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McQueen was half listening to a conversation - in French - between Eithne,
Amy and Dale. Eithne was showing off a little and Amy and Dale were enjoying
the exercise of speaking the language. They were talking about the ballet
company.
McQueen had the classic InVitro capacity for languages: the benefit of
artificial stimulation of the brain's language center during gestation. The
IVA had learned that you couldn't have a bunch of eighteen year olds
stumbling around with no ability to speak or to understand. InVitros had to
have incredibly accelerated language skills. McQueen could read, write, think
and even dream in Spanish (duty in South America). He could interrogate
someone in Hindi and Mandarin which he could also read and write. But he had
to translate those two languages in his mind. He studied Japanese as a hobby
- the result of his interest in Samurai and had recently picked up some
conversational Finnish. He had enjoyed the company of the Suomalainen on the
Saratoga. McQueen's French, however, was really the patois of the islands.
Duty in Haiti had brought with it the ability to speak the patois and
understand French which he could read but had difficulty writing.
Dale noted that McQueen was tuned into their exchange and suggested: "Let's
join the solitary McQueen. He is sitting alone where the mermaids sit."
"Oh, I love that story," Eithne beamed.
McQueen didn't know the story but they joined him nevertheless.
Emrys and his two buddies had been tagged teamed by Connor and Ewan for
turkey duty. They grabbed a handful of food and something to drink. Emrys
(never called Em) carried the unlikely family sobriquet of 'Push.' He was, in
fact, the sweetest and most biddable of all the Celina offspring. He was
premed and Kylen hoped that she could hook him up with Dale for a summer job.
The three boys approached Colonel McQueen and sat at the table. "Excuse, us,
Colonel, But may we ask you a few questions?"
"You are Emrys, right? Neil West's friend?" McQueen asked.
"Yes." Kylen's brother answered.
McQueen could tell that Neil's friend and the Frat Boys were more than a
little scared of him. The draft lottery was going to be reinstated in
January. Well, they have already had one friend die and their butts are
going to be on the line first. I'm probably second only to a drill sergeant
in their worst nightmare.
"What is your question?"
"There have been some pretty crazy stories about the aliens, Sir, and we
wondered just what was the truth."
"Which stories?"
"Well, that they can regenerate limbs. That they can reproduce by dividing
like a single cell animal. That they can teleport," The boys rattled off
their questions.
"To answer in order: No. Nobody knows their life cycle or if they do it is
classified. And the last bit is pure horsesh .... Crap," McQueen quickly
amended.
"Oh my, my, Cap'in Butler, how you do talk." Eithne piped in with a
devastating saccharine southern belle accent.
One of the older twins (McQueen was unsure which one) walked by and gave her
an unceremonious smack on her butt.
"Watch yourself, Butch."
"Look who's talking," she shot back then turned to McQueen. "Doctor Steinbeck
sent this over for you." She placed a glass of wine in front of McQueen and
drifted back to the center of activity.
McQueen took a healthy drag of the chardonnay wishing, instead, for a good
single malt. Hell, even a bad one.
Frank Celina, Dale Steinbeck, Christian and the Colonel were sitting in the
living room. It was now 1530 and the men all had a glass of wine. Karin was
curled up in her grandfather's lap. She was fascinated by the almost
startling blueness of McQueen's eyes, his deep voice and the silver birds on
the shoulders of his sweater. Ewan had been called inside to join the
conversation. He had just finished up his Masters degree in agriculture and
would one day take over the farm. The men were discussing Christian's
research and the possibilities of using weather as a weapon - should the need
arise. It was a concept that horrified all of them. McQueen included. If such
a thing could be done, it would be scorched earth. It would spell the end of
everything they understood.
All of them were casting about for a new topic of conversation when Kylen
checked in. She wanted to make sure that her guests were comfortable and well
looked after. She noted that Colonel McQueen showed a distinct preference for
Rebecca's crab dip with garlic toast. She asked Bridee to bring him another
plate of that and a few veggies, plus something for Dad, Dr. Steinbeck, and
her brothers. Bridee returned in moments with plates full of finger food.
