Team Building with Jack Landors (SPD, A Squad, #2, T)
characters: SPD's A Squad (Cruger/Kat)
prompt #2: endings
word count: 6500
rated: T (for language)
summary: Cruger doesn't really like the holidays, but everyone else seems to. And apparently Kat is telling them to do whatever they want behind his back.
author's note: This story has also been posted before, as "TSO's Little Girl - 'the wish of one soul for the happiness of another'". Also, Ruby appears with written permission of purplestripe66 and my love ♥
Team Building with Jack Landors (endings)
by *Andrea
Jack Landors had been making a shambles of the base before he'd even set foot on it. The obnoxious Parkington Market thief had distracted the most competent cadet on B Squad and the rest of the team had fallen apart behind him. With A Squad's new leader tearing her own team to pieces with an abrasive and unnecessarily rigid style of command, Cruger had been counting on the second string to step up.
It hadn't happened. At least, not in the way he'd expected it to. Charlie had gotten her team in over its collective head half a galaxy away, and suddenly Sky's inability to see the bigger picture had become a matter of planetary survival. Giving the one thing the future Red Ranger wanted most to his latest criminal obsession had been a last ditch effort to age him, to force the maturity SPD so desperately needed.
Who knew Jack would turn out to be halfway decent at leadership. Good enough to rally Sky's team into some kind of remotely cohesive fighting force. Just good enough to avoid the mutiny, led by Sky, that should have overturned Cruger's "decision" and put a full team back in the hands of a now-chastened but supremely confident leader. A Red Ranger who actually knew what he was doing.
They'd lost A Squad. They'd almost lost B Squad. Syd had been a breath away from gone any number of times over the years, and Bridge's loyalty had always been more to his friends than to the organization. And Sky--reckless and promising young Sky--had gone and done the exact opposite of what he was supposed to do.
All because Cruger had underestimated Jack Landors.
"You're quiet," a welcome voice murmured in his ear. Right into his ear, in fact, because Kat was the only one allowed to get that close to him and she took advantage of it with shameless frequency.
"Did you expect to find me talking to myself?" he grumbled, conscious of the public space and the attention they could draw on the mess hall balcony if they weren't careful. Where had she been? This certainly wasn't the first place he'd looked.
"Wouldn't be the first time," Kat remarked. "How are you doing?"
Ready to snap if she asked him that one more time. Normally she left his feelings alone, only slapping him upside the head with them when he started to self-destruct. Even then he sometimes thought she might let him do it if it weren't for the fact that he would take the base down with him.
"Isinia?" she added, and he turned his head to glare at her. Unfortunately, she was wearing her new uniform, and the shock of seeing her in A Squad Yellow was still enough to gain her extra seconds of silence. "How's she adjusting?"
"She's not," Cruger growled. "I don't want to talk about it, Kat."
"And in a world where your festering guilt and rage affected no one but yourself, you might even be able to get away with that," Kat said. "This is not that world."
"No." It was a split second swing between anger and affection and he heard himself add, "I thought not."
She bumped her shoulder against his arm. He sighed, wondering how she could make him want to howl, hold her, and hide somewhere far away, all without ever giving him more than friendly advice and an occasionally sympathetic ear. This strange alien woman would be the death of him one day.
"I don't suppose you've given any thought to Christmas," she was saying. A temporary reprieve from the question she wouldn't let go and a tactic he recognized all too well. He had probably two topic changes to address the subject himself--three, if she was distracted by something else in the meantime--and then she would ask again. And again. And again.
Now was really not the time to be on the receiving end of a lecture by the one person who might be able to tell him how to put this place back together.
"Is that coming up?" Cruger muttered, trying to figure out what he could tell her without telling her anything at all. Isinia's not adjusting; too much trauma. Isinia is adjusting; she just hates Earth. I have no idea how Isinia's doing; she hates me--
Are you sure it's her, Kat would say? Is it Isinia who hates you? Or is it you?
"The biggest holiday season of the year," she was saying. In reality. Not in his mind. "They already missed the beginning of it; their Thanksgiving was totally taken up by..." She waved a hand, indicating anything and everything. "This. The least you can do is give them some time off for Christmas."
"Time off?" he repeated, startled out of his brooding. "Have you seen the base? Have you seen the city? We barely manage without them overnight."
"You don't manage without us overnight," she said dryly. "If the activity on the allcall at three AM is anything to go by. Somehow the city is still standing."
A Squad Yellow. The position he'd told Jack to give her, and here she was, calmly reminding him that she wasn't just a lab rat anymore. She was a soldier again, as she hadn't been since before he knew her, and it was... disconcerting. More disturbing than he'd expected, somehow.
"I don't care what it takes, Doggie." He could feel her indifference, her stubborn lack of concern for any argument he might make. She had already decided, then. And she was perfectly capable of making his life hell until he agreed. "These kids deserve to celebrate."
"They can celebrate here," he growled. Her kind of hell was, after all, a reminder of just how well she knew him. It was a reminder he'd appreciate right about now.
"Oh, they will." Her voice was dangerous and determined and it almost made him smile. One constant in a world of chaos. "A Squad is in charge of morale, and we're assigning holiday tasks to all the cadets. I'm sure you'll turn a blind eye to it."
He snorted. She was sure. She'd probably promised them that he would when they first came up with the idea. Jack wasn't stupid, and he hadn't made Kat A Squad because Cruger had told him to.
"As long as it doesn't interfere with their duties," he muttered. He knew a losing battle when he saw one. That didn't always keep him from fighting them, but when it came to Kat, he was already engaged on too many fronts.
"And they're getting Christmas Day off," she continued. "No one works the night shift on Christmas Eve, either. It can be your gift to them."
He considered this. Mostly because it wasn't worth getting angry with Kat right now, and partly because he wondered what he could get in return. She would do whatever she wanted; he understood that. No one took over SPD Earth without knowing who was outside the chain of command, and Kat Manx had been so before he'd even heard of Earth.
She respected the hierarchy here, though. Or at least, she understood how it worked. Too many people already knew that his wasn't the final word on the base, and she didn't undermine his authority for the fun of it. She did it because there were things she genuinely believed he got wrong. If he compromised when she pushed, she would make it look like it had been his idea all along.
"What about him?" he asked at last. Jack had drawn his eye by walking into the mess, a ridiculous red hat with a giant white pompom perched on top of his head. His jacket hung open, revealing a distinctly non-regulation shirt underneath, and the comically disheveled effect made him look less like A Squad than anyone on the entire base.
"Can I fire him?" Cruger asked, glancing sideways at his conscience. "It can be your gift to me."
Kat just smiled, lifting her hand to wave. He shot a sharp look at the floor, where, sure enough, Jack was gesturing enthusiastically in their direction. "Hey!" the Red Ranger called. "It's Mr. and Mrs. Claus!"
Cruger narrowed his eyes, because he understood the structure of that if not the spirit. It definitely didn't apply to him and Kat. It did, of course, get the attention of every last person in the mess hall, and suddenly the two of them were subject to a lot more scrutiny than he'd expected.
"I've changed my mind," he said under his breath. "Can I kill him?"
"Is it physically possible?" Kat's voice was just as quiet, but it held a hint of amusement that he really couldn't fathom. "Yes. Will it go well at the tribunal? No."
Jack had been distracted by one of the girls from C Squad, and Cruger took the opportunity to stalk away from the balcony as though he had more important places to be. He probably did, if it came to that. But right now he needed Kat, and everything else would just have to wait.
"He's only trying to cheer them up." She kept pace with him, silent footsteps and unshakable curiosity still at his side. "It's been a tough year."
