Surprisingly, this chapter was mostly written before Chapter 42 Mony Mony. I just needed the proper lead in for it. Sentinel and CajunBear have been invaluable in bringing this to you. Thanks Guys
The song is in the usual place on the Tube /watch?v=bg92QpjRcJk
09:54 Local (12 December 2007)
08:54 Zulu (12 December 2007)
Through the air above the island fell a blazing meteor. As it descended the fire diminished, leaving behind a dark colored dot. The dot resolved into the Sloth and started tracing a path around the rising smoke.
Four smaller dots separated from the Sloth and fell to the ground. Shortly after separating, the smaller dots sprouted short stubby wing and there was the flare of jets out the back. They fell even faster as they accelerated to the ground, flaring for a landing just before impact.
After landing, one pair brought up M4 carbines covering the other pair as they discarded their jet packs. Once the packs were off, the second pair took over covering operations and the first pair followed suit removing their packs. At no time was there NOT a weapon trained outward.
A quiet, young masculine voice was heard, "I have point, Stoppable you've got our 'six', Possible, Chidori, right and left, 3 and 9." He glanced up, "Load, you're our eyes, stand by, but keep alert, we'll secure the LZ. Everyone remember, keep the coms open. Let's move out, movement to contact."
The four shifted into a squashed diamond formation and started advancing, the point covering the front, the left and right facing out to the sides and the last shuffling backwards in the rear. All had their weapons up and ready. Where their eyes went, so too did the muzzle of their weapon. Flicking back and forth, tracing to roofline, pausing for an instant at windows, never really stopping as they scanned for threats.
On the flight over, though it galled her, Kim admitted that this wasn't going to be a standard 'Team Possible Infiltration and Stop the Bad Guy du jour' mission. She knew they were dropping into a Combat Zone this time and while she had no doubts about leading Team Possible on one of the regular sneaking mission, a free fire zone was something else. If they had no other options, she would have done so, but having Sagara along changed the equation. He had years more experience in the sitch than she did. It stuck in her craw but she ceded overall command to him.
Another thing she wasn't comfortable with was how Sagara had assigned everyone. She knew why he had taken the point position and why he'd given Ron the 'Six' slot. Those two positions were the most likely to have to engage an enemy target. And the two of them were the most likely to shoot without hesitation.
Before they'd left, one of the first things they had done was alert Global Justice to the situation. That led to another reason she wasn't happy with the situation. Dealing with GJ had delayed their departure by nearly two hours.
Dr. Director promised to scramble any assets in the area, but with the layers of bureaucracy it would take time for them to arrive. Their ETA was four to six hours behind Team Possible.
Over the coms they heard Wade's voice, "Guys could ya hurry up and get me down from here? I feel like a floating target."
The Team wanted to get the Sloth on the ground as soon as possible, so they first headed for an area large enough to land it. Wade had scanned the island from the time Senior had cut the connection to when they started reentry, only stopping when the ionization had cut even his links. He followed the battle as best he could from the over heads and tracked the attackers north as they left, but lost them when they passed out of range of the satellite he was using and disappeared.
But that didn't mean that the enemy hadn't left anyone behind to ambush any follow-on relief forces. It wasn't likely, but the Team wasn't taking any chances.
Coming to a what-appeared-to-be-a village square, the point held up a fist to the rest of the Team, telling them to stop.
The red-head in the three o'clock position felt the occasional brush to her right as the blonde male shuffled backward, watching behind them. They had trained with Sagara enough that this was almost second nature by now. When Sagara held up his left fist, calling for a halt, Kim lightly thumped Ron in the back with her right elbow, silently passing him the order.
He silently flashed two fingers at them twice, then using a flat hand, he pointed to two separate spots within the square. Then he used two fingers to point to his eyes and the flat hand arced around the square. Those silent gestures told everyone the plan. Split up 2X2 and in a bounding overwatch, approach the two spots he'd picked. At the same time, keep an eye out for possible snipers.
The first pair split up and ran to two separate points about a third of the way to the spots Sagara had pointed out. They ran hunched over with their weapons at the ready until they reached their chosen points. They settled into a kneeling position with eyes and weapons scanning.
Once both signaled their teammates the other pair bounded past them to a spot that was two-thirds of the way, repeating the actions of their counterparts. When each pair arrived at the chosen positions they were able to cover nearly the entire square. Silently they watched for a few moments. One by one they passed a silent 'Clear' signal to the Leader.
"Load. Sagara."
"Go ahead."
"Report."
"Since you bailed, I've been orbiting the island keeping an eye out for antiaircraft or hostile inbounds. So far nothing."
"You still have us on sensors?
"Yeah, I got a solid lock on all of your chips. Sensors show that you're covering what looks like a small park in the center of the village."
"Any hostile traces?"
"Depends. I've been releasing some sensor platforms, no movement or radio chatter. I got several heat traces, but they're awful hot. They look to be fires of some sort. Other than the heat traces though, nothing!"
"Very well, bring her in, hard and fast. Assume a hot LZ."
"On the way. Thanks, I was really nervous up here."
The Sloth was barely a dot it was so high. They'd decided to keep it out of the line of fire as much and possible for a variety of reasons. Among the list was the vehicle was carrying their heavier weapons and much more advanced sensors. Also, if they needed to retreat, it was also their only way out until GJ arrived hours behind them.
From high in the sky, it dropped like a stone until just before impact, the engines screamed, slowing it to a solid landing, bottoming out the suspension. The engines were another reason they'd left it flying cover overhead. The Sloth was many things; silent was not one of them. The jet-packs were whisper quiet by comparison.
Once the Sloth was on the ground, the Team split off one member of each pair to help unload it. Kim and Kaname stayed on covering duties while Sagara and Ron approached the Sloth.
While Sagara help Wade get his gear ready, Ron went to the trunk and replaced his M4 with an M249 SAW (Squad Automatic Weapon). The reason Ron landed with an M4 was the machine-gun might have overloaded the flight-pack.
They'd considered bringing a much heavier M240Bravo, but decided to use the SAW instead. This was because while the 240 fired 7.62mm rounds, both the SAW and the rest of the Team's M4's used the same 5.56mm ammunition.
Ron loaded the SAW by slipping one of the plastic drums into its spot under the weapon, then opening the feed tray cover he laid the end of the linked belt in the tray and closed the cover. He settled the carrying strap for the 249 around his neck and pulled the charging handle to the rear. Once the bolt locked to the rear, he pushed the handle forward and flipped the safety. If what he thought happened had happened, God Himself would be the only one that would help the enemy.
Once Wade had his gear ready, he hefted a huge rucksack filled with only he knew what. Once he was ready, Sagara signaled the girls to assemble by Kaname's spot. Ron maintained his position as Sagara and Wade bolted towards Kaname, and Kim came towards him. Before Wade and Sagara could reach Kaname, Kim had caught up to them. When they were settled, they covered Ron as he joined them.
