Disclaimer: Everything in the Twilight universe belongs to Stephenie Meyer.
AN: School's out for the summer! (Or at least for the month of May.) I meant to fix the cliffie I left several weeks ago, but I got stuck on this one part of the chapter. You can thank ebhg for kindly writing a few paragraphs in the middle and jump starting the process, as well as being my beta. More at the bottom.
Three things happened very rapidly, but not all at once. The sky lit up with a bright red flare in the direction of the compound. My headset screeched so loudly in my ears that I reached up to pull it off defensively, barely aware that Rodney was doing the same with his. And then I was hit with a roaring sound and the pressure wave of the blast.
Ch. 9. Dressing Down
"Holy crap." Rodney was staring in disbelief at the smoke cloud, lit red from below by what we assumed was the fiery remains of the bandits' compound.
Brock and Mitch were exiting their humvee; I noticed they had taken off their headsets as well.
"Do you think he got out?" Brock looked shell-shocked. Shooting a bandit in cold blood didn't perturb him, but the fact that Edward might be gone was shattering.
"I don't know how," said Mitch, his voice shaking. "He hadn't started the transfer at his last transmission. He wouldn't have tried until we were safely away."
"But he's so fast," I protested weakly. "He could have made it out." Could he have? He had just finished telling me on the plane that supersonic speeds were beyond him. Wasn't that required to escape an explosive blast? I wished I'd paid more attention in physics.
Jack, Rick and Franky joined us. I noticed the heavy bandage on Franky's left upper arm.
"What was the shrieking noise?" asked Franky, dangling her headset from a fingertip.
"I think it was Edward's headset – he was obviously really close to the blast," answered Mitch. His face looked sweaty and distressed in the eerie red glow from the distant blaze.
"Does that he mean he didn't make it out?" asked Rick, receiving only blank stares and a shrug as responses. It was probably the most I'd heard from him at once.
"Who's in command?" asked Jack, surveying the group. "Major Swan outranks all of us."
"Absolutely not me," I replied. "I'm only on this team as an observer. Pretend I'm an embedded journalist or something. I cannot command this unit."
"Why do we need a new commander?" Edward's smooth voice came over the hill.
"Holy crap!" Rodney repeated himself. "How? What happened?" I thought the only reason no one else had said anything was because we were all struck dumb. I could feel my mouth working, but nothing was coming out.
When Edward was close enough to see in the dim moonlight, I could see he was sporting a giant grin. His hair was completely disordered, and his headset appeared to be melted. He pulled it off and glanced at the useless equipment.
"That was definitely a rush," he said.
"What the hell?" demanded Mitch. "What happened?" His giant frame towered over the group, and his hands were fisted. The normally gentle man was radiating anger, a response to his extreme stress.
Edward had the decency to look ashamed for just a second before the smile burst forth again.
"Well, I was about to start the transfer, when I realized that if I made a mistake, I probably wouldn't have enough time to get away. So, I decided it would be better if I just made a break for it on my own terms. I figured the electronics in the switch would give me a microsecond or two, and thought I could run fast enough to keep ahead of the flaming part of the explosion. I wasn't sure how far I would get before the pressure wave hit me. I almost made it to that concrete wall, and the pressure wave knocked me for a loop, maybe 50-100 yards."
"You could have warned us," Mitch insisted.
"I am the commanding officer in the field. This was my decision and mine only." Edward's harsh response was marred when he broke out in a laugh. "I'm sorry. I haven't had that much excitement in a while. You can blame some of this on Major Swan."
"What!" I exclaimed. Everyone looked at me in surprise.
"You asked me if I was faster than a speeding bullet, but apparently I'm not as fast as I thought. I'll know next time." I stared at him incredulously as he grinned at me. He was, in that moment, adorably mischievous. Jack stepped forward to clap him on the back, but stopped suddenly.
"Uh, Edward, I think you need a new uniform." Jack was trying to suppress his own laughter. I could feel the giddiness starting up as well. The horrible moment was over, and we were all starting to lose it. Edward swiveled his head, peering over his shoulder.
"Oh. I guess the flame got a little closer than I thought." His jacket and t-shirt abruptly fell forward onto the ground, and then we could all see the back of his uniform had been singed to ash. "Do we have any spares?"