"You think you have to tell me that?" It came out harsher than he'd intended. He gave his head a shake, wordless apology that he couldn't bring himself to voice. "This is what we do."
"We hold the line," Kat said. She sounded matter-of-fact, like there was nothing he could say that would shock her. Like she didn't even have to prove it. "No matter how thin. But how we do it matters, Doggie."
"We do it well," he snapped. What else was there?
As though it were a prayer, if believing in such things would get him anywhere. What else was there... There were days when he didn't want to know, because knowing might distract him, might keep him from doing what he knew he had to. Then there were days like this, when he thought knowing might be the only thing that kept him from madness.
What else is there?
"We do it together," she retorted. "We do it as ourselves, as a community of people who matter, not just faceless soldiers that can be ordered into position like machines. We can't lose ourselves in this."
He didn't answer, not aloud. Because he did and she knew it. He did lose himself in this. He was here to atone, had always been on Earth to make up for what had happened at Sirius, and he wouldn't survive the loss of another base. One way or another, he would make sure of that.
One way or another, he almost had. He had heard the tears in Kat's voice when she realized what he was doing on the Terror. It wasn't lost on him that the one time he and Isinia had been in complete accord had also been the time when Kat was the most miserable, and he was trying not to think about what could happen if she ever forgave him.
"This is their home, Doggie," Kat said quietly. Gentler, but no less insistent. "If they're not allowed to celebrate it, then what was the point of fighting in the first place?"
"There are things worth defending," he muttered. Just to have something to say. She would only grow kinder the longer he was quiet.
"There are things worth enjoying," she countered. "You're allowed to take time off to help your wife acclimate, you know. She might like seeing something other than the other side of the war zone."
Not that there was anything wrong with kinder. He could feel his back stiffen and he cursed his body's betrayal. Kat would read his reaction better than if he'd spoken aloud.
"Is she not ready to leave the base?" Kat asked, and he could hear her frowning. "Rehab isn't the worst option, whether there's a shortage of xenopsychiatrists or not. There are counselors here who know their capabilities."
He came to an abrupt halt, glaring at her. "We are not discussing this here."
She folded her arms, giving it right back to him. "Pick your place."
He eyed her warily. "I suppose you'll make a scene if I don't," he muttered.
"You know me better than that." She sounded cool and genuinely offended, which made no sense until she reached for her morpher. That was enough to give him a bad feeling right there, but it got worse when she lifted the device and declared, "Computer, locate Isinia Cruger."
His eyes widened. He had no idea what she thought she was going to do, but he wanted to find out even less. "Ten years, Kat," he blurted out. "What do you expect? Who do you expect her to be?"
Who do you expect me to be, he added silently?
She stared at him for a moment, then lowered her morpher without acknowledging the computer's reply. "Talk to me," she said at last.
He did, of course. Why else had he been looking for her? Even when he couldn't admit it to himself, he knew what had to be done. Kat had devoted herself to this project, to this planet, long ago. And somewhere along the way, she had decided that he was a part of it: an integral part, not one that could be replaced on a whim. So she had devoted herself to him, too.
Kat's devotion had kept everyone on this base alive a dozen, a hundred times over. It had been so very easy to depend on her. Over and over again, he had allowed himself to accept everything she gave, no questions and no gratitude, because that was just what she did. He didn't bother to find out why. He was driven like that, too. He understood.
It wasn't until Isinia was back in his life, alive and hurt and needing attention he didn't have to spare, that he realized how long his wife had been dead to him. Not everything was about retribution anymore. He enjoyed Kat's presence, not just because she was efficient and intelligent and committed to SPD, but because he liked her. He liked the cadets--most of them--and he was going to find a way to stick Charlie with a medal one of these days whether she liked it or not.
Not because it was the right thing to do, which it was. He was going to give it to her because he wanted to. He'd forgotten that he could care about more than SPD until Isinia came back, so separate from the organization in his mind now... yet, surprisingly, so much a person that he didn't care about. Not the way he cared about Charlie and Sky and, on days when the boy wasn't stealing valuable pieces of equipment or encouraging other cadets to destroy things in the name of training, sometimes even Jack.
Not the way he cared about Kat.
She didn't make him talk for long. She poked and prodded at his feelings in an empty conference room for all of two minutes. After pronouncing his grudging responses "surprisingly normal," she told him that Isinia deserved counseling even if he personally couldn't answer the question "how are you?" without pulling rank to avoid it. She also told him that he was in charge of directing or delegating the acquisition of a holiday tree for the mess hall.
This provoked an argument long enough that Jack had beaten him to Command by the time he finally arrived for the morning shift. He debated not checking in at all. As base commander he certainly didn't have to, and if Jack was there ahead of him then he was more than late. He was no longer in control: his territory was now Jack's to defend.
And as usual, where Jack was, chaos was also present.
Cadets in various stages of dress code adherence filled the room. Most of them were at least in uniform, but between Jack and Kat, A Squad had been setting a terrible example lately. Boom and Sophie were a credit to their training and they dressed like it, but Ally Samuels only carried her badge because security wouldn't let her onto the base without it. Kat seemed to feel that jackets were optional, and, for no reason Cruger could fathom, Jack had decided it was acceptable to wear his over his civilian clothes.
He sighed, knowing full well that no one in the crowded room would hear him. He wondered how long he could stand in the doorway before someone noticed he was there. He also wondered how on Earth an SPD base commander could ever have the chance to find out, but that was probably his answer: they were on Earth. Home of social egalitarianism and an inherent lack of hierarchical structure. Structure could be imposed, but it was only maintained through massive effort. Left to their own devices, the humans here tended to revert.
And then there was Jack Landors. Holding court like some kind of democratic king, his own teammates were the only ones paying no attention to him. The C Squad cadet he'd been chatting up in the mess hall had taken on one of Jack's former teammates in what was as close to a shouting match as Cruger could even tacitly condone, while B Squad Red stood by and looked vaguely disgusted.
Sky's ability to prioritize was one of his most valuable skills. It was the reason Cruger had long given him so much leeway when it came to the chain of command. Unfortunately, like so many others', his judgement had developed a massive blind spot when it came to Jack.
"Syd," Jack was saying. "Syd." Over and over again, because B Squad Pink was looking at him but apparently not listening as she kept on talking. "Syd!"
"Syd." Sky's voice was sharp and stern and he only had to say it once.
"What!" Syd snapped.
Cruger saw Ruby flinch at the reproof, despite the fact that she had been quiet for several seconds before Sky spoke. C Squad's technical expert sometimes seemed surprised to find herself in the middle of a military operation--although in that she was hardly unique among the most recent bunch of recruits. SPD Earth grew less like the Sirian organization it was modeled on with every passing year.
"Syd, C Squad is in charge of music." Jack actually was wearing a regulation shirt underneath his jacket, Cruger realized suddenly. It was just that the improvised block letters spelling out "SANTA" beneath the faded SPD logo made it look... well, like an old shirt that someone had taken a marker to.
Someday, someone would convince Jack to throw away the clothes he had worn through instead of constantly salvaging them as some sort of fashion statement. Lately, it was looking more and more like that person would be Sky Tate or no one. Cruger hoped that the leader of B Squad was only biding his time for maximum effect.
"Music with a holiday theme," Syd protested. "You specifically said that all of our assignments had to have a holiday theme, and I'm just saying that no matter what else you can say for the very eclectic mix of audible spirit that has taken over this base, it has no theme whatsoever!"
Cruger couldn't decide whether Bridge Carson's positive effect on his teammates' vocabulary outweighed his contagious tendency to speak without periods or not.
