"Random Thoughts" by Corry Vrecken and Miles Fortis

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Date: 50:4:20 (15 years after the Battle of Yavin)

"I told you this was going to happen!"

Pierce rolled his eyes resignedly. There wasn't much else he could do since Colonel Vrecken had been dressing him down for the past half hour and he'd nearly run out of facial expressions.

"This exact thing?" Pierce asked sarcastically. "As in, massive systems failure following an intrusive hijacking program introduced by a power mad traitor?"

"I'm talking about a man, not a machine!" Corry snapped. "Your insistence on messing with Miles' brain, rather than simply using the sarcophagus to cure him is the cause of..."

"That will be enough." Nick's voice cut across the argument, silencing the both of them. He entered the room, waiting until the door fully closed before continuing. "The sarcophagus is not an option. That was my decision, not the Doctor's. You'll just have to live with that, Corry. We won't be using it again."

For a moment it seemed that Corry would argue with him, but finally she slumped down into a chair, burying her face in her hands.

"He's in perfect physical condition," Pierce offered consolingly. "We'll attach a new arm tomorrow and he'll be fit for duty." He shrugged apologetically to the Admiral. "Whatever duty you think he might be useful for."

Corry moaned into her hands. "He's dead. His body may be fine, but that is Lieutenant Fortis lying in there, not Miles."

"Have you spoken with him yet?"

'No sir," Corry answered.

"Well, when you do, I think it would be best if you kept the recent past out of the conversation," Nick said. "I don't know, but I'd think that telling someone that they had been a homicidal maniac might be too much to handle."

* * * * *

Meanwhile, lying on what he recognized as a standard, if somewhat glorified hospital bed, Miles was bored to distraction as he thought back over the last few hours since being off-loaded from the starship he had 'awoken' on.

Questions asked had been answered with terse, one and two word answers in the language he had been intensively trained in before he had left Earth, which told him he was where he was supposed to have been sent. But the way he had been treated, along with his right arm encased in a sleeved tube that covered him from his fingertips clear past his shoulder, convinced him that something seriously wrong had to have happened during his journey through the Stargate.

For a thankfully short time he had received a succession of visitors. They had engaged in small talk, asking the usual questions about how he felt, but answered his increasingly pointed questions with a disgustingly similar "have to ask the medics, sir. It's too technical for me", leaving shortly thereafter. All acted like they were calling on someone on their deathbed.

Suddenly the partition around his bed was swung aside and two people walked to his bedside. One was the doctor—a Captain Pierce—that had met Miles when he had landed and the other was a tall blond woman, this time vaguely familiar.

"Got another visitor for you," Pierce said. "Thought this one might actually help."

Well, for once I think I recognize someone here!

"Miles, this is Corry…"

"I know you! " Miles interrupted. "I remember you from the SGC!"

But her name wasn't 'Corry'…best leave that for later!

"That's right. We crossed paths there... a… awhile back," Corry stuttered.

"Some kind of engineer, right? So maybe…I get some answers this time. Or are you going to be like the others?" Miles asked.

With that question hanging heavy in the air, Pierce gave Corry a double thumbs up and disappeared behind the curtain. Usually she'd have been glad to see him go, but this time she felt like she'd just been abandoned.

"Well…" she began, fumbling a bit as she pulled a chair to the bedside, "that will depend on your questions. If you want to know what I'm getting you for Winterfete, I'll refuse to answer." She called up what she hoped was an amused smile, and sat down. "Otherwise, I'll do my best to help out."

"Start with what happened to me," he said levelly.

Corry finally looked into his eyes. She'd been avoiding that at all costs, because if there were any hint of the coldly calculating killer that she'd seen there before... But all that she saw was a rather lost and desperate look, kept just under the edge of control.

In relief she said, "First of all, I'm happy to tell you that you are not Lieutenant Miles Fortis."

"I'm..." He gulped. "I'm not?"

"No." Her smile was more sincere this time, if a little sad. "You are Major Fortis. And you are the highly respected commander of the First Battalion of the Twenty-Third Line Regiment, here on Farpoint."

She let this sink in for a moment before starting on the safe part of the story.

"It's been a little over three years since you came through the Stargate to join Rogue Squadron." Without hurrying she touched on several of his career highs, and then approached the threshold cautiously. "But one mission didn't go so well. You were wounded, rather horribly." Suddenly the longing for her friend welled up inside her and she choked, unable to go on.