"Are you hurt?" I asked in horror, trying to ignore the chiseled perfect chest and abs that were luring my eyes against my will. I stepped behind him, but his back (oh lordy) was as smooth, white, and unblemished as his front. And just as muscled. And the seat of his pants was also slightly burnt. "Oops. Wardrobe malfunction about to occur." I stepped away quickly, averting my face. I caught Franky's eyes, and she mouthed "Oh my" to me.
"I think there's a scrub set in the back of the ambulance," Rodney said, a grin on his face.
"All right, everyone load up and get moving. We're on the clock here." Edward waved at us all to disperse, but he looked like he was going to break out in song at any moment. He was definitely not behaving like the scary super soldier we had left behind at the compound.
We split to the various vehicles. Edward took the back of the ambulance with me; apparently he had more medical experience than Rodney, who switched to the front of the ambulance. I started to examine Trace, who seemed to be sleeping calmly. I wanted to get the IV started, but thought I would see what Edward preferred.
"We should probably put him on an IV," Edward announced. I turned to look at him, and nearly gasped. He was standing with his naked back to me, pulling up his scrub pants. I caught an eyeful of his lower backside, and then jerked my head back to facing Trace. "Major Swan?"
"Uh, what?" I wasn't ever going to forget that sight. It was like being in the dressing room at a Calvin Klein underwear shoot. Was I drooling? I knew my eyes were still wide open with shock.
"Is something wrong?" Edward asked. He joined me at Trace's side, now fully clothed in green scrubs.
"No, nothing's wrong," I replied, my voice a little shaky. He was standing really close, much closer than we'd been since I'd taken a header into his lap on the plane.
"Super-hearing, remember? Your heart rate just took off. I thought you might have seen something with Trace." Edward spoke softly in the close quarters, his silky voice tickling my ear.
"No, I…" was just ogling you behind your back… "I guess the whole situation just hit me." Liar, liar, pants on fire. Oh, wait, no it was Edward's pants that were on fire. That's why he needed new pants…
"Major Swan, I said we should probably get Trace on an IV," Edward finally repeated. He was watching me with some concern.
"Right. IV." I busied myself while Edward did I had no idea what since I was studiously ignoring him. He came closer with a blood pressure cuff, and at that moment we hit a particularly bad rut. With my hands full, I couldn't steady myself, and I lurched into Edward's side. It was like hitting a brick wall.
"Steady, Major. The hard part of the mission is over. It would be a shame if you got injured now." His hands were on my waist, underneath my jacket. Even through my t-shirt, I could tell his hands were like ice.
"You're so cold," I said without thinking, as I looked up into his iridescent golden eyes. His face fell, and I could tell I had hurt him somehow. "I'm sorry, I just…I should have just thanked you for catching me."
"It's nothing," he responded. He didn't look at me again, and I desperately searched for some way of restoring his good humor. "Let me borrow your head-set, please. I believe mine was beyond repair." I handed him the set, and he adjusted it, still not looking at me. "Rodney, are we at the ambush site now? Good. We'll need to stop for a moment. I want Mitch to disable the IED before unsuspecting troops come in to investigate the explosion." He turned to me, his face unreadable. "Stay here with Trace." He jumped out the back, leaving me alone to watch the unconscious soldier.
A few minutes later, I felt a muffled rumble. I hoped it was Mitch taking care of the IED, presumably by exploding it. I supposed one more explosion wouldn't make us any more noticeable. A minute or two after the explosion the back doors opened, and Rodney jumped in with me.
"What's going on?" I asked. I didn't even have a headset at this point. I had been effectively cut off from the group.
"We're under way. Edward's driving. Since Trace is stable, he thought he would be better off up front. He has to communicate with Papa Bear, Mama Bear, and, dare I say it, Baby Bear?"
"Baby Bear?" I asked. The vehicle began moving, and I had a surge of disappointment. I liked Rodney, but Edward was beginning to fascinate me, and not just because he was beautiful, had superpowers, and that I had seen him half-naked.
"Major Heinz."
"Major Heinz isn't the Papa?"
"No, that's the Colonel. Heinz doesn't have a code name since he's always with Shannon." Rodney made a face. "So, how's the patient?"
We discussed Trace's injuries and status, and sat quietly for a bit.
"Edward told me that you're really good with languages," I commented. Rodney scratched his head, looking slightly embarrassed.
