SPACE: Above and Beyond
RATING: NC-17 m/f, language
DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations of the TV program "SPACE: Above and Beyond" are the creations of Glen Morgan and James Wong, Fox Broadcasting and Hard Eight Productions, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended. This story is not to be published on any ftp site, news group, mailing list, fanzine or elsewhere without the express permission of the author.
The characters of Tracy Fairgate and Claudia Collins belong to Karen Evans
"Waiting To Exhale" is by Terry McMillian
This is a sequel, if you want to even call this a story (of sorts) to Ice Queens, check it out first, or just relax and enjoy this one
Rated NC-17 - all comments to LittleEva1@aol.com
Desk Job
September, 2065
Lt. Colonel Tyrus Cassius McQueen stood at his superior officer's desk and stared dumbfounded at the orders in his hand. The he looked up into Commodore Glen Ross's face and shook his head.
"I proved I was fit for duty," he said through his teeth, "The leg is the best science could create the next best thing to the real thing." He was trying very hard to maintain control, trying hard not to shout.
Glen Ross's eyes narrowed. "Ty, it's a promotion, not a discharge."
"A promotion? Off the Saratoga and out of combat, a goddamn desk job. I've proven myself time and time again, and this is what I get?" He threw the papers on Ross's desk.
"I won't go," he said.
"Ty, you have to go, the only other choice is going AWOL and I know you don't want to do that. Go AWOL or resign. These orders came from the Old Man himself."
McQueen allowed himself to look at them again. He shook his head. "And on top of everything, they're goddamn late. I have to be on Earth in two days...in Washington DC. of all places."
Ross looked at the papers, thoughtful, he nodded. "Someone up there probably wants to get re-elected, and thinks it's a good idea to make an InVitro a full Colonel."
"So, I'm their goddamn project."
"I'm afraid so Ty." Glen Ross stood up and patted his old friend on the shoulder. "Congratulations, Ty. I know you don't see it that way now, but you will."
McQueen just shook his head and gritted his teeth. "I'd like to know the son-of-a-bitch who ordered this."
Ross smiled. "Maybe that'll be my going away present to you. I'll see what I can do."
"Thank you sir." McQueen said. They looked each other in the eye for a moment, neither one knowing quite what to say, so they said nothing. McQueen nodded and left the office.
That night in the Tun Tavern, the 58th sat at a back table and pondered the news.
"Wonder if McQueen pissed off some damn politician," Nathan West said.
Vanessa Damphousse shook her head. "It's a promotion, Nathan," she said.
"Off the Saratoga, away from us...it's like he's being taken away again," Cooper Hawkes said.
"At least this time, he's leaving under his own power," Paul Wang said.
Shane Vansen was silent. Hearing someone walk in, she looked over to see their CO enter. He didn't look in their direction, just walked to the bar, sat down at the end and ordered a beer.
"He looks awful," Vanessa said.
"Well how would you feel if you *had* to go to DC?" Paul said.
"To a desk job," Nathan said.
"And all those fucking politicians."
As if McQueen knew they were talking about him, he got up from his seat, taking his beer with him, he walked over to the 58th's table. Immediately, Cooper got him a chair and they all made room for him at the table.
"Thanks," McQueen said, sitting down.
"Sir, we're all...well, I guess we're all confused about this. I mean, we're happy that it's a promotion, but...we're sad that you'll be leaving," Nathan said.
"Thanks West," McQueen said, sipping his beer, not looking at him.
"Too bad we couldn'tve had a part for you or...something," Vanessa said.
McQueen just shrugged. And for a long time no one spoke.
"Sir," Shane said, breaking the silence. "Maybe this promotion isn't such a bad thing. I mean, you've been taking care of us for two years now, maybe someone's trying to take care of you."
McQueen frowned. He'd heard that before, that he'd always taken care of others, and that it was about time someone took care of him. A memory of being in the hospital flashed in his brain, but he couldn't slow it down enough to pick it through.
"Yeah, maybe you're right."
"We'll miss you sir," said Cooper.
