Week 16 Summary (September 23-29, 2002)

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"Hi, Doctor," McGregor replied, carefully maneuvering Brinks to the floor. "We've got a man down here, bad. Couple of high velocity rounds ripped through his exo-suit and his chest. One lung punctured. Internal bleeding. Pulse erratic. Blood pressure dropping, though not as badly as before. I've got a couple tanks of synthetic plasma in him." She slipped out one of her mini cameras -- normally used for spy work -- and aimed it at Brinks' chest. "Here are the entry wounds." She rotated around to his back. "And exit. We need some quick surgery here and what you have is me -- I'm your hands. I've got first aid training, a strong will, not too great a bedside manner, and hands that are accustomed to working with small gadgets." While talking, she had carefully removed her suit's gloves and arms panels, exposing her bare arms to the ship's atmosphere. "Ready?"

Back on the Fierce, Gilmour's expression was one of shock when the surprisingly clear images of Private Brinks' injuries lit the screen she'd sat down in front of. "Jesus," she said softly into her microphone. "I mean, uh, ready. Lieutenant, can you send me his -- ah, thanks." Examining the man's vitals, Gilmour's pretty face fell. "We need to stop that bleeding or he's not going to make it," she stated somewhat needlessly. "Do you have a field surgeon's kit with you?"

"'Fraid not, Doctor," McGregor replied over the line. "Tucker might have one, but she's not here. We'll have to make due."

"Alright, then we won't be able to cut or crack his ribcage. We'll need to do this non-invasively. Stand-by." Gilmour's fingers flew as she searched her computer for the information she wanted. Sweat trickled down the doctor's neck as the seconds ticked by, until finally she pulled up what she'd been looking for. "Bingo," she said enthusiastically. "Lieutenant -- can you lay your hands on an ultrasound emitter?"

"Oh, sure," McGregor replied nonchalantly. "I carry one with me all the time." There was the briefest of pauses, then: "Seriously. I normally use it for counterintelligence work, but here, let me focus it down... there. Okay, I've got one." A brief, high-pitched whine indicated to Gilmour that the device, normally used as a jammer, had been activated.

"Good," Gilmour returned. "We're going to use a technique called acoustic hemostasis to stop the bleeding -- but first we've got to find it. We'll use the ultrasound in doppler mode for that. You'll need to hook up your ultrasound tool to a medical scanner... or a PDA or something, anything... we need to be able to see the results of the scan."

"Roger," McGregor replied. After a few moments, she continued, "Okay, I've got a little medical scanner here. Much as I'd like to jury rig my PDA, Noah's too fine a soldier to mess around with. Frequencies?"

"I'm transmitting them now."

"Got 'em. And... okay, here goes. You're seeing this, I hope. Hm. I was doing this same sort of thing to the sled a few hours ago, you know." There was another short pause. "Huh. The mystery of who's been into the mess hall cookie jar at night is now solved. What next, Doctor?"

Gilmour couldn't help but laugh lightly as she examined the images on her screen -- images of Brinks' innards. "Good work on this so far," the doctor complimented. "These are good, clear, images. Try moving a little lower on his chest, and towards his right side. Angle the device a little more... that's right. I need you to move in slow, concentric circles from that point."

McGregor followed the woman's directions for a few moments while the rest of the squad held their breath. Finally, Gilmour spotted what she thought was one of the problem areas.

"Right there, Lieutenant. That's a lung puncture. Now we're going to dial that gizmo of yours up to it's maximum frequency. We need to heat that spot to about seventy degrees and sear it shut. It might take a few minutes with that tool, so keep your hand steady once you begin."

"Got it. Steady hand."

All eyes were on McGregor as she held the silent ultrasonic device to Brinks' bloody chest. Ellis shifted uncomfortably at the two minute mark, and a short time later McGregor ceased her work and switched back to doppler mode at Gilmour's behest.

"I'll be damned," the doctor breathed over the line, peering at the images of Brinks' lung. "You nailed it, Lieutenant. Nice job!"

