SG: WCD #46: Meditations On A Void (Part Two of Three)

[Frobozz]

Spectrum nodded to the guards outside his sleeping quarters.  He didn't 
chafe at all at their presence; he'd seen guards onboard ships to keep 
women's quarters off limits to other crew-men.  They nodded back and 
stepped aside efficiently and quietly. He tapped on the door and then 
walked in. "Hey Foxy, I'm back... um... Foxy?"

Somehow, she had managed to make the room lights dim, and candles were all 
around the room.  Adding to the ambiance, a smooth jazz song was softly 
coming through the room's music system.  In one hand, Foxy held his 
bathrobe, and in the other a bottle of massage oil.

"Hey sailor..."  Foxy purred, batting her eyes at him.  Scattered on the 
floor were red rose petals, no, small red paper hearts she'd apparently 
cut up and sprinkled everywhere.
Gone was the black leather outfit and boots, in its place was nothing but 
a gauzy white teddy which did little to hide her furry body.

"Wow. You look...wow...!  Honey, look, if this is because of the whole 
scene with the Captain, don't worry; I told them I would talk to you and 
we would..." He stopped, as she placed a finger on his lips, and then 
replaced that with her own lips.  Her tongue danced a tango with his, and 
then she pulled back.

"Lawrence, I've decided I don't care what happens, as long as we are 
together.  They can lock us both in this cabin for the rest of the mission 
if that makes them happy.  I just want to be with you.  I don't want to 
deal with aliens or super villains or Amway salesmen. All I want is you. 
I'd be perfectly happy if we quit being superheroes. I just want to be 
with you."  She stroked his arm, unbuttoned his shirt, and leaned into his 
chest, breathing deeply. "I -want-."

Her hands pulled at his clothes, clumsily, but with a sense of growing 
urgency.  He felt the emotions wash over him, like a warm bath.  He 
relaxed and followed her to their bunk.  I'm the luckiest guy in the 
world, he thought.  No matter what will befall them planetside, we'll 
always have this moment.

Outside their cabin, the troopers wobbled.  "Command, we have a code pink, 
I repeat code pink. Request permission to retreat to safe distance."

"Affirmative.  Silent alert sounded for ship's region.  You are authorized 
to clear area. Do you need anything?"

"Negative, just maybe can we get the relief watch down here to spell us a 
while.  I need a cigarette..."

***

After Clark had left and the last of a secret flask of scotch had been 
consumed, Tonk set about typing up some notes and reviewing updates from 
the bridge. Finally, she stretched out in the captain's bunk -- which, 
despite the fancy name, was hardly much larger than a regular crewman's 
bed.  Just like the rest of the cabin it was a workspace and nothing in 
the room was overtly elegant, other than a well-secured and formerly 
well-stocked bar.  Curse the damn snakes.

There was a quiet tap at the door, and Tonk permitted herself a momentary 
image of blowing a hole through the door to discourage visitors.  Looking 
at the ships clock, she reconsidered.  This appointment was pre-arranged.

The door opened a crack and Dr Sloan regarded Captain Tonk with a grave 
expression.
"Come in, Doctor, come in!" Tonk waved airily, and casually walked to the 
bar.

"Captain, the answer is still no! You can't demand this."

"I don't recall demanding anything."

"You sent me a message and asked that Victoria be assigned to work with 
Foxy."

"Ah, and, 
ۉ
˜asking is just polite demanding'- Edison Carter."

"Max Headroom."

"...same difference then..."

"You know how I feel about this situation with Miss Queen, and I do not 
think she should have to subject herself to this."  Dr. Sloan crossed his 
arms. "Its been traumatic enough for her to come to grips with her powers, 
and to now have to risk revealing herself as a psi to the crew..."

"And while you are the ship's doctor, and I rarely if ever disagree with 
you, I remain the captain and I have the lives of my entire crew to think 
of.  I don't take these things lightly, and this is a combat emergency 
decision that puts more than all of us in the expendable column."

"I will have to go on record as stating that I did not recommend or 
support this."  Dr. Sloan muttered. "This is an extremely dangerous 
gambit." He looked up at the Captain. "Tonk, if there was any other way I 
would lock her in a life pod, and dump her on the nearest habitable 
planet."

"Which, Foxy or Victoria?"

Dr. Sloan allowed a flicker of a grin, and then nodded understandingly. 
"Both... or perhaps neither.  Maybe we're both wrong about this and it 
won't make a difference revealing Victoria's secret. I understand that you 
have damn few options left and with us only a day or so from landfall we 
have to do what we can with what resources we have left."

***

British Airwave stood in the crews lounge.  A cook rummaged back and forth 
along the bar, quietly cleaning the counter and refilling snack bowls. 
The digital clock on the wall politely suggested it was 3am earth time. 
It was almost time for action, and as was his habit from the early days of 
the war until now, he slept short dreamless naps, woke up and wandered a 
bit, then napped again.  In the libraries of his mind, the assistants were 
busy sorting the card catalogs.   In more modern terms his mind was 
defragging and rebooting before the big LAN party.

One last big party... he mused.  He glanced at the star field on the 
screen, pondering its distant majesty, and watched as a comet whizzed by, 
then the stars panned and tilted as the earth hove into view.

"It's just a recording."  The Nikon Ninja said softly, as he walked into 
the room.  "The recordings are from earlier flights and segments when they 
weren't in Gild-space.  Otherwise it would be just a bunch of grey 
grayness accented with grey."  He walked to the counter and whispered an 
order for a slice of pizza and a root beer.  After being informed that all 
beverages possessing any alcohol content had been drained, he reselected a 
Dr. Pepper and swiveled in his stool.  "Can't sleep either?"

