It had been a long dry spell, and everyone was getting antsy. It was only supposed to be a standard recon patrol, Chigs hadn't even been reported in the area, but Devon actually looked forward to a fight. When she saw the bogeys on LIDAR, she could barely keep her voice neutral. "Listen up, I've got bogeys on the LIDAR at 10 o'clock." She could hear the excitement in the rest of their voices. "Quiet down, people. Queen of Diamonds, bring your squadron around, and let's see if we can flank them and catch them in a cross-fire."

"Roger that, Tiger1."

"Good hunting, 'Cards."

"Same to you."

McQueen and Ross listened on the bridge as the squadrons leaped into the thick of it. They heard the calls for help, the war whoops as another Chig kill was made, the silence as two fighters lost their lives.

"Saratoga, this is Tiger1. Bandits are destroyed, returning home."

Ross got on the comlink. "Good work, people."

"Roger that, Boss Ross."

McQueen was on the observation deck when their cockpits rose and locked into place. He had been glad when he found out that none of his kids bought it, but he knew it would be rough for Devon. She sat in her cockpit as they disengaged her, not moving even after they were done. She was still there long after the other pilots had left. McQueen just stood and watched her, noticing that she moved a little slower when she got out and walked towards her quarters.

He didn't worry when Devon didn't show up for dinner, nor when she didn't show up at Tun Tavern. About 2100 hours, he got up and headed for her quarters. Knocking, he waited. He heard her "Enter" and stepped inside. Devon was sitting at her desk, leaning her forehead on her hand as she tried to write letters to the families of the pilots who died.

Moving to stand beside her and to her right, McQueen spoke. "It never gets any easier."

Devon put her pen down. "No, it doesn't, and the sad part is these are just words on a piece of paper. I didn't *know* these kids. If Sheila had died, I'd be able to write a dozen pages." She rubbed her temples. "Now, I have to make sure I spell their names right."

Reaching out, he put his hand on her shoulder to show her that he understood what she was going through. Reaching up, she grasped it and laid her cheek against their clasped hands.

"Sometimes being in command really sucks."

McQueen smiled and squeezed her hand. "I'd like to buy you a drink."

Devon nodded, and she put away the letters to finish them tomorrow. Leaving her quarters, she was surprised when he bypassed the corridor to Tun Tavern and led her to his quarters.

"I've got a 25-year-old bottle of Scotch for just these occasions."

When they entered, she moved to study the pictures on his wall, the books on his shelves. Standing in front of the drawing of W.C. Fields, she murmured, "Ain't a fit night for man or beast."

He almost dropped the glasses. "What?"

Turning, she smiled. "I'm sorry. It's from one of his movies. My grandmother loved him, so I got to watch a lot of him growing up."

"I know it's from one of his movies...I've just never heard anyone else quote it."

Moving on, she once again studied his books. "I've read the 'Book of Five Rings', but the others I could never fathom enough to finish. My father read them, encouraged me to read them--maybe one of these days I'll do just that."

McQueen sat on his bunk, as Devon took the chair at his desk. They sat there in silence, savoring the Scotch, finding no need to clutter the air with useless words.

Finishing her drink, she sat the glass on the desk and walked over to McQueen. Standing in front of him, she stood at parade rest. McQueen stood up, mimicking her stance.

"Colonel McQueen, there is nothing I want to do more at this moment in time than kiss you."

McQueen cupped her face with his hands and moved closer to her. Devon slid her arms around him and reached up, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. Feeling them open, she slid her tongue inside, gently stroking his. She felt his fingers pulling her braid apart, running his hands through her hair and draping the curls around her.

They weren't sure whose hands started pulling on t-shirts, but soon both of theirs were on the floor. Devon ran her hands over his chest, leaning forward to kiss his scars. She heard him groan, knew that he would enjoy it, then moved to lick his nipples.

His hands reached around her, unclasping her bra and drawing it down her arms. Pushing her back, he looked at her, saw her own scars and let his finger caress the one that ran from her left shoulder down to the valley between her breasts.

"Where did you get this one?"

"Guatemala...shrapnel." He followed the finger with his lips and tongue before moving to caress her breasts. Devon's head fell back as he licked and nibbled on her nipples, driving her insane like she had done to him earlier. His hands lowered to unbutton her pants when he bumped into her boot with his own. Stopping, he looked into her eyes and they laughed.

"Guess we'll have to take these off before we go any further."

