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  "Sir, please, we are not to associate with one another,” she stated evenly and made her way towards the door.

  Keegan stepped in her path. He felt something inside of him starting to waiver. Sir? Before he could barely get the word, ‘Colonel’ out of her; now she was calling him ‘Sir'?

  "What's wrong?” He placed his hand on her shoulder.

  Caitlin stepped away and stood at attention. “According to the supplementary code of the UN Forces Statute of Twenty-Seventy-Two. Military personnel shall not have unauthorized association with person or persons of unspecified origin outside of specifically assigned duty,” Caitlin stated mechanically.

  Keegan frowned, a new rush of emotion brimming to the surface; this time it wasn't anger.

  "Those statutes apply to non-humans,” he replied quietly.

  "Yes, Sir, I know."

  He looked at the empty walls of the office, feeling hurt and confused. Keegan stepped closer. “What have they been teaching you?"

  "Sir, I do not understand,” she replied looking straight ahead.

  "Please stop calling me, Sir.” He sighed, feeling like his was speaking to a foot soldier and not a friend. “Speak freely ... as you were."

  Caitlin relaxed but did not meet his gaze. “If I continue talking to you and we get caught, we'll get into a lot of trouble."

  "That's ridiculous.” He protested, knowing what she said was true. “What happened to you? You weren't like this before. What did they teach you over there?"

  "My place. I learned that I was good enough to die for my country and my world, but not good enough to enjoy any of the rights or privileges that go with such an honor.” Caitlin looked fiercely at him. “I tried to deny reality but I now accept it. I am here only to do a job and maybe earn passage back to Earth and also that none of you gives a damn whether that passage is in a body bag or a third class seat on a cargo plane."

  Her hurtful gaze stirred up his emotions like a pot full of boiling water. “I have never treated you less than anyone else! I gave you the same respect and treatment any decent person deserves."

  Caitlin looked away.

  "Fine, leave!” He waved his arm. “Get the Hell out!"

  She darted for the door, but he beat her to it placing his hand against it. He leaned forward with his frame pressed against her. “I missed you so much.” He whispered like a desperate man confessing on his deathbed. “I had no idea where they were going to send you and if I could have, I would have stopped them."

  He felt her breath quiver. “Please, we only have this time together.” He entreated pulling her close.

  Caitlin's stiff body remained unresponsive. “Colonel Keegan, don't,” she whispered. “I can't. We can't."

  "Please.” Keegan turned her around, caressed her face and then gingerly kissed her lips. He lifted her icy hands, kissed them and then laid them atop his chest. They were colder than he had remembered. Her brown skin was pale and her long hair was cut short. She looked like a typical soldier, but her eyes still maintained their warmth.

  "Every time I looked outside, I wondered what you were doing. How you were ... if I'd ever see you again."

  "I really want to believe it,” Caitlin sniffled, “but there's a part of me that says there's not enough room in your life for me and your career. I guess you learn to consider these things when you spend most of your time under two feet of snow,” she remarked as a tear streaked down her cheek.

  He wiped away the lone tear.

  "Developing a greater affinity for the cold has allowed me to concede to certain realities.” She sighed and chuckled, then squinted her eyes. “Any normal part of me that existed when I left is gone. Right now, I'd rather be in a freezer than this hot ass room."

  His large hands cupped hers. They blushed bright red, typical of a cryo. Still they were soft.

  She gently squeezed his hands in response. Caitlin looked away from him. “I'm afraid. Medoro, I'm afraid."

  "Why?"

  She tried to speak.

  "Right now I don't want to hear about fraternization."

  She looked him in the eyes and whispered, “There's a lot people around here who think we got a second chance we didn't deserve."

  He blinked back the pressure he felt building up in his eyes, “Why, has someone threatened you?"

  "It happens,” she said her voice quivering. “It wouldn't be good for you to defend me."

  He tensed and straightened up. “I can protect myself; I don't need you to do it for me. Let me worry about that."

