A heavier sound, as if a small bag or coat had been dropped on the floor then a thud and oddly the sound of water swishing. O'Neill almost opened his eyes but was knew if this person meant to harm him it would come by hand to hand; and *that* was something he could deal with.
More water dripping noises. Perhaps someone had just brought him fresh water. He might have believed that, had the person not moved so close that O'Neill could now hear soft breathing and sense nearby body heat. His hand tightened on the Beretta.
The next sensations were anything but expected.
The light touch of a cool wet cloth moving across his chest and the fragrance of something flowery with a hint of ginger. In a single motion his free hand grabbed the hand touching him, and he bolted to a sitting position. A squeal of surprise stopped him from taking further action, and his eyes opened to meet the wide-set almost black ones of a young woman of typical middle-eastern descent. His peripheral vision took in the rest of her appearance. She had thick black hair and dark olive-toned skin and was wearing only a thin robe.
He broke contact with her eyes and tried to look anywhere but down. Being male though, there was only so much he could do, so he looked. He knew she probably wouldn't understand it but he asked anyway, "What are you doing?"
She flinched in fear and grimaced at her wrist still held in a vise-like grip. "For you."
He released her wrist and scooted over on the cot until he was sitting with his feet on the ground. He glanced past the kneeling woman to the earthenware bowl and small stack of towels and then to the wet cloth still in her hand.
"You don't need to do this." He shook his head as he spoke, unsure of just how much English the woman understood.
She blinked and looked back at him questioning then lowered her eyes. She mustered up some additional measure of courage and dunked the cloth in the water and wrung it out. Still intent on her task, she began to rub it over his shoulder.
"Seriously, you don't-" One of her hands settled not so subtly on his groin.
"Shit!" He shot to his feet and took a step away, suddenly feeling the need to find something more to cover himself or at least get his pants back on. He made a move to pick up his BDU's where he'd left them folded at the foot of the cot and noticed his companion's posture had slumped a bit. Her head was down but he could see her pinched expression. When she sobbed, his shoulders slumped too. She pushed the basin away and began to rise. "Forgive. Another will be sent."
'Aw, crap' he thought to himself as he sat back down on the cot and reached for her arm, bringing her back to her knees. Really, he should be used to things like this with all his off world exploitations and exposure to differing cultures. Alianni was just being what he considered to be a good host by assuring relaxation for his guests. He wondered if Sykes and Barnes were having similar encounters.
With a touch of resignation he took the cloth from her hand and used it to thoroughly wipe his face and neck then handed it back to her. She smiled at his acceptance and rinsed it in the perfumed water and handed it back to him. Dutifully he accepted it and washed off more of his body. After several more back and forth exchanges he was decidedly feeling better despite the awkwardness of the situation.
She rinsed the cloth again but this time didn't hand it off, instead she rose up and crawled onto the cot behind him to wash his back. He permitted it this time, even letting her towel him off but found himself regretting it when from somewhere she produced a bottle of oil and began to massage his back and shoulders.
Her hands continued to move further around his body and she leaned into him causing her breasts to touch his back.
That was all the Colonel could stand; he had no intention of taking advantage of the *full* extent of Alianni's gift, despite the part of him that was definitely interested. He grasped her upper arm and pushed her away as he turned to face her. "Thank you." He shook his head as he spoke. "That's enough, please."
She frowned and knit her brow, but backed off. She stood and turned to him once more and finding him avoiding her gaze, quickly donned a heavier weight robe she'd brought and gathered up the water basin and towels then left the tent, turning at the doorway to catch his eye once more and give him a smile of gratitude before leaving.
O'Neill scrubbed his hands through his hair and lowered his head. "Shit." This little adventure was throwing him curve balls every time he so much as blinked. At least he'd managed to get through this last one with his dignity, not to mention the girl's, intact.
He dressed quickly, and emerged from the tent and made his way over to a large common area where the other Americans were seated talking with Alianni.
Alianni smiled at him. "You are refreshed?"
O'Neill nodded and gave him just a small smile. "So, guys, enjoy your gifts?"
Sykes and Barnes exchanged a look. "What gifts?"
"You know, the..." His voice trailed off as he realized the Iraqi had only given *him* the gift, and turned to his host. "Um, Ali, thank you, very generous of you."
Sykes frowned and raised his eyebrows at the other Colonel. Alianni explained. "It is customary to offer a gift of companionship to another leader of men." He bowed his head slightly.
O'Neill felt a flush rising to his cheeks as Barnes turned and questioned him. "Of the female variety?"
"Before you ask, no, I didn't." O'Neill snapped at the younger officer.
He realized he may have just insulted their host and cringed internally.
Sykes saw Alianni's eyebrows rise and stepped in. "In America it's customary for a man to have one wife and be with her only."
The Iraqi nodded, and turned to O'Neill. "Of course. In that case, I hope I have not offended you- or your wife."
O'Neill shook his head, "I'm not ma-" He paused. Why had he actually stopped? The girl was a true beauty and he was, after all a red-blooded American male who'd been celibate for far too long. Could it be there *was* someone else, a blonde someone, who'd been foremost in his mind even during his brief encounter with the Iraqi woman? He sighed and waved a hand at Alianni. "No harm done, you didn't know." It was a coward's way out he knew, but it was better than admitting to *pining* over someone he couldn't have.
His answer seemed to satisfy Alianni who nodded to the group then left to prepare for the night's excursion.
Barnes grinned at the Colonel. "So, what does one have to do to earn a *gift*?"
