Disclaimer: The names of all 'Space: Above and Beyond' characters contained herein are the property of Glen Morgan and James Wong, Hard Eight Productions and the Fox Broadcasting Network. These names have been used without their permission. All else is my own creation.

Rating: NC17

Spoilers: None

Author: Vasalysa, with many undying thanks to Geek.

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

 


Chapter Seventeen

"Hi, Ty." Cassie's cheerful voice echoed in the multi-vehicle garage.

"Hello, Cassie." McQueen found her beside a small, dark blue, four-person air car. "Is this the one we're taking?"

"Yes. Dad said it was ok, here's the keys." As she handed him the keys, she added, "I packed some sandwiches, plus two thermos. One of coffee and the other of hot chocolate."

As he unlocked the vehicle, he said, "Good thinking. I'll take some coffee once we're air- borne."

The aromas of coffee and hot chocolate mingled in the air car's cabin, instantly igniting his hunger. He took the offered cup a few minutes into the flight. "So what's our flight plan?"

Cassie leaned forward and activated the air car's onboard computer. "It's in here. Dad and I programmed it last night. The autopilot should be able to handle it."

"Autopilot? Are you kidding?" He set the cup into a holder.

"It's kind of hard to eat and fly, isn't it?" She gave him a sly grin.

He felt his stomach rumble. "All right. Autopilot it is, but I'm keeping an eye on it."

"Sure thing."

As Cassie activated the autopilot, McQueen felt the slight tightening of the tension in the steering wheel under his hands. He waited until the 'ON' button lit up green before slowly removing his hands. "I don't trust autopilots."

"You're a pilot, I wouldn't expect you to." She rummaged through the pack at her feet. "I brought eight sandwiches. That should hold us until we get back."

"I would think so." He took the roast beef and Swiss sandwich she handed him. As he started eating, he watched Cassie open another one, pulling out a thick ham and Swiss sandwich.

He had finished eating the sandwich when Cassie said, "I saw Cheryle bring in West and 'Phousse last night. And Derrick told me he brought Vansen up."

"Yes. I didn't expect to see any of them until today. Who's Derrick?"

"One of the regular drivers. He drives Grandma to Frisco, LA and Phoenix at least once a week." She finished her sandwich and sipped her hot chocolate.

"Are you doing ok?"

"With the vampire thing? Oh, yes. I'm soaking up everything I have to know. And my control is very good now."

"So who's in your circle?"

"The only one you know is Gayle. I've got another woman and two men. There's a couple of boys and girls who are a few years older than me. No one closer to my age."

"When does the change usually happen?"

"Fourteen to fifteen."

"So it hits in late puberty?"

"Yes. Though signs will usually start appearing around twelve to thirteen. That allows the adults to start the necessary training."

"Which they couldn't do with you because you just changed. How very inconsiderate of you, Cassie." He gave her a mock frown and then smiled. "So you're fourteen now."

"My birthday was last month. Mom renewed my pass to Edwards so I can continue my training there. And she arranged for me to go to the Middle East. I saw some of the neatest old fortresses."

He chuckled. "Not many kids are interested in old fortresses. Which ones?"

"Masada and Krak des Chevaliers. They were fantastic."

"And very old."

McQueen listened as Cassie expounded on her time at the fortresses. Part of his attention he kept on the autopilot, double-checking their course against what was displayed on the HUD. He smiled into his coffee as she described imagining medieval knights charging across the countryside.

She gave him another sandwich when he asked and continued talking, pouring both of them some more to drink when necessary. The point came when Cassie finally wound down, sipping her hot chocolate and staring out the window into the darkness.

"Ty, what happened to Mom?" Anxious and low, her voice barely reached his ears.

"When?"

"This last time. I know there was a battle. Mom was in Sickbay for some time. Why?"

"How do you find these things out?"

"I listen. No one tells me anything, so I pretend to be busy."

"They want to protect you. You shouldn't have to worry about your mother."

Cassie shook her head. "I'd rather know."

"For what it's worth, I agree with you." He checked the autopilot, sipped his coffee and sighed, turning halfway to face her. "The Chigs creamed us, Cassie. They nearly destroyed the 5th Fleet. The 'Toga took some really bad hits. Lysa got the commodore off the bridge before another series of hits landed."

"But?"

"She evacuated the bridge and stayed behind to try and hit back." He felt his throat constrict as he remembered the sight of the fireball. "Everything above the bridge was destroyed, and communication was lost."

"You thought she was dead."

McQueen nodded sharply. "The 'Toga was a mess. Her engines were dead, no one fired from her for a couple of hours. We figured they were all dead. But not everyone was." He took a deep breath. "The gravity fields for the upper portion of the ship were taken out. It took the few remaining engineering crews nearly five hours to restore gravity. Communications were localized and scattered. No one had contact with the bridge or the auxiliary bridge."

"Obviously Mom wasn't dead."

"She'd been knocked out when the superstructure was destroyed. There was trauma to her brain, though she didn't know it. The bridge heaters had failed. The heat leached out into space." He repressed a shiver, remembering how pale Silver had appeared. "She managed to open communications to some parts of the ship. She brought the 'Toga back into the fight." He sipped his coffee, needing to marshal his thoughts. "She spent seven hours in extremely cold temperatures. Once the Chigs withdrew-"

"Why?"

"The Sixth Fleet arrived." When she nodded, he continued. "Once the fighting was over, Lysa was no longer focused. Severe hypothermia had already set in, only the adrenalin rush of the battle had kept her conscious, and being a vampire I suspect helped."

"How cold did she get?"

"Doctors said her core temperature had dropped to sixty-six."

Cassie closed her eyes. "Bad, very bad."

"Yes. But, the cold apparently helped in reducing any brain damage. She hasn't complained of anything unusual." He drank some more coffee. "It was four days before the doctors let her regain consciousness."

Sighing, she poured herself some more hot chocolate. "I see why they didn't want to tell me. She's fully recovered now?"

"Completely. Even has her clearance for flying and ground work."

Nodding, she cradled her cup. "Good. I know how much it means to her."

"I know you do."

She looked up at him. "Are you ok?"

"I'm fine, Cassie."

"Good. Because we have some climbing to do."

"Any where you go, I'll follow."

He watched the twinkle return to her eyes. "We'll see."

"So, when did you become interested in ancient history?"

The rest of the hour passed with them comparing the histories and philosophies of the East and the West. When the autopilot alerted them that they were approaching their destination, Cassie directed him where to fly and what to look for. He settled the aircar neatly into a parking spot in the well-lit lot surrounded by forest.

Slipping the keys into his jeans pocket, McQueen glanced around and felt his breath taken away. Even in the darkness he could tell these trees were immense, towering up into the darkness.

