The events of the last few months, hell, the last year and a half had really prevented Nate from ever taking a vacation. The President's orders on Friday afternoon had required him to take the next week off. Nate was a month behind on his reservist duties, so he talked to the Quantico CO and inquired as to whether he could four days at the base this week. With his usually Gunnery Sergeant Scout-Sniper instructor down with a nasty case of food poisoning, Colonel Rypien agreed to bring the Secretary in for a few days. With his footlocker in hand and his Class As on, Secretary Nate Ross became Marine Corps Major Nathan Ross. He reported at 0645 to his Commanding Officer who received him and assigned him to the shooting range. Nate got into his BDUs and headed out to the range.

He was joined by his other Marines promptly at 0730. The sight of a six-foot-three Marine Corps Major in place of the usual five-foot-ten Marine Corps Gunnery Sergeant threw the Marines for a second. "I am Major Ross and I'll be your instructor for the week." Nate grinned from behind his sunglasses. "Are we all assembled, Staff Sergeant?" Nate looked to his chief NCO.

"No sir, we're missing Corporal LaRue and Lance Corporal Burns." The Staff Sergeant answered.

"Are they usually tardy, Staff Sergeant?" Nate eyeballed the Marines currently assembled along the firing line.

"We have had some issues with Corporal LaRue in the past, sir, but Lance Corporal Burns has always been a squared away Marine." The Staff Sergeant replied.. From the brush behind the target range, a flare went up followed by the sound of a rifle shot in the background. Nate's Marines notably flinched.

"That was a dummy mine, flare." Nate stated to the Staff Sergeant. "Is Colonel Rypien running an exercise in the woods, Staff Sergeant?"

"No, sir. No exercises expected until this afternoon, Major." The Staff Sergeant answered.

"Staffs, grab the sergeant here and go investigate." Nate ordered, his Staff Sergeant who pulled one of the Marines off the firing line. "And Staffs?"

"Yes, sir?" The Staff Sergeant stopped and came to attention.

"Take all necessary precautions, last thing I need is to go in after more Marines." The Major directed.

"Aye, aye, sir." The Staff Sergeant looked to his CO who handed him a radio and he headed toward the brush with a sergeant riding shotgun.

"Lieutenant?" The Major called to the only officer in the class.

"Yes, Major." The Lieutenant came to attention.

"Head up to the office, get Colonel Rypien down here ASAP." Nate looked to his Marines.

"Major Ross, Staff Sergeant calling in, sir." The Staff Sergeant chimed through the radio. "Found Lance Corporal Burns, sir. Dead, single shot through the head."

"Can you bring him back?" Nate inquired.

"I could try, sir. But one thing concerns me, Major, the wound looks like one of our M40 rounds." The Staff Sergeant responded the sound rifle fire could be heard in the background. "Orders, sir?"

Nate paused and thought for a second. "Staffs, get you and the Sergeant back here. We'll get orders and equipment and proceed accordingly."

"Yes, sir." The Staff Sergeant obeyed and headed back out of the brush.

"Major Ross!" The rough, cigar muffled voice of Colonel Rypien sounded. "What the hell is going on? I let you in here for a few days and on your first morning, you've got missing Marines and trapped ones in the woods."

"And one dead one, sir. Lance Corporal Burns didn't miss roll, sir. He'd been killed" Nate offered. "Staffs informs me that it appears to be a single shot M40 round. We still have no sign of Corporal LaRue either."

"Lieutenant Maxwell." Colonel Rypien called the young Marine off the firing line. "Go search the barracks for Corporal LaRue and his weapon. Major Ross, get the rest of your men suited up, you're going hunting."

"Aye, aye, sir." Nate nodded and began to lead his men to quartermaster for their ghillie suits. "Colonel, sir?" Nate turned back and looked over his shoulder. "I suggest you call JAG, sir?"

"Why would I do that, Major?" Colonel Rypien fixed his hands to his hips.

"Sir, we need to make sure this proceeds in accordance with the UCMJ so that we can nail this guy's ass to the wall." Nate reasoned.

"Wise suggestion, Major." Colonel Rypien exhaled a cloud of smoke. The Colonel headed for the station phone on the firing line and called into his office for his yeoman. "Sergeant, get me the Judge Advocate General's Office!"

1341 ZULU

JAG HEADQUARTERS

FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

"Commander Turner, Colonel, take a seat." The Admiral waved the two of them to take a seat. "About fifteen minutes ago, I got a call from Colonel Gill Rypien, the commander at Quantico Marine Corps Base. Apparently a Corporal Peter LaRue killed Lance Corporal Matthew Burns in the brush behind the scout-sniper target range at the base. The watch officer on the range sent a recon party into the brush to uncover the situation after the explosion of a dummy mine and gunshot created suspicion."

