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Kylen decided that cavorting with officers did have advantages. She
continued in her best "Queen of All She Surveys" mode with the Private. He
seemed very very young to her after life in the mines. To get her Private to
talk she turned on the charm and received a wealth of knowledge for her
trouble. It only took a couple questions on her part as he led her through
the hallways to the Mess hall.
The second transport with the rest of the survivors was expected to land
within the hour. They would all be on board The "Flo" for approximately
fourteen hours after which they would be transferred to a light speed
endo/exo transport for the trip to Earth. " Two maybe two and a half days, "
he said. She expressed her alarm at another dark and cramped ISSCV ride and
the Private assured her that this was a real ship, small in terms of Naval
ships, but built for high speed transport of material or up to a company of
marines (whatever that was). "Beds and Heads, Ma'am, and real food."
In the mean time, they would get "Three hots and a cot." Everyone would get
a "Hollywood" shower (whatever that was, but the private made it sound like
something to be devoutly desired). They would receive more complete medical
exams and their debriefing would begin (she noted that he rushed through
that). Everyone would be given an appointment to use the video phone to
speak with family who were being brought together to spend time with them
when they got 'Earth side.' "For 5 mikes, Ma'am."
This last was delivered just as they reached the Mess where the POW's were
being divided into smaller groups. Kylen surveyed the room and the organized
chaos as the survivors lined up at various tables to give their names and
vital statistics and to get their temporary "assignments." After all the
pain, confusion, loss and the general mess of her life in the past eighteen
months she had only one sudden and unexpected desire at that moment. She
wanted her Mother. Her mother who had died years ago. She wanted to see her
mother with an urgency and a pain different from anything she had felt during
her imprisonment. Wanted her like she hadn't since she was five years old.
Paradoxically, Kylen felt that it was the first step in letting go of the
survival mode she had adopted. Maybe she would be able to have a life
outside of the mines after all.
McQueen was hustled through the ship with Howard in tow. They took him into
a scanner suite and left him with a full trauma team. The amputation was
obvious but it wouldn't kill him. It was frequently the unseen injuries that
killed. The team was looking for the hidden dangers. Major Howard stood out
of the way but placed himself where he would never loose sight of McQueen who
hadn't opened his eyes since leaving the loading bay.
The team catalogued a list of new injuries to add to the already hefty
medical record: Concussion, broken ribs, inhalation injuries the entire
length of the airways, partially treated already with surfactant therapy,
percussive contusions to a number of internal organs but no evidence of
active bleeding. Massive blood loss (O-) with 4 units transfused. He was
still a train wreck but remarkably stabilized. The medical team on board the
Saratoga had done well. Damn fine job.
Now, the bad news. The team turned to the most obvious injury and the cause
of the blood loss, the traumatic below the knee amputation of the right leg.
Complicated by chemical burns.
The Flight Surgeon sighed heavily: "Well, people, I don't have much hope but
lets give it a try." Spitting out a stream of invectives worthy of a Gunny,
calling into question the parentage and sexual habits of Chigs in general and
the Ambassador in particular, he moved off to scrub for surgery. The team
began preparing Colonel McQueen for a procedure that gave them no hope. A
nurse pointed the way to Howard.
Kylen stood in the shower. She had learned that a Hollywood shower was 5
minutes of uninterrupted water flow at any temperature she wanted. She had
soaped up as fast as she could and was now letting the hottest water at the
highest pressure she could stand beat down on her head. The vid/phone call
to her family had been disturbing on several different levels. She needed to
come back into herself if she was to get through the debriefings.
Kylen realized that Intelligence had done that on purpose -- had allowed them
to speak with family to unbalance them emotionally. All the easier to get
information. She didn't have anything to hide from them and had resented the
manipulation. She had resented the lecture on security from an intelligence
officer before the call and had resented the fact that the conversation had
been monitored. Someone had been present out of the line of sight ready to
hit the censor silence switch.
All her brothers and sisters, the gang of "Indians" - the circus that was her
loud, large and boisterous family were intact and well. She was deeply
relieved. She had been afraid that someone would have been killed in the
War. She also knew that this safety would probably not last. Sooner or
later the Celina tribe would sacrifice in this war. At least Kylen would
have the chance to tell everyone the things she had spent eighteen months
thinking about. She knew that it was a gift not many people truly understood.
She was scheduled to have a meal with a representative from Aerotech.
