Well, I've got two research papers due tomorrow that I'm working on, and it's exam week, so this is a REALLY BAD IDEA, but I'm doinf it anyway...
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Chapter 8:
Through Dangers
Untold
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"No person was ever honored for what he received. Honor has been the reward for what he gave."
-- Calvin Coolidge
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UNKNOWN TIME
UNKNOWN DATE
UNKNOWN LOCATION
Harm drew in a shuddering breath, and curled himself into a tighter ball in his corner. He didn't know how long it had been since he'd been taken, but he'd been keeping track of how many times he'd fallen asleep. If that was any indication of how many days it had been, then Sadik had been keeping him for almost a month. After so much time, he found the complete darkness of his cell almost comforting. At least he was left alone in there.
Pain and darkness were his constant companions. Sadik seemed to take a perverse pleasure in telling him that everyone he loved was dead. Sometimes, Harm even believed him. Every time Sadik's men came for him, there was fresh mental torture or physical punishment on the agenda.
Harm looked up as the door opened, and dim light trickled into the lightless room. He half expected the thugs that he privately called Larry and Moe. Those two were usually the ones who came to take him to Sadik for more interrogations. A plate containing thin gruel, a hunk of dry bread, and a bucket of water was pushed inside, and the door closed again.
Harm moved slowly towards the plate, ignoring the twinges from the half-healed cuts on his back as he reached for the food and water. He picked up the plate and carefully began to chew the dry, hard bread, cognizant of the two or three loose teeth that Larry and Moe had given him. He dipped the bread in the unappetizing mush. The watery gruel helped to soften it a little, but if he bit it wrong, it still made his teeth hurt. He was getting to the point where he'd almost kill for a Beltway Burger. He'd sworn to himself more than once that if he ever got home, he'd never tease Mac about her diet again. *Anything* was better than this. He finished his meal, carefully scraping as much of the tasteless mush from the dish as possible before drinking as much water from the bucket as he could hold.
Harm leaned back against the wall for a few minutes and wished that he were home. He sighed deeply, and, ignoring the pain from his injuries, started doing pushups. There wasn't much he could do by way of exercise, but he had to keep himself ready to run. They'd been careful so far, but it was only a matter of time before one of them slipped up and gave him the opportunity. He grimaced as the scabs on his wrists broke open--every time Larry and Moe came for him, they wrapped wire around them, breaking open the wounds so that they never actually got a chance to heal.
Harm looked away as the door opened, and let his eyes adjust gradually to the light. He'd tried fighting Larry and Moe about the restraints, but he'd learned his lesson after they'd beaten him so badly that it had taken three days, by his calculations, to be able to move without excruciating pain.
Submissively, he allowed them to bind his wrists with wire again; wincing as the old cuts reopened from the tightly wrapped bonds. Larry and Moe dragged him down to the interrogation room, and strapped him down to the table yet again before leaving the room. Harm relaxed as much as he could against the cold surface; knowing that the rounds of questioning would begin soon.
Sadik walked into the room, carrying a small bundle of cloth. Harm watched as the terrorist opened it and pulled out a syringe filled with a milky white liquid. "This, my dear Commander, is called starlight," he said conversationally. "I'd hoped to have it earlier, but my... contacts were delayed."
He smiled at Harm, then started to flick the syringe to get the air bubbles out of it. "I would think, my silent companion, that you would want to know what this little concoction does. Commander, this lovely cocktail causes extreme pain as it makes you relive every horrible thing that has ever happened to you." Sadik's smile grew wider. "You *will* break your silence, Harmon Rabb. You will tell me *all* of the secrets that you have ever been privy to."
Harm shivered, and tried to move away, but the straps stopped him. "You're wrong," he said, his voice rusty from disuse. "I'm not Navy anymore; I switched branches of service and did a retred as a Recon Marine."
Sadik gave him an amused look. "You insult my intelligence, Commander." He stepped forward and started tying a tourniquet around Harm's arm. "My information is better than *that*."
"What? Don't think I've got the training?" Harm asked, trying to stall.
Sadik jabbed the needle in his arm and pushed down the plunger. "You *will* talk, Commander. If you don't manage..." he shrugged. "I have other sources of information, but you will suffer greatly for what you did to me and to the cause." He yanked the syringe out of Harm's arm, and tossed it to the side, smiling. "Have fun." He walked over and sat down to watch.
Harm closed his eyes, wincing as liquid fire began to flow through him, while some of his worst memories paraded before his eyes. Sadik called for the guards. "Toss him back in his cell," he said, gesturing towards Harm. "Perhaps starlight will make him more... compliant."
The two burly men undid Harm's restraints, pulled him off the table, and hauled him back to his cell. They threw him inside, and shut the door. Harm clenched his hands into fists, then blacked out from the excruciating pain that tore through his body.
~*~*~*~
1822 Zulu
1 December 2003
Conference Room, Pentagon
Washington, DC
"Our next candidate for promotion is Commander Harmon David Rabb, Jr. He's been recommended for accelerated promotion by his last CO, Admiral Chegwidden, the SECNAV, and also the CNO. Gentlemen, please consider the file in front of you." Admiral Miller sat down, and pulled the commander's file closer to him. One of the captains let out a low whistle.
"Top of his class at the academy, Top Gun, *and* a JAG with three DFCs and a silver star? Admiral, how has this one managed to see so much combat in a noncom position?"
"According to his last CO, Commander Rabb manages to attract trouble without much effort." Admiral Miller allowed himself a small smile. "It seems they decided to make use of his... talent, so he's currently TAD to the CIA, where he earned that third DFC last month when he saved the lives of a dozen or so civilians by landing a C-130 on a carrier."
