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There was a loud whoosh as the last HAMMERHEAD docked. The maintenance crews rushed in and quickly went to work on the ships.

Cooper Hawkes tucked his flight helmet under his arm and took one more despairing look around. Agony played across his features. A gentle hand gripped his shoulder. He looked around and saw Vansen smiling gently at him. "Don't worry Coop, we'll find him," she told him. "Now come on, and get some food. We've got to keep our strength up." She encouraged. Hawkes nodded sadly, and followed her lead.

"That's a negative." Ross told the 58th as they attempted to reboard their HAMMERHEADS. "Sir, with all due respect..." West began, only to be interupted by Ross. "No but's. I let you have the first three shifts. No more. Now go and get some rest. Understood?"

"Sir, we won't be able to rest until he's found," Damphousse, normally the quiet one, offered.

"What I know is that you have been flying reconnaissance for three six hour shifts. Use your heads. Do you think he would expect you to go out exhausted, with your judgement impaired?"

Vansen was the last to leave. "You'll call us if you hear anything?" Ross nodded and shooed her out of the docking bay.

The shrill "call to arms" whistle woke them. "58th squadron, report to docking bay 27. Repeat, 58th squadron report to docking bay 27," a voice instructed.

Ross looked at the anxious faces greeting him. Not one of them has asked the question trembling on their lips. Mcqueen had trained them well.

"Delta squadron found Mcqueen's ship. They're bringing it back in. ETA is about ten minutes. Mcqueen was found sedated by a unknown chemical agent."

Ross looked at all the relief on the faces before him. He didn't tell them that he was worried. Or that he had a pretty good idea who had kidnapped Mcqueen.

McQueen disembarked stiffly from the shuttle. He eyed the 58th waiting for him briefly. "Sir, are you all right?" Hawkes asked.

"I'm fine."

"I want you to report to Medlab one." Ross ordered.

"I said I was FINE." McQueen growled.

Ross eyed him steadily for a long moment. His eyes narrowed. "Debriefing room in twenty minutes." Mcqueen nodded and stalked off towards his quarters. Wang swallowed convulsely. He recognized the look on Mcqueen's face. Recognized it because he had worn it on his face for so long. Sometimes he would wake and look in a mirror and see it still. Damphousse lowered her eyes from Mcqueen and paled. She wrapped her arms around herself and tried to remember to breathe normally. Her eyes were tormented.

"'Phoose?" West was asking, noticing how pale she had become. The others hearing West's question, looked at her.

"What is it, 'Phoose?" Shane asked, seeing the brightness of tears in her friend's eyes.

"I saw it again. The light. It was all around Mcqueen."

"That strange light you saw when we were on that planet, and someone was about to die?" West asked. Mutely, Damphousse nodded.

"But he came back. He looked all right didn't he?" Hawkes was asking. No one was able to answer him.

Mcqueen returned to his quarters. He had cleaned up, changed, and gone to the briefing. But Ross had known something was wrong. At the end of the briefing, Ross's mind was on the AI's more then on him. And that was good, but not good enough. Mcqueen felt cold. A bone numbing cold, that left him feeling alone and desolate. He went to his desk and stood there lost for a few minutes. Then he opened a desk drawer and searched until he found the bottle of Scotch someone had given him on Christmas long ago. The cap was stuck, and he had to struggle to open it.

He located a glass and poured out a large amount of the liquid. He downed it in one gulp, and poured out another. He then proceeded to get very, very drunk.

Why had Ross relieved him of duty? Working might have kept some of his inner demons at bay for a little while. Now they were screaming out for his blood, and he didn't know if he could withstand them. Didn't know if he even wanted to.

Something inside him was dying a slow, agonizing death. The physical pain he was feeling was nothing compared to the blow his psyche had received.

He looked blearily at the picture of Katherine on his desk. Suddenly, he was unable to look at how hopeful and happy he had been in that picture. He picked it up and threw it against the wall. Glass cracked and shattered. Darkness rose up and spiraled within him. Its' dark touch, poisoning him. Clutching the bottle tightly, he staggered about the room, intent on destroying everything that had value to him. The last thing he remembered was slumping against the wall and feeling the coolness of the metal against his back.

"You asked to see me?" Ross stated, looking at Vansen.

"Thank you for agreeing to see me, Sir." Vansen politely inclined.

Ross sighed and rubbed his eyes. It had been a hell of a day. "At ease, Soldier". Vansen relaxed only slightly.

"Permission to speak candidly, Sir."

"Granted."

"It's Col. Mcqueen. We're worried about him."

"Col. Mcqueen can take care of himself. He's a big boy." Ross told her.

"It's more then that, Sir. Do you remember how on a mission a few months back, Lt. Damphousse kept getting those 'anomalous intuitions'? She confided that it happened again today."

"Go on." Ross urged.

"She saw what she calls "those lights" around Mcqueen. She's not prone to hysterics, Sir. None of us are. I felt it was my duty to report this."

Ross folded his hands under his chin. "Thank you." He said, the tone in his voice dismissing her.

"Sir!" Vansen urged.

Ross just looked at her. "You have something else to add?"