Before they even arrived the sound of a helicopter could be heard off in the distance, and Alianni doused the Jeep's headlights in case the arriving chopper was not the one they expected. It was already close enough for contact, and Sykes spoke into his radio. He motioned to Barnes that it was their ride, and the Major signaled their precise location with his flashlight.
Immediately from all directions around them gunfire erupted.
Somehow the site had become known to the Iraqi soldiers, and they were lying in wait for the pickup. Though most of the fire seemed to be aimed at the helicopter some was at ground level, blanketing the area in an attempt to take down anyone who might be there. Bullets began to strike the Jeep making pinging sounds as they impacted the metal. O'Neill saw the shrubbery just to their left begin to shatter from the multiple hits and slapped the light out of Barnes' hand. His next move was to drop to the ground taking the other officer with him. Sykes and Alianni followed suit without hesitation.
They were as yet undiscovered and lay still in the tall grass as they were pelted with bits of bark and leaves from the destroyed trees. The Jeep's engine squeaked to a halt as a stray bullet took out some essential piece of its machinery.
O'Neill rolled up on one elbow to see what was happening with the chopper, now their only means of escape. What he saw was not good. Even in the darkness it was apparent the tail rotor had been hit; the pilot was having a rough time of it. It was all he could do to keep himself in the air, let alone complete the rescue.
The craft swung wildly in a counter clockwise motion with the tail dipping precariously downward; mere inches from the treetops by that time. More bullets hit the fuselage sending sparks flying in every direction. The gas tank must have taken a hit too, and it sprayed liquid fire to the ground igniting patches of dried grass everywhere. Sykes grunted as an ash blew into his face.
"Under here!" He pointed to the now silent Jeep. "Move or get cooked!"
Barnes followed crawling on his elbows and knees and then Alianni. O'Neill was last to the improvised shelter and rolled so he could see out from under it. He immediately turned his back to the scene beyond as the helicopter pilot lost his fight. The craft bucked, and the engine roared as it was forced into a too steep angle. One of the long rotor blades suddenly caught the edge of a large rocky outcropping. The rotor crumpled upon impact, and the helicopter pitched into the rock exploding in a gigantic ball of fire.
The Jeep provided moderate protection for the men under it, but the entire area surrounding them burned from splattered aviation fuel. O'Neill grasped Alianni's shoulder with one hand while reaching upward with the other and touching the tank situated just above his head.
"How much gas is in here?"
The Iraqis eyes widened. "More than enough! We must go!"
"Go? Where?" Barnes gestured to the burning field and what was certainly an enemy regiment beyond. "If you haven't noticed, there *is* nowhere to go."
Alianni shook his head and chewed the too long hairs of his moustache as he considered the options. O'Neill tightened his grip on the man's shoulder, "Pretty soon anywhere will be preferable to here. Even if we get caught, we have to go."
Suddenly Alianni perked up. "There is a way- if the soldiers are more intent on the helicopter and the fire. We may get there."
"Where?"
"You'll see. Come."
For the second time the man who would be considered an enemy collaborator led the group of Americans on a chase to safety; this time with all of them crawling on their bellies. He motioned to a small rocky formation where it seemed the rocks had once been upright like Roman columns and then collapsed upon themselves. There was a fair amount of rubble at the base, but there were also several places where a man could fit between the fallen stones.
They had to cross an area where the fire had already burned off the vegetation, leaving the ground scorched and smoking. The carbon residue clung to every bit of clothing or skin that contacted it covering them with black. By the time they made it to the rocks, all of the men had burns on their hands and knees. Alianni crawled into a hole and waved the others to follow.
Before he went in, O'Neill scanned the area to make sure they hadn't been spotted by any soldiers and was forced to stop when he heard a slight moaning sound from the other side of a small ridge of stone. Curious, and relatively sure the soldiers were busy elsewhere, he chanced to take a look, creeping slowly up the incline, careful to not dislodge too much of the loose shale.
Just on the other side, up against yet another half buried column, was the crumpled body of a man so covered with soot it could not be seen what uniform he wore. O'Neill moved to turn away but suddenly noted a glint of pure red light on the man's right hand. The exact place Yazu wore his prized possession, a large perfect ruby set in a ring.
He immediately knew the identity of the injured man and called back behind him in a hushed tone for help. Sykes crawled to the crest of the rise and frowned seeing O'Neill already at the man's side.
"What the Hell are you doing?"
"We can't leave him- it's Yazu."
"Can't be- the chopper went down."
"Well somehow he bailed out, it's him, trust me. Come on."
Sykes shook his head but complied. They were far from safety themselves; the last thing they needed was to be dragging around a dead man.
Foregoing safety, O'Neill and Sykes stood and carried Yazu to the hole where Alianni had gone. They made it less than halfway before being spotted. Both men crouched and ran now, dragging the unconscious man through whatever debris was on the ground. At the hole Sykes went in first pulling on Yazu to make room for O'Neill.
Once inside the hole they were both shocked; it opened into a passageway large enough for a man to stand easily. Alianni was at the far end beckoning. O'Neill handed off his portion of Yazu's weight to Barnes and told him to go before turning back to the opening. He quickly dug a chunk of C-4 out of his vest pocket and stuck it to the bare rock, pressing a detonator into its surface. He glanced outside in time to see several soldiers converge on the location.
"Move it! We're gonna have company in two seconds! Go!"
