Disclaimer: If you actually think for one moment that I would claim to own these guys, you’re a retard. They were popular long before I was even born. I don’t know for sure who owns them so I can’t give them credit, and I’m not getting paid for this, although I’m not being made to pay royalties, so we’re about even. For all of you hardcore M*A*S*H fans who are groaning and rolling your eyes right now, thinking I’m going to bastardize and “turn out” all your favorite characters, you can unclench now. There will be no sex in this chapter because I happen to have a little respect for the classics.
Well, okay, maybe just Hawkeye…
Ah, nevermind.
“Incoming!”
“How many, Radar?”
“Just one, Sir, but it’s moving really, really fast.”
Great. Something told me I shouldn’t have gotten up this morning. “C’mon, buddy, it’s back to the salt mines for us.” I slap my pal, “Trapper” Macintyre on the shoulder and we both head back to the medical center to scrub up for surgery.
“Pierce!” Lt. Colonel Henry Blake, my immediate superior, good-natured guy and many times friend calls out to me loudly as the helicopter touches down. He scurries over towards us. I stop and turn around, ready to respond with one of my usual snide comments. That’s when I see the look on Henry’s face and it makes both Trapper and I stop dead in our tracks.
“What is it, Henry? You look like you seen a ghost!” Trapper calls out uncomfortably.
“I think you two had better come over here and see this!” He motions for us to follow him to the helicopter.
“Do we need a separate stretcher for the guy’s legs?” I smile, hoping to lighten the mood, yet hurrying after him at the same time. Without another word, Henry gets up to the copter before us and glares at whatever’s inside. They pull out a body and strap it to a gurney. From what we can see, he’s got this dark pink stuff all over him, like someone spilled a bucket of paint all over his clothes.
“What am I looking at, guys??” Henry stammers nervously, his eyes wide and fixed on the unconscious guy in the gurney.
“I’m not positive, sir.” One of the medics in the helicopter shrugs. “We found him lying in a pool of this pink stuff…I don’t know, but I think it might be his blood.”
We get up to them about now. I bend down and take a good look at the guy’s face. He looks Oriental, but definitely not Korean. I’ve seen, spoke to and operated on enough Koreans to know a Korean when I see one, and this guy wasn’t it.
“Is he even…human?” Trapper states plainly.
The medic shakes his head at him in response. “I seriously doubt it, sir, but if he comes awake, you can ask him.”
“Alright, guys, we’ll take it from here, thank you.” I begin wheeling the gurney quickly to the hospital tent. Both Trapper and Henry follow closely behind me.
I swear, I don’t think I’ve ever prepared for surgery this quickly in my life. I was scrubbed and ready in what seemed like mere moments. I get out there while they’re still prepping the guy. They’re trying to peel these strange clothes off of him and try to figure out how to get this leather-type harness thing off his chest.
“What is going on in here?” Major Margaret Houlihan, the head nurse and pain in my neck marches into the OR, scrubs already on.
“We just sat down for a buffet, you and Frank are welcome to join us.” I grin.
She completely ignores me and stares wide-eyed at our “patient”. “Oh my God, is that a man? What is that?”
“Have I complimented you on your delightful bedside manner lately, nurse?”
“Shut up, Hawkeye.”
“Whatever it is, it’s lost a lot of blood here. I don’t think there’s anything we can do for it.” Trapper states matter-of-factly. “These are gunshot wounds…I count one in the leg, one in the thigh, one straight into the back and one in the shoulder.”
“So what are we waiting for, the war to end? Let’s start patching him up already.” I so promptly add. The operation is long, involved and exhausting. However, it proves to be quite enlightening as well. During the surgery, one of the nurses took the guy’s watch off and whatever illusion had kept it looking somewhat human faded completely. This guy looked like the fairy king of the apocalypse. He had long, pointy ears with metal rings in them, long blue hair and thick, sharp claws. From what little I could see of his face with the oxygen mask in the way, he looked somewhat human with bigger eyes and sharper cheekbones. His internal workings are amazing. He has a mild regeneration quality that rebuilds his blood almost as fast as he’s losing it. By the fourth hour in, we all knew this little guy would make it. The shell casings we plucked out of him were interesting too. They were a caliber I had never seen before. We saved them to get them checked out later. Right now, we had to finish saving this little guy’s life. As messed up as he’d been, we could all tell this guy was a fighter. He was built like a fighter too. His bones are tougher and thicker than that of a human, and his ribs are thicker, protecting his internal organs better. In fact, the bullet he took in the back would have shattered the rib of any of us, but luckily, it only broke his. His ribs don’t look like they splinter like ours do, they merely break under severe pressure. Good news for his oversized lungs and heart.
After almost seven hours of extensive surgery, we gauze him up and let him rest. I make a B-line to the latrine and Trapper collapses back at our tent. I soon join him.
“Well, now I can go home and tell all my friends I operated on an alien.” Trapper laughs, lifting his glass of dry gin in the air. I pour myself one in another martini glass. We make a toast to aliens and sleep. Mostly sleep.
In the middle of the night, someone has the nerve to knock on my door. “Sirs?” Radar’s barely post-pubescent voice rings out in my dreams, lulling me from them.
What is it, Radar?” I call out in the darkness.
“Well, sir…I don’t know how to tell you this, but your patient is gone.”
“What??” Both Trapper and I shoot up into a sitting position and yell out at the same time. “What do you mean, he’s gone?” I add.
“He’s gone, sir. It looks like he woke up in the middle of the night, yanked all his tubes out and wondered off.” Radar continues to speak through the door.
“Son of a gun…” I yank my robe on and open the door. “So where are we supposed to send the bill?”
“Stranger from outer space, big red rock, Mars.” Trapper grunts, still wrapped up in his blankets.
Radar doesn’t bother to come in, he just fixes his oversized round glasses and shoves his hands into his pockets nervously. “Major Houlihan thinks he might still be on the premises, sirs. She says she wants you two to help look for him.”
