This is a re-post of my original 'With Friends Like These...'. Most of it is basically the same as the original, but there have been alterations. This is, in part, due to my writing more fic. Certain points in the original 'WFLT...' became either superfluous or down right inaccurate. It is also due to comments made after I posted the original about technical details, plot and character, which I incorporated into the second version.
If you have already read 'WFLT...' and don't wish to plough through it again, that's OK, you won't miss anything too important. If however you do decide to read it again, I would be interested in whether you think it's an improvement or not. Or, indeed, if you noticed any difference at all! The re-writes main purpose is to clarify certain points, patch up some plot defects and make the piece consistent with 'Moving Shadows', my new fic.
If you've never read 'With Friends Like These...' all I can say is......where have you been?!?! ;>
Part Two
McQueen shook his head. How long had he been out? He looked
down and saw the case still locked to him. It would take more than a crash landing to
shake that free. After checking outside for enemy activity he moved to the cockpit. One
pilot dead, the other bleeding from her thigh, but she seemed otherwise alright. As he was
bandaging it, she woke up. "What the....?" "We're down. Once you're patched we have to get out of
here." And then the cockpit door swung inward knocking him into the
flight controls. Hands grabbed him as he wondered how he hadn't heard them coming. His
concussion he supposed.
Zygramski panned the area with her binoculars from the top of the ridge. The 58th lay in cover ten meters behind her.
"Shit." She breathed.
Five Chigs stood guard outside the ISSCV. The door was busted off its hinges, one engine lay nearby, smouldering.
She was working on what to do when four more Chigs emerged from the APC, followed by a couple more who threw two people to the ground. She would have recognised the black flight suit and silver hair anywhere. Her stomach tightened. From a hundred yards away she could tell that they were alright, for now. The Chigs were standing around looking at them. It seemed odd, but then she remembered their distaste for human blood. Maybe their prisoners were hurt and if they wanted to get the case they'd have to cut it off. Still, why not just do it?
She crawled quickly back down the hill towards the 58th.
"Right, here's the situation. There are eleven Chigs I can see and they have the ISSCV. They have two prisoners, a pilot...and Colonel McQueen."
She saw their expressions change, but it was better they learned now than in the middle of a fire fight where a moments hesitation could cost them.
"Vansen, I want you two hundred meters west along this ridge. West, Damphousse, go east two hundred meters. Hold a covering position. When the firing starts, move in. Your pistols aren't accurate enough from this distance to shoot while on the move. Only go for targets well clear of our personnel. If additional targets move in, they're yours. Vansen, you have the orders I made out. If I buy it, you're in charge. Move out."
As they left she turned to Wang.
"Set up the grenade launcher on the ridge here. If at any point the briefcase Colonel McQueen is holding falls into enemy hands you're to take out the ISSCV and keep firing until all targets in the area are down. Then retrieve the case and make it back to your plane. Contact the 32nd, and get the hell out. Do you understand?"
Wang looked blankly at the Major. Was she really asking him to do this? There'd be no way McQueen would make it out.
"Wang....the only way they're getting that case is either to take him with it, or to cut his hand off. Now, next time you run into him, do you really want to have to explain why you didn't fire?"
Wang picked up the launcher and moved to the ridge.
"OK, Hawkes, this is what we're going to do....."
From his position, Wang could see the ISSCV quite clearly. The Major had given him a reassuring nod as she and Hawkes had crawled past him moments before. He had realised, then, that McQueen wouldn't be the only one in the strike zone. Somewhere to either side of him the rest of the 58th lay, waiting.
What they hell were the Chigs waiting for? Not that he wanted them to make their move, but a couple of minutes had passed now, and he was getting nervous.
And then he saw them. AI's, walking towards the ISSCV. They were clearly visible to him, but not to those below. They were about five hundred meters away, but the Chigs hadn't seem them yet. He hoped Zygramski and Hawkes were in place. Considering the lack of good cover he was amazed he couldn't see their progress. Still, he knew Hawkes could move like a cat and it seemed the Major was no different. He hadn't even heard them as they'd crawled up to him, obviously In Vitroes were good at this sort of thing. Angrily he pushed that thought away, and waited.
When they got within forty yards of the APC Zygramski had left Hawkes dug in, pistol in hand, safety off, with orders to take out the Chigs further than five feet away from their people. From what McQueen had told her she knew Hawkes was the best of the 58th on the ground, and from what she'd seen, he was right. But to take out the Chigs close to the prisoners, those holding guns on them, she'd have to be closer and she couldn't take a chance on his inexperience.
There were six of them up close, two mostly hidden behind the Colonel and ISSCV pilot. She wished she had her sniper rifle with her. She could've just sat on the ridge and popped them off.
