A/N: Hello friends. In addition to thank everyone for their continued support( thank you!!!), I find myself in the position to offer an apology. First, sorry this took so long to come out. It was a very hard chapter for me to write. Second, I'm sorry that I'm only posting one chapter. I know that I've been doing a two or three per update deal, but I couldn't manage it this time. I did however try to make this chapter extra long as a form of compensation.
I honestly don't know if I like how this chapter turned out. If you like, great. If not, do not lose faith. I'm confident the story will pick up in excitement and momentum from here on out.
I hope that everyone is doing well.
Ch. 19 Silver Fox
"McGee, if you cannot hold yourself together, I will throw you off this boat with my own two hands!" Shouted Gibbs over the sound of the speed boats engine. They were coming up on the Ronald Reagan in about five minutes. McGee was having difficulty with keeping the green out of his face.
"Yes, Boss," he replied, his voice sounding like a strong moan. Not for the first time, his mind wandered to thinking about Tony and Ziva. He hoped more than anything that they were safe. Tony never said it out loud, but McGee knew that his care for Ziva ran deep. Something else McGee would have liked would have been to be on dry, solid land. The speed boat did nothing to quell his nerves. He silently cursed Vance, Hadar and the whole group of Somalian terrorists that were responsible for his being on the boat with Gibbs and their six SEALs. McGee would never say as much to Gibbs out loud, but he felt that eight men taking back a whole carrier was nothing short of insane.
Gibbs, unbeknown to McGee, was thinking along the same lines. Gibbs wanted to kill Vance for assigning such a ludicrous mission. They made up a relatively quick plan on the way from Africa to Israel where they got the boat. Vance gave a quick nod of approval on the plan and sent them on their way.
The plan, as Gibbs loosely thought of it, was to infiltrate the boat through the torpedo bay. One of the SEALs with them had once worked on the Reagan and was an engineer assigned to the torpedo bay. Luckily, he knew how to get in without alerting any security.
Based on the transmission sent to NCIS that was then wired to Vance in Israel, there were about one hundred men on board who were sleepers, activated to take the ship hostage. It was a small percentage compared to the number on personnel on the Reagan , but it was enough to take the main parts of the ship captive. They were certain that already, sailors had been killed and that more would continue to die. What was most alarming was that they had released no information as to what they wanted. They'd simply taken the ship.
"We drop in ten seconds!" Shouted a SEAL. Grabbing there individual propelling devices, the team got ready to deploy. The boat driver held up a hand and began a countdown. When all of his fingers went down, the team went over the edge of the boat and dropped into the water.
They allowed themselves to sink deeper before turning on the propellers and flashlights. After a time of swimming and tense waiting, there SEAL with the knowledge of the torpedo bay had the hatch opened. Using hand signals, it was determined that he was to go first followed by the five other SEALs and then Gibbs and McGee. Releasing their individual propellers, the team infiltrated the USS Ronald Reagan.
Slowly, they made there way inside the boat. To their immense luck, the torpedo launch was empty. They pulled themselves through the narrow opening and as they got through, each SEAL took a defensive position, securing the room. Again, as though fate had a smile on his roguish face, there were no terrorists in the torpedo bay. When Gibbs got through, he indicated through hand signals that the door be closed. The sailors working down there complied wordlessly.
"Alright, listen up!" Gibbs voice carried to all of the men in the room. "As I'm sure you guessed, these are SEALs. I'm Special Agent Gibbs and this is Special Agent McGee. We're NCIS and we're here to take back the ship. I want a run down: what are these terrorist SOBs up to?" A confident looking man stepped forward. He was small and wiry. He squared his shoulders before he spoke.
"Ensign Jay Taylor, sir. In the last thirty six hours, the terrorists have either killed or taken hostage our the higher ranks of this ship. The Chief of the Boat is dead, as is our communications officer. The entire command center is guarded. The Skipper is alive to make everything seem normal, sir. They're holding anyone higher than Ensign under guard. They are confining us to barracks and our stations. We're not permitted anywhere else. Our orders are to continue as usual."
"Boss, we can take them. They don't know we're here." whispered McGee fiercely.
"There's something else though, Agent McGee. They've got the whole ship wired to explode. Completely. That's why there's so many thousands of us not rebelling. They're prepared to blow us kingdom come. And all with a dead man switch." Gibbs swore silently.
Explosives. Why is it always explosives. They make everything so damn complicated. You make one wrong move, Jethro, and these men are history.
