Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I'm borrowing her characters, dressing them up in MARPAT, and giving them some guns.
Unbeta'd, unedited.
July 3
Temporary Forward Base
50 Kilometers Out from Target Compound
Somewhere West-Central Somalia, Along the Ethiopian Border
"Is it always like this?"
Grumbling a curse, Alice chucked the remains of her chicken-something pasta into a burned-out barrel in the corner. "Like what?"
"All this…" With a small wave at the rows of make-shift maps, tacked-to-the-wall satellite stills, and propped-up screens, Bella frowned. "Planning… and waiting."
The lieutenant pulled yet another one of her seemingly endless packets of pilfered snacks out of her chest pocket. Following the direction of Bella's haphazard gesture, her nose scrunched and then she just shrugged. "BAMCIS."
Bella blinked. "What?"
"Begin planning, Arrange for reconnaissance," Alice recited in a flat, bored tone, as she ticked off her fingers, one by one. "Make reconnaissance, Complete the plan, Issue the order, Supervise."
"I have no idea what you're saying to me."
A pair of long, camouflaged legs appeared in Bella's periphery and stepped over the cracked and pitted stone bench they'd moved into the barn-like building near the main hut. The man gracelessly plopped down beside Bella, and without a hint of warning, reached across, plucked the beige packet out of Alice's hand, and just smirked when the lieutenant yelled an angry, "Hey, that's mine, asshole!"
Ignoring Cullen's sprite-like pilot, Jacob turned to the wide-eyed scientist. "It's fucking Marine-speak." He ripped into the packet and shoveled a handful of what looked like trail mix into his mouth. "Basically, plan your attack, grab some intel, plan some more, and then execute it without dying." He made an ugly face at the packet and flicked it back into Alice's lap. "That shit's nasty."
Alice glared down at her half-eaten snack. "Damn it, I thought that was the one with the M&M's." She threw it back to him, popping him square in the chest. "I don't want it now. Plus, it has your slobber on it. Gross."
"Anyway," Jacob said, rolling his dark eyes. "That's why Cullen's had us traipsing all over God's not-so-green earth over the last week and a half."
Eyed narrowed, Bella flipped between the mass of neatly organized intel and the not-so-neat, grubby-looking captain. "Do Delta teams do something different?"
Stretching his legs out, Jake reached down to his knee pocket and pulled out a half-empty bottle of water. "Yeah, we all do the same shit, at least to an extent. Marines just like having their own weird language." He cracked the lid and chugged the other half down, grimacing at the lukewarm temperature. "And Cullen's a fucking stickler for measure twice, cut once."
Still eyeballing the perfectly aligned array of maps and intricately plotted routes – no doubt, the product of Jasper's orderly compulsions – Bella turned his words over a couple of times, not quite grasping the hint of disdain in the Delta's voice. "That seems… pretty reasonable," she said, although it came out almost like a question. "Especially the not dying part."
"Yeah, yeah." Blindly tossing the empty, crunched up bottle in the barrel, Jacob sent the woman a mischievous grin. "But like you pointed out, it involves a metric fuckton of waiting. Which sucks."
Still not quite sure what to make of the captain or his scruffy team, Bella just nodded and mumbled a hesitant, "I see."
"What I mean is," he went on, as he simultaneously adjusted the ancient, faded Kansas City cap he always seemed to favor over his Kevlar. "Sometimes a little excitement is a good thing."
Recalling that last firefight – the earth-shaking booms, the bullets whistling past her ears, Emmett almost dying, her own near-kidnapping – Bella's lips mashed into a hard line. "I'm getting plenty of excitement, thanks."
"I bet so." The woman's poorly disguised flare of annoyance sent Jacob's shoulders shaking. "I take it this isn't like your lab at DARPA."
"No," Bella replied, and an oh-so-faint tremor skated through her limbs. A kind of flatness crept into her expression – a far-off, lifeless stare Jake had seen too many times. Almost as quickly as it appeared, however, it vanished behind the familiar spark of intelligence and humor, and her pale cheeks creased. "No, my lab is very, very boring. You'd definitely hate it."
Jake's shoulders just shook harder.
For a moment, they were silent, and as he watched the Marines' scientist, Jacob realized that the longer he hung around the woman, the more he liked her. Pretty was an understatement, even in those godawful MARPAT utilities, and she was a sharp thing, too. Beyond that, she fit in with their crowd far better than she realized or gave herself credit for. Fact was, Jake couldn't even blame Cullen for fawning all over her. Not that he'd ever admit it.
Giving himself an inward shake, Jacob scrubbed his wiry, weeks-too-long beard, which just reminded him of the sickening crunch! from Cullen's right hook the last time SOCOM forced their teams to work together.
Asshole.
Leaning forward on his knees, Jacob spat on the dirt floor and drawled, "So, if you like boring so damned much, why'd you volunteer for this clusterfuck?"
