Rating: NC17

Spoilers: None

Author: Vasalysa, with many undying thanks to Geek.

E-mail: cmbower@ennorath.net Comments are always welcome

She was already seated with a plate when McQueen entered the Officers Mess at five minutes to the hour. He got his food and sat down beside her. "Well?"

"Cleared to start tomorrow. Desk duty and bridge."

"Tell Ross yet?"

"Came here from telling him."

McQueen ate for a moment, and then said, "Lysa, I'm looking forward to working with you again."

"Same here." Silver waited several minutes before asking, "Are you going to be running tonight?"

McQueen nodded. "And using the gym."

"You're welcome to stop by after you've cleaned up and eaten."

"I just might."

That night, McQueen showed up at Silvers quarters at 2130 hours, cleaned up and refreshed from a light meal. She let him in. He didn't leave until morning, with her by his side.

The next two weeks passed quickly. By the end of the first week, she had caught up on all of the paperwork that he had held off on finishing. Both Silver and McQueen felt an uneasiness that had nothing to do with their sexual relationship. He started pushing the squadron's training, throwing tougher situations at them in the flight simulators, forcing them to react faster and for longer periods of time. Silver helped him devise the simulations and often watched the squad as they struggled through them. Her physical therapy she scheduled for the same time they were using the gym and she often joined in, still careful of her shoulder, but desperate for the workout for the rest of her body.

Often after the training runs and gym workouts, during which Ross joined in several times a week now, McQueen would go to Ross' quarters for a time. They talked sometimes, but mostly McQueen sat and listened as Ross played his guitar. Then McQueen asked Ross if Silver could join them. Ross' slow smile was all the answer McQueen needed. After that, he made sure Silver joined them nightly. When they left Ross' quarters, they would retire to either of their quarters for the night.

Their lovemaking during that time grew longer, but McQueen never got around to a long, leisurely session of more than an hour at a time. They both felt intense desire and need that kept them from just taking their time.

Not once during the two weeks did Silver drink from McQueen. Finally, stretched out beside her on his bed, he asked, "Lysa, why haven't you drunk from me?" His hand traced lazy circles on her firm abdomen.

"You're not formally of my circle."

"What must be done for me to be one?" His hand stilled, flattened against her flesh.

"I must ask you."

"Why haven't you asked?" He raised himself up onto his elbow to gaze into her face.

"I don't want to push you into something you may not be ready for."

"After all we went through, you think I'm not ready for you drinking from me on a regular basis?"

"There's a commitment that comes with the asking, Ty, and with the accepting. I don't want to force you into a commitment you might not be prepared to keep for a long time." She captured his still hand and brought it up to her lips. "I want you too much to force you, Ty. I'd rather just make love to you than lose you because you weren't ready." She kissed his palm.

"I made a marriage commitment to Amy and I didn't feel this strongly about her, Lysa. I thought I loved her, but it pales compared to what I feel for you. She broke off the marriage, not me. I stick by my choices, Lysa. You know that. Ask me and I will accept, fully aware of the consequences. Up to and including consort." He cradled her cheek against his hand. "I am ready."

With a sigh, Silver closed her eyes briefly. "It's not time for me to ask you yet. I don't know why, but I know it's not time. I'm sorry."

"Lysa, why not now? I'm ready to accept anything you ask of me." McQueen felt fear deep inside. Was she tiring of him already?

"Love, I want you beside me forever. Till death do us part and all."

Tears pricked at McQueen's eyes at the way she could read him so easily. "I don't mean to doubt you, Lysa."

"See, you still don't fully trust me. You still expect me to suddenly drop you." She sighed. "It's all right, Ty. You still need some time to adjust to all that you've learned about me." She pulled him down, kissing him tenderly, letting him feel her love.

McQueen used his body, mouth and hands to express the depth of his feelings for her, hoping she'd understood it. Afterward, she caressed his face, kissed him, and curled up around him as he sat up. He stroked her body until she fell asleep and just sat there watching her, aware that life would be empty without her.

It was the first night that Silver had joined the squadron on their evening training run. She knew that Finch had altered the difficulty of the obstacles, making it easier for her since she had to build up the strength in her shoulder again. But it felt so good to be pounding the deck at a run she didn't care.

They were just finishing suiting up after their showers when the alarm klaxons went off.

Ross snarled, throwing his towel aside. "Bloody hell! Silver, you're with me. McQueen?"

"I'm flying this time, sir." McQueen thrust his feet into his boots.

"Then get out there and bring them all home safe." Ross yanked his boots on savagely, his shirt still only half buttoned.

Silver had already finished dressing. She squeezed the shoulders of the squad as they filtered past her. Stepping up to McQueen, she said softly, "We both knew it was coming. This is going to be a big one. Take care of them and yourself, Ty."

Alone with only her and Ross, McQueen hesitated only a brief second. He grabbed Silver and kissed her deeply, crushing her against him. "I'll be back," he vowed. "We all will."

The three strode out of the gym together. At the elevators, McQueen headed down while Ross and Silver went up to the sixth deck. The 5-8 was ready to launch as Silver slid into her seat.

"Commodore, it appears to be a major Chig offensive, sir." Lt. Crowe looked up from his console. "We've got ten Hive ships on LIDAR. And so many Chig fighters the computer is having difficulty figuring out how many there are. We've counted a hundred bombers as well."

"Launch our fighters," Ross commanded, aware that Silver was waiting for the order. "Call Commander Diez. Alert him to the situation and advise that he get his butt up here with the Bunker Hill and the rest of the fleet."

"Yes, sir," grinned Lt. Crowe.

After fifteen minutes, Silver ordered, "6-4, 5-8, move to the outskirts of the fight. Keep your eyes peeled for any other Chig vessels."

Over her shoulder, Ross asked quietly, "You think there are a few Super Hive ships out there?"

"At least one."

"But there are no breaks in the Chig fighter patterns."

"They figured out from the previous battles how we learned where they were." Silver sat back with a slight frown. She kept her voice down as she said, "Sir, I have a really bad feeling about this. I think we're going to be evenly matched, if not outnumbered."

"Intelligence reports that the Chig forces have been massing four systems over."

"I think this is yet another fleet. One put together to come after us in particular."

"I hope you're wrong, Silver."

"So do I, sir. So do I."

A member of the 6-4 signaled in nearly twenty minutes later. "A Super Hive ship! To the rear! It's firing!"

"Move the ships! Change every ships angle and position. Now!" bellowed Ross.

The destroyer McCain took the first hit from the Super Hive ship. The plasma bolt hit forward of the engines and the destroyer was disabled.

Even as a second bolt from the Super Hive ship finished off the McCain, Hawkes called in. "Another Super Hive ship to the fleets port side. Damn! That thing is really moving."

"It's one of the new ones. They're faster than the first ones we went up against." Silver rubbed her forehead. "This is going to get nasty."

Two hours of hard fighting by the humans resulted in three Hive ships retreating, badly damaged. But the cost was high on the human side. The fighters were fighting valiantly, but they were dying, vastly outnumbered.

Another hour passed and all three human carriers, the Saratoga, the Bunker Hill and the Roosevelt, were damaged by fire from the Super Hive ships. Three more of their support destroyers were floating hulks: the Decatur, the Stout, and the Higgins.