Devon pushed him back to sit on the edge of the bed and motioned for him to put his foot on her leg. "It'll be easier this way." She removed one boot and sock, then motioned for him to switch, removing the other boot and sock. Standing in front of him, she propped her foot on the bed between his legs, careful not to push against anything important. McQueen removed her boot and sock, stroking the bottom of her foot before she switched them. When he had removed the other boot and sock, he pulled her to him, continuing with his previous mission. Once unbuttoned, he slid his hands under the waistband of her panties and slid them down so that both items could fall to the floor. Scooting back on the bunk, he pulled her with him. Devon straddled him, settling on him, finding the scratchy cotton of his pants strangely erotic between her thighs.

For long moments, they just kissed, exploring the taste of each other. When Devon felt him bulging against her, she reached down between them to unbutton his pants, her eyes never leaving his face. They stretched out, facing each other, and she pushed his pants and skivvies down and out of the way. Devon ran her finger over McQueen's lips as she slid her leg up his, loving the feel of his skin against hers.

As she settled onto her back, he knelt between her thighs. Slowly pushing into her, McQueen grabbed Devon's hands and clasped them above her head. Sinking onto her, he kissed her and let her get adjusted to him before he began to thrust into her. When she wrapped her legs around him, he delved into her with long, slow, steady strokes as she arched her hips up to meet him, trying to pull him deep inside. Devon began to shudder, feeling herself starting to come, and she wanted to draw out these incredible sensations. McQueen was moving faster, his own climax not far behind hers. He groaned into her neck and released her hands as he spilled into her. Devon stroked his back and kissed his neck, tightening her legs around his hips, unwilling to let him go.

After a while, their hearts calmed, and McQueen slid to Devon's side. Turning toward him, she draped her arm across his chest and settled into the crook of his arm. They slept, wrapped together.

Devon wrinkled her nose, the tickling sensation bringing her out of a sound sleep. She opened one eye to find McQueen lying on his side, pressed against her back, and tickling her with one of her own curls. She stretched, brushing one of her hands up McQueen's body as she did so, noting with a certain sense of satisfaction that he was hardening against the back of her leg.

"Maybe I'll cut my hair one of these days...then it can't be used against me as a weapon." Devon smiled.

"Don't." McQueen pushed her hair away, kissing the back of her neck before nibbling on her ear. He slid his hand under her arm, finding her breast and playing with her nipple. Nudging her legs open with his knee, he pushed her leg up before sliding into her. Devon felt like she was drowning every time McQueen touched her--this time was no different. He held her close as she shook with pleasure, feeling himself shake against her. They lay there--Devon wrapped in McQueen's arms--like spoons.

She could feel the unspoken words in the air, and she didn't want to force them into positions where they would have to say something that was only half true.

Devon stroked McQueen's fingers. "So, does this mean that I now get to learn what T.C. stands for?"

"Only if you tell me your whole name."

"Damn, I was afraid you'd say that." She flipped on her back to watch his face. "You first."

"Tyrus Cassius." McQueen tapped Devon on the nose. "Now, it's your turn."

"My whole name is Devon Odelia Matthews."

"That's not too bad."

Devon grabbed the pillow and hit him with it. "Yeah, that's easy for you to say." Sliding out of his arms, she grabbed her clothes and began to put them on. McQueen propped himself up on his bunk and watched as she transformed herself back into the long-gone hardcharger he knew her to be. With nothing left to put on but her socks and boots, she sat on the bunk and wrapped her arm around McQueen's shoulders, leaning down to kiss him.

"I've got to go and finish those letters."

McQueen rubbed her back. "I know."

Walking to the hatch, she paused, turning to look at him stretched out on the bunk. "Can I buy you breakfast in the morning?"

"I'll be there."

"Thanks for the drink."

"You're welcome."

Devon slipped out the hatch and returned to her quarters. She finished the letters, finding the right words to tell heart-broken families that their loved ones had given their lives bravely.

Slipping out of her clothes and into sleepwear, she thought she still smelled McQueen on her skin and fell into a comfortable sleep still smiling.

When she met McQueen the next morning in the officer's mess, she was glad to find that she didn't feel nervous. Sitting down opposite him at a table, she grinned. "Anything good on the schedule today? I'm ready for a little payback."

McQueen sipped his coffee before answering. "More recon patrols, so anything's possible. Mission briefing in 30 mikes, wheels up in one hour."

"I'll be there."