Alianni turned and disappeared down the passage followed closely by Sykes and Barnes, still dragging Yazu between them. O'Neill followed as far as he could and still see the exit. He crouched against the wall and prayed it would hold for his next move.
Two men entered, and their dim flashlights shone into the hollow illuminating O'Neill's face. As the light hit him he pressed the detonation trigger.
The cavern rocked in an approximation of a miniature earthquake showering O'Neill this time with stones and a cloud of dust. When he looked up the opening was no longer there, collapsed from above, and the only sign the soldiers had been there was a single flashlight beam cutting through the haze. There was no sign of the owner.
O'Neill brushed the dirt from corner of his mouth with the back of his hand and squinted to see if any more dared to follow. Satisfied the opening was permanently sealed, he turned to the passageway and crept on through it. He could only hope this was another underground maze complete with multiple exits. If not, he'd just buried them alive.
Thirty feet on down the tunnel he caught up with the others.
"Jeff, everybody okay?"
"All accounted for. You think you might give a little more warning the next time you do something like that?"
"Couldn't be helped, they were already coming in."
"Sure they were. How much more of that stuff have you got?"
O'Neill grinned and flipped open two vest pockets brimming with explosives and detonators. "Always be prepared."
'Good thing.' Sykes thought. This little episode had relieved them of nearly all their belongings. All three packs along with O'Neill's rifle were still on the now certainly destroyed Jeep. All they had left was what they carried on them, their vests, sidearms and MP-5's.
As soon as they were able, Alianni encouraged them to move. The tunnel eventually opened into a large cavern with no apparent exits. O'Neill stood in the center and eyed the Iraqi carefully. "So, which way to Kuwait?"
Alianni shook his head. "The only exit you already know; if it still exists."
"That's it? We're stuck in here until those soldiers decide they want a piece of us and dig us out, or worse figure we've dug our own grave and leave us here?" Barnes voice exposed the panic he was feeling.
"Stand down, Major." O'Neill shot him a stern glance then squinted around at the cave walls. "Well, with all the confusion outside they may not know we're here. With any luck they'll figure we're all dead and burned up. We should have a window of time before they come back and do a proper body search."
The other Colonel was sitting with his back against the wall. "Jack, if you didn't hear the man, he said you just blew up the only exit."
O'Neill took off his vest and knelt beside Yazu, checking him over for any obvious injuries. Seeing no bones out of place and no gushing of blood, he turned his attention to Alianni. "No other way out?"
"No."
"What about that?" O'Neill pointed to a section of the wall.
The others all looked and were amazed to see an area where the pitch black of the cave recess had been replaced by light gray. The early morning sky. Alianni walked over and stood directly beneath it. He extended a hand and could easily reach the bottom edge of the opening.
"It is very narrow but high enough I do not think the soldiers know it is here."
"Can we get out?"
"I still hear the men outside. It would not be safe yet."
"But *can* we?" Sykes echoed O'Neill's question.
Alianni rubbed a hand over the rough stone. "Not as it is, we would need to enlarge it, at least a little."
"And how do we do that?" Sykes was letting his pessimism show. "C-4 would bring the place down on our heads."
"So." Alianni shrugged. "We dig."
A day and a half later they were once again 'guests' of Alianni at his camp. The digging was tedious but fruitful, and the twenty-plus mile hike to where Alianni knew someone would help was cut short by sheer luck.
They could not travel openly during the day, so they found an acceptable hideout and slept in shifts. Yazu had awakened for a short time but was too delirious to recognize anyone. They got as much water into him as they could while he was awake, stretching their own supplies to the max. Even before finding help and transportation, they were soon going to be forced to find water. Alianni chose to lead them straight to the nearest water source before moving on.
As it turned out, Alianni's 'help' was there waiting for them. One of his cousins was moving a herd of cattle and was letting them rest at the small watering hole. The troupe endured another bouncy ride, this time in a canvas-covered truck to the camp.
When they arrived Indirae took over tending to Yazu while the men toted buckets of water from the well. Some to drink but mostly to bathe; all of them were covered head to toe in soot and cave-dust. At Indirae's insistence, punctuated by holding her nose, all clothing was shed. She enlisted the local women to wash the garments while the men washed themselves. Each of them was given a simple robe to wear until their own clothing was available. The girls even swiped their boots for cleaning.
Clean but feeling most uncomfortable wrapped in only the thin robe and barefoot, O'Neill ducked his head into Alianni's tent to check on Yazu. He sat on the edge of the cot and took the cloth from the man's forehead, dipped it in water and wrung it out. He dabbed it lightly over Yazu's face to cool him. The Colonel felt completely responsible for what had happened. If he hadn't decided to stay, Yazu wouldn't have been recruited for another foray into Iraq, wouldn't have lost his helicopter and wouldn't be fighting for his life right now in some dusty tent with no doctors or nurses hovering over him.
When Alianni entered O'Neill stood and faced him. "My friend here, needs to be taken to a hospital, he needs some kind of medical attention and soon."
"We have done all we can for now. You also must still return to your people."
O'Neill nodded. "Yeah, I do. Any ideas?"
"Perhaps." He motioned for them to continue the conversation outside. "You don't happen to have a pilot among you, do you?"
"Depends, I've never flown a helicopter."
"Hmm." Alianni nodded. "It was not a helicopter I had in mind. The nearest airfield is at Bensada's compound, and now, with the helicopters out on patrol continually, there are only jets."
O'Neill's eyebrow arched. "And how does this help us?"
"We could...borrow one."
