by John Bowers
"You're right about the comradeship. But it's much deeper than that." He lifted his brown eyes to meet hers. "It's the real article, Mom."
Rosemary Lincoln smiled weakly, defeated.
"So what's this new attitude with Dad?"
"What do you mean?"
"He's been positively civil since we got here."
Rosemary smiled. "People can change, Johnny. Even your father."
Johnny looked at her for a moment. "It feels weird," he said. "Like I just met him for the first time. I don't know how to handle it."
Rosemary smiled again. "You don't have to 'handle' it, Johnny. Just accept it."
Johnny tipped his wine glass and let the fruity cabernet slide down his throat. Setting the glass down slowly, he stared at it a moment, his brows knitting. Carefully, he cleared his throat.
"What was he like?" he asked quietly.
"Who?"
"My dad." His eyes pinned her to her chair. "My real dad."
For a moment Rosemary only stared at him, her face slowly turning pale. Johnny's gaze didn't waver.
"He … he was someone I met before … before I married your f… Before I married Oliver."
"What was his name?"
"Jeremy." It came out as a whisper. "Jeremy Mason."
"So my real name is Johnny Mason?"
She shook her head quickly, almost urgently. "No. Oliver adopted you. Your name is Lincoln."
Johnny's frown deepened; his eyes never left his mother's face.
"My birth certificate has a different name on it."
"When you were born, I gave you my father's name. Johnny Egler."
"Why? Why not my own father's name?"
Rosemary looked away, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth. Johnny saw something close to panic in her eyes — clearly she had never expected to have this conversation.
"It was … it's difficult to explain," she said quietly.
"I'm an adult, Mom. Don't you think I have a right to know?"
She met his gaze with tears in her eyes. He felt a sudden rush of sympathy, but didn't back down. His gaze narrowed as he waited for an answer.
Rosemary stared at her teacup and swallowed hard.
"He wasn't a nice man, Johnny."
"Not nice? Not nice how?"
"He was abusive. That's … that's all I'm going to say about it."
"Did you love him?"
"No. I liked him. He had a great personality. He knew how to show a girl a good time."
"A ladies' man."
She nodded. "Yes, very much so."
"I'm surprised at you, Mom. You're much too conservative to fall for someone like that."
She took a deep breath and met his gaze again. "I didn't fall for him. I knew he was all talk. I could see right through him."
"And yet …" He held out both arms. "Here I am!"
She nodded slowly, almost sadly.
"I wouldn't change that for anything. But I'm glad he didn't raise you. You're a much better man than he was."
"Where is he now?"
"He's dead."
"Dead how? When?"
"He died before you were born." She leaned slightly toward him. "Johnny, I really don't want to talk about this!"
"No? Sounds like you have issues."
"And you have issues with Oliver! Do you enjoy talking about them?"
He shook his head slowly, reaching for the wine glass. "No."
"Then please, let this drop. Oliver is your father. With all his warts and shortcomings, he provided the house you lived in and the food you ate. He even let you fly his precious fighters. I may never forgive him for that."
Johnny grinned suddenly. "You don't mean that, Mom."
"You don't think so? Surely you remember the fights when you wanted to learn to fly?"
He nodded. "It was the only time Dad ever stood up for me."
"The only time you were aware of. There were other times."
"Yeah? Like what?"
"It's not important. What's important is that he loves you. You need to know that. And he's terribly proud of you."
"Proud of me? Or proud of the fighter?"
"Proud of you! Anybody can fly the fighter, but nobody flies it the way you do."
They were silent for a moment, then Johnny grinned again.
"That was masterful," he said.
"What was?"
"The way you changed the subject. You're very good at that."
She sighed wearily. "I'm not going to talk about Jeremy Mason," she said.
"Then I'll ask Dad."
"He didn't know Jeremy. All this happened while he was missing on Vega."
"Missing?"
"Yes. He was there when the Sirians invaded …"
"I know. He told me that last night."
