"It's Morgan Tyler, Sir. You wanted to see me?"

"Enter."

Commodore Glen Ross looked up from the file he was reading but didn't stand up. He waved away the salute that Tyler was beginning and gestured for her to sit down.

"Commodore, we're due to launch in fifteen mikes. I should be doing my pre-launch checks."

"I took the liberty of delaying the 58th's launch for now," Ross answered calmly. "But it doesn't matter -- you won't be joining them."

Her gaze flew to his in sudden alarm. "Sir," Morgan protested, "if this is about the incident at the flight deck --."

"You could have handled that better," Ross waved cut her off with another dismissive wave. "But I'm willing to acknowledge that everyone's been under a lot of pressure and you may have had reason. No, I called you in here because of an entirely different matter."

Momentarily pacified by his calm demeanor, she cocked an eyebrow questioningly. "What have I done now, Sir?" she asked dryly.

Ross tossed the file he was holding on to the desk and motioned for her to take it. "You requested a particular assignment some months ago," he replied. "One of an especially delicate nature."

Her eyes widened in surprise as she read the contents of the folder. "Corps Command finally okayed it?"

Ross nodded grumpily.

"I'll have to leave right away --," she began, then stopped as the full implications of what she was about to do hit her. She cursed under her breath and raised a hand to her temple to ease a sudden headache.

"Is there a problem, Tyler?" Commodore Ross asked, watching her face carefully.

She shook her head. "The timing, Commodore," she explained lamely, "could be better… Colonel McQueen's arrival…"

"Is one of the factors that Command has considered in green-lighting this mission," finished Ross. "It says in that communiqué that you've complied with their conditions and they feel that now would be an 'appropriate' time for this mission." He gave a quiet snort of disagreement. "Frankly, I have my doubts about this entire matter."

She reversed quickly, worried that he might actually nix the mission because of her hesitation. "Sir," she protested softly, "we need to do this. We've cooled our heels long enough."

"Yes," he agreed, somberly, "and I realize that for the most part to blame for that. I just wonder if, at this point, such a mission won't do more harm than good." He shook his head sadly. "You realize the possible consequences? Whether this mission is a success or a failure, it will have serious repercussions. I'm not sure that any of us are ready."

She knew exactly what he was talking about, but couldn't let it matter. "Sir, whatever outcome of this mission, Corps Command will, as always, have absolute discretion over the distribution and use of whatever information I bring back. I'm sure they'll do what they believe is best and appropriate." The last was laced with just the slightest hint of sarcasm but Ross ignored it.

"Whatever you find, Captain, has the potential to disrupt the course of this war," he repeated. "Your squadron, for example --."

"With respect, Sir," she cut him off as politely as she could. That was something she didn't want to get into right now. "Whatever comes after, the 58th will just have to live with it, just like the rest of the Universe."

He shook his head again, slightly exasperated with her uncaring attitude.

"Sir," she said again. "We have to do this. We have to know."

"And is that what propels you on this mission, Captain Tyler?" Ross questioned pointedly. "Curiosity? A simple need to know?"

"Sir, my reasons for requesting this mission have always been open and straightforward." She looked at him directly. "You know why I want this."

"I still think it's a dangerous idea," he huffed.

"I am a Marine, Sir," she answered with a wry smile. She returned the file to him. "I should leave right away, Sir," she said again, carefully adding, "preferably while Colonel McQueen is still in quarantine and before he officially becomes my commanding officer."

Ross nodded. "I agree. Let's not further complicate this matter needlessly." He punched a button on his table, calling in an aide. "I suggest you make your preparations while I okay your arrangements. You'll also need to talk to your squadron."

She nodded. "Sir, I believe that the 7th Asian Airwing is nearest that sector. I'd appreciate it if you could arrange to have the 41st WildFuries or the 88th Firebirds as my backup. In fact, if you could get me both…"

"I'll arrange it," he nodded. " I wish the 58th could come with you on this mission… "

"You said it yourself, Sir," she reminded him dryly. "There's no need to further complicate this mission. They're better off here." She stood up. "Permission to be excused, Sir?"

"Just one more question, Tyler," said the Commodore.

"Yes, Sir?"

"Are you planning on coming back?" The question was quiet, but serious.

She cocked her head, confused by the question. "Sir, you know that all depends on what I find."

"Are you coming back?" he asked again.

She frowned slightly. "What exactly are you waiting to hear, Sir?"

He gave a slight shrug. "I know you didn't want to be here. I'm wondering if you're going to use this as an excuse not to be."

