The vidphone chime sounded, awakening Glenn and Mai from a sound sleep. He looked at the chronometer by his bed, 0200 hrs. Groaning, he laid a hand on Mai's shoulder,

"I'll get it. Go back to sleep." He rolled out of the bed and padded to the desk. He pressed the receive button, "Ross, here...and this damned well better be important."

The voice at the other end sounded tireder than he felt. The image resolved, and he was looking at Ty, a disheveled, obviously distraught, Ty.

"I need to talk to someone. I need to talk to you."

"Okay," as a military leader, Glenn was used to thinking fast, thinking on his feet, thinking when he couldn't think, "Okay. You're in the BOQ, right?"

"Yeah, Bldg D, Apt 7."

"Okay, hold on, I'll be there in 20 minutes."

After a hurried donning of clothes, and a kiss to Mai, Glenn found himself outside of Apt 7 in less time than was legally possible. He rapped on the door. No one answered. He turned the knob, and opened it. The apartment was clearly designed for function. The kitchenette to his left was barely big enough for snacks, a sitting area with desk, sofa and one chair was to the right, and around a corner, a bedroom. Presumably there was a bathroom, but it was out of sight. Wagnerian music played in the background, loud enough that Glenn was mildly surprised that no neighbors complained.

"Ty? Ty? Where are you, son?"

McQueen came around the corner from the bedroom. "I'm sorry I bothered you." He sat down at the desk, swung around so that he faced Ross. "We're programmed so that we can't kill ourselves. Did you know that? I guess they were afraid that a lot of us would if we could. On the other hand, maybe that was why the InVitro platoons refused to go on suicide missions." He was babbling. Ross recognized the speech patterns and look from men who had been pushed one step too far.

"Can we turn the music down?" He walked over to the state-of-the-art sound machine and pressed a button. "The Ride of the Valkyrie" fell to a soft background tone. "What's going on, Ty?"

"I'm fucking hooked, that's what. And I can't fucking do this anymore and I can't fucking go back to that fucking pimp for more of the stuff." He rose from the chair and paced the room. At the end he turned and faced Ross, "It's Hill, you know. He's wanted my ass ever since he met me, and now he thinks he can have me as the price of his silence." The pacing continued, "And I can't even fucking kill myself." This pacing was the same as Ross had seen in his study before, and come to think of it, on the patio outside his home.

"Amphetamines?"

McQueen stopped in his pacing, "Sort of, phyllophthetamine. Every tank's dream. That's what killed the hooker."

"Damn, Ty. You should have known better." He faced his friend.

"Yeah," Ty nodded, "Yeah, I should have. Only they gave me the first doses when I was barely conscious, and by the time I had a chance to find out what this stuff would do, it was too fucking late." Turning away from Ross, he went over to the small table in the kitchenette. He picked up his service automatic where it had lain. "I was going to take care of the problem with this, but I can't get past that programming."

"Put that down, Ty." Ross sat down on the sofa. "Let's think this through--I refuse to lose a good Marine this easy. Who the Hell prescribed that stuff for you anyway."

Taking a deep breath, McQueen calmed himself as best he could, "I don't know. The GU guy I think. It's supposed to speed up healing, among other things. For natural borns, its only very mildly addictive and lots of fun, or so I've been reading. That's why those servicemen had it with the hooker the other night. They just didn't know she was already flying." He sat back down at the desk and rubbed his face in his hands, "Listen to me, I've become an expert. But I can't check in for treatment, I'll be cashiered. I can't seem to get off of it myself--I tried twice--And I'll be damned if I let anybody say that tanks just can't take it."

Ross snorted, "You don't think that's what they'd say if you managed to put a bullet through that thick skull of yours? No, there's an answer. Sometimes it just takes two heads to figure it out."

"I called you to help me die." The words were spoken so low, it took Ross a second to figure out what McQueen had said.

"No!...No way!" Now Ross stood up, pacing as if he too were using the drug. "Look," he stopped and turned to McQueen, "I've got a friend who works in a drug rehab clinic in Tallahassee. I'll call her tomorrow. Thanksgiving is only three days, actually two, since its already Tuesday. Can you hold out 'til then?'' He didn't give McQueen a chance to answer, "Stupid question, you've held out this long. I've got some favors owed me, you've got lots of leave accumulated. That's it, we're going to Tallahassee. I'll see if she can see us on Friday."