Lt. Crowe looked up from his console. "Sir, the Fitzgerald reports that shes badly damaged. Falling back to starboard."

"Very well." Ross sighed. "We have no destroyers in decent shape left. Wheres the Independence?"

"Off the Roosevelt's bow, sir."

"And the Farragut? The Cole?"

"Our rear. And beside the Bunker Hill, sir."

Silver had by now been forced to combine several fighter squadrons to make them more effective. The 100th squadron now held members from two other squadrons. So far, both the 6-4 and 5-8 had managed to remain intact.

Three hours later and Silver had combined the remnants of another four squadrons to make up the 25th. By now, the Cole sat off the Saratoga's port side, trying to intercept fire from the Hive ships aimed at the carrier.

"Colonel, we need to get rid of one of those damn Super Hive ships." Ross stalked back and forth behind Silver, his brow furrowed, chewing on his cigar.

"I know, sir. I'm working on it." Silver continued coordinating an attack formation using torpedoes from the badly damaged Farragut and the Saratoga as well as fighter squadrons. She hoped to take out the Super Hive ship to the rear of the Saratoga or at least force it to withdraw.

Watching the LIDAR over her shoulder, Ross studied what she was doing. After several minutes, he remarked quietly, "That's going to leave us exposed to that other Super Hive ship."

"I'm going to pull some of the fighters off the one we're targeting and send them after the other one. With luck, that will draw off some of the Chig fighter cover and allow enough of the missiles to get through that we drive it off. It's a calculated risk, sir. I don't see any way around it."

"Neither do I. Go ahead."

"Yes, sir." Silver activated the links to the fighters. "6-4, 5-8, disengage and attack the Super Hive ship to the port side of the Saratoga. Draw as many fighters from the Toga's rear as possible."

"Roger, Toga Control." McQueen's voice was rock steady.

Silver closed her eyes briefly.

"He'll be fine, Silver," murmured Ross for her ears only.

Silver nodded.

"Gunnery sergeant, make sure those torpedoes are programmed to run to our rear starboard quadrant," growled Ross, unhappy with the way the battle was shaping up. To Silver, he asked, "Do you think the Farragut will hold together long enough to get a second salvo off?"

"Yes, sir. That destroyer will manage. It's the Cole I'm worried about. Spit and bailing wire are all that are holding her together." Silver shook her head. "Captain Porter already evacuated most of her personnel to the Bunker Hill."

"Dammit! When we will get the support vessels we need out here?" Ross gripped the railing tightly. "All right. Continue with your plan, colonel."

"Yes, sir."

Ten minutes passed before Silver had the ships in the position she wanted. Using visual reports from the fighters, she had programmed in the targets location. "Ready, sir."

"Fire."

The gunnery sergeant repeated the order.

The missiles leaving their racks sent shudders through the Saratoga. The laser batteries sent waves of fire toward the area of the Super Hive ship with the hope of taking out enough fighters between the missiles and the target that the missiles would reach their goal.

"Port Super Hive ship firing," reported West.

"Understood, King of Hearts." Silver switched channels. "All fighters between the Saratoga and the rear Super Hive ship disengage. Missiles incoming."

Two minutes later, the plasma bolt from the Super Hive ship slammed into the Saratoga amidships.

"Get her back into position for firing again," barked Ross. "How is the reloading coming, Gunnery Sergeant?"

"Almost ready, sir, another minute or two. That hit knocked some missiles off their racks."

"Forget them. Fire what we have ready once were in position."

"Yes, sir."

"Toga Control, this is Queen Six. 5-8 and 6-4 headed back into the fray. Looks like you could use a bit more support."

"Negative, Queen Six."

"We'll draw off some more of the fighters. Give you a better chance to hit it."

"Negative, Queen Six. Keep that port ship engaged."

McQueen made no response and Silver watched as both squadrons joined the tangle of lights to the Saratoga's rear starboard quadrant. "Damn the man. Stubborn tank."

"That he is," agreed Ross quietly from her shoulder.

"Firing second salvo, sir," reported the gunnery sergeant.

"Good."

"Incoming again, Saratoga," reported Captain Porter's husky voice through heavy static. "We're moving to block."

"Negative, Cole," Ross insisted through his own headset. "We can take the damage. Stay out of the way, Porter."

Static filled both Ross' and Silver's headsets.

"I don't think they received you, sir. Their radio has been intermittent the last hour." Silver sighed.

The Cole exploded in a fireball that peppered the Saratoga's hull with debris three minutes later.

"Damn. What a waste of lives." Ross head hung down for a few seconds. With a heavy sigh, he glanced up. "Are we ready for the third salvo?"

"Thirty seconds to go, sir."

Ross glanced at Silver. "Send to the destroyers Hamilton and Burke. Tell them to prepare to pick up life pods. Start evacuating personnel from the lower levels."

"Yes, sir."

Even as she organized the evacuation, Silver kept her eyes on the LIDAR, ferreting out the Super Hive ships locations using logic and intuition. She corrected the next torpedo firing, using the input fed to her by McQueen. The fourth salvo on its way, she turned her attention back to the evacuation waiting for the timing of the fifth salvo until McQueen made another report.

"Incoming," she announced calmly. "Helm, rotate thirty degrees to port."

"Aye."

The Saratoga rocked hard under the blow.

"We've lost the starboard launch bays, landing bays, and transport bays, sir," reported Lt. Crowe, wiping blood from his cheek.

"Understood."

"Sir, all non-essential personnel are evacuated. Port docking bays, engine rooms, torpedo bays, and weapons bays are manned by volunteers." Silver glanced at Ross who nodded.

"Only volunteer personnel on the bridge," Silver announced. No one rose to leave. "Bridge manned by volunteer crew, sir."

"Understood. And thank you."

"Incoming." Silver leaned over the gunnery sergeant's shoulder. "Adjust firing seven degrees up the elliptic. Helm, port ten degrees."

"Aye."

"Weapons, fighters incoming." Silver tapped the gunnery sergeant's shoulder. Covering her mike, she said, "If we have to evacuate the bridge, take the commodore out of here."

"He won't go."

"He won't have a choice."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good."

From the center of the command center, Ross growled, "Take those fighters out of my sky, people."

The plasma bolt hit and the Saratoga spun violently, showing her front end to the Super Hive ship that had been pounding her. As Ross snapped orders to turn the massive carrier, Silver studied the LIDAR as she listened to McQueen's voice relaying more information.

"Sir, main engines dead."

Silver closed her eyes, resigning herself to the inevitable. With a calmness born of surety, Silver moved up to stand beside Ross. "Double incoming, sir. The superstructure will be hit. Time to evacuate the bridge, sir."

"I'm staying."

"I'm sorry, sir, but you aren't." The blow to the back of his skull stunned Ross. As she lowered him to the deck, Silver whispered in his ear, "He can't lose both of us. Take care of him for me. Tell him... tell him I love him."

Standing up, she looked at the gunnery sergeant. "Sergeant, take the commodore below decks to the auxiliary control. Everyone out. Lt. Commander Douglas, would you please remain?" She met the helmsman's gaze steadily, knowing what she was asking. Once the bridge was evacuated, pressure doors would seal the bridge, preventing anyone from leaving.

