Part Four

She was not in her quarters, and she was not in the lab. He found her on the flight deck, alone, about an hour later.

"Major? May I have a word with you?"

Barnes turned from her stargazing to look at McQueen. Her eyes narrowed slightly, and he could see her shoulders tense.

"Colonel?"

McQueen put his hands behind his back and looked uncomfortable. "Major, the Colonel would like to apologize for his inappropriate outburst earlier. The, uh, the Colonel expressed himself more harshly than he intended," he said brusquely, formally, hiding behind the third person in his distress.

"The Colonel was most articulate," Barnes replied pointedly. Well, she was not going to make this easy.

"It was not the Colonel's intention to cast aspersions upon the Major's skill or bravery. This Chig armada we may soon be facing... " he sighed. "Dammit. I'm sorry... I'm... sorry. A. J., I know you're a capable and courageous pilot. But this could be bigger than anything we've seen, yet, in this war. It is... this Colonel's concern for the Major's safety that caused him to speak as he did."

Barnes looked at him. A small smiled touched her eyes. She nodded slowly. "The apology is unnecessary, Colonel. The Major concedes that the Colonel is correct concerning this Major's lack of combat experience against this particular enemy. The Major understands that the Colonel's, um..." she searched for a word, a look of wry amusement on her face, "eloquence was the product of the particular pressures under which the Colonel finds himself burdened at this time. The Major would ask the Colonel to consider the incident as if it had never happened."

"Thank you, Major." McQueen had the oddest feeling that she was laughing at him, just a little. Well, he supposed that was better than what he deserved. He hesitated, hands still locked behind his back. He glanced away.

"If this Major might speak frankly, sir?" Barnes queried. McQueen eyed her warily, but nodded.

"The Major would like to advise the Colonel that she has always considered the Colonel to be her friend. The Major would be honored if the Colonel would consider this Major to be his."

McQueen just stood there, speechless, a moment, then nodded curtly. "Thank you, Major, " he croaked. "I, uh,... thank you."

Barnes hesitated. Then she nodded. "If that's all, sir?" she asked. She turned and started to walk away.

"Angeliki," McQueen called her, his voice barely audible. The name rolled liltingly, none the less, as if he had pronounced it before, to himself. Barnes stopped in shock at his use of the traditional diminutive. She turned very slowly.

"Sir?"

McQueen looked at her helplessly. He gestured vaguely at the equipment piled around them. "Sit... for a moment. Please." It was not a command. It was not even a request. It was more like a plea. Barnes looked curious, but sat down on a engine housing and waited to see what he had to say. McQueen fumbled his hands for a moment, then sat down near, though not quite beside her. He looked at the floor.

"The Major's... consideration has caused this Colonel to remember other conversations that he had shared with the Major, years ago; conversations he found both gratifying and helpful... I, uh, thank you for your friendship, Major. It's meant, it means, a lot to me." McQueen stopped talking. Barnes looked down at him, her expression gentle and inscrutable.

"Is it that scary?"

McQueen looked up at her quickly. His expression puckered with chagrin. "A little," he admitted.

"It's okay, you know."

McQueen grimaced. "Every time I send those kids out there to fight, I tell them it's okay to be scared."

Barnes nodded. "This isn't so different, really. It's just another piece of yourself you're hanging out there to get shot at."

McQueen turned and looked up at her fully. He swallowed a little. "Do you remember that day, up on that hill behind the base, when you started to read Frankenstein to me?"

Barnes burst out laughing. "My god. Of all the unmitigated arrogance. I can't believe I did that. I can't believe you ever forgave me for it."

"No, I... It was very perceptive of you. It was a lot of what I was feeling at the time, that I couldn't express. I didn't know how to react. But... " he shook his head. "You always tried to understand. You never treated me like an outcast, and you never treated me like your 'pet tank' either - something to parade around to show how liberal you were."

"I never felt that way," Barnes said frowning, wondering where that had come from, who *had* treated him that way.

"I still have the book," McQueen mused.

Barnes smiled. "Did you ever finish it?" she asked.

He shook his head. "I never had the nerve."

He looked so forlorn, suddenly, that Barnes knew she needed to lighten the mood before it deteriorated into something maudlin, something for which McQueen would never forgive himself later. She cocked her head at him. "Ty, I'm not proposing marriage," she suddenly drawled, "I just want you to know that if you need a friend, you know where I live."

McQueen nodded, smiling slowly.