McQueen had been watching Ross. He spoke, almost reluctantly, "I've got enough of the stuff to last until Saturday. Do you really think this is going to work?"

"Look," Ross stepped close to the desk, leaning over it to McQueen. "Ten minutes ago, all you wanted was for me to help you die. I want to help you live. But if this doesn't work, I will help you die, and in a way that doesn't reflect badly on the Corps, InVitros, or your memory. You deserve at least that."

McQueen stood. He had trusted this man with his life before. Ross had stayed with him in the convalescent center, giving up what could have been time with his family. Besides, there really were no choices besides to trust Ross to help him. He reached his hand out to the natural born, "Thank you." Ross took the hand, then grinned,

"Okay then, see you for turkey at our house, Thursday at noon." He left, noting that McQueen stood where he was, watching him as he went.

McQueen awoke to the soft sound of rain on his window. Looked like Thanksgiving was going to be one of those softly grey November days. He sat up, looking around the spartan room. When he had decided to die, he'd packed up most of his books and things. There had been depressingly little to pack, and no one to give it to. On the table next to his bed lay the last packet of meanies, looking so pretty and innocent. He reached out and took one, checking his chronometer. Yeah, if he took one now, he ought to be just about right for the first part of the afternoon, then another about 1600 should carry him through the rest of the evening. That left three for Friday, three for Saturday, and two to hide away.

He swallowed the one in his hand without water, then rose. Mai and the girls expected him in 45 minutes and he didn't want to disappoint them. Thinking about facing Glenn brought its own problems. He hadn't seen him since the early morning crisis, and, if he was honest with himself, he was embarrassed. In his youth, with other InVitros, everyone had known everything about each other. They lived together, ate together, had sex together. Since he had lost that community by enlisting in the service, he had been held apart from the others. Now no one knew him, except, maybe, Glenn. It scared him.

When he pulled into the driveway at the Ross', a fine drizzle still misted the air. An unfamiliar car stood in the driveway. McQueen pulled his jacket collar up and zipped the front. The front door opened and Susu came running out,

"Uncle Captain, Uncle Captain! I knew you'd be here." She grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the house. Once inside, he noted the smells of dinner cooking, the noises of a bunch of people happy with each other. At the archway leading to the family room, Glenn met him. Susan, having done her job of bringing him, handed him off to Glenn. She ran out of the room and up the stairs, presumably on some arcane mission.

Glenn held out his hand, "Ty, good to see you. How are you feeling?" He peered into McQueen's face, trying to gauge just how he was doing really.

"I'm alright, Glenn, honest. At least for now."

"Yeah." Glenn nodded, "I made that phone call, everything is on. We can talk about it later." He paused, clearly needing to share something, "But for now," He pulled McQueen into the living room and put his other arm around McQueen's shoulder. "This is Leah's husband, Pete. I think I mentioned him to you the other night." Since the mention had been what an asshole the man in front of him was, McQueen was forced to smile at Ross's comment. The other man stood, holding out his hand. McQueen released Ross's and took Pete's. Tall and spare, Leah's husband had the rangy look of a basketball star. His red hair went along with a florid complexion. Clearly, Peggy got her height from her dad, at 12 she was already almost as tall as her mother. McQueen found himself wondering what a child of his would get from him. His musings distracted him from what the man had said to him, so he only picked up on the,

"...Understand you served with Glenn in the AI wars. Nasty bit that, but I guess that's what happens when scientists trying to play God."

Not having heard the first part of his comment, McQueen could only nod his head, "Yes, sir. I served with the Commander in Cuba." Spider came bounding into the room,

"Hey, Captain McQueen. Miri says you're an ace hoops shooter, wanna go a little one on one."

Pete smiled at that, "You play basketball, Captain McQueen?"

"Not really," McQueen shrugged.

His arm still around McQueen's shoulders, Ross shook him a little, "Don't be modest, man. Yeah, he's good, he beat me."

