Chapter 44 - Consequences
Percy ignored the Dead Men. He was here to talk to The General.
He walked right over to the desk, and leaned against it, getting close up with the soft-looking officer.
"My people and I are the the ones who get the fuckers that killed Delta team," he stated.
Not a question. Not an asking. Basically a command.
The General colored a little, but it was the Dead Men TL who spoke.
"The General was just telling us that we've got that job, kid," Plean said.
Percy's head turned slowly, mechanically, to stare at him for a few seconds. He said nothing. Then, he turned right back to The General.
"My. Team."
Again, before The General could speak, Plean opened his mouth.
"Kid, I told you-"
"Call me 'Kid' one more time; see what happens," Percy snapped without looking at him.
Plean must have been pretty stunned by that, because it took him a second to put a hand on Percy's shoulder and spin him towards him.
Percy batted the hand away and glared at the man, but said nothing.
"Listen," Plean began once he'd taken a deep breath and calmed down a little, "I get that you're upset. We all are, but-"
"What were their names, asshole?" Percy cut him off in a quiet voice as he stared into Plean's eyes.
"What?" Plean asked, confused.
"You heard me."
Plean blinked a few times and stared at him.
"I don't see what that has to do-"
"You didn't even go to the funeral. You didn't speak to their widows and kids. You didn't even know who the fuck they were. Get the hell out of it, and let the people who cared about them, avenge their deaths. Don't pretend you give a shit."
Percy stared at him for a few seconds, and was gratified to see that the guy had no reply.
Turning back to The General, Percy said, "When your intel people have a target, I expect to be notified. You don't want to know what I'll do to you if I'm not."
And without another word, Percy turned on his heel and left the office.
Even though he had managed to keep his face clear of any obvious signs of rage during the funeral and the conversation in the office, he was absolutely seething, and as he was walking away, he felt himself losing control. His body was vibrating with rage, and if he didn't work it off soon, then he was going to explode.
He made his way to the gym, and threw himself into an intense workout, but an hour later he felt no better. So he started looking for a sparring partner, but no one was willing. They could tell that he was in an epically bad mood, and wanted to avoid him at all costs.
So, despite it being the middle of the day, Percy made his way to the TOC, finding his TAO - Target Acquisition Officer. A TAO, was the person responsible for finding and vetting targets to send teams of Operators after. Each team had been assigned their own TAO, and Percy, Pricela, and Moril had one as well, despite not being an official team.
Their TAO was a young woman who looked to be in her early 30s, but was certainly several hundred years old. She looked like any good intelligence officer looked. Utterly non-descript. In fact, the only thing that gave her away as an intelligence officer, were the ever-present dark rings under her eyes. Percy knew she could have been a stunning woman if she made the slightest effort. Or rather, if she stopped putting in the effort to make herself forgettable. He knew she had to take some serious steps to tone down her looks. A sacrifice for the work.
The TAO, named Tan, looked even more tired than usual. If he had to guess, Percy would say that she hadn't had a wink of sleep since the demise of Delta team. Probably, the closest she had come to rest of any kind, had been the funeral, which she had attended, and Percy could attest that it was no rest at all.
"What do you have for me?" he asked her the moment she looked up at him from her work.
She sighed, closed her eyes in utter exhaustion, and ran a hand through her messy brown hair.
"Not much. I was planning on sending you guys out tonight, but it's probably just a wild goose chase."
Percy raised an eyebrow, and felt annoyance surge through him.
"You have a target? Why didn't you come to me with this immediately?" he demanded.
She raised a cool eyebrow at the tone. The two always got on fairly well. As far as Percy was concerned, anyone who was really good at their job, merited his respect. It didn't matter what that job was, as long as it wasn't something nefarious. A lot of people assumed that Operators could only ever respect fellow Operators. That couldn't have been further from the truth. Anyone who was truly great at what they did, earned their respect. And Tao was a truly great intelligence officer.
So, his sharp, demanding tone came as a surprise to her, he was sure.
He didn't particularly care just then.
"Well, first of all, it's the middle of the day. You guys only go out at night, and for good reason. Second, like I said, it's probably a wild goose chase."
"Delta team is dead, Tao. Standard operating procedure is out the window. What's the mission?"
She looked at him carefully, as if measuring him. She could decide not to tell him, if she wanted. He had absolutely no authority over her. All she had to do was say no, and that was him stymied.
"Alright, look. You were told that Delta team arrived at that house as a follow on? They had just finished a regular raid, and managed to take the main subject alive. They questioned him in the field, and he told them that his cousin, a well-known bombmaker named Higart, was holed up in a house nearby. They got the address out of him, and went straight there, so that Higart wouldn't have time to get away when he found out his cousin was in custody. Well, they left the guy with some Infantry soldiers to be brought back to base. The convoy was attacked on the way back, and the cousin vanished. I heard some rumors that he was staying with some distant family. It's probably nothing."
"Well, it's better than anything else we have. We'll go now; where's the house?"
Tao looked at him pleadingly.
"You can't go now. Please, at least wait until it's dark."
"No time for that. He could leave before then. We have to go now."
"Shit, Jackson, it's just a couple hours."
"Yeah, that's a couple hours we may not have. I'm not letting the scum that walked Delta team into an ambush, just slip away because I was waiting on the fucking sun to go away."
He stared her in the eyes and said nothing more. The intensity of his gaze was enough to make her buckle, and she recited the address. He nodded his thanks, turned around, and walked away.
He found Pricela and Moril on his way back to the team room.
"Gear up. We're going. I'll give you the details on the way."
They didn't say a word. They both nodded immediately, spun on their heels, and walked with him to their cages.
Percy decided to arm himself to fight an entire war single handedly. The neighborhood Tao had given him was a rough one. There was a good chance the target had fled there because he'd feel safe, surrounded by so many insurgents. Percy, Pricela, and Moril were about to show him just how wrong he was.
The neighborhood the three Spec Ops Operators were visiting was a few hours' drive away from the base they were at, so they were going to shadow travel to another Infantry base called Camp Kilo, which they had visited a few weeks prior and was much closer.
As they walked to the designated shadow travel point on base, they walked past Sara.
She frowned at them, "Are you guys spinning up?"
Percy nodded, "Yeah. Got a tip on the guy who walked Delta Team into that house. We're going to take him out."
She looked surprised.
"In broad daylight?"
"Yep."
Immediately, she said "You want backup? We can be ready to move in 3 minutes."
"Don't worry about it. We've got it."
Sara looked supremely reluctant, but Percy and the others just carried on to the ST point.
Once they had arrived at Camp Kilo, they loaded up in an armored truck, and started driving.
