New Mexico / June, 1958 / 02:24

[bingo_faced]

Nighttime.

The desert cooled greatly at night, especially nights as clear as this one. Lieutenant (J.G.) Al "Bingo" Calavicci wouldn't know the difference. Half the bottles lay strewn in the dirt while the other half were placed precisely, a practical lineup on the white edge line of the road. Off the road, in the dirt, Al's candy apple red

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[anekanta]

Kara roused on the tail end of the last. Instantly, she was stricken with the screaming pain in her knee followed immediately by a dull throb at her temples. She felt like the worst possible combination of hung over and worn out after eighteen hours on CAP rotation. Of course, the view from the narrow cot was far more cheerless than the one she was greeted with upon awakening in her 'rack, and the vertical stripes impeding her vision meant one thing - prison. The absence of the mutterings and rantings of other prisoners made her take another mental leap, and Kara assumed she was in a military brig.

Fantastic.

Despite the nearly blinding pain splitting her head in two, she sat up. Observing Calavicci from behind, she further posited neither of them was in any serious trouble or they'd be separated. "Been up long?" she asked, reaching up to blearily rub her eyes. Finding it far more comfortable to keep them closed, she dropped her head and covered her face.

It didn't make much difference how long they'd been there, she thought, but it was best to gauge whether Calavicci had already been questioned - she wanted to know how much whoever had picked them up already knew and how evasive she still needed to be. Kara intended to coach the Lieutenant sharing a cell with her if necessary.

[bingo_faced]

He turned back to look over his shoulder at her, glad to see she wasn't seriously injured or lacking in her faculties. "Naw, not long, but if you give me a couple, I'll start the coffee." He didn't think it was the appropriate time for joking, but chuckled anyway. "You all right?" She didn't seem hurt, and he knew it wasn't really his place to ask, but he was feeling a bit like he needed an ally and hadn't discounted her yet.

Instead of trying to take a seat on the floor, he opted to take the other other place: the head. Sitting on the exposed fixture (lid down,) Calavicci ran a hand through his hair and hoped this would be something that might clear up quickly.

[anekanta]

As Al sat, Kara sprang to her feet. Well, perhaps she didn't spring so much as stand, ginger and hyper-aware of her torn knee. Hopefully, that'd get sorted before she had to do much actual running. She'd never wanted to wind up hospitalized and accountable, but as she'd landed herself in a military facility, she was hardly going to turn aid away. Kara limped to the cell door, looking left and right.

Of course nothing visible to her did any help. There was an insignia of some sort - bright white stripes on navy and red caught her eye - that told her nothing she didn't already know. She was on a settled, civilized planet that was not affiliated with the Colonies, but what did that mean? More importantly, what did it mean for her - if she'd landed someplace where her body chemistry was just one or two molecules shy of something they recognized as human, she was frakked - and hard.

Turning back to Calavicci, she frowned a bit. By the new light of morning pouring through the high window and supplemented by a flickering fluorescent overhead, the man before her looked a little... iffy. He was... well, cute, she guessed. Cute if you liked that wide-eyed, full-of-mischief thing. (That very same thing that seemed to characterize every man she'd ever fallen for.) And cute though Calavicci may be, he also seemed a little to unpredictable to rely on.

Still, circumstances dictated how much trust she could willingly put into another, and at that moment, the young Lieutenant was her only hope. She tilted her head to one side, took a small, edifying breath, and said, "I'm all right." Her smile was the throwaway, self-deprecating. "Banged up, but they didn't have to amputate."

She tried to pace and succeeded (barely). Catching her hands behind her back, she walked the length of the tiny cell and turned back. She watched her cellmate as she went. "How long did they have me?" she asked, hoping against hope he'd have an answer for her as examinations without her knowledge or consent didn't sit well with Kara Thrace.

[bingo_faced]

The way she was favoring the one leg make Al wince. Whatever pain was there had been held over from the crash. Shaking his head, the young man leaned toward the door to see what he could see. "Dunno how long we've been here, but I don't think it's long. I imagine they'll be sending someone along for debriefing, though I can't quite figure for the life of me what you're doing in here."