As Bridee placed the plate in front of the Colonel she said very softly but
politely: "Be careful, Sir. Don't make the rookie mistake."
"What?" McQueen asked incredulous at her precocity.
Ewan couldn't help himself. Try as he might he was chuckling to himself. "I
think what she is trying to say Colonel is that you may want to slow down on
the appetizers. You don't want to be too full before dinner. Pacing is
everything. Overeating this early is a rookie mistake. Don't worry, we've all
done it."
McQueen had the uncomfortable and correct realization that to Kylen's
brothers and sisters he would now, forever, be known as "The Rookie." He
looked up to see that both Frank and Dale were suppressing their amusement at
the nerve of a thirteen year old girl. She hadn't been giving him lip. In
fact, Bridee had been the definition of polite. She had just tried to offer
sage advice. McQueen groaned to himself - "The Rookie" it was.
Aislen was standing at the sink looking as if she would cry. "I just can't
face it."
"What, honey?" Abby asked with genuine concern.
"I just can't bring myself to do it. It's just too big a job."
"What?" Amy asked.
"To peel these potatoes."
McQueen was passing through the kitchen. Stretching his legs, using his cane
but walking solo. He felt that he should offer to help but it was a promise
he had made to himself when he had become an officer. I'll never peel
potatoes again - not even if I'm starving. If I'm starving, I'll eat the
peels
"Excuse me - but there are three Frat boys out there watching T.V." he
suggested.
"Oh, I knew that I liked you - The first time I saw you; I knew it." Aislen
said as she waddled over to McQueen. She pulled his head down to her and
kissed the top of his head. McQueen was absolutely frozen to the spot.
"Besides being fun to look at and incredibly smart you are the only person
around here I can beat at a foot race," she said and turned back. Half way
to the sink she called out. "Push, James, David ... drag it in here. We have
something for you."
Aislen looked back at McQueen and gave him a brilliant smile.
Benjamin McCoy approached McQueen and reintroduced himself. Aislen's husband
had a question for the grounded pilot concerning the escape velocity and
insertion angle of Hammerheads. McQueen was floored. He had been starving for
this type of conversation. He and Ben spent a good fifteen minutes talking
about the fighter before McQueen thought to ask exactly what it was that the
guy did anyway.
Benjamin was now with NASA. He and Aislen now lived in Houston. This was the
last trip before the baby. But he used to work for Aerotech. Part of the
Colony program design and ground crew. Immediately after the crash Aerotech
had started downsizing the program. He had been very lucky. The company
bought out his contract. Paid him off five years in full and even paved his
way with NASA. Ben had greased the skids for Kylen and Nathan to get
applications for the Colonial Program.
McQueen was shocked. Ben must have been in a technical job classification to
be out of the loop on the Chigs. Aerotech had been clever to buy him out.
Buy off the concerned family members before they start asking too many
questions. Remove him so he couldn't be tempted to go digging for
information. Another thought struck him. McQueen wondered how many
employees of the Colony program had met with untimely and tragic deaths in
the last eighteen months. Aislen and Ben may have been far more fortunate
than they realized.
McQueen also noted that everyone called it 'the crash.' He had heard Kylen,
herself, use the term. A comfort level. People liked to frame things in more
palatable terms. Terms they could understand. But the word made it sound to
McQueen like Kylen had been riding around and had dented the fender on
Daddy's car. Face the Music. Call it what it was, people. The attack or
the slaughter or, my personal favorite, a damn blood-bath.
Emrys and his buddies had taken over turkey detail. The pies were done. The
potatoes were cooking on top of the stove; soon to be mashed (Dale had been
transported with the prospect of having 'The Real Thing'). The vegetable
dishes were ready for the oven or for steaming. The sisters were ready for a
break. Christian, Connor and Ewan now descended on the kitchen. It was time
for the Stuffing War. The 'Ritual Making of the Stuffing' had been an
exclusively male responsibility for as long as anyone in the house could
remember. About five years ago there had been a memorable argument between
the older siblings. The traditional family vs. a new recipe. Frank had told
them each to make a pan of whatever they wanted and had left them to it. The
'Stuff-Off' had been the result. Each young man prepared his own recipe. It
was a good-natured, but, nonetheless, hotly contested battle every year.