"You nailed it, Doctor. I just held the instrument steady." McGregor breathed a sigh of relief.

"Now get him onto his side -- we need to see how he looks from the back."

McGregor and Mandrake moved Brinks in the light gravity, and soon the JAFI officer was back working with her improvised ultrasonic scanner. As Ellis scanned the corridor outside the storage room to make sure they weren't being flanked or moved upon, Gilmour spotted a second wound.

"I don't see anything other than the exit wound in his lung," she said before giving McGregor a stream of very detailed instructions about how she needed to attack the damaged area. When the doctor was satisfied with McGregor's placement of the instrument, she had the woman switch to high frequency and begin the burn.

"Come on Noah, hang on," La Rue pleaded, pacing slightly on the wall out in the hallway.

"Try that," Dr. Gilmour advised, wanting McGregor to stop and switch back to scan mode. When she did, Gilmour frowned. "We didn't get it. Move a centimeter to your right and try angling the device about ten degrees towards Sergeant Mandrake. Good. Try that."

McGregor did as she was told, and when she stopped to check her work two minutes later, Gilmour's voice held a note of relief when it sounded in her helmet. "I think we got it. Let's scan for more internal injuries before we call it good."

"Scanning now."

After a moment, Dr. Gilmour noted with satisfaction that the scans looked clean. "Alright, I think Brinks is as good as you're going to get him in the short term. He needs that lung drained, and oxygen wouldn't hurt either, but he's doing a lot better than he was. Good job, you guys. Good luck over there."

McGregor hauled out a canister of oxygen and held it to Brinks' mouth for a few moments. "Thanks, Doctor. We'll get him out of here as soon as we can and into your more capable care. McGregor out." She slipped her suit's arm covers and gloves back on and patted Brinks' thigh. "Good boy," she said. "You didn't cry even once."

Ellis grinned a little behind her faceplate as La Rue's hulking armored form moved to block the doorway. "We going to leave him here while we hit the command center?" she asked, her grip tight on Brinks' heavy rifle.

"No point in dragging him along," replied Harry "We can leave a motion detector behind we can check if he's disturbed."

Ellis attached one to the wall with a magnetic clamp. "Done," she said, activating it. "Sit tight, Noah. I'll keep an eye on you."

Hyena squad moved back out into the corridor and moved down towards the intersection that would take them directly to the command center. Turning right, they slowly advanced up a main passage, Ellis on point, La Rue in the rear. About a hundred meters up the passageway, a wide, heavy blast door blocked their way. Hazard stripes and the words "COMMAND ACCESS" told the team that they'd reached their destination.

"Not reading anything on the other side," Ellis declared. "But I'm not surprised -- that's one heavy duty door."

"I wonder who's at home?" said Harry as he dazzled the camera above the door with a low power beam from his targeting laser. "Here's what we're going to do. Ellis, see if you can convince the door to open, otherwise we'll have to blow it. I want a quick entry the second it's open, don't give whoever's inside a chance to react - hopefully they don't have any heavy ordinance in there. Remember we need the controls intact and there's the possibility of hostages, so check your fire. Conversely, don't hesitate if you see anyone that looks like they're about to trigger a detonator. Lieutenant, I'll give you an all clear when it's safe to enter. Any questions?"

"None here, Sergeant," McGregor reported.

Ellis moved to the control panel cautiously as Ng and La Rue took up firing positions. "No sir," La Rue growled. "Just give me someone to kill."

Ng gestured at McGregor. "What about the Lieutenant? Someone comes up behind us and she's toast. Want me to stay in the back, sir, or do we need my gun up front?"

"There's only the four of us to secure the area, so I'm afraid the Lieutenant will have to look after herself for the moment. Once we're in, you and Ellis take the lower level, La Rue and I will take the top level," replied Harry.

Harry opened a private channel to McGregor. "If there is any trouble out here Lieutenant, get in there and find cover. I'm afraid that's the best I can do at the moment. This is going to be tricky however we do it."