From the john, he rubbed his hands at his head. He had a lot of theories as to why Thrace would end up with him, most of which were wild enough to not make it to his mouth. Whatever the reasoning was, he would find out soon enough. "I think they'll bring us a drink, at least. We're not dangerous criminals looking to make trouble, right?" He paused, head leaning in her direction. "Then again, that look you've got might be sayin' something different." If he didn't know better, he'd guess she was giving him a once-over. Did he change his posture and sit a little straighter? You betcha.

[anekanta]

On some level, Kara noticed the slight change. The sudden ridiculously inappropriate tingle in her midsection told her 'cute' may have been a gross misrepresentation. The man before her could be devastating given the right scenario.

Of course, none of that mattered to Kara (right?), so she merely smiled at him, her eyes definitely glinting darkly. "Think I'm dangerous, huh? To you, maybe." She turned from him then - if that hadn't caught and kept his attention for at least the foreseeable future, nothing would.

Still, she had much larger immediate problems than retaining her accomplice and ally. Problems like the guards opening the door at the end of the hallway. "Follow my lead, wouldja?" she growled under her breath, daring one last look over her shoulder at him.

[bingo_faced]

Now things are getting interesting, Bingo internalized, both hands coming up in submission. It didn't take a smart man to realize there was more to the situation than he might have initially guessed. He dropped his hands to his side and stood when a solitary young man closed the door. He had a pitcher in one hand, and two stacked glasses in the other.

Al had the urge to ask about his phone call, but rendered the lead to Kara as he'd (not quite) agreed to.

The soldier placed the water just inside the door without so much of a word, followed quickly by two cigarettes and a match. He then closed and locked the cell door and stood aside to guard them, hands behind his back.

[anekanta]

Kara pointedly ignored the provisions, presuming Calavicci would pounce on them anyway. She leaned closer to the lone sentry, wondering what she'd revealed to those in charge that had netted him. "I have to report, Ensign."

She saw the man shift his shoulders uncomfortably and she shot a grin over her shoulder. This was hand the line she needed to play. "Lieutenant Calavicci and I are due in a hearing in the morning - as counselors. We have to be there," she urged. It was a stretch, but at the very least, it could account for them travelling undocumented - Kara knew if either were called in to defend someone, he or she could be pulled off leave, and it could happen at a moment's notice. Finally, her court martial had paid off in some way.

The man outside the cell cleared his throat, but revealed nothing - immediately. After a moment, he turned slightly toward Kara. "General Horovitz is in this week," he informed her flatly. With a glance toward Calavicci, she searched his face for recognition. Seeing none, she pressed on. "That so?"

The man clammed out, though, and simply nodded. Dejected, Kara returned to the cot, staring at the back of the guard's head with enough intensity to set his hair on fire.

[bingo_faced]

Bingo didn't move, not even for the water and the cigarettes. He was processing Thrace's plan, taking apart what had already been put out on the table. Unfamiliar with Horovitz, Calavicci realized they wouldn't gain much ground there, so he tried a different approach. Standing from his perch, the flyboy rubbed briefly at his stubble, then added to the twisted tale, "Ensign, we're working against time here. The Captain and I are expected and if we don't show or call in, there are going to be two branches tearing you apart because you didn't give us our phone call!" By the end of his tirade, the Lieutenant was worked up, his hands going until he found use for them in collecting up the cigarettes.

The Ensign turned halfway, listening over his shoulder without making any answer either way.

Bingo threw up his arms and turned back to Kara to fix her with an exasperated look (though he didn't know why, as he likely wouldn't have believed them if the roles were reversed.) One cigarette was tossed onto the cot next to Kara, and the other he placed into his mouth while he worked on separating the two halves of the paper match. Closer now to Kara, he spoke around his unlit cigarette, "I don't think this... nozzle's gonna give us the time of day." He screwed his eyes on the head of the match and managed, just barely, to split the head.

When she took up the cigarette from the cot, he sat down in the spot next to the Captain and offered the half-match to her. "You wanna share and double the pleasure, or are you the selfish type?" Either way, he was smoking one now, so he pulled the match along the concrete, then lit the cigarette from it. Waiting and watching the flame after it had proved useful, Calavicci drew in a breath and then shook out the fire.

