by Paul Kirk
“Minor, sir?” asked Mickey, laughing and somewhat abashed by his outburst.
Connor smiled at him. “Okay, maybe not so minor. But, the only thing I care about right now is that Amanda’s okay. She’s okay, isn’t she, Top?”
“Yes, sir, my team pulled her outta the flames when she went down,” answered Mickey, matter-of-factly.
Connor offered his hand to the first sergeant once more. “I owe you my life, Top.”
Mickey was a bit out of his element dealing so intimately with a high-ranking officer, but clasped Connor’s hand firmly. “You owe me nothing, sir. It’s an honor to meet you.” The first sergeant released his grip, embarrassed by his familiarity with top brass. He continued. “I’ve heard some good things about you too, sir.”
“They’re all lies, Top.”
“I doubt it, sir.”
Connor laughed and turned to the captain. “I’m real glad to see you guys, Captain Daubney.”
“You too, sir. I agree with Top—it’s an honor to meet you.”
“Thanks,” said Connor. “John, I need you to bring our team up to speed.”
“Okay, Mac,” said John, turning toward the KFC.
“Colonel, can we hold on a second?” asked Captain Daubney. “Is John your second in command, sir?” The captain pointed briefly at John McLeod who had turned to face them.
“That’s right, captain. John’s my second in command. I’m sorry that wasn’t clear, but we weren’t a hundred per cent sure who you were.”
“I understand, colonel.”
Connor turned to John McLeod. “Major! Please properly introduce yourself to these men.”
This was the first time Connor had used the formal designation of major to address John McLeod and the new major was a bit embarrassed by the attention he was garnering. Despite that, he smiled and said, “I’m Major John McLeod.” He sensed Connor was establishing a baseline and thought it best not to say anything more.
“It’s nice to meet you, major,” said Captain Daubney. “What branch, sir? We didn’t find any information about you. Amanda mentioned you, but never said you were a major.”
“He was a civilian before the Sickness, captain,” explained Connor.
“Yes, sir,” said the captain. “But, then—“
“Helluva resume in his pocket. He safely traveled across the United States all the way to Colorado and back from DC. He was responsible for the safety of his team and he performed admirably. I’ve assigned him the rank of major under my direct command. I trust him with my life, captain, and the lives of my men.”
During Connor’s explanation, McLeod became increasingly uncomfortable and his emotions threatened to overwhelm him, but he hid his emotions well.
The captain debated saluting both men, but decided against it for the time being—neither was in his chain of command.
“Colonel,” said John McLeod, “I need to bring the men up to speed, sir.”
“Yes, of course, major. See to it.” Connor watched McLeod disappear inside the KFC and turned to Captain Daubney. “I need a sit-rep now, captain. Both barrels.”
“Yes, sir.” The captain began to fill in the blanks for Connor—all the events that had occurred since the Hall of Fame. When the captain mentioned the name Phoenix Justice, Connor growled.
“Phoenix! You're sure he's the fucker on our ass right now?”
“Yes, sir,” answered the captain. “He’s maybe an hour away, if that. I believe he's probably quite pissed at you, colonel.”
“That’s a two-way street, captain. We managed to thin his unit and slow him down when he tried to cross the West End Bridge. Mostly because of Surf Boy’s shooting.”
“Surf Boy?” asked the captain.
“The colonel gotta be talkin’ about Marty, captain,” offered Mickey.
“That’s right, Top,” said Connor. He noticed the cautious approach of a group of men. “Those, of course, are your men, captain?”
Captain Daubney glanced behind him. “Yes, sir, they’re mine.” He faced Connor again. “We took a shot at Phoenix’s convoy a few hours ago on the south side of the river. We took out their lead vehicles.”
“With the Hellfire?”
“Yes, sir, that’s right.”
“He’s the little panty waist who tried to take you guys down and nearly killed Amanda?”
“Yes, sir. His force is at least 600 men strong with plenty of horses and pickups. They moved as if they’re well-trained.”