"I'll be fine." She tapped her laser pistol. "I'm not completely defenseless. Just mostly. Seriously, though, if that's what we have to work with, that's what we have to work with. Shikatanai, as the Japanese would say." She cleared her throat a little. "I'm sure I don't have to remind you, Sergeant, but the very instant that room looks secure, I'm inside and doing my thing without interference. I hate like hell having to operate under high-level security protocols with you and your team -- I don't believe a single one of you deserves it, but those are my orders."

She continued, "Anyway, I'm not your CO or anything, but nevertheless: godspeed. Give 'em hell and stay alive." She snapped a quick salute. "And for god's sake, don't let that nuke detonate. My hair's a mess and I don't want to go to heaven looking like this."

"Thank you, Lieutenant," replied Harry, not returning the salute as he had his assault rifle tightly trained on the door in one hand while still pointing the targeting laser attached to his other arm at the camera above the door. "We'll try to avoid you having to commit such a horrible faux pas."

"Ellis, how's it looking?" he called.

"Much tougher lock," the private returned. A moment later, she added, "but I've got it. Just say the word."

Mandrake didn't hesitate. "Do it."

Ellis touched a single button on the panel, then quickly pulled her arms back inside her exo-suit and sealed it. She hefted her rifle just as a mechanism sounded deep within the bulkhead. Slowly, the door retracted down into the floor.

The control room was dark, lit only by the many screens and readouts that lined it's walls and row after row of long, curved computer banks. The room was circular, perhaps 25 meters in diameter, and the ceiling was domed. Oriented so that the floor was towards the aft of the sled and the top of the dome pointed towards the bow, the marines had to shift their perspectives somewhat regarding which way was 'up.' Directly across the main floor, past all manner of monitoring and control stations, was the other main blast door -- the one Tucker's squad was to have reached. To the left and right, ladders led to a second level; a wide deck or balcony of sorts ringed the lower room about four meters above the floor of the main level.

All of those details, and more, the squad had learned from the VR simulations they'd trained on. Those details now faded into the background, overwhelmed by adrenaline and the rush of the moment. The four armored marines bounded into the control room, their senses bristling, searching for any sign of hostiles, hostages, detonators, or anything else deserving of their attention.

La Rue, who was first into the fray, leapt with great force as soon as she entered the room. Turning over in mid-air, she landed inverted on the domed ceiling. Magnetic clamps in her boots held her fast despite the light gravity tugging at her, and she covered the other three marines as they moved in.

Ellis and Ng stayed low, on the ground level as Mandrake had ordered, and after not seeing anything on an initial look around, both sought cover.

At the same time, Sergeant Mandrake bounded up to the second deck, expertly landing above the opposite blast door, right between two massive data banks. Movement to his left told Harry that someone had taken cover behind one of the two meter tall cabinets, but when he brought his weapon to bear, the person scrambled along the curved wall, out of sight.

"This is the Jovian Armed Forces," boomed Harry's amplified voice as he tried to track the movement with his rifle. "Come out and identify yourself."

A quieter but likewise amplified voice answered from the shadows Mandrake peered into. "Why are you doing this? We wouldn't have harmed any of these people. Dr. Marduke is a visionary, not a criminal. He wants only to be left alone by the likes of you. Leave us in peace!"

La Rue adjusted her aim towards the sound of the man's voice. "I think I can take this guy right through that casing he's crouched behind," she said on the squad channel.

"Okay La Rue, keep him in your sights but don't fire unless I say so." replied Harry as he secured his assault rifle and unslung the grenade launcher.

"Movement down here, too," Ellis said quietly to the squad. "I think we've got two bogeys, both hiding."

"Are they together or separate?" asked Harry. "Ng, can you circle around behind them?"

"Separate," Ellis replied. "Looks like they're set up to cover one another, with their backs covered by the wall. Not sure if they know our position."