"Not really lad."  Randall noticed a brief flicker of annoyance at the 
name, and then it was accepted and ignored.  "I just need time to think 
about things before the battle and it was quiet enough here."

"Yeah I guess it's fairly quiet everywhere; being away from all the radio 
noise on earth... so, you're gonna be stuck in C&C during the fight, eh?"

"Yes, and I daresay you and I have had this same chat as to my place in 
things, back at the hotel in England, eh?"  British Airwave turned his 
back to regard the starfield again.

"MMmmmkay...   Look I wasn't trying to twist the knife with you.  I was 
just making conversation.  By the way, I hope you don't mind if I record 
the battle down there, it might have some useful bits I can pass on to my 
editor.  And that's of course with your permission..."

Randall sighed and waved his hand dismissively. "Let us let that matter 
rest for now.  I have no problem as long as Spectrum gives you 
authorization.  Your recordings may have historic significance someday. 
By all means record all you can."

"Hey, are you okay?" Parker Peterson queried with concern in his voice. 
"What's got you so aggro'd?"

"...aggro'd? I beg your pardon?"

"Upset, irritated, panties in a bunch, Metamucil in your milkshake, 
whatever expression you guys use..."

"Ah. 
â
€
˜You guys' As in 
ۉ
˜you old guys', eh?  I daresay you hit the target there spot on."

He paused again, regarding the stars silently, and then faced Parker who 
was patiently munching on his slice of pizza.

"What has me upset is that I have to accept that this is no longer my time 
or place.  I am long past my prime.  I am an anachronism, one of the old 
team of heroes that refuses to quietly slip away in a rest home somewhere. 
My mind is still sharp.  My spirit is willing, but my flesh is weak, and 
getting weaker and more of a stranger to me every day."

"Well, you beat me in a fight..." Parker offered hopefully.

"Indeed." Randall snapped, "Which begs the question of your fighting 
abilities."

"Hey!"

"Let's be frank.  I won, only because I was prepared. I knew what to 
expect with you, I had pre-planted transmitters in key locations, and I 
had the element of surprise.  I had a plan. My intention was not to harm 
you, but to merely take you down a peg or two.  To humble you a bit and 
make you think about your actions before acting."

"If I had my dord, it would have been different..."

"Would it now?  Perhaps.  Fortunately for you and the hotel rooms, you did 
not think to summon it.  If your life was truly in danger, you should not 
have hesitated to use all weapons available.  But again, you were 
reacting, not acting, and proved my point with your defeat."

"If I wanted a helping of verbal abuse, I would go find Thor."  Nikon 
Ninja stood. "Sorry to disturb you, I guess I better go to bed like a good 
little boy."

"Wait..."  British Airwave gestured.  "Please; I'm sorry.  You have great 
potential, young man, and if you can develop beyond the single synapse 
mode of combat you will become a mighty hero.  I just wanted to help you 
avoid a few pitfalls along the way. Forgive an old man and his temper.  I 
should know better than to complain about my lot.  I've been lucky enough 
to be involved in so many great adventures in my life.  How often does 
someone have the chance to directly affect the course of history? Not only 
in the world around you, but to actually have a hand setting in motion 
events that fundamentally change who you and others around you are, and 
who they become.?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Perhaps you will get *that* scoop, when you are older, and I am dead. 
Few men get to save the world even once.  Three times?  Past, present, and 
future? There is something to lift a pint to." He smiled and winked at 
Parker, slapped his leg to accentuate the point.  He then sighed, 
returning his gaze to the view screen. "I am old. And my hair is getting 
white..."

"Well, g'night then, see you in the morning, try not to stand on your head 
too much tonight."  Parker grinned and strolled out.

"Hummph."   Looking out at the blackness, he muttered aloud. "I miss the 
old days.  I miss my friends.  My school chums who would drop what they 
were doing for a quick game and a laugh, or a prank, or a pint down at the 
fraternity, or as my Lithuanian girlfriend Yvonne called it, the 
'sskyrius-namas' to poke fun at each other.  Seems nobody is left.  They 
have all moved on, passed on, or forgotten about me."

He leaned against the bulkhead, and from the depths of space, he heard a 
static-filled sound.  Straining his ears, he listened, puzzled.

...boxcar. If she is kelp prawns, must hew then I smash TV joyously 
sleeping known not to the smash microvave. Then suddenly the door opened 
and rutabagas dancing zip-file parts construct.  If this is right for you, 
call doctor, yob yob yoi helicoptors babbling outward into cheese entrails 
no exit but I must ask auspiciously dunning tankersly. The farmer of the 
Dale buys loot hora billinicken. Mythic burns Gary grunion all gone.  Shat 
from Shinarolem. Your tools incongruously wobbled peacefully. Schoolhouse 
rocky flats quotes true, yet Quezacotle peramutter stanchion release...

Randall shook his head. "Some radio station transmission must have 
scrambled in the ionosphere, warped through space, and drifted out here 
now that we're shifting back from Gild-space. How odd-- and yet..."

The British Airwave sighed, shook his head, and walked back to his cabin, 
resigned to leave tomorrows worries for another day, and to get back to 
thinking about the tasks at hand. He stopped and swallowed another pill, 
ruefully counting the pair remaining, while pondering his own life's 
riddle. "Bugger. If no one asks me, I'll know; but if any one should 
require me to tell him, I cannot.  Roger Murtaugh was right, all along."

***

Concluded in Part Three.