McQueen took adhesive tape and saran wrap and wrapped the connection between his thigh and the prosthetic leg. An anastamosis Dale called it. Another few days and the outer healing would be complete but until then he still had to protect the area from water. He stepped into the shower, let the water beat down on his head and thought of his conversation with Kylen.

He had been mildly amused with the way she had come on about InVitros having souls. Mildly amused at her heat, passion and more than a little naivete - but also proud. Her absolute faith in the existence of his soul warmed his heart. Indeed, his soul. It made him feel as if he had someone he trusted at his back. A sense of confidence. A feeling that there were possibilities.

She had been grave and silent but hadn't flinched at the sight of the leg. It is what it is. Then she said something about doors and compartments. This isn't the first time. What does she mean? Just ask her, you dumb Tank.

He thought of the almost childlike glee with which she had offered her congratulations on his promotion. However late the promotion had been in coming, Kylen's joy in his accomplishment was complete. She had no way of knowing of his struggle for acceptance, his disappointments. The sting of being by-passed. Kylen's pleasure was untainted. There was no bad taste in her mouth. Her happiness for him was unalloyed. Pure. Big Bird. Big Bird? I don't even believe it. For the first time in months T.C. McQueen threw back his head and laughed out loud. A satisfying knee-slapping laugh.

When he came out of the shower McQueen saw clothing had been left on his bed. The kid snuck in here while I was in the shower and I didn't hear her. Damn, I'm getting rusty. He could picture her tiptoeing into the room. There was the heaviest, most luxurious terry cloth robe he had ever seen. It had the Greenbrier logo on the left breast. There was also a navy blue cotton sweater with the same logo. He pulled on the sweater and finished dressing.

McQueen met Kylen in the solarium. Steinbeck had arranged for the two to have dinner there. Quiet and in private. McQueen appreciated the physician's thoughtfulness. There were going to be enough stares as it was: The Old War Horse and the Cheerleader. Kylen moved rapidly to McQueen's side and took his arm much to his discomfort.

"You are still supposed to be on 'contact guard.' Don't give me that look. You thought I wouldn't ask? Please. No, you will just have to put up with having me on your arm for a bit longer." Kylen walked him to the table as if they were entering a formal dinner. Against his will, McQueen accepted the illusion completely. He remembered his manners just in time to hold out a chair for her but she would not be fooled. She deftly maneuvered him into the seat. A little dance. She walked to the phone and called for their meal.

Only she could be here for an hour and know how the place runs. Details. That's Kylen, he thought. "So, tell me about the Greenbrier. Tell me about home." McQueen had expected her to brighten and become talkative but he was mistaken.

"OK. Things are pretty good, I guess. And you?"

I asked first, Kylen. No fair. McQueen decided to wait her out. He knew her well enough. She would break first. He was right.

"I feel that everyone wants something from me. My family, Aerotech, The Spooks, Howard. Everybody. I feel frayed at the edges and they are all picking at the threads."

Yea, right. So you come here to pull on mine, McQueen thought and was instantly ashamed. She stood guard over me. She fought my battles like a wolf. So, I let her sink now? McQueen was faced with an instant and uncomfortable memory of when the Wildcards had been thought dead on Sere and Nathan was facing the surgery that would have lost them all forever. McQueen had said to him I'm here for you - all the way. But that had been a lie. A joke. He almost hadn't been. Nathan using Kylen as his argument had made the point. Have faith. No, I have to be here for Kylen. Three of them may now be gone for good, but I owe the 58th to your image, Kid. I would never have believed. I wouldn't have stopped the surgery. I wouldn't have gone back. Good God, she even worries that I have something to wear and I haven't even thanked her. "Thank you for the clothes."

"You're welcome. Oh, wait until you get into the robe. It is magnificent. Greenbrier gave us all one." Kylen did not tell him that she had purchased his things out of the clothing allowance Aerotech had given the survivors. She guessed - quite correctly - that he would rather walk naked down the middle of the street than put on anything that Aerotech had paid for. She felt uncomfortable deceiving him but she had wanted so badly to have something nice for him. Kylen resolved that when she got some real cash that she would purchase something for herself at an equal value. Rob Peter to pay Paul and leave John an I.O.U. "It was the darkest sweater they had," she said offhandedly.