While the rest covered him, Wade shucked his ruck and set it on the ground. Like all the rest except for Ron, he had his M4 in an assault sling and his sidearm in an underarm holster. Unlike the rest, he didn't have his weapon in his hands. Instead he had his larger highly modified Kimmunicator out tapping away.
The first thing that happened was to the Sloth. A series of plates raised both up and down. Up the windows and down the wheel wells. Now nothing short of a tank or anti-tank rounds could hurt it.
Next he reached into a pocket on top of the ruck and pulled a hand sized cardboard box. He pulled and discarded the lid, holding the box away from himself, and then tapped a command on the Kimmunicator. A swarm of objects the size of very large bugs erupted from the box. They flew up and away in all directions. Some entered shattered windows, some flew to the tops of the surrounding buildings and the rest flew up the streets further out.
After a few minutes, Wade started looking a bit pasty, "Guys. I've got a few bodies. No one we know. But from the looks of things they were some of Senior's people. Other than that, nothing. The spybugs don't show anything living other than a couple of dogs and maybe a housecat. We're clear."
Sousuke looked at the display, pointed and asked, "The villa is here, correct?"
"Yeah."
"Can your spy bugs keep up with us if we're moving fast?"
"Not if we're doing a dead run, but they can hold a fast walk for a lot longer than we could hold a run."
Sousuke studied the display a moment, memorizing the route. "Alright, Load, have the bugs keep up a perimeter. When we move out, we're in the center. Concentrate on point and the flank. Everyone else, same formation. Cover Load, he's our eyes and ears. Load, if you even suspect something's wrong, call out. Any questions?" Receiving none, he said, "Alright, let's move out."
As they went, occasionally they came across a body of one of the defenders. Bullet-riddled walls attested to the battle that occurred here. Just in front of the entrance through the wall of the villa, they found a defense point that had gone up in flames, containing two defenders. You couldn't tell if they were male or female.
After seeing, and even worse smelling it, Wade, Ron and the girls all lost their dinners. Ron made the comment, "I think the next time someone tries to say that a burning person smells like burning pork, I'm gonna punch 'em dead in tha' mouth!"
"I never understood that comparison myself."
The rest looked at the Soldier looking at the formerly artfully concealed pill box with the same thought going through their heads. "He's seen this before."
They were getting ready to move out, when Sagara noted that Kim couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from the smoking remains. In a low, but firm voice, he said "Corporal." When he had her attention, he continued, "The best way to prevent either us or you from ending like that is eyes out."
When she shakily nodded her understanding, he asked, "Load, how's the perimeter?"
"Same as before, still nothing."
They huddled by the gates while Sagara looked up to the looming walls of the villa, and specifically the main entrance, he noted the places where grenades had gone off, the gouges knocked into the granite and marble of the villa itself, the bullet holes in the surrounding wall, experience telling him a story. The story of the last minutes of the battle here.
He pointed, "Two to four defenders at the main entrance, covering the retreat of allies through these gates. Just before they fell back to gain space and time, they used a volley of grenades to cover their retreat and fell back into the structure itself. After that I'm not sure."
"Load, once we're inside, have half of your bugs maintain a perimeter on the building itself. The other half around us inside. Set it up. When you're ready, we move out."
It didn't take the young genius long to comply. A few minutes later they entered the same room Ron had battled Senior's defenses a few months ago. All the statuary had been dragged to one of the large hallways leading deeper into the villa. Behind it nearly blocking the hallway was a refrigerator, of all things.
Sousuke said, "Possible, Stoppable, Load, you three knew the Senor better. What would he defend?" Wade tapped his Kimmunicator a moment then the three looked at each other a second.
Kim and Ron echoed, "The Control Room." Kim elaborated, "It's one of the best build, most defensible spots in the house."
"Possible, you have point. Move out."
A few minutes later found them entering the main control room. Getting past the barricade of statues and the huge refrigerator had been interesting. On the defenders side of the barricade was a sizable pile of empty 7.62mm casings and links. Halfway through the opening between it and the wall they found an old discarded M60 machine-gun, the barrel slightly warped.
Sousuke pointed the weapon and the pile and noted, "Someone was either very serious or very desperate, probably desperate. They were firing so fast they never had time to change out the barrels. That's how it got warped."
Further down the hall the found the Control Room. To one side was the shattered remains of the glass doors leading to the east side patio. The center of the room was an overturned desk with significant damage to the desktop set up as an improvised defense point. Through the remains of the patio door, they saw something covered in what looked like the Spanish Flag with the edges of the Flag tucked underneath.
Suspecting what it was, Ron screamed, "SENIOR!" Sagara and, suspecting why he did a second later, Kim both grabbed Ron to prevent him from rushing out to the form on the deck.
Kim hollered at her lover, "RON, it could be booby trapped! Let Wade run a scan first! Wade?"
"On it!" He carefully approached running his Kimmunicators scanning beam across the flag covered forms. "No explosives, electrical devices, nothing that looks like a trap."
Kim held onto Ron as Sagara carefully pulled the head of the flag back to reveal two people, one of them Senor Senior, Senior. Both dead.
Sousuke looks at the flag covered forms, saying, "This is strange. Someone took the time to honorably lay them out. Why?"
Possible snaps "There's two men DEAD here and maybe a couple dozen more outside, and that's the only thing you can say?"
"Corporal, I can weep and rage at the heavens about this. Or I can gather information, find who did it, visit a terrible retribution upon them. I choose to do something constructive. I will mourn later.
"Information about things like the fact that both of these men were deliberately laid here with their weapons. Or what about this?" He pointed to something hooked through Senior's collar. "This is a medics morphine syrette. Who injected him? It had to be someone with experience as a Combat Medic. Hooking the syrette to the collar is standard procedure to keep from overdosing the wounded patient. Was the Senor wounded early in the fighting or just before the end?"
"And who laid these two men out and why? From the evidence of the battle there was no one left. What happened and who did it? The only way to find out is to keep our heads and gather information. Let's start to look around and see what we can discover." Remembering what happened with Will Du, he said, "No one gets left alone, we stick together."
Kim gathered herself self-control by sheer willpower and nodded, "So what's next?"
Sousuke looked to the rest of the Team and said, "Suggestions?"
Kaname said, "I saw what looked like an office just off the Control Room. Check there first?"
Sousuke asked, "Objections?" Receiving none, he said, "Let's move out."
Reentering the Control Room, they found shattered, broken and burned out workstations and terminals. By the looks of the burned out ones, some were obviously destroyed after the fighting had ended, probably using thermite grenades.
They carefully entered the office just off the Control Room. Apparently from the stripped flagpole and abandoned chair, this was where both the Spanish Flag covering Senior and shattered desk in the main room had come from.
Ron made the comment, "Man, this place is wrecked."
Kim, who was looking at the shattered computer and noting the bullet holes through the middle of the tower, asked, "Wade, do ya think ya can do anything with this?"