"Anyone can beat you," Pete stated. It should have been a good-natured sneer, but McQueen noticed a sharp tone to it. He felt an unfamiliar desire to protect his friend. "Want to have a go at it, Captain?"

The man's arrogance was too much like the arrogance of all those natural borns who had assumed he would not be able to keep up with them.

"Yeah, Pete." McQueen moved from under Ross's arm and got up close to Pete, hands splayed on his hips. The differences in their heights had McQueen raising his chin to look into Pete's face. "Let's have a go at it." From everything he knew about this man and everything he had read in his records, Ross knew that this aggressive stance was not usual. He put a hand on McQueen's shoulder,

"A nice friendly one-on-one, right?"

McQueen read the other man's unspoken signal and stepped back, backing down. He turned to Ross,

"Yeah, a nice friendly game."

Like the other day, the game of one-on-one had its spectators, even more this time. The drizzle had cleared up, although the sky was still grey. Everyone at the house pulled up lawn chairs or sat on the grass around the makeshift court. Pete had taken off his shirt, and was now in jeans and a tee shirt. McQueen took off the Angry Angels flight jacket, but left his shirt on this time. Ross acted as ref, throwing the ball in the air. The action was fast and furious. The spectators enjoyed the game, cheering indiscriminately and enthusiastically at every basket made, every successful defense. Both men played with an intensity normally reserved for playoffs, but without concern for fouls. At the back of the crowd, Mai and Leah exchanged sarcastic comments about testosterone poisoning. Where McQueen had held back his InVitro strength and reflexes with Ross, he brought them into play with Pete. For his part, Pete used the skills and experience he had gained on an all-pro college team. Ross watched as McQueen pulled out all the stops. His play was aggressive, bordering on assaultive. Pete defended himself, but was outmatched. Neither gave up a point easily. Thirty minutes later, McQueen scored his tenth point to Pete's eight. He stopped, putting his hands on his knees, letting his head fall. The little Susu rushed onto the makeshift court.

"That was neat!" She patted her father's arm, "Don't be sorry, Daddy, Uncle Captain's a sojer, he's s'posed to win." Oblivious to the hostility between the two men, she left her father's side and hugged McQueen. Peggy approached more sedately and handed each of the men a towel. When she got close to McQueen, she leaned close to him,

"That was great, Captain." She wrinkled her nose, "But I hope you can borrow one of Uncle Glenn's shirts, or people will think the stories are true." The last was under her breath, for his ears only. Knowing that she felt comfortable enough to tease him about their previous conversation, feeling the warmth of Susu's little body around his leg made something warm grow in his chest. Before he had a chance to explore the new sensations, he noted Pete walking off the court, Leah holding his arm and whispering angrily to him. Peggy called out to her father's departing back,

"You'd better get a shower before you sit down to Aunt Mai's table, Dad."

"Good game, Ty." Ross came on to the court. He watched Pete leave and sent the children off to play on the swing set. "Now," he turned and faced McQueen, "What the hell was that?"

McQueen stepped back, putting some distance between himself and Ross, "What do you mean?"

"Ty," Ross stepped up, refusing to allow McQueen the space, "I know we haven't known each other long. But I did spend three days in a cell and two weeks in the hospital with you. We spent a lot of time talking, those late nights when we couldn't sleep, And..." He paused for a moment, "I read your jacket," Ross put his hand up to stop McQueen's protest at this invasion of his privacy, "I needed to know what kind of man I was sticking my neck out for. I can get you access to mine if it'll make you feel better. In the time we spent together, in the records in your file, I saw nothing that would lead me to believe you need to beat the crap out of someone to prove your manhood, on the basketball court or in the parking lot of an ice cream store."

"Maybe I'm just tired of taking it! The kid in the parking lot got less than he deserved, and Pete is an arrogant son of a bitch!"

Now Ross did back off, "Ty, its the drug talking right now. Listen to yourself. The kid in the parking lot was an idiot, but you've dealt with worse.