"The theme is the holidays," Ruby informed anyone who was listening. Which right now seemed to include... Jack. "We're diverse, they're diverse, the music is diverse. I don't what see the problem is!"
"I like the music," Jack said with a shrug. "Nice job with the allcall at mealtimes, by the way. That was inspired."
Ah. He assumed this explained why the allcall now activated regularly three times a day, broadcasting no emergency or even routine announcement but instead some sort of noise that everyone around him assured him was music. He was going to have to have a talk with Jack about that.
Among other things. He'd put it at the bottom of a very long list.
"Sky," Syd complained. "Tell Jack the music has no theme. He'll listen to you."
Cruger watched, torn between horror and amusement as A Squad Red actually looked to his lower-ranked lover for an opinion on appropriate content with which to hijack the emergency allcall system. And Sky shrugged, mirroring Jack's response to Ruby, but he did raise his eyebrows. Cruger liked to think he'd gotten better at reading human body language over the years: he was pretty sure Sky had just given Syd his silent support.
"Fine," Jack said. "B Squad can be in charge of music. But," he added, over Syd's obvious delight, "you can't change anything C Squad did. You can only add to it."
"Deal," Syd declared.
"But we already did all the work!" Ruby exclaimed.
"When he says 'B Squad,'" Sky informed Syd, "he means you. We already have a team job."
"Oh, did you say you've finished your job?" Jack was asking Ruby with carefully feigned surprise. "Well, I guess that means C Squad gets the day off, then. Have fun. See you at dinner."
Cruger had opened his mouth to speak when Jack lifted his head and looked straight at him. "Morning, Commander," he said easily. "Message for you from Galaxy Command."
Everyone in the room turned to look at him. Sky, Syd, and Sophie snapped to attention. Next to Sophie, Boom fumbled whatever device the two of them had been bent over and it clattered to the floor, keeping him from saluting as he chased it underneath the console. Across the room, B Squad Yellow and Blue were engaged in a whispered conversation that somehow seemed to supercede everything going on around them, and he stared at them until one of them finally glanced his way.
"Oh, hi, Commander," Bridge Carson remarked, incredibly offering him a small wave.
Then he blinked, straightening up even as Z followed his gaze. "Uh, I mean--" Without even looking at each other, the two of them saluted in perfect synch. "Sir!"
Bridge's jacket hung open, as usual, and Z had left hers in the training room if the workout shirt she had on was any indication. They'd gotten hold of Jack's marker, though, because each of them had a large star outlined beneath the letters "SPD." Bridge's had six points while Z's only had five, and Cruger wondered distantly if there was any significance to the designs.
"Birdie says 'Happy Christmas,'" Jack drawled, still leaning back against the console he'd been standing at when Cruger arrived. He apparently felt that his "promotion" to A Squad had relieved him of any obligation to rank or respect--and if Cruger didn't dismiss him for it, the first offworld Command officer who came through would.
"I think he's trying to be native, you know?" Jack was saying. "Demonstrating his cultural sensitivity and all. He was doing all right until he asked if I'd heard anything from Saint Nicholas this year. Still, you gotta give the guy points for trying."
Boom had retrieved his equipment on the second attempt, shoving it out of the way and coming to attention beside Sophie. Ruby still hadn't managed anything but a blank stare. Her uniform jacket was at least closed, he noted, but it didn't completely hide a star to match the one on Z's shirt. He wondered if this was one of those things that Kat had told them he would conveniently overlook.
"You know what?" he said at last, taking a step back. "I don't think I want to know."
And he didn't. He really didn't. Because anything he knew would just get them into trouble later. He was fairly sure Kat wouldn't let them do anything that endangered the planet.
He turned around and walked away.
Coon seemed a little too willing to talk counseling with him, even when she found out it was for Isinia and not for him. It was her job, of course. But did she have to be so enthusiastic about it?
It got him away from Command, anyway, and he grumbled his way through the interview because this was Isinia they were talking about. He did it because she was one of his. Because she deserved the best they could offer, and because it was no less than he would do for any of his people. Not because, ten years ago, she had been his wife.
He wasn't hiding. Checking in with Charlie's team was the least he could do when he was already in rehab himself. The fact that it was the last place anyone would look for him was simply an added bonus.
Of course, the shrillness of a human child almost outweighed the benefits of being difficult to locate. Humans started life loud and only got louder, as far as he could tell. But at least they seemed to get a little lower in pitch as they aged.
Luckily, Don's small family seemed more focused on the little tree in the common room window than on him. The boy was directing Don and his wife in the placement of colored pieces of paper on its branches, while Rose and Des cut more shapes out of folded white paper sheets. Miguel, he was told, was in the infirmary getting light therapy for an eye problem.
"Thanks for letting them bring in scissors," Charlie said under her breath, once the initial flurry over his arrival had settled down. "Sir. I know we're not supposed to have anything sharp, but we'll make sure Cecila takes them with her when she leaves."
He considered that. "Coon must have authorized it," he said at last, more than a little dismayed that his former Rangers weren't even allowed to have their own scissors. No wonder they were using paper: it was possibly the only decoration Don's wife had been able to get through security.
"Speaking of authorization, sir." She didn't give him any time to question Coon's judgement, he noticed. "Is there any way to get Miguel a priority link back home? He hasn't been able to call out since he got here, and his partner doesn't even know he's alive."
Cruger gave her a sharp look. "SPD should have contacted his next-of-kin immediately."
Charlie turned away from the group gathered in front of the tree, folding her arms as she muttered, "He and his partner aren't legally associated on his planet. As far as SPD's concerned, he doesn't have any living relatives."
He barely managed to keep from swearing aloud. "You should have told me," he growled.
"Charlie!" The boy's strident tone cut him off before he could promise priority access. "Dad says you have to put the angel on top!"
She held his gaze even as she turned, and Cruger took the opportunity to nod. Miguel would have his comm link from the infirmary, if necessary. He should have asked if there was anything they needed before this, but he'd understood that Jack was taking care of the requests a base commander wasn't supposed to know about. It honestly hadn't occurred to him that there were things even Jack couldn't do.
"That's a silly looking angel, Stone," Charlie was telling the child. "Who made that?"
"Mom did!" He pointed at Don's wife without hesitation, and Charlie's mouth quirked.
"Well, we'd better not piss off your mom." She smirked at Cecila, who gave her the finger as soon as her son looked away. "C'mere and I'll pick you up so you can put it on the tree."
"No!" Stone was adamant on this point. "You have to put it on. Dad said! 'Cause you're the one who brought him back."
Charlie didn't so much as pause. "Oh, our very own Kwanzaa miracle. Guess you deserve it after I stole him away from you last year."
"It's a Christmas miracle," the boy corrected, handing her the angel.
"Well, I'm the one holding the angel," Charlie told him. "And I say it's a Kwanzaa miracle."
"Does Kwanzaa have angels?" Stone asked curiously.
"It's got one," Charlie said. Rose looked up at that moment, catching her eye. Charlie's expression didn't change, but Rose smiled as she looked down again.
"Which one?" the boy wanted to know. "Does it look like our angel? What's its name? Does it bring you presents?"
Charlie didn't answer, holding the paper angel up to the highest branch on the tree and tilting it slightly. "How is this supposed to stay on?" she demanded. "Is it held up by the wishes of small children, or what?"
"Des," Stone whined. "Does the Kwanzaa angel bring you presents?"
"Hey, man, I don't know anything about that Kwanzaa stuff," Des said, holding up his hands. "This brother celebrates Christmas."
"It has a skirt," Cecila told Charlie. "Just pinch the sides and stick it on top."