McQueen smiled, sending little fires along her spine, then got up and headed for the briefing room. Devon finished her breakfast, returning her dishes to the window that lead to the galley, and rounded up her people.

"We've got a mission briefing in 5 mikes. Move it out."

In the briefing room, squadrons were assigned to various regions of space to sweep for any Chigs that might cause a problem for the Saratoga or her support fleet.

The pilots were anxious to get into the air, quickly going through pre-flight checklists. With warning klaxons going off, cockpits began dropping into engagement sequences with their Hammerheads.

"Saratoga, systems are go for launch."

"Roger that, Tiger1, you're clear for launch. Good hunting."

"Roger that, Queen6. I'll bring you back a three-pointer."

McQueen smiled, and Ross watched his friend from across the bridge, smiling himself.

Like the old saying goes, "If I didn't have bad luck, I wouldn't have any luck at all." Both the 58th and the 21st encountered heavy resistance on their respective patrols. McQueen paced the bridge as he listened to both sets of chatter. He breathed an almost audible sigh of relief as Shane brought the 58th back with no losses. Turning, he focused on the chatter coming from the 21st.

Devon's voice came across the speaker. "Sheila, you've got one locked on. Juke and I'll catch him on the flip side."

"Devon..." Sheila yelled a warning too late for Devon to do anything.

"Oh, shit..." McQueen moved closer to the radio. Fire from a Chig fighter strafed Devon's Hammerhead.

Sheila's voice came back. "Colonel...talk to me...are you okay?"

"If I ever get my hands of the fucking idiots who designed these break-away panels, I'm going to kill 'em." Devon's voice was slightly slurred. "I hit my head and caught some fragments in my face--I'm not sure if I can land this bird."

"We're finished here; go egghead, and let's head home."

McQueen was the first one through the flight bay doors, crouching beside Devon as her canopy opened. Blood was everywhere, and he was pushed aside as medics got her out and onto a stretcher. He followed them down to medical, pacing in the waiting room with the rest of the Tigers while the doctors checked her for injuries.

Dr. Withers came out, finding McQueen in his face before he could even speak. "Is she okay?"

Withers stepped back, "Yes, she's going to be fine. She has a slight concussion, and we've had to stitch up some of the lacerations, but she will be fine and ready to fly in a couple of weeks." He looked at Devon's squadron. "You all can see her tomorrow, go get some rest." They all started to walk away, when Dr. Withers grabbed McQueen's arm. "Colonel Matthews would like to speak to you."

Stepping into her room, he felt fear tighten his gut when he saw her wrapped in bandages. Looking at him, Devon tried to smile. "I guess this means I won't be winning Miss Photogenic."

McQueen walked over and sat on the bed. "No, but you do get points for style and originality." He picked up her hand and stroked the back of it. "Doc says you'll be back on deck in a couple of weeks. Guess we'll have to find something for you to do while you're grounded."

Devon winked at him. "I'm sure we'll find something."

"Did you bring back that three-pointer?"

"Bagged too many and the warden wouldn't let me keep any of them."

McQueen smiled and continued to stroked her hand, feeling the strength in it. "I'll keep an eye out for the Tigers."

Devon squeezed his hand. "Thanks for being there for my pilots. It means a lot to me that you'll watch out for them."

Pressing a quick kiss on her lips, he moved towards the door. "Get some sleep."

"'Night, Ty."

"Pleasant dreams, Devon." He flipped the light out in her room, leaving her silhouetted in starlight.

In the five days since she'd been released by the doctor, the crew had learned to move out of Devon's way when she was striding down corridors. She was getting ornery because she couldn't be out there with her squadron...because she couldn't fly.

She didn't yell at anyone--quite the opposite. Devon was getting more quiet...a dangerous sign that McQueen had first noticed several weeks ago during an altercation between one of her pilots and a pilot from another squadron.

Lt. Sam Fletcher, one of Devon's favorites (though she would never admit it), had been steadily winning at poker, which wasn't unusual. Most everyone knew not to play with him, but there were new squadrons aboard who hadn't learned, and he was raking it in. The 77th took their losses well, with the exception of a certain Captain Mark Dobbs. When Fletcher got up to leave, Dobbs grabbed him by the arm, accusing him of cheating.

Fletcher laughed, "C'mon man. I won fair and square."

Dobbs stood up, towering over the other pilot, who looked decided uncomfortable and shot a "help me" glance at Devon.