"Ah." O'Neill's head bobbed in disbelief. "You are certifiable. Anybody ever told you that? You want to not only go *back* to that stronghold, you want to *steal* a *plane*?"
"My wife's brother works with the ground crew. If you dressed as we do, it is possible."
"Oh, excuse me, you want *me* to steal a plane. What about Yazu and the rest of my team?"
"Your men can be taken across the border by truck, they can arrange transportation to Kuwait once they are out of the country. But Yazu, as you said, needs medical attention, could you not land here and pick him up?"
"What? It's a *jet* you can't land one on a dirt road like-" As he spoke O'Neill gestured wide with his hand and scanned the horizon with his eyes. He stopped dead midway through the sweep, staring at the wide flat expanse of a dry lake bed southeast of the camp. "How far across is that at its widest point?"
"The lake? It is more than a mile. Why?"
"Looks like you've got yourself a runway." He folded his arms across his chest and squinted his eyes. "Ali? Just how would you get me into that compound?"
The next day just before the sky began to lighten, the ground crew was out doing their early morning rounds of the six planes Bensada kept there. No one noticed an additional man dressed as they were in brown coveralls, his head covered with a black and white checkered cloth to keep the sand at bay, just like everyone else.
Having checked the plane of choice over, O'Neill nodded silently to Alianni's brother in-law. He was ready. There was no way to bring a ladder with them onto the field covertly, so it was up to Hassan to give the American a boost up.
The chosen plane was a two-seat Czech L-39 Albatross. O'Neill had been second seat on one ages ago in training and was confident he could fly it, and fight if need be, despite all the instrumentation being in a language he couldn't understand.
Once aboard the plane, and with the canopy in place he gave Hassan a nod, and the Iraqi began to yell
and wave his arms about madly. O'Neill grinned as the man played his part for all it was worth. The idea was to make the others believe he'd commandeered the plane on his own, and Hassan was only another surprised member of the ground crew.
As several men approached the plane O'Neill lit up the engine. A few just made it to the plane when he began to taxi to the runway, but none were fast enough to replace the wheel blocks to prevent him moving. They were so excited no one asked why Hassan didn't do it. Another thing no one noticed was why Hassan had an extra pair of coveralls with him, the ones O'Neill had used to conceal the flight suit he was wearing.
At the end of the runway O'Neill didn't hesitate; he throttled up and rocketed the plane into the air. He barely made it to a thousand feet before needing to decelerate and land on the lake bed. The landing was bumpy to say the least, but the landing gear held. O'Neill taxied the plane to a small group of people standing near the edge of the flat ground.
As he braked to a full stop, he pulled the lever to open the canopy and lowered his head to remove his helmet. When he looked up he was staring into the muzzle of an Iraqi rifle. A quick glance to the group of people was all it took for O'Neill to realize Alianni and his friends were not in sight.
Two ladders had been hastily leaned against the plane, and a soldier was standing at the top of each one. As the second rifle came into his peripheral vision the first man leaned in and switched off the engine. O'Neill leaned back in the seat and took in a deep breath before unbuckling the harness. No point in arguing now, they probably already had Sykes, Barnes, Yazu and Alianni and all of his cohorts.
On a small ridge overlooking the lake bed Alianni slipped the binoculars to Sykes. The man looked through and cursed. "Dammit to hell, Jack. I hope you haven't used up your ninth life yet, you're gonna need it."
The holding cell was merely an additional room built of the same light brown stone as the rest of the structure. There was one small window with a grate covering the opening, and the door was made of sturdy iron bars. It was empty save a small dented metal bowl, which O'Neill expected was to be used for food and water. He wondered how likely it was at one time or another it had been used as the 'facilities' in this place.
The Colonel sat with his back against the wall furthest from the door, facing it, with his knees drawn up and his elbows resting on them. His thoughts were anywhere but on himself and his current situation. He hadn't seen or heard anything that let him know the fate of his comrades and he dared hope they had all escaped. If they'd gotten away, maybe Alianni had them in a truck and was bouncing along some rutted highway on his way to Turkey right now. He hoped Yazu was still among the living.
Heavy footsteps alerted him to the arrival of two guards who then unlocked the door and swung it wide. One stepped inside and motioned toward the door with the muzzle of his rifle. His dialect was unintelligible, but O'Neill got the point and stood up, stretched his legs a bit and walked through the doorway. His casual movements belied that he was prepared to take action at the slightest opportunity. The man behind him couldn't resist the urge to prod the American and thrust the weapon's barrel into O'Neill's flank.
'Wrong move.' O'Neill's hands moved even more quickly than his thoughts. He grabbed the barrel and pulled it away from the guard then jabbed it back at him hard, connecting with the two lowest ribs and snapping them. The man let out a surprised 'oof' and fell back to the floor. Before the second guard could react O'Neill had taken hold of the heavy cell door and swung it forcefully. Solid iron struck human bone, and the guard went down unconscious, a tiny trickle of blood threading its way down from his nose.
O'Neill bent to pick up the weapon the guard had dropped and suddenly froze. From only several feet away was the unmistakable sound of a 9mm round being chambered. The next sound was the somewhat rhythmic clapping of a slow applause.
"Very good. I am not easily impressed."
O'Neill didn't move from his crouched position but raised his head slightly. There in the hallway was the man he recognized as Bensada and another guard, this one with a two-handed grip on a 9-mil pointed at the Colonel's head.