An hour later, they parked the truck in a ditch off the side of the road, concealing it with foliage, and setting off on foot.
The walk lasted 20 minutes before they finally arrived in the town where their target was hiding. If it had been dark, they could have stuck to the shadows, and crept through the back alleys, until they reached their target's house, where they would go loud.
But it was the middle of the day, now.
The town was so densely populated, that there was no chance of moving through it stealthily in broad daylight. So, they chose the opposite tact. The three Operators walked right down the middle of the road, keeping their attention split between the target house - listening for anyone making an escape - and the crowds that were staring at them with open hostility.
There were plenty of regions on the planet where the local population was glad to have them there. Chaos' Army was targeting bomb makers and terrorists who killed their own people, just as much as the foreign soldiers. Because of that, the locals were perfectly happy for the Army to be there, and welcomed them with open arms. But in most of the more remote areas, they were treated as savage invaders, who had come to kill their children and rape their women. This was, of course, fantasy. There was the occasional psychopath in the Army who wanted to take things far too far, but for every one of them, there were a hundred decent people who would not allow such atrocities to take place. So, even the psychopaths were forced to restrain themselves.
The town they were walking through, was a fairly small one. Most of the structures were 2-story houses, and they were densely populated. The road they were walking down, was a busy one, crowded with pedestrians. They formed a large crowd of angry faces staring at them, making it difficult to pass, and the faces on the upstairs balconies were glaring down at them.
But Percy had prepared to fight an army, and so had Pricela and Moril. They were cutting an impressive image. They were wearing the standard tactical gear, which consisted of heavy combat boots, many-pocketed cargo pants, a black figure-hugging shirt beneath ballistic armor, and bulletproof helmets that would, true to their name, stop a bullet, but put the victim in a coma through sheer force. Attached to their ballistic armor, were a dozen magazines for the carbines slung across their chests, and a few pistol magazines for the big and obvious handguns on their hips. Attached to their belts, were many fragmentation grenades, plenty of smoke grenades, and a couple flashbangs.
As they walked through the crowd of hostile faces, they all kept a firm grip on their rifles, which were most likely the only thing keeping the masses from making a move against them.
The real concern was the people gathered on the balconies, looking down at them. Percy heard a few calls made on phones, but didn't understand the local dialect well enough to catch what they were saying to whoever was on the other end. He could guess the topic of conversation, however.
Percy figured they had 10 minutes until the guys with guns showed up, and all hell broke loose. The locals would only need a few rounds to be fired before they themselves went and got the guns almost certainly hidden in their homes, and joined the fight against the three invaders.
Hanging around was out of the question.
Percy recognised that, given his situation, he should probably be panicking. But there was none of that. He'd been trained by the very best in the entire Universe, to do one thing, and one thing only. He was trained to kill. If anyone opened fire on him and his friends, then he'd tear them to pieces and never think twice about it.
For their own sake, he really hoped they left their guns where they were.
After a tense few minutes, the trio cleared the crowd, and made it all the way to the target house. They knew their target hadn't fled. They'd paid close attention to the perimeter with their senses, and would surely have sensed someone disappearing.
All tactics be damned, Percy marched right up to the front door, and kicked it so hard, it went flying off its hinges. There was a man on the other side, as Percy had sensed. This wasn't their target though. This man was a few inches taller, and his hair was a light blonde, rather than the dark brown of their target.
He saw the three armed Operators marching into his house and started shouting at them, trying to make them leave. Percy used the stock of his rifle to smack the man on the side of the head and send him crashing to the ground, immediately unconscious.
Then they moved through the rest of the house. There was a woman in there, the first man's wife, and Pricela tackled her to the ground and zip tied her hands together, while Percy and Moril took up positions on either side of them, guns raised, ready to deal with anyone who might jump out at them. With a firm warning not to move from her place on the floor, they moved on.
Clearing the two-story house took 45 seconds, and there was no significant threat. They found their target 30 seconds in, and he'd been holding a rifle, but they'd taken him down without even raising their heart rates. They needed him alive in order to question him, so before they'd poured into the room he was in, Moril threw a flashbang inside, waited a second for the device to go off, and then Pricela dashed towards him, disarming and dismantling him before he could regain his bearings.
They tied him up and cleared the rest of the house, finding nothing else.
"All secure," Percy announced once they'd manually checked each room.
And with that, they rounded on the target.
He was an insignificant-looking man. He didn't look like some kind of mastermind who could - or would have the balls to - orchestrate the deaths of a dozen Spec Ops Operators. No, he didn't look scary. He looked scared. And he had damn good reason to be.
Percy began the battlefield interrogation.
Before asking a single question, Percy knocked him around a bit, aiming to throw the man off balance. Less than 2 minutes ago, he'd been having a peaceful day with his cousin and her family. Now there were three heavily armed foreigners in his room, knocking him around, screaming questions at him. There was no time for him to adjust, or collect himself. The idea state for an interrogation.
"Please! Please! Don't hurt me! I can give you information! Good information! I can tell you where Higart is! I know you're looking for him!"
Higart was the name of the bombmaker Delta team had died trying to apprehend.
Percy saw red.
He hit the guy hard in the stomach, then grabbed him by the hair and wrenched his head upwards to meet his gaze.
"You think I'm a fucking idiot?" he demanded sharply, "You think we've forgotten what happened to the last team you sent after Higart?"
"W- what happened to them?"
Percy smacked the guy again, knocking a few teeth out of his mouth.
"You walked them into a trap, you slime!"
His eyes went wide.
"No! No! I swear! I swear! I did not!"
Percy was about to hit the guy again, when Moril spoke up form his position at the window.
"1, I think we need to bounce," he said, using their old code names from their OTC days to avoid saying Percy's name in front of the target.
Percy only had to glance out the window Moril was stationed at, to see what he was talking about.
No less than a dozen vehicles had pulled up, and there were around a hundred enemy soldiers right outside their house. And not just the native guerillas. Of the one hundred enemy soldiers, maybe 20 of them were Order's forces. Percy knew from previous engagements that they were well-trained, well-armed, and tough as anything.
Moril was right. They had to get the hell out of there.
Fortunately for the three Operators, that was easy. All they had to do was shadow travel back to any Chaos' Army Infantry Base, and they'd be ok.
Percy nodded to the others, and was about to turn and make his way back to the target they'd come all this way for, when something caught his attention outside.
A translucent wave was stretching over the sky, shimmering under the sun. He watched it for a second, curious, before he heard a loud bang. It was a mechanical sound. Like a big, heavy machine had just turned itself on. The barely-visible sheet stretched over the house they were in, and beyond.