"As for Pete, well, he's my sister's husband, Lord bless her. But he's a really poor loser. He's been trading off on his 'college basketball hero-could have gone pro' reputation for 10 years. 'Bout time someone took him down a notch." He put a hand on his friend's shoulder, shaking it gently, "I'm not saying you should have let him win, I'm saying you didn't have to beat him up to make the point. That's not Captain T.C. McQueen of the USMC, that's some strung-out tank."

McQueen's head came up at that, anger in his face. "Commander, I am a strung-out tank."

"Ty, give yourself and me a break." McQueen started to respond, but Ross stopped him, "We've got an appointment Friday at 1000 with my friend in Tallahassee. I pulled a couple of strings, and we both have two weeks leave. But you've got to hold it together between now and then. We need you," He smiled, "Come on, let's go see what Mai has cooked up for us." He pushed McQueen gently toward the house. McQueen swooped down to pick up the flight jacket, then remembered what Peggy had said.

"You got a shirt I can borrow? Peggy tells me I need a shower before dinner."

"Yeah, not a problem. You can use the upstairs bathroom."

Freshly showered and dressed in his own jeans and a soft blue pull- over of Ross's, McQueen joined the rest of the party in the dining room. During his shower, the table had been set with the family's best linen, china, silver and crystal. Everybody was assisting in ferrying the food from the kitchen to the table. Based on his previous, admittedly limited, experience with home-cooked meals, there was a dazzling array of dishes to be brought in. The piece de resistance, a golden brown turkey, just like the ones the mess hall had served every Thanksgiving since he'd been in the military, seemed somehow beautiful in this setting.

"You're here, Ty." Mai motioned to the chair one down from hers. "Both the children wanted to sit next to you, do you mind?"

He stood behind the chair she'd indicated, Peggy between him and Mai, Susu on the other side, with her mother on the other side of her. "No. Should I?"

Leah chuckled, "If you survive sitting between them for the entire meal, we may have to adopt you as chief baby- sitter."

Ross came behind Mai and pulled the chair out for her to be seated. This was apparently the signal, everyone else seated themselves as well. Used to the perfunctory time given to grace at OCS, McQueen was not surprised when everyone clasped their hands and lowered their heads. He was a little taken aback when his name came up on the list of things for which the family should be grateful. Abruptly, the solemn note of prayer changed to boisterous family dinner as platters and bowls were passed around. After a few moments, things calmed down again, as people set to the serious job of overeating.

"Ooh, Captain, are you really going to eat those creamed onions?" Peggy looked at the pale orbs on his plate with disgust.

"Is that what these are? I've never tasted them before." he looked at her grim head shake with some amusement.

"I think you'll be sorry, Captain. But I admit, grown- ups got weird taste. Uncle Glenn let me taste his scotch the other day, and it was disgusting."

Pete's head came up at that and he turned toward his brother-in-law, "I wish you would not do these things, Glenn. You know we don't use alcohol at home."

"Yeah, I know." Glenn grinned condescendingly, "But she's going to have to taste it to know she doesn't like it. Believe me, from her response, you don't have to be afraid of her trying it again any time in the near future."

"I know, Margaret is a good girl. I just wish you respect mine and Leah's wishes in this matter." McQueen lowered his head, focusing on his food, hiding the contempt in which he was coming to hold this one member of Ross's family.

"Where do you hale from, Captain McQueen?" It took Ty a moment to realize that Pete was talking to him, another moment to decide to answer him. If Pete could start a conversation, he could keep it going.

"Anchorage." It was the exact truth, but perhaps not the entire truth.

"Hmmm," Pete nodded knowingly, "Beautiful state, Alaska. My company has a plant there."

"Yeah? Where do you work?" McQueen made the attempt at polite dinner conversation, and was pleased to see Ross noticing it.

"Aerotech Engineering, we make the pieces that make the interstellar ships. We were instrumental in the completion of the new pleasure ship, the Bacchus." The man was clearly very proud of himself, "You might say I'm a commander, too. I have 500 workers under my direct supervision." He visibly swelled, "In fact, we just bought 35 new In Vitro contracts." McQueen felt the pleasant demeanor he had so laboriously achieved, slipping. Peter took his intense glance to be one of interest. "Yes, I thought it was a really bad business move. With these damn InVitro rights marches, Indentured Servanthood is going to be banned in the US any year now. The money we've invested in those contracts will be down the tubes. And what we'll do for workers willing to take those jobs... well, I just don't know what we'll do."

