Part Twenty-Two

Airfield
Memphis NAS
1500 Local

AJ stepped out onto the tarmac and scowled. He had specifically requested no honors. He rarely had much patience for the trappings of rank and none at all when his people were missing. His bad mood had been exacerbated by the delay in his flight. They had hit a headwind that had slowed them considerably. Yet here was that jackass Crowley and his staff, backed by a color guard and a small group of enlisted standing rigidly at attention. He settled his cover a little more firmly and reined in his temper. For the good of the service, he would refrain from pinning the Admiral's ears back right here and now. He glanced back at Gunny Walters standing quietly behind him, "Let's get this over with."

Arthur Crowley watched as Chegwidden exited the plane trailed by a large Gunnery Sergeant. While he waited for the Admiral to approach, he once more berated himself for letting Capt. Koslov have a week of personal leave. Family emergencies happened all the time, having the Judge Advocate General himself visit the base did not. He had the reporters and a photographer for the post newspaper here, now he wondered if he should have tried for some outside coverage. Hopefully, all the arrangements for the dinner at the O Club had been made. It was awfully short notice and he wasn't sure his aide-de-camp was up to the challenge. Young people these days were hardly reliable, he always had Eric double-check his aide's work.

He straightened up a little more as Chegwidden began walking towards the group. Crowley didn't particularly like him and thought it patently unfair that the younger man had his two stars. Once again, evidence of line officers taking care of their own, even one that had been deskbound for years. Being a former SEAL shouldn't count for more when promotions were being handed out. ... Well, they got what they paid for - Crowley heard of the frequent clashes with the SecNav. No wonder Chegwidden's officers were unruly and practically insubordinate. He had quite a few things to say to the JAG, respectfully, of course, about the disruptive antics of those officers. He told himself to hold on to his temper, Chegwidden couldn't possibly understand the intricacies of running a base. He'd be patient and after subtly straightening the man out, he might even go so far as to play Dutch uncle and let him know how inappropriate it was to keep that woman as Chief of Staff. But, for now and for the good of the service, he'd smile and welcome Chegwidden to the base. Hopefully, the photographer was halfway competent.

Militia Camp
Holly Springs Nat'l. Forest, MS
1455 Local

Harm did his best to see what he could in the militia camp. It wasn't easy, these morons would hit him whenever they thought he was moving around too much. They also liked to hit him when he wasn't. Between them and his headache, he was lucky to see anything at all. Thank god none of them had been bright enough to think to look for Mac. Apparently, the adrenaline rush of the chase and subsequent capture had crowded out any other consideration. By the time someone with a modicum of sense thought to send them back out, Perez and Mac would be long gone. He hoped. Surely, the captain wouldn't let Mac pull rank or otherwise bully him into attempting a rescue. Harm ruthlessly quashed the little voice that kept pointing out the Marine creed of never leaving their own behind.

The procession stopped in front of a slightly larger metal-sided building that sported a 'Headquarters' sign. The men spilled out of the jeeps and the babble of voices filled the air. Several pairs of hands hauled Harm out of his seat and propelled him to the front of the group milling around the entrance. Lt. Singer arrived at almost the same time, looking as harried as he felt. "Are you all right, Lieutenant?" he asked and received a clout between the shoulder blades that made him stagger forward.

"That's quite enough, gentlemen." A rich baritone cut through the noise. Harm and Singer looked up as the men around them quieted. A tall, thin man wearing black fatigues stood on the steps in front of the open entryway. "Our guests will have a jaundiced view of Southern hospitality." He smiled at the laughter of the men. "Well done, I knew I could count on you. Now get on back to your barracks for some well-deserved rest. The cold beer's waiting." He glanced over his shoulder into the building. "Harper. Preston. Come escort these two to the interrogation room." Two large, heavyset men came out and wordlessly hauled the two officers into the building.

Marched down a narrow hallway, they were pushed into a bare, featureless room. The two men positioned themselves silently on either side of the door. Ten minutes later, it opened to admit the black-clad man followed by another man carrying a chair. He sat it down and left. The tall man settled down and crossed his legs, "I'm Rev. Trask. I suppose you realize you've made some people very unhappy?" He appeared pleased at the thought and looked at Harm, "Who are you?"

Harm looked at him for a moment and then shrugged, it really didn't matter. "Commander Harmon Rabb, of the Judge Advocate General's office in Washington, DC."

At the mention of DC, Trask leaned abruptly forward, "You're from Washington? Both of you?" He shot a triumphant look over his shoulder at his two guards. "So, tell me the real reason you're here." He was staring at them intently.

With difficulty, Harm concealed his surprise and chanced a quick glance at Singer. She was staring at the Reverend like he'd grown an extra head. He made a show of looking around the room and said carefully, "How much do you know?"

Trask started to answer when the door banged open. A dark-haired, middle-aged man stomped into the room, "Goddammit Trask! For once in your life, try to stay focused!" He turned his glare to Harm, "Where the hell is MacKenzie?"

Harm stared at the man. He noted the look of disdain and anger that flashed across Trask's face and heard Singer gasp. He glanced back at her. Who was this guy? Abruptly his legs went out from under him and he crashed heavily to the floor. He lay there wheezing and then looked up at the man now standing over him. "Who the hell are you?"