Percy furrowed his brow. What was that? He didn't feel any different.
Deciding to bring it up to Chaos' analysts later, he moved across the room to the target, put a hand on his shoulder and shadow traveled away.
Except he didn't.
Couldn't.
He furrowed his brow and tried again. Nothing. He didn't move so much as an inch.
Percy cast a look around the room, to find Pricela and Moril, brows furrowed, looking every bit as confused as he felt.
They couldn't shadow travel.
Percy tried to bend the shadows in the room to his will, and they refused to obey him. But he could still see through them, so he knew his night vision was intact. It seemed that all of the outward uses of their shadow powers had been… disabled? How was that even possible?
It had to have been the strange, translucent sheen that had drifted across the sky.
But that left Percy, Pricela, and Moril to fight against an army, with no backup.
Percy stormed back over to the window, suddenly very concerned with what they were up to out there.
He found one of the soldiers from Order's forces holding a rocket launcher, aiming it directly at Percy. The cheeky fucker had the gall to wave at him cheerfully before launching the explosive.
Percy dove across the room without a word, knowing that the other two had already sensed the rocket and were moving even before he was. He landed roughly on the floor, less than a second before the RPG hit the window Percy had been standing in front of. The wall exploded, rubble and debris spilling into the room. A virtual sandstorm of dust was kicked up, and Percy found himself chocking as he struggled to inhale. Aside from that, he was ok.
He sensed movement to his left, and knew the target they had come all this way for, was making a run for it. The piece of shit had now led two Spec Ops teams into an ambush, wether he knew it or not. Percy wasn't about to allow a third team to get stuck in the shit because of this worthless asshole. Ignoring the rifle still slung to his chest, Percy drew his handgun, brought it to bear, and shot the fleeing man in the back of the head three times.
That dealt with, Percy brought his mind back to matters of survival.
The only advantage the three Operators had over their opposition, was the high ground. It was all they had, so they were going to use it to the fullest.
"Smoke out!" Percy called to the other two.
Instantly, they were hurling smoke grenades out at the ground between them and the enemy soldiers. This way, the three Operators in the house were utterly invisible, having been trained to make themselves undetectable even to opposition forces with advanced senses. The enemy soldiers would be firing blind. There were a hundred of them, so they still had a considerable advantage there, but it was something. The second advantage the smoke would provide them, was the fact that they could sense most - if not all - of the enemy soldiers on the other side, allowing them to take accurate shots.
The moment the smoke grenades were deployed, the building they were in started taking heavy fire. It was more than assault rifle or carbine fire. It was stronger, faster, and heavier. It had to be a machine gun. And sure enough, Percy sensed three of them mounted to enemy trucks parked outside the house opposite them. And as if that wasn't enough, the guys were the rocket launchers were going nuts. There was a rocket hitting the inside of the house every three seconds or so.
For a few seconds, the Operators could do nothing but hunker down, and wait for an opportunity to launch some kind of counter attack. When no such opportunity presented itself, Percy had to make the decision.
"Alright, I'm going to radio for backup. Pricela, deal with those machine guns. Moril, take the rocket launchers."
And with that, he shuffled deeper into the room, and went out into the hall where he'd actually be able to hear the person on the other end of the radio transmission.
He wanted to be in the fight, but he knew this was more important. They were sitting ducks, and unless they could get some bombers and fighter jets in the air, and some Infantry assistance, then they were going to be buried under that house.
"TOC, this is Papa Julliet 93-192, we just got ambushed by over 100 enemy forces and we can't shadow travel out. Need immediate air support and Infantry assets at our pos."
He relayed his position to the TOC, and waited for a reply.
"Copy, Papa Julliet, air assets are scrambling now. Mechanised Infantry are rolling out from Camp Kilo."
Percy was about to ask if they had any idea what was going on with the shadow powers and if they knew what that translucent sheen had been, but just before he could get the words out, he saw a team of Order's forces enter the house through the door Percy had blown off its hinges earlier, on the floor below him. Just based on the way they moved, Percy immediately knew that they weren't any regular soldiers. They were Spec Ops, just like him. Or at least, they were as close as it got in Order's forces. They were extremely competent shooters, but not as good as him, as he would soon see.
He dropped the radio and brought his rifle to bear against them, but they were a split second faster. Because he'd been talking to the TOC, they already knew where he was, so they were ready for him. Percy felt a colossal blow against his chest as three carbine rounds hit his body armor. As was the case with all body armor Spec Ops Operators in Chaos' Army wore, it had been enchanted by Chaos herself, to make it utterly impenetrable. But even though the rounds never made it through the armor and into his body, they still dumped a massive amount of force into his body and hurt like hell.
But Percy had been trained to ignore simple matters like pain. Even as he was moving towards the wall on his right to clear the angle they had on him, he fired two shots at the enemy Operator's head, killing him instantly.
Temporarily safe from the enemy Operators, Percy grabbed a grenade from his belt, pulled the pin, cooked it off for a second, and then hurled it down the stairs. The only tell he heard from them, was the sound of heavy bodies hitting the ground as they ducked for cover from the grenade. Other than that, he couldn't sense them at all. They were pretty good.
"1, you ok over there?" Percy heard Moril ask, obviously having sensed the commotion.
"Enemy Operators just crashed the party. You stay on what you're doing, I'll deal with them."
Percy couldn't go into details, or else the Operators downstairs would hear it too. Moril must have figured that too, because there were no follow up questions. They simply had faith in him that he would deal with the issue and cover their backs, just like he trusted them to do the same.
6 of them had entered the house, and Percy had shot and killed one of them, leaving 5. 5 enemy Operators against Percy who was, in effect, alone. If he stayed on defense, he'd die. Which left offence. Yeah, he could handle that.
He crept down the stairs quietly, and readied a flashbang as he got close to the bottom. When he was just one step away, he threw it hard against the wall to the left, letting it ricochet to the right, where the Operators were waiting for him. He knew the flashbang wouldn't do much. All of the Operators would have been trained to identify a flashbang on sight, duck down, cover their ears, screw their eyes shut, and turn away. It would leave them vulnerable for a second, but they'd be back on the ball immediately after that, safe from the full effects of the blinding light and crashing noise. But Percy only needed that one second.
As soon as he was sure they'd identified the flashbang and taken the appropriate measures, he dove across the room, and came up behind the couch. The couch would give him virtually no cover at all; the carbine rounds would go through it like it wasn't even there. But it would offer him concealment. They'd think he was still at the top of the stairs, because they hadn't sensed him coming down, and the flashbang would have concealed the sound of him dropping to the floor.
