nightmares and dreams2

The Clara Barton, September 2, 2064, 0700 hours

McQueen lay there, his consciousness suspended in that moment between awake and asleep. He could hear noises that weren’t familiar to him. His body didn’t feel like his own. As he fought to open his eyes, a hatch banged and the events of the last 24 hours came rushing back.

“Jen,” his lips formed her name, but no sound came out. He hadn’t learned the breath control necessary for talking with a trach tube in place. He hoped that it wouldn’t be there long enough for him to have to.

“Easy does it Colonel McQueen,” Sgt. John Stark finished recording his patient’s vital signs, then moved closer to the bed to talk to him. “You and your team saved my life, when you pulled us off of Kordis, Sir. Anything I can do for you, let me know.”

McQueen shook his head as he recognized the Corpsman who had been trapped with Jen. He had many questions, but was too tired to write them out. For the moment, they would have to wait.

Two men came into his room. He thought he recognized one as the man who had transmitted his message, the night before, but he wasn’t sure.

“Colonel, I’m Dr. Turek, I don’t know if you remember me from last night, but we talked.” Stan motioned for Stark to stay, and continue his charting. “This is Dr. Kelly, his speciality is transplant and cyber orthopedics. Do you remember what happened to you?”

McQueen nodded his head, as images flew through his mind. He knew he had been at the peace talks. He knew he had lost part of his right leg. Then there was Jen in Sickbay? His fingers rubbed against his chest, where his dog tags were resting, under his gown. She had given him her bracelet? That hadn’t been a dream. After that it got hazy, as if he was watching, as well as participating. He kept trying to remember a conversation with Paul, but his mind didn’t want to accept it. Somehow he knew Paul was dead, so he couldn’t have talked to him.

“Colonel McQueen,” Mike Kelly sat in a chair next to the patient’s bed, bringing Ty’s attention back to the present. “Dr. Kirkwood’s notes suggest the use of a new kind of prosthesis. It would be the ideal, but involves the use of stem cell therapy and transplanted muscle and bone. The stem cell therapy can be hard on the body and in many cases the patient rejects the transplants. But when it works, the prosthesis becomes a living part of your body. It would be as if you had never lost a limb. You are young and healthy so the odds are good that this will work for you, but in case it doesn’t I want to explain to you what is involved with the computerized version.” Kelly waited a beat, while he watched McQueen absorb what had been said.

“I understand you are a veteran of the AI war? Since that’s the case, it’s important for you to understand that the second option isn’t an AI prosthesis, as people like to call it. In actuality, the AI’s grew out of the combined sciences of Cyber-medicine, not the other way around,” Dr. Kelly had caught McQueen’s attention.

“In the late 1980’s doctors began experimenting with ways to give para and quadriplegics natural movement. By 2015, the research had progressed to the replacement of limbs.” Kelly began drawing a diagrams of both options for McQueen. “Unfortunately, somewhere along the line, ethics were tossed out the window and Aerotech decided to try and build people. The rest is history,” he muttered.

McQueen interrupted Kelly’s lecture by reaching unsteady hands for the doctor’s pen and paper. He scribbled, “do it,” then let the pen drop from hands made tired from that small job.

Sometime during the night before, the Colonel had decided he would take a leg from the devil himself, if it helped him get back to the Saratoga. He had never been vain about his body. Hell, what was one more scar, he had thought. Besides the prosthesis was only a means to an end. He could picture Jen sitting beside his bed quoting from The Book Of Five Rings. ‘When your life is on the line, you want to make use of all your tools.’ He was sure she would prod him along by saying. Come on Ty, after all, whatever gets the job done!

“All right,” Kelly was caught by surprise. Very often it took careful explaining to convince soldiers who had fought against the AI’s to let him use one of the more advanced types of prosthesis. If the newer transplants didn’t work. He could understand why they were repelled by the idea of possible AI technology. Many of them refused to even listen.

“We’ll schedule your surgery for 0700 tomorrow. I realize it’s fast, Colonel, but the sooner we do the procedure, the better the chance of a positive outcome. Dr. Kirkwood was careful when she did the original repair. It was obvious she had this kind of prosthesis in mind from the start. You were lucky to have her there to do the surgery.”

McQueen closed his eyes, nodding his head in agreement, as his hand moved to grip his dog tags through the hospital gown. He was able to feel the bracelet Jen had attached there the night before and it gave him comfort.

Planet 2063 Yankee, 0700 hours September 2, 2064

The little planet was the third from it’s yellow sun. Both the sun and the planets caught in it’s orbit were small by comparison to many of it’s much larger cousins throughout the universe. Though the planet was going on 2 billion years old, it didn’t support any humanoid life forms as yet. It was lush and green, with a high oxygen content in it’s atmosphere. Due to it’s proximity to it’s sun, and the odd shifting along it’s axis, the temperature between poles and equator was a constant 33 degrees C. to 36 degrees C. all year long.

The Chigs had checked it out years ago for possible colonization, but found the atmosphere not only unbreathable, but between the constant rain and the high oxygen content of the air, it corroded their survival suits. Added to that were poor communications due to the flux in magnetic fields, making the few minerals found, uneconomical to mine.

