McQueen rubbed a hand across his face and looked at the sheets in front of him one more time. These were the inventory reports from the repair crew, and he could swear the numbers changed every time he read them. Wednesday morning, 1130 hours, and the CO wanted these damn reports done by 1600--if only the numbers would stop changing. His "perfect breeding" wasn't helping much.

"Good morning." The cheery voice grated on his already frayed nerves. McQueen looked up to see Ross standing in his doorway. "Ready for lunch?"

McQueen stood, "Yeah, actually I am. I can't seem to get these damn inventories to match up. Either we have an extra 1,000 Inertial Guidance Systems, or we're missing a couple."

They slid into what was becoming their usual booth at the O'Club. The waitress, a different one than last time, took their orders for sandwiches and tea.

McQueen leaned back in the booth, running his fingers across the water stains on the table. "How's your conference going?"

"Okay. The conference is actually ending in a week. Half dozen of us will be staying on to write policy. Now that..." He grinned, "....That is the fun part. We get all these lawyer types telling us what language we have to use to say really simple minded things, like 'all the rules apply to everybody the same way.' Oh, " he snapped his fingers, "I meant to tell you, we found that IV Army Major you mentioned, Olivia Johnson. She's going to join us after New Year's."

McQueen nodded and continued to watch the patterns on the table. "Good." The food and drink arrived and both men set into it. Ross finished a bite of his sandwich and set it down.

"Mai wants some 'space'."

"What?" McQueen put his down also and took a gulp of tea to wash down the bite in his mouth. "I don't know much about this marriage and love stuff, but you two seemed so...together."

"Yeah," Ross agreed, "When we're together, we are. But Mai is tired of me leaving for six months. She's been a Navy wife for 20 years...we got married right after I got my commission. She wants to go 'adventuring' herself."

"What about the kids?"

Shrugging, "They're not babies anymore. Mai pointed out to me that Spider will be on his own next year, and Miri's only two years away from graduation." Ross realized that McQueen was watching him intently. "You taking notes?"

McQueen looked away, "InVitros don't get the same training about family life that natural borns do. The only way to find out about it is to observe it."

"Good. That means we're still on for Thanksgiving dinner."

"I don't know." Ross was again treated to the full force of McQueen's gaze, "When I'm with your family, I forget what's real. It makes me..." He paused, "It makes me vulnerable when reality happens."

Ross leaned across the table, putting his face closer to McQueen's, "What you're saying is that you'd rather be miserable all the time, than be happy for a while and miserable for a while."

"No," McQueen shook his head, "'Suffering is caused by desire.' One of the four noble truths. I never desired a family. I never thought about it. Mai, the girls, even you. You make me want." He sat back abruptly, "Whew, that is not what I intended to say to you."

"Ty, I won't pretend I understand...I am a simple man...but you were contented on Saturday." He smiled at the memory, "I wish your squad could have seen you playing jacks with the girls. Anyway, Mai's already bought the turkey, so you're committed." He took another bite, "Besides, you'll get to meet the asshole of the family, my brother-in-law, Pete. May make you think twice about the whole family idea."

"I did tell Mai I would be there." He stopped, realizing how badly he did want to spend another day with these people who accepted him, "I'll be there. But right now, I've got to go finish those reports." He slid out of the booth, handing Ross some bills, "This should cover my lunch. See you next week."

McQueen was up and out of the club before Ross could say a word. Ross was sure that, as much as anything, Ty was running from his own revelations. He sighed as he leaned back, finishing up his lunch. He noted that, once again, Ty had eaten about four bites of his sandwich. The man was going to starve, but not if he and Mai had anything to say about it. He motioned the waitress over and asked that the sandwich left on Ty's plate be wrapped to go. Maybe if the man had it sitting in front of him, on his desk, he'd eat some more of it.

It had taken some time for the sandwich to be returned in a "to go" box, a little more for the bill to be paid. By the time Ross caught up with McQueen, he was already seated behind his desk. Ross tossed the box containing the sandwich on the desk.