Cassie handed him a wrist light. As he fastened it to the back of his left wrist, she said, "We have roughly an hour to get to our destination. The first part of the trail is pretty easy so we can probably jog along. Then we have to climb."

"Lead on."

Twenty minutes of jogging through the sparse undergrowth gave McQueen an eerie feeling. Revealed in his light were massive tree trunks easily ten feet across. The occasional fifteen-foot width would show up further back from the trail. Cassie stayed ahead of him easily, her pack bouncing on her back, her light sweeping back and forth across the trail and into the forest to either side.

He felt the ground rising steadily. He followed as Cassie took a sharp left off the trail noticing that there was in fact a faint trail that she was running on. After a few minutes the ground rose abruptly, ending a moment later at the base of a scalable cliff.

"Cassie, just how did you find this place you're taking me?"

"I was led to it."

"By whom?"

She shook her head. "You'll know who when you get there. From here, we climb." Shrugging off her pack, Cassie started rummaging through it. She tossed something at him. "Here. This will help with the climb. It's only two hundred feet."

The object she tossed turned out to be a set of climbing gloves similar to ones the military used. Despite fabric so thin as to be almost transparent, the gloves were tear resistant and roughened for an improved grip that still allowed the climber the ability to feel every grain of sand under their fingers and hands.

He slipped the gloves on. "Two hundred feet. A cake walk." he grinned.

Cassie giggled. "Let's see what you think after we get up there." She shone her light to the right. "After all, that came from up there."

Huge boulders lay at the foot of the cliff, large enough to stand behind. Broken across the boulders were the remains of a redwood. The root system left rose nearly twenty feet in the air and the trunk disappeared in the distance.

Suddenly sobered, McQueen eyed the cliff with renewed respect.

It took thirty minutes to reach the cliff top. Cassie waited for him as he clambered over the top, breathing hard. "Piece of cake?"

"Impudent brat." He smiled at her and squeezed her shoulder. "So now where?"

"This way."

Following her, McQueen stripped off the gloves and tucked them into a pocket. Five minutes of walking through more of the great redwoods brought them to a clearing. Cassie turned off her light and went nearly fifty feet from the edge of the trees.

When he stopped beside her, she reached over and turned off his light. "Look up."

Millions of stars shone in the clear sky. McQueen sighed involuntarily, drinking in the sight. When Cassie turned him around, he didn't resist. Bit by bit, the stars faded under the rising sun. As the sky above lightened, he lowered his gaze and gasped. The trees he had seen up to now had been mere saplings compared to these giants. Half a dozen trees with girths of forty feet stood before him, surrounded by others of merely twenty to twenty-five feet wide. He guessed that the trees rose at least four hundred and fifty feet into the air.

He felt the need to turn around. Doing so he stared, stunned.

Twenty feet away the earth dropped out of sight, plunging down into a huge tree covered valley. On the opposite side of the valley, he could see a waterfall cascading down five hundred feet to the tops of the trees. Beyond the far side of the valley he could see snow capped mountains rising into the sky, tinged pink from the rising sun. Nothing of man intruded to mar the sight.

"If this is what Muir opened his eyes to, then no wonder he found God." He stared out over the valley, feeling small and insignificant, yet awed by the grandeur. "No man can measure up to this."

"The Master Engineer takes great delight in such places as this."

"I don't doubt it," he answered before he realized he didn't know the female voice. He turned in place and found himself facing what he hastily assumed to be the upright version of a vampire's primal form. "Where's Cassie?"

"She is waiting for you in the forest. I wanted the chance to speak to you and this seemed as good a place as any. If not better. This is so much like home."

"Who are you?"

"You know my name, Tyrus Cassius McQueen." The nearly black eyes stared at him.

"Jalke." He swallowed hard as he realized that he could see through the honey colored form.

"Yes." The heavy lips on the muzzle curled into a smile that revealed the fangs and the upright ears pricked forward. "Does this form disconcert you?"

"Somewhat."

Light engulfed her and she stood before him, a blonde woman clothed in white fabric. "Is this better?"

"Yes." A tremor ran through him at the thought he was standing talking to a goddess.

"I'm not a goddess, my son. I am more like your concept of an angel. I am capable of some influence, but I cannot create something like the universes. That is the realm of the Master Builder."

"You're reading my mind."

"You are thinking very loudly, my child." She smiled at him, the kind of smile he had often seen mothers give their children. Love and acceptance shone in her eyes. "You have done well in this life, my child. I only wanted to tell you something."

"I'm not a vampire. How can you call me your child?"

"It doesn't matter what you are throughout your lives. You are one of my children through many lives. I have an affinity for those who fight and struggle to be more than others would make them." She reached up and drew ghostly fingers across his cheek. "I knew when your soul was born that you would be one of my children. And now, you have finally found your soul mate. At last."

He had to lick his lips before asking, "What... what did you want to tell me?"

"You will not be parted from your love in this life, so long as you are willing to trust."

"Trust who?"

"Yourself, your love, your friends. You must learn to trust them, even in your darkest hour. All who love you, you must trust."

"With what?"

"Yourself." Jalke faded slightly. "I must go, my child. Remember what I have said."

"Jalke!" He reached out toward her.

She faded away in a sparkle of light.

Alone, McQueen sank to the ground, feeling as if he had just run forty miles.

"Ty?"

He glanced up and saw Cassie approaching. "I'm all right."

"I think you got the answer to your question."

"Jalke wanted to tell me something."

"I thought so. She had something to tell Mom too that time I brought her. I don't know what. Mom never spoke of it, except to say that life was never easy." She sat down beside him. "Are you sorry you came?"

"No." McQueen pulled Cassie to him, hugging her tightly. "It's a beautiful place."

"I'm glad you think so." She wrapped her arms around him, snuggling against his chest.

"Thank you, Cassie. Both for showing me and for bringing me to speak to Jalke."

"You're welcome."

Tilting his head back, McQueen watched as the trees gathered the sunlight, becoming vast green giants. He took a deep breath, smelling the rich scents from the forest. Calmness spread through him as he realized that he was accepting the fact that he had actually spoken to an angel. Hell, if vampires were real, who knew what else was?

"Did you bring the sandwiches?"

"Yes. And the thermoses."

"How about a sandwich and coffee?"

"Ok."

She moved off his lap to sit beside him, knees touching. After pouring him coffee and handing him a sandwich, Cassie sipped her own drink. "You know, she doesn't usually talk to folks. Not directly."

"Oh?"

"Both her and Hakur communicate through the High Priest or one of the aides. That's part of their job." Cassie took out a sandwich for herself.

"So, what does it mean?" He could guess, but he wanted to check.