“Wonderful. Can we get a moment to throw some clothes on, maybe?”
“She also said the longer we wait, the farther away he could…” SLAM!
“We get the point, Radar. Tell the Major we’ll be right there.”
“…Yes, sir.”
We look for this little guy for almost a half hour. We even check if he’s hiding in the trees. In his condition, he couldn’t have gotten far. One of the nurses we’re searching with has this ugly, brown face cream on, rollers and a hair net. We silently chuckle and make fun of how absurd she looks. I’ll never understand women.
She goes to check in the women’s showers at one point and we follow her in. (Hey, we are looking, right?) We turn into the towel area and there he is, crouched in a ball in a cold, wet corner, covering himself with every towel he could get his hands on.
He lifts his head and spots her first. “AAAAAAAGGHH!!!” He screams in horror, huddling in fear tightly in the corner. Trapper and I burst out laughing.
“It’s the mask, Jenny, the mask!” I cackle, coming towards him. He gasps and whimpers in fear, holding up one of the metal IV needles in defense. It doesn’t even look like he could stand up right now, but he somehow got here on his own. The nurse runs off, probably to get the Major.
“Hey, whoa…we come in peace, little guy!” Trapper holds his hands out. “I’m Dr. Macintyre, and this is Dr. Pierce.” He points to himself, then me. “We mean you no harm. Are you from Mars?”
“‘Are you from Mars’?” I repeat mockingly. “What the hell kind of question is that? You want to insult him? He could be from Neptune for all we know.”
“Well, I don’t even know for sure he understands us, Hawkeye!”
“Unnder---sannns…” The little guy mimics him. He suddenly looks sad.
“Hey, do you understand?” I put two fingers on my mouth to emphasize.
“Small.” His lips quiver. I bend down towards him, close enough to notice his eyes are two different colors. “Learn small.”
“Who are you? Who did this to you?”
“Bola.” He shivers. “I… c-c-cold.”
“Your name is Bola?” Trapper asks, bending down as well. He nods. “Hawkeye, get this poor guy some clothes.”
“How come I gotta go get him clothes? Why can’t you do it?”
“Because I asked nicely.” Darn.
By the time I get the guy some warm issue clothing, a thick pair of socks and run back with it all, half the 4077 had barged in and started giving the poor guy the Third Degree. I squeeze my way in with the clothing and demand he have some privacy while changing. I settle for going into a private stall with him and closing the curtain while everyone eagerly waits outside.
“Ishtah…wait…” He cries when I close the curtain.
“Don’t worry, kid. I operated on you. Everything you’ve got, I’ve already seen.” I smile, trying to comfort him. Besides, we tied the hospital gown on you pretty tight. You might need a little help.” He frowns sadly and lets me redress him. He comes out a little later and Trapper laughs.
“He looks like he’s about to go hiking in the Himalayas.”
“I got the clothing, you get the boots.”
“I gotta know what size he is.”
“Measure the boots he came here with, I don’t know.”
“I…I’ll do it.” Radar raises his hand.
“Good man. Be quick about it. Let’s get him back to my office and give him a post-op, shall we?” I take Bola by the arm and escort him out of the showers. He’s shaking the whole way; all these people must be making him nervous. We walk slowly because he’s limping. Once Trapper, Bola and I make it outside, I glance at him and smile wryly. “Good choice of hiding places, my friend. You’re a guy after my own heart.”
He doesn’t respond, he merely gives me a blank stare.
__
“Gentlemen,” Henry walks in on us while Trapper and I check over our new patient. “I’d like to speak to you boys about reporting this little incident to the General.”
“What? Henry, you can’t do that! They’ll send all sorts of guys in here to dissect him!” I stand up and turn around to face him angrily.
“I’m sorry, Pierce, but withholding this kind of incident could get all of us court-martialed. I’ve already asked Radar to type up the report. I’m sending it first thing tomorrow morning.”
“Henry, please, he may not be human, but he’s a thinking, feeling person, we can’t just let them chop him up!” Trapper adds.
“First of all, you don’t know what kind of diseases this creature might have and might be passing to the two of you, second of all, it’s not our decision to make, and third, I don’t want you two getting in the way. The report is being sent, and that’s final.”
“I don’t believe you, Henry! How can you talk like that!?”
“It’s out of our hands, Pierce. Accept it. It’s better this way.” And with that, he walks out.
“Henry…HENRY!” I call out to him but he keeps walking. I turn back towards Bola. He looks deep into my eyes and frowns miserably. It’s almost like he understands, but I know he doesn’t. If he did, he’d already be out the door.
“Hawkeye, we can’t let them do this.”
“I know, I know, I’m thinking.” I tap my head absently.
“Smart.” Bola smiles sweetly, showing pearly white teeth with sharp fangs. It makes us both smile.
“Bola, however you got here, it was great meeting you, but you have to go.” I help him put the rest of his clothes on.
“Haa-ook eye.” Bola repeats almost absently as I slip on his chest belt thingy.
I knit my brows at him sadly, glaring into his downcast eyes. “C’mon, we gotta get him back his stuff.”
“Hey, Hawkeye, we can’t just let him go…Henry will know what happened and we’ll be in more trouble than you could imagine. We have to come up with another way.” We both look at Bola…I mean really look at him. “He seems so sweet, so harmless. Kind of like a little lost puppy.”
A lightbulb goes on over my head. “Trapper, that’s it! You’re a genius!”
“I am? I mean…yeah, I know I am. What are you talking about?”
“Okay, why do people take dogs in instead of taking them back to the pound? Because they get attached to them! That’s why we don’t want to see him hurt, because we feel an emotional attachment.”
“Okay…I’m not following.”
“Henry said he was sending out the report in the morning, right? That means we have until then to create an emotional bond between him and Bola! And then he won’t want to send the report to the General!”
“He’s afraid for his job, Hawkeye. What if he sends it anyway?”
“Well…then…we get Klinger to kidnap him. Klinger wants out worse than any of us, remember?”
