Archive of Our Own

Commander Walsh look tired, sounded even worse. Goose narrowed his eyes and shifted his weight to the other hip before he responded. "So...We're gonna go play needle-in-a-haystack in the Empty Zone with a ship you can't even tell us about," he huffed. "That the gist of it, commander?"

"That's correct." Walsh nodded. Somehow, the tension in his jaw made the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes that much more prominent, and the Supertrooper shifted his weight again. At his side, Walter groaned in exasperation. Goose glanced at him, a grin tugging at his lips despite his growing annoyance.

"All right, then." At the moment, all he could do was shrug. "I gotta say, I'm rather hurt that Q-Ball's been holding out on me. What, suddenly I'm not good enough to try out this high-tech mystery ship?" Feeling two pointed stares directed at him, as well as the weight of many a wrecked Interceptor, he raised his hands in defeat. "Right. I know, I know. Well Then!  He clapped Walter on the shoulder as he turned to leave. "Let's get to it."

"Oh, but there's just one, teensy little detail you neglected to mention," Walter interjected, giving Goose cause to delay his exit from Walsh's office. "What about the pilot?"

Ah, that. Goose sighed, crossing his arms and looking at the commander expectantly. Walsh had done a great job avoiding that particular subject in his introduction to this mission, what with waxing on about the various confidential projects BETA helmed, their importance to science and technological advancements for the betterment of mankind, and the preservation of life throughout the galaxy. He wasn't wrong. But reaffirming the importance of their mission only made it all the more apparent that something had gone terribly wrong here. 

Goose had faith in the mission of the galaxy rangers, he truly did. Yet he was also living proof that the organizations and intent behind them weren't always so benevolent. Walsh had avoided looking at Goose enough to make him not want to ask about who was involved in this, why the preservation of that life didn't seem to matter. But then he would be getting all in his feelings, as Walter would say. And maybe Goose wasn't so quick to anger now, but he still held a great deal of affection for the pilots of BETA, even if he wasn't around as much as he was in the early days.

A large part of him didn't want to know which friend he'd have to say goodbye to this time. Good thing Walter was the one to speak up. Better to learn it now than later.

"Unfortunately, we... do not have high hopes that the pilot survived. Be prepared for the worst." Walsh slowly closed his eyes, and anxiety wound its coils deep in his gut. "But if you are able to, please, retrieve Ranger Finch." 

That– 

Sam. 

The tips of his fingers went cold. Something heavy lodged in his throat. Goose barely heard the quiet "Good luck, rangers," that Walsh sent them off with, for all the roaring in his ears.

He stormed out of the office, clad in roiling, dark anger and an urgency he didn't bother to keep out of his long strides. Dimly, he heard Walter call after him, breaking into a jog to catch up. "Hey, hey! Slow down there! What's got you in a fuss all of a sudden?"

"We've got a missing pilot, Doc," he snapped, uncaring of how he sounded. "No time to dither around."

"Gooseman." A hand reached out to grab his arm. Walter's touch always sent a thrill through him, even if he was being more firm than gentle or jovial, now. Goose whirled on him, and stopped at the determination in Walter's eyes. Patient, but stern. It was enough to give him pause, as much as his body screamed to move. "Our orders," Walter said carefully, "are to retrieve this prototype ship."

"She's still out there." Goose's voice had lowered; he felt like he was listening to himself speak from a distance, wanting to be a hundred steps further than he was currently. He tried to pull away, pull Walter along with him. "She's been out there this whole time. Doc, we gotta go."

"I know," Walter sighed, and relinquished his hold to join Goose in rushing down the hall at a slightly more reasonable pace.  "Ranger Finch... Ah, that was the lovely lady who was with us at—"

"Entropy's Edge, yeah."

The mission from hell, as Goose recalled, once he was recovered from Ozark. Admittedly, it had all gone to shit before he took Sam's shot and flung himself into the black hole. It took him a while to remember that bit, too. So he'd thought everything was fine as it could be when they left Ozark.

Granted, that was before he made it back to base. Before the service happened and all those lost were named and honored. Before he found Samantha afterwards, quiet and morose.

Between that and the job on Tortuna, he rather thought the time for darkness and mourning was over. That they were well past that. But he supposed there was still this unexplored void when it came to him and Sam, and knowing that, it couldn't possibly end like this. Not now. Not when he was just getting to see all the light within her, when most everyone else saw dark clouds.

The air in the shuttle was thick with tension the entire ride to the launch bay. His gloves creaked from how hard he clenched his fists, avoiding Walter's concerned looks even as he answered his inquiries as to what kind of ship this could be ("Any number."), if it was standard for rangers specializing in piloting to have these kinds of assignments ("Not exactly."). Eventually, the older ranger gave Goose his space, and quietly looked over his notes. It wasn't long before they made it to the launch bay, where Ranger One was fitted with the carrier pod, just in case they couldn't get the Interceptor flying.

The ship had been missing for a week. According to the report, it had apparently vanished in the middle of a test flight. Due to the nature of the craft, they hadn't been able to get a fix on the situation or even its probable location until a few hours ago, when an encrypted distress call managed to make its way to BETA mountain from the Empty Zone; from the planet Tuscaloosa. As he understood it, Sam had been off the grid for a whole week, a galaxy away and in a faulty ship, and only now did they bother to investigate.

He didn't feel much better once they were on Ranger One, calling the launch procedure out of habit, feeling more hollow by the second. Trying to ignore the turmoil in his mind and get back on track, back to the mission. For a moment, Goose nearly forgot Walter was with him. Try as he might, instead of the lights of the console and the task before him, all he could see was Sam, framed by starlight. Not as some faceless body floating in the Empty Zone.

"Hey, big guy." Goose blinked, breaking away from his phantom to look over at Walter, whose brow creased in worry even as he tried to smile for the other's benefit. "I know this is rough. But this isn't the first time we've done a mission like this, and it won't be the last."

"I know that. But this one is–it's bullshit." Walter winced, gaze softening with sympathy, and Goose couldn't take it, turning his attention back towards the streaks of light around them as they rushed through hyperspace. "Since when are we body collectors? If the mission was so bad that they have to send in the Series Five to clean up, then there was no reason for a Three to be sent out in the first place. She's practically still a cadet."

"And what does that make you? Weren't you in the same classes?"

Goose's teeth clicked from how hard his jaw snapped shut.

"We'll get there in time," Walter said gently. "I'm sure she's all right, if she's as good a pilot as you believe."

"She is." Goose closed his eyes, took a deep, shuddering breath. The turmoil was still there, shrieking and demanding action, but he wasn't alone. Walter was with him, and just that was enough to quell the serpent. "The other thing is–civilian disappearances are one thing, but this is one of our own. I get the impression it wasn't a simple test flight; they didn't tell us what she was doing, where she was going, or what was so special about this ship. And we don't exactly get sent in to do quiet jobs."

"Could be that the Crown got involved, and they didn't want to cause a panic. Or, well–a vanishing act sounds more up Mogul's alley, but what would he want with an Interceptor?" Walter sighed again, and Goose heard the faint whumph of him relaxing back into his chair. "Or, you're thinking what I'm thinking, and that most likely possibility is one best not talked about."

"Yeah. There's too many uncertainties here. I..."

"Goose." Walter's hesitation was as palpable as his patience. The coil in his gut tightened. "I understand how you feel. But this is–you're shaking."

"What?"

"Are you going to be all right?"

"I'm fine." But he looked down at his hand, hovering over the controls, and saw the tremble in his fingers. He pulled that hand back, gripped his armrest as they shot out of hyperspace. "What have you got?"

"Well." That tone meant Walter wasn't entirely convinced, but had the good grace not to press the matter. For the moment, anyway. Walter brought up a screen, displaying Tuscaloosa; a marble swirl of aqua and amethyst that grew in size as they approached. "We've got a lock on the signal, but the scans are looking mighty suspect. There are no reports of any special activity from this sector, and nothing to indicate that any other ships have been here recently. There's no particular reason why we shouldn't have been able to find her sooner."

"Unless she didn't want to be found," Goose said grimly. He grit his teeth, mind going over the various possibilities. "Or they weren't in a rush to go find her."