"As you suspect, just that she's interested in you, for one reason or another." Cassie smiled. "I think she's been trying to get you and Mom together for some time now."

"I rather got that impression." Just how long, he wasn't sure he really wanted to know. McQueen finished his sandwich before asking, "When did you find this place?"

"Two years ago. I was down here with Mom and Griffin. While trying to track them down, I followed the urges that led me up here. It's spectacular up here any time of day. I knew I had to get Mom up here to see the sunrise. I talked them into camping where we climbed up. Then I woke Mom up and brought her up here. I saw Jalke talking to her and knew I wasn't supposed to listen. I waited in the trees."

McQueen nodded and drank some more coffee. "What made you decide to bring me?"

"When you asked about the redwoods, I just knew."

"I'm certainly glad you brought me, Cassie." He swept his arm out, taking in the up thrust of land they sat on and the entire valley. "It's simply gorgeous. Makes me wonder how it was created."

"Well, I can answer that." When he gave her an intent look, she laughed. "I made it my science project that year. I was so intrigued by the lay of the land and all, I just had to find out." She sipped her drink before continuing. "Remember back in '40, California had that really major earthquake? The one that rattled the walls back home even and as far east as Texas? Even Florida and Guatemala felt it; it was so huge."

"I've read about it."

"Well, not only did it flatten over half the buildings from Tijuana to Frisco, it did this. More than twenty miles of that valley down there dropped over a hundred feet. This piece here," she patted the ground before her, "which, by the way, is over fifteen miles long, it rose over two hundred feet." She grinned. "Mother Nature at work is pretty damned awesome."

"Most definitely." He looked around once more, drinking in the sight. "We should probably head back."

"Will you tell me about some of the worlds you've seen?"

"I was usually too busy fighting to pay attention to the planet."

"Surely there are things you do remember, like the color of the sky, what kind of plants. I just want to hear whatever you can remember. Please."

"So long as we walk back to the aircar."

"Deal."

He dredged his memory for the details and found that he could sometimes even recall how the air smelled. An active listener, Cassie sometimes prompted him with specific questions. All the way back to the aircar and the entire trip back to the estate, he regaled her with what he knew, sometimes giving details of fights on those worlds. The sandwiches were finished when he landed the aircar and glided it forward into the garage.

The aircar parked, he handed the keys back to Cassie. "Give them to your father."

"I thought I'd fly off to Middle Earth." She pocketed the keys.

"Not without me or your mother." He grinned. "Better make that me and your mother."

"Are you hooked now?" Cassie climbed out and shut the door.

"Damned straight. I'm on my third time through and I'm still discovering things I missed the other times." Shutting the driver's door, he shook his head. "I'm becoming a science-fiction, fantasy junkie."

"There are worse things. After all, you're living what those authors could only dream about."

"I know and that sometimes scares me."

She stopped walking and stared at him. "What?"

He faced her. "If I'm living what others could only dream up less than a century ago, what about the future that writers are only now imagining? Given what technology we have now and what we know about the universe, what will that future be like? What futures will they dream up? And is there any way that I can make sure that it's a better future? And what would be required of me to do it?"

"All that you can give and then some."

He spun around at the sound of Jake's voice.

"Sorry. I saw you fly in. I'm headed out to visit a patient of mine." Jake gave McQueen an easy smile. "I just couldn't help answering. It's one of the questions posed by Hakur at the forging of the Covenant. He asked Jalke what would be required of him to create this peace and she told him never more than he could give." Jake leaned against another aircar. "Of course, it's also the answer all heroes, and soldiers, know. Isn't it?"

He nodded. "Up to and including your life."

"Yes." Jake sighed softly. "I hope never to see that outcome with any of you." He held McQueen's gaze. With a shrug, he broke contact and stepped back. "I have to get out of here or I'm going to be late. And I want to be back by dinner."

He watched Jake fly away, realizing that Jake had accepted him as family already. He shook his head slightly, still astounded at the way he was being made a part of the family.

"We might be able to get some breakfast if we hurry. I'm still hungry." Cassie rubbed her stomach.

"Still fueling the change?"

"Yes. In addition to just being a teenager."

"Then we better hurry," he laughed.

She looked him over critically. "You know, you need to eat more."

He chuckled. "That's what your grandmother said. I have been eating well for nearly a week now."

"But you'll burn off the extra calories. Mom'll make sure of that." Cassie grinned, ducking his mock punch.

"Brat."

"Colonel Dad."

He staggered, hand over his heart, eyes laughing. "Oh, a direct hit." He paused, and then said, "Private Daughter." It pleased him to see her pick up both meanings.

"Really?" When he nodded to her, Cassie flung her arms around him. "Thank you, Dad," she whispered into his chest.

Cupping the back of her head with a hand, McQueen hugged her back. "Now," he growled, "it's time to eat, Private Daughter."

"Yes, sir, Colonel Dad."

In the dining room, the entire 5-8 sat at several tables they had pushed together, eating and talking. Vansen spotted McQueen first and gestured to an extra chair between her and St. John. He nodded and went to investigate the remains of the buffet. Deciding on five slices of bacon and the still fresh scrambled eggs with mushrooms and onions mixed in, he poured himself a large orange juice and drank half before refilling it. As he watched, Cassie took three pieces of French toast, six slices of bacon, four sausages, a large helping of the scrambled eggs and an enormous corn muffin with a side of honey.

"What do you want to drink?" he asked her.

"Any apple juice left?"

He checked. "Enough for a large glass."

"I'll take it. Please."

She took the glass, setting it on her tray, and looked at his plate, raising an eyebrow.

He shook his head and dutifully put a large blueberry muffin on his plate.

Picking up her plate, Cassie spun smartly on her heel and marched over to the 5-8. "Can I join you?"

'Phousse grabbed an spare chair and slid it between herself and Hawkes. "Sure thing, Cassie. Come on over here."

Sitting down, McQueen listened as his kids resumed their conversation.

"So, Nathan, your Dad really tried to get you to quit the Corps?" Hawkes paused in devouring his scrambled eggs.

West sighed, pushing the remains of his eggs around on his plate. "Yeah. He kept harping on the fact that I could have been court-martialed for the incident on Anvil, and that no son of his was going to be dishonorably discharged and put in prison. He said I should get out before I get myself killed like Neil."

"Pretty tough, Nathan, especially after they didn't want you to join in the first place." Wang shook his head. "My family appears to be dealing with me all right. They do wonder why the hell I didn't go for a medical discharge though."

"What did you tell them?" asked West.

"That we need every available person out there fighting, and that if I can take some of the burden off you, then I'm helping out." Wang grinned. "And I wanted to be with my friends."

'Phousse reached over and took Wang's hand with a smile. "We want you there."

Nods came from the original squad.