[anekanta]

Kara tucked the spare cigarette behind her ear and plucked the already-lit one from Calavicci's fingertips. She took a long drag, inhaling heavily. Real cigarettes after so many weeks without still tasted of manna to Kara, and she'd happily share fifty more with the Lieutenant - though she'd rather do it outside the brig.

She passed it back and sat back on the cot. Trying her best to sound unconcerned, she said. "It's fine, Ensign. We're not the one's who'll hafta answer when Lieutenant Calavicci and I don't show up."

The man reached up and rubbed his neck, and Kara tossed a smirk at Calavicci. Pushing it just a bit, she put in, "And really, it's definitely within your rights to knock two people out in the road and transport them to gods-know-where, isn't it? Especially two people who haven't done anything."

The Ensign turned, looking both stricken and pleading. "But the plane, Captain - "

"Ensign!"

The voice issued from the hallway beyond Kara's sight, but soon their guard was joined by a man who looked like he enjoyed barking orders, names, and just words in general. "Calavicci, you're cleared to leave the base. Captain Thrace, however, is to remain." The man was wearing a Brig's single star (or what Kara recognized as one), so she assumed she was being faced by someone other than the aforementioned Horovitz.

"On what grounds?" Kara demanded, standing indignantly.

"You don't exist, Captain," the man spat. "So unless you have a really good story to tell, you're now a prisoner of the United States Air Force."

[bingo_faced]

Bingo stood, though he didn't put himself at attention like protocol might dictate. "Uh, sir, that's actually a story best told by me." Because, what the hell, he had an extra day or two. Deftly, the Lieutenant (J.G.) retrieved his smoke from Thrace. "Just-" He lifted the filter to his lips and took a long drag, making all of them wait for him.

"Lieutenant..." The senior officer's voice came out with a warning tone, long and drawn out like the pause causing it.

Calavicci raised his hands in innocence. "General, I apologize. We've had quite a night, as you can probably tell." He passed the smoke back to Thrace, half on the sly. "You see, the Captain here won't be in your records because you don't have clearance." The wince at the end was a precursor to what he expected to come.

The Brigadier General looked stricken. He turned and gaped at the guarding Ensign, but when the pup averted his eyes, the senior officer was only left to square off with Al. "You expect me to believe that?"

"No, sir, no." Bingo shook his head and glanced over at Kara. "I'm just required to make you aware. The Captain, here, is a liaison working with the United States Navy; working with me. What we're doing, I can't tell you. What I can say, however, is that we're due to report in and if they don't get a call real soon then there's going to be some Hell to be paid." Al cleared his throat. "Sir."

About to burst, the Brig's face reddened. "No one's stopping you Lieutenant. I suggest you go and make your calls." He looked close to rescinding the offer, though. "My security clearance didn't reveal shit, and if what you're saying is true and she's one of ours, I would have known."

Calavicci bristled. "With respect, sir, you're mistaken."

"Mistaken?" The General closed in on the much shorter Lieutenant, bearing down on him in an imposing manner.

Al didn't blink, but he lifted his chin. "SCI, sir. Compartmentalized clearance. Didn't you see the flag when you accessed my file?" It was a long-shot -- one he was banking on pretty heavily -- but his acceptance into the fledgling cooperation with the space program had given him access and clearance well beyond normal for someone of his rank, as well as a top secret flag thanks to the Navy's attempt to use space flight in more military applications.

The general looked hesitant and clammy as he turned his wide face to the Captain. "Is what he's saying true?"

Al stepped between Kara and the officer protectively. "She can neither confirm or deny that, sir." Head tilted, he glanced down and winked to his companion as he stole the cigarette away.

"Can it, Calavicci" the other man grumbled, leaning to give Thrace a pointed look. "Is what he's saying true, Captain?"

Turning just slightly, the young pilot took a hit from the cigarette and thought, Oh, Blondie, don't let me down.

[anekanta]

All right, all right, she had to hand it to the man - he wasn't half bad under pressure. She merely smiled at the Brigadier and snatched back the cigarette. Taking a protracted hit, she mentally reviewed the various and sundry lies they'd come up with.