"There aren't any Kwanzaa angels," Rose remarked. She held up her folded piece of white paper and shook it, but nothing happened. She started to gently pull it apart instead. "But we do get presents on New Years."
"From Santa?" Stone asked.
"How can you keep four other people alive on a planet with no grocery stores yet not be able to put a paper angel on a tree?" Cecila left Don's side long enough to join Charlie beside the window. "Look, it goes like--there. How hard is that?"
"From each other," Rose said. "From our friends and family."
"Are they going to come bring you your presents here?" Stone wanted to know.
"My parents are in Japan," Rose told him, holding up her paper cutout in front of her face and peering through the holes at him. Charlie and Cecila were both watching from the window now. "But most of my family is here in this room, so yes. I think they'll bring me my presents here."
SPD should have flown her parents in from wherever they were. Cruger couldn't fathom how so many basic courtesies had been overlooked when it came to the former A Squad. He had a bad feeling, though, that Jack had been right all along: without him, Charlie's team could have been completely overwhelmed under a cloud of ignorance and distrust.
They could have ended up in prison. They could have gone before a tribunal, been stripped of rank and honor, and held up as examples of what it meant to betray the planet they had sworn to defend. They could have been made responsible for an entire population's fear and guilt.
While Cruger was consumed by the aftershocks of the Terror, Jack Landors had made sure that didn't happen. Because Jack knew what Kat had been saying for years: without the assumption of peace, there could be no end to war. Distrust bred violence, not safety.
He stopped by Coon's office on his way out, but she wasn't there. "Cadet Shan."
The woman looked up with a frown that faded when she caught sight of him. Still, her voice was firm when she said, "It's Cadet Tai, sir. Tai Shan."
"Cadet Tai," he amended. He should have known that. "I want to speak with Dr. Coon."
"Right away, sir."
Panda Coon didn't seem surprised when he told her to release the former A Squad Rangers. From constant evaluation, from confinement, from committed rehab... he wanted them out of here. They were to have orientation level authorization on base again, along with access to their old residential wing if they so desired. Jack's team hadn't moved into A Wing and showed no inclination to do so--possibly in anticipation of this moment--so there wouldn't be conflict on that front.
All Coon said was, "Tonight, sir?"
"Yesterday," he told her. "Tell me where to sign."
He had to document his authorization five different ways, but it was done before he left. Charlie would get her own Kwanzaa miracle. She would say that bringing her team home safely was enough, and she would believe it. But safety without freedom became a bitter thing.
He trusted her. He trusted Kat, who had let the former A Squad into her lab without security the day after they'd turned on him. He trusted Jack, who had called in Ranger credit from across the galaxies to try to prove their innocence. And at the end of the day he trusted Charlie, from whom one betrayal couldn't erase years of study and service.
Not in his eyes. Not on his base. Not as long as the people they fought for were more important than the fight itself.
It took him all afternoon to find Kat again. Off on assignment with A Squad, no doubt. He deliberately didn't check the patrol rotation, because wherever Jack's team was, they weren't currently his problem and he might as well take the opportunity to restore order. Such as it was.
As the afternoon shift drew to a close, though, he made his way to the lab and frowned at Kat's continued absence. Two of her cadets were hard at work, and they shot furtive glances at him as he made his way to her desk. He ignored them.
Taking a seat in Kat's chair, he casually reached out and bumped the emergency button under her desk. Nothing happened. He sat back and waited, swiveling idly back and forth.
It took Kat less than two minutes to rush through the door. Her attention went first to her cadets, which made him wonder what she had told them about the system, and only secondarily to her desk. Her eyes narrowed when she caught sight of him sitting there, so clearly not in distress, but she approached warily and stopped well out of lunging distance.
"Commander?" she asked, her tone cool.
"Refresh my memory," he said. "When is this holiday, exactly?"
"Which one?" she countered.
She was mad at him for abusing the alert system. Which was fair, he supposed, given the number of times he'd lectured her about it. Treating every summons as though it was real had saved her life twice now--but there had been ten times that number of false alarms. She wasn't going to let him forget this one.
"Hanukkah started last night," she was telling him. "It ends this Sunday, on Solstice. Christmas is next Thursday, and Kwanzaa starts the day after. It ends on New Years... shall I continue, or do you plan to actually learn something about the planet you're stationed on at some point?"
Definitely mad. He couldn't explain why he found that so amusing, and he knew he wouldn't get any points for trying. So all he said was, "Pick one."
Kat raised her eyebrows at him. "Excuse me?"
"Pick a holiday," he repeated. Her cadets were so obviously pretending not to listen that he thought they might actually be recording the conversation. He didn't have any illusions about the base's interest in his personal life, or how quickly news of this exchange would get around.
"Happy first day of Hanukkah," Kat informed him.
"Fine," he agreed. "You too. Have dinner with me."
She stared at him. He leaned back in her chair, pleased with the rare moment of speechlessness. This was no minor accomplishment.
She came forward slowly, bracing her arms on the far side of her desk and blocking the cadets' view of their faces. She didn't take her eyes off of him. "I can wait," she said quietly.
He didn't have to tilt his head far to look up at her. "For what?" he inquired. "The eighth day of Hanukkah?" He did know something about Earth holidays.
A small smile graced her expression, but she didn't raise her voice. "For you," she murmured. "I can wait. It isn't now or never."
If he were a braver man, he would have stood up so that everyone in the room could see him. As it was, he settled for sitting forward in her chair so that they were face to face across the desk. "You may live another hundred years," he told her, "but I won't. I know what I want, Kat."
She didn't move, but the challenge was there in her tone. "What do you want?" She sounded soft and dangerous all at once.
He liked dangerous. "Would it be presumptuous if I said 'you'?"
"Yes." No hesitation, but no hiding the brilliant smile that spread across her face, either. "But that's why I love you, so. It might work."
To hell with it. He stood up, mirroring her position on the other side of the desk. "I want you," he said. "Celebrate Hanukkah with me tonight, and find out whether or not I can hold a conversation about something that isn't SPD."
She tossed her head, dark hair curling around pointy ears as she beamed at him. "I have faith," she assured him.
Faith was the seventh day of Kwanzaa, according to Rose, but he decided that saying so might misrepresent the amount of knowledge he had concerning the current holidays. The evening song over the allcall started so quietly that, distracted as he was by more pleasant thoughts, he might have missed it. But the words intruded when he could have ignored the "music" itself.
"So tell me, Christmas, are we wise to believe in things we never see? Are prayers just wishes in disguise, and are these wishes being granted me?"
He narrowed his eyes at Kat, lowering his voice further. "Did you tell them they could do that?" His gesture at the allcall should leave no doubt about what he meant.
She shook her head silently, mouthing the word "no" through her smile.
He had a morpher and he wasn't afraid to use it. "Cadet Landors," he told it sternly. "Clear the allcall immediately."
"Uh, Commander Cruger--" That wasn't Jack's voice. "This is Cadet Tate. We're actually having some trouble with the allcall system at the moment."
"Fix it," he growled. He had no idea why he was talking to Sky right now: had he forgotten and accidentally paged B Squad Red, or had Sky picked up Jack's A Squad morpher for reasons unknown?
"Sir," Sky's voice answered crisply. "Yes, sir!"
Kat caught his eye as he replaced his own morpher, a look of unfiltered delight lingering in her expression. "Ten bucks says it can't be 'fixed' until the song is over," she teased.
"It's taken me a long time," he told her, "but I've finally learned it's better to bet on you than against you."
"I'm glad to hear it." She sounded very satisfied. "There's hope for you yet."
