29
Harris sat in a small mess hall down the corridor from where they were debriefing the team. He’d just finished lunch and was staring off into space thinking about his eight hour grilling. Dale had asked a lot of questions of his leadership and his methods of handling the team. Harris did well to control his emotion, remembering his own advice given to Doc. He was respectful, following UNF protocol like a good soldier, but he’d also made it clear to Dale that he stood by his actions, and that of his team.
He felt confident with all the answers he’d given, despite Dale trying to twist them around. He knew he’d done what was right at the time, but he was still unsure as to how the UNF would respond to all this. After all, seven UNF “scientists” were dead, and most had been unarmed at the time of their death. Thankfully they allowed “classified” information to be discussed, because it was the only way he could explain what had happened.
Still, in the back of his mind, he worried that the Aurora team could be used as scapegoats to cover up the mess. They could be used as the fall guys, blamed as a renegade unit out of control and incarcerated, while those in charge denied any knowledge and looked the other way. Or worse still, the Aurora team could have this held over their heads as a threat to buy their silence and make the truth go away, in exchange for any charges being dropped. But that could mean a potential life sentence of being a puppet on UNF strings.
What stuck in Harris’s mind now, was the footage from the Aurora’s surveillance tapes that Dale had shown him. He’d watched the footage of Fairmont’s attack on Hunter, and the footage of the standoff between Bolkov and the other Jumbos outside the flight deck. And as awful as it was to watch Bulk die, Harris was glad to have seen it. It was good for him to witness what had happened to his soldiers when he’d not been there to see it for himself. It gave him a sense of closure. Both Bulk and Hunter had put up a good fight, all things considered. Especially Bulk. Welles’s shot at Fairmont was quick, clean and deadly accurate, and Doc’s reflexes were second to none when the Jumbo, Ravearez, tripped and grabbed Welles on approach to the flight deck.
As there was surprisingly little footage available from the Darwin, due to some kind of interference, the Aurora tapes were what Dale focused on and what he chose to pick to pieces. So he’d shown Harris other footage, that mainly centered around Doc and Welles, and asked him a lot of questions about their relationship. Some of it Harris was aware of, like Doc standing up for her in the gym with McKinley, and their joking and laughing in Doc’s office when he’d interrupted them the night they boarded. But there was also footage that he had not been aware of.
He saw footage of an awkward meeting in the door to the mess hall, another clip of an awkward moment in the hospital after they processed Smith’s body, and another where Doc had blocked her exit from his office after a tense discussion, which Harris could only assume was when he’d “had a word” to her.
Dale had also shown footage of a few disagreements Harris had had with Welles, and others of Welles and McKinley at it. Harris knew what Dale was up to. He was trying to show the Aurora team as unstable and on edge, and therefore not in their right minds to handle the Darwin scenario. Harris found a way to explain most of it, although he had to stretch a little with some of the footage of Doc and Welles and the time they’d spent together, relating it to Welles being ordered to stay off the Darwin. It made him wonder now, exactly what questions Dale would be asking of them both and in particular how Welles would handle it. He knew Doc would be fine with his good poker face, but wondered whether Welles’s fiery temper would betray her. If Dale could lock in on anything to discredit or use against the team, he’d do so.
Harris sighed and began to pack up his lunch tray when he saw Doc come walking into the mess hall. Their eyes met. Doc looked a little worn out, as he headed over to Harris.
“Doc,” Harris greeted him.
“Captain.”
“You just get out?” Harris asked, looking at his watch. 13:19.
Doc nodded. “They were going to take Welles in next.”
“Welles? How do you know that?”
“They said it in front of me. They wanted me to hear it, I guess.” He shrugged.
Harris eyed him a moment and nodded back. “Get some lunch,” he motioned toward the counter.
Doc headed for the counter, while Harris pushed aside his tray and waited for him to return. He eyed their assigned UNF guards standing by the entrance, glad he was finally allowed to speak to a member of his team.
“Jeez, I’m hungry,” Doc said, sitting down with his tray and shoving a stacked fork into his mouth.