"Can we spread word to the rest of the crew without alerting our stowaways of our presence?" Gibbs asked.
"We're communicating through simple hand signals, sir."
"Good. I want you to let them know that we're here and to be ready. We're gonna get started on that bomb. The plan is to corner these bastards. Herd them to where we can control them. We need to make their time on the USS Ronald Reagan miserable. With only about one hundred of them, they can't possibly be ready to man this ship on their own. We need to use that knowledge against them. We need to move as rapidly as possible and our first strike will be the most important."
"Where are we hitting first, sir?" questioned Ensign Taylor.
"An army marches on its stomach, Ensign. Alert the kitchen staff that whatever is served to our guests in the next twenty four hours is not to reach their usual standard of safety."
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO
"Report!" barked Gibbs three hours later. Breakfast had been served an hour ago.
"Sir, Petty Officer Third Class Randell Sells, sir. I'm in charge of the kitchen sir. We took the liberty of collaborating with the medical staff in order to acquire laxatives, sir. The desired effects have been attained, sir."
"Excellent. Ensign Taylor?"
"Yes, sir?" Gibbs had decided to make the base of operations the torpedo bay. He kept two SEALs and McGee with him. The other four were slowly disarming the bombs and watching for any enemy movement. According to the sailors, the traitors had changed into black and white fatigues.
"I need to a message relayed to the janitorial staff. When the bastards are occupied, they need to collect their weapons. This needs to be done subtly. I don't doubt that this crew is full of fine sailors, but those guns need to be given to your strongest, fastest and best fighters. Kitchen staff needs to continue with tampering the food for lunch. Now, how to they get dinner in command?"
"Two of the kitchen staff bring a cart up, sir. A different pair every time." replied Petty Officer Sells.
"Good. Then we're going to need uniform that fits me. Hopefully by dinner, that dead man switch will be ineffective. As you can see, the chance of us diffusing the entire boat impossible. We are however, ensuring that all locations necessary for the ship to continue to run are safe. We move at 1900 hours. At that time, every single crew member must be on deck. McGee will be in charge of keeping the crew organized as they get on deck. You crewmen, make sure McGee gets everyone's respect." The men in the room nodded solemnly. They knew the risk of the explosives was very real.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO
"Report," barked Gibbs for the second time that day. It was 1830 hours and he and McGee were dressed to bring command dinner.
"We ran into some trouble Agent Gibbs. The men were getting suspicious. We had to knock most of the ones on bathroom breaks out cold. They're bound and gagged in storage. We're going to need to move fast before command is alerted."
"Ensign Taylor, you're with me. I want my SEAL team as a guard. SEALs: do not hesitate to kill. They're terrorists. Our first priority is the safety of the crew. Second is questioning. Sells, I want men assigned to monitor the captured bastards. Make sure that they stay alive. When we've taken command, we will alert the ship of the change of command. Only them can they incapacitate the rest of these jerks. Let's move!" The men instantly scurried to action. Gibbs dawned a seaman's cap and exited the room surrounded by Navy SEALs. The opposition they met was minimal and quickly dwelt with.
"What was disarmed?" Gibbs asked, pushing the cart of food.
"All the engines are clear sir, as are all the piping and weapons storage. Conveniently, they're operating on a short range wireless frequency. We've managed to jam that signal without setting off the bombs. With any luck, if that switch goes off, nothing will happen. But, sir, if we're wrong, if we've screwed up, then we'll be blasted to kingdom come. I've never seem so much C-4." Gibbs nodded somberly and continued at his brisk pace.
"No worries," he said to the troubled looking man who had just delivered the report. The man looked up at Gibbs, a question in his eyes. Gibbs smirked. "I haven't given anyone permission to die."
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO
McGee was sweating bullets and wringing his hands together. He paced the confines of the torpedo bay nervously, cursing Gibbs for the hundredth time for leaving him in charge.
Why would he do this? I'm the Probie, not the senior field agent. Tony should be here, not me. Oh, great, McGee, now look what you're doing: accusing Tony of running out on you while he's off saving one of our very best friends from capture and torture. That's just great, McGee, be the selfish one. I'm not gonna be able to do this. Thousands of people looking at me for leadership! Gibbs must finally be going crazy.
"Uh, sir? Agent McGee?" McGee's head snapped up. Petty Officer Sells had addressed McGee. In many ways the two men looked alike. Sells face had more angles than McGee's, but both had short cropped blond hair, clear gray eyes and the look of men forever caught in eternal youth.
