A/N: The phrase So Others May Live is taken from the motto of the Navy's Aviation Rescue Swimmers. I think it's fitting given the mission of the Nathan James and her crew.

I want to thank Ain'tEasyBeingBreezy, scowgirl2000, Taykit12, thephantom'srose1209, and Aristanae for willing to give this a chance. You give the crew and her allies in this story hope. I would love to this show continues as the novel it's based on is pretty damn good.

To kyle, my guest reviewer: I'm just getting warmed up

For those of you who are curious, the rank of Major in the US Army is the equivalent to Lieutenant Commander in the Navy. Alex is one rank under Chandler and Slattery who are both Commanders. I went to the DOD website and looked it up ;)

So without further delay here is part two.

Jungles surrounding Guantanamo Bay, Cuba...

One year earlier...

The dense gathering of bushes, underbrush, and foliage provided the perfect camouflage. Ahead, lay the prey. A lone gunman leisurely strolling the outer perimeter just beyond the food warehouse. Sharp ice an hard brown stalked the figure as he kept his weapon, an AK-47 procured from one of their deceased comrades, across his chest. A second scoured the wreckage of the KC-135, scavenging for parts or anything else that could be fashioned into an IED or other nasty fiery shrapnel packed surprise for them.

Some things never changed.

The man glanced at his partner, feeling the hatred literally radiating from her as she crouched to the ground. The humidity lifted from the soil, taking form in beads of sweat along her forehead and forearms. The sand colored shirt and desert fatigue pants allowed her to blend into the environment. The thick carpet of mocha was tightened back in a ponytail, offering some relief from the tropical steaminess. Military style shades masked her eyes but didn't block her sight. He was clad in similar pants with a long sleeved navy blue shirt, bulletproof vest, and army green hat with US flag in light olive to cover his head. A spare Glock was strapped to his right thigh, loaded with spare clip in his pocket. Attached to her left thigh was a 7 inch combat utility knife that had shed blood twice since her "arrival" to Cuba. The right thigh was occupied with a Baretta M9 with three rounds left. He held an M4 Carbine in his hands, mindful of where the muzzle was directed.

"Cover me," she whispered hoarsely before darting closer towards the tree line. Every muscle cell in her quads and hamstrings screamed in protest as she remained close to the ground. But that was the point: Element of surprise.

"Wait," he clasped a hand on her shoulder. "How do we know it's not a trap?"

Her eyes shot towards him, narrowing at his inquiry. "We don't Tex. We don't. How many do we have left?"

"15 more counting these ass bags." Tex paused, taking a deep thick breath. The air was choking, one of the things he loathed about Cuba. But the money had won out over every reservation or hesitation he held. Guarding Al Qaeda prisoners in a section far from the main part of the base while never seeing a single flake of snow again was pretty sweet in that right.

But then the Pandemic reached Cuban shores.

It had started out with a few sailors arriving from Miami then exploded and fanned out like a wildfire in Yellowstone. Everyone was consumed within days. Doctors and nurses dropped dead alongside the patients they had battled to save. Personnel soon followed, falling like toy soldiers. The rest fled, leaving him and 5 other guards with the special inmates.

That had been a month ago.

Now, only he and the Major remained. Though knowing what was running through her mind, he worried it was only going to be him.

"I'll take Beavis if you distract Butthead." She said with an evil smile.

"You're insane you know that?" He growled but out of concern.

"Nah, this is nothing." Her eyes never broke sight of the targets. "I did two tours in Afghanistan and one mission to Columbia for a viral hemorrhagic fever outbreak. The cartel in the area didn't like us snooping around their fields..."

"What did you do!?"

The grin widened. "I don't like it when my work is interrupted or threatened."

"Shit," Tex shook his head. "Do I even want to know?"

"Probably not," a light chuckle tickled her throat. Tex watched her slender form melt into the leaves. Sighing, he stalked to the right, towards Butthead. Somewhere to his left, the Major was closing in like a leopard.