McQueen filed that little bit of information away for further thought. "So tell me. What are they all picking at you for or about?" he asked.

"Well, my family is different - separate. It's not picking really but it just isn't comfortable yet. We can't seem to get on the same page. But the others? I wish I knew what these others really wanted. It could make this easier. I mean, I'm not stupid, I'll figure it out, but it seems like they are wasting time playing games."

"Well, Kylen, the theory is that if they tell you what they need to know, then you will only concentrate on that. You could leave out something that could be terrifically important that they don't know anything about."

"Yes, I suppose," she said doubtfully. "General Radford said the same thing, in so many words."

"You met with Radford?"

"Yes. He asked me to "convey his compliments" to you, by the way."

"Tell me about your meeting. Tell me what you can," he immediately corrected. With Radford a lot was likely to be classified. McQueen was chilled by this development. Radford was the highest ranking Native American in the world, head of Marine Intelligence and a man who didn't waste his time. Radford had wanted to meet with Kylen. He must think her extremely important. This couldn't be good. Kylen, we talked about blending in. Why didn't you do it? Simple, she didn't blend in because you called attention to her, Fool. You sent her into Howard's hand's. You pushed her off the cliff. Damn, McQueen, you fairly hung a big red sign around her neck. Kylen was continuing with her explanation and once more McQueen had to catch up.

"Radford, was waiting for me after lunch on the second day. He was outside standing there with the horses."

"Horses?" McQueen asked.

"He knew that I could ride. He knew a lot about me actually. He took me out for a ride while we talked," she explained.

I'll bet he took you for a ride. He is a good man but he can be ruthless. Na'iya'eii. McQueen thought. Why would he play this hand now? Why so openly concentrate on Kylen? The Greenbrier has to be a hotbed of palace intrigue. Plots within plots. A nest of pit vipers. Why would Radford call attention to her? It's early in the game to sacrifice your queen. The game must be desperate - or - or what? Think McQueen. Queen's gambit. Yes, let them focus on Kylen - she is obvious anyway. Let them focus on Kylen while someone else is working on Martin. Yes, the Singer of the Stone, Martin had to be the King in this game: one of many in the series.

"I trust Radford," but she then qualified her statement. "More or less. He and Howard are the best of a bad business aren't they? They seem like good enough people. Like they genuinely care about us...about me. But this whole business..... This whole business..."

"The whole business sucks, Kylen," he spat, disgusted that she couldn't be treated with more honesty.

"No shit, McQueen." She went back to her story. "I just went for the big guns with Radford. Or what I perceive is a big gun. I told him about singing the stone. Not the dancing part. But the rest of it. He is a pretty intimidating man."

Oh, Kylen you are a babe in the woods, here. You should have told him about the dancing. Radford has the soul of a Warrior Poet. You could have bound him to your personal cause forever if you had told him about the dancing. He would have protected you forever. As a point of honor. Of respect. I wonder if I can somehow let him know? How in the hell can I tell him about your will and your spirit? How can I tie him to you? Should I? Might Kylen actually be safer without Radford's protection and attention? Damn, I'm too far out of the loop here!

"Intimidating Huh? Well, You haven't been intimidated by Howard or by me." McQueen was trying to send her a message. She didn't quite get it.

"Well, McQueen you must remember that you and I met when you were half naked and high. It sort of changes a person's perspective. It's door number one," she chuckled.

"Kylen, Just what is all this "Door and Compartment" business? You said something about doors when they knocked me out. Before reentry. Something about door number one."

Kylen paused, a bit embarrassed. She wasn't ready to share her thoughts on this matter. She had never intended to do so. But he was waiting for her to answer. Me and my big mouth. You have to learn to just shut up, she thought, then she spoke. "Well, they are different sides of your personality."

McQueen remained expressionless. He didn't necessarily disagree but it was not enough of an explanation for him. She felt forced to continue. "You can consider it a compliment," she offered. " The thought is something to the effect that women - or rather, the feminine mind has a concentric structure but 'The more masculine, in a spiritual sense, a man is the more his mind is disjointed into compartments.' I can see your doors opening and closing. I imagine that it is frustrating to people who want to access a compartment of your mind that is closed off. They know that it is there but they can't get past the barriers you erect. You have a few compartments that were obvious to me...that's all."