"Now, now, we aren't supposed to talk about that," Walter chided, but a glance his way showed he looked strained just voicing the idea. "You really think that's what it came to?"

"I'm being realistic here, Doc." The serpent hissed. It made him sick. "There's nothing we should rule out."

"I see," Walter hummed. "Hopefully we'll know soon enough. I've got the coordinates for the ship."

Tuscaloosa seemed inviting enough considering it was undocumented, much like its neighboring frontier planet, Ozark. Ranger One descended through the atmosphere and broke through the cloud cover to soar over a shifting kaleidoscope of a landscape, in hues that flashed between violet and gold, magenta and beryl. Mostly vegetation, far as Goose could tell; that at least was a good sign for life, though he had no knowledge of what properties made up the atmosphere, or if it was habitable for humans. They had the signal for the ship, sure, but nothing of the pilot. Of her. 

She could be long gone, and the ship could be a trap. Neither men wanted to voice the possibility that BETA made a blunder, and it cost them a ranger. They were used to protecting experimental and new technology that could be weaponized against them, sure, but prioritizing that over a life was more than Goose could bear. That dreadful serpent coiled around his heart, squeezing, unrelenting.

"I have a visual on the missing Interceptor," ELMA announced. "And I am picking up movement." 

Both men's heads snapped to the display the A.I. brought up. Goose held his breath, leaned forward. Walter exhaled, "What have we got here..."

They were a few miles out, but ELMA was able to zoom in on Ranger One's powerful cameras. A ugly gouge in an otherwise pristine, iridescent field led to the crashed Interceptor. The landing looked bad, but he'd seen worse, so hopefully it wasn't lethal. ELMA zoomed in again, and Goose focused on a warm-colored figure moving around it. He put the pieces together before the screen's resolution caught up with him. Humanoid, red shirt, dark hair, brown skin, and once she turned the right way–

He exhaled, sinking back in his seat. "That's her," he confirmed. All the ugliness and heaviness that settled on his chest dissipated, and he could breathe again. "We got her. Can't keep a good pilot down."

Walter whooped in laughter, and Goose could feel his smile on him as relief flooding the cabin. "That's one plus for this mission! I'll tell command that she's safe. Let's go grab her and see what's up."

"Right. Prepare for landing."

As Ranger One made its descent, Goose called out the landing procedure, but his eyes kept flicking between the controls and Samantha's form on the display. She wasn't in uniform or any kind of protective suit, meaning the planet was safe to navigate. Having noticed the approaching ship, she was consoling some equine creature that appeared agitated; she'd mentioned before she was comfortable around such beasts, hadn't she?

He was nearly light-headed with relief, rushing about as soon as he was out of his seat, gathering tools for any on-site repairs he could administer, a spare uniform for Sam, catching Walter's grin every time their eyes met and smiling in return. 

"Finch looks like one hell of a pilot to be up and about after all that," Walter said, double-checking his PDA as he updated Mel on their status.

"You have no idea," Goose laughed, although his mirth was dampened with recent memories. "She's one of the best. No way she'd go down so easily."

He couldn't load up Triton fast enough once they got the cybersteeds out of their pods. Neither could he hold still while everyone was on the lift; Triton, likewise, danced and paced beneath his hand until Goose finally just swung up into the saddle.

"Go for it, buddy," he urged, and the cyberhorse leaped from the lift to Walter's exclamation of surprise, galloping once he hit the ground towards the missing pilot.

Tall grass bent beneath Triton's weight, the glimmering sunset colors a stark contrast to his silver chrome, and the black that Goose clad himself in for this mission. They were alien on this planet, disturbing the tranquility. By comparison, Sam looked natural as could be, emerging from parted waves of grass, a breeze playing about her bobbed hair as she slowly moved to meet him. Triton skidded to a stop some few dozen feet before her, leaving Goose to swing from the saddle and close the remaining distance between them. 

Sam was being cautious. He could now see from her slight frown, and realized she probably didn't recognize him. Just as he reached up to remove his hat, he saw her eyes light up, that deep amber flashing like sunlight to him. Then she broke into a run.

Like a shooting star he had no idea he was waiting to catch, Sam flew into his waiting arms, the collision lifting her off the ground as Goose wrapped his arms around her, holding tight even as a well threatened to burst within him. Feeling Sam cling to him just as tightly, being able to look down into her beaming face and see the waves of relief, of joy. Goose was drowning. He was so used to damming up his own churning sea of emotion, and Sam normally wouldn't let herself be charted so easily; yet here she was, a living, dazzling tide, pulling him under.

He started to lean down, but in the next moment Sam ducked her face against his chest, took a deep, shuddering breath–and placed her hands against him, gently pulling back. Goose relinquished his hold, hands flexing at his sides, and took a moment to take her in. Her rumpled flannel shirt, sleeves rolled to her elbows, freshly cut denim shorts, worn boots. Frontier fashion, meaning there was some kind of human settlement here. An insignificant detail, at the moment, as he scanned her head to toe, confirming her presence as though he wasn't just holding her. 

Sam rubbed at her eyes and he couldn't take his gaze from them, her flushed cheeks, the way the iridescent landscape reflected off her dark hair and brought out the warm undertones of her skin. He should probably stop staring, not stand so close, but Sam wasn't looking away or moving, either.

He swallowed hard, but his voice still came out hoarse. "Hey."

"Hey." He was certain he had never seen Sam smile this much, and he felt light-headed again. She wrung her hands, tugged at the hem of her shirt. "I–oh."

Having paid no mind to it until it came nudging around her, Sam's horse(?) stepped up to Goose, sniffing at him. "Whoa, easy there, buddy." He was fairly certain it was a horse–sometimes they just came in strange hues on these frontier planets–but before he could take a better look, it completed its examination of the Supertrooper and snorted in apparent satisfaction, moving off to somewhere behind him. Sam was just as bewildered when he met her gaze, and they both broke out into laughter.

"It's–it's good to see you, Goose," Sam said once she had recovered, her eyes maybe glistening a bit more than they had been before.

"Yeah, you, too." Even in his usual softness, his voice was rough. Goose cleared his throat before continuing. "You... you look great."

"For a downed pilot." The mirth that curved her lips didn't reach her eyes this time, and everything seemed a little dimmer. 

He spread his hands, shrugging. "Hey, happens to the best of us." Sam winced, minutely, but still, and something within him did, too. He kept on. "And you picked a hell of a planet to land on," Goose continued, looking out briefly over the endless sea of grass around them, swaying and shimmering in the breeze.

"I didn't have much–mm. ...Yeah," Sam sighed, defeated, for some reason.

There was a faint noise behind him; heavy approaching steps and the distant tone of Triton fussing about something. Goose paid it no mind, watching Sam shrink in front of him, even though she was so close. Hands twisting in her shirt, gaze averted. Even with the high sun beating down on them, it felt like they were back at that dark place. The black hole. The quiet at base following the service. The Sam before him was once again clad in black, and she wouldn't look at him through the dark veil closing in around her.

"Hey, now, Sam..." He reached out, fingers brushing the strands of hair at her cheek.

She shook her head away from his hand. "I'm fine, Shane," she insisted, her voice low.

"Ahem," Walter signaled as he joined the two. Goose stepped back a pace and Sam snapped to attention for the older ranger, who just lifted his hand. "At ease," he chuckled, "Ranger Hartford, at your service. And Ranger Gooseman, as you... already know. It's very nice to see you again, Finch. How are you holding up?"

"Hartford." Sam seemed at a loss for what to do with her hands, and ended up folding them before her. Goose tore himself away from staring to finally go investigate the Interceptor behind her, evaluating the external damage before leaping up onto it. "I'm as well as I can be."

"Good, good. So what happened here?"

"I was doing an interstellar test flight on this here Interceptor when I ran into some hostile units. During combat, the best course of action recommended to me was to take refuge on this unregistered planet." 

