BDP: Free Ride
"Are you sure about this?" Nottingham stared at the approaching naval vessels.
"It's the best of a slew of bad options." Moby leaned against the railing of the ratty little fishing boat they had commandeered. "The NCIS have offices here, and the Navy is getting global media coverage of their rescue efforts. We'll be damn hard to make disappear after this."
"You almost want to thank the new Haitian government for being such a bunch of assholes that their citizens are leaving by the thousands." Beck gestured to the refugee vessels that shared the waves with them.
"Makes me want to take a detour. Give their presidente a whole new understanding of the limitations of the phrase 'Dictator for life'." Rook scowled at the raft nearest them.
The Haitian family in it had been taking turns bailing since yesterday. The Dragons had tried to help them, but the poor people had nearly capsized their boat trying to get away from them. It made Rook wonder what kind of world they were escaping, that the offer of help was met with such fear and mistrust.
"Yeah, poor bastards. I hope Lady Liberty left the light on, Immigration is gonna be busy." Taurins sat on a crate facing the stern, fingers flying over his sketchpad as he captured the view behind them. Ships scattered across charcoal waves like beads from a broken necklace.
"They aren't the only ones. A lot of these people are going to need medical attention." Niccoli rubbed a hand over his face. "Dehydration, poor nutrition, it'll be a wonder if the Corpsmen will have enough hands."
"It is unfortunate for them," Mobius nodded, "For us, it is a blessing."
"How can you say that?" Lee shook his head.
"Because they will not look too closely at us. Routine physical would be my guess, but nothing beyond that."
"You don't want an unbiased medical opinion of what the experimentation has done to us?" Beck stared at their leader in confusion.
Moby returned his look with annoyance. "What do you think they'll do if they find out we've been hard-wired? That the aggression, the violence, the almost uncontrollable reactions we have to stimuli that the rest of the world never even sees can not be turned off?"
"I would expect a little understanding. You guys aren't any different from dealing with one of the LRRPers after they've been in the field." Father Allen grumbled, feeling protective of his unusual flock.
"Larper?" Niccoli asked from the wheel.
Allen shook his head, "You really are a puppy, aren't you? LLRP. Stands for long-range reconnaissance patrol. Trust me, when the boys came in they were as jumpy you lot."
"But they eventually settled down. We won't," Beck objected.
"You don't know that for sure." Taurins flipped his sketchbook closed with a snap.
Beck arched a brow, "I don't?"
"Our thoughts shape our universe. If that is what you believe, then it will be true for you." Nottingham quietly cautioned.
"It's not my thoughts, it's the damn drugs." Beck threw his hands in the air.
"Which we have not received for weeks." Taurins stood, posture combative.
"That isn't necessarily a good thing, remember?" Niccoli moved between the two.
"So far, no seizure." Rook pointed out cheerfully, as if the tension would disappear if ignored.
"Yeah, but you could've had a psychotic episode and no one would have noticed the difference." Beck shot back.
"Love you too," Rook made kissy noises.
"Enough clowning." Mobius let his eyes pass over each soldier in turn, gathering their attention. "We did not discuss this, as I did not feel there was anything to discuss. I do not believe we will benefit from being subject to another battery of tests, but I am willing to entertain any serious arguments for them."
"I still say we get the tests done by a neutral party. Better to find out what's been done for sure than wonder how much you've been lied to." Beck redirected his aggression toward the team leader.
"Perhaps. But they will not have access to the same equipment as they used in the lab, so their data will be incomplete. Nor do we have a way to control who they will share the information they do acquire with. The trade-off would be less than ideal."
"Yeah well, you're forgetting that we want exposure. The more people who know about us, the harder it will be to sweep us under the rug again."
"More of the right people," Moby gave Beck a gimlet glare, "And that does not include other Black Ops recruiters."
Beck clapped both hands over his chest. "Ouch, true. So what? We admit to being a new kind of Special Forces unit that, for reasons unknown, our superiors decided to write off in the most ballsy 'training accident' ever?"
"Sounds like we're a huge fuckin' discipline problem don't it?" Rook drawled.
"Or an even more poorly-than-usual researched episode of JAG." Taurins gave a negligent half-shrug.
"Hey, I like that show!" Li objected.
"So? You like A-Team reruns too." Taurins clearly felt that said it all.
"Come on, how can you not like a show that flips a car in every episode?" Li defended his show with a self-effacing grin.
"We're getting off point here." Mobius growled.
"We had a point? I thought we were waffling." Rook rolled his eyes.
"Like an IHOP." Niccoli agreed.
"You were. We were trying to have an eleventh hour discussion over here." Beck pointed to the joint task force. "The Navy boys are getting closer. We've got to get our stories straight before they separate us, and you know they will at some point, so lets get this done."
"Right. The big question is; how much do we tell them?" Niccoli asked the question everyone had been thinking.
Mobius took a moment to meet the eyes of each member of his team, drawing them in, "You tell them your rank and serial number. You can tell them that we were on a training exercise. If they want anything else, they can talk to me."
"Just like that?" Beck challenged.
"We are a team, not a democracy." Moby stepped into the other man's space and stared down at him. "You do what I say, when I say, how I say, or I bust your ass. Are we clear?"
"Crystal," Beck grumbled, lowering his eyes first.
"Good." Mobius looked at the other Dragons, searching for any sign of dissent. There was none. Which was good, because the Navy was deploying the first wave of chauffeurs. Time, which had plodded so slowly of late, was about to accelerate to manic speed.
And so it did. The rescue, the physicals, the debriefing, all passed in a whirl of noise and light. Political eyes were blackened, names were called, but when the dust settled the Dragons were right back where they started. Oh, the lab might be at a new location, and they might have new officers to 'sir', but they were still considered too dangerous to know.
That was fine with them. It was true, after all.
The Black Dragons were sent on difficult missions, the kind that usually incurred heavy casualties on both sides, and came back to a man. For a time, their successes ran neck-and-neck with their notoriety.
But nothing lasts forever.