Zygramski was almost as close as she would have liked when something caught her attention. Turning her head slightly, she saw three AI's. They forced her hand. They were only one hundred meters away and she had to move while they were in a position where the other pilots could take them out.
She took the safety off, targeted the Chig nearest McQueen, planned her next five shots and fired.
Hawkes saw two Chigs go down before he could react. Aiming at a group of three standing to the right he squeezed the trigger. He could hear rapid fire off to his left, but none returned. In less than five seconds they were all down.
He realised that he'd only accounted for four of the eleven Chigs and it dawned on him that he wasn't quite as good as he had thought he was when Zygramski stood up within twenty feet of the ISSCV and took up a covering position. The pilot looked in shock, McQueen didn't even seem mildly surprised.
"Couldn't you get any closer?" McQueen said, trying not to look too impressed.
Zygramski smiled and nodded her head towards the advancing marines.
"They're all yours, Colonel. The planes are two point four klicks ENE. We have encountered no other enemy activity, except mines and we've heard nothing from the 32nd since we landed."
"Thank you Major. 58th, we'd better get moving. Zygramski, you've got point."
"Yes, sir."
Damphousse could hear McQueen on the radio as she prepped her plane. After he signed off Zygramski talked with him a while, but she couldn't make it out. She turned her attention to her Hammerhead. The others were ready to go, anxiously looking skyward, talking quietly. Vansen was looking after the pilot who was doing surprisingly well, but was obviously in need of medical attention.
"Sanderson said they've taken out all the Chigs and no more coming for now, but he wants me in the air ASAP. Plus, the pilot needs to get back to the Saratoga so we're going to have to leave two people. This place is probably going to get real hot, real fast......"
"Did he say if they'd lost anyone?"
"They're all OK."
"Right, well I say you should take my Tiger. You've flown one before and if you get into another fur ball you can out run anybody. Just don't pull any high-G turns, we wouldn't want your head exploding...it'd be hell to clean."
McQueen smiled. "Plus, if I have to leave any of my people behind I couldn't think of anybody I'd rather leave them with...I'd say Hawkes."
"Fine with me."
"I suggest you find a good place to hide and set up the radio relay."
"See those cliffs? Looks like there maybe some caves. We can stay in there till the rendezvous time. Chigs don't like caves."
"They're not the only ones."
"Does Hawkes get claustrophobia?"
"Not normally, and I wasn't talking about him."
He saw her tense.
"I'd better get you set up, sir." She turned and walked towards her plane.
It wasn't a problem he usually had, but sometimes McQueen wished he knew when to keep his mouth shut.
After explaining to Hawkes what was going on, and getting the ISSCV pilot installed in Hawkes' Hammerhead, McQueen pulled himself up onto Zygramski's wing.
"Look, I'm sorry about...."
"Right, I'm all set here, you might as well get in, sir."
She climbed out, and McQueen got in. It felt surprisingly comfortable, but then it wasn't the first time he'd flown her plane. It felt almost as comfortable as his old Hammerhead...except it didn't have his name on it.
He started the launch sequence as he heard the 58th's planes starting up.
"Oh, hold on a minute." Zygramski reached behind the seat and grabbed a small box.
"Well at least you two won't be bored." McQueen smiled that slight smile of his.
"Don't worry, I'll look after him."
"I know."
"Oh, and if you get a dent in my plane, you're dead meat."
"Understood."
"See you around T.C." she yelled over the engines as she jumped clear and took off with Hawkes in tow.
"So, what are you going to do?"
Hawkes stared down, perplexed.
"Er......dunno"
"Just think about it....You're doing OK, you know."
"What does this one do?"
"Diagonal."
"Oh, yeah."
Hawkes moved the piece.
"Hang on. If you do that, what'll I do next?"
Hawkes sighed.
"Um........"
"Just look at the board."
Hawkes looked at his pieces. They were all beginning to look the same. How the hell was he supposed to know what to do, she'd taken most of his men.
"You known McQueen long?"
"Don't change the subject."
"This is a stupid game anyway."
"No it's not, it's strategy...very useful. Tell you what, we'll give your brain a rest for a bit, OK? These night goggles aren't making life any easier, either."
"OK." Hawkes smiled. "So have you?"
"What? Oh, er, thirteen years or so."
"Wow, you don't look that old."
Zygramski smiled. "Why, thank you...well, I was only six months at the time."
"Where d'you meet?"
"England."
"McQueen's been to England?"
"A couple of times, yes."
"Only met one guy from there....I think he was mad."
Zygramski smiled again. McQueen hadn't been joking when he'd said that conversations with Hawkes could be, well, interesting.
"Mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the mid-day sun."
"What?"
"Never mind."
"What was McQueen like?"
"Well, um.....kind of like he is now really, only less so."
Hawkes frowned. Considering that the Major hadn't stopped talking since they'd established themselves deep within this cave, he'd learned very little about her, or McQueen.