"Where are The Doc and The Rookie?" Ewan demanded. "We need some help in
here."
The older trio, sitting in the living room, heard the call. Dale responded
with obvious relish. Frank, thankfully placed a staying hand out to McQueen.
"The boys and Dale can manage without us. I'd like to speak with you
privately, if I may."
McQueen nodded in agreement. He had a favor to ask of Frank Celina. The two
men retired to Frank's study. Kylen knew that she was going to be the topic
of conversation and it both comforted and irritated her to no end.
A half hour later when McQueen and Frank emerged from the office and entered
the kitchen they were greeted by the sight and sound of Dale, Kylen, Connor
and Rebecca doing a strange little shuffling dance and singing: " I love
coffee. I love Tea. I love the Java Jive and it loves me." It was a slow,
bluesy, sensuous rhythm. They were weaving in and out around each other;
taking things in and out of the refrigerator, moving to and from the sink.
It was a spontaneously choreographed performance. They were clearly enjoying
themselves. Other people in the room were involved in their own pursuits and
conversation and didn't seem to even be aware. Amy and Abby were playing with
Karin. The T.V. was still on. Christian and Ewan were lightheartedly
bickering about the size of celery slices for stuffing. It was sensory
overload to McQueen.
Civilians. Too undisciplined to live. I swear. McQueen thought.
"Ah, Ty," Steinbeck called out. "I was just thinking. We should add dancing
to your program. Good for balance and timing. I don't know why I didn't
think of it before."
"I (he) don't (doesn't) dance," McQueen and Amy said simultaneously.
"That's a shame," Kylen said as she swayed her arms over her head. Clearly
she was loving it.
"Rebecca or Eithne can teach you," Connor offered as he put his wife into a
dip.
"It's how I won the hand of my wife," Frank said clapping his hand on
McQueen's shoulder. Then the two turned toward the entry hall.
Kylen was instantly pulled out of her reverie. "Where are you going?"
"I'm taking the Colonel over to pay his respects to the Wests," her father
explained.
"But Daddy, they really aren't happy with the Marine Corps right now. They
are pretty bitter," Kylen was worried that they might insult the Colonel.
"I'll come too," she asserted. Nathan's first few letters had held references
to McQueen that weren't very flattering, even though for over a year they had
held nothing but admiration. Kylen was concerned that in the light of Neil's
death the Wests would only think of the unfavorable.
"No," her father and her Colonel forcefully responded together.
"If you come they will want you to stay," Frank said. "I called to let them
know we were coming. The sight of the uniform won't spook them."
"But...," Kylen started but McQueen stopped her with a look.
"Kylen, I have to do this. I would expect all of my officers to do it. I
would expect West to do it and he would be right to expect me to. It's our
responsibility. Our Duty," McQueen spoke gently.
Across the room Amy winced. If she never heard Ty use the word "Duty" again
it would be too soon. God, I hate the Marine Corps myself, she thought.
"So be it," Kylen said softly. She gave him the once over. "You look very
impressive," she smiled and plucked an imaginary piece of lint from his
shoulder. "There, ship shape and Bristol fashion."
"Squared away," McQueen automatically corrected her.
"Squared away," she repeated. "See you soon." Then, raising her voice: "Dinner will be ready.... When?" she called over her shoulder.
"Ninety minutes. Two hours," Emrys called in from the television.
"Oh, I've got work to do. Bye." She kissed her Father on the cheek. "Thank
you, Daddy."
Chapter 24 - Stevenson
When the two men returned over an hour later the table had been set and Dale
was contentedly finishing up the gravy - sipping wine and teaching several of
the younger crowd the finer points. Bridee had made out place cards, and
after consulting Emily Post and Aislen, had placed people around the table as
she felt appropriate. Amy and Dale were to sit at her father's right; Kylen
and The Colonel were to sit directly at her father's left. The rest of the
family would be grouped according to age. What had once been 'The Kid's
Table' was now pushed to the end of the main table. While not a formal
dinner, everyone who had needed to had changed into something more
appropriate to the occasion. There were no jeans at the Celina Thanksgiving
table. McQueen's face was unreadable but Kylen noted that her father appeared
a little gray. She pulled him aside.