McQueen allowed himself to look at his "kids" and he slowly nodded. "I'll miss you too," then his eyes returned to his beer, "but orders are orders and you'll be fine."
Again the sickening silence. Finally Paul Wang couldn't take anymore. He flashed a smile. "Come on, one more poker game, okay? Okay Colonel?"
McQueen sighed. He didn't want to play poker, but then he looked up, at all of them. He realized that he might never see any of them again. The war wasn't any closer to ending than it was before those disastrous peace talks, it could drag on for years and years, and all of his kids could be taken by it.
"Deal me in Wang," he said, putting down his beer.
McQueen had so few personal items that practically everything of importance, books mostly and his wedding photo, and a few clothes, fit in his large duffel. He carried it on his shoulder as he headed for the ISSCV. The 58th and other crew members watched him, and Vanessa thought he reminded her of Christ, carrying his cross, up to where he was to be crucified.
He looked at his kids and managed a half smile, then Commodore Ross stepped in front of them, a piece of paper in his hand. He handed it to McQueen.
"Read it Ty, I don't think you're going to like it."
McQueen frowned, he took the paper, then saluted the Commodore, the 58th saluted him and he saluted them back, before boarding the ISSCV, which wasn't crowded, but too crowded for McQueen, with crew members heading back to Earth, their tours finished.
He found a seat in the back, away from everyone, who probably wanted to know why T.C. McQueen was heading back to Earth, when everyone knew how hard he'd worked to get back into the war. McQueen unfolded the paper and started reading.
As soon as he saw the familiar name, his eyes widened, his mouth went dry, and his hands clenched themselves into fists. What the fuck was she trying to do, drive him insane? She of all people knew how hard he worked to get back to the Saratoga, hell, she'd encouraged him, she got his "kids" back. How the hell could she do this now?
McQueen blinked and realized his breathing had become short, fast, irregular. He didn't care. Right now all he could see was red. Red and his hands wrapped around her fucking throat. Killing a United States Representative would most certainly get him the death penalty, but killing Tracy Fairgate would be worth the punishment.
Washington DC was hot and humid as the town was going through Indian Summer. McQueen's mind was in one direction and one direction only when he got off the transport, reporting to General Avery could wait, or maybe he wouldn't have to report to him at all after he got to the bottom of this. He got in a cab and took it straight to the Capital. Getting out, he gave the driver far too much money for the fare, the driver smiled and nodded, InVitros weren't bad tippers after all.
McQueen took the Capital steps three at a time and smiled at how well his leg did the job. He walked into the cool building and nearly shuddered, it was such a contrast to the hot, sticky air outside. Walked up to a guard and asked where Congresswoman Fairgate's office was. The guard, a fiftyish, portly black man, immediately shook McQueen's hand.
"Mighty good job the military's doing with those blasted Chigs, son. I'd be there myself, but...well, did my time in the AI Rebellion," he winked, and then he told McQueen that her office was on the third floor, to the left. "Some of them say, just like her...to the left," he chuckled.
McQueen didn't smile. "Thank you," he said, and rushed to the steps, fearing that if he waited for the elevator, he might just explode.
Claudia Collins looked up, stunned as McQueen entered Tracy Fairgate's outer office.
"Colonel McQueen," she said, eyes wide, mouth open. She wore a light blue pinstripe suit, and her hair was upswept, as it had been that night in the Bacchus.
McQueen ignored her and headed for the door with the plate that said: Rep. T. Fairgate.
"Colonel McQueen, she's not there, she's in session." Claudia stared at him. "Is there something I can get for you?"
He glared at her, his eyes narrow, no longer blue, but more black. Claudia recoiled. McQueen then wondered if she knew. He felt his heart rate speed up, his breathing was irregular, he knew. "I'll wait in here," he said. McQueen opened the door and slammed it behind him before Claudia could stop him.
McQueen looked around the small government office and shook his head. "This is what's in store for you, Tyrus," he told himself.
The office was circular, there was a large oak desk covered with papers and folders, behind it was a chair that looked more like it belonged in a throne room than an office, there was a brown, leather sofa, an oak bookcase, two hard backed brown chairs, and a blue easy chair which looked out of place in the room where everything was brown and green. The green was the carpet, beneath his feet, it was new because McQueen could smell it, probably the only new thing in the room.