"From the day the Sirians invaded we didn't hear a word from Oliver. The entire planet was like a black hole, no news at all. It was almost two years before we knew what happened."
"And while Dad was missing, you and Jeremy Mason …"
"Yes."
"And I was the result."
"Yes."
"And Oliver married you anyway?"
She looked surprised, maybe a little offended. "Why wouldn't he? He was no Puritan himself."
"And you were quite a catch, weren't you?" His eyes teased her; she flushed, then laughed.
"Yes, and I still am."
Johnny joined her in laughter, then drained his wine glass.
"Okay, Mom, I'll let you off the hook. For now. But one of these days you have to tell me the rest of the story."
"I'll think about it."
"Promise."
"I said I'll think about it."
"Okay, fair enough. When will you let me know?"
She hesitated only briefly, then smiled at him again.
"After the war."
* * *
The reception that evening was a festive bash, unlike anything Johnny had ever seen at LincEnt. Over nine hundred employees were on hand — office staff, engineers, assembly operators, security people, janitors — the company auditorium was packed. As liquor flowed from a bar along one wall, a Nashville band thundered from the stage area, and hundreds of heads bobbed as people danced. A huge banner spanned the entire room that said WELCOME HOME JOHNNY, and both Johnny and Onja stood at the head of a receiving line as scores of people filed through to greet them. Both were fastidiously attired in charcoal dress uniforms, and while they found the adoration flattering, it was nonetheless tiring.
In addition to the "little people", Oliver Lincoln III had invited some of his peers from around the country, including Senator Henry Wells.
"Railsplitter!" Wells grinned as he pumped Johnny's hand. "What a magnificent job you've been doing!"
"Thank you, Senator. But I can't take all the credit for that."
"No need to be modest. I've seen the action reports." Wells beamed at Onja. "And this must be the famous Fighter Queen." He took her hand and actually kissed it. "You are even more stunning than the videos I've seen. I'm very pleased to meet you."
"Thank you." Onja genuinely blushed.
"This is my wife, Yvonne. You remember her, Johnny?"
"Yes, sir, I sure do. I still remember the vacation we spent at your summer house in Connecticut." He kissed Mrs. Wells on the cheek.
Wells laughed delightedly, his wife smiling professionally at his side.
"We did have fun, didn't we?"
"We sure did, sir."
"And this is Regina. You haven't seen her for a while."
Johnny grinned mischievously at the sixteen year-old redhead who stepped forward, her green eyes sparkling with excitement. She was short like her father, but much better built, and extremely pretty.
"I think the last time I saw her she stuck a frog down my shirt."
The teenager flushed scarlet and laughed, embarrassed but obviously enchanted to be in the presence of the famous fighter pilot.
"Johnny!" she scolded, still laughing.
"Shh! You're not supposed to tell anyone about that!"
Everyone tittered. Johnny kissed the girl on the cheek, leaving stars in her eyes, and turned back to her father. The Senator was speaking.
"So tell me, how long is it going to take you and the Fighter Queen to finish off the Sirians? Everyone is starting to get tired of this damn war!"
Those immediately nearby all laughed politely, and Johnny grinned obediently. He didn't especially enjoy playing such social games, but had been raised in high circles and knew the routine.
"You'll have to ask my gunner," he replied smoothly. "I just fly the ship. She does all the shooting."
"Well, considering her score so far, I'm sure it won't take her long!"
* * *
Brad Lincoln appeared at Johnny's side and stood there, unannounced, until Johnny noticed him. He'd gained a few more pounds, Johnny thought, running very close to obesity. His hair was thinner, his eyes still vacant. He seemed to be in another dimension. He carried a drink in his hand but hadn't touched it.
"How long you gonna be in town?" Brad asked, as if they'd been chatting for an hour.
"Hey, Brad. Just a few days. How you been?"
"Who's that blonde? She your gunner?"
"Yep."
"Sexy. She a pretty good fuck?"