“Yeah, but to get the poor guy court-martialed? I don’t know.”
“Trust me, this just might work.”
A little while later, we take our new friend to the lounge area and sit him down at the bar. Many people are up late tonight, including Henry. He’s sitting at a table with one of the nurses having a drink.
“Pong, I need a big…BIG favor.” I lean over the bar and give the Korean bartender my best puppy-dog face.
“What is it this time, Hawkeye?” He grins, washing out a glass.
“I need you to make Bola your cocktail waiter for tonight. We need to get the Lieutenant to enjoy his company. What’ya say, old pal?”
“Oh, that’s easy, how about ‘no’?”
“C’mon, Pong, you don’t even have to pay him. He’s cheap labor.” Trapper winks at him.
“Are you kidding? My grandmother in Seoul speaks better English than he does. Besides, if you want the Lieutenant to like him, then bring him over and sit him down at his table.” Pong shakes his head.
“What? That makes too much sense. You know us, we have to do things the sneaky way.” I nudge him.
“C’mon, Pong, just do us this one favor.” Trapper adds.
“Absolutely not. However, I will tell you that he’ll be asking for a refill on his Rob Roy any moment now.”
“Wonderful. I’ll take two.” Pong smiles and obliges me, whipping up two neat Rob Roys on the double. Bola watches Pong’s hands intently. I give both drinks to Bola and all three of us march right up to Henry’s table.
“Pierce, what the hell is he doing in here?” If the first thing he says to me.
“For your information, he’s here to share a drink with you.” Trapper nods sternly, crossing his arms.
I pull out a chair right across from him, nudging Bola to sit down. “I notice you’re dangerously low on alcohol, Lieutenant. Care for a refill?”
“Actually, no. I was going to finish this and go to bed. I will not have a drink with your pet science project, Pierce.” At that, Bola places one of the drinks in front of him.
“Tenta?” He smiles charmingly.
“What did he say?”
“I dunno, he’s been chirping that weird language of his all night. He only speaks a few words in English. I don’t know exactly how much he understands.”
“Well, get him out of here.”
“Humor us, Henry.” Trapper frowns, still standing.
I pull over a seat from another table and sit beside him. “Yeah, Henry. If the guy’s gonna be abducted, poked, prodded and eventually slaughtered for his internal organs in the name of science, the least you can do is have a drink with ‘im.”
“Don’t push me, Pierce.” He sighs, taking off his fishing hat. “Alright, fine. Whatever, but just one drink and that’s it.”
“Heyyy, alright.” Trapper and I both pat him on the back. Henry is usually a good guy, but sometimes he needs that extra little push. Trapper runs and gets two dry martinis for us and we all raise our glasses in a toast. Bola seems to know what a toast is too, because he looks like he’s done this before.
“To good health, and good fortune for those who really need it.” I smile, winking at Bola. He giggles childishly and blushes.
Trapper clears his throat. “To budding friendships in the most unlikely of places.”
Henry sighs sadly. “To bitter sacrifices we sometimes have to make, no matter how sick to our stomach it may make us.”
“To haa-ook eye!” Bola squeals cheerfully. Tak Mac-tire, tak …” He trails off, lowering his head. “Tak yar yaon, Jarod.”
“Yar ya-one?” I mumble.
“Yar yaon…my love, Jarod.”
“Jarod…” Henry states, suddenly uncomfortable. “Isn’t that a male name?”
“Hoo boy.” I put my head down.
I glance up just in time to see Bola down the entire glass in one shot and slam the glass down on the table. “WAAAOOOOH!” He yells, his eyes shut tight, shaking his head slightly from the burn of the alcohol. Everyone in the entire lounge is suddenly glaring at us. What a long night this was going to be.
__ __
“Fey ser gemai ti meshet…fey ser gemai ti tentaaaa…” Bola sings loudly, stumbling around the bar, drunk as a skunk after his third Rob Roy. He wasn’t even limping anymore because he wasn’t feeling any pain. Henry had left about twenty minutes ago, and that’s when Trapper and I realized we don’t have much luck making Bola do anything he doesn’t want to do. In this instance, he wanted to stay and get hammered, so that’s exactly what he did. It’s probably better this way anyway. I mean, the guy was going to be dragged to his death tomorrow and there was probably nothing we could do to prevent that. The least we could do was let him enjoy being drunk one last time. I for one am perfectly sober and sick to my stomach.
“Sirs!” Radar barges in, saluting us.
“Ohhh, what is it this time?” I growl, sounding a lot meaner than I intend to.
“Incoming copters…three of them. You’re needed in surgery.”
Trapper sighs, smacking me on the shoulder. “You’ll watch him, Pong?”
“I sure will, guys. Go work your magic.” Pong winks, giving us the ‘thumbs up’. We tell Bola to be good and we take off for the salt mines.
__
(P.O.V. – Henry)
“Wake up.”
“Mm.” I grunt, rolling over in my sleep. I barely feel the weak grasp on my shoulder nudging me awake.
“Please wake up, I must have words with you.”
“Dammit, I just laid down! Can’t a guy get some well-deserved shuteye around here??” I wrench the thick covers over my head stubbornly.
“Please, human. My translator doesn’t always work, so I must take advantage when it does.” I hear the voice plead. My eyes dart open and I jolt into a sitting position. The alien guy is kneeling by my bed and jumps back with a start at my sudden movements. It’s then that I realize I’m holding some sort of brown box. He must have put it into my hand when I was sleeping.
“You…you’re speaking!” I mutter aloud. I squint to make out his barely visible face in the dark room. I can just make out a smile.
“I can catch human words here and there, but I still have much to learn, so we will have to pass the translator back and forth.” He lowers his head. “However, what I have to say cannot wait.”
“Alright, shoot.”
He sighs, gathering his thoughts for a moment. “I sense that something will be occurring soon, and I know it involves me. You seem to be in charge here and I know that whatever it is shall be on your orders. Please, I must know what is happening.”