"So, you were born during the AI war?"
"Yup."
"Why d'you fight?"
Zygramski looked up. The kid was certainly direct.
"Well, I suppose I didn't realise there was an option. And the death penalty, that was quite an incentive, too."
"I thought they just put In Vitroes in jail."
"After '52 they did, yeah but, to be honest, I didn't think much of that idea, either."
"You wanted to get shot at, instead of sitting it out in jail?"
"Well, yes, but then, I never claimed to be sane."
Zygramski really didn't want to get into this. The six months she had spent in jail had convinced her that 'sitting it out' was not an accurate description.
"So, you going to stay in when your sentence is up?"
"Dunno."
"It's soon isn't it? You should start thinking about it."
She let him think that over for a while. She suspected he didn't take the time to do that much.
"You're good, you know. Best of the 58th on the ground."
"And in the air."
"Well, maybe."
"Who's better?"
"Well, McQueen for one, but then, he's the best pilot I've ever flown with, including myself.....don't tell him I said that, by the way."
Hawkes said nothing. He just looked rather confused.
"Still, I kick his arse on the ground."
"No kidding."
"Well, I've been doing this almost fourteen years, I should be good." She grinned. "McQueen's been flying longer than me, that's my excuse."
"You've flown with him?"
"A number of times....in combat and in training. It's a pity you haven't, you could learn a lot."
"Well, the rest of them are now."
"Not really. Most of the stunts he pulls would make that chip of his explode, so I'm sure he's being very restrained. Anyway, the last thing they need right now is to run into any wasps...sorry...Chigs."
"You don't call 'em Chigs?"
"Well, we do sometimes, but, to be honest, most Brits wouldn't know what a Chigger was if it bit 'em."
Hawkes suspected this was a joke, but he still wasn't that good on picking up on them so he let it pass.
"You're not a bit like McQueen."
"Should I be?"
"Er....no, that's not what I meant. You just seem kinda.....cheerful."
Zygramski laughed. "I suppose we react very differently to similar situations. I've always been an optimist, though God knows why, and McQueen's always been, well, a miserable old sod."
Hawkes looked startled at this.
"I use the term affectionately, Cooper.
"Oh."
"I'm guessing you've not met many of McQueen's friends."
"He got many?"
"Er.....some."
"Well, there was this Major Barnes who showed up last month."
"Ah....AJ."
"You know her?"
"I know of her, yeah."
Zygramski was aware that she was walking a fine line. She knew they should keep talking. If Hawkes was feeling half as freaked out as she was about being in this cave, then she had to take his mind off it. But she also knew McQueen would string her up if she got too personal. The problem was that he was an obvious topic of conversation. Most people she'd met either hated him, feared him, or were intrigued by him. Very few went away without forming some opinion of T.C. McQueen.
"Did you know his wife?"
Zygramski groaned inwardly. This was a tricky one.
"I only met her once.....at the wedding."
"She nice?"
"Um......first impression? Yes. Admittedly, if I met her now I'd probably punch her teeth out, but at the time, I liked her."
"Her fault then?"
"Well, yes and no. From what I gather, McQueen was away a lot of the time and she got pretty much ostracised by everybody on base, so I don't think she had an easy time of it. Then he'd come back and.......well.......I couldn't live with him.......still, I'm not in love with him and I'm sure that makes a difference."
"You're not?"
She was slightly thrown by that one.
"Um......no......is that what you thought?"
"Well, you seemed very........er........friendly."
Zygramski smiled and nodded.
"I think the operative word here is 'friendly'. To be honest, I really can't picture anything more............oh dear."
"Huh?"
"I just did..........I think I now understand the phrase 'it'd be like kissing my brother'. Oh boy, let's try to forget that particular image, shall we."
Hawkes was getting more confused by the minute.
"You don't think he's good looking, then?"
"I didn't say that. I guess he looks pretty good in dress blues. There's a difference though, between finding someone aesthetically pleasing and actually wanting to have a relationship with them. To tell you the truth, McQueen is the last person I'd have a relationship with."
"Oh?"
"Well, he can be an awkward son of a bitch sometimes, he drives me up the wall. And I irritate the hell out of him. Plus, two chronically uncommunicative people in one relationship." She shook her head and shuddered for effect. "Not good!"
Hawkes frowned. He would never have described the Major as uncommunicative. There again, he still wasn't making any headway towards understanding her, so maybe that wasn't such a bad description. In fact, now he thought about it, she was a lot like McQueen. Whereas the Colonel clammed up and flashed icy glares when he crossed the line into his personal life, Zygramski just changed the subject or made a joke. The result was the same. Confusion.
