.
Seamus "Sledge" Cowden
"…That about sums it up, everyone…", he ended his lecture. "…We rendezvous at the range at 1400 hours. Bring your kit, test your magazines, zero your sights, review the charts and fire sequences at the armory..."
The audience responded to Seamus with stares and silent nods. Completely neutral and professional expressions, but he can tell that they're still in mild bliss thanks to the hearty lunches they just ate. And to be informed of a weapons exercise, a grueling physical activity at that, so soon after isn't exactly a thrilling idea. But alas, a leader's job never ends. Everyone else in the room know that it is his job to keep them sharp at all times, ready for anything. Now more so, considering current events.
"No practice runs this time; we go straight to the shootin'…", he told them. "…Any questions?"
"…"
"Alright. Let's get back to work then. Dismissed."
With a nod from Seamus, the troopers stood from their chairs and made their way out of the room with their little cliques. An odd mix of faint laughs and peevish chatting rang throughout the meeting room as they moved, mixed with receding footsteps. He, on the other hand, went back to his desk and gathered his materials into a clear carrying folder. Finally, he's done with the briefing; standing in front and rambling for a full 30 minutes isn't exactly his cup of tea. The four-hour sleeps he's been having these past few days aren't helping either, so one couldn't blame him for acting quite cross.
There's always something else to do, sadly. Rainbow's intel is still in the blind about the ongoing manhunt, thousands of kilometers northeast of Bragg. The Deputy Director is still haggling with the Yanks about borrowing additional air assets for the team. Imagawa and Enatsu are yet to register into the VR training system. Then there are papers about team logistics, threat projections, and budget allocations that he must review, typically Baker's work. The list of pressing matters keeps going on and on and on, gnawing at the Scottish man. As much as he hates to admit it, he wants another break, even though he already had it when he joined the team at the mess hall earlier.
"Hey, Seamus? You got a moment?", Meghan called to him.
From the corner of his eye, he could see the blonde woman standing by the door frame, donning the same black outfit as his. No doubt she has even more official business to discuss with him. Par for the course these days.
"Just a minute. I'll be done in a while..."
It's times like this that he misses the company of his usual chums, who are probably bored out of their noggins back in England right now. He wished Baker was here; he's better with the cattle-prodding. And wherever the old man is, Markie and Jimmy are sure to be close behind; one to blather like an arrogant little runt between missions, and the other to provide sarcastic commentary to keep things interesting.
Now? Seamus has nobody but himself and Meghan to count on. Sure, they have Six's complement of pencil-pushers to lend a hand here and there, but most of the ground-level decisions fall to them. And unlike the American woman, he has the extra job of acting field commander. Leading an elite special operations task force, though a prestigious honor, is an incredibly heavy crown to wear. His little presentation proved this, where he basically compressed an infantry company's worth of tasks and exercises to fit the schedule of a team of professionals, less than twenty in number. But working with limited resources shouldn't be a surprise for him at this point, having known what it's like to lead a professional rugby team before. He should take heart in the fact that he survived that one.
And his wife is also a source of inspiration, he reminded himself. Katie deals with a whiny codger of a boss everyday, not to mention the mountains of bank accounts she needs to sort. If that wasn't enough, she has their son and their ridiculous mortgage to stress over. Yet, she's still as spritely as when he first met her at that party in Aberdeen. It may be a bit unfair to compare her day-to-day with his, but she's proven time and again how hard work and a cool head can create miracles.
It was at this point when his thoughts shifted to home, about his wife and son. It's probably 6PM in Scotland right now. Drizzling, cold. People headed for the pubs. Katie is at home with Malcolm, cooking dinner...
"Oh shite, I almost forgot...", he mumbled to himself
Seamus suddenly remembered the letter she sent him. A thin, yellow envelope, straight from home, three days old. The parcel found its way on his table earlier today, but the tall Scot never got around to reading it during lunch. Without missing a beat, he searched for it in his folder and pulled it out. Opening the flaps, he was surprised to learn the parcel's contents.
Well, I'll be buggered…
In his palm was a miniature replica of his trusted Caber, small enough to fit into a key chain. It was custom-made, stainless steel, and it even got the little details right, like the sledgehammer's crowbar tip. Katie promised him this charm as a belated birthday gift, but he already left for the United States by the time she got her package. And she pulled through, despite the delay. A little smile formed in her husband's face, terribly unfitting for a burly bald man like him, but nonetheless heartwarming. The trinket was accompanied by a small note.
"Seamus,
Sorry if it took me a while to send this to you. The shop told me they had a lot of customers, so my order arrived late. Don't worry: I'll ask them for a refund tomorrow.
Stay safe. Come home soon.