"For which this Colonel thanks you. Very much," he replied.

The call came at 0615. McQueen met Barnes in the corridor outside the briefing room. She looked tense, he thought, and he wondered if she knew why they had both, apparently, been summoned hours before anything was actually due to happen. He nodded her through the door.

Ross was waiting for them with a small group of men, most of whom McQueen did not recognize. But he did recognize the AeroTech insignias on several jackets. Barnes recognized them, too, and braced the instant she saw them. For a moment, McQueen was afraid someone would have to physically restrain her. Then she noticed Hickman standing close to a small man who looked like the senior AeroTech representative, and she sagged.

"Major?" Ross said evenly. "I need to request that you turn over the LIDAR enhancement program passwords to these representatives from AeroTech Industries. They will be supervising the SA-43 upgrade."

Odd way to put it, thought McQueen, eyeing his commander warily. Barnes did not move.

"Captain Hickman will be assisting them," Ross added. Now, it was McQueen's turn to brace. I was right, he thought angrily. The little geek sold her out. He took a step closer to Barnes, and, incrementally, closer to Hickman. Ross shot him a warning look.

Barnes nodded faintly. "I understand, sir," she replied, her voice steady. She reached into the pocket of her lab coat, and handed a optical disk across to Ross. "Captain Hickman will know how to access them," she said carefully, not looking at the man. Ross looked pained as he took the disk from her. He handed it to Hickman without turning.

"We'll start the upgrade of your SA-43s immediately, sir," Hickman said.

"You will upgrade only *one* squadron to the new LIDAR enhancement, Captain."

"Sir!" Hickman startled. McQueen gave Ross a penetrating look. Barnes did not appear to react.

"I was ordered to utilize this new and highly questionable technology, Captain. I was not ordered to use it in *all* of my birds. You will get *one* squadron, and one squadron only. And I am going on record as agreeing to even this under protest, and only because I have been ordered to do so."

"Sir, with all due respect, I'm sure the intent of the order was to upgrade *all* the SA-43s with the new LIDAR," Hickman sputtered. Ross gave him a withering look.

"I am *not* sure, Captain," he answered. "Nothing in the order would lead me to believe such a thing is *necessarily* the case. This is still my ship. The final decision is mine. You will upgrade one squadron. Since the Five -Eight is already familiar with the enhancement, perhaps they should be the ones to fly it."

Barnes finally reacted, but only to stiffen. McQueen shot her a look.

"No," Hickman said. All eyes turned to him. "Sir, if we are only going to get one squadron, I ask that some other squadron than the 58th fly it, sir."

The young man thought furiously. Everything was ruined. One squadron was not enough, not nearly enough. He had to think, and there was no *time*. It could not be the 58th. Whatever else happened. The 58th alone, would figure it out, and turn back before it was too late. The Five -Eight *was* familiar. Too familiar. The virus was already activated, he couldn't pull it out, now. And the Five-Eight might just pick it up and alert the bridge before the virus could do its job. He could not take the chance. The loss of another squadron could be passed off as merely a battle casualty. He might get another chance, sometime. It had to be some other squadron...

"We'll get a more accurate evaluation of the enhancement's usability, sir, if it is utilized in battle for the first time by a squadron *not* already familiar with it," he told Ross quickly.

Ross stared at him. Something in the programmer's attitude bothered him profoundly. He just could not put his finger on it. He sensed a trap, somehow, but he could not guess where it was. And he did not have time to dither about it. He was already pushing the outside limits of his orders' intent by refusing to upgrade more than one unit. He nodded slowly in concession, thinking.

"The 19th squadron, then," he said. He looked over at McQueen. "Colonel, as my CAG, I would ask you to supervise the procedure, and insure that the 19th squadron, and only the 19th squadron, is fitted with this upgrade. Wheels up at 1045, gentlemen." He looked at his watch. "The time will be 0628, ready, ready, hack." He hit the button on his timer and left the room.

Barnes turned away. McQueen reached out and grabbed her arm.

"Where are you going?" he hissed.

"That little slime is up to something. I know it," she whispered back. "You were right, Ty. I should've watched my six. I'm going back to the lab. Whatever he's up to, I *will* find it."

"But the passwords?" McQueen asked, knowing Hickman would change them the first chance he got.

Barnes smiled grimly. "Even my back doors have back doors," she said. "I can get in. Just... watch Hickman, watch him like a hawk."