"How bad was it?" she asked.
"You don't want to know, Kylen." Frank told her. He shook his head. "Believe
me. Oh, Boy, you don't want to know. But I will tell you this. I have never
met a man with more personal dignity than Colonel McQueen. You are incredibly
lucky to have him as a friend and mentor. I see why he is so important to
you." Frank turned and entered his study where he stayed alone for a several
minutes.
Frank called the troops together. "I want to do something a bit different
this year. Let's leave all the food in the kitchen for the moment - to keep
warm. But please, everyone sit at the table for prayer." While everyone
filed into the dinning room to the table which now stretched into the living
room as well, Frank took the time to thank Bridee for her thoughtfulness.
McQueen was impressed with the man's eye for detail.
Frank looked around the table. He had before him what no man of his years had
the right to expect in this day and age. His entire family was before him.
They were all together and all healthy. They had honored guests and friends
at their table. No one could know when this would happen again. No one could
know what the future would hold. But, come what may, he would never forget
this day or forget to give thanks to God for giving it to them all.
Everyone joined hands and bowed their heads. McQueen, as was his habit, did
the same as a gesture of respect to the host. Frank Celina began the prayer
and McQueen felt a subtle move around the table. People had shifted in their
seats slightly. They knew from the sound of their father's voice what McQueen
did not. This was going to be one very long prayer.
Frank began with the expected Thanksgiving prayer and offered the collective
thanks and praise for Kylen's safe return. He offered thanks for the armed
forces and the swift end to the war. He then gave thanks for those who had
died and asked for comfort for their families. Again, not unexpected. He
mentioned Nathan and all of the 5-8 by name which moved McQueen unexpectedly.
Frank Celina then did something unexpected. He sat in his chair but mentally
moved around the table starting on his right, giving thanks for an attribute
or action of every person sitting at his table. He also asked a personal
blessing for everyone present.
He gave thanks, for Amy's generosity of heart which she had shared with Kylen
and asked that God would bless her with insight into her patient's needs.
For Dale: Thanksgiving for his genius. Blessings that his good humor and joy
of life would never falter.
Frank moved around the table, even showing remarkable insight into Emrys' two
young friends. McQueen found himself incredibly moved by this man's belief
which was so different from his own. Ty thought that he just might be
beginning to see into, if not totally understand, Kylen's assertion. '
Answered and blessed.'
Frank's mind had moved around the table and was now envisioning Kylen, his
lost child. Kylen knew that she was next on the list and was holding
McQueen's hand so tightly it was beginning to hurt. McQueen hadn't thought
her strong enough to exert that kind of power.
Frank gave thanks that God had given Kylen such determination and such a
strong will - even though as she was growing up it had been a trial to her
parents. He asked for mercy and blessings that peace would return to her
soul and victory to her spirit.
He now envisioned Colonel T.C. McQueen. Frank Celina's voice which had been
able to speak with such strength and conviction began to crack as his
feelings about McQueen which were complex and fresh came to the front of his
mind.
"Dear Lord, You know that the members of this household have fought against
oppression and injustice as You have given us the understanding to do so.
Today, Lord, we give thanks for the life and example of this man. No matter
what people may have thought of as his purpose when he was formed; we give
thanks for the forging of his character and Your purpose for his life. For
certainly he has been a blessing to us and those we love. We pray that he
always find favor in Your sight. We ask Your mercy that his decisions and
actions be wise. We ask Your blessings that this warrior may live in peace
and know the fulfillment of his dreams. Amen."
"Amen" the table responded and the room was absolutely still for almost a
minute.
McQueen still didn't believe that if there was a God that He would worry
about T.C. McQueen. But he had long believed that a generous prayer is never
presented in vain. As a man who had been blessed by some pretty powerful
padres in his time.... It had been one of the most profound religious
experiences of his life.
Previous : Chapter Twenty-One
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