Admittedly, Hawkes was pretty used to that feeling, but he'd kind of thought that he should understand his fellow In Vitroes a little better. He'd accepted, early on, that he'd probably never get Wang's jokes, or Vansen's fierce commitment to honouring her parents memory, but why was it so hard when it came to McQueen and Zygramski? Despite some obvious differences he still had more in common with them than with anybody else on the Saratoga.
It was then the motion detector at the mouth of the cave went off.
They grabbed their pistols and headed out as quickly and quietly as they could. At the cave entrance they surveyed the rocky outcrops. No sign of anything. Hawkes checked the equipment. Everything looked OK. Then they saw it.........nibbling on a bush. It looked like, well, who the hell knew. Kind of like a very small deer, but not. Zygramski shrugged and checked the radio receiver. She wasn't expecting any word from the Saratoga for several hours, but it couldn't hurt to give it the once over.
From where they were they could see the path they'd taken a few hours previously. They'd found this cave almost immediately and it was perfect. The entrance, high enough to prevent any Chigs seeing or climbing in, the tunnels, deep enough so as not to scare them both rigid, but to allow at least quiet conversation and it was close to a possible extraction site. Plus, they'd found Chig remains, so they were pretty confident they wouldn't be getting visitors.
After a final look around they made their way back to their hiding place. As Hawkes got settled he kicked the board.
"You did that on purpose, didn't you?"
"Er.......no."
"Well, I'll just have to set it up for a new game, then."
Hawkes slumped slightly, but said nothing.
Ross paced the bridge trying to appear calm. As he'd suspected would happen the Chigs had jumped them. The last message indicated that they were proceeding to the rendezvous point while the ISSCV pilot towed Captain Chan's cockpit back to the Saratoga.
Two minutes ago they'd appeared on the sensors and Ross was about to head down to the flight deck. It would be eighteen hours before they reached Aldus One, and another twelve before they should meet the 58th and 32nd on their way home. He doubted that the two pilots could tell him much, but something was better than nothing and this situation was getting worse by the minute.
What they did tell him, once they'd docked, did nothing to lighten his mood. The Chigs seemed to know where they were and had specifically targeted the ISSCV. From what Lieutenant Bukarov said, they appeared to know what was in the case, but at least they hadn't got hold of it.
Ross assigned Chan to the 58th's quarters for some rest and sent Bukarov to sick bay. The wound wasn't bad, but he was glad she'd headed back to the Saratoga. A few more hours and things wouldn't have looked so rosy.
There wasn't much more he could do, but wait. They'd be within communications range of Aldus One in eight hours. Hopefully they'd find Hawkes and Zygramski alive and well, but sadly, that wouldn't tell him much.
McQueen was actually having a good time. He was flying again, albeit in a limited capacity and when all was said and done he had to admit that he liked the Tiger Moth, it was just a pity he couldn't put it through its paces. It could out run and out manoeuvre a Hammerhead, or a Chig fighter, which made it perfect for his needs. His orders were, should they engage the enemy, to high tail it to the rendezvous point.
The problem with the Tiger was lack of fire power and armour, both sacrificed for speed and manoeuvrability. It had about two-thirds the offensive capability of a Hammerhead and to be honest, it's alarming tendency to flip out of control in atmospheric conditions was a design flaw he was glad he wouldn't have to deal with. Still, the modifications that had been made recently seemed to have straightened that out. McQueen had infact spent the six months before the war testing the T-2 for the USMC, who were considering adding them to their fighter compliment.
Since they'd left Aldus One everything had been quiet. McQueen suspected that the fighters they'd encountered were the only ones close enough to intercept them. Maybe they wouldn't run into any more.
McQueen looked round the inside of the cockpit, familiarising himself, once more, with the odd layout of the controls. It was rather like right-hand drive. Everything on the wrong side. It reminded him of a car he'd wrapped around a lamp post in northern Scotland in '62. He winced slightly. He'd walked away fine, but for a moment, when Attica had said she couldn't move, he'd frozen. As it turned out it was a dislocated hip, not a broken back, but he'd not forgotten the look of panic, for that split second, when he knew she'd seen the rest of her life flash before her eyes.
As he looked about him some more he noticed a photograph. Steven Wills. McQueen had never understood that relationship. When he'd asked, Attica had been non-committal, though he suspected that she regarded him as more than a friend, though, since Steve was gay, the feeling was not mutual. He sounded like a nice guy, the only one of Zygramski's first squadron, the 73rd, that she'd ever liked. Then, in '59, fourteen months after they'd met, he got hit in the head. Last he'd heard he was still in a coma in a London hospital. As far as he knew Attica had been to see him only once, just after the war ended. He wasn't sure why she kept the photograph.
When the message came through from their contact he forced himself back into the present.
"Hawkes, sit down......that's an order."
"I don't wanna play this any more. Can't concentrate in this stinking place."
