This story has been split into three parts due to length.

Covert Operations

by Rogue

Author's website: http://moodyblusr.com/roguesgallery.html

I really don't own them and I'm not making any money off of 'em. God, someone wake me from this reality!!

This was in The Alternate Sentinel and I've held on posting it 'cause I was hoping I could get a pic or two to go with it for on-line, but that's not viable right now. And, um, I think it was CatMoran that beta'd this. I know Mary read it and attempted to, but this was WAY after the publication in zine. *^_^*

Okay, here goes: Blair's 19, several people die in this thing -- mostly Chopec but Jim's team -- and several bad guys from lots of eps that I cannot remember the names of right now show up.

Covert Operations -- Part One

Captain James Ellison stood at attention inside the briefing room, waiting for his superior to acknowledge and address him. His hard, ice blue eyes flicked quickly around the soundproof room, taking note of the file folders on the table and the slide projector set up on a stand at the far end of the table facing a blank screen.

The man looked up and caught his gaze. "Captain Ellison. Good to see you've arrived."

Stepping forward, Ellison saluted. "Sir, yes sir."

Returning the salute, Colonel Oliver said, "At ease, Captain, and be seated. You're here for a mission briefing and I'm ready to give it to you."

Wordlessly, Ellison took a seat near the middle of the table and kept his unswerving gaze focused on his commanding officer. A folder was passed to him, but he didn't open it yet. The lights were dimmed and the projector was turned on, an aerial photo display of a country he recognized lit up on the screen.

His face impassive, the captain thought, for the briefest of moments, Wonder why I'm headed for Peru? Then he shook off his thoughts and gave his full attention to the Colonel.

"You and eight other men will be going to Peru by the end of this week. Specifically, you will be in the La Montana region, staging an anti-insurgence operation. You and your team will contact the local tribes and organize a militia. Your objective is to guard this pass," Colonel Oliver explained, and again the picture was changed to show a lush, green valley somewhere in the mid-highland Andes mountain range. "Under no circumstances are the rebel factions to be allowed to get through there."

"Yes, sir." Ellison didn't bother to question what that meant. He knew what it meant. That's why he was in Covert Ops as a Ranger Captain. "Who will be on my team?"

"The helicopter pilot who will get you out to the Pass, six men you choose from 7th Troop, and a private by the name of Blair Sandburg," Oliver replied with a small smile.

One eyebrow rose. "A private, sir?"

"His information is in the folder you're currently holding, Captain. The short synopsis is that he is a very intelligent young man who is in the Army so we can fund his college courses. His main area of study is Anthropology and is very close to earning his MBA in that field. More than that, however, he possesses extensive knowledge of South America, especially Peru, specifically, the La Montana region. The dominant language in that region is Quechua. He speaks it fluently. There isn't enough time for you to learn the language or the customs before you leave, so Private Sandburg is being sent with you as translator and customs expert. He'll be able to tell you if anything is wrong almost immediately and if not, he can get the information from the locals and pass it along to you. Any questions, Captain?"

"No, sir."

"Good. You leave at 0300 hours in three days, so be prepared. Dismissed."

Ellison stood and saluted his superior, then left the room with the file tucked under his arm.

Colonel Oliver watched one of the best Rangers the Army had ever trained leave the room and smiled to himself. Things were going to go according to plan, of that he had no doubt. His ass would be covered and best of all, there was someone standing by to take the blame, unwittingly or not. After all, who would question the sudden disintegration of a little hippie boy on his first dangerous mission?

Chuckling to himself, Norman Oliver stood left the room in search of a hot meal and a decent cup of coffee.

Settling down at his desk in his room in the Officer's Quarters, James Ellison took a quick drink of coffee and then flipped open the folder to begin reading the information on one Private Blair Sandburg.

His eyes widened at the picture he was greeted with. Private Sandburg was a young man with a strong, earnest face. He had a firm chin, angled cheekbones, a straight nose, and wide blue eyes that stared straight at him from the photograph. And his mouth...

Ellison shook off that thought. He had no business letting his thoughts dwell there. He noted the thick crop of buzz-cut hair and guessed that when it was longer, it was very curly. Then he dismissed the physical appearance and focused on the information. By the time he was done, Ellison was frankly incredulous.

Terrific. A covert operation and I'm expected to take a green recruit with me into a jungle because he and his hippie mother traveled around the world constantly and he ended up learning about hundreds of different cultures. I have to take a 19-year-old kid on this mission because he has a higher IQ than God gave Einstein and happens to speak the dominant language of the region. Piss, hell, and damnation! Just what I need: playing babysitter while doing my best to render the opposing rebel faction inert.

And that was the hell of it, too. Whether or not the kid had passed his Basic Training and could indeed take care of himself, Ellison and the rest of his unit would be required to protect the kid. He would be their most precious asset on the trip as their translator and customs expert. If anything happened to Sandburg before they learned their way around the language and customs, they'd be screwed.

Fuck, James thought as he drank more of his coffee. The linchpin of the mission happens to be a 19-year-old ex-hippie short sheet of a nerd. Christ, the other guys are going to bust something while laughing their asses off.

He glanced at the clock. It was only 14:23 hours. Plenty of time to go see what the kid was made of.

Standing up, Ellison drained the last of his coffee and left his quarters in search of Private Blair Sandburg.

"Private Sandburg."

Looking up from his task of scrubbing the mess hall floor, Blair Sandburg squinted at the figure standing before him who was backlit by the afternoon light shining through the windows. Upon noticing the captain's stripes on the shoulders of the fatigues the man was wearing, he scrambled gracefully to his feet, stood firmly erect, and saluted his superior. "Sir, yes sir! Private Sandburg, sir!"

Ellison returned the salute, his face displaying nothing of his thoughts. "At ease, Private. I'm Captain Ellison. Do you know why I'm here?"