Harris watched him chewing, focusing on the bruise that ran along his jawline. “How’s the jaw?”
Doc looked up at him and shrugged. “Fine. What about you? How’re the ribs? Your face looks better.”
“They’re getting there. It’s easier to breathe now.”
Doc nodded, eyeing him as he shoveled another forkful into his mouth.
“I wonder why they didn’t take Brown in next?” Harris asked. “They normally go by seniority and seeing how McKinley and Hunter are still in the hospital, Brown should be next.”
Again Doc shrugged, then swallowed. “Maybe it’s because Welles had a lot more to do with the Jumbo’s than Brown did?”
“Maybe.”
Harris watched him eat for a little longer, then once his plate grew smaller, decided to start asking his own questions. “So, did they hammer you?”
Doc scoffed a short, sharp laugh. “Dale sure gave it a good shot!”
“They obviously questioned our practices?”
“Mm-hmm,” he said taking another mouthful.
“They get personal?” Harris eyed him carefully.
Doc looked back at him and swallowed. “Of course.”
Harris sat back in his chair, watching him.
Doc noticed. “What?”
“They showed me a lot of footage of you and Welles …”
Doc paused for a moment. “Yeah, they showed me some, too.”
“There was a lot there that they could twist around if they wanted to, Doc.”
“And Dale certainly tried to, but they’re clutching at straws, captain. They tried to find anything they could to use against me. He even showed clips of me talking with McKinley and tried to make out that we were at each other’s throats. They’ve got nothing. They questioned my relationship with Welles, with McKinley, with Carter and Louis, and even with you! They questioned my treatment of each patient. Dale even questioned whether I tried hard enough to save Bulk? Whether I had some beef with him and just let him go? They tried everything. It went on for hours, Saul, and they still got nothing.”
Harris sighed as he watched Doc finish his plate angrily. “Yeah, they tried all of that on me, too. That’s bullshit about Bulk, Doc. There was nothing you could’ve done.”
Doc nodded and pushed his now empty plate away from him.
“Let’s just hope Welles holds up,” Harris said flatly.
“She will.”
“She’s got a head injury and she’s been through a lot, Doc. I wouldn’t be so sure,” he said, picturing Sibbie and Etta in his mind.
“Are we talking about the same soldier that volunteered to go to the control room? The same soldier that went into the unknown, on her own, to retrieve your ass? She’s got guts, Saul.”
“Yeah, but she had a gun in her hands then. In that room she’s got nothing but her stubbornness and her pride, and that can work against her if she loses control of it, or if Dale finds a way to hit the right buttons.” Harris leaned over the table toward Doc and lowered his voice a little. “More to the point, Doc, if she breaks and lets Dale twist around what she has to say, then that can have repercussions for all of us.” He stared Doc in the eye for a moment, hoping to drive home the seriousness of it, especially for him.
Doc sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “She’ll be fine, captain. They’ve got nothing.” He stood up from the table. “I’m going to go catch some z’s. I’ll talk to you later.”
*
Carrie stared back into Dale’s accusing eyes.
“Corporal Welles, are you expecting special favors because your father is a retired colonel? An Original?” he asked her. They were three hours in and Dale had dropped the Mr Nice Guy act; not that he had much of one to begin with.
“No, I do not,” she answered with her voice tight.
“So why the transmission to him on your journey home?”
Carrie stared at Dale like an insolent child.
“I asked you a question, corporal.”
“I nearly died up there, Officer Dale. I had a fractured skull. I needed to talk to my family.”
“No-one else made a transmission. Then again no-one else has connections that high up in the UNF.”
“As you said, Officer Dale, my father is a retired colonel. What possible strings could he have pulled? And for what? We’ve done nothing wrong. All we did was survive.”