"Pay your workers living wages?" Mai handed Spider a bowl and motioned for him to pass it on to his uncle. "Can we shelve the political discussion for later, I'm sure the children aren't interested."

"Yes we are, Aunt Mai." Little Susu sat up, "We're inrested in everything. Aren't we, Miri?"

The teenager looked at her small cousin across the table, aware of her mother's attempts to change the subject to a less volatile one for this particular party. "Yeah, sweets. But it's not polite to talk politics at the dinner table. Grown- ups get real serious about things like that."

"Oh." The small child looked around the table. "Okay."

The conversation was tabled, and the rest of dinner was spent talking of Peggy's latest soccer games. Mai and Leah both kept the food passing and McQueen found that an empty plate was asking for someone to find something else he needed more of. He finally settled on pushing the third helping of turkey and stuffing and potatoes around, to keep anyone from suggesting that he might need more of anything. He had little to add to the dinner conversation, but an occasional nod and uh-huh seemed to keep everyone happy. When the subject of Spider's latest calculus test came up, he was able to commiserate with Spider and his differential equations.

"They wouldn't let me fly until I could do differentials. I kept saying that the computer would do it. But the OCS instructors wouldn't buy it."

"Yeah," Spider nodded, "That's what the Air Force recruiter told me. But I'm not really interested in flying, necessarily."

Shaking his head with disbelief, McQueen responded, "Aw, but that's freedom. Come out to the base, and I'll take you up."

"Really. Too much! I'd love it!"

"Me too, me too!" The small child on his right pulled on his sleeve.

"Sorry, little one," Glenn interceded, "Captain McQueen and I are going to be out of town for a couple of weeks. You all will be home by the time we get back."

"Well, Uncle Captain could fly one of his jets up to Savannah to visit us." The voice was mildly sulky. Her mother reached over and combed Susu's hair from her face.

"I know someone who's gonna need to go down for a nap if she continues to whine."

"I'm not whining!" She shook the hair back into her face. "I just wanted to invite Uncle Captain to visit."

Never having faced this particular problem, McQueen was somewhat at a loss. This wasn't one of his people not getting the leave he'd requested. This was a child wanting his company. "I really appreciate the invitation, Susu. Maybe when Uncle Glenn and I get back, when I take Spider up, we can make a quick flight to Savannah." By now everyone had pushed back from the table, just picking at what food may be left on their plates. Coming to Ty's rescue, Mai stood up.

"Okay, guys. Let's do the pie and coffee a little later. Spider, Miri, you two are on table clearing detail." Everyone stood, and Leah, too began to help with the clearing. She turned to her older daughter.

"Peggy, can you take Susan upstairs and wash her face and hands. Then you can make that phone call you've been asking about." Taking her sister by the hand, Peggy leaned down, whispering into the little girl's ear as the two left the dining room. Ross, McQueen, and Pete headed for the living room,

"We'll get the vid warmed up for the games, Mai." Ross called to his wife as they exited. Mai stopped him, hands on her hips,

"Glenn Ross! This is not your ship, we are not your sailors, you can just get in here and help. Pete and Ty have some excuse, they're guests."

Ross clapped McQueen on the shoulder, "You two go ahead," he smiled ruefully, "I'll help these guys get dessert ready."

Ty found himself in the comfortable living room seated across from the one member of this family he really didn't have much use for.

A few minutes later, Susan came barreling in. She stopped by her father's chair, turning her face up to his for a kiss. "Hi, Daddy."

He reached down and scooped her into his lap. "Hi, Punkin'"

McQueen watched the two of them. With the child in his lap, even Pete didn't seem like such a bad sort. Susu twisted in her father's embrace so that she was seated in his lap, facing McQueen.

"Uncle Captain, why do people call InVitros, 'tanks'?"

Her father craned his head around to see his daughter's face, "It's from the gestation tanks, sweetie. Remember we talked about how the baby gets in her mommy's tummy? Well, InVitros don't have mommies and daddies the way you do."