I begin to speak and he gently takes the box away from me, gesturing me to continue. “To be honest, alien, I…”
“Bola.” He frowns slightly.
“Right, Bola. Whatever. Well, to be perfectly honest with you, I’m not really in charge here. There are others higher than me on the chain of command that I have to answer to, and I have to tell them about your presence here.” He blinks at me a few times and he hesitantly gives the thing back to me.
“Is that all? Why were Ha-ook-eye and his mate so upset about that?” He smiles and I laugh out loud.
“No, no, no!” I chuckle and pass the thing back to him. “You think they’re…together? No, that sort of thing doesn’t happen here.” He squints and tilts his head in confusion. “And as far as Hawkeye and Trapper go, they’re afraid the General will come down, take you away and dissect you.”
“Disssssect…?” He mimics with that weird accent, holding his hand out for the box. “I am sorry, that word didn’t translate. What does it mean?”
I run my hand over my head and exhale audibly. “Hoo boy. This should be fun.” I give the thing back and measure my response carefully. “Dissection. It’s sorta like when you study something…y’know, for science. You um…well…” I honestly don’t think I could tell him. Those wide, innocent and now understanding eyes glaring at me like that, like a lost kitten or something, and I just can’t bring myself to tell him.
“Pai…?” “Well…it’s sort of like what Hawkeye and Trapper did for you. They…err…patched you up. That’s science. Dissection will help make that procedure better.” I mentally smack myself in the forehead. Was it a lie? Not really, but it sure wasn’t the truth.
He gives the thing back with a broad smile. “So I’ve been chosen to help perfect medicine here?”
“Yeah, that’s it.”
“Wonderful! I have all sorts of things I can show you, things from my home planet, things from my new home, Ax...” He trails off and bites his lip. “Well, alright, forget about there, but I have some stuff with me that might help out right now!” He goes into his chest belt and takes out a small tube.
“Hey, how come you put all your stuff back on?” He looks up and takes the box back, making me repeat my question.
“Oh, Ha-ook-eye gave them back, and I am glad. Quite directly, I tire of being separated from my belongings. I’m an adventurer you know, I need this stuff to survive.”
“But we can give you all you need, food, shelter, water…”
“Umm…I mean you no offense, but I cannot digest nor comprehend most of the slop you call food, you water tastes like burning metal and fecal matter, and I’ve been near freezing to death from the moment I got here.” He crosses his arms and smirks defiantly.
I laugh pretty loudly. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right, but this is the Army, after all.”
“Army…? Your people are at war? With whom?”
“Koreans.”
He contemplates for a moment. “I’ve never heard of that race. Are they anything like you humans? Are they trying to destroy or take over your planet?”
“What?? No, Koreans are a race of humans.”
“You mean like a sub-race?”
“No, like a culture, and they live right here. Right where we’re sitting.”
He squints, not fully understanding. “Wait one moment…you…war with your own people? But why??”
“Because that’s what humans are good at, Bola. War.”
He frowns worriedly, furrowing his brows. “You are not the first to tell me that.” He turns away and hugs himself. “We Yaonis had a Great War, once, and my Father was acting General for a time. We were defending a neighboring realm from Sacherian invaders…”
“Sacherian?” I repeat, genuinely interested.
“Trust me, you do not wish to know.” He shoots me a stern look. “The War was the worst my people had ever seen. Many of us lost parents to it, though I was among those blessed with luck. Our side was doomed from the very beginning, and deeply, we all knew that. Vehgea, our neighboring planet was populated by philosophers and architects, and we are but humble Naturespeakers. The Sacherian Empire swarmed and overwhelmed us without even trying. It wasn’t until a handful of Humans…from a world vastly different from this one came and intervened, and turned the whole tide of the War.”
“Humans? Like me?”
He sighs, shaking his head slightly. “Different. They were gifted with powers. One in particular, the one that headed the charge had large white wings. He rescued the Uncle of a good childhood friend of mine, who couldn’t believe it took ‘mere humans’ to turn the tide of the battle. This human told him gravely this one warning…” He holds up a finger to emphasize. “In all the known Multiverse, not even the great Sacherian Empire can rival Man-kind when it comes to the art of War.”
I pause for a long moment. “Whoa. That’s profound.”
“And I’m learning that t’is quite the truth.” He gives me a sad glare and a miserable frown. “I like humans…” He nods. “Great Moons, I’m even in love with one. My eldest brother is mated to one. So far, the only ones who give me a reason to distrust humans is the pale sickly man with the squeaky oxygen machine who spent hours torturing me and that…that venomous she-whore who shot me.” He grits his teeth in rage, then looks up into my eyes with that same hateful glare. “…And you, for lying to me.”
“What?” Is all I can manage to say.
“I’ve heard that word, ‘dissection’ once before, by the hairless pale man.” He stands up and sneers down at me. “It means you’re going to kill me and cut me open to study my organs, mayhaps not in that order. Ha-ook-eye even said it a few times with a fearful tone. He even tried to get me to leave.”
“So if you knew, why did you have me explain it to you?”
“T’was a test. A test of trust and honesty. You have failed.” He snatches the box from me, turns sharply and goes to leave. He’s still limping rather badly. I tear the covers off of me and stand up.
“Wait!” I reach after him. “At least allow me a minute to explain!” He turns around halfway and glares at me. I sigh and cradle my head. “I have no choice, Bola, I swear! If I don’t report this, I’ll be court-martialed…that means dishonorably discharged, tossed out on my ear! Maybe even put in jail! You think I like the idea of sending you off to die??”
He tosses the box back to me and I’m barely able to catch it. “You appeared to have been sleeping quite soundly to me.”
“Oh, Jesus H., Bola, give me a break!” I toss my arms up in exasperation.
“Oh bladook, this is a waste of time. I have been an imposition long enough. Report my presence here to your superiors if you must, but I will be gone by next dew.”