Keeping an ear on the report, Goose poked around the controls, moving to start the ship and getting... nothing. Frowning to himself, he consulted his communicator to grab ELMA from Ranger One, and gave a quiet command to see if they could talk to the ship's A.I. itself. Even banged up as it was, he didn't think the ship would refuse to start. The news that Sam did indeed encounter hostiles unsettled him further. 

"Took me three days in galactic hours to get a distress signal to go through," Sam continued, "and I'm not sure of when it reached headquarters. Don't know if it was on my end, or if there was some cosmic activity interfering with communication."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold up now," Walter interjected. "You encountered hostile units? That wasn't in the report given to us."

A pause, then Sam carefully asked: "Control didn't get that? They–they were monitoring the flight."

"Nope. Just that you vanished."

Goose's frowned deepened. Try as he might, he couldn't get this ship to talk to him. ELMA couldn't get a response either. And now this massive miscommunication. Great.

"I... I see." He didn't know Sam to falter over words like this.

"Finch," Walter pleaded, "please understand that we're here to help you, but we're also kind of getting two stories here. BETA says you vanished, you say you were being monitored. So who gave you the recommendation to hide out here? And who did you encounter?"

"... That's..." During the pregnant pause, Goose stood up and looked down to see Sam's back had gone rigid. "I can't say."

He raised a brow, and exchanged a look with Walter, who was just as lost. Goose lifted his hands in a shrug. "I've got nothing up here, Doc. Ship's on auxiliary power and won't boot up any further, and ELMA can't do anything. It's not damaged enough to just be sitting here like this."

"And thus the plot thickens," Walter sighed. "Well? I don't suppose you can tell us anything about this ship, at least?"

"No." Sam shifted in place, head inclining downwards. "I can't."

"You don't say." Shaking his head, Walter tapped his badge, pulled out his CDU, and summoned two sparks of light. "Well, if you can't talk, then I'll just have to poke around. Lifeline, be a dear and check up on Miss Finch's condition. Searchlight, see what you can find out about our little ghost ship here."

"Right-O, Doc!"

As the programs flitted about and went to work, Goose vaulted down and went to stand by Sam. She warily eyed the ball of light circling her, so he wrapped an arm around her stiff shoulders, gave her a little squeeze. "First time seeing Doc's implant at work, huh?" He gave a little smile, but Sam didn't seem to be having any of it. "Don't worry. It tingles a bit, but it's harmless."

"What Gooseman is failing to tell you is that last time, he tried to eat Lifeline." Goose had been preoccupied with the curiously short, curly hairs at Sam's nape, since she wouldn't face him, but snapped his head up to growl at Walter, who just laughed. "Fear not, my lady," the other ranger reassured, his attention returning to Sam. "Secret missions and conspiracies aside, we're glad to see that you're well, and we'll have your ship up and flying in no time."

"Vitals are all good, Doc, nothing to report here!" Lifeline chirped, flitting to its programmer and zooming around his head a few times before flying back into the CDU.

"Thank you." Sam bowed her head, hair obscuring her eyes, and the crease in Goose's brow deepened.

"Can you share anything about this planet, at least?"

"Well, turns out Tuscaloosa is..."

She was so much more than the poor reputation she had among the other pilots. Sure, his view of her was forever colored by starlight and sighs, but the point still stood that she wasn't nearly as harsh as others thought. But she also wasn't–this. Especially seeing the kinds of challenges she had faced. This wasn't right, and his fingers drummed on her shoulder, not even listening to whatever she was discussing with Walter due to the annoyed, restless buzzing in his head.

He knew he had no right, that Sam couldn't always be like he wished, but this still wasn't right. It wasn't like Walsh to give up on recruits, especially the younger ones—so why now? How long had all of this been going on and how was it not under the Series Five jurisdiction? Mystery ships? Unidentified hostiles? Stars above, they left her for dead and were more concerned about the damn ship. Why couldn't she talk to him about it? Why wouldn't she look at him? Why—

"Why are you all wet? Goose blurted out. Sam and Walter both looked at him, finally, startled from their conversation. Sam gained a familiar red tinge to her cheeks, glancing down the front of her outfit which had been damp this whole time.

"You back with us, my Goose man?" Walter suddenly looked entirely too impish, his gaze drifting somewhere behind the two younger rangers. "Since someone wasn't paying attention, why don't you enlighten him, Samantha?"

"Well, uh... I was..." He felt Sam move against him, noticed he was still holding her, and finally pulled away completely. "I was washing the ship."

If his racing thoughts hadn't come to a screeching halt before, they certainly had now. Goose blinked. "You were doing–what?"

Sam turned around, and Goose followed her gaze. It led to a large tech pail filled with soapy water, a rag, and a pair of gloves thrown over the rim, which Sam indicated weakly. "Well," she continued, "I didn't have much else to do while I was stuck here, so..." 

"Invoking the classic look, I see." Walter hummed, amused.

Goose just looked between the two. Sam gave a little smile, and Walter grinned back at her, and as much as Goose wanted to be annoyed, he couldn't. Sam was smiling again, and even if he was confused and aggravated it was better than just being angry, and seeing Sam shrink into herself.

"Okay," he relented. "That I get, and I'm guessing this is a low-tech planet and all, but... it can't be that low tech. I can see the pressure washer component there, why not use that?"

"Who says I wasn't?" Sam rounded on him, a bit of that spark–incensed, yet playful–back in her eyes. Which was positively delightful and made Goose's heart soar.

"Pressure washing can't beat detail work. Sam's old school, I can tell, she knows what's up," Walter piped in, not bothering to hide his mirth.

"You call it old school, I say it's prehistoric–"

"Doc!" Searchlight exclaimed from above, interrupting them. "I can't find nothin', Doc, I'm getting denied access on everything from diagnostics down to this ship's A.I.! I had to fight just to try and turn it on!"

Both men looked at Sam, who had gone still again, any humor having since faded. So much for the moment of brevity. Goose crossed his arms, unsettled and agitated all over again. "I'll see what I can do," Sam said carefully. "There's a peripheral I have to go get that may help, but you'll probably still encounter firewalls and such. It's... highly guarded, as you can imagine. Programming ain't my field, and I don't know how it works. I just..." Her gaze dropped, and she said more to herself, "I just fly the thing."

"It's all right, Samantha." Walter moved closer to the ship, his smile gentle and confident as he passed Sam. "You've done all you can. Just leave the rest to us."

Sam nodded, and after a brief pause, turned to face the cockpit. "CP-195, initiate."

There was a distinct whirring as the systems booted up, and the Interceptor purred to life. "Initiated. Greetings, Pilot S."

How... unsettling. He didn't know why Sam wouldn't start the ship before, but if ELMA addressed him so impersonally, he'd be reluctant to interact with her, too. Even the standard A.I. in fighters generally referred to pilots by name. Goose noticed Walter's frown as he continued making notes in his CDU. He certainly didn't look any more pleased himself.

Sam gazed into the distance. She happened to glance over and catch Goose's eye, and gave him a one-shouldered shrug. "That's one thing I can show, at least. Can't do much else with it, though."

"It wouldn't be fun if it were easy," Walter sighed, then clapped his hands together. "All righty then, the Doctor has quite the work ahead of him. You two can give me some space and go grab that peripheral. Goose, I'll holler if I run into anything, but I think the lady would like an escort to wherever the rest of her things may be?"

"Ah, yeah, the farmhouse." Suddenly looking bashful, Sam went to collect her questionable cleaning supplies. "Yeah, we should get those."

Goose's mind was awash with swirling thoughts, from wondering just how they got the ship to turn on now, to admiring the frayed threads on the hems of Sam's shorts. Walter loudly cleared his throat. He gave the older ranger his attention, met his flat stare, and shot him a look of What gives?

"Don't give me that, mister." Walter pointed at him, and went on before the Supertrooper could get in a word. "We'll talk about that later. In the meantime, maybe see what else you can find?"

That tone made him bristle, but Goose just sighed, and gestured in defeat. "Right, right. I'll double-check for repairs when we get back. ELMA, you can hop back onto our ride."

"Understood, Goose."

Triton shifted about when Goose approached him, holding still enough for the ranger to swing up onto him. "Something bothering you, buddy?"

