Scarecrow stood to the side of the MDF tank bay door as groups of Marines filed in. Everyone looked like they’d had the daylights knocked out of them. Medical teams were lined up across the rear of the bay, anti-grav gurneys at the ready, waiting to escort the wounded being conveyed from the battlefield on anti-grav sleds to the various sick bays located throughout the base.
Scarecrow paced, anxious as he watched the torrent of troops became a flow, then slow to a trickle, and finally only stragglers were wandering in. The tank bay, full of Marines, now began to thin out as they filtered off to parts unknown.
Scarecrow had darted amongst the roiling mass of soldiers, looking for Sandy and her company of Nautilus Marines. At first, he searched for her alone, but he soon began to look for any of her Marines he would recognize, hoping to ask them where the major was, and what her condition might be. After close to an hour of searching in vain, he found himself almost alone in the cavernous tank bay.
Emotion threatened to overwhelm Scarecrow as he strode over to the large, open tank bay door to see if any more Marines were approaching the base. The TR-3B pilot held his breath as he peered through the force field at the red dust cloud whipping and swirling in the frigid Martian pre-dawn. Even with the exterior lights illuminating the surrounding area, Scarecrow could no longer see any figures approaching, when a private walked up to the bay door.
“Private, are you sure this is the only area where the Marine Companies are returning? Should I be looking somewhere else for my people?” Scarecrow held his breath as he waited for the Private’s reply.
“This is the designated rallying point, Sir,” the private replied. “The brass didn’t want troops wandering in just anywhere. Too much confusion that way. Everyone was ordered to report here.” The private could see the pained expression on Scarecrow’s face. He hesitated before voicing the inevitable.
“Sir …” He motioned to the door. “I have to secure the bay door now.”
“Just wait a little longer,” Scarecrow said.
“But Sir, there’s no more coming in. I have to secure the–”
“That’s an order, Private!” Scarecrow snapped, and then calmed himself. “I’m sorry, Private. Just … just wait a little longer. Please.”
“Aye, Sir.”
A little longer turned into a half-hour, then stretched to over an hour as Scarecrow waited and prayed. Prayed and waited. No other Marines had been seen approaching during that time. The tang of sweat and iron wafted throughout the enormous space, and aside from Scarecrow, the private and a team gathering stray equipment, the bay was empty.
As time passed, the private became increasingly antsy. With trepidation, he approached Scarecrow once more. “I’m sorry, Sir, but I have to secure the bay door now,” he said.
Scarecrow had moved to stand in the center of that still open bay door. He strained his eyes, hoping to see something, anything in the red cloud that churned outside the base, but all he saw was the tiny orange sun peeking out over the distant mountains to the east. He stood still, staring out at the unforgiving Martian landscape, his silhouette hazy as a result of the force field that withstood the violent weather.
After several moments, Scarecrow let out a heavy sigh and dropped his head, staring off to one side in defeat as he motioned to the private to secure the expansive bay door and switch off the force field. He took one last, longing glance out at the twisting, swirling, rust colored panorama, hoping beyond hope that he might see something of Cooper’s company. He had tried hailing Cooper on her comm, but got no response. His mind tortured him with the possibilities. He gazed out at the cold, lifeless Martian scenery while every emotion he had began to shut down. Every one that is, except grief. That one began to grow. Now he knew how Cooper felt when she had lost her Jimmy.
Sandy was gone. His life was over. Once her body was recovered, it would be sent back to Earth and she would be buried in Arlington, like Chrissy in Maine. Then he would have two graves to visit.
I’m a jinx. All the women I fall in love with end up dead.
He was swept back to the day he heard about Chrissy’s death. Just like 911, he would never forget where he was when he received the news. He was writing an exam when he got called to the commandant’s office. He stood at attention in front of the big oak desk as the general stared up at him with an empathetic gaze. The young recruit remained silent. He knew what the general was going to say–was going to tell him–but he waited until his superior uttered the words. He tried to contain his emotions, but to no avail. Tears burst from his eyes and streamed over his cheeks while his chin began to quiver.
Then the commandant did something totally unexpected. He stood, rounded his desk and embraced his pupil. The young cadet Richardson threw his arms around the general and wept. He remembered the words of consolation the general spoke into his ear that day. He would never forget them. They rang inside his head now as he waited in vain for Cooper to return. He tried to draw comfort and strength from them, but they sounded hollow–empty. Like sounding brass and tinkling cymbal. How many losses was one person expected to endure? He wanted to marry Chrissy. He wanted to marry Sandy. His heart twisted inside his chest as the pain of another loss coursed through his body and cramped his extremities.