"It's a gift, I suppose. My dad travelled a lot, and I picked up a lot of languages as a kid. I wanted to be known for my mad fighting skills, but in this unit, I'm the pretty face who can charm the natives." I raised an eyebrow, and he snorted. "Yeah, and even so, he's still prettier and he can speak as many languages as I can." Rodney's comment was without jealousy.
"He does seem fairly competent," I said cautiously. I was guessing that Edward could hear our conversation; we were only separated by a thin metal wall. "So, um, you and Shannon, together?"
"Yeah," he responded, a smile causing his cheeks to dimple. "There's nothing wrong with it; we have the same rank."
"Of course. Does serving on the same team cause any difficulties?" I really had no ulterior motives for asking this question. None at all.
"Are you speaking as Major Swan, Dr. Swan, or some other kind of graceful waterfowl?" Rodney's eyes twinkled.
"Actually, I was just curious." I turned away to check on Trace since I could feel heat climbing my face. Our conversation stalled after that since I was having a post-adrenaline-rush crash of epic proportions. Rodney had just stood to check Trace's vitals, when he put a hand to his ear.
"We're pulling off," he told me, just as the ambulance began to lurch. Rodney steadied Trace while I gripped a hand-hold. "Edward says there's a unit on their way to investigate the explosion. We have to cover the vehicles." The ambulance stopped, and Rodney pulled out a huge sand-colored tarp from a lower cabinet. We exited the back of the vehicle, and I nearly screamed when a face appeared on the roof of the ambulance.
"Just me, Major," Edward said, his pale face barely distinguishable in the dark. He caught the edge of the tarp Rodney threw to him, and the three of us draped it over the vehicle. The other team members were performing similar acts beside us. It was obvious from up close that there were three vehicles under tarps, but in the dark, from a distance, we would hopefully be sufficiently camouflaged. Edward ducked into the back of the ambulance with us, and we sat quietly. The hum of approaching engines was loud enough in the quiet night for us to hear, even set back from the road as we were. Then, the unmistakable sound of chopper blades began to drown out the vehicle engine noises. Edward let out a quiet sigh. "They're flying over the other side of the road. They won't spot us with searchlights."
"How can you tell?" I asked before thinking. Edward just tapped his ear while Rodney shook his head. I needed to stop asking, stop noticing when Edward did something superhuman. Everything I didn't know was something I couldn't be expected to tell to anyone else. Which reminded me, I needed to consider discussing Mystery Man with Colonel McCarty. I had reached the point where Col. McCarty was beating Mystery Man hands down in Honesty Smackdown 2009. I realized that silence had descended once again; the convoy had passed us and disappeared into the night. Within moments, our three vehicles were back on the road for Kabul.
"What are we going to do with 2nd Lt. Trace?" I asked Rodney when we had been on the road for about ten minutes. The young man in question was still resting quietly.
"I'm not sure. We can't be associated with the rescue, so returning him will be another adventure." Rodney seemed unperturbed by this.
"Do you know what time it is?" I was annoyed by the whiny notes in my voice.
"It's about 3:30 a.m., local time. Here, have a Powerbar. It'll give you a second wind." Rodney pulled a foil-wrapped bar out of one of his chest pockets. "I can't get through a day without one."
I didn't really enjoy the moistened, sugary cardboard known as a Powerbar, but I figured it couldn't hurt. As I chewed the offensive snack, Rodney put his hand to his ear as though listening through his headset.
"Sure. I'll check," he intoned into the microphone.
"What is it?" I asked, annoyed again that Edward had commandeered my headset.
"Edward is planning to sneak Trace into Craig at Bagram. He wants me to see if there's another set of scrubs and some masks so I can help him." Rodney began rooting around in the cupboard.
"Craig?" I asked in confusion.
"Craig Joint-Theater Hospital," Rodney replied, emerging from the cupboard with another set of scrubs. I'd forgotten Bagram had a new hospital since last I'd been in Afghanistan. Rodney held the scrubs up to his body, and a laugh burst out of me.
"Edward, yes, there's masks, but the last set of scrubs wouldn't have fit me when I was ten." Rodney commented sarcastically. "What? Oh, I suppose." Rodney turned to me. "Does it fit you?" He thrust the garment at me. I held the top up to my shoulders, and it appeared, that, yes, the scrubs which looked like children's clothes on Rodney would fit me fine.