"Is that why my arm is like this?" he asked steadily.

She nodded, doing her best not to let the tears come. "That, and worse," she said hoarsely, the words coming out in a rush. "We have a lot better medical care here than on Earth and it kept you alive, but the doctors tell me that most of your memory is gone, and they're fairly sure that it won't come back." She took his good hand in hers as she told him about the way Captain Pierce and New Republic technology had saved his life, ending with a sad. "I'm sorry."

"Well, this is… there's no good word for this," Miles said as he looked down past his arm towards his feet. "Maybe somewhere between unfortunate and tragic works. I don't know what's next! I can't run a company, much less a battalion! I don't know if I should even have any command now! I'm....I'm a machine!"

"Miles!" Corry said, shocked at Miles' outburst as he slammed his head back on to his pillow. "That's a narrow minded attitude—no pun intended. Many people around here have had replacement surgery. Yours is just a little different than others. You have always been able to overcome obstacles before and this is just another one. I'm sure there's a way to make this work!"

"I just don't know Corry. I can call you Corry, right?" Miles asked.

"Yes, you can." Corry chuckled. "We've been on a first name basis for a long time. See? You're doing better already!"

"This still worries me Corry," Miles said. "But I guess I'll have to go for it. Looks like I've got at least one friend here."

'You've more than that," Corry assured him.

* * * * *

The day after his arm was replaced and he was released from the medbay, Miles found himself slowly walking around his quarters. He picked up several things, things undoubtedly belonging to him, but completely unfamiliar. A soft chime sounded, and then again. A few seconds after that, an incessant pounding began on his door. Walking over, Miles palmed the door lock. Corry and two men, who he remembered from earlier, stood there. Miles just stood there himself, looking at the trio sheepishly.

"Sorry. Didn't know that was a doorbell."

"Well?" Corry asked in mock exasperation. "Are you going to ask us in or what?"

Miles waved them in and Corry asked as she pointed to each of the men in turn. "You remember these two? Jones here is your battalion exec and Felsper is from your security platoon."

"I remember them visiting the medbay, Corry," Miles said as he shook each man's hand in turn. "I just didn't remember their names."

"Well, sor," Jones said. "Colonel Vrecken said we might as well get some things started and we, meanin' Corporal Felsper an' myself, figured that takin' you along with us to the midday meal might be a good idea."

"Right now you mean?" Miles asked looking at a timepiece on his wrist. "It's a bit early."

"No, sor." Jones answered. "Meals be served at the regimental mess on schedule. We thought we'd show you around a bit, maybe a sight-seein' tour for today."

"You're coming along too, right Corry?" Miles asked.

* * * * *

"So you've released him back to duty," Nick said as Pierce passed over a datapad.

"Yes, but as you can see," Pierce said as he pointed to several entries. "I've added limitations that I think no one, knowing what has passed, will object to."

"No independent command authority? No direct access to computational technology? You're making the man nothing but a figurehead," Nick grumbled as he read off the list.

"Sir, when all this started, my original concerns were overridden," Pierce said, raising a hand to quell the beginning of Nick's protest. "I hold no one responsible for that. We had no idea that what we were dealing with and you were right in that I had nothing solid at the time to base those concerns on. Well, I'm almost sure that the major is as advertised, but it's going to take a lot more convincing until my confidence in his psychological integrity is fully restored."

"I understand, Captain. My confidence has a long way to go to be restored too, but we don't have an unlimited amount of time," Nick said.

"To help things along, I've asked Colonel Braman to detail staff to 'assist' Miles get back up to speed."

"And perhaps, spy on him?" Nick asked.

"Yes, that too, sir," Pierce confessed.

"That could blow up in our faces, you know," Nick mused.

"I think it's a risk we will just have to take sir, but I did omit one last requirement from that datapad," Pierce said, as he took out a flimsy sheet and handed it to Nick. "I couldn't chance putting this in any format that could be sliced."

"This is…" Nick said, stuttering to a halt as he read the sheet.

"We have no choice, do we sir?" Pierce asked

"No we don't," Nick answered. "That doesn't mean I have to like it."

"Who said I did?"

* * * * *

"You've spent several hours with him. What do you think now?"