“You know what I think, Corporal Welles? I think you’re a liar. I think you’re lying about the call to your father, you’re lying about your relationship with Captain Harris, you’re lying about your relationship with Second Lieutenant McKinley and you are most definitely lying about your relationship with First Lieutenant Walker. I also think you’re lying about whether or not it was necessary force that you used on Fairmont and Oxer. We’re not in your little boarding school now, corporal. You can’t call on daddy to save your ass this time.”
Carrie tried to swallow subtly. “Well, I guess that’s your opinion. I stand by the fact that I have told you the truth. If you choose not to believe it, then let that be on your head.”
“Ah! The ‘truth’ is a very powerful word, Corporal Welles, and one that can be bent to suit the speaker. So, I will let that be on my head. Now, let’s go back to your relationship with Captain Harris, shall we?”
Carrie sighed loudly.
“Boring you am I, corporal? Do you think the deaths of seven men do not warrant a debrief?”
“I just hope the four murdered crew of the Aurora get the same treatment.”
Dale ignored her. “When you killed Fairmont, do you think it would be fair to say that you were trying to win Harris’s approval, so he would finally let you board the Darwin? Prove yourself so you could get to where the action was with the rest of the team. I mean, it was the first kill on your side. You won the prize over all the men. That would be a great way to get his attention, wouldn’t it?”
“Fairmont was attacking First Sergeant Hunter. He charged at me. I had no choice. Captain Harris wasn’t even on the dock at the time.”
“Yes, but what a lovely trophy to show him when he returned. Do you think it’s possible that you used excessive force to prove a point?”
“No, I do not.”
“And what about Oxer? Second Lieutenant McKinley been giving you a hard time about being on the team. What a perfect way to set him straight? Rescue him by blowing out Oxer’s brains. Forget just wounding him. Cover that lieutenant in the enemy’s blood. Take him out good and hard, and show that Lieutenant McKinley what you can do! Isn’t that right, corporal?”
“No, it is not.”
“And Lieutenant Walker seemed to be on your side. It made sense to keep him sweet, didn’t it? That way you had someone looking out for you? Someone in authority. Tell me corporal,” Dale placed his hands on the table and leaned across directly in front of her, “what did that cost you? For Lieutenant Walker’s protection. I mean, he must’ve got something out of it, hmm? What was Walker’s payment for looking out for you and keeping the other guys at bay? You did spend a lot of time alone with him off surveillance camera … I’m sure you did more for him than just stock his shelves?”
Carrie felt her face burn red with anger. She glared at Dale, her eyes flicking to Edgely to gauge his reaction. He seemed curious. For some reason, she suddenly thought of Harris, and could hear him ordering her to play it cool. She pictured Doc’s face, too, and tried to let her cheeks simmer into her best poker face.
“Well?” Dale insisted.
“What exactly are you insinuating, Officer Dale?” Carrie asked with a calm voice.
“You tell me, corporal?”
“I really don’t know, but making false allegations is against the UNF code, isn’t it? Sullying a good soldier’s name.”
“Corporal Welles, I merely asked what you did for Lieutenant Walker. If you’ve read more into it, then perhaps that’s your guilty conscience talking?”
Senior Officer Edgely sat up in his chair then. “Perhaps it’s time for a break, Officer Dale.”
Dale looked over at Edgely, unhappy with the request. He seemed quite keen to continue clawing at Carrie. “Very well,” he muttered, then turned and left the room.
*
Harris and Doc walked back into the mess hall for dinner at 1830. They saw Packham sitting at one of the tables with a guard close by. He locked eyes with hers and nodded and she gave a weak nod back. No Brown, he thought.
They filled up their trays and sat on the other side of the mess hall. They knew they would not be allowed near Packham until she had been debriefed.
“Brown must be in now, huh,” Doc said, glancing around at Packham.
“Don’t know. If he is, then where’s Welles?” Harris asked.
They ate in silence for most of the meal, stealing glances at Packham every now and then. Harris’s mind was racing. Where’s Brown? Where’s Welles? Various scenarios were playing out in his mind. He could see Doc trying to figure it out, too, but after about 25 minutes, Welles came walking in with her guard.