"That... unidentifiable anomaly is quite friendly. I don't like it."

"Whoa, that's pretty rude, even for you," Goose quipped, attention shifting to Sam as she approached on her own horse–which opened its mouth to reveal a long maw lined with rows of sharp teeth and a lolling tongue, seemingly grinning in Triton's direction. "... Oh."

The creature leaned in to assess Triton, who leaned away in kind, but Goose's attention was on Sam. His gaze traveled the length of her leg, from boots to knee to mostly-bare thigh. Just how comfortable was she riding like that? Their eyes met, and she tried not to smile. Same way she always did, whenever she happened to catch his stare from across the cafeteria or launch bay.

Goose tipped his hat at her. "Lead the way, little lady."

The house wasn't far, according to Sam; just on the other side of the field and over a hill. A concerned homeowner found her after the crash, and she and her husband had taken her in. Said her accident was the liveliest thing to happen to them since their daughter eloped with a rowdy deputy the next town over.

"But not too lively. I haven't noticed any passing ships, so I don't think anyone else noticed me landing here. It's probably why..."

"Sam," Goose urged. 

But she only shook her head. "I know. Sorry, but I can't talk about it." She kept her eyes straight ahead, so Goose studied her profile instead. "I don't know what Hartford will be able to learn, or what all command has told you, but I still..."

"It's fine," Goose sighed. At least she was opening up. "The commander wasn't keen on giving us any details on your mission, and none of this is your fault. I'm just glad you're all right." Not so long ago, there was the possibility of her being gone, and he–he couldn't even think about it.

Sam considered looking at him, it seemed, but turned her head away instead. Before she urged her mount into a gallop, Goose was able to catch her whispered thanks.

The rest of the ride went in silence, with Triton easily keeping up with Sam's organic steed. Fields surrounded them as far as he could see, shimmering like gems, a living dreamscape beneath a beryl sky. They could just keep riding, he mused. He wanted to see what lay beyond the horizon, find those new wonders and share them with her. 

Such fantasies would have to wait for another time. The farmhouse came into view soon enough; a humble thing, even by frontier standards. Goose scoped out the exterior while Sam dismounted, unloaded her cleaning supplies, and led her horse (well, this planet's "horse", he supposed) back into a nearby corral.

"Anything suspicious, Triton?"

"Besides that overly familiar unidentifiable creature? Negative. I'm not picking up any humanoid lifeforms, only what I presume to be livestock. There are also no signs of any active electronics that pose a threat."

"Mrs. Aberdeen?" Sam called out as she approached the front door, knocked, and called out again. "Mrs. Aberdeen!" Getting no reply, she peered over her shoulder at Goose. "She may have gone to the main house. You can come in. The room I borrowed is in the back."

"Stay here," Goose ordered, patting his cybersteed's neck before he climbed down from the saddle.

"It's not like I have much of a choice. But I can't promise to hold my station if that creature comes sniffing around."

"Easy, old friend." Shaking his head and smiling fondly, Goose made sure to retrieve the spare uniform before following Sam inside.

The interior of the house was just as humble as the outside. Rather cramped, too, especially for someone of Goose's height. The entryway featured a mudroom where he removed his boots and blasters, though he took the time to scope out the house in lieu of following Sam further in, padding into a room down a hall.

Floorboards creaked beneath his weight, and the dated technology he could see from the kitchen and side rooms was of the standard kind that came with new settlements—from a few decades ago. He would have to make sure to include that in his report, should Walsh want to send a representative here. People clearly lived here, so this star would have to join the League of Planets and all that.

Sam had retreated to a bedroom that exuded comfort, cozy and feminine. White and wooden furniture, a huge, floral quilt with lace trim and matching pillows on the bed, a three-eyed bull's skull hanging above the headboard—the works. It felt rather lived in, too, considering she was a guest. Her flight suit hung on a wall, and the helmet in a chair by it. Sam, meanwhile, busied herself by tidying up and putting away clothes. Her gadgets were already lined on the vanity, along with her blaster.

Anxiety guided her movements and restless hands, and kept her back to Goose.

He settled against the door frame, his bulk just about taking up the entirety of it. "I brought you a uniform."

"Ah, thanks." Sam had been fussing with the same shirt for nearly minute; she ultimately unfolded it, smoothed out the wrinkles, and hung it up. "Just set it down, I'll... get to it." She wouldn't face him, so he could only watch the heave in her shoulders as she took a deep breath. "It's a shame we keep meeting like this. I was hoping the next time would be in... better circumstances."

I hate having you see me like this; he understood that much. Goose exhaled gruffly. He removed his hat and hung it on the door knob. The uniform got set on the dresser. There was no fighting how he was 'getting all in his feelings'; he'd long been there, and he couldn't ignore the slow burn in his gut and the agitation making his fingertips tingle. In a few long strides he was able to reach out, and carefully place his hands on her shoulders. Sam sagged beneath his touch, and he fought the urge to pull her closer.

"Sam," he began carefully, millions of faint whispers in the back of his mind. Gentle was at the forefront. "Just how long have you been here?"

The sound she made could have been a laugh, in another life. He watched her wring her hands. "Something like twelve days, according to the conversion. Days here are real long. Almost started to feel like I was back home, what with keeping busy around the house, but... but it's not, and I've been..."

She inhaled deeply again, shuddering, and Goose rubbed his hands down her arms. He wanted to do more, but. Patience. "I know it's been rough, but it's all right now. You know I would have come for you."

"Don't–don't say it like that. We've been over this," Sam pleaded, shaking her head. She crossed her arms, holding herself, her fingertips brushing his own. Even through his gloves, Goose felt the electricity there. "That's not what I want. I'm not some wilting flower for you to pluck when I'm down. I'm not... this. I should have been able to handle it."

"It wasn't your fault."

"You don't know what happened!" She whirled on him, fire in her eyes. No. Ghosts, haunting. "...Not like I can tell you." There was always fire in Sam's words, be it passion or anger. Hearing it start to die out chilled Goose in ways he wasn't accustomed to. Ways he certainly didn't like. "I can't say a damn thing. But..."

She sighed again, and finally moved. Shifted to the side to lean against him. The weight of her body grounded him, and he finally wrapped his arms around her, felt Sam sink against him even more. 

Her voice came out small, still, but warmer, now. "I'm being ungrateful. I'm glad you're here."

"Yeah." Goose exhaled softly, carefully pulled her against him. Sam was here, whole and shaken but alive, so everything would be okay. His heart raced. "We're friends, aren't we?"

A pause. Sam went very still, felt even smaller. But she answered. "Yeah."

Back at this place, again.

He never knew where they were headed, he and Sam, for as much as they seemed to gravitate. Their meetings were cosmic events in and of themselves, like stars colliding. Funny how they seemed to end as suddenly as they'd start, and they'd just go their separate ways, drifting in the void. Goose would certainly welcome the explosions over this empty cold–then Sam looked up at him, sunset eyes gleaming. He didn't mind holding her; time willing, he'd hold her for hours. But Sam's head tilted just so, and she lifted a hand to cup his jaw. Naturally, he was drawn to that warmth. And just as naturally, he leaned down to press his lips to hers.

Just as before, this was the absolute last thing he should be doing on a mission, when it didn't call for it. Of course, he knew that. But once Goose was in the feelings he insisted weren't there, rules and protocol went right out the window. And these feelings he had yet to navigate beyond very much liking how Sam's plush lips felt against his own, and the press of her soft body against his, and the desire to be ever closer.

He didn't want to stop, but breathing was a thing that needed to happen at some point. Sam sighed tremulously once he pulled away, lashes fluttering and eyes lowering to the hands that had come up to splay on his chest, toying with the buttons there. "Better?" Goose asked softly, running his hand over her smooth hair. 

Sam nodded. "You've been awful quiet," she noted, her voice low. Like they were sharing secrets again. "Especially in front of Hartford. He's gonna have questions."

"He can wait." And Walter would probably be waiting for a while longer if Goose made another move, so he didn't, letting Sam explore his uniform. "We're here for you, remember? Just doing our job." 