I reach out with the hand holding the box for him to take it. He limps over and takes it, but before he can pull it away, I grab his wrist. His eyes meet mine in a silent threat. “You’re in no condition to leave here yet.” I frown. “I…I suppose I can hold off sending that report for a few days until you’ve had some more time to recover.”
He narrows his eyes at me, as though I’d insulted him. “I need not your pity, human.”
“Good, because you don’t have it. I’m doing this because it’s the right thing to do, and because this is a M*A*S*H unit. We’re healers, not hanging judges.” I let go of him and he nearly falls backwards from the sudden lack of support. “So go on and run off as wounded as you are if it makes you feel better, Bola, but know that you have a place here with us for the next few days if you need it.” He grasps the translator close to his chest, with that insulted scowl still on his face even as he limps backwards out the door. I stand there for a good five minutes before crawling back into bed.
Gosh darnit, now I’m wide awake.
I lie there stubbornly for a few minutes until I can’t take it anymore. I sit up, put my clothes on and head back to the bar. By the time I get there, Major Houlihan is sitting with Bola and they’re both staring intently at her arm. They both glance up as I come walking in.
“Lieutenant.” She stands up and nods, giving me a half-salute.
“What’s going on here?” I glance back and forth from her to Bola, who’s screwing a cap onto that small silver tube he pulled out earlier. “What did he do to you?”
“To me, Lieutenant? He helped me. I cut my arm just now and that stuff he put on it…well, look!” She approaches me and holds out her arm. “The stuff dried in an instant and formed an almost second skin. It’s amazing!”
“Nebzelk.” Bola yawns, picking up a piece of bark from the table and chewing on it absently.
“Does his translator thing still work?” I add with a wide-eyed frown. Bola looks up at me and nods, gesturing me to sit down. “Good, we’ve got a lot to talk about.”
(P.O.V. –Hawkeye)
By the time we finish surgery, it’s almost 09:00 hours. We were too late. Depressed, exhausted and defeated, we go back to the bar to find Bola. We at least had to say goodbye. When we open the doors to the lounge, our jaws must have hit the floor with a pretty loud thud, because everyone in the place turns to look at us.
Henry, Frank, Margaret and Pong were teaching Bola how to play poker. They were using pieces of tree bark for chips, and Bola’s just sitting there chewing on a piece like it was beef jerky.
“Henry…what…?”
“Hey, guys, you know, I was wrong about this kid. He’s a rip roaring riot!” Henry laughs, messing up the top of Bola’s head. Bola just laughs and motions for us to join them.
“Poker.” He holds up his cards. “I learn good poker.”
“What about the General?” Trapper says almost breathlessly.
“Hey, I’m in charge here. I’ll send that stupid report in when I’m darn good and ready. Alright, Major. I’ll raise you five pieces of bark and three leaves.”
My brain is melting out of my ears. Trapper and I glare at each other. Are we even in the right dimension? “Okay, who are you and what have you done with Henry?” I point at them, almost serious.
Henry pulls out a chair. “If you must know, Bola pleaded his case to me last night. He apparently has this translator thing that only works when it wants to. Besides…Major Houlihan, show them.”
Margaret holds out her arm. “I cut myself last night pretty bad. I would have needed stitches, but Bola pulled out this stuff and squirted it on me; it formed into an almost second skin, it was amazing. It’s pretty much healed now and I can’t even see where the cut was anymore.” We both go over and inspect her arm. We can see the line of whatever it was he used on her.
“Nebzelk.” Bola holds up a small silver tube and tosses it to me. “For you.”
“For me? Why?” I look it over, studying the small, alien glyphs written on the label.
“You healer.” He chuckles and shakes his head, squinting at me like it was the silliest question he’s ever heard. He gets up and limps over to me. “Shtook…watch.” He takes the tube and uses his sharp nail to carve a small incision in his own arm. He flinches and inhales through his teeth. “Shtook.” He squeezes a very thin, yet constant line of that clear goo onto his cut. Within moments, it’s dried, acting like temporary skin.
“My God, Bola, that’s amazing! What kind of technology do your people have?” Trapper marvels.
He limps back to the table, dragging both of us over to join them. We sit down and Bola points to us, looking at Henry. “Deal in.” He grins. We snicker and groan in protest.
“Did you know that the Yaonis…that’s his people…they’re all male?” Henry states, tossing us a hand of cards.
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. He told us all about his kind. Look, he’s got all these kids books and blank notepads. He’s been studying English.
“Wait, if everyone’s male, how do they…” Trapper widens his eyes, gesturing with his hands. “You know…”
“Apparently, there are two kinds of Yaonis: those with pointy ears and without. He calls them Fighters and Common. The Commons get pregnant, and the ones, like him don’t. They cut them open or something, take the kid out and heal ‘em back up with some sort of indigenous magic.”
“Or a whole lot of this goo stuff.” I smile sarcastically.
Bola bursts out laughing at my comment, smacking the table. His child-like laughter proves to be contagious. Pretty soon, we’re all laughing and we don’t know why, but it’s probably because we’ll all so darn tired that we’d laugh like hyenas at the phonebook right now. Trapper nearly falls off his chair while I have to wipe tears from my face.
“See??” Henry holds his stomach. “I told you this kid was a riot!”
“Oh, I think it’s definitely time we get some sleep.” I rub my eyes, wheezing from loss of breath. Bola looks at me, rolls his eyes and nods weakly.
“Pai…yes, sleep.”
“C’mon then, I’ll show you to your quarters.” I take his arm and help him stand up. He’s still chuckling and rubbing his face from exhaustion. “You shouldn’t have even been up this long. You’re ill, you need to rest.”
“Ha ha…oh-keeey.”
“Pierce, do we even have a spare bunk for him?” Henry raises his eyebrows.
“We’ll make room in our tent, right Trapper?”
“Uh…yeah, sure, whatever, but he’s sleeping next to you.”
I sigh. “Fine.”
We get back to our tent, and Trapper and I both collapse into our respectable beds so Bola would know which one was which. Bola immediately curls up next to me, pulling the rough covers over both of us. He nestles into my chest and drapes an arm around me like a child would and purrs something in his language, closing his eyes contently.