The corporal locked eyes with each of them. As she walked over to the counter, she glanced behind to see that her guard had dropped away and was waiting with the others by the door. She filled her tray then turned around to face them, as Packham was escorted out. Harris motioned for Welles to sit in the chair next to him, which she did.
“Captain,” she nodded. “Lieutenant.”
They nodded back at her, then sat in silence for a moment while she ate.
“So, how’d it go, corporal?” Harris eventually asked.
Welles eyed the guards in the corner, “Okay.”
“Okay?” Harris studied her. “Did they hammer you?”
She looked back at Harris. “Are we bugged right now, sir?”
He paused and thought for a moment. “Possibly.”
She nodded. “Officer Dale’s a prick!” she said, making sure her voice was loud and clear.
Harris smirked. “You mean, he’s good at his job.”
Welles looked at Harris, but she didn’t smile.
“Anything in particular I should know about?” He arched his eyebrow at her.
“Not really,” she answered, “except apparently saving your own life or that of a fellow soldier does not warrant excessive force. Funny, I could’ve sworn that was UNF policy.”
“Don’t sweat it, Welles,” he told her. “We all got the same treatment.”
Harris glanced at Doc, wondering why he was being so quiet. Doc seemed to notice the look, and turned to Welles.
“How’s the head, corporal? Swelling’s gone, I see.”
Welles swallowed her mouthful, shot him a glance and nodded. “It’s fine. I’ve been tired, and it has been aching a bit today.”
“Yeah, a debrief can do that,” Doc told her. “Get it checked out if you’re worried, though.”
She gave him a half smile, then quickly looked back to her plate. Harris noticed she was being careful not to pay Doc too much attention. Almost too careful. They’d obviously shown her the footage and asked questions about their relationship. She quickly put her focus back on Harris.
“So what happens now, sir? Are we trapped here until we’re all processed?”
“Pretty much,” Harris answered. “I’d say it will take them a couple of days to finish the others.”
“Have you seen the guys in the hospital yet?” Welles asked.
“No,” Harris shook his head, “and I won’t until they’ve been processed. There’s no contact until the debrief is over.”
“So, we just sit and wait?”
Harris nodded. “We just sit and wait.”
*
Carrie sighed. She was tired, her head hurt and to be honest, she felt a little uncomfortable sitting there with Harris and Doc, not knowing what questions Dale had asked them. She was also paranoid as to whether there would be a camera on them now, watching their every move. She was worried about doing something that could be turned against her, whether it be looking at Harris the wrong way, or worse, looking at Doc the wrong way.
In fact, she wanted to avoid looking at Doc altogether. When she’d first entered the mess hall and her eyes had fallen on him, she’d felt a certain ache in her chest. She didn’t know why this was happening to her, and now of all times. All this emotion, this weakness, was so unlike her. She’d never had feelings for any of her fellow soldiers before. In fact, she couldn’t recall any man playing on her mind so persistently, the way Doc seemed to. Why him? Why now, right when she’d finally had her chance at Space Duty? Right in the midst of all this mess.
Despite this mess, however, she couldn’t help but wonder what would happen between them if they made it through this debrief; back on Earth, off the ship, and away from prying eyes. This had only been a test case, right? So, technically, when this was over, they were no longer in the same unit. So how would things play out then? She had no idea if what happened on the Aurora would continue, or whether it was just a fleeting moment, a last desperate grasp for human contact in the face of death.
The three of them sat in silence for a while until Doc eventually ended it. Appearing a little edgy, he got up from the table.
“I’m going to head back to my room. I’ll see you all in the morning.” Then he turned and left.
Carrie didn’t watch him leave, instead she looked at Harris, for distraction. “So, how do you think this will play out, captain?”
He looked down his shoulder at her, considering his answer. “I guess that depends on how everyone’s debrief goes. Doc and I are satisfied with ours. Are you?”
Carrie nodded. She was confident they had nothing to use against them.
