The Chat Room

1800 hours
Sarah MacKenzie's Apt.
Georgetown


What a day!

Wearily, Mac turned the key in the lock and dropped her briefcase on the floor of her apartment. With fall just around the corner, could the days actually lengthen this fast, she wondered as she sagged into an overstuffed chair in the living room... or did they just feel that way?

Ever since Mic had moved back from Oz, her life had been in constant flux. Phone calls...e-mails...phone messages, wow...the wonders of modern technology! Life must have been so simple before...

(Ring)

Not again! Well, she'd let technology work FOR her for a change...the machine could just pick it up!

Exhausted, she leaned back in the chair and kicked off her not-so-comfortable shoes, listening to the message as it recorded.

"Sarah? Are you there? Pick up, Luv. I've got tickets for tonight. I know we didn't make plans...but I've got tickets! Pick up! Oh hell! I'll call back a in a little."

(click)

Mic again. She had no doubt that all the rest of her phone messages were from him as well. It wasn't that she didn't like Mic...she did. But this "full bench press" that he was constantly sending in her direction was way over the top! She felt pressured...cornered...she needed space!

Mac leaned her head back and stared unseeing at the ceiling tiles. She knew that she should call him back...and immediately...but somehow her feet just wouldn't move.

Not returning his call would be cruel...irresponsible... simply not her at all. But yet the will to follow through remained elusive and unattainable. They'd been out every night this week...and most nights previously as well. She needed a break...desperately!

Grimly, she avoided the telephone and went instead to her computer. Maybe writing in her journal would clear her head...give her some perspective. If nothing more, it would allow her to vent some of the confusion and distress the situation was creating in her mind.

Mac turned on her computer system and clicked the appropriate keys to connect her with her internet server. Then, while everything was processing, she went and shed her work clothes, donned a soft pair of slacks and a well-worn sweater, grabbed an apple from the kitchen counter and returned to her electronic confidant. A few more clicks, and she once again found herself alone with yesterday's thoughts staring back at her from the nonjudgmental monitor.

It was a familiar sight...one which usually never failed to bring her both piece of mind and depth of focus, but tonight this was not the case.

Silently she stared at the muted screen with its impatiently blinking cursor. What to say...what to type...she hadn't a clue. What she really needed was feedback...someone detached...someone who could look at the situation as an outside observer...a human confidant equipped with a "power off" button, who would conveniently vanish into nothingness once his or her part in this confusion was concluded.

Slowly her eyes wandered to the menu. If only this mechanical brain could talk. Could there be anything in there to sooth a distressed moment or two...any word of encouragement...advice?

Her eyes fell on the listing for "chat". She smiled...then let out a small, whimsical laugh.

No. She couldn't do that. She'd heard about chat rooms, and they were definitely not her cup of tea. They were just a bunch of lonely people snuggling together in cyberspace ...people desperate for human contact. And then there was always the chance of crossing paths with someone truly sick. She's heard about them as well. She didn't need to add more problems to her already overflowing allotment.

How did people get away with that anyway? How did they talk to each other, share their innermost secrets, and still remain anonymous? She remembered the ludicrous "handles" made up by Bud and Tiner for their on-line names. What a couple of kids...she could never do that.

If she were to give it a try...which she wouldn't...she'd have to choose something better, more down to earth...maybe just initials. Sarah MacKenzie..."s/m"...that would do it. Plain and simple...nothing like "legal leatherneck", or "Parris Island Prosecutor". What a joke that would be!

Idly Mac typed her tiny "s/m" into the slot marked "I.D."...then quickly deleted it. No...this was too off beat...not her style at all! Crazy...that's what it was, and yet, once again she found herself tapping the keys.

"s/m"

It didn't look as bad the second time around...not bad at all. But who was she kidding...she'd never go through with it...not in a million years. She was too...too...what? Too level headed? Somehow she wasn't entirely convinced that level headedness excluded her. Too reasonable...mature? She wasn't feeling particularly either at the moment.

So what was there to stop her, she pondered as she played with the keys and saw her password entered as a tiny series of X's. What could it hurt?

"I'll only stay a few minutes." she muttered to herself as she looked at the various offerings on the chat menu. "There couldn't possibly be anything here to interest me."

Smiling for the first time that day, Mac ran her mouse down the list of available chat rooms: "Biotechnology" (not a chance); "Asian Markets" (right); "Romance" (never in a million years)...and then she stopped.

"Military Room". Her interest was definitely piqued... curious place to find such an intriguing topic. Maybe she'd take a peek. What harm could it do?

Silently Mac clicked on the innocuous little heading, and was immediately transported into a minute world of moving script...a world whose "chat list" was populated with such luminous characters as "G.I. Joe_2000", "Patton's_Revenge", "Tomcat"...and the oh so delicate "Private_private". She decided to stay clear of the last one.

Amused, Mac sat and watched the fluid lines rise and disappear into the uppermost margin of her screen. So this was a chat room...interesting. They seemed to be debating the virtues of women in the military. It wasn't as bad as she'd thought. Even the "Private_private" seemed to be contributing something to the conversation.

Eventually, as the conversation began to draw her in, she glanced about the screen to see just how the chat room worked. She found her cursor immediately...set at the beginning of a blank line beneath the moving flow of words. Tentatively she tapped a few letters, and watched, fascinated as they began to fill the empty space.

Delete.

No...she was just "visiting"...she shouldn't...should she? The topic had turned to the parallel training given women at the Parris Island Marine training facility. Was it really parallel...or was it just a watered-down program designed to fill a quota? Mac felt her ire begin to rise. Watered-down! She remembered the 13 weeks of hell she'd gone through at Parris Island...not by a long shot!

Quickly she began to type...

 

1745 hours
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, Virginia


(15 minutes previously)


Once more Harm took a "run" at the elusive brief that had become so difficult to prepare. He never seemed to have enough time anymore, ever since Renee had become so much a part of his life. Paperwork had been piling up at an alarming rate, and with almost nightly visits from his latest girlfriend, it was getting considerably worse as the days wore on.

He'd decided to remain after work until everything was once again "ship shape"...no phone calls...no visitors...just the peace and solitude of the empty JAG office, and the many files and obligations that lay in his "in-box".

His mad burst of energy had lasted exactly 30 minutes, and now he sat...computer before him, staring at the blank monitor and wondering what to do next. It was just one of those days...nothing came easy.

Idly, he took a paperclip and shot it across the room from a rubber band "slingshot" stretched between his fingers. He watched as it careened off the edge of the waste basket, and landed on the worn and faded carpet. Typical, he thought...just typical. He should just give up and go home...nothing was being served by staying here and shooting paperclips!

Frustrated, he reached for his jacket and began the "shut down" sequence required on his computer system... then stopped. He had work to do...and he couldn't get it done at home with Renee dogging his every move. He had to stay. He had to focus...he had to work!

Replacing the jacket on its hook, he once again seated himself and stared at the blankly accusing monitor that sat before him. Where to start, he wondered? "If I could only get a toehold here...I could do this." he muttered under his breath. "Maybe if I just relaxed for a few minutes...got my mind off of it...eased the pressure..."

Maybe a chat room? He'd heard about "places" like that...but he'd never had either the time or inclination to visit one. Maybe he'd "pop" in on one now...see what went on in there...just until the cobwebs cleared and he could get back to work.

With a mischievous grin on his face, Harm clicked his mouse on "Chat" and watched as the screen transformed before his eyes. "I.D.", the cursor indicated...requesting that Harm sign in before proceeding.

"HARMON RABB", he typed, then thought better of it. People didn't actually use their real names in here, did they? At any rate, if they did, he wasn't sure that he wanted to. He thought of Bud and Tiner..."Mr. Funky" and "Cavalier"...did on-line names have to be so ridiculous! No...his should be something with at least a modicum of reserve. After all...he was a Commander in the U.S. Navy...he couldn't very well call himself "Beached Squid"! No...something else...more "him"...and then it came to him.

Lightly his fingers canvassed the keys, and his new "handle" appeared before him. Yup...that would do it, he smiled, as he began to scroll the room choices that appeared before him. Now to find something even moderately interesting...just for a quick visit...a few minutes, nothing more.

"Beer Lovers"...that was a chat room? Would anyone in there be sober enough to type? "Trivia Madness"...that might be a possibility...and then he saw one that really caught his eye...something that sparked his imagination... "Military Room"

Now that one had possibilities, he thought... maybe worth a few minutes of his time. Quickly Harm tapped his mouse and watched as a complex mosaic of smaller screens and menus filled the monitor. His new "handle" appeared to the right on a list of "Chatters", beside a screen of moving type which took up a quarter of the space allotted. Beneath were a number of other options that could be chosen in order to manipulate the chat environment, or to get "HELP" if necessary.

Satisfied with his minor degree of progress, Harm turned his attention to the flow of words that dominated the screen. There seemed to be a debate going on between someone named "Patton's Revenge", and someone ambivalently titled "Private_private".