As one moved further from the equator, an odd phenomena occurred. In the fifteen hours it took to complete a turn on it’s axis, 2063 Yankee had two nights. A true night, when the face of the planet was turned away from the sun and a false night, when only partial light was present, as the planet rocked away from the sun, then back again. The poles getting the longer false nights, the equator none.

In a mountainous area, of the largest continent, mid-way between equator and the north pole, a little cockpit was covered with it’s landing ‘chute. It had come to rest in the deep water of a huge lake or inland sea. Between the water and the ‘chute’ the cockpit had been cushioned enough to keep from breaking up on impact. During the night, it had drifted to the southern shore of the lake.

“Ohhh...” Captain Shane Vansen’s eyes fluttered open as she tried to make sense of the strange rocking sensation. If she didn’t know better she would swear she was in a boat. “No!” She gasped as she remembered the last few hours. No quick moves, she thought. my head and stomach can’t take it.

“’Phousse, Vanessa...,” she gently shook the shoulder of the unconscious woman beside her. “You gotta wake up!”

“Paul,” Damphousse murmured, as she forced her eyes open. Her body hurt everywhere. The last thing she remembered was Paul telling her everything was going to be all right, if she just hung on a bit longer. “Shane, what happened?” She looked out the front of the cockpit and couldn’t make sense of what she saw.

“The pit got separated from the cargo bay of the ISSCV,” Shane tested her own memory to see if she was on track.

“What about the POWs, did they make it?” Vanessa had been knocked unconscious when they had taken the hit that disabled them. “Did Nathan get Kylen back?”

“I don’t know, but I think so,” Shane began undoing her safety harness. “I have to believe so, or this was all for nothing. We better see where we are and get this cockpit hidden, or we may end up being POWs ourselves. If the readings on this thing are still working, we’ve got a high oxygen, nitrogen content, and traces of other gasses, in other words, breathable. I’m going to pop the top and see where we are.”

“Ohhh, Shane,” Vanessa was struck by dizziness as she moved to unstrap her safety harness to give Shane a hand with the emergency hand crank. “I’m really dizzy and I think I may have broken my wrist.”

“You sit still.” Shane was a bit dizzy herself, but she was determined to get out of the cockpit before their oxygen ran out. “You knocked your head pretty hard when we were hit last night.”

Vansen finally worked open the emergency hatch and stood on her seat to take a look around. Part of the chute had flopped over the view screen, the rest was dragging in the water, where it had tangled on something. Pushing it aside, Shane saw it had anchored them to a large log that was sticking up about ten feet from the shore of a huge lake or ocean.

“Damn, we were lucky,” Shane looked down at her friend. “We must have come down in the water. Last night, I kept dreaming I was on Jenny’s boat,” she laughed. “I guess we really were floating.”

“Shane,” Vanessa was trying to get her eyes to track properly as she concentrated on a section of the command console. “We’ve got some fused circuits boards in the homing beacon.”

“If we’re going to be found, we gotta get that thing fixed,” the Captain stood in the sunshine of a lovely green world and knew that she would give almost anything to be back in the cold dark of space. “Do you think you can do it?”

“Not while this pit is rocking,” Vanessa grabbed her head to steady herself. “If I can get on dry land, I think I can do it, but it may take some time, and I’ll need your help.”

“I’ll get that section out of there, you lean back and relax,” Shane began pulling out the radio and homing beacon. “Then we’ll see about getting out of here.”

The Saratoga, September 2, 2064- 0935 hours

Jenny knocked hard on Commodore Ross’ door. She could hardly contain her anger at the latest rumor she had heard.

“Come in, Jenny,” Ross opened the door for her. He could tell by the look on her face that she had heard the news. She had just missed the visit by West, Hawkes and Connelly. Too bad they all hadn’t come at once, then he wouldn’t have to be going through this argument twice in the same day.

“I’ve heard that you’re calling in the SAR teams for Vansen and Damphousse, is that true?” She demanded, “I realize I’m a bit out of line here Commodore, but the rumors are everywhere.”

“They’re more than rumors, I’m afraid,” Ross hated breaking the news to her, but there was a war on and he had orders. “The Saratoga is needed elsewhere. We’ll be weighing anchor by 1100 hours.”

“If you’re recalling the SAR’s that are out,” Jenny argued. “Then send one. Hawkes, West and me. They’re alive. McQueen said so. We have to find them.”

“Are you out of your mind!” Ross turned on her, “even if I would let West and Hawkes go, that’s not a mission for you.”

“I beg to differ with the Commodore,” Jenny moved in close to argue with him. “I’m a doctor, when we find them, they’ll need me.”

“That could be trading your lives in an attempt to find bodies.” Ross had to believe that they were dead, or he wouldn’t have been able to move the Saratoga. “I refuse to do that!”

“You wouldn’t be doing it, we would be. And we’re not going to die, any of us.” Jenny grabbed his hand and held it tightly. “Please, Glen I have to do this.”

Ross looked carefully at Jenny. For the first time he realized there was a desperation behind her words. “Why? What aren’t you telling me?”

“I...a..I..don’t know what you mean,” Jenny chewed on her bottom lip.

“I think you do,” Ross pushed harder. “I know you care about Vansen and Damphousse. We all do, but this goes deeper for you, much deeper!”