“Good,” he said, “I have confidence in the others. But it’s in the hands of the UNF now. It depends on who’s making the decisions here, what their agenda is, and then who’s behind them applying pressure. I think the debrief is just for show and they’re using it to scare us into keeping quiet and cover up what really happened.”
Carrie nodded, eyeing the guards in the corner carefully, recalling her father’s warning not to trust anyone. It only made her wonder what had happened to her father to have made him so sure of that fact. It disheartened her a little to realize the mystery around her father had just grown tenfold, and the giant chasm of distance between them, even wider.
Harris locked eyes with her. “Maybe we should head back to our rooms, corporal. We’ve still got a lot of waiting to do,” he said, as he stood. “And don’t we know waiting is the hardest thing to do.”
*
Harris was right, waiting was the hardest thing to do. Carrie sat on her bed, staring at the TV. The Moon elections were approaching and the news seemed to cover nothing else, switching between the five colonies for interviews and statistics. She decided to take a shower, wanting to wash away the day, but Dale’s comments seemed to stick firmly to her. She worried about what questions Dale had asked of Doc, and worse, she worried about what he’d asked of the captain.
She’d been surprised when she’d seen the footage of Grolsh attacking her. It was almost like an out-of-body experience. After all, she’d been unconscious for some of it. It sent a shiver down her spine to think of how close to death she’d actually been. And more to the point, it sent a shiver down her spine to see Smith again, rushing to her rescue, not knowing that he, himself, only had hours to live.
Dale also showed her the hospital footage of her and Doc alone. The first, after they processed Smith’s body, when she held his hand a little longer than necessary. She managed to pass that off as being upset over Smith, which she had been. Then there was the incident when Doc was treating her when it was all over. She hadn’t known that there was a camera in the room, when she’d held his hand and kissed it. Luckily for her, the camera was behind and to the left, so it wasn’t really clear what she had done. The footage showed her taking Doc’s hand, but the kiss could not be seen. She passed that off to Dale as being in pain. Fortunately, the camera did pick up the side of her head that Logan had hit. It looked bad, and provided all the evidence she needed.
She stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in a towel and headed back to sit on her bed in front of the TV. The Moon election coverage was over and they were onto the discovery of the last oil reserves on Earth, in the middle of the Indian Ocean. The reserves were on the border of Australian waters and international waters, but largely on the Australian side. Naturally the Australian government was claiming ownership, but other countries were begging to differ. Here comes another war …
Carrie’s eyes were on the TV but she wasn’t watching it anymore. She felt a wave of tiredness wash over her. She pulled the covers back on her bed, dropped her towel and slipped in. She rolled over onto her side and eyed the empty bed beside her. She started to think about Doc again. In her mind, she could see his brown eyes looking at her, trying to speak to her. She could see his hand, his arm, his neck, as he sat at his desk eyeing the monitor in his office. Then she started thinking about what it would be like to curl up into his side, to have that arm wrapped around her. And it was that thought that saw her safely to sleep.
*
She made her way to breakfast feeling quite unrested. She’d tossed and turned through the night, dreaming a thousand dreams. She’d been back on the Darwin, and back in the debrief room, and neither were pleasant places to be. Logan and Chet were there again, jumping out of their skin to get to her, hungry like vampires. She kept hearing Sharley’s words echoing through her mind: “I’ll see you soon, Carrie Ann Welles,” and Logan pointing viciously at her, telling her he’d make her pay. These dreams were choking her sleep every night like a thick plume of black smoke, and she prayed silently for them to end.
When she entered the mess hall, she saw Harris sitting on one side of the room, and Packham with her guard on the other. Carrie filled her tray and made her way over to Harris’s table, shooting Packham a sympathetic glance on the way. She took the seat opposite Harris, who had his back toward Packham.
“Morning, corporal,” he greeted her.
“Morning, captain.” She started eating her breakfast, stealing glances over at Packham, who looked worn out. Carrie swore she could see the dark circles under her eyes from across the room.
Just then Brown entered. Harris saw this, too, and straightened in his seat. Brown grabbed a tray of food and made his way over, taking the seat next to Harris.