The AeroTech rep turned to Hickman at the same time. "Are you sure about this?" he asked the other man uncertainly. "I mean, wouldn't it be better to have pilots who already know something about this thing?"

Hickman shook his head. "Trust me," he said smoothly. "I suspect that the 58th squadron may be working in cohoots with Major Barnes to sabotage the test, somehow. After all, it was the tank kid who first reported 'problems.' Problems nobody has been able to find, by the way. We'll be better off with fresh perspectives, who aren't so closely tied to those In Vitros, and Major Barnes."

The AeroTech rep looked skeptical, but shrugged, anyway. It really did not matter to him, one way or the other. Military politics were beyond him, he was not about to get into the middle of it. He just wanted a nice, clean test that he could take back to his superiors. They had fought long and hard to get jurisdiction over this technology. He did not want anything to go wrong, now.

A. J. Barnes made the lab as quickly as foot travel through cramped corridors would allow, but she was still not fast enough to beat Hickman's game. She tapped the keys on her board lightly, grimaced, but did not bother to curse. Hickman must have changed the passwords remotely before he even began the SA-43 upgrade. Well, she should have expected that. Settling more comfortably, she began to type in earnest. After a few moments, she nodded in satisfaction. Kid was clever, she had to admit that. He had found two of her secret passages. But she was in, now. The question was just where to begin.

Later, long after the battle was over, the AI responsible for "handling" Hickman would have to answer for it, but the truth was, none of the Silicates supervising the "project" had expected the man to panic. Everything in his profile indicated that he would wait to see the end of his handiwork, wait to collect, triumphantly, his reward. Of course, no one anticipated that he would screw up and draw attention to the sabotage, no one anticipated that he would lose control of the situation once the civilians stepped in. If they had, they might have been better prepared. But the fact was, Hickman did screw up, he did lose control, and he panicked. Afraid of what would happen when it became obvious that all his promises were not going to come to pass.

You just can't figure humans, the AI told his associates. Much as you try, you just never know what they might do.

Panic did not come immediately. Hickman supervised the upgrade quite happily, in fact, considering that Colonel McQueen was standing close enough to breath on him, glaring at him hard enough to bore a hole through his skull. Panic did not set in until some time later, on the bridge, while he was explaining the set-up to the techno-dweebs from AeroTech. For a while, Hickman almost forgot what was going to happen, in his pleasure at playing center stage. And then he remembered, and he panicked. A virus in the 19th squadrons LIDAR would disable them, they would be destroyed. Which was horrible. It would have been necessary had the rest of the attack force been destroyed along with them, as the enemy expected. As he had told them to expect.

But it would only be the 19th squadron. Just enough to point the finger right at him.

Hickman slipped from the bridge quietly while Ross and McQueen were off briefing the pilots. Heading back to his guest quarters, he had formed a bit of a plan, on the way. He would take what he could carry, steal a ship, and slip away during the heat of battle. He knew how to fly. It should not be hard to commandeer a Hammerhead in all the confusion, not all the squadrons were being launched at the same time. He would... well he would figure out were he was going once he got off the ship. He shoved a few personal belongings into his uniform pockets and headed out.

He never saw the small metal cylinder that hit the floor behind him.

The orientation room was packed to capacity when the fed and rested attack jet pilots of the U.S.S Saratoga jumped to their feet in attention.

"Be seated," Commodore Ross said quietly. He glanced over at McQueen. The SA-43s belonging to the 19th squadron had been fitted. They were ready to go. Ross was not sure where Hickman was, nor those damn parasites from AeroTech. He was not sure he cared. He had a battle to contend with. What was done was done. But McQueen looked a lot like he wanted to punch somebody.

McQueen *did* want to punch somebody. Hickman in particular, but any one of the AeroTech geeks would have done. Good thing, he thought, that Hickman had the sense to stay away from the squadron briefing. McQueen assumed that he and his geek friends were already on the bridge. Barnes was not at the orientation, either, but McQueen was not surprised.

He looked at his people. They were tense, anticipatory. But it did not appear that the twenty-six days of sitting had dulled their fighting edge. They watched Ross fiercely, waiting for him to begin. McQueen felt a catch in his throat as he watched them. It was hard for him to admit it, sometimes, how much these kids had come to mean to him. How much he hated sending them out. But this time, this mission, his distress was balanced by a profound relief that they would not be flying the upgraded Hammerheads. An unaccustomed dread filled him as he thought about Hickman, and all they did not know.