"Just that we care a great deal about Col. Mcqueen, Sir."

"So do I, Lieutenant. I also know Col. Mcqueen a little better then you do. That is why you will take this as a direct order. He needs to work this out on his own. If you or any other member of the 58th interfere you will find yourselves in the brig. Understood?"

"Yes Sir." Vansen answered. She saluted and left the room. Ross watched her leave the room. He couldn't, wouldn't tell her that she echoed his own concerns. All he could do was keep a personal suicide watch on Mcqueen. And hope that was enough. Mcqueen was a proud man, and he deserved the respect of those around him.

"Well?" Damphousse asked the minute Vansen got back. The others also watched her, waiting for her answer. "I did the best I could. " With a troubled look she passed on Ross's warning.

"Tyrus." a voice called. Mcqueen ignored it. He didn't want to see anyone. He buried his face deeper into his pillow. "TYRUS!" The voice had command in it now, and old disciplines kicked in. Mcqueen looked in the direction of the voice. What he saw made him groan deeply and bury his face back in his pillow.

"Great!" he thought to himself. "I'm hallucinating."

"No you're not." The voice told him. "Now get up."

Mcqueen hurt. His head felt like someone had emptied a few rounds into it. Even the dim light in his quarters felt like razors slicing into his eyes. The pain in his stomach came only a bare second in its' complaints.

"I can see you are no use to me in this condition," the voice said, with just a little disgust in it. Mcqueen didn't hear the speaker move, but knew he was approaching.

"I suppose this means I'm dead?" Mcqueen mumbled, sitting up with a great deal of effort.

"Close, but not quite. You might want to feel honored. Not everyone gets to have a personal chat with their own spirit," the voice informed him, reaching out a hand and touching Mcqueen. Warmth spread from that brief contact. Most of the pain left Mcqueen, and he felt almost human again.

"Now, maybe we can talk," the voice stated. Mcqueen took a good look at **himself** It was spooky looking at yourself, he decided.

There were some major changes. The most important one was that his other self had a soft nimbus of white light around him. That, and the fact that it was a older, much wiser self looking back at him.

His other self was dressed in standard military issue tank top, pants, and boots. The clothes were a clean, rough off-white.

"I thought you only saw your spirit when you were dead." Mcqueen thought silently.

"Usually that is the case, but these are special circumstances," Mcqueen's spirit told him, as he walked over and sat on the corner of his desk.

"Oh?"

"I have a special message for you."

"From who?" Mcqueen questioned.

"Him." His spirit said motioning with his head upwards."

"Yeah right." Mcqueen snorted, disbelievingly.

His spirit gave Mcqueen a enigmatic smile. "You know I'm telling the truth. Anyway, let's cut to the chase. You're needed to help recover some very important data. You have the discipline, strength of will, and noble fortitude to see this through."

"Give me a good reason why should I do this." Mcqueen demanded.

"All your life you've searched for who you are. Your reason for being. Well here's your chance to find some answers."

That got Mcqueen's attention. "What do you mean?"

"You'll benefit from this journey. I can't tell you how, because you wouldn't understand. But you will."

Mcqueen was quiet for several long minutes. "I'm not the person you think I am. Maybe I was, but not anymore." His voice was resonant with deep anguish.

"Do you think I don't know how you are feeling?" His spirit asked him softly. "I received the blunt of the attack, after all," he rebuked Mcqueen gently.

Mcqueen looked at this spirit. He felt hollow, beaten and defeated. It was a horribly empty feeling. "At least listen," his spirit urged.

Mcqueen gave a tired, resigned nod.

"The Chigs and the AI's have formed a alliance in this war. No one seems to know how or why this alliance was formed. If the AI's were to sunder their alliance, it might prove to be a breaking point in the overall war effort."

"And how could we effect such a change?" Mcqueen asked.

"I can give you information that the AI's will want. You will use this information to get their assistance. Together you will pursue this lead to its' source. I'm afraid you will have to work together on this project if you want it to succeed."

"You're assuming I'm willing to have anything to do with those silicate bastards! " Mcqueen snarled.

His spirit sighed. "You did promise to hear me out."

Mcqueen gritted his teeth and let him finish.

"You can track Elroy-L down by using the replacement circuitry we installed. Very clever of you to suggest using brillium in that circuitry. It's a low wear, inexpensive metal that is easy enough to trace by it's radioactive patterns."

"And once I find him?" Mcqueen asked.

"Tell him you can help him find MARCUS 12."

Mcqueen forehead furrowed. "Who or what is MARCUS 12?"

Mcqueen's spirit smiled. "MARCUS 12 is to the AI's, what the holy grail is to humans."

"And what is to stop them from forcefully removing the information from me?"

"You won't have the information until you need it," he told Mcqueen.

Again Mcqueen was silent for several minutes. "How do I know I'm not imagining this whole conversation?"

"A reasonable point. In about twenty minutes someone will come to see you. That person will be suffering the same pain you're experiencing. You can choose to help them or not. Oh...and what is in the bottom drawer of your desk might prove to be helpful."

Mcqueen rubbed his stubble laced jaw for a minute. "I must be losing it," he mumbled to himself, "to even consider this."