Beavis had no idea what was coming. All he was concerned with was making sure they scavenged the wreck of the plane and then making more explosives. Those two Americans had been successful in eluding them. He wanted nothing more than to watch that bitch be dispatched straight to Hell with one of his creations. His eyes scoured the tree line, peering hard for anything or anyone. Fools they were for letting he and his fellow fighters go. Pity is a weakness that is to be exploited. He did another scan of the immediate area, noticing his partner had disappeared inside the plane. He wasn't alarmed as they held the supremacy in numbers and weapons.

The blow was swift and precise.

The rock crushed the back of his skull, sending him face down into the protruding branch at his boots. His vision had exploded, brightened to the point of blurring everything around him upon impacting his forehead to the rigid root. He reached out and behind him, finding his fingers dabbing the thick crimson which sprung from the gaping wound at the base. He attempted to yell for help but the sudden slap of a gloved hand over his mouth muffled his pathetic pleas.

"Time to meet your god," the feminine voice cruelly taunted him. The other hand clamped on his forehead, clamping down like a vise. Then moving in perfect rhythm, they fired with a strength that surprised him, violently jerking his head up and right.

The last sound he heard in life was the cracking of four vertebrae playing out a macabre tune.

She disgustedly dropped the head and went to searching the body, taking her time as the short pop pop to her right told her what she needed.

Clips, AK-47, more rounds, pocket knife, and a few odd metallic pieces she suspected were destined to be another booby trap. She hurried and pocketed everything useful, tossing the rest into the trees. With a short nod of satisfaction, the Major grabbed the wrists and dragged the body into the underbrush.

"Let the wildlife have a free meal." She huffed and found a spot at the base of a large banana tree. Unceremoniously she deposited the lanky form and began to turn away but stopped. Her face darkened then contorted into a hateful sneer. An angry bellow echoed as she pivoted around and kicked her boot into the chest over and over.

"You son of a bitch!" Her feet switched off, taking turns at issuing additional injury. "I hope you rot in HELL!"

Her rage boiled over, buffering her hearing from the approaching boots.

"Major," Tex clapped a hand on her shoulder. "Major, snap out of it!" His pleas repeated as she raged on, refusing to let go just yet.

"This is for Dave you asshole," a final blow cracked the sternum. She was panting; on account of the Cuban weather. Tex took a step back, allowing her to straighten up and readjust her hair. Her face was beet red and damp with a wild look in her eye.

"Major you alright?" She nodded and wiped her nose with the back of her glove. "Yeah, I had to purge some frustration."

"I can see that," he frowned. "The other one is dead. Bastard tried to stab me with a 6 inch blade but I turned it on him."

"Good," she collected her spoils. "Let's get back to base. I've had enough dealing with assholes for one day."

"You're not the only one," she let him collect her in a comforting hug. "Still think you're crazy."

"Yeah but that craziness took out two more ass bags."

He couldn't but help to laugh at that. It was deep hearty laugh; one that you let go at a party with friends who telling a good joke or story while standing outside throwing back cheap beers.

"What would you do without me?" She teased.

Before Tex could give a comeback, the chopping sound caused both to look up and to the south. It was a chopper. It was slowly circumventing the area, searching for anyone who may be alive, either ignoring the wreckage of the plane or took note and carried on.

"That's a Navy helo," the Major observed. Where there was a chopper there had to be a ship and a ship meant people.

"Which means there's a naval ship at the docks."

"Tex, if we could see it..." Joy soured to dread.

"Yep and they'll be sending a welcoming party for them. We need to haul ass."

XO Mike Slattery was unsure of himself.

Tom was gearing up to lead the group responsible for scouting the food warehouse while one team, led by Chief Engineer Garnett would refuel the ship, and the third, led by Lieutenant Green would gather supplies, if any remained, for Dr. Scott and Dr. Tophet to continue their work. Could he make the tough calls if the need arose? Could he make the right choice under pressure!? 200 men and women would depend on him until the captain returned.