McQueen's advice echoed in her ears. She made a conscious decision to follow
his lead. He knew a lot more than she did. Tell them as little as you
can.
McQueen lay in the recovery room. Asleep again. Howard still at his side.
The surgeon had been correct in his assessment. There was no surgical
reattachment of his leg. Well, it had been worth a try. Howard was chilled
by the equanimity with which McQueen received the news. A nod, nothing more.
He that lives upon hope will die fasting, Major Howard thought. He was
reminded of nothing so much as Robert E. Lee: the Marble Man. His grace,
courage under fire, the lowest number of demerits in the history of West
Point, disciplined in all areas of his life, an abundance of honor.
Perfection. Well, from the record he could see that McQueen's career
patterned Sherman as much as Lee but he wondered idly if McQueen consciously
emulated Lee, The Gray Fox - or if it was just the inner nature of the
Colonel.
It was what Howard hoped. Hell, he needed heroes too and he felt McQueen was
the real deal. Colonel McQueen was the type of man that people wrote books
about. Howard had read McQueen's jacket and knew him to be a man with an
almost pathological desire for privacy. There would never be an authorized
biography only official press releases from The Corps that McQueen could not
control. God help the person who tried to research the man. Howard
whispered the old Franklin doggerel to himself:
"If you would not be forgotten, as soon as you are dead and rotten, either
write things
worth the reading, or do things worth the writing."
It was almost a shame, this need for privacy. People should know about men
like the Colonel.
Kylen knew with certainty that she had been "handled." These people were
smooth. They were astute enough to not separate the survivors but also aware
enough to keep them in smaller groups. One staff member for every 4
survivors. They were never alone. There was always a "Keeper" close by.
Everything they talked about was overheard by someone. Their families were
being brought to meet them. That meant that they were going to be
sequestered somewhere for who knew how long. By making frequent trips to
'the head' she managed to exchange snips of information with a few of the
other women. Some got the picture and some didn't. The whole thing was
starting to really piss her off.
Kylen reviewed the last few hours. She had gotten through the Aerotech
ordeal pretty well. By going on the attack she hadn't allowed them too many
questions. She had barraged the man with questions about her backpay,
benefits and release from her contract. That thought frightened her more
than a little. Could they really still hold her to the contract? Certainly
public opinion would help. One problem at a time.
She had met the Spooks. She had almost laughed when they were introduced.
McQueen
had been wrong. You didn't have to be smart to figure out why these guys
were called Spooks. Self-important, dressed in black they made no attempt
at blending in but seemed to enjoy throwing their weight around. Kylen had detested them
immediately. They acted as if they knew more than anyone else and weren't
telling.
The Spooks were the "Alien Interpretation Unit" and they had wanted to know
about the aliens, Chigs, they called them. How they had acted. How they had
communicated. What Kylen knew about them. Well, after the first couple of
months she had rarely even seen one of them so she had very little to tell.
McQueen had said they would press her and they hadn't yet so she figured she
would be seeing them again.
No one had left her alone long enough to organize her thoughts. The trip home
was shaping up to be a real pain in the ass.
After her shower there was another meal and the Keepers started to round up
their charges and head out to the wards to grab some "rack time." Kylen was
ready to sleep in a real bed even if it was only a cot in a medical ward.
As they made their way through the passageways she came to the startling
realization that her newest "captors" had told her no more about the war than
the AI's had. Less in fact. They were keeping them in the dark. Part of her
knew why they would do such a thing and another part of her jumped over the
slow burn and immediately hit full blown white hot burning mad.
"Like Hell" she growled, turned on her heel and headed off to find Major
Howard.
"Smarmy son-of-a-bitch!" She made it as far as the Mess and
stopped. Her Keeper would be after her soon. This will serve no
purpose. I'm not going to get any information and I'm only going to drawn
attention. If I want Aerotech and The Spooks to forget I exist, this isn't
how to do it. Wait for Howard, Kylen. Watch for the patterns and wait for
the moment. She went back to the ward and slept fitfully.
Chapter Seven - Njals Saga
Kolskegg moved quickly and stepped towards him and struck him on the side
with his short sword and cut off his leg, and then he said. "Did that hit
your leg or not?"
"This is what I get," said Kol, "for not shielding myself" - and he stood for
a while on his other leg and looked at the stump.
Kolskegg said, "You don't need to look: it's just as you think, the leg is
gone."