"Who was the watch officer on the range, sir?" Commander Turner piped up.

"Major Nathan Ross." The Admiral stated plainly. "Colonel Rypien has ordered the Major and his men up into the woods to pursue Corporal LaRue. The Major is ordered to dig him out."

"As I understand the Major's record, sir, this could be a very short day for Corporal LaRue." Sturgis piped up.

"That's why the Major recommended to Colonel Rypien that a JAG officer be sent in to keep things in line under the UCMJ." The Admiral added on to Commander Turner's outburst. "I believe that the Major will do as Colonel Rypien orders him to and he will shoot Corporal LaRue."

"If the Corporal doesn't shoot him first, sir." Mac whispered.

"Mac, I realize that your relationship with the Secretary is going to lead to the desire to be protective but believe me when I say that I've read the man's service record. The Corporal would have a better shot at a snipe out in those woods than he would at Major Ross." The Admiral shook his head. "You two get out to Quantico and make sure that this doesn't get out of hand." Sturgis and Mac came to attention.

"Aye, aye, sir." Mac answered for the two of them.

"Dismissed." The Admiral indicated for the two of them to leave his office. Mac and Sturgis moved out into the bullpen.

"Colonel, I think you should remove yourself from this case." Sturgis stated bluntly.

"Sturgis, where the hell did that come from?" Mac turned on him.

"Mac, your boyfriend's in the bush trying to chase down a Marine who has already killed one person this morning. There's no way you can even pretend to be impartial no matter how hard you try on this one." Sturgis argued as they moved to her office.

"I told Harm, I told Brumby and now I'll tell you, Commander. I do not let my emotions dictate how I approach a case. I don't care if it's my boyfriend, my son or my sister out in that bush, I will approach this case the exact same way." Mac organized her things and tucked her cap under her arm. She headed with Sturgis for the door. "Commander, the Admiral respectfully disagrees with you and if I enjoy the confidence of my Commanding Officer, that's about all I need in this circumstance."

"Which is fine for me, but I'm not sure it's something that the Secretary would like to hear, Colonel." Sturgis shook his head as they stood in front of the elevator.

"Oh no, Sturgis, you do not get to play relationship counselor with me." Mac shook her head.

"My apologies, Colonel, but as your friend I'd be a little more concerned in the instance that you were in a relationship with a man that you were able to emotionally separate yourself from so easily." Sturgis assumed that kind of holier than though preacher tone he used from time to time.

"Sturgis, I said that I was able to stop myself from being led by my emotions, I never said that I wouldn't feel anything about the danger involved in this case." Mac stepped on to the elevator with Sturgis.

"Mac, if what the Admiral said was true, you probably don't have anything to worry about." Sturgis waited impatiently for the elevator doors to open. The Admiral was right, Mac hadn't seen his service record but she had seen the inside of his kill book. She knew the names, not the missions or medals. She knew about his time spent with drug interdiction forces in Panama and Colombia; she knew about his mission as a part of Operation Just Cause and Operation Desert Storm. If he'd stayed on active duty, he would have easily been a Lieutenant Colonel by now, maybe even a full bird with command over an MEU.

In his office, the Admiral was having similar thoughts. It wasn't often that good officers simply gave up their service in the Marine Corps. He'd served with distinction, completed over forty missions as a Marine Corps sniper. AJ had been able to get most of his service record un-redacted. Not only had then Lieutenant Nathan Ross served the Marine Corps as a sniper, he had also served on classified missions for the Central Intelligence Agency in Libya, Argentina, Indonesia and Nicaragua. Snipers normally had a short shelf life, at least as snipers, often as not they were reassigned to jobs as regular infantry, drill instructors or even as members of embassy detachments. Life as an infantry officer likely would have awaited Nathan Ross had he remained in the Corps, followed by life as a staff officer once he got his bottlecap, followed by life as a field commander once he got his bird.

"Have you talked to Harm since he left?" Sturgis turned to Mac as they drove to Quantico.

"Still waiting for him to apologize for leaving without saying goodbye." Mac was curt with Commander Turner.

"I've been waiting for Harm to apologize for something he did when we were at the Academy back in '82. It's been twenty years and he hasn't apologized, he also probably won't if he even remembers." Sturgis cleared his throat and drummed on the dashboard nervously. "He's a really good guy, Mac, he just kind of has a propensity for wandering on to an emotional firing range during live fire exercises."