The song played out over the allcall in its entirety.
prompt #2: endings
word count: 6500
rated: T (for language)
summary: Cruger doesn't really like the holidays, but everyone else seems to. And apparently Kat is telling them to do whatever they want behind his back.
author's note: This story has also been posted before, as "TSO's Little Girl - 'the wish of one soul for the happiness of another'". Also, Ruby appears with written permission of purplestripe66 and my love ♥
Team Building with Jack Landors (endings)
by *Andrea
Jack Landors had been making a shambles of the base before he'd even set foot on it. The obnoxious Parkington Market thief had distracted the most competent cadet on B Squad and the rest of the team had fallen apart behind him. With A Squad's new leader tearing her own team to pieces with an abrasive and unnecessarily rigid style of command, Cruger had been counting on the second string to step up.
It hadn't happened. At least, not in the way he'd expected it to. Charlie had gotten her team in over its collective head half a galaxy away, and suddenly Sky's inability to see the bigger picture had become a matter of planetary survival. Giving the one thing the future Red Ranger wanted most to his latest criminal obsession had been a last ditch effort to age him, to force the maturity SPD so desperately needed.
Who knew Jack would turn out to be halfway decent at leadership. Good enough to rally Sky's team into some kind of remotely cohesive fighting force. Just good enough to avoid the mutiny, led by Sky, that should have overturned Cruger's "decision" and put a full team back in the hands of a now-chastened but supremely confident leader. A Red Ranger who actually knew what he was doing.
They'd lost A Squad. They'd almost lost B Squad. Syd had been a breath away from gone any number of times over the years, and Bridge's loyalty had always been more to his friends than to the organization. And Sky--reckless and promising young Sky--had gone and done the exact opposite of what he was supposed to do.
All because Cruger had underestimated Jack Landors.
"You're quiet," a welcome voice murmured in his ear. Right into his ear, in fact, because Kat was the only one allowed to get that close to him and she took advantage of it with shameless frequency.
"Did you expect to find me talking to myself?" he grumbled, conscious of the public space and the attention they could draw on the mess hall balcony if they weren't careful. Where had she been? This certainly wasn't the first place he'd looked.
"Wouldn't be the first time," Kat remarked. "How are you doing?"
Ready to snap if she asked him that one more time. Normally she left his feelings alone, only slapping him upside the head with them when he started to self-destruct. Even then he sometimes thought she might let him do it if it weren't for the fact that he would take the base down with him.
"Isinia?" she added, and he turned his head to glare at her. Unfortunately, she was wearing her new uniform, and the shock of seeing her in A Squad Yellow was still enough to gain her extra seconds of silence. "How's she adjusting?"
"She's not," Cruger growled. "I don't want to talk about it, Kat."
"And in a world where your festering guilt and rage affected no one but yourself, you might even be able to get away with that," Kat said. "This is not that world."
"No." It was a split second swing between anger and affection and he heard himself add, "I thought not."
She bumped her shoulder against his arm. He sighed, wondering how she could make him want to howl, hold her, and hide somewhere far away, all without ever giving him more than friendly advice and an occasionally sympathetic ear. This strange alien woman would be the death of him one day.
"I don't suppose you've given any thought to Christmas," she was saying. A temporary reprieve from the question she wouldn't let go and a tactic he recognized all too well. He had probably two topic changes to address the subject himself--three, if she was distracted by something else in the meantime--and then she would ask again. And again. And again.
Now was really not the time to be on the receiving end of a lecture by the one person who might be able to tell him how to put this place back together.
"Is that coming up?" Cruger muttered, trying to figure out what he could tell her without telling her anything at all. Isinia's not adjusting; too much trauma. Isinia is adjusting; she just hates Earth. I have no idea how Isinia's doing; she hates me--
Are you sure it's her, Kat would say? Is it Isinia who hates you? Or is it you?
"The biggest holiday season of the year," she was saying. In reality. Not in his mind. "They already missed the beginning of it; their Thanksgiving was totally taken up by..." She waved a hand, indicating anything and everything. "This. The least you can do is give them some time off for Christmas."
"Time off?" he repeated, startled out of his brooding. "Have you seen the base? Have you seen the city? We barely manage without them overnight."
"You don't manage without us overnight," she said dryly. "If the activity on the allcall at three AM is anything to go by. Somehow the city is still standing."
A Squad Yellow. The position he'd told Jack to give her, and here she was, calmly reminding him that she wasn't just a lab rat anymore. She was a soldier again, as she hadn't been since before he knew her, and it was... disconcerting. More disturbing than he'd expected, somehow.
"I don't care what it takes, Doggie." He could feel her indifference, her stubborn lack of concern for any argument he might make. She had already decided, then. And she was perfectly capable of making his life hell until he agreed. "These kids deserve to celebrate."
"They can celebrate here," he growled. Her kind of hell was, after all, a reminder of just how well she knew him. It was a reminder he'd appreciate right about now.
"Oh, they will." Her voice was dangerous and determined and it almost made him smile. One constant in a world of chaos. "A Squad is in charge of morale, and we're assigning holiday tasks to all the cadets. I'm sure you'll turn a blind eye to it."
He snorted. She was sure. She'd probably promised them that he would when they first came up with the idea. Jack wasn't stupid, and he hadn't made Kat A Squad because Cruger had told him to.
"As long as it doesn't interfere with their duties," he muttered. He knew a losing battle when he saw one. That didn't always keep him from fighting them, but when it came to Kat, he was already engaged on too many fronts.
"And they're getting Christmas Day off," she continued. "No one works the night shift on Christmas Eve, either. It can be your gift to them."
He considered this. Mostly because it wasn't worth getting angry with Kat right now, and partly because he wondered what he could get in return. She would do whatever she wanted; he understood that. No one took over SPD Earth without knowing who was outside the chain of command, and Kat Manx had been so before he'd even heard of Earth.
She respected the hierarchy here, though. Or at least, she understood how it worked. Too many people already knew that his wasn't the final word on the base, and she didn't undermine his authority for the fun of it. She did it because there were things she genuinely believed he got wrong. If he compromised when she pushed, she would make it look like it had been his idea all along.
"What about him?" he asked at last. Jack had drawn his eye by walking into the mess, a ridiculous red hat with a giant white pompom perched on top of his head. His jacket hung open, revealing a distinctly non-regulation shirt underneath, and the comically disheveled effect made him look less like A Squad than anyone on the entire base.
"Can I fire him?" Cruger asked, glancing sideways at his conscience. "It can be your gift to me."
Kat just smiled, lifting her hand to wave. He shot a sharp look at the floor, where, sure enough, Jack was gesturing enthusiastically in their direction. "Hey!" the Red Ranger called. "It's Mr. and Mrs. Claus!"
Cruger narrowed his eyes, because he understood the structure of that if not the spirit. It definitely didn't apply to him and Kat. It did, of course, get the attention of every last person in the mess hall, and suddenly the two of them were subject to a lot more scrutiny than he'd expected.
"I've changed my mind," he said under his breath. "Can I kill him?"
"Is it physically possible?" Kat's voice was just as quiet, but it held a hint of amusement that he really couldn't fathom. "Yes. Will it go well at the tribunal? No."
Jack had been distracted by one of the girls from C Squad, and Cruger took the opportunity to stalk away from the balcony as though he had more important places to be. He probably did, if it came to that. But right now he needed Kat, and everything else would just have to wait.
"He's only trying to cheer them up." She kept pace with him, silent footsteps and unshakable curiosity still at his side. "It's been a tough year."
