"How's the baby doing?" Tarik asked Ryan. They were both seated in Tarik's office, enjoying two of the cigars Tarik had replicated for the occasion of Zoe's birth.
"She's doing fantastic! I can't believe how alert she is for her age!" Ryan gushed. Only three days after Zoe's birth, the little girl had thoroughly wrapped her godfather around her little finger.
"I'm glad to hear that," Tarik replied with a genuine smile. "Now, I'm sure you're probably wondering why I called you here."
"Uhhh, yes, sir," Ryan replied with uncertainty. "I know you'd asked to speak with me some time ago, but--"
"Quite all right, Mr. MacLeod. We've had a lot happen here, with the Nausicaan raid and the kidnapping of Lieutenant K'Tag. In fact, I'm glad we're holding our discussion now. I would have liked to have spoken with you then, but now it's an absolute necessity for what I've got planned. How experienced are you with close-air support?"
"I flew about 60 fire missions during the SI war in my own dimension. That was with late 20th/early 21st century technology, though."
"You seem to have picked up the technology well enough, Mr. MacLeod. Your performance on the firing range more than adequately demonstrates that. I'm hoping you have the combat experience to back it up. Ever opposed any enemy aircraft?"
"I have twelve aerial kills, unassisted."
Tarik nodded. "You're just the man I need." He handed Ryan a PADD. "Starfleet Command has tied our hands by grounding VMF-58 and reassigning the Banshees. We've no more fighters to respond to raids on commerce and to provide the station with defense-in-depth. The cutter Iwo Jima's an outstanding ship with a lot of firepower, but it is just one ship, tying up six qualified pilots who could be in six places at once if necessary. The PADD you hold in your hand is my report to Command on the situation, and my recommendations."
Ryan scanned the PADD. "Damn, Colonel! Are you deliberately trying to kill off your career?"
"Just call me Lazarus," Tarik shrugged. "I've survived far worse things. And if losing my rank or even my commission is the result, at least I can still look at myself in the mirror in the morning. I will not lose one more merchant vessel to piracy in this sector--nor will I deprive my Marines of effective air support, or allow this station to be raided again because we couldn't put up a picket!"
A lion, bound and determined to be torn apart by lambs, Ryan thought to himself. "What's your plan?"
"I'm reactivating VMF-58. The Hammerheads are stil on the station in mothballs. They're not state-of-the-art, but they've done their job well. Captain Bicardi and Lieutenant Tigre are wiling to be reassigned--in fact, they've been begging me for just this thing. We're short on experienced combat pilots, though, and after seeing you in action I think you'd fit in well here."
Am I hearing what I think I'm hearing? Ryan thought. "I'm being reassigned to a fighter squadron? Against Command's orders?"
"Not precisely against Command's orders. I can assign people within the MEF as I see fit 'to cover the exigencies of combat'. And Captain Mallory can assign Starfleet personnel on the station as she sees fit. I approached her on the matter, and she's agreed to reassign you to my command--if you're amenable, of course."
"'To cover the exigencies of combat.' I like that phrasing. Designed to drive the JAG office nuts!"
"I aim to please!" Tarik smiled wolfishly, the cigar clenched firmly in his teeth.
"Where do I sign up?"
"Just say the word. The paperwork is already staged," Tarik replied. "You'll report directly to Captain Bicardi, who will report directly to me once this is all set up. If your performance is up to speed, we'll see about turning that WO4 of yours to a Lieutenant's bars."
I was a Lieutenant Colonel before the Taelons came. But then again I am still 300 years behind the times. And a fighter's bound to handle better than a runabout!
"You can count on me, sir."
"I have no doubt that I can, MacLeod, or else our friendly little chat over cigars would not be taking place. Flight deck, 0600 tomorrow. Captain Bicardi will brief you. That's all."
Ryan left the office elated. Wait'll I tell Tara and Jayson this! I'm a fighter pilot again! A jarhead, but a fighter pilot nonetheless!