He couldn't shake the feeling something was very wrong. He couldn't put it to words but the unsettling in his chest and stomach were enough. He warned Green to remain frosty, expressing his uncertainties. The idea the CO was going out into god knows what or who else was waiting there was racking. Why did Tom have to be so goddamn adamant about going out? What if something happened to him!? Mike wiped his brow and fought back the rising bile in the back of his throat. No, he couldn't let his fears and insecurities get the better of him. He had enough vying for his attention including the mistrust he harbored in the pair from the CDC. For four months they knowingly deceived and lied to them about the true nature of their mission. While the crew had maintained silent for four months which included NO contact with family, thus being in the dark about the spreading pandemic, she had a goddamn satellite phone and was in touch with the homeland freely for four months! Frankly, his opinion was they should be the ones going out to fetch their own goddamn supplies and equipment instead of their men!

But Tom had made it very clear: Scott and Tophet were not to leave the safety of the ship.

All he could do was assume command as the three teams made their ways towards their respective objectives.

"Nathan James this is Vulture One; we're approaching the South Gate."

Tex and the Major sprinted towards the gates, ignoring the burning in their legs and chests. All those years of running and training were coming to fruition as she steadily outpaced Tex by at least two strides.

"You go towards the Humvee and I'll cover you!" She angled left, retreating into one of the abandoned buildings as he raced towards the perimeter fences. They had seen movement from the south, a team of six that was making its way towards the vehicle. Tex hurried, cursing the fact he had not given up smoking sooner. At least the Major was at her perch.

The Major watched as the new arrivals stalked cautiously around the abandoned Suburban and pick up then around a few burned shells of vehicles she couldn't identify. The instant gunfire caused her to stiffen and follow the source. One of the men, the youngest of the foursome, had lit up a 55 gallon drum because of birds. His reward was an ass ripping from another man. Ouch, that looked like it may have stung a little.

"Come on Tex," she kept one eye glued to the scope. She had the mind to stash the sniper rifle left behind by the military guards. There was no way she was going to let those bastards get their hands on it. Her breathing was level despite the rising tension below. The lead man had froze, whipping his right arm up in signaling to stop. He had seen something: the dead man in the Humvee. They were reaching for something; masks. They were going for their masks because of the body that had been strategically placed on the driver's side. They think it's an infected corpse but they're wrong!

"I'M AN AMERICAN! GET THE HELL OUTTA THERE! GET THE HELL OUTTA THERE!"

Tex hurried down the walkway with weapon held over his head, weaving around the gates and enclosures.

The team froze with weapons drawn at her friend. She focused on who she assumed was the leader of the little expedition: An older man with silver blonde hair peeking out from the helmet. He was now positioned in front of the others by a few feet, rigid in his stance. Something about him screamed "I'm in charge here!"

Before they could fire or even shout a command, the Humvee was blasted. The IED detonated, sending debris into the air then showering around the team including her. Metal twisted under the immense heat as the force of the blast molded the vehicle under its will. Chandler and his team were thrown to the ground, stunning them for a few moments. There was a ringing that perpetrated his hearing, muffling the continuous shouts of protest coming from the stranger. His skin was burning from the heat of the flames and shrapnel that cascaded through the air. Smoke smothered their noses and lungs with putrid acrid plumes.

"Nathan James this is Vulture One; we're under attack by an unknown number of hostiles." His radio worked thankfully despite it taking a beating on account of Chandler's fall. His feet were rocky as he willed his body to obey. "Stand by for firing order." He coughed between his words.

"Shit," she rolled over and grabbed the helmet by the stand. "Amir outdid himself this time." She covered the back of her neck with her gloved hands with face downward into the roof.

"Stop right there! BACK UP!" Chandler rose to his feet, shaking off the nerves and shouted with gun up and pointed. Burk and Miller followed his lead, keeping weapons up and ready. Each were shaky from the adrenaline that fed into their veins; a natural reaction to a high stress situation.

