Sometimes, it’s not about what we want to do, but about what we must do.  It is the greatest among us that realize this and take it to heart.

— Erich Quizibian, c. 5071 PD

12 Decem, 5249 PD

“You don’t have to go back to work just because Uncle Adam said he needed you, Brendan.”

He paused in buttoning his uniform jacket, head dipping for a moment before he turned to look at her.  Lindsay sat on their bed, knees drawn to her chest, chin resting on them.  She was watching him, eyes bright but fearful.  He smiled to cover the nerves they both knew he was suffering and shook his head very, very slightly.

“I don’t,” he agreed.  “But how can I not when the galaxy is about to go to war with itself again and we’re about to be—somehow—on the front line?  Those pilots we need aren’t going to train themselves, Lin.  Even if I don’t have to because Marshal Windsor asked, I have to because the Foundation needs me to.”  He went to her and kissed her gently, one thumb brushing against her cheek.  “I’ve got to do it for us, for you and the baby, so you can be safe—so we can be safe.”

Lindsay exhaled a quiet sigh, watching him for a moment before she shook her head.  “That doesn’t make it easier, Brendan.”  She turned her head to kiss his palm lightly, her eyes never leaving his face.  “Are you sure you’re actually up to it?”

He considered the question for a moment, then nodded again.  “Yeah.  I’ll just have to be careful, that’s all, and no simulators for me.  I should be all right in the classroom, though, and programming the next few simulations for the cadets shouldn’t be an issue.”

“As long as you’re sure.”

I have to be.  Brendan smiled and kissed her again.  “I am.  Now get dressed.  We’ll have breakfast in town.”

“What if I don’t want to?” she asked softly, looking up at him.

He tried to smother his disappointment.  Is she teasing, or is she serious?  “Then we don’t have to have breakfast,” he said.  “I’ll head into town myself.”  Maybe check on Alana and Ezra on my way.  Alana won’t like that, but she may appreciate it.

“Oh, Brendan.”  Lindsay sighed again and got up from her curled position on the bed.  “Don’t take it that way.  I’d love to have breakfast with you this morning, but I just don’t want to leave the house just yet.”

“Are you still upset over D’Arcy?”  Brendan asked as he resumed dressing.

“Concerned,” she corrected.  “Not upset.  Concerned.  Aren’t you?”

“Of course.”  D’Arcy’s sudden change of heart over Rachel becoming the new Speaker had left more than a few of them rattled in the wake of the Council meeting.  “I don’t know what kind of game he’s playing, but he’s got something up his sleeve.”

“And we won’t know what it is until it hits us on the blind side,” Lindsay said quietly, massaging her temples.  “Unless we somehow get lucky and figure it out before it’s too late.”

“We can only hope.”

Lindsay’s arms slid around his waist as he finished with his jacket.  She adjusted his lapels and his few service decorations.  “Yeah,” she said as she reached up to cup his cheek against her palm.  “Brendan, tell me somehow everything’s going to be okay.”

He smiled at her and brushed some hair back from her face.  “Everything’s going to be okay,” he said.  “We’ll find a way to make it that way.”

She nodded slowly, giving him a weak smile.  “Thanks,” she said in a whisper.  “When you say it, I can believe it.”

“Good.”  He kissed her again, then exhaled.  “All right.  I’ve got to get going.  Are you going to be okay while I’m out?”

“As long as you’re okay at the base,” she said.  “I’ll probably go over to Aunt Rachel’s later, try to sort out what the hell D’Arcy’s up to.  I think Frederick’s making it his mission to sort all of that out.”

Frederick.  Brendan shook his head.  “I still almost can’t get over that.  Frederick Rose has been alive all these years—here, hiding.”

“I didn’t know, either,” Lindsay said.  “Even Aunt Rachel didn’t know.  Just the Marshals, I guess, and Ezra.”

Still, Ezra knew and we didn’t somehow find out?  That’s still vaguely mind-blowing.  “Hopefully that’s some kind of advantage to us,” he said.  Even he’d heard of Frederick Rose, even when he was still training.  He hadn’t known what to make of the man then and he was only slightly more certain of what to think now.

“That’s my hope, at least,” Lindsay said quietly, leaning into Brendan’s chest.  He wrapped his arms around her shoulders.  “Daddy and Mom seemed really happy that he was still around.  He was happy to meet me, too, which…I don’t know what to think about it.”