  She gasped and pulled him close. His heart melted. Holding her tight, he finally felt the pit deep within him fill.

  "I missed you so much,” she whispered, her face buried in his chest.

  "I would think about you and wonder if you knew or cared where I was,” he said trying to hold back the tide of emotion that threatened to overtake him. He looked down and stroked her hands.

  "I was told you could have prevented me from being sent there,” she said with tears in her eyes.

  "Who said that?"

  She shook her head not wanting to say more. “It doesn't matter. All that does is that it is not true."

  "If I could have done something I would have.” His feelings began to break through the strongholds that held them back.

  She hushed and kissed him once more. Suddenly he felt everything inside him let go. Pushing her against the door, he wrapped her legs around him. Caitlin responded by holding him tight, her body quivering against his.

  Nothing mattered to him. The ship, his duty, the rules ... all of it could go to Hell because they were together and that was all that he cared about. With her legs still wrapped around him, Keegan carried her across the room to the desk in the center. He laid her atop of it kissing her passionately. She welcomed him, responding as only a lover could.

  A chime rang inside their pockets. Keegan checked his Com Call Duty Rouser, she checked hers.

  "It's me,” she said turning the device off and placing it in her pocket.

  He kissed her forehead and looked into her eyes. “Where are you headed?” He climbed off of her.

  She straightened her clothing and hair and walked to the door, “The Blanchard."

  His posture stiffened and his eyes widened.

  "I'll see you on board,” she said, walked to the doorway, smiled mournfully and then shut the door behind her.

  Shocked, Keegan stood speechless. A wave of emotions crashed over him. Exhilaration, sadness, joy but the biggest of them of all was fear. He had no idea how to handle this.

  Chapter Seventeen

  "Welcome to our humble abode,” Beller announced to the group of cryos busily unpacking.

  "Ten-Hut,” Caitlin called out.

  They scrambled to their feet and stood at attention.

  "I am Chief Warrant Officer John Beller. I am the CO of this outfit. You will report to me and I report to the Tac officer."

  He shoved one of them aside and pulled the sheets off his bunk. “In case you didn't know, I run a tight crew. You will keep this place in tip top shape. You are not to go above deck without specific permission from me or another superior."

  He glanced around the room, “How many of you are experienced operators?"

  A handful responded. “There are simulators located on this level. We will be training in those to maintain our ratings. Any questions?"

  "When are we going in?"

  "When I know, you'll know. Next question.” He glanced around the room. His gaze fell upon Caitlin.

  "Your squad leader is 1169."

  She tried her best to hide her shock.

  "You're welcome,” he answered wearily. “Okay that's it."

  He walked out of the room while shoving the orders into the hands of an unsuspecting cryo. Caitlin followed him out into the corridor. “Chief, can I talk to you for a second?"

  Beller turned around slowly and motioned for him to follow her. They walked into the room she recognized as her old room. “Why me?"<
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  "Why not you?"

  "I don't know. What about one of the others? Don't they have rank, more seniority?"

  "That's not how things work in this group. We're not officially soldiers, so we don't hold any rank. We're more like contracted personnel."

  "Mercenaries,” she retorted

  "Black ops,” he returned

  "Great."

  "Eh, don't sweat it. Just make sure the room is ready for inspection, announce the uniform of the day, and that everyone reports in when their supposed to. Shit like that."

  She waved her arms in resignation. “Yes, Sir."

  "Good, and don't call me, Sir. Call me Beller when we're alone and Chief outside."

  "Got it."

  "Alright get lost. I want to some rest. Enjoy your free time. It all ends tomorrow."

  * * * *

  Caitlin entered the launch bay. It was devoid of people and quiet. Rows of attack fighters sat awaiting their next mission like majestic eagles. In spite of the room's cleanliness, it smelled like the air was being filtered through an oil vat. The dense, moist ozone, piled up in her lungs causing her to cough. She patted her chest lurching forward, clearing her throat at the same time. She wanted to spit but thought better of it.