McQueen just sat there, unable to think of anything to add, anything he wanted to say. Susu looked at him, questions still on her face. He could see them coming and had no idea if he was willing to answer or of how to answer them.

"Is that true, Uncle Captain? You don't have a mommy or a daddy? I'll bet I could share mine if you want." Again McQueen was ambushed by this child's ideals. He could do no more than look at her, marginally aware that Pete was looking sharply in his direction,

"I was not aware that you were an InVitro, Captain McQueen." It was a statement, not a question, requiring no response from McQueen. Somehow, though, it did require an answer.

"Yeah, I'm an InVitro," He glanced briefly at Pete, then turned back to Susan. "Thank-you, Susu." At that moment, Miri came in with a tray. Unaware of any tension in the room, she smiled brightly at Ty,

"Mom says you take yours black, right, Captain?"

"Thank you, yes, black." He knew that Pete was not going to let this drop so easily, but for now the moment had passed. Miri set the tray down on the coffee table and poured coffee for McQueen and for Pete.

"You still take yours with milk and sugar, Uncle Pete?" She fixed the coffee and handed cups to the two men. "I'm supposed to take dessert orders, too. We have pumpkin and pecan pie, with and without whipped cream."

"I want pecan, with lots and lots of whipped cream." Susu twisted out of her father's lap. "I'll come help serve it, too."

"Okay, Susu." The teenager put her hand on her cousin's head. "Gentlemen?"

"Pumpkin for me, please, with no cream," Pete patted his stomach, "I've got to keep in shape, you know."

McQueen exchanged grins with Miri, "I'll have what Susu's having."

Dessert was brought in and once again everyone was too busy enjoying the sweet ending to talk much. It began to darken outside, as the November day turned to evening. From the picture window in the front, Christmas decorations could be seen lighting up. Pete stood, carrying his plate and cup toward the kitchen.

"Glenn, let's help out the girls and take the plates and cups to the sink." He didn't notice Mai and Leah both gritting their teeth at his casual assumptions of the division of labour. Ross noticed, but chose to ignore it, in favor of seeing why Pete, who seldom talked about anything important with him, wanted to talk to him alone, now.

The door had no sooner swung shut, than Pete turned on him, glaring, "I can't believe you brought that...In Vitro into your home. What the hell were you thinking." His voice was low, Pete had no intention of being overheard.

Ross returned at the same level, "That... .InVitro is my friend, fellow officer, and saved my ass. Besides being an honourable man whom I really like and respect. What the hell is your point?"

Pete stood there, still holding the cup and plate in hand. Perhaps realizing the silliness of the picture he made, he turned and deposited them in the sink. "Look, Glenn. I know we're not good buddies. But you've got to know how much I love your sister. I thought you loved and respected her, too...not to mention your own wife and our daughters. I work with tanks all the time. Glenn," he paused, "okay, this is it, they have the sexual morals of goats. I mean they are ready anytime, anyplace, anyone. I wouldn't trust one of them around my dog."

Ross found himself controlling his anger with considerable difficulty, "Pete, I knew you were an idiot, I didn't know you were a damn fool idiot." He turned to leave, stopping when Pete grabbed him by the shoulder, turning him around.

"I tell you, I am not talking 'prejudice' here. It's scientific fact. And I have to motivate those guys to get their jobs done. Sex is about the only reinforcer that works consistently with the IVs. Of course we can't withhold food or drink very long without endangering productivity. And giving the InVitros cash bonuses hasn't worked out well, they just go out and drink it up. But granting conjugal time for the more productive workers, well, it works. They'll do almost anything for some time with the partner of their choice."

"Let me get this straight." Glenn's voice was low, "You don't allow your workers to have sex, and then allow them to screw if they're good....What about the 'partner of their choice,' does he or she get a choice in the matter?"

"Oh, good grief, Glenn. I just told you, none of them gives a damn who or what they fuck, or are fucked by for that matter." He was stopped by the look of disgust on Glenn's face. "Glenn, I'm a manager. This is the only way to manage the InVitros. It keeps them in li...." He was stopped again, this time by Mai rushing into the room.