He nodded once, turning back to his controls.

Alone in the command center with Douglas, Silver started issuing what she figured would be her final orders. "Weapons, continue firing at available targets. Port torpedoes, fire in thirty seconds. Starboard, fire in forty five seconds."

Her hands on Douglas' shoulders, she said, "Once the port torpedoes have fired, roll the ship one hundred and eighty degrees. With luck, we'll take out one of the bastards."

"Aye, ma'am. And ma'am, it's been a pleasure."

"Same here, Douglas."

Silver threw open the channel to the rest of the fleet. "All fighters, this is Toga Control. I'm transferring coordination of the battle to the Roosevelt. Commander Perry, take care of them. They're the best we've got."

Narrowing her broadcast to the 58th's radios, Silver said, "Queen Six, take care. Love you all. Queen of Diamonds out."

Even as McQueen's anguished howl rang over the headset, Silver turned it off. "Douglas, I intend to get you off the bridge once you've rotated the ship." Her shoulder twinged at the thought of trying to open the damned pressure doors, but she would try. "Once you've stabilized the ship, get in a pressure suit and run for the door. I'll be ready to open the door."

"Yes, ma'am."

Such faith brought tears to her eyes. Silver strode over to the doors.

The Saratoga lurched, nearly throwing her to the deck. "Keep her steady."

"Aye, ma'am."

She felt the firing of the port torpedoes. Staring at the door, Silver took a deep breath. From the corner of her eyes, she saw the stars spinning past. The Saratoga shuddered as the starboard torpedoes fired.

"Colonel, what about you?" Douglas asked, getting into a pressure suit.

"I can't open the doors and get through them. If I'm lucky, the bridge won't go completely. Send someone after the battle is over, hm?"

"Colonel-"

"It's all right, Douglas. Just get the hell out of here when I open these doors."

With a deep breath, Silver pried her fingertips into the crack of the sliding door. Locking down on the pain her shoulder radiated, she pulled her hands apart, slowly forcing the door halves apart.

Once she had enough room for him to reach through, Douglas spun the hatch wheel and pushed the hatch open. He squirmed through the opening and Silver leaped back, releasing the pressure doors.

She was opening the emergency air mask cupboard when the first of the two hits she had been expecting arrived. The Saratoga reeled drunkenly and Silver slammed back against the bulkhead, cracking her head sharply. Darkness enveloped her.

"No!" McQueen's throat hurt from the raw emotion pouring forth. He saw the upper superstructure disintegrate in a flaming fireball with the second hit. Tears ran down his cheeks as he realized that he was partly responsible. She'd told him where she needed him to go, but he, in his arrogance, had thought he had known what she had in mind. If he'd kept the squad where she had wanted, the second hit might never have actually been made.

Over his radio, McQueen could hear the shock, sorrow, and pain from his kids. Even as he dove to avoid Chig fire, McQueen felt responsible for Lysa and Glen's deaths. A mixture of cold rage and self-hatred flowed in, filling him entirely. "Queen 6 to Wildcards. Let's kill some Chigs."

"On your wing, Queen 6," came Russell's hard voice.

McQueen would never remember most of the next two hours. He took chances with his life and the lives of his squad that he would never have done normally. Sanity trickled back bit-by-bit. When a Chig fighter slammed into the Saratoga's engines, crippling her completely, he knew the ship was a write-off, yet he fought determinedly to keep the Chigs from further damaging Ross' carrier. The fighting shifted away from the Saratoga and regretfully he followed, knowing he had other lives to protect. But he would return.

Dragging herself back to consciousness, Silver shivered and automatically damped the pain that radiated from her chest and abdomen. Her shoulder ached fiercely and she set that pain aside as well as the one centered along her left temple. Reaching up with a hand, she felt the stickiness of clotting blood. As she looked around the bridge, she realized that the heaters had been knocked out for the temperature had dropped to the point where her breath fogged. Emergency lighting illuminated the bridge. She floated near the bulkhead. Slowly, she reached out and grabbed one of the air masks, tucking it into a pocket. Three more went into pockets before she pushed off toward the communications console.

Activating her headset, Silver asked, "Is anyone there? Any one still firing?"

"Corporal Rodriguez here, ma'am. Port Laser Battery Ten. Where are you, ma'am?"

"The command center."

"Thought that was evacuated hours ago."

"It was. I'm the only one left. How long has it been since the bridge evacuation?"

"Five hours, ma'am. I'm trapped in my bay. I'm still getting air, but I guess there's wreckage outside. I can't get out."

"Any idea how the battle's going?"

"Took out one of those damn Super Hive ships. I think the other one retreated an hour or so ago. There's still a few of the regular Hive ships out there. The Chigs have been ignoring us for the last two hours. I haven't had a target for some time."

Glancing over the status of the Saratoga, Silver knew why. Engines dead, most of the torpedo bays damaged, the Saratoga's fangs had been drawn and she was going nowhere. She saw that the majority of the thrusters were intact. "So the fight is still going on?"

"Yes. I can see the firefight. I think the Roosevelt is still there. I don't know about Bunker Hill. And I haven't been able to access any outside lines."

"Any other internal lines?"

"I had the auxiliary control for a while. Then a Chig ran into the ship near me and I haven't been able to contact them again. There are a few of us stuck in the Port Batteries. I can make contact with them, but they can't contact anyone else."

"Let me see if I can contact anyone else, corporal."

"You won't forget about us, will you, ma'am?"

"No, Rodriguez. Give me about ten mikes, ok?"

"No sweat."

Smiling sadly, Silver started flipping through channels. Dead air greeted her on most of them. She discovered that four of the Starboard Batteries were still manned. Auxiliary control didn't respond to her hails and she could only pray that Ross had made it to safety. Two Starboard Torpedo Bays were still manned, but they had no targeting information, the same for three Port Torpedo Bays. Biting her lip, she activated outside communications.

A sob of relief escaped on hearing McQueen's voice. Rage and hatred, coldly controlled, he continued the battle. "Queen Six," she sent on all outside bands.

His voice continued issuing orders. The Saratoga had no outside communications. Tears ran from her eyes as she heard one by one the rest of the 58th speak, the anger in their voices audible.

She made contact again with Rodriguez. "Silver here. Well, we've got some company on the other side of the ship."

"Colonel, there's a Hive ship coming up on our rear quarter. Shall we commence firing?"

"No. Let them get closer. Let's take them out at point blank. We've nothing to lose."

"Aye, ma'am. I'll pass the word."

Silver contacted the Port Torpedo Bays and told them to load the racks and prepare to fire on her command. Then she told the Starboard Torpedo Bays the same thing and alerted the Starboard Batteries. As she talked to them, she sat down in the helmsman's chair, searching out the instruments. She found the pitch, yaw and roll indicators as well as the elliptic plane indicator.

"All right, Rodriguez, can you see the Hive ship?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"What section are you located in?"

"J section." Just to the rear of amidships.

"And the others?"

"Two in K and one in L". Even further to the rear.