Johnny glanced at Onja, who was meeting his mother's friends nearby. She'd heard, and met his eyes without expression. He didn't answer, but Brad didn't seem to notice.
"She looks like a great fuck. I never saw anyone that pretty."
"I never did, either." Johnny felt awkward, as always. It was like fielding intimate questions from a five year-old.
"Great tits."
You have no idea!
"I bet Angie's a great fuck, too," Brad said.
"Angie who?"
"Dad's sexetary. I was gonna marry her, but I probably won't now."
Johnny frowned as he tried to figure out how the conversation had turned in this direction. "I didn't even know you were dating her," he said.
"I'm not. We were gonna go out, but then she had her baby."
Johnny almost dropped his drink.
"Are we talking about Angela Martinez?" he asked.
"Yeah, her. Pretty girl. Great cook, I think. And I bet she's a great fuck." Brad was still staring at Onja.
"What did you say about a baby?" Johnny asked.
"Huh?"
"You said Angela had a baby?"
"Yeah. A while back. So she's probably gonna get married soon."
"Who's the father?"
"I dunno. She never told me."
Johnny stared at him for a disconnected moment, a terrible suspicion running through his head. His skin tingled as he wondered if it were possible …
"When did she have the baby?" he asked.
Brad turned to look at him. "Who?"
"Angela! We're talking about Angela."
"Oh. Yeah. I dunno, a while back."
"Give me a date."
"I dunno."
Johnny grimaced in frustration. "Was she dating someone?"
"I dunno. She must've been, I guess."
"You don't know who?"
"No. Well I gotta go take a piss. See you."
Brad wandered away as quickly and unexpectedly as he'd arrived. Leaving Johnny Lincoln standing immobile in his wake.
"Was that your brother?" Onja asked a few minutes later on the dance floor.
"That's him. What did you think?"
"Is he retarded?"
"Not really. Just not too bright. Dad said he's getting worse. He used to at least make some sense when he talked. You could have a conversation with him."
"What happened to him?"
"I don't know. He was never terribly bright."
Onja danced in silence for a moment. "I feel sorry for him," she said.
* * *
"That boy of yours is quite a hero, Oliver!" Senator Wells smiled broadly, a drink in his hand, as he watched Johnny and his gunner dance.
Oliver Lincoln III, at his elbow, nodded proudly.
"Just like his mother," he replied, and Wells laughed.
"Biologically, maybe. But some of you must have rubbed off on him along the way. How long ago was it that we had a party like this for you?"
Lincoln shook his head painfully.
"God! Don't remind me!"
"Must be something in the name," Wells joked.
"No, I think it's just thick-headedness. I went off to Vega over my dad's objections and got my ass caught in a meat grinder. I just hope Johnny never has to regret getting into this war."
"Nothing to worry about, I'm sure."
Lincoln's eyes glazed slightly as he watched the handsome young pilot and the stunning Vegan gunner.
"I dunno, Henry. The Sirians are bastards, every one of them. They're twice as strong now as they were then."
"You survived, and that was a ground war. At least Johnny does his fighting from a cockpit. And that girl of his is a first-class gunner."
Lincoln nodded. "I keep telling myself that. I still wish he'd get out."
Wells shook his head soberly.
"He wouldn't be a Lincoln if he did. You could've stayed at the Fed embassy in Reina, too. But you didn't."
"That's what scares me. I was stupid. I'm afraid he is, too."
They stood in silence for a moment. Then Wells stirred curiously.
"Ollie, is she really from Norway? I haven't seen anything that gorgeous since Vega."
"John told me that officially she's from Norway."
"But she was born on Vega?"
Oliver nodded. "John tried to deny it, but I forced him to admit it."
"How the hell did she get here?"
"I have no idea."
* * *
Angela Martinez watched from across the room, standing in shadow so that she wasn't conspicuous. Her heart thundered as she considered what she was about to do. She wasn't even sure the plan was a good idea, but she'd promised Oliver Lincoln III.