"Sturgis, if I meant to Harm what everyone around here seems to think I mean to him, he would have found some non-adolescent way of telling me that. He would have found some time, some place, some circumstance where he could express desire for me and I could respond." Mac's gaze hardened on the road in front of the car. "Come on, the night of my engagement party, Sturgis? In the wake of my failed engagement? Harm picked times that were emotionally safe because he knew that I would snap back at him and he could play the wounded puppy to the big bad Marine who walked all over his flyboy heart."

"You never took charge, Mac." Sturgis countered.

"Yes, I did." Mac cut him off. "One night on the ferry in Sydney. He wasn't with Renee yet and I was still spurning Mic's advances. There were so many flirtations and hints, Sturgis, for almost two years I tried to signal him, tell him, stay open for him."

"I didn't know that, Mac. But you might just be giving me one side of the story. Everyone tries to put on their best face with other people. I hear one story from you, I'd probably hear another from Harm, if I asked him and could actually get him to talk about it." Sturgis shook his head. "Can we just drop it?"

"Smartest thing you've said all day." Mac answered.

1610 ZULU

NAS FALLON

FALLON, NEVADA

"Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to TOP GUN!" Keeter cheered as the newest class lined up on the tarmac. "I will be your lead flight instructor, Commander Keeter. Though, you will obviously know and address me as 'sir' or 'Commander'. To my right is your new CO, Captain Rabb. You will refer to him as 'Captain' or 'sir'. By his permission, if you are flying with him, you may be able to refer to him as Hammer." Keeter cracked his knuckles. "To the rear and to my left, you will see my guard dogs, the VFC-13 Saints. My squadron XO, Lieutenant Commander Rosales, known to you all as 'sir' but to me and the Captain as 'Rattler'. The squadron is, Lieutenant 'Dutch' Holland, Lieutenant 'Priest' Fanelli, Lieutenant 'Prowler' Kawami and Lieutenant 'Spartan' Dimitrakos."

"Aye, aye, sir." The new Top Gun class chorused.

"You are here because your past Commanding Officers and Air Group Commanders thought you had superior skills." Keeter rolled his eyes. "What the hell they saw, I have no idea because as aviators, they are required to have regular eye tests because standing in front of me I see the sorriest excuse for Naval Aviators that I have ever seen. I ought to send all of you for training as paddlers. But I have six weeks to turn you all into aviators that won't endanger the lives of five thousand plus sailors every time you attempt to land on a deck so by God, that's what I'm going to do."

"Sir, yes sir." The aviators chanted.

"This morning, we've got a pri-flight to test your mettle. You'll be going up against the Saints on your run, Captain Rabb will be observing from the flight tower. If even one of you can survive fifteen minutes with the Saints, you'll get your first marks on the ready board." Keeter pulled his helmet out from under his arm. "Get into your birds, you get a five minute head start." The new TOP GUN class headed off to their birds and Keeter walked into a fathering of the Saints. "I want'em all down in five minutes. If it takes longer than ten, I'm ordering all of you to clean the head with toothbrushes tonight, understood?"

"Yes, sir." Rattler answered for the squad.

"Good." Keeter walked over to Harm. "All squared away, sir."

"Little rough on the Saints, weren't you, Commander?" Harm questioned from behind his sunglasses.

"Just getting them ready, skipper." Keeter jeered.

"Then go duck hunting, Keeter." Harm nodded to his old friend who jogged over to his ride. The first Saint up into the air was Dutch, he was followed in turn by Prowler, Spartan, Priest, Rattler and Keeter. Harm stood up in the tower watching the action on radar. Last week, as the Saints prepared for the arrival of the new class, Harm had gone up with them. He'd gotten to know the flying styles of his instructors. Prowler and Spartan were daredevils, they flew with the most natural tenacity, trying to shake opposing pilots by doing the unexpected and unthinkable. Rattler was a weapons strategist, he knew every piece of hardware hanging from his bird and how to make best use of any in a given scenario. Dutch was a tactical pilot, just like Keeter said, everything by the book and preferred his missiles over a knife fight. Priest was the most naturally talented pilot Harm had ever seen. Stylistically, the young jock from Brooklyn reminded Harm of how a young Tom Boone must have flown. No one ever flew F-14s like the CAG. For a second, in his mind, Harm was transported back to the deck of the USS Ticonderoga in 1969, envisioning his dad and Tom Boone patrolling the skies in Uncle Ho's neighbourhood.