The teen was about to respond when suddenly a mechanized voice was heard, "Voice patterns identified, Ronald Stoppable, Kimberley Possible. Mr. Stoppable, what was your comment about the doors of Senior's home the first time you arrived here? Ms. Possible, what was the sum of your suggestions to Senor Senior, Senior the first time you arrived here?"
They looked at each other confused until Ron said, "Uhhh, that they went 'Whoosh'."
"Password 'Whoosh', confirmed. Awaiting second password."
Kim was shocked, "A password?" Racking her brain she suddenly exclaimed, "Eco-friendly!"
"Password 'Eco-friendly', confirmed. Team Possible's presence confirmed. Initiating final program." A part of the seeming polished solid granite wall started to turn, spinning on a turntable, revealing a computer server workstation, complete with keyboard, mouse and what was at least a 45in HiDef monitor. A tone was heard, "Final program, ready to initiate."
The screen winked on revealing Senior's smiling face. "Greetings, Kimberly, Ronald. Unfortunately I don't have enough information to be sure that your friends would have accompanied you, so would the two of you pass my respects to Dr. Load. Also my most heartfelt congratulations to Chidori Kaname-chan and Sagara Sousuke-san on their impending nuptials."
He looked very smug, "Before we get down to brass tacks, there are a few things. As you undoubtedly know, I was an obscenely rich man. I was also a very well informed obscenely rich man. I was a generous man, as well an Honorable man who acknowledges a debt. And to prove all of these facts."
"For Specialist Dr. Wade Load, a Foundation to allow him to continue doing what he's become so good at. Building the tools the two of you use so well. He will receive an expense account of one million American Dollars annually. He will need to keep accurate records because, except for a small portion, ten percent annually, to be used as his remuneration, the monies will not really be his and any unused funds will roll back into the principal and his account will be credited back to the starting amount. But as long as he is a member of your Team and annually submits an expense report, he shall have all the funds needed to keep him in the 'Researching Gadgets for Heroes' business. Not that he really needs the money."
"Next, as a very heartfelt thank you for their efforts in repairing the rift that occurred between the two of you after your Graduation, please tell Specialist Chidori Kaname-chan and Staff Sergeant Sagara Sousuke-san, that it would be my Honor to gift them with fifty thousand American Dollars to be placed in a fund to be used for their nuptials." His smile grew smug again, "It is my hope that they use the majority of the monies for their Honeymoon."
"And last, but most certainly not least, to thank the two of you for making the last few years of my life so enjoyable by being my Teen-foes, I wish to ensure that, no matter what you do for the rest of your lives, that, if you wish, you will be able to continue doing that at which you are so good. When the word of my passing is confirmed, my attorneys in the States have orders to set up a Foundation allowing you to continue being the Heroes you have been without the need to make a choice between that or earning a living. In effect, Sergeant Kimberly Anne Possible, Specialist Ronald Dean Stoppable, I'm hiring the both of you."
His infamous evil snicker made a reappearance. "Consider it my last villainous act, because the two of you are going to receive a check anyway, whether you want it or not. What you do with the money is your business, but you should be aware that a '1099' will be reported to the IRS. Mhmhmhmhmhh!"
The whole Team was stunned. Only Sagara was dry-eyed but they could tell it was a near thing. The girls were the worst, Kim was crying as she watched the recording. She was being held by Ron who had tears in his eyes as well. Kaname was sobbing into Sousuke's chest his arms around her. The fact she had never gotten meet this strange man who had given her such a gift was almost more than she could take. Wade was standing there jaw trembling as his tears traced tracks down his face.
But Senior didn't give them any time, "Now, on to business. This server is set up with a series of removable hard drives containing in depth, comprehensive information on all of Senior Industries focusing mostly on the information gathering and industrial espionage aspects. By the way, of course I attempt the find out things about my competitors from the business world. They do the same to me."
"But for now, that is beside the point. Now, in addition to the large number of people your Team has all across the world that pass you information about possible villainous activities, you have coded access to my own well established network, above and beyond the access I granted Mr. Stoppable a few months ago. Every one of my agents around the world have been ordered to send any information about anything they think might be 'Villainous' directly to Dr. Load for evaluation, correlation and confirmation."
"I am no Oracle, but in light of the fact that at the moment I have no villainous activities planned, I can assume that the reason you're seeing this recording is that something terrible has happened here, necessitating your arrival. To assist you in discovering what happened, the sensors, video and audio recordings for the last forty-eight hours in the public areas of the villa and its surrounding environs are stored within this server as well."
"It is assumed that you would either bring or have access to Dr. Load. Please have him stand-by to accept a data transfer that will tell him how to safely remove these hard drives. Be sure to tell him, that you only get one chance. If the slightest mistake is made, this server will self-destruct. He should be very careful!"
"Vaya con dios, my friends. And Good Luck."
Snapping himself out of his daze, Wade sat in the chair before the terminal and got to work. A short time later he found that Senior had placed some serious protections on the terminal. He was being asked to provide information that he knew was secure in an effort to prevent the information it contained from falling into the wrong hands.
It took a while, but eventually the genius was able to get into the system allowing the Team to discover what had happened in the last few hours.
06:30 Local (12 December 2007)
Two Hours before BMNT (Begin Morning Nautical Twilight)
05:30 Zulu (12 December 2007)
21:30 Mountain (11 December 2007)
Balearic Sea
Coming in low under the radar horizon screamed a squadron of assault craft carrying four platoons of heavily armed Troops. Just before they showed on the screens of the target island, the four craft broke formation. One stopped far enough out to stay under the radar, while the other three continued towards the objective. The two wingmen banked heavily to the left and right to keep any flak and antiaircraft missiles that might be targeting them from locking onto the larger target signature. They landed on the beaches at three widely separated points; fifty plus men bailed quickly out of each craft and set up their perimeters. As soon as the last man in each craft had boots on the ground, the assault craft immediately lifted off and hustled out of the area. The aircraft were the only exit strategy the men had and had to be protected.
For the men on the ground, their orders were simple. Kill everyone on the island. Particularly the multi-billionaire who owned it. They knew that by now, he was well aware he was under assault, but the time honored, battle-tested tactics of Blitzkrieg should keep him from activating any defensive measures he might have had in place. Hit fast, hard and above all else, keep up the pressure. The only difference between their strategy and the classic Blitzkrieg would be the lack of air-support, but the proximity of Spanish, French and Italian Naval and Air Forces dictated against it. If they discovered what was happening, the consequences would definitely be sub-optimal for the mission parameters.
As he had gotten older, he had discovered that he needed less sleep than in his youth. Especially if he napped during the day. At 06:35 in the morning, the alarms sounded alerting him that there was something wrong. Stepping to the computer console, he opened a link to the Security Center and just said, "Report."
"Senor, a few minutes ago, we tracked three, possibly four aircraft approaching, intentions unknown. The three we are sure about landed on the beaches as separate points. We were in the process of activating the sensor perimeter when you called."