The sounds of small arms fire easily drowned out their voices but Conwy and Corry found themselves whispering nonetheless as the range was unusually crowded for this late in the day. Perhaps the people were more interested with getting at look at Miles as opposed to practicing their marksmanship skills.

Keeping an eye on Miles as he sighted in a target, Corry shrugged. "He's very nice. Intelligent, funny. He's just not my Miles."

"Your Miles?" Conwy gave her a look.

"Oh, you know. He doesn't have any memory of the things we've been through." She polished her DeathHammer furiously as she spoke. "He's simply a nice eager guy. Slightly bewildered, frankly worried." She shoved the weapon into her holster and knotted the polishing cloth between her fingers. "I want to help him, I really do. But it just hurts to look at his face and not see all those shared times."

Conwy leaned back against the scoring table and crossed his arms. "So? What're you going to do about it?"

With a glare Corry snapped, "Do? Why do I have to do anything? He's got a whole battalion of loyal soldiers, pulling for him to show them that their leader is back. He's got Jones answering his every beck and call! He's even got the entire hospital support staff, just hoping that he'll turn to them for help. He doesn't need anything from an engineer who has to force herself to smile!"

They didn't speak as the targets were changed and the results called out. But when the firing started up again, Conwy looked at her steadily. "Did you know Amaya?"

"Admiral Burn's wife?" Corry shook her head. "I met her once or twice. We weren't really in the same social circles."

Conwy traced a finger along the scorch marks on a targeting sheet. "I've always wondered why Mike let her go like that, after she lost her memory. I know he hurt for a long time after she left. Probably still hurting now, but he's too good an actor to let on."

"What are you trying to say, Rhyan?"

He crumpled the sheet and gave her a long level gaze. "Just that there is a lot at stake here. And the past isn't the only important thing in this equation."

"And what else is?" Corry asked.

"This part of the galaxy is in a state of flux. You know what we're up against and we need combat commanders. And you also know as well as I do what that man right there can do with line infantry. All the tests the medics have put him through show no lingering control. Maybe that's true, maybe it isn't, but we've got to give him the benefit of the doubt, with a… safeguard."

"Safeguard?" Corry's eyes narrowed.

"Yeah." Conwy answered. "You've got an appointment with Colonel Braman."

"I know that look in your eye too well, Rhyan." Corry said, suspicion heavy in her voice. "What about?"

"You'll find out from the Colonel, love. Anyway, time to change the subject," Conwy said, shushing Corry as he saw Miles walking their way.

Miles pulled out a target sheet and handed it to Conwy.

"Range control needs a ranking line officer to sign off on the score. Looks like you'll have to do, sir."

"Well, you seem to be getting back into form," Conwy said after he had scored Miles' target.

"It's not hard at all, sir," Miles answered a bit sheepishly. "Blasters don't recoil and they hit where you point them."

"This is the easy part anyway," Conwy said with a wry grin. "Commanding a line battalion takes more than just being good with a weapon."

"I know enough about it to know that I'm in way over my head."

"You did well enough before," Conwy said pointedly as he stabbed a finger at Miles. "We've known you long enough that we're confident you'll succeed again."

* * * * *

"I knew I wouldn't like this!" Corry hissed, stiffening in her chair as she sat before Colonel Braman's desk. "It's the closest thing to a dishonorable act that I've ever seen!"

"Exactly, Corry," Braman answered. "Those are almost the same words Admiral Fel used when he handed me the orders."

"If that's supposed to make me feel better, it doesn't," Corry said. "So, I'm a spy, but listed as his 'technical advisor'?"

"Basically true," Braman interrupted. "The point is, Miles' authority is restricted. If I have to release his battalion into independent action, you will have that authority."

"How far does this authority extend?"

"Miles will be in command, with you right by his side. Your task is to detect if he goes berserk… again."

"And then do what?" Corry asked suspiciously.

"Terminate his command and take over."

"Terminate?"

"I believe that's a line from one of your vids, Corry. Interestingly enough, it translates with the same meaning. Terminate, with extreme prejudice."

Walking out of the regimental headquarters, Corry hugged herself as a shiver ran up her spine.

* * * * *

"I hate battle staff," Jones whispered to no one in particular as the whole of the Miles' headquarters began to settle down in the battalion conference room.