Every so often, one chatter would ask another to "PM" them...whatever that meant. Intrigued, Harm clicked the box labeled "HELP" and found that this was a way in which chat members could arrange for a private message (PM) screen, where only two people were allowed to talk, and conversation couldn't be "overheard" by the general chat population. Harm briefly scanned the following directions, then returned to the main screen to see how the debate was coming along.

Patton's Revenge, it seemed, held that the military was being undermined by its current tendency of catering to minority quotas...particularly female quotas...and was using the parallel training at the Marine boot camp at Parris Island as an example. He maintained that the program established for women at Parris Island was a diminutive version of that expected of male recruits...a cut-down version designed to insure that women would be able to qualify and thereby allow the Marine Corps to meet federal quota mandates.

Private_private, on the other hand. maintained that the standard was the same, and that any woman who could "pull her weight" should be allowed the same opportunities as any other recruit in the military. (S)he further maintained that, in spite of quotas, equality was still a long way from reality in the military...citing that female Navy recruits were still not allowed duty aboard submarines or in the Seals.

And so the debate continued. Harm watched with amusement while the two main contenders battled it out...when to his surprise yet another combatant entered the ring. This one, obviously a female leatherneck named "s/m", had apparently gone through training at Parris Island, and wasn't about to take any guff from poor Patton in any way, shape or form.

Harm let out a low chuckle. What kind of woman would sign in as "s/m"? The name alone intrigued him as visions of some leather-clad leatherneck danced through his mind. One by one s/m shot down Patton's protestations in ways that a skilled surgeon would have admired, until finally...in utter defeat...Patton bowed out and vanished from the screen. s/m then began a discussion with Private_private about the Navy ban on women in subs and in the Seals.

Verbally patting each other on the back, s/m led a victorious tirade about the inequality barring women from duty aboard Naval subs:

s/m: It isn't the women who have the problem with females aboard Naval subs...it's the men. It's their little boys' club...a "No girls allowed" kind of childishness that keeps women out of that area.

Private_private: Absolutely!!! The military and the little boys that run it need to grow up. The world's becoming a unisex sandbox, and they might as well get used to it.

s/m: You should see the pranks they play onboard those tin cans...it makes you wonder sometimes if it wouldn't be better to leave the men ashore and just send women out instead...at least we can read directions!

Harm read the last and felt his fingers itch to jump in and defend both his precious Navy and the whole of "maledom" as well. This woman...this "s/m (didn't that say a lot in itself, he smirked) obviously had no idea what went on aboard a Naval submarine. Her idealized rhetoric was weak and dogmatic! He'd been onboard subs with women...twice...and there were good and realistic reasons why men and women were not allowed to serve simultaneously in that arena.

Before he knew it, his fingers began to jab uncontrollably at the keys. Within seconds, both his new handle, and his vitriolic response appeared on the screen:

Tomcat: Listen...I've been on board a sub with a woman along, and "boy's clubs' " rules have nothing to do with the issue. If you knew even half as much as you think you do, Ms s/m, you'd leave this to those with more experience than you.

(a pause)

s/m: Another "boy" heard from? Well...I can tell you...I HAVE been aboard a sub...I know what I'm talking about...and I stand my ground. If the "boys" on that sub were put under the scrutiny that female recruits are, most of them wouldn't have made it through boot camp.

Tomcat: Somehow I doubt that you've ever even seen a sub, much less been on one! Submariners are highly skilled sailors...precision crewmembers. You must be thinking about your last trip to Disneyland, s/m. Try not to mix up fact with fantasy(land).

Almost forgotten, Private_private now made herself known:

Private_private: Um guys? LOL! You two should "get a room" to yourselves! You argue like an old married couple! Try a PM...you're wiltin' my monitor!

Harm laughed aloud. A private message...with Ms s/m? He'd just had a tetanus booster...but rabies? Briefly, his eyes scanned the seemingly deepening piles of untended work. He really needed to get busy. So why was he still on line...and why was he even considering a private conversation with an opinionated "man-hater" from la -la land?

It defied reason, he told himself as he clicked twice on the handle "s/m" on the chatter's list. Why was he doing this? Though the sanity of the act eluded him, the urge remained...and in a few short seconds a smaller screen became visible...superimposed on the original screen...awaiting his message to the abrasive Ms s/m.

Tomcat: Hey...s/m...I'm sorry. Sometimes I get carried away. Believe whatever you want. If it makes you happy to blame some "boys club" for the realities of the world...then so be it.

s/m: They may be "realities" to you, but have you ever even attempted to see the issue from another point of view?

Tomcat: Actually, yes...I have. The results are the same. The military has an obligation to be as functionally perfect as it can be. That should be the first consideration. P.R. issues don't belong when they weaken the system.

s/m: Functionally perfect! Are you kidding me? There are so many holes in your argument I don't know where to begin! First of all...what is it about women that would make anything, particularly the military "imperfect"...the lack of an "undercarriage"!

Tomcat: Crude, aren't we? If I'd made a sexist comment like that you'd be all over me. But...since I'm obviously not talking to a lady...I don't give a "rats ass" about your undercarriage. The fact remains...on a sub there isn't room for separate facilities, and having men and women share the same space erodes concentration and efficiency.

s/m: So you agree...the problem is inherently male...not female! If the "boys" would stick to their jobs instead of chasing the nearest "skirt" there wouldn't be a problem!

Tomcat: This is ridiculous! You said that you'd been onboard a sub. Where? Did you sleep on deck! "Rack space" is at a premium...shared by all...and the "head" is likewise limited. Maybe a "unisex" type like yourself doesn't see the difference, but real men and women would. Ask anyone from the real world!

s/m: Unisex! Well, isn't that the way men always think when they're faced with a woman who doesn't simply roll over and purr! Maybe you just don't know any "real" women! Ever been out on a date with the opposite sex, Tomcat?

Harm was shocked, both at her response, and the lengths to which he himself had gone to "better" this s/m character. Repairs needed to be made...then he needed to get back to work. He was never going to get out of here at this rate!

Tomcat: Listen...I apologize. That last crack was uncalled for. I was off-base. Your points are valid...but that isn't going to change anything. Wherever the fault lies, subs and cohabitation just don't mix at this point in time.

s/m: Apology accepted...and extended to you as well. I get carried away some times. I haven't been in a chat room before. It's easy to forget that there's another human being on the other end of the connection.

Tomcat: No problem. My first time too. Strange, isn't it?

s/m: Incredibly! I had no idea...

Tomcat: I just needed a break from real life for a minute and thought I'd see how the "other half" lives. What about you?

s/m: Same here...needed to lose myself for a little bit. Life can get rough at times.

Tomcat: Isn't that the truth!! You gave me a lot to think about, you know.

s/m: Me too. Guess the bottom line has always got to be peak efficiency...but there really ARE some bad boys down in those subs. I wasn't lying about that.

Tomcat: I know...and I know quite a few women who could do a better job if the roles were reversed.

s/m: So...you must be in the military then...or am I asking too much?

Tomcat: No...not too much. I know anonymity is the thing in here, but there are a lot of us "Squids" around. No breach in privacy there.

s/m: A squid! Oh no! Actually...some of my best friends are Squids. You can't help it if the Marines always get there first. (grin)

Tomcat: Starting another battle already? Say...how do they get that smile face to pop up on the screen? I can see where it might be a great "white flag"!

s/m: I have no idea...have to research that one.(smile). I have a few friends who know all about this stuff. maybe I'll pick their brains.

Tomcat: Me too. This could become an addiction. Maybe I'll quiz my friends about some of those acronyms I kept seeing. LOL? What's that all about?

s/m: "Left Out (too) Long"?..."Last One Left"?

Tomcat: Cute. Really cute. I have soooo much work to do here...I hate to go, but...

s/m: Yeah...I know the feeling. Life rears it's ugly head. Here too. Well...so long. Hope you can get a handle on it all.

Tomcat: Yeah. You too.

s/m: Bye

And with that, Mac made clicked on "exit" and watched the screen fade back into the introductory menu. A few more clicks, and she found herself in the "shut-down" sequence. One last nudge on the mouse, and the screen went blank.

 

0800 hours
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, Virginia


Slowly, Mac exited the elevator and crossed the bullpen, her face a maze of preoccupation. She could see how a person could become addicted to chat rooms. The anonymity was exhilarating. No repercussions...no accountability...you could say anything you wanted and never have to worry about the aftermath. Cheap psychotherapy.

She smiled to herself. Maybe that's what she needed... psychotherapy. Mic was determined to drive her crazy! Unable to say "NO", she had gone to a play with Mic at the very last minute the evening before...but she had no idea what it had been about. Tomcat, her elusive and faceless sparring partner had filled her evening...her mind.

How like a man...particularly a Naval recruit, to name himself after a fighting machine...a $40 million airborne marvel at that. Typical, she thought...so typical.

Then she smiled. She'd enjoyed their conversation. She hadn't realized just how much until she found herself replaying it in her mind during the play...and later at home...and this morning when she rose to face the new day.

Tomcat had been both funny and articulate...a thoroughly pleasant interlude...surprisingly so. Too bad that it had to end with just a brief encounter in cyberspace. She wouldn't mind "signing on" again...