Now, Percy just had to lie in wait for them to make their next move, and he would make his.
The noise from outside was starting to diminish, which meant Pricela and Moril were doing their jobs, and doing them well. The machine gun fire was almost non-existent and the RPGs were rocking the house far more infrequently. Percy couldn't sense any aircraft in the sky yet, but he was sure they were on the way. Ditto for the Infantry support.
The enemy Operators were up on their feet now, and moved closer to the corner in front of the staircase they thought Percy was at the top of. They were lined up in a stack, ready to turn the corner and take him on.
Making absolutely no noise, Percy raised his rifle in preperation. There was one adjustement he'd need to make before he could execute his plan, but that would make noise when they'd hear, so he had to wait until the last second.
The number 1 man in the stack made his decision and ducked his head and his rifle across the boundary and up the stairs, ready to engage Percy had he been there. When he didn't fire at anything, the rest of the stack must have assumed that Percy had retreated back into the house. The number 2 man took his hand off the forward grip of his rifle, and squeezed the number 1 man on the shoulder to signify that they were ready to move when he was. The 1 man stepped around the corner, and started up the stairs, the rest of the stack right on his heels.
One they were all on the stairs in a single-file column in front of Percy, he made the necessary adjustment. Operators almost always had their main weapons set to single-fire, for a more controllable experience in CQB. But now Percy wasn't looking for anything controlled. He flipped the selector switch to full-auto, and the Operators on the stairs swung around at the noise, but it was too late for any of them.
Standard operating procedure would have been to engage the nearest threat first, as the nearest threat was the most likely to fire accurate shots back. But Percy made an exception under the circumstances. The number 1 man in the stack was almost at the top of the stairs, and if Percy saved him for last, he'd have an opportunity to bound up the rest of the way, and get to cover.
Percy opened fire on him first. There were no controlled bursts of fire. He just held the trigger all the way back, and dumped all 43 rounds left in his magazine at the stack of Operators. When his rifle clicked empty, Percy reloaded with lightning speed and got up keeping his muzzle trained on the 5 corpses. He flicked his selector switch back to single-fire and put an insurance round in each of the enemy combatants' heads, just to make sure. Then, he dragged every piece of furniture in the ground floor of the house over to the door and barricaded it. It wouldn't stop any local insurgents, and it would crumple like tissue paper in the face of another team of enemy Operators, but it would make some noise.
Stepping over the bodies, Percy went back to Pricela and Moril to help them with the firefight. On his way, he noticed that an enemy round had torn his right bicep open, 3 more had hit his body armor, making for a total of 6 bullets stuck in his vest, and one more had hit him in the right leg, fairly high up. He put a tourniquet on the leg just to make sure it didn't bleed too much. That done, he rejoined the other two.
"Blue, blue!" he called as he entered the room, just to make sure they didn't shoot him on instinct.
"Took you a while!" Pricela declared.
"Yeah, savoring all the action downstairs while we're taking potshots at morons with RPGs, like an asshole," Moril agreed.
"Well, what can I say; I'd die of boredom if I stayed up here with you two," Percy replied with a smirk.
They rolled their eyes, and let the smirks spread across their faces, as they continued taking out the opposition.
"Do we have an ETA on reinforcements?" Moril asked.
Percy sighed, "Well, this shadow thing seems to be affecting everybody, so no one's shadow traveling to us anytime soon. Infantry will have to drive from Camp Kilo, so I'd say another hour. Air support should be any minute."
"As soon as the opposition hears those planes, they're gonna take cover, wait for them to pass, and then come back out and keep hitting us. And it's not like we can ask them to level the place, since there's civilians all over the neighborhood. Eventually, they'll wise up and swarm the house, and I'm willing to bet it'll be before the Infantry arrive," Pricela predicted.
Percy agreed with her and thought over their options. The house they were in, was indefensible. There were too many blown open holes that a damn tank could roll through without even touching the sides. When they swarmed - and they would - they'd be able to enter from just about every angle. The three Operators in the house were some of the best in the Universe, but they weren't good enough to attack threats from 8 different angles each, simultaneously.
The good news, was that the enemy Operators were dead. If there were any more of them, they would have gone in with the initial 6 to give themselves better odds. So, there had only been those 6.
"Guys, how many more RPGs are out there?"
"5" Moril said.
"4" Pricela corrected as she took a well-aimed shot at what was likely another enemy RPG, "But anyone could just pick them up and use them. We're disabling the personnel, not the guns.
"Yeah, and they've noticed that we're targeting them, so they're taking cover."
Percy mulled it over for a second before replying.
"Ok. You guys focus on the last 4. I'll put some rounds in the guns that I see on the ground and try to disable them. Once we've dealt with them all, or at least most of them, we'll switch houses. We can fortify properly if we don't have to deal with those explosives."
"Got it," they echoed.
5 minutes later, they'd dealt with most of them. It was time to move. All the enemy Infantry were pushing closer.
"Alright," Percy told them, "Toss some more smoke and get ready to back out."
They all threw their smoke grenades, and started crawling backwards, out into the hall where Percy had made the call to the TOC.
Just before he cleared the doorway, Moril stumbled forward a step.
"Ah!" he hissed, like he had just touched a hot stove.
"What's the matter?"
"Just took a round in the stomach. Tore right through my armor. I'm good to go though."
Percy didn't have to look around to see that he was right about the location of the wound, and the fact that his armor had been penetrated. He could taste the copper in the air, and could follow the scent back to its source. The fact that a bullet had gone through the armor, was significant. It had to be a sniper round, fired from a very high powered rifle. Chaos' armor was damn near impenetrable. In fact, he had thought was impenetrable. But Percy knew that if Moril said he was good to go, then he was good to go.
"Alright, we're going to push to the South. We need to move quick, I don't want to be out in the open for too long with those assholes out on the prowl. We're gonna run from house to house. No clearing; just run right through them. Let's put three buildings between this one, and our end point."
Pricela and Moril nodded.
Percy used the but of his rifle to knock the glass out of a window that had miraculously survived the battle thus far, and jumped out into the open. Once he'd heard Pricela and Moril land next to him, he moved forward to the next house's window, broke it and climbed through. He checked his immediate surroundings, saw nothing, and moved through the house to break out another window.
They kept going like that until they were at the fourth house they'd broken into.
"Ok, do we want to set up upstairs or down here?" Pricela asked.
Percy thought it over for a second before replying, "Pricela, you take overwatch on the second and Moril will take the front and back of the house respectively. First, Pricela, check Moril's wound, make sure it's ok."
"I'm good," he grunted.