Ryan immediately rushed to the Commerce Section, where he knew Jayson would be walking his beat about this time of day. Tara was still at home with the baby. He waited around for about half an hour but never saw Jayson. He must have gotten tied up with something, or he may have already done his rounds here, Ryan thought. Guess I'll go see Tara and Zoe with the news!
Ryan was on his way out of the Commerce Section when he encountered Miranda sitting alone at an 'open-air' table outside of Harry's. She looked extremely upset. Wonder what's going on here? he thought as he approached the table.
Miranda had angry tears in her eyes as she stared into the soda glass sitting on the table before her. She would occasionally take a sip and then put it back down. She hated him! She hated him so much... How could someone be capable of hurting someone else so badly, she thought. So lost in her own thoughts, she didn't noticed the man approach her until he was already beside the table. She looked up at him and noticed that he looked familiar... It was Ryan. The guy from the Child Birth Preparation class who had been there with his cousin... She tried to smile as she looked up into his face.
"Hi," she said.
"Uhh, hello," Ryan said. "Is this seat taken?"
She shook her head. "No," she replied as she looked back to her soda for a moment and took another drink. "Have a seat."
Ryan sat down and looked over the menu. "Miranda--is that right? I'm Ryan. We met at the Childbirth class a few days ago. Every time I've seen you you've been upset. What's wrong?" he asked, cutting right to the point.
"Where do I begin?" she laughed, but it was hollow. As she looked at him, her stare pierced him. "Well, I'm alone here, on this station, I have no family... and the father of my child is an abusive, deadbeat jerk who I wish the Mullurans had at this very moment... or at least someone who would not treat him very nicely for all that he's put me through... I'm sorry, I must sound so terrible!" she said as she shook her head and looked down to the table. "Its just been so hard lately..."
"That's all right," Ryan said, patting her hand. A Bolian waitress came up and took their orders. "I'll have a Texas Burger, no onions, extra chili and cheese, with a side of onion rings and a root beer," Ryan said. "What'll you have?" he asked Miranda. "My tab."
"I want a taco salad with extra sour cream and... a rootbeer float," she smiled. "I can't seem to beat the cravings for either of those things!"
"Tara craved tacos! Hard to believe, for an English woman. I'd think she'd want crumpets or kidney pie or something," Ryan said with a laugh. "Why is it that women who are pregnant crave such garbage? Logic would indicate that they crave the healthy stuff, for the benefit of the baby." Look at me, talking like a Vulcan! Just a few weeks ago I'd never heard of Vulcans!
"Well, there's lots of protein in a taco salad!" Miranda insisted with a smile, "And protein is important for a developing baby. So I would say my body is probably craving a lot of protein, but in a way that tastes good to me!" She giggled. For the first time in probably months, she laughed. It felt good.
"You look good when you laugh," Ryan said, surprising even himself. "You should try it more often."
"Well, maybe if I had more reasons to laugh," she smiled faded a bit, but didn't go away.
"What's going on?" Ryan said, suddenly turning serious.
"I have no one, just myself... Except when the baby's father decides to come taunt me every now and again..." she looked away and shook her head. "I hate him... I hate him for hurting me. Or hurting us..." She ammended as she caressed her abdomen. "I wish he weren't the father of my baby... I wish I could just make him vanish into thin air... But these wishes don't come true."
Human nature hasn't changed a bit in 300 years. "What kind of man walks away from his partner and child?" Ryan asked. "If you need anything--anything at all!--just call. I don't know what I can do, but I'll at least try."
"Well... I do need a birth coach... If you think you're up for the job?" she asked him hesitantly.
"Absolutely! I've already had one class, and Tara won't be needing my help for that anymore," Ryan laughed.
"Oh did your cousin have her baby after class after all?" Miranda asked, remembering Tara and the other woman getting transported to sickbay.
"That very night. A beautiful bouncing baby girl!" Ryan said proudly.
"That's wonderful!" Miranda smiled. "I'm happy for her. She seemed really happy with her... Partner..." She finally settled on partner as being the best term possible to use.
"Tara and Jayson are practically inseperable," Ryan said with just a little twinge. But only a little one. Their food arrived, and Ryan dug in with gusto. "So, where're you from?" he asked between mouthfuls of burger and chili.