Ross cleared his throat, and began.

"Some of you may already be aware that a Chig armada of undetermined size has massed outside the Draconis system, where we will rendezvous in just under 45 mikes. What you may not know is that we are going this one more or less alone for the first 20 or 30 mikes of battle. The carrier 'Colin Powell' is there already and the 'Ross Perot' will meet us. But the rest of the fleet won't be here for a while. And a lot can happen in 20 mikes.

"This is a big one, people. It's not our big one, it is not the operation we had planned. However, it is estimated that the force we will be facing may be larger, even, than that which we faced at the Battle of the Belt. There is little I can tell you. This battle may be the deciding one in this war. To lose it may mean to lose everything. There can be no holding back. Colonel McQueen will brief you concerning our strategy, but before he does, I want to advise you that the 19th squadron will be flying with a new enhancement to the LIDAR system. This enhancement will not affect the SA-43 operationally, but may give Command a better understanding of what is going on out there. Every little bit will help."

Ross nodded to McQueen. "Colonel?"

West leaned foward and stuck his head between Vansen and Hawkes. "I can't decide if I'm pissed or relieved that they didn't give that thing to us to fly..." he said.

"Be relieved," Hawkes responded, under his breath.

McQueen stepped up to the lectern. "I wish I had some brilliant new strategy with which to present you," he began, "but the truth is, you people already know everything any of us know about fighting this enemy, and there is little more I can tell you, now..." p>

Barnes rubbed her face with her hands, and told herself that it was just her imagination - she was too deep inside the ship to feel the rumble of aircraft taking off. But she knew what time it was, and her pilot's instincts responded, feeling tremors that were not really there. She wondered, again, if she should have insisted on flying this mission. She *was* qualified, and they were undermanned. She had had no more luck, in the past three and something hours, with Hawkes 'bobble' than she had had in the five and something days before. Maybe there really *wasn't* anything there...

She shook her head to clear it. One more look, quickly, at the beginning, and then she would head back to the bridge. Her attention waning, she almost missed it. It took her a second to realize what it was.

"Oh, my god," she hissed. She sprang to her feet and tore out of the lab.

McQueen watched the launch through the glass wall of the "O" room behind the flight deck. As he always did. He tried to ignore the grinding in the pit of his stomach as he watch his pilots slide into their planes, nod to each other, present a thumbs up. It's a mission, like any other mission, he told himself. You watch them do this all the time. He saw Vansen look in his direction, and he nodded to her. She smiled as her cockpit descended. McQueen waited until they were all out of sight. Then he squared his shoulders, and left for his station on the bridge.

"Begin Hammerhead engagement sequence..."

Shane Vansen looked at the control panel as her SA-43 descended through the air lock floor. She heard the cockpit section join with the body of her Hammerhead, sighed a little at the reassuring hydraulic sound. She began snapping switches in front of her in sequence, reached over and hit the "Engine On" The light cycled yellow, then green, and she felt the rumble beneath her. And then she was looking at black night and stars.

Vansen looked out her windows to the right and left, could just see West and Hawkes at her four and eight o'clock. She nodded to both of them.

"Saratoga, this is Queen of Diamonds. Expect enemy contact in 200.5 MSKs... there they are..."

"I see 'um," said Hawkes. Vansen had long ago stopped wondering about how short a time it took to cross such great distances in space. The enemy was upon them. It was time to fight.

"Bogie on the LIDAR, 9 o'clock," Hawkes said calmly.

"I have a visual," Damphousse confirmed.

Three enemy birds, clumped tight together. They would fly that way until they were right on top of the Wildcards. They always did. It was as if the Chigs had only one attack formation. No one knew why. Intel made brave speculations about a "hive" mentality, but Vansen did not really care. It was for others to worry about why. She depressed the trigger on her control stick and felt the powerful cannons throb in the turrets beneath her. That was *her* job.

The Chigs separated, and the Wildcards peeled off to follow them, Vansen and West to the right, Damphousse and Wang to the left. Hawkes right up the middle, where he liked to be.

"3 o'clock, 'Phousse!" Hawkes shouted.

"I'm on it," she replied, her cannons rattling even as she spoke. The sky lit up before her as the Chig fighter disintegrated. "Too easy," she laughed.

"Don't get cocky," Vansen warned her. "He's not alone out here."

"West, look out!"