"Yes, um. Has word been sent to the crew?" McGee asked, trying to inflect a confidence in his voice that he didn't feel.
"Yes sir. They're ready to move as soon as Gibbs gives the signal. Is there anything else we can do while we wait sir?" McGee racked his brain for things to do. Then suddenly a sickening thought occurred to him.
"Sells, are there any wounded on board?"
"Yes, sir. They're under guard. I'd say about 40 men."
"Then they're going to need help getting to the deck. I want to you to find them now. Take men with you. Gibbs has been gone for fifteen minutes. Knowing Gibbs, that signal will be out within the next five. We need to move those crew members now." Sells gave a quick nod and barked an order. He took half of the remaining men from the torpedo bay. The rest turned to look at McGee. Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, McGee spoke loudly to the room.
"Let's move out now."
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
When Gibbs entered command, time seemed to freeze. There were twelve men in the room. Seven were Navy. The other five were the terrorists. What concerned Gibbs the most was the one sitting in the command chair with a vest of explosives strapped to his torso. He seemed to be starring at a video camera and was speaking a heavily accented English which he stopped when he realized there was a disruption in the room. His face grew angry.
"How dare you come in here when direct orders said you were to wait until an hour later. Jared, why did you let them in? Jared!" he shouted when there was no response. Gibbs smirked.
"Are you talking about your guard at the door? I think he might be a little incapacitated."
The man's eyes bulged at Gibbs' cool confidence.
"How dare you?" Gibbs pulled his service weapon from the cart of food. The other terrorists in the room instantly tensed, their guns up and pointed at Gibbs.
"NCIS. Lower your weapons. Now." Gibbs' voice wasn't loud, but was loaded with authority. The men with the guns held there stance while the original man speaking sported a grin.
"NCIS, huh? How convenient. You have come to clean up your mess. Let me guess, Director Vance and Director David have sent you. How very fitting."
"Drop your weapons now. Do not force me to kill you." At his words the Navy SEALs filtered into the room, three on each side, flanking Gibbs their rifles at the ready. Now, outnumbered, the terrorists became nervous, shifting on their feet uncomfortably, looking at one another.
"Agent Gibbs. I'm sorry you came all this way to die." He gave a curt nod and the room was filled with the sound of shouting and gunfire. Then, as suddenly as it had started, the fighting stopped. An eerie silence filled the room.
For a moment, Gibbs was still, silently assessing any possible wounds. He allowed himself a small breath of relief when there were none. Cautiously, he stood up. He saw that like him, other men were standing up and to his dismay, others were not. Two of his SEALs were down and it was evident that they'd never stand again. All of the terrorists were down. When he walked up to the apparent leader, he noted with apparent disgust that the dead man switch was a fake as was the bomb strapped to him.
Coward... Gibbs thought mildly. He strode over to the PA system anyway and gave the signal for the crew to move to the deck. Just because the leader was a coward didn't mean the rest of the explosives weren't real.
"Skipper, the command is yours." stated Gibbs, his voice neutral. He would not allow his voice to reflect the grief he felt over losing the two SEALs.
"Thank you, Gibbs." The skipper sent a message out over the PA system announcing the neutralization of the threat. He then addressed on of the men in the command center. "Petty Officer Lancaster!"
"Yes, sir," responded a man sitting at a console.
"Relay an emergency signal. We need a ship to evacuate to. Tell them we have wounded. I know that the Eisenhower is not far. Call to them first." The skipper squinted out at the deck of the ship.
"Gibbs, is that one of your men?" Gibbs looked out the window and let out a bark of laughter. McGee, standing on an overturned crate from bellow was shouting orders into a megaphone and to Gibbs' amusement and the Skipper's surprise, the crew of the USS Ronald Reagan were following his orders.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO
"Form you lines, let's go! Wounded up front! Get everyone on deck! Move quickly. Just because they won't go off at the flip of a switch doesn't mean those bombs won't go off at all."
"You done, McGee?" McGee almost dropped the megaphone at the sound of Gibbs' voice.
"Easy there. You did good McGee." McGee let out a huge smile and a breath of relief. Gibbs was silent for a moment, staring out at the assembling crew. McGee broke the silence.
"Boss. You think that we can get back to Somalia before Vance gets any other ideas?"
Gibbs smirked in casual Gibbs fashion and looked up at McGee.
"Yeah, McGee. Let's go find our agents.