"And guys, since it's going to be a while before I get to join you in the fighting, I would really appreciate it if you would take any and all Elroy's you find out there and turn them into so much scrap." Wang squeezed 'Phousse's hand.

"Sure thing, Paul." West turned to Vansen. "So, how's the baby, Shane?"

"Adorable. Growing well." Vansen ducked her head. "I brought some pictures."

"Let's see them, Shane." 'Phousse grinned. "You're the only one here with little ones in the family. And I've been dying to see some baby pictures."

Vansen pushed a packet up from beside her plate. "Here."

The chatter turned to the pictures. McQueen looked at the pictures last in the circle and handed them back to Vansen, non-committal about the baby's appearance. It was just a baby to him.

He waited until the last picture to say, "Everyone remember to be in your rooms at 1100."

"Yes, sir," chorused the 5-8.

"Sir, what are you doing this afternoon?" asked Vansen.

For just a second, McQueen hesitated. "I'm going to swim and read beside the pool." He rose, picking up his empty plate and glass. "Lunch will be at 1300 hours today."

"Yes, sir."

Putting his plate and glass on the counter, McQueen saw that Russell, Finch and St. John were getting up as well. Russell quickly slid his plate and cup onto the counter besides McQueen's and left the room, muttering under his breath. Stepping up, Finch set hers down followed by St. John.

"See you at lunch, sir."

McQueen nodded and headed for the library for some more books.

The middle-aged, slim tailor was just finishing a minor adjustment when someone knocked on McQueen's door. As he obediently followed the tailor's order to roll his shoulders, McQueen called out, "Who is it?"

"Patrick."

"Come on in."

Patrick opened the door and stepped inside, something in his hand. He looked up and whistled at the sight of McQueen in the black tuxedo. The fabric clung to McQueen's body, accentuating his shoulders, slender waist and well-formed legs. Over the cream shirt's buttons ran no-nonsense ivory lace down to the dark blue cummerbund.

"Damn, but Mother's got great taste." Patrick grinned, drinking in the view.

"Isn't it a bit.. well, tight?" Though he could move freely, somehow he felt as if he were on exhibit with all too much visible.

"Not for our ceremonies. We like to show off the assets. Now, if it were for a ceremony outside the Family, then it would be more conventional. But I like this. Damn, but you look good." Patrick circled around McQueen. "Absolutely delicious."

Turning his head, McQueen could see the desire in Patrick's eyes. "Patrick."

"Not to worry. You're not in any danger." Standing before McQueen, arms folded, he said, "They'll be salivating in the aisles."

McQueen felt his cheeks redden at the thought. He cleared his throat. "Why are you here?"

"Father decided I should bring this to you." Patrick opened his hand out flat. A six-inch dagger and sheath were revealed. "It's our custom to give a warrior a weapon to wear during the ceremony."

"I'm almost afraid to ask why."

"You know how in a marriage ceremony, the priest asks, 'If anyone objects to this union, let him speak now or forever hold his peace'?"

"Yes."

"For us, it goes, 'Anyone who objects to this union, step forth and defend it with your blood.' We are a fairly blood thirsty lot, you know."

"And then what happens?"

"Used to be that the warrior would have to defend himself against any objectors. Rarely happens these days."

"Good thing. I wouldn't like to have to defend myself against one of you." McQueen gave Patrick a sharp look. "What happens, Patrick?"

"If, and I really stress the if, someone objected they would stand, identify themselves, and come forward. Depending on which of you he objected to, he would square off against you or Lysa with his own dagger. A fight to first blood is all that's allowed and scratches, not real injuries."

"Not my idea of a wedding."

"Nor ours. Matters are usually settled long before it comes to bloodletting." Patrick undid the couple of buttons that closed the tux and pulled the left side open. He attached the sheath to the short chains hanging from the cummerbund.

"I was wondering what those were for. He wouldn't tell me." McQueen glared at the tailor.

"I had instructions not to." The tailor stood straight, arms crossed. "I'm well paid and do not cross my employer."

McQueen turned back to Patrick. "And what happens if someone objects to a marriage that does not have a warrior?"

Patrick's eyes turned hard and fierce. His smile became predatory as he straightened.

A shiver went up McQueen's spine. "Right. I forgot for a moment."

"Even the most inoffensive of us knows our first form." Patrick relaxed his stance.

The tailor nodded. "Indeed we do. Though it is considered extremely bad manners to change in public."

"Do even the Remal know the first form?" McQueen faced Patrick squarely.

"Push comes to shove, any Remal who's been with vampires regularly can revert to it." Nodding to the tailor, Patrick added, "Ken, here, regularly works out in first form."

Patrick shrugged as he stepped back, running his eyes over McQueen once more. "Sis can certainly pick them."

"How's she doing?"

"Finished. Like there was any question?" Patrick grinned. "She said she would see you at dinner. When she's done with the fitting, she's sleeping. Not to be disturbed for anything. She meant it." His grin faded somewhat. "She really needs sleep. I think she only grabbed a few hours here and there. Plus she needs to satisfy the hunger."

"Yes." McQueen sighed. "I hope I can spend some time with her tonight."

"Especially since tomorrow you don't get to see her until she walks down the aisle."

McQueen groaned. "That's the part I hate."

"Hey, you don't want to piss off Jalke. She's been known to make the first year of a couple's life together miserable just because they sneaked some time together after midnight. That's the way she did it and that's the way she wants us to do it. She does make exceptions from time to time, but if you have the time for the formal ceremony, no."

"So how long tomorrow do I have to wait?"

"Mother stated that the ceremony will start exactly at eleven am. Come hell or high water." Patrick chuckled. "So if you value your skin, be there. You do not want to see Mother in a snit."

"I have no intention of causing one."

Patrick nodded. "Now, are you going to need help tomorrow getting dressed?"

"No."

"Darn." Patrick's eyes twinkled. "I was hoping to volunteer."

"Sorry." McQueen shook his head before asking quietly, "Do you know if Hawkes and the others are finished?"

"I can find out for you." Ken fished a headset out of his breast pocket. Putting it on, he said, "Group check in." After a moment of "Yes," "I see," "Good," "Be there in a moment," and "There's always one," he looked at McQueen.

"All except West and Hawkes are finished. There were some minor problems with West's suit. But Hawkes... I'm afraid he is not cooperating very well. I knew I should have taken him. Tony could have done yours in his sleep, but he wanted the challenge."

"Let's go see Hawkes." McQueen gestured for Ken to precede him. "After you, sir."

Ken inclined his head, quickly masking his surprise at the courtesy. "Thank you." He headed for the door.

"I think I'll let you two straighten out Hawkes. I have some other things to get ready for tonight." Patrick clapped McQueen on the shoulder lightly. "We are going to have some fun."