Silver closed her eyes, picturing the location of the Port Torpedo Bays still operational. One was in section J and the other two were in section M, even further back. "Would you say that the Hive ship is close to section M?"

"Definitely."

"I'll get back to you." Switching channels, Silver asked, "Port Torpedo Bays Six and Seven, do you have a visual on the enemy?"

"Yes."

"Starboard Torpedo Bays Seven and Eight, prepare to fire once you have a lock on the enemy. Starboard Batteries Ten through Thirteen, prepare to fire at will. Port Torpedo Bays Six and Seven, fire."

Once she felt the shudder of the torpedoes, Silver fired the Saratoga's port thrusters, rolling the ship back to its original position. Fire from the starboard laser batteries tore into the Hive ship as it started to come into their view. The starboard torpedoes sped away and Silver fired the starboard thrusters, feeling the ship responding sluggishly.

Fire from the Hive ship peppered the bottom of the Saratoga, tearing deep inside, blowing out more launch bays.

The port-fired torpedoes hit their target, followed seconds later by the starboard torpedoes. Explosions ripped the Hive ship apart.

"Chig fighters coming in."

"All laser batteries, fire at will. Good work, people. That's one less Hive ship to bother the fleet."

"Saratoga, come in."

Silver closed her eyes against the hope in McQueen's voice.

"Dammit, we have people still alive aboard the 'Toga. Two more Hive ships converging on her. 5-8, 6-4, take out the fighters. Commander Perry, we need cover fire."

"Sorry, Queen Six, but we're barely holding our own as it is. The 'Toga will just have to fight her own battles."

A pause, then, "All Toga fighters, this is Queen 6. I'm asking for volunteers to defend her and our people."

A deafening roar over the channel.

"Thank you, Roosevelt, for the rearming and refueling. We have comrades to save," stated McQueen.

"Damn you, Queen 6. We need you."

"The 'Toga needs us more urgently."

'Port Torpedo Bay Eight here, bridge. We have a lock on a Hive ship. Shall we fire?"

Silver nodded as she said, "All weapons bays, fire at will. Be warned that we will soon have fighter cover. Watch out for our guys, ok?"

"Roger that, bridge."

For the next two hours, Silver took reports from the various weapons bays and used them as her eyes to try and spin the Saratoga in order to minimize the damage and casualties. The fighter escort finally drove off the second Hive ship, the first one having been damaged by a torpedo from one of the starboard bays and finished off by a port torpedo and fighters.

Exhausted, Silver slumped back into the helmsman's chair as she heard the report that the Chigs were retreating from the battle.

"Silver, are you there?" She could hear the desperation in McQueen's voice.

Swimming over to the communications console, she saw it was a signal directed only at the 'Toga. Unfortunately, she still had no way of communicating with McQueen. Then she cursed her tiredness. "Rodriguez, do you have a clear field? No one about to fly through your area?"

"Yes."

"Set the lasers to short duration. Fire twice."

"Roger."

She listened.

"Queen 6, a port laser battery just fired twice. Malfunction?" Phousse sounded puzzled.

"Silver, two, one. Yes, no."

"Rodriguez, two, one."

"Roger."

"Thank god, Lysa."

She smiled at the sound of relief.

"She's alive, 5-8. Are you on the bridge?"

"Rod, two."

"Are you alone?"

"Two."

"You got Ross off the bridge?"

"Two."

"Do you know-"

"One."

"Obviously there are others alive. Don't worry. We'll get teams aboard. Are you hurt?"

"Two."

"Look out your view port."

Silver pushed off from the communications console and brought herself to a halt before the view port. A Hammerhead floated, cockpit pointed toward her. She raised her hand and pressed it to the glass, smiling wistfully at McQueen. The cold ate into her hand and she realized that the temperature had continued to fall. Wrapping her arms around her torso, she watched as one by one the rest of the squadron slowly passed by, cockpits toward her. They were all there. Tears ran down her cheeks.

"Is the temperature dropping?"

She nodded.

"How cold? Forty?"

She shook her head.

"Thirty?"

Considering how cold she felt, Silver nodded slowly.

"Below freezing?"

She shrugged.

"Hang in there, Lysa. A transport's on the way from the Colin Powell. They'll be here in fifteen mikes. They'll get you out of there. Are the others losing warmth?"

With some difficulty, her mouth having suddenly developed a stutter, Silver contacted the various weapons crews. They all had air and warmth. She shook her head.

"Just you. Figures. Is there a pressure suit you can get in? It should have some warmth factor."

She did not want to move away from the view port.

"Lysa, find something to keep you warm. Please."

Slowly, she pushed away from the view port, headed for the pressure suit locker. As she struggled into a suit, her fingers continually fumbled and she knew the cold had sunk deep inside her during the last seven hours. Once the final catches had been secured, she activated the heater and pushed off toward the view port.

"That's better."

She hung before the view port, letting her eyes drink in the sight of her love.

"I was so furious when you signed off. No, I was torn apart, Lysa. I knew you saw your death was only mikes away. I never felt despair so deep before. It reached out and tried to drag me down into it. I nearly succumbed, but my rage pulled me out. I had to make your death mean something."

Despite the heat from the pressure suit, Silver found it hard to keep her eyes open. Sleep drew her downward.

"Lysa, don't sleep! Please, stay with me. Don't you dare die on me now!"

Forcing her eyes open, she locked her weary gaze on his sapphire eyes. She said, "I love you." Her eyes drifted shut.

"Lysa! Please, I love you too much to have you die."

The sheer urgent desperation wrenched her eyes open for several more minutes. She could see his frustration at not being able to get to her.

"The transport's almost here. Please, stay awake."

"Colonel, talk to me," came Rodriguez voice.

"Tired." The word came out slurred.

"Did you make contact with the fighters outside?"

"Yes."

"Come on, colonel. Do they know about us? Is anyone coming to free us?"

"Yes. Yes."

"Silver, are you talking to someone on the 'Toga?" McQueen's forced calm voice reached out to her.

She nodded slightly, drained by the motion..

"Keep talking. Please. I need you too much. Don't stop fighting." She could hear the pleading in his voice even as her eyes drifted closed.

"I'm so tired, Rod."

"Colonel, they won't find us in time if you go to sleep."

Duty. Something about duty stuck in her mind. Duty and love. McQueen. Love and duty. McQueen. Love and duty. Rodriguez. McQueen. She had to do her duty to both. The duty of her rank and position for Rodriguez. The duty of love for McQueen. To leave him now would destroy him.

Clawing her way back to awareness, Silver opened her eyes and saw McQueen's frantic face as he begged her to open her eyes.

His hands pressed against his canopy. "Lysa, I thought I'd lost you there."

"Colonel, are you there?"

"Yes, Rod. I'm here. Keep talking to me." She forced herself to move. As her blood circulated, some temporary alertness returned to her.

"The transport's only mikes away, Lysa."

"Rod, a transport will be here soon." Her voice came stronger, firmer, as her feet slowly made contact with the deck and some weight returned.

"Good. I would really like to get out of this damn chair."

"Silver, do you know if there's pressure outside the command center?"

She shrugged.

"All right. They're going to attach an airlock to the superstructure on Deck Seven. If there's pressure, they'll climb up to you. Otherwise, they'll shift and attach to the command center directly."

