Round Robin *Part
4* by Lisa Kohles
Uncle Sam's
Misguided Children
_________________________________________
"Now, now," Elroy
muttered, his voice soft and seductive against Shane's ear,
"This would be much easier if you would cooperate...oh yes,
much easier. You see, if you tell us what we want to know, we'll
let you go home. Back to your friends. You'd like that, wouldn't
you? Hmmm? Wouldn't you?"
"Sure," Shane
whispered, her voice broken and throat raw, "Sure, you'll
send me home. You'll send me home in a body bag."
"Oh, there's no need for you
to be like that," Elroy chided, as if correcting a child who
was having a tantrum, "All I want is some information...just
a few little words, and I'll let you go home...just tell me what
I want to know..."
Straining weakly against the
straps that held her down to a cold metal table, Shane spat at
Elroy defiantly.
"I wish you wouldn't do
that," Elroy sighed, wiping the spittle from his cheek,
"Can't we just be friends, hmm? Can't we all just get
along?"
Elroy reached out again with the
exposed electronics of his left index finger... and Shane's world
exploded like the light that suddenly blossomed behind her eyes.
She wanted to scream at the pain, but she'd screamed too much
lately; and no longer had a voice to raise.
* * * * * * *
After the convoy had picked up
the needed supplies, and after a long flight back to the
Saratoga, Nathan West climbed out of his cockpit and stretched
cramped muscles. At the same time, his eyes carefully scanned the
flight deck. A crew swarmed in to check up on their planes as
Cooper also climbed out of his 'pit, adding to the feeling that
everything was normal. Nathan could almost imagine Shane climbing
out the 'pit to his right, Wang on his left... But the next sight
that caught Nathan's eyes broke the illusion and assured him that
all was definately not right.
Saunders came up right behind
West and tilted his head, calling the Wild Card's attention to
the lone figure of Dembicki, who leaned against the far bulkhead.
Nathan was already looking there.
He shared a meaningful glance
with his comrades as Cooper joined them in the center of the
flight deck.
"What're you ladies waiting
for?" Dembicki roared, stepping into the light, "Get
cleaned up and make a head call. We've got manuevers in
twenty."
Watching the colonel stalk from
the room, Cooper turned his eyes to West and Saunders.
"Remember what McQueen said?" he whispered, "We've
got to get that microphone chip back before Fairbanks notices it.
And we've got to keep a lid on this thing, not show our hand.
Just watch yourselves on manuevers today... I got a bad
feeling."
"I don't remember what
McQueen said," Saunders murmured, "We weren't there,
remember?"
Cooper looked sheepish, but
Nathan spoke up, "Coop's right, we have to get that
microphone back. But that will have to wait. Just be careful,
okay? Watch each other's backs...we're all we have left."
Saunders nodded, and moved off
toward the open bay doors. Nathan and Cooper exchanged a glance,
then followed in his wake.
* * * * * * *
Paul Wang was dying. Slowly, but
inevitably, his body was giving up its fight for survival. And
strangely, he was glad. He welcomed death.
Not just as an end to his
suffering, but as an end to Elroy's fun.
The Silicate could no longer
torture him with taped confessions, no longer ruthlessly play
with his mind.
"Wakey, wakey, Wang
Paul," Elroy's smooth voice said from somewhere
nearby, and sounded like a
million miles away, "Time to get up and go to school."
A dim light glimmered far off in
his subconcious, and Paul slowly moved toward it. But he fought
the movement the whole way. Those people who had near-death
experiences, who said they saw a light in the tunnel, that the
light was Heaven...they were full of it. The light wasn't Heaven.
No, it was more like Hell. It was
conciousness, awareness. And it sure as hell wasn't Wrigley
Field.
"You don't want to miss the
bus, Wang Paul," Elroy was saying, "You don't want to
be late for school...no, you don't want that."
The light was growing larger,
rushing faster, like an approaching freight train.
"I've so much enjoyed your
company, Wang Paul, why don't you wake up and chat with me a
while, hmmm?"
Paul fought the oncoming light
with every ounce of strength left in his being, but finally it
overtook him, and his one good eye pulled groggily open. The face
of Elroy L, the face from his nightmares, was staring down at
him.
"Isn't that better, Wang
Paul?" Elroy said with a smile that might have looked
genuine, but chilled Paul Wang to the bone, "Isn't it much
better when we talk to each other?"
* * * * * * *
Maneuvers were surprisingly
uneventful. Surprisingly, because Cooper Hawkes expected his wing
man to "accidentally" blow him away at any moment. But
Nathan was always there, watching his six, and Saunders was
continually hovering nonchalantly nearby, and they all came back
unscathed.
"I still want your hide,
tank," Fairbanks snarled as she passed him on the flight
deck, "But I don't want my ass busted again. Let's pick a
less public place. Unless you're afraid of little old me?"
Cooper watched her go in silence.
Three hours later, Nathan West
stood in the darkened barracks, his locker open before him. A
quick scan of the room assured him no one was present, but he
nevertheless felt as if all eyes were upon him as he effortlessly
jimmied the locker next to his - Anne Fairbanks' locker - and
reached inside. His hand fell on the shirt Fairbanks had worn the
other day, the one the microphone was attached to, and he found
the device quickly to pull it off. Closing her locker as the
hairs raised on the back of his neck, he smashed the microphone
with his boot, then threw it in the recycler. Glancing around the
room again, but finding nothing, he went to join Cooper and
Saunders in the Tun.
"What are we gonna do?"
Cooper whispered, his voice low but carrying urgency, "Just
lay low and wait for one of them to take us out? Wait to get sent
out on a suicide mission?"
"There's nothing we can
do," Saunders sighed, tipping his chair so that it stood on
only the back legs, "We can't expose them, because we have
no proof. There's not a damn thing we can do until they make a
move."
Silence reigned at the table as
the Marines contemplated their next move.
"Hey, boys," said a
smiling voice from behind them, "You three look highly
uncomfortable. Have them chiggers invaded your scivvies?"
Nathan smiled as Lt. Jess Duggan
flipped a chair backwards and straddled it to sit down next to
him, taking a drink from his beer mug.
She grinned openly to Saunders
and extended a hand. "Jess Duggan," she said, by way of
introduction.
After a moment's hesitation,
Saunders took the proffered hand and shook it. The woman had a
surprisingly firm grip.
"Jess is one of the SAR
Marines who evaced us from Demios a while back," Nathan
explained, then glanced down at his beer, which was less full now
than it had been moments ago, "She's a good friend, but you
might want to watch your beer while she's around."
Hawkes suppressed a snicker, and
commented quickly, "Yeah, but lucky for us, she only likes
to drink *your* beer."
"So, what trouble have you
boys managed to get yourselves into this time?" Jess asked.
At the Wild Card's questioning
glance, Saunders shrugged, leaving just how much they would tell
her up to the other two. Nathan and Coop looked at each other
hesistantly, "We can trust her," he said, then turned
to Duggan. "You know that spot of trouble we got in on
Demios?"
Jess nodded and grinned, "Of
course I remember. I got the fun job of trying to assure Col.
McQueen that you all were alive. We all got pretty worried when
radio contact suddenly stopped, ya know."
Nathan nodded and was silent for
a moment, then looked up at her and said, "Well, that was
nothing compared to this. We're in some deep serious, and I think
we have something we could use your help on..."
___End of Part
4________________________________
Col. Lisa
"Greyhound" Kohles
129th Irregulars
HELLHOUNDS
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Anubis --
anubis@mindwell.com
http://www.mindwell.com/~anubis