"Never trust a Spy; that's my motto. Pricela, check him."
Moril flipped him off, but made no move to stop Pricela as she checked his wound.
Percy left them to it, and moved to the front of the house, where he posted security for a little while. The enemy forces hadn't found them yet, but it was only a matter of time.
"He's good to go. I slapped a bandage on it, and that's about as good as I can do for now. He'll live until evac," Pricela called out a few minutes later.
Percy nodded, and without him having to tell them, they both moved to their positions. Moril went to the back of the house, where he could hold security on the back door, and all the windows back there. Pricela went up to the second floor, and he heard her opening doors and creating lines of sight for herself.
The next minute went by quietly, and then there was the sound of high-powered machine guns, buzzing down the streets. Percy almost raised his rifle at the sound, but then realized there was a buzzing sound in that air, which he knew was being made by an attack helicopter. Their air support.
"Well, they took their time," Percy commented, knowing the other two would hear him.
"Yeah, they must have stopped for a coffee break on the way," Pricela theorized.
Percy heard Moril snort.
The air support, while appreciated, had an unexpected detriment. Desperate for cover, a fair amount of enemy troops made a beeline for the house the three Operators were in.
"1, you want me to move to the front?" Moril asked.
Percy thought for a second before replying, "Negative. Stay where you are. Some Operators might try to flank us and we won't sense them. I'll deal with the assholes on their way here. Pricela, when you hear me open fire, you start blowing them away from upstairs."
They both acknowledged, and Percy knew he heard a hint of frustration from Moril, but he'd listen.
When the first enemy local kicked the door open, and stepped inside, Percy tried to give him a chance. Despite seeing the assault rifle they all carried in his hands, Percy hoped they could deal with the situation non-lethally.
"Put your hands in the air, drop the gun!" he shouted in the local language.
In response, the local raised the gun to a firing position, and Percy was forced to put two bullets in his head. After that, things started up again. Knowing where the enemy Operators were hiding, the locals started focusing their numbers on the building. They had to do it slowly, and in waves, due to the machine guns on the helicopters making strafing runs, but they had seemingly endless numbers, and a blatant disregard for their own lives.
Percy, from his position behind a half wall, had decent enough cover, and good sightlines on all the front entrances, so he wasn't too worried. The only concern, was being caught with no ammunition, so he reloaded after each wave of enemies, even though his magazines were only half-empty.
Pricela was blasting away at them from her position up above, and Percy knew that the only reason their house hadn't been decimated like the last one, was because she was focusing on the RPGs and machine guns.
Then, a new sound joined the mix. It was a helicopter, but not like the ones that had been making attack runs. This was a troop transport chopper, designed for maximum speed, agility, and mobility. Reinforcements? Percy, from his time at Air Force School on Kennegmagogia, knew that those types of helicopters could only take 8-10 people at a time. It had to be a Spec Ops team. It wouldn't make sense to send such a small number of any other kind of troops.
Just then, there was a supersonic screech, and Percy sensed heat rising from the ground, heading straight towards the chopper. A missile. They were trying to shoot it down. The pilot, being exceptionally well-trained, immediately spotted the danger, and banked hard to the right. But to everyone's immediate dismay, the rocket curved in midair, and struck the helicopter directly in the engine. It had to be heat-seeking. Order's forces were supplying their local insurgency well.
The helicopter spun violently, and hit the ground hard, just a few blocks away from the house where the three Operators had taken refuge.
Percy cursed and made his decision instantly.
"Pricela, fall back to Moril. We're making a run for that chopper. We need to secure the crash site."
The crash site was closer to Percy's position than Moril's, but they couldn't make a run from there. They'd be seen instantly, and there was no cover out there for them. The plan was to move to the right for two blocks, then turn left and make a run for the crash site. They'd be there within a minute. If anyone had survived the crash, which Percy thought was quite likely given the caliber of soldier housed inside, they'd be able to hold out until they arrived.
The plan went as expected. They had to deal with a few enemy combatants along the way, but with their suppressed weapons and the machine guns from the attack helicopters were making plenty of noise, so it was hard to locate them.
When Percy and the others arrived at the crashed helicopter, he almost wept with relief. These weren't just any Operators that had come to back them up. It was Sara and the rest of the Dead Men.
Sara looked ok. There was a small cut on her cheek as a result of the crash, and she was holding herself in such a way that Percy knew she'd broken a few ribs, but she had her assault rifle trained South, ready for any enemy soldiers to reveal themselves to her. Most of the rest of the team were in similar positions, and appeared similarly wounded. One of them, a guy whose name Percy didn't know, was laying on the ground one of his arms and one of his legs broken. His head was bleeding, and he was unconscious, which was probably a good thing. If he'd been awake, he would be in total agony.
"Blue, Blue!" Percy called as they approached the site.
The five conscious Operators and two pilots immediately turned to look at them, tensed for action, and relaxed again when they recognised them.
Percy's first port of call was to check on Sara. The rest of them could wait.
"You ok?" he asked as he slid behiund the piece of wall she was using as cover.
She took her left hand off the forward grip on her rifle, and squeezed his hand, eyes still fixed directly ahead.
"We're fine. Vazi's hit pretty bad though. Broken arm, broken leg, and severe head trauma. He's tough though, he'll pull through. You guys?"
"Moril and I are a bit banged up, but we can fight. Pricela's fresh as a daisy."
Pricela overheard this, turned to him, and grinned.
"Luck be a lady, Jackson."
Percy and Sara chuckled for a second before Percy turned back to Sara, "I'm assuming you've already called for evac?"
Sara nodded, "ETA is half an hour. I guess that's how long we've got to find that damn anti-air and take it out."
Plean took over.
"I saw the missile when it launched. It came from a building around 5 blocks to the West, and 8 blocks to the South. I'll take another Operator, and go disable it. I want everyone else to stay here and secure the site. And someone needs to take the time to wire up the wreckage. We need to blow it to hell before we leave."
Everyone nodded.
"Ok," Percy started, "Take Pricela. The three of us know the terrain the best, and she's the only one who isn't injured. She won't slow you down."
There was an immediate reaction. Plean frowned, but looked thoughtful. Clearly, he wanted to take one of his own people, but they were all injured. Plus, Percy's point about her knowing the area, was a valid one. Pricela was standing straighter than usual, and there was a faint blush on her cheeks. She looked decidedly flattered, and the fact that she was trying to hide it, just made it even more apparent.
Plean's eyes moved from Percy, to Pricela, and came to rest on Sara. She nodded confidently, and that seemed to decide it.
"Alright, let's do it. We should leave now. You all set?"