Then Kol fell down dead.
He had had the dream again. He wasn't sure how many times it had been
repeating but he knew for sure that this was the third time he had jolted out
of his sleep, sweating and sick to his stomach. Amy had given him the Njals
Saga for Christmas the first year of their marriage. The imagery was
obvious. The dream always ended the same way. In the dream, McQueen looked
at the stump of his leg and then fell down to die. What changed was
Kolskegg's face and voice. Certainly, the Chig ambassador had played the
role at least once, but McQueen remembered that the sword had also been in
the hands of Wang. He didn't remember Vansen or Phousse coming after him but
he was fearful that they would probably show up soon enough. That's what I
get for not shielding myself. Of letting down my guard and feeling some sort
of personal connection with these people.
McQueen had been careful. Careful to keep his distance. Never letting
himself get too close. The aloofness between McQueen and the 127th was, he
would even admit, partly of his own making. That aloofness was part of the
reason that, as difficult as it had been, he had been able to move forward
after the 127th had been wiped out. He had guarded himself against it and it
had still happened. He had formed emotional bonds:
McQueen had never been able to decide which was worse, heaving your guts out
or having the dry heaves.
The debriefings were to continue aboard the transport vessel Asjiki. In
fact, it was here where Intelligence expected the biggest breakthroughs. Two
days of total concentration on the Hostages.
The Asjiki was a multipurpose modular vessel large enough to carry a full
company with all their gear. She was configured for this trip as a hospital
transport. The medical ward modules provided spaces that kept the former
hostages in small groups for their comfort and mutual security but allowed
continual surveillance by intelligence personnel. Her Isolation Room
modules, with their windows to anterooms and corridors, provided excellent
interrogation spaces but a physical space that, again, the survivors would
not find too intimidating. The windows offering a feeling of openness and the
absence of confinement. Hot food cooked in a real galley. Hot showers. All
in all, Howard had been pleased with the set up thrown together as it was.
Aerotech and The Spooks had gotten first shot at the group on the Nightingale
and now had to cool their heels while what Howard thought of as "The
Professionals" took over. Patience and timing was how the game should be
played particularly where civilians were concerned and the 'competition' had
been too eager and hadn't even bothered to question why Marine and Naval
Intelligence had let them move ahead. They had jumped the gun.
Howard watched Kylen through the anteroom window. This one he hoped would be
a real find - a gem. He had been getting and continued to get reports from
'The Keepers'. A few of the survivors looked very promising. He had already
met the prospect in front of him and he had great hopes. There was only the
merest possibility that any of them would show any signs of Stockholm
Syndrome. Their captors having been too different to really identify with.
No, it was a matter of gaining trust and being able to grasp unto the little
things. Interrogating these people would be a very different matter than
dealing with military personnel. The survivors didn't know that they knew
things.
Howard decided that he wanted to handle this one himself. He liked to keep
his skills sharp, but truth be told she had intrigued him. He had actually
been looking forward to this. This one was just waiting for the right person.
Kylen was sitting in the chair relaxed, composed, self-contained, hair still
damp from her morning shower. She had repositioned her chair to face the
door, and allowing herself to see the clock on the wall. Confident enough
to rearrange the furniture but still watching her six. Interesting young
woman, thought Howard. He pushed the door to the isolation (now
interview) room open with his elbow careful not to spill his offering of two
cups of hot coffee. He noticed that she didn't jump at the sound only
shifted her gaze. Aware and awake. She did not get up to help him. They
weren't on the same team yet.
Howard pushed through the door into the room. "Good morning Ms. Celina.
I've taken the liberty of bringing some coffee. How do you take it?" He put
the heavy mugs on the table and drew sugar, creamer, and stir sticks out of
his pocket.
"Not to you liking?", Howard asked.
Kylen considered her situation. This man was nominally in charge. It was
better to be on his good side - at least for now. She didn't know how far to
trust him but she would answer him truthfully whenever she could.
"I used to drink it black, but ....Well,... We wanted calories... We never
knew.... We...... We wanted calories.....even bad calories." Her attempted
explanation sputtered out. Howard decided not to jump on the food issue. In
reality, they didn't appear to be starving. It had been an issue, clearly,
but he would let her bring it up at her own level of importance not his.
Kylen spoke softly. "Major Howard, before we get started, may I ask you a few
questions?"