"It looks good on her, brings out her eyes," Rodney announced. I rolled said eyes at Rodney, discovering he was less charming and more annoying, once you got right down to it. "He wants you to put it on," he told me with a smirk.
"Fine. Turn around. Busy yourself with our patient." Once he was turned, I changed clothes rapidly, mindful of the peep show I had accidentally witnessed earlier. "Okay. I'm done." The scrubs fit reasonably well.
Rodney looked at me, and then made a face. He pulled off the headset and handed it to me. "Apparently, he wants a direct line."
"Major Swan?" Edward's smooth voice came through the headset, and a row of goosepimples ran from my ear down my neck onto my right arm. This was very bad.
"I'm here." I watched absently as Rodney began wiping down all the surfaces on the gurney with a wet gauze bandage.
"This should be a cakewalk. We'll just slip him into receiving, and slip back out." Edward was coolly confident.
"Do you even need me?"
"I hope not. But it's a possibility. Just follow my lead when we get there."
My nerves began to grow when I felt the ambulance slow down. Rodney must have seen the stress in my posture and expression.
"What about surveillance? Guards? How do we get around all that?" I flinched at the hysterical note in my voice. This was a U.S. airfield, there was no way that we were going to surreptitiously drag a man on a gurney through it unseen.
"Don't worry, Major. Between Shannon on the computer and Edward, there will be no trouble. The hard part will be getting from the hangar to the hospital, but the guards aren't trying to keep U.S. soldiers from moving around on the base. They're here to prevent attacks from outside."
The ambulance came to a stop once more, and before I had time to even get out of my seat, Edward was there, opening the back doors. Rodney handed us masks and latex gloves, and he and Edward maneuvered the gurney out of the vehicle. We were parked at the edge of the fenced airfield; the humvees were proceeding to the hangar.
"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," Rodney commented.
"Masks on, Major, we're going for a little walk." Edward's face held none of the joyous abandon from a few hours before as it disappeared behind his mask. I held the paper mask to my face and looped the elastics over my ears carefully. I hated this style of mask, as they pulled my ears forward and gave every little sound a slight echo. I slipped on the gloves.
"We have your position on the GPS, Major Edward." Shannon's voice came through the headset I had borrowed from Rodney. "Blanking surveillance on your path on my mark." There was a pause of a few seconds. "Mark."
I followed Edward as he slipped quickly through an opening in the chain link enclosure. I had worried about the gurney's transit over the rough ground, but Edward was actually carrying it. I followed him as he cut back and forth between buildings, sometimes pausing for a few moments. I had completely lost track of our direction and I wasn't entirely sure how long we'd been walking.
"We're just around the corner from the patient-intake entrance. I'll lead; you hold his IV bag and don't say anything. Nod at me if I speak to you." Edward instructed as he set the gurney onto its wheels. Then, we were walking. My heart was pounding, and I couldn't help but wonder if Edward could hear it. Just before we turned the corner, Edward signaled for us to stop, though he offered no explanation or conversation. We both froze for a moment when Trace made a quiet moan and shifted. Our eyes met briefly, both of our gloved hands hovering over Trace's quiescent form. With only a hand signal from Edward, we began moving again. Edward kept our path close to the wall in the deep shadows that weren't penetrated by the sporadic lights in the breezeway between buildings. After another brief pause at a nondescript door, Edward yanked it open and hurried us through.
As I blinked in the bright fluorescence, I was surprised that the hallway was completely empty. In retrospect, I shouldn't have been, given Edward's skills. I caught a glimpse of someone in scrubs turning the corner at the far end of the hall, but otherwise, we were the only souls in sight.
"We haven't much time," Edward murmured, rushing to position the gurney bearing 2nd Lt. Trace against the wall near the intake desk. Around the corner, I could see plastic chairs in a fairly typical waiting area. In barely a blink's time, Edward had the IV bag out of my hands and hanging from a hook on the wall. "Let's go," he said, already walking away. I didn't dare risk a look back at Trace as we exited for fear of losing Edward in the inky darkness of pre-dawn.
My team was on board the plane which would take us back home via Ramstein. I had just a few minor details to check and I would join them. I headed toward the JSOC and felt my neck prickle. I caught movement out of the corner of my eye, and sighed in annoyance when CIA guy sidled up to me. He matched me stride for stride as I proceeded to the next building.