“We, you and I, have to do this for McQueen,” she turned and walked the few feet to the porthole. “We owe it to him. You owe it to him!”

“You’re a dirty fighter, Doctor,” her words had stung. If he hadn’t been ill and asked McQueen to take his place at the peace talks, Ross knew he would be the one on the Clara Barton. “I didn’t expect it of you. Tell me how letting the three of you get killed would be paying a debt to Ty?”

“I won’t let them die. So much of this is already my fault,” she raged at him. “Don’t you understand, they have to live, all of them!”

“Wang is already dead,” Ross argued. “And the odds that Vansen and Damphousse are alive are slim.”

“I’ll take those odds any day!” Jenny raised her chin, refusing to believe that the others hadn’t made it.

“There’s more to this than you’re telling me,” Ross squinted at the woman in front of him. “What’s going on here?”

“You want the truth?” Jenny wrapped her arms around herself to keep from shivering. “My God, it can’t do anymore damage than it’s already done! Ty loves them, we have to get them back for him.”

“More! You promised me the truth,” Glen pushed.

“All right, you want it all?” Jenny stood very straight, refusing to be embarrassed. “I’m in love with him. I think I’ve loved him for a long time, but didn’t realize it until the morning he left for Kazbek.”

Well that explains it, Ross thought. It’s nice to know it wasn’t my lack of charm, but McQueen’s considerable charm, that had her so entranced.

“Somehow, I think I assumed that all he needed to do was understand what love was about, and he’d love me back.” Jen had needed to say these things for so long, it was a relief to be able to talk to someone about it. “It didn’t work that way. It didn’t take me long to realize he had learned to love, but he loved the Wildcards, not me. I can’t take that away from him! We can’t take that away from him.”

Reaching for Jen’s left wrist, the Commodore realized what had been out of place when he looked at her. “Where’s your bracelet, Jenny?” He whispered as he felt a pang of regret that he hadn’t read the letter from McQueen. No, he thought. This is my decision, I can’t let McQueen influence it in anyway.

“Ty has it,” Jenny took a deep breath. “It gave me strength when I was on Kordis. I hope it will do the same for him, now. It brought me luck. It’ll do that for him and he’s going to need all the luck he can get.”

“He’s the one who gave it to you, isn’t he?” Ross was remembering remnants of a drunken conversation with McQueen He didn’t need to see Jenny nod yes, to know the answer. “He’s the Major from your stories!”

“So what if he is?” She branzened it out, “I was just telling stories about the Angry Angels to help pass the time while we were waiting for rescue!”

“It may have started out that way, but no, Jenny that’s not all it was and you know it,” Ross challenged.

“I don’t think he knows about the stories and if he does, he hasn’t read anything into them,” the Doctor sighed. “Please don’t tell him otherwise. If he knew how I really felt, it would cost me his friendship.”

“Jen,” Ross saw her flinch and he realized that McQueen was the only one who called her that. “Jenny, I think the next time you see him, you need to sit down and have a long talk with him.”

“As I said, we’re friends but nothing more,” she sighed. “He’s made his intentions very clear to me.” She flushed as she remembered how he had pulled away from her that night. “I’ve never understood how intelligent men can prefer their women to be a bit light in the brains and heavier in the curves. Lets face it Glen, that just isn’t me. Besides, you’ve seen that picture on his desk. No matter how much I want to change it, I can’t. There may not have been real love in his marriage before, but he’s learned to love, now. If he wants, he can go back and change his past.”

“You know you can’t change the past, though it sounds as if you’ve given this plenty of thought. I still think you may be wrong,” Ross spoke quietly, not wanting to get her hopes up, but wanting so much more for both his friends. “Now tell me, what makes you think all that has happened in the last 24 hours is your fault.”

“I made a deal,” Jen sighed. “That morning that I realized that I loved him. I made a deal with the Universe. If it would keep them safe, I’d never let him know how I felt. The night before we picked up the 58th from Demios, I let him kiss me.” She shook her head at her own stupidity.

“Wait a second,” Ross cut in. “McQueen kissed you?” He watched as she flushed and knew without a doubt it was more than a friendly peck on the cheek. “He isn’t one to do that lightly.”

“Please Glen, get real. He’s a man, a Marine and I’m not blind. I saw him in action when I was with the Angels. Ty may have been more discrete than most, but he liked the ladies and they liked him.”

“You’ve got him wrong,” Ross defended his friend. “Sure he did a lot of looking, back then. We all did. But even then he was never much of a womanizer, though they were attracted to him. By the way, ‘lady’ is not the correct term for them.” The Commodore looked the Doctor over closely. He had always assumed that Amy had been the reason McQueen had gone a bit sour on women. Maybe what Ross had interpreted as hurt had been waiting. He would have to think about it. Yes, this was getting more interesting by the minute.

“Men, you all stick together, but it doesn’t matter. I was there that night, I know. He realized his error quickly enough,” she turned her back, it hurt to bring all this out into the open. Ross had become a friend to her in the months she had been on the Saratoga, but he was Ty’s friend first. She wanted to be careful what she said.

“Jenny, I think you’re reading this incorrectly,” Ross knew that she wasn’t the kind of woman to be taken lightly and he was sure McQueen did too.