"And who's thoughts are these?" McQueen questioned conversationally. He wasn't sure that he particularly liked the direction things were going. She had switched the entire conversation. They were now focused on him. He really didn't like the fact that Kylen had been able to do it - to switch things around on him. "An artist or philosopher, or yours?" He asked it without irony. She was certainly smart enough to come up with something like that herself.

Kylen smiled, "Ortega Y Gasset"

"Existential phenomenology," he asserted. "And you have identified my doors and compartments?" He asked evenly.

"A few," Kylen said shyly. McQueen gestured for her to continue.

"Well, I would have to say, at the moment, that this is door number two. The Commander." (He gestured again for her to move on.) "Yes, definitely," she teased mildly, "The Commander."

McQueen had to relaxed a little. She was right, he was giving her a command.

"Door number one is you when you are 'under the influence' or sick, or as I so tactfully put it: 'half naked and high.' Door number four is the artist and number five is the husband or lover. The last made them both blush. "Six is the survivor, the POW," she added rapidly to cover.

McQueen recovered his momentary embarrassment and asked before he could think. "And door number three?"

Kylen did not answer. I don't even know what to call door number three. He won't like it no matter what I say. But McQueen spared her the necessity when he realized that behind the third door was the outburst she had seen on the Asjiki.

"Oh," he said quietly.

"You are the 'impresario of your own life,' McQueen," she said quickly. "You just have to decide how you are going to go with this. You write this chapter. You have control over how you are affected." She paused and took in a deep breath then continued softly.

"The body is a thing, the soul is a thing; man is not a thing but a drama - his life. Man has to live with the body and soul which have fallen him by chance. And the first thing he has to do is decide what he is going to do."

And what am I going to do? He reflected. He had never seriously contemplated a life outside of the Marines and who could tell what the Corps would do with him now? And you, Kylen what will you do now? McQueen was discomforted by the turn of the conversation and jumped back to an earlier topic.

"How did you know that I would prefer something dark?" McQueen asked fingering his sweater. He hoped to divert her; to unsettle her. He couldn't. She was better at this than he was.

"What else? It just made sense to me." She said in the damned reasonable tone with which McQueen found impossible to argue. Kylen had no idea how she had known. She just had. Why would someone so dynamic wear anything that would draw attention away from his personality? It made sense to her - so it was the truth.

"Where you always like this?" McQueen asked only half teasing. I've only known one or two natural civilians. Maybe a lot are like her. Maybe I just never met them before or maybe she is just herself.

Kylen instantly understood the nuance of his question. "Yea, I guess that I have always been like this. Only more so. I'm not hitting on all cylinders just yet." Kylen looked at him with such an intensity that McQueen for the first time almost squirmed under her gaze.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing."

"Bullshit. What?"

"I almost asked you what you were like as a child," she admitted.

McQueen considered the source of the insulting question. Certainly insulting to an InVitro. Wait. Don't jump on this. This is Kylen. Not some jerk.

Kylen asked and she asked in private. Then a second thought tumbled over the first. She sees me as a whole person, not a symbol, not a commander, not as a tank. She just paid you a compliment, McQueen. This is interest not just curiosity. Thank you, Kylen.

"No, Kylen, but I was very young, once."

Kylen was suddenly filled with the desire to know all about that time in McQueen's life. But she felt she had pushed enough for now. She asked something a little more neutral instead. "Have you always been in the Military?"

McQueen was struck by the respectful way that her question had been phrased. Aren't we politically correct? It then hit him that she wasn't being politically correct at all. No, rather Kylen was just naturally gracious. Her respect for his person and his feelings were as natural to her as breathing.

McQueen became aware that he had a cosmic joke to pull on her. One he hadn't thought of before - hadn't even realized. One she would appreciate. He looked at her with the 'almost' smile on his face.

"I worked in the mines."

"WHAT????" Kylen shoved her chair back from the table. "What? The Hell you say? The mines? A miner?" She raised her hands and eyes to the heavens as if thanking God and asking for patience at the same time. "And you just now...just now remembered this salient little fact? That's one hell of an interesting little door, McQueen. God, you are an infuriating son-of-a-bitch!" Kylen then lost control and broke into loud and infectious laughter.

McQueen couldn't help himself. He began to laugh quietly as well. "Technically, not possible, Celina."

