"Commander?" the voice said. It was compassionate and friendly, with a touch of mischievous humour underneath it. "Commander Burke . . . Come towards the light . . . It's not a mag-lev about to run you over."
He felt distant and detached. His body was numb.
Eric blinked a couple of times and the room came into focus. A doctor was shining a penlight into his eyes, one at a time.
"Where . . . where is my Team?" he mumbled.
"They're safe, sir," the doctor replied. He had a friendly bedside manner. There were lieutenant's bars on his collar.
"Where am I?"
"Home," another voice said. This one was softer, feminine. He recognised it immediately. His wife. "You're back on Earth."
Eric tried to turn his head, but couldn't.
"Why can't I move?" he asked, feeling a little bit panicky.
"Because all you've done for the past two years is float in a tank." There was a subtle laughter in her voice.
"Twoโ?" he was at a loss for words.
"We had to grow most of your body back, Commander." The doctor's hand was under his chin and he turned Eric's head towards Maylene. "Some admiral with a chest full of medals tried to talk your wife into turning you into a full conversion borg, but she said she wasn't through with your body yet."
In the bed next to his, Eric's eyes took in the most beautiful sight in the world.
*****************
Two and a half years earlier.
"Master Chief, can I get another beer, please?" Maylene asked.
"Right away, Commander," he replied. "And stop calling me 'Master Chief'."
"If you'll stop calling me 'Commander'," she smiled back at him.
"I'll see what I can do,
Mrs.
Burke." There was a slightly taunting tone to his voice. Even though they were in a social setting, he still regarded her as a senior officer.
This was the last big party before the Team's departure from Earth. Eric had taken command and they went through three months of intense training, the "work up" phase before a deployment. Under normal conditions, this time might be anywhere from six to nine months, but with a war to fight, that time got shorter. And the new SOLARs only got younger.
Special operators are a family unto themselves, but they also have families of their own. The officers and senior NCOs recognised that in addition to having a Team that functioned well together, their families must get along, too. They were their own support network, just as the men and women in the field supported each other.
Like the Team itself, the Team's spouses and children had a structure. Ordinarily, as the CO's spouse, Maylene would have taken the lead in all things related to the homefront, but since she was an officer with her own responsibilities, that duty fell to the XO's husband, Charlie Wilson. Still, Maylene tried her best to get to know the SOLARs under Eric's command and their families as well.
There were 112 men and women who reported directly to Eric. That meant there were probably over 300 people at the Team's big cookout.
Most of the younger sailors were either single or newly married, but many of the older SOLARs had spouses and children. Ostensibly, the unit was based at the Naval Special Warfare Command's headquarters in Coronado, California. At least that's where their families were housed: in some of the high-rise condos along the southern California coast. They trained all over the planet and during the work-up phase were only home for a day or two at a time.
The gathering was on the beach, just north of the historic Hotel del Coronado. There was a friendly game of football going on in the sand, volleyball and even a few people surfing.
The Team was shipping out in less than a week. They were headed back to sector 12, where the Alliance was still fighting off a Federation invasion force in the Levari Six system. This was the last chance for the SOLARs and their families to see each other together.
Eric had disappeared with some of his older officers and NCOs. Knowing him, Maylene thought they were either spiking the punch or perpetrating some sort of practical joke on the younger Team members.
The Team's command master chief took his self-appointed station as the guardian of the kegs. Maylene and a couple of the other spouses were chatting idly as their husbands and wives milled about, often in some sort of silly competition with each other, like who could stuff the most mini-marshmallows in their mouth. Not that it really mattered, but each SOLAR wanted to be the best at
everything
.
One of the newer SOLARs came over and handed a couple of credit chits to the master chief, who dutifully refilled the young woman's cup with liquid libations.
"Master Chief, can I ask you something?"
"Sure thing, Hudson."
"You knew the skipper at BUD/S, right?"
"Yup."
"Are the stories about him true?"
"Some of 'em are," the older man shrugged non-committally. "Some of 'em aren't."
"I heard he carried a guy four miles on his back during Hell Week. Is that right, Master Chief?"
McDaniel winked at Maylene and rolled his eyes. "Keeps getting longer and longer . . ."
"So it
is