"Shit." O'Neill tried to hide his shock at seeing the previously dead man alive and well.
The Iraqis eyebrows twitched, and he grinned. "Indeed."
More water dripping noises. Perhaps someone had just brought him fresh water. He might have believed that, had the person not moved so close that O'Neill could now hear soft breathing and sense nearby body heat. His hand tightened on the Beretta.
The next sensations were anything but expected.
The light touch of a cool wet cloth moving across his chest and the fragrance of something flowery with a hint of ginger. In a single motion his free hand grabbed the hand touching him, and he bolted to a sitting position. A squeal of surprise stopped him from taking further action, and his eyes opened to meet the wide-set almost black ones of a young woman of typical middle-eastern descent. His peripheral vision took in the rest of her appearance. She had thick black hair and dark olive-toned skin and was wearing only a thin robe.
He broke contact with her eyes and tried to look anywhere but down. Being male though, there was only so much he could do, so he looked. He knew she probably wouldn't understand it but he asked anyway, "What are you doing?"
She flinched in fear and grimaced at her wrist still held in a vise-like grip. "For you."
He released her wrist and scooted over on the cot until he was sitting with his feet on the ground. He glanced past the kneeling woman to the earthenware bowl and small stack of towels and then to the wet cloth still in her hand.
"You don't need to do this." He shook his head as he spoke, unsure of just how much English the woman understood.
She blinked and looked back at him questioning then lowered her eyes. She mustered up some additional measure of courage and dunked the cloth in the water and wrung it out. Still intent on her task, she began to rub it over his shoulder.
"Seriously, you don't-" One of her hands settled not so subtly on his groin.
"Shit!" He shot to his feet and took a step away, suddenly feeling the need to find something more to cover himself or at least get his pants back on. He made a move to pick up his BDU's where he'd left them folded at the foot of the cot and noticed his companion's posture had slumped a bit. Her head was down but he could see her pinched expression. When she sobbed, his shoulders slumped too. She pushed the basin away and began to rise. "Forgive. Another will be sent."
'Aw, crap' he thought to himself as he sat back down on the cot and reached for her arm, bringing her back to her knees. Really, he should be used to things like this with all his off world exploitations and exposure to differing cultures. Alianni was just being what he considered to be a good host by assuring relaxation for his guests. He wondered if Sykes and Barnes were having similar encounters.
With a touch of resignation he took the cloth from her hand and used it to thoroughly wipe his face and neck then handed it back to her. She smiled at his acceptance and rinsed it in the perfumed water and handed it back to him. Dutifully he accepted it and washed off more of his body. After several more back and forth exchanges he was decidedly feeling better despite the awkwardness of the situation.
She rinsed the cloth again but this time didn't hand it off, instead she rose up and crawled onto the cot behind him to wash his back. He permitted it this time, even letting her towel him off but found himself regretting it when from somewhere she produced a bottle of oil and began to massage his back and shoulders.
Her hands continued to move further around his body and she leaned into him causing her breasts to touch his back.
That was all the Colonel could stand; he had no intention of taking advantage of the *full* extent of Alianni's gift, despite the part of him that was definitely interested. He grasped her upper arm and pushed her away as he turned to face her. "Thank you." He shook his head as he spoke. "That's enough, please."
She frowned and knit her brow, but backed off. She stood and turned to him once more and finding him avoiding her gaze, quickly donned a heavier weight robe she'd brought and gathered up the water basin and towels then left the tent, turning at the doorway to catch his eye once more and give him a smile of gratitude before leaving.
O'Neill scrubbed his hands through his hair and lowered his head. "Shit." This little adventure was throwing him curve balls every time he so much as blinked. At least he'd managed to get through this last one with his dignity, not to mention the girl's, intact.
He dressed quickly, and emerged from the tent and made his way over to a large common area where the other Americans were seated talking with Alianni.
Alianni smiled at him. "You are refreshed?"
O'Neill nodded and gave him just a small smile. "So, guys, enjoy your gifts?"
Sykes and Barnes exchanged a look. "What gifts?"
"You know, the..." His voice trailed off as he realized the Iraqi had only given *him* the gift, and turned to his host. "Um, Ali, thank you, very generous of you."
Sykes frowned and raised his eyebrows at the other Colonel. Alianni explained. "It is customary to offer a gift of companionship to another leader of men." He bowed his head slightly.
O'Neill felt a flush rising to his cheeks as Barnes turned and questioned him. "Of the female variety?"
"Before you ask, no, I didn't." O'Neill snapped at the younger officer.
He realized he may have just insulted their host and cringed internally.
Sykes saw Alianni's eyebrows rise and stepped in. "In America it's customary for a man to have one wife and be with her only."
The Iraqi nodded, and turned to O'Neill. "Of course. In that case, I hope I have not offended you- or your wife."
O'Neill shook his head, "I'm not ma-" He paused. Why had he actually stopped? The girl was a true beauty and he was, after all a red-blooded American male who'd been celibate for far too long. Could it be there *was* someone else, a blonde someone, who'd been foremost in his mind even during his brief encounter with the Iraqi woman? He sighed and waved a hand at Alianni. "No harm done, you didn't know." It was a coward's way out he knew, but it was better than admitting to *pining* over someone he couldn't have.
His answer seemed to satisfy Alianni who nodded to the group then left to prepare for the night's excursion.
Barnes grinned at the Colonel. "So, what does one have to do to earn a *gift*?"