“Sergeant Brown,” Harris greeted him, holding his hand out for a high-five slap. “Good to see you, soldier!”
“Captain,” he said, slapping his hand. He looked over at Carrie and nodded. “Welles.”
“Hey, Brown. How you going?”
He grunted. “I’ve been better. I gotta say, though, I’m glad the UNF has finally shit me out of its digestive system.”
Harris gave a laugh and shook his head. “We’re not out yet, Brown. Think of it more like moving into the lower intestine.”
Doc entered and he joined them, grabbing a tray of food, and nodding at Packham as he passed. He placed his tray on the table beside Carrie.
“Sergeant Brown, good to see you!” he said, as Brown held out his hand. Doc clasped it, then swung into the seat beside Carrie, his knee knocking hers as he did. He quickly glanced at her, then looked at two men opposite.
“So how’d it go?” he asked Brown.
“It went.”
Carrie saw Harris look over his shoulder at Packham, then back at Brown, his mind ticking over.
“Who’d they call up after you?” he asked.
“I think they were going to hit up McKinley next,” he said, in between chews.
Harris looked back at Packham and studied her for a moment. “They’re trying to break her,” he said as though thinking aloud, then turned back to the group.
Carrie, Doc and Brown all looked over at Packham. She saw them staring and shot them back a tired look. Carrie suddenly noticed that Harris was now staring at her.
“Well done, corporal,” he said.
Doc and Brown glanced between them.
“For what, sir?” she asked.
“Dale obviously didn’t get enough out of you, so he’s trying hard to break Packham instead. She’s his last resort. He’s making her wait, trying to freak her out. Letting her sit in here, but over in the corner, away from us, watching us. He’s trying to fuck her mind.”
They looked back over at Packham, again. Carrie didn’t exactly find it a comforting thought to know that Packham was paying the price for her success. Brown looked back at his food.
“She’ll be alright. She tougher than she looks,” he said.
“I sure hope so,” Harris said.
Carrie noticed Doc eyeing Packham, analyzing her, mind ticking over.
“So, they kept you in a while, considering the fact that you didn’t kill anybody,” Harris said to Brown.
“No, but they were trying like hell to get me to give the dirt on you three and McKinley.”
“Yeah? What dirt?” Harris arched his eyebrow curiously at him.
Brown hesitated, flashed Doc, then Harris, a look and said, “Just shit.”
Carrie noted that neither Harris nor Doc pushed for more information, and they sat in silence for a while, finishing breakfast, sipping their coffees.
“So, McKinley’s up next, huh,” Harris said, looking off into the distance.
“Gee, I hope Dale got his rest last night,” Doc said sarcastically.
Smiles seemed to sneak across their faces, before Harris suddenly dropped his.
“They’ve probably got him high as a kite on painkillers,” he said. “Or worse, they haven’t given him any and he’s been in pain the past few days. If there’s a way to cheat, they’ll do it.”
“McKinley can hold himself,” Doc said. “He’s got a high tolerance, believe me.”
“Yeah,” Carrie mused, “He’s a lot stronger than I gave him credit for. On our way back, the Vortex’s medic, Jackson, refused to top up his painkillers, then he pretended to examine his leg, but all he did was squeeze it and watch McKinley’s face.”
Doc’s face turned dark and serious as he looked at Carrie. Brown and Harris also stopped eating and stared at her.
“He was waiting for a reaction but McKinley didn’t give it to him,” she said. “He held it well. I don’t know how he did it, though. I would’ve screamed like a baby.”
“He’s tough as an ox, McKinley,” Brown nodded.
“I knew I shouldn’t have left my patients with Jackson,” Doc said through gritted teeth.
“We had no choice, Doc,” Harris told him.
Doc stared at Harris. “Captain …”
“I know, Doc,” Harris stopped him. “When this is over I’ve got a few things to say about the Vortex crew, Jackson and Baker especially. It will be said, believe me!”
