Chapter 9

-The VBS Widows Auxiliary, Chapter 1, First Meeting-

Patricia's heels clicked on the floor as she hurried into the café. She was a little bit late but it took longer to settle her youngest, Patty, down than she had expected. There were a few tables occupied but most were singles and just a few couples. Then she spotted a table with two women and one man all of them looking at her expectedly. She moved purposefully towards them until she stood behind one of the two empty chairs.

"Grace?" she asked. "Samantha? David?"

"Matt, actually," the man said with a smile pushing a chair out in way of invitation. "Dave is with his boyfriend in Pensacola today but he said that anything we all decide he's willing to go along with. I assume you are Patricia?"

"Just call me Pat," she answered sitting down. "Sorry I'm late," she apologized. "I had trouble settling down my youngest; she can be a handful sometimes."

"Try it with a fifteen-year-old boy with the body of a grown man, the common sense of a soap dish and the morals of a weasel," Grace snorted dryly. "I hope I can assume at least yours didn't like to use you as a punching bag. Mine did, at least until Bradley — ah, Mr. Miller — explained the facts of life to him."

"That I would like to have seen," Patricia said with raised eyebrows.

"I know I sure did," Grace laughed. Grace Duve was a tall woman; you could see that even while she was sitting. She had long brown hair and a wide, pretty face that hardly reflected her forty years. She had wide shoulders which was fortunate for her since they were needed to support an impressive bosom prominently displayed by the low cut dress she was wearing.

"I think he started off trying to explain the concept of personal property and respect for one's parents using that virtual porn game the little twit had bought with the money he stole from me," she continued. "It was about the time the first 'Fuck you' came out of his mouth when that trashy little game got wadded up into a little ball like a piece of paper."

"That must have impressed him," Samantha tentatively interjected. Matt just laughed.

"Hey, I was a kid once," he explained when three pairs of eyes zeroed in on him. "I have a good idea what's coming next."

"Maybe you do," Grace smiled and leaned back in her chair. "Obviously you don't have boys, Samantha."

"Sam, please," she whispered.

"Okay, Sam," Grace chuckled. "Anyway, Matt is correct. My boy Donald has turds for brains because the first thing he does is take a swing at someone standing in front of him who could obviously break him in half like a twig.

"You know," she mused out loud, "I never knew you could still lecture someone while methodically, scientifically and without a shred of anger thoroughly beating the crap out of him. After two weeks Donald still limps a bit but it's been 'Yes, ma'am' or 'No, ma'am' ever since. Surprisingly, he seems to be happier ever since it happened."

"Sometimes a boy just needs to be shown he's not the big dog on the porch," Matt nodded knowingly. "Now if it wasn't for Susan, she's my fiancée," he explained. "I wouldn't have a clue what to do with my girls. I do my best but..." he raised his hands in surrender. "I know she's going to be a good mother to them but we've been waiting to get married until at least one of us has a job."

"I think it's a man/woman thing," Grace nodded. "I didn't have any daughters of my own, although I would have liked to. I'm just having trouble relating to my boy; although I will say if he continues like this I actually may start liking the little shit again."

"If he starts to backslide maybe we could have one of the Kolbe brothers come over to talk to him," Patricia giggled. "If your Donald takes a swing at one of them then I'm afraid he's terminally stupid. Really big doesn't even begin to describe the Kobles," she said looking around at them.

"Gee, is he single?" Grace smirked.

"I think he's more David's type if I understand the term boyfriend," Patricia answered. "And before you ask, his brother is supposed to be heavily involved with some singer that all the vets seem to know but I'm afraid I don't. Bernheart or something like that."

"Natalie Bernstead?" Matt asked and Patricia nodded. "I've heard of her. You're right; the vets seem to think she's some kind of minor deity or something. Don't see it myself but there's no accounting for taste.

"And I must also apologize," he said looking at his chronograph and standing up. "But I have to leave: a job interview," he said proudly. "I'm going to say the same thing David did: anything you three ladies decide to do I'll go along with. If it wasn't for Brad and the VBS I wouldn't even be getting this interview. As far as I'm concerned if you want me to crawl through broken glass to retrieve a live grenade, I'm your man." After he left the three women sat there and stared silently at each other for a few minutes.

"Sizing up the competition?" Grace smiled breaking the silence at last.

"I don't know what you mean," Patricia answered innocently. "We're here to see what we can do to thank Bradley and the VBS for everything they've done for us." Grace didn't say anything as she continued to stare at her.

"Okay, fine!" Patricia snorted. "I can see you're a 'lay them on the table' kind of woman. So all right, let's get down to it. I want him. I love him. He's the best man I've met since my husband died. I loved my husband but it's time to get on with life. Bradley is good and kind and gentle while still being a real man in every way that counts. He's the man I want to spend the rest of my life with. If he'll have me that is," she frowned. "I sense he has some of those same feeling for me but every time I try to get close he pulls back."