“Please, this isn’t something I want to talk about anymore. Just know that it happened and it shouldn’t have. Now there are consequences to pay. I thought I was safe. That the kiss had been overlooked, when we got the ‘Cards back. Then all hell broke lose yesterday. Now it’s time to pay the piper, and the price is dearer than I ever imagined. I have to get them back for him!” Jenny stepped very close to Ross and gripped his arms.

“That doesn’t make much sense,” he shook his head. “You’re a woman of science. Do you really believe that this deal of your’s either helped or hurt them, at anytime?”

“I don’t know Glen,” she closed her eyes for a moment to get her balance. “All I know is that this is something I have to do for Ty. He’s lost so much that he’s cared about in his life. Please, please let me do this!”

Ross watched her as she fought the emotions that were passing over her face; fear, pain, desperation and love. What she was asking didn’t make any sense, but little did anymore. There was so much hatred in the world, in the past years, who was he to argue with anyone who wanted to do something for love.

“All right,” Ross saw the relief that filled her eyes. “On one condition. Hawkes and West have to give their okay on this. They’ve already been in here, by the way, with Lt. Mitch Connelly. If this is a go, there will be four of you. I can keep the Saratoga here for another twenty-four hours and that’s all. If you don’t find them in that time, you’ll have to come back. Deal?” He held out his hand.

Jenny stared at his hand, as she heard McQueen’s voice echoing in her head, pax? She forced herself to take Ross’ hand and shake, though she had no idea what she had just agreed to.

Saratoga Landing Bay, September 2, 1110 hours

Jenny walked up to the three Marines that were waiting for her. They were all dressed in battle gear. A grim smile crossed her face, as she realized what it had taken to get her to admit that ‘once an Angry Angel, always an Angry Angel,’ included her as well.

“Dr. Kirkwood,” Ross came down from the observation deck. “May I have a word with you?”

“Yes, Commodore,” Jenny moved to meet him.

“I’ve got something for you,” he held out a k-bar in an Angel black scabbard, turning it over so they could both see ‘McQ’ inscribed in silver on the back.

“I can’t take that,” Jen backed away. She had recognized the knife before Ross had shown her the initials.

“Consider it a trade.” Ross smiled as he attached the scabbard to her vest. “He always said this k-bar brought him luck. Besides, I’ve never seen an Angry Angel go into a hot spot without one.”

“How did you know?” He had caught Jenny by surprise.

“I figured that if anything would bring you out of the closet, this would,” Ross stood back and looked at her.

“I tried to convince them for the better part of a year, but even Gloria Collins never understood that if I could handle a scalpel, I could handle one of these things,” she nodded as she touched the cool black leather of the scabbard, when she peeled her vest aside revealing her hastily sewn on Angry Angel’s insignia and the call sign Angel-Doc written in laundry marker above her name patch.

“I expect you to bring that back,” the Commodore warned. “He’ll have my head if anything happens to it.”

“Thank you, Glen,” she smiled. “Not just for that, but for everything.”

“Jenny, I mean it,” he looked her in the eyes. “I expect you to come back.” He had a terrible feeling that she didn’t care if she returned or not, as long as they were able to find the missing women. “And remember 24 hours is the deadline!”

The Clara Barton, September 2, 2064- 1530 hours

“Colonel, may I come in,” Corpsman Stark stuck his head around the hatch to McQueen’s room and entered when he saw the man nod in agreement. “These are for you,” he placed two books on the stand next to the Colonel.

“Dr. Turek talked to the Lady-Doc this morning about 1030 hours,” Stark saw the slight movement of McQueen’s head and knew he was listening to him. “She asked him to get those for you. She also, had a message. She said to tell you, ‘we’ll find them.’”

“Jen,” McQueen’s lips formed her name, as his eyes closed. They were keeping him drugged for pain control, since pulling the epidural in the morning. Dr. Kelly had told him they needed to be able to test his nerves’ responses to stimuli during surgery, so the regional pain block had been removed. As more and more feeling was returning, he was needing stronger drugs to keep the pain manageable.

He had a sneaking suspicion that they also opted to keep him drugged due to the hard time he had given them when he had first arrived. Last night he had been in no mood to be trifled with. His weakened condition only added to his frustration. He had come very close to an old fashion temper tantrum, but at the last moment, realized, it was impossible to do that with the damn trach tube preventing speech. He had settled for being as noncooperative as possible. In the end, he had gotten his own way. Dr. Turek had contacted Jen and Ross and it had the added advantage of keeping most of the staff from wanting to have much to do with him.

The Commodore and the Doctor would take care of things until he got back. Though he didn’t envy Glen having to keep Jen in line. He could picture her driving the man crazy as she pushed him to have more SAR teams looking for his girls. She would make sure he found them.

“Sir,” Stark rested his hand on McQueen’s shoulder, for a moment, to bring him back to the present. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve requested to be your Corpsman. I know with your rank, you rate at least a Lieutenant Commander, maybe even a full Commander, but Sir, I’ll do my best for you.” He had seen the Lady-Doc’s bracelet attached to the Colonel’s dog tags. This man was important to the Lady or she never would have given it to him. Therefore, he was important to Stark. “We have a bond, Sir,” was as close as Stark would go to mentioning the bracelet, or Kirkwood, unless the Colonel brought it up.