"Take it easy! We're NOT sick including the ass bags who tried to kill you! We're on your side damn it!" Tex froze, continuing to hold his gun over his head. "Don't shoot! For the love of God! We're not goddamn hostiles!"

"Stay there!" Burk hollered echoing his CO. Miller, the youngest and greenest of the group, just mimicked the actions of the others. The man was wearing a bulletproof vest and hat with US flag and had saved their asses. Surely he had to be telling the truth...Right?

"You said 'we'." Chandler looked but didn't see anyone else.

"Yeah that's right, Commodore," Tex ripped his shades off. "The Major and I are the only two left." He whistled sharply. "Major come down!"

The team turned their heads in sync, catching the approach of the Major.

"Gentlemen, meet Major Alexandra Koch, United States Army." He added a thin smile as all members of the team didn't hide their surprise. The Major was a woman! And not a bad looking one either.

She walked tall, keeping her weapon pointed down with hands elevated and collapsed on top of her head with fingers laced tightly together. The shades were tight to her nose despite rolling around the jungle and the top of building 28. Chandler raised an eyebrow but said nothing. What in the HELL was an officer doing at Gitmo? It wasn't by accident.

"Gentlemen," she paused and kept her hands planted to her head. "We're not infected. We've been away from the Gitmo Hot Zone; well us and-"

"The ass bags that left you the housewarming present." Tex finished her words. "What you saw was what was left of my best friend. Originally there were six of us; private subcontractors working security on the high profile inmates."

"Who are the ass bags?" Chandler didn't move, keeping his distance.

"Al Qaeda," the Major answered. "That would be Amir's handiwork you saw."

"You're just now telling us this?!" Chandler snarled at the pair. The Major frowned but remained silent.

"You're the one asking the questions," Tex shrugged. "About three of them peeled out with rocket launchers towards your ship. The rest spread out around the food warehouse."

"Nathan James this is Vulture One. You have multiple hostiles heading towards the rig. I repeat, multiple hostiles en route to the rigs with RPGs."

"I told you it was a bad idea letting those douchebags out. Saying I told you so just doesn't feel like enough." The Major rubbed it in. The majority ruled despite her vocal protests about letting them out. It didn't matter the world was in the grip of a pandemic that made the Great Influenza of 1918 look like the common cold! All their narrow minds registered was the status quo: Kill Westerners.

"They turned on you," Chandler looked up after relaying the warning to the James.

"Yeah and I told them don't do it because they would." She shook her head.

"Should've listened to the lady," Chandler chided Tex who shrugged.

"We figured since there was no government, no politics, or order it was the least we could do."

Anxious glances were traded before Chandler spoke up. "You two, come slowly towards us."

"Follow my lead," the Major took small timid steps. Tex kept up or rather had to slow down. "Tex, go slow. These guys will pump you full of rounds."

"Such a comforting thought," he muttered.

"Now stay there," Chandler motioned for the others to lower their weapons. The Major and Tex halted, weapon remaining in a neutral position as her hands stayed up. Her heart was pounding into her ribs but showing fear was weakness.

"Now it's our turn to ask a question," she looked pointedly at Chandler. "Who are you?"

"CO Tom Chandler, Commander of the USS Nathan James." He started towards them, extending a hand for the Major who accepted. Her grip was strong. "Major Alexandra Koch, USAMRIID."

"What's USAMRIID?" Burk blurted.

"United States Army Research Institute of Infectious Diseases; I was en route back to Bethesda when the plane I was in took a small nose dive on the outskirts of Gitmo."

"Wait," Chandler's interested peaked. "You're a scientist?"

"Actually, I'm a microbiologist and immunologist. I was on assignment in Guiana."

"You know about the virus?" His voice cracked.

"Know about it? I work in a Biolevel 4 facility and study the damn thing. Well I was." She quickly corrected herself. "Everything I had was destroyed; samples, supplies, and equipment. The cargo hold took the brunt of the fire." Her eyes shifted down, blankly looking at the toes of her boots then back up. "Tex pulled my ass out of the wreckage before the rest turned into an inferno."