"Send me any feeds you have from the visual and audio sensors and continue monitoring."
When the tech on duty passed the feed to him, Senior brought up screen after screen for the cameras littering his ancestral home. He never used the sensors when he was performing a villainous activity because he felt it would give him a dishonorably unfair advantage. But something else was happening, something he had been expecting since he had lost contact with some of his German agents.
Seeing the figures in night-vision monochrome green, he watched as the person in Command ordered them to spread out then send out flankers to the side and skirmishers forward. When some of the skirmishers encountered one of his men patrolling the island, like a ghost, a silenced weapon came up and his man fell, he knew he was dealing with professionals.
The old man instantly opened a connection on his speakerphone and hit a four digit number. The answer took bare seconds. "Yes, Senor."
"Rodrigo…Bring my son and his paramour to Central Control, now! No protestations or arguments. Frogmarch the both of them if you have to. No excuses, I will be there in a moment."
While he was talking, he bypassed the suit the valet had laid out the night before. With an energy and vitality of a man half his age, he opened the closet, shuffled aside the three thousand dollar suits and 800 dollar shoes.
"It is as we feared, sound the alarms, but have your men fall back. Sniping only, make them keep their heads down, try and avoid getting entangled until they reach the inner defense lines. The only exception is rear-guard to the families."
He discarded the nightclothes he was wearing revealing a spare frame, covered with ropy muscle. He quickly pulled on a pair of dark loose fitting, baggy pants and a thick, snug, black long-sleeved shirt. Two pair of socks, first a thin nylon, then a thick wool set and his feet slid into a pair of beat up black combat boots. After lacing up the boots, he exited the room at a run.
Down three flights of stairs, because it would be faster then the elevator, and into a room filled with screens and computer monitors, he stepped up to a bowl-like table that displayed a projection of the island. Red arrows showed the route of the attacking forces. There were dashed blue ones showing where the island's defenders were forming up to meet the enemy, the red arrows slowly advancing into contact with the blue ones.
His security teams could handle a mob, a large group of Henchmen or even a couple of squads of SpecOps, but what looked like more than one hundred and fifty trained Troops was a different proposition. His retainers were loyal, they had served his family generation after generation, and most had served in the Spanish Army at some point, but they weren't trained or equipped to repel an assault of this nature.
While the politically sensitive nature of the location of his ancestral home meant that while he could get away with villainous extortion and intimidation schemes, openly having a couple of fully armed, combat ready companies of men on standby all of the time wasn't going to happen.
None of the nation-states whose territorial waters abutted the island would allow it, no matter how much money he pumped into the European economy. Training and arming that many people would have gotten him a visit from someone like the Légion étrangère, more commonly known as the French Foreign Legion.
That wasn't to say that ways hadn't been found around those limitations. They just couldn't be brazenly displayed. Nearly every man and a significant percentage of the women on the island had served in the Military Forces of either Spain or some other nation. Secreted at various points around the island, caches of the tools of Warfare. Over the years, these had been updated and modernized as needed to stay current with the times.
On top of these caches of heaver arms, like the tiny country of Switzerland, each homeowner had a small arms locker containing the residents' assigned weapons. Any force attacking the small island was likely to get a serious bloody nose. It was only the lack of the signal from the island's owner and leader of the inhabitants to go active that had prevented the residents from taking part in repelling a certain Teen Hero and her Sidekick. To the man who owed the island, 'Such a thing just isn't done. It would be dishonorable.'
Senior knew the best thing he could do was stay out of the way of his Head of Security and let the man do his job. He watched as hidden positions were bypassed and the men in them popped up to take the enemy on the flanks, forcing them to stop and engage the defenders position. Once the position was engaged, the defenders would slip out the back and slither to another further along the line of advance, trading space for time. But the attack had hit too hard and too fast. He had expected an attack, but nothing like what they were facing.
Senior kept observing the plot and made a decision. He said, "Rodrigo, call the Chapel. Have them sound the bells. All of them."
"All of them, Senor? Sir, we haven't sounded all to the bells in…two hundred and fifty years."
Into the milieu of tension in the room a trio of men entered, two practically carrying his son while the third had Bonnie in a double thumb-lock, arms behind her, both of the couple were squawking and sputtering.
Senior looked the group, turned and headed into his office simply saying. "Bring them." As he went, he called back over his shoulder at the open-mouthed Security Chief, "Do it. We have no time. Full evacuation."
When they entered the office, he immediately pulled out a set of keys from his pocket and unlocked a panel in the floor. Opening the panel revealed a very heavy duty floor safe.
Behind him the young couple continued complaining at the treatment they were receiving, "Father! Father! These…these… these ruffians accosted me and my Bonita while we slumbered and laid their hands on us. Fire them!"
"Let go of me you thugs! Just who do you think you are!"
The old man kept working at the combination of the safe as he raised his voice above the din being created by the couple. "Both of you calm yourselves. Had the two you listened to me weeks ago when I informed you to never argue with the security personnel, they would not have had to resort to such barbaric measures."
"But Father, we haven't had our ten hours of sleep yet. How can I be a teen pop sensation unless I get the rest required?"
"Junior! Be quiet and listen."
"But Father!"
"JUNIOR! You will shut up and listen!" The volume momentarily stuns the self absorbed couple. Enough for Bonnie to look around and start realize that something is seriously wrong.
After he had the combination entered, he tapped a button on the safe and the lid opened with the hiss of hydraulic assistance. He reached in and removed a small wooden box and flash drive. The box appeared to be old, very old. It was made from rich maple, lovingly stained. The top was white enamel with a broad red cross. Senior stands goes to the wall and opens a hidden key-pad, after tapping a series of digits, a concealed door opens. "Junior, you and Miss Rockwaller are leaving the island, now. You will go down this passage and…"
He's interrupted by his son. "But Father, I can't possibly leave yet. We haven't packed. How long are we going to be gone? I need to know how much Le Goop to take."
While Junior was rambling, Senior strides closer to the young man and for the first time in his life his Father strikes him. Senior backhands his son so hard he knocks the larger, younger man to the ground.
"For once in your life, quit sniveling, shut up and do as you're told. We have no time to argue. Leave everything. Take the back passages and go to the sub pen. The instant you're aboard, seal the hatch and instruct the computer 'Emergency Protocol Dunkirk'. Follow all its instructions precisely. Junior, if you fail to follow those instructions, there's a very good chance you and Miss Rockwaller could end up DEAD! Do you understand me?"
Looking up at the towering fury his kindly, urbane forebear had become, Junior could only stammer "No Father, but I will do exactly as you say."
Relieved the old man said, "Thank you, my Son."
He helped pull Junior to his feet and offers the small box, "You are to take this with you. This contains your heritage. Junior, I can not stress to you just how important this is. The secrets within are worth my life, they were worth your Mother's. Guard it with your life, Junior, because they're worth yours." Senior pulls his Son close and whispers, "The flash drive has all the information. It has a password. Use your brain Junior and think. Look to your Mother's eyes. No one can help you with this."