He looked down at the radar screen just in time to see Priest lock on to a couple of his new students and send them packing. After a few more minutes, there was one lone recruit weaving and diving through the Lahontan Valley trying to evade Prowler and Spartan. Harm watched the new recruit with some appreciation. He had successfully evaded two older more experienced aviators for going on seven minutes but his latest move had left him at a disadvantage. He had overshot his climb to scale a ridge in the valley and as a result was now flying somewhere in the vicinity of Angels 15. Just then, Harm saw the radar signature of an F-5 come soaring in from the opposite direction. Priest had kept himself under radar in the valley and was now closing in on the last recruit. Within seconds, he had missile lock and the last recruit was headed back to the tarmac.

"Nice flying, Priest." Harm radioed out to his pilot.

"Thank you, sir." The young Lieutenant replied appreciatively. "Eight minutes, thirty-seven seconds, Commander Keeter."

"No head detail for the Saints the, but we've still got ready room time with the recruits before anyone gets chow." Keeter led the Saints back down on to the tarmac. The recruits were lined up outside the door to the flight tower waiting for Harm to come down and address them. The Saints headed over from their birds which were busy being tended to in the hangars.

"Not bad for you first day, Saints." Harm looked over his instructors. "Priest, you've got greenie board honours for racking up the most kills today."

"Yes, sir." The young Italian Lieutenant broke his demeanour with a smile.

"As for you, recruits," Harm's head scanned slowly side to side. "This is Top Gun, those men are among the best the Navy has to offer, and when we're done with you six weeks from now, you may actually be worthy of flying with them. Commander Keeter will be addressing you in the ready room in fifteen minutes, go attire yourselves appropriately."

"Sir, yes sir." The recruits replied in chorus and dashed off.

1623 ZULU

QUANTICO MCB

QUANTICO, VIRGINIA

After it was confirmed that it was Corporal LaRue who had gone to ground in the brush after taking Lance Corporal Burns' life, Colonel Rypien had sent his scout-snipers into the brush after him. In his ghillie suit, complete with his M40A1 sniper rifle, Major Nate Ross stalked the woods where he had once trained for his duty as a Marine sniper. He knew where the rookies spent the night staked out. There were hundreds upon hundreds of acres of brush to comb through and he knew all the popular spots. Good snipers made their opponents come to them. Great snipers could stalk their opponents without ever breaking a twig or rustling a branch.

These woods would be crawling with Marines soon enough. The paint smeared under his eyes he kept the sun's invasion a minimum. He crawled up into an elm tree and gazed through his scope in an attempt to get the lay of the land. Scout-sniper training was an eight and a half week course, it used to be a full ten week course complete with an entry into the Marine Corps Wimbledon Cup at the end. The increase in both up and purse tempo at the Pentagon though, meant that the Corps needed to get more snipers into the field sooner rather than later.

From his perch, Nate could see two teams of Marines making their way up the ridge. Corporal LaRue had been sloppy in his killing of Lance Corporal Burns, he'd alerted officers capable of bringing in superior firepower to draw him out and he'd given away his presence. Perhaps most dangerously though, he'd tipped off one of the Marine Corps' best snipers to his skill level. Colonel Rypien had reacted too hastily though to the death of his Marine. He'd sought to kill a fly with a howitzer, not realizing that he could potentially do more harm by sending in large numbers of Marines than if he had simply let the Major lead in a few scout-sniper tandems.

It was just about 1130 hours on the East Coast, he could track Corporal LaRue for a few more hours in the daylight. He'd catch him for sure when the sun went down but if he got lucky, he would catch him earlier. He knew LaRue would have to climb the ridge to the caves near the top to keep warm for the night. He could intercept him on his way up there. If only Colonel Rypien would have the good sense to keep his Marines back behind fixed locations for the day. If he could keep the rest of the Marines from being killed, Nate could bring LaRue in and then maybe this whole thing wouldn't have to turn into some discount bin version of the Caleb Farmer incident. Nate loaded a five round magazine into his rifle and peered through the scope again. Nearly twenty years of this had given him keen eyes and a sense for finding other snipers even in the thickest brush. Scanning the area beneath his tree he could see one other scout sniper team cloaked by a mulberry bush and a few fallen oak logs. He shimmied down out of the elm tree and crept along the banks of a creak toward a familiar grouping of ivy bushes. Covered from head to toe, his skin was safe from the effect of the plant and it gave him a more commanding view of the area below.