Tex affectionately patted her shoulder.

"Here," one hand went up as the other slowly slid into her pocket and retrieved the ID card. "This is proof; in case any of you have your doubts. But I could provide my serial number upon request."

Chandler accepted the credential, noting the name and rank as she claimed. There was no way this was a falsified card. The bar code on the back was issued that way before being repositioned on the front.

"Major," he passed it back. "We would love to have both of your services on the James."

"I'm not sure how I'll be of help Commander." The Major shook her head doubtfully. "I don't have a lab or anything to continue my work."

"That can be arranged," he offered a thin smile. "It so happens we have two CDC scientists on board with a lab."

"You're bullshitting me right?"

"No ma'am; Dr. Scott and Dr. Tophet have been with us since the beginning."

"Doctor Rachel Scott?" A gleam of recognition ignited in her eyes. It was the first time Chandler noticed how striking they were. Shimmering orbs reminiscent of the waters that hugged the Keys.

"You know her?"

"I worked with her in the past," the Major picked her gun back up, checking the magazine with a nod of self approval.

"Alright I think we've had enough social time," Chandler looked to Tex. "You said there were more? Where are they?"

"Warehouse where the food is. It's the new women and children for them. They're going to want us go in after them."

"Some things NEVER change." The Major sighed followed behind Tex.

"So tell me what you know about the virus?" Chandler kept a watchful eye as they marched towards the inner part of the base.

"Makes the 1918 Pandemic look like a cakewalk. It's highly contagious and very communicable. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy." She shook her head. "Before I wound up here, I had been able to isolate at least 6 strains from the mutations the virus endured. However, the strain killing off everyone is different. Someone played God; in a big way. Whoever did it, knew exactly what they were doing."

The Major abruptly halted, signaling for the others to wait. Tex dropped to a crouch, scouting for any hostiles. With a short wave, the rest joined him, walking the security fences that ringed the warehouse.

"I think Amir wants our heads on pikes" the Major snorted. "I mean we did take out his second in command."

"He had it coming, Major. He had it coming."

Chandler listened to the pair ahead of him. These two knew how to hold their own from what he had eavesdropped on. Luckily for the James, she was about receive two valuable assets.

"Commander," Miller had spotted a body hanging from the fence. The Major and Tex rushed up, learning of their missing comrade's fate.

"Bastards!"

"Animals!"

Tex started for the warehouse, anger burning in his belly. The Major wasn't too far behind. The poor bastard was strung up like a trophy; his hands bound by wire with throat slashed, allowed to bleed out like a pig at slaughter. The once pristine white was soiled with drying blood that stiffened the fabric as it dried in the merciless heat.

"Stop!" Burk and Chandler obstructed their paths with the latter latching a hand on the Major's bicep. She glared incredulously from behind the shades. "They're expecting you to rush in there half cocked. Don't fall for it. You'll get your chance for revenge."

"Then let's go," Tex took lead again.

The production kitchen was void of any guards. But it didn't mean there weren't any hidden surprises.

Tex scouted the initial pathways, deducing which would be the route their targets would take. The rest of the team swept their weapons over the vast space of industrial sized gas stoves, convection ovens, steel kettle pots, and refrigerators. The walk in cooler lay in the northeast corner with the freezer adjacent to it. Rotted food emulated from behind the thick steel door, haunting their senses with each tiny step forward. Sunlight streamed through the skylights and the few windows that existed. It was the perfect arena for IEDs and Al Qaeda. Tex made a brief hand gesture with his fingers, highlighting the best means of navigation. Chandler attempted to maneuver around then in front of the Major but she countered with a rapid pivot replacing herself behind the contractor.

Damn it Major! Get your ass between Burk and I!

He silently cursed but didn't attempt to surpass her again.