He saw the Security Chief entering with a tall man a little older than Junior. "Rodrigo?"
Rodrigo de la Luna spoke to Junior and Bonnie "Follow this man, listen to him, he will guide you and guard you with his life." The Chief turned to the young man and whispered, "Do your duty, understood?" When the young man nodded the Chief hugged him fiercely, muttering, "Vaya con dios, my Son."
Senior turned to Bonnie. "Miss Rockwaller, I want to thank you. The time you have spent here has brightened this island beyond anything except my dear departed Wife. Junior, always remember, no matter what happens I love you very much."
The young couple both start to question him, "Father?" "Poppi?"
"There's no time left. Go. GO!"
When the trio entered the passage, Senior sealed the door, pulled the keypad from the wall and crushed it underfoot. Without that specific keypad and the proper code, the only way to open the passage now was by cutting through the reinforced steel door.
Senior and Rodrigo reentered Central Control and stepped up to the plot. He asked for an update. "Sir, we've contacted the Chapel. With any luck the first of the non-combatants will be loaded within twenty to thirty minutes. Estimate sixty to ninety minutes for complete evacuation."
"Very good, carry on. I need to place a call. I shall return momentarily." He stepped back into his office, booted his computer and input a web address hoping the young man was awake.
Middleton, CO, USA
21:49 Local (11 December 2007)
06:49 Zulu (12 December 2007)
05:49 Senior's Island (12 December 2007)
They were sitting and watching a movie before calling it a night when the light on the camera blinked on and the screen changed to the frantic face of their tech-guru, "Guys you need to see this. Senior just called and said he's under attack. Go ahead, Senior."
"Ahh, Team Possible, my young foes. It's good to see you again, even under these trying circumstances."
Kim asked, "Senior, how bad it? How many Henchmen are we talking about?"
"Oh, no 'Henchmen' this time, my dear. My Security Chief thinks we have about three full platoons of attackers. They seem to be quite professional and very well armed."
Ron asked, "Well who the Hell are they then?"
"We don't know. However last week, one of my agents in Germany was able to pass me a message. He'd been burned, his cover blown. He was going to try and escape, but he was not sanguine about his chances. I suspect they are the same enemy that you face, Mr. Stoppable."
Kim says, "All right, Senior, hold on, we can be there in about two hours, two and a half max!"
He smiled, "My apologies, but this will be finished, one way or the other, in much less time then that. Most of my family's retainers will have escaped and be on their way well before then. I just wanted to inform you so you can be on alert for my Son. He will be taking a roundabout route to my airfield near your base of operations. Please, look after him. My business advisors can take care of him financially, but he will need assistance getting through these events."
Sousuke, thinking he has an idea where this is going, jumps in. "Senor Senior, when are you going to get out? There's still time for you to evac."
Senior eyed the young man, "Mr. Sagara, this island had been the home of my family since the 1300's. My family stayed during the Thirty Years War and The Hundred Years War, we stayed here through the French Revolution and when Napoleon marched across Europe. We were not driven from our home as German and Allied ships-of-war plied the waters surrounding it through two World Wars and I will not be driven from it now. One may retreat from or surrender to an Honorable foe."
As he was speaking, his face and voice hardened, "But, with a dishonorable one, there can be no retreat, no surrender and no quarter asked for or given. They deserve nothing but an ignoble end. Within the hour, I will have evacuated everyone I can, but I'm staying," In the background came the sounds of church bells tolling, half a dozen at least.
Ron said, "Senior, you always get the best money can buy. I know you have one. Get to a panic room and hang tight."
"A panic room? A rather dishonorable thing don't you think?" Remembering the time he sat huddled in just such a room, that statement struck Ron like unexpected punch in the gut.
"No, I will face this challenge as I have faced all the others in my life. With my head up, looking it right in the eye. These people think they can come into my abode unopposed? They will find they are sadly mistaken."
Wistfully, he glanced down at his ten thousand dollar watch, "It's nearly dawn here. And I hope to be able to see it again."
Kim was starting to get frantic, "Senior, don't you do this. Don't you give up, you hear me."
The old man smiled, not a smirk or an evil grin, but an actual smile. "Miss Possible, I have never given up on anything in my life. However to paraphrase Ernest, an acquaintance of my younger days," He pointed over his shoulder, "Today, this day, ask not for whom the bell tolls, for it tolls for me. Vaya con dios, my friends." He reached and closed the connection before they could say anything.
He stands and implements a worm that would copy the data on his computers to Wade's at the same time as it overwrites it on his. Then he reaches into a drawer and opens a lockbox, whereupon he pulls out a key with a remote fob. As he exits the office he inserts the key into a small unnoticed panel beside the door and turns the key. The light on the panel flashes from green to red. Leaving the room, he hits the remote and the file cabinets start to incinerate all the hard copy backups.
Back in Middleton, Ron hollers at the screen, "Senior, SENIOR!" He runs to the intercom, "Wade, get him back."
"I can't get a connection through, Ron. There's something going on though. Every bit of bandwidth he has is dumping gigabytes of data onto my servers."
Kim looks at the now blank screen for a second. "Let's go."
Senior Island
The enemy's three platoons continued to move forward under much heavier than expected resistance. So much so they had been forced to call in the reserve fourth platoon. Since most of the residents of the small island had access to both weapons and communications, they were able to force the attackers to engage well in advance of the second line of defenses.
The enemy had split down to squad sized elements to broaden the front and thin the defenders. As a squad 8-10 would peel off to the flank, the defenders would send 2-3 men to positions to get into defilade. This would allow the defenders to fire in enfilade, or along the long axis of the enemy formations.
Sometimes it worked, sometimes not. But the point here wasn't to try and stop the enemy. The defenders didn't have a chance of doing that and they knew it. The point was to slow them down enough for the non-combatants to get out of the line of fire. The sounds of the bells from the island's Chapel told all of the non-combatants to hurry to the evacuation points. Once an area was cleared, the defenders would make a fighting withdrawal further towards the inner defense ring, constantly harassing the enemy enough to make him cautious, slowing them down. Something the attacking forces were desperately trying to avoid.
Senior asked, "How long Rodrigo?"
"If we had had everyone in position, never. But that reserve platoon broke our backs. As it stands, the second line will fall shortly. The inner? An hour, maybe. We should be able to get the families out. The hard part will be trying to disengage enough to get the last of the defenders out."
Over an hour and a half later, as the last of his people evacuated, Senior gave the order for the rest of his men to fall back. The very last of them heading toward the Control Center and the two remaining evac pods.
Senior left the plot table he had been watching for the last two hours and started to open a large standing safe. He looked at his Security Chief and said, "Rodrigo. It's time for the rest of you to leave as well."