"Well, I was raised on Betazed for a long time, and then my parents, or rather, my father and step-mother moved us to Earth. my mother died when I was an infant. Then I was raised on Earth for awhile... Then... Then my parents separated. I went to live with my father on Mirkos V because my step-mother... well, she didn't need me around. But as it turned out, neither did my father... " She shook her head. "I'm sorry... My life is just a sad story."
"That's okay. The sad stories are the ones that need to be told sometimes," Ryan assured her. "How'd you end up here?"
"Well, when I was old enough, I joined Starfleet. Went through training and here I am... on this lovely starbase!" she smiled as she took a bit of her salad and then sipped her float. She looked at him. "How did you end up here and in Starfleet?"
"That's a very long story," Ryan said, not sure just how much she'd believe about his involvement with the Taelons and arrival in this time and space. "Born and raised in Colorado, on Earth. My parents were ranchers and didn't have much in the way of money for college, so I applied for and went to the Academy, and came out as a pilot. My recent assignment, you could say, didn't go exactly the way I planned. I consider myself lucky to be here and now," he said with a wink. The bare bones, even if the truth is so heavily shaded it may never see sunlight again. If these talks continue, I'll let her know everything, he decided.
She looked at him and sensed more to the story, but left it at that as she sipped at the float and ate a bite of ice cream. "Well, I suppose we're both lucky to at least be here on this Starbase now... I don't think I would really want to be anywhere else... Though I wish the jerk wasn't around. Outside of that, I like it here... I like the commerce section. I like having New Canada so nearby... This place might not be as safe as Earth, but it's home for me..."
"What about this jerk?" Ryan asked intently. The Colorado cowboy over which a thin veneer of US Air Force, Taelon, and later Starfleet polish applied was asserting itself.
"What about him?" she shrugged. "He was a verbally abusive slime... Found out I was pregnant and tried to say the baby wasn't his and called me a whore until I had a DNA scan run to prove he was the father. Not that it mattered. It was just a matter of principle... In all honesty, I wish he had nothing to do with my baby... "
"Does he work here on the station, or on the colony? Does he claim paternity?"
"Yes, he works on the station... I met him here..." she sighed "Naive and lonely as I was... I didn't see him for who he was and by the time I did, it was too late... As far as him claiming paternity, I don't know... He comes to verbally harass me telling me one minute the baby isn't his, he want's nothing to do with it. Then he tells me he's going to take his baby from me..." She shakes her head as tears welt up in her eyes. "I am just so sick of deal with him..."
Ryan took her hand. "You listen to me, Miranda. This man is trash. You don't have to deal with him if you don't want to. Tara and Jayson both work in Security. We can have a word with them, and they'll get a protective order for you. It's not like on a planet--Starfleet can lock this place down tighter than a frog's ass in winter if they want to!
"On Earth, the Navajo Indians have a way of describing what this guy's trying to do: they'd say he's stealing his children. He wants to claim the kids but not the responsibility. Break all ties with him if you can, because he's bad news."
"Believe me, I want to," she replied. "But I'm scared of him too... I'm afraid of what he'd do if I got the protective order... I live alone, Ryan. I have my baby to think about... Even with the protective order, I have to think about protecting me now. I would actually leave the station if I didn't think he'd find a way to follow me..." she took another sip of her float, though the more she thought about Zane Kapshaw the more her stomach did flops.
Ryan thought for a moment as he worked his way through his onion rings. No, it's too soon...but then again, nothing's really happening. Oh, come on, Ryan--she's probably not the only person on this station with a hard luck story! You gonna save them all?
Then, before he even finished thinking it through: "Suppose I moved in with you? Seperate rooms, of course. No impropriety whatsoever, just helping out a friend in trouble," Ryan said.
She looked him over curiously and smiled. "You'd do that for me? For someone you hardly know?" Of course, part of her was leery, after what she had been through with Zane and yet, another part - her instincts were that she could trust him. And she had learned from her time on Betazed as a child to trust that inner voice. It had been ignoring it that had gotten her into the trouble with Zane.