"Col. McCarty, I hear they've discovered our missing soldier in receiving at Craig."
"Really? How fortuitous." I didn't attempt to mask my sarcasm. He could insinuate whatever he liked. Proving my team had been in and out would be difficult at best. Shannon knew what she was doing with the electronics.
"I find it highly coincidental that one of the biggest warlords in Nangarhar province is suddenly no more."
"Oh?" Now he was starting to really annoy me. I glanced down at him (he was much shorter) to discover he was giving me a piercing look. Was I supposed to be intimidated? He put a hand on my elbow to stop me, but dropped it when I glared at him. "What do you want from me?"
"You should consider some information I have to offer."
I stopped and gave him my full but extremely skeptical attention. Since when does a CIA agent want to offer anything to someone in military intelligence?
"I want you to ask yourself, who would most benefit from the son of the senator from Maine disappearing?" CIA guy paused a moment from his hushed monologue, his eyes flicking back and forth between mine. "Who would benefit the most from seeing the blame for his death put on insurgents or the Taliban or anyone you like from over here – most people won't differentiate between any of these groups. Do you know what bills were coming up in the Senate this week?" I shook my head. I did always mean to pay more attention. "Two defense bills are in the works, both loaded with pork, especially for the states with senators on the armed services committee. Both have money for outsourcing military work to private corporations. Just consider my words, and watch what happens this week. You've put a monkey wrench in someone's plans."
"Me?" I pointed at myself in disbelief. "I'm just an observer for the Pentagon brass, and now that the situation is resolved, I get to go home."
"You may have General McClellan fooled, but I doubt it. And I'm much smarter than he is. Watch your back, Colonel."
Edward? Did you catch that? I wasn't sure if we were close enough or if he was paying me any attention. I continued my journey to the JSOC.
"I caught it." His voice was severely distorted; apparently he'd lost the headset he'd customized for himself. The electronics in my custom headset was adjusting for his high-frequency speech, but the standard headset he borrowed wasn't adjusted for optimal transmission. Or maybe I was just at the outside range of the headsets; they didn't operate like a long-range radio. "He's telling the truth. He is much smarter than General McClellan."
That's not what I meant and you know it.
"Your CIA guy Ryan Jackson has some interesting ideas, but they're still pure speculation. He has no proof of anything. He isn't certain of your involvement, regardless of how he portrays himself. He isn't sure that someone in the Senate is involved in Trace's abduction, but he feels confident that the bandit/warlord wouldn't have been able to pull this off on his own. He has access to a lot of intel, and he's made some intuitive leaps."
Does he have a prime suspect, so to speak?
"He considers everyone on the Armed Services Committee to be a suspect at this time, although some are more likely contenders than others."
That can't be too many people, right?
"That's 28 people, more than a quarter of the Senate." I could see Edward's signature eye roll. Not all of us had photographic memories. We would have to continue our discussion at a later time; I had reached JSOC.
The mood in the operations center was considerably different from eight hours earlier. I was unsurprised to see General McClellan present.
"McCarty," he said curtly. "I suppose you're ready to return to report on the crisis resolution?"
"General McClellan. Sir, I have nothing but praise for how the situation was handled." My team had, after all, done a stellar job.
"What do you think of the plan to portray Trace as negligent in his duties?" McClellan asked. I froze briefly. Whoever was behind Trace's original kidnapping had not given up yet. At least this method was less deadly.
"I find any negative, not to mention false portrayal of a soldier's behavior distasteful. Sir. I think when Trace is fully conscious, you will find he has an interesting story, and one which will show that he was in no way negligent."
"I would ask you more questions about your role in this, but I've learned when to fold 'em, if you get my drift, Colonel." McClellan watched me intently.
"Yes, sir."
"Is there any question of, shall we say, attribution for his rescue?" The general idly tapped a pen on the table as he studied my face.
"No, sir. Your team can pat itself on the back."
"Very well. You're returning stateside immediately, then?" asked the general.
"Yes, sir."
"Excellent. May we not cross paths again, no offense intended. Dismissed."