“Well-trained, my ass. We’ll see how damn ‘well-trained’ they are when they come up against us. Top, I must say, I got a new reason for living, don’t I?”
The first sergeant smiled—he was taking a strong liking to Colonel Connor MacMillen. “Yes, sir,” replied Mickey. “Would you like a piece of Phoenix, colonel?”
“Count on it, Top. I’ll take little slices of his flesh inch by inch until he begs to die.” He took a moment to calm his breathing. He glanced at the radio in his hands and the white-knuckle grip he had on it. “Major, do you copy?” asked Connor into his radio.
“Yes, sir. I’m here. Over.”
“I want BB running overwatch, in case there’s any players around we don’t know about. Bring the rest of our team over here with weapons neutral.”
“Copy that, Mac.”
Connor faced the captain. “BB’s running near the Kroger’s. He’ll be well armed. He's six-four and wearing a brown duster. But your men will never see him, captain. You should let your men know that he’s out there.”
The captain nodded. “Top, let the men know. Provide the description as well.”
“Yes, sir,” said Mickey. He spoke into his radio and Connor heard him say, “Yeah, it’s him...and his team.”
Connor's team began to emerge from the KFC. The captain turned to assess the progress of his own team and was surprised to find that the first five men arriving had stopped about ten feet away, presumably not wanting to interrupt a conversation that might not be for their ears. The remainder of the team was on the way and about sixty yards behind, as they were instructed, to keep a safe distance apart upon approach. Daubney reached a decision
“Colonel?”
“Yes, captain.”
“President Starkes provided me some latitude on several items, sir.”
“Such as?”
“Well, sir, if I determined that everything is on the up-and-up with your command, I’m authorized to offer you complete control of my team.”
“Complete military control?”
“Yes, sir.”
“In your opinion, is everything on the up-and-up, captain?”
“Yes, sir, I believe so.”
“What about you, Top? Whatta you think?”
Mickey almost stiffened at attention. “Sir, the captain’s always had my full support. I trust him with my life, sir and he knows it.”
Connor studied the two men, considering the risk that the captain had taken in his approach. By extension, it had ultimately been the risk of President Starkes.
“I’m honored, captain, at your assessment of my value. I think you’re a man who can make fast and accurate decisions when it’s necessary. You’re DEVGRU, I’m sure of it. Your training’s showing. What team were you attached to?”
“Seal Team Six, sir,” answered the captain proudly.
“Excellent,” said Connor. “It’ll be a pleasure working with you and your men.”
“Yes, sir,” said the captain. He was satisfied with the transfer of command and would do as the colonel ordered.
Connor assumed command easily. “Top, my first order is for you to set four men to run a tight fifty yard perimeter around the KFC. Pick your best and, in the meantime, my men will acquaint themselves with yours.”
“Got it, sir,” answered Mickey. He turned and issued orders into his radio and Connor observed four men split away from a group further back on Brownsville Road. These men disappeared in pairs down side streets on opposite sides of the road while the rest of
the group continued walking toward the KFC.
“Captain, I want a brief report on each man in your unit. President Starkes was confident about you handing off your team to a stranger?”
“You’re not a stranger, sir. She's read your file. And, she told me that if you’re alive and competent, you outrank her by two months.”
“I see,” said Connor. “She’s a colonel? POTUS is a colonel?”
“Yes, sir. The current acting President of the United States is Colonel Hannah Starkes.”
“And she says that I outrank her?”
“Yes, sir. By two months and four days, sir.”
“She’s been voted in as president?”
“No, sir. She was declared president in Mount Storm. She was the highest ranking officer after the Sickness.”
“There’s no civilian chain of command, captain? No Commander in Chief?”
“No, sir. No political appointee survived.”
“Not one sad political hack made it safely into Mount Storm?”
“Oh, yes, sir—several made it there safely. Secretary of State Price, for one. But he died within the first week and the others not long afterward.”