His heart leaped for a moment; then Sandburg forced himself to remain calm. "Sir, yes sir."

When the younger man did not continue, Ellison said, "In that case, private, why am I here?"

Blair took a quick look around before replying. He saw no shadows, no movement where there should be none, and nothing out of place. Deeming it safe to talk, he stated, "You're the leader of the mission I've been assigned to take part of, sir."

Ellison was faintly impressed. The voice had been low but clear, the reply courteous and straight to the point, and the kid had first checked around to ascertain any potential witnesses before saying anything. Somewhere along the way, the kid had learned discretion and caution. He might just be useful to us yet. Nodding, Ellison replied, "Very good, Private. Affirmative, I'm the leader for the upcoming mission. Do you have any questions?"

Very briefly, a wide grin appeared on Sandburg's face and James felt himself rocked slightly by the power it packed. "Yes sir, Captain Ellison, I have plenty of questions. However, I'm certain I'll receive the necessary information when it's time for me to do so, sir."

"In other words, you're going to keep your big mouth shut?"

"Sir, yes sir." That brief, cheeky grin appeared and disappeared again.

"I'm glad to see you've got some smarts on you, Private. Keep it that way. For now, do you know what this mission is about?"

"No, sir."

"Very well. At 2100 hours, you will come to my quarters in the BOQ. The rest of the team will be assembled for a mission briefing. Don't be late."

"Sir, yes sir."

Ellison nodded and saluted again to signal the end of the conversation. Sandburg immediately snapped to full attention and saluted him back. As the Captain turned and walked away, he saw the kid's reflection in the window nearest them. The private was looking at him intently, watching him walk away. Then, with no change of expression, he nimbly dropped to his knees again, picked up his washrag, and began scrubbing the floor again.

James allowed himself a small smile. This might actually work after all.

Silently chanting his mantra of "I am calm," Private Sandburg showed his pass to the guard stationed outside of the BOQ. "I'm to report to Captain Ellison."

The guard looked at his pass, checked it against a list, then nodded and opened the door. "Turn right at the end of the hall. Sixth door down on your left."

"Thanks," Blair replied with a quick grin. He quickly slipped inside and made his way down the corridor. At the end of the hall, he turned right, then counted one, two, three, four, five ... six. The number on the door was 306, with the nameplate of "Cpt. Ellison" just below it. Taking a deep breath, he reached out and knocked quickly on the door.

"Enter," came the deep, smooth voice he knew as Ellison's.

He opened the door, noticing the other six men in the room as he did so. Stepping inside quickly, he shut the door, then saluted his superior. "Private Sandburg, reporting as ordered, sir."

Ellison nodded. "At ease, Sandburg. Find a spot and settle down, we're going to be here for a while."

One of the other men spoke up. "You're kidding, right, Ellison? This baby green is part of our team?"

James watched as the tips of the kid's ears went red and the blue eyes darkened, but otherwise, Sandburg didn't acknowledge the man's words. Turning his attention to his teammate, he said, "Yeah, Sarris, I'm serious. Private Sandburg is our translator and customs expert due to his extensive knowledge of the La Montana region of Peru."

Quickly, he briefed the seven men in his quarters of their upcoming mission, answering a few questions from his team about the rebel faction they'd be defending the pass against. When one of the men asked about the local tribes in the area, Ellison deferred the question to Sandburg, who surprised them all by giving them a brief, yet highly informative mini-lecture on the tribes in the region. When Sandburg had answered most of the questions, Ellison smiled slightly as he asked, "I think that about does it. Anybody else have anything to add?"

"Yeah. Sandburg, it'd probably be in our best interests if you can teach us some of the basic questions we'll need to know, like where to find food, water, shelter. Important things like that," Sarris stated, looking at the youngest man in the room.

One of the other men grinned. "Shit, you wanna teach us the important questions, give us the best one. Like where do we go when we want to get laid?"

"Hah! Kid doesn't even look like he'd know the words for that!" guffawed one of the others. "Sandburg, you ever done the nasty before?"

They all watched the younger man flush bright red for a moment and most of them burst out laughing. Even Ellison cracked a smile, but he got them back on track. "Okay, okay, enough. Learn it on your own time, Harrison."

"Yeah, man. And hey, it shouldn't be that hard to figure out how to ask for a fuck anyway. Just show her your dick!" one of the others called out.

"Up yours, Petersen!"

"You wish!"

"Enough!" Ellison barked, and the group fell quiet, all eyes turning to him expectantly. "Sarris, that was a good idea. We'll all of us meet back here every evening at 2100 hours for quick lessons in Quechua from Private Sandburg. If there's anything else I think we'll need, I'll let you all know. Dismissed, guys."

They all got to their feet, the men from 7th Troop muttering amongst themselves as they let themselves out, two of them giving quick grins and shoulder slaps to their newest team member. When they had all filed out, Sandburg offered a quick salute to Ellison and turned to go.

"Sandburg."

"Sir?" Blair turned back to face his superior.

"A couple of things. One, I'm not as hard up on formalities as other officers. When we all get together, or if it's just you and me, you can call me Ellison. You know how to address me otherwise. Two, those guys are just ribbing you. Don't take anything personally; you're simply fresh meat to them and this is their way of inducting you into our group."

That brief, blinding grin made its appearance again. "Thanks, sir. And I figured that's what it was, an initiation thing. I've seen and participated in lots of them. As initiations go, this one is easy enough to handle, unlike a Central African tribe that requires you to eat the fresh-cut liver of a-"

James held up his hand. "Thank you, Sandburg, that'll be all. Go back to the barracks now and get some sleep. You're going to be pretty busy this week."

A quicksilver laugh floated into the air between them and Ellison noted rather absently that the younger man had nice, even white teeth. "Yes, sir."

The Captain sighed. "The name is Ellison, kid. Remember it, will you?"