"Certainly, Ms Celina," Howard was surprised by this only in that most people
wait until the end of the first interview or the second to ask their
questions. She may be single minded. She's gutsy and probably can be very
willful and stubborn if I don't give her the respect she wants.
"Major Howard, why haven't you told us anything about this war? When do you
intend to tell us?" She was very careful to keep her tones even and
non-confrontational - her body language neutral. Howard could, nonetheless,
sense her hostility.
"Miss Celina, let me ask you: Why do you think we would not tell you these
things?"
"I sounded like your Mother, didn't I?" he said with a weak chuckle. "I'm
really not attempting to cloud the issue but if I can gain some understanding
of how you think...how you process information .... Well, it just makes my
job easier." He saw that she accepted the logic.
She conceded the point. "I think that you probably aren't telling us anything
so that we don't become distracted. So that what we have to tell you doesn't
get buried in other concerns and fears. How am I doing?"
Howard was greatly pleased. "You are right on the money. There will be a
series of current history seminars for you after we get back to Earth."
"Which brings me to my second question, Major. A private told me that our
families are being brought to us...Not, I noted, that we would be going home
to see them. What is that about?"
It was a bitter truth but Howard thought it would be the best medicine. "Ms
Celina, the unhappy truth about people in your situation - hostages,
survivors of terrorist activities and disasters, even rescue personnel - is
that there is a high level of residual emotional fallout. Personality
changes, emotional distress, depression. Post traumatic stress disorder is
very common and there is a high risk of suicide after the fact." He saw no
overt reaction from her after this remark except for a remarkable stillness
in her face and body. Good, she is able to mask her reactions to a large
extent she would only need a little schooling .
"We want to avoid that in
this case. So we are going to briefly - and I stress briefly, probably only
a few days - We are going to briefly sequester your group and select family
members. During this time your debriefings will continue, you will be
brought up to date and everyone will be assigned a case worker and counselor "
However unpleasant this information was it, unfortunately, made sense to
Kylen. She fell back on an attempt at irony to easy the tension.
"I suppose it's too much to hope for sunshine and a beach ?" She countered.
"Yes, I'm afraid it is." Howard chuckled again. " We have commandeered The
Clinic at The Greenbrier. We can control it and it is close enough to
Washington and New York for the Brass and U.N. big wigs who will probably
want to visit."
"Not to mention bunkers and bomb shelters" she added.
"As I said, we can control it. The Greenbrier was actually used for a
similar purpose as far back as World War II. There is the medical clinic not
to mention a spa, the Mineral Baths, recreational activities and masseuses.
And they have a remarkable kitchen for your caloric concerns." He gently
teased. He watched her process this information.
"I'm not sure that was such a hot idea," she said.
Howard was flabbergasted. The Greenbrier was a five star resort. He
couldn't afford a weekend there.
"The Mineral baths? - White Sulphur Springs?" she continued. "Have you ever
smelled those Bugs......up close? " she challenged. Howard hadn't and he was
a little chastened to realize that, no matter what she didn't know about the
war, Kylen had seen the enemy face to face. In their brilliant way the
government had neglected to account for the fact that the Chigs gave off a
distinct sulphurous odor - in fact just like the mineral baths. It was an
embarrassment. He said the only thing he could think of.
"The baths are at the other end of the Resort. You don't have to go there."
Howard watched as Kylen considered this.
"Major Howard, how is Colonel McQueen?" The shift was sudden. A caution
light went off in Howard's brain. Could she be too mercurial? Or does she
just have that gift, usually particular to women, of keeping several things in complete focus at
the same time? His wife could do it. Hell, he had even seen his four year
old daughter do it. He accepted it as a fact but it always vaguely
astonished him. He noted too that she was sure that he would know the answer
to her question about Colonel McQueen. She was quick on the uptake. He
decided to answer completely. She would eventually find out if he lied. She
wasn't technically a prisoner. She was only under his control for a short
time. Trust was at issue.
"He is stable as you so "completely" told me yesterday," he smiled and they
both acknowledged the dance they had gone through the day before. "He is
still serious but greatly improved. He is on board by the way. The limb
reattachment was a no go. He's on his way home for a prosthetic. Ms Celina.
Now, if I may ask, what is your connection to Colonel McQueen?"
Kylen also decided to tell the truth. I may have to lie to him later but
he can find this stuff out ...if he doesn't know the answer already.