Baffled that he'd even ask, Bella paused for a second and looked across the room, where, dead-center, hung the Delta team's reconnaissance shots of the line of old Soviet-designed warheads in that compound warehouse. "I had to. That weapon is mine. I'm not being arrogant when I say that no one alive knows more about it than me." She frowned. "And Riley was my best friend. How could I not?"
"Still," Jacob countered, scratching his itchy chin again. "You're… not exactly soldier material."
Before Bella could agree with him, their gunnery sergeant stepped into the building and dropped her gear at the base of an old log positioned opposite the bench. "Careful, Black," Rosalie called over her shoulder. "Doc's rollin' with us just fine. And she's a better shot than Em."
"The fuck, she is!" Emmett bellowed, right as his boots cleared the threshold. In the man's massive paw was yet another MRE – chili mac, again, judging by the smell.
Alice's nose wrinkled. "Jesus, don't bring that shit in here! You're going to make me hurl."
Emmett's brows climbed his forehead, taking with them the ever-present pair of slick wraparound shades perched on top. "What?" he said, lifting his prize. "This is the best one!"
"Ugh!"
"Whatever." He shoved a bite in his mouth and turned to Black, not bothering to wait until he'd finished chewing. "Don't listen to Blondie. Doc's good – like, sure, way better than a normal civilian – but she is not better than me."
"Actually, she is." At the sudden low purr of the captain's voice, seemingly from out of nowhere, Bella spun sideways, only to find him leaning against the doorframe behind them, perfectly relaxed and with his arms folded across his armorless chest as if he'd been there for hours. When her lips parted in mute surprise, his gemstone eyes glittered with undisguised amusement. "And," he said. "She goes for the crotch, too."
Which, of course, just made Alice cackle like a banshee. "That's my girl!"
Eying the scowling staff sergeant across the room, Edward added, "When we finally get a little breathing room, you're going to need to spend some time on the range."
Rosalie snorted out an inelegant laugh. "Like that'll help." She laughed harder when Emmett dropped his now-empty MRE to the log beside him and groaned out a low, whiny, "Fuck me running."
Shoving off the doorframe, Edward moved toward the center of the small space. Without conscious direction, his gaze tracked from his sergeants back to Bella and the Delta sitting far closer than he needed to be. The now-healed skin that stretched across his knuckles tightened, and one brow arched in question.
Giving the other captain a wide, knowing grin, Jake threw his hands up in mock surrender. "Hey, I was just helping explain the finer points of Marine Corps tactical planning to your scientist here."
Edward leveled the man a hard, flat stare, but then his expression cleared, and he was again the stern, all business commander prepping for war. "Your team?"
Instantly mimicking the other man's shift in demeaner, Jacob motioned to the west. "Jared and Paul are swapping post with Scooby and Embry. And I left Quil and your corporal a little while back. Jazz was making some kind of adjustment to the sights on the Barrett." His eyes narrowed. "That fucker's smart, you know that?"
A ghost of a smile touched Edward's lips. "I do. And no, you can't have him."
"We'll see." With a long yawn, Jacob leaned back against the wall behind them. "Either way, they should be here in a second."
No more than two minutes later, the small barn-like structure was filled with enough men, women, and firepower to level a small mountain. Off to the side, one of the propped-up screens blinked, blazed a dark, forest green, and then a familiar, grinning face appeared and stared back at them. "Seren."
Edward nodded at the other man. "Rav Seren. I take it your journey was uneventful?"
El'azar's grin turned a little feral, and Bella had the sudden impression that this was the Israeli commander's idea of fun. The major spat out a rapid-fire, angry-sounding order in Hebrew to one of his soldiers off-screen, before turning back to the room. "BeVadai. We are in place and ready to step in to assist at the first sign of… emergency."
Which, they all knew, was code for whenever the hell Edward wanted them to.
"Good," Edward said, nodding again and wearing that familiar blend of cool professionalism cut with a hint of predatorial anticipation. "Let's get to it, then."
At the captain's signal, a high-resolution satellite overhead materialized on the opposite wall, projected on a wide, rolled-out sheet of white plastic. Even after these last few weeks, Bella's jaw still dropped at the detail and resolution, a reaction that only made the Delta beside her shake in muffled amusement.
Laid out in a rough square, high, rocky plateaus rose to the west, north, and east of the compound, and surrounding the entire structure were tall aggregate walls, topped with catwalks and loops of razor-wire. A wide, grassy kill zone ringed the walls, and two narrow roads came in and out, entering through gates at the southern and eastern walls. Both entry points sported heavy guards and light artillery.
Edward pointed to the pairs of iron gates. "Security is heaviest here, mostly handled by these guys." At the soldier-level, the images were grainy, but there was no mistaking those camouflage patterns and the modern, aggressive matte black rifles they carried like life-long pros.