He walked to her desk and thought it was strange that there were no photographs, then he guessed it wouldn't make sense for Tracy to have a wedding photo on her desk, since her husband had, essentially murdered her almost 70 years ago.
McQueen then looked to the bookcase that was filled with large, reference books, psychology books, two encyclopedias, three dictionaries, four paperbacks and a book called, "Waiting To Exhale." Then, McQueen noticed two photographs on the bookcase, both small and framed. One was of Tracy and Melissa in burgundy skirts and white blouses, they were smiling, Melissa had her arm protectively around Tracy's shoulder. The other photograph was of someone McQueen didn't know.
He moved closer to get a better look. The girl wore baggy jeans, a black tank top and had a blue bandanna around her head. In one hand she carried something called a "Saturday Night Special", popular in the 20th century, in the other hand she held a knife. McQueen recognized the knife as the one Melissa had on her, when she tried to stab him. It was Tracy's knife, and it was then, that he realized that the person in the photograph was Tracy herself. McQueen's eyes looked from the photograph of the gang-banger, to the prep school girl and could not believe it was the same person. Thinking, McQueen walked back to Tracy's desk, to the window behind it and pulled the curtains shut. If he was going to kill her, he didn't want an audience.
McQueen walked away from the photographs and the books. He sat on the sofa and stared at the door, ready, waiting to pounce.
Claudia Collins had been biting her nails since McQueen walked in. When the door opened again, and Tracy entered, she jumped to her feet.
"What the hell's the matter with you?" Tracy said, "I hope you're not going to give me grief. Shit, you know, those conservatives are worse now than in the 20th century. They should put them on a boat and send them back 200 years, they'd be right at home on the old plantation."
"Fairgate, Colonel McQueen's in your office."
Tracy didn't flinch, didn't move a muscle. "He's in there now?" she said.
"Yes, and, he's pissed Fairgate, real pissed."
Tracy nodded. "He is, huh?"
Claudia nodded. "Guess he didn't like the promotion."
"Guess not. Well, I better get in there. Collins, why don't you go out to lunch now?"
Claudia looked at her watch. "It's only eleven..."
"I know what time it is Collins. Take lunch now, take two hours...hell, take as long as you want."
"Are you sure? Fairgate, the man was angry, and I've read that InVitros can get very violent when they're angry. They can't deal with emotions the way we can."
"Well, Collins, you'll either hear me screaming in pain or pleasure. Turn on the machine, go to lunch and lock the door behind you."
Claudia shook her head. "I hope you know what you're doing."
"Me too."
The first thing Tracy noticed when she opened the door to her office, was how dark it was. She saw the curtains were tightly shut, then her eyes darted to the right, just in time to see McQueen rise from the sofa. His movements were graceful, like a cat about to pounce. His angry eyes stared straight at her, his hands were balled into fists. His eyes made a sweep of her. She was dressed impeccably, as usual, in a banana colored pleated suit, white silk blouse and banana colored shoes. Tracy stood still, as he came closer.
"What the hell did you do to me Tracy?" His husky voice sounded almost breathless.
"Ty...." she began backing up.
He walked closer to her "...What the fuck were you thinking." Now his voice was heavy, but still controlled. "You of all people know how fucking hard I worked to get back to active duty. You know what I went through, that the Marines wanted to give me a medical discharge, but you said, I know you can do it, Ty!"
"Ty...," Tracy said, a little more force in her voice, still backing up.
McQueen still came closer "...My kids, Tracy! You were the one who got the president himself to demand a search for them! Because you knew I'd work harder to get back to duty, if they were alive, and you were right! You're so fucking right about everything, Tracy, except this! A goddamn desk job!" His voice rose steadily, he was fighting for control, but not winning the battle.
"Ty..I..." Tracy nearly shouted.
