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September 13, 2064, 2030 hours McQueen’s Alcove
McQueen had spent the the last hours sitting and watching the stars. His confrontation with Jenny had left him feeling confused and hollow. Some parts of his life were clearer then they ever had been before and others were out of focus in a way he had never imagined. “Ty?” Glen Ross leaned against the bulkhead and watched his friend. “I thought we had a card game this evening?” “Sorry I wasn’t paying attention to the time,” he smiled. “I had some thinking to do.” “We’ll be within range of Minerva by the day after tomorrow, if we’re lucky and keep evading Chig patrols, as we’ve been doing so far.” “I’d like to send the ‘Cards in, Sir. They know McKendrick and the area,” McQueen wanted badly to go with his squad, but knew he was ship bound for the next few months while his leg finished healing. “I’ve talked to Voss and he says Damphousse won’t be back to active duty status until next week, due to her wrist. The bone healing drug works wonders, but it takes time for the new bone to be laid down. That’ll leave them two short, three if you count the fact we’ve never replaced Kelly Winslow.” Ross knew the subject of a replacement for Wang was a sore one, but it needed to be dealt with. “Mitch Connelly would be valuable on this assignment,” McQueen had been going over the man’s record and was impressed. “If things work out, I’d like to take what’s left of the 29th, to fill out the 58th.” Only Connelly and Lt. Maria Del Mar of the 29th, had returned from Demios. Both pilots had been at loose ends, filling in when squadrons were short, until new recruits could be shipped to the Saratoga. “He works well with your people, and Del Mar is an excellent pilot,” Ross had been thinking alone the same lines, but was glad to have McQueen suggest it. “I think it would be more comfortable for all concerned, than to bring in a newbie.” “Commodore....., Glen,” McQueen cleared his throat as he turned to his friend. “I want you to have this,” he handed over a letter he had written that morning, shortly after they had picked up the 58th from 2063Y. Frowning, Ross read what the Colonel had handed him. “Ty, do you know what you’re doing?” The Commodore couldn’t believe what he had read. “I’m resigning my commission. I realize that won’t be effective until six months after peace is declared, but you’ve been too good a friend to me for me not to tell you.” “But why?” Ross watched his friend carefully. “What brought this on?” “I’ve been thinking about it for months,” McQueen sighed. “I used to believe that the worst enemy of a soldier was doubt, but I was wrong, it’s caring. Especially, if that soldier is in a position of command. When the 58th stepped off that ISSCV this morning, any doubts that were still lingering about that where blown away.” “What will you do? The Corps has been your life,” Ross shook his head. Things were changing to fast around him. McQueen pulled another letter out of his flight suit, “I got this while on the Clara.” He took a picture out of the envelope and handed it to Ross, “that’s the Black Gull, I helped design and build it, while on leave, the year before the war.” “She’s beautiful!” Ross admired the smooth classic lines of the racing sloop. Her hull and sails as dark as night. “Though I don’t know much about ships like this,” but he knew a woman who knew a great deal about these kinds of boats and he couldn’t help smiling. “Lars Morgans did most of the work, but I helped,” McQueen could feel the satisfaction he had gotten seeing his design come to life. “He sent me that picture and the specs on another boat that he’s has been asked to build, after the owner saw the Gull. I started working on it while I was on the Clara and if time allows, will do it here.” “So you plan on going into business with this man when the war is over?” “No, I can’t. Lars works for Jen, and she’s made it pretty clear that she doesn’t want me around,” McQueen tried to sound casual, but wasn’t sure he pulled it off. Then a thought struck him. “Glen, what did she say to you that convinced you to let her go looking for Vansen and Damphousse?” The question was asked so matter-of-factly, it caught Ross off guard. “She said a lot of things, she was pretty intense that morning,” the Commodore dodged McQueen’s question. “Why do you ask?” “Something she said to me earlier,” he cocked his head at the Commodore as the silence lengthened. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?” “No. That’s between the two of you,” Ross stood and faced his friend. “Jenny wasn’t herself that morning and I think she said a lot of things that she wouldn’t have said under normal circumstances. My advice to you is to give her some breathing room. One thing I can tell you, is she has this crazy idea that it’s her fault the Wildcards went down and she feels the same way about your leg.” “That’s nonsense,” McQueen shook his head at the foolishness of women. “What gave her that idea?” “The morning the 58th went to Kazbek she made a deal with the Universe or God or whatever you want to call it. Anyway, if ‘It’ would keep you people safe, she wouldn’t do something she wanted very badly to do.” Ross shrugged, hoping he wasn’t giving away too much of what Jenny had told him. “Somewhere along the line she feels she reneged on her deal. Then everything went to hell.” “Damn, why didn’t she tell me any of this?” “She couldn’t,” Ross smiled sadly. “But she could tell you?” McQueen didn’t like the idea that Jen was confiding in Ross, when she used to talk to him. “I was the only one who could help her accomplish her objective. Even then I don’t think she would have told me, if she hadn’t been so upset.” He turned to his friend, “she believed your message from the Clara. She truly believed they were alive, and they were.” “Yeah, she told me,” McQueen sighed. “She said she had faith in what I said. I was out of my head from the injury and medication from surgery and she believed me. It doesn’t make anymore sense then her believing she was to blame for what happened.” “Ty, she always believes you,” Ross wanted to shake his friend and tell him to ‘wake up and smell the coffee,’ before it was too late. “No, she doesn’t,” McQueen shook his head. “Not always.” “If it’s important to you, you’d better do something about it,” Ross turned to leave, then thought better of it. “McQueen, when you do hash it out with her, be very sure that you say what you really mean. If you hurt her, you’ll have me to answer to and it won’t be a pretty sight!” Wildcards’ Quarters, 2200 hours same night: Maria Del Mar and Mitch Connelly were moved into the Wildcards’ quarters. As the young Marines looked at the three empty bunks, the tension grew in the room. Maria picked up her gear and made a quick decision, “I’ll be damned if I’ll let them move some stranger into Wang’s spot. I’ll take this bunk.” Everyone nodded as the soft spoken woman moved across the room to place her things where Paul had slept. “Unless ‘Phousse wants it?” “I asked her this afternoon, and she says she wants to stay where she is,” Shane patted the bunk above hers. “Okay, that’s settled,” West smiled as Connelly took Winslow’s old bunk. “That only leaves the issue of call signs. You guys adverse to taking new ones?” “No, problem with me,” Del Mar looked up, sadly. “How about you Mitch?” Hawkes grinned when Mitch agreed. “Well Connelly, since we’ve all played cards with you, I think we’ve got you covered,” the other Marines groaned and agreed. “But what about you, Maria?” “Me?” She gave them her impish grin. “There’s only one name for me, if I’m going to be a Wildcard, ‘Aces ‘N Eights’....” “But....that’s a dead man’s hand,” Shane protested. “You don’t want that!” “Oh, yes I do,” Maria turned to face the rest of her new squad. “My Grandmama was the medicine woman of her village in Mexico. Grandfather was an American, who was injured while camping. He wandered into the village mad with fever. Anyway when he left, she went with him. He always said she had The Sight, and I believe him. I was born on the Day Of The Dead, November 1st. She used to call me, Aces ‘N Eights. Said it would bring me luck one day. Now I guess I know why she gave me that nickname. Among her people we honor the dead, even the ones we KILL,” her eyes turned deadly as she thought of the revenge she would reap on the Chigs for the loss of the 29th. During the two days it took to get to Minerva, McQueen and Jenny kept their distance. Both knew that a confrontation between them was inevitable, but both wanted to put it off for as long as possible. McQueen ran his squad through a number of simulations, watching and approving how the two new members worked with the original group. Connelly was gone whenever the sims weren’t being run, working with Cpt. Fisher and the small team they had put together trying to decode the AI information. The Saratoga in orbit of Minerva, September 16, 0630 hours: “All right people, listen