“Wow.”
“Yes, sir. Not one sad political hack. Colonel Hannah Starkes is it,” said the captain, smiling at his own statement.
“Damn.”
“The colonel wanted to start off on the right foot with you, sir. She’s read your file and knows what you’re capable of. She says the existing military system and established protocol’s the only thing that might help us through this phase of rebuilding.”
“I think I’m gonna like Colonel Starkes.”
“Yes, sir.”
“She got you guys this far and knows what she’s doing.”
“She’s made us proud, sir, and I'm honored to serve under her command,” said Captain Daubney.
“Hoorah,” said Mickey, this one word affirmation spoke volumes to Connor.
“Colonel,” continued the captain, “President Starkes told us that we’d set up a civilian president when things settle down. She knows the country’s on rocky ground right now and she’s trying to stabilize it, sir. She’s all for civilian oversight, no matter what. Even if it comes with a bunch of warts and bruises.”
“I gotta meet this Colonel Starkes.”
“You will, sir. We rendezvous at 18:00 tomorrow at the Route 51 and Brownsville Road intersection with plans to return to Mt. Storm.”
“Who’s walking?”
“Sir?”
“I’m sure that Superhawk came out fully loaded. That means it can’t carry anything else. So...who’s walking?”
“Right, sir. Good point. The plan was that you and your team would board, depending on head count. We would assemble a separate team to fast-track it back to Mount Storm on foot.”
“Is that right?”
“Yes, sir. A possible alternative would be to set up a recovery of the balance of men a few days later.”
“That sounds like a better plan, captain. Make it happen. I don’t want to leave good men isolated in the field if we can avoid it.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You guys spent some time on this—on locating me. Why all the attention?”
“Well, sir, you’re a national treasure.”
“A national treasure? Explain yourself, captain.”
“We've tried to find you for about a year, sir. Wanna know why?”
“No. I think I know the reason, captain.”
“Sir?”
“Nicole Townsend with you?”
“She is.”
“So, she’s alive?”
“Very much so, sir.”
“I’m glad,” said Connor. “Amanda didn’t fill you in on how we figured out that Nicole was with you?”
“Ahh...no, sir. We haven’t had much time for the full story—she’s only been awake for less than forty-eight hours.”
“Is she okay?”
“Yes, sir. She’s fine, but very weak. Our medic says she’ll fully recover. A bullet creased her skull and that’s what knocked her unconscious. She was wounded across her thigh too, sir, but Scott, our medic, stitched that up and said that there wouldn’t be much of a scar.”
“She’s an incredible young woman, captain.”
“She impressed all of us, sir,” said Mickey. He was embarrassed by his interruption.
“Very true, colonel. Believe me when I tell you, sir, that Mickey doesn’t offer praise lightly.”
“Captain, there’s a lot I need to know.”
“You have a son, sir.”
“Yeah, we figured something like that.”
“Your son’s name is CJ, colonel—Connor Junior.”
“Wow—another son?” Connor’s eyes adopted a faraway gaze. John McLeod and a few men approached with some hesitation, sensing the importance of the conversation they hadn’t heard.
“You okay, Mac?” asked McLeod.
“His name’s CJ, John. Connor Junior. Nicole had a boy—I have another son.”
“So, it’s true,” said McLeod.
“Yes, sir, major, it’s true,” answered Captain Daubney.
Mickey spotted Marty carrying his sniper weapon and approaching from an alley south of their position. He decided to walk in Marty’s direction. But Marty noticed the man’s movement and sensed the fierce intensity pouring from him. He slowed considerably and scrutinized Mickey's approach.
“You’re Captain Marty McCullough?” asked the first sergeant.
Marty knew he was in the presence of a man who defined the term 'military combat' experience. Not sure if he was being challenged, he held the man’s gaze and tried to assess his intent.
Mickey held out his hand. “I’m First Sergeant Mickey McGuire, sir.”