As the two massive steel panels of the tank bay door were still rumbling in their onerous advance towards each other, Scarecrow was about to turn and begin the long, arduous walk back to the hangar bay where his TR-3B and his flight crew awaited him. Before he did, his eye caught a shadow in the dust storm. At first he thought it was a trick of the light–the wind whipping up a swirling pillar of dust that was there one moment, then gone the next. But no–it was still there.
Then another. And another … and another.
“Private!” Scarecrow shouted with wild abandon. “Get that bay door back open! There are more Marines coming in. And call the trauma teams back. Do it now! That’s an order!”
The private came running back across the cavernous tank bay and keyed in the code to reverse the massive doors direction. Steel groaned and shrieked in protest as the two panels halted their approach towards each other and then proceeded to slide in the opposite direction to expose the opening once more. The private tapped his comm and called for the corpsmen to return as Scarecrow had ordered.
The shadows morphed into figures as they approached in the early morning mist. All of them trudging, weak, weary, as if pummeled and beaten by the fierce Martian weather that swept and swirled and twisted around them.
They were still too far off to see for sure if it was Cooper’s company, but all those emotions that had begun to seep away now came crashing back, washing over Scarecrow in a tidal wave as he stood in front of the bay door like a thoroughbred race horse pawing the Earth, waiting for the bell and the starting gate to snap open. His fists opened and closed in anxious anticipation.
The trauma teams came sprinting back, pouring through the hatches from several passageways just as the first Marine staggered through the force field of the bay door with a loud buzz, collapsing onto the deck. Scarecrow reached down and turned him over to look at the name tag on his body armor, and then brushed the amber dust away from the face shield with a trembling hand. He peered down through the ruddy, dirt-streaked transparent alumina.
Scarecrow’s heart leapt into his throat when he saw it was Cook, the jealous lieutenant that had approached him in the wardroom. He jumped up as the corpsmen grabbed the lieutenant and proceeded to peel him out of his damaged and battered combat gear. Another Marine pushed through the force field, followed by several more …
Then many more.
Finally, the big first sergeant, Cooper’s right arm, stumbled through the door’s force field. He was surrounded by eight more Marines, including a fire team of Red Boots who all appeared to be acting as a form of honor guard. All of them were still hefting their weapons. The first sergeant spotted the TR-3B pilot, and then staggered over to stand in front of Scarecrow. He was carrying a comrade in a red environmental suit.
It was Cooper.
Her body armor had a dozen emergency repairs, including a rag hurriedly tied around one forearm. Pieces of her armor were missing, and many of the remaining components were damaged beyond repair. Her suit was covered in some form of putrid liquid, dried and caked to her tattered suit.
Cooper was still clutching her Ka-Bar, and it too was covered in the same crusted gunk. The face shield of her helmet had several dents in it, and Scarecrow wondered how the transparent alumina had retained its integrity as he rushed up to try to peer in and see if she was alright. The first sergeant stood holding her while Scarecrow, with frantic eyes, glanced back and forth from Cooper’s visor to the first sergeant’s.
The big Marine mouthed something, but his helmet mic was damaged and silent. The commander wiped the red dust from the first sergeant’s face shield with an anxious motion of his hand, to see what he was attempting to say. Frustration forced Scarecrow to unlatch the first sergeant’s bevor. His fingers fumbled with the electronic release, but he managed to activate it and it rewarded him by dropping the bevor onto the first sergeant’s chest while the face shield disappeared up into his helmet. The burly E-8 was drenched in sweat–it was obvious he was exhausted. He stared at Scarecrow for a moment, a stoic look etched onto his strained, ebony face.
“She’s alive, Commander,” he said in his throaty, baritone voice. “The major’s alive. And once the corpsmen work their FM on her, she’ll be okay. She’ll be just fine.” His toothy smile confirmed his statement.
Unlike that day in the commandant’s office at the Air Force Academy, Scarecrow held his emotions in check as he stood in front of the first sergeant and nodded.