McQueen groaned. "Don't tell me that."

Walking beside him to the door, Patrick laughed. "Don't worry. Lysa laid down the law as to what was acceptable."

"That's supposed to reassure me?" Smiling, McQueen shut his room's door.

Laughing, Patrick walked away.

McQueen sighed and followed Ken to Hawkes' rooms. He knocked on the door.

"Who is it?" came Hawkes' surly voice.

"Colonel McQueen."

"Come in, sir," was the speedy response.

Stepping inside, McQueen felt sympathy for the obviously frustrated Tony. Hawkes stood, arms crossed, clad only in a t-shirt, briefs and socks. At his feet lay the various articles of clothing in disarray, which Tony was retrieving. McQueen could only hope that none had been badly damaged.

"Explain yourself, Lieutenant!"

The barked command brought Hawkes to attention and he swiveled in place to face McQueen. "Sir, I-" His voice died away at the sight of McQueen's outfit.

A chuckle almost escaped McQueen at the comical look on Hawkes' face, but he managed to glare at the young man. "I am waiting, Lieutenant."

"Ah... I..."

Tony, with a relieved look at Ken, finished picking the clothing off the floor and setting it on the bed. "He refuses to try it on. Says it is unmanly."

"Drop and give me twenty-five, Lieutenant!" McQueen allowed his displeasure to show.

"Yes, sir!" Hawkes dropped to the floor and immediately started push-ups.

McQueen walked over to the bed to examine the crumpled clothing. Instead of a black tuxedo, Ruth had chosen the same dark blue as his own cummerbund. A lighter blue cummerbund matching Hawkes' eyes went over another cream shirt with ivory lace. "Is this what they're all wearing?"

"All of the younger men, yes." Ken stiffened slightly at the slight bite to McQueen's tone.

McQueen quirked a smile and saw Ken relax. "All of the younger men? Who else is there?"

"I dispatched one of my best fitters to oversee Commodore Ross' measurements."

"I bet that gave the commodore something to explain to his wife." McQueen could just see Ross' homecoming. Ross opening the door calling out happily, "I'm home." Rhonda greeting him with a furious, "There's a young man in the living room saying that he is here to measure you for a wedding. Whose and why the hell haven't you told me about it! Oh, and by the way, good to see you at last."

Hearing Hawkes scrambling back onto his feet, McQueen faced his recalcitrant soldier. In a cold voice, he snapped, "Listen up, Lieutenant. You will do everything these two gentlemen tell you to do, up to and including standing on your head if they want. Otherwise, you will sit out tomorrow's ceremony. Is that clear, Mister?"

Back at attention, Hawkes nodded. "Yes, sir!"

"I will be getting a report on your conduct, Lieutenant." McQueen turned to Ken. "He's all yours."

"Thank you."

McQueen left the room and, shaking his head at Hawkes' expression on seeing him, started for Vansen's rooms. He knocked on Vansen's door.

"Yes?" she called out.

"McQueen."

"Come in, sir."

Turning and peering over her shoulder into the full-length mirror stood a vision in royal blue. The strapless gown molded itself to her body from shoulders to upper thighs, and then flowed loosely down to the floor. He had always suspected that Vansen hid a pretty good figure under her uniform and now he could actually see it. His gaze traveled from her well-formed breasts, lifted and supported, to her slender waist and full hips. What amazed him about the actual dress besides the revealed figure was he couldn't see any sign of lingerie under it. No lines, no bumps, nothing to indicate that Vansen wore anything other than the dress. He knew that couldn't be the case.

Vansen saw his speculative look and ducked her head, hoping to hide her blush.

"I know a couple of young men who are seriously going to have to rethink the way they regard you, Shane." McQueen smiled gently.

"Sir," Vansen gestured to the dress. "I feel like... like..."

"Like what?"

"Like I'm positively indecent. Like I'm trying to be someone I'm not."

"As I've been told, they like to show off a person's assets in these ceremonies." He chuckled softly. "If I can wear this, surely you can wear that beautiful dress."

Vansen's eyes widened slightly as she truly saw him for the first time since he had entered. "Sir," she managed breathlessly.

"You'll have the men fighting over you at the reception, Shane. Just save me a dance, all right?"

She nodded.

Touching her loose hair gently where it reached the upper portion of the dress, McQueen said, "Now all we need is a stylist."

"I'm supposed to see one an hour before the ceremony."

"I'm looking forward to seeing the finished effect." Stepping back, McQueen continued. "Shane, I would appreciate it if you would check on Lysa for me. I've been told that I'm not to see her until dinner."

"Yes, sir."

"It's not an order, Shane."

"I know, sir. I'll go now."

"Thank you. I just want to know that she's doing all right."

As Vansen headed for the door, McQueen shook his head, watching her. "Damn, but how do they do that?"

"Trade secret, I'm afraid."

McQueen snapped around and found a woman slightly older than Vansen stepping out of the bathroom.

"Sorry. I wasn't trying to eavesdrop, sir."

McQueen nodded.

The tailor walked over to her carry case and picked it up. "So do you like her dress?"

"Definitely."

"Good." The woman chuckled. "I was certainly pleased by her appearance." She started for the door.

"Are you leaving now?" He walked beside the tailor.

"Unfortunately, yes. I have two more fittings today."

As McQueen closed Vansen's door, he said, "I hope they go well."

"They rarely go as easily as this one. She was easy to do. Good bye."

"Good bye."

Strolling down to Damphousse's room, McQueen couldn't help wondering what Lysa's dress looked like. He sighed, not willing to risk angering Jalke or Lysa just for a look, but it would be hard to wait. Knocking on 'Phousse's door, he expected her to call out.

Instead, 'Phousse opened the door, still in her royal blue dress. She glanced at him, and then did a double take, then a much longer look. "Oh, my," she murmured. "You'll be beating them off with sticks, sir." She stepped aside, motioning for him to enter.

"I could say the same." As she closed the door, McQueen said, "That blue looks good on you. I suspect you'll have many offers for dances."

"I'm only really interested in one."

"May I reserve a dance?"

"Of course, sir." She watched him move across the room. "I hate to say this, but every woman who sees you tomorrow is going to be drooling."

McQueen smiled. "Same with you and the men." He looked around. "Is your tailor here?"

"No. She left a few minutes ago." 'Phousse gestured at a chair. "Please sit down."

McQueen waited until she sat in the other chair before sitting. "Did Paul get filled in last night on recent history?"

"I think we got him up to speed." Hands clasped in her lap, 'Phousse glanced down before asking, "Sir, what Patrick did... what I experienced... he said it's more powerful with..."

McQueen nodded curtly.

"Sir, who in their right mind wouldn't do it?"