I learned something new about the team as we began the four hour flight to Ramstein from Bagram: since there were no written records kept of any missions, the debriefing was immediate. The success of the mission made this session slightly raucous and irreverent, although the discussions of casualties was sober enough. We were all, save Edward, eating Whoppers, courtesy of Shannon's thoughtfulness and the Bagram Burger King. Franky nailed Jack in the head with a French fry after he made fun of her inability to duck bullets. I watched each team member give his or her version of the attack on the bandits' hideout, and I was impressed by the utter frankness of the discussions. Brock discussed executing the bandit leader at Edward's command; Col. McCarty supported the team's actions. Mitch and Rick were absent, apparently both involved in piloting the plane. Everyone seemed relaxed, leaning or sitting on the various cargo boxes.
Edward, of course, had my surreptitious scrutiny. He was seated on the edge of a wooden box, his long legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles, his arms crossed over his chest. He was still dressed in the scrubs, and was the picture of casual comfort. He interjected comments regularly; somehow, despite being the center of the action, he seemed to have the best recall of everyone's position and activity throughout the long night.
Shannon, meanwhile, was hunched over a laptop on the floor, busily studying the contents of the USB drive Brock had taken from the leader of the bandit group; Col. McCarty wanted the appropriate intel distributed as soon as possible. I was observing her efficiency over her shoulder when the discussion from the main group caught my attention again.
"And then we saw a fireball light up the sky," Rodney declared after taking a long slurp of whatever soft drink he had. "The shockwave was ridiculous, even from where we were."
"Because Mitch set off the remote?" asked Heinz in confusion.
"No," Edward answered quietly. "I didn't think I could complete the transfer successfully. I decided it would be better to get out on my own terms, so to speak, not in reaction to a failure during the transfer."
"You decided to outrun a bomb." Heinz's voice was eerily calm.
"Yes." I noticed Edward's eyebrows were beginning to lower, and a chill ran up my spine. He didn't look like he had the first time I saw him when he ran me out of his quarters, but he was definitely scary in spite of the fact that he was still wearing green scrubs.
"And you didn't notify the team or me."
"No. It was a field decision by the field commander. I didn't require your feedback." Edward's jaw tensed. I noticed Col. McCarty folding his arms, but he didn't intervene.
"Do you ever stop to consider the amount of your government's money you would be burning to a crisp?" Heinz was coldly angry. I had a feeling this argument was an old one.
"Would you like to hear what went into my decision or do you want to continue insulting me?" Edward's voice was colder than Heinz's, and I felt hairs pop up on my arms and the back of my neck. I was becoming concerned for Heinz's life.
"That's enough," Col. McCarty interjected. "Majors, with me. That includes you, Swan." Col. McCarty walked swiftly to the back compartment of the plane where Edward had been on the flight out. I noticed the entire team was frozen, Rodney's mouth hanging open, Brock fisting his hands and looking at the floor. Franky's shocked eyes met mine, although she hadn't turned her head. Heinz stiffly followed McCarty. Edward gracefully stood, watching Heinz's back with a sardonic half-smile. He turned his eyes to me and motioned for me to precede him, one eyebrow raised, I presumed as a comment on my frozen state.
When the four of us were assembled in the back of the plane, Col. McCarty took a stance in front of the three of us. I felt like a kid called into the principal's office, stuck between my shady accomplices for some prank. "Headsets off," he barked. Edward and Heinz complied. I had returned Rodney's, so I waited for the next order. "Heinz, do I need to explain why you don't dress down an officer in front of subordinates?"
"No, sir."
"Good. Edward. Explain your reasoning."
"Sir. Neither Lt. Hoone nor I could ascertain the sensitivity of the pressure switch. We had successfully removed the package, with me supplying 180 lbs of pressure to the surface of the bench. In order to remove the pressure I was applying, I needed to add approximately 4 and a half concrete blocks to the table, one at a time, while releasing the appropriate amount of pressure. I was also going to have to break one block in half since I only had complete blocks. At any time, I could have made a mistake. If I was lucky, I would hear the electronics before the bomb itself exploded."
"You decided it was better to be fast than lucky," McCarty suggested.
"I decided that I was faster than I was lucky. Sir."
"And you're lucky you were that fast," McCarty stated. I hadn't looked away from Col. McCarty during the exchange. He looked angry and worried. "Heinz, any further comments?"
"Sir. Major Edward released a large number of suspected terrorists during this operation. He behaved recklessly towards his own person. And you know this isn't the first time." From the corner of my eye, I could see Heinz turning red.
