Cally's War

Tommy was smacking his head against the heel of his palm, repeatedly, when Papa O’Neal came up for air from the Detention Center blueprints.

“Sunday, what in the hell is your problem?” The older man patted his pockets and finally came up with an empty pouch, sighed, and began digging through his backpack.

“Papa, I fucked up. I fucked up big time. It’s been so long, I just never recognized him.” His skin had gone a strange, sick shade of gray.

“Recognized who? Run it back to start, I’m not tracking it.” He found a fresh pouch and absentmindedly cut himself a plug, turning and regarding his teammate with a patient expression.

“I should have known it was a setup. We would have known, if I’d been on the ball. Oh my God, did I ever fuck up.”

“Son, if you don’t start from the beginning, I’m gonna have to hurt you. Come on, take a deep breath and tell me about it.”

“The beginning. Okay. Sarah, display the hologram of Lieutenant Joshua Pryce from our initial briefing.” The AID obediently put the requested image in the air in front of them.

“So?” O’Neal’s hands motioned for more.

“So I know the sonofabitch. Served with him in ACS forty-some years ago. It’s just, after forty years… We were both in the Triple-Nickle with Mike Junior. He was the S-2 of the battalion in Rabun. If I had recognized him, we wouldn’t have lost Cally.”

Papa O’Neal was silent for a few seconds.

“That’s a big one.” He was silent for a long moment. “But after forty years… Besides, if you had recognized him, we wouldn’t have pulled Jay out into the open. Then we would have lost no telling how many other people, possibly the whole ball game, with whoever else Jay gave up,” he reminded quietly. “So, who the hell is he, really? Obviously a juv, of course.”

“He’s Major General James Stewart, now. He just took command of the Third MP Brigade. He’s the bastard who caught her, and he’s the bastard who’s in charge of whatever they’re doing to her. And Mike is a fucking father to him!”

O’Neal stared coldly into the distance for a few minutes, jaw working. He took a long breath and released it slowly.

“That’s mostly right. Don’t tell me you don’t know by now that the Darhel are in charge of whatever they’re doing to her. Stewart is probably just now experiencing for the very first time how very closely they’re pulling his strings. I mean, he has to have known it. But knowing it and experiencing it are two different things.” He spat into his cup, tilting his head a bit as if something had just occurred to him.

“Don’t beat yourself up, Sunday. You may have just handed us the break that’s gonna get her out of there. Just… give me a few minutes, okay? And I mean that, no more beating yourself up.” As the older man walked aft and began to pace, Tommy could actually hear him begin to hum tunelessly.