"It's highly unprofessional. Guess we're pros at that, now." Suddenly, Sam paused, her head tilting to the side. "What's up with this get up, anyway? Why do you get such a fancy uniform?"

"Supertrooper perk." Goose shrugged, hands settling on her waist, smiling gently down at her. "I'm sure you've got a cute flight suit sitting around somewhere that I don't get to have."

"I wish," Sam laughed, quietly, but it was something. Better than before. Maybe he should have been more tender with her sooner. "It's real nice."

"Thanks. You don't look so bad yourself." Unable to resist any longer, he kissed the top of her head, while reaching down to pinch her butt, right below those terribly cute shorts.

To which Sam jumped, shrieking. "You've been waiting to do that!"

"How could I not? I'm a big fan of frontier fashion." She just laughed again, and he ran a hand down her arm. Progress. "Hey, you didn't get banged up in that crash, did you?" 

"Mmm. It's all healed up now, nothing serious. They took real good care of me here."

"You sure? Need me to do an exam?"

She raised her eyes, quirking a brow. "You a physician now? I thought ships and weapons were your specialty."

"What can I say? I'm multi-talented. Now let's see..." Giving her a wolfish grin, he bent to kiss her mouth once more. "Hm... this looks good." And then her wide button nose. "Here, too." Then her cheek, her eyelids, the shell of her ear. "Aaand here." When he reached her neck, he kept kissing and sucking there until Sam was squirming and giggling in his arms.

"Shane, please!"

"Yep, everything looks good. Ready to check out? I forgot, you're all wet, huh." He dragged a gloved finger down her sternum, tracing bare skin until he met cloth. "You'll catch cold, so let's get you outta this." He hooked a finger to tug at the first button, but flicked his gaze up to her first; Sam nodded, and he began to undo her shirt. He tried to ignore the way her ample bust strained against the material with every breath, the way his pulse raced as more skin was bared. 

Actually, she wore nothing underneath. He lifted his eyes again, and this time his brow quirked.

Sam returned his gaze, deadpan. "None of the clothes here fit me all that well, in case you haven't noticed."

"I see." He wasn't going to argue or complain in the slightest. The way the plaid cloth draped off her chest had his blood stirring. As well as the little twin buds he could see forming beneath. "Very nice."

"You're too kind." She bit her lip again as his hands came to rest on her bare waist, thumbs brushing along her rib cage and ghosting beneath her breasts. Even through his gloves, her body heat was palpable. Her palms rubbed up his arms. "Shane..."

"Bad time?" Tempting as it was, he had no real intention of arousing her. This really wasn't the time–but that's how it had been every time. And time had a funny habit of bending around Sam, which Goose was willing to twist and bend however he wanted. Especially when he was burning up with need and already had her at hand. Walter went through all the fuss of sending them off, anyway, so he could afford to wait a bit longer.

"Mrs. Aberdeen could be back at any moment," Sam murmured. Yet she grasped his wrist, moved his hand up under her shirt to cup her breast, and nothing else really mattered after that.

Goose was mindful of the nagging tug of door wide open behind him, and how they were fully visible from the length of the hall, but it was a minor concern at best. Even with permission, he was hesitant, uncertain of what she wanted this time. Sam made it plain in the next moment, arching, pushing her chest towards him.

There was no more hesitation after that, as he was far too preoccupied with how generously she filled his hands, curves and rolls and all. He bent down to nose aside her short hair and sweep wordless whispers over her ear. Sam hummed in reply and he kissed her again, then some more. Good. Very good. This was still new territory, but Goose was comfortable with the courses he'd charted before, and was very eager to retrace those paths.

The bed was close by, so it was nothing to lift Sam up, spinning her around before depositing her there. A peal of laughter burst out of her, and she pulled Goose down with her for another kiss, then another. Delight soon melting into desire with the way she grabbed at his shoulders, his hair, hot and hungry and yearning. Goose gladly followed her under the pull, as few things helped temper the inferno constantly raging in him, and this was one of his favorite ways to feed the flames. 

Tempting as her mouth was, he resisted losing himself there to plant kisses down her ample chest, her soft stomach, hands coursing along her sides. Once his lips met denim, he tugged the fly of her shorts with his teeth, snarling playfully. He also tugged her body to the edge of the bed so he could kneel on the floor, palms sliding down her thighs before gently pushing her knees apart.

His eyes flicked up to catch Sam's as she sat up to watch him, her own gaze molten like gold. "We probably shouldn't be at this again," she teased, already a little breathless.

Goose kissed her inner thigh. "Yeah, I know. Want me to stop?" he asked, even as he began a trail of wet kisses towards the juncture of her thighs.

Sam ran her nails over his scalp, gripped his hair. He damn near burst out of his pants. "I'd rather you kept going."

He undid the button of her shorts. Long fingers hooked into both the denim and her underwear, and he began to tug both down, swallowing hard as she was bared to him. "That's incredibly naughty, Ranger Finch."

"You're one to talk, Ranger Gooseman."

He didn't bother taking off her boots, simply pulling her clothes past them. Once those were off, he took a moment to deliberate, licking his lips. Already knowing what he wanted to try, his fingers tapped her knees. "Let me see, baby," he insisted, hot and heavy breath washing over her skin. She parted her thighs for him, and he inhaled deeply. The sight of her glistening and wanting made his pulse pound in his ears, made him almost forget to listen for anyone approaching the house. "Could I–?"

"Y-yeah."

He'd be lying if he said he hadn't been dying to try this. His thoughts of Sam were fleeting as they were frequent, wondering where she was, what she was doing, and what she tasted like. And the taste of her was sublime, more than he could have ever imagined.

(And how he had, during nights when sleep evaded him, during idle moments, and during times when she shouldn't have been on his mind.) 

Soaked and coating his tongue, making him groan because he never thought he'd get to kiss her this way, hearing her breath catch on a moan and his name follow soon after–one could get addicted to this. He grabbed her hips to pull her closer, felt the weight of a leg settling over his shoulder, and pressed his mouth against her that much harder. Sam wasn't content to stay still, as he felt the muscles of her thighs flexing as she lifted her hips to roll against his mouth. Which was hot as hell, but he had work to do. He squeezed her hips, where he knew she was ticklish, to keep her still, and that combined with a particularly precise kiss had her cursing above him.

She was so fun like this, all eager and enthusiastic beneath his mouth and hands. It was hard to believe she had such a bad reputation, though, well, who else had gotten to see Sam like this? Goose didn't want to think about it. He couldn't think about much beyond the way he was burning up and all the delicious sounds she was making and how he wanted more.

It didn't take long before Sam's body started straining, her keening increasing in pitch, and her grip tightening on his hair. It was quite the difference to experience her release like this, her scent, how she tasted as she flooded him. "That's right, let it out," he breathed, encouragement spilling out of him naturally, not knowing if Sam could hear him over how she gasped his name. Pleased with his work either way. He lavished wet kisses over her inner thighs as she relaxed in increments, his hands flexing on her legs as he shuddered at his own insistent arousal.

Sam leaned over him; he felt the heat of her above him, her hands carding through his hair. "That was... goodness, Shane," she gasped.

"Yeah," he sighed in agreement, sounding much rougher than intended. He tried to content himself with stroking his hands down her thighs, but it wasn't enough. It had been too long, and right now, not even the Crown Army bursting into the house stay his course, mission be damned. He sat back on his heels to take in Sam, the sight of her flushed and breathless with that blouse barely clinging to her arms and her ample chest heaving.

He was aching, straining to be in her, and bit the inside of his cheek. This wasn't the time, and yet– "Sam, I..."

"C'mere, c'mere," she urged, beckoning him up to crawl over her, bracing his hands on the bed and hearing it creak under his weight. When he leaned in, she kissed the corner of his mouth, pulled off the orange scarf about his neck, and kissed his throat. One touch of her lips and there went the veritable snap of Goose's control. His hands were already working at his belt even as he nosed about her cheek until his mouth found hers again. Far from the tenderness earlier, this kiss was ravenous, and a growl rumbled from his chest as he roughly pressed her body into the mattress with his own.