"Sure, Captain. It's just gonna take me a little while. With all due respect, you don't look like the kind of guy a short, Jewish boy like me talks to so familiarly, you know?"

A short bark of laughter erupted from Ellison. "Yeah, kid, I understand. Why don't you stick with 'Captain' for now, then? Now, get going. I'll see you around. Remember, 2100 hours."

"You got it, Captain. Sleep well." And with that, he was gone.

The Captain stared at his closed door for a moment longer, then sat back down at his desk to finish writing up the special report he'd be submitting to Colonel Oliver on who he had chosen and his analysis of how well they would probably work as a team. He'd been sitting there for a few minutes when he suddenly let out an expletive as he remembered a question he'd wanted to ask Sandburg. He got up and headed out the door, knowing he could probably catch up to the kid by the barracks.

Sandburg was almost to the barracks compound when he heard the laughter of several male voices he recognized. He paused for a brief moment, squeezing his eyes shut as he muttered a prayer under his breath for the other men to fail to spot him, then continued on at a faster pace. A moment later found him caught by the collar of his fatigues jacket and hauled backwards, deeper into the shadows between the buildings, circled by three other Privates.

Three other Privates who were all much bigger and stronger than he was.

"Well, well! If it isn't Miss Sandy!" laughed one of the men in a deep baritone. He was the one holding onto Blair's collar.

"Let go of me, Hodgkins," Sandburg demanded quietly. This was not good. If he couldn't talk his way out of this, or get away, he was going to be in a lot of trouble.

"What was that, boy?" Hodgkins snapped, yanking hard on Blair's collar, forcing him to stumble backwards.

"I said, let me go. I have to report back to the barracks. And you so don't want to go on report for a hazing."

"You don't tell me what to do, Jew boy!" the other man hissed. "And you wouldn't dare report anything. You know we'd only get a month or so in the brig and then we'd be back, and then where you gonna hide?"

"Prob'ly behind the stripes of Captain Ellison, over at the BOQ. I was walking past at 2100 when I heard him tell the guard that he was reporting on the Captain's orders," said another man who's name patch read RODRIGUEZ.

"Huh! You a Captain's Callboy now, Miss Sandy? Usin' that big mouth o' yours for somethin' other than yappin' a mile a minute?" Hodgkins asked, pulling Blair closer, his hot, cigarette-smoky breath blasting in the younger man's face.

"No, I'm not! I was reporting there to deliver requested information," Sandburg snapped, stating a half-truth.

"Nah, I bet it was something else he delivered," said the man named Dwyer.

"I bet it was, too. Why don't you just get down on your knees and show us how well you follow orders, Miss Sandy?" Hodgkins said, laughing nastily.

"You show your ability to follow orders and step away from him now, Private!" a new voice demanded coldly.

Hodgkins released Sandburg immediately and the three men stepped away from the smaller man. Turning, they all saw Captain Ellison standing there staring at them with hard, angry eyes.

"Captain Ellison, sir!" Hodgkins addressed him, and he and his cohorts snapped brisk salutes. They all knew his reputation and they weren't about to provoke the man.

The Captain stalked forward. He swept his eyes assessingly over Blair and said, "Sandburg, you okay?"

"Sir, yes sir," the young Private replied, saluting the officer. He did not, however, meet the older man's gaze.

Ellison shifted his gaze to the other three men. "You three will report to the brig and give your statement as to why exactly you are there. I will be there in ten minutes to add my own statement. If you are not there and/or your statements are different from mine, there will be nine flavors of hell to pay, do you understand?"

"Sir, yes sir!" the three men chorused. They saluted and then wheeled about and marched off, Hodgkins shooting a black glare as he passed the smaller young man.

When they were gone, the Captain came a little closer to the young Private who was now in his charge. "It'll be okay, Sandburg. Now tell me exactly what happened so I can make my report."

Blair recited the incident word for word, still not looking at the older man. When he was finished, Ellison nodded and said, "Very good, Sandburg. Are you going to be okay?"

"Yes, Captain. I'm used to being targeted." He offered a wry grin to the other man.

"Glad to see you can take it, kid. Head on to the barracks now. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yes, sir." Blair offered another grin and salute, then turned and hurried off to the barracks.

Ellison watched him go, then strode off for the brig. He had to make the report on those clowns and then he had to get back to his quarters and get some rest, but not before he left himself a reminder note to get his men to "shadow" Sandburg until they left on their mission. They couldn't afford anything happening to the kid.

It wasn't until he was filling out the report that he remembered he still hadn't asked Sandburg the question that had sent him after the younger man in the first place.

"What's cookin', Sandburg?"

Blair looked up from his seat in the base's library to see Lt. Sarris standing next to his table. He started to get up to salute the officer, but stopped and settled back into his chair when he was waved down. He flashed a grin at the older man. "Hey, Lieutenant Sarris. Nothing's cooking; just doing some research for a paper I have to get written up and turned in before we leave." He deliberately kept his voice very low.

"Yeah? What's it about? Mind if I join you?"

"Not at all; go ahead and pull up a chair. It's a paper about the twelve Jewish Tribes of history."

Sarris raised an eyebrow. "Jews had tribes? And shouldn't you know all this without having to look it up? I mean, no offense or anything, Sandburg...."

Blair laughed. "None taken, sir. Naomi and I, we traveled around a lot when I was a kid. I never had the time to take full learning. I learned the Torah and Hebrew for my Bar Mitzvah, which Naomi wanted me to have, but otherwise, we were just out and about, and lots of places didn't have a synagogue. So I'm boning up on this."

"I bet your fellow classmates are just thrilled about this. How many of 'em have already ribbed you for an easy assignment?"

"A few, but I'm not the only Jew in the class. There's Benjamin Goldberg, and Jacob ben David, and a couple of other guys and a girl. And they've had more learning than I've had."