The stoic Marine overlooked the clearing below. This was the terrain the Colonel wanted, understandable, he'd come up as a Huey pilot. The clearing was an LZ, but for a sniper it was open ground. Anyone walking across it was a sitting duck. There was no way to make use of natural terrain, no way of taking cover, the only thing you could rely on was speed and surprise. The sound of another high powered round discharging caught Nate's attention as it was followed in rapid succession by another two. He estimated that it couldn't be more than 1200 yards west. He moved himself out of his current position and headed east to investigate. Moving through some heavily wooded brush, Nate came upon a couple Marines pinned down behind a thankfully large piece of limestone. Major Ross positioned himself behind a tree, some 400 yards east and looked for Corporal LaRue.

He saw the end of an M40A3 gun barrel poking through a whole in a stump and he grinned maniacally. He moved his crosshairs back along the target line by about four feet and then adjusted for the distance and wind. He squeezed the trigger and fired off a shot. Nearly twenty years of doing this meant one thing, he could decipher what each sound meant. He was hoping he'd hit Corporal LaRue in the leg and obviously he had succeeded. There was a rampant rustling in the bushes around where the gun barrel had been. Nate rushed over to where the two wounded Marines were pinned down. "What's the situation, Sergeant?" Nate whispered.

"I'm hit in the hip, sir." The Marine answered, through gritted teeth. "It's nothing serious, but my buddy, Sergeant Grange is hit in the chest. He needs a medic, really bad."

"Alright, we've probably got about thirty seconds where we can safely move him." Nate looked at the tourniquet over the second sergeant's chest. "There's a clearing about 1200 yards east, we'll head there and call in a chopper. You've got your radio, right Sergeant?"

"Yes, sir." The Marine nodded. Nate and the one, less wounded Marine got to their feet and began to carry the other east toward the clearing. "Will he be okay, sir?"

"I don't know, Marine." Nate answered. "Keep pressure on his chest and call in the Huey. LaRue will be on the move by now."

"What makes you so sure, sir?" The Marine looked to his senior officer.

"I hit him, Sergeant." Nate cleared and checked his weapon. "He's bleeding which means that a bloodhound could track him without any serious difficulty. A Marine Corps sniper with 87 confirmed kills is a lot more dangerous than some inbred dog. I know where he was and I know he'll have to keep moving. I was planning to bring him in at nightfall, I may be able to bring him in earlier now. Give my regards to Colonel MacKenzie when you get back to the store."

"Colonel who, sir?" The Marine was suspicious.

"You'll know, Sergeant." Nate gave him a pat on the back and headed back into the brush. He moved back toward the wooded area where the two Marines had been shot. He walked up to the stump where he'd seen the gun barrel before and he saw a decent sized pool of red blood. He knelt down and scanned the area for the direction of the trail of blood. He figured that LaRue would head for the creek bed, wash the wound out and bandage it. Nate stalked the brush toward the creek bed, keeping the blood trail in his peripheral vision as long as he could. He saw the trail stop about fifteen feet from the creek bed where a small pool of blood stagnated. "Clever boy." Nate comically mused. LaRue was starting to think like a sniper, more importantly he was thinking like prey. The longer he stayed in one place, the more likely he would endanger himself. Nate headed toward the pool of blood cautiously, aware that it could be a trap. His eyes carefully scanned the area for any signs of another presence. He crouched down toward the pool and found some errant camouflage BDU threads. The tourniquet had obviously been applied to stop the bleeding. He could only go further up the ridge from here, closer to where he would have to spend the night.

1711 ZULU

QUANTICO MCB

QUANTICO, VIRGINIA

"Why hasn't there been any word from the Marines, sir?" Mac looked to Colonel Rypien.

"Because they are attempting to dig out a sniper, or at least a wannabe sniper who has gone to ground, Colonel." Rypien turned on Mac. "That's a tough enough task for them without having the squawk box ringing in their ears every few seconds. Besides, we just heard from two wounded Marines for whom a bird is on the way."

"Sir, your men, as of yet only have orders to capture Corporal LaRue, not to kill him." Sturgis jumped in.

"Commander, my men have authorization to do anything they want to bring him in. I will not be bringing charges against any man who feels the need to kill Corporal LaRue is he fires upon them." The Colonel went out to the helipad to greet the chopper. "As the convening authority, I would have to be the one to bring charges, wouldn't I, Commander?"

"Yes, sir, that's technically true." Sturgis wavered as he ducked under the rotating blades of the Huey.

"Lieutenant Chen!" The Colonel hollered for his aid. "Get this man into the base hospital." Chen and two other Marines carried the wounded Sergeant toward a waiting stretcher. "Are you wounded as well, Sergeant?"