up,” McQueen walked into the briefing room and got the immediate attention of his Marines. “The mission is a simple extraction. We need to do this quickly and with precision. Our objective is Major Cyril McKendrick, an underground operative who has been hiding on this planet for the last year. Lts. Connelly and Del Mar haven’t met the man, but the rest of you have. We haven’t been able to establish radio contact with the Major, but it is imperative that you go in and bring him out, along with any data he has collected in the last year.” The Colonel’s eyes swept the group of Marines, it took him a moment to realize he had been looking for the eager face of Paul Wang. Catching his breath, he pulled himself back to the present and continued. “We have no recent intell on Minerva, so be prepared for anything. In the past this planet has been occupied by both AI’s and Chigs, so watch your six. The last time we were here, the AI’s we ran into were dying of the virus, but take nothing for granted. I’ll be on the bridge monitoring. You are to maintain radio silence unless there is trouble. Meet on the ISSCV at 0700.” Looking at his watch, he called out the time, “0642, ready, ready, hack. Good luck people!” Minerva September 16, 2064 - 0800 hours: Major McKendrick had been working through the night again. He had cracked the AI code, but decoding all the transmissions of the last few months was a long and tedious job. His time was running out and he knew it. Somehow the AI’s were aware of his presence. The Major was involved in a race. Stay hidden until the virus killed what was left of the AI’s, or they found him and killed him: winner take all. The Chigs had pulled out a few weeks ago, when information came to them of a major offensive, so he only had the one enemy to deal with. Saratoga Bridge McQueen fought the urge to pace. He was a man of economical movements, but it took every bit of self-control to subdue his nervous energy. He could picture the terrain around McKendrick’s bunker. It was rough open ground, where his Marines would have little cover if they were attacked. The 58th had been gone two hours and wouldn’t be back for at least another hour, even if things went like clock work. What he was feeling underscored his need to resign his commission once the war was over. Damning his leg and the need to stay aboard ship, he sat at his post, determined to remain there until the Wildcards were home. It caught him up short to realize that he was letting feelings rule him, instead of logic. Up until now he had been telling himself that it was the logical thing to do. Resign because he wasn’t as good a commander as he had been. Keeping one ear open for the radio, he concentrated on the problem at hand, feelings versus logic. Who would have thought he would find himself fighting that battle? It was the damn dreams that had awakened a part of him that he didn’t know existed. McQueen looked down at his pocket computer and realized he had been writing down the questions that had been bothering him for days. Now if he could only answer them!
1. What is my ‘genuine path’? The radio crackled to life, and brought the bridge crew to attention. “Saratoga, this is the 5-8 we are 20 mikes out, and coming in with wounded.” “We’ve got company coming,” Com. Chang called from his position at LIDAR. “All hands to battle stations,” Ross nodded to Chang, as he moved quickly to stand behind McQueen. “Launch hammerheads,” McQueen ordered, as he looked over at Ross. “Notify Sickbay of incoming causalities, Commander.” “Yes, Sir,” Chang moved through the motions he had gone through hundreds of times in the last year. McQueen’s Quarters 2030 hours that night: McQueen stumbled into his quarters, exhausted from the day. Every muscle in his body hurt as he moved to his shower. He stood under the hot water, as it beat against his back, his forehead leaning against the wall. Gripped tightly in his right hand was the bracelet he still had on his dog tags. He tried to wash the horror of what had almost happened from his mind, but he didn’t think all the water on the Saratoga would be able to do that. Finally as his muscles begin to loosen their grip, he let his mind move back over the events of the day. It had been bad enough to have to send the 58th off without him, and the hours he had waited for their return had been hard, but it was nothing he hadn’t experienced before. He had finally taken an easy breath when the ISSCV was safely back on the Saratoga. “McQueen you