Devon had been sitting at a table with McQueen discussing the best ways to maximize maneuverability in a knifefight when she noticed the increasing anger of Captain Dobbs. She saw that McQueen had also noticed and shook her head at him to not get involved. She stayed out it until Dobbs got threatening.

Pushing away from the table, Devon got up, a blank expression on her face. The Tigers who had been with her the longest hurriedly moved out of the way when they saw her face. Stepping between the two men, she looked at Fletcher. "Fair and square?"

"Honest, Colonel. I didn't cheat."

"Go on, Fletcher, I'll handle this."

"Thanks, Colonel." Fletcher quickly made his way to the rest of the Tigers who had gathered at the bar to watch the fireworks.

"You're just gonna let him go?" Dobbs sputtered, his face an angry shade of red.

"He's been in my squadron for over a year. He's never lied to me before. Let it go, Dobbs."

"Like hell". Dobbs swung his fist at Devon, beer getting the better of him.

McQueen was out of his chair and heading for Devon before the rest of the Tigers or the WildCards could move.

Devon stepped back, letting Dobbs' momentum carry him forward before she grabbed his arm and twisted it around his back, bringing him to his knees. He struggled, wincing as his arm was wrenched tighter.

Leaning down, Devon spoke to him. "Keep struggling and you're going to break it."

Dobbs stopped struggling, breathing hard.

"I'll forget that you just took a swing at a superior officer...this time...because we need all available pilots." Devon leaned closer and Dobbs could feel her breath on his ear. "But if you ever do it again, I'll put your ass down. Understand?

Dobbs nodded and Devon released his arm. He got up and stumbled through the doors, followed by the rest of his squadron.

Devon straightened and looked to find McQueen at her side, backing her up. She smiled. "I believe you were explaining the benefits of a forward roll?"

Ross stood beside McQueen as they watched Devon take out her frustration kickboxing a punching bag.

"Looks like Colonel Matthews is getting a bit stircrazy." Ross smiled as she threw down her gloves.

"I believe that's an understatement, sir." They both watched as she stalked out of the gym.

"Perhaps you could help her out in that department, Ty." Ross clapped him on the shoulder and walked away, leaving McQueen to wonder exactly what he knew.

Heading towards Devon's quarters, McQueen knew she would be pacing the small room. Knocking, he waited for acknowledgment.

"What?!?!" The voice was full of exasperation.

"It's Ty."

"Come in." Devon was walking the length of her quarters clad only in her underwear.

"I can't take this anymore...I can't. It's driving me insane that I'm not out there with them. I'm responsible for them, it's my job...my duty to be with them when they fly, and I stuck here because some damn doctor thinks he knows everything." Devon hit the desk with her fist, then looked up to see understanding and a hint of pain on McQueen's face.

"Oh...Ty...I didn't realize...." Devon walked over and wrapped her arms around him.

"It's okay." He held her for a moment. "Do you realize you aren't wearing any clothes?"

Devon tightened her grip. "I was hoping you'd notice."

"There's a mission in 20 mikes. Several squadrons are escorting some ISSCVs out to conduct some classified experiments...the 'Cards and the Tigers are going too."

Devon stepped away from the sensual comfort of McQueen's arms. "I'll be dressed in two."

Unaware of the real reason for the mission, Ross, McQueen, and Devon listened as squadrons went out...and a few pilots not making it back. Newer squadrons suffered the worst--their lack of experience and teamwork making them Chig bait. Devon lost three pilots--two fairly new pilots and Lt. Sam Fletcher. A couple of replacements in the 58th were also lost. The remaining pilots limped home with various injuries--physical or mechanical.

McQueen watched Devon's face as she listened to her pilots die, wanted to hold her, and admired her as she put aside her pain to deal with what was left of her squadron.

Hearts were heavy at the Tavern that night. Devon walked in and headed for the bar, then taking the three shots of tequila she'd ordered to an empty table. She'd managed to write letters to the families of the newer pilots, but struggled over the one to Sam's wife, tears smudging the ink. Sitting at the table, Devon rubbed the bridge of her nose. The Tigers watched her, knowing she was going to say good-bye like she always did when they lost one of their own.

Lifting each glass in success to the stars glittering through the porthole, she slammed each shot, turning the glass upside down and placing it on the table when she was finished.

McQueen brought over two beers and placed one in front of her, and she gave him a wan smile. They didn't speak--didn't need to--they understood.

When Devon heard the words "flyboys", "successful test", and "stupid jarheads", she started listening to the conversation behind her.