“Boy, Hawkeye, he took to you quick.”
“Shut up and go to sleep.”
__
Bola’s stretching wakes me up. It’s evening, probably just in time for dinner. I haven’t slept that soundly in a very long time. When I open my eyes, I discover that I had been holding Bola tight with both arms like he was some sort of living teddy bear. He turns his face towards me and gives me a warm smile.
“Lolen-dai…” He glances at the window. “Err…Lolen-keyau.” He giggles.
“Yeah, it’s not morning anymore. You sleep well?”
He gives me a half shrug and bites his lower lip. “No unner-sayan.”
“Ah well, it was worth a shot, I guess. You up for some grub?” I motion like I’m eating.
“Pai, Fey ser hu-metais.” He mimics me, putting two fingers to his mouth. “Tubais.”
“Right, well, we’ll probably be just in time for dinner, c’mon.” Trapper has already left, so it’s just the two of us. I get dressed and I’m lacing my boots up when I realize Bola is changing right in front of me, slipping off the army pants and putting on a pair of loose-fitting dungarees. I manage to get a glimpse of some nasty claw marks across his one thigh. I saw it during surgery, but I dismissed it. “Bola?”
“Hm?” He turns to me casually, pulling up his pants.
I finish lacing my shoe and point to the thigh. “Where did you get that scar? The clawmarks on your thigh?” I curl my fingers and then point to where the scars are.
“Ah.” He nods, turning fully towards me, motioning me to stand. I do and he walks over, grabs my hips and playfully twists me around so that I’m facing the bed. He then grabs my thighs with both hands and I feel his claws even through my issue slacks. “Yar nairet-yaon, Ginjam. Wa’am cheg-rous.” He rolls the last syllable and I can hear the grin in his voice as he playfully slams his hips against my ass, raking his one claw over my thigh.
“WHOA…whoa…alright, I get it, I get it!” I pull away from him and he begins to chuckle. I turn to face him and he begins tickling me. In defense, I fall backwards onto the bed. “Hey, cut that out!” I laugh, trying to push him away, but he bends over me and keeps ticking, occasionally pinning me down so I can’t fight back. “Alright, that does it! You want a tickle fight, buddy? You got it!” I grab for his sides and he lets out a scream and a giggle. I flip him over so he’s lying on the bed and I have the upper advantage. “You’ll be sorry, for I…am the tickle fight…king!” I deepen my voice dramatically, and even though he doesn’t understand me, he laughs like heck anyway.
‘Erm…excuse me…uhh…Dr. Pierce? Sir?” A familiar voice meeps from the doorway.
We both look up at the wide-eyed Radar standing at the door. “Yes, Radar?” I smile innocently, mentally kicking myself for allowing us to be caught like this. He must’ve knocked a few times, but we couldn’t hear it over all the screaming and laughing.
“Dr. Macintyre asked me to come and wake you for supper…um…Sir.”
“Great, thanks. We’ll be right there.”
“Okay.” He stands there for an extra second before scurrying off nervously. We take this moment to glare at each other, snickering and clearing our throats uncomfortably. I stand up first and he slides off the bed and does the same.
“I sorry.” He snickers, biting his lip.
“Hey, it’s alright. I went along with it.” I had to admit, it was pretty fun. The last time I had a worthy opponent in a tickle fight, it was with my ex-girlfriend back in Vermont. “C’mon, I’m starving, and I’m sure you are too.” I take him by the arm and show him the way to the Mess Hall.
__
“Hey, Bola! Your limp is getting better!” Jenny, one of the nurses calls out to him as we pass by. He doesn’t understand, but waves and smiles back to her. In all honesty, he probably doesn’t even recognize her without the mud mask and rollers on. I lead him into the Mess Hall, and for a moment, he stands at the doorway, probably overwhelmed by all the people eating at the same time. I take a good look at his face, and it almost looks nostalgic. He gives me a sad look and squeezes my arm, beginning to walk again.
“Bola, you okay?” I frown, struggling to get another good look at his face.
“Yes.” He responds dryly. A blatant lie, and both of us knew it. I sigh and shake my head, leading him over to Trapper’s table. He’s sitting across from Klinger who is wearing his lovely red velvet dress tonight.
“Hey, Hawkeye, how’s your new friend doing? Is he feeling better?” Klinger waves to Bola, giving him a friendly smile.
“Well, he seems to be doing better, his limp is fading. Would you like me to do the introductions?”
“That’s not necessary.” He stands up and takes Bola’s hand gently. “Bola, I am Klinger. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”
“Lolen-keyau, Klinger.” Bola bows his head respectfully. Before raising his head, he steals a glance at Klinger’s dress.
Just then, Houlihan comes walking in with Major Frank Burns. She points Bola out and Frank’s eyes light up like a Christmas tree. They immediately come walking toward us. “And this,” I motion to Frank and Bola turns around to face him. “This is Doofus. Say ‘hello’, Doofus!”
“Ah, Lolen-keyau, Doofus.” Bola extends a hand and Frank gives me a dirty look.
“My NAME is Frank! Major Frank Burns, numbskull!” He growls into my face angrily. Bola grits his teeth and immediately goes for his bo-staff to defend me. I hold up my hand and take his shoulder, chuckling. He shoots Frank a look of warning, keeping his hand on the weapon.
“It’s alright, Bola, it’s okay. Relax.” I turn to Frank and shrug innocently. “He’s really very protective of me.” I wink at Trapper when I hear him chuckling.
Frank extends a hand and forces a smile. “I’m Frank, Bola, Frank.” He shakes his head. “Not Doofus.” Bola grips onto his wrist and squeezes. Frank does the same, but his knees buckle slightly in pain. “Ah…ow…Bola, you’re…squeezing too…ouch…”
“Frank.” Bola squints. “Not Doofus.” He lets go and Frank recoils, rubbing his injured wrist and soothing his injured pride.