"..Goddamn you Tracy!" McQueen shouted, his hands were shaking, his pale face was now a bright crimson. He raised his hands, wanting to feel her neck between them, wanting to crush the life out of her foolish political body. "You're a fucking selfish woman, who uses her influence to get what she wants! You snap your fucking fingers and Ty gets his kids back, then you snap 'em again and Ty gets transferred to a fucking desk job! Is that what you do Tracy, play with people lives!"
"Ty!" Tracy shouted, as she backed into her desk. He was coming closer to her, face red, veins in his neck flaring, hands raised.
"Now I see why your husband shot you! I only wish he'd have blown your fucking selfish head off!" McQueen had lost all control. He knew that last statement was uncalled for, but he didn't care.
Tracy's mouth dropped open. Her dark eyes narrowed into black slits and she stared up at him.
"Fuck you Tyrus Cassius McQueen! You're the one who's goddamn selfish! You're just a goddamn selfish baby, always got to have it your way! Do you know what I went through to get you this promotion! I had to promise two senators that I detest, that I'd help them get elected next year! Two fucking senators, who's guts I hate and who fucking hate InVitros! But I went to them and begged and pleaded and made promises, to get you your fucking promotion, to full Colonel, which you should've gotten years ago! I did that for you Ty, and this is how you treat me!" Tracy's chest was heaving, her body was shaking and she was almost in tears.
McQueen would not be out done by her outrage. He was the one wronged. "I never asked you for a goddamn promotion! I never asked you to grovel to some fucking senators! The Saratoga is...was my goddamn home, Tracy! It was my home and you fucking took it away from me! Why? Why the hell didn't you just leave well enough alone!"
He glared at her as she hung her head down. Tracy put her hands to her face and shook her head. Then she looked up at him, eyes red, face tight, angry.
"Because I love you...you... stupid tank!" Tracy hadn't meant to call him a "tank", but he seemed to be more stunned by the first part of her statement.
"That time, on the Baachus, I wanted to tell you that I loved you, but the fucking alarm went off because the goddamn Chigs were attacking something! When you left, it hit me, that you could die, right there and I'd never see you again...and I'd never get a chance to tell you that I loved you." Tracy was still angry, but had regained a little control. "So, I got you that promotion so you'd....you'd be here...and maybe...we could...you know...I tried to get transfers for your kids...but...I couldn't..." She sighed, as the blood rushed from her head to the rest of her body, she felt drained.
"I'm sorry," she finally said, "and I'm sorry I called you a tank."
McQueen glared at Tracy, who stood against her desk. He breath was so irregular, he was almost hyperventilating, his hands were still balled into fists, and his blue eyes, still pools of steel. How the hell could she say she loved him, and treat him like he wasn't a person, like he didn't have a right to his own destiny?
McQueen was so angry, he wanted to strangle the life out of Tracy right now, to hell with the consequences. His eyes met hers, she looked straight at him, but fear wasn't the expression her eyes held. Jesus Christ, they were smoldering, her pupils dilated excitedly. McQueen felt a rush of emotions so diverse, he was confused. He wanted to kill Tracy, he wanted to kill her, he wanted to make love to her right now.
He grabbed her roughly by the shoulder, pulled her to him and crushed his mouth on hers. Tracy's mouth opened, inviting him inside and he responded by plunging his tongue inside her mouth, searing her teeth and tongue, then he moved to her lips and gums, biting them roughly, McQueen wanted to hurt her the way she'd hurt him. His hands furiously stroked her body through her clothes.
Tracy pushed herself from his grasp and sat down on her desk, kicking off her shoes. She pulled McQueen to her and returned his kiss just as fiercely. She reached underneath his collar and stroked his navel.
"Oh...God...ahhh...Tracy..." he groaned.
Tracy squeezed him between her legs, feeling his erection pressing against his pants. This time, McQueen pushed himself away and looked at her, his eyes questioning.
"We're in the goddamn Capital," he said.
"We're in my office. I told Claudia to go to lunch and lock the door behind her," Tracy smiled slyly, "I figured if you killed me, you'd probably kill her too if she were here."
"You're right."
"See, I think of everything."
"You weren't thinking when you begged for that promotion," his voice was husky, breathless.
Tracy sighed. "We'll talk about that later Ty, and by the way, this is a strong desk; survived the Civil War."