One afternoon in late December he'd come out of his office to find her sobbing at her desk. She'd just heard on her headset about the Battle of the Belt, that Johnny Lincoln and his gunner had taken on a Sirian convoy — alone — with spectacular results. Lincoln hadn't heard, and was thrilled, but to Angela it only underscored how tenuous was the life Johnny lived. All she could think of was how close he'd come to death.
Just yesterday Lincoln had outlined a plan, and insisted she give it a try.
"You'll never get him if you don't take the offensive, Angie," her boss had declared. "He has no idea how you feel about him, and his head's in the stars. Go up to him. Tell him. Make him notice you."
"What about that other girl?" she'd asked. "His gunner?"
"Forget about her, damn it! Make him look at you! Hell, tell him about his son!"
She'd only worked a half shift today, taking the afternoon off to prepare. She'd bought another evening gown and spent several hours in the salon. She had to admit she'd never looked better in her life. But now that the actual moment was at hand, butterflies the size of transports fluttered in her stomach.
Standing in shadow, she sipped at the wine glass in her hand, hoping the light infusion of alcohol would remove at least some of her inhibitions. She watched Johnny dance with the blonde, saw the simple intimacy they shared — the way she laid her head on his shoulder, the way his head tipped down to her ear. A stab of jealousy shot through her, but she forced it back; she had to be objective, not plaintive. She waited until the music died and the two of them left the dance floor, then set down the wine glass and made her way across the room.
* * *
Johnny had just picked up his drink when he felt a hand on his sleeve and turned to see a glamorous Angela Martinez smiling up at him.
"Hi, stranger," she said in a breathless, husky voice. "Remember me?"
"Angela!" He smiled and took her hand. "It's good to see you. How are you?" He felt a flush creeping up his cheeks, and hoped s
he didn't notice.
"I'm just fine. I've been following your exploits in the news. You've made quite a name for yourself, and for the company."
He grinned modestly. "Well, Lincoln fighters are the best ever built. Even an average pilot can shine with one of those babies around him."
She laughed.
"Oh, right! There's nothing average about you, Johnny!" … in case you're as blind as I think you are.
"The old man treating you all right?"
"Sure. He knows nobody else will put up with him the way I do."
"I think you got that right! How's the family?"
"They're fine. My little brother Rico joined the Star Marines. He seems to like it."
"That's great." Johnny risked a glance at her waistline, but it looked the same as always. She didn't look as if she'd ever been pregnant.
"Can a girl ask a war hero for a dance? For old times' sake?"
"Absolutely."
Johnny set down his glass, took her arm, and led her onto the floor. The band was playing another mournful tune, and they held each other as they danced. Her eyes were shining as she gazed at him.
"I've really missed you," she told him. "I worry about you all the time."
"No need to worry," he said. "I've got a great fighter and the best gunner in the fleet. Nothing's going to happen to me."
"You're probably right. But every time I hear about your battles you always seem to be out there alone, taking on superior numbers. It's scary."
God! Angela thought; I'm starting to sound like his mother!
They danced silently for a moment, and Angela wondered what she should say next. So far the conversation had been pretty generic, with no mention of her feelings. But how should she bring it up? Declare her love for him? Lay her feelings on the line? And what if he rejected her? She would feel like a fool. She could tell him about the baby, but that would only force him into a corner, and she didn't want that, either.
The music was winding down, the dance just thirty seconds from ending. It might be the last chance she'd ever have. He could go back to the war and be killed, or marry that blonde, or … anything. Even if he came home safe and single, it might be years.
Swallowing her pride, Angela slid her arms around his neck and kissed him, holding him firmly and continuing to follow his lead on the floor. The music stopped, and they stood still. The band launched into a hard, driving beat, and around them hundreds of people bobbed into action, but Angela stood and kissed Johnny for another thirty seconds. Amazingly, he didn't resist.