"Getting behind one of them looks dicey," Ng added.

"La Rue, can you spot see them?" Harry asked.

"Negative," La Rue answered after glancing at the locations Ellis had highlighted in her HUD.

Switching over to the external speaker, Harry addressed the hidden man again, trying to sound as reasonable as possible over the harsh amplification. "Why don't you come out and we can discuss it then. Come out peacefully and no harm will come to you."

"Yeah, sure," the man answered sarcastically. "You've already murdered a half-dozen people to get this far. We weren't going to hurt anyone -- why could you just leave us alone?!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," replied Harry. "If you refuse to show yourself I will have no choice but to assume you have a hostile intent."

Mandrake watched as the man's shadow, thrown on the wall by a bank of static-filled monitors, moved slightly. Had he just drawn a weapon? The Sergeant's grip tensed on his launcher when Sergeant Tucker's mildly distorted voice sounded in his helmet.

"Harry, Jon, where the hell are you? We're almost at the door to the command center... Faign is with me, but Skaradis, Lockerby and Mitchel are all down. That goddamned tank is right behind us. ETA twenty seconds to the door. Anybody inside yet?"

"Good to hear you, Nora," replied Harry. "Hyena squad is in the command center. Brinks is down but we're otherwise okay. Looks like there's three hijackers in here, we're trying to get them out without trashing the place now. Let me know when you're about to come through the door, a distraction could be useful." Quickly switching channels Harry continued, "La Rue, did you catch that? I want that Tanuki dead before it take more than a step through the door."

La Rue turned to face the door. "You got it, boss. Motherfucker's going down if it sets foot in here."

"Harry, thank God you're in there," Tucker replied, noticeably out of breath. "Can you... get that door open proto? I don't think we're going to have time to... fuck around with it."

"Sir, I think I've got more contacts," Ellis broke in. "There's all kinds of interference in here from all the equipment, but I think you've got two more tangos up there."

"I'm on it," Harry called to Tucker as he flipped over the railing of the upper deck and landed next to the blast door on the lower level. Staying well clear of the door he worked the controls while trying to keep one eye on the upper level opposite him for Ellis' new contacts.

"Sir, watch your back," Ellis warned as Mandrake punched a button to open the blast door. He held his breath for a split-second -- was the door locked from this side as well? -- before exhaling as the heavy portal began to open. His external mics picked up a hissing sound an instant before several impacts slammed into his back, knocking him forward and down onto his knees. Tucker and Faign bounded into the room at the same moment, wearing nothing but their internal vacc suits and carrying their backup laser rifles.

"Stay down!" Tucker commanded, taking quick aim over top of Mandrake's armored form. Blue-white light pulsed from her rifle, scorching the air just over Harry's head. The sergeant's aim was true, and Mandrake's assailant fell back with a hole burned into his chest. Light flickered on the wall as he dropped his gyroc rifle and collapsed out of sight, clearly on fire.

"Here comes ugly," La Rue growled, her attention focused down the corridor Tucker and Faign had just emerged from.

Unhurt, Mandrake got to his feet as Private Faign moved to the door controls in order to seal the entrance and Tucker swept her vision around the room. "Don't ask," she said, glancing briefly at her unarmored body. "Is the room clear?"

As if in answer, a metal sphere sailed down from the upper deck from near where Mandrake had cornered the man a moment before. It clattered to the deck amidst the trio, and Tucker swore when she saw what it was.

"Fuck! Maser grenade!"

Without hesitation Harry stepped forward and kicked the grenade towards the rapidly disappearing gap of the closing blast door. The deadly weapon skipped off the lip of the rising door, careening down into the corridor that Tucker and Faign had entered from. Just before the door closed completely, the grenade detonated, making a queer noise that sounded like a cross between a powerful static charge and a whine. Bright orange sparks filled the corridor as the device emitted a powerful microwave blast.

"Nice move, Mandrake," Tucker complimented as she scanned the upper level with her rifle raised. "Room's not secure, then."