"Would you throw away a real relationship for the experience?"

Slowly, 'Phousse shook her head, obviously thinking about Wang. "No."

"What you experienced is not the entirety of the relationship between vampire and Remal. Underlying the blood and sex is extreme trust. A lot like the one between the 5-8 and myself. I have to trust that you will follow my orders, even when you don't understand or know the reasoning behind those orders. And you trust me not to put you into situations without a way out."

'Phousse nodded. "I can see that. Silver has to trust her Remal, whoever they are, to be there when she needs them. And they have to trust that she will not drink them down too far."

McQueen nodded.

"It's got to be tough, especially in a war zone."

"Yes. You know what she's capable of. That's without being at full strength. Can you imagine what she's like when she is?"

"Griffon when we first saw him."

McQueen raised an eyebrow.

"He scared us, deep down. I could see it in Shane's eyes too. She felt it. Something screamed at us to hide, run away. If he noticed us, we were dead." 'Phousse shivered, rubbing her arms. "The deadly sense of power that seemed to exist around him scared us."

Understanding, McQueen nodded again. He remembered that moment on the transport with Lysa; the moment a starving vampire stalked its prey. "I suspect that she's more adept at hiding that power than Griffin. After all, she's also a Marine. He is just Black Forces."

'Phousse suppressed a laugh. "Better not let him hear you say that."

"I'll tell him to his face."

She shook her head. "I'd rather keep you around, sir."

McQueen smiled. "Are you suggesting that I avoid a confrontation?"

"No, sir. Just thinking you should pick and choose the battles, like you would tell me."

"Yes. So I would also suggest that you work on the real relationship before you expand into other realms. Going into being a Remal with a solid footing, and support behind you will be far more beneficial to all in the long run."

"Yes, sir."

McQueen started to get up.

"Sir, I have a question." As he sat back down, she asked, "Do you remember when we rescued Silver? In the cave after we got you there?"

He nodded slowly.

"Shane and I were working on removing the stone pieces-"

"You were. She was keeping me grounded."

"Yes." She drew the word out. "You kissed my hand."

"I remember." He didn't look away from her. "I was running a fever."

"Why did you do it?"

He took a deep breath and slowly released it. "I knew that unlike other times, if I died, it would be among family. Among people who cared for me." A quirk of a smile and he added, "Besides, how could I resist kissing the hand of a beautiful woman kneeling over me, back lit by the firelight?" With that, he beat a hasty retreat.

West answered his door almost immediately. He was out of his tux jacket and gave McQueen a wry grin as he ushered his superior in. "Glad to see I'm not the only one in this."

"Too bad Kylen won't be here to see you in that." McQueen took the chair West offered. "So, how did your reunion with her go?" He watched West duck his head, cheeks reddening.

"There's nothing wrong with the physical relationship," West admitted quietly.

"I hear a but in there."

"She's still adjusting to being home again." West looked at McQueen, sighing. "I don't know if we'll be able to make it work. Especially since I'm not going to be here. But I made her promise that if she finds someone else, she had to call me. Not a letter. I promised that I would write often and call from time to time."

"Sounds like you've done all you can."

West shrugged. "It just doesn't feel like enough. After all we've been through, to feel as though it's still up in the air is tough."

"Yes." McQueen rose. "It'll work out, somehow. You held in there, kept the faith and you brought her back. If love survives between the pair of you, then it'll work out."

"I want to think so, sir. Did you know she recorded a new message for us? The day you and she left the 'Toga?"

McQueen shook his head. "I was kept drugged on the trip to Earth. I would have liked to talk to her, but I was unable to."

"She said pretty much the same thing. She said she believed in all of us."

"Then that's what you must remember. Hold onto it like you did before. Keep the faith."

"Thank you, sir."

Russell had already started undressing when McQueen arrived. "Looks good, sir."

"Thank you. And I imagine that you looked pretty good as well."

"Like you, sir." He hung the pants up carefully, making sure there were no extra creases. "Have you seen any of the girls?"

"Knockouts."

Russell grinned. "Good. I'm looking forward to the dancing."

"Have you talked to Patrick?"

"Yes." Instantly serious, Russell said, "He said that he wants to take it slow. But that he does like me already. When I'm not pushing him."

"Like Lysa already told you, he needs real friends. He's had a very hard life. When he tells you about it, you'll understand. But it is his tale to tell. Don't go prying."

"Never, sir. I wouldn't invade his privacy that way."

"Good. See you at lunch."

Knocking on Finch's door elicited no response so McQueen didn't bother with St. John's rooms. Returning to his own rooms, he stopped at Hawkes'. "Looks good, Hawkes."

Alone, Hawkes stood before the mirror, frowning. "Sir, this is so... so..."

"Revealing?" When Hawkes nodded, McQueen said, "It's supposed to be. That's the way the Family does things."

"But aren't you uncomfortable about being seen in that?"

"Not now. At first, yes, but I think we'll fit right in. I suspect that even most of the guests will be dressed like this."

Hawkes groaned.

"When you take that off, treat it like your dress uniform. Take care of it."

"Yes, sir."

His own clothes hung up carefully in the closet, McQueen took a hot shower, deciding that he would spend the afternoon in the gymnasium and the pool. The pictures he'd asked to be developed were to be delivered before dinner and he was looking forward to seeing the finished product.

Lunch turned out to be a reasonably quiet meal, with most of the doctors out until shortly before dinner. His kids joined him both in the gym and the pool.

For two hours he pushed himself and them to their limits in the gymnasium. He kept an eye on Wang, watching to see how well he could manage the workouts and was pleased by the results. Wang pushed hard enough to tire himself out, but was still able to walk to the pool changing rooms, using the cane occasionally.

After ten laps in the pool, McQueen allowed himself to be drawn into the water polo game that Cassie, already at the pool when they had arrived, had challenged them to.

Declaring the game a draw after it threatened to turn into a full body contact sport, McQueen left the pool and settled into a chaise chair to soak up some sun and dry off. Dark sunglasses over his eyes, he stretched out on his stomach, hands under his head.

He'd nearly dozed off when a sultry voice whispered in his ear, "You should remember the sunscreen, Marine."

Cool liquid spread out on his shoulders and he felt weight across his thighs even as the slender, strong hands started working the sunscreen in. "I thought you were sleeping, Lysa."

"With all that racket? You folks were making enough noise to raise the dead." Silver chuckled, pushing hard against his shoulders, kneading with her fingers. "Besides, how could I possibly turn down the chance to see you out here like this?" She rubbed the sunscreen onto his neck. "Now, I want you to just lie there and let me work on you."