  "Who's that?” Keegan's deep voice echoed throughout the bay. He stepped from behind one of the planes with a rag in his hands.

  Caitlin frowned. “It's me."

  "Oh.” Keegan replied while moving his hands across the fuselage. He leaned against ship and gazed at her.

  "Oh?” she asked playfully. Caitlin felt drawn to him, covering the distance in half the time it should have taken. He swept her into his arms greeting her with a kiss. Suddenly, he straightened and stepped away.

  She was starting to grow accustomed to his abrupt changes. He cleared his throat and resumed wiping down the ship. She'd received his brief request stuffed inside her history book.

  Meet me in Launch Bay Alpha 1600 HRS

  After making sure everything was squared away, she high-tailed it down to the launch bay.

  "Did you used to fly these?” Caitlin asked trying to fill the silence.

  He sighed, “Yep."

  She stood on her toes peering into the cockpit. “These are single seaters right?"

  "Yeah. They're the descendants of the Aurora's.” Keegan's lips curled into a toothy grin.

  Caitlin liked how his mature features melted into the boyish expression. He looked like a kid in a candy store.

  "I remember hearing about them ... they were experimental back when—

  "Caitlin stopped before finishing the sentence. What was she going to say? Before she died?

  "These are FA-343's, the main attack fighter in our air wing."

  "How come you don't fly anymore?"

  "Grounded,” he rumbled. “Wounded in action, my sight isn't what it used to be, so I can't fly anymore."

  She looked around and then leaned against the plane. “Quiet here."

  Caitlin sensed they were both beating around the bush.

  "I come here to think sometimes.” Keegan's gaze traveled over to hers. He looked away, “It's easier for me to put things into perspective here. It's like I remember I'm a Marine, and that in the Corps there is no room for pity or second best. Just like these ships, I'm here for one reason, and that's to win a war. The men and women here depend on me to do my job and one aspect of my job is to take care of them."

  "Know your job, know yourself, and know your Marines."

  Surprised he looked her.

  "I paid attention during boot."

  "Good for you. Keep doing it and maybe you'll live."

  "Maybe.” She shrugged.

  "We've got your back."

  "Loyalty. Does that apply to us cryos? We're not a part of the Corps, we're kinda along for the ride."

  "That's what the Navy use to say about the Marines. Attitudes change in time."

  She nodded still not certain if she believed it.

  "It must be Hell to be responsible for so many lives."

  He shrugged. “At times it's a curse, but more often it's an honor. They depend on me, and I know I can depend on them. They're the only family I've got."

  "Being needed is a good thing.” She smiled and paused, “Tell me about your wife."

  He twisted the gold band on his ring finger and then clenched his fist.

  "She was beautiful, brilliant and an incredible pilot.” He instinctively turned his back on the ship and glanced out the porthole. The star field was massive and black.

  "What happened to her?"

  "Friendly fire accident."

  "Any kids?"

  "No.” He answered even softer. She wondered how a man who acted so tough almost every waking hour of the day could turn around and be so sweet.

  Keegan paused and faced her. “What was your husband like?"

  She felt his eyes moving up and down her body, embracing every curve. She tried not to smile, but enjoyed each knowing glance.

  "He was a lot like you, except, ‘Go Navy’ all the way,” Caitlin chuckled.

  "What was his M.O.S.?"

  "His job? JAG."

  "A lawyer?” He snorted

  "Yep.” She grinned. “Some men wear briefs, my Jason filed them."

  Keegan returned his attention to the plane. “I prefer boxers."

  "Jarheads usually do."

  Keegan laughed. “What was it like? On Eridani?"

  "Cold, lonely.” She leaned her back against the ship.

  "Did you miss me?” he asked without looking at her.

  "Yes, I did."

  "Good."

  She chuckled. “Oh boy.” Her tone was filled with anxiety. She moved in closer and looked down at her boots. “Did you mean what you said? Back at the station?"