"Yes, sir. I've got a 7.52 lodged in my hip but the Major's still up there hunting LaRue, sir." The Sergeant came to attention.

"The Major?" Mac questioned intently.

"Yes, ma'am. Major Ross is hot on the trail. He believes he should have Corporal LaRue in custody by nightfall, sir." The Sergeant returned his focus to his CO.

"I applaud his enthusiasm but I also hope he ups his timetable." Colonel Rypien chomped his cigar a little harder.

"Sergeant, is the Major wounded?" Mac questioned.

"You don't have to worry about that, ma'am." The Marine smiled.

"And why's that, Sergeant?" Mac pressed.

"Because you can't hurt a ghost, ma'am. And in those woods, that's what he might as well be." The Sergeant answered. "Are you Colonel MacKenzie, ma'am?"

"How did you know, Sergeant?" Mac looked puzzled.

"The Major said I would, ma'am. He also conveyed his regards." There was a knowing smile on the Sergeant's face.

"Dismissed, Sergeant." Colonel Rypien waved him off. "Listen to me, Colonel, I don't care if that is your boyfriend up on that ridge, he's a Marine, he's trained for this and he seems to have the situation well in hand."

"Which may be true, Colonel but you still haven't established rules of engagement for engaging Corporal LaRue and in fact, Colonel, being as the Corporal already appears to be seriously mentally disturbed, your actions may be seen to be exacerbating an already tenuous situation." Mac countered.

"Listen to me, Colonel MacKenzie, I've got one dead Marine already and two wounded ones. My orders are for my men to get Corporal LaRue out of those woods by whatever means they deem necessary, at this point I would even include deadly force in that." The Colonel jerked the cigar out from between his teeth. "Good enough for JAG?"

"I don't know if it's good enough, but it sure is clear enough." Mac came to attention and fired off a salute. Sturgis pulled her aside as they headed away from the helicopter.

"Mac, the last thing we need right now is to get into a contest of whose authority takes precedent with the Colonel because we're on his base and he will win that contest." Sturgis argued. "So far, the Colonel has acted within the parameters outlined for command response to such a scenario. We're just going to deal with that, JAG does not get to tell the Colonel how to use his Marines."

"Even if he becomes responsible for getting some of them killed?" Mac inquired.

"Hopefully, Major Ross is a good enough sniper to prevent that from happening." Sturgis led the two of them back toward the communications centre to monitor the radio transmissions.

2356 ZULU

NAS FALLON

FALLON, NEVADA

Harm and Keeter were keeping their eyes on the situation unfolding on their television screen. It seemed like every major news outlet had found some way to interrupt their regularly scheduled programming in order to cover the stand off at Quantico. It was captivating television to be sure, CNN was covering it like some kind of Jerry Bruckheimer special. Harm figured that Colonel Rypien was right to keep the cameras off the base. The last thing he likely wanted was a bunch of Marines second guessing themselves with the trained eye of a camera on them. That hadn't stopped the television news helicopters from circling the airspace over the base hoping to get some kind of passing look at the action below.

"Good luck to them." Keeter laughed. "Marine ghillie suits are designed to make a sniper tough to spot from five feet away much less fifty or five hundred."

"I hope Mac's okay." Harm whispered under his breath and Keeter looked at him curiously. "I just mean, if a person I was involved with was up in the woods with a crazy man with a high powered rifle, I'd be kind of worried.

"Yeah, that's what you meant, Hammer." Keeter scoffed. "As I understand it, Corporal LaRue ought to be the one who's worried. Can you think of anyone you would less like to have hunting you than the Major?"

"A Navy SEAL team?" Harm offered flippantly.

"Well, that's true enough I suppose." Keeter turned toward the window. "You tracked a Gunnery Sergeant at Quantico, something like this a few years back, didn't you?"

"That was different, I didn't think the Gunny was going to kill anyone that day, Corporal LaRue has already shot two people. The Major is going to have to be doubly careful to avoid having a grapefruit sized exit wound left in his skull." Harm sipped at a mug of coffee. "About this morning's exercise, Jack. You rode the Saints a little hard, didn't you?"

"Harm, you know that it's one thing to be a Navy pilot, it's a hell of an honour but it's something else to be a Top Gun grad. I've got to keep the Saints motivated so that the challenge for the recruits is as stiff as possible. It's the only way they'll be any better by the time they graduate." Keeter shook his head. "They were good this morning."

"I'll say." Harm expanded Keeter's thought. "Priest has to be one of, if not the best pilot I have ever seen up close."