"Look the Saratoga's due any time now. Just hold on, OK?"
He was starting to shake visibly.
"McQueen said you were OK in caves."
"Well, he don't know shit."
"Fair enough."
"It's not the cave anyway."
"Oh?"
Hawkes said nothing. He just paced, moaning inarticulately.
Attica frowned. She had, herself, been close to loosing it on several occasions during the long hours of waiting. She'd slept a little but kept waking, sweating and breathing hard, from dreams she couldn't remember. She knew what they were about, though. She'd only let her fear of enclosed spaces get the better of her once, she wasn't about to let it happen again..
"If not the cave, what?"
Nothing.
"The dark.....spiders.....what?"
He just stood there, clenching and unclenching his fists, which was when she recognised the symptoms.
"Drugs.....you're on drugs."
It was more a statement than a question. She'd seen enough In Vitroes hooked on one thing or another during the war.
"Green meanies......but I'm off 'em now......got out of detox two weeks ago."
Zygramski sighed quietly.
"Will I always want them?" The poor kid sounded like the five year old he was.
Attica paused for a moment. "Is this the first serious craving since you got off them?"
He nodded.
"How long were you taking them?"
"Two days."
"Oh, that's not too bad. I was hooked for six weeks and after a couple of years I just stopped thinking about them."
"You were on 'em?"
"Hawkes, you ask any In Vitro who served during the war and they'll either have been addicted themselves or know lots who were."
Zygramski decided to fill the boy in on a little tank history.
"When they were first used by the military they hadn't done their homework. The docs prescribed them to everybody. A hell of a lot of tanks got hooked. Problem was, half the In Vitroes were crazy anyway, so nobody noticed when the rest of us started going off. By the time some bright spark put two and two together about thirty percent of the tanks in the military, world-wide, were hooked. Actually, it was fortunate it was so many. Had it just been a handful of us they probably wouldn't have bothered with detox...they didn't for the ones already in jail."
Attica tried to look reassuringly at Hawkes.
"Anyway, you'll have a few bad cravings for a couple of months and then, I'm sure you'll feel fine."
Hawkes managed a small, grateful smile.
"How d'it happen?"
"Got wounded......doctors made a mistake."
"Well, at least you didn't get yourself hooked."
She sounded bitter. Hawkes was about to comment when a voice from the Saratoga came over their headsets.
"Roger that, Saratoga." Zygramski smiled up at him." Two hours.....no problem."
Hawkes looked visibly more relaxed. Although he denied it, the cave wasn't making the situation any easier. However, Attica realised she'd have to keep a close eye on him when they got back on board. She'd have to inform the medics, and McQueen when he returned. The last thing she should do was to forget about it and hope it would go away....it wouldn't.
Ross waited for the loading bay doors to open. When they did, he stepped through to see Hawkes and Zygramski getting out of the ISSCV. They both looked alright and came to attention as he approached. They couldn't tell him anything he didn't already know, but at least two more of his people were back safely.
Ross had met Zygramski only once before, at McQueen's wedding. They'd talked briefly and Ross realised immediately what McQueen saw in her. Despite his friendship with McQueen, he had met few In Vitroes. Zygramski was as unalike his friend as you could get, and yet, oddly similar.
They'd both been thrilled about McQueen's good fortune, but from what she hadn't said, he gathered that she had the same reservations as he did. He'd never thought it would work out. They'd know each other for only five months for Christ's sake. But he couldn't bring himself to talk McQueen into delaying the ceremony. He'd seemed like a different person during those five months, and even though he suspected it would end badly, he couldn't deny him a chance at happiness, at a normal life. But, badly is exactly how it had ended fifteen months later, and McQueen had fallen apart. Unfortunately Ross had been posted off planet at the time and the next he'd seen of him was when he arrived to take command of the Saratoga, finding his friend grounded and in a foul mood. Lately he'd relaxed a little, though. He'd lucked out with the 58th. Still, he didn't know anybody who was more in need of a little luck than T.C. McQueen.
Ross dismissed the two marines and made his way back to the bridge.
"Saratoga, this is Red Eagle, do you copy?"
"Red Eagle, we have you on our scopes, ETA five mikes."
"Roger that, out."
McQueen listened to Sanderson sign off and checked his controls. Much to his surprise everything had gone smoothly. No Chigs, just the irritation of dealing with Aerotech. Anyway, the case was their problem now and pretty soon he'd be back on the 'Toga and grounded.
McQueen felt vaguely unfulfilled as he neared the carrier. Flying in straight lines wasn't his idea of fun. Of course, if he'd been Zygramski he would have buzzed the ship, her ability to spook carrier bridges and airfield control towers was legendary. But then, so were the bollockings she got as a result. And McQueen wasn't Zygramski. The USMC, unlike its British counterpart, had very strict rules governing fly bys, which was a pity, because McQueen was having an uncharacteristic urge to have some fun.