Steinbeck entered the solarium in time to see Kylen whip a roll at McQueen.

"Did you ever have to use a Falcor 928?" Kylen blurted at the Colonel.

"What a piece of Crap." McQueen came back. McQueen had not talked about the mines since he had been pulled off of Omicron Draconis to toil in the InVitro platoons. But he had been a very good miner. "Now the Matlock 467, now that was a good piece of equipment."

"We, used to call it 'The Clean and Jerk,'" Kylen laughed. "But it finally broke down too. No spare parts. Then we started using 'The Bug" tools. Pretty amazing stuff. You know, we used to try and screw things up. It was hard to screw up using those Bug tools.

Steinbeck interrupted "Umm, excuse me. We're leaving for the evening. Kylen your room is set up." The two miners nodded absently in Steinbeck's general direction. Kylen came to first. She looked at Steinbeck and gave him a brilliant smile. "Thank you, Doctor Steinbeck ... Dale."

"OK, well, I'll see you both tomorrow. Now don't you kids stay up too late. And clean up after yourselves." He said looking with amusement at the roll on the floor. Steinbeck left feeling very pleased indeed that he had called Frank Celina, that Kylen had come. He liked her.

Amy met him on the other side of the door. Dale could tell that she was not in a good mood. Not at all. They stood at the window and watched McQueen and Kylen, whose conversation was laced with hand movements. Not unlike the gestures Amy had seen fighter pilots make when reliving their flights.

"Why is she here?" Amy asked.

"She came to visit 'The Solitary McQueen.' I called her in. They like each other. They're friends" Steinbeck answered.

"What are they talking about, Dale?"

"Mining, not that it's any of your business, Amy."

"Mining?"

"Yes, Amy, mining."

"Dale, give me a break. Mining my foot. Ty never talks about the mine. He said it was awful. He would never talk about the mines. Not to me. Not anyone. He's laughing."

"Amy, She was forced labor in the mines, like Ty."

"She's too young."

"She isn't an InVitro, Amy. ... So there we have it."

"Have what, Dale? "

"The reason for your foul mood. She is young, attractive, natural born, and she makes him laugh. When did you last make him laugh? Could you ever?"

"How can you say something so unkind? So cruel?"

"No, Amy. Don't you be unkind to either one of them. You are my favorite cousin, Amy, and I love you. But those two people need each other."

"She is a child, Dale," Amy almost wailed. Her life had been confused enough having to face Ty again. Now this.

Dale Steinbeck realized that he had been too harsh with her. "So, tell me. Amy, are all those stories are true about InVitros and their totally uncontrollable sex drive?"

"Don't be vulgar," She said smacking Dale's arm. His teasing tone had helped to smooth her feathers.

"OK then, Amy. So, McQueen is the type of officer to risk his career for a quick piece of ass with the wife of a subordinate. Yes, well, not technically, but she is engaged to one of his men.

"You are out of your mind. Ty would never do such a thing."

"OK? So McQueen is so weak a man that he could allow himself to be seduced by that little cutie who, as I explained, is a fiancee of a friend.

"Now, you are being ridiculous." Amy realized that she had to back up and take stock.

"No, Amy, I'm not, but you were. Kylen is a Tellus survivor. They met on the transport home. I gather that they have been helping each other through all this. Now, let's see. They have mutual friends. Both have been prisoners of war. Both have been forced labor in mines. Both are extremely intelligent. Neither one in control of their lives at the moment. Now, why in the world would they be drawn to each other? What could they possibly have in common?"

"Oh my God," Amy murmured. "That young woman? On Tellus? Oh my God, Dale, she looks so fragile. How could she have survived?"

"Hidden depths, my dear. I think that you are going to like Kylen. She really can be quite delightful. Now, let the man spend time with someone he likes and let the kid start to heal. Give them both time with someone that shares a common experience. He is helping to connect her with life outside of the prisons and the mines and she connects him to his squadron. Amy, help them both out. Come with me, my sweetheart, and we will discuss this latest "project" of 'Steinbeck's Home for Lost Souls' over dinner. We are, after all, in the business of rebuilding bodies and lives. For now, Sweetie, leave it alone."

Next : Chapter Fifteen

Previous : Chapter Thirteen

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