Harry didn't have time to reply, unfortunately, as the room's occupants decided to make their move. The ripping sound of a machine pistol resounded in the room, and La Rue grunted as she was struck several times by light caliber bullets.

Ng returned fire to the upper deck -- towards the area where the grenade had come from -- and at the same time, another attacker dropped down to the main floor, right in front of the entrance Hyena squad had entered through. The man landed deftly, despite wearing a Bulldog exo-suit. The three-barreled chaingun he carried was already spinning, and when he pulled the trigger a jet of flame nearly a foot long marked the end of the gun. The electric action worked furiously, and as spent brass filled the air at one end of the command center, the other erupted under the violent barrage of bullets. Mandrake, Tucker and Faign all dove for cover as plastic, metal and glass filled the air as terminals and databanks exploded.

Behind the Bulldog, in the shadows of the poorly lit corridor leading to the command center, Lieutenant McGregor gripped tight her laser pistol.

"I've got even better news for you, Nora," said Harry as he took cover behind a control console. "These psychos apparently have a nuke on board as well."

"Oh, great," Tucker said with a roll of her eyes, keeping her head down.

Waiting until he could see the chaingun kicking up a plume of debris away from his immediate position, Harry leaned around his cover and prepared to fire off a grenade. Not having had a chance to change ammunition, Harry hoped the night glue would gum up the chaingun's action or at least blind the Bulldog.

Setting her Jovian Optics laser pistol on maximum charge, McGregor moved behind a packing crate in the exterior corridor and took aim at the back of the exo-suit. Her aim proved excellent, and when her pistol flashed brilliantly, a narrow shaft of light lanced into the back of the Bulldog's head.

The one-ton exo stumbled forward and was then struck by Mandrake's grenade, which exploded on impact, covering the stricken machine with black goo. The suit leaned over awkwardly, smoking from the back of the head, held in place by the glue as its chaingun went silent and slipped from its grasp.

On the ceiling, La Rue's armor gun roared and an instant later an entire databank exploded on the upper deck, sparks, flames and smoke erupting furiously. "Fuck you very much, prick!" she bellowed across the squad channel. Pivoting, she scanned the main floor for another attacker to take down.

"Good work, La Rue, just remember we're supposed to be securing the equipment in here, not destroying it." Taking advantage of the break in combat, Harry did a quick check of the area. The chaingun had chewed up the lower command deck badly, but at least the remaining members of Hyena and Jackal squads were still okay.

"Surrender. Now." he called out to the remaining contacts Ellis had identified, while signaling Ng and Ellis to flank the target on the upper level.

As the two squad members moved out, McGregor studied the Bulldog from a distance for a few moments. She had only meant to distract it to give the marines an opportunity to take it down from behind as it turned on her. "Well," she muttered to herself, "it certainly is distracted, I guess. And they know there's someone in this tunnel." She shifted position to keep an eye on both directions down the corridor.

La Rue checked her suit, and, finding that she hadn't sustained any serious damage, turned to cover Ellis and Ng as they landed on the upper deck. "Hey, who got that Bulldog?"

"Guilty," McGregor confessed, glancing down the corridor towards where the unconscious Brinks was located. "I never really cared for the Orbital Mechanics marketing division, frankly," she added, referring to the exo-suit's manufacturer. "Too wishy-washy."

"Shit, nice work, Lieutenant," La Rue said with a smile.

"Oh, you know: field surgery and sniping are all part of what makes an intelligence officer tick," she replied ironically. "Interrogation and data mining are just so fucking passé."

Beside Mandrake, Tucker stood up and surveyed the damage. Faign, too, righted herself. "A nuke?" the unarmored squad leader said simply. "Great," she repeated.

"This guy's not budging," Ellis said from the upper level, where she and Ng had split up to come at their foe from two sides. "And don't forget about that other one."

"I've got him covered," replied Harry as he slowly made his way towards the hidden man's location.