He'd only once been unable to resist it and, of course, Zygramski had been there. February '62. McQueen smiled. It had been fun. The 32nd had been in the US for training exercises. Finally, they'd been allowed out of the simulators and into the clear skies of Arizona. Four Brits flew in SA-43's with the VMF-162 squadron of the USMC, against the 127th.
The aim was to better co-ordinate the different combat methods of the countries that made up the UN Earth Forces. Problems had arisen in Guatemala that had hampered a quick resolution to the troubles boiling over there, and in the rest of Central America. The 32nd and 127th had been two of the few squadrons that had worked well together, both having a very fluid style and sharp pilots. In '62 they'd found themselves on a world tour, starting out on McQueen's home turf.
Not long after the initial engagement only McQueen and Zygramski were left. The game of hide and seek, and the dog fight that followed, was now a popular simulator exercise. In fact, the 58th had probably flown it. Finally McQueen had cornered her and scored a hit. He was treated to a colourful use of the English language before they headed back.
A few miles out of Wilson Airbase McQueen had looked up to see Zygramski upside down, her cockpit fifteen feet above his. She was smiling that wicked smile. Problem was, he was so high on adrenalin he was in no state to put up a protest. As they flew, low, over the airstrip they executed two Nelson rolls, still fifteen feet apart.
Their respective CO's had been less than pleased, the base's commander non too thrilled, and they'd lost two days liberty and a month's privileges, but it had been worth it. McQueen rarely bucked the system, Zygramski could be a terrible influence on him sometimes, and he supposed his recent drug addiction may have played its part.
McQueen was picturing Colonel Fitzpatrick's face as he docked, having passed up on a golden opportunity to really wind up the Commodore. Now, he suspected, was not the time.
Ross waited until Sanderson and McQueen were standing at ease in front of him before looking up. They both looked tired, they weren't going to like this.....he sure as hell didn't.
"Gentlemen. Forty six minutes after you transferred the case to the Portland there was an explosion in her main reactor. Moments later it went critical. There were no survivors."
Neither man spoke as they stood in Ross' office. The pounding in McQueen's head rose in intensity.
"The only people who knew about this mission were on board the Wakefield, the Saratoga and within Aerotech. For obvious reasons it can't be anybody from the Wakefield. From the Saratoga only the three of us knew, though I imagine some members of the 32nd must have suspected...."
"Commodore, if you are......."
"Colonel...I am not accusing any of your people. A far more likely source of the leak is Aerotech. Unfortunately the investigation has been classified and compartmentalised and is being carried out by UN Black Ops. We will undoubtedly never know who did this, or why. That's all I can tell you."
They hesitated, then turned to leave.
"McQueen, go to sick bay."
Letting Sanderson go through the door first, Colonel McQueen turned back to Ross. He started to say something, thought better of it, and left the room.
McQueen awoke with a start. He felt like he'd just closed his eyes. He looked at his watch....02:13.
"What the....?"
Music was blaring through the wall next to his bed. He put a pillow over his head.....it didn't help.
"Fucking hell!" He got up and stormed out of the room.
"Mason!" He pounded on the door. "MASON!!.......!"
He looked up and down the corridor, "oh, fuck this", opened the door and flipped on the light.
"Mason, what the hell......?" He stopped. "What are you doing here?"
No response. Not surprising really, considering the racket. He crossed the room and switched off the stereo. Zygramski looked up, startled.
"What the hell is going on.......are you alright?"
She nodded, her eyes darting around the room as if unsure of where she was.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"Oh, right, you usually sit staring at the floor, listening to skull shatteringly loud music when there's nothing wrong."
"Well, at least I'm not anal retentive."
"I am not anal retentive." McQueen wondered what had brought this foul mood on.
"Oh, really. Maybe I should go next door and rearrange you books out of whatever meticulous order you've got them in this week? Maybe I'll find a dictionary and we can look up the definition of ANAL RETENTIVE!"
"Look, we're not talking about me."
"Well, maybe we should."
"What they hell did I do?"
"Nothing."
"Oh, God, now you're going to tell me that if I don't know what's wrong, there's no point in telling me, right?"
"What?"
"That's what Caroline used to say when she was pissed at me."
"Did she think you were a bloody mind reader or something?"
McQueen shrugged.
"Well, I'm NOT CAROLINE!"
McQueen looked down on the desk. On it were the only things in the room. A chess set, a copy of 'Nicholas Nickleby' and two discs, 'The Best of the Kinks' and 'Siegfried' that had, so recently, been causing him severe head trauma.
"Look, how can I help if you refuse to tell me what's up?"
Zygramski stood up. "Are you trying to be funny?"
"Just talk to me."