" I see him..." West pulled back on his controls, climbing to avoid the cannons of the Chig bearing down on him. He rolled back, and fired his own. The angle was wrong, the pulses bounced harmlessly off the fighter's armor. "Shit..."

"Juke! Juke!" shouted Wang, as fire surrounded West's Hammerhead.

"I'm juking!" he cursed into the mike. The Chig soared over his head, and cut back quickly behind him.

"He's on your six!" Vansen said.

"No kidding," West grumbled, diving. "I can't shake him..."

"I'm coming for you, Nathan," said Vansen. "Hang on!"

She tried to breath calmly as her targeting computer picked out the enemy and locked on. She depressed the trigger, and the sky lit up.

"Hoo-Yah!!" shouted Wang and Damphousse.

"I owe you, Vansen," West added.

"Let's hope I don't have to collect too soon," Vansen replied. Then she noticed the lack of a voice. "Where's Cooper?"

"Shit!! I'm a target!" Hawkes rolled across their twelve, the last Chig fighter hot on his six. Vansen couldn't fire, Wang was in her way.

"Hawkes, do something!" she shouted.

"I'm trying," he shouted back. He looked into his LIDAR, seeing no hope, and then there was West, in his face, like during that test.

"Dive, dive, I'm going for it!" West shouted as he opened fire. The Chig behind Hawkes disappeared in a ball of light.

The Wildcards erupted with war cries.

"All right!" Vansen called them back. "There was only three of them, it should have been easier than that. Regroup! We've got a long battle ahead of us..."

On the bridge of the Saratoga, T. C. McQueen breathed again. Ross slipped up beside him, nodded silently. The Commodore was probably the only man there who really knew what it cost McQueen to stand there on the bridge of that ship, grounded, helpless to assist his people. How much the Colonel wanted to be out there with them.

"Sir, the 19th and the 31st are taking heavy fire..." the mission communications officer informed. Ross nodded.

"Who's closest to them?"

"The 58th," the officer said. Ross nodded to McQueen, who stepped down off the central platform.

"Wildcards, this is Queen Six..."

Captain Lance Hickman was not in his room when Barnes got there.

"You son of a bitch!" she shouted at steel walls. She grabbed the open, and rifled, duffle off his bunk and tossed it onto the floor. "Bastard!" she screamed again.

She had to get to the bridge, there might still be time to call back the 19th squadron before their on-board systems failed. She almost stepped on the small cylinder in her hurry. She bent and picked it up.

It took her ten minutes to make the bridge.

"Call them back!" Barnes shouted. "The 19th. Call them back."

Ross turned and gaped at the woman who had just slammed into his command station.

"Major, what is the meaning..."

"They've been sabotaged. The LIDAR. There's a virus. It's going to bring their onboard computers down."

Ross grabbed Barnes' arm, as McQueen hurried over.

"Stand down, Major," Ross said firmly but quietly. "Stand DOWN."

Barnes collected herself with effort.

"Now, what are you talking about?" Ross asked.

"There is a virus in the LIDAR program. In the genie leg. That must have been what tripped up Hawkes computers. It wasn't activated, then, but it's active now. Hickman must have initialized it before he upgraded the 19th's SA-43s. Commodore, you have to bring them back, while there's still time. I don't know what triggers that virus, but it will cause their mission computers to fatal error. They'll be sitting ducks out there."

Ross looked hard at McQueen. "Where's Hickman?"

"I don't know," Barnes answered. "I checked his quarters, but he's not there. I found this..." she held the cylinder up to McQueen. "Recognize it?"

McQueen's face turned gray. "A remote modem access," he breathed. "AI."

Barnes nodded. "We've been betrayed."

Ross turned to the bridge in general. "Master at Arms!! I want Captain Hickman found immediately and detained for questioning!" He spun toward McQueen. "Bring the 19th squadron back in, now!"

McQueen was already over the rail and on his feet before the mission station. He was too late.

Their cries were terrible, their panic, their confusion as on board systems went dead. They could not even eject. It would not have done them much good, anyway. The computers that controlled their life support systems were gone.

Then their radios went dead and there was nothing to do but listen to the questions from their surrounding comrades, and watch the small dots representing their craft wink out one by one.

Barnes threw herself against the rail behind the AeroTech representative sitting at the LIDAR station. "This is *your* fault, too!" she cursed. "If you parasites hadn't been so hot to steal our design, those kids wouldn't be out there dying like that..." She stopped as her voice choked up.