"Here, Ty. You really do need a mama to make you eat your food."

McQueen looked up from the figures, "You volunteering for the job?"

"Yeah, I guess I am." He gestured to the sandwich, "See if you can choke some more of that down." Ross turned to leave just as the two SPs came into the small office. They saluted McQueen, who looked up at them with weary resignation.

"Okay, who did what this time?"

"No sir, its not like that." The ensign seemed a little nervous.

"Well, what is it like then, Ensign?"

"Sir, we have a corpse."

McQueen stood up at that, "Who? One of my people?"

"No, sir." The ensign raised his hand, "No, sir. Sorry to alarm you, sir. She's a....well, sir, she's a party girl. We don't know how she got on base. She was found yesterday evening by some men on the obstacle course. We don't know how she died, could be murder, could be drug overdose, the autopsy's not in yet. We have a name and address, but..." He paused, "Sir, her associates won't talk to us, sir."

McQueen's voice was soft, "Is one of my people involved?"

"No, sir, that's not it, sir." The ensign cleared his throat, "She's a tank, sir." McQueen had sat back down, but at this his head came up. He pinned the ensign with his stare. The young officer stopped, "That is, an InVitro, sir. The people down in tank town," pause again, "That is, in her neighborhood, won't talk to us. Major Henry thought you could help us out. He's already cleared it with Colonel Hernandez, your CO."

Ross had started to leave earlier, but he hung back now, curious as to how McQueen would handle this.

"You think they're going to talk to me? Just because I'm a nipple neck, too?" He used the more vulgar term, gauging its affect on the ensign. Ross could see that the young officer was at least mildly embarrassed, but determined,

"It's worth a shot, sir. They sure as hell aren't talking to us. Her contract holder's at the office, now."

"She's still indentured? What does he have to say?"

"He says she's a licensed prostitute. We've got her health certificate, says she's clean of disease and drugs. It may be true, she's only been out of the tank for six months." He stopped, again confused by the etiquette of discussing this with another InVitro. McQueen held up his hand,

"It's okay, Ensign...." He paused, looking at the ensign's name tag, "Ensign James, we know what you mean. Let's go." He stood and moved to the coat rack, grabbing his jacket and beret. Ross followed, still curious at to how this would work out. It also occurred to him that he was being given an opportunity to observe how the law enforcement in the military would deal with the InVitro issues. The four men walked out of the Head Quarters, McQueen stopping by the secretary's desk.

"The colonel knows where I'm going. The inventory reports are on my desk, but we're still coming up wrong on those IGSs."

They mounted the SP's jeep and rode to their HQ. When they entered the office, the SP Major rose from behind his desk,

"Captain McQueen, good of you to agree to help us out here." He held out his hand. "We've got the pimp in the interrogation room. He's being more or less cooperative. But the folks she 'hangs with' won't talk to us at all. Our investigators came back from Tanktown frustrated as hell." McQueen shook the proffered hand and introduced Ross to Major Henry. He'd had dealings with him in the past. The 127th, for all their nickname, were more angry than angels and involved in many of the fights the SPs ended up having to break up.

"I'll do what I can, Major. But honestly, the InVitros are as likely to react negatively to my uniform as to yours."

"Well," the major walked around his desk, to the door "At least you can meet our pimp. He's a piece of work. You'd think he was a banker." Major Henry led the way to the interrogation room. As they entered the room, Major Henry led, with McQueen, then Ross, then Ensign James following up. Ross saw McQueen stiffen, his back rigid. In the room sat a smallish man, dark hair pulled back in a queue. He was dressed in a bright purple jacket, with a yellow tie. In any crowd, the man would have stood out. Major Henry motioned towards the man,

"Mr Hill, this is Commander Ross and Captain McQueen." The pimp smiled, revealing one gold tooth.