"Oh that's rich coming from Mr. I'm-so-in-touch-with-my-emotions."
"You just woke me up in the middle of the night. I think I deserve an explanation."
"Well tough!" She stepped towards him.
"What?!"
"Maybe you should leave."
He took a step towards her, "I'm not leaving till I get an honest answer." and realised too late that he'd crossed her DMZ.
"YOU WANT AN HONEST ANSWER?!"
Two sharp punches knocked him backwards. He took a swing and connected as she slammed him into the wall. That turned her around enough to allow him to get her into a head lock. Zygramski wasn't thinking straight. She had to get out of this, but she had no leverage.
Once she had seemed to calm down, McQueen relaxed his grip an iota. "Have you quite finished?" He sounded way too smug. Attica was livid, the sanctimonious git! With McQueen temporarily off guard, she made a fist and hit him in the only place she knew would shut him up.
For a split second the hold around her neck tightened. Then the arm went limp. Then a strangled, inarticulate sound and Zygramski heard him slide down the wall and hit the floor. She stood stock still, not wanting to turn round. It was very quiet.
"Oh God....I'm sorry....." she turned. "Are you alright?"
Nothing.
"No, of course you're not....um.....would ice help? I could get some."
He shook his head frantically.
"No, I don't suppose anything would help right now.......I think you should try to breath..........Ty?"
"FUCK!"
"Does that mean you're feeling better?"
McQueen staggered to his feet and half fell towards the door.
"Ty.......you know they say you should never go to bed angry......."
He slammed it closed behind him.
"Oh.......fuck!"
Zygramski had been pacing for a while. 04:36, and she could hear McQueen moving about. In fact, it sounded like he was moving the furniture. Then silence. Either he was seething, or he'd finally calmed down. She winced slightly at the prospect of finding out.
She had been mulling over the events of the last few weeks. Putting together pieces of information she'd picked up. This was one of the problems of been the XO of a special ops. Marine Corps squadron. Lots of responsibility, lots of paperwork, but precious few hard facts. And when those facts did come her way, they were often contradictory and confusing, and they were always classified.
In November they'd been on Kasbek and reported the presence of a new fuel source. Once back, they'd been preparing to retrieve a sample when the mission had been scrapped. Soon after, there'd been a report of a bombing mission, in a Chig plane, behind enemy lines and then a letter from McQueen. He had said nothing specific about what was obviously a classified mission, but what he had said, coupled with the emergence of a Sewell fuel missile a few months later, had led Zygramski to believe that the 58th had been there. Admittedly, this wasn't what was really bothering her, but putting two and two together was keeping her occupied.
An image of the Wakefield flashed through her mind. Just one more piece of crap she'd have to deal with. She'd already filled out the requisition orders for new uniforms. She doubted the Saratoga PX had Royal Marine dress blues in stock. But the uniforms were the least of it.
McQueen was moving around again. Then.....what was that.....? Oh yes, Brahms 3rd symphony. So, things weren't as bad as Beethoven, but they weren't as good as Mozart. She sighed. This was going to require tact, which was a pity really, it had never been her strong suit. It was reason enough for not telling McQueen what was really bothering her. She didn't think either of them were up to it this morning. Anyway, she could tell him the partial truth, that this year had been shitty. Admittedly, not as shitty as McQueen's, but shitty all the same. Damn it, they'd finally been going to take that trip to the Grand Canyon in October and then this had happened. She was reminded of one of her favourite books. Life sure was like hanging upside down with your head in a bucket of hyaena offal.
Smiling slightly, she opened her door, took two short steps, and knocked on McQueen's.
"Who's at my hatch?"
"The Spanish Inquisition."
After a moment the door opened.
"Didn't expect that, did you?" She looked down. "Oh, coffee....got a spare mug?"
McQueen glanced down at his coffee and then back at Zygramski. Why couldn't she start a conversation like a normal person?
"You going to invite me in, or what?"
"Er."
"This could look a bit odd, you know," she leaned towards him. "Now, you going to let me on in or am I going to have to start yelling about the all-night rampant.....
McQueen grabbed her by her flight suit, yanked her into his quarters and shut the door. By the time he'd turned round she was pouring herself a coffee.
"Is this real?"
"What do you think?"
"Doesn't matter, I haven't had any for a month."
"Oh. It's not decaffeinated."
"Well, you can scrape me off the ceiling later."
Zygramski thought she saw the slightest beginning of a smile before McQueen regained control and returned to the icy glare. She wasn't sure why he bothered. He knew, that she knew when he was really mad at her, and Zygramski was feeling better about this conversation already.
"So, everybody get back?"
McQueen nodded as he sat down on the end of his bunk. He watched as she took the chair by his desk and wondered quite why he put up with anybody this irritating. Ross was always telling him he was a masochist, maybe this was what he was talking about?