Before they even arrived the sound of a helicopter could be heard off in the distance, and Alianni doused the Jeep's headlights in case the arriving chopper was not the one they expected. It was already close enough for contact, and Sykes spoke into his radio. He motioned to Barnes that it was their ride, and the Major signaled their precise location with his flashlight.
Immediately from all directions around them gunfire erupted.
Somehow the site had become known to the Iraqi soldiers, and they were lying in wait for the pickup. Though most of the fire seemed to be aimed at the helicopter some was at ground level, blanketing the area in an attempt to take down anyone who might be there. Bullets began to strike the Jeep making pinging sounds as they impacted the metal. O'Neill saw the shrubbery just to their left begin to shatter from the multiple hits and slapped the light out of Barnes' hand. His next move was to drop to the ground taking the other officer with him. Sykes and Alianni followed suit without hesitation.
They were as yet undiscovered and lay still in the tall grass as they were pelted with bits of bark and leaves from the destroyed trees. The Jeep's engine squeaked to a halt as a stray bullet took out some essential piece of its machinery.
O'Neill rolled up on one elbow to see what was happening with the chopper, now their only means of escape. What he saw was not good. Even in the darkness it was apparent the tail rotor had been hit; the pilot was having a rough time of it. It was all he could do to keep himself in the air, let alone complete the rescue.
The craft swung wildly in a counter clockwise motion with the tail dipping precariously downward; mere inches from the treetops by that time. More bullets hit the fuselage sending sparks flying in every direction. The gas tank must have taken a hit too, and it sprayed liquid fire to the ground igniting patches of dried grass everywhere. Sykes grunted as an ash blew into his face.
"Under here!" He pointed to the now silent Jeep. "Move or get cooked!"
Barnes followed crawling on his elbows and knees and then Alianni. O'Neill was last to the improvised shelter and rolled so he could see out from under it. He immediately turned his back to the scene beyond as the helicopter pilot lost his fight. The craft bucked, and the engine roared as it was forced into a too steep angle. One of the long rotor blades suddenly caught the edge of a large rocky outcropping. The rotor crumpled upon impact, and the helicopter pitched into the rock exploding in a gigantic ball of fire.
The Jeep provided moderate protection for the men under it, but the entire area surrounding them burned from splattered aviation fuel. O'Neill grasped Alianni's shoulder with one hand while reaching upward with the other and touching the tank situated just above his head.
"How much gas is in here?"
The Iraqis eyes widened. "More than enough! We must go!"
"Go? Where?" Barnes gestured to the burning field and what was certainly an enemy regiment beyond. "If you haven't noticed, there *is* nowhere to go."
Alianni shook his head and chewed the too long hairs of his moustache as he considered the options. O'Neill tightened his grip on the man's shoulder, "Pretty soon anywhere will be preferable to here. Even if we get caught, we have to go."
Suddenly Alianni perked up. "There is a way- if the soldiers are more intent on the helicopter and the fire. We may get there."
"Where?"
"You'll see. Come."
For the second time the man who would be considered an enemy collaborator led the group of Americans on a chase to safety; this time with all of them crawling on their bellies. He motioned to a small rocky formation where it seemed the rocks had once been upright like Roman columns and then collapsed upon themselves. There was a fair amount of rubble at the base, but there were also several places where a man could fit between the fallen stones.
They had to cross an area where the fire had already burned off the vegetation, leaving the ground scorched and smoking. The carbon residue clung to every bit of clothing or skin that contacted it covering them with black. By the time they made it to the rocks, all of the men had burns on their hands and knees. Alianni crawled into a hole and waved the others to follow.
Before he went in, O'Neill scanned the area to make sure they hadn't been spotted by any soldiers and was forced to stop when he heard a slight moaning sound from the other side of a small ridge of stone. Curious, and relatively sure the soldiers were busy elsewhere, he chanced to take a look, creeping slowly up the incline, careful to not dislodge too much of the loose shale.
Just on the other side, up against yet another half buried column, was the crumpled body of a man so covered with soot it could not be seen what uniform he wore. O'Neill moved to turn away but suddenly noted a glint of pure red light on the man's right hand. The exact place Yazu wore his prized possession, a large perfect ruby set in a ring.
He immediately knew the identity of the injured man and called back behind him in a hushed tone for help. Sykes crawled to the crest of the rise and frowned seeing O'Neill already at the man's side.
"What the Hell are you doing?"
"We can't leave him- it's Yazu."
"Can't be- the chopper went down."
"Well somehow he bailed out, it's him, trust me. Come on."
Sykes shook his head but complied. They were far from safety themselves; the last thing they needed was to be dragging around a dead man.
Foregoing safety, O'Neill and Sykes stood and carried Yazu to the hole where Alianni had gone. They made it less than halfway before being spotted. Both men crouched and ran now, dragging the unconscious man through whatever debris was on the ground. At the hole Sykes went in first pulling on Yazu to make room for O'Neill.
Once inside the hole they were both shocked; it opened into a passageway large enough for a man to stand easily. Alianni was at the far end beckoning. O'Neill handed off his portion of Yazu's weight to Barnes and told him to go before turning back to the opening. He quickly dug a chunk of C-4 out of his vest pocket and stuck it to the bare rock, pressing a detonator into its surface. He glanced outside in time to see several soldiers converge on the location.
"Move it! We're gonna have company in two seconds! Go!"
Alianni turned and disappeared down the passage followed closely by Sykes and Barnes, still dragging Yazu between them. O'Neill followed as far as he could and still see the exit. He crouched against the wall and prayed it would hold for his next move.