What was she thinking about!

Shaking her head, she seated herself behind her desk and quickly brought her focus back to the situation at hand. She had the Velacio trial in a few days...and a million briefs and depositions in the meantime. (but how long does it take to...)

"No!" she fairly shouted. Far out in the bullpen, Tiner raised his youthful head and glanced her way, his eyes harboring a question she had no way of answering.

Unsure, he rose and tapped on her open doorway.

"Ma'am? Did you want something?"

Flushing slightly at her foolish outburst, Mac shook her head.

"No, Tiner. Thank you anyway. I...um...I dropped something on my foot. Everything's fine now, though...thanks."

"Aye aye, Ma'am. If you need anything though...just call."

"I will, Tiner...thank you."

Distracted once more, Mac watched as Tiner faded into the din of the office complex. Then, from out of the blue, she heard herself calling him back.

"Tiner?"

In a blink, the young man was once again filling her doorway. "What can I do for you, Ma'am?"

"Tiner," she began, "You use the internet a lot, don't you? I mean...you know a lot about it, right?"

Pleased with the recognition he appeared to be receiving, Tiner smiled. "Yes, Ma'am...that I do. Is there something I can help you with?"

"Well..." Mac began, wondering if this was really such a good idea. Wasn't it really better to just let it go? Then she thought of how pleasant it had felt just to talk to someone... about anything...without having to be accountable for every syllable...truly a momentous occasion in her field!

Her mind told her to "drop it", but from out of the void she heard her voice asking Tiner to get her a list of the more common acronyms.

Sensing a convert, the young petty officer was delighted to help. "Ma'am...will do!" he grinned, his face a welcome mat at the door of cyberspace. "I'll have a list on your desk right away, Ma'am."

Transformed by boyish mirth, Tiner returned to his desk and began to punch various key combinations, evoking the mysteries of cyber-speak in hard copy. Within minutes, Mac found him standing once more in her doorway, list in hand...a thoroughly happy camper.

"This is a good start, Ma'am. I didn't know how thorough you wanted me to be."

Mac looked at the list in the petty officer's hand. "I'm sure this will be all I'll need, Tiner...and thank you."

Tiner smiled. "Glad to be of help, Ma'am. If there's anything else...?"

"No...thank you, Tiner. This is all I'll need, I'm sure...but if I need anything else, I'll let you know."

Mac slid back in her seat. Why had she done that? This whole thing was ridiculous! With all of the work she had to do...why in the world was she wasting time with this foolishness?

Disgusted with herself, she began to crumple the sheet into a small paper missile...fodder for the circular file...when at the last minute she had a change of heart. Tiner had worked so hard to get this information for her (hard?)...the least she could do was look it over!

Curiously, the young Lt. Colonel smoothed the wrinkles from the crumpled ball of paper, and began to peruse the strange and amusing information before her.

There it was! "LOL" It meant "Laughing out loud"! She liked it. It had a nice ring to it! Quickly she began to scan the rest of the page. It was like learning a secret code...an insider's language for the denizens of cyberspace. She felt like she'd just been admitted to a secret tree house for members only...thoroughly childish...and yet mysteriously pleasing. Smiling, her eyes absorbed the information before her, chuckling to herself as first this, and then that entry caught her eye:

1. A/S/L: Age/Sex/Location
2. BRB: Be Right Back
3. BTW: By The Way
4. GMTA: Great Minds Think Alike
5. IMHO: In My Humble Opinion
6. IMNSHO: In My Not So Humble Opinion
7. J/K: Just Kidding
8. NP: No Problem
9. ROTFL: Rolling On The Floor Laughing (this was followed by a number of variations like ROTFLOL and ROTFLMAO) Rolling On The Floor Laughing My (Ass) Off
10. TPTB: The Powers That Be
11. RL: Real Life
12. OMG: Oh My God
13. <G> (Grin) 14. <VEG> Very Evil Grin

Some listings were actually designed to summon selective icons in certain situations, such as:

1. :D - a smile or grin
2. :) - a smile
3. :( - sadness...a frown
4. ;) - a wink
5. :X and ***- a kiss(es)
6. :P - tongue sticking out...playfulness
7. {{{hug}}} - replace "hug" with name of recipient - a hug (that one she could figure out herself)
8. and...preceding a statement with a colon causes the following script to take on a rosy hue...to blush!

Mac was thoroughly taken in. It was amazing...a subculture right at her fingertips, complete with a language all its own. The list continued, encompassing a varied number of slick shortcuts into cyberspace...too much to take in when there was so much to be done.

Well...that's all for now, she told herself. There was work enough in the real world...or "RL". Carefully, Mac folded the paper and tucked it into her briefcase. She'd never need it...probably never look at it again...but what the heck. Tiner had put in all that work...hadn't he? It would be a shame to just throw it all away! With dim but single-minded determination, Mac began to pull folders out of her "Inbox". It was going to be a long day.

[Wonder what "Tomcat" is doing right about now?] she mused absently. Then reining her wayward thoughts in once more, she began to attack the pile before her.

 

0830 hours
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, Virginia


Harm sat at his desk perusing the growing mountain of work forming before his eyes. Last night's "forced march" had done little to alleviate the situation. Even now, his foray into cyberspace, and the intriguing "s/m", caused a lopsided grin to spread across his chiseled features.

She was unique...of that he was certain. Her "voice" had been sure and strong, but intelligent and creative as well. How could so many impressions have been conveyed by so little interface? It was amazing!

Silently he pushed the last of last night's ammunition, a lone paperclip, along the edge of the desk with the virgin head of a pencil eraser. Would she be there again tonight, he wondered? No...not possible. She's said herself that it was her first time in a chat room. She wouldn't be back. But then, it had been his first time as well, and already the keyboard called to him, daring him to leave the demands of life behind and romp in a world of irresponsibility.

Willing his hand to cross the desk, Harm once again grasped the top file in his ever-growing pile and began to deal with the issues at hand.

"Let's see..." he murmured, "...the Charleston deposition...as good a place to start as any." Harm opened the file, but found it empty...devoid of the contents it should have contained. Bud must still have it, he thought. Then, rising from his chair, he crossed the bullpen toward the perky Lieutenant's office to coordinate their efforts.

"Bud," he began, displaying the empty folder. "Would you happen to know where the Charleston deposition might be found?"

"OH!...Sir...sorry! I needed it for a minute...I forgot..." As usual, Bud's contrition was both genuine and amusing. Harm smiled as he watched the young attorney scramble frantically beneath a haphazard stack of briefs to rummage out the missing deposition.

"Here it is, Sir," he said, thrusting the missing paperwork toward his superior officer. "It should be all there, Sir. Is there anything else I can do?"

"No, Bud," Harm replied absently. "This oughtta do it...thanks."

Bud nodded then returned to his work, but suddenly noticed that the lanky Commander was still standing in the doorway, staring at the lit computer monitor on the desk.

"Bud?"

"Yes, Sir?"

"I'm...ah...researching the...ah...internet for a case. But some of the language is a little specialized..."

"You mean the acronyms? I can help you with that if you want, Sir. What do you need...just general things...or real geek stuff?...I mean...you know...technical language."

"I think that the more common lingo should do it, Bud. When do you think you can get that for me?"

Bud glanced in dismay at the piles of work that awaited his attention, preferably before the day was through. Much of it was being done at the Admiral's request. It would take hours before he could sort it all out...maybe even days.

"How soon do you need it. Sir?"

Harm shuffled from foot to foot, feigning nonchalance. "Oh...no hurry. It's not all that important. Anytime today would be just fine. Whenever you get a chance." Then, nodding, he turned on his heel, strolling absently back toward his office and his own struggle in the throes of white-collar angst.

Bud settled heavily into his chair, the piles of paperwork taunting him. Today! How could he possibly get all this...and that...finished before the day was done! Then he thought of Petty Officer Tiner. What was the chain of command for, if not to command?

Smiling, Bud crossed the office enclosure and approached Jason Tiner's desk.

"Tiner...I have something I need to have you do for me...asap if you don't mind," he directed the young petty officer, his best rank-has-its privileges smile adorning his features. "I need a list of chat acronyms for...a client. Would you get right to it? I need it right away."

A look of puzzled amusement spread across the young man's face. He'd just logged off that same site not ten minutes ago. Must be an internet case coming up soon, he thought...this was definitely odd!

Glad for yet another excuse to "log on" to the internet, Tiner gladly clicked on his server and waited for the familiar whine to herald its start-up.

(Nothing)

He tried again.

(Still nothing)

"Oh man!" he muttered. "Not now! Roberts is gonna skin me. Don't let this be happening...my server can't be down!"

Tiner sat in utter dismay, frantically searching his options. He could make up his own list...type it out and pass it along...but what if it wasn't complete? Just knowing the acronyms didn't mean that he'd remember to include all of them! There was a list in "Internet For Dummies"...but his copy was at home...covered with dust. There had to be another way!

Then it came to him!

Quickly Tiner crossed the busy office area and came to rest at Col. MacKenzie's door.