The middle aged man stood straight, "Senor, in 1311 when the Senior family was forced out of Castillo de los Templarios, in Ponferrada ( Castle of the Knights Templar, Ponferrada, Spain) they were accompanied by the de la Luna. In 1519 when Cortez landed in the New World there was a Senior amongst his men. And beside the Senior, was a de la Luna. When your father served in 1914, my Great-Grandfather was beside him."
The big man smirked "Senor, I don't think you ever realized how upset my Pawpaw was with you when you were thirteen and disappeared in '37 to fight the Fascists, leaving him behind. And that picture you sent home in '44, I don't know who was more upset with you. Your Mother, because you were riding a motorcycle across and though the battlefields of Europe dodging Nazi patrols. Or your Father, because you were doing it carrying an American Thompson."
"For over seven hundred years, my family has served yours. To the benefit of the de la Luna. Because of your Father, my Grandfather and my Father both attended University. Because of you, I attended, as did my children. In the course of time, I had expected to take a place at the side of your son, but that is not to be. My son will fulfill the duties of the de la Luna to Senor Junior."
"My place is here, at your side." The man raised his eyebrow and smirked again, "If they live, I suspect that your son will be growing up, very fast!"
Senior passed a gimlet-eye at his retainer. "Rodrigo, which one of your sons accompanied them?"
Senior could see the man was bursting with pride. "My eldest, Senor. Alejandro Jose de la Luna. He graduated University five years ago and recently completed an enlistment with Légion étrangère. After earning several medals for bravery in the Middle East, last year he was assigned as training cadre for the remainder of his enlistment and has since been Honorably Discharged."
"Rodrigo, do you mean to tell me that the young man you sent with my son, my Junior, is a former Drill Sergeant for the French Foreign Legion?"
Rodrigo was wearing a smug grin, "Of course, Senor."
"Oh 'Of Course.' Well since it would do little good now to fire you for such a transgression, we'll just have to let it pass. I guess Junior will be growing up rather fast." He pulled the door of the safe open revealing a collection of equipment and various firearms. He tossed an MP5 along with a bandoleer of magazines to his retainer. Then he reached back in a pulled out another bandoleer, this one containing a selection of grenades and tossed it as well.
Next he pulled out a Thompson sub-machine gun with dual pistol grips. He ran it through a quick functions check. The old sub-machine gun had obviously been lovingly cared for over the last 70 plus years. It cycled smoothly as he pulled the bolt.
The retainer looked at the Thompson in askance, "Are you sure you want to use that relic, Sir."
"A Leader of Soldiers I respected very much once said, 'When you face the enemy, it's best to do so with a weapon you trust.' This weapon served me well for 5 years. She will do so again." As he spoke, he pulled a pair of bandoleers and a sack out of the arms locker. One of the bandoleers was full of 30-box magazines. The other, like the second he'd passed to Rodrigo, contained grenades. Rodrigo had no idea what was in the sack.
Rodrigo stared at the weapon his employer was inserting a magazine into and charging. When he settled the weapon with the stock on his hip, muzzle towards the ceiling, other then the silver in his hair, he suddenly looked 70 years younger. "Sir, is that the same Thompson…"
Senior interrupted, "Yes Rodrigo, it is."
"Sir, I'm not sure I want to know how you got that away from the American Army."
Throughout the attack, from the time Senior had ordered the evacuation, he had members of his staff barricading every entrance, except for the main double doors, with everything that came to hand. Now, more than ever, he thanked his ancestors for their foresight in the solid construction of the villa.
Much of the exterior of the first floor was granite and marble construction, as were as several of the interior supporting walls. The windows were tall, but narrow and easily blocked off. The exterior doors were solid, made of steel banded oak. Where ever the interior supporting walls had a door, it too was solid oak, similar to the exterior doors, but without the steel banding.
One of the first things Senior had had done was to have the air handling system ripped out in places. No crawling through the HVAC system for this enemy. Then he'd ordered his people to use desks, dressers, and anything else they could think of to create choke points throughout the villa.
One industrious fellow had, with the help of a few others, shoved the commercial refrigerator from the kitchen into the hall leading from the main foyer to the control room. All eight feet high and five feet wide of it. When he saw it, Senior sported a savage grin and doubled the man's pay on the spot.
The only way past it now was in a single file line through a bare 18 inch slot on one side. And anyone trying to pass it with a defender on the far side was in for an evil day. Just in front of it, in the same room a young man had proved his skill, courage and ingenuity a few months before, Senior had them take all the marble statuary and pile it to create another barricade.
For Whom The Bell Tolls
Metallica
Start
/watch?v=bg92QpjRcJk
Intro Bells
It was nearly dawn and with the last dozen or so of his men falling back in a bounding overwatch, Senior and Rodrigo had taken positions on either side of the main entrance to the villa. They were kneeling behind the marble pillars, firing over the heads of the retreating men into the advancing enemy troops with short bursts of fire aimed at any movement. The floodlights from the villa gave them excellent lines of sight and had the additional benefit of putting the light into the eyes of the enemy.
With 7-800 rounds a minute, Rodrigo's Heckler and Koch MP5 might have had a slightly higher rate of fire, but it was firing 9mm Parabellum ammunition. Senior's Thompson on the other hand was able to throw 600 rounds of .45cal ACP rounds a minute. Just the deeper booming sound of the Thompson had much more "Authority' than the lighter MP5.
Whenever Senior opened up, the enemy scattered. Not that they hesitated when Rodrigo fired. But they were a little quicker off the mark and tended to find cover faster when the 11.5 mm rounds of the Thompson came at them.
As a man passed Senior and Rodrigo, they would pause and add their weight of fire covering their retreating comrades. Once the next man was clear, the first would fall back into the interior of the villa while the next would take his place. Near the end of the retreat, the fire pressure from the villa slackened and the last group had become pinned by a murderous crossfire from the enemy
Seeing this Senior started hammering one side of the crossfire. When the bolt slammed shut after the last round, he ejected the box magazine from the Thompson, reached into the sack and pulled out one of the few 100 round drums he had. When he resumed fire, he proved why, 80 years ago, the Thompson had earned nicknames like Chopper, Chicago Typewriter and Trench Broom. Holding the bucking sub-machine gun on target was like trying to stop a jackhammer, but somehow the old Warrior was able to lean into the weapon and keep it pointed at his enemy.
The fusillade of fire distracted the enemy so bad that even the other side of the crossfire had become confused and stopped firing at the pinned defenders. When the drum clattered empty, Rodrigo placed bursts towards each position forcing them to continue to seek cover long enough for Senior to scream "Caer hacia atrás, usted imbécils!" (Fall back, you dumb-asses)"
As the trio of men passed their position, Senior noted that these men might have gotten themselves pinned, but at least one of them had been thinking earlier. They had gotten into one of the caches and acquired themselves one of the surplus M60's Rodrigo's predecessor had purchased years before. The two ammo-bearers were both humping a pair of ammo boxes of the 7.62 mm ammunition for the old crew-served. Rodrigo himself was astounded.