"Huh. Can I see what you've got so far, or would you rather I not stick my nose into your business?" Sarris asked.

"You want to read my paper?" Sandburg was frankly surprised.

"Sure. Why not? I like learning about new things and I've never really looked up Jewish history."

"Uh ... well, okay. Here." And Blair handed over his notebook to the Lieutenant after flipping over to his rough draft.

Settling into his chair, Sarris started reading. *"The history of the tribes as told in the Hebrew Bible must be viewed in light of the national consciousness developed by the Jewish scribes who compiled and edited the historical books in the 6th and 5th centuries BC. In their efforts to tell a continuous and detailed story establishing a common ancestry, these scribes undoubtedly recorded legends as history; nevertheless, the biblical narrative is in accord with historical theory. The Scriptures tell of 12 Hebrew tribes, descended from 12 sons of the patriarch Jacob: Asher, Benjamin, Dan, Gad, Issachar, Joseph, Judah, Levi, Naphtali, Reuben, Simeon, Zebulun. Biblical scholars view the Jacob story as an etiological, or explanatory, account, with actual tribal history cloaked in the guise of personal experiences. Thus, the tribes were interrelated by blood, and some-such as Reuben, Simeon, Levi, and Judah (sons of one mother)-maintained an even closer alliance. The tribes of Asher and Gad (named as descendants of servants) were subordinate tribes. Another instance of tribal history written as personal experience is the covenant between Jacob and Laban (see Genesis 31:44-54), which reflects an early treaty between Hebrew and Syrian tribes, delimiting the borders of their grazing lands to the north of Gilead.* *Tradition and historical theory trace the Aramaean ancestors of Israel (used collectively) to the district of Ur in Sumer, on the lower Euphrates River. About the beginning of the 2nd millennium BC a group of Aramaean tribes migrated to the region around Carrhae (now Harran, Turkey), an ancient Babylonian colony. Several centuries later several family units of these tribes migrated to the west and south, settling in scattered groups around the Jordan River. The Jordan settlers became the Hebrew tribes, including the Ammonites, Moabites, Edomites, and the Yahweh-worshiping Hebrews. In the Bible this period of tribal migration is known as the age of the patriarchs."*

He stopped reading right about there and handed the notebook back with a grin. "Wow. That's some really fascinating stuff, kid. Maybe when the whole thing is done, you'll let me read it? You write some good material."

"You really think so?" Sandburg couldn't keep the hesitant grin off his face to save his life.

"Yeah. I just wandered in here to drop something off for Oliver and saw you, so I stopped over, but now I gotta get goin'. See you later tonight at Ellison's?"

"Yes, sir. Be prepared to get your tongue twisted learning Quechua!"

Sarris laughed and stood up, ruffled Blair's buzz-cut with a moderate noogie, then took off silently.

Sandburg watched him go, then went back to his research with a small grin. As he worked, he absently noted that Sarris was the third of the group he'd seen that day who had gone out of his way to talk to him. It felt kind of weird to be so acknowledged by the older, more experienced, battle-roughened men, but on the other hand, it was a good kind of weird. It felt like ... like he was their mascot, or something. Possibly because of his size, or because of his age, or both. Or maybe because he was a Private, just a rookie Army grunt and the rest of them were all Rangers, for God's sake, but any way you sliced it, there was this definite "big brothers/little brother" routine starting up. He liked it, though. It felt good. In a weird way.

Captain Ellison stood in the shadows of a tree on the wide exercise field, watching as a group of Privates went through their "gym class" physical routine. The fact that it was drizzling didn't bother the instructors. They patrolled up and down in front of the 70 or so young men, yelling out instructions and insults and back-assed praise without slowing down.

Ellison had his eye on one Private, specifically. Private Blair Sandburg.

The younger man, like many of his classmates, was stripped down to his khaki tank top, leaving his fatigues pants and boots on. It was mildly chilly, being March in Cascade, so the young men who were out on the exercise ground were letting off hot steam into the drizzly air as they went through their routine.

At the moment Ellison watched as Sandburg, along with the other recruits, did his push-ups, ignoring the precipitation that had saturated his hair and clothing and skin, and was dripping down the side of his face and into his eyes. Even when the instructor got down beside him and screamed into his ear, he never flinched; instead, he kept his gaze focused on the ground and continued to push hard. The Captain watched as most likely newly developed and certainly continually worked muscles rippled and coiled as the young body moved up, then down, then back up again and down in a steady, practiced rhythm.

When he realized he was beginning to breathe heavily while watching the young man, Ellison shook his head slightly and straightened up from his slump against the tree. With one last look at Sandburg, he turned and began walking away. He was halfway to the BOQ, intending to take a quick shower, when he heard Sandburg call out, "Captain Ellison!"

Turning, he watched the Private come running towards him, then slow and approach him in a more dignified manner. The kid had put his shirt and jacket back on, he noted, then nodded and returned the salute Blair gave him. "Yeah, kid, what can I do for you?" he asked.

"Nothing, sir, not really. I was wondering if it was something I could do for you?"

"What do you mean, Sandburg?" the Captain asked warily.

"I saw you watching me from the sidelines. I was wondering if you needed to talk to me about anything?" Blair took a quick, inconspicuous look around, then lowered his voice as he continued. "I've done all the studying I need to do for the mission, Captain. I'm ready to head out tomorrow, and you and the others on the team did really great on picking up on the phrases I gave you, so I'm not worried about that. Is there anything else I should be aware of or need to take care of?"

Ellison shook his head and smiled slightly. "You're amazing, Chief," he said quietly.

"Sir?" Blair wasn't surprised at the nickname. Ellison had given it to him the day before. He liked it, so he let it ride. He simply didn't understand what the Captain meant.