"You have something to say Captain?" Miles asked, his lips curling into a small grin.

"Oh, uh, nothing, sor," Jones choked out in surprise. "Just sayin' I hope no one's late to battle staff."

"Well then, call the meeting to order and call the roll. We'll see who's here and who's not."

The staff meeting went as Miles had predicted to himself, having ended on a disquieting note. His officers had seemed nonplussed, expecting a commander—assured, decisive and confident—that wasn't there anymore.

What they got was a man who knew them only by the entries in their personnel records and whose knowledge of New Republic strategy and tactics was due not to personal experience, but to long hours of study, facts and figures and battalion history almost literally being crammed into him as he was coached by Captains Jones and Blanchett.

The presence of Corry hadn't especially helped things. To Miles' way of thinking, he figured that even though everyone openly accepted Corry's presence because of her past combat time with them, her advisor status cast doubt on what little confidence remained of Miles' competence.

"Well Corry," Miles said as he explained his feelings to her. "I don't care what others may think. I'm going to need all the help I can get."

* * * * *

Two weeks later, Miles' team dragged through the Stargate and into the coolness of Farpoint's gate room. Corry stood to one side and waited as the last men came through. Like them she was dirty, sweaty and tired. P4K-992 might have looked like a tropical paradise, but it was also unbearably hot and bug ridden.

Miles stepped out of the line of soldiers checking in weapons and announced, "Debriefing starts in twenty minutes, people! Get something cool to drink and I'll see you there."

He crossed to where Corry stood lost in thought, her rifle balanced on her hip and asked, "Will you be joining us?"

"Go ahead, Miles. You don't need me, and I want to see to this," she answered as she flourished a set of skinned knuckles.

He nodded and then fell into step with her as they made their way out of the gate room.

"I think it went well, don't you?"

Corry flashed him a tired smile. "All objectives met. That sounds like success to me."

They parted as she headed toward medical, but when he was out of sight she veered and went straight on to the command wing.

The Admiral's office felt packed. Captain Pierce and General Moore had the good chairs, Admiral Burn and Colonel Braman took the couch along one wall, and Nick sat on the front edge of his desk. They all watched as Corry paced to and fro.

"He's a very gifted Lieutenant," Corry said heatedly, "But I stress, Lieutenant. I know you need field commanders, sir, but this isn't working. You can't substitute book learning for real life experience—he just doesn't have the experience necessary to head a Battalion."

"The men aren't responding to him?" Mike asked.

"The men have fallen all over themselves giving him a chance, sir. They want him to succeed more than anything. But their good will is coming quickly to an end. On this mission Miles deferred to the company commanders for eighty percent of the decisions. The men knew it, and they are starting to talk."

Moore shrugged. "Perhaps another mission will shake out the bugs."

Corry shook her head. "With respect, sir, all we're doing is torturing him." She stopped directly in front of Nick and said sadly, "Let him be a lieutenant. Let him work his way back up the chain again. It'll take a while, but it's the only way."

"Not exactly true," a voice said from behind her.

Andru Clayton's hoverchair entered the office and glided toward the center. This put him right next to Corry and it was all she could do not to show her distaste.

"Lieutenant." Nick nodded. "You said you had something important to share."

"Totally important!" Clayton agreed. "The answer to Life, the Universe and…" A glare from Corry made him roll his eyes, and he continued, "OK, not that, but an answer to your Fortis problem, for sure."

Clayton's chair had been tricked out with every gadget imaginable, and he started a holo from the arm rest controls to illustrate his points.

"Before every cybernetic brain implant, the device makes a map of the brain and stores it. It's a set point. It's totally Miles at the moment of the operation, two months ago."

Corry's eyes grew wide. "You've got this mapping, Pierce?"

The doctor nodded, a glum expression on his face.

"Well, why haven't we used it?"

"The reason we haven't is two fold," Pierce said patiently. "First, a remapping has only been attempted a few dozen times in the history of these devices. A high rate of them failed, leaving the patient in a vegetative state."

"How high?" Nick asked.

"Three quarters of them failed," Clayton answered cheerfully. "But those three quarters didn't have me working on it!"

Corry groaned.