"Same fuckers from the villa?" Rosalie asked.
"If not the same ones specifically, certainly the same experience-level and training."
Using the laser guide he'd detached from his pistol, Edward pointed out the large building situated in the northwest corner. "That's the warehouse. As you can see," he said, moving the blood-red laser line to a set of interior security walls and secondary patrols. "Additional levels of security here, here, and here."
"The adjacent building is the lab," he continued, moving to a low, flat-roof building in the northeast corner, directly across from the warehouse. "It looks like they're setting up to prep the agent in batches in here and then move it over to the warehouse, where they'll load the warheads. The missiles are set up on flatbed haulers for transport and launch once they're loaded."
"How many?" Emmett asked, all playfulness now gone.
"Black?"
Jacob tipped forward on his elbows and motioned over to the pinned-up stills. "There's ten missile systems lined up in that warehouse. Maybe more. We were only able to see what's in those shots." He looked over to Edward and then to his sergeant first class. "Trick got in closer and thinks there's a couple of levels to that structure."
From the screen, El'azar chimed in. "Agreed. What we could obtain says the same. I would go in assuming there are at least two subterranean levels."
Jasper propped his rifle against the end of the log and asked the Delta tracker, "Got any idea what's down there?"
Standing against opposite wall, Jared shrugged. "Could be supplies. Could be Aronović's private quarters. Could be a house of fuckin' horrors. Who the fuck knows."
Beside his teammate, Paul picked his teeth with a plastic toothpick and eyed the no-nonsense Marine captain. "You think those warheads are ready to go?"
Unruffled and as cool as ever, Edward acknowledged the pair of operators. "Unclear."
A low hum of voices answered him, and with a loud huff, Paul cracked his knuckles. "Alright, but what are we really talkin' here?"
Edward's gaze shifted to the woman sitting beside his pilot. Pale, tense, and judging by the faint gray ringing her too-pretty eyes and the hollows of her cheeks, in need of a few extra hours of sleep, the sight of her made that something in his chest cinch and twist. When he spoke, that ever-present sternness that always came to him so naturally vanished, and Edward's voice softened in an involuntary effect he didn't even bother trying to hide anymore. "Doctor Swan?"
Bella's dark eyes jerked up to his. "Hm?"
"You want to take that one?"
"Oh, um… sure." Bella scooted off the bench and stood, and as Edward stepped off to the side – silently relinquishing the floor with a reassuring smile that only she could see – she hesitantly moved to the center of the room. Glued to the compound on the make-shift screen, she paused for a second, before finally turning to the Delta staff sergeant in the back.
"Right…" she said, giving her face a quick dry scrub. "With the latest intelligence from you guys – I mean, Captain Black's team – and Major Dayan's… sources…" Bella waved a wild hand at the rows of tacked-up images. "The missile systems in the warehouse appear to be SS-1e's – aka Scud-D's – which, as you're all probably aware, the Russians exported as replacements for the old Scud B users." She stole a glance over to Rosalie and Emmett, who tracked her slow pacing in rapt, professional attention. "I'd say these are mid to late 90s vintage, probably picked up through the usual back door channels in Iran, Iraq, Afghanistan, or maybe Syria.
"Unlike the older model Scuds," she continued, as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "These missile systems are equipped with detachable warheads with terminal self-guidance." On her tiptoes, she reached up to point at one of the images in the center of the top row. "See here?"
"Just how sophisticated are these?"
Bella's lips mashed. "Look, we're not talking Iskanders…" She waved at El'azar. "Or in your case, Major, not nearly as advanced as your Arrow or Jericho interceptor technology."
The major just grinned his feral grin. "Of course not, neshama ."
Bella rolled her eyes at the incorrigible man and moved on. "They're older, but regardless, these are robust systems, proven in multiple operational theaters, and they can certainly do the job."
Alice folded an ankle beneath the opposite knee and tilted sideways, studying the images. Intense in a way few ever saw, her fingers drummed a hard, fast rhythm against her thigh. "What do you think's the range?"
"Normally, I'd say the usual 400-450 miles, but that's with a 1000 kg design payload." Mentally running through the arrays of formulas and scrawled diagrams, Bella tapped her bottom lip. "From what I can tell, they've been working on increasing the payload, to somewhere between 1300 to 1500 kg."
Alice's focus sharpened. "So less?"
"I think so, yes," Bella replied, ducking once in emphasis. She pointed to the shots again, lingering on the back-end combustion chamber. "With the higher launch weight, even if they've optimized the fuel and propulsion system, I'd estimate a shorter range of around 300-350 miles." She chewed the inside of her cheek and paced to the other end of the screen. "But… the trade-off is… maybe worse." Her gaze returned to their pilot and then flipped over to Edward, who once again casually leaned against the wall as though this were any other day. "With that kind of payload of XR-5, they can take out a very large population, very quickly."