Silver nodded.

"I have to move now, so the transport can get in. Hang in there, love."

"Rod, the transport is there. They're going to try and get me out of here before I freeze to death."

"Just let them know where we are, colonel."

"I will. Don't worry."

Despite the heater, Silver shivered. She felt as though her interior was ice.

Noise from the command center entrance made Silver turn her head several minutes later. The pressure doors slowly opened. Figures in pressure suits hurried onto the bridge.

"Col. Silver, my name is Lt. Harris." The female voice sounded husky over the internal intercom. "Col. McQueen said you knew where more survivors are."

Her vision narrowed to just a point on the lieutenant's pressure suit name tag. Silver spoke rapidly, aware she was losing the battle for consciousness. "Port Torpedo Bays Six and Seven, Starboard Torpedo Bays Seven and Eight, Starboard Batteries Ten through Thirteen. Oh, and Port Battery Ten."

"Jackson, did you get all that?" Harris asked.

"Yes, lieutenant."

"Good. Colonel, can you walk to the transport? It's one level down."

Silver shook her head, feeling darkness sliding over her.

The suddenness of Silver's collapse took Harris by surprise and she barely managed to catch Silver before the colonel's dead weight hit the deck.

"Get those medics up here on the double!" bellowed Harris. "Daniels, start finding out what's wrong with the heaters up here and fix them."

Holding the Toga's savior in her arms, Harris knew they were running out of time. Through the colonel's visor, she could see the ice-cold pallor of the other woman.

As the transport with the first batch of survivors from the Saratoga landed on the Colin Powell, McQueen waited impatiently outside the landing bay. Behind him ranged the 5-8, equally worried.

Once atmosphere filled the landing bay, McQueen slammed open the hatch, the 5-8 on his heels. The first ones off the transport were rescue personnel. Next came a few stretchers accompanied by two medics, but McQueen knew she wasn't on them. Then came a stretcher piled with thermal blankets with two medics pacing beside it. One held an oxygen mask over the face.

"Don't jostle the stretcher, dammit!" snarled one of the medics. "We don't want to send her into arrhythmia."

"Silver!" McQueen lunged for the stretcher.

Arms wrapped around his body, restraining him, keeping him from his objective. He struggled futilely; his captors were as strong as him.

Behind the stretcher came others on their feet. Those who knew Colonel McQueen gaped at the uncharacteristic behavior exhibited by the frantic man. One man in particular shook his head and slowly approached. Commodore Ross sighed as he saw how desperate McQueen appeared.

"Colonel, no! Wait. Let them help her first."

Vansen's voice penetrated McQueen's intense need to wrap his arms around Silver and carry her himself. He slumped in the grips of his squad.

"Come on, Ty. We'll wait in Sickbay together." Ross' voice sounded weary.

McQueen wrenched his head around and stared at Ross. Then as the hands holding him loosened, he wrapped his friend in a bear hug. "I thought I lost you both for a while there."

"She stunned me and had me dragged down to auxiliary control. Told me to take care of you." Ross hugged his friend back, grateful to be alive. "Now, let's follow Silver down to Sickbay and I'll tell you as much as I know about what's happened and her condition."

McQueen held Ross at arm's length for several seconds before releasing him. As they walked through the corridors, he drank in the sight of his friend, aware that his kids still followed.

"You saw the damage to the 'Toga?"

"Yes. She's in bad shape. It's a miracle that she's still operational in any capacity." McQueen shuddered as he remembered the superstructure, torn away from the fifth deck and up. Only a miracle had kept the command center intact, but the heat had been leached out. The Saratoga's underbelly had massive chunks torn out as did her sides. The engines were blown to pieces. "Do you think that they'll junk her or rebuild her?"

"They'll have to rebuild her. We need carriers too desperately. What we don't need is another Chig assault here now." Ross rubbed his face wearily as he walked. "We lost communications with most of the ship less than an hour after we transferred to the auxiliary bridge. From what I learned talking to several of the other survivors, a Chig fighter slammed into the ship, severing most of our communications. Then about twenty mikes later we lost the whole works. Overstressed relays most likely. My poor ship."

"Are you all right, Glen?" McQueen did not see any obvious signs of injuries.

"Yes. Just minor scrapes and bruises." Ross looked inward for a second. "Fortunately, our air was never cut off."

McQueen nodded.

"I thought Silver was dead, too, Ty." His voice low, Ross squeezed his friend's arm. "I felt that first hit followed so closely by the second, I was sure of it, I thought Douglas was too. He stayed behind with her. Only she got him out apparently. He's somewhere behind us. They found him on the seventh deck. Then when the ship started spinning, I knew one of them was still alive. I could feel the ship firing torpedoes and lasers... God, I wanted back on my bridge so badly. I wanted in on the last ditch fight. But I was trapped. There was nothing I could do to help. We were completely blind down there."

"They took out another pair of Hive ships."

"Good for them. When I find out everyone involved, I'm putting them in for awards. They were all volunteers. I evacuated the rest." Ross sighed. "Silver refused to go. She knew someone needed to stay to coordinate to the very end."

"I know she's injured. There was dried blood on the left side of her face." McQueen grimaced. "When the 'Toga stopped its coordinated attacks, I figured I'd lost you both. I just hoped it was quick. Then when the 'Toga started spinning and launching coordinated attacks, I knew one of you was alive. I just had no way of telling which one."

"Ty, the medics are really worried. Her body temperature is really low. There are some internal injuries and a rather nasty crack to the head."

"She'll pull through, Glen."

In the Sickbay waiting area, both Ross and McQueen were ushered to seats. A nurse gave Ross a quick going over and decided that he was relatively uninjured. Silver had been whisked into a room and a number of doctors and nurses were going through the doors in both directions. Finally, after nearly thirty minutes, an older male doctor approached.

"Gentlemen, I believe you are waiting for word on Colonel Silver."

"Yes." McQueen stood up immediately.

"Sit down, please, Col. McQueen. I am Dr. Patterson. Col. Silver is currently unconscious. The internal injuries have been repaired and the cracked ribs have been taken care of. The damage to the brain on the other hand, we don't dare touch."

"Damage to the brain?"

"Yes, Colonel. She took what appear to have been several severe blows to the left side of her head. The brain has swollen and our scans indicate some damage. Whether it will repair itself or not, we don't know at this time. The brain is a tricky organ. Seemingly minor injuries can cause irreparable damage, and blows you'd think would destroy entire sections, have no serious effect. We're still working on bringing her core body temperature up. She had dropped to 20 degrees."

When both McQueen and Ross stared at him, he said, "Sorry, I took my medical training in Europe. I keep forgetting that you're still using the old standard of measurements. Twenty degrees Celsius converts to roughly sixty-eight Fahrenheit. Very, very low. We're doing everything we can to raise her core temperature, but we have to do it slowly. When I left, we had her up to twenty-two, which would be," he wrinkled his forehead as he made the conversion, "almost seventy-two. We're not equipped for dealing with such a severe case of hypothermia, gentlemen. So bear with us if it takes us a while."

"Is there anything we can do?" asked Ross.

