I do not own The Last Ship.

Part 2: Chapter 5

3 December 2014

Tom Chandler was back on the Vyerni. But this time there was no sneaking; he was loaded for bear. It had taken them a bit longer than he had wanted to get everything turned around and by the time they'd loaded the special forces teams and got the Nathan James back into position to launch the boats to board the Vyerni, they would have had to go in daylight and that would have been stupid. In the mean-time, the Vyerni had left Brest and was now moving north through the English Channel, which had required some rejigging to get Nathan James into position to launch the boats to intercept, but actually made it easier to sneak on board, since there had been fewer sentries once the ship was underway, compared to when it had been moored.

They had had to wait until night fell and that hadn't been made easier by a call from "Boris" earlier this evening. "Yevgeni, please hurry," the Russian had said, "I don't know how much longer she can last." They hadn't replied, because they hadn't wanted to tip anyone off who was monitoring the channel, but the call had definitely added a certain urgency to their preparations.

And now here they were. There were four teams on board, each with different objectives. To their existing boarding teams they had added 12 special ops soldiers and marines from the SAS and SBS including a female Royal Navy medic and combat medical technician who were with him now, and who would take care of Rachel on the Vyerni. The British had also assigned an Emergency Doctor and Nurse who would evaluate Rachel once she reached Nathan James; they were currently waiting on his ship. There were eight, plus him, in their party; two medics, two assigned to carry Rachel's stretcher, and four for close protection.

The three other teams were strike teams, targeted at causing as much confusion and taking out as many officers, naval infantryman and seamen as possible. They would target the Bridge, Engineering and the Naval Infantry's mess decks. They were carrying demolition charges which they would place to incapacitate, and hopefully sink, the battlecruiser.

He was monitoring two radios, and suddenly a message came from the Russian, "Yevgeni, I see you are here. Please hurry, I will run interference for you. Same place."

Either they were made, or they were sorted. He still wasn't sure about the Russian, but everything had checked out so far. His gut told him to trust the man but he was still wary, and too much depended on this to trust him blindly. Their team had just arrived outside the room that he had found Rachel in last time, so fingers crossed. There had been no guard outside so that could mean that either someone was inside with Rachel, or that she wasn't there any longer, or that the Russians were just being lax. He signalled to Captain Stephens who gestured to two of his men. He was about to interfere and say his men would handle it when Green stopped him.

"You should let them do it Captain," the man whispered to him, "these guys are the elite in hostage operations. They practice with live ammunition. The officer sits in a room and the team goes in and takes out the targets all around him." He looked askance at the Lieutenant. "The Lieutenant is correct," the RN medic, Claire Gardner, told him in a low voice, "they're the dog's bollocks at this!" He signalled the Captain to go ahead, just as a high-pitched scream of pure agony came from the room as well as shouting in Russian. There were sharp intakes of breath from all of them.

"All units, Vulture team is ready," he whispered on the radio, "all units – execute."

The SAS troopers wasted no time, crashing open the door, throwing in a stun grenade and stepping through. Four bursts of two shots came from their machine pistols. Chandler followed them through the door to a scene from Hell. Rachel hung from her wrists from a chain in the centre of the room looking, if possible, worse than the last time he'd seen her. The room was dimly lit but it was possible to see all the weals, cuts, bruises and burns on her naked body. Her head was slumped forward as though it was too heavy for her to support it. Four bodies lay on the floor, one carrying what looked like a cattle prod.

"Get her down from there," he ordered urgently, closing the distance to her. The two medics had put down their bags and guns and were grabbing their equipment, while the rest of his team stayed outside the room in defensive positions. The medics quickly laid an aluminium blanket on the floor and then a cotton blanket on top of that. The SAS troopers were working to lower the chain.

"We're here Rachel," he told her, gently touching her shoulder, "you're going to be OK."

"Captain?" her voice was hoarse, thready and pain-filled. She tried to lift her head but was too weak.

"Yes," he replied quietly, trying not to show how much her condition affected him, "Claire and Nicky are going to take care of you and then we're going to get you back to Nathan James." He reached out to raise her head as gently as possible, seeing the desperate hope in her pain-filled eyes. He kept his eyes focused on hers as he tried to blot out the rest of the room. Her eyes were bloodshot, her face bruised and bloodied and her mouth was clenched in pain.