"How's Hawkes?" he asked.
"Well, I have to talk to you about him, actually. He had a bad craving down there, but he seemed to get over it. I talked to the docs anyway, and I searched his locker."
"He let you do that?"
"Yup. I took that as a good sign."
McQueen nodded. "I don't think he'll take 'em again."
Zygramski decided not to comment on that.
"So......er....." Zygramski searched for the right words as she glanced around the room. "You OK?"
"Oh, peachy."
"It wasn't really you I was mad at, you know. It's just.....er........well, it was.......lots of stuff." She shrugged sheepishly. "Hey, I'm only fourteen, what's your excuse?"
McQueen got up, choosing to ignore that. "Since I couldn't sleep I decided to sort out some of my things. Needed doing any way."
"Oh."
"Came across some stuff."
He handed her three CD's. Bix Beiderbecke, Dizzie Gillespie and "Monty Python Sings". She flipped one open. J.A. Zygramski, Cpt. SBS-32 RM.
"How long have you had these?"
He shrugged. "Oh, and I found this. Thought you might like it."
She looked down at the photo and couldn't help but smile.
"This is one old photo.....eh, Goldilocks?!"
McQueen snorted and poured himself another cup.
"So, what exactly is bugging you?"
"Oh, you know, the usual."
"How's things with Sanderson?"
"The same. Look, it's just.....it was your goolies that happened to be in the line of fire, that's all. How are they, by the way? Happy again?"
He nodded.
"Of course, that's assuming they were happy before."
McQueen knew exactly where this was going.
"Let's not get into that, OK?"
"Oh, that bad.....? Bummer."
"Well, you know how it is."
"Sadly, yes." She shook her head ruefully. "Still, things may be looking up. That Cooper's a good looking chap."
"You stay away from my pilots."
"Oh, you're no fun any more."
"I mean it."
She smiled. He was just too easy. Attica was also aware of what she was doing, what she always did in uncomfortable situations. She talked. She changed subject fast, in the hope that McQueen wouldn't notice that she hadn't exactly apologised for the night before. And specifically she wanted him off balance so he wouldn't ask her the big question. 'Why?'
"He's good, you know. How old d'you say he is."
"Almost twenty four."
"Then he's very good. But, of course, he's had a good teacher."
"Ah....flattery."
"Yes."
McQueen smiled. "He's changed so much these past eight months. Still a pain in the ass sometimes, but he's like a different person."
Zygramski nodded. It was obvious what McQueen thought of Hawkes, he didn't have to say. He looked like a proud father wanting to tell everybody about his son, but not wanting to show off about him too much either. Despite everything that had happened this year McQueen looked almost relaxed, almost happy.
"Looks like the 58th are a good lot."
McQueen just nodded and looked out of his window. Zygramski let him drift off for a moment while she looked around his room. That photo was still on his desk. Not a good sign. Same pictures, same books, everything in its place.
"Say, what happened to your tree? You not been watering it?"
"What?" McQueen jerked back into the present.
"I mean, it hasn't grown at all!"
McQueen sat back and closed his eyes, coffee in hand. Life was always interesting with Attica around. He'd known her longer than anybody else, but she could still surprise him, and he could never stay pissed at her, no matter what she did. It wasn't as if they hadn't come to blows before. It was a rare, but not unheard of, event. Last time he'd broken her nose. But normally it took a few weeks before they'd get to that point, and he had an uneasy feeling that she wasn't being entirely straight with him.
Maybe it was just the Wakefield going down. Apart from the people she knew on board, she'd lost everything but a few belongings she kept stored on Earth. He didn't even want to think about how he'd react to that. With him it was literature, with Attica, music. Last count, she had over three thousand CD's, some irreplaceable. What bugged him was the way she was behaving now. He recognised it for what it was, a smoke-screen. He opened his eyes determined to get to the bottom of it, but as soon as he did, his mind was elsewhere. Oh God, she's going through my books.
"Please don't take them out."
"What?"
"Attica." He could see a pile of books on the floor. Squeezing his eyes shut he tried not to think about it.
"Don't worry, I'll put them back where I found them."
Zygramski hastily shoved them back while he had his eyes closed.
"Right, coming to breakfast?"
"Sure." McQueen got up, eyeing his shelves suspiciously.
"We can talk about this great documentary I saw last month."
"Oh?"
"I'm sure you saw it, "she opened the door. "You really are most photogenic, you know."
"Oh God." McQueen groaned.
"And Cooper could be a model." She disappeared down the hall chuckling to herself.
"You think it was funny?!" He closed the door and keyed the lock.
"Mildly amusing, yes," she said over her shoulder as she turned the corner.
McQueen sighed slightly, and followed. It was way too early for this.
The End
Rachael J. Walker © 1996
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