“Top? John says you're with the president. What’s the story? What can you tell me about Amanda Abbington?” asked Marty.
“She’s safe, sir.”
“Excellent news!” yelled Marty. “Mac! She’s alive, Mac!”
“I know, Surf Boy,” answered Connor, laughing.
Marty shook the first sergeant’s hand. “Thanks for the news, Top.”
“Yes, sir. I wanted to personally thank you, sir, for your efforts at the Hall of Fame. That was some nice shooting.”
“Shit, Top, my pleasure. I’m happy that Snuff made it outta that assault in one piece.”
“Snuff?”
Marty studied the first sergeant’s face. “Amanda never gave you her tag?”
“No, sir.”
“It’s not something she likes, but it’s a well-earned name.”
“Huh—Snuff.”
“Yeah, Snuff. But be careful about using that name when you see her, Top. Have an exit strategy ready before you call her that.” Marty laughed, slapped Mickey on the shoulder, and rushed to Connor. He hugged Connor fiercely and without embarrassment. “She made it, Mac.”
“Yeah, Marty, she made it,” answered Connor, hugging Marty as fiercely.
The two men parted after a few seconds and Connor made some formal introductions, as did Captain Daubney. The captain let his team know the transfer of command had taken place and that Colonel Connor MacMillen was their commanding officer. All of the men knew of this option and it came as no surprise. Each saluted Connor after introduction.
“Well, sir, what’s our plan?” asked Captain Daubney.
“That’s a good question, captain. Top, Major McLeod, Captain Daubney, and Captain McCullough—you gentlemen will join me in the KFC in ten minutes.” They all nodded their assent. “Top, have the men maintain cover and provide a replacement team in one hour rotation.”
“Yes, sir.”
Connor raised his radio. “BB? Do you copy?”
“Yes, sir, I’m here. Over.”
“I’ve taken command of the unit tracking us. I want you in here, weapons neutral, to meet these guys. I’ve assigned overwatch to four of their men—they’re holding a fifty-yard perimeter. You’re relieved
, BB—I want you in here for a strategy session. Over.”
“I understand, sir. I’ll be in there in a couple minutes. Out.”
“Captain,” said Connor, turning to Daubney, “I’ll trust your judgment to bring who else you think is necessary into this meeting. We can update the others afterwards.”
“Yes, sir.”
Connor walked to the KFC with his arm around John’s shoulder.
CHAPTER 8.18-The Tailshaft Bearing
“We found the tail shaft bearing, ma’am.”
“Excellent news, GT,” said the colonel. The colonel stood in a rough circle with Scott, Shamus, and O’Malley discussing the potential repair or updates to the helicopter. The pale moonlight was enough to see fairly well, though the bearing, slathered liberally in grease, was a shapeless blob in GT’s hand. The colonel, who wasn’t mechanically inclined, didn’t like to think of the age of the part GT held.
“Great job, GT," said Shamus.
"Yeah," said Scott.
Shamus turned to the colonel. "We should be on our way as scheduled, ma’am, as long as the installation goes as planned.”
“Major,” said the colonel.
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Assign a few men to bring in some fresh game. A little celebration is in order for breakfast in honor of the continuing capability of flight.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Let whoever you send know that I’d prefer wolf or dog if that’s possible.” Her face set into a distasteful grimace at her mention of these animals and the major caught the firmness of her voice—this was more of an order than a preference.
“Yes, ma’am, I’ll see to it.”
The colonel turned away from the men, knowing that her orders would bring fresh dog or wolf meat to the table. She headed toward Nicole and Amanda who were talking near the hangar.
Shamus, Scott, and GT studied Major O’Malley who observed the colonel’s retreating figure thoughtfully. The three men suspected they had witnessed an exchange with some type of undercurrent. When the major turned to face them, GT lifted an eyebrow in question.
“She watched that wild dog pack take down half a herd of deer over in the meadow,” said the major in answer to the eyebrow.
“Like she’s never seen a dead deer before?” asked Shamus.