be here in roughly thirty hours."

"I'll have everything together."

"Good." Silver stayed near the wall, watching as the younger members of the squad waxed enthusiastically about going to see their families. West told Hawkes that he was coming with him, no questions, and no protests.

McQueen realized she was gone some time later. He asked Adam quietly when she had gone.

"Fifteen minutes ago."

"Why?"

"Why do you think?"

McQueen saw that Russell, Finch and St. John were not there as well. "They don't feel part of us. Damn."

"See, you can be observant, when you choose to be."

Swallowing a retort, McQueen asked, "Where did they go?"

Adam shrugged. "I don't know. Somewhere quiet, private. I suspect they're grieving. Major Dupre was well liked. To get so close to rescuing him only to lose him at the end... It's hard."

"Yes." McQueen reached out and voluntarily touched the AI with his good arm. "Adam, thank you for all you did for Wang."

"I did my duty, sir."

"Still, thank you."

"You're welcome."

Settling back, McQueen drifted off to sleep listening to his kids talking excitedly.

When McQueen woke next, he knew it was night on the Saratoga. The lights had been dimmed. At his bedside, McQueen saw a still form. "Silver."

"Didn't mean to wake you."

"Where did you go?"

"Many places."

"Do you feel better?"

"Not really. It'll take time. I knew he was most likely dead, but to have him die in my arms..." Silver sighed deeply. "He was a good man who led us well. He never treated the Invitroes as any one different."

"Rare."

"Indeed."

McQueen tried to reach for her, but she was too far away and he hissed in pain. "Damn Danson!"

"You need to rest and heal."

"I need you to help me."

"How?"

"Ease the headache. Like you did before. Please. I want to stay away from drugs as much as possible. Your touch has never hurt."

"Very well." Silver spent fifteen minutes gently working his head and neck, taking care to avoid the worst of the bruises. She felt him sigh with relief.

"Thank you. That's better than medication." He shifted and winced as his broken shoulder protested. "Damn, I can't stay comfortable."

"Understandable. You nearly died before the commodore found you. And you died twice on the table. Only Ross' threats kept them working on you."

"He's been a good friend. I don't deserve him."

"That's defeatist thinking, McQueen. It is your part to accept his friendship as it is offered, no strings attached, no attempts to analyze why. Just accept it and return it."

"I try to."

"That's why you called him. Deep down you knew you could trust him to find you."

"Yes. Silver, will you be there for me?"

"For as long as you need me."

"Thank you." McQueen hesitated then asked, "Silver, did the 58th know about what you had in mind for me?"

"Yes. I told them the first night. But I told them that I had to wait until you trusted me enough not to smash me through a bulkhead before I finished explaining. And since then, they've been suspicious of my motives."

"Suspicious?"

"Yes. And I think a bit jealous. This isn't going to help you, McQueen. Go to sleep."

After a quick and uneventful trip to Earth, Silver stayed with Wang and McQueen as they settled in and endured testing for two days. She was present when they both were placed in tanks.

McQueen shook his head violently as he sat on the lip of the tank, nearly dislodging the head set that would allow him to hear people outside the tank.

"Calm down," stated one of the nurses beside him.

"I can't do this!" McQueen started to shove away.

"Stop it!"

Silver's voice cut through the panic and he sobbed softly, chest hurting.

"Everyone back off." Silver waited until she was alone with McQueen. "All right. We'll take this slow. Look at me."

The sheer terror in his eyes reached her. With a sigh, she rested his head on her shoulder. "Easy. Relax." Silver started to massage his good shoulder. "Listen to me. Do you want to fly?"

"Yes!" The longing he felt filled his voice.

"Then you must go in the tank. Keep focused on the goal. Take it one minute at a time, then one hour, then one day. You can do this. It is not only for yourself, but also for your kids. They want you back. Don't disappoint them."

McQueen looked up into her eyes. "You'll take care of them?"

"Yes. And I'll have Adam to keep them healthy."

On an impulse, McQueen reached up with his good arm and pulled her head down. He kissed her deeply. "God, I'm terrified," he whispered into her ear.

"I know," she whispered back, rubbing her thumb caressingly over his pounding pulse.

"Hold my hand?" He allowed himself to ask a child's request.

"Yes." Her smile was gentle. She took his good hand and helped him shift slightly so he could just slip off the edge. "Do it."

He took a deep breath and let himself go. As the thick liquid closed over his head, McQueen started to panic, but he realized she was still holding his hand. He forced himself to breathe in the liquid and his body remembered the slow rhythm it had used for half his life. Glancing up, McQueen saw he had nearly dragged Silver in with him. Mouthing, 'thank you,' he released his hold on her hand.

The tank started to rise as the top was closed and Silver quickly moved down to the floor. She grabbed a headset and put it on. "Can you hear me all right?"

McQueen nodded.

"Will you be ok for a few minutes? They're ready to put Paul in."

Swallowing, McQueen nodded again.

"I'll be back as soon as he's in." She switched over to the second frequency.