"So good to meet you gentlemen, Commander Ross, Captain McQueen." Hill emphasized the last name, spoken with quietly malicious humor. The major and commander sat down at the table, McQueen stood back by the door. Ross watched the play of expressions on his friend's face, knowing that, from somewhere, McQueen knew this man, and despised him. Mr Hill answered the Major's questions, but he kept glancing in McQueen's direction, smiling like a man with mischief on his mind. McQueen leaned against the door jam, his arms folded across his chest. He said nothing, but Ross could see in his eyes an emptiness that scared him. After only a few moments, McQueen slipped out of the room. Ross found him with the ensign, looking over an autopsy report.

"She died of a drug overdose, phyllophthetamines." Ensign James showed McQueen the picture. It was the young hooker, Stephanie. McQueen remembered her from the last time he was at the bar, the Drunk Tank. He sat down in the chair opposite Ensign James.

Ross came up behind him, "You okay, Ty?" The ensign looked up, he had not noticed anything wrong.

McQueen turned his head, mildly disturbed that Ross had sensed that he was not okay. He stood up, leaving the room, "Ensign James, when you need me to go with you to anktown, come pick me up."

Ross followed him, still worried. "Ty, you haven't answered me. What's going on?"

"I knew her, a little. Him too, some." They walked together down the sidewalk towards the 127th's HQ. "I think you're missing a meeting, and I know I've got to get those damn reports done."

At the walk leading up to the HQ they separated. Ross stopped McQueen, "We will see you next Thursday, then? Twelve o'clock."

McQueen pulled away from him, then waved his hand, "Yeah, I'll be there."

It was a couple of hours before the young Ensign James showed up in McQueen's office. McQueen had finally tracked down the error in the inventory reports, and was sitting back, nibbling on the sandwich Ross had brought him from the club. He was coming down from the dose of phyllophthetamine he'd taken earlier in the day, so excused himself to the head to take another one, before accompanying the ensign to the section of Mobile where Stephanie had lived. Of course the first place that Ensign James wanted to check out was the Drunk Tank. McQueen in his uniform did not receive the same welcome as "Blondie" the meanie junkie. At their entrance to the bar, all conversation stopped and eyes turned to the two officers. The bar tender immediately recognized him, and the double take would have been funny under any other circumstances. McQueen walked to the bar, and leaned on it,

"We're looking for anyone who might know who Stephanie Peters was with two nights ago." He gave no indication that he'd ever been in the place before, and the bartender returned the favor.

"Stephanie Peters? 's that the little hooker that died yesterday?"

Ensign James came up behind McQueen, eager to put his two cents worth in, "You already know about that?"

"Yeah," he paused, wiping a glass, "We're a small community down here. Everybody pretty much knows everybody else. You know how it is with us tanks." The last was addressed to McQueen.

"So, if its such a small community, who were her tricks two nights ago?"

Shrugging, "A couple of Marines and a sailor. You know how it is, the natural borns come down here to buy what they can't get from another natural born, the rough trade. Stephanie was just a baby, Hill had been saving her for a big deal. But these guys offered too much, he couldn't turn it down. They seemed okay for natural borns."

McQueen turned his back on the bartender and faced Ensign James, "You know he's being too helpful, don't you?"

"What do you mean?"

"He's not talking to me because I'm a tank, he's talking 'cause Hill gave him the okay. You don't need me, they'll tell you whatever you need to know. 'Their master's voice'." He pushed away from the bar and strode out of the bar, waiting in the vehicle for James to finish his business. It took no more than five minutes, when the young ensign came out and climbed into the jeep beside him.

"You were right. They gave me the names of three servicemen. Told me she was on green meanies, told me the soldiers probably gave her another dose to make it more fun and that's what killed her. How did they know all that shit?"

The question was sincere, but McQueen paused before answering, unsure that he was going to answer at all. "They probably knew yesterday morning, before you even found the body. The natural borns talk in front of them, like they weren't there. Some driver, or some other hooker heard, then Hill knew, then they all knew. They just weren't going to talk to you without his permission." Ensign James looked at him for a few moments, then keyed the ignition, not speaking until he delivered McQueen to HQ.

"Thanks, Captain. It's been an education."

Next : Chapter IV

Previous : Chapter II