"We could try negotiating," McGregor suggested.

"Be my guest, Lieutenant," said Harry, unslinging his assault rifle again. "My first attempt didn't end so well though."

"Situation's a bit different now, Sergeant," McGregor replied, making her way up the corridor and ducking into the command center proper, where she took cover behind a low wall. "What do you have up there, Ellis?" she asked. "Mandrake, what about your guy? What are we looking at? Can you guys see them yet? I want the one that looks easiest to persuade." She glanced around, trying to see if she could spot either of the hijackers from her position.

Gilding looked at the doorway Dr. Gilmour had gone through, then back to the two other pilots in the room. "I'm not a girl, she finally said, "and neither is Dr. Gilmour."

Gunther replied to Gilding sharply, his mood clearly changed. "It was just an expression, Lieutenant."

Gilding sniffed and didn't begin to think of backing down. "An inappropriate one. You'll do well to refrain from using such pedestrian language in the future."

"Pedestrian language?" Gunther snorted. "Why is it that every female officer on this ship seems to have their bars twisted in knots of late," he continued rhetorically. "It was an expression of friendly affection, nothing more."

"Nothing of mine is twisted in a knot," Gilding answered calmly but firmly, "and I assure you that I don't want your 'friendly affection.' I rather suspect Dr. Gilmour doesn't either, considering she has to put up with this kind of nonsense from half the crew."

"Well, the fact that you don't want any of my friendly affection is plenty obvious," Gunther threw back, his face clearly turning red with frustration.

"Well, then you're not quite as dense as you look," Gilding replied without emotion. "I was afraid the subtleties of my declaration would go unappreciated," she added with a tinge of sarcasm.

Vice tried hard not to laugh. He ended up pretending to cough to stifle the reaction. It was not often that he had a chance to see Everett put out so easily. "A bit of advice, warrior to warrior," he said to Everett. "Best to let Cool claim victory this time. She seems immune to that devilishly silver tongue of yours."

Gunther flashed his angered stare at Vice. "My silvery tongue? You're full of shit to think you can turn your own witchcraft on me, Vice." He thrust a thumb over toward Gilding. "My unappreciated charms had no part in inviting this dog's bite. I was just making friendly conversation, not silvery language. Something that people seem to forget me capable of. My intent was not to win but rather end the ridiculous diatribe." He turned his head to face Gilding. "I refuse to be singled out by a bunch of silly, female-chauvinist rhetoric. Meanwhile, exo-boy here charms his way into your affections with laced sugar."

Vice calmly accepted Gunther's angry words. It was not the first time that the two had verbally sparred, and certainly not the first time that Gunther had exploded in such a manner. "What better way to end the diatribe than with heated words. Oh yes, I can really see the logic in this plan, old friend."

Gilding narrowed her eyes slightly. "No one's charmed his way anywhere, I'm afraid," she replied before saying, "and you've singled yourself out by your own behavior, Lieutenant. You've no one to blame for that but yourself."

Ignoring Gilding's chastising, Gunther turned his anger on Vice. "Old friend? Since when in the last eight years have we been old friends? That ended a long time ago. You walked out on me, remember? Of course, after you had already walked out on her."

Vice returned Gunther's angry stare. "I walked out on her?" he said slowly. Although Vice normally maintained a cool and calm demeanor, Everett Gunther could always find the one weak point that would boil his blood. There was always one trump card that was always played when conversations heated up between the two pilots, and Gunther seemed to love to play it. "You just had to drag her into this, didn't you. And you say I have trouble forgetting the past," he said through clenched teeth, his eyes shooting daggers into Gunther. "It was you and your never-ending skirt-chasing that drove her from me. You were jealous of what we had, our happiness together. You had to sink your philandering claws into her, clouding her mind with such sweet-talking lies, turning her away from me. You want to talk about friendship, my backbiting old friend? You were the one who walked out on me. You were the one who betrayed our friendship. You stole her from me! She was my fiancée, damn you!"

Gunther moved in closer to Vice, his face redder than ever. "Stole her?" he exclaimed, showing disbelief. "You were off on duty, god knows where, for how long? Everyone knew you were good, better than good, even me, but that wasn't enough for you, no," Gunther continued, gesturing with his hands wildly. "You filled your head with visions of vid-stardom from the start. That's why you lost her. You gave her up in your sly, egotistical desire to be the best." Gunther paused just long enough to breathe. "She came to me, because you couldn't be there. She saw what you were becoming and didn't want that kind of life."

Vice could almost feel Gunther's heated breath. "You self-righteous, arrogant jerk. What I was becoming?!" He slowly rose from the bed until he was standing in front of Gunther. "I'm a pilot and I have to be the best. Out here, in the middle of a firefight, you're either good or you're dead. Gwen understood this all too well. She knew why I took that early assignment, that I had ambitions to be more than just some hot-rodding booster-junkie with an out of control libido. I didn't know that they were filming a vid because that was not what I signed on for. I was doing all of this for her. At least I was able to stay with one woman for more than a month."

"Oh and it must have been really convenient for you to be there to 'comfort' her." Vice continued in a tone that would have made Gilding proud. "Did you have the decency to wait until after I was aboard the transport before going to work on her or did you start as soon as I turned my back?"

"It wasn't like that at all," Gunther fired back, his anger definitely tamed. "All three of us were friends. Heck, I introduced you two." His countenance suddenly rekindled. Pointing his thumb at his chest, he declared boldly, "When you left, she came to me, Vice." He then directed his finger at Vice, pushing hard against the pilot's chest. "I didn't go skirt-chasing after your fiancée. She left you, don't you get it?"

Vice slowly looked down at Gunther's finger and then glared back up at his former friend. "She did not leave me," he said with authority. "You made her leave me. I wrote her every day that I was on the Dauntless. Not once did she say anything that made me doubt her feelings. Not once did she say anything against my decision to take an early assignment. Not... ONCE!" He knocked away Gunther's finger with an open hand. "You may have introduced us, old friend, but you were always jealous of what she and I had together. We may have been friends, but it was you who betrayed our friendship. You decided to romance your... friend's... fiancée, knowing full well what she meant to me. Don't you dare try to pin your dishonorable actions on Gwen."

Oblivious to the heated exchange going on inside until she actually made her way into the infirmary, Private Arianna Cyan literally floated into the fray.

"Oh... crap... it's you!" she growled, her eyes falling on Gunther.

Recognizing the Private's voice, Gunther turned to look, his focus shifting to this new intrusion. "What do you want now?" he exclaimed, clearly agitated.

Vice turned to the newcomer, his face stern and angry. "Another of your fans, Everett?" he said flatly.

"Hardly," Cyan quickly snapped at the exo-pilot.

"Oh good. I like you already." Vice replied.

Cyan smiled slightly and nodded towards Vice. Apparently, there was a show, because the young private didn't move. She just stood, arms crossed in front of her, wearing a strange sort of make-shift turban, and watched the two.

"I need something I can use on my hair," she said, touching the towel she had wrapped around her head before turning her attentions towards the two pilots who were flexing at each other as they faced off in the infirmary. "I can't get this stuff out of it. I don't even know what it is. Where's the doctor?"

Gilding gestured towards Dr. Gilmour's office. "I believe she's busy. Feel free to have a seat and wait, however, Private. These two are proving to be very entertaining." Smiling ever-so-slightly, she added, "Lieutenant Gunther, I believe it's your play."

Gunther glared at Gilding. "Who invited you as referee?"

Gilding shrugged. "I'm not here because I choose to be, believe me."

"Well I hope that we are providing you with suitable entertainment." Vice said coolly, his eyes still locked on Gunther.