McQueen nodded his head, acknowledging both the Corpsman’s request and the bond. He wanted to feel the gold rope against his fingers, but wouldn’t give in to it as long as someone else was in the room, even Stark. He had to be content with holding it against his chest.

Jen was still taking care of him, after all this time, and all this distance. It took him a moment to realize that he didn’t mind it anymore. He only wished she would let him take care of her. What the hell was he thinking! He didn’t want the responsibility of another person, especially now.

“Colonel McQueen,” Stark stepped close to the bed. “I’m off duty for now, but I’ll check on you this evening, and will be back on duty tomorrow before they take you to surgery. Is there anything I can get you before I go?”

McQueen pointed toward the books the Sargent had brought in with him. He was too weak to read, let alone hold a book, but he was interested in knowing what Jen had picked out for him. He had always thought a person’s bookshelf told a lot about them.

Looking over at the books Stark held in his hand, he smiled and shook his head. The woman had his number, she had chosen, Te-Tao Ching and The Book Of Five Rings.

After he heard Stark quietly put the book down, and leave the room, McQueen reached beneath his hospital gown and pulled out his dog tags. His fingers feeling in the dark for the gold chain that hung there. Fisting his hand around it, he took a deep breath and feel asleep. Finally understanding why Jen wore it all the time. It brought him peace. He had to get well and get it back to her, she must be missing it. .............................. ISSCV heading for Planet 2063 Yankee September 2, 2064, 1545 hours

Nathan West piloted the small troop carrier through the atmosphere of Planet 2063Y. The craft bucked as Nathan fought with the controls. He shook his head trying not to think what it must have been like coming down in a severed cockpit.

“Look alive back there,” Nathan called out to Hawkes who was manning the waist gun.

“We’re alive and kicking,” Hawkes responded as he checked the sights of his weapon for the fourth time in an hour.

“Connelly,” West called back to the man at the radio. “Anything on the signal tracker?”

“Zilch, so far,” Mitch Connelly called back. He was an attorney from Ann Arbor, Michigan, who had been flying since he was twelve. His sister had been a Vesta Colonist. When news of the attack had reached Earth, he had joined the Marine Air Calvary.

“Jenny, you all right back there?” Nathan was worried about the woman. She had been strangely silent during the trip. He would give a lot to know how she had convinced the Commodore to let them go on this mission. Even more to know how she had convinced him to allow her to go along. Sure, Ross had left the final decision up to them, but how could they deny her, when she had been the one who had been able to make it all happen?

“Just checking to make sure all the medical gear is strapped in nice and tight,” Jen had been trapped on one planet without adequate supplies, it wasn’t going to happen again.

“I’m going in for a closer look, so everyone keep their eyes open.” Nathan warned. “Jenny, back up Mitch, will ya’?”

“Sure thing,” she was glad for something to do, the trip out had seemed to take forever. They had to find Vanessa and Shane. They just had to.

The determined people in the ISSCV began doing a low altitude search pattern over the planet. Starting with the equator, they circled 2063Y, moving further and further south. When that resulted in nothing, they went back to the equator and began to search north.

“We’ve got to turn something up soon. We’ve been searching for fifteen hours,” Jenny looked at her watch, refusing to admit defeat. “Can we go in any lower, Nathan?”

“Not safely,” the pilot shook his head. “An extended search like this is going to attract attention sooner or later. If we go in much below the 100 mile mark, we’ll be seen by anything down there.”

“Nathan,” Connelly called. “I think I’ve got something, it’s faint and it just started transmitting after we flew over.” He quickly fed the coordinates to the pilot’s computer.

“That’s one of ours all right,” Nathan examined the signal. “The question is who’s sending it?”

“Chiggy could’ve picked us up on LIDAR and decided to play a little game with us,” Hawkes tossed out. “But we gotta check it out.”

“I’m getting a garbled, message from the Saratoga,” Mitch called out. “I’m trying to clear it, but it doesn’t sound good.”

“5-8 this is Commodore Ross,” Connelly got the message stabilized enough so that they recognized Ross’ worried face. “We are taking fire, repeat the Saratoga...........fire.” In the background, the sound of guns blazing echoed through the small craft. “We are going to try.......lead them......from you. Will return in..........six days.......maybe.....longer......drop a com-sat.......that time. Good luck, Ross out.”

An hour later the ISSCV was headed in for a landing on 2063 Yankee. They had all wanted more time to search, but this wasn’t the way they had wanted to get it. Everyone was worried about the Saratoga, but focused on the job they were doing. Ross said he would return, if it was humanly possible to do so, they knew he would. He had proved that once before, and they all believed him now.

“How close in do we dare get?” Jenny asked, her eyes glued to an observation port.

“Dare, is the right word, Dr. Kirkwood,” Connelly sighed. “That homing beacon is located in some rough terrain. I figure it’ll take us a day or so to get there. Nathan, I’m sending you the coordinates of the closest place we can land this thing.” ................................ The Clara Barton September 3, 2064, 0615 hours

“Colonel,” John Stark arrived at McQueen’s room minutes before they were to take him to surgery. “If you’d like, I’ll keep these books for you until you’re well enough to read them?”