"Wrong answer, Commander," the man hauled back and kicked him hard in the side. He turned to the two guards and gestured curtly. They looked at Trask who gave a barely perceptible nod and then came forward, hauling Harm to his feet. The slight delay seemed to further infuriate the man. He jabbed Harm in the chest, "Where is MacKenzie?"

Harm gave him a lop-sided smile, "Halfway to the State Police, you son of a bitch. You'll never catch up with her now." He saw the fist coming and tried to relax and roll with it. He was only partially successful as the blow literally made him see stars. The fist to his midsection doubled him over and another shot to the head made his ears ring. Vaguely, he heard someone yelling stop. Singer? The beating ceased and he sagged for a moment between the two men. He tried to focus his attention, the Lieutenant was still yelling... at him? That couldn't be right... he concentrated harder. Singer was standing to the side of him.

"Dammit Commander, just stop it and tell them! What difference does it make?!"

He looked at her fuzzily, what the hell? "Lieutenant... "

"Oh for godsakes," she looked at the man. "Colonel MacKenzie is dead. Cmdr. Rabb made contact with some trucker on his CB and told him to send the State Police. Tried anyway, the stupid hick thought it was his buddies playing a practical joke. Now he's trying to get you to waste time searching until the troopers can get here. If they do."

Harm looked at her in disbelief, "Shut up, Lieutenant. That's an order!"

Singer looked at him with contempt. "No. We could have gotten away but you had to sit with her until she died. She knew she was dying, hell, she was unconscious most of the time at the end. We wasted hours!"

Harm struggled against the two men, "Damn you! Shut up!"

"Or you'll do what? Court-martial me?" sarcasm dripped in her voice. "You've killed us, you self-righteous son of a bitch. It doesn't really matter who pulls the trigger - this is your fault. And if I'm going to die from your misplaced loyalty and monumentally stupid sense of duty, I will damn well have my say." She turned to the bemused man standing in front of her. "Captain Koslov? Is there anything else you'd like to know?"

Militia Camp
Holly Springs Nat'l. Forest, MS
1455 Local

Tink rested on his shovel and dully watched the line of jeeps go by. At least, he hoped he looked dull. He'd been hard-pressed to keep his face blank when he saw Cmdr. Rabb and Lt. Singer. He glanced at the two men sitting in the shade about ten yards away. Their idea of 'training' was to saddle him with any manual labor they could find. Right now, he was digging a new latrine. He went back to shoveling. Hopefully, the absence of Capt. Perez and Col. MacKenzie meant they had escaped. Now he'd just have to figure a way to get the Commander and the Lieutenant out. He snorted to himself 'yeah, right' and then vigorously rubbed at his nose when his two watchdogs looked at him. "Bug," he said and bent back down to his task.

Ten minutes later, he clambered out of the ditch and headed to a waterbag hanging from a nearby tree. He alternated pouring water down his throat and over his head. He nearly choked when he heard a low-pitched 'pssst' coming from the ground behind the tree. Casually, he shifted to the side. A moment later, he was staring at Tyler's grimy face. The ensign looked like he'd been bathing in dirt, it was damn good camouflage. He gave Tink a thumbs-up and mouthed 'Later' at him. Tink gave a minute nod, turned around and ambled back to the ditch. He picked up his shovel and walked over to the men, "I'm done."

Tyler watched the three men leave. At first, he'd thought Tink was a prisoner, but then he realized that neither of the two men were armed. He figured that Bell had sold them on his wandering moron routine and actually gotten recruited. That had decided him on taking the chance to get Tink's attention. It had taken him forty-five minutes to work his way to the tree but it was worth it. Now that Bell knew he was around, they'd figure out a way to make contact. He had a feeling Admiral Chegwidden wouldn't be pleased with the risk he'd taken; maybe he could gloss over the circumstances. He cautiously began his retreat.

Holly Springs Nat'l. Forest, MS
1635 Local

Perez looked over at the woman beside him. She was flat on her back with her eyes closed. Her hair was damp with sweat and small rivulets trickled through the grime on her face leaving tracks. He dragged a hand over his day-old beard, he probably didn't look much better. They'd made pretty good progress but the anger and adrenaline that had been carrying her had gone just about as far as it could go. Despite that, he'd been the one who insisted on stopping and resting ten minutes for every half hour of travel. He was pretty sure that left to herself, the Colonel would have crawled to the militia camp. Beyond the anxiety of taking too much time, he had a feeling she was afraid that she wouldn't be able to get up after one of these breaks.

He took stock of their inventory, The juice was gone, he'd made sure the Colonel finished it in hopes of keeping up her energy. They still had a bottle and a half of water left. Food was becoming a distinct problem. Perez knew it was possible to go almost a week without it but that didn't mean it would be an enjoyable experience. He sighed, at some point they'd have to stop long enough for him to scare up something to eat. He glanced back and saw her watching him. "It's time, Captain." Her voice was getting hoarse. He frowned slightly and nodded. He couldn't tell if she was becoming flushed or if it was just the physical strain.

He went over and hauled the Colonel to her feet, bracing himself to take her weight until she got her legs under her. Uncomfortably, he realized that it was taking longer each time and that she was beginning to lean on him a little more. He gave her a smile, "It's probably not too much further, ma'am." She gave him a weary nod in return and they quietly continued their trek.