"Tell me something, Chief: I know some about your background history. I know that you traveled around with your hippie mother and shared in that upbringing. So how come you seem to be so eager to do the Army's work? You know what's going to happen on this mission. Why do I doubt you'll be quite so eager when it's time to pick up your rifle and use it?"

Blair grimaced a little and dropped his gaze. "Captain Ellison, sir, I can and will follow orders-"

"I know that, Sandburg. Now, listen to me. I need to know, right now, if you won't be able to handle this. I need you to tell me that if I give you the order to shoot to kill, you won't go mental after the fact. If you shoot someone, will you be able to deal with that? Or will you fold?" Ellison stared hard at the young Private before him. He wouldn't think any less of the young man if he said in all honesty that no, he couldn't handle that and would have to back out. He understood that for some people, killing was not easy, no matter what kind of conditioning the Army trained into them. But as delicate as this operation was, as important as it was, he could not afford to have someone on the team who could not be counted on in the heat of battle or afterwards.

Blair was silent a moment. Finally, he lifted his head and looked straight into his Captain's eyes. "I can handle it, Captain. I won't like it, but I'll handle it. You can count on me, sir."

Ellison nodded and clapped the kid on the shoulder in approval. "Glad to hear it, Sandburg. You probably won't see much combat anyway. As our translator and customs expert, you have to be kept relatively safe. Only in the most dire situations will you probably be expected to get into the middle of it."

"Is that why I've been shadowed the last few days, Captain?" Blair asked with a quick, mischievous grin.

"Excuse me, Private?"

"I kind of couldn't help noticing that after the ... altercation ... with Hodgkins and the others, suddenly, the rest of the team was suddenly wherever I was. Men who probably wouldn't have noticed me before were suddenly going out of their way to talk to me, especially if Hodgkins, Rodriguez, and Dwyer were around."

Ellison snorted and reached out to cuff the young rascal's head lightly. "Good observation, Sandburg. You'll be a full-fledged Covert Ops Ranger before you know it if you keep that up."

"Nah, don't think so, Captain," Sandburg replied, grinning. "I've got my mind set on becoming an anthropologist once my tour of duty is up."

"Well, too bad, but you can't go listing this little 'adventure' as a reference on your future resume, kid."

"I know, Captain." Again, that mischievous grin that Ellison was fast discovering he really liked seeing.

Giving the kid a mock frown, he straightened up to his full height and said, "In that case, smart-ass, do you know what your orders for this evening are?"

"Sir, no sir."

"You are to gather up your survival pack and the rest of your gear and bring it to my room and stow it there. You'll be bunking with me tonight. That makes it easier than having to roust you out of bed at O'shit:30 in the morning from the barracks. You'll be having dinner with me, too, so be showered, changed, packed up, and at my room in the BOQ by 1700 hours, got that?"

"Sir, yes sir!" Sandburg replied with a grin and a salute.

"Get out of here, knuckle-head," Ellison laughed and offered a return salute, then motioned dismissively at the young Private.

With another mischievous grin, Blair turned and walked off toward the barracks. He had a lot to do in the next three hours.

Ellison watched him go until the kid had disappeared from his sight, then turned to head towards the BOQ. To his credit, he gave no sign of the internal flinch he gave when he found Sarris standing there in his path, waiting for him. "Hey, Sarris."

With a lazy grin, Sarris offered his commanding officer a salute. "Hey, Captain, sir."

"Ahhh, don't start that shit, Sarris," Ellison grumbled and began walking for the building. His friend fell into step beside him, the two of them walking companionably as they entered the BOQ and moved down the hallway towards Ellison's room.

"Start what? As Captain, you are due recognition of your rank by a subordinate," Sarris stated casually.

"Subordinate, my ass. You're an officer's exam and promotion away from earning your own Captain's Stripes, so don't hand me that malarkey."

"Maybe it's my ass I want to subordinate," was the very quiet reply.

Ellison froze briefly before opening the door to his room, leaving it open in silent invitation.

Sarris accepted that invitation, walked in, shut and locked the door.

"You sure you want this, Robert?" the Captain asked as he sat down at his desk chair and began to untie his boots to remove them and his socks.

The other man took the bed to do the same thing. "I've got this evening to spend with my wife and daughter and before that, I've got to get the rest of my gear packed up. You know this is the only time we have right now, and who knows what the situation will be like down in Peru? Yeah, Jim, I want this." Boots and socks off, he stood up and began stripping off his jacket as he added with a grin, "Besides, this will let you relieve some of that tension you're carrying around for the kid."

Jim paused in the act of undoing his fatigues pants, his bare torso shadowed in the dimly lit room from only a single lamp turned on. Raising an eyebrow, he said, "Excuse me?"

"I saw you outside, watching him on the field, Jim. And I've seen how you look at him, how your baby blues follow him, whenever he's around. Think I don't know by now what want looks like in your eyes?" Sarris finished stripping and approached his friend, reaching out to finish removing Ellison's pants and underwear for him. "Hey, Jim, don't get upset. I mean, that kid's mouth alone has me half-tempted. But he's off limits for me and we both know it. But maybe you might get a chance with him."

Jim snorted as his clothing was dropped to the floor and he began walking toward his small bathroom with the shower stall that was just big enough for the two of them. "Yeah, right. I can just see it now: 'Hey, Sandburg. I realize you're a 19-year-old Private who's in the Army long enough to earn a college degree, and that you're straight, but would you mind if I fucked you senseless on an almost regular basis until you get your discharge papers? Huh?' Yeah, Robert, sure. That'll be the day." He stepped into the shower stall and started the water as his friend joined him.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that kid being straight, Jim. Not with the lifestyle he grew up with. Hippie-style free love, remember? I'm willing to bet there's a couple of Bills and Johnnys in his past. And the kid's got a serious case of hero worship for you starting up. He might be more open to the idea of making it with you than you think. But hey, if you're too nervous to make a play for him right now, I understand. It means I get to have you for a little while longer, at any rate. Now," Sarris growled as he stood close enough to let his erection brush against Jim's, "it's our last time together for who knows how long, Jim. Fuck me, and fuck me good."