Wang was carried in and held above the other tank. He saw McQueen and smiled gleefully. Even though he only had the full use of one arm, Wang threw his head back and cried, "OOH-RAAH!" and pushed himself into the tank. He plunged to the bottom, bounced and floated up to the middle.

"Take a couple of deep breaths, Paul." Silver looked up at the young Asian man, seeing the red angry scars he had accumulated over the last four months.

Grinning, Wang gave her a thumbs up and breathed in the liquid.

The other's enthusiasm embarrassed and shamed McQueen.

"Paul, I'm turning you over to the lovely Jennie now." Silver changed back to McQueen's frequency and spoke softly as she returned. "Don't you dare be embarrassed or ashamed, Tyrus Cassius McQueen. It is a legitimate fear, based deep in your subconscious. This is a good way for you to face it and control it." Placing her hand on the glass wall, Silver looked at McQueen. "Next time, you'll have to do it on your own. Or accept Paul's help."

McQueen curled into a loose fetal position.

"Don't you cop out on me, McQueen. I've arranged for my daughter to come in and read to you every day. What do you want her to read for you?"

Uncurling, McQueen moved over to the keyboard set into the side of the tank for him to use to communicate with. Slowly, laboriously, he typed out with one hand, The Lord of the Rings.

"Got you hooked, didn't I?"

McQueen nodded.

"Good. You should finish it by the time the first month is out. And if you ask Cassie nicely, she might even bring some of her music."

Silver enjoyed the chance to introduce both men to her daughter. Cassie was blonde and hazel eyed, nearly as tall as her mother and already tough. Talking about the newest Hammerhead designs, Cassie obviously intended to follow her mother's footsteps. Her body, still growing and filling out, was wiry and nimble even in the jeans and short sleeve shirt she wore.

Head set on, Cassie greeted Paul enthusiastically, discussed his time as a POW gravely, and promised to bring a selection of music on her next visit. Her bouncing in place caused her ponytail to swing about, sweeping her waist with the ends of her hair.

She turned to face McQueen and he saw her eyes narrow slightly as she studied him on her approach. He knew she could see the still livid bruises, the splints, and the stitches holding him together. The anger in her intelligent eyes startled him.

"I hope the bastards responsible paid." Her voice held traces of the anger she felt.

"They're dead, Cassie." Silver rested her hands on the slim shoulders.

"Good. I hope they died slowly."

"I don't know, Cassie. But we made their deaths gain us something."

"I'd resurrect them and kill them again for what they did." Cassie stared intently at him for a moment longer before shaking herself. "I'm forgetting my manners. Hello. My name is Cassie. You already know my mom. And I know who you are."

McQueen typed. "Obviously."

"Oh, a man with wit." She grinned, taking the sting from the words. Glancing up at Silver, Cassie said, "Mom, you certainly know how to pick them. I think I'll wait until you're here before I start dating. I want the real thing."

With affection, Silver smiled at her daughter. "Let me guess, your father has vetoed the dating thing until you're at least fifteen."

"No. Sixteen. But I'm pretty much ok with that. No, I think I want to avoid the ones without a brain cell to rub between my thumb and finger. And most of them before sixteen are too dumb to know better. I don't want a child early in my life."

"Then don't become a soldier, Cassie. As my only child, you will have to have one."

"Ah, Mom. Can't you have some more kids so I'm not the only one?"

"We'll see. Now, why don't you stop talking to me and pay attention to the good colonel?"

"I am."

Cassie gave McQueen a look reminding him of her mother and knew that any man this young woman set her eyes on was lost before he even knew what was happening. That made him wonder about Silver. His thoughts were cut off by Silver's actions.

Cuffing her daughter across the head with a laugh, Silver said, "He's not yours, scamp. Be nice. This is hard enough on him as it is."

Instantly contrite, Cassie said, "I'm sorry, colonel. I know it's hard for you to be in there. I'll try to make it bearable. I've got plenty of books and music. Mom has made sure of that."

"Over half my salary goes to you. It better be buying more than books and music."

"Yeah, yeah. I get clothes, too."

"And bunny slippers." Silver grinned.

"Just you wait until Christmas. Wait till you see your presents."

"Oh, God. What could be more humiliating on a Navy vessel than wandering around in the middle of the night in bunny slippers?" With a mock shudder, Silver said, "Don't answer that. Just remember, I do come home on leave."

"Nothing horrible, I promise, Mom."

"Good."

Cassie turned her gaze back to McQueen and he saw the compassion in them as she saw again his mangled body. "It'll get better, colonel."

He typed, "Call me TC."

"Ok, TC. It's easier than calling you colonel all the time."

He nodded.

"I brought the Lord of the Rings, but if you'd rather I didn't start yet, that's ok."

Silver watched as Cassie interacted with McQueen and hoped it was a good sign. She was curious to find out what Cassie thought of McQueen after this initial visit.

Silver stayed until she absolutely had to go and meet the 58th for the trip back to the Saratoga.

Next : Chapter Five
Previous : Chapter Three
Back : To General Fiction