"We were saved by the 58th. My fiance is in the 58th. Colonel McQueen
commands the 58th." She was forced to smile at her own repetitions. "We met
yesterday on the transport. I feel responsible to him ... for him somehow.
I just want to make sure he is well cared for." She paused momentarily to
change gears. "Major Howard, why is he under arrest? Or rather under guard
or should I say guarded?"
It was Major Howard's turn to smile at the reference to their first meeting.
He was thoroughly enjoying the exchange. Correction, She is very very
quick. Tell her the truth or you will lose her.
"Ms. Celina, The
Colonel has an appreciation of certain facts that aren't known at large and
there are people who would rather that information not become common
knowledge. While we anticipate any threat to be short-lived, we,
nonetheless, believe it too be quite real at the moment. As far as The
Colonel's actions are concerned, his injuries ... well, I imagine that he
will get a medal or at the least a commendation. In any case, his life has
been changed. "
"Tell me, Major, does he get an all expense paid week at The Greenbrier? A
counselor?
A case manager?" She challenged with more than a little bitterness on behalf
of McQueen. Major Howard didn't answer her and she was glad that he had had
the good graces not to prevaricate. They both knew the answer to her
question. The V.A. hadn't really changed since the Vietnam War. There was
certainly no week of decompression and counseling at a resort in Colonel
McQueen's future.
"When we finish I'll take you to see him." Howard told her gently. " and
thereafter you may see him whenever you like, unless of course you and I are
in ... consultation."
He chuckled again and received a small smile for his efforts.
"Agreed. Now, Major, what do you want to know?"
T O P S E C R E T
ASJIKI
TO USMC HDQRTS DEPARTMENT OF INTELLIGENCE
PERSONAL FROM MAJOR HOWARD USMC TO GENERAL RADFORD USMC.
Dear General:
As requested, I'm forwarding my impressions to you. The completed reports
for further interpretation should be available within an hour of landing at
Andrews. Please convey my compliments to General Weirick. I'll let him know
when Lt.Col. McQueen is on his way to Steinbeck's clinic. Due to his injuries
the Docs are going to have to put the colonel out for the reentry. I'll
personally see him loaded onto the transport.
General, let me thank you and General Weirick for pulling whatever strings
you had to to get him there. Based on my own experience, I can tell you that
Steinbeck is just the man for the job.
The team is getting the POWs prepped for the trip to the Greenbrier. Time
will tell how many will really be an asset to us. They are all in
surprisingly good shape physically but most of them are psychologically not
up to our purpose..at least not at this time, I'm afraid.
There are a few notable exceptions. One in particular: Kylen Celina
I have gleaned the following from Celina, along with one or two others. It
is notable that they have very little insight into the Chigs. But they have
interesting info re: the AIs and Kazbek.
1. The POWs were indeed held on Kazbek and were used to mine Sewell Fuel
which they called The Pink. None of them appear to have any knowledge
whatsoever of the Clone or clones that the 5-8 reported. Most have mentioned
seeing the 5-8 brought in as prisoners. They heard the torture, of course,
and had assumed that the Marines had been executed. We need to keep strict
compartmentalization on that S.A.R. Granted we didn't know that the POWs
were there until after we had secured the 5-8, but you can imagine the
fallout of leaving 40 civilians
behind with a carrier in the area.
2. While they tried earnestly to evade capture there was no concerted effort
by the POW's to engineer an escape once on Kazbek. To Quote: We are
underground on a planet - who knows where. Where were we going to go? I
think that many of them may have trouble with this in the future.
3. These people are not "average". Aerotech was not about to spend the cash
to send Joe Average into space. They are very well educated and extremely
bright. Celina is not the only one to start putting things together by any
means, we've just had the most luck with her. These people developed
ingenious methods of coping. Very inventive. The seminars at Greenbrier
will come none to soon. Continuing to keep them in the dark is going to be
counterproductive. We don't want to shoot ourselves in the foot here.
4. After the initial 3 months the POWs had very little contact with the Chigs
- who they called The Bugs or The Locusts (evidently the chaplain survived
and regularly quoted from Revelations). This coincides with the time they
were taken away from Tellus. The attitude of the Chigs to the survivors was
(after the initial period) characterized by the group as a whole as largely
indifferent. Which paints a different picture comparing it to how our
servicemen and women are treated. This certainly implies a more complex
agenda than we might have thought.
Best Regards,
Barton Howard
Next : Chapter Eight
Previous : Chapter Four to Five
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