And Sam wanted it, as she tugged at his shoulders, his sleeves, inviting him closer. Her hands rubbed along his neck and through his hair before they dropped between them, making quick work of fasteners and zippers once he loosened his belt, reaching in, pulling him out. He felt hotter, heavier in her hand as she stroked him, searing when he pushed inside her, and hissed at the sweet, slick heat that enveloped him. His spine bowed and his hips pressed close, to get as deep as he could in a just a few thrusts, and a shuddering groan loosed from him once he was seated fully inside her. Galaxies exploded against the backdrop of his closed lids; Sam's exhale against his ear brought him back, and he began to move.

His blasters were jostled by Sam's boots, heels digging into the backs of his thighs. Hardly a discomfort, compared to the cushion of her body, her sublime thighs around his waist, and the cradle of her hips. Her bottom lip flushed under his kisses, as Goose kept coaxing out those little moans and soft cries. They served as an accompaniment to the creaking bed that rocked under them, to his own gruff panting, to the thunder in his ears. He gasped a hoarse Ah, fuck against her neck as desire strong as any solar flare coursed through him, making him grip her hips that much harder.

His head dipped to her shoulder as rasped, hushed nothings tumbled from his lips. It's all right, I got you, baby. I got you.

Sam whimpered and wouldn't let him go, holding him like she wanted him ever closer. Her fingers slipped under his collar, ever searching for more skin, more contact, and–his rhythm stuttered, unaccustomed to being so wanted, wanting to give her whatever she was searching for. A warning went off somewhere in the back of his mind, and he ignored it, dragged teeth and tongue over her racing pulse. The desire that spurred them on was also tinged with something like desperation; Goose didn't know exactly what, or why, and didn't want to think about it now, and just drove into her that much harder. Focused on Sam's soft cries and clutching the bed's cover so he wouldn't bruise her, the slow fire slipping down his spine and the ripple of her body as they moved together—it was easy to forget why he had even been upset not too long ago.

That was the point of this, though, wasn't it?

Ideally, he could go at this all day, but this was supposed to be quick. His rhythm broke into shallow thrusts which gave way to grinding, pressing as deep as he could, once he felt Sam near fulfillment again. When she did, she cinched around him so fiercely that Goose had to stop, so he rose up up to watch her, all curves and mussed hair and lips curled with pleasure. The sight was nearly his undoing, and once Sam relaxed, he eased her back down on the bed, having clutched her up closer.

He pulled out, and trembling in waves, leaned heavily on one forearm to take himself in hand and finish. It only took a few rough jerks, Sam's lips brushing against his cheek and her fingers over his head, before his breath caught and through a haze, he watched the white streak against her brown skin. With one last groan, he sank down to lay at her side, eyes sliding shut at the velvet blanket of bliss that enveloped him.

And for a while he just lay there, the hot puffs of his breath hitting Sam's cheek. Quiet, content, and for the moment, sated.

Sam's sigh flowed in the quiet that followed, and her face tipped up to nuzzle his cheek. "Ah. Well, then."

"Uh huh," Goose agreed eloquently. All the noise, the buzzing and roaring in his ears, had died down to a pleasant hum. He took in the sight of Sam's body, the sheen of sweat and lower, himself; curiously placid, despite the intimate display. He stroked a hand down Sam's thigh, brushed his lips under her ear. "You good?"

"Yeah, I'm good." They shared a look. The light caught in her eyes to bring out the umber and gold, and he watched her smile; a moment later, quiet laughter rang from the both of them. Sam combed his hair back and kissed him and Goose very nearly melted into the mattress, with the afternoon sun beaming across them and contentment humming through his being.

But all too soon, she pulled away, and placed a hand on his chest when he tried to follow for another kiss. "I gotta clean up."

"Ah, right." Of course. All at once the job came back to him. He was on Tuscaloosa, helping to retrieve the very lovely Ranger Finch and some mysterious, prototype Interceptor that had crashed. He was with his teammate, Ranger Hartford, who was probably long done with diagnostics and impatiently waiting for their return. Nothing in the mission statement said to fool around with Ranger Finch in some rancher's daughter's old bedroom, but it didn't say he couldn't, either.

Sam sat up and finally pulled her arms from her borrowed shirt, letting it drop onto the bed. Once again, Goose was drawn to the fine hairs at her nape and how they were curled, compared to the rest of her straightened hair, as she bent to remove her footwear. Just as he was admiring the jiggle in her walk, and the look she gave him before vanishing into the bathroom (inviting? thankful?), his comm beeped.

Rolling his eyes, he sat up fully to tuck himself back in and fix his pants, and answered. "What's up, Doc?"

"... You actually—nevermind." The tiny projection of Walter shook his head, shoulders heaving in a deep sigh. "Just thought I'd give an update on ol' ghosty here. Stubborn son-of-a-ship if I ever met one."

"What did you find out?"

Some very interesting things—that I'll tell you all about once you're back."

"That's very helpful."

"Love you, too." His mustache twitched, and Goose's eyes narrowed, the memory of how that tickled coming to him unbidden. "How's our young lady doing?"

"Much better, now." 

"I'm sure." Walter's lips pressed into a line, the corner of his mouth still quirked in a not-quite smirk. "I'll see you back at the ship."

"Roger." After closing the connection, Goose ran a hand down his face, the sinking feeling in his gut returning. Great. That was at least another hour added onto the lecture that was sure to come. 

"Goose?" A ways down the hall, Sam poked her head out of the bathroom door, steam billowing out past her. "Could you pass me my uniform?"

He rose to give her just that—and then some extra kisses, while he was at it, while he could. Goose grinned when Sam finally shoved him out, laughing, and closed the door.

Right into the path of Mrs. Aberdeen, who stepped back and readjusted the large paper bag in her arms. "Well, bless my stars! Howdy, stranger!"

"Uh... howdy." Goose blinked at the small, wiry woman who looked him up and down with an appraising eye, wondering how in the hell he didn't hear her enter the house. Dressed in the standard flannel-denim-boots combo of the frontier, with weathered, tanned skin and dark, graying hair pulled into a haphazard ponytail, she looked every inch the farmer. She hooted, and he felt himself inexplicably blushing.

"Sure am glad to see lil' Sammy's got herself a friend! Marjorie Aberdeen, at yer service." She maneuvered the bag to her hip and held out a hand.

He took it (luckily, with the gloved hand that had not just been sullied by passions in this woman's home). "Shane Gooseman. A pleasure." She had a much stronger grip than he anticipated; definitely the hand of a woman who lived and breathed the frontier.

"Indeed! Come along, I'll grab you a coffee. Ain't everyday a sheriff comes 'round these parts."

"Galaxy ranger, actually," Goose gently corrected, following Marjorie back into the kitchen, where she set down the bag and started up the coffee maker.

"Galaxy ranger?" Marjorie walked up to Goose, standing on tiptoe to better squint at his badge, then leaned back with a soft huh. "Fancy that. Never heard of 'em."

"Yeah, we get that a lot in this sector." As the older woman bustled around the kitchen, Goose mentally tuned back to the sound of the Sam's shower. "Sorry to barge in on your home, ma'am."

"Oh, don't you worry that pretty little face. If Sammy trusts ya, then I trust ya, and I'm right glad to have some company. S'been far too quiet since my little Cammie ran off with that handsome scamp. I'm gettin' a bit of the dèjá vu, come to think of it."

"Is that right?" Smirking, Goose made himself comfortable against the wall, crossing his arms. "Mind if I ask you a few questions?"

"Are you gonna interrogate me, Mr. Officer?" She threw him a lidded gaze. Goose felt his cheeks heat again, to his bewilderment, and Marjorie once more hooted with laughter. "Ask away!"

"How did you come to find Sam?"

"She weren't hard to find, what with how loud that crash was!" The coffee machine beeped, and Marjorie set about pouring mugs, bringing one to Goose and settling back against the kitchen table afterwards. "It was quite the hubbub, scared the bajeezus out the Bovos. Me and the mister rode on out after an hour or so and found her still stuck in that there ship. Seemed to be having some trouble with it afore she got out."

The acrid aroma of the coffee made his nose twitch; just the perk he needed. "What kind of trouble? Was the ship damaged or anything?"