She stiffened, her frown intensifying. "Sir," she said coldly. "I've never done less than my duty. No matter how badly I wanted out."

"Don't take that tone with me, Morgan." The Commodore's voice held only the slightest hint of a reprimand. "We've been very good about observing formalities, but I'm still allowed to ask a few touchy questions."

"You phrased your question wrong, Sir," she returned, still coldly.

"Are you coming back?" he asked again, looking her straight in the eye.

"I don't know," answered Morgan, honestly. "But if I don't, it won't be because I looked for a reason not to."

Ross nodded, his face grave and somber. "Alright, Morgan," he said quietly. "That'll have to be good enough."

"What's the deal?" asked Cullen with her trademark energy. "Why'd the Commodore halt our launch? And where the fudge is Tyler?"

They'd been in the briefing room a full twenty minutes and Tyler still hadn't made an appearance. Worse, no one had told them what was going on, and that always made them feel edgy.

"Did the Colonel say anything to you?" West asked Hawkes. "Do you know what's going on?"

Hawkes shook his head.

"What's wrong with you?" West questioned sharply, irritated by his friend's stubborn silence. Hawkes hadn't said a word since he'd shown up at the flight deck for their pre-launch checks.

"We're in trouble, aren't we?" asked Cullen, biting her lip worriedly. "Morgan's still mad at us, isn't she?"

"The Commodore halted the launch," Rain pointed out. "Not Tyler."

"Maybe she's the one in trouble," speculated West. "She did sort of freak out yesterday."

"You better hope she isn't," said Rain. "I have a feeling it takes a lot to get Tyler into trouble, and if she is you can bet we'll be in for worse."

"Has anyone seen her at all today?" demanded Cullen.

"Not since yesterday when she left us in the simulation room," answered Rain. He looked at Hawkes. "What about you, Cooper? Have you seen Tyler?"

Hawkes started to answer, thought better of it, and simply shook his head.

"Are you gonna be like this all day?" West demanded, just as Tyler walked in.

"Finally!" said Cullen by way of greeting.

"Okay, sit down and listen up," said Tyler, gesturing to the seats in the room. "You got twenty mikes till you have to go on patrol so let's make this quick."

"Till we have to go on patrol?" repeated Rain curiously.

"You're going," Morgan explained, flatly. "I'm not."

"What?" demanded Cullen. "What do you mean you're not going?"

"I have a mission," Tyler answered.

"You have a mission?" asked West. "What about the rest of us?"

"You're staying here," she said. "And going on patrol in twenty."

"Where are you going?' asked Rain.

"It's classified," she answered. "While I'm gone--."

"Wait," interrupted West. "What do you mean classified? We don't get to know where you're going?"

Tyler sighed impatiently. "That's generally what classified means, West," she answered dryly.

"Is this a solo mission?" inquired Rain. "Won't you need backup to do whatever it is you're going to do?"

"I'll have it," she answered shortly.

"Just not us, is that it?" demanded West. "So much for your 'this is a team' speech."

"Does this have anything to do with what happened yesterday?" Cullen asked the question that was in everyone's mind.

Tyler shook her head. "I was supposed to do this months ago," she answered. "Even before I came to the Saratoga. But the clearance only came through today."

"So why can't you use us as backup?" probed West. "We're not good enough for this classified mission, is that it?"

"You said, it, Lieutenant," she replied, coldly. She raised her hand, palm out, stilling his next words. "Enough." She gestured for them to return to their seats. "Let's get this briefing over so we can all get on with our lives."

"How long will you be gone?" asked Cullen.

"At least ten days," said Tyler. "Colonel McQueen will be out of quarantine shortly, so you shouldn't get into too much trouble. So, while I'm gone, unless Colonel McQueen decides otherwise, West is honcho."

"Me?" demanded West, without thinking. "Why me?"

Her eyes rolled to the ceiling, her exasperation obviously at its peak. Shaking her head, she motioned to him to follow her. "You and me, Lieutenant, in private." She led him outside to the hallway, and then faced him with her arms crossed over her chest. "You're lucky I don't have time to pound you into the ground right now, Lieutenant. What's the matter now? You not up to the job?"

"I'm up to it," West assured her coldly.

"So what's your problem?"

"I just thought… Rain is your XO, shouldn't he be honcho when you're gone?"

"Rain will do as he's told," Tyler answered. "The only soldier in question right now is you. Last chance, Marine. You up to this or not?"

"I'm up to it," he repeated.

"Then you're honcho. Let's go."

"Wait," said West. "Don't you have any instructions for me?"

"Why" she inquired dryly. "Do you need any?"