better get down to the Launch Bay, there’s a problem,” Ross whispered tersely. “McKendrick was hit by one of those new exploding rounds that we’ve been hearing so much about. Jenny is trying to remove it in the Bay, before it goes off. Go on man, I’ll cover your post!” The Colonel had taken off at a run, but he hadn’t been fast enough. Jen had managed to trick her two Corpsman into leaving the Bay, and had closed and locked the crash doors. All he could do was watch on the small monitor to the right of the door, as she and Joan Brill worked on McKendrick’s leg. “Colonel McQueen,” Corpsman Trosper had lunged for the emergency release mechanism. “We’ve got to get in there and help. I can’t leave Lady-Doc and the Commander in there alone.” “You will do nothing of the kind,” Ty’s voice cracked, as he issued the order. He would have given his soul to be beside Jen, but the medical team had already begun working. If the unexploded cartridge went off before Jen was able to get it into the protective box that had been brought in, the only thing that would protect the Saratoga was the pressure locked Bay doors. The exterior walls of the Bay had been specially constructed to take the impact of an explosion and blow outward, protecting the ship. The Carrier would be intact, but lose one of its Launch Bays. Jenny had known exactly what she was doing when she locked herself in there with Joan Brill. “But Sir....” Trosper stopped mid-sentence when he saw the look of ice in the Colonel’s eyes, before the grim older man turned quickly back to the monitor. It had been the longest ten mikes of McQueen’s life as he watched Jenny work on the wounded man. His heart caught in his throat when he saw her stand and wheel around to run for the Explosive Discharge Box. A pair of long slim forceps in her hand, at the end of which was the deadly charge. She had made it almost to the box when the Saratoga shifted. McQueen fisted his hands at his sides as he watched her retain her footing and toss the explosive, forceps and all in the box and slam the lid closed. She hadn’t gone two feet when the box roared as it jumped in the air and burst into flames. Both women were knocked to the deck as smoke filled the room from the burning box. Seconds later McQueen and Trosper flew through the door. The Colonel grabbed a fire extinguisher to put out what was left of the fire, and the Corpsman checked on McKendrick and the medical team. “Get the Major down to Sickbay,” Jenny choked, her eyes watering and her voice scratchy from breathing smoke. “I’ll be along in a minute.” “What the hell did you two think you were doing?” McQueen ground out as his icy stare brushed the Doctor and Joan Brill.” “The only thing we could have done, given the situation,” Jen shivered from the expression on McQueen’s face. “If we’d taken him to Sickbay and that shell went off, the port side of the ship might have gone, maybe more.” She wished her head would stop pounding so she could think clearly. “And don’t worry ... Sir, Major McKendrick will fine,” turning quickly to follow the stretcher, she listed slightly and would have lost her footing, except for the familiar hand that caught her arm. “Jen,” Ty whispered, as her hand clutched the sleeve of his flight suit, until she had found her balance. “Thank you, Colonel,” the Doctor, tossed hair out of her eyes and looked up into McQueen’s grim face. “But I’m fine now,” taking a deep breath, she pulled her arm free of his grip and walked with as much dignity as she could, out of the Bay. “Ty,” Joan touched his arm in an attempt to give what comfort she could. “She’s wasn’t hurt, and there really wasn’t anything else we could have done.” “She’s been taking too many chances lately,” McQueen looked into the worried eyes of the nurse. “There’s a war on, Colonel,” she arched her brow, as her voice cracked. “Loses are part of war ...” “Joan, I’m sorry,” McQueen shook himself as he remembered too late that Joan’s oldest daughter had never returned from Demios. “I’m not the one you should be apologizing to,” the nurse gave him a challenging looking and left him alone in the blackened Launch Bay. McQueen had been exhausted when his head hit his pillow, now he kept seeing Jenny with her face smudged and her hair disheveled, looking slightly groggy from the compression of the blast. At the time he had been so angry he didn’t know which he wanted to do more, kiss her or shake her. Now, he knew he wanted to do both. *”She had no business taking risks like that,”* he thought as he turned over, and finally felt himself falling asleep. *“But what else could she have done?”