Ellison said nothing, merely took his friend's mouth with a low growl. Reaching around, he clamped his hands onto firm buttocks and squeezed tightly, pulling Sarris' groin into contact with his own and grinding his hips hard against the other man.

Sarris gasped into Jim's mouth and then he returned the kiss with equal heat and force. A moment later, he pulled away and began to mouth his way down Jim's body, sucking and nipping lightly on the taller man's neck and collarbones, then down the well-muscled chest to lap and suck hungrily at stiffened nipples. He delighted in the low groan he drew out of Ellison, then moved further down the long, strong body until he was crouched before the other man. With a thoroughly wicked smile, Sarris leaned forward and engulfed Jim's rigid erection in one swallow.

Jim shuddered hard and threw back his head, just barely muffling his scream of startled pleasure. When he could, he finally opened his eyes and looked down to watch Sarris' mouth move up and down his cock and he groaned again at the sight of that hot, wet pleasure stroking him.

A moment later, Sarris stood and reached for the soap. He worked up a good lather and then reached down to fist Jim's cock a few times, then turned, presenting himself to his friend. Jim took the soap and worked up another lather, then slid first one, then two, then finally three fingers into his friend's body, stretching and lubricating the entrance and sheath where his hungry, aching cock would soon be.

Sarris let out a low moan and wriggled his hips slightly, dislodging Jim's fingers from his ass. A moment later, he could feel the other man crowding close behind him, that thick hardness seeming to grow impossibly larger and harder against his entrance. He braced himself against the slick tiles, his breath quickening. "Put it in," he said. Then, as he felt Jim slide into him, he moaned, "Oh, God, that's so good."

Eagerly, Sarris pumped his hips, letting Jim stand still behind him as he slid himself along the engorged shaft, jamming the other man hard inside him, sliding himself off, then ramming him in again and again and again.

Finally, Jim could no longer stand it. He growled low in his throat and latched his teeth onto the curve of his friend's shoulder where it met his neck and breathed hoarsely, clinging to Sarris now as if for dear life, as he took over the rhythm of their fucking. He closed his eyes and for the first time since they had begun their clandestine trysts together, he imagined he was fucking someone else. In his mind's eye, he saw Blair Sandburg standing there, head thrown back in pleasure as Jim's cock rammed in and out of him; as Jim pressed scattered, careful kisses over those broad shoulders and up that neck to the inviting jaw. He shuddered and his thrusts grew pitiless, savage, as he threw all his weight against Sarris' ass, one hand coming around to relentless pump the other man's cock.

In and out he moved and Sarris let his head drop forward to rest his cheek against the cool tile. His eyes were closed as he sought the delirium of orgasm, reveling in the sensation of having a man in his ass, pounding him into ecstasy. When his orgasm hit, he shuddered hard and gasped, "Oh, yeah! Oh, yeah, yes, yes!" as he spurted thick streams of come onto the tile wall of the shower stall.

Jim moaned low in his throat as he felt the hot muscled sheath tighten around his aching cock and he picked up the rhythm, desperately hammering himself against his friend. Faster, faster he thrust, his erection swelling up even more as he rode the other man furiously. And then he shuddered hard and locked his jaw against a primal scream, reared back, and hurled himself into Sarris one last time, letting his excruciatingly hot stream of liquid flood the other man as he came. And in Jim's mind, he was coming inside Blair and then resting against the smaller young man and the Private let him, welcomed him with a smile and soft words that did more to soothe him than anything else could.

"Jim? Hey, Ellison, you there? Come on, man, snap out of it," Sarris said, intruding on his reverie, and Jim opened his eyes to find he was draped over his friend, nuzzling at one shoulder.

"Uh. Sorry." Carefully, Jim pulled out and then helped Sarris turn around so they could both clean up.

"Thanks, Jim. That was great. Let's give it a few minutes and then I'll return the favor, what do you say?" the lieutenant said with a grin, relishing the tingle he could still feel in his ass.

"Yeah, sure," Ellison replied with a small smile as he reached up to lightly stroke Sarris' cheek. Why not? he asked himself. I can get some more Sandburg fantasies taken care of that way, at least.

The water was shut off, but the two men stayed where they were. It was easier to clean up that way and no one would smell it in the other room when they showed up.

Ellison opened the door at the usual rapid knock that he associated with Sandburg and gave the Private a small smile and a nod. "Good, you're on time. Come on in and stow your gear, then we're heading out for dinner."

"Out where, Captain?" Sandburg asked as he walked in, shutting the door behind him. He paused when he saw the small cot that was set up along the far wall of the unit, obviously for him.

"Off base. I want a real meal before heading out to the jungles of Peru, where we'll probably be existing on grubs for God knows how long," Ellison replied.

"Hey, grubs aren't so bad once you get to like 'em!" Blair laughed. "I remember this one recipe I learned in Africa. It requires a little bit of honey, a local alcoholic drink, local spices, and of course, grubs. The fatter they are, the better!" He lined up his gear along the wall at one end of his cot, then gestured to the small bed. "Thanks, Captain."

"What, thought I was gonna make you sleep on the floor in a sleeping bag to get you ready for the mission?" Jim teased.

"Well..."

"I can always arrange that, Sandburg. Here, let me fold it back up and-"

"Ah, no, sir, that's quite all right, thanks. The cot's fine, sir." Blair flashed his brief mischievous grin again.

"Sure, kid. Now come on; I wanna eat sometime before the next Ice Age." Ellison opened the door and waited for the younger man to precede him. They walked out the door and he shut it behind them, then they left the BOQ building. Jim led the younger man around to the parking area behind the building and up to a black civilian jeep.