"One thing people do in my neck of the woods is stick up for one another when they're in trouble. I can't tell you how many times I've ridden somone else's fenceline as a kid because they had a sick hand," Ryan said, suddenly remembering that ranching in Colorado probably wasn't what it was 300 years earlier. "We see someone who needs help, we get down to it and help! And besides, people like the guy who's been doing this to you don't exactly sit well with me."
She smiled and reached across the table. Tenatively, she took his hand in her own as she looked into his aqua colored eyes. "Thank you..." she said, for the first time, in a very long time, feeling like she could trust someone.
"I don't have much in the way of effects. I could be there tonight. What shift do you work?" he asked as he drank the last of his root beer.
"Well, I have Alpha Shift, usually, but they have me on light duties since I'm so close to the end of my pregnancy..." she said. "Today is my day off and my trip to sickbay for my check-up."
"I report to the Flight Deck at 0600. What's your assignment?"
"I'm the range officer," Miranda smiled and then giggled. "Wait... You were that shuttle pilot with the fancy moves!"
"And you were that gal who was flying those damned drones! I knew I liked you when I heard your voice!"
At that Miranda laughed again. "Well, I suppose we have more in common than we first thought..." She looked at him again and had this feeling that something was changing. Like something huge was about to happen in her life... More than just the baby... Was it Ryan? But she pushed the thought away as idle. He was cute. She was lonely... She wasn't going to fall into the same trap... and yet, this was different. She felt it.
Ryan checked the time. "I do have somewhere else I need to go, but I'll be in touch. Say around 1800 hours? I have to be on duty by 0600 tomorrow, so I'll have to make the move rather quick. Thank you," he said, not sure why he was thanking her, but feeling the need nonetheless. Just wait until Tara and Jayson hear about this one!
She watched him get up and never lost her smile. "Well, thank you! I have a feeling Zane will be in for quite a surprise when he comes around again! I guess I'll see you tonight," she said happily.
"Oh, yes," he thought. "He's going to have a very rude awakening..."
It hadn't taken long for Ryan to transfer his belongings from the BOQ to his new home. He was still not entirely sure what had possessed him to take up quarters with someone whom he barely knew and who was involved in a major domestic dispute. Tara and Jayson had been happy but cautious about his decision.
Duty was at 0600, so Ryan decided to turn in early that evening. He retired to the small room (actually a converted walk-in closet) After reading over a PADD containing the tech manual for the Hammerhead fighter, Ryan found himself dropping into sleep...
He found himself in an environment both familiar and foreign. Ryan was in the cockpit of a fighter, but one far older than anything he'd ever flown in either his previous era or this fantastic new one he found himself in. The bubble canopy and the relatively simple analog dial cockpit established his environment as a 1950's era fighter jet. A small plate on the control panel verified this: an F-86 Sabre.
The Yalu River stretched before him, and Ryan's knowledge of history told him that he could expect to encounter Chinese MiG-15 jet fighters at any moment. Quickly he scanned his overhead and horizon--no radar in this bird!--but found nothing. In fact, there was little evidence of human activity at all in the area, much less anything on the scale of the Korean War.
Suddenly another jet appeared to his right. It was a MiG! Ryan immediately broke left and down, trying to use the terrain to hinder his opponent's aim. The Chinese fighter followed, hot on his tail. Ryan was sure the opposing pilot had ample opportunity to take a shot. But no shot was taken.
Ryan climbed higher, hoping to drive the enemy ship into a stall and flameout. The MiG followed, relentlessly. Eventually, the MiG pulled alongside him, wingtip to wingtip, and paced him all the way to the Yalu River. No sign whatsoever of any human activity other than this aerial cat-and-mouse game.
Out of curiosity, Ryan turned his head to look at the pilot of the mysterious MiG. The pilot began to remove her helmet--
And then Ryan woke up to shouting. This must be Zane, he thought as he quickly pulled on his clothes. Instead of regulation Starfleet boots, however, he pulled on a pair of ornately tooled Western boots and emerged from his room.
"I don't care if you were asleep! You're supposed to be available when I say!" Zane--a tall, brutish man with a dark brown beard--yelled at the top of his lungs. Ryan was certain that Zane could be heard on the Command Deck.
