Aftermath (by Cass & Gage)

[Gage Silver 0]

Aftermath

A Granger-Silver Log

 

 

Gage heard Major Ishiiu call his name and quietly sighed, weaving to the front of the compartment as the team and support personnel continued to file out. He’d received a long third-degree before their initial debrief. Cass’s capture. His decision not to seek approval for her rescue. Better to ask forgiveness than permission, right? Signs of what Ishiiu disapprovingly called a clear lack of objectivity. It’d all go into official record. Ishiiu even felt obliged to observe how far south Gage’s career had gone in a matter of weeks and warned him to straighten up or risk a job in supply.

 

So what now?

 

“Didn’t believe it until now; why you requested that transfer,” Major Ishiiu remarked in a fatherly tone as he pulled Gage aside. It’d finally clicked in Major’s head during the meeting. That was a change from earlier, but not an improvement.

 

Gage shrugged, wondering why the Major wanted to pound the sand and too weary to discuss it. The exhaustion hit just after the shuttle broke atmo en route to the Buffalo Gap, watching a medic tend to Cass’s wounds. Hoping that she’d indignantly reach up and slap him once she realized who held her.

 

“You made the right decision,” the Major assured.

 

Gage dismissively tipped his head, shifted his gaze to the wall monitors. “Yeah. That’s what I keep telling myself.”

 

Ishiiu’s eyes narrowed, his scrutiny drawing a long look from Gage. “For the best, Lieutenant,” he said. “That you recognized the problem and resolved it on your own is a good thing.”

 

Praise didn’t change the deflated expression on Gage’s face, just twisted it into an incredulous smirk. He glanced at the hatch like a man watching the clock.

 

“Why don’t you go check on Granger,” Ishiiu suggested with a caution: “Just keep what I said in mind?”

 

“Yes, sir.” Gage nodded.

 

Gage spent a lot of time in sickbay that afternoon. He cleaned up first, but by his unshaven face and absence at dinner, he was more interested in waiting out his teammate to regain consciousness. He wasn’t needed and didn’t see why he should be anywhere else. He leaned against her biobed, deep in thought, arms folded and his back to a sleeping Cass.

 

Hearing her steady breathing behind him, thoughts drifted into how far they’d come from the seafaring navy. Fewer hack saws and amputees now. The use of flight-for-life remained confined to the short distances within planetary systems. Except on the smallest ships that never strayed into deep space, the doctors were competent and sickbays self-sufficient, equipped to repair complex trauma. The old practice of patching you up so they could fly you to a hospital wouldn’t save you when you were caught between stellar distances and weeks or months to the nearest shore. That brass thought enough of them to send along specialists on their transports meant something. Put Gage at ease, for what it was worth.

 

“Hey, sir.”

 

His gaze snapped to his left, face relaxing once he realized that she wasn’t just moaning in her sleep and he wasn’t hearing things. “Hey,” he echoed, cautiously smiling, unfolding his arms as he turned. “How’re ya?”

 

“Feelin’ pretty damn good, sir. Can’t deny it. Gotta hand it to medical; they sure do know how to fix a cocktail. But I think I’d go a little light on the scotch next time, maybe add a little Jack to the mix. Straight up.” Her grin came out goofy, made worse by the swelling.

 

Gage gave a halfhearted smirk, focusing on her good humor to stifle the urge to frown at her bruised face.

 

“We gave ‘em hell, didn’t we sir. Kicked ass.”

 

“Everything they deserved,” he agreed.

 

“Got a few more for kickin’ too, sir. Names. Places. Gonna be a hell of a ride.”

 

Gage scowled at the one topic he didn’t feel like discussing and gave a heavy pause. “Not going with you, Cass.”

 

“Roger that, sir. I got this. We’ll kick ass, you know that.”

 

“Yeah,” he agreed, fighting off the things he really wanted to say.

 

“Lieutenant?” A soft male voice spoke behind him.

 

Gage glanced over his shoulder. “Doc?”