Make his fight on the hill in the early day
Constant chill deep inside
Shouting gun, on they run through the endless gray
On they fight, for they are right, yes, but who's to say?
Senior shouted at the fire team, "The next barricade! Set up there and get ready to cover us when we fall back."
Just before they left, Rodrigo added, "When we get there, you're to fall back to the escape craft, leave the 'Pig' and your ammo, but hook all of the belts together. Now Go!"
As they scampered back into the villa, Rodrigo kept hammering away while he hollered to Senior, "I can't believe one of them thought to hit the caches."
Senior hollered back, "I can't believe they thought to grab enough ammunition. If we live, I'm going to give that Team Leader a raise."
For a hill, men would kill. Why? They do not know
Stiffened wounds test their pride
Men of five, still alive through the raging glow
Gone insane from the pain that they surely know
The two men hunkered down behind the solid marble pillars and kept up enough fire pressure to keep the enemy back, for now anyway. A few minutes later, Rodrigo cast a glance into the villa and caught the eye of the Fire Team. The leader waved letting him know that they ready for the two men.
For whom the bell tolls
Time marches on
For whom the bell tolls
Rodrigo hollered over the din of Senior's clattering and booming Thompson as well as his own sharper sounding MP5, "You about ready there, Sir?"
"Grenades, you throw, I'll cover! Spread of five, from 10 to 2!"
Rodrigo squatted behind the pillar pulled several of the explosives from the bandoleer and set them at the ready on the ground. When they were set, he resumed firing allowing Senior to change magazines with another 100 round drum. Senior nodded and let go with the Thompson. Rodrigo was throwing so fast that the third was in the air before the first had even hit the ground. The fifth was flying as the first exploded.
Several of the enemy saw the incoming area effect weapons and shouted in German. All sought cover. When they did, the two defenders ducked through the open doors to the villa, across the hundred plus feet of the main foyer and dove behind the barricade.
Bridge
Senior ordered the Fire Team to fall back and escape while Rodrigo took over on the 'Pig', blasting away at the entrance. Senior was gasping as he caught his breath while Rodrigo kept up the fire pressure. The barrel started glowing cherry-red from the sustained fire, but he kept firing in the same wildly uncontrolled bursts.
When he saw he only had five or six feet of ammunition left, Rodrigo hollered, "Time for you to go, Sir."
"You first."
Take a look to the sky just before you die
It's the last time you will
Blackened roar, massive roar, fills the crumbling sky
Shattered goal fills his soul with a ruthless cry
Rodrigo patted the shoulder stock of the M60. "Not without my friend here, Sir. And I don't think you want to be in the front of her when I go through there." He pointed behind them to the narrow slot left by the huge refrigerator.
Senior nodded and stayed hunched over from the unaimed return fire as he ducked into the opening. Once Senior was though, Rodrigo brought the M60 to his shoulder and fired as he backpedaled towards the opening. He'd glanced back to see if he was on track.
Stranger now are his eyes to this mystery
He hears the silence so loud
Crack of dawn, all is gone except the will to be
Now they see what will be, blinded eyes to see
When he turned back to the enemy, he saw a helmeted head peering around the door jamb, then an arm throwing a baseball sized object, the spoon clearly flying to one side. Tracing the arc of the incoming grenade, he knew it was going to land close by.
"Mierda!" (Shit!), he tried to dive through the opening in the barricaded hallway, but the grenade landed too close. The blast wave drove him awkwardly into the narrow slot, making him land in a heap halfway through.
For whom the bell tolls
Time marches on
For whom the bell tolls
Seeing him land, Senior grabbed the back of the fallen man's jacket and pulled him the rest of the way through. He dragged Rodrigo with his left and tried to hold his Thompson at the ready the rest of the way down the hall into the Control Room behind the final barricade. The only thing behind him now was the patio standing on a 25 meter bluff facing eastward, overlooking the Mediterranean.
They had intended to stand at the doorway to cover the barricade in the hall, but Senior thought he wouldn't have time to both cover the hall and check Rodrigo. He cursed as his hopes that the other man was merely knocked out were dashed and he saw the lifeless eyes staring up at him.
Settling the Thompson he prepared for the final rush of the enemy. He saw a couple of flashes that flew past the doorway too fast to get a bead on, then arms tossing grenades from either side. He took cover behind the barricade as two, then four, then six grenades exploded in front of the solid oak and maple desk, the explosions rattling it, the whole room and even his teeth as shrapnel thudded into the hardwood desktop.
He stood to try and cover the doorway again when pain stitched its way across his upper chest. He fell behind the desk and lay there, gasping in agony. A man leapt across the overturned desk and landed with his weapon pointed at him.
Looking over the muzzle of the weapon at the man holding it and knowing he was seconds from death, Senior was surprised to hear someone shout, in German, "Zurücktreten Feldwebel! Und lassen Sie ihm seine Waffen!" (Stand Down, Sergeant! And leave him his weapons!)
It was a voice that commanded instant obedience. The Feldwebel stood back, still covering the prostrate man, but no longer ready to instantly pull the trigger.
As he lay there, holding his hands across his badly bleeding upper chest, a man stepped into his line of vision. He carried his armor and weapons with the ease of long experience, his helmet hanging from one of his canteens. He was average height; maybe 5'10" or 5'11", average weight, trim and fit with salt and pepper hair. More salt than pepper.
Everything about him was simply average, except his eyes. They were blue. Not the blue of the sky or the sea. But a clear blue, almost a grey. An ice blue, like the sunlight within a glacier, seemingly cold, remorseless and pitiless. He looked down and said in German, "Sie befinden sich Senor Senior, Senior, nehme ich an? Ich verstehe Sie sprechen Englisch." (You are Senor Senior, Senior, I presume? I understand you speak English.)
"Yes, I understand English." Senior noted the Waffen-SS insignia. He calmly asked, "What division?"
The man replied, "SS Nordland."
"Ah, at least it wasn't one of the more…zealous ones."
"Nein." The man looked to Rodrigo, "He vas your 'Soldat mit Maschinengewehr', your M60 machine-gunner?"
"Si. Yes."
"He vas a brave man."
The dying man looked at his friend, "A family retainer. His ancestors accompanied mine when we left Castillo de los Templarios. They have stood by my family for generations."
"He vas your Man-at-Arms?"
Senior looked up at the Officer, "Yes, you could call him that. Ahhhhggggg!"
The Officer looked over his shoulder and hollered, "Corpsman!" The medic trotted up and the Officer pointed to Senior and said, "Morphine."
The Corpsman looked at the wounded man, then to the Officer trying to judge the man's intent. Deciding that the Officer wanted Senior as comfortable as possible, he knelt beside Senior, held up a syrette and said, "The fastest, most effective way is intravenously."