“Freak.” He mutters under his breath.
“I told you…protective.” I playfully punch him in the arm.
“I hear we’re having Salisbury steak tonight, guys.” Trapper grabs a tray and holds a place for Bola and I on line. “What about it, Bola, you like Salisbury steak?”
“He doesn’t eat meat, Macintyre.” Houlihan chimes in, taking Bola’s arm with a smile. “He told Henry and me last night that he eats bugs, tree bark, fruit and flowers and stuff.”
“Oh, yuck! That’s gross!” Trapper frowns.
I walk up behind Trapper as the cook slaps a heaping spoonful of brown mush onto his plate. It makes an unhealthy glopping sound before oozing out on all sides to take the shape of the bottom of the plate. I pat him on the shoulder as we both glare at the scoop distastefully. “I think I’d rather eat the bugs and flowers.”
“Yeah, I’m going to have to go with Bola on this one too.” Klinger adds. “I hate Salisbury steak.”
“Zow-gais terizat tubais.” Bola remarks, already seated and dipping his fingers into the ketchup bottle sitting on the table. He brings his finger to his lips and his eyes widen brightly. “Mm, yaket!” He admires the bottle for a few seconds, and then brings it to his lips, drinking it like it was a beer.
“Bola, no, no, honey, that’s ketchup, you don’t eat that straight!” Houlihan goes to take it from him, and he yanks it out of her grasp protectively, motioning to the bottle sitting on the next table.
“My’u-rah hau beshar!” He frowns sternly.
“Hey, if that’s what he likes, let ‘im have it.” I shrug, putting my tray out for the chef to scoop some of that stuff onto my plate. “Yum.” I cringe, watching the scoop of mush form-fit to the plate.
“Mashed potatoes?” The chef grunts.
“Hit me, Irv.”
“Nnngh!!” I hear Bola choke distastefully after pouring some Tabasco sauce straight onto his tongue. He coughs and waves a hand over his mouth, knitting his brows. The majority of the room shakes their heads and laughs.
That night, both Trapper and I stay up with Bola and help improve his English. We go over some of his children’s books and quiz him on some of the words he’s already learned. He seems to be pretty adept at this game.
“Chair.” He gleams proudly.
“Very good, Bola! Now what’s this?” I point to my shirt. He pauses for a moment, then knits his brows and shakes his head. “Shirt, Bola, shirt. Alright, we’ll come back to that. What’s this?” I point to my martini glass.
“Gin muh-teenee. Ex-tah, ex-tah dry.”
“Alright, buddy, you’re learning!” We laugh heartily at his funny accent. He joins us, chuckling slightly, wiping his nose. We continue this until Bola folds his arms and refuses to do anymore. We’re all pretty tired of it at this point, so all we can do is hope that some of this sticks with him, because one day it will come in handy. Especially the gin martini part. You never know when he might get held up in a bar somewhere and not know how to ask the bartender for booze.
We take him for a walk after that to stretch his legs, and we’re amazed to discover that his limp is almost gone. That regeneration of his has really kicked in, and he goes off into the woods to find some fallen tree bark, grass and berries. After a while of waiting for him to come out, we decide to go after him and check on him. We manage to spot him in the dim light of dawn, practicing these martial arts moves. Trapper looks at me in amazement, and we both just stand there and watch him for a while, dumbfounded by his skill and dexterity. He picks up this long metal rod that has been impaled in the ground a few feet away from him and begins practicing with that. The bostaff is moving so fast in his hands that it makes a whirring sound as he thrusts and twirls it about at an imaginary enemy. Bola really is an exquisite creature.
He suddenly folds up his bostaff, turns to us, and looks directly at us with a smile. “Yee-ah-toh.” He waves two fingers in greeting. He’s worked up a sweat, but he’s barely out of breath. If I did something like that, you’d have to carry me off in a gurney.
“Whoa…hey. How long did you know we were here?” Trapper chuckles nervously.
“Fendu-a’el.” He grins, patting his palm slowly against his chest.
“What’s this?” I imitate him. “You mean our heartbeats?”
“Yes. Bum-bum. Bum-bum.” He puts a hand to one of his long, sharp ears.
“You can hear that??” I rake my hair back in disbelief. “There are always more surprises with you, isn’t there?” Bola merely smiles back at me. I sigh and grin, walking up to him. He meets me halfway and takes my arm, his smile lengthening. “C’mon, let’s go back and get you tucked in for bed.”
“Bed? Nai, Ha-ook-eye. Walk. No sleep.” He glances to our right and waves his hand high in the air. “Lolen-dai, Henry!” We both then spot Henry walking along rather quickly. When he turns to us, I can tell he’s bearing some bad news.
“Boys, I’ve been looking all over for you!” His tone is serious. “The General’s on his way up here, I just got the tip over the radio. You have to hide Bola!”
“What? Henry, I thought you said you wouldn’t…” My grip on Bola’s arm tightens. Bola turns and gives me a worried look.
“I didn’t send the General that report, I swear! And I know Radar hasn’t sent it yet! Someone must have called and tipped him off, or asked him to come up here for a surprise inspection.”
Trapper and I narrow our eyes, turn to each other and grunt in unison. “Frank.”
“Well, whoever it was, we need to get Bola out of here now.”
“General.” Bola frowns, as if he recognizes that word. “I go. I run.”
“Yes, Bola, now c’mon. Pierce, does he have all his things?” Henry takes Bola’s other arm and leads us both back towards our tent.
“He has a pair of pants and his knapsack at our tent and his original change of clothes in a big plastic bag in the O.R.” I frown, trying to keep up with everybody. The thought of having to say goodbye to Bola so soon was turning my stomach. I had just gotten to know him. It wasn’t fair.
“Alright, forget about his clothes, I’ve seen them, they’re a mess. I think the only salvageable things are his boots. I’ll get the boots, you go get his backpack, and hurry!”