Hugs and kisses,
~Katie"
It's this personal touch that made her gift infinitely more wonderful. Seamus tucked the charm into his pocket, vowing to always wear it in the field. He should also make another vid-call to Katie, to tell her that he finally got her parcel. But then, his brain egged him to move on to the next item on today's itinerary. And that means leaving the room and heading down to the firing range, just like what he ordered his team to do. Then there's Meghan to deal with, who was leaning by the door and humming to herself. She had her hands in her trouser pockets. Relaxed, but professional. Her green eyes looked at him almost chidingly.
"You good?", she asked him.
"Unless you want me to do another speech, aye."
"Hehe. Maybe you should use smaller words next time, huh?"
"And you should've been the one speaking in front, Leftenant.", he replied. His burly accent hid how exhausted he really was. "I felt like a complete dunder'ead (idiot) back there."
"Eh, you did alright.", she shrugged. "At least better than how I yap in my presentations anyway…"
The man gave a bland little smirk. The next thing that came to his mind was the day's developing story, no doubt what Meghan wanted to talk with him earlier. The team's surveillance and intelligence expert is perhaps the only one in the team with the slightest grasp about the missing weapons smuggled last night from the Port of Boston. Technically, the situation falls to the jurisdiction of American federal authorities. But as far as Rainbow Six is concerned, it also her purview, and the more than two dozen counter-terrorism operatives under her direct employ.
"So, anything new from the ATF? Bastien's contact ring you yet?"
"Nope...", she shook her head. "But our FBI friends say they are still following leads. Twenty agents plus a team from JSOC are roaming New England as we speak. I suppose that means we're still on standby for now."
"…Sticking thumbs on our arses, you mean…" Seamus griped.
"Well, at least your little target practice is gonna keep us occupied."
It's fair to say that he wasn't surprised to hear all that. But his feelings are irrelevant compared to the task at hand. Resigned to see another busy afternoon, with no rest in sight, the two officers walked out of the briefing room together and proceeded to the hallway. Then, they talked about operational matters as they trod along, especially the ones that the ex-SAS Sergeant discussed in the meeting earlier.
"So, how'd ya reckon the team?", he asked. "Think we're ready?"
"As ready as we'll ever be.", the blonde woman replied. "Our gear is prepped. You have execute authority in case something happens. We have two Blackhawks on the tarmac, just in case... Whiskey-Tango-Foxtrot that one if you ask me, but whatever... We're just waiting for a phone call at this point."
"And the new guys?"
"I recommend we put the Inspector and her friend in reserve for now.", Meghan replied, matter-of-factly. "Maybe with Marius and Alex…"
A few steps later, the two emerged from the building, only to be graced the bright midday sun. Seamus brought up the carrying folder over his head to shield his eyes, whereas his American friend donned the sunglasses hanging on her shirt collar. He hates to admit it, but he's still trying to get used to this weather. This is nothing like the shifty climes of England.
"… But really, we should stop talking about mission protocols, Seamus. The stress is killing me..."
"Can't afford that, lass. We have a long day ahead o' us."
He already laid it all out during the meeting. Assuming nothing else happens this afternoon, the weapons drills will be followed by a few rounds on the kill house in Pope Field. It's a perfect opportunity to see how the two bobbies from Japan perform at a close quarters combat scenario. After that, a little drone exercise with the Army Engineers, to help the team acquaint themselves with their little robots. Then, a quick break and a situation report from the Deputy Director herself. Then weapons checks and maintenance; that one will continue for the rest of the day until dinner. The schedule seemed like overkill, but Seamus firmly believes that the 'slave driving' is necessary to keep the team on a high state of readiness.
And that was proven by the next scene that graced his eyes. Glancing to his right, beyond the silhouettes of shrubs and parked cars, the bald man saw a few of his teammates chatting as they walked. It was Jordan and Yumiko along another hallway, being egged on by Emma, Miles, and Alex. The three of them seemed like they were teasing the other two, judging from the hand gestures and the mischievous laughing. The voices were barely audible at this distance. Arguably, it's for the best, because another tirade of hogwash from these guys is sure to catch the Scotsman's ire.
The joking is all in good fun, obviously, but Seamus is nonetheless a little peeved to see his teammates fraternize this way. Like they're still in secondary school. What a waste of energy.
"At least they're having a good time..."
"They should bloody enjoy it while it lasts, Meg.", the tall man spoke. "I intend to put 'em through the wringer before tonight. Maybe I'll put those lot first in the kill house..."
The woman just laughed and shook her head.
"Oh man. I am sooo tempted to tell your wife how much of an asshole you really are..."
"...Please stop reading our emails, ya tart. They're private...", he muttered in a completely deadpan voice. The only thing he got from her is another giggle.
"Someone has to do Markie's job, you know that!"
*RING* *RING*
They were interrupted by a chiming sound. Recognizing the tune, Meghan brought out the mobile phone from her back pocket.