(rap) "Ma'am?"

Mac looked up from the dossier she held in her hands. "Yes, Tiner? What is it?"

"Ma'am...could I borrow that list back from you for a few minutes? I'd like to make a copy for someone and my server's down."

"Oh...certainly, Tiner," she replied, cringing at what the sensitive young man would think when he noticed the misshapen condition of the document he'd given her only minutes before. Quickly she opened her briefcase and passed the crumpled sheet into his waiting hands.

"I...I'm sorry about the condition," she offered haltingly, "I...I sat on it by mistake."

"No problem, Ma'am. I'll just make you a new copy while I'm at it...if that's alright," he smiled.

"Thank you, Tiner. That would be nice" Mac replied, her eyes returning guiltily to the work before her.

Within minutes, Tiner had returned with a both a fresh copy for the Colonel, and a second copy for Lt. Roberts as well. The copies looked good...considering the condition of the original. All but a few creases had smoothed and vanished from view. Tiner dabbed his finger at the few tiny black likes...running like strands of spider web through the script. They weren't bad...not really. So the "smile" icon [ :) ] looked a little like the one denoting a wink [ ;) ], and the "grin [ :D ] looked suspiciously like the one with the tongue protruding lasciviously at the reader[ :P ] ...but that was all. Those icons would never be important during litigation anyway, so what difference did it make?

Five minutes later, Bud entered Harm's office, Tiner's list in hand. "Here you go, Sir. I hope this is what you needed. Sorry about the condition of the copy...printer problems," he prevaricated.

"Not a problem, Bud...and thank you," the lanky Commander replied placing the sheet aside. "I'm sure it'll be fine."

By the time the Lt. left the office, Harm had already buried his nose in yet another file from his "inbasket", and was once again attempting to minimize the massive overflow of paperwork that was threatening to swallow him alive. But try as he might, the provocative list of acronyms called to him from their place among the cluttered confusion of his desktop.

Leaning back in his chair, he rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, and unconsciously reached out for the forbidden fruit that lay on top of the furthermost pile. It would only take a minute...and he needed a break anyway...didn't he?

Ten minutes later Harm was still smiling as he reread the witty, and often humorous shortcuts into cyberchat. It really was a language all its own. Combined with the phonetic abbreviations he'd noticed the night before, it was really unique. It would be fun to...

What was he thinking! Fun to...what? Lose himself in "chat" once more? Attempt to contact the intriguing Ms s/m? To even think such a thing would be insane! She wouldn't be there anyway...why would she? s/m could be anywhere in the world...in any time zone...how would he even know what time she might choose for a sequel to last night's interlude?

The afternoon rumbled on...Harm pausing every now and then to ponder the problems posed by a hypothetical reunion with his mysterious cyber-lady. Where and when, he wondered over and over again. Well...the first time had been in the "Military Room"...and she obviously had an interest in that area, so the place sort of chose itself. If there was any easy answer to be had, then that was it. The second question...time. She could be anywhere...any time zone on the globe. She could have been checking her e-mail in the middle of a sleepless night and decided to "stray" into cyberspace for a minute...or on her way out the door heading for work...or a date...or back beneath the covers to a waiting husband!

The last thought brought him up short...a husband! It was possible. What did he really know about her? Absolutely nothing! He'd even heard of men posing as women on the net...could it be...? No...not possible...not with the disparaging "boy's club" remarks! s/m was definitely a woman...no confusion there.

Harm glanced at the clock...1700 hours already! Impossible! Where had the day gone? Well, he thought, looking once more at the seemingly perpetual pile on his desk, he'd just have to stay late again. There was nothing else to do...this work had to be done, and his apartment (complete with Renee-borne distractions) was not the place to do it.

Once more Harm watched as the lights in the bullpen and in the offices beyond began to extinguish, evoking the shadows of evening. Soon, only the light on his desk remained.

Silence.

Harm prodded a few errant sheets of printout with a vague flick of his finger. He'd really get some work done tonight, he decided, noticing the clock nearing 1800 hours. He had to...didn't he?

He smiled...a lopsided grin.

Then, brushing an array of "Post-its" from his monitor screen, he began the start-up sequence that would open the door to cyberspace once more. He'd only be a minute...after all...he'd been hard at work all day. He needed a break!

As the screen transformed before his eyes, his mind roamed to the conversation of the night before.

Would she be there again tonight? Would she?

 

1730 hours
Sarah MacKenzie's Apartment
Georgetown


Mac entered her apartment a with a mass of conflictions swirling through her mind. This wasn't her...this sublimation of real life...so why couldn't she shake this almost addictive pull to the world of cyberspace. No...not exactly cyberspace in general...but to the articulate and compelling "Tomcat".

Hesitantly, she glanced over at her computer terminal. It was almost 1800 hours. Would he be there again? If she signed in now...would the little blinking cursor take her to her mystery man?

Then she noticed the other blinking light...the one on her answering machine. Had there been even a single time since Mic's return that the incessant blinking of the machine hadn't accosted her at the door at the end of the day? It was like a mechanical leash...perpetually tugging...forever attempting to bring her to "heel". It was more than she could handle...more than she could bear. She needed space...room to breathe...and she needed it now.

Quietly she dropped her briefcase on the floor and turned on her computer system. Then, changing into something comfortable, she settled herself before the monitor...hoping for a replay of last night's contact.

The topic of debate in the "Military Room" tonight was the marital rape exemption that still existed in the UCMJ. The "cons" definitely had an edge tonight...not many people would openly support the concept of rape, under any circumstances...but still a dissenting vote existed. Again, "Patton's Revenge" was the agitator, maintaining that a marriage contract was just that...a "contract". According to his viewpoint, women were contractually obligated to provide sexual favors to their spouses, and that any sexual act on the husband's part was legal and previously agreed upon...including forced intimacy.

Mac watched in amusement as first one combatant and then another dismantled the smug and backward "Patton". Her comments weren't needed tonight...the general population of the "Military Room" were doing just fine on their own.

Then the small PM screen popped up in her line of view.

Tomcat: Hi there! [She's there!]

s/m: Hi yourself! How are you tonight? [He's there!]

Tomcat: Fine...and you?

s/m: Doing fine here. So you came back too, I see.

Tomcat: But of course...I live to argue. LOL [well...not too far off base, right?]

s/m: LOL? Laughing Out Loud! You've been brushing up. Me too. :) [pleased...was I the reason for the homework?]

Tomcat: So I see! This place is getting to you already. :D

s/m: Look who's talking! BTW...did you notice what the topic is tonight? [Now let's see what kind of Bozo I have here.]

(pause)

Tomcat: Oh...the UCMJ. Yeah...I heard of that. Sounds like a little upgrade is in order. Guess I don't have to ask you which side you're on...right? [Was I vague enough?]

s/m: Do you even have to ask! What kind of weak minded moron would condone something like that! [probably this one]

Tomcat: Well...apparently Patton for one...takes all kinds, ya know. As for force...if force is required then maybe the "couple" shouldn't even be in the same room together... much less married. I could never understand that. [For crying out loud...did she actually think he'd say anything else? What kind of man...]

s/m: So, I take it that you're not married then? [Had she actually asked that!]

Tomcat: Nope...not me. You? [Thank God!]

s/m: No wedding band here either.

Guiltily, Mac looked at the friendship ring on her right hand. Well...it wasn't a wedding band...was it? No promises...no commitments...no betrayals...

Tomcat: I mean...not that it matters. Married people are allowed to talk too...right? [...and she's not a guy...this felt really good]

s/m: Last time I heard...even in the Navy. LOL

Tomcat: So you're in the Navy...not the Marines? I got the impression that you were a "leatherneck" the last time we talked. [Hey...I KNOW she said she was in the Marines!]

Mac thought long and hard. She wasn't used to misdirection...it bothered her...a lot. But maybe it was better to leave this misunderstanding stay "as is". After all...anonymity was important in cyberspace, wasn't it?

s/m: Now that do YOU think?

Tomcat: I think you're one slippery person. That's what I think. Say...have you got a name? [Would she tell it to him?]

Mac was frantic...a name? She hadn't given it any thought...she'd never planned to be in this position! Should she say "Sarah"? There were lots of "Sarahs" in the Navy...she'd still maintain her privacy...wouldn't she?

s/m: Sure I have a name...who doesn't! It's...Harriet.

Mac was startled to see the name pop up on the screen. Harriet! Where did that come from! That couldn't be what she'd typed...could it? Cyberspace was truly weird.

s/m: And I'll bet your name is "Tom"...right Tomcat?

(again a pause)

Tomcat: Incredible! Got any lottery numbers you'd like to share? [...or anything else, he thought, his mind embracing the open, flirtatious nature of cyberspace]

Mac smiled. This was fun...more fun than she'd had in weeks...not since the Surface Warfare Ball...but how did one work a relationship in cyberspace? You couldn't give the other party any personal information...and you couldn't ask any in return. So...how did two people ever get to know each other?