This time, the question came from Black's nearly silent long-range sniper. "How are they armed?"
Shifting to the dark-haired, lanky man positioned between Jasper and the other Deltas, she explained, "They'll load the precursors into separate cannisters, like your typical binary bomb or rocket design." Looking around, she located a slender stick against the wall – some kind of abandoned farming or herding implement – and then used it to trace an arc into the dry mud wall beside the screen. "At around the 200 mile mark," she said, tapping the arc near its apex. "The compartments will open and the entire cone will spin, which will mix the compounds and initiate the reaction sequence. They'll react quickly, too."
She tapped a little farther down the arc. "At 250 miles out, the warhead will be fully armed and ready to go. At that point, you can't intercept it. God knows what it would do and where it would go in the atmosphere like that."
"What about before they react?"
Studying the trajectory she'd just drawn, Bella hesitated and chewed the inside of her cheek, before finally responding. "The reagents aren't exactly harmless, but…" She stopped and went silent again, this time for a handful of long seconds. "They are nowhere close to fully formed XR-5 in terms of toxicity or transfer efficiency. You could knock them down if you intercept them right after launch, but if there were anything or anyone nearby… who knows." Her eyes moved down the row of Marines and soldiers. "Our best option is to secure either the missiles and/or neutralize the reagents before anything leaves the ground. If we can do that, we stop the threat."
Stepping forward once she'd returned to her spot on the bench, Edward gave Bella another small smile, which disappeared the moment he turned his attention to the rest of the room. "Are we all clear on the objective?"
"Yes, sir."
"Let's continue with the rest of the compound." Flicking his laser line, he circled a row of small, identical rectangular buildings. "Here, to south of the warehouse, are barracks and small munitions bunkers. The additional buildings to the southeast, here, here, and here, appear to be offices, storage, and more munitions." His line jumped from the satellite overhead to a set of stills, honing in on crate after crate of rifles, explosives, and defensive gear. A half dozen languages were represented – Russian… Arabic… French – and each crate bore that telltale red on black scorpion. "Make no mistake, they've stockpiled an arsenal in there."
"What about that building?" Alice asked, pointing back to the satellite image. "The one just outside the western wall?"
Edward motioned to Jacob. "That's where your team gained entrance, correct?"
Jacob's head tipped back to the wall behind him. "Yeah, but it has its own problems. They position guards on top, 24/7. And in addition to the one Jared picked off in the kill zone, we took out two off that western wall while you were breaching the other target."
"Agreed." Edward dipped his head to the other captain. "Even if there's no obvious shift in guard rotation, we should consider it compromised. May be an exit strategy, if needed."
Pointing to two dozen smaller, olive-drab rectangles positioned near the buildings, Edward continued, "Lastly, they have a variety of light armored vehicles, and…" He tapped the makeshift screen, dead center. "There's a helo pad in the very center of the compound."
An hour and a half later, after another few rounds of questions and detailed review, Edward finally called a short break, reached over to one of the rickety tables they'd set up in their temporary war room, and grabbed one of a dozen half-empty bottles of water. He took a long swig and then dumped the last bit over his head to wash away the sheen of dust and sweat. When he finished mopping his face, he glanced up, only to find a pair of dark, intense eyes watching him in a way that he hadn't experienced in years. Softer, while the others were busy chattering, he asked, "Everything alright, Doctor?"
Despite the last two hours of numbing repetition, Bella's lips curved. "I'm fine. You?"
Edward chuffed out a laugh and stepped closer. "Hot."
She eyed him up and down, and those pretty lips of hers curved even higher. So quietly that he almost missed it, she said, "I see that."
After those two long months spent in that hellhole in the White Mountains years ago, Edward had thought that he'd lost the ability to blush, but as he took in the subtle gleam of appreciation in her too-fine face, a rare, rare warmth that had nothing to do with this miserable desert climbed his neck. His throat gave a little bob. "I guess I'm not the only one who doesn't suffer ambiguity."
That something deep in his chest stretched wide as her whole face smiled back at him.
"Ya'll done flirtin'?"
Before Edward could bite out a response, Bella whipped around to the man sitting beside her. "You know, I think I know why you're single."
Between Alice's instant peel of laughter, the pop of Paul slapping Jared on the back, and Jacob's gaping mouth, Edward almost laughed. Not surprising, the Israeli on the screen howled.
After a beat of shocked silence, the Delta captain let out a loud, indignant scoff. "How do you know I'm single?" One brow cocked in a show of pure masculine arrogance. "For all you know, I got half a dozen women begging for my dick."
The flat, unamused look their scientist gave him said more than words could ever hope. "Well, now, I'm positive I know why." She stared down her nose at him, clearly finding some things lacking. "You need to work on your game… and bathe."