"Lower her," ordered Nicky, "someone support her legs," and one of the SAS troopers went to support her injured legs and place them gently on the blanket. The other had procured the handcuff keys from somewhere and uncuffed her hands, as carefully as possible so as not to cause her pain. Tom gently supported her body against his and lowered her onto the blanket.

"OK, everyone out!" ordered Nicky. He looked at the medic, "Don't worry Captain, we'll take care of her. We'll tell you when we're ready to move." She told him.

He stepped outside the room, never so happy to be out of a room in his life. Green was pale beside him. He put his hand on the man's arm, "I know Lieutenant, but we need to focus."

"Aye sir," the man told him, and he knew he was thinking about leaving her in the Arctic. Green hadn't seen her last time and he hadn't gone out of his way to describe her injuries to the man, knowing how bad he felt already about leaving her behind. They assumed defensive positions in the corridor.

He could hear the medics talking behind him.

"Rachel, my name is Nicky. We're going to take care of you. We're going to give you some ketamine to knock you out so it's not painful when we move you, OK?"

Rachel must have said something because she answered.

"Yes, we're British, and we're going to take good care of you."

A pause and then Claire reported, "Yep she's out. Conducting primary survey."

Not wanting to hear about her injuries, he called. "All units, report. Vulture team has achieved objective."

"Cobra team, objective secured."

"Tiger team, secured."

"Eagle team, secured."

Cobra team, under the command of Captain Alun Williams, had been assaulting the Bridge. He called them now, "Cobra, please confirm you got the Admiral."

"Confirmed, Vulture. And the Captain." Brilliant. That meant Ruskov was dead which should help to keep the Russian response uncoordinated.

He sent "All units proceed to secondary objectives." Cobra would now start to secure their Exfil supported by Tiger, while Eagle focused on laying demolition charges. Suddenly his other radio crackled.

"Yevgeni, this is Boris."

"Acknowledged Boris," he stated.

"I'm on my way to join you, please don't shoot me."

"Confirmed Boris," he replied, "make it slow, give us plenty of warning and keep those hands up."

"Acknowledged," came the reply as the first explosion cut through the ship. It was to the front of the vessel; the plan being to keep the crew occupied at the front of the ship, so they could exfil at the rear.

"Captain," came the call from behind him. He moved back into the room. Rachel's body was now fully covered up by a blanket and she had been moved to a stretcher. Only her face was exposed, still looking bruised and bloody. Nicky was just tying off a few straps that secured her to the stretcher while Claire was packing up their equipment.

"How is she?" he asked.

"Suspected fractured cheekbone, broken ribs, compound fracture of the right leg, contusions, bruises, electrical burns, dehydration and malnourishment, Captain," reported Claire, "Sick bastards!" she spat, "we've given her ketamine to keep her under for the transfer and she's on an IV drip. The leg's the worst. Once we've stabilised her on Nathan James, we'll need to CASEVAC to the UK as a matter of urgency," she told him, "we're just finishing up here and should be ready to go in two minutes."

"Acknowledged," he told her grimly, just as another message came on the radio, "Yevgeni, I'm coming to your position now."

"Vulture units, friendly approaching. Repeat friendly approaching. Do not fire." He ran out of the room as the naval infantry officer from last time came around the bend in the corridor, with his hands aloft.

"Approach slowly," shouted Green, "keep those hands up."

When the man was just three metres from their position they told him to halt. "Identify yourself."

"I am Lieutenant Artur Dmitrievich Voronov, Russian Federation Naval Infantry, sometimes known as Boris," he replied.

"On the ground," shouted Green. The man lay down and two of Vulture team moved over to check him for weapons and IEDs. All he had was a large format photo, showing a woman and young child. "Clear!" they called.

"Captain," called Claire from inside, "Ready to go."

"OK," called Tom, "Stephens – you're in charge of our guest. Miller, Cruz – you've got stretcher duty for the first shift. Green, Smith, Waites, Gardner and I are on close protection and Corporal Hopkins, you're monitoring Rachel." He paused, "all good?" there were no objections, "let's go."