"You don't have the right to be coming in here at 0200 and yelling at me! Please leave, Zane! Don't make me call Security!"
"Oooh! Little woman's gonna make threats, eh?" Zane sneered. "How about this for a threat?" he yelled as he clenched a fist and prepared to hit her--
Ryan stepped in, grabbing Zane's fist from behind. "What the--"
"You even think about laying a hand on this woman, and I will kick your ass so far up your spine you'll have to stand on your head to crap!" Ryan growled.
"And who the hell are you?" Zane asked. Then, to Miranda: "You've been sleeping around on me, you whore!"
Ryan grabbed Zane by the front of his filthy coveralls and shoved him against the bulkhead. "That's a pretty nasty accusation to be making, pal! The way I hear it, you're the one who's been sleeping around. Maybe we should verify it with some of the guys at the Brass Rail," Ryan added, deliberately mentioning the name of the station's largest gay bar for humans.
"Why you--" Zane started before swinging wildly at Ryan, who merely stepped back from Zane. Zane fell off balance. "Better watch that temper!" Ryan said with a laugh as Zane stumbled forward. Ryan aided Zane in his fall by grabbing his shoulder from behind and slamming his head into the next bulkhead.
Zane stood up. "YOU'RE BOTH GOING TO PAY FOR THIS!" he bellowed at both of them. Then, he charged again. Absolutely no finesse, Ryan thought. Probably played football in school. Ryan, however, had played ice hockey at the Air Force Academy and knew how to take a body check. That is, preferably with another check. A beautifully-executed hip check stopped the oaf in his tracks, and a forearm shiver across Zane's throat that would have been patently illegal on the ice sent him to the deck.
Ryan walked up to the dazed man. "You know why they call these shit-kicking boots?" he asked, pointing at his boots. "Because they're what we use to kick shit out of the way, that's why!" he said as he planted one of the pointed-toed boots straight into Zane's crotch. Zane howled in pain.
"Guess he's got 'em after all," Ryan remarked as he picked Zane up off the floor and frog-marched him to the door. After throwing Zane out, Ryan looked him straight in the eye. "You want some more, come on over and get some! If not, stay the hell away from Miranda. I have friends in Security who will be keeping an eye on you, so no funny stuff!" He reminded himself to tell Tara and Jayson precisely what had happened here tonight.
"Who the Hell are you?" Zane asked, with astonishment.
Ryan thought for a moment. "As far as you're concerned, my name is Satan. And I am not to be pissed off under any circumstances! Now get out of here while I'm still inclined to let you live!"
Zane hobbled down the hall as best as his swollen package would permit. For a brief moment he wondered whether or not this new man in Miranda's life wasn't the Prince of Darkness...
Ryan and Miranda held each other for several minutes before returning to bed, each to their own room.
Ryan arrived at 0555 for the briefing at the Flight Deck. Greeting him were Captain Morgan Bicardi and Lieutenant Talia Tigre.
"Good morning, Fek'lhr!" Bicardi growled, in a manner that Ryan had come to understand was considered cheerful amongst Klingons. The mention of the guardian of the Klingon underworld told Ryan that word of his handling of Zane had somehow gotten out.
Ryan's mouth dropped. "How did you--"
"It's a small station, Mr. MacLeod. Less than 18 hours as a Marine and you're already picking fights with station occupants! Impressive--must be some kind of record!" Talia replied.
"Beats the previous one by a couple of days at least! The Colonel's not going to like hearing his record's been broken!" Bicardi joked.
"Am I in trouble?" Ryan asked nervously, wondering if any formal charges could accrue to last night's activities.
"If the individual in question hadn't had an alcohol level three times the allowable rate and a reputation for being nasty, probably. By the way, the Delta Shift maintenance team has you as a 4-to-1 favorite against him next time around. Just don't do it too often if you can help it," Bicardi said with a wink. "Now, are you ready to fly or what?"
Ryan was exhausted. But if he hadn't flown down to the flight deck this morning he wasn't sure how he'd gotten there...