  Keegan stopped what he was doing and nodded. “Every word of it."

  "What do we now?"

  He sighed deeply, “Pray for the war to end."

  Chapter Eighteen

  The charcoal lines blended into smudges on the rough canvas of Keegan's sketchpad. In his mind he pictured a beautiful landscape of mountains and trees that he tried to reproduce on the page in front of him. In the vastness of space, it was the closest he was going to get to his childhood home of Montana.

  Fairmount, Montana, was the epitome of God's country with its wide-open spaces, mountains, green grass and blue skies. In space he didn't get much color, except for what the government issued. In lieu of the greens, blues and browns of his hometown, he'd settled for the white of the paper with its black and gray smudges of charcoal.

  A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. “Come in,” he answered switching to a thinner piece.

  The creaking of the door opening and the subsequent heavy thud of boots across the tile floor stole his precious peace. “Beware of Texans bearing gifts,” the CAG said with a wide grin.

  He looked up from his pad to see Max carrying two cups of coffee.

  "It's a special blend,” he said handing one to him. “I like going to the mess hall first thing in the morning. The first pot is always the best."

  Keegan sniffed the hot liquid. The aroma of fresh brewed coffee always put a smile on his face. He offered his friend a seat. He took a sip and placed the mug aside.

  "You know in Texas we do everything in big way, including making a jackass out ourselves."

  Keegan continued sketching though it was hard for him to recall the tranquil picture because a new image filled his thoughts. Caitlin Driskoll. He sighed and drank more coffee.

  "Yeah, well...” he shrugged his shoulders and peered at his friend.

  "I just want to say I'm sorry about the other day. I was out of line."

  He nodded as Max struggled through an awkward apology. Though he had long since cooled down, Medoro was weary of his old friend. Max had crossed a line. He wondered how long it would be before he did it again.

  "Okay.” He said just wanting to forget about the whole thing. Having Max's appro
val for anything was never high on his list of things needing to be accomplished, but it would have been nice to have his friend's blessing.

  "So we're good?"

  "Yeah. We are."

  "Cool,” Max rose to his feet slamming back the rest of his coffee. “You know I'm the last person to tell anybody about relationships. Hell, the only successful marriage I've ever seen is my grandparents'. But this girl,” he looked away for moment as if to measure his words, “you don't want to get involved."

  Medoro stopped what he was doing and stared at the sketch board, though he couldn't see the paper.

  "Do you know what Special Ops has planned for these people? I can tell you this, going home alive is not a part of it. I just don't want to see you hurt again."

  Emotions swirled inside of him. He knew about the pain of loss. But he also knew about the pain of loneliness. Neither of which he was eager to live with for the rest of his life.

  "Don't you have something you should be doing?” He eyed Max in a manner that made him nod his head in resignation.

  "Sure do. And I just remembered it."

  * * * *

  "Go for the trigger first,” Beller coached. His voice hovered somewhere in the background. “Just take it easy and just get a feel for it."

  Caitlin felt the grooves and edges of the cool metallic cylinder. She searched for the trigger. A tiny red button, located somewhere on the mechanism's side, eluded her fingers. Then she felt it; a springy object that clicked when she touched it.

  "Bingo,” Beller declared.

  She removed the bandana from her eyes and tossed it on the table in front of her. “This is going to save the world?"

  "Nah, just humanity from slavery and a fate worse than death."

  "Oh is that all?” She tossed him the metallic casing.

  He caught it and frowned. “Hey, be careful. This is our only mock-up. You break this one and we'll be practicing on a tube that's used for paper towels."

  "It's like the twenty-eighth century, they don't use those things anymore,” she exclaimed like a teenager.

  "Okay, the bio-waste get-ridder-of or whatever the Hell they call those things now."

  "Why do I have to practice on this? I'm just supposed to shoot aliens.” She made a gesture like she was peering through a scope.