“I’m sorry I didn’t contact you Sir, but our company was assigned to stay behind for guard duty while the dead were being collected and the wounded were being loaded up to take back to the base. We had to make sure there were no snakehead stragglers lurking about. Several platoons of Red Boots went out on a hunting mission, and they’re still out there. When all the dead were accounted for and conveyed back here, we followed them. The Major was wounded, but insisted she stay with us. I had to carry her the last kilometer.”
Two corpsmen rushed over and with gentle care, took Cooper from the first sergeant’s arms. They laid her on an anti-grav gurney and whisked her off down the passageway, peeling away components of her gear and tossing them aside to clatter onto the deck as they went.
Scarecrow threw his arms around the first sergeant. The big Marine patted him on the back with gentle thuds from his catcher’s mitt hand. Scarecrow stepped back and with some embarrassment, wiped a tear from his face.
“Thank you, First Sergeant,” he said with a whisper. “Thank you for keeping her safe, and for bringing her back … back to me.”
“No need to thank me, Commander,” the big Marine replied in his sonorous voice as he pulled off his helmet. “Just doin’ my job, is all.”
“Well thank you anyways,” Scarecrow said as other Marines from Cooper’s company gathered around the two men. “All of you. Thank you. Thank you for honoring my request.”
“She’s our honcho,” one Marine replied. “We’d all give our lives to protect her. Even if you didn’t ask us to.”
“Six of us did,” the first sergeant said with a grim air. “Six of her Marines died protecting her. Two of them were Red Boots. When we ran out of power packs for our weapons, we had to fight hand-to-hand. We don’t have bayonets on our FX-15s, so we ended up fighting with nothing more than our machetes and combat knives.”
“Don’t ever get into a knife-fight with her, Commander,” Lieutenant Philips said as he hung his helmet onto the back of his utility belt and proceeded to pull off his gauntlets. “She took out four big snakeheads by herself with nothing more than a Ka-Bar. She’s not only one tough Marine, she’s a real-life Amazon.”
“We’re all good here, Sir,” the first sergeant said to Scarecrow, the confidence in his voice augmenting the expression on his face as he smiled. His big hand dropped with a weary thump onto the commander’s shoulder. “Go on and be with the Major, Sir. She’s gonna want to see your face when she comes to.”
It took Scarecrow some time to find Cooper. He went to two sick bays before he found her in the trauma bay of a third. He made his way through the mass of wounded, each with a frantic but efficient team of professionals, all busy as they tended to their patient’s needs. Sandy was surrounded by her own team of doctors and nurses, all attending to her wounds with requisite diligence and care. Like her body armor, her environmental suit was in pieces, both collected by a pair of her Marines who placed them in a large container to be taken back to Nautilus where they would be repaired or replaced.
Scarecrow stood at the open door, content to watch as his fiancé was ministered to with such skill and dedication. The physician in charge glanced up and noticed Scarecrow observing while they worked, but said nothing.
After some time, the medical team completed their procedures, and everyone began to file out of the trauma room. The last nurse was about to administer a sedative in preparation for the major’s anticipated stay in the regeneration pod.
“Wait.” The doctor held out his hand. “I think somebody wants to speak to the patient first.”
Both he and the nurse looked over at Scarecrow as he pushed himself away from the bulkhead with his shoulder and entered the room.
“Thanks, Doc,” he said as they passed each other. “I won’t be long.”
“Take your time. All the regeneration pods are full, so the major will have to spend the night in here. She’ll get her turn in the morning. We’ll wait before we give her a sedative, so you can have a few moments together.” The doctor patted him on the shoulder and left him with the major.
Scarecrow walked up to the bed and gazed down at Cooper. Her eyes were closed, her breathing quiet.
“Hey,” Scarecrow whispered as he brushed a sweat-soaked, golden tress from her face.
Cooper opened her eyes and looked up at him. When she recognized her fiancé, she beamed. “Did you get him?” Were the first words out of her mouth.
“Like a bug on a windshield.” He smiled back. “Zvi, Tony and I spanked him but good. Hutch even helped out.”
“Then Hutch got my message–”
“So, it was you who contacted him. And all along I thought it was the admiral.”
“I couldn’t let anything happen to that gorgeous tush of yours,” she replied with a weak grin.
“Regardless, we made sure he won’t be bothering us anymore.”
“That’s my flyboy,” she said, her voice groggy as the pain meds began to take effect. Scarecrow looked down at her with love and compassion and with a tender touch, stroked her cheek.