"Whatever." Jacob's still-gaping mouth clapped shut in irritation, although there was no missing the hot spark in the Delta's eye, and as Edward strode back to his position in the center of the room, a not-small part of him wanted to remove the man bodily from that bench, never mind that their wide-eyed, soft civilian could obviously hold her own against him just fine. Instead of decking the guy – again – Edward squared his shoulders, calling upon years of forced calm and rigid discipline, and he barked to the rest of the room, "Okay, fun's over. Let's finish up this shit."
With Jasper now manning the controls, the overhead of the compound zoomed out and faded into the background, and a set of two, side-by-side close-in shots came into focus. Still using his improvised laser pointer, Edward drew their attention to the photo on the right, one of Black's team's warehouse stills. "This is the obvious target. Primary objective is to secure those missile systems."
He then circled the second photo, the vast, modern, white and black laboratory that reminded Bella all too well of her own labs back home. "The laboratory is the second objective." Edward's expression turned severe and hard, so far removed from the one he usually wore for her. "Anyone operating in this vicinity, or near the warehouse, will be in a gas mask and will have Dr. Swan's antidote ready to deploy at a second's notice. Full stop. No arguments." He scanned the room, his gaze touching each and every Marine and soldier. "No frags. Avoid hitting shit that might blow up." His hands fell to his hips. "And… I will remind you all that the materials inside that laboratory and its adjoining storage are not to be fucked with unless you have approval from her." He waved at Bella, where she sat between their bouncing pilot and Black, stiff, mute, and with her heart beating a mile a minute. "That's her domain. She's the expert. What she says goes in that building. Clear?"
Edward waited until Black's chin dipped in grudging acknowledgment. "Yeah, got it. Don't blow shit up and don't touch shit that might melt our faces off."
In the back, Emmett snorted. "It doesn't do that… just boils your fuckin' organs." There was a muffled thump and then a low, rumbled, "What'd I say now?"
"One team will secure the warehouse," Edward continued. "The other will focus on locating and neutralizing Dr. Aronović. Dr. Swan suspects he'll stick close to the agents, so that team will also take care of the lab, once the main players have been taken out."
Rosalie made a low growling sound. "What's our latitude?"
"Full," Edward replied, knowing exactly where his gunnery sergeant was going. "General says he doesn't give a fuck what Langley wants. Our objective is to stop them by whatever force is needed."
Paul let out a low, approving whistle. "I like your General."
Without batting an eye, Edward popped back, "You should see his wife. She's the real hard-ass in the family." With a wordless signal to Jasper, the compound overhead came back into focus. "Alright, see that helo in the center?"
Before anyone could respond, Black's short-haired, baby-faced first lieutenant and pilot slid into the room, motioned to Paul to take over his watch, and then glanced at the screen. "Caracal. EC725. Looks new."
Edward's forehead creased. "Ever flown one?"
Seth peered across the room, stopping on Alice. There was a moment of silent communication between the two pilots before they both shrugged in unison. "Nah, but can't be that hard."
"I want that bird disabled or off the ground and out of the way. Your call."
Almost cheerful – like his own relentless lieutenant – the younger man plopped down in Paul's vacated spot next to Jared and reached in his pack, producing a familiar, bright yellow bag of chips. "You got it, Captain. Should be fun."
Unfazed and ignoring the chip-envy now plastered all over Alice's narrow face, Edward turned to Jacob. "Quil and Embry?"
Slowly pulling himself up from the bench, Jacob stretched and then ambled over to the screen to stare at the rough terrain surrounding the compound. He jabbed a finger at an inch-long dark brown swath of rock on the northeastern side. "Quil?"
The man's head popped up. "Yeah, boss."
"How was that ledge the other day?" Jake asked, jabbing at the spot of brown again.
"Nah," the operator replied, as he jumped up to join them. Tracing the curving contours of brown and beige rock, he pointed to another flat-looking ledge, 300 yards to the south of their original set-up. "Embry and me talked about it earlier. Think we should set up here. Gives me another 50 feet of elevation, and we'll have a better sight on that eastern gate and the south end of the compound." The man waved over to Jasper. "Jazz? What you think?"
Edward watched Jasper's features sharpen. The corporal studied the winding terrain before finally turning to his fellow long-gun. "Agreed," he drawled, looking over to Edward. "With that rifle, that's where I'd set up shop, too."
"Done. Where are you thinking, Corporal?"
The younger man thought for a second, before tapping his forefinger on the southwestern corner of the wall. When Edward's brows rose, he waved him off. "I can do some serious damage from that wall. I don't have the range that big Barrett has, but I can move around a lot easier, and it's defensible. If I can get up…" he said, tapping again. "Here… Between us, we can keep our eyes on everyone and make sure those fuckers stay inside the funhouse."
"How do you think you're getting up there?"
Jasper grimaced. "I know we just said it was compromised, but I've been thinking about it and I'd like to attempt that exterior munitions bunker to the west."