Pricela immediately nodded, and then faltered.
"Uh, actually I'm running a little low on ammo."
Percy took three of his half-empty magazines off his chest rig and handed them to her.
"There's 21, 19, and 24 rounds in there," he said, indicating each one.
She nodded, and strapped them to her own armor. Moril gave her a few of his own magazines.
Before they left, Percy spoke up again, "Keep your heads down. There's a sniper out there firing rounds that tore through Moril's body armor."
"Seriously?" Plean asked, stunned.
Percy nodded at Moril's stomach wound, and Plean stared at it for a few seconds. Then he nodded to himself, turned around, and left the crash sight, Pricela following close behind.
Sara turned to Percy.
"We don't have the explosives to wreck the helo."
Percy bit the inside of his cheek and thought for a few moments.
"If we can't blow it up, can we burn it?"
Sara's eyes turned upwards as she thought it over.
"Sure. But I left my flamethrower in my other pants this morning."
He had to smile at that.
"You left your flamethrower behind for a rescue mission? Amateur."
She gave him a mocking smile, which quickly evolved into a genuine grin.
"Well, if we don't have a flamethrower," Percy continued, "Then we'll have to make one."
Sara raised an eyebrow at him, but said nothing.
Percy moved from their position of cover, keeping his head as low as he could get it, and made his way to the wreckage. He quickly found a box of flares that was always kept in a small compartment under the seats. He took the box out, and slid it over to Moril. The next part would be trickier. The fuel compartment of the helicopter was buried deep within the metal frame, to offer it the most protection possible. Percy made a fist and started punching through the hull with his left hand. It was agony on his hand, but he had no choice.
After a full minute of brutal punching, he had torn his way through to the fuel tank. He ripped it out and was about to slide it over to Moril, when he realized keeping the fuel right next to the flares, probably wasn't the best idea. He slid it over to Sara, and then crawled his way to her.
"When our evac is 5 minutes out, I'll douse the heli with the gas, focusing on the electronics and the engine, and we can use the flares to light it up right before we leave."
Sara, who had just finished gunning down three insurgents, cast him an admiring look.
"Good thinking."
Percy grinned back at her.
She had her side covered, so he turned around, leaning back against the scrap metal they were taking cover behind, and looked at Moril.
"Mo, how you doing?"
Moril flashed him a weak smile.
"Feelin' like I just passed OTC, Perce."
"You Spies. Liars; all of you."
The weak smile widened a little.
"You're a Spy too, now, remember."
"Your point being?"
Now he chuckled.
23 minutes later, Plean and Pricela returned to the crash site, both of them looking a little worse for wear, but in decent enough shape. Pricela was bleeding from a moderate cut near her right eyebrow, and she was limping on her left leg a little, but was trying to hide it. Plean had a tourniquet high on his right arm, and walked with the slightly hunched posture of an Operator with broken ribs.
Pricela was grinning wildly.
"So much for 'Luck be a lady', eh Pricela?" Percy called out.
She flipped him off without even looking at him, and settled down next to Moril, still glowing with pride at having gone on a mission with the leader of the Dead Men.
"That's a hell of an Operator you got there, Jackson," Plean said as he crouched down next to Percy and Sara.
"Shit, there'll be no stopping that ego of hers now," Percy grumbled.
"Go shit in your helmet, Jackson," Pricela ordered.
"Damn, looks like we've got two Namis on the same planet. Won't that tear a hole in space, or something?" Sara joked.
Percy saw one of the female Dead Men turn to grin at Pricela. He recognised her as the one he'd almost drowned when the Dead Men had hunted him.
"I, for one, think you can never have too many Namis," one of the male Operators said with a grin and a wink at the woman Percy presumed was Nami.
Nami rolled her eyes, and shoved him on the shoulder playfully, "Shut it, Iolk, I'm never gonna fuck you."
The guy, Iolk, grinned even harder, and said, "Just because it hasn't happened in the last 5 thousand years, doesn't mean it won't."
Nami smirked, "Yeah, I'm expecting that complete personality overhaul, any day now."
Iolk opened his mouth to reply, when Plean cut him off.
"Alright, stow it, all of you. Our evac is just a few minutes out; we need to get ready to move. Is the chopper ready to blow?"
"Yeah, we doused it with the fuel it was carrying," Percy told him, "As soon as we move, we can use the flares to light it up."
Plean looked over at the helicopter, and stared at it for a few seconds.
"Alright, not bad. But let's light it up right now. I want to see it burn and make sure it's beyond repair by the time we leave."
Percy nodded, and turned to Moril.
"Go ahead."
Moril opened the box of flares, lit one up, and threw it at the helicopter. The flames caught immediately. It was a slightly spectacular sight to behold. The heat was intense, even from where Percy was crouched. Within a minute, the metal frame was warping and bending. The inner circuitry was surely burned beyond recognition by then. They stayed for another minute.
By then, the insurgents were attacking in full force, and the 8 conscious Operators, plus 2 pilots, were fighting for their lives. There was no lul in the combat, and the sounds fo gunfire didn't cease for even a second. It was just a wall of noise. The insurgents seemed to have decided that the slow, tactical approach of sending their people in waves, wasn't getting them anywhere. So they threw everyone they could muster at them, hoping to overwhelm them.
There was a beautiful simplicity to this kind of combat, Percy decided. Special Operations often involved clever tactics, and stealth. There were a million and one considerations to make before firing a shot. But now? Here? A bad guy reared his head, Percy put a bullet in it, and then found the next guy. It would have been soothing, if not for the sounds of bullets, explosions, and screams, and the stench of death that was settling into the town.
"Alright, we need to move!" Plean shouted over the gunfire.
"You move, we'll cover!" Percy told him.
Plean nodded, picked up the unconscious Vazi, and the Dead Men started retreating towards the south, while Percy, Pricela, and Moril covered them with their last smoke bombs, flashbangs, and fragmentation grenades. When they sensed that the Dead Men had stopped and taken firing positions, they broke contact, and made a wild run to the south, leapfrogging the Dead Men, and setting up in their own firing positions. The Dead Men sensed this, broke contact, and they all continued their leapfrogging maneuver until they collectively flung themselves onto a rescue helicopter, which took off within a millisecond of everyone getting on board.
Only once the bird had been in the air for a full minute, did the scruffy collection of Operators manage to make their way to their own seats. Percy and Sara, by pure coincidence, he was sure, ended up sitting next to each other.
She turned towards him with a lazy grin. She might have looked like she'd just awoken from a lazy Sunday afternoon nap, if not for the blood on her face, and the body armor strapped to her. Percy felt an intense urge to grab her face and kiss her until they had to be forcibly separated. Based on the way she was glancing at his lips, he had a feeling she was thinking the same thing.