"Pray, gentlemen. Pray that the extreme cold prevented substantial brain damage. Pray that her heart can take the stress it's currently under and doesn't just stop. Pray that no one accidentally jostles her, sending her heart into cardiac arrest. Pray for whatever you can think of, up to and including that the Chigs don't come back to finish the job on this fleet. Severe maneuvers by this ship would cause her undue stress and could kill her at this stage. Until we have her body temperature up to at least 27 degrees, um, lets see, thats just over eighty, she is in extreme danger."

McQueen clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms. "Can I see her?"

"I'm afraid not. The nurses in there need to pay constant attention to her." Dr. Patterson sighed. "Now, please excuse me. I have other patients to take care of."

"Thank you, doctor." Ross could see McQueen's dazed look. "Come on, McQueen. Let's find a place to crash." He steered McQueen away from Sickbay, gesturing with his free hand that the squadron follow.

Several minutes later, McQueen stopped, wrenching his arm free. "No. I... Theres something I have to do." He spun on his heel and strode off.

Hawkes said, "I'll stay with him, Commodore." He trotted off after McQueen, determined to stay with the older man.

"Come on, Captain." Ross started walking again. "Let's find a place for us to sleep."

"Yes, sir."

Hawkes lost McQueen. He played a hunch and smiled gently when he saw it paid off. In the rear of the ships chapel sat McQueen, head bowed, hands clasped tightly together. Watchful, knowing the colonel needed privacy; Hawkes stood guard, mentally closing his ears to the mumbled words spoken.

"Please, Hakur, don't take her away. Let her come back to me. Jalke, I still need to convince her that I'm ready. Please..." Desperate not to lose Silver before he had convinced her to accept him, McQueen prayed to the only ones he felt might help. From what Jean had told him nearly a month before, Hakur and Jalke took an active role in many vampires lives. He could only hope they would accept his pleas, for he knew that was what his words were. He was begging for Silver's life to be given back.

At long last, McQueen ran out of words and just sat there, his mind blank of everything but his need.

"Sir."

The soft word penetrated McQueen's mental fog. He raised his head and saw Hawkes. Saw an exhausted, hungry young man who refused to leave his side. "Yes, Hawkes?"

"Sir, its been a long time since you ate or slept. Don't you think we should find the others and see if they found us a place to stay?"

Rising stiffly, McQueen gave an approving nod. He had other duties to attend to. "Yes, Hawkes. Let's do that." His own exhaustion pulled at him.

Warmth. What a delicious sensation, thought Silver. Various aches and pains made themselves known. Dull aches centered around her left temple and ribs. From her right shoulder she felt the unmistakable feeling of pulled muscles.

She opened her eyes slowly. Slumped on the bed, head on folded arms, lay McQueen, sleeping. Worry and fatigue lined his face.

"About time he slept." Hawkes stepped into view. "Hi, colonel."

"Hi, Hawkes. Where are we?" She rested her hand lightly on McQueen's head, her thumb rubbing his temple.

"The Colin Powell. It was the closest Sickbay they could get you to."

"So the 6th Fleet showed up at last?"

"Yes. Their arrival sent the last three Hive ships running." Hawkes stretched. "The colonel... he's been worried. We all have."

"I'm getting tired of waking up in the hospital."

"Shouldn't have been a soldier, then." Hawkes grinned. The grin faded. "We nearly lost you. The doctors said you nearly froze to death."

Silver nodded, remembering the feeling of ice in her chest. "I can believe it. Did they get the others out?"

"Yes, including the commodore. He's in another meeting with the leaders of the 6th Fleet. He had to stop taking the colonel." Hawkes gave his sleeping superior a soft smile. "He hasn't really slept in the last four days. I'd guess maybe a grand total of four to five hours in short catnaps. The commodore finally told him to stay here." Hawkes shrugged. "Every time I checked in, he was awake. He kept looking more exhausted. The only reason he ate was the doctor threatened to admit him and lock him in a different room."

Silver smiled. When McQueen stirred, she said softly, "It's all right, Ty. Sleep. You'll see me when you wake up. Sleep. Rest."

With a heavy sigh, McQueen settled back into sleep.

"No one else has been able to calm him down." Hawkes debated on what he wanted to say. "Colonel, don't tell him this, but he went to the chapel and prayed for you. To Hakur and Jalke."

"Oh, Ty," Silver whispered. She looked up at Hawkes, seeing the exhaustion still in his eyes, despite the apparent level of energy. "What about you and the others? Are you taking care of yourselves?"

"Considering we're bunked in with the 6-4 and the 2-5. Most of our fighters are here on the Colin Powell. The commodore said that the 'Toga is going to be repaired. A couple of tenders are already working on her."

"Good. The old girl is still worth a few more battles."

"She's in bad shape, Silver. Missing nearly half of her underside and the upper five decks. They'll be rebuilding a lot of stuff. Until then, I don't know where we'll be staying."

"It'll be taken care of." She glanced around; surprised that she was in a private room. "I would have thought there would be at least one other patient in here. Room must be limited."

"I think they consider the colonel another patient. So..." He shrugged.

"The room has two occupants. You look like you could do with some more sleep yourself."

"It is sort of hard to sleep when it's two to a bed with a third person waiting to use the bunk."

"I can see that. Why don't you stretch out here? There's plenty of room on the floor. Then you can send one of the others in when you wake up."

"Do you mind?"

"I wouldn't offer if I minded. Go on. Get some sleep."

"Thanks."

Hawkes threw himself down onto the floor and was sound asleep in a moment.

Silver dozed off. She woke up when the sound of the door swinging open reached her. Opening her eyes, she said, "Commodore."

"Silver. Good to see you awake and him asleep." Moving easily, Ross stepped up beside the bed, avoiding the slumbering form of Hawkes. "Collecting a menagerie in here."

"Hawkes looked as worn as McQueen."

Ross did not waste time. "Thank you, Silver. You probably saved my life."

"You're welcome and that was the general idea." Silver noted that Ross looked tired, but not exhausted. "Been sleeping, I see."

"Between meetings. We're damn lucky that 6th Fleet showed up. If the Chigs had come back without them here..." Ross shuddered. "I don't like to think about it."

"I gather that the 5th Fleet is pretty much dead in the water."

"Unfortunately. The Roosevelt's main engines still work at three quarter power. The rest, well, if they have engines, they're lucky if they have quarter power. The crews of the various ships are staying on if possible to help rebuild. Some of the 'Toga's crews are back aboard."

Silver reached out and gripped Ross arm lightly. "We'll survive. The 'Toga will survive. The Chigs haven't heard the last of us or her."

A weak smile answered her. "They've pulled every available tender and sent them to us. But it will still be several weeks before the worst of the damage is even started on."

"What about that other Chig fleet?"

"They drew the 10th Fleet off. No ones heard from them. The 12th Fleet is looking for them. They may not have fared as well as we did."

"It's possible." Silver sighed. "I have the feeling we got really lucky."

McQueen stirred uneasily, shifting his head and body.

"Sh, Ty. Go back to sleep. You know who's here. It's safe." She stroked McQueen's temple.

A deep breath and McQueen sank down into sleep once more.