"All units, this is Vulture team, we are commencing exfil with the package."

4 December 2014

"Nathan James. Arriving." This time there was no denying that there was a greater number of idlers on deck than normal. Almost 70 crew members were waiting for them, which was a pretty impressive turnout given the frigidity of the weather.

He braced to attention and returned Mike's salute as members of his party came up behind him, making arrangements to haul Rachel's stretcher up the side. As her stretcher came over the railings, the Master Chief ran over with three men to help take the ropes off. CPO Gardner was already crouched down next to it, checking Rachel's condition. Hopkins had stayed with the rest of the team to help with a couple of injuries.

Two men hoisted the stretcher and set off for sick bay, Gardner walking alongside with the IV bag. He fell in behind the stretcher. There were gasps of shock as they approached and everybody started to see the state of Rachel's face and arms. The crew quickly made a tunnel, allowing the stretcher bearers to progress. As they started to move between the crew members, Lieutenant Chung reached out and touched the stretcher. A gesture of support? Of togetherness? Of thanks? Who knew? Then everybody was doing it. He caught the man's eye as he went past and was surprised to see tears in his eyes. He gave him a quick nod and a half smile and then he followed the procession into the superstructure.

"We're going to need to CASEVAC her to the UK, Captain." Lieutenant Colonel Richard Symes was the Emergency Doctor provided by the British. A senior consultant in emergency medicine at a major London hospital, he had deployed to Afghanistan three times. The British had sent their best to take care of Rachel. "It's the leg that's the problem. There are three separate breaks and there are lots of bone fragments. There's a high risk of infection. If we can operate as soon as possible we should be able to sort it out, but if it gets infected we'll have to amputate it."

"Our helo can be ready for launch in 15 minutes, Doctor. Just tell us where to go and we're ready." He hadn't even had a shower yet, but after debriefing Mike (and getting debriefed) he had headed down to sickbay to get an update.

"Portsmouth is best for us Captain. We're gearing up the MDHU there with the team from 22 Field Hospital. They'll have a full surgical team on duty."

"OK Doctor, I'll tell the XO to get the helo ready. Is she conscious?" he asked.

"No, sir. We'll keep her under now until after we've operated. But if you want to see her, that's fine," replied the doctor, smiling at him supportively.

He nodded, and the doctor led him into the sickbay. There Rachel lay on the stretcher. They'd put a hospital robe over her and from under it sprung loads of monitoring equipment; a heart rate and pulse monitor, temperature monitor, various heart monitoring leads. The emergency nurse, who had been introduced to him as Wing Commander Carol Simmonds, was adjusting her blood pressure monitor. Doc Rios, who would have been assisting, was on the mess deck, which had been set up as an additional receiving area for wounded when the call had come in that injuries had been sustained in the attack. From what he had heard, the injuries weren't life-threatening. He hoped not. For obvious reasons his RHIB had had priority for boarding Nathan James.

Although she was fully covered so he couldn't see the damage to her torso and legs, the lighting in the sick bay threw her other injuries into stark contrast. Her wrists were covered in bloody bandages and her face had a collection of yellow, blue and purple bruises suggesting that she had been beaten over a period of time. Her left eye was swollen, her nose looked broken and her eyes had huge black bags under them making her look like she hadn't slept for ages. And she looked thin and very pale.

He was glad Ruskov and the men who did this to her were dead, otherwise he wasn't sure he would have been able to control himself. He felt very protective of her. He hardly knew the woman but from reading her journals he'd felt like he did. And she was a good person. The type of person he would be happy to call a friend, despite their shaky start. He hoped the Brits could put her back together but he knew enough to know that after this kind of ordeal it wouldn't only be physical help she needed; mental support would be just as important.

"Can I touch her?" he asked the doctor.

"Of course, Captain," he replied.

He grasped her hand gently. "God speed Rachel," he told her, "see you soon."

Then he let her go, nodded at the doctor and left to find Mike to arrange her transport home.