Then it dawned on her...maybe you didn't have to get to know each other...maybe the conventions of society in real life didn't apply in here. She could BE anyone she wanted...SAY anything she wanted...turn her frustrations loose and let cyberspace carry them away. "Cyber-Harriet" of the USN...at your service!

s/m: Now...you wouldn't ask a woman to give up all her secrets, would you? ;) [She was flirting...and it was fun!...but that smile icon looked truly sick. Did she hit the wrong keys?]

(pausing once more)

Tomcat: Uh...no...of course not. Wouldn't want to undermine our military presence in the...Adriatic? South China Sea? San Diego? You're gonna make me guess, aren't you? [Did she "wink" at me? Damn...there's a line through the icon on his sheet...I can't tell. Was she flirting! Incredible!]

s/m: Is that where you are? At sea? [She was really warming up to this now]

Tomcat: Just since I signed in and found you here, Harriet. [I can't believe I just said that! I may be ill!]

s/m: Oh wow! Calm down there, Sailor...this isn't shore leave, you know! [I wonder what he'd be like on shore leave anyway?]

Tomcat: Well if it were...I wouldn't be alone now...would you? [Harm smiled...this was totally "not him"...and that's exactly what made it so appealing.]

s/m: How do you know I AM alone, Tom? [Let the squid chew on that...the pervert!]

Tomcat: My humble apologies, Ma'am. So we're a threesome tonight? [That ought to take the wind out of her sails.]

s/m: HEY!

Tomcat: WHAT?

s/m: WATCH IT!

Tomcat: I'm sorry. Really I am. If you only knew me in RL...I mean I don't say things like that! [abject contrition]

Mac looked at her fingers, hoping that they wouldn't betray her on the keys once more.

s/m: It's okay...I understand. I got carried away too. This place does something to you, doesn't it?

Tomcat: That's a major understatement! Have you visited any other rooms?

s/m: Not yet. I saw some really flakey ones...there were some listings in the adult section that were outrageous beyond belief!

Tomcat : [chuckle] I know...I was surfing there while I was waiting...I mean while I was looking around for another room to visit tonight. I saw one called "Whipped Cream"...another called "Bondage A Go-Go"...and a really weird one called "Role Playing...share your fantasies" [and they were sharing like crazy!]

s/m: OMG...really! What was it like? I mean...did they say anything? [Do I really want to hear this? Yeah...I do.]

Tomcat: Well...I didn't stay long...and I only eavesdropped on the main screen...but it was pretty racy stuff. [was it ever!]

s/m: Wouldn't care to share, would you...just for information's sake...[right]

Tomcat: [very unsure] Well...there was a lot of touching going on. Stroking. Tongues. Things getting hard...oh hell...why don't you visit there yourself? [He was blushing! When was the last time that happened?]

Mac felt herself becoming warm...very warm. Stroking... touching...things getting...oh my God! Somehow his words had translated into actions in her mind...his actions...and hers. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, thinking what it might be like if...

What was she thinking!!!

This had to end, she decided, crossing her legs. This whole thing was crazy! Slowly, she composed a response in her mind. Clever. Witty. In keeping with her new "Cyber-Harriet" persona.

s/m: Think I ought to? Think I need help in that arena? [Betrayal again! She had to get those fingers fitted with a censor!]

Tomcat: Ahhh...no...of course not...I mean...I was just saying....[She was incredible! Nothing fazed her! Wonder what she'd really be like?]

s/m: Listen, Tom. I have to go...I have to...wash my hair. Time and tide wait for no sailor. Think you'll be on tomorrow? [Did I ask that! Oh my God!]

Tomcat: Could be...will you? [Please...please.]

s/m: I might...maybe around 1800 hours again. [Write it down, Tom!]

Tomcat: Oh...maybe we'll bump into each other again then. This room is fascinating! [What's it called again?]

s/m: Sure..g'night then.

Tomcat: Night. A tiny faded notation crept upward along the screen: "s/m has left the room". She was gone. Just like that...a simple click of a mouse and she'd vanished. But it really didn't matter...did it? Not really...she was just another sailor named Harriet...hell, there was one of those working right here, and he was sure that the JAG Harriet was ten times more woman than...

What was he thinking...and why was he thinking it! Quickly Harm progressed through the series of manipulations that would sever his connection with "chat". He had work to do, he reminded himself...and it wasn't getting done like this!

Silently he grabbed another file from the precarious mountain before him, determined to focus on the job at hand. But at every turn he found himself staring blankly at the information before him.

Would she be there tomorrow? Did he care?

Hell, yes.

 

She was in a bad mood.

...a very bad mood.

Somewhere...in the fullness of the night, sleep had eluded her. Now, beneath the harsh fluorescence of the bullpen she looked older...more weary than she had in a long, long time.

She'd first signed into "chat" for a break from reality...a venue of escape...but she'd worn her vulnerability in as well, and now even her fantasy life was tinged with emotional difficulties.

That Tom was attractive (in a faceless sort of way) went without saying. That he stimulated her imagination and sense of humor was a given...but she'd never expected to feel the sensual awakening that now permeated her being.

How could this have happened? One minute she was quantifying her anonymous companion as a "Bozo"...and the next, she was feeling the moist, curling response given only to a lover. The whole thing was insane!

She supposed the trick was to find a means of escape that didn't involve bringing yourself along...but, by definition...was that even possible? Once more the "voice" of her disturbing companion filled her mind.

"Touching"

"Stroking"

"Things getting,,,"

Again she felt the curiously disturbing response that seemed to accompany the thought of her mystery man. What in the world was happening to her? Why did...?

...because she'd let it...that's why. Somewhere, in her pathetic life she was wanting, and old "Tom" was filling an unspoken need. That HAD to be the answer...what else could there be?

Lost in thought, Mac settled herself heavily into her military-issue chair (and life) and tried to regain the control she needed to function in the real world.

( a knock)

Mac fairly jumped out of her skin.

"Hey there Colonel...the old Aussie keeping you up late? You look like hell."

"Harm," she replied. weariness underlining her tone, "Enough about Mic, already. Stop poking the wound."

"Wound? Aaahhh...something's amiss in Paradise, I take it," he said, his face both concerned and relieved. Well...you know...whatever else I am...I'm always your friend, Mac. Anything you want to talk to me about?"

Thoughts whirled through her mind...so many things...so many...but she couldn't. How could she tell Harm, of all people, about the oppressive feeling that was rapidly growing in the pit of her stomach every time she heard Mic's voice on her answering machine? Or, that she'd been tempted to leave the machine off altogether, except that she knew her non-communication would bring Mic to the door in person. But, most importantly...how could she explain the feelings she was developing for her cyber-companion? He'd never understand that...not in a million years!

Sighing inwardly, she shook her head. "No, Harm...but thanks anyway. I'm working it out in my own muddled fashion. Sometimes I just get a little side-tracked. I appreciate your concern."

The look on Harm's face told her that he was once again set to pursue the issue, but the quick flash in her eyes calmed his intent. No...it wasn't the time, she reflected mentally...not the time at all.

"Okay," he smiled, "...just so you know. I'm always here for you, Mac. Anytime. Okay?"

"I know," she responded, "Maybe I'll take you up on that one of these days."

Mac watched silently as Harm headed back to his office...to the mountain of files and documents that were fast becoming legend among the office staff. He didn't look anywhere near up to snuff himself. Something was eating him. Renee possibly?

The double entendre caught her up short. Since when did she think like that? Harm's women were not her business...his sexual preferences not hers to speculate upon. Thoughts like those were simply not hers to entertain.

With grim determination, Mac once again attempted to focus her attention on her own work. Her pile as well seemed to be considerably larger than average. The tasks she normally dealt with at home had been returning to the office with her the next day untouched, and her normally tidy desk (life?) was becoming uncomfortably cluttered.

Well, that was about to end, she concluded with grim determination. If it took all day and all night, this desk (life?) would be clean and clear by morning. And so...her focus renewed, Mac immersed herself in the task before her.

 

1730 hours
Colonel MacKenzie's Office
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, Virginia


"I'm going to turn out the lights and lock up now, Colonel," Petty Officer Tiner informed her, "Is there anything I can do for you before I leave?"

"No, Tiner...nothing. Thank you. I have everything I need. I'll see you in the morning."

"Just to let you know, Ma'am, Commander Rabb will still be around for a while if you need help with anything. He's been working late trying to get that (smirk) paper explosion on his desk under control."

Mac smiled in understanding. "I see," she replied, "...so essentially, I'm cohabiting with Mt. St. Helen tonight."

"Ma'am?"

"The victim of an explosive situation, Tiner. Sometimes I forget just how young you are."

Tiner smiled, his boyish grim warm and contagious, then turned and retraced his path across the bullpen toward the electrical switches at the end of the room. One by one Mac watched as the lights extinguished, and the main room became progressively darker...until finally only two lights remained. Then, the door to the elevator opened...Tiner's silhouette briefly blocked her vision, and he was gone.