Again came the enigmatic smile. "Or you're on your way to discovering yourself. And that is not always pleasant."

His spirit walked towards him. "If you won't do it for yourself, do it for those around you that care. Do it for the war, or just as a shining example for IV's everywhere."

His spirit stopped right before Mcqueen.. "The choice is yours, of course. Now give me your hand." Feeling battered and throughly bemused, Mcqueen did so. A overwhelming surge of what felt like electrical energy shot through him. He felt himself blacking out. A few moments later, his vision cleared and he was alone in his quarters.

"I must be losing my mind," Mcqueen ground out as he stood up with a grunt of exertion. He went throught the motions of getting cleaned up. Mcqueen was about to check and see what was in the botton drawer of his desk when a knock came at his door. He checked his watch and found it was exactly twenty minutes later. "Who is it?" he growled.

"Lt. Wang, Sir."

Mcqueen shot a puzzled look at the door. "Come in," he invited.

Paul Wang entered the room. He looked nervously at the wreckage Mcqueen never had gotten around to cleaning up before hastily averting his eyes. "Thank you for seeing me Sir."

Mcqueen shut the desk drawer. Whatever was inside would have to wait until later. "What is it you wanted, Wang?" He asked brusquely, motioning him to a chair near his desk.

Wang pressed his lips together nervously. He opened his mouth, then shut it again. Hesitantly, he began to talk. "Was it the AI's that took you Sir?"

Mcqueen was about to snap at him to mind his own business, when suddenly he changed his mind. "Yes," he told Wang.

"Did they...do things to you?"

"AI's are known for their torture of the mind AND body." Mcqueen said. He had a horrible idea he knew what was coming.

"I grew up in a really bad neighborhood. The gangs were uncontrolable. Sometimes they would take a girl..." Wang choked to a stop. After taking a shaky breath, he continued. "There was nothing we could do. I never knew what it felt like. How.....how violated you could feel. And the shame...." Wang's voice trailed off into silence. He hung his head dejectedly.

"Let it go Wang. Let it go before it destroys you." Mcqueen instructed gently.

Wang's shoulders began to shake convulsively. Mcqueen felt uncomfortable watching the young Lieutenant cry. But he realized that with the tears, he would began to heal. Breathing a silent request, Mcqueen opened the bottom drawer of his desk. Inside was a bottle of Scotch. A bottle of twenty five year old scotch. He recognized that bottle because he had drank the whole damn thing down a few days ago. He also knew that it was the only one that had been in stock on the SARATOGA. Beside the bottle were two glasses. Mcqueen took the bottle out, and twisted opened the seal. He took a quick look at Wang. Wang had stopped crying and was sitting there quietly. Probably ashamed, Mcqueen guessed.

He poured out a generous portion of the scotch into the two glasses and slapped one down in front of Wang. "I don't usually drink with officers under my command, but I'm willing to make a exception in this case."

Wang looked up with a incredious expression on his face. "Drink it!" Mcqueen ordered. Wang picked up the glass and took a hefty gulp. Mcqueen noticed he almost choked on the amber liquid, but managed at the last moment not to. "What happens in a war can be ugly, Wang. But if you are a decent officer you deal with it."

Wang shot him a inquiring look.

"I'm still dealing with it." Mcqueen told Wang with a sad smile, answering his question.

Wang finished up the glass of scotch. "Thank you, Sir," he told Mcqueen. Getting up, he headed towards the door.

"Wang."

Wang looked back at Mcqueen. "Nothing said in this room will go any further." Mcqueen offered with a meaningful look.

Relief flooded Wang's face. "Thank you again, Sir. For everything." He offered Mcqueen a tentative smile. Mcqueen knodded silently and let Wang go. Mcqueen finished his own glass and replaced the bottle back in his drawer. He had a lot of thinking to do.

"You look better," Ross told Mcqueen, as he sat down in Ross's office.

Mcqueen silently nodded. "I need to request some personal leave," he said quietly.

"You've got it coming," Ross told him.

"And I need to file a requisition form for a SR-personal transport."

Ross raised a eyebrow at the request. "SR-transports require at least a ten day waiting period." Mcqueen nodded. "I get the feeling that whatever you need to get done, needs to be done now, and not ten days from now."

Mcqueen didn't answer. He merely pressed his lips together and frowned.

"I'm giving you two weeks leave. As well as the use of my transport.

"Thank you, Glen," Mcqueen said quietly, the expression in his eyes speaking much more eloquently then mere words could.

"You're a damn fine officer, Ty, and I hope you find what you're looking for out there."

Mcqueen finished his pre-flight checks. Receiving his clearance, he lifted off and was soon absorbed by a sea of stars. He had left instructions in his quarters in case anything happened to him. That and personal notes to all 58th and Ross. All the stops had been removed now. The future was in his hands.

Instinctively he knew that there was a long hidden conspiracy that would effect both human and AI. It would take every bit of moral fortitude he possessed to seek out Elroy-L again after what had happened between them. He also knew that he would somehow get the silicate to cooperate with him on this mission.

continue with Retribution, part 2

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