"What on earth did you say to Ty? He just left out of here like a shot."

"McQueen?" Pete questioned, "He wasn't in here."

"Oh shit, he must have overheard your theories on management." Ross left the kitchen, hurrying from the house to catch McQueen. He found him by his car, leaning his back against it, taking deep breaths. Without opening his eyes, he spoke,

"The answer is nobody ever asked the 'partner of their choice.'" Suddenly he doubled over, holding his abdomen. He gagged, throwing up in the gutter. Glenn reached forward to help him, only to have his hand pushed back. "Damn you all. He didn't even mention the fun you natural borns can have watching some poor dumb tank getting the shit fucked out of him. And they say tanks are oversexed... it seems to be the only topic of conversation for you natural borns."

"Ty, come on. You know it isn't like that everywhere or for everyone."

McQueen straightened up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Do I?" He combed his other hand through his hair. "Yeah, okay. If you say so, boss." He looked up to see Pete coming across the lawn. "I better go now."

"Damn it! This conversation is not over!" Before McQueen could open the car door, Pete had made his way to the two of them.

"Look, Captain McQueen, I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings, but..."

"Commander, Glenn, get that fucking geek away from me, before I do something we'll both regret."

"Pete," Ross turned to his brother in law, "Get your ass back in the house. Tell Mai and Leah that Ty wasn't feeling well."

"Now wait a minute, I don't take kindly to being threatened by a damned tank."

McQueen pushed himself away from the car, "You don't? Then let's see how you take to getting the crap beat out of you by a 'damned tank'." Before either Ross or Pete could react, McQueen had grabbed Pete by the collar, driving his fist into his gut. When the other man keeled over from the punch, McQueen slammed him across the jaw with the other fist. Pete crumpled, falling onto his hands and knees. McQueen clasped both hands together, bringing the clenched hands down onto the back of Pete's neck. Pete dropped, his chest landing in the vomitus from McQueen's earlier spasm. Ross grabbed McQueen, pulling him away, slamming him back against the car.

"Enough! That's enough!" His face was right next to the panting InVitro's. When McQueen had taken a couple of deep breaths, he stepped back just a bit, repeating quietly, "That's enough." Both of them looked at the fallen Pete. Then Ross looked back into McQueen's face. The other continued to look towards the ground. "Well, I'm impressed."

McQueen's head came up. Ross was discomfited by the blazing blue eyes, but refused to look away. "He had it coming."

Ross nodded, "Probably. Do you feel better now?"

McQueen closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them, the light had gone out behind them, leaving them dull grey, "No. I...I thought things were different now, for the younger IVs. It's just...things haven't changed in the 15 years since the mines. Not for them, not for me." Ross had read McQueen's files. He knew the Marine had been a miner during his own period as an indentured servant, on the mining colonies of Omicron Draconis.

"Ty, there is flat-out nothing I can say that will fix it. Before the InVitros, it was the SouthEast Asians, before them the African Americans. And the Jews and the Poles and the Saxons. Damn it, man, you're a student of history. Not that any of that make a damn bit of difference now. It was wrong then and it still is."

"If we find anyone out there," he gestured to the stars both he and McQueen had been out to, "I have no doubt that things will be pretty much the same, unless they're bigger and meaner than we are.

"On the other hand, for the first time in history, humanity is more or less united under one government. Maybe things will get better. Maybe, oh shit, I don't know, maybe you and I will make a difference. Maybe Miri and Spider and Peg and Susan will make the difference."

McQueen shook his head, "I don't know if you know how much I want for you to be right, but you don't live it...you don't hear the screams of InVitros who have given their sanity or their lives for humanity to survive or just for the entertainment of natural borns." He was interrupted by a moan from the ground, "I better go before wonder boy wakes up. I'm sorry about that...well...sort of." He grinned, "It was kind of fun, though. I always wanted to do that to the manager at the mines, and never got the chance."

Ross gripped his shoulder, "I think I understand, at least I'm trying. I'll pick you up in the morning, o-dark-thirty. Okay?"

"Yeah" McQueen entered the car, driving off, leaving Ross to help his brother-in-law up and out of the gutter.

Next : Chapter VI

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