McQueen smiled. "Wonder what else it can survive." He ran his hands up her thighs, delighted that she wore no pantyhose, or stockings. He moaned his approval.
"It's a hot day," Tracy responded.
McQueen wrenched Tracy's jacket from her body and threw it to the floor. Tracy pulled off McQueen's jacket and it landed on top of hers. With one swift motion, Tracy pulled her silk blouse over her head, throwing it over her shoulder, it landed behind her, on the "throne". She turned to McQueen's shirt and frowned as she struggled with the buttons.
"Fucking...regulation...shit..." she said.
He smiled. "Allow me." Seconds later, McQueen's shirt was off and joined Tracy's on the "throne". Tracy pulled up McQueen's undershirt, leaned forward and traced his scars with her tongue, stopping to lick, then suck his nipples, first slowly, gently, then hard, biting them as her passion mounted.
McQueen groaned. She was making it hard for him to get her bra off. Luckily, the clasp was in front and he was able to get it off with one hand. He leaned forward and began to suck, lick, caress her breasts with his tongue, lips and teeth. Her nipples hardened in his mouth, causing him to suck more violently.
Tracy turned to McQueen's pants, unbuckling, unbuttoning and unzipping them. McQueen pushed Tracy's skirt up to her waist, then yanked down her bikini panties. Tracy pushed down McQueen's boxers, finally freeing him. She stroked his penis gently with both hands. Their eyes met, locked in a gaze of anticipation.
McQueen eased Tracy onto her desk and mounted her. Tracy pushed folders, loose papers, pens and everything else that got in her way, off the desk, ignoring the soft thuds they made as they hit the carpet.
It took all the self control McQueen could muster to not drive hard into Tracy's body. Instead, he entered her slowly, gradually, until he was completely inside her. Tracy arched her back upward, wrapped her legs around his waist and cried out.
McQueen grunted and remembered Tracy's little trick of contracting her vaginal muscles, preventing him from withdrawing from her. He had a little trick of his own. He gripped her buttocks with both hands and pulled her up, close to him, at the same time, he thrust into her, slowly, easily.
Seeing that she no longer had control over his movements, Tracy dug her nails into McQueen's shoulder, neck, back, sides and finally his buttocks, where she tried to distract him by kneading his tight muscle, but he continued his steady thrust, causing her to throw her head back and moan loudly.
McQueen smiled, grunted his approval, gradually, his movements began to accelerate and Tracy now moved her hips in time to his rhythm, but he still didn't release her, pushing her now more rapidly into his throbbing shaft.
There were no words now, just panting, moaning, a grunt of pleasure from McQueen, seeing Tracy thrashing about, out of control. His nails dug into her buttocks and roughly kissed her mouth, as the rhythm became frantic. Tracy dug her heels into McQueen's back, she broke from their kiss and gasped for air. Their eyes fixed on each other, faces bodies, damp with perspiration, pupils dilating wildly as they raged on, towards release.
Their rhythm was now frenzied, desperate; a groan surged from McQueen's throat as he drove Tracy's hips hard into him, while he thrust vigorously into her. Tracy squeezed McQueen as hard as she could with her thighs, and furiously slammed her fists against his buttocks.
McQueen released Tracy's buttocks and pumped wildly into her with a strength he didn't know he had, then he groaned and kissed Tracy's mouth violently, stifling the scream coming from his throat. He spilled into Tracy's body, shuddering with the force of his orgasm. Tracy broke from the kiss and gasped. The double sensation of McQueen shuddering inside her and his semen pouring into her, caused her to climax, as she bucked her hips wildly, straining to get every last bit of him. She dug her nails into his back once again, and then relaxed as the pleasure took her away.
Exhausted, McQueen collapsed on top of Tracy, who herself was too exhausted to move, except to run her hands through his damp, silver hair. They clung together, McQueen still inside her as he began to soften. Slowly, their breathing and heart beats slowed a bit and McQueen was able to push himself off Tracy's body, she whimpered as he exited her. He took her in his arms; kissing, they moved from the desk to the carpeted floor. They settled there, McQueen on his back, Tracy lying next to him, her head on his shoulder.