As she worked down his back, he relaxed, enjoying the feel of her hands on his back. He had missed her touch to a degree he'd never thought possible. Interspersed throughout the massage he realized were deliberate caresses as his body responded to the touches. Her hands slipped under the waistband of his swimsuit, spreading the sunscreen, fingers kneading. He swallowed hard as she slid her hands up the legs of his black swimsuit, to brush lightly against what lay hidden. A groan escaped when she exhaled across his lower back, sending a shudder of desire through him, as she touched him again.

She turned around, her bare lower legs along his chest, sitting lightly on his lower back. Down his leg her hands traveled, working in more sunscreen, caressing lightly. She lifted his lower leg up so she could pay attention to his foot.

His breathing came hard and fast as she curled a finger around each toe, one by one, and mimicked what he so desperately wanted to do. 'How could toes be so damn erotic,' he thought, fingers digging into the pillow. When she repeated the same on the other leg and foot, he nearly sobbed with the effort it took to keep quiet.

"So much control, love. Would you keep it if the kids weren't here?" Her voice, low and throaty, washed over him.

"I... I think so," he managed hoarsely as she curled a finger around his little toe. He ground his hips against the chair. "Lysa, not here."

"Love, this is the only place in the universe I can have you right now. I desperately want to see your sapphire eyes darkened with passion and need. I want to make you mine here and now."

"Lysa," he groaned.

"Turn over."

He obeyed, partly because he wanted to see her. The dark blue bikini brought out her assets and he felt his breath catch at the instant need he felt. Pulling the sunglasses down, he looked up into her eyes, seeing the fire in her emerald eyes. "Lysa." All his want and desire went into her name.

Beside him in an instant, she kissed him, deeply, hungrily. He returned it; hand in her hair, hand pulling her close against the evidence of his desire. "Lysa, I want you so," he murmured, planting kisses along her jaw to her ear.

"And I you." Breathless in his ear, she added, "But we must not until after the ceremony."

"I'm getting to hate the ceremony," he moaned. "You had a plan?"

"How's this? I finish the job I've started. Here and now."

"But-" Her fingers brushed against his evident desire. Coherent thought fled and he pressed against her hand.

On her side, she lifted her leg so that she could pin his legs to the chair by the thighs and shins. Her hand moved over his upper body, touching, caressing, and adding fuel to the burning desire he already felt.

His breathing came hard and fast.

Kissing him, she slid her hand down to stroke his straining shaft through his swimsuit. Once, twice, three times she stroked him and still kissing him, pinned him down as the fourth sent him over the edge.

His breathing slowed and steadied. He became aware of the fact that she had resumed spreading the sunscreen on his body. As she paused to kiss him again, he opened his eyes and pulled her down against him.

"Damn, but I want to do that to you," he growled in her ear.

"You can practice all you like at the cabin, love."

"But you didn't get-"

She kissed him again. "Watching you was worth it. Seeing the passion, the need, the want, the desire; it was just as good as getting to myself."

"Now what?" he asked, wishing he could take her inside and make love to her.

"How about a swim?"

He groaned but agreed. The cool water would do him some good.

Pouring himself a scotch while waiting for dinner to be served, McQueen knew when Silver had entered the room. He glanced up and smiled, automatically reaching for another shot glass.

She shook her head. "Not yet. We need to meet someone."

"Now? It's nearly dinner."

"Come on."

He quickly downed his scotch and followed her out of the room. When he realized that they were headed for the front door, McQueen knew who it was. He opened the door and saw an air car setting down.

Ross and a lovely woman nearly as tall as him stepped out a moment later.

"Glen! Rhonda!" McQueen headed down the stairs. "I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow morning."

"Well, this is your last night of freedom, Ty. How could I not come?" Ross punched McQueen in the arm.

"I wanted to meet the woman who snared you after what happened last time." Rhonda glanced past McQueen to meet Silver's eyes. "You are this woman?"

"Yes, ma'am." Silver smiled, "I am. I've waited a long time and been through a lot, but he's now mine."

"I can see you'll take care of him and keep him out of trouble."

Silver laughed. "Any trouble he's in, I'll be right there with him."

"Good. That's what he needs in a woman." Rhonda nodded. "I look forward to talking to you later tonight."

"We'll have time, I promise." Silver gestured toward the door. "Dinner will be served shortly. Would you care for a drink?"

While everyone took their seats at the dinner table, Charles remained standing. "I have an announcement, folks. I know all about the parties planned for tonight. I heartily endorse them. But, due to the circumstances, I expect certain persons to remember themselves and conduct themselves with proper discretion. Am I understood?" He met the eyes of his children who all nodded. "I do not want to interfere with your fun, but remember, not everyone is of the Family."

Ross patted his wife's arm when she looked confused. "They're clannish, dear," he whispered to her. "Prone to activities most of us frown on."

"Ty's marrying into this?"

"Dear, just watch him. You'll see."

With a dubious frown, Rhonda sat back.

Charles raised his wine glass. "T.C. McQueen, I welcome you once more into the Family. You will never be alone again."

McQueen's "Thank you," was lost in the group's "Welcome to the Family."

"Thank you," he said again. "I am honored."

Silver reached across the table to grip his hand firmly. "I am the one who is honored, Ty."

Charles sat down. "Now, let us eat."

Throughout dinner, Ross knew his wife was watching McQueen like a hawk. The way he interacted with the Silver clan amazed him. Relaxed, calm, confident, he saw the way his friend listened and jumped into a conversation with a new viewpoint, sticking by it despite the sometimes heavy arguments weighed against him. He remembered a dinner in a fancy restaurant with Anne and her parents that McQueen had dragged him to for support. McQueen had reacted to her parents' obvious discomfort with stiffness and fewer words than normal. Anne's parents had never fully accepted him and he had been all too aware of their half-hearted acceptance.

He tuned in to the conversation McQueen had engaged with Charles.

"-disagree, sir. We need more lighter ships, destroyers and battleships. More carriers would be nice, but they take too long to build. At least battleships can carry up to five fighter squadrons. The Chigs are out producing us in both fighters and heavy ships. Right, Glen?"

Nodding, Ross said, "Definitely. Our forces took a tremendous beating recently. The total loss of the 10th Fleet, two-thirds of the 12th Fleet, and three quarters of the 5th Fleet greatly reduces our contribution to the war effort." Ross shook his head. "Frankly, it was a miracle that any of us survived that battle."

"How are the Chigs doing it though? Where are they getting the resources?" asked Jake.

"They have to have more developed planets." Hawkes immediately turned his attention back to his food when everyone turned to stare at him.

"He's right." Shaking her head, Silver sighed. "He's right, damn it, and we have absolutely no damned idea where to look. Whereas they know exactly where to find ours."

McQueen frowned, remembering snatches of what had occurred when the Chig ambassador had been onboard the Saratoga. "Ask AeroTech."