"Well, who gets to be XO?"

She threw him an irritated glance but kept on walking. "You're honcho," she reminded him. "You decide."

Back inside the briefing room, she repeated the announcement. "West is honcho. Aside from that, it's business as usual."

She sat on the desk facing the chairs and looked them over seriously, one by one.

"I got something to say to you people and you better listen good," she announced softly, somberly. "I'll be gone ten days. Maybe longer. This is a golden opportunity for all of you. While I'm gone you can do anything you want." She shrugged carelessly, but her eyes were steel cold.

"Screw up if you like. Get yourselves thrown in the brig. Let yourselves get killed. Whatever you wanna do, do it. But do it before I come back. When I come back, all I wanna see are Marines. Anything else and you've got no place with me. Anything else and you've got no place in this squadron." She stood up and moved closer to make her point.

"Yes, people, that is a threat. That is a promise. You have ten glorious days of freedom left before you either shape up, or ship out. And if you harbor any doubts about that, if you think you are in some way special and can get away with less, I'm telling you now you won't. See, this is my squadron, and unlike the lot of you, I am a Marine." She looked at them coldly. "I can make it happen."

From the corner of his eye he could see her. She hadn't told any of them goodbye but now she was standing at the other side of the flight deck observation window, watching them take off. That was sort of confusing, giving him the uneasy feeling that everything was turned around. They should have been the ones watching her take off. After all, she was the one who was leaving -- they were only going on patrol.

It was just as well she was leaving, he thought. Chances were if she stayed one of them really would kill the other one.

He didn't really believe her, didn't believe that her leaving had nothing to do with what had happened the day before -- with everything that had happened. How could it not?

He didn't understand what had happened himself, didn't understand any of the feelings that were still coursing through him. All he knew was that he couldn't even look at her straight or he'd explode.

The funny thing was, as happy as he was that she was leaving, he was afraid she'd never come back. He was worried that this was the opportunity she'd been waiting for to leave and find another squadron. She'd said she'd have backup to do whatever it was she was gonna do. Had the brass offered her another gig and she was leaving to check out another squadron? Why couldn't she have taken the 58th with her if this mission was that important? And come to think of it, what could be so important that she'd leave them so suddenly, at such critical point of the war?

Then again, if she never came back, wouldn't that be a good thing? McQueen was back -- he could lead the 58th, and Nathan could be honcho. They'd have peace again, whatever they could have of it. He wouldn't have to be on guard all of the time, losing sleep over the tangled mass of emotions he felt in spite of himself. Shane's place would be safe.

Didn't he want that?

Shane's place would be safe.

They cleared him for take off and he stole one last glance before his cockpit dropped into the lower deck to hitch to his plane fuselage. He saw her turn away, disappearing from sight even before his cockpit had dropped completely into the shaft.

A strange thought popped into his head then, -- this was an end. He felt almost sad, almost sorry, and he didn't understand why. He didn't know what would follow, didn't know what would come next, but he knew something had ended, here and now. Something he hadn't known had even begun.

And he thought that maybe he should have told her goodbye after all.

An hour later she was doing her final checks, preparing to launch. She was a Marine, after all, practically everything she owned she could stuff in her pack, and what she couldn't the Corps would provide. What was important was she get there as fast as she could. They had already wasted too much time.

"You're right," a voice said above her. "I said the wrong thing."

She glanced up, saw Commodore Ross standing beside her cockpit and stood up to get out.

"No, as you were, Captain," said Ross. He moved closer and knelt down beside her cockpit. "I said are you coming back? What I should have said was come back safe."

She looked away, refusing to meet his eyes. "You tell that to all your Marines, Sir?" she asked him dryly.

"You're not just any Marine," he pointed out. "And you're not just a Marine."

"Yes, I am, Sir," she corrected calmly.

"Fine," he conceded. "But even if you were, even if you were anyone else, I'd still tell you to come back safe. In fact, I order you to come back safe."

She shook her head in amused exasperation. "You can't order me to do that, Sir."

"Oh, yes I can," he answered, grimly. "I'm the supreme commander of the _USS Saratoga,_ and what I say goes. You will execute this mission, and you will come back safe. That is a direct order."

She almost grinned. "And have you sent the same instructions to the good Lord above, Sir?"

"I am damn, serious Tyler," he growled. "You think this mission is necessary. You might even think this is the most important mission in the entire war. But I will not lose you, and I will not lose anyone else to that accursed planet." He stood up and glared down at her. "Do you hear me? I will not lose anyone else to 2063Y…."

© Jessi Albano February 15, 1999 4:16:06 PM

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