“Then it’s not worth worrying about right now,” Brendan said.  He kissed her temple and stepped back.  “Now I’ve really got to get going if I want to eat anything before I get to teaching.”

Lindsay gave him a lopsided smile.  “I guess I can let you.  I’ll be here when you get home, okay?”

“Good.”  He gave her one last kiss before he headed for the door.  “I’ll see you this afternoon.”

“I’ll be here.”

He didn’t dare look back as he walked out the door because he knew that the tears she’d been trying to hold back had finally broken through the dam.  If he looked back, he wouldn’t be able to leave, to get back to work.

Neither of them—nor their world—could afford that right now.

 

•           •           •

 

“Commander Cho?”

Brendan glanced up from gathering his notes and smiled at the familiar face.  “Tomasi.  Congratulations on your promotion to ensign.”

The teenager flushed, her faint freckles vanishing under the pink.  “Thank you, sir.  I understand that I have you to thank for the recommendation.”

“It was my pleasure to pen that letter,” Brendan said.  “You’re talented and you deserve every opportunity to develop those talents.”

“Marshal Windsor does seem fairly adept at tactics,” she said as she edged a little closer.  “I’ll probably learn a lot, but it’s different from flying.”

He nodded slightly.  “Of course it is.  Nothing’s quite like flying.  Take advantage of what you can learn from the Marshal, though.  It’ll serve you well.”  In some ways, I wish I’d been able to learn more from his experiences over the years.  Maybe if he and Rachel had stayed together…

…then again, if they’d stayed together, I’m not sure I’d still be breathing.

“That’s actually why I’m here,” she said, scuffing a toe nervously against the floor.  “The Marshal needs you.  He sent me to come get you, since you weren’t answering your comm.”

“I left it at home,” Brendan said.  “An oversight.  Is it an emergency?”

“No,” she said.  “At least I don’t think it is.  But he did say that I should yank you out of class if I needed to.”

Brendan smiled grimly.  Not an emergency, but important.  “Is he at headquarters?”

“He’s in operations,” Tomasi said.

Operations was at the other end of the base—a long walk, but not an insurmountable one.  Brendan nodded slowly.  “All right.  Let’s get going.”

“I have a skimmer waiting,” Tomasi said.  “If you’ll come with me, sir?”

“Lead on.”

Together, they headed out to the small skimmer that waited outside of the training center.  A few cadets waved to either he or Tomasi on the way.  Brendan gave a few of his colleagues brief nods, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his slacks against the chill that was starting to settle over the base.

Tomasi noticed and smiled faintly.  “A cold front’s coming through.  My father was complaining about his arthritis this morning.”

“He does realize that we can fix that these days, right?”

Her smile grew as she opened the skimmer door for him.  “Of course he does.  He just doesn’t see a point in wasting the resources to fix something he can easily treat with really strong willowbark tea.”  As he got settled in the passenger seat, she slid in on the driver’s side and got them underway.  “He’s old school like that, I guess.”

“Very much so,” Brendan said.  “Is he from here, or is he the side of your family that’s Guard stock?”

“Both of my parents are, actually.”  Tomasi steered them around a group of technicians on their way to their duty posts and threaded through a pair of machine shops on her way across base.  “My mother’s been here since she was a kid.  My father came after the war.  He was actually part of Commander Channing’s resistance on Mimir after the fall.  He’s…kind of looking forward to seeing him again.  It’s been a long time.”

Brendan smiled faintly.  “I’ll try to arrange something for him, if you’d like.”

“Marshal Windsor already offered,” Tomasi said, smiling back.  “I think they’re trying to organize something for all the survivors of the resistance that made it here.”

“I see.”

They lapsed into silence until they drew closer to operations, at which point Brendan wet his lips and glanced toward her.

“Do you know what he needed me for?”

“No, sir,” Tomasi said.  “If I knew, I’d tell you, but I don’t know.”

That could be very good or very, very bad.  Brendan swallowed the bile suddenly rising in his throat.  Why the hell does my gut tell me it’s very bad?

Because you’re becoming more and more paranoid every minute of every day, that’s why.

Tomasi pulled the skimmer to a stop in front of the operations building.  “I have to get this back to the motor pool,” she said.  “You should head in.  Marshal was down in the cave when he sent me to get you.”

The cave.  Fantastic.  The cave was the colloquialism they used when they were talking about the master control center, two floors below ground level.  If Adam Windsor was down there…

You won’t know until you head down there and find out.

Brendan took a deep breath, climbed out of the skimmer, and headed into the lion’s den.