Two men entered, and their dim flashlights shone into the hollow illuminating O'Neill's face. As the light hit him he pressed the detonation trigger.
The cavern rocked in an approximation of a miniature earthquake showering O'Neill this time with stones and a cloud of dust. When he looked up the opening was no longer there, collapsed from above, and the only sign the soldiers had been there was a single flashlight beam cutting through the haze. There was no sign of the owner.
O'Neill brushed the dirt from corner of his mouth with the back of his hand and squinted to see if any more dared to follow. Satisfied the opening was permanently sealed, he turned to the passageway and crept on through it. He could only hope this was another underground maze complete with multiple exits. If not, he'd just buried them alive.
Thirty feet on down the tunnel he caught up with the others.
"Jeff, everybody okay?"
"All accounted for. You think you might give a little more warning the next time you do something like that?"
"Couldn't be helped, they were already coming in."
"Sure they were. How much more of that stuff have you got?"
O'Neill grinned and flipped open two vest pockets brimming with explosives and detonators. "Always be prepared."
'Good thing.' Sykes thought. This little episode had relieved them of nearly all their belongings. All three packs along with O'Neill's rifle were still on the now certainly destroyed Jeep. All they had left was what they carried on them, their vests, sidearms and MP-5's.
As soon as they were able, Alianni encouraged them to move. The tunnel eventually opened into a large cavern with no apparent exits. O'Neill stood in the center and eyed the Iraqi carefully. "So, which way to Kuwait?"
Alianni shook his head. "The only exit you already know; if it still exists."
"That's it? We're stuck in here until those soldiers decide they want a piece of us and dig us out, or worse figure we've dug our own grave and leave us here?" Barnes voice exposed the panic he was feeling.
"Stand down, Major." O'Neill shot him a stern glance then squinted around at the cave walls. "Well, with all the confusion outside they may not know we're here. With any luck they'll figure we're all dead and burned up. We should have a window of time before they come back and do a proper body search."
The other Colonel was sitting with his back against the wall. "Jack, if you didn't hear the man, he said you just blew up the only exit."
O'Neill took off his vest and knelt beside Yazu, checking him over for any obvious injuries. Seeing no bones out of place and no gushing of blood, he turned his attention to Alianni. "No other way out?"
"No."
"What about that?" O'Neill pointed to a section of the wall.
The others all looked and were amazed to see an area where the pitch black of the cave recess had been replaced by light gray. The early morning sky. Alianni walked over and stood directly beneath it. He extended a hand and could easily reach the bottom edge of the opening.
"It is very narrow but high enough I do not think the soldiers know it is here."
"Can we get out?"
"I still hear the men outside. It would not be safe yet."
"But *can* we?" Sykes echoed O'Neill's question.
Alianni rubbed a hand over the rough stone. "Not as it is, we would need to enlarge it, at least a little."
"And how do we do that?" Sykes was letting his pessimism show. "C-4 would bring the place down on our heads."
"So." Alianni shrugged. "We dig."
A day and a half later they were once again 'guests' of Alianni at his camp. The digging was tedious but fruitful, and the twenty-plus mile hike to where Alianni knew someone would help was cut short by sheer luck.
They could not travel openly during the day, so they found an acceptable hideout and slept in shifts. Yazu had awakened for a short time but was too delirious to recognize anyone. They got as much water into him as they could while he was awake, stretching their own supplies to the max. Even before finding help and transportation, they were soon going to be forced to find water. Alianni chose to lead them straight to the nearest water source before moving on.
As it turned out, Alianni's 'help' was there waiting for them. One of his cousins was moving a herd of cattle and was letting them rest at the small watering hole. The troupe endured another bouncy ride, this time in a canvas-covered truck to the camp.
When they arrived Indirae took over tending to Yazu while the men toted buckets of water from the well. Some to drink but mostly to bathe; all of them were covered head to toe in soot and cave-dust. At Indirae's insistence, punctuated by holding her nose, all clothing was shed. She enlisted the local women to wash the garments while the men washed themselves. Each of them was given a simple robe to wear until their own clothing was available. The girls even swiped their boots for cleaning.
Clean but feeling most uncomfortable wrapped in only the thin robe and barefoot, O'Neill ducked his head into Alianni's tent to check on Yazu. He sat on the edge of the cot and took the cloth from the man's forehead, dipped it in water and wrung it out. He dabbed it lightly over Yazu's face to cool him. The Colonel felt completely responsible for what had happened. If he hadn't decided to stay, Yazu wouldn't have been recruited for another foray into Iraq, wouldn't have lost his helicopter and wouldn't be fighting for his life right now in some dusty tent with no doctors or nurses hovering over him.
When Alianni entered O'Neill stood and faced him. "My friend here, needs to be taken to a hospital, he needs some kind of medical attention and soon."
"We have done all we can for now. You also must still return to your people."
O'Neill nodded. "Yeah, I do. Any ideas?"
"Perhaps." He motioned for them to continue the conversation outside. "You don't happen to have a pilot among you, do you?"
"Depends, I've never flown a helicopter."
"Hmm." Alianni nodded. "It was not a helicopter I had in mind. The nearest airfield is at Bensada's compound, and now, with the helicopters out on patrol continually, there are only jets."
O'Neill's eyebrow arched. "And how does this help us?"
"We could...borrow one."
"Ah." O'Neill's head bobbed in disbelief. "You are certifiable. Anybody ever told you that? You want to not only go *back* to that stronghold, you want to *steal* a *plane*?"