"Danny, are you OK?" it was clear he wasn't. She'd looked everywhere for him in the last hour since she'd come off duty. Tex said he wasn't in their cabin, he wasn't in the wardroom, the gym, on deck with Halsey, or any one of the three to four other hidey holes they often met in up and down the Nathan James. This was to be her last stop before she went to the XO, and thankfully he was here.

This was a machinery room hidden away off a corridor on the lower deck. They'd met many times here over the months for chaste and not so chaste kisses, gropes and notably once for amazing oral sex. Over the past few months it had been more for hugs and conversation as Danny struggled to deal with what he perceived as his professional failures.

She'd thought that he'd be happy. It had been touch and go for a while over the past week. After the Captain had told Danny that Doctor Scott had been tortured, she'd been really worried about him. It had almost taken her back to how he was after the death of his team and Dr Scott's kidnapping. It had taken her weeks to put him back together after that. But things had moved quickly and he'd been deployed on the team to make contact with the UK military. That meant that they hadn't had any alone-time except when she'd seen him in passing and around the ship but he had seemed to be better.

And then this morning had come the successful rescue. They'd returned with the Doctor and, even though she'd reportedly been in bad shape, the Docs said her prognosis was good. She'd immediately been CASEVACed to Portsmouth and that's where they were heading. The Russian ship was at the bottom of the English Channel, her crew dead or landed in France and as for Nathan James, after that quick stop in Portsmouth, the Captain had told them that they'd be heading to Norfolk to find their families.

She'd thought Danny would be as excited as she was to be heading home but she'd found him down here, sat on the deck in the corner of the room, head in his hands. And more than that, he was CRYING.

There was no answer to her first question, so she repeated, "Danny?"

He didn't look up. "I failed her Kara. I was supposed to protect her, and I failed her."

There was no doubting who "her" was. While Danny had been gutted about the deaths of his team, he'd lost team members before. They'd all lost people they served with. But Danny had never failed in a mission he was commanding before Rachel Scott's kidnap and he had really struggled with what he perceived as that failure.

She went to sit next to him and clasped his hand. "You didn't honey. You did all you could and she ordered you to leave her." She paused, "What's brought this on Danny?"

He looked up at her then and she almost flinched away from the pain and anger in his eyes. "They tortured her Kara," he flinched, "they beat her with fists and sticks and they tortured her with a cattle prod," Kara felt sick, "A woman who only wanted to help, a scientist working on a cure for humanity. How could they?"

"Oh God."

"It was horrible Kara," he looked at her, but his eyes didn't see her, "she was strung up by her wrists in the middle of the room, covered in bleeding cuts and bruises and burns."

"I'm sorry Danny," it occurred to Kara that she was apologising to the wrong person, but she really didn't know what to say. She had seen Doctor Scott around the ship before her kidnap but hadn't really spoken to the woman. She knew she'd blanked her when she saw her in the corridor on the second day of the mission extension because she was just so pissed.

"I left her there Kara. I let them do that to her. It's my fault." He turned away.

She reached up and yanked Danny's face round so she could look in his eyes, "It totally isn't Danny," she told him fiercely, "you didn't leave her. She ORDERED you to leave. And based on the information you both had at the time, it was the right decision. You must stop blaming yourself for this. I'm sure she doesn't blame you. What was the last thing she said to you?"

She knew very well, because he'd told her and she'd thought that it was good of the Doctor to try and lift his spirits. "She told me to make sure she got her tea when she got back."

"So, I suggest that when the Doctor comes back aboard, whether that's now or at Norfolk, you have a cup of tea waiting for her and you take the time to have a chat with Doctor Scott, because I'm sure she will tell you she doesn't blame you for what happened." She wasn't sure this strategy would work on Danny but an experienced master chief once told her that looking forward was much better than looking back, and it had always worked for her. She hoped it would for Danny as well.

A/N Glossary of British military terms: SBS – Special Boat Service: an elite special forces unit focusing on maritime counter terrorism, a sister unit of the SAS; CASEVAC – Casualty Evacuation; CPO – Chief Petty Officer – a senior non-commissioned rank in the Royal Navy; Wing Commander – An RAF officer designation equivalent to OF4 Nato or Lieutenant Colonel US; MDHU – Ministry of Defence Hospital Unit: a military healthcare facility embedded within a civilian hospital.