"That damned no-dating policy," Grace growled.

"It's more than that, I think," Pat said, shaking her head. "It's like he's afraid he'll hurt me if he lets his feeling out."

"I know exactly what you mean," Grace nodded then sighed. "I'll admit it out loud: I love him too. Have practically since the first day he brought that silly box to my door. And yes, I get the same feeling: he looks at me as something more than just a client. I know it sounds stupid; I'm too old for him and there are so many pretty women that would cut a throat to get at him..." She turned slightly so she wasn't looking directly at the table and Patricia could see a tiny tear in the corner of one eye. Grace sniffed, "Maybe it's just me being delusional: if you want something bad enough, your mind sometimes convinces itself it can really happen. Sometimes ... sometimes I get the feeling he wants me, like a man wants a woman and it feels so wonderful. Do you know how long it's been since I've had that feeling?"

"About as long as it has been for me," Pat said reaching out to grasp one of Grace's hands. "And you're beautiful," she continued. "I don't know how I could compete with you and your..."

"Tits?" Grace sniffed then snorted. "Yeah the tits attract them, but if that's all they want then they aren't worth having. I wish I had your body, either one of you."

"I love him too," Samantha said softly. She had been looking down at the table during their conversation but now she was looking up, trembling, but still looking at the other two. Samantha Roebling was what somebody would call petite. Shorter than Patricia with a slim build, she had huge, sea-green eyes in an elfin face with cream-perfect skin framed perfectly by flowing shoulder-length dark red hair.

"I ... I love him too," she said more firmly although she was still visibly trembling. "I love him and I'll fight for him if I have to."

"Well, this is a bit of a mess, isn't it?" Grace smiled slightly and sat back in her chair. "So what do we do now? Guns, knives, barehanded? Best two out of three? Last one standing?"

"I don't think that would be the best thing to do," Patricia said slowly and she looked around at her two rivals. "I don't think we can win Bradley by arm wrestling or flipping a coin. If our feelings are more than wishful thinking and he actually feels something for each of us..."

"Spit it out girl," Grace grinned. "Someone's got to say it."

"And it has to be me?" Patricia rolled her eyes.

"Yep," Grace smirked.

"Fine," Patricia huffed then sighed. "But I don't know why the one with the biggest tits couldn't say it." Grace just wiggled her shoulders setting her top in motion that threatened to pop the subject mammies out of their already overburdened constraints. Pat just rolled her eyes again. "Maybe we should consider the possibility — just the possibility mind you — that three women could share one man ... if that man was Bradley Miller."

"There," she huffed again. "I said it."

"Yes you did," Grace nodded. "I can't say it's what I had in mind when you asked us all to get together. I wanted to see who else he was seeing and make it clear to anyone concerned that I intended to have that man and I was going to leave a bloody pulp — figuratively speaking of course — of anyone who was going to get in my way.

"I was all set to hate the vicious harpies that would dare to try and get between me and my man." Then she chuckled, "But I kind of like you two. I know, I know, we don't know each other but I certainly can't say I instantly dislike either of you and we do seem to have one thing in common."

"That we do," Patricia agreed and Samantha nodded vigorously in concurrence. "But what do we do about it?"

"The first thing we have to get around is that God-damned no-dating policy," Samantha growled then she looked shocked and covered her mouth with a hand.

"So the mouse has a little bite," Grace smiled. "That's good."

"I know I'm too timid," Samantha said dropping her hand and beginning to tremble again. "But I can be strong if I have to."

"I have a feeling we're all going to need to be strong in the future," Grace said reaching out to pat the small woman's hand. "And you are right. How do we get around this stupid policy? Who is this Mayhem? Bradley makes him sound like some prophet of God whose every belch is a decree from the Almighty himself."

"That I can deal with," Patricia said firmly. Raising her wrist she spoke into her communicator. "VBS headquarters. VBS? Good, I'd like to be put through to Captain Mayhem's office please. Thank you." She crossed her legs and winked at the other two.

"This is Captain Mayhem's office? To whom am I speaking please. Sara. Thank you Sara, this is ... Yes, this is Patricia Henderson. I'd like an appointment to see the Captain as soon as possible. No, it does not concern Mr. Miller and don't you dare even consider reprimanding him or taking him off my case! He has done a fantastic job and we don't want anything ... Yes, 'we, ' there will be three of us. Mrs. Duev and ... Well, yes, Mrs. Roebling. How did you know? Never mind. This is absolutely nothing bad about Mr. Miller but it's personal and we need to talk to the Captain about it. He's on vacation? When will he be back? Okay, when is the first time ... Okay, if that is the earliest we can get. Thank you very much. Goodbye.

"Two weeks from today at 1400 we can see God himself," she told the other two.