Almost simultaneously, Black's tracker and Rosalie approached the screen. "What you think, Gunny?" Jared said to Rosalie. "A couple of us should be able to cover him while he approaches and ascends."
With a long, hard look at her Delta counterpart, Rosalie gave the operator a sharp affirmative and then addressed her steel-faced commander. "Yeah, I think it's doable, Captain." She knuckled the corporal. "And kid's right. It'd be good to have some friendly firepower on that fucking wall while we're playing on the ground."
Blowing out a slow, tired breath, Edward inspected the thatched roof above their heads, following the overlapping, sloped lines of grasses and straw. "Alright, Corporal." He rubbed his face, trying to force away the fatigue and bleariness from so many hours staring at screens. "But don't make me do any more paperwork. I have enough already from Em's shenanigans."
"Hey!"
Jacob just managed to suppress a laugh when Cullen rolled his eyes at his huffing mountain of a staff sergeant. After what the Marine captain had described of their foray and firefight in that desert lab, there was no doubt that the man was a force unto himself… But, hell, if Jake wanted to deal with him. Paul was enough of a headache.
Crossing his arms over his chest, Jacob said, "Look, we've been in that warehouse already. We know how to get in and know the layout. We'll secure those missiles while you're neutralizing Aronović and taking the lab."
Surprised by the other captain's lack of debate – for once – Edward eyed him across the few feet between them. When he would have responded, Jacob just rolled his wide shoulders in another one of those slow, seemingly lazy shrugs. "After what I've seen, I don't have the energy to argue." He spat. "Plus, I know you want Walker, and he'll be with Aronović."
The Delta's knowing gaze skipped over to their scientist, where she still sat on the cracked stone bench, quiet as a church mouse, absorbed and following their every word and movement. He gave the Marine a slight, oh-so-slight nod, and said, low enough that only Edward would hear, "If I were in your shoes, I'd rip that motherfucker in two."
By the time they finished, the sun hung low on the horizon, turning the inside of their barn-like building a deep, burnished gold. Overhead, white, wispy clouds changed to pink, and the warm evening breeze sent swirls of fine dust and debris across the dry, cracked dirt.
"Doc, hold up a second," Rosalie said, as the Delta team filed out and headed back across the yard to the hut. As Emmett went to follow, the gunnery sergeant grabbed him by the bicep and jerked him back. "You, stay right here."
Beyond exhausted, Bella stopped beside the blonde and looked at her in question.
"What do you think?"
"About?" Bella slowly asked, even though she already knew what was coming.
"Him," the other woman said, thumbing at the Marine beside her.
Emmett made a strangled sound. "Hellooo… I'm right fucking here."
In a lightning-fast move, Rosalie's elbow jammed into the man's ribs, earning her a satisfying wheezy curse. "Quiet, you dumb oaf."
A slight tingle ran up the back of Bella's neck, her only warning that the captain had taken note of their conversation and had approached with that ridiculous sneakiness of his. Her teeth clamped down on her lower lip. "I don't know. No one's ever been exposed like that," Bella said, catching the MARPAT pattern in her periphery as Edward stopped beside her. She turned to Emmett. "How's your head?"
Emmett swiped a calloused palm across raspy stubble. "Fine?"
"Seriously," Bella pressed. Her arms folded over her chest, and without realizing it, her fingers drummed a nervous staccato against her ribs. "Does your head still hurt? I need you to be 100% honest with me."
"Nah, not really." Emmett's nose scrunched, as he flipped his cover back on his head. "Okay, maybe a little, but nothing worse than when Blondie hits that fuckin' boomstick next to my ear."
Rosalie's eyes rolled. "Idiot."
"Stomach?" Bella asked, as she studied his face, searching for the minute signs of lingering sickness. While paler than when they started, at least his cheeks had lost the scarlet, splotchy flush, and the muscles beneath no longer spasmed. "Still nauseated?"
"Nah, that's all gone." The big Marine grinned a playful grin and poked the blonde gunnery sergeant. "That chili mac set me just right."
In the background, still perched on the bench with her boots swinging, Alice made a gagging sound. "So fucking gross."
"Is not!" the big man yelled over his shoulder.
Bella's fingers drummed harder. "Any sweating? Shortness of breath?"
"Of course, I'm sweatin', Doc." Emmett huffed. "It's the goddamned desert."
"Staff Sergeant." Edward's voice came fast and hard.
"Fuck." Emmett scratched the back of his neck in a rare show of agitation. "Yes, sir…" To Bella, he said, "Sorry, ma'am, yes, I'm sweating, but nothing abnormal or unexpected. Breathing is normal."
Bella glanced down at his hands, where they loosely held his rifle in a low ready position. No shaking, just the confident, second-nature grip of a man in his element. "Any numbness or loss of feeling in your extremities?"