They didn't need to wear Aerotech badges to be identified as geeks. Geek1 was boasting about a program he'd written...how it could be used to lure Chig fighters to booby-trapped ISSCVs. "Yeah, worked like a charm. I think the big bosses are really going to take notice of me now."

Geek2 spoke up. "Too bad you lost some pilots out there."

"Yeah, well, war's a bitch. Guess they'll have to lobotomize a few more country podunks to get 'em to enlist in the Marines." He laughed loudly.

He never heard Devon come up behind him, only felt her hand on this throat and found himself staring into the eyes of Death.

"You smug, self-important son of a bitch." Her fingers got tighter with every word. "Do you mean to tell me were just guinea pigs?" Devon released him, sending him sprawling across the table. She took a step toward him, wanting nothing more than to pound some of her pain into him, when McQueen wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back against his chest.

Geek1 got up, warily eyeing Devon. He could still see the fury in her eyes, heard the venom in her voice as she clenched her fists.

"You used our people to play some sort of fucking mind game with the Chigs? You thought we were expendable, like pawns. Those were human beings out there...and I just had to write a young woman and a baby boy that one of those "jarhead flyboys" won't be coming home." A tear fell, leaving a streak down Devon's cheek. "You hear me, CFB...if I ever hear of you mocking those who have willingly given their lives--without a moment's hesitation--to protect *you*, I will rip your fucking lips off and use them to reline the landing gear of my Hammerhead."

McQueen nodded to the Geeks. "I think you've outstayed your welcome."

Geek2 could see the rest of the Tun customers were queuing up to take a piece of whatever Devon left and quickly grabbed his cohort and escaped.

McQueen held Devon for a few moments longer to make sure she didn't follow them. Releasing her, he spun her around. "I'm taking you back to your quarters." Devon just nodded.

When they reached her hatch, Devon stepped through, reaching out to pull McQueen inside. Pushing him into the chair, she pressed her mouth to his in desperation. She ripped at his clothing, pushing everything aside to free him, struggling to take off only what she had to before she sank onto him. The sex was rough, hard, hands tightly gripping flesh as they burned together.

The sweat glistened on their skin, sliding against each other as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her cheek to his.

"Oh, God, Ty...I'm sorry." Devon looked into McQueen's eyes. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

His hands slid up her back to shoulders and he gently began to massage the knotted muscles. "For what."

"For not saying please."

They sat there, even after they were no longer joined, and Devon took comfort in McQueen's embrace.

Reaching down with one hand, he unlaced her boot and pulled it off. Then he reached over and did the same with the other. With her boots off, Devon slipped out the pants that had pooled at her ankles. Standing, she removed the rest of her clothing before pulling McQueen to his feet and leading him to her bunk. Undressing him, she climbed up beside him on the cool sheets and just wrapped her arms around him, sinking into sleep.

The banging on the hatch awakened them, and Devon grabbed her robe before padding over to answer it. Opening it, she found Shane standing outside. "I'm sorry to disturb you, Colonel, but Commodore Ross would like to speak to you. He'd also like to speak to Colonel McQueen, but I can't find him."

"Thank you, Captain. I'll make sure Colonel McQueen gets the message."

Shane heard the rustle in Devon's cabin and realization crept across her face. "Yes, ma'am."

Devon closed the hatch, turning to find McQueen almost dressed. "Looks like I've been called to the principal's office." She pulled on her clothes, seeing no point in delaying the inevitable.

Before they stepped out, McQueen wrapped his hand behind her head, pulling her to him for a deep kiss that held so much promise.

McQueen went in first, leaving Devon shifting from one foot to the other. He looked so serious when he came out, more so than usual, and nodded to Devon that Ross was ready to speak to her. She took a deep breath, then walked into Ross' quarters.

She was in there for an hour, listening to him expound of the being an example to her squadron, not letting anger spill over, how she represented the Corps and the Saratoga. After each lashing, she only responded with a resounding "Yes, sir!"

When Ross had wound down, he dismissed her, thinking in his mind that he really would have like to have seen her take down that slimy Aerotech bastard.

Devon closed the hatch behind her and leaned against it, releasing a heavy breath. McQueen leaned against the wall and looked at her.

She gave him a small grin. "Well, I'm still in the Corps, I've still got my wings, and I didn't get demoted. I'd say it was a good day."

"I'd say so."

They walked down the corridor toward their squadrons.