"Even better than Luke?" Keeter pointed a question. Both of them had known Luke Pendry at flight school, Luke was the best pilot that any of them had ever flown with until APTERN ended his career very prematurely. There was some room for comparison between Pendry and Priest, Harm concluded that Priest likely had more natural talent but Luke had the kind of attitude that allowed him to pull of more high risk moves.

"He's probably as good as Luke, but he's not as good as the CAG." Harm nodded, sufficiently confident in his evaluation.

"Well, I'm sure we'll see." Keeter headed toward the door. "I gotta run a seminar in the ready room, permission to be dismissed, sir?"

"Permission granted, Commander Keeter." Harm threw him a salute and Keeter disappeared through the door.

0011 ZULU

MCB QUANTICO

QUANTICO, VIRGINIA

Night had fallen on the Quantico woods. Near the top of the ridge, Nate lay in wait hidden in a hollow under a creek-bed. It wasn't the kind of place you'd want to spend the night, the conditions were very conducive to things like pneumonia, especially at this time of the year. In his ghillie suit, he'd just look like a bit of mossy undergrowth on the hull side of an oak. A night vision scope and incredible focus was the only thing standing between Nate Ross and the end of this hellish day. He scanned the area, the green back drop of the scope lighting everything in range and then he saw it. What looked like a moving shrub headed for the old abandoned bear caves near the top of the ridge.

Nate paced his heartbeats, making sure to find the gap between the two. He'd killed eighty-seven men with this gun and tonight, he could easily snuff him out. He could chalk up number eighty-eight and Colonel Rypien wouldn't even dress him down about it, hell he'd probably pin a medal on his chest. Nate took aim and fixed in on a non lethal shot. He adjusted for the breeze and the distance before firing. In his scope, a few millimeters was the difference between a six foot hole and a really bad scar. Nate squeezed the trigger and within nanoseconds, the bullet had lodged itself in Corporal LaRue's gut. Nate slung his rifle over his shoulder and drew out his knife and service side arm along with the few yards of rope that he'd procured from the quartermaster.

Nate kept himself hidden until he was within three feet of Corporal LaRue. He drew back the hammer on his Beretta. "Don't even think about reaching for it, LaRue, I'll cripple you." Nate warned and the Corporal raised his arms into the air. Nate tied the Corporal's behind his back. "Corporal LaRue, I'm taking you into my custody, you will be turned over to the Military Police once we return to the base, they'll read you your rights." Nate dragged the Marine behind him as they started down the winding path that would eventually lead them back down to the target range where they had started their day. Nate was looking forward to getting out of this damn ghillie suit and indulging himself in a long shower. He was looking forward to powering down a mind that had been running double time all day. He heard a faint scratching noise in the foreground. It sound like someone was trying to speak but unable to catch their breath. He focused his eyes, he needed to pick up the slightest movement, about 500 yards ahead, along the left side of the path there looked to be a dog or fox or something writhing about on the ground in obvious discomfort.

As Nate dragged Corporal LaRue along with him, the object became larger and larger. When they got there and Nate looked down, he saw Lieutenant Maxwell fighting furiously to stay alive even with two stab marks in his lower chest cavity. "Lieutenant, can you speak?" Nate questioned.

"Not ...well......sir." The young Marine croaked out. Nate knelt down, took the rope and tied one end about his belt to prevent Corporal LaRue from escaping before, tearing off his pant leg at the knee.

"Alright, Lieutenant, this is gonna hurt like a bitch, but stay with me, Marine, alright?" Nate coached. He took the pant leg and gently plugged the stab wounds with it before cutting off some excess rope and tying them down. "Can you walk, Lieutenant?" Nate waited for the officer's response and he got a shaking head in refusal. Nate nodded in understanding, crouched down and picked the Marine up in a fireman's carry over his shoulders. "Corporal LaRue!" Nate got the attention of his prisoner. "If you try and run or do anything to cause me to drop this Marine, I will cut your tongue and other appendages off and leave them out here for the bears and wolves, understand?" The terrified young Marine nodded comprehension. So, Nate carried one Marine on his back and dragged a disgraced one down the path back to the base.

Back at the base, Mac and Sturgis were growing impatient. "Why haven't we heard anything?" Mac looked to her new partner. He said he should be back in by nightfall. But night had fallen and she knew that the longer this went on, the worse it got for the Marines tracking LaRue.

"I don't know, Mac." Sturgis shook his head. All the Marines had come back in except for Major Ross and Lieutenant Maxwell. The Colonel had his men waiting by a radio hoping for something. Nate hadn't taken a box with him on his track, so if they were going to see him again tonight, it would be because he hiked back in.