"You're the only one who can do that." Ross shook his head. "Any one else and he'd be ripping their head off. He was really worried about you, Silver. When they carried you off the transport, the squad had to restrain him."

"Poor Ty." Silver looked up at Ross. "Hawkes said that you had to stop taking him to the command meetings."

Ross chuckled softly. "Yes. He lost it during the second one. Well, the way he loses it. He sat there as they asked him question after question, repeating themselves. Finally, he stood up and his voice was cold as ice. He said, 'I have answered all of your questions, several times over. As I was denied access to the information that Colonel Silver brought back on that last reconnaissance mission, I cannot speculate on that information. I have given you my considered impression of the recent battle, both in writing and in person. Now, excuse me. I have a seriously injured member of my squad to check on.' And out he walked. After that, I figured he was better off here with you."

Silver shared a smile with Ross over the knowledge that McQueen's uncharacteristic behavior signaled the depth of his caring. "I'm sure he was worried about you until he saw you were alive. I had no way to find out what had happened to the auxiliary bridge. So I couldn't tell him."

"Silver, from what I've gathered, you pulled the bacon out of the fire. When you evacuated the command center and stayed to coordinate the firing on that Super Hive ship, you damaged it enough that the rest of the fleet was able to finish it off. If it had remained intact, I think there would have been nothing left for the 6th Fleet to save." Ross reached over to pat her arm.

"I did my duty, sir. That's all." Silver closed her eyes briefly. "I was pretty certain that the one shot would take out the upper superstructure. I lost consciousness when my head hit the bulkhead. It was already pretty cold when I woke up later, and it just got colder and colder. I was too busy to realize how cold I was until the fight was over."

The door opened and Doctor Patterson entered, carrying a computer pad. "Ah, awake at last I see. Good. Colonel, my name is Patterson. I'm the doctor in charge of your care. He walked around to the other side of the bed. In a lower tone of voice, he said, "I see Colonel McQueen finally went to sleep." He quirked his lips in a wry smile. "I figured it was easier to just leave him in here except when I forced him to go eat."

"He is stubborn." Silver sighed. "So, Doctor, just how bad was it?"

Patterson consulted his computer pad briefly. "Your core body temperature almost reached the no-return point, young lady. At one point you just stopped warming up. We resorted to warming your blood, so you have a few new scars where we had to insert some catheters."

"I'll never win a beauty contest so it doesn't bother me, doctor. I'm a soldier. Scars come with the territory." She shrugged.

"There was one good thing about the cold treatment. It kept the brain swelling down to a minimum for a long time. So we're confident that there's little damage done there. But if you should experience any unusual symptoms, inform a doctor immediately."

"Yes, doctor."

"Now, we need to keep you here for several days while you heal up from the ordeal you went through. Your body is quite traumatized at this point, so no jumping out of bed. You're going nowhere under your own power for at least another day."

"I understand." Silver rested her hand on McQueen's arm. "Can I have more visitors?"

"For short periods of time. If you become tired, sleep. Some food will be brought around in a couple of hours." Tucking the computer pad into a pocket, Patterson said, "Colonel, please, for everyones sake, don't play the hero."

"I have no intention of doing so."

"Good. Then I'll leave you for now."

As the doctor left, Ross moved around to the other side of the bed and sat down in the second chair. "Silver, I'm going to be returning to the 'Toga. Once it is possible for you to be moved over, I would like you to do so, you and the rest of the 5-8. The priorities of the 'Toga are replacing the superstructure and the launching bays. That way if the Chigs return, at least she isn't as badly handicapped." Ross sighed. "She's pretty much emptied of munitions. And it will be a while before the supply ships arrive."

"Glen, it might be an excellent opportunity to give some R&R to portions of the crew. The 'Toga can't hold everyone at the moment. And there are personnel who haven't had any downtime for quite awhile. Some could even return to Earth for a short time."

"Like me?" Ross chuckled. "All right. I take it, though, that you would like me to schedule some time for the three of us?"

"Sounds like a good idea to me." Silver yawned. "Sorry."

"I'll leave. If Ty should ask..."

"I know what to tell him. Go do your job and I'll do mine. Healing. When you're ready for them, the 58th will come." Silver yawned again.

Ross rose, leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Take care, Lysa."

"You, too, Glen."

Silver drifted back to sleep, her hand back on McQueen's head.

Her hand being moved woke her some time later. She smiled at him. "You look better for the nap." A glance at the floor showed that Hawkes had already left.

"Lysa, how do you feel?" McQueen stood up, running fingers through his hair.

As he stretched Silver answered the worry in his voice. "I'm fine, Ty. The doctor has already been by to fill me in. So has Ross. He wanted me to let you know he's returned to the 'Toga to oversee the repair job. For now."

"I'm not worried about Glen right now." McQueen kissed Silver, letting his desperation and worry show through.

"A pretty rough four days for you, I gather." She caressed his cheek.

"You could say that." McQueen sat on the bed. "Lysa, I don't want to live without you. I want to be a part of your life. Every part. I'm ready for whatever you ask of me, so long as it isn't continuing to wait. I wanted to die when I thought you were dead. And when the doctor told me how close to death you were, I was truly afraid. Afraid of losing you before I could tell you all of this."

Silver pulled him down onto her chest and ran her fingers through his short hair. "Caring for others exacts a heavy price, love. As you've found out." She sighed softly. "If you are willing to pay that price..."

"Yes." McQueen sat up, looking down at her.

"Then will you be my consort?"

"Yes." Quiet devotion shone in his eyes. He cupped her cheek. "I love you and I'm willing to let the whole universe know it."

"Just select family and friends for now, I think." Silver grinned at him.

"Does this mean that you'll drink from me now?"

"Not until we can do it properly, alone and in better privacy." Squeezing his hand, she said, "Now, why don't you go find the rest of our Marine family and let them know. And call Ross. He deserves to know."

"Anything else?"

"Go eat. You look like you lost about ten pounds. And you can't afford it."

McQueen grimaced. "I didn't feel like eating."

"You need to eat, Ty. Tell the trio to come see me in an hour or so, please."

"You'll take from them but not from me?" McQueen frowned, hurt by the request.

"The first time as consorts should be special, Ty. Not in a hospital room. Ok?"

He nodded, understanding that she wanted more than to drink from him. "I'll be back in a couple of hours."

"Better make it more like three. I do want to see the rest of the squad too, you know." She caressed his cheek.

"All right. I'll let our kids know they can visit."

"I like the sound of that. Now go on, love. I need to rest."

Silver watched him depart, seeing the weary slump to his shoulders and back. "And I need you, love. Desperately."

A few minutes later, the door opened and Silver glanced up to see Dr. Connelly. "Doctor, I'm glad to see you. I take it Sickbay survived the pounding the 'Toga endured?"

"Barely. We ran out of everything and lost lives. Lives we could have saved, but there's nothing I can do about it now." Dr. Connelly shrugged. "Are you feeling ok?"

"As well as someone who tried to become an icicle is likely to be feeling." Silver smiled. "Actually, I feel pretty good. A bit beat up, but what's new? It comes with the territory."

"You do seem to be seeing the inside of a Sickbay a lot this last month or so". Connelly smiled back.