"Understandable," another officer said. "But Rabb's name is written all over a lot of the major cases in the past few years; he's even *authored* some of the case law that JAGs use. Is there any indication *why* he's been sent to the spooks? Wouldn't he be of better use to JAG?"
"SECNAV's orders," Miller said with a grimace. "Admiral Chegwidden would give his eyeteeth to get Rabb back. Are there any more questions or concerns?" His question was met with a resounding silence. "Good. Let's put it to a vote, gentlemen."
The room was quiet for a few minutes as the officers sitting on the promotion board considered the service record of the man in front of them. There were a few black marks, true, but it was the record of a man who did his duty with honor and served his country to the best of his ability with an initiative that would serve him well in a command post.
His medals spoke of heroism, but the rest of his service record spoke of an unwavering devotion to the principles they all lived by and a dedication to truth and justice. It wasn't what he had received that spoke of his service; it was the sacrifices that all of them knew that he had made for honor, duty, and country that best epitomized it.
A contemplative silence settled over the room as the embers of the promotion review board each came to a decision and voted. "And the votes are in," Admiral Miller's voice rang out quietly. "It's unanimous. Captain Rabb will be receiving notice after the undercover mission he's currently on. Now, moving right along..."
Rabb's file was closed for now, with his new promotion assured. It was simply too bad that he didn't even realize that he was still Navy, but of the people who really knew him and the Navy at large, only the SECNAV, Kershaw, and the CNO really knew the truth about that.
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1740 Zulu
9 December 2003
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, Virginia
Coates walked quietly towards Lieutenant Roberts's office. She had news that she knew that they'd want to hear. While it was true that the Admiral might make an announcement, in the eight months that Commander Rabb had been gone, much of the staff had rotated out. There were some that remembered him, but none that cared about him as the Roberts and Commander Turner did.
Coates stopped next to Harriet's desk. "Lieutenant Roberts," she began quietly, "I have news about the Commander."
Harriet looked up in surprise. "Is he all right?" she asked with concern.
"I don't know, ma'am," she replied. "What I do know, I'd like to tell you, Commander Turner, and Lieutenant Roberts at the same time." Coates hesitated, "Since the two of them are in Lieutenant Roberts's office, I was wondering if you could come with me?"
Harriet nodded. "Sure," she said as she put down her work and stood.
The two of them walked over to Bud's office, then Coates knocked on the doorframe. "Enter," Bud's voice said.
"Sirs, Ma'am, I overheard news about Commander Rabb."
Sturgis put down his case file and looked at her, his eyes darkening with concern. "What is it, Coates?" he asked. "I haven't heard from him in *months*."
"Is he hurt or something?" Bud asked.
"Or something," Coates murmured. "Commander Rabb is missing... he was taken three days ago, and they think it was Sadik Fahd."
Harriet's eyes widened. "Isn't that the man who Commander Rabb had to save Colonel Mackenzie from and who almost tortured Agent Webb to death?"
Coated nodded. "Yes, ma'am."
"Goodness," Harriet caught the back of one of the chairs for support.
Sturgis cleared his throat. "I'll tell my father, so he can get Harm on the prayer chain. I'm sure that Harm can use all the prayers he can get."
"Are they going to mount a rescue operation?" Bud asked.
Coates bit her lip before answering. "I heard the admiral say that he's CIA now, so we can't do anything."
Tears began to trickle down Harriet's face. "I can only imagine what he's going through," she murmured.
Bud walked over and put his arm around his wife. "That's not *fair*," he said. "All of us *owe* Commander Rabb for *something*."
"Do they even know where he is?" Sturgis asked.
Coates shook her head. "No, Commander Rabb's new partner called Colonel Mackenzie to see if she'd heard from him, because they can't find him."
Silence reigned in the office, only broken by the occasional sound of Harriet catching a breath as she tried to quell her tears. She straightened up and accepted Bud's handkerchief with a nod of thanks. "Colonel Mackenzie must be devastated," she said softly.
"But she says that she doesn't miss him at all," Sturgis pointed out.
Bud gave him a skeptical look. "She keeps pumping Harriet and me for information because he's been calling Little AJ."
"You didn't see her when she went to see the Admiral, sir. The Colonel wasn't happy at all about the Commander having gone missing." Jen fiddled with the cuff of her blues. "She looked awful--as if her last hope had been taken away."
"As if she'd lost her best friend?" Harriet asked.
Jen nodded. "Yes, ma'am. I owe both Colonel Mackenzie and Commander Rabb--maybe you and I should try and talk to her?" she asked tentatively.
"I think that's a good idea, Petty Officer," Harriet said with a smile.
"We want to help, too," Bud said.
Sturgis nodded, agreeing with him. "We're her friends, too."
"No offense guys," Harriet began, "but you're..."
"I think that the Lieutenant is trying to say is that you're *men*, sirs, and, well..." Coates trailed off.
"Colonel Mackenzie doesn't need all of us barging in on her at once," Harriet pointed out. "And I think that she'd be better off with Jen and me right now."
"Oh, all right," Bud grumbled. "Why don't you invite her for dinner?" he asked. "Some time with AJ and Jimmy might be good for her." Harriet nodded and barely noticed as Sturgis added his assent before turning towards the door.
Coates and Harriet headed towards Mac's office, determined to help their friend. Their hands were tied with bringing him home, but at least they could comfort the one left behind. As they walked, Coates wondered briefly how you could truly comfort someone who had just lost half of herself.
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TBC...