He cleared his throat, and tore his eyes away from her.
"So, is everyone alright?"
Everyone started checking themselves. The adrenaline would be wearing off soon, and they needed to know if they were suddenly going to realize that they had a broken bone. Percy himself, checked his bullet wounds. The 6 rounds that had caught his body armor, left him with at least a dozen broken ribs. The bullet that had torn through his bicep, left the arm feeling weak, and immobile. The one in his thigh was barely oozing blood, due to the tourniquet he had taken the time to apply. If he hadn't bothered, he may well have bled out by now. It was a gnarly wound.
Suddenly, the exhaustion hit him, and he realized just how tired he was. His hands were shaking, and he felt like he was going to be sick. He wondered, briefly, if that feeling after combat, would ever go away. He wasn't sure if he wanted it to, or not. Did he want to become so apathetic about firefights, and life-or-death situations, that he could just turn off afterwards like he'd spent the day in the park? He didn't think so.
A look over at Sara, told him that she was dealing with her own adrenaline withdrawals. Another look at the rest of the Dead Men told him that they were going through the same thing. Percy turned his attention to his own team, to see how they were doing. Moril looked shockingly pale and clammy. He was dealing with some serious blood loss. That wound in his stomach had to be pretty bad. Pricela looked like she was just focusing on breathing, which told him she had broken ribs, and she was sitting uncomfortably, which told him one of her hips was cracked, if not worse. They'd be ok. He'd seen them in worse shape.
He turned his attention back towards Sara, watched her for a few seconds, and then closed his eyes.
Percy didn't fall asleep. He couldn't. The helicopter was loud, and he was in too much pain anyway. But just having his eyes closed was a relief.
Around 20 minutes later, the helicopter touched down, and the Operators spilled out. There were around a dozen medics waiting for them. The injured Dead Man, Vazi, was immediately placed on a stretcher and carried away. Mostly everyone else was taken to the infirmary as well, including Percy. He had to be treated for the bullet wounds, and given some blood to tide him over until his healing kicked in.
Moril was in a rough way. He'd been able to keep his composure during the battle, but almost as soon as the helicopter landed, he went into shock. But the medical staff were extremely good at their jobs, and would have him right as rain in no time.
Percy was discharged an hour later, winked at Moril and Pricela, who hadn't left his side since they'd arrived, and left the infirmary. The first thing he did was take a long shower. Just being under the water did him wonders. He could feel the deep ache from the gunshots start to abate, and the pounding in his eardrums even started to lessen.
After redressing in clean clothes, he made his way to the mess hall for a truly epic meal. Typically, the mess would have been closed at that time, as it only really opened for meals. But virtually everyone on base had already heard about the massive battle that had just taken place, and Percy's status as a well-known Spec Ops Operator only helped matters. The staff were willing to bend the rules for him.
To his surprise, he found Sara already in there, picking at a plate of fries. She looked up at him when he entered, and smiled broadly. She used her leg to kick the chair opposite her, back a few inches; a clear invitation. Without a second thought, he dropped into it, and smiled at her.
"What can I get ya?" one of the cooks asked him a second later.
Typically, one would have to go to the window to place an order, but the cook must have figured that they were already breaking protocol just having the place open, so he might as well just come over and ask.
Before Percy could get a word out, Sara spoke up.
"He'll have a cheeseburger and fries. Cooked medium rare."
Percy raised an eyebrow as the cook left.
"Is that what I'll have?"
Sara nodded, eyes closed as if remembering a blissful memory.
"I just finished mine. It's like it was blessed by Chaos herself. Just FYI, I'll be stealing half of yours as soon as it arrives."
"Do you think Chaos has ever blessed food?" Percy asked, dodging the second part of her sentence.
Sara grinned, "I'll have to ask her, one of these days."
Just a minute later, a burger was placed in front of Percy, and he couldn't help but marvel at the size of it.
"Jesus, you just had one of these? It's bigger than your head!"
She grinned roguishly and reached for his burger. He snatched it off its plate before she could get her hands on it, and took a massive bite.
Sara looked affronted. Like he had just slapped her.
"Wow, I go out of my way to order this amazing burger for you, and this is how you repay me?"
Percy's only reply was to moan in exaggerated ecstacy.
"Jeez, I used to be the only person who could make you moan like that. I might have to step up my game, if a piece of meat gets the same reaction."
Percy choked.
Sara cackled like the evil witch she was.
Mercifully, she didn't speak again until Percy had finished his burger. When he started picking at his fries much like she had when he'd entered, she spoke up again.
"How are you feeling after everything that happened?"
It was a big question. Percy wasn't sure where to start. It took him a few seconds.
"We all lived. And we killed the son of a bitch that led Delta Team into that house. I feel bad that you guys got some injuries but overall, I think it went well."
"I think you would have felt a lot worse if we hadn't showed up."
Percy watched her for a few seconds before sighing.
"You're right. You guys totally bailed us out. I'm not sure how much longer we would have lasted without you."
"Percy, if I'm completely honest, I think you would have made it. But I don't know if I could say the same for Pricela or Moril."
He said nothing.
"Look, don't get me wrong," Sara continued, "They're both really great Operators. They're really capable. But you are a cut above the rest, and you need to keep that in mind. You're a natural leader, and a phenomenal Operator. Those two would follow you wherever you go, and that's not a bad thing at all, but you need to keep their safety in mind."
Percy felt some heat rise to his face, and a sudden insecurity flared up in him.
"So; what? Are you saying that I can't keep them safe?"
Sara took a deep breath and raised her hands placatingly before replying, "No, that's not it at all. I'm just saying that it's not a bad thing to accept help. First of all, from us. I know you think we don't care about the guys from Delta Team, but we do. We want to see justice for them too. And we want to help you. After what he saw today, I'm sure Plean will offer you a temporary partnership. You need to accept it. Because if you keep thinking that you're invincible, and you keep running into these situations alone, then one day, you're going to be a second too late, and you're going to lose one of them. If not both."
Percy looked down at his rapidly cooling fries, and said nothing. He didn't have much of an appetite anymore.
"Look, I'm not trying to bring you down. And I'm certainly not trying to make you feel bad for anything you did today. I just wanted to give you reality. Before it's too late. I don't want to see you lose them."
He took a deep breath and sighed gently.
"I don't want to lose them either," Percy reached across the table and squeezed Sara's hand, "I appreciate the advice, but I'm not sure about a partnership. I don't know if I'll play well with others. Especially after the… history there. But I promise I'll think about it."