"Hold on, I need to take this call.", she said to Seamus before walking away.
He gave an exasperated sigh as she left. Just like that, he found himself alone under the sun. It appears this is his lot in life, to be the source of pragmatic reason while the rest of his colleagues behave on their own accord. But it's not like they require more prodding than necessary in the first place. They're professionals. Nay, they're elite; the best of the best of their governments. Discipline is not a problem, contrary to a fledgling rugby team. He reminded himself that a little levity and leeway is crucial to keep them focused on the task at hand. And this is something that can't be done with rigorous drills, tests, and exercises alone. Everyone needs their source of peace. Much like how he found it from his wife and her quaint gift to him. The need for bliss understandable, given the nature of their work. Like Meghan said, the stress here is absolutely killer.
Without thinking, Seamus found himself clutching the little Caber in his pocket. He needed something to remind him of home. If he doesn't do his job well, he won't be coming back to Katie and Malcom. But more than that, if he doesn't do his job, someone else from his team might not come home to his or her family, alive. Or worse, an innocent life will be lost on their watch. He can't let that happen. And that's why he needs to keep going, even as if his body is bidding him to stop, even if his mates seem to refuse to take things seriously. That's why he needs to live up to what Baker has been doing before. That's why he needs to-
"Seamus! SEAMUS!"
Instinctively, he turned to Meghan. Her voice was incredibly worried.
"What is it?", he asked.
Then all of a sudden, shouting and the sound of shuffling feet emanated around him. When the ex-SAS turned to the direction of Jordan and the others, he found them talking to a random soldier in a serious tone, before scurrying off to the adjacent building. The group looked at each other, their faces clearly in shock, then followed the young man inside. It was such a puzzling turn of events.
...
"Meg...?", Seamus turned to her again.
The blonde woman was slackjawed, holding her breath. Her next words sent chills down his spine.
"We have a Code Red in progress! Come on!"
She quickly ran ahead of him, her right hand firmly wrapped around her mobile, and proceeded to the building where their teammates just went. Seamus followed close behind, hurriedly. His blood was pumping as he ran. The contents in his folder were being ruffled and he could feel a sudden rush of heat in his chest, slightly sogging his shirt's fabric. But none of that mattered right now.
The moment he entered the building's threshold, he was greeted by a lobby filled with Rainbow operatives, US Army personnel, and a few other people in different attire, huddled around a large TV screen mounted on the wall. They gasped and held their breath, while others brought a hand on their mouths. Everyone was wide-eyed, focused at the scene they're watching. The telly was tuned in on a news channel, with purportedly live, overhead images of a school campus of sorts. The broadcast was a bit blurry, but one can see puffs of yellowish smoke lingering on the ground. Seamus took a closer look at the screen and found a few words that caused the hairs on the back of his neck to rise.
Bartlett University, MA.
Terrorist Attack.
On-going.
A male voice, presumably the news anchor, narrated the blurry images. He was stuttering his lines. That is not a good sign.
"...okay right now, on your screen... this... t-this is aerial footage from our news chopper at the scene...where... W-We can see smoke and sporadic gunfire coming from the tree line, and the nearby buildings, and... this is... There seems to be b-bodies... on the streets, on the ground... Oh my God..."
Many in the room continued to watch the horror as it unfolded. But those from Rainbow, those with the black uniforms and the white patches, reverted to their professional faces. Neutral and silent. Their eyes were clearly in shock, but they nonetheless turned to look at the tall, bald man behind them, acknowledging his presence. He is their leader. He gives the orders.
At first, Seamus didn't know how to react. He was the center of attention again, much like in the briefing room a few minutes earlier. But he wasn't worried this time. Instead, his brain switched to a different gear. Combat procedures, mission protocols, and team assignments vied for space in his mind. He sorted them accordingly, as he recalled Rainbow's operational playbook. The day just reared its ugly head. There's probably no time to tell the boys at England about what's happening. Let alone to make one last call to his wife before he sets off.
Thankfully, he knew what to do next.
"Everyone! Head to the armory! NOW!", he ordered.
They responded with great haste, moving with a sense of purpose as they vacated the lobby and proceeded to their designated staging area. No more laughs and jokes. Everyone knew the score; Seamus, more so. He's not the taskmaster, at least this time.
A leader's job never ends. Now, it's about to be put to the test.
Author's Notes/Comments: So there you have it folks; only one chapter left! Sledge, I believe, is one of Rainbow's team leaders (his bio implies this) and I hope I did a good job exploring this aspect of his character. I also pictured him to be a married man, like I did with Thatcher, so I guess there goes any ideas of shipping him with other people (lol). The next chapter is going to be short, and will be kind of... different from the rest of this series. Until then, Merry Christmas! :)