"You think you have to tell me that?" It came out harsher than he'd intended. He gave his head a shake, wordless apology that he couldn't bring himself to voice. "This is what we do."
"We hold the line," Kat said. She sounded matter-of-fact, like there was nothing he could say that would shock her. Like she didn't even have to prove it. "No matter how thin. But how we do it matters, Doggie."
"We do it well," he snapped. What else was there?
As though it were a prayer, if believing in such things would get him anywhere. What else was there... There were days when he didn't want to know, because knowing might distract him, might keep him from doing what he knew he had to. Then there were days like this, when he thought knowing might be the only thing that kept him from madness.
What else is there?
"We do it together," she retorted. "We do it as ourselves, as a community of people who matter, not just faceless soldiers that can be ordered into position like machines. We can't lose ourselves in this."
He didn't answer, not aloud. Because he did and she knew it. He did lose himself in this. He was here to atone, had always been on Earth to make up for what had happened at Sirius, and he wouldn't survive the loss of another base. One way or another, he would make sure of that.
One way or another, he almost had. He had heard the tears in Kat's voice when she realized what he was doing on the Terror. It wasn't lost on him that the one time he and Isinia had been in complete accord had also been the time when Kat was the most miserable, and he was trying not to think about what could happen if she ever forgave him.
"This is their home, Doggie," Kat said quietly. Gentler, but no less insistent. "If they're not allowed to celebrate it, then what was the point of fighting in the first place?"
"There are things worth defending," he muttered. Just to have something to say. She would only grow kinder the longer he was quiet.
"There are things worth enjoying," she countered. "You're allowed to take time off to help your wife acclimate, you know. She might like seeing something other than the other side of the war zone."
Not that there was anything wrong with kinder. He could feel his back stiffen and he cursed his body's betrayal. Kat would read his reaction better than if he'd spoken aloud.
"Is she not ready to leave the base?" Kat asked, and he could hear her frowning. "Rehab isn't the worst option, whether there's a shortage of xenopsychiatrists or not. There are counselors here who know their capabilities."
He came to an abrupt halt, glaring at her. "We are not discussing this here."
She folded her arms, giving it right back to him. "Pick your place."
He eyed her warily. "I suppose you'll make a scene if I don't," he muttered.
"You know me better than that." She sounded cool and genuinely offended, which made no sense until she reached for her morpher. That was enough to give him a bad feeling right there, but it got worse when she lifted the device and declared, "Computer, locate Isinia Cruger."
His eyes widened. He had no idea what she thought she was going to do, but he wanted to find out even less. "Ten years, Kat," he blurted out. "What do you expect? Who do you expect her to be?"
Who do you expect me to be, he added silently?
She stared at him for a moment, then lowered her morpher without acknowledging the computer's reply. "Talk to me," she said at last.
He did, of course. Why else had he been looking for her? Even when he couldn't admit it to himself, he knew what had to be done. Kat had devoted herself to this project, to this planet, long ago. And somewhere along the way, she had decided that he was a part of it: an integral part, not one that could be replaced on a whim. So she had devoted herself to him, too.
Kat's devotion had kept everyone on this base alive a dozen, a hundred times over. It had been so very easy to depend on her. Over and over again, he had allowed himself to accept everything she gave, no questions and no gratitude, because that was just what she did. He didn't bother to find out why. He was driven like that, too. He understood.
It wasn't until Isinia was back in his life, alive and hurt and needing attention he didn't have to spare, that he realized how long his wife had been dead to him. Not everything was about retribution anymore. He enjoyed Kat's presence, not just because she was efficient and intelligent and committed to SPD, but because he liked her. He liked the cadets--most of them--and he was going to find a way to stick Charlie with a medal one of these days whether she liked it or not.
Not because it was the right thing to do, which it was. He was going to give it to her because he wanted to. He'd forgotten that he could care about more than SPD until Isinia came back, so separate from the organization in his mind now... yet, surprisingly, so much a person that he didn't care about. Not the way he cared about Charlie and Sky and, on days when the boy wasn't stealing valuable pieces of equipment or encouraging other cadets to destroy things in the name of training, sometimes even Jack.
Not the way he cared about Kat.
She didn't make him talk for long. She poked and prodded at his feelings in an empty conference room for all of two minutes. After pronouncing his grudging responses "surprisingly normal," she told him that Isinia deserved counseling even if he personally couldn't answer the question "how are you?" without pulling rank to avoid it. She also told him that he was in charge of directing or delegating the acquisition of a holiday tree for the mess hall.
This provoked an argument long enough that Jack had beaten him to Command by the time he finally arrived for the morning shift. He debated not checking in at all. As base commander he certainly didn't have to, and if Jack was there ahead of him then he was more than late. He was no longer in control: his territory was now Jack's to defend.
And as usual, where Jack was, chaos was also present.
Cadets in various stages of dress code adherence filled the room. Most of them were at least in uniform, but between Jack and Kat, A Squad had been setting a terrible example lately. Boom and Sophie were a credit to their training and they dressed like it, but Ally Samuels only carried her badge because security wouldn't let her onto the base without it. Kat seemed to feel that jackets were optional, and, for no reason Cruger could fathom, Jack had decided it was acceptable to wear his over his civilian clothes.
He sighed, knowing full well that no one in the crowded room would hear him. He wondered how long he could stand in the doorway before someone noticed he was there. He also wondered how on Earth an SPD base commander could ever have the chance to find out, but that was probably his answer: they were on Earth. Home of social egalitarianism and an inherent lack of hierarchical structure. Structure could be imposed, but it was only maintained through massive effort. Left to their own devices, the humans here tended to revert.
And then there was Jack Landors. Holding court like some kind of democratic king, his own teammates were the only ones paying no attention to him. The C Squad cadet he'd been chatting up in the mess hall had taken on one of Jack's former teammates in what was as close to a shouting match as Cruger could even tacitly condone, while B Squad Red stood by and looked vaguely disgusted.
Sky's ability to prioritize was one of his most valuable skills. It was the reason Cruger had long given him so much leeway when it came to the chain of command. Unfortunately, like so many others', his judgement had developed a massive blind spot when it came to Jack.
"Syd," Jack was saying. "Syd." Over and over again, because B Squad Pink was looking at him but apparently not listening as she kept on talking. "Syd!"
"Syd." Sky's voice was sharp and stern and he only had to say it once.
"What!" Syd snapped.
Cruger saw Ruby flinch at the reproof, despite the fact that she had been quiet for several seconds before Sky spoke. C Squad's technical expert sometimes seemed surprised to find herself in the middle of a military operation--although in that she was hardly unique among the most recent bunch of recruits. SPD Earth grew less like the Sirian organization it was modeled on with every passing year.
"Syd, C Squad is in charge of music." Jack actually was wearing a regulation shirt underneath his jacket, Cruger realized suddenly. It was just that the improvised block letters spelling out "SANTA" beneath the faded SPD logo made it look... well, like an old shirt that someone had taken a marker to.
Someday, someone would convince Jack to throw away the clothes he had worn through instead of constantly salvaging them as some sort of fashion statement. Lately, it was looking more and more like that person would be Sky Tate or no one. Cruger hoped that the leader of B Squad was only biding his time for maximum effect.
"Music with a holiday theme," Syd protested. "You specifically said that all of our assignments had to have a holiday theme, and I'm just saying that no matter what else you can say for the very eclectic mix of audible spirit that has taken over this base, it has no theme whatsoever!"
Cruger couldn't decide whether Bridge Carson's positive effect on his teammates' vocabulary outweighed his contagious tendency to speak without periods or not.