* McQueen became aware of the sound of Johnny Cash singing about being so ‘doggone lonesome’. Looking into the shadows, he saw he wasn’t in his quarters anymore, but in a large open space, standing in the middle of a road that stretch on forever in both directions. In a distance he saw the form of Ray Butts leaning against a sign post. “What the hell!” “I was beginning to think you were going to ignore me forever,” the dead Recon Colonel moved closer, the click of his boots the only other sound besides the music. “You almost lost her for good this time didn’t you, McQueen?” Butts’ gravelly voice caught the Colonel by surprise. “First that damn AI, then this afternoon, an explosive device.” “What the hell are you doing here?” McQueen looked around in the dark, there weren’t any stars in the sky. Just the road that lead to nowhere, Butts and himself, wearing the sweat pants he had been sleeping in. “She’s not going to let you keep her safe is she?” The dead man shook his head, “women like that have no place in this man’s Corps. They get a hold of your heart and never let go. And they don’t know shit about following orders.” “How do you know all this?” McQueen had been trying to dismiss the earlier dreams as anesthesia induced, but it had been too long since his surgery for that, now. “You’d be surprised,” ice would have been warmer then the expression in Butts’ eyes. “You’re going to lose that little doctor of yours and it’s going to cost you more then you realize. She’s scared, McQueen. She’s watched you die once already, then received the deathgram from the Marines to prove it. She’s going to keep pushing you away unless you do something about it.” “You don’t know what you’re talking about!” The in-vitro shook his head denying what he was seeing and hearing. “Don’t I? Back in ‘52, in Karakoram, there was a woman. Her name was Victoria. She was a civilian metallurgist with the 3rd. Armored Division. She was smart, beautiful, and could have had any man she wanted. But she only wanted one, me. If that don’t beat all?” The dead man shook his head at the memory. “What does this have to do with anything?” McQueen didn’t want to listen to Butts, he had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as to where this story led. “It has to do with *everything*, Tank,” Butts roared. “We’d been fighting for months to take the Hindu Kush Mountains, but winter comes early there, and we already had feet of snow. We should have been back at base, but we weren’t. That idiot Dawson was convinced he could pull a surprise attack by way of Ali Bhutto Pass, gaining victory and lower altitude at the same time. “Hindu Kush, a good name, it means Hindu Slaughter.” Butts paced, then stood and looked McQueen in the eyes. “I convinced him to let me do a quick recon of the area. The night before I left, Victoria begged me to stay. She said if we were going to die, we were going to die, and there was nothing I could do about it. It turned out she was partially right. I got captured. The CC’s tortured me for days. I didn’t care what they did to me. There was no way I was going to break. I figured I was buying time for the 3rd. What I didn’t know was that SHE was already laying dead in the Pass. Slaughtered. Dawson had another vision the night I left and moved them out.” “Are you telling me that Jen’s going to die?” McQueen whispered. “I don’t know,” Butts shook his head. “It twists your gut to think about it, doesn’t it? If it happens, the day you die, you’ll still be thinking about it, trying to figure out what you could’ve done differently.” Butts nodded his head at a memory. “You don’t get it do you? If I had stayed as Tory asked, I couldn’t have saved her, but I’d have only outlived her long enough to kill the bastard who killed her.” “I’d give my life to keep Jen safe,” Ty looked at Butts, feeling a kinship with the man he never would have believed. “She would do the same for you. What do you think has been driving her these last months? She hasn’t been thinking about herself. She’s been thinking about the people you care about and you,” Butts spat the words out. “You don’t know that!” McQueen challenged. “I know, McQueen, because you know. You can’t stop her, but you can make it easier for both of you, but you won’t, will you? She’s scared not for herself, but for you. She watched you die with the rest of the Angels. She sent you off to almost certain