"This is yours?" Blair asked, walking around to the passenger side.

Jim nodded, knowing Sandburg could see him through the windows, and unlocked the driver's side door. He got in, shut it, then leaned over and unlocked the other door. He started the jeep as Blair got in and they both buckled up, then he put the truck in gear and drove off toward the more modest of the base's entrances, Gate 2. It would get them into town from a side route, so there would be less traffic to avoid.

After they cleared the guards at the gate, Jim settled into his seat, enjoying the feel of the wheels under his control. "So, what'll it be, Chief? Pizza, burgers, or a diner?"

"What are the prices at the diner?" Sandburg asked, thinking of the twenty-five dollars he had in his wallet.

"It's on me, Chief; you can get the tip, if you want to. So, diner?"

"Sure, Captain." Blair flashed that grin again.

Ellison stared at him for a moment, then asked, "Why do you do that?"

"Sir?"

"Why do you smile like it's illegal?"

Blair thought about it for a moment. "I hadn't realized that. I guess I do."

"So, why?"

"I suppose enough repetitions of 'You think it's funny, Private?!' will do that to a guy."

"Mmm." And for one brief moment, James felt a flash of intense anger for the instructors in Basic Training, for the Army in general, for subduing such a brilliant individual like Blair Sandburg.

"I'm still in here, Captain," Blair said softly.

"What?"

"I'm still in here. They didn't manage to break me down. I simply 'camouflaged' myself," the younger man stated, and with that, he gave James a wide, brilliant smile that did odd things to the older man's heartbeat.

How could a kid, and a Private at that, read me so well to know what I was thinking? James wondered silently. Am I losing my edge? Burn out? What?

Blair studied his Captain as they entered the city limits. "You're wondering how I was able to know what you were thinking, aren't you?"

"Goddamn it!" Ellison snarled and slammed his fist onto the steering wheel as he glared at the younger man.

Sandburg raises his hands in surrender, assuming a non-threatening posture. "Easy, Captain, easy. I'm not your enemy. I observe people; it's part of what an anthropologist does, and I'm good at it. I'm also Minor-ing in Psych. Passing it, too. And in case it makes you feel any better, you're really not that easy to read. I had to look for certain clues, and those are, like, way hard to find a pattern on. Okay?"

"Not okay, Sandburg," Ellison growled. "I did not invite you to dinner with me on our last evening here in the States before a difficult mission to shrink my head down to nothing! Now, if you can handle orders, try this one: do not get inside my head, for any reason, and most especially do not share whatever you think you've found with anyone else, you got that? 'Cause if you don't, I'm pulling over right here and you can hike back to base!"

"Sir, yes sir. Understood, sir." Blair sat back in his seat and became utterly quiet and still.

And that bothered James more than the observations had. Gritting his teeth as he pulled into the parking lot at Joe's Diner, he said gruffly, "I didn't mean don't talk at all; just don't go all scientist on me. Okay?"

Blair gave him that 'illegal' mischievous smile again and said quietly, "Okay, Captain." With that, he got out of the jeep, locking the door before shutting it.

James sighed and got out as well and lead the way into the diner, all the while feeling as though he'd just put his foot in his mouth in a big way.

They got a booth in the far corner of the diner where either of them could look out a window to people watch. The waitress came by to take their orders, smiling at both of them, then winking at Jim before turning around and sauntering away. Jim watched Blair watch her go, sighing inwardly at this show of "straightness", and then Blair turned back around and said, "Sir, if you want, I can find some other way to get back to the base this evening?"

"Why? So you can stay here and fuck her brains out before we leave?" Ellison said quietly, calmly.

Sandburg blinked and then shook his head with a shy grin. "No, sir. She wants you, not me. I thought maybe you'd prefer staying behind...?"

Ellison shook his head. "Not interested, Chief. I'm here to eat and that's it."

"Oh." The kid was silent for a moment, then he said almost hesitantly, "No offense or intrusion meant, Captain, but its been proven that soldiers are often more focused on their upcoming mission or battle if they've had sex before said activities. The release helps to clear the subconscious of minor frustrations that could-"

"Didn't I tell you no shrinking tonight?"

"You said not to shrink you."

"And I can tell that you're taking a roundabout way of doing that. Knock it off. Besides, I already took care of 'relieving my frustrations', as you so eloquently put it," Ellison said quietly. He smiled to himself as Sandburg flushed a dull pink and glanced away. He couldn't resist teasing a little. "Why? Do you still need to take care of your own? Because you know, I can always make myself scarce for a few minutes when we get back. Just please use the shower, okay? It'll be easier to clean up in there."

Blair blushed even more brightly and refused to look at the softly laughing older man as he replied, "Sir, no sir. Thank you, sir, but I'm okay."

The Captain would've continued the teasing, but something in the younger man's expression stopped him. Oh, waitaminute. He couldn't possibly be a ... could he? He decided to ask. "Chief," he said quietly, catching the Private's gaze, "you're not a ... virgin, are you?"

Blair blushed yet again, lowered his gaze to the tabletop, and whispered, "Yes."

Ellison sat back, stunned. The waitress arrived with their food and yet another inviting smile for the Captain, and then left the two of them alone. They ate in silence for a few moments, James watching the younger man methodically pick at his food. Christ in a miniskirt, he thought with incredulity. How could a kid as fucking beautiful as he is make it to nineteen without having sex even once? Sarris was right; that mouth of his alone should have tempted someone into putting a move on-

That thought brought him up short. Maybe somebody had been tempted, once. Tempted a little too much. Someone like Hodgkins, possibly. Reaching out, he tapped on the back of one of Blair's hands. "Chief, look at me." When the kid had done so, he took a moment to compose his thoughts. Finally, he said, "There's nothing shameful about being a virgin, and I'm sure you realize that. I'm just ... you seem a little skittish about the subject, in relation to yourself. Has anyone ever..."