The AeroTech rep looked strickened, speechless. He did not even attempt to defend himself. The bridge was silent. It was Vansen's voice that brought them back to life.

"Look alive, we'll deal with happened to the 19th later! Bogie incoming, 9 o'clock!! Let's go get 'em!!!"

"Good girl," McQueen breathed to himself. He took a moment to glance back at Barnes. She stood beside Ross, looking ashen. Seeing nothing. After a moment, she turned and left.

"Saratoga, this is the Queen of Diamonds," Vansen's voice came back over the com link. She sounded incredulous.

"This is Queen Six, Queen of Diamonds, go ahead."

"Sir, the enemy appears to be in retreat."

McQueen looked at Ross, who dropped down by his side.

"They expected us all to go out," Ross said softly. "They didn't know that only one squadron was wired."

McQueen nodded. "Confirm that, Queen of Diamonds."

"Confirmed, sir. The enemy is bugging out."

"But they're still superior, why not engage us, anyway," McQueen pondered, not ready to trust this retreat. Ross shrugged.

"We are still a formidable opponent, Colonel. And they must know the rest of our forces cannot be far behind."

McQueen nodded thoughtfully.

"Saratoga, please advise. Do we attempt pursuit."

Ross shook his head.

"Negative, Queen of Diamonds. You don't have the fuel." McQueen told her. And I don't trust that little scum bucket hasn't done something to your planes, too, he thought. "Return to base." Come home.

"Roger that," Vansen replied.

"Sir," the security officer called from her station. "They've found Captain Hickman, sir. On Hangar Deck 3."

They arrived on the flight deck to a small crowd of crew members standing in a circle, starring at the floor. Beside them, and off to one side, a pilot sat with his back against a cockpit, holding his head. The deck officer noticed them and snapped to attention.

"Commander on deck!"

"As you were," Ross said quickly.

"He tried to commandeer a Hammerhead, sir," the deck officer said. "He was going to attempt to escape during the second fighter deployment..." She looked back down again, and McQueen could see Hickman's prone body through the forest of legs. "When he saw us coming, he tried to climb the support scaffolding. He, uh, grabbed a power cable..." she did not need to say more.

"Is he still alive?" McQueen asked.

"Yes, sir. He's conscious, but..." she shrugged. "Sick bay is sending someone."

McQueen nodded. He watched the crowd part suddenly and heard a familiar voice.

"Let me through," Barnes pushed her way to Hickman's body, and dropped to her knees onto the deck beside him. She grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pulled him up. McQueen pushed his way to her.

"You son of a bitch!" Barnes hissed into Hickman's face. "Why? Tell me why!"

"Major," McQueen reached down for her, grabbed her shoulder. She shrugged him away.

"Tell me!"

Hickman choked, and gasped for breath. "They promised me..." he growled, attempting to focus. "They promised me I would rule the world. Whatever was left of it..."

"A.J.," McQueen closed his hand around her arm, again. Hickman's eyes rolled back into his head and he went limp in Barnes' hands. She threw him back onto the deck floor with a vicious thunk. McQueen pulled her to her feet.

For a moment, Barnes just leaned back against him, shaking, and closed her eyes. Then she twisted away angrily, and left the flight deck. McQueen started to follow. A hand closed, gentle but insistent, on his arm.

"Let her go, Ty..." Ross said quietly. "Let her go, for now."

EPILOGUE: 2064
Major Anjelica Barnes put one of the final pieces of equipment into its packing crate. This was work her staff usually did, but she had sent them off to pack their own belongings. She could not bear to face the questions in their eyes. She snapped the lock closed on the box, hermetically sealing it.

"You can't blame yourself for what happened out there."

Barnes turned at the sound of the voice.

"And just who am I suppose to blame?"

Lt. Colonel Tyrus Cassius McQueen walked the rest of the way into the work room.

"You blame Hickman. The traitor. The saboteur."

"That man *worked* for me, Colonel. He did what he did under *my* supervision. How could I have missed it, how could I have..." her voice broke, suddenly, and she stopped talking.

"This was *not* your fault!" McQueen insisted. "Look. I know you feel responsible. And I know why you do. I'd feel the same way. But you said yourself that the code for that virus was buried so deep it was a miracle that Hawkes fiddling around unearthed even a hint of trouble. Anyone else would have passed it off as just the boy's imagination. If it wasn't for you, we wouldn't have found it at all."