"Well, you said you were going to kill me, you were right. For a second, I think I did die," Tracy said.
"Me too," McQueen breathed.
"After all that Ty, do you really expect me to let you go back to the Saratoga?"
McQueen shot her a slide long glare. Tracy shook her head and smiled. "Just kidding Ty...I'll...recant the order...eat crow...for a year."
"I don't feel sorry for you Tracy."
"I know."
They lay in silence for what seemed like hours. Tracy wanted to savor the moment, hold on as long as she could. Finally she looked around her at the sea of papers askew on the floor.
"Shit," she said.
McQueen laughed, seeing what upset her. "Your desk."
"Right. Help me pick it up, please?"
"Of course I will, I'm an officer and a gentleman, remember?"
"Oh, right, I remember."
They dressed, smoothing wrinkled garments as best they could, then picked up the assorted papers and things from the floor, putting them back on Tracy's desk, which she patted affectionately.
"Survived the Civil War," she grinned.
When they'd finished, McQueen looked at her. "Did you mean what you said?"
"What? I said a lot of things on that desk, Ty."
He grinned. "No, before that..."
"That I love you? Sure. I love you Ty."
He didn't speak, in fact he didn't know what to say. A day didn't go by when he didn't think about Tracy Fairgate, but love was another matter. Tracy put her hand to his lips and smiled. "You don't have to say a word, Ty. Just think about it, that's all."
He took her hand and kissed it, playfully sucking her fingers. She licked her teeth sensuously with her tongue, then winked suggestively at him.
"No," McQueen said.
"Did I say anything, Ty?"
"You were thinking it. Let's not put this desk through any more endurance tests."
"I was thinking of the sofa."
They laughed, then heard a key turn in the office door. Tracy put her hand over her mouth. "It's Claudia...she probably thinks I'm dead..."
"Fairgate?" It was Claudia's voice. "Are you here?"
Tracy took McQueen's hand and pulled him to the door. "Come on, I don't want to scare her."
Before Tracy could open the door, McQueen pulled her to him and kissed her passionately. As their tongues, lips and teeth found each other once again, McQueen pushed Tracy against the door, grinding his hips into her, feeling the beginnings of an erection, she groaned silently. When they finally broke from the kiss, Tracy stared at him, stunned.
"I thought you said no..."
He shrugged. "Changed my mind."
Tracy grinned. "Let's get the hell out of here."
Claudia jumped when she saw McQueen and Tracy emerge from Tracy's office. Their flushed, dopey faces told her all she needed to know.
"Well, I see you're still alive," Claudia said.
Tracy nodded. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to miss afternoon session, Colonel McQueen wants to see this lovely city, so I volunteered to show him around. Can't refuse a war hero."
"No, you can't," Claudia fought to hide her smile.
Tracy turned to McQueen, "Let's go," she said.
McQueen went to open the door for Tracy, when he stopped and looked at her. "Are you forgetting something, Congresswoman?"
Tracy stared at him dumbfounded, until her eyes widened and she nodded. "Yes, um...Collins, could you um...give me that order, for Colonel McQueen's promotion?"
Claudia walked over to Tracy's private file cabinet and got the promotion from the folder that was dedicated to Tyrus Cassius McQueen, that included a very nice color photograph of him. She handed Tracy the blue paper.
Tracy showed it to McQueen. "Here it is Colonel."
McQueen nodded. Tracy looked at Claudia smiled slightly, then stuck the order in the paper shredder. Claudia turned her head around, not wanting to laugh in Tracy's face.
"Will there be anything else, Colonel?" Tracy asked.
"No Ma'am, that's all I need for now."
Claudia turned to face her boss, face composed now. Tracy smiled at the woman. "I'll see you in the morning Collins."
"Yes. Enjoy Washington, Colonel," Claudia said sweetly.
McQueen opened the door for Tracy, who shot a not-too-pleased glance at her aide, before she left the office, then he nodded seriously at Claudia. "Ms. Collins, that's just what I intend to do."
THE END
LittleEva 8/15/96
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