"The theme is the holidays," Ruby informed anyone who was listening. Which right now seemed to include... Jack. "We're diverse, they're diverse, the music is diverse. I don't what see the problem is!"
"I like the music," Jack said with a shrug. "Nice job with the allcall at mealtimes, by the way. That was inspired."
Ah. He assumed this explained why the allcall now activated regularly three times a day, broadcasting no emergency or even routine announcement but instead some sort of noise that everyone around him assured him was music. He was going to have to have a talk with Jack about that.
Among other things. He'd put it at the bottom of a very long list.
"Sky," Syd complained. "Tell Jack the music has no theme. He'll listen to you."
Cruger watched, torn between horror and amusement as A Squad Red actually looked to his lower-ranked lover for an opinion on appropriate content with which to hijack the emergency allcall system. And Sky shrugged, mirroring Jack's response to Ruby, but he did raise his eyebrows. Cruger liked to think he'd gotten better at reading human body language over the years: he was pretty sure Sky had just given Syd his silent support.
"Fine," Jack said. "B Squad can be in charge of music. But," he added, over Syd's obvious delight, "you can't change anything C Squad did. You can only add to it."
"Deal," Syd declared.
"But we already did all the work!" Ruby exclaimed.
"When he says 'B Squad,'" Sky informed Syd, "he means you. We already have a team job."
"Oh, did you say you've finished your job?" Jack was asking Ruby with carefully feigned surprise. "Well, I guess that means C Squad gets the day off, then. Have fun. See you at dinner."
Cruger had opened his mouth to speak when Jack lifted his head and looked straight at him. "Morning, Commander," he said easily. "Message for you from Galaxy Command."
Everyone in the room turned to look at him. Sky, Syd, and Sophie snapped to attention. Next to Sophie, Boom fumbled whatever device the two of them had been bent over and it clattered to the floor, keeping him from saluting as he chased it underneath the console. Across the room, B Squad Yellow and Blue were engaged in a whispered conversation that somehow seemed to supercede everything going on around them, and he stared at them until one of them finally glanced his way.
"Oh, hi, Commander," Bridge Carson remarked, incredibly offering him a small wave.
Then he blinked, straightening up even as Z followed his gaze. "Uh, I mean--" Without even looking at each other, the two of them saluted in perfect synch. "Sir!"
Bridge's jacket hung open, as usual, and Z had left hers in the training room if the workout shirt she had on was any indication. They'd gotten hold of Jack's marker, though, because each of them had a large star outlined beneath the letters "SPD." Bridge's had six points while Z's only had five, and Cruger wondered distantly if there was any significance to the designs.
"Birdie says 'Happy Christmas,'" Jack drawled, still leaning back against the console he'd been standing at when Cruger arrived. He apparently felt that his "promotion" to A Squad had relieved him of any obligation to rank or respect--and if Cruger didn't dismiss him for it, the first offworld Command officer who came through would.
"I think he's trying to be native, you know?" Jack was saying. "Demonstrating his cultural sensitivity and all. He was doing all right until he asked if I'd heard anything from Saint Nicholas this year. Still, you gotta give the guy points for trying."
Boom had retrieved his equipment on the second attempt, shoving it out of the way and coming to attention beside Sophie. Ruby still hadn't managed anything but a blank stare. Her uniform jacket was at least closed, he noted, but it didn't completely hide a star to match the one on Z's shirt. He wondered if this was one of those things that Kat had told them he would conveniently overlook.
"You know what?" he said at last, taking a step back. "I don't think I want to know."
And he didn't. He really didn't. Because anything he knew would just get them into trouble later. He was fairly sure Kat wouldn't let them do anything that endangered the planet.
He turned around and walked away.
Coon seemed a little too willing to talk counseling with him, even when she found out it was for Isinia and not for him. It was her job, of course. But did she have to be so enthusiastic about it?
It got him away from Command, anyway, and he grumbled his way through the interview because this was Isinia they were talking about. He did it because she was one of his. Because she deserved the best they could offer, and because it was no less than he would do for any of his people. Not because, ten years ago, she had been his wife.
He wasn't hiding. Checking in with Charlie's team was the least he could do when he was already in rehab himself. The fact that it was the last place anyone would look for him was simply an added bonus.
Of course, the shrillness of a human child almost outweighed the benefits of being difficult to locate. Humans started life loud and only got louder, as far as he could tell. But at least they seemed to get a little lower in pitch as they aged.
Luckily, Don's small family seemed more focused on the little tree in the common room window than on him. The boy was directing Don and his wife in the placement of colored pieces of paper on its branches, while Rose and Des cut more shapes out of folded white paper sheets. Miguel, he was told, was in the infirmary getting light therapy for an eye problem.
"Thanks for letting them bring in scissors," Charlie said under her breath, once the initial flurry over his arrival had settled down. "Sir. I know we're not supposed to have anything sharp, but we'll make sure Cecila takes them with her when she leaves."
He considered that. "Coon must have authorized it," he said at last, more than a little dismayed that his former Rangers weren't even allowed to have their own scissors. No wonder they were using paper: it was possibly the only decoration Don's wife had been able to get through security.
"Speaking of authorization, sir." She didn't give him any time to question Coon's judgement, he noticed. "Is there any way to get Miguel a priority link back home? He hasn't been able to call out since he got here, and his partner doesn't even know he's alive."
Cruger gave her a sharp look. "SPD should have contacted his next-of-kin immediately."
Charlie turned away from the group gathered in front of the tree, folding her arms as she muttered, "He and his partner aren't legally associated on his planet. As far as SPD's concerned, he doesn't have any living relatives."
He barely managed to keep from swearing aloud. "You should have told me," he growled.
"Charlie!" The boy's strident tone cut him off before he could promise priority access. "Dad says you have to put the angel on top!"
She held his gaze even as she turned, and Cruger took the opportunity to nod. Miguel would have his comm link from the infirmary, if necessary. He should have asked if there was anything they needed before this, but he'd understood that Jack was taking care of the requests a base commander wasn't supposed to know about. It honestly hadn't occurred to him that there were things even Jack couldn't do.
"That's a silly looking angel, Stone," Charlie was telling the child. "Who made that?"
"Mom did!" He pointed at Don's wife without hesitation, and Charlie's mouth quirked.
"Well, we'd better not piss off your mom." She smirked at Cecila, who gave her the finger as soon as her son looked away. "C'mere and I'll pick you up so you can put it on the tree."
"No!" Stone was adamant on this point. "You have to put it on. Dad said! 'Cause you're the one who brought him back."
Charlie didn't so much as pause. "Oh, our very own Kwanzaa miracle. Guess you deserve it after I stole him away from you last year."
"It's a Christmas miracle," the boy corrected, handing her the angel.
"Well, I'm the one holding the angel," Charlie told him. "And I say it's a Kwanzaa miracle."
"Does Kwanzaa have angels?" Stone asked curiously.
"It's got one," Charlie said. Rose looked up at that moment, catching her eye. Charlie's expression didn't change, but Rose smiled as she looked down again.
"Which one?" the boy wanted to know. "Does it look like our angel? What's its name? Does it bring you presents?"
Charlie didn't answer, holding the paper angel up to the highest branch on the tree and tilting it slightly. "How is this supposed to stay on?" she demanded. "Is it held up by the wishes of small children, or what?"
"Des," Stone whined. "Does the Kwanzaa angel bring you presents?"
"Hey, man, I don't know anything about that Kwanzaa stuff," Des said, holding up his hands. "This brother celebrates Christmas."
"It has a skirt," Cecila told Charlie. "Just pinch the sides and stick it on top."