*
Once they’d eaten, Brown disappeared back to his room for more sleep, and soon after, Harris left as well. Doc and Carrie sat in the mess hall a little while longer, although there was a feeling of uneasiness between them. It seemed that they were both painfully aware that they were alone at the table, despite the two guards in the corner, and most probably some surveillance camera somewhere. Doc shuffled in his chair at one point and when he came to a rest, his leg fell against hers. He quickly changed position to remove it, sitting forward in his chair, and then eventually giving in and standing up.
“I’m going to head back up, corporal,” he said, glancing at her briefly.
Carrie nodded and stood up too. “Yeah, me too.”
*
The rest of the day came and went in much the same way. At lunch, Dale had Packham on display again at one end of the mess hall. The four “debriefed” soldiers sat around together for a while. Not much was said. The odd comment about how long it was taking. Predictions of what would happen next. Doc did his best to avoid contact with Carrie this time around, sitting diagonally opposite her. He gave her the odd glance, but for the most part, made no attempt to converse with her in particular.
By the time dinner came, Packham was absent. They decided that either she was finally being debriefed, or Dale was just holding her elsewhere to mess with their minds this time.
Harris and Brown eventually left for their rooms, leaving Carrie and Doc alone again. They eyed each other briefly, before the lieutenant fidgeted in his seat again, then stood up to leave as well.
“Is this how it’s going to be from now on?” she asked. She couldn’t help herself, and although it felt uncomfortable, she let herself look into his eyes again.
He held her gaze for a moment, his eyes trying to speak to hers again, then he nodded. “For the time being, corporal.”
*
Harris felt the stiffness building in his body. He hadn’t slept well, as his mind was crammed with far too many thoughts. It didn’t help, either, that he’d dreamt yet again of Sibbie and Etta staring at him. It made him nervous. It made him edgy. It made him wonder whether Packham would hold up under the pressure. There was so much riding on the debriefs and it was going to come down to her, he was sure of it.
Packham had been absent at breakfast, and now again at lunch. He’d resigned himself to the fact that he wasn’t going to see the rest of his team until the official UNF verdict was handed down. It bothered him some, as it had been a while since he’d seen McKinley, Hunter and Colt, and he wanted to know how they were doing. But he really wanted to see Packham and find out how she went. Brown said she was strong, but Harris remembered her wanting to hole up on the ship and wait until they were rescued. He wondered if she’d do the same with Dale and just give in? Welles had managed to get through Dale’s debrief, but then again she’d been the one to volunteer to go onto the Darwin and do what needed to be done. She hadn’t wanted to hole up like Packham had.
Although Welles looked a little worn down, as if she wasn’t getting much sleep, she seemed to be healing nicely. Command had access to the best medicine, so at least that was something. Her neck was pretty much clear now, her left eye was almost white again, and the bruises down the left side of her face were beginning to fade. The corporal was a lot stronger than he’d given her credit for. Not only was she a fine shot, but she was brave, fit, smart and she had a lot better understanding of the workings of the UNF than most corporals. Having a colonel for a father had obviously paid dividends in her chosen career.
Thinking about his new recruits only led him to think about his dead soldiers, however. The ones he would never see again. The ones that left a hole in his team.
“Captain,” Doc pulled Harris out of his thoughts, “have you heard anything about Carter and the guys? Do you know when they’re going to release their bodies? Will they have an official service for them?”
“You reading my mind, Doc?” He arched an eyebrow. “I was just thinking about them. I put in a request during my debrief, but I’ve heard nothing yet. I’ll follow it up this afternoon, but my guess is they’ll be waiting to see how the debrief pans out before making any decisions.”
“I’m done waiting,” Welles muttered.
They all looked at her.
“We all are, corporal,” Doc said firmly, then looked away again.
“C’mon, Welles,” Harris said, trying to cheer her up, “you’re a sniper. Waiting is what you do.”
“Yeah, but that’s different, captain. I wait around with a gun in my hand and eventually get to shoot a bad guy.”
Harris dropped his smile. “Well, hopefully, we’ll make it through this, and you’ll get the chance again.”