"Like it or not, Vrecken, I'm the best there is," the blond man snapped. "I've taken the mapping and run it through every test conceivable. I'm one hundred percent sure that there is no interference from Turin. We can bring Fortis back to that very moment, with no risk of Maniac Killer getting loose again!"

"That very moment?" Corry asked, horrified. "The moment that he's just had half his head blown away and is in horrible agony?"

"You want him back, you've gotta crack a few eggs," Clayton shrugged coldly.

"He won't be in pain, Corry," Pierce's voice broke through, calmly. "He was unconscious when the mapping was taken."

Corry turned to the Admiral. "Sir, this is amazing news. But…" She looked down at Clayton's paralyzed limbs. "Miles was the one who attacked Clayton and put him in his current state. How can we be sure that …" She let her statement trail off.

"Very funny, Vrecken. How long do you think that I'd last in Rogue Squadron if I pulled a stunt like that?" Clayton sneered.

"With an operational failure rate that high, you might just believe you could get away with it." Corry snapped back.

"Enough!" Nick turned to Pierce. "You said there were two reasons that you haven't tried this procedure."

Pierce nodded. "Simple truth is—I've never done it before."

Corry groaned again.

Nick ignored her. "When do we go?"

"Just as soon as I can talk to Miles," Pierce said.

Corry gnawed her lower lip. "No. Let me talk to him first."

* * * * *

"So, I'd get back everything?" Miles asked as Corry watched him stride back and forth in his quarters.

"Everything up until the operation, two months ago. At least, that's the theory."

Miles' eyes gleamed. "I'll be who I was? I'll be Major Fortis again? That's great!"

"Sit down, Miles. Please," Corry pleaded. "I'm the one who paces, remember?"

"Not yet." Miles chuckled. "But I will! When do we start?"

"Wait. Think about it." Corry caught his hand and pulled him to sit beside her. "Miles, you're a great guy and a talented officer. You have your whole future ahead of you. You don't have to look back."

She saw the gleam in his eye change into a questioning look.

"Isn't this what you want, Corry?" he asked. "This whole time, you've been nice enough. But you keep looking at me like I'm some kind of ghost."

She bit her lip. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be so obvious. Yes, I do miss you. I mean, I miss the guy I knew. Truth is, this is exactly what I thought I wanted—you back, as you were. But now I'm not sure it's a good idea. This is very dangerous. There are no guarantees. Not one. You could lose everything!"

His determined look stopped her. She reached out and gently touched his face. "You don't have to do this. You don't have to be who they want you to be." She smiled sadly. "Or the one I want you to be. You've got the chance to start over, with a clean slate. That's a gift, Miles. A gift so many of us would love to have. Please, will you give it some thought before you decide?"

Miles straightened his shoulders and shook his head slowly. "No thought required. Where do I sign?"

* * * * *

In the medbay, Pierce stood behind Miles' head, banks of data screens displaying a stream of read-outs while Clayton sat behind what looked like a highly modified comm-panel. Lighted waveguides connected both units and the lively sparkles of light danced along them, belied the seriousness of the task ahead.

"Now this won't hurt a bit," Pierce said as he began to insert several leads into ports on Miles' skullcap.

"Can I quote you on that?" Miles asked nervously.

"Sure! Money back guarantee. Alright, here goes," Pierce said with a short laugh as he signaled to Clayton, who began to flip switches and twist dials. Miles' vision faded through the spectrum, past violet to ebon black. Even though Pierce had told him what to expect, Miles was startled at the complete stop of any input. Every sense was suddenly cut off. Then, even consciousness faded away.

As Pierce softly called out a series of brain co-ordinates, Clayton began to type commands.

* * * * *

Miles awoke, all his senses combining into a rush of sensation. Looking around as he opened his eyes, he noticed a knife sharp crispness to his vision. It actually made him begin to feel like he had motion sickness.

Groaning slightly as he tried to raise himself up, a voice cut in. "Sorry Miles." Pierce said. "You might want to keep your eyes closed and not move your head around too much. We've got just a little more work left to do."

"Wow Doc," Miles said. "That was wild."

"What's the last thing you remember Miles?" Pierce asked.

"It's kind of hazy, Doc." Miles said. "We were in a fight on some ship. I guess I got hit again. Bad this time?"

"You've no idea Miles," Pierce said as he looked up at the small group—Nick, Braman and Corry—gathered around. "No idea."