Barnes tossed her hands in the air helplessly. "All the good it did. It was only because the Commodore refused to upgrade all the fighters that we salvaged anything at all from that battle..."

"We *won* that battle," McQueen reminded her. "And the Commodore might not have hesitated if it hadn't been for the stink you put up."

Barnes shrugged and looked away. "The enemy turned tail and ran. We got lucky. If you can call it luck. One of those kids was only twenty years old."

"That's war, A.J. You know that. In war, people die. Young people."

"And if it was only war that killed them, I could deal with that. But this wasn't war. This was bureaucracy. This was greed. And it was lack of proper supervision..."

Barnes looked up at McQueen. "You know the worst of it? I keep thinking - thank God it wasn't the Fifty-Eighth. It was supposed to be. They were all prepared. They would have died because of something I designed. It would have killed your kids, Ty..."

McQueen did not know how to answer this. Barnes looked away.

"There's going to be an inquiry."

"I know," McQueen said. "Commodore Ross has already transmitted the official statements. His. And mine. We both clear you of any wrong-doing. And the record clearly shows you as vehement against the use of the application. The responsibility lies squarely with Hickman. And AeroTech. I'm sure you'll come out of it all right."

Barnes shrugged. "Whatever the outcome," she said, "I've made a decision. I'm resigning my commission. I'm going to leave the Corps."

McQueen looked stunned. "You can't do that..."

"I don't feel that I can do anything else."

McQueen took a step toward her. "What will you do? Go work for some civilian pencil pusher? For AeroTech?"

"I'll never work for AeroTech," Barnes replied hotly.

"A. J.... Major Barnes. The Corps, the military, *needs* you. It needs people like you. Otherwise we're left to the mercy of the AeroTechs of the world. We *need* people who can do what you do, *and* who understand the realities that we deal with every day. You're one of us." McQueen struggled for words. "You have a gift. A talent. Any fool can pull a trigger. Anyone can be taught to fly a plane. There aren't a lot of people who can do what you do, as well as you do it. We need you *with* us. There are thousands of T.C. McQueens..."

Barnes looked up, and finally smiled. "Well, I'm not sure I'd agree with *that*," she teased him

McQueen flustered a moment, then became serious again. "You can't just walk away."

"I didn't even create a weapon," Barnes reminded him. "This was just a data collection tool. But what if it *had* been something new and terrible. What if the next thing I'm put to work on is something that could destroy the enemy - or destroy us all?"

"Then you will build it with the same skill, dedication and responsibility with which you do everything."

"And if the control is ultimately taken out of our hands? Put in the hands of clueless, pettifogging bureaucrats?"

"If you give up," McQueen argued, "then you just hand the control over to them without a fight."

Barnes turned away from him. McQueen sagged a little in frustration, and turned toward the door. Then he turned back again.

"And this Colonel is afraid that you if leave the Corps I'll lose track of you again," he said softly, hesitantly. "Oh, I know we'll say it won't happen. We'll promise to keep in touch. But the worlds are too different, too far apart. You'll go away, again. And I'll lose the friend I've just now found."

Barnes turned back to him pleadingly. "Tyrus, don't do this to me..."

There was nothing more McQueen could say. Those few words had already cost him. Maybe more than he could afford. He stood still and said nothing. After a moment, Barnes reached over and rested her hand on the upper part of his arm. McQueen did not touch her in return, but he inclined his head toward her until he could see his breath fluttering her hair.

Barnes nodded slowly, and dropped her hand.

"Let's see what's the outcome of this inquest," she relented. "I promise you I won't make a decision until then."

McQueen nodded. It was not a concession, exactly. Still, he had a feeling he had won.

McQueen watched the ISSCV's departure from the LIDAR on the bridge of the Saratoga. He had not gone down to the airlock to say good-bye. He had already said everything he had the courage to say, and there was nothing to do, now, but wait and see what happened. What the future, if there was one, would bring.

"I'm sure everything will turn out all right with her, Ty," Ross reassured from behind him. "You don't need to worry."

McQueen turned and nodded to his commander. "Yes, sir."

He turned back to the screen. There were few people in the world who could read T.C McQueen like Glenn Van Ross could. It was not often that he got it wrong.

And maybe he had not this time, either. Ross patted McQueen once on the shoulder, and walked away, leaving the other man to his thoughts.

The End

The sequel to this story is The Queen of Hearts also avaliable at this site.

Sheryl Clay
© 3/96