"Sounds good," Grace nodded. "I might suggest the three of us get together over the next few weeks to get to know one other. We don't even know if we can stand each other."

"The real question is do you think you can stand the thought of him fucking the other two of us," Pat said bluntly. "Because I don't know about Sam but I fully intend to have him between my legs as often as humanly possible."

"That is a question," Grace mused then smiled. "But you know, right now that doesn't sound so bad as long as I get my turn."

-Brian-

Tracking tangos isn't anything new for any of us; now doing it inside a floating building filled with n-bats — that's non-combatants — certainly added a new twist to things. I suppose it sounds a little strange hearing someone talking about hunting an armed terrorist loaded down with enough explosives to make a reasonable sized hole in the ocean, alone and with, as Mike would put it, nothing but two empty hands and a dick. Add to that the so-called hunter not even being particularly worried or even upset. Actually it does kind of sound strange when you say it that way, but it's true. I've been scared before, terrified enough to just about piss my pants so I know the feeling and this wasn't it. I'm not one for a great deal of introspection but if I had to judge what I was feeling it was annoyance. You weren't supposed to have to work while on vacation.

Sure, babysitting Mike was something of a chore at times, but that's more like family stuff, doesn't count as work. That Mike is sure something though: pretty as a picture, deadly as a viper and crazier than a bag of squirrels. None of us could ever figure out whether she was nuts-o crazy in love with the Captain or if it was something else. I usually voted for the something else but damned if I could ever figure out what it was.

I mean she never had the jealousy thing going. The Captain didn't fuck around very much and never when Kathy was alive, but he's the kind of guy most women like and he's never hurting for it when he needs it. Mike doesn't seem to give a rat's ass who he's poking; in fact I know for a fact she's peeked in on him over the net when he's left it open. Doesn't even have the shame to deny it; says it makes her horny.

And I'm not going to get into the whole Cynthia Delmar thing. That wasn't jealousy; that was just pure righteous anger. All I'm going to say is that stupid bitch is lucky to be alive. It was a close vote, six to one, but unfortunately the Captain had the only vote that counted. Still, if she makes even a little wiggling move towards him I have a feeling we're going to find out just how good her reconstructive surgeon really is.

So I'm thinking it's not one of those "He's my man and you keep your fucking claws out of him, bitch!" kind of love, if that's what it is. Shit, I've never even heard her mention anything about her wanting to go to bed with him and after being with her so drunk on her ass she'd tell you every secret she knows for a smile I'm pretty sure that would have come up.

The only thing I do know is regardless of whether or not I understand it, there is some connection there and it isn't just some woman wanting to get fucked by her boss. If the Captain died I don't think Mike would last ten minutes. I know it's not flattering and probably not even accurate but it's like she's a parasite and the captain's her host. If he died so would she. It's not so much that she lives vicariously through him; she lives because he does. I've seen stranger things but not many.

Anyway we were taking the lift down port side; oh yeah, I think I said I was alone but I really wasn't. I had these two babies from the ship's force with me but as far as I'm concerned they'd be about as useful as screen doors on a submarine. I doubt the captain would be happy if I used them for bait or as a shield so for all intents and purposes I was alone.

I was getting constant updates from Sara when we reached the level we were heading for when Mike took out the two she was after. Jeez, you have thought these two had never seen a takedown before the way they turned green and looked like they were going to puke.

"If you two can't be quiet or are going to be sick just stay here," I said without looking back. "And stay the fuck out of my way." According to Sara my target was still a few corridors away, moving slowly. I didn't know if he was behind schedule, if the others were ahead or if something else was going on. Mike said she was coming our way since she was done and needed to babysit me. Naturally I told her go fuck herself, not that anything I'd say would even slow her down. So like any force of nature, you don't try to stop it, you just try to deflect it somewhat. I directed her to a flanking position aft of the tango. Maybe if she got here soon enough she could do that tits and ass thing again and it'd be over.

So much for wishful thinking. The next thing I heard was Sara on the net calmly announcing, "Explosion in dining room 11-C. Mayhem down. Willis down."

Now being declared "down" can mean a number of things ranging from unconscious to barely alive up to vaporized. What it usually meant was Sara had lost contact and wasn't receiving life sign telemetry. It could mean the unit was knocked off line momentarily or that there was nothing left to monitor.

"Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh shit!" Mike screamed through the net. "God damn it, I got to find him!"

"Mike, Mike, MIKE!" I tried saying. "Michele! Would you shut your fucking mouth!" Almost no one uses her given name; it was usually good for a cracked rib or two but this time I was hoping for just a little silence. I got that, at least.

"Say what you got to say, asshole," she growled. "I'm going to find the boss."

"At least listen to Sara, Mike," I responded. Sara had been updating us while Mike was ranting. Sara should have cut her off; I'm not sure why she didn't.