"Well young man, it's nuuuuggggg, not like I will have to worry about becoming an addict now, is it?"
The Corpsman flipped open a knife, sliced Senior's upper sleeve and stripped it from his arm. Uncoiling a piece of surgical tubing, he wrapped it around his lower deltoid. Thumping the inner elbow and finding a vein, he automatically cleaned the spot with an alcohol swab and stuck the Morphine syrette directly into the vein.
After undoing the tubing, he slowly injected the Morphine directly into the bloodstream. Pulling the syrette from the vein, he unthinkingly hooked the spent syrette to Senior's collar and placed a band-aid over the tiny puncture. He looked at Senior and said, "You will feel the effects in a few moments."
"Thank you young man." The Corpsman simply nodded and stepped back to help the rest of his own wounded.
When the medic left, the Officer said, "I am not so stupid as to ask if you are going to be all right, but can ve make you more comfortable?"
"Uggggg, no." Senior looked at the Officer with an appraising glance, gauging his demeanor, then said, "However, I would appreciate it if you would move me out to the patio. I would like to see the sunrise one more time."
"Certainly!" The Officer snapped his fingers and pointed, "You four, und be careful, if you hurt him more zhan strictly necessary, I vill shoot you myself." The Medic produced a stretcher and the four junior Troops carefully lifted the old man onto it. They lifted and carried him through the shattered patio doors, settling him so that he could look to the East.
The Officer squatted beside the dying man, watching the sun climb into the sky. Glancing up to the Officer, Senior asked a simple question. "Why?"
"For Germany. You vere gathering und maybe passing information about our efforts to return der Vaterland to a position of strength. I lived through the attacks on my country by zhe communist leftist's vhen zhey bombed civilian target after civilian target, trying to force zhe Bundesrepublik Deutschland (Federal Republic of Germany) to comply to their ideals."
"I've lived through the sapping of our strength by the gotterdamn Greens as zhey pushed for more and more disarmament when it vas only zhe Bundeswehr (Federal Defence Force) that kept zhe Soviets off of our throats. 'Ve jast want a little bit.' Und a few years later, again, 'Ve jast want a little bit.' A little bit und a little bit und a little bit more until eventually zhere's nothing left. It has to stop."
"It has to stop because zhere's a storm coming. Und as much as I might not like it, zhis offers mien Deutschland zhe best chance for survival in zhe coming storm."
He quietly spoke to the old Warrior, "You vere not vhat I expected, Senor. I studied zhe reports on you from zhe last few years. I planned zhis operation expecting to face mechanical death traps, lasers und piranha, zhose insane Tops und stun-guns, und you ready to escape at zhe soonest opportunity."
He looked at the man on the litter, "Novhere in zhe planning did ve expect an armed populous, led by an old man, vith a Thompson of all things, to stand zheir ground und stare us in zhe face. For vhat it is vorth, I am sorry."
Senior turned to look at the man squatting beside him. They had faced off on opposite sides, but Senior recognized a kindred sprit. "Apology accepted. Because you don't seem to be what I expected either. Ironic, isn't it."
They returned to watching the banded carnelian sun rise, in a strangely companionable quiet. A short time later, the Officer heard Senior very quietly, yet with an almost astonished tone, say "Sair!", a sigh, then silence.
As if from a great distance, he heard a voice. It was familiar, but he hadn't heard it in so long that he couldn't quite place it. It was slightly high pitched, with an American accent. A Virginia twang as a matter of fact.
It said, "Ya might notta won the battle son, but ya sown the seeds today for winning the war. Ya grabbed 'em by the balls, then ya kicked em in the ass. Ya done good Lieutenant." He suddenly knew who it was. He couldn't believe it!
"Sair!"
The Officer looked at the man on the stretcher, sighed and reached to close the sightless eyes that were still pointed at the sun.
He stood and quietly ordered, "Take him back to zhe office."
After the men set him down in the office, one of the other Officers pulled his knife and prepared to follow the orders he had been given when they'd set out on their mission. The Officer in charge stopped him.
"Vhat do you think you are doing, Obersturmführer?" (First Lieutenant)
"Following der Fuehrer's order, Sturmbannführer. He told us to leave a message for anyone that finds zhis swvinehunt about zhe folly of opposing zhe Reich." (Sturmbannführer = Major)
The Sturmbannführer growled at his subordinate, "To Hell with zhat. Zhis man could have escaped at any time. Instead he stayed und covered zhe retreat of his Soldaten, his men. He fought us vith Courage und Honor und met his end zhe same vay, und you vill treat him vith dignity und respect for zhat if nothing else."
"But der Fuehrer's orders…"
"I don't give a flying Fuck about der Fuehrer's orders! Ve vill not desecrate zhis man! Ze SS Nordland had no atrocities during zhe War und ve vill not start now. I did not join zhe Nu Reich for zhe aggrandizement of der Fuehrer. I joined it to return Germany to a place of strength in der Vorld."
"Sturmbannführer, der Fuehrer…AHHHHHH!" The subordinate's voice was cut off by the sound of the Officers MP5/10 and the impact of the bullets nearly cutting him in half.
The Officer spat at the bleeding corpse and screamed, "Fuck der Fuehrer!" He glared at the other men in the room, screaming at them now, "Zhe Waffen SS told Hitler und Himmler to get fucked more times zhan zhey could count for trying to issue stupid orders, und zhose two had zhe authority to have zhem shot out of hand. I vill not have anyone under my Command acting stupidly or dishonorably. I am not a stupid man, und I know zhat ve can still lose! Und vhen this is over, if ve happen to lose, our actions may mean zhe difference between spending our lives in prison or facing a firing squad! Is zhat understood?"
The Officer held the glare at the remaining men for a moment to make sure he was understood, then started issuing orders, starting by pointing to the senior NCO in the room, "Feldwebel, you are now zhe second-in-command und Obersturmführer, your orders are as follows."
He pointed to Senior, "He is to be laid out, on zhe patio facing east, vith his weapons beside him." Then he pointed to Rodrigo de la Luna, "You vill lay his Man-at-Arms to his right, same treatment." He walked to the flagpole standing behind Senior's desk and cut the Spanish Flag from the pole, "When zhey are laid out, you vill cover them, use zhis." Then he looked at Senior, lowered his voice and whispered, "It is zhe best ve can do!"
The newly promoted First Lieutenant asked, "Sturmbannführer?"
He kept looking at Senior laying on the floor, "I said it is zhe best ve can do, Obersturmführer. If it vas up to me und ve had ze time, zhen I vould lay him to rest with the Honors zhat he deserves."
He kicked the corpse of his former second-in-command, "Bag zhis fool, we'll dump him vonce we are over open water, collect our dead und vounded und prepare to move out. Sanitize everything zhat is going to be left behind. Destroy everything else, thermite and white phosphorus. Try to avoid desecrating any of zhe fallen, but do vhat you have to do. Schnell! SCHNELLLLLL!"