"Enough. Your concerns are noted."
"But not taken seriously. Sir."
"I said enough. You can see for yourself how serious I am," Col. McCarty said, waving at me. "Which brings me to your part in this, Major Swan. You were on the spot. How do you evaluate Major Edward's behavior during the operation?"
"I don't think it is appropriate for me to comment in front of the entire group, sir," I responded.
"Nonsense. This is the command team, for now. We need to trust each other. Did Edward's behavior indicate a death wish or any recklessness?"
I hesitated, but caught Edward nodding at me from the corner of my eye. "No, sir. It is my professional opinion that he made a swift but reasonable judgment regarding the situation and his own abilities. Clearly he was taking a risk no matter what he did, and he chose the path which appeared to have the least amount of risk to himself."
"And releasing the terrorists?" Heinz demanded.
"I cannot directly evaluate the intel he used to make his judgments," I admitted. "If his intel was good, the released persons do not appear to be any sort of threat to U.S. concerns."
"Do you have issues with Edward's intel?" asked Col. McCarty. He was surveying Heinz solemnly.
"No, sir. His verifiable intel has always been solid," Heinz grudgingly admitted.
"Then I consider this matter closed. Now, I'm adding Maj. Swan to the command team, which means she is eligible to supervise Edward when we are off-mission. Any objections?"
"No, sir," chorused Heinz and Edward. I was too surprised to respond. I supposed I didn't have objections.
"Good."
"Sir, when will we be back in DC? I have a possible scheduling issue with my duties at the Pentagon," I asked quickly.
"We should be in place at 0600 on Tuesday. Will that be sufficient for you?"
"Yes, sir. Col. Brown has asked for my undivided attention Tuesday as we're meeting with Senator James on Wednesday morning." Since I was watching him carefully, I noted McCarty's eyes slip quickly to Edward before returning to me. I felt like I had witnessed a secret exchange.
"Senator Matthew Hunter James of South Carolina? From the Armed Services Committee?" he asked.
"Yes, sir. He has some interests in the research the task force is doing for future legislation."
"I see. And do you know the good senator?"
"We met last week for the first time at the Pentagon. I'm not sure why, but Sen. James seems to have taken an interest in my work. I think Col. Brown is planning to use it to his advantage." I recalled that meeting with some discomfort, the intense blue-gray eyes of the senator and his son Victor seemed more and more intrusive when I reflected on that day. "Uh, Col. Brown suggested the senator might have something to do with my position at the Pentagon."
"And you didn't think to bring this up until now?" asked Edward. I looked at him in surprise; his face was contorted with anger.
"I only heard it in passing this week," I retorted. It wasn't like I had asked for the senator's support. "The way Col. Brown had described it, my file was just one of the ones he liked and approved for the task force."
"What exactly does he think you owe him?" Edward seemed closer than before, his anger a physical force in the narrow space between us. He towered over me, and all I could think was that, even in a full-on rage, his face was glorious, a vengeful young demigod with a halo of bronze hair and flashing golden eyes. I collected myself.
"Look," I said, poking him hard in the chest with one finger (and hurting my finger). "I owe him the thanks for approving me, presumably because my file has solid credentials. I'm glad I was chosen. I want to do that work. It's why I applied to be on the task force. But I signed a confidentiality agreement to join this team. I take my service to my country and to this team seriously. If you want to accuse me of something, then do it."
"Silence! I'm beginning to regret having any of you on my command team," bellowed Col. McCarty. "You," he said, pointing at Edward. "Chillax." My eyebrows popped up. "You," he said, turning to me. "Watch yourself. The senator may not be a friend to this team. Now, let's talk more about this meeting with Senator James."
AN2: So, some plot elements are starting to come together. Heh.
I made a blog, primarily to record some of the Soldier X facts in one place, although I threw some other stuff on there as well. It's at gleena34 dot blogspot dot com (listed as my homepage on the ff profile). I also made a twitter account, but I'm really not sure why. I'm gleena34 there as well.
The Cold War has been rec'ed at myvampfiction dot com and theedgegirls dot com (both are linked on my profile). I also got interviewed at myvampfiction dot com! I'm reeling in surprise!
A Mystery in Windermere by Persephone's Folly is complete. It's her second Holmes/Carlisle story, and it's great fun! (See my faves list.)