“I hear you’re the scourge of the snakeheads. Took out four with nothing more than a Ka-Bar, no less.”
“Oh, that’s just my Marines braggin’ on me,” she said. “How are they?”
“They’re all fine. They’re being well taken care of.” He stared down at her as a sad air clouded his face.
“Please don’t leave me, Sweeting,” he whispered, emotion ringing in his voice.
Sandy returned his gaze and shook her head, smiling. “And where do you think I’m gonna go? The docs have me all wired up, here.” When she saw that her levity had no effect, she added, “Not a chance, Lover.” Her smile was reassuring. Then her countenance morphed to a more somber bearing. “The events of the last month have torn open scabs on a lot of old wounds. For both of us, but especially for you. We need to get back to healing.” She reached over and took his hand. “I want to help you.”
“And here it was I who wanted to help you. Funny how things change.” Scarecrow reached into the vest pocket of his flight suit and pulled out a small object. He placed it in Cooper’s hand, closing her fingers around it.
“I want you to have this,” he said.
“What is it?” Cooper looked down and opened her hand. It was his wings. “What’s this for?”
“I’m resigning my commission,” he said. “You were right. It’s not fair for me to make you worry every time I fly a mission. I can’t put you through that fear and anxiety, wondering if I’ll ever come back. I’m going to become a civilian consultant. I’ll teach combat tactics and train pilots, and act as a military advisor at Naval Space Command. Then you won’t have to worry about me anymore.” He looked into her eyes as he spoke, “I can’t live without you, Sweeting. Nothing’s more important to me than you are. Not even flying.”
“Oh, no you don’t,” she replied. “You’re not getting off that easy.” She handed him back his wings. “I couldn’t have been more wrong about what I said to you, and I am so sorry, my Love. I treated you horribly.
“You’re a combat pilot. You were born to fly. It’s not only what you are, it’s who you are. Just like I’m a Marine. If I tried to take that away from you, it would be like cutting you in half and throwing away the best part. And that’s not fair. I’ll just have to have faith that you will come home safe from every mission. Just like you’ll have to have faith that I’ll come home from my missions. It works both ways, y’know.” Cooper dropped Scarecrow’s wings back into his upturned palm. He peered down at them for a moment, then tucked them back into his pocket.
“Okay,” he said. “But they belong to you, now. If you change your mind, just ask, and I’ll hand them back to you.”
“Never gonna happen,” she replied. “Now, I do want my ring back. We were supposed to be getting married today. I think I’ll have to wait a while until they let me out of here, but one way or another, I’m going to marry you, flyboy. So where’s my ring?”
Scarecrow reached into the opposite pocket of his flight suit, and produced the requisite ring. He reached down and slipped it onto her finger.
“Thanks, Lover,” she said. “Now give me a kiss before I pass out. I’ve thought about nothing else since you flew off two days ago.”
“Are you sure you can handle it?” he replied. “We don’t want your blood pressure to spike and scare the doctors, y’know.” He smiled at her as she frowned.
“Get those lips down here,” she said with a playful growl. “That’s an order.”
“Oh, yes Ma’am. I mean ‘Sir.’” Scarecrow leaned over and kissed her softly, but she grabbed the back of his head and pressed in. It wasn’t so much Cooper’s blood pressure that spiked …
“That’s more like it.” She smiled as they parted.
“I think I should let you get some rest,” he said as he stood. “I’ll call the doctor back now. He wanted to give you a sedative. They won’t be able to put you into a regeneration pod until tomorrow.”
“Don’t leave me alone in here,” she asked.
“Don’t worry, Sweeting. I’m not going anywhere.” Scarecrow pressed the call button and then went over to the corner and retrieved a chair, setting it beside Sandy’s bed. He sat down and stared into her eyes, gently stroking her hair. A few moments later, the nurse arrived with an unusual looking syringe.
Cooper spent the requisite 24 hours in the regeneration pod, but before she went in, Scarecrow never left her side while she was sedated and waiting her turn. Both the doctor and the nurses offered to provide him with a bed in a room not far from sick bay they used while on long shifts, but he refused. Instead, he stayed in the chair while his fiancé convalesced, gripping her dog tags in a firm fist once she was installed inside the regeneration pod. The nurses brought Scarecrow meals, but he barely touched them. Instead, he stared at Cooper through the small viewing port of the pod, pondering their plans for the future.