"Assaulted me sexually? A few people have tried, yeah. But I always fought 'em off or distracted 'em and managed to get away. No, Captain, that's not why I'm a virgin, still. The simple reason is that I haven't found anyone I really wanted to do it with. I've seen ceremonial rituals and I've seen people who had never before met humping each other like their lives depended on it. Until I find someone I can really care enough about, then I'd rather keep myself company, if you know what I mean," Blair said, flashing his grin again.

Ellison nodded. He understood that. It was why he'd waited until he was almost 21 before he'd finally done the deed, himself. "Okay, Chief. Just checking that I hadn't dredged up bad memories or anything." He gave the kid a tiny grin. "You're the last person I'm gonna want to alienate, anyway!"

Blair laughed at that, then quickly muffled it and began eating his dinner again.

"Oh, go ahead and laugh," James said, grinning openly, now. "It's not a crime to show amusement, you know. Not even around your Captain. In fact, I've got this great joke; stop me if you've heard this one...."

There started a free-for-all of jokes, bad, lewd, or worse. Ellison found himself surprised at the depth of Sandburg's knowledge in that area and then immediately realized he shouldn't have been surprised at all. The kid, for all his youth, had been around and knew stuff. The amount of information that squirrelly little mind held was awesome, to say the least.

Finally, Blair came up with a mild one after the waitress had taken away their dishes and refilled their coffee cups. "Okay, here's a softie. A dentist was getting ready to clean an elderly lady's teeth. He noticed that she was a little nervous, so he began to tell her a story as he was putting on his surgical gloves. 'Do you know how they make these rubber gloves?' he asked. She said, 'No.' 'Well,' he spoofed, 'down in Mexico they have this big building set up with a large tank of latex and the workers are all picked according to hand size. Each individual walks up to the tank, dips their hands in, and then walk around for a bit while the latex sets up and dries right onto their hands! Then they peel off the gloves and throw them into the big 'Finished Goods Crate' and start the process all over again.' And she didn't laugh a bit!!! Five minutes later, during the procedure, he had to stop cleaning her teeth because she burst out laughing. The old woman blushed and exclaimed, 'I just suddenly thought about how they must make condoms!'"

James burst out laughing on that one and his body curled up like a boiled shrimp as he let his head thump onto the table. And he wasn't the only one. A table full of truckers who had come in and sat down behind them had been listening in, and they let out a loud chorus of raucous laughter themselves. One of the bigger truckers, a heavyset blonde man with a full beard, a huge grin, and bright blue eyes, turned around and slapped Blair congenially on the back. "That was good, kid!" he said, winking.

Sandburg peeled himself off the table where the slap had landed him and grinned over his shoulder at the trucker. "Thanks, man," he said casually.

Five minutes later, the two servicemen finished their coffee and got up to leave. Blair dropped a few dollar bills onto the table and then followed his Captain up to the counter. He was startled when Ellison handed him the keys to the jeep. "Go start it up, Chief. I'll be out in a minute."

"Am I driving?" Blair asked with that grin of his.

"Do you want to?"

"Uh, well, sir, it's your vehicle-"

"Sandburg." James leveled a 'command' look on the younger man. "Answer the question: do you want to drive back to the base?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do you have a valid driver's license?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then, okay. Go on out and I'll be there in a minute." Ellison grinned as the kid saluted with a full grin and then took off out the door. Chuckling, he turned to pay the bill. The waitress who had served them was at the register and they chatted for a moment, James politely declining her offer of staying later with her, and then turned and left the diner. He made his way over to the jeep that sat with lights on and wipers going against the rain that had started, and climbed in. He grinned at Sandburg and said, "Okay, Chief; take us home."

"Sir, yes sir!" Blair replied with another grin and salute and James snorted, reached over and cuffed the younger man's head.

"Drive, Junior," he growled.

Snickering, Blair reversed out of the jeep's spot, put the vehicle in gear, then proceeded to drive them back to base. They arrived at the base just fine and were waved back in after Ellison had signed them in on the guard's checklist. Blair pulled around to the BOQ parking lot and put the vehicle in park. They climbed out, locked up, then sprinted inside to get out of the rain.

Shutting the door behind them, Ellison looked slowly up and down the length of Sandburg's body from the top of his head to his heels as he stood behind the younger man. A thought occurred to him. "Sandburg, how easily do you wake up in the morning?"

Turning, Blair gave him a slightly sheepish grin, reaching up to run his hand through the fuzz of his buzz-cut. "Ahhh, I kind of have a little bit of difficulty at first, Captain," he answered.

James nodded. He could remember how that used to be when he'd first gone to military school. "All right, then. The other guys are all busy with their own pursuits tonight, so it's just you and me. Why don't you go ahead and take your shower now? That way, I can allow you a few extra minutes to sleep in and I won't have to fight you - and thereby humiliate you - for the shower in the morning." He grinned when the younger man laughed outright, secretly delighting in the sound.

"Okay, Captain, you win. And thanks for the special privilege." The younger man turned away to begin shucking out of his clothing.

Ellison began doing the same over by his bed as he replied, "No problem, Chief. Hurry it up, though; lights out in twenty minutes. We're going to be pulling out at an ungodly hour."

Blair, down to his shorts, now, turned to find his Captain in the same state. He paused briefly and then nodded. "On my way now, Herr Captain." He pulled his toiletry kit out of his survival pack where he'd stuffed it and then quickly crossed to the bathroom and shut the door. Finding a towel and washcloth in the small supply closet, he shucked out of his boxers and stepped into the shower, adjusting the spray to a very warm temperature. Quickly he washed himself, then, realizing he had time and the hard-on he'd been fighting wasn't going away, he gripped himself and leaned back against the shower wall and began pumping. As the sensation built, he bit his lip to muffle the moan that slipped past.

James