The doors leading to the belly of the beast were still. Chandler took the right flank as Burk assumed the left. The Major lined up behind the Commander with Tex behind Burk. She passed a mirror to Chandler, who accepted the primitive surveillance tool. He painstakingly slid a hand between the gaps, shifting his hand like a car side mirror. So far no sightings.

Chandler allowed Tex to enter first with him then Burk, Miller, and the Major bringing up the rear. They split up in teams of three, each sweeping the first aisle they encountered. From the corner of her eye, the Major caught Chandler sneaking a glimpse of her position then rounding a corner.

"Where are-" before Miller finished the Major slapped a hand over his mouth.

As if on cue, gunfire rang out in front of them. Chandler and Burk crouched down, taking out the first two hidden on the top level and middle level. Bullets punctured the plastic drums of cooking oil but small price. Cases of dried beans and rice exploded as shells ripped apart burlap and dried good alike. The Major and Tex had vanished. Son of a bitch!

Chandler snapped his head left to see the gun raised at him. As he started to raise his, the Major darted behind him, kicking the back of his legs in. Her hands palmed the skull and in a perfect execution, snapped the neck. She released the body in disgust, catching the Commander watching from behind the stack of oats. She could read his expression but suspected he was surprised and relieved from her show.

"Holy shit," he whispered before going after the rest. The Major drew her Glock, sending two rounds between the eyes and in the throat of one. The gunfire started waning but who was winning she couldn't tell. Then it went silent.

"Hey Commodore," she heard Tex call out. The Major ducked behind some pallets of cereal, finding she was behind the remaining Al Qaeda inmates. They had Tex at gunpoint.

"Vulture One this is Nathan James; what's your status report?"

XO Slattery waited for a reply. Nothing.

"Vulture One this is Nathan James. What is your status report?"

"Nathan James this is Vulture One. We're in the middle of a hostage negotiation."

"Who are you talking to!?" The South Asian or Arabic accented voice demanded.

"My ship. If I don't reply they'll panic and start shelling the building."

"You don't talk to them anymore! You talk to me now!"

"Get the gun ready! He wants a distraction." Slattery pointed towards Nishioka who was already issuing the command to the computer. The gun whirled back to life, shifting 45 degrees towards the direction of the warehouse.

Chandler spotted movement past the operatives and Tex. The Major had slipped away in the chaos and was in position. She held her weapon in Amir's general direction, poised to take out the ringleader. She was frozen in a one knee crouch, face drawn into hardness. He didn't betray her to the enemy, keeping his concentration on getting Tex out of his predicament. So far, they weren't budging.

"I tell you what you take," Amir spat and pushed the muzzle to Tex's temple.

"There aren't enough of you to feed you for ten life times you piece of -" he was silenced with the butt of the gun striking the side of his head. The Major snarled, feeling her trigger finger becoming rather itchy.

"There are no more bad or good guys. It doesn't matter what side you choose anymore."

That's it...Keep him talking Commander...

She crept back behind the bay, using the darkness and piles to cloak her actions.

What the HELL is she doing?!

Chandler lost sight but continued distracting Amir.

"You know you can have the southwest corner of the building."

"No, you don't tell us what we keep!"

"Well then we have a problem. It may be a new world now but there's one thing from the old world that still stands even now: We don't negotiate with terrorists."

The shell struck the target, turning the southwestern corner into a curtain of burning orange and yellow. The team opened fire, taking out each remaining one. Like flies they dropped dead, each with no less than one bullet to the head or chest. Miller erupted from his hiding place, eliminating the final one. Burk glanced over from the next aisle, giving a sign of approval to the timid rookie.

"Nice shooting," the Major appeared. "Guess Navy boys can shoot." She grinned from ear to ear.

"Major Koch, I don't know what the hell you were thinking back there." Chandler huffed and lowered the Carbine.

"I was thinking that they didn't see me and if necessary provide a distraction so you can finish the job." She went to Tex who was pilfering pockets and vests. "You okay?"

"Yeah," he dismissed the initial concern.

"So, Commander," the Major stood up. "About that lab..."