Somehow it felt good to be here, instead of home listening to the seemingly endless phone messages that she was sure filled her answering machine. Briefly she glanced across the bullpen at the lone remaining light in the JAG suite...the light in the office of her friend and partner Harmon Rabb. Lit by the soft glow of his computer, he looked deep in thought, she mused. He'd better snap out of it if he ever wanted to get caught up. Here it was already 1730 hours, and it looked as if his pile was even larger than it had been that morning!

Her eyes lingered on the clock ticking rhythmically on the wall in her office.

1730 hours.

He wouldn't be there again...would he? Not there. Not warm and breathing on the other side of cyberspace, watching the touching...stroking...things getting...

Her eyes wandered first to the dim luminescence of her monitor in the hushed silence of the room, then to the soft beacon of Harm's light in the distance. Would he be wandering in soon, she wondered. Would she have to explain, shamefaced, what she was doing in there...in cyberspace...in here?

No...it didn't seem as though he would be budging anytime in the near future. His face, lit by the ethereal glow from his monitor, looked dedicated and determined. There would be no rest tonight for Harmon Rabb...no rest at all.

Briefly, Mac placed her trembling palm over her computer mouse and began the sign-in sequence that would allow her one step closer to Tom.

 

1730 hours
Colonel Rabb's Office
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, Virginia


Where was she, he wondered as he watched the suggestive banter in Role Playing. Had she come to her senses, as he should, and decided not to sign into this brain-dead part of the world?

Quickly, he typed her handle into "Who's Chatting" again and scanned for any sign that she had indeed entered cyberspace once more.

Nothing.

Why did he care, anyway. What was she to him? Just a blip on a screen...a slow scroll of words emanating from God knows where. And he...what was he to her? The same? Somehow...some way...something deep inside hoped that wasn't the case. He wanted to be more to her...needed to be more...but how could he be less? He didn't even know her full name...what she looked like...if he'd ever "see" her again.

It was maddening...it was obsessive...it was bringing out a side of him that he'd never known existed.

Harriet.

The name should summon the warm smile and cheerful countenance of the wife of his friend and fellow JAG officer, Bud Roberts. Instead it evoked a faceless void filled with nameless emotions. This wasn't reasonable...it had no form or substance. Why was he doing this?

And then he saw it..."s/m"...and she was there with him in cyberspace once more. The frustration and angst faded from his worn and haggard features. What did it matter that her glow came from the piece of machinery before him...she was there...and that was all that mattered.

Smiling, he tapped the keys into a PM screen:

 

1730 hours
Colonel MacKenzie's Office
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, Virginia


As though controlled by a force beyond her, Sarah felt her finger caress the childish screen name that blinked tauntingly before her.

He was there.

Wasn't this what she wanted, she thought, the smile on her lips never reaching her eyes. Hadn't she wanted to see Tom's name staring back at her from the mute eye of cyberspace?

"Tomcat"...the name of a sleek and powerful machine...a commanding force...one not easily ignored. And Tom...was he as compelling as his nom de plume? Was he sleek...powerful...commanding? Would she be able to ignore him...could she?

Once again, as her fingers began their inevitable journey, she looked inward, questioning the vision she saw in the mirror of her mind.

That this was ludicrous went without saying...irresponsible and immature to say the least. So why was she here? Why couldn't she just reach out, take control, and...

s/m: Hi yourself! 'Surfing' around again tonight, huh? (these are MY fingers...why won't they obey me!)

Tomcat: Yeah...something like that. Nothing to do...just filling time. (...and looking for you)

s/m: Find anything interesting? (...any touching... stroking...things...)

Tomcat: A few. This place has some very erotic alcoves. (what would you be like in one of them...I wonder?)

s/m: Like what? Anything a lady at sea might be interested in visiting? (with you?)

Tomcat: Well..."Role Playing" seems mildly interesting...that is, if that kind of thing interests you.

s/m: Role Playing? Like Dungeons and Dragons?

Tomcat: No...not quite. More of a sexual nature. It's in the "Adult" section.

Mac glanced nervously across the bullpen at the pale glow that illuminated her partner's face. Sexual in nature...how so? Intimate? Emotionally invasive? What would Harm think? What would Harm do? What would Harm be like...?

But no...this had nothing to do with Harm. This had to do with her...and Tom. Harm was not the issue for once. Gently she touched the screen again...the pale glow from the monitor echoing the same tones on her flesh as it did on her partner's intense features far across the office space. What would "Tom" be like...not Harm...never Harm.

s/m: And you think this might be worth a "look-see"?

Tomcat: Well...I don't know. I don't know you that well. You might be offended. Not quite the room for a lady...

s/m: Think I couldn't take it?

Tomcat: I didn't say that...

s/m: No...but you were thinking it, weren't you?

Tomcat: I think you're making too much of this. I just figured that you might be offended. I'm trying to be a gentleman.

s/m: Maybe YOU'RE the one that can't handle it, then.

Tomcat: I wouldn't count on it...

s/m: Put your money where your mouth is...meet you in role playing.

Tomcat: You're on... :)

 

1745 hours
"Role Playing"
Somewhere in Cyberspace


s/m: OMG! I can't believe the things people are saying to each other here...in a public forum, no less!

Tomcat: Yeah...it's another world. And this isn't the "worst"...if that's the word I should be going for.

s/m: Oh no? There's more?

Tomcat: Yeah...see the chatter's list on the right?

s/m: Uh huh.

Tomcat: If you click on a "chatters" name...then on the PM button on the bottom...you get your own private screen...like ours. And then you have the ability to close out all other chatters...private. If they'd say this sort of thing in public...just think what's going on behind close doors!

Mac was thinking...and the thought was becoming warmer by the minute. What would Tom say in a room like that? Nervously she glanced over at Harm once again, industriously studying his computer monitor...hard at work. What would HE say?

Uneasily, she glanced over at her open door...and at his similarly revealing portal...so much like a private screen itself. If he could hear my thoughts now...if he could...what would he think, she wondered, how would he respond?

Suddenly another small PM screen popped up before her eyes.

Tom?

No.

Someone else. Someone with an incredibly dirty mind...and name to boot. Mac glanced at the bottom of the mini-screen, where she noticed a button marked "ignore". Without further thought, she clicked once on her mouse, and sent "Baby_Wanna_Do_It" to cyber oblivion.

He was quickly replaced by another cyber-suitor...and another. Soon the larger screen was a maze of smaller ones...all with a special cure for the blues.

Finally, Tom was able to wade through the turmoil and make his presence known.

Tomcat: Having a hard time getting back to me? I thought you'd stopped talking to me.

s/m: No...If I felt that way, you'd know it in no uncertain terms. Those little screens keep getting in the way. Every time I try to type, the message goes to someone else!

Tomcat: Well...I think there's a solution to that. I've been checking around, and if you click on the "Preferences" button below the main screen, it opens up an options page, it allows you to keep the smaller screens from popping up...shuts the door, so to speak.

Mac checked...and sure enough. There it was. A quick flick of the wrist and the problem was solved. In a blink the bombardment ceased, and she found herself alone in the tiny box once again...with Tom...the "door" closed behind them.

This time their tiny piece of cyberspace seemed so much closer, more intimate that it had felt in the Military Room. The unheard...and unseen voices of men and women fulfilling their fantasies behind similarly closed doors seemed all-pervasive...the visibly present main screen reminding them graphically of the fiery passions that lay hidden from prying eyes.

Mac's breathing became erratic as she watched the main screen portray a picture of explicit intimacy. Did Tom see that too? Was he watching the two lovers titillating each other in the seductive glow of the monitor? Was it embracing him as it was her? What would Harm think?

Guiltily, she glanced once more across the bullpen...her eyes meeting his. He was watching her! Harm was watching her! His face was unsmiling...expression probing. Did he know? Could he see?

Then it was the old Harm once more...his grin in place, the covers lifted. With a nod, he turned back to the task at hand...back to the monitor that beckoned him.

Mac inhaled sharply, as though prodded by some invisible finger, then returned her attention to the tiny private screen before her.

Tomcat: So...what do you think?

(pause)

Tomcat: Are you still there? (Did I scare you away?)

(another pause)

s/m: I'm here...

Tomcat: No comment?

Mac flushed...the heat rising from her collar and engulfing her face in a wave of flame.

s/m: No big deal. (right!) None of this is real. These people aren't really..."involved". This is just a game...no physical involvement. No one could possibly become "close" by tapping a keyboard.

Tomcat: No physical involvement...are you sure? (He checked his inseam...things were certainly happening here!)

s/m: I'm sure. (Oh!...I've GOT to loosen this tie!)

Tomcat: Positive? (right!)

s/m: Positive! (right!)

Tomcat: So...if I wanted to reach out and brush the pad of my thumb along your lower lip...you wouldn't feel a thing? (Gently he stroked his thumb with the adjoining index finger Why was it tingling so much?)

Mac's eyes closed...her lip quivering from the virtual caress.

s/m: No...nothing at all (liar!)

Tomcat: And...it wouldn't matter at all then if I kissed you?

s/m: It 's just a word...why would it? (I can feel him...I can actually FEEL him!)

Tomcat: I'm leaning toward you...your lips part, and I press mine against yours. Still nothing? (Why am I doing this? What would Mac think?)

s/m: Should there be? (Mac leaned back in her seat. Air... that's what she needed...air!)