McQueen nodded his head and reached for his dog tags with the hand not attached to an IV. He held the tags out, needing the Corpsman’s help to get them over his head. The Colonel had been through enough surgery to know that they would be taken off of him very soon. For some reason, he knew that Stark would understand it was a private thing, so he wanted him to keep them for him.

“You want me to take these?” Stark’s blue eyes met McQueen’s, as he helped him take off the chain containing a set of dog tags and a gold rope bracelet. “I’ll keep it safe for you, Sir. Don’t worry, by the time you wake-up, you’ll be wearing it again.” Both men understood Stark was referring to the bracelet, and could give a damn about the tags.

That was the last thing McQueen remembered, that he knew was real, for the next twenty-four hours. He knew he had been taken to the OR, but the dreams he had under anesthesia and while recovering were so intense that it wiped everything else from his mind.

Over The Mountains Of The Moon

It was a warm day. McQueen could feel the sun on his face and smell the sea air. He was walking a path up a mountain. His body felt light and he moved easily in jeans, hiking boots, and a t-shirt. He was carrying a light jacket against the possibility of wind. He knew where he was. He was climbing Mount Iwato in Higo province of Kyushu, Japan. His climb had a sense of purpose, but he wasn’t sure what it was.

When he finally reached the top, he saw an old man sitting on a mat writing in scrolls.

“Warrior McQueen,” the old man motioned for him to join him. “You have come at last. I have waited a long time for you to seek me out. Do you know who I am?”

“You are Miyamoto Musashi?” McQueen didn’t know how he knew, but he did. “What am I doing here?”

“You have come to learn, McQueen,” Musashi paused and watched the man before him. “Up until now you have lived a life of ‘shin-ken’ or as you would say, ‘real sword,’ you have walked the path of a warrior with ‘utmost earnestness.’ But of late, you worry much. You have many questions. I am here to help you answer them.”

“Am I dead?” Standing there, McQueen remember all of his conversation with Paul.

“No, McQueen, your warrior’s body is resting,” Musashi reassured. “They have made you new again. Now is the time for you to ‘become new’, as well.”

“New? In what way?” McQueen sat cross-legged on the mat facing the old Warrior.

“’If you get to feeling snarled up and are making no progress, you toss your mood away and think in your heart that you are starting everything anew. As you get the rhythm, you discern how to win.’ So tell me, McQueen what has you snarled up?”

“I made a decision a few months ago,” he paused. “It was a Soldier’s decision. It was the correct thing to do and we did it, but my heart wouldn’t accept it, because it almost cost me the lives of five people who mean a great deal to me.” McQueen felt again what he had felt during those three months while the Saratoga fought the battle at Ixion and the Wildcards had been left on Demios.

“I had hoped ‘a mountain and sea change.’ would make the newness complete, but now I’m not so sure,” the old man thought carefully.

“’It is bad to do the same thing over and over again.’” McQueen squinted his eyes as he tried to remember the quote. “’You may have to repeat something once, but it should not be done a third time.’”

“Yes, you have read this well,” Musashi pointed to the unfinished scrolls, but you need to remember, ‘this requires careful reflection.’”

“But Sir,” McQueen knew The Book Of Five Rings well, there was much he wanted to ask. “What you are talking about is changing fighting strategies.”

“Ahhh Warrior,” Musashi shook his head in disappointment. “Just as I thought. You are only looking at the fight without, but what about the fight within? The ‘reflection’, McQueen, the ‘reflection’! It is as important as the fighting.”

“I’ve been fighting all my life, Sir,” McQueen looked far out over the valleys below. “Sometimes the fight has been just to stay alive, but most of the time it has been as a warrior.”

“Ahhhh, it is as I thought,” the old man nodded his head. “Your fight has been a long and hard one, and it isn’t over yet, but your heart is straying from the battle, is it not?”

“It can’t,” McQueen denied what he was feeling. “I won’t let it! I am what I am. This is what I was born to do!”

“Is it, Young Warrior?” Musashi whispered. “But what of your ‘genuine path’?”

“How did you know?” McQueen was surprised, “how could you know what has been on my mind so much lately?”

“I know what you know, Warrior,” the old man sighed. “You must look into your heart and remember what I say. ‘Even if you strive diligently on your chosen path day after day, if your heart is not in accord with it, then even if you think you are on a good path, from the point of view of the straight and true, this is not a genuine path. If you do not pursue a genuine path to its consummation, then a little bit of crookedness in the mind will later turn into a major warp.’”

“Why do you keep calling me Warrior, if that isn't my path?”

“One doesn’t need to take up a sword or weapon, to be a warrior,” Musashi smiled at his student. “There comes a time in each man’s life when the killing must stop. If one is a strong warrior, one can choose the time. If one isn’t, then he dies and the killing stops anyway. Tell me McQueen, how many years have you been a ‘killing warrior’?”

“This is my sixteenth year in the Corps,” McQueen thought back to all the fighting he had done in that time. “I am a soldier, a warrior by trade.”

“We are much alike,” the old man looked up and smiled. “I killed my first man at thirteen and my last at twenty-nine. For that sixteen years I was a killing warrior, just as you are.”