At that, Emmett sniggered like a teenage boy, netting him another hard elbow. He coughed to cover the punched-out grunt. "No, ma'am."
"None?"
"Nope, I feel everything just fine," he said, innocent as a choir boy. This time it was his elbow that landed. "Don't I, Blondie?"
"Shut up, asshole." Rosalie's glare could have lit the room on fire. "Pay attention to Dr. Swan. She's fucking smart. You could learn something from her."
Bella winced, but then she sighed. "Crap, you're tall. Could you bend down a little?" Reaching into her front pocket, she whipped out the captain's slender, metal flashlight, and shined the pale light into Emmett's eyes, noting the still bloodshot whites and slightly constricted pupils. She made a tsking sound. "See that?" she said to the two Marines beside her.
Pulling him around by the chin to have a look herself, Rosalie asked, "How bad is that?"
Bella's shoulders sagged. "Depends on what else is going on. They look a lot better than they did before. A day ago, his pupils were barely pinpricks." The beam of her flashlight moved to his pale cheeks and neck, and then to the steady grip on his rifle. "I'm not seeing any spasms. And the fact he can hold all that… food down is a good sign."
Edward followed their scientist's assessment, cataloguing all the tells and signs she'd pointed out as they began stabilizing him the instant they arrived at the abandoned hut. "Do you think he'll be okay to continue?"
"Captain, come the fuck on. I'm fine!"
If Rosalie's glare could have lit the room on fire, Edward's would have covered it in a bone-chilling layer of ice. "That's enough, Emmett."
Swallowing, Bella took one last look at the man's now-frozen face, pausing on the beads of sweat dotting his broad forehead. "Look," she finally said. "I'm not a medical doctor, you all know that. But… the antidote seems to have countered the worst of it, and his body is slowly…" She flicked her hand in the staff sergeant's general direction. "Filtering out the rest. I think he's okay, or at least he will be once it's been fully metabolized."
Emmett huffed again. "I could have told you that myself, but noooo," he grumbled, drawing out that long "O" for all it was worth. "No one ever listens to me." The moment he finished, faster than anyone could predict for a man his size, Emmett abruptly sidestepped, just in time to miss the palm that came out of nowhere. "Ha! Missed me, you hateful woman!"
At the edge of her vision, Bella just caught the slight upward tilt of Edward's lips, and she had to school her own to keep from laughing at the sheer absurdity of their situation.
When Emmett turned to grab the rest of his gear, Edward cleared his throat. "Not so fast, Staff Sergeant."
The Marine let out a long sigh. "Sir?"
"Shoulder." The captain gestured to Rosalie. Like the rest of them, fatigue was as much a part of her as her weapon. Gray smudges marred the sharp, angled planes of her cheekbones, and beneath her cover, strands of long blonde hair slipped out and clung to the sweat-damp skin of her neck. "Good enough?"
Despite the exhaustion, Rosalie's back was as straight as a board, and her voice hit just as hard. "Round went through clean. Patched up just fine. He'll be a little sore for a couple of weeks." She gave her patient a dry smile. "Probably shouldn't try to shoot left-handed."
"Well, he shouldn't be doing that anyway." Edward's mouth flattened in a stern line, but those gemstone eyes of his sparkled with unexpected mischief and made Bella's heart thump. "I'd prefer not getting shot."
"What the fuck, Captain?"
July 4
Temporary Forward Base
50 Kilometers Out from Target Compound
Somewhere West-Central Somalia, Along the Ethiopian Border
It was somewhere after two when Bella silently stepped out of the hut and clicked the rubber button to illuminate her watch.
High above, the sky was an endless sea of velvet, decorated with tiny, twinkling stars and the silver glow of the distant moon. Low clouds gathered in the west, making the plateaus and mountains seem ever darker. Cooler by a solid twenty degrees, the night air whipped across the yard, and when she took a deep breath, Bella could taste the light, sweet scent of the wild trees and low shrubs that grew in sparce clumps.
It was quiet out here, peaceful and starkly beautiful, and after only a few chestfuls of fragrant air, the tense muscles that had been coiling so tightly inside the hut loosened. For a while, she simply stood there by the long-grass entryway, shaking her head at the constant chainsaw-like growl of the sleeping soldiers within.
Ten minutes, maybe fifteen, passed like that, just taking in the vast landscape she'd never dreamed she would see firsthand and trying her damnedest not to think about what was coming.
Eventually, Bella's feet started moving of their own accord, and by the glow of the moon overhead, she found the faint trail of boot prints that ringed their temporary base. Fully expecting to pass by Paul or Embry as they made their rounds, she slowly meandered, following that trail toward the western side of the hut, past their barn-like command center, and toward the back of the property, where a third small building sat 50 or so yards away and with an old cement cistern positioned close by.