Tomcat: My fingers brush gently across your breast...feeling your nipple harden beneath my touch. (Too much, Rabb. What in hell are you doing?)

(pause again)

Tomcat: Still there? (Or did that bone-headed move scare you as much as it did me?)

s/m: Still here. (I'm speechless...what do I say!)

Tomcat: Still no involvement? (glancing nervously across the bullpen at Mac...working studiously at her computer.)

s/m: None. (I'm glad he can't see my face...but Harm can!)

Tomcat: So...you'd like me to stop? (Please say "Yes"...or "No"...oh shit...what exactly do I want here?)

(lengthy pause here)

s/m: No. Don't stop. (Why? WHY!!)

Tomcat: I'm pressing my lips against your throat...tasting your pulse...inhaling your scent. (Mac's perfume floated across the distance from her desk)

In the mute darkness of her office, Mac felt herself tipping her head back...allowing him access...inviting him in.

Tomcat: I tug your blouse from your skirt and run my hands along your spine...up to the clasp of your bra. I fumble for a second...and you feel suddenly freed of all restraints. Still with me? (PLEASE...Don't say "no" now!!)

s/m: Yes (throat dry...body quivering. What's happening to me?)

Tomcat: I unbutton your blouse...my fingers teasing your nipples to rigid peaks...then enclosing one between my lips. (His inseam was straining for release...he HAD to stop this, and soon.)

Tomcat: Sucking gently...feeling you respond to my touch. (Why can't I stop? Why?)

Mac watched as the slow, sensuous words crept across the screen...calling to her...touching her...eliciting a response so deep, so intimate, that she could feel the slow curl of sexual tension building even now between her thighs. This couldn't be happening, she thought, glancing guiltily across the bullpen at her friend and partner who sat thoroughly engrossed...his expression taut, intent on making headway into his clerical nightmare. What would Harm do...what would he say?

Slowly she inhaled the gentle aroma of his after shave, stealing almost unnoticed through the darkness. Would Tom smell like that? Does Tom make love the way Harm would...say the things that Harm would say?

Trembling at the thought, Sarah lowered her eyes once more to the screen.

Tomcat: Should I continue...should I? (I should stop...I have to...this is insane. There sits Mac...not 10 yards away. What would it be like to be saying these things to her instead...touching her...finding out what makes her moan?)

s/m: Yes...please...don't stop. (Why can't I just say "No...stop"? This is sick...so wrong...insane.)

Tomcat: I release the button on your skirt (?)...and the zipper follows. The fabric falls away from your body like a shield that you no longer need. I slide my fingers beneath the elastic of your panties, and they too join the forgotten remnants that once separated us. So beautiful...so beautiful. (What am I saying? Why am I saying this? I have to end this...now...maybe Mac...?)

Tomcat: Have you any idea what we're doing here?

s/m: None whatsoever. I never thought I'd...you know...like this...

Tomcat: Me either. Do you want me to stop then? (What do I want her to say?)

Mac swallowed hard, feeling the moisture grow uncomfortably between her thighs. This was cyberspace... and Tom...a total stranger. He's not Harm...not even Mic...what was she doing? It had to end...maybe she could talk to Harm for a bit?

s/m: Yes...I think so. Everything has to come to an end. Some things should never have started in the first place. Maybe this is one of them. I'm sorry. Good-bye, Tom.

Tomcat: Good-bye Harriet. You'll be hard to forget.

The tiny screen vanished, and once again the world of cyberspace glared back at her from the impersonal monitor.

(a knock)

"Harm!"

"Wow...did you jump!" he smiled, his grin a little forced... strained. "I'm going out to get a bite to eat...wanna come?"

Mac cleared her throat. "Sure...give me a minute, okay?"

Once more she gazed longingly at the glowing screen...her eyes pleading for the "voice" of the lover she'd just abandoned. She'd be hard to forget? He'd be impossible!

 

They'd chosen the buffet at a local burger chain...the one boasting the smiling visage of a young redheaded girl, adorned with braids and freckles on the storefront...just something fast and filling before returning to the necessities of the workplace.

Silently Mac sat, idly pushing her pasta around and around her foam plate, thinking of what had just transpired in cyberspace. It had been so real...so incredibly physical. How could that be? They were just words...typed at that. How could they have touched her so completely?

Mutely she turned her gaze upon her dining partner. Harm would never find himself in a quandary like this...not good old steady Commander Rabb. He'd laugh if he knew she felt this way...could be so incredible vulnerable to suggestion. She could NEVER tell him...of that she was sure.

But, as she watched him scarf down another forkful of Pasta Prima Vera, she couldn't help but wonder what it would be like if he knew...if he had been the one on the other end of cyberspace. What if...

No.

This was wrong on so many levels. She couldn't go on harboring these thoughts...these feelings. Harm had Renee, and she had Mic...and Tomcat was just an illusion. She lived in the real world...not one made up of fantasy and anonymous passions. This had to end. Immediately.

Briefly she scanned her partner's features once again. He was distant this evening...quiet and pensive. What was he thinking that had him in such a blue study? Was he thinking about the massive load of work that still awaited him at the office...of flying...of Renee? Had they...had he ever said the passionate words that had taken her so completely a mere hour before?

Suddenly she couldn't wait to return to the office. Could it be that Tom was still online? Had they been too sane...too reasonable in their assessment of the situation? She had to know. She had to talk to him just one last time. She had to...

Harm shifted uneasily in his chair, as though thinking of something far away from the situation at hand. His fork, now poised unmoving before his lips, dripped pasta sauce atop the back of his resting hand...where it remained unnoticed. The look in his eyes was distant... unfocussed...not at all typical of the formidable attorney and aviator that he'd struggled to become in life. And yet an impatience hovered just beyond his vision...an urge to be done and move on that hadn't been there on previous visits.

"Are you done, Mac?" he asked softly, his eyes coming to rest gently on his friend's warm and welcome features. Why did it seem that there was more to his question... innuendoes yet unsaid? Softly he slipped his hand across the table and covered her own.

"Mac? Are you okay? Tower to MacKenzie. You're clear to land."

Mac blinked once...twice, then noticed the warmth of his hand on hers. How long had it been there, she wondered as she felt his body heat radiate upward along her arm...filling her mind...her body. How long had they been in contact?

"Oh...Harm. Sorry. I guess I just had a lot on my mind. Yeah...I'm done. We should get back."

Quickly they disposed of their leftovers, and returned to the office...each determined to lose themselves in the demands at hand. But once behind their desks they found themselves once more lost in the convolutions of cyberspace.

As Mac watched the glowing rectangle of her monitor begin to speak to her once more, she rose, and for reasons beyond rational thought, she closed the blinds to her office and shut the door behind her. Strange, she thought...Harm had done the same thing. Maybe he needed the solitude of a closed office to really focus...to get caught up.

Well...she had work to do as well, she ruminated as she heard the mechanical squeal that announced the progress her server was making at connecting her once again to cyberspace. The computer would just be "background music", she decided, grasping yet another file in her quivering hands. There wouldn't be any visits from faceless lovers cluttering up her screen...her mind, again.

But try as she might to avoid it...in a matter of minutes she once more found herself clicking the steps away to connect her to the chat room of her cyber lover. And then he was with her once more.

Tomcat: You're back. I didn't think I'd see you again.

s/m: Me either. I think I lost something...my underwear. Have you seen it around here anywhere? LOL (Keep it light, Marine...keep it light.)

(pause)

Tomcat: Harriet...I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done what I did. It wasn't right...and for what it's worth it wasn't "me". This place...it does something to a person...brings out things that might better be left hidden.

s/m: ...or brought out into the open. Maybe what you said...what we did, was something we both needed. If there's any guilt to be had...then I'm afraid we'll just have to share in it. I'm just as "guilty" as you are.

Tomcat: Then you don't hate me?

s/m: No Tom...I couldn't. I know it sounds crazy, but I know you. I feel like we've shared before...touched before. How can that be?

Tomcat: I don't know, but I feel it too. Maybe some things just defy time and space. Is that too corny?

s/m: No Tom...not corny at all...not corny at all.

s/m: Tom?

Tomcat: Yes?

s/m: You know this has to end, don't you?

Tomcat: I know. Sadly...I know.

s/m: Would you do something for me before we sign off?

Tomcat: Anything...just ask.

s/m: I know this is crazy...but would you make love to me one last time?

(another pause)

He began.

Tomcat: Picture us on a boat...a ferry, crossing the bay. It's nighttime, and our eyes meet...a mutual need evident in our gaze. You reach out to me...and I gratefully accept.

Tomcat: We were heading out to dinner, but now dinner is the furthest thing from our minds. Instead we return to our hotel...to the privacy of our room...to the intimacy that exists behind our shuttered eyes.

s/m: I hear the door close behind me...a mute counterpoint to the erratic beating of my heart. And then I feel your arms circling me...drawing me against you...into you. (Oh, God...this is so real...so real.)