“Master, I have read that, but when you stopped killing, you didn’t give up fighting,” McQueen argued. “You went on to gain deeper knowledge and fighting skills. You were still a warrior.”

“That is so, Young Warrior,” the Old Warrior nodded. “But that was my ‘genuine path’. I followed it to the end as should be done.”

“Are you saying that it isn’t mine?”

“I am saying that you need to take this great worry that is upon your heart and cast it away,” the old man’s words became light and breathy. “Look at your life, all you have become, all you want to become. Follow your ‘genuine path,’ McQueen. There is one who will help you, but you must see her for what she is, first.” His words moved on the breeze as the old warrior began to disappear.

“Wait come back,” McQueen called, still having many questions.

“Remember this,” the wind called back to him. “’Efficiency and smooth progress, prudence in all matters, recognizing true courage, recognizing different levels of moral, instilling confidence, and realizing what can and cannot be reasonably expected,’ these are the principles that count. Live your life with ‘shin-ken’, and you will be a warrior in all your endeavors.”

Fog moved up from the valley below, as McQueen sat on the old warrior’s mat thinking about all he had seen and heard. He reached an involuntary hand for his dog tags and the bracelet that hang between them. His fingers touched the warm gold and he thought of Jen, as the fog closed in. His body grew heavy and he heard the beeping of monitors in the background.

The Clara Barton, September 3 2064, 2300 hours

“Easy there Colonel,” the quiet voice of John Stark pierced the fog. “You’re doing just fine. The surgery went real well!”

McQueen fought to open his eyes, but it was too much effort. “Jen,” he mouthed her name and was surprised that he had forgotten about the trach tube. In his dream he had been able to speak and it had seemed so real. It caught him off guard that he couldn’t.

“You’re going to be good as new, Sir,” Stark whispered as he eyed McQueen’s hand that was holding onto the gold rope. The Corpsman had seen Dr. Kirkwood hold onto that chain in the same way when she was worried or frightened when they had been trapped on Kordis. “Don’t worry, she’s watching over you.”

McQueen heard the whispered words. Jen was watching over him, so he could sleep. He relaxed back into the fog, not knowing who he would meet there, but knowing it would be all right because Jen had given him a piece of herself.

Down The Valley Of The Shadow:

The sound of the cardiac monitor was replaced by the second movement of Beethoven’s “Eroica” Symphony. Jen never liked that piece, she always said it was too maudlin, he thought to himself. She prefers Chopin and Mozart.

Looking up, McQueen realized he was standing in his quarters on the Saratoga. He was wearing sweat pants and a t-shirt. In his hand was his wedding picture. He did a double take when he looked into the smiling face of Amy. The glass covering the picture wasn’t cracked? He looked over and Kelly Winslow was looking at him, waiting for him to speak. He realized it was that moment when he had a choice: truth or lie. In his anger after lying to her, he had thrown the picture across the room and cracked the glass. A short time later Winslow was killed.

What had Winslow just asked him? Yes, I remember now, she had asked about the wedding picture and if Amy was on my mind, he thought.

“I’m sorry Lieutenant,” McQueen was finally able to apologize for lying to her all those months ago.

“Colonel, I didn’t mean to pry, Sir,” she pulled herself to attention, thinking that she had gone too far in inquiring into his personal life.

“Wait,” the Colonel stopped her from leaving. “I was about to lie to you, that’s what I’m sorry for.”

“Sir?” Winslow didn’t think she had ever heard him apologize to anyone.

“When I told you ‘SHE Was on my mind a bit,’ even that’s a lie, of omission,” he moved away from her and turned off the music. He didn’t want any misunderstanding between them. He had been given another chance and he wanted to do it right.

“Please, Colonel McQueen, this isn’t necessary,” Winslow was seeing a side to her commander she had never seen before and wasn’t comfortable with.

“It is, Lieutenant.” McQueen nodded toward the picture, “yes, she’s been on my mind, but only because I keep her there. I make myself look at this picture every day. It’s become my shield against anyone else who tries to get in,” as he said the words he realized how true they were. Not only a figurative shield, but he had literally put Jen’s picture behind Amy’s.

“Is that why you’ve had no one to share your feelings with these last months?” Winslow rephrased her words from moments ago.

“Yes, and I’ve made sure it stayed that way,” McQueen turned away from her. “My life with Amy.....has been on my mind a lot. I deliberately remind myself of what I had and......the hell it turned into. That way I can keep......Well I think you get the idea.”

“There’s someone the Colonel has come to care about?” Kelly was able to speak freely because she knew he wasn’t talking about her. “Sir, a little advice from a woman, who is a Marine. There’s a war on, you never know who will be here today, but gone forever in a matter of hours.”

Her words caught him by surprise, did she know she was talking about herself? He wondered as she smiled at him.

“Sir, you said to me once,” then she looked a bit puzzled. “No, maybe it’s something you’re going to say to me?” Shrugging her shoulders she continued, “you believe in asking yourself, then answering ‘who am I?’ Maybe you should change that to asking yourself, then looking for the answer ‘who can I become?’ That leaves open so many more possibilities.”

“She’s going to say that to me,” McQueen looked at Winslow in surprise. She was remembering things that had yet to happen. “The night that I kiss her, she told me that, too.”