"If it hadn't been for your excellent PT schedule, my shoulder wouldn't have been healed enough for me to get Lt. Commander Douglas out. There would have been two icicles on that bridge. And unfortunately, I don't think he would have survived it."

"Well, thank you. I see McQueen woke up. He looked better."

"He's feeling better. I sent him to convey some messages and to eat."

"Good."

"Is this a social visit, Doctor?"

"Partly. I've been recruited by the Colin Powell's head of Sickbay to help out."

"But you'd rather be back in your own Sickbay."

"Yes. I want to supervise the work there."

"Call the commodore. He's back on the Toga. Let him decide when you can return. He wants to get as many of the crew back over there as possible."

"In case the Chigs attack again."

"As long as the 6th Fleet is here, I would consider that unlikely. If they hadn't shown up, though, I don't think any of us would have been here to be rescued." Silver shifted uncomfortably.

"Here, let me raise the head of the bed for you."

"Thanks, Doc."

Connelly straightened up. "I've noticed several of the Marines calling me that. Why?"

"You've earned their respect. It goes all the way back to the first World Wars. The medics in the fields were called it by the troops for their fearlessness in getting to their patients and getting them out of the action. Its a time-honored tradition now. I wouldn't mind having you along on a mission myself, doc."

"Thank you, I think. I don't know how I'd handle that sort of a situation. It can be harrowing enough in Sickbay."

"You'd do fine, doc, once you concentrated on the task at hand. That's all it takes." Silver yawned.

"I better go. You need some more sleep."

"Thanks for stopping by."

The next time Silver woke she found Russell, Finch and St. John sitting beside the bed. "Why, hello, scamps."

"Are you really ok?" Finch's lower lip trembled.

"Yes. I'm going to be fine."

Finch flung herself onto Silver. "I was so tic. We were so... scared. Everyone. We thought you were dead." She sobbed, tears running down her cheeks.

Stroking Finch's hair, Silver said, "I didn't think I would survive the hit to the superstructure. I got everyone else out, but I couldn't get out myself. So I said good-bye."

"You scared the hell out of us." St. John met her eyes squarely, though his shoulders were hunched. "And you know what that takes."

Silver smiled and chuckled. "Yes, I do. I'm sorry, but I didn't want to die without saying good-bye."

With a jerky nod, Russell said, "I know, but man, you devastated the colonel. I really think he went nuts there for a while. I mean, nothing could touch him and he took some really insane risks."

"I don't doubt it."

Finch sat up slowly, wiping her cheeks. "He told us, about you asking him."

"He was supposed to."

"Is there anything you want us to do?" St. John had straightened.

"Just be there for him, hm? You and the rest of the squad. He's going to need the support. He thinks he knows what's involved, but he really hasn't a clue."

'You think he'll get a bit overwhelmed?" asked Russell.

"It's possible."

By the time McQueen returned four hours later, the entire squad and a few others had visited Silver. Lt. Commander Douglas had stopped by to see how she was doing and to thank her for getting him off the bridge. He let drop that he was curious about how she had managed to pry the doors open and Silver said she couldn't tell him at this time. Several members of the 64th dropped in while visiting some other patients that they knew and thanked her for getting the 'Toga back into the fight.

Silver was eating when McQueen entered quietly. Her meal had been delayed while she slept again.

"They letting you eat that slop?"

"Well, it isn't Earth standard, but it is solid. Mostly." Silver smiled, her fork in the mush that was supposed to be peas and carrots.

Sitting down, McQueen said, "Ross says congrats and that he's working on your idea. What idea?"

"R&R. Sending some troops back to Earth for a while."

"And others to the Bacchus." McQueen grinned. "I see. Devious."

"But first we need to get some work done on the 'Toga."

McQueen's grin faded. "He wants me and the 5-8 over there in two days."

"Sounds good. I suspect it'll be several days before I'm cleared from this bed, and a couple of more before I get to shift over to the 'Toga. Connelly said Sickbay was a mess."

"You've seen her? Good. I didn't know if she made it or not."

"She was upset about all the lives she couldn't save. She ran out of supplies. But she wants to supervise the rebuilding of Sickbay."

"Ross will be glad to hear that. So when you do get back to the 'Toga, what do you think you'll be able to do?

"There's a lot of letters to be written."

"Ross won't be looking forward to that."

Silver nodded. "I can help with that."

"And you'll need a pick-me-up after doing that for a while."

'As long as you're it, yes."

With a slight smile, McQueen sat back and waited until she finished eating. He took the tray and set it in the chair nearest the door. "Now, who do you want me to contact?"

"Just my parents and Cassie. They'll take care of the rest of the family."

"Is there a ceremony? Like a marriage?" He sat back down on the other side of the bed.

"Yes. My parents and Cassie will want to attend. But Ross can perform the ceremony if you want."

"I think we both would like that. What do I need to know now?"

"Ty, it's a big step. Just like your marriage was. Only, there is no divorce. It truly is tail death do us part."

He nodded tightly. "I can see why. What happens if we end up hating each other?"

"We have to resolve the conflict. Somehow. There is no separation. Except as work demands. But it can't be for months or even years at a time. So, no more solo deep penetration missions."

"So the ceremony is going to bind us together."

"Yes."

"As tightly as Griffin wanted to do?"

"Only if you want that."

McQueen shook his head. "Everyone needs some privacy. Griffon's binding wouldn't allow for that."

"True."

"How much binding do you want, Lysa?"

She heard the slight tremor in his voice. "A mid-level bond. One that we can strengthen as necessary. It can be useful in a profession such as ours."

"So we could find one another? That sort of thing?"

"Yes."

McQueen nodded slowly, thinking it through. "I could live with that. Do we want to announce this to everyone?"

"Well, we do have to inform the Corps that we're getting married. That way they'll be less likely to split us up. But I'll leave it up to you as to how widespread the knowledge is."

He leaned forward, elbows on knees, hands clasped together under his chin. "Amy couldn't take the pressure of being married to a tank. I don't have to worry about that with you. I think I can handle the pressure of being married to a vampire. So..." McQueen took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Let the whole damned universe know. I'm ready for it."

Silver smiled and touched his cheek lightly. "Good for you."

He rose and she saw the ever so slight proud tilt to his head. "Lysa, I'll do my best not to ever give you cause to be embarrassed or ashamed of me."

"Tyrus Cassius McQueen, I will never be ashamed or embarrassed by anything you do. Up to and including dumping a glass of wine on the President during a live broadcast." When he quirked his lips in a smile, she chuckled. "Really, Ty, I mean it."

"That's better than anyone has ever promised. Except for Glen promising to be my friend."

"He's a real friend, Ty. Treasure him for the rest of your life. Now, how about if we see if the pair of us can stretch out here and grab some sleep?"

When Patterson entered a while later, he found McQueen spooned around his patient, arms holding her securely. He checked her vitals quickly.

Finished noting them in his computer pad, Patterson glanced up and saw McQueen's head was raised and that he was watching. "Go back to sleep, colonel. She's fine. You both need the sleep."

McQueen settled back down onto the bed and closed his eyes.

Smiling, Patterson left the room.

Next : Chapter Thirteen
Previous : Chapter Eleven
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