Marjorie shook her head, took a sip of her black coffee. "Just dings here and there. It was a nasty crash, but it weren't on fire or nothin'. Just wouldn't open. Pretty sure I saw her struggling some up in that there—cockpit?" She shrugged. "I'm not all that familiar with them things, but it was a mite strange."

"Yeah." Goose's brow creased, and his grip tightened on his mug. "How was Sam? Was she injured?"

"... About that." Marjorie's tone shift was palpable, and she lowered her cup to fix Goose with a steely gaze, her lips pressed into a thin line. It caught him off guard, truthfully; like this older woman was two seconds from going for his jugular, despite standing rock still. "The law don't come 'round here too often, 'specially from off planet. We keep to ourselves. It's no coincidence that Sammie crashed here, to be followed up by the likes of you showin' up. Just who are you, and what do you want with that girl?"

Goose was thankful that Sam had someone so protective of her. He was also very certain that he was up against a force he had no power against, besides honesty. How strange, that this woman would become his judge, jury, and possibly executioner, on this long forgotten planet. "I'm her friend," he answered, feeling his heart race. "We're here to make sure she's all right."

"We? There's more'a ya?"

"We rangers are a whole galactic force, ma'am."

"And what're you gonna do with her now that you have her back, huh?" Marjorie's fangs were bared, and Goose felt very much like the lone, newborn calf on so many nature documentaries he'd consumed. "Send her out again on her lonesome?"

"... I don't know. Not if I can help it." Goose held her gaze, confidence rising with each word. "Mrs. Aberdeen, this is a dangerous line of work we're in. I wish Sam wasn't in it, but she is, and I'm going to help her anyway way I can. I'm here to make sure she's safe. That's all that matters to me."

The silence was like to choke him. Marjorie was unrelenting, waiting for him to break, so Goose stood firm, not one to betray how shaken he was. And... it was enough. Marjorie closed her eyes and sighed, the tension leaving her frame as she once again eased back against the table.

"That'll do," she said, more to herself than anything, though Goose heard her loud and clear. "You asked how she was doing. I'll be frank with you, Mr. Ranger. She weren't in a good way. Banged up, babbling some nonsense like she was still trying to give commands or something." Weathered fingers tapped her mug, and when she looked up at Goose again, her gaze was distant. Pained. "She didn't want nobody touching her, couldn't seem to realize we was just trying to help. Wouldn't let us get that helmet off her, neither. It took a minute, but we managed to calm her down enough to get her out and saddled up, and she all but collapsed once we got her back to the house. We checked up on her while she was out, and when I found her awake, she was out of the suit and wondering if we could spare some clothes."

Marjorie paused to sip her coffee again, staring down at the steam rising from her brew. "She still don't talk much, ain't said nothing about where she came from, but it's nice to see her up and about, rather than how she was before. She's a sweet girl. She don't deserve to go through all that."

"Yeah," Goose agreed, swallowing down the lump in his throat. Dread make his skin prickle, cold and sickening. A stark contrast to the burning ember of anger rising in him. The Commander was going to get an earful, and maybe a fist, too.

"An' she ain't the only sweet little thing around here." Marjorie winked. The sudden, cheeky grin caught Goose off guard, breaking his grim train of thought.

"O-oh," he stammered. The older woman cackled and he cleared his throat. Get a grip, Gooseman. "Uh, anyway, what happened after all that?"

"Nothin' much," Marjorie quipped, swirling the dregs of her drink. "She was mostly out fussin' with that ship, and would come back and ask if she could help with anything. Girl knows her way around a ranch, that's for sure. Even got my washer to stop its rattling. But she mainly keeps to herself. Felt bad for the poor thing, so I figured I'd treat her to some new clothes. Girl's been having a time of it since she's got a lot more meat on her than my little Cammie."

"I see." Pushing down the unease in his chest, Goose managed a smile for the woman. "Thank you, Mrs. Aberdeen."

"Tweren't nothin', young man. Anything to help with your... little investigation. Now, then." The older woman set down her mug, tossed her ponytail over her shoulder and threw her shoulders back. "Anything else I can do for you? More coffee? Fingerprints? Do I need to be frisked? If you need anything at all, I'd be more'n happy to oblige."

"Uh..."

"That'll be all, Mrs. Aberdeen."

Sam emerged from the hallway, adjusting the gloves of her newly donned uniform. With her back straight and her shoulders set, the white-and-blue had truly put the confidence and determination back into her. Goose felt his tension melt away, seeing the ranger's return. 

Marjorie gave a low whistle as she took in the sight of Sam. "Well, I'll be..."

"Mrs. Aberdeen." Sam closed the distance between them, and took the older woman's hands into her own, a warm, genuine smile lighting up her face. "Thank you for all that you've done. My name is Samantha Finch, and I'm a galaxy ranger."

***

Once they were well into hyperspace, Sam shifted in her seat, unstrapped herself and stood up. "I'm gonna head into the nav bay to prepare my report, if that's all right."

"Sure thing. We'll see you in a bit, Ranger Finch." Goose listened to her exit, and once she did, Walter exhaled loudly. "Shall we, my Goose man?"

The Supertrooper groaned, and leaned back in the main seat, waving a hand at his co-pilot. "You first."

"Well."  Walter, likewise, relaxed in his seat, pressing his fingertips together. "As I mentioned earlier, I was able to find out some very interesting things."

"Such as?"

"A whole lot of nothing." 

"Doc..."

At the snarl, Walter's hands flew up in a consoling gesture. "Wait, wait, wait! Before you hulk out on me, that's precisely what's interesting! I couldn't find out any concrete details. And it wasn't because of any firewalls or restrictions, although there was a nasty defense program in place. The A.I. adamantly refused to tell me anything; not its name, its purpose, nothing."

Goose raised a brow. He rarely wanted anything to do with computers, outside of working with ELMA or Triton, but even he could tell that was fishy. "So it wasn't just stubborn, it was... paranoid?"

"Exactly. I didn't want to press the matter because the poor thing was so stressed, but it was all very peculiar. It seemed..." Walter gripped his chin, searched the floor for his words. "Young, or perhaps new. Like it had no idea how to respond to ranger orders, so it just shut down. Overreacted. It's not what I would have expected out of a BETA program." His frown deepened. "They had no right putting anyone into that ship. It wasn't ready."

"Yeah," Goose huffed. "Sounds about right. Explains why the distress signal came so late—it was covering its tracks, being overly cautious. That's no way for a standard Interceptor to perform, though it's obviously no ordinary ship."

"Right. Well...?" Walter drawled, and Goose found it hard not to hunch his shoulders. "How'd it go on your end?"

"Everything matches up. Looks like that A.I. wouldn't even let Sam out until well after she crashed, the opposite of what any other ship would have done. The paranoia also explains why the distress signal was so far from her last known coordinates—it jumped her through hyperspace, made sure to cover its tracks so no one could follow them. Probably burned off all its fuel, too." At some point, his hand clenched into a fist. He willed it to relax. "Sam's a better pilot than that, so it had to have taken over or something."

"Which shouldn't even be possible."

"Yeah. Like I said, it's no ordinary Interceptor. If it was a newer model, that'd be one thing, though I haven't heard of any upcoming ones. There's still something off, though. The way Sam had to get the helmet–it didn't help matters, but most ships don't have auxiliary components like that. Goes along with what you said about the program being different. All in all, it's pretty messed up."

"Tell me about it. ... And how is Ranger Finch?"

Goose's drumming fingers stopped at feeling the prickle from Walter's poignant stare. "She's fine, all things considered," he said carefully, eyes fixated on the streaks of light flashing by. "Your program, it said she was in good health?"

"Yes. Physically, anyway; she had minor bruising from the crash that had healed up. But if you mean mentally..." Walter sighed, sounding resigned. "I don't know her, so I can't comment on what Lifeline picked up there. It may have nothing to do with the crash, but she was clearly shaken. I was hoping you could tell me more about that."