An involuntary shiver skated down Bella's spine as she recalled the kiss of sun-warmed droplets on her skin as the captain had moved inside of her, driving her into the cold contrast of those shower tiles, over and over and over. Now that was something she'd never expected, but the thought of repeating that night – at least that part of it – with him at home made her chest throb in the very best of ways. That he wanted the same made her cheeks ache.
Closer, she eyed the crumbling walls and gaping wounds in the thatch. On the opposite side, an old acacia grew, with branches sweeping out like a pretty umbrella. With no one to call this place home, those branches had slowly invaded, boring through the old roof and walls, taking it over season by season.
Another shiver ran down Bella's spine, pebbling her skin inside the captain's old fleece. The back of her neck prickled, as a cool wind swept the tendrils of hair that had escaped her ponytail.
Her lips turned up, because she knew this game, just as she knew the whisper-soft crunch of gravel behind her. "I take it you couldn't sleep either?" she asked.
The captain didn't answer.
Giving him – and herself – a moment to play just a little longer, she continued to stare at the ramshackle building, all the while those goosebumps skittered and crawled. "It's beautiful out here, you know? You can almost forget why we're here."
There was the so-soft rustle of fabric, caught only because her ears were straining. A bank of feathery clouds drifted overhead, inching past the moon, just long enough to throw eerie shadows across the dirt. Bella glanced down, right as the captain's outline began to creep near.
Her lips spread into a wider grin, and without warning, Bella spun… right into a hard, unyielding chest.
A leather-clad hand clamped over her mouth before she could scream, and a muscled arm slid around her throat in a rough choke hold. She froze, as the man yanked her around and pulled her back tight against his chest. A pair of lips brushed across the shell of her ear, and she caught the sickening scent of spearmint.
Bella screamed into his glove.
The arm around her throat slid down for a split-second, and she flailed against the bruising hold on her face. She kicked backward, ramming her heel into his shin, but he didn't budge.
Walker's arm abruptly shot back up to her throat.
There was a tiny jab of sharp pain.
Bella sucked in a harsh breath, tasting sweat, leather, and fear.
And then, she slumped and saw nothing but black.
.
.
.
Notes:
Hebrew (transliterated):
BeVadai: Of course
Neshama: recall from prior chapters, it means, "soul" and is used kind of like darling
Glossary:
Arrow: or Hetz is a family of anti-ballistic missiles designed to fulfill an Israeli requirement for a missile defense system that would be more effective against ballistic missiles than the MIM-104 Patriot surface-to-air missile. Jointly funded and produced by Israel and the United States, development of the system began in 1986. The Arrow system consists of the joint production hypersonic Arrow anti-missile interceptor, the Elta EL/M-2080 "Green Pine" early-warning AESA radar, the Elisra "Golden Citron" ("Citron Tree") C3I center, and the Israel Aerospace Industries "Brown Hazelnut" ("Hazelnut Tree") launch control center. The system is transportable, as it can be moved to other prepared sites.
BAMCIS: acronym for "Begin planning, Arrange for reconnaissance, Make reconnaissance, Complete the plan, Issue the order, and Supervise." USMC tactical planning focuses on applying these six troop-leading steps. It's the approach Marines use for all operations – big, small, informal, formal – and is a core tenet of USMC leadership. BAMCIS' goal is to gather information, make a plan, execute, and ensure the success of the mission.
Boomstick: common nickname for a shotgun
Caracal: The Eurocopter (now Airbus) EC725 Caracal is a long-range tactical transport military helicopter developed from the Eurocopter AS532 Cougar for military use. It is a twin-engined aircraft and carries up to 28 seated troops along with two crew, depending on configuration. It's designed for troop transport, casualty evacuation, and combat search and rescue duties. It is similar in overall size to a Sikorsky UH-60 Blackhawk.
Iskander: the 9K720 Iskander, or NATO SS-26 Stone, is a short-range ballistic missile system produced and deployed by the Russian military. They are still in use by the Russian armed forces and can accommodate several different conventional warheads, including a cluster munitions warhead, a fuel-air explosive enhanced-blast warhead, a high explosive-fragmentation warhead, an earth penetrator for bunker busting and an electromagnetic pulse device for anti-radar missions. The missile can also carry nuclear warheads.
Jericho: is a general designation given to a loosely related family of deployed ballistic missiles developed by Israel and codenamed in reference to the Biblical city of Jericho. As with most Israeli unconventional weapons systems, exact details are classified. The later Jericho family development is related to the Shavit and Shavit II space launch vehicles believed to be derivatives of the Jericho II IRBM (Intermediate-range ballistic missile) and that preceded the development of the Jericho III ICBM (Intercontinental ballistic missile).
Theater: in warfare, theater (of war) refers to an area where important military events have occurred or are progressing. It can include airspace, land, sea, etc that may be involved. Theater of operations would encompass a smaller area within the theater of war.