"What?" Ross stared hard at McQueen. "What are you saying, McQueen?"

"You heard everything that was said in the room, correct?"

"Yes."

"Then you heard the Chig ambassador accusing both Mr. Wayne and AeroTech of already knowing about the Chigs and their warning to stay off Tellus and Vesta. That the Chigs had sent a message back through the probe AeroTech landed on Anvil years ago. They told AeroTech to stay away. Not to colonized certain worlds." Concentrating on remembering, McQueen frowned. "The Chig ambassador stood up was demanding that Mr. Wayne tell the truth. Mr. Wayne was standing before the clear wall, saying..." His frown deepened as he struggled to drag the memories forth. "That AeroTech knew nothing about any of it. Saying that the Chig was lying. That the Chigs were murdering butchers. The Chig was saying... at the same time, the Chig was saying that Earth was the murderer and that was all we had ever been. That was why we were warned away."

"What happened next, Ty?" Ross asked softly. "We've never known."

McQueen glanced at his friend with another frown. "I told them."

"Who?"

"The men on the transport. On the way to Earth."

"Sir, Kylen said that AeroTech men were always in the compartment with the colonel." West gave the rest of the squadron a concerned look.

"And they never told the rest of us what happened. Damned AeroTech." Ross slammed his hand on the table, rattling the tableware. "They're always there whenever the Chigs have some new piece of knowledge that they want. Otherwise they leave us out to dry."

"So you really don't know?" On seeing everyone's heads shake, McQueen sat back in his chair, eyes closed. "Damn. I thought they were our people. But I was kept drugged. I didn't realize..." He sighed, bowing his head. After a few seconds, he raised his head and looked at Ross. "Wayne and the Chig were talking at the same time. Wayne was trying to shout the Chig down. When Wayne called the Chigs the murderers, the Chig ambassador slammed through the wall. It had a blade concealed in its armor. It grabbed Wayne and started stabbing him. I knew that General Frost had brought in a handgun. I was going to shoot the Chig. I was squeezing the trigger when the room exploded. The gun went off."

"Are you sure of that sequence, Ty?" asked Ross.

McQueen nodded. "Positive. I hadn't actually started the ignition process in the gun."

"The time interval between the gun shot and the explosion is so small that everyone assumed that the gun shot was the trigger. And the gas mixture in the room at the time would have produced the explosion." Ross sighed. "There was only one gun shot. So..."

"So the explosion was triggered another way." McQueen stared at his friend. "Why?"

"To keep the truth from being known." Charles exchanged looks with his wife. "We will start inquiries from here. But for now, this is enough serious talk. Tonight is a celebration. Treat it as such."

By the time dinner was over, the mood had lightened back up. Charles dismissed them all with "Enjoy yourselves. Buffets have been arranged. We will see you in the morning."

Immediately, Roger, Jake, Patrick and Peter took charge of McQueen and their sister. "This way, folks."

"What do you have planned?" Silver asked Roger.

"Nothing that Cassie can't be a part of. At least until her bedtime."

"That's when we'll have to worry." Silver laughed.

One of the conferences rooms had been converted to a movie theater. Comfortable chairs and cushions were scattered throughout the room. To one side a buffet of snack foods had been set up.

"An evening of movies, mostly marriage comedies." Roger steered Silver to a chair. "Sit down."

"And in honor of the fact that the two getting hitched are US Marines, we decided to start with a pair of scary movies you have to watch together. The first leaves you with the cold sweats and the second leaves you cheering for the good guys, even if they do have several incompetents amongst them." Peter allowed McQueen to sit beside his sister. "Just remember that the movies are nearly a century old. The others are even older."

Silver shook her head. "You had to pick those two, didn't you?"

"Yes."

The first movie left McQueen with a chill in his soul. While everyone made bathroom stops and refilled snack plates, he stepped outside to sit on a bench in the small garden. He prayed that no such creatures existed, that they were just the insane creation of an artist.

"It gets to you, doesn't it?" Patrick sat down beside McQueen and handed him a scotch.

"Yes. The Chigs are bad enough. Something like that... Acid for blood, mouths within mouths, the claws, the entire structure of the damned thing is enough to give one nightmares. And to think of even fighting it?" McQueen took a solid drink from the scotch. Alien scared the hell out of him.

"Don't worry. It isn't real. Nothing like it exists as far as we know." Patrick sipped his scotch. "We're quite used to such movies, growing up on them and all, but even that one still sends chills through us. The government would have fits if it saw the list of movies we have available. Many of them are critical of the late 20th Century and its military. As well as our government of the time."

"I know. I saw some of the titles. You have quite a collection in the library."

"Well, we know you won't turn us in. You'd be turning yourself in as well as your family."

"You know, the speed that you appear to accept me baffles me. You, Jake, your father, your mother. I mean, Lysa basically shows up saying, hi, here's the Invitro I'm making my consort and you just say, hey, great, welcome to the family. I have trouble believing it." McQueen took a smaller sip of his scotch. "I keep expecting to wake up."

Patrick laughed. "It is the way we are. We want the ones who are different, who don't fit in, that are outcasts. They are usually the ones looking for what we can give them, acceptance for who they are. We don't try to make them into people they are not. We are the ones who change." He leaned forward, picking up a pebble and tossing it into the garden pool. "When you look at me, what do you see?"

"A handsome man."

"Thank you. Now, what am I?"

"A vampire."

"And what is my race's original form?"

"A four footed creature."

"So, when we arrived here, we changed our shape to fit in. We do the changing. If we can't accept you for who you are, then how can we accept ourselves?" Patrick smiled sadly. "We've changed a great many times."

"Could you accept the Chigs?"

Patrick shook his head. "I don't think so. Their biochemistry is too strange. We're restricted to mostly warm-blooded types of creatures, though there has been the occasional reptilian race."

"The Chigs fear our dead."

"So I've heard. From what little I've been able to learn about them, I would guess it's because our dead do not break down immediately into their basic components. It would be very difficult for them to accept the fact we don't disintegrate on death."

McQueen nodded. "My thinking exactly."

Patrick rose. "Enough of this somber talk, my friend. We are celebrating you're getting hitched with my sister. And I plan on getting you drunk enough that you do something irresponsible."

Shaking his head, McQueen said, "Don't you dare."

"Oooh, a dare. Don't you know by now, never to dare a Silver? Now, I have to." Laughing, Patrick held out a hand. "Come on. The party's inside. I promise that the next movie will leave you in a better mood. After all, the US Marines are in it, ready to kick some serious alien butt."

McQueen couldn't help laughing. "All right." He accepted Patrick's hand.

Next : Chapter Eighteen
Previous : Chapter Sixteen
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