"My wife's brother works with the ground crew. If you dressed as we do, it is possible."
"Oh, excuse me, you want *me* to steal a plane. What about Yazu and the rest of my team?"
"Your men can be taken across the border by truck, they can arrange transportation to Kuwait once they are out of the country. But Yazu, as you said, needs medical attention, could you not land here and pick him up?"
"What? It's a *jet* you can't land one on a dirt road like-" As he spoke O'Neill gestured wide with his hand and scanned the horizon with his eyes. He stopped dead midway through the sweep, staring at the wide flat expanse of a dry lake bed southeast of the camp. "How far across is that at its widest point?"
"The lake? It is more than a mile. Why?"
"Looks like you've got yourself a runway." He folded his arms across his chest and squinted his eyes. "Ali? Just how would you get me into that compound?"
The next day just before the sky began to lighten, the ground crew was out doing their early morning rounds of the six planes Bensada kept there. No one noticed an additional man dressed as they were in brown coveralls, his head covered with a black and white checkered cloth to keep the sand at bay, just like everyone else.
Having checked the plane of choice over, O'Neill nodded silently to Alianni's brother in-law. He was ready. There was no way to bring a ladder with them onto the field covertly, so it was up to Hassan to give the American a boost up.
The chosen plane was a two-seat Czech L-39 Albatross. O'Neill had been second seat on one ages ago in training and was confident he could fly it, and fight if need be, despite all the instrumentation being in a language he couldn't understand.
Once aboard the plane, and with the canopy in place he gave Hassan a nod, and the Iraqi began to yell
and wave his arms about madly. O'Neill grinned as the man played his part for all it was worth. The idea was to make the others believe he'd commandeered the plane on his own, and Hassan was only another surprised member of the ground crew.
As several men approached the plane O'Neill lit up the engine. A few just made it to the plane when he began to taxi to the runway, but none were fast enough to replace the wheel blocks to prevent him moving. They were so excited no one asked why Hassan didn't do it. Another thing no one noticed was why Hassan had an extra pair of coveralls with him, the ones O'Neill had used to conceal the flight suit he was wearing.
At the end of the runway O'Neill didn't hesitate; he throttled up and rocketed the plane into the air. He barely made it to a thousand feet before needing to decelerate and land on the lake bed. The landing was bumpy to say the least, but the landing gear held. O'Neill taxied the plane to a small group of people standing near the edge of the flat ground.
As he braked to a full stop, he pulled the lever to open the canopy and lowered his head to remove his helmet. When he looked up he was staring into the muzzle of an Iraqi rifle. A quick glance to the group of people was all it took for O'Neill to realize Alianni and his friends were not in sight.
Two ladders had been hastily leaned against the plane, and a soldier was standing at the top of each one. As the second rifle came into his peripheral vision the first man leaned in and switched off the engine. O'Neill leaned back in the seat and took in a deep breath before unbuckling the harness. No point in arguing now, they probably already had Sykes, Barnes, Yazu and Alianni and all of his cohorts.
On a small ridge overlooking the lake bed Alianni slipped the binoculars to Sykes. The man looked through and cursed. "Dammit to hell, Jack. I hope you haven't used up your ninth life yet, you're gonna need it."
The holding cell was merely an additional room built of the same light brown stone as the rest of the structure. There was one small window with a grate covering the opening, and the door was made of sturdy iron bars. It was empty save a small dented metal bowl, which O'Neill expected was to be used for food and water. He wondered how likely it was at one time or another it had been used as the 'facilities' in this place.
The Colonel sat with his back against the wall furthest from the door, facing it, with his knees drawn up and his elbows resting on them. His thoughts were anywhere but on himself and his current situation. He hadn't seen or heard anything that let him know the fate of his comrades and he dared hope they had all escaped. If they'd gotten away, maybe Alianni had them in a truck and was bouncing along some rutted highway on his way to Turkey right now. He hoped Yazu was still among the living.
Heavy footsteps alerted him to the arrival of two guards who then unlocked the door and swung it wide. One stepped inside and motioned toward the door with the muzzle of his rifle. His dialect was unintelligible, but O'Neill got the point and stood up, stretched his legs a bit and walked through the doorway. His casual movements belied that he was prepared to take action at the slightest opportunity. The man behind him couldn't resist the urge to prod the American and thrust the weapon's barrel into O'Neill's flank.
'Wrong move.' O'Neill's hands moved even more quickly than his thoughts. He grabbed the barrel and pulled it away from the guard then jabbed it back at him hard, connecting with the two lowest ribs and snapping them. The man let out a surprised 'oof' and fell back to the floor. Before the second guard could react O'Neill had taken hold of the heavy cell door and swung it forcefully. Solid iron struck human bone, and the guard went down unconscious, a tiny trickle of blood threading its way down from his nose.
O'Neill bent to pick up the weapon the guard had dropped and suddenly froze. From only several feet away was the unmistakable sound of a 9mm round being chambered. The next sound was the somewhat rhythmic clapping of a slow applause.
"Very good. I am not easily impressed."
O'Neill didn't move from his crouched position but raised his head slightly. There in the hallway was the man he recognized as Bensada and another guard, this one with a two-handed grip on a 9-mil pointed at the Colonel's head.
"Shit." O'Neill tried to hide his shock at seeing the previously dead man alive and well.
The Iraqis eyebrows twitched, and he grinned. "Indeed."