Tomcat: Gently I nuzzle your throat, my fingers brushing softly across your breasts...your nipples hardening beneath my touch. (I can feel her...she's here!)

s/m: I turn...pressing my body against yours...feeling your need growing between us...reaching out to me...seeking my flesh...my warmth.

Tomcat: I draw you into my embrace...my fingers searching for the button...the zipper on your skirt...a soft buzz, and it falls silently to the floor in a silken haze. I slip your blouse...soft and loose, over your head, and it too joins it's mate on the floor at your feet.

s/m: Gazing into your eyes, I reach behind me and release the clasp that holds my breasts bound in the satin and lace of my bra...strapless...wispy...gone. (My nipples...so hard they hurt. How can this be?)

Tomcat: You're beautiful...so beautiful. I can't keep my eyes off of you. Urgently, I scoop you up in my arms and carry you to the bed...our bed...and hastily toss my clothing to the four winds...another barrier fallen.

s/m: I caress your body with my eyes...liking what I see...wanting what I see. I open my arms and you enter my embrace...flesh against flesh...your firm planes pressed intimately into the soft curves of my body...

Tomcat: I part your lips with my tongue...the soft essence of your mouth filling mine...filling me. My hand finds your breast once more...so hard...so soft...then continues it's exploration downward toward the elastic of your panties. ( I need to shift...this position is becoming VERY uncomfortable!)

s/m: (gasping) I run my hand through your hair, feeling the silken strands sliding sensuously through my fingers. Your hand...what it's doing to me. OH!

Tomcat: I sense your acceptance...your need...and I continue my journey. My fingers slide unerringly beneath the elastic of your panties...touching you where you most desire to be touched. I feel your heat, the fluid hunger of your body as I gently massage between the delicate folds of your femininity. (I need to shift again. This HAS to be the most uncomfortable chair in existence. Why didn't I ever notice it before?)

s/m: I arch my back...pressing against your hand....your fingers. (Oh...incredible....but I'm getting so wet! I can't sit on my skirt like this! I'd better lift it, or else...)

Tomcat: Slowly I slide your panties down your legs, then off the end of your toes, my eyes stroking your glowing form. Then parting your thighs, I kneel between them and continue with my tongue what my fingers had only begun.

Harm licked his lips and took a sip of the warm, sweet coffee that rested beside him. Tentatively he reached for his zipper, if for no other reason than that he'd desperately run out of room. Swallowing hard, his hand dropped tensely to his side. No. He couldn't...he wouldn't.

Tomcat: My tongue finds your delicate nub...teasing it to a rigid peak...tasting your sweet nectar flowing against my lips. (Oh...this is incredible!)

s/m: I can feel your hot breath between my thighs... your lips...your tongue carrying me to places beyond this room...beyond ourselves. I feel the slow coil of my release begin to build...filling me...consuming me. I shiver. Delicious...OMG...delicious!

Tomcat: You tremble...your body sending signals that are hard to ignore...but I wait. I want to please you...to feel the hot flood of your essence between your thighs...to feel you quaking against me before I...

s/m: OMG...Tom!! I.......

Tomcat: Quickly I cover your body with my own, thrusting my hardened flesh into your soft, molten core. I feel your heat surround me...engulfing me...drawing me deeper. Deeper. Deeper.

s/m: Again...twice in so many minutes, I feel my climax build. I dig my nails into my palms to keep from clawing you, then draw my whitened knuckles against your spine...across your buttocks. You tremble. You shudder... and then I feel it.

Tomcat: My release is cataclysmic. I cry out your name...holding you to me...feeling the frantic play of your flesh around me as I join you in molten ecstasy. (OOOHHHH...why can't she be here...now...with me?)

s/m: Control lost, I melt in your embrace...my body quivering in the afterglow of your passion and mine. I wipe the thin line of perspiration from your lip as you sink gently against my breast...passion spent...boneless. A tear forms. (We can never be this way again...never ...again. Where do I go from here?)

Tomcat: I touch your face...knowing that this is our swan song...our last good-bye. A piece of you will always be with me...you know that...don't you?

s/m: I know, Tom. I know. But all things must come to an end. Good-bye Tom...good-bye.

Tom: Good-bye. Don't forget me...please...

And then the screen vanished...the names Tomcat and s/m disappeared forever. It was over.

Slowly Mac shut down her system and returned control to reality. It was time to go home. There was nothing to be served by sitting here any longer. There would be no work done this night.

Slowly she smoothed her skirt back down over her hips and took her jacket from of the hanger in the corner. She clicked off her desk lamp and watched as the world swallowed the last vestige of her fantasy life.

Still trembling, she walked across the bullpen to wish Harm a good-night. He was still hard at work...sitting now as though stunned in front of his blankly staring computer monitor...making the transition from one task to yet another.

"I'm leaving now, Harm. Don't work too late. This stuff will be here tomorrow, you know."

Harm smiled weakly. "That's what I'm afraid of...that it will."

Mac smiled back...a note of reassurance...of tenderness in her voice.

"Don't worry, Harm," she said, "...all things must come to an end."

And with that she turned, leaving the door ajar, and headed in the direction of the elevator...her heels tapping a lonely rhythm across the bullpen floor. Dimly, as the first slow dawn of understanding crept across his features, he saw the elevator door open...close...and then she was gone.

All things must come to an end.

All things must...

The Marines...

s/m.....Harriet...Mac...

In an avalanche of emotion, the realization came crashing down around him. Even through cyberspace the attraction had been there...evident in the mere passing of words across an impersonal electronic screen.

s/m...Harriet...Mac

The words whirled discordantly through his mind, over and over. He needed to catch up to her...needed to tell her that he was Tomcat...that they were no longer separated by cyberspace...that all things didn't have to come to an end.

But he couldn't.

How could he?

It would never be the same out here in the harsh light of the real world...not like it had been in there. What they'd shared had been a few brief moments of emotional release in the safe haven of anonymity...something fragile. It would never survive the realities of everyday life.

And would Mac even want him to rip off the cozy cover Harriet and Tom had placed on their relationship? Would the knowledge embarrass her...shame her? Would it ultimately end up driving them further apart, losing the intimacy they now held locked in their hearts and minds? Could they work together under those circumstances...be together ever again?

The questions tore at him...taunted him...screamed in his mind.

He couldn't tell her.

Mac must never know of the delicate bridge they'd crossed this night...never know of the trembling need he'd felt for her in the dim glow of his computer monitor. It was his alone to live with...his to suffer through each time he watched her pass his office door...his to hold and keep secret from the outside world. It was the only way...the only way.

He could never tell.

..never tell

..never.

Woodenly, Harm rose and shut down his computer terminal. Then, clicking off his light, he felt the soft darkness enclose him gratefully in it's faceless embrace.

Sighing deeply, the young Commander crossed the bullpen and punched the control to summon the elevator...his finger trembling oh so gently on the button, as though seeking the warmth of a lover's flesh.

Then he too was gone.

The chapter finished.

The book closed.


The end.


Alternate ending: (just in case the first one had you throwing rocks at your monitor)

And would Mac even want him to rip off the cozy cover Harriet and Tom had placed on their relationship? Would the knowledge embarrass her...shame her? Would it ultimately end up driving them further apart, losing the intimacy they now held locked in their hearts and minds? Could they work together under those circumstances...be together ever again?

The questions tore at him...taunted him...screamed in his mind.

And then he knew.

Three strikes and you're out.

He'd lost his last best chance to his own stupidity, and so many before because of blind ignorance. He couldn't let this one slip away...he couldn't.

Quickly he rose and raced toward the elevator...knowing at last that he'd made the only decision that he could live with.

Impatiently he shifted from foot to foot, waiting for the door to open, finally...in desperation...heading for the stairs. He opened the door to the dimly lit staircase just as the elevator announced it's arrival with a distant "ding".

"Tom?"

He froze. Had he heard correctly?

"You're Tom, aren't you?" she said, her voice hushed and unsure.

He was thunderstruck...his steps crossing the floor toward her as though driven by an unseen hand. "How did you know? It just came to me. I...I was just..."

"...coming after me? Is that what you wanted to say?"

"Yes. I was coming after you. Mac...not everything has to come to an end...not everything. I've been an idiot...for so long. How many chances does this make? I'm afraid there might not be any more. Does that make any sense?"

"It does to me, Harm...it always has. When it finally dawned on me, down in the parking lot...who you were...I almost didn't come back. I didn't want to be hurt again...not again. But...here I am. Was I wrong?"

Gently he cupped her face between his trembling fingers. "You weren't wrong, Sarah...you were right...so right. It just took me a lifetime to realize it."

Then, smiling, he continued. "You know, if Tom and Harriet can make it, so can we. It's not impossible. I don't want to go back to the way we were, Sarah. I need more...I need you."

The elevator door closed once more, it's large luminous portal of light extinguishing, leaving the two lovers to the velvety blackness beyond. They'd known each other for years, but had finally met in the dim reaches of cyberspace. It would be a story to tell their children...and their grandchildren...a tale to survive the erosion of time.

End of chapter.

Book closed.


The end.