“So then the feelings are mutual?” Winslow squirmed a bit when she thought of the Colonel kissing someone. She realized why Shane had been uncomfortable when they had talked about him in the Tun. “She feels the same way about you?” Shaking her head, she couldn’t understand why she had ever thought of him as anything but The Colonel!

“No, Winslow, she doesn’t,” he admitted. “She thinks of me as a friend.”

“Colonel, you’re the man who killed Chiggy Von Richthofen,” she stepped close to him, not seeming to realized that she was talking about something that happened after her death. “You’re known as an excellent tactician and strategist. Plot yourself a campaign. Out maneuver her. Ask yourself, then answer, ‘what can my life become?’”

Winslow’s voice mixed with Beethoven and the room spun. McQueen closed his eyes to fight the dizziness.

The Clara Barton September 4, 2064, 0230 hours

He heard the sounds of that damn monitor again, but other then that, his room was quiet. Fighting to open his eyes, he found himself back on the the hospital ship. Someone, probably Stark, had left a pad and pen next to his right hand. Reaching for them, McQueen quickly scribbled a few words. He knew that he needed to remember his dreams.

The effort it took to write the key words left him feeling drained. His hands slid to his sides, still gripping the pen and pad, as music kept beat with the monitor. He thought it was Beethoven again, but it was so faint he couldn’t tell.

Ride Boldly, Ride:

No, it wasn’t Beethoven that throbbed in McQueen’s brain, but the honkytonk sound of Johnny Cash. McQueen didn’t know the song, but it made him think of..........

“You know, McQueen, you taught them real good,” the smoky voice of Lt. Col. Ray Butts caused McQueen to turn quickly. “Yup, real good.”

“Butts, what are you doing here?” The in-vitro Colonel looked around and he was no longer in his quarters or on the Clara, but standing beside a table in the Asteroid Bar in Loxley, Alabama. He was wearing the jeans, t-shirt and hiking boots from earlier. Over his arm was his black Angry Angel jacket.

“More to the point is what you’re doing here,” Butts took a drag on a cigarette and poured himself more whiskey. “Have a drink,” the dead man picked up the extra glass on his table and filled it half-full.

“Okay, I bite, what am I doing here?” McQueen pulled out the other chair at the table and sat.

“You’re here, we’re here,” Butts crushed out his cigarette. “To come to an understanding. There are things I couldn’t tell you when we met before, that need to be said now.”

“The 58th...?”

“This isn’t about them, this is about you,” the Recon Colonel leaned back in his chair. “That first day on the Saratoga when I told you, ‘don’t think for one second that we’re equals----Tank.’ I added the insult to throw you off. We aren’t equals, McQueen. You’re so far above me that we don’t belong in the same room. But we’re flip sides of the same coin. You’re what I would have become, if things had been different. What I should have become. Keep in mind, you were starting to become me a few years ago and you’ll head back down that road if you don’t get your head screwed on right.”

“You’re crazy, Butts,” the man had finally gone round the bend. McQueen didn’t want to hear anymore of his nonsense. “West was right when he called you Colonel Semper-Psycho.”

“Ha, you knew about that did ya? But consider this, you’re sitting here talking to a dead man. Whose the crazy one?” Butts grinned, then got very serious, “did Shane tell you what she said, as well?”

“I don’t know how I know what they said about you,” McQueen looked puzzled. “I’m not talking to a dead man. This is just a dream, or in your case a nightmare!”

They could hear Shane’s voice as Johnny Cash grew quiet for the moment. “’No one is born that mean, they either put it on for affect, or something happens. Something turns them that mean and they can never go back. The worst is they know it.’”

“Dreams can be a real bitch,” the Recon Colonel shook his head. “Hay, I thought in-vitros didn’t dream?”

“You thought wrong,” McQueen challenged.

Butts shrugged then went on. “You’re worried about those kids of yours,” he held the other man’s eyes as he spoke. “Don’t be.”

“What exactly does that mean?”

“It means just that, ‘don’t be’!” The dead man leaned closer to McQueen, ignoring his question. “You were right back then. I was only interested in me, and my needs. If that squad had belonged to anyone else I would probably have gone on as I always had. Then they would’ve died. My God, if I couldn’t protect my own men, how could I be expected to protect someone elses. But something happened when I met you. I saw me in you, but me a long time ago. When it came time to make that last decision, for the sake of the tiny piece of my soul that was left, I did what needed to be done.”

“Have Vansen and Damphousse died?” McQueen ground out.

“I only know about Paul,” the dead man whispered. “But if they were to die, you need to know that you have the ability to overcome it. That’s the difference between us. Too much death, walking ankle deep in blood and still not having the killing stop, that’s what did it to me. You were headed that way. You need to look deep in you and find why you changed. Believe me when I say this, McQueen. If that change hadn’t already taken place, the 58th would’ve been just another group of Marines. Not that different from the Angry Angels.”

“No, you’re wrong!” McQueen denied.

“Am I?” Butts began to blur and his voice was indistinct. “Ask yourself, then answer, ‘who was I? And ‘what am I now?’ Then if you have the guts, ask ‘why?’” The questions echoed through the empty room, as it too began to blur. The sound of Johnny Cash faded and McQueen could hear the familiar sound of the cardiac monitor beating the tempo of his heart.

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