"There aren't any Kwanzaa angels," Rose remarked. She held up her folded piece of white paper and shook it, but nothing happened. She started to gently pull it apart instead. "But we do get presents on New Years."
"From Santa?" Stone asked.
"How can you keep four other people alive on a planet with no grocery stores yet not be able to put a paper angel on a tree?" Cecila left Don's side long enough to join Charlie beside the window. "Look, it goes like--there. How hard is that?"
"From each other," Rose said. "From our friends and family."
"Are they going to come bring you your presents here?" Stone wanted to know.
"My parents are in Japan," Rose told him, holding up her paper cutout in front of her face and peering through the holes at him. Charlie and Cecila were both watching from the window now. "But most of my family is here in this room, so yes. I think they'll bring me my presents here."
SPD should have flown her parents in from wherever they were. Cruger couldn't fathom how so many basic courtesies had been overlooked when it came to the former A Squad. He had a bad feeling, though, that Jack had been right all along: without him, Charlie's team could have been completely overwhelmed under a cloud of ignorance and distrust.
They could have ended up in prison. They could have gone before a tribunal, been stripped of rank and honor, and held up as examples of what it meant to betray the planet they had sworn to defend. They could have been made responsible for an entire population's fear and guilt.
While Cruger was consumed by the aftershocks of the Terror, Jack Landors had made sure that didn't happen. Because Jack knew what Kat had been saying for years: without the assumption of peace, there could be no end to war. Distrust bred violence, not safety.
He stopped by Coon's office on his way out, but she wasn't there. "Cadet Shan."
The woman looked up with a frown that faded when she caught sight of him. Still, her voice was firm when she said, "It's Cadet Tai, sir. Tai Shan."
"Cadet Tai," he amended. He should have known that. "I want to speak with Dr. Coon."
"Right away, sir."
Panda Coon didn't seem surprised when he told her to release the former A Squad Rangers. From constant evaluation, from confinement, from committed rehab... he wanted them out of here. They were to have orientation level authorization on base again, along with access to their old residential wing if they so desired. Jack's team hadn't moved into A Wing and showed no inclination to do so--possibly in anticipation of this moment--so there wouldn't be conflict on that front.
All Coon said was, "Tonight, sir?"
"Yesterday," he told her. "Tell me where to sign."
He had to document his authorization five different ways, but it was done before he left. Charlie would get her own Kwanzaa miracle. She would say that bringing her team home safely was enough, and she would believe it. But safety without freedom became a bitter thing.
He trusted her. He trusted Kat, who had let the former A Squad into her lab without security the day after they'd turned on him. He trusted Jack, who had called in Ranger credit from across the galaxies to try to prove their innocence. And at the end of the day he trusted Charlie, from whom one betrayal couldn't erase years of study and service.
Not in his eyes. Not on his base. Not as long as the people they fought for were more important than the fight itself.
It took him all afternoon to find Kat again. Off on assignment with A Squad, no doubt. He deliberately didn't check the patrol rotation, because wherever Jack's team was, they weren't currently his problem and he might as well take the opportunity to restore order. Such as it was.
As the afternoon shift drew to a close, though, he made his way to the lab and frowned at Kat's continued absence. Two of her cadets were hard at work, and they shot furtive glances at him as he made his way to her desk. He ignored them.
Taking a seat in Kat's chair, he casually reached out and bumped the emergency button under her desk. Nothing happened. He sat back and waited, swiveling idly back and forth.
It took Kat less than two minutes to rush through the door. Her attention went first to her cadets, which made him wonder what she had told them about the system, and only secondarily to her desk. Her eyes narrowed when she caught sight of him sitting there, so clearly not in distress, but she approached warily and stopped well out of lunging distance.
"Commander?" she asked, her tone cool.
"Refresh my memory," he said. "When is this holiday, exactly?"
"Which one?" she countered.
She was mad at him for abusing the alert system. Which was fair, he supposed, given the number of times he'd lectured her about it. Treating every summons as though it was real had saved her life twice now--but there had been ten times that number of false alarms. She wasn't going to let him forget this one.
"Hanukkah started last night," she was telling him. "It ends this Sunday, on Solstice. Christmas is next Thursday, and Kwanzaa starts the day after. It ends on New Years... shall I continue, or do you plan to actually learn something about the planet you're stationed on at some point?"
Definitely mad. He couldn't explain why he found that so amusing, and he knew he wouldn't get any points for trying. So all he said was, "Pick one."
Kat raised her eyebrows at him. "Excuse me?"
"Pick a holiday," he repeated. Her cadets were so obviously pretending not to listen that he thought they might actually be recording the conversation. He didn't have any illusions about the base's interest in his personal life, or how quickly news of this exchange would get around.
"Happy first day of Hanukkah," Kat informed him.
"Fine," he agreed. "You too. Have dinner with me."
She stared at him. He leaned back in her chair, pleased with the rare moment of speechlessness. This was no minor accomplishment.
She came forward slowly, bracing her arms on the far side of her desk and blocking the cadets' view of their faces. She didn't take her eyes off of him. "I can wait," she said quietly.
He didn't have to tilt his head far to look up at her. "For what?" he inquired. "The eighth day of Hanukkah?" He did know something about Earth holidays.
A small smile graced her expression, but she didn't raise her voice. "For you," she murmured. "I can wait. It isn't now or never."
If he were a braver man, he would have stood up so that everyone in the room could see him. As it was, he settled for sitting forward in her chair so that they were face to face across the desk. "You may live another hundred years," he told her, "but I won't. I know what I want, Kat."
She didn't move, but the challenge was there in her tone. "What do you want?" She sounded soft and dangerous all at once.
He liked dangerous. "Would it be presumptuous if I said 'you'?"
"Yes." No hesitation, but no hiding the brilliant smile that spread across her face, either. "But that's why I love you, so. It might work."
To hell with it. He stood up, mirroring her position on the other side of the desk. "I want you," he said. "Celebrate Hanukkah with me tonight, and find out whether or not I can hold a conversation about something that isn't SPD."
She tossed her head, dark hair curling around pointy ears as she beamed at him. "I have faith," she assured him.
Faith was the seventh day of Kwanzaa, according to Rose, but he decided that saying so might misrepresent the amount of knowledge he had concerning the current holidays. The evening song over the allcall started so quietly that, distracted as he was by more pleasant thoughts, he might have missed it. But the words intruded when he could have ignored the "music" itself.
"So tell me, Christmas, are we wise to believe in things we never see? Are prayers just wishes in disguise, and are these wishes being granted me?"
He narrowed his eyes at Kat, lowering his voice further. "Did you tell them they could do that?" His gesture at the allcall should leave no doubt about what he meant.
She shook her head silently, mouthing the word "no" through her smile.
He had a morpher and he wasn't afraid to use it. "Cadet Landors," he told it sternly. "Clear the allcall immediately."
"Uh, Commander Cruger--" That wasn't Jack's voice. "This is Cadet Tate. We're actually having some trouble with the allcall system at the moment."
"Fix it," he growled. He had no idea why he was talking to Sky right now: had he forgotten and accidentally paged B Squad Red, or had Sky picked up Jack's A Squad morpher for reasons unknown?
"Sir," Sky's voice answered crisply. "Yes, sir!"
Kat caught his eye as he replaced his own morpher, a look of unfiltered delight lingering in her expression. "Ten bucks says it can't be 'fixed' until the song is over," she teased.
"It's taken me a long time," he told her, "but I've finally learned it's better to bet on you than against you."
"I'm glad to hear it." She sounded very satisfied. "There's hope for you yet."
The song played out over the allcall in its entirety.