death at Kazbek. She gave you support when you went out to fight von Richthofen, alone,” Butts watched McQueen as the last year played through his mind. “Why should she let you in, when you don’t even have the guts to say the words she needs to hear!” “I tried, but she wouldn’t listen,” McQueen argued. “Bull shit, you did!” Butts shook his head. “If you’d said what she needed to hear, you wouldn’t be sleeping alone.” “Now wait just a damn minute!” Ty lunged toward the other man. “What are you going to do, hit me?” Butts laughed at the indignant look on the other man’s face. “I’m just a dream remember.” “If you’re a dream, get the hell out of here!” McQueen demanded. “My relationship with Jen isn’t like that. I’d never use her, or take a chance on her getting hurt because of me.” “That’s the real problem isn’t it, you’re just as afraid as she is?” Butts’ voice softened as he remember a woman who had been dead years longer then he had. “Women like that have no business loving men like us, and we have no business loving them, but when it happens, grab on with both hands, McQueen, because it’s the best think that’ll ever happen to you. You can’t stop her lovin’ you, all you can do is drive her away and break her heart and most likely yours, too. Don’t make my mistake,” Butts became a whisper in the darkness as he headed down the long road until he was only a shadow in the distance. The last thing McQueen heard as he was left staring at the emptiness, was an indistinct, “you might not be as lucky as I was.” McQueen turned in his bunk and shook himself awake. It took him a moment to realize he had been dreaming. “Damn,” he muttered as he pulled a t-shirt over his head, grabbed his pocket computer and headed out of his quarters. The deserted Mess Hall was dark except for the small light over the all-night coffee pot. McQueen stood in the shadows beside the corner table where he and Paul had talked months ago. His cup of coffee growing cold as he stared out at the stars trying to find an answer that he knew could only be found within him. “Colonel,” Cooper Hawkes, moved quietly behind his commanding officer. “You all right, Sir?” “Sure Hawkes,” McQueen turned absent mindedly toward the young in-vitro. “What are you doing up so late?” “I saw you heading this way and just wanted to be sure you were okay,” Coop watched the older in-vitro as he moved to the table. The young man was still amazed at how well the Colonel had recovered from his injury. “Hhmm....I’m a Marine, Hawkes, I don’t need you to watch over me.” “Sir, you don’t need me to watch over you, because you’ve already got someone doing that job,” Cooper stopped and looked at McQueen, then decided he would go for broke. “Did you know Lady-Doc talks in her sleep?” “She having nightmares again?” “No, Sir, not exactly,” “On the Yorktown, before the war,” McQueen smiled remembering long ago. “The Angry Angels always knew how worried she was about us, by what she would say in her sleep. When she’s awake, she hides her fears pretty well, but when Jen’s asleep it comes tumbling out, usually about 0300.” “I had the watch at that time on 2063 Yankee,” Hawkes tried to sound casual. “The Lady-Doc had plenty to say ...” “That’s understandable ...” McQueen ground to a halt as Hawkes shook his head. “She talked about you...and well, it was personal,” Hawkes stood and began to move away from the table. “Hawkes,” the Colonel called out. “Thank you for telling me.” “Sir,” Coop turned back to his mentor. “I did what I could to make it easier for her. None of the others know and I don’t think she realized she was talking in her sleep.” “She never realized it before,” the older man smiled. Life had suddenly become easy for him. “And we never told her. The Angels decided that she did so much to take care of us, if we listened carefully, we would know how to take care of her.” “You plannin’ on doing that?” Hawkes watched McQueen with growing curiosity. “That’s easier said then done. Jen can be damn stubborn when she sets her mind to it.” The Colonel looked up at Hawkes and grinned, “but then so am I.” “My money’s on you, Colonel,” Hawkes laughed as he left the older man alone with the stars. McQueen turned on his hand computer. It was still open to the file that contained the information from his dreams. Shaking his head at how simple it had all become, he tapped in the word JEN, then closed the file. Now, all he had to do was figure out how to convince her.
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