“Yes, Sir!” Trapper salutes as all three of us go running for our tent. We come charging in like a horde of wild elephants and right away, we notice that the bag is gone. We gasp in horror, thinking that maybe it fell off the bed or something, but upon further inspection, we realize that it is indeed gone.
“Looking for this?” A smug, familiar voice chuckles from the doorway. We all turn at once to look, furrowing our brows and narrowing our eyes in unison. Frank is merely standing there swinging the bag in one hand mockingly at us.
“Give Bola his bag back, Frank.” I growl, not wanting a confrontation, though I know we’re about to have one.
“Hmm, let me think…” He puts a finger to his mouth, rolling his eyes skyward. “No.”
“Frank, this isn’t a game! If the General finds Bola here, he’s as good as dead!” Trapper adds, gritting his teeth.
“Yeah, Frank, you’re a doctor. Think about this.”
“I’m also a human being, Pierce. And this little Martian or whatever he is…he’s far too charming for my tastes. First one of them comes here and wins people over, and the next thing you know, the whole colony is here trying to take us over. I’m just nipping it in the bud is all. So don’t blame me if I’m the only one smart enough to see through his tricks.”
“There’s no trick, Frank! He’s leaving, now give him his bag!” I inch forward and Frank pulls out a lighter, flicking it on almost immediately under the bag.
“Ah-ah-ah.” He scolds. “Paper burns real nicely.”
“Nai!” Bola pleads, reaching for the bag. “Please no…Jarod give!”
“The General will be here by Dawn. Just a few more minutes, and this will all be over.” Frank then turns with mocking sympathy to Bola, taking his thumb off the lighter. “If it’s any consolation, NASA’s doctors will probably kill you before taking you apart. You won’t be in pain for too long.”
“Frank, you miserable son of a so-and-so…” Trapper balls his fists and shakes them at him angrily. “You took an oath, remember??”
“The oath only applies to humans, Macintyre. I don’t owe this freak a darn thing.” Frank cackles in a sour victory. Both Bola and I glance at each other. No words are exchanged, because they aren’t needed. We both had the same thought at the same time: rush him. I guess great minds really do think alike. We’re about to lunge at him, when a loud crack makes us all nearly hit the ceiling. Frank’s eyes roll back in his head and he falls lifelessly to the ground. Standing behind him is a very ticked-off Henry holding one of Bola’s steel-toed boots.
“Jackass.” Henry frowns, bending over to retrieve Bola’s bag.
“Our hero.” I smile broadly as all three of us breathe a sigh of relief.
Bola scoots over to give Henry a hug. “Thank you, Henry. Jarod give bag. No want…err…”
“You don’t want to lose it, I understand.” Henry smiles, handing over the bag and boots.
“Yes, no want lose it. Thank you.” Bola nods, shoving his army pants into the bag and tying the laces of the boots onto the bag as well.
“No sweat. Listen, you don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here, if you know what I mean. The General will be here any minute.”
“I unner-sayan. I go portal now.” He smiles sadly, pulling out a small black disk from his pocket. Henry takes him by the shoulders and takes one last fond look at him.
“God, it’s hard to believe I’ve only known you for one day.” He shakes his head and smiles. “Goodbye and good luck, Bola. And take care of yourself.”
“Oh-keey.” He giggles innocently. Suddenly, there’s an announcement of a surprise visit by the General over the loudspeaker. Apparently, there will be a thorough inspection of the entire camp. Henry gives Bola’s shoulders a squeeze, turns, picks up the unconscious Frank and drags him out. Bola then turns to Trapper and I, looking sadder than before. Trapper hugs him tight, patting him on the back. Bola hugs back with equal vigor.
“You be safe, little guy. We’ll really miss you around here.”
“Yes, miss.” He takes Trapper’s face and looks into his eyes sadly, and I notice that Trapper’s eyes are welled up with tears, not that mine are bone dry, mind you. Bola glares into them affectionately. “Yem tais yaket.” He smiles. “Goodbye, Mak-tyre.”
“Goodbye, Bola.” They hug tightly once more, then Trapper tears himself away, wiping his face and quickly walking out.
“Well,” I shrug as he turns to me, this time, looking like he’s about to cry. I can’t say he’s the only one. “I guess it’s just the two of us now. I warn you though,” I put my hand up as he goes to hug me, and he stops short. “If you hug me, I’m liable to cry.” He stands there and glares at me, not understanding. “Aw heck, c’mere, you.” I laugh and burst into tears at the same time, embracing him tightly. “God, I’m going to miss you.” All I know is, my bed will be cold and empty tonight, and I probably won’t get a wink of sleep.
“Thank you, Ha-ook-eye.” He quietly chokes down a sob, his grip strong and healthy around my waist. One of his hands slides up my chest and onto my cheek, and I pull away slightly. He closes his eyes and leans close, kissing me fully on the lips. I inhale audibly, my eyes wide. I freeze, unable to move, unable to even think. He gently pulls away with a smile, his delicate cheeks streaming with blue-colored tears. “Goodbye.”
“Huh.” I swallow hard, my eyes still wide. “Goodbye, Bola. Don’t ever forget us.” I manage a smile as he steps back a little, glancing down at the disk. He gives me one last sorrowful look and suddenly, a bright, white light engulfs him and knocks me back onto my butt. There’s an audible crack, and then silence. When I look back up, Bola is gone, and only a small burn mark on the floor remains where he once stood.
I can’t help but burst into tears again, still sitting there next to my bed.
By the time the General gets to my tent, I’ve long since covered the burn mark up, composed myself and gotten well into my fourth martini. The story was that the “alien” escaped sometime during the night. No one knows anything about him, not even his name. The General does his inspection, thanks Henry for the blood-soaked clothing and odd bullets and leaves long before Frank wakes up. Trapper insists on being present when Henry gives Frank a verbal reaming for what he did, but all I can bring myself to do is sit in my cold, empty bed, drink like a fish and hope that wherever Bola is, he’s safe and happy, and that he finds whatever it is he’s looking for.
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