"He's not going to get access to my files, Lieutenant Calavicci," she 'reminded' her companion gently. She turned her smile on the Brigadier. "Yes, sir, he's telling the truth. My plane, I assume you've found it by now?"

The man turned a glare toward the Ensign at his side. "Yes," he growled, "we have."

"And how did you find it?" she asked smugly, no longer worrying about how different what was under the skin of that burnt-up bird might look to the United States (U.S.! That's what that meant!) Air Force. In fact, the more bizarre, the better for her.

"Crashed, Captain; we found it in pieces."

Kara shrugged and took another hit before turning the cigarette over the Calavicci. "I told 'em the pitch wasn't quite right."

[bingo_faced]

"You did," Al remarked and stepped back away from the scene.

The general seemed reluctant to trust either of them, but obviously feared the repercussions of delaying the two young hotshots any longer. He growled and turned on his heel, stalking out of the cell and leaving the door open behind him. "Get them their things, Ensign," he barked and left them all.

Calavicci grinned. "Bingo." Another victory, well-played. As an aside, he told the departing Ensign, "We'll wait here," and then fixed himself to occupying his hands by pouring a glass of water, the cigarette hanging from his mouth.

[anekanta]

Kara returned to the cot, taking a seat. She grinned up at Calavicci. "You have some experience at this, then?" She already knew the answer to the question, so she pressed on.

"Think they brought your car here?" She didn't want to have to walk through the damn desert on top of the morning she'd already had. She stretched her injured knee - it'd last, but for how long? She probably didn't want to know.

[bingo_faced]

"I doubt they brought the car. If we're lucky, they'll give us a ride back." He wasn't holding his breath. The last of the cigarette went to Thrace and Calavicci leaned his elbows down on his knees as he let out the smoke. He was feeling tiredness gnawing at the edges of him, but he was determined to press on long enough to get the hell out of whatever remote outpost they'd ended up in.

As if on cue, the Ensign returned with Calavicci's identification and not much else. "Have a nice day, sirs," he said sheepishly, then exited as if it were his only desire. Al flipped through his wallet and muttered, "Dirty bastards took a ten-spot I think. Or-wait, no, I definitely spent that last night on a sweet little number at the bar." He looked thoughtful but distant. "Didn't even get her sweet little number."

"Anyway, you ready? I think I can get you a little help with that knee." As if it was normal to go from one such statement to the other.

[anekanta]

She waved off his concern; her knee wasn't even the largest problem on her radar at the moment. For now, the only thing she could worry about was putting some distance between herself and wherever they were.

She got to her feet, forcing herself not to react to the flare of pain. She found ignoring it familiar if nothing else - after all, she'd done her best for weeks to try to fool the old man when she'd originally torn it out.

"The only help I need will come out of a bottle." Kara stepped out into the corridor. "You coming?"

//

She watched the plume of dust grow as the truck that dropped them off at Calavicci's car grow in the distance. Feeling considerably better now that she was no longer under such close watch, she turned to the Lieutenant.

"I'm guessing you'd like some explanation?" she offered, plucking the spare cigarette from behind her ear. She held it out to him for a light and nodded on down the long and winding road. "Get me out of this heat, and we can talk a bit more."

[bingo_faced]

For once, Al wasn't in the mood to argue. He reached into the car and retrieved the lighter he'd left the night before. The sun was beating down and the sun helped to deepen the already adequate tan he had been cultivating in Southern California. Sweat-glistened and loose-tied, Calavicci lit her cigarette and opened the door for her. "I don't think I can afford to miss this," he told her, honestly.

As he crossed around the front of the car, he rang his fingers along the hood and left streaks in the dust that had gathered. "I think I know a place in town that'll serve all our immediate needs." Maybe more, though Al wouldn't wager the two of them would be able to cause much more trouble without a good meal, some rest, and a couple stiff drinks. "We can talk there."

Calavicci started the car, barely able to contain a smile when the engine purred to life. After a quick turn-around, he looked over to Kara and fixed her with a sympathetic look. "Hey, listen... I, uh, I'm sorry about your plane." He'd been wanting to say that, but it just hadn't felt right until now.