Sara gave him a soft smile, "That's all I ask. You know I love you, right?"
He matched her smile, "I know."
He squeezed her hand one more time, then let it go, stood from the table, and left the mess hall.
Percy made his way back to the infirmary. He wanted to check on Moril and Pricela. He was sure Pricela would be fine; her injuries were just surface level, really.
When he made it inside, he saw Moril and winked at him. Moril replied with a thumbs up and a weak grin.
Percy caught the doctor's attention and she gestured over to the office. Henodded and walked with her, closing the door behind him as they entered. The doctors' offices were soundproofed, so that confidential information could be discussed without being overheard by anyone else. There was no way you could just take someone over to the side and have a private conversation; not in Chaos' Army.
"How's my guy?" Percy asked as soon as the soundproofing seal descended upon the office.
The doctor hesitated for a few seconds, which was enough to put Percy on his guard.
"He's going to be fine. He's a tough one, he'll make it through."
Percy breathed a sigh of relief.
"Ok, that's great. Is there anything else?"
"Well, yes, actually."
Percy nodded, and waited for her to go on.
"I wanted to ask you what his demeanor was like from when he was shot, right up until he was brought to us."
Percy just looked at her for a few seconds before deciding to humor her.
"Alright, well, uh… he seemed ok. I mean, you could tell he was hurt, but he didn't make a big thing out of it. He just kinda got on with it, you know? Like you said, he's tough."
The doctor sighed.
"Yes, that's what I was afraid of. Jackson, I'm not sure you appreciate just how bad he was when he came in. There was a very serious chance he could have died. The bullet brushed against his abdominal aorta when it pierced his stomach. It's somewhat miraculous that it didn't rupture immediately. It's even more amazing that it held out for as long as it did, after the initial trauma."
Percy stared at her, mouth agape. It felt like something heavy had just sat down on his chest. All of a sudden, he could feel his heartbeat in his eardrums, and the ability to breathe had deserted him. Then he remembered that he was in the middle of a conversation with another person; a person with the power to submit him to a psychiatric exam, if she saw signs of stress.
The senior doctors who worked in on-base infirmaries, had that power. If they saw significant signs of stress in any soldier, they had the right to pull that soldier from active duty, until a full psychiatric workup could be conducted, and the results determined. This power was not stayed by Spec Ops status. If anything, Operators were placed under even more scrutiny than regular soldiers.
Percy managed to clear his throat, and spent five full seconds forcing his lungs to do their job, and his heart to calm the fuck down. Only then did he give himself permission to speak.
"I… uh… I had no idea it was that bad."
The doctor nodded sympathetically.
"I don't blame you. I've worked with Operators like you for a long time, and I know you never make a big deal over injuries, but none of you are invulnerable. I just wanted to make sure you understood that this is going to take a little time to heal from. Even with our blessings from Chaos, he'll be out of the fight for a week at the very least. And I'll ask that you watch him closely when he returns to active duty."
Percy cleared his throat.
"Right, yes, of course. Thank you, doctor."
She shook his hand, and then led him out of her office.
Percy made his way over to Moril's bed. Pricela was lounging in a chair beside him, her left leg in a cast, and a few butterfly sutures above her right eyebrow. Moril was still pale, despite all the blood they had assuredly pumped into his veins. Percy could sense the bandages draped around his stomach.
"How are you guys doing?" he asked, taking a seat on the other side of Pricela.
"Not too bad, right, Mo?" Pricela said, with a playful push against Moril's shoulder.
"Golden," Moril said with a grin aimed at Pricela, before turning to Percy, "I'm all good, boss. Just a little banged up. Doctor said I'd be back to normal in a week. And then we can get back to finding the assholes that killed Delta."
Percy latched on to one particular word Moril had just used.
"Boss?" he questioned, "We're the same rank."
Which was true. In Spec Ops, any previously held rank was stripped, and every Operator started from nothing. This was done because as far as Spec Ops Command was concerned, 'nothing' was exactly what you were before you joined. After joining Spec Ops, it didn't matter what an Operator had done prior. The only thing that mattered, was what they did from that point onwards. As such, Pricela and Moril's careers in other branches, counted for nothing. They might as well have come straight out of basic, just like Percy had.
And the only yardstick Spec Ops Command used to measure how fast an Operator would get promoted, was experience. Percy, Pricela, and Moril had been on a roughly similar amount of Operations after making it through OTC, so they were the same rank. Percy was, by no means, the leader of the team. They were three equals.
Moril snorted, "Tell him, Pric, I don't have the energy right now."
Pricela chuckled a little before suddenly growing serious. She looked at Percy with an earnestness he was not accustomed to from her. There was no sarcastic glint in her eyes, no upturned corners on her lips. She was, for perhaps the first time since he had met her, completely serious.
"Percy, where have you been? Ever since Moril and I arrived on Lomik and the three of us started going on missions together, you've basically been our TL. I mean, look at what happened today. You were calling the shots the whole time. We did whatever you told us to."
Percy looked down at his boots.
"I just thought you guys agreed with what I was suggesting."
Pricela smiled at him.
"We did, Percy. We would have spoken up if you'd told us to do something really dumb. But you didn't. Honestly, we figured you knew we were following your lead."
He hadn't.
"Well, uh… thank you, guys - for trusting me."
Pricela gave him a gentle smile, and Moril managed a weak thumbs up. Percy smiled back at them. No one said anything for what must have been a few seconds, but felt like a lot longer.
"So," Moril started, "When I'm out of here, what do we do next? Does Tao have a new lead for us to run down?"
Percy glanced up from his boots and wondered what he would tell them. Then he realized that he had already decided.
"Well, Moril, once you're recovered and cleared for active duty, we'll be partnering up with the Dead Men. Just until we get everyone responsible for Delta Team. Once that's dealt with, we go back to the way things were before."
Their eyebrows hit their hairlines.
"Seriously?" Pricela practically whispered.
Percy nodded.
"Wow," Moril said, just as quietly.
Percy nodded again.
"Fucking balls," Pricela said, louder now.
Percy sighed.
"Are you sure you're good with that? I mean, I know you're not really a fan of theirs; Sara notwithstanding."
Moril sounded genuinely concerned, which made Percy appreciate him even more. There he was, lying in a hospital bed, worried about Percy's feelings.
Percy shook his head, "I'll be fine. This is more important."
A/N: Well, that's all for that one. I know it took a while, but it's here now. I hope you guys enjoyed. I'm really not sure when the next one will be, but I think it will cover the next few years of the war, and segue into Percy returning to Earth. Have a good morning/noon/night. Stay safe.