"Mrs. Aberdeen said..." A pause, as Goose blinked to himself. He was just relaying information, why was this so uncomfortable? "The lady who took her in, from what she said... Sam couldn't talk much. I know we have the physical evidence, but we don't know just how badly that crash went. Even when she recovered, she didn't want to say anything. Didn't even tell Mrs. Aberdeen that she was a ranger. Going by what we've gleaned from the A.I., and command's insistence on keeping this whole thing quiet, it sounds like Sam wasn't in any position to speak on it."

"Makes sense. Well! This entire situation is a whole lot of terrible and awful, but it's all coming together. And...?" At Goose's silence. Walter sighed impatiently. "I know that's not everything. You ready to talk to me now, without all the growling and hissing?"

He clenched his jaw, but that wasn't going to stop Walter from mentally drilling a hole into the side of his head, so Goose idly checked the drives. "It's not like it's some big secret."

"Oh, but it is, my dear Goose man. I get it, you have lots of secrets, and I respect that! But this isn't about that. You weren't even trying to hide this, and it's like you reverted back into Early Goose for a while there, and that's only mildly concerning compared to the fact that you've had a girlfriend all this time and didn't tell me!"

"She's not–she's not my girlfriend!" Goose paused, took a deep breath, feeling something uglier than mere irritation creeping on and having to fight it down because Walter didn't deserve that. No matter how annoyed he was at all of this. "We've had classes, flown in squadrons together, you know that. That's all it is. She's a good pilot, and it wasn't right to just leave her out there."

"Gooseman." The older ranger swiveled his chair so he could keep his stare leveled on Goose, leaning forward a bit to rest his elbows on his knees. "I'm not stupid, and I don't know how you expect me to just ignore everything I saw. I know you have friends in all kinds of places, and I can tell this isn't quite the same. She's a ranger, same as you and I, and you were going about like she had no business being out on the field. Which, need I remind you, is just like how you were towards me when we first met. And that is precisely why you shouldn't be doing this. That's an insult to her position, and you know that."

He'd taken blows from giants that didn't hit as hard as that. He couldn't look at Walter, not needing to be told he was out of line when goddamn it, he knew. Instead, he listened to the faint whirr of Walter's chair rotating to face the console again, filling the silence before his next words. "To be honest, I thought you were done with fraternizing, after—"

"After what?" Goose snapped, dripping venom. "You turned me down?"

"Gooseman." Walter's tone was sharp as laser fire. Goose knew he struck a nerve, but Walter was getting on his nerves, so it was only fair.

(It wasn't. He wasn't a child anymore.)

"You picked a hell of a time to be jealous, Doc." The words tumbled out as a snarl and—and he knew he was going too far. It took great effort for Goose to compose himself, taking even breaths, flexing his hands. He checked the remaining time for their warp. Two minutes. "You wanna know what happened? Things got kinda heated during that job on Tortuna, so we catch up every now and then. That's it."

"'That's it,' he says." Walter scoffed, throwing up his hands. "You know what? You don't owe me an explanation, because it's really none of my business. Even if you made it my business by acting a fool in front of me. But with everything that's happened, you do owe that young lady in the nav bay an explanation as to why you're trying to play this off like some average booty call when your reaction was anything but."

"We've already talked about—what?" His adrenaline had spiked, which was aggravating, because it wasn't like he was in danger or anything. But Goose was trembling, and trying very hard to get a hold of himself when Walter threw that... that term at him, adding more turbulence to his jumbled emotions. "What the hell are you on about?"

"It's an old term for—wait, no, nevermind. You're derailing." The older ranger jabbed a finger at him, and Goose wanted to bite it. "I meant what I said. You say things got heated after Tortuna, but why not after Entropy's Edge? Something's changed between then and now in a big way, and if you don't own up to it, you're just going to get that poor girl and other people caught up in a huge mess. And you're all gonna get hurt."

A nroom filled the silence as they re-entered normal space, the distant blue glow of Earth washing over the cabin as the planet and familiar starscape filled the view. Goose looked anywhere but at Walter, whom he heard checking the controls. He didn't trust himself to say anything just yet, knowing he'd say too much, or something he didn't really mean. The barb he had already hurled at Walter was uncalled for, and he thought he was better than that. That he had come further than that.

Times like this, it felt like his progress was back at step one.

"ETA seven minutes until BETA mountain," Walter quietly announced. And after a few beats– "We're friends, Gooseman, despite everything, and we're still in this together. That hasn't changed, and I won't hold any of this over you." Hearing Walter sigh, Goose wanted very much to go over to his seat and grab him, show him he was sorry–but that chance had passed long ago, and it wouldn't solve this. "What are you gonna do when the captain gets wind of this?"

"Whatever I have to," Goose answered softly. "But for now, what Zachery doesn't know won't hurt him."

"And Niko? You know you won't be able to keep this from her."

Now that did made Goose wince. The psychic could pluck emotions from the air as though she were picking berries, so even with neither men saying anything, she would know something was up. Niko and Zachery both were good at keeping their distance as needed–everyone did, when it came to him, and it stung as much as it was necessary. It was one thing in the early days of the team, but after the ordeal with the sensation doll, and certain incidents afterwards... He knew how everyone watched him. How it was harder to ignore on some days than others.

"I'll think of something," Goose said with finality. He tapped a button, bringing up an empty view of the navigation bay. "Hey, Finch, you can send a message to command whenever you're ready."

It took a moment, but soon Samantha came into frame, rubbing at her eyes. "Ah, yeah. Thanks."

"No problem." Something about that image made him frown, but he turned the display off before he thought about it too much. Feeling that prickle again, Goose glanced aside to see Walter giving him a skeptical glare. "What?"

The other man just shook his head, and gave his attention to the view of Earth growing larger as they approached. "It's nothing, my poor, sweet Goose man. Nothing at all."

It was anything but, and since Goose had no way to confront it, he left it alone. It made for an awkward ride, all through the landing and disembarkment. He hardly said anything until they were saying their farewells to Samantha.

Walter took her hand, grasping it in both of his own. "I do hope you get a little break before they expect you to report, Ranger Finch."

"Duty waits for no ranger." Sam shrugged, looking down at the bag in her free hand, the one Marjorie had given her. "I'm headed to the lab first, to get another check up. Then..." Her eyes lifted as her voice trailed off, finding Goose, quickly averting to Walter, and finally casting off to the side. They all turned to watch as the deck crew unloaded her Interceptor from Ranger One. She exhaled uneasily. "Thank you, again, for picking me up."

"All in a day's work. We rangers gotta look out for one another. Right, Gooseman?"

"Yeah." Goose offered up a smile for Sam, which she hesitantly returned once she looked at him again. It wasn't a real smile, though, and he was thinking this mission wasn't all that successful, after all. "Let us know if that ship gives you any trouble. I can always give it a look over."

"I'll keep that in mind." Her lips parted like she would say something more, but the tight-lipped smile just returned as she nodded, and left for the lab.

Goose kept his gaze on her retreating figure until he couldn't ignore the hole Walter was boring through him, again. He sighed gruffly. "What now?"

"Oh, nothing. I was just thinking about how you could use some more lessons on the fine art of subtlety." But Walter clapped the Supertrooper on the arm in good nature. Goose didn't think he deserved such generosity, but that was why Walter was his favorite. "What now? I'm thinking of getting an early start, because this is going to be one wild report."

"I'm... gonna head to the stables first. Get in some work on Triton before starting my report."

"Goose," Walter started, but Goose held up a hand.

"I know. I just... need some time. I'll see you all at dinner?"

"If you don't get carried away with all your tinkering. Try not to be late." Walter gave him a dazzling smile before he headed off as well. Goose closed his eyes, hands on his hips and face tipped skyward as though if he waited long enough, his issues would just sort themselves out. He could only sigh, dropping his head. It wouldn't be that easy, of course, but his problem-solving generally started with hours spent in the stables, or the shipyard, or the gym. Right now, he wanted Triton's cool companionship, and whole lot of quiet. 

A shout halted him just as he made to leave, and he turned to see Walter hailing him from down the hall. "By the way, have you noticed–?" he called out, pointing at his neck.

Goose's hand came up to his own throat, but he already knew. His scarf was missing.