In the briefing room, McQueen noticed that Devon fidgeted in her seat and he smiled inwardly. He knew she couldn't wait to get back into her Hammerhead. The squadrons were flying to recon a moon in the Prandial system. Apparently, Intel had some news that several Chig squadrons were being stationed there and making jumps to hit various fleets.

After synchronizing their watches, the pilots headed out to prepare themselves for anything.

Devon remained behind, catching McQueen's eye after he'd finished briefing them and recognizing that he wanted to talk to her. They both gathered their gear, walking towards the flight bay.

McQueen looked at her. "Don't be a hero."

"Who, me?!?!? Never." Devon elbowed him and headed towards her cockpit, a spring in her step and a smile on her lips.

McQueen shook his head and walked to the bridge to monitor the mission.

Devon performed her systems check and notified the bridge.

"Saratoga, this is Tiger1, ready to roar."

"Roger that, Tiger1, you're first on deck."

Intel was right, several Chig squadrons were hovering about the moon and came at them, screaming fire.

It was a good day. They didn't lose any pilots, although several were nicked, and Devon made several kills...each one easing the pain in her heart a tiny bit.

Returning to the Saratoga, Devon knew they'd be sending a force down to the planet to destroy whatever was there, and she wanted to make sure the Tigers were a part of it.

After cleaning up, the WildCards and Tigers ended up in the briefing room. Although the WildCards were his favorites, Ross knew the Tigers would be a good squadron to back them up on-planet.

"Okay, people. Seeing as how you've confirmed the existence of this base, you've been accorded the honor of destroying it. Colonel McQueen and the 58th and Colonel Matthews and the 21st will lead the ground assault, the rest of the squadrons will provide support and air cover." Ross stepped in front of the podium. "I do not want to attend any more funerals than I have to, people, so get in and get out."

Aboard the ISSCV, Devon checked with her people, then the 58th, then wandered back to check on McQueen. He was studying the recon images they had, working on various plans to effectively destroy the base with minimal loss. Leaning over his shoulder, she pointed to various points on the images and asked questions. Leaning even closer, whispering so that no one would hear, she asked, "So...is this our first date?"

In spite of himself, McQueen smiled. "What? You wanted chocolate malts at a drive-in movie?"

"Hell, no...although I hear that making out in the back seat of the car was the best part of going. Seriously, what's the plan?"

He pointed to the base. "We're going in the front door."

"Why that way?"

"The back and sides are a little more accessible, and I believe the Chigs would expect us to attack them from one of those sides. The front is a little tougher to get through, but I believe it will afford us a little extra protection, as well as the element of surprise."

"You are a devious man, Ty. Remind me not to play chess with you."

After drop-off, McQueen deployed the troops and they crept up to the front of the base, removing any Chig patrols with quiet efficiency. McQueen spoke into his mike. "Tiger 1 this is Queen6, are you in position?"

"Roger that, Queen6. Awaiting orders."

McQueen spoke again. "Gamblers, this is Queen6. Make your run."

A squadron of SA-43s strafed the base, sending the Chigs into panic, giving the 58th and the 21st the diversion they needed to slip in and set the charges. They encountered resistance and dealt with it, keeping casualties to a minimum. Returning to the LZ, they set up a perimeter and waited for an ISSAPC to pick them up.

Devon crept over to McQueen after making sure her kids were in position. "You sure know how to show a girl a good time."

"I aim to please."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah."

McQueen spotted movement through his night vision goggles. He readied his rifle, preparing to fire. Devon saw the same movement he did and set up her rifle so that her fire would cross his and anything caught between them would be taken down. Chig soldiers crossed the ridge, firing randomly. The Marines began returning fire, picking off the Chigs. Again, there were minimal casualties.

When the ISSAPC arrived, they loaded quickly, not wanting to get caught sitting there if any more Chigs happened to arrive. Soon, they were airborne, headed back for the Saratoga when the Gamblers joined the, flying cover as they made their way home.

Even though one life was too much to be considered minimal, most of the squadrons came home. Ross was glad to see that McQueen and his kids were okay, as well as Matthews and the Tigers.

He stood at the railing as they made their way out into the bay. "Good job, people."

"Thank you, sir." Their voices were in unison.

Devon and McQueen made sure their squadrons were headed back to their quarters before they parted, smacking their combat helmets together before they went their separate ways.

The End

The sequel to this story is Christmas Interlude also avaliable at this site.

G. Bessey
© 7/8/96

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