"Good news, JAG." Colonel Rypien came out, new cigar stuck jauntily between his teeth. "Huey doing its last run of the night along the path. Saw two runners coming back in, one held captive, the other carrying some kind of big pack. He figures they're less than a mile out." The Colonel watched a smile form on Mac's face. "Looks like I didn't need those rules of engagement, Colonel MacKenzie."

"I guess not, Colonel." Mac tried to hide her smile.

"Do they know if the Marine leading the captive back in is Major Ross, Colonel?" Sturgis interrupted the lightening mood.

"No way that they could." The Colonel answered.

"It's him." Mac nodded slowly.. The three of them stood out on the crow's nest overlooking the range, watching a little fog gather as the breeze and the dew cloaked the field.

"Why are you so sure that it's Major Ross, Colonel?" Colonel Rypien dug into his cigar.

"Sometimes you just know, Colonel." Mac replied cryptically.

"This another one of those famous MacKenzie visions?" Sturgis chuckled lightly.

"I'll never tell." Mac pursed her lips. Mac's eyes focused off into the distance, she saw the mist move and start to dissipate between the two birch trees. She swore the night got darker right there. A shadow began to form, it got bigger and closer slowly. Mac climbed down off the crow's nest, the Colonel and Sturgis in tow.

Colonel Rypien called in on his radio. "Get me a bus and the ."

"Aye, sir." The radio echoed back. The amorphous shadow took form and colour. First, Corporal LaRue became visible, then the rope that held him captive. Finally, the Marines who were on the honourable side of the day's events.

"Major Ross reporting, sir." Nate sounded exhausted and dehydrated. "Lieutenant Maxwell is injured sir, two knife wounds in the chest."

"A bus is on the way, Major." Colonel Rypien announced to the Marine Major. Within seconds, a Humvee with a medic and a couple members of the Military Police appeared on the range. They took Corporal LaRue into custody and the medic tended to Lieutenant Maxwell on the back of the Humvee. "Well damn, Major, you're almost two hours behind time."

"Sorry, sir." Nate came to attention and fixed a salute. "Figured you'd rather have the mission behind time and complete than on time and incomplete, sir."

"You're lucky I'm results oriented, Major." Colonel Rypien gave him a pat on the shoulder. "Alright, take your suit back to your locked and you've got permission to secure."

"Thank you, sir." Nate fired off his salute and headed for the lockers.

"And Major!" The Colonel called after him. "Take tomorrow, you'll finish the week on Friday instead of the Thursday."

"Aye aye, sir." Nate grinned and continued off toward the lockers with Mac alongside.

"Why didn't you take a radio?" Mac pushed him.

"Because I didn't want to get shot at." Nate retorted. "I saved Marines today, Colonel and I got you involved to make sure Corporal LaRue faced a jury for his crimes instead of the wrong end of my scope."

"You got me involved so you could show off." Mac rebuffed. She wasn't really pissed off at him, she was actually pretty proud but she had just been worried for so long that day, she'd ridden an emotional razor's edge since before noon and she wanted a little emotional empathy, especially from her boyfriend. He looked her down, he wasn't going to fight with her, not after the day he'd had. He just shook his head and kept marching on toward the lockers. If she'd wanted an excuse to be mad at him, to fight with him or even an excuse to push him away, here it was. But she didn't. "Nate, wait!"

He stopped and looked back. She caught up with him. "Listen, Mac, I didn't mean to do you any ill will. I just, I just wanted to make sure that this went down the way it's supposed to. That nobody who didn't have to die did. You did that by keeping the Colonel in check, I did that by tracking LaRue. Whether you believe it or not, whether it feels like it or not, today was a good day." He kissed the top of her head.

"You weren't trying to be patronizing with that kiss on top of my head?" She questioned.

"I just didn't want to get any of my paint on that gorgeous face." His white teeth shone against the black, brown and olive paint on his face. "Now, let me get this suit off and catch a few minutes in the rain room."

"I don't know, that ghillie suit's kind of sexy." Mac toyed with a coy smile.

"If I gotta make another one of these tonight, Mac, I may sleep for a week." He was fighting exhaustion. "You gonna drive me home? Let Sturgis take the car back to JAG?"

"You're on, Marine." She nodded to him. "But you take longer than eleven minutes in the rain room and I'm coming in after you."

"If you're expecting the typical reaction to that invitation you've underestimated my level of exhaustion." He pushed a smile across his cheeks. "I'll see ya in ten minutes, Mac."