"Entertainment!" Gunther exclaimed. "My god, you talk about me being dishonorable to Gwen! You sly sack of shit, I can't believe that you're turning this argument into a stage show. That's the way it is with you isn't it, always dragging in others to suit your narcissistic agenda." Gunther breathed again to catch his breath. "Well, to answer your accusation, she did tell you, and I knew full well what she meant to you. When she told me she wanted to break it off, I saw the letter. She wanted me to read it since I was your friend. I didn't make her do anything."

Vice started to quietly laugh a humorless laugh. "Narcissistic Agenda?! Now that is the pot calling the kettle black. It was you, old friend, who picked a fight with me. It was you who decided that this would be the place, not me. You decided to dredge up our past here in Medbay, not me. Since I have been onboard, not once did you say anything about this to me in private. So why now? Why here? I certainly don't need her here." Vice jabbed a thumb towards Cyan. "Nor do I need Gilding," he jabbed another thumb towards Gildings bed. "But maybe you do. I think that you feel threatened by my presence on the Fierce. You were thinking that you were top dog onboard and that maybe I would take that away from you. So you have to prove your superiority over me, that you are the better man. For that you need an audience, people to demonstrate to, witnesses for my humiliation. No, old friend, they are not here for my benefit, for I have no narcissistic agenda as you put it. They are here for you, for your own agenda."

"That's not... I didn't... " Gunther stumbled for a response. By the expression on his face, Vice's words were clear stabbing at Gunther deeply.

"It is so easy to paint me as the villain isn't it? To say I am the darkness to your light," Vice continued, his tone becoming more and more sarcastic. "You must have viewed dating Gwen after she broke up with me as some sort of liberation. Poor Gwen was so upset with Vice, and heroic Everett was there to comfort and bed her. Was I the dragon to your St. George? Holding the beautiful Gwen against her will, forcing her to marry me in some nefarious scheme. Or did you wait until she called off our engagement? I am on assignment for 5 months and when I come back, my fiancée calls off our wedding and is suddenly dating my best friend. Suspicious no? You saw an opportunity and took advantage of my absence. From a strategic point of view it was a brilliant move. I was more the fool to believe... no to trust... my best friend alone with my fiancée when I knew his lady-killer reputation. I might have just as well have given a tank of fuel and a lighter to a pyromaniac and trusted him not to burn down the house."

Gunther's face grew more sullen. He was looking clearly beaten.

"And what did your brilliant scheme accomplish in the long run, hmmm?" Valkurie continued. "You betrayed my trust and lost my friendship, something that I am sure you are really torn up about, and you lost Gwen. She dumped you just as she dumped me. Kind of ironic isn't it? Overall I would have to say that it was not the best laid of plans. You want to talk about narcissistic, then you think about what you did to me and Gwen and you ask yourself for whose benefit it was for."

There was a long pause as the two pilots stared at each other. Vice glaring and Gunther looking more a little boy than a man. Finally, Gunther parted his lips to speak, but he stumbled over the words as he looked the other pilot in the face. His tongue barely able to vocalize what he wanted to say. "I loved her, Vice," he whispered. "More than you'll ever know. More than she'll ever know."

The comment took Vice by surprise. There was a sincerity in the man's voice, one that Vice was not expecting. Gunther had lost some of the confidence that he had shown earlier in their encounter and now seemed like a smaller man. Could there be some truth to what he was saying? "I was in love with her too, Everett. Now imagine the pain from the loss of your love and add it to the pain caused by finding out that your best friend had a hand in it." It was a final blow, perhaps one that was not needed.

With that Gunther turned to Gilding and Cyan and said softly, "I'm sorry that you had to see this."

An apology, Vice thought. This was unusual. Ever since their feud started, neither one has apologized to any onlookers, although in most cases the verbal matches occurred in private areas.

Gunther only moved to leave the room, a man clearly beaten. With a final glance over his shoulder, looking back at Vice and then the two women, he left the ward.

Vice slid back onto his bed. He leaned back, wrapped his arms behind his head and was lost in thought.

[End Summary]

End Week 16 Summary (September 23-29, 2002)

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