 

“Yes,” he said, offering his hand, “Doctor Jose Panjota,* Starfleet Special Warfare. You must be Lieutenant Silver?”

 

“That’s what they call me,” he mirthlessly replied, shaking Panjota’s hand.

 

“How about we step away and let the warrant rest.” He stepped back, indicating Gage should follow to a medical station not far from Cass’s bed. As if he anticipated reluctance from Gage, he added: “Not far. You can return when we’re done and I’ll set up a recliner.”

 

Gage gave the doctor a strange look, wondering what was going through Pantoja’s head as he followed.

 

Leaning against the desk, Pantoja waited for Gage to settle in. “You’re confused,” he began. “Understandable. In response to political opposition, several studies were conducted in the twenty-first century that explored this very phenomenon—”

 

“What phenomenon?”

 

“The effect women serving on the front-lines had on their male counterparts, of course,” Pantoja said, smiling.

 

“Interesting,” Gage droned, trying to appear apathetic by stuffing his hands in his pockets and studying the doctor’s credentials.

 

“The studies revealed that, while largely an individual predilection, those who were affected often lost focus when faced with the injury or loss of a female teammate on the battlefield, to the point of endangering their units and missions." Pantoja studied Gage for a moment. “You don’t believe that applies to you?”

 

Gage gave Pantoja a sidelong glance, growing irritated. “Don’t believe I wanna be head-shrinked right now, Doc.”

 

“Just providing information,” Pantoja affably replied with open hands.

 

Gage stared. "Why?"

 

"Because it’s what I do. Because you're still here and your team is not. Well, you and the young man that's camping outside in the passageway."

 

Gage didn't realize he'd given Pantoja a puzzled look until the doctor added: "Wouldn't worry, he refuses to come in." Maybe it wasn't a puzzled look.

 

Gage shrugged.

 

"Answer this: for her," he gestured toward Cass, "what were you willing to give up?"

 

"My life," Gage answered without hesitation.

 

Pantoja nodded, thinking. "I usually see you here in groups or shifts around the clock. Your team's giving you space, am I right?

 

“But the young man outside is different. Standing guard at the hatch I’d expect from a Marine who didn’t know the warrant personally. You may be shipmates but you aren't on the same team, and you aren't here for the same reasons, are you? Or perhaps you have different ways of dealing with grief," Pantoja observed.

 

"Does it matter?"

 

"It might. We both know these kinds of scars are more than physical. Friends, teammates, loved ones," he waited a beat. "She'll need all of you to heal. You'll need each other. Here, in person, if possible, and capable of relating to her."

 

Gage felt his irritation fade a bit and nodded understanding.

 

"Now, if I remember right, I mentioned a recliner," Pantoja said. "You don't mind if I keep you company for a while?"

 

"No," Gage shook his head.

 

"I’ll have more questions," Pantoja warned. "From my patient's doctor to her team leader."

 

Gage knew that wasn't what Pantoja really meant. The doctor had him figured out. "Whatever you need to help her."

 

"Good. Coffee?"

 

"Yeah."

 

“You were a medic on the teams, were you not?” Pantoja asked as he prepped the coffeemaker.

 

“Long time ago.”

 

“Well, I’m sure you know it’s good thing you recovered her when you did. It could have been much, much worse. She suffered a moderate concussion, but the damage isn’t permanent,” Pantoja paused to pull a steaming mug from the dispenser and slip in an empty one.

 

“There will be some scarring for the cosmetic surgeon to repair, if that’s what she desires. And we suspect the electrodes also caused nerve damage; we’ll know more once she’s up and moving around. But she’ll heal with time.” He glanced at Gage. “Cream? Sugar?”

 

“No, thanks.”

 

___________

* Jose Pantoja: This name is used with utmost respect for the dedication of U.S. Army SGT Jose Pantoja, medic, 3rd Platoon, Bravo Company, 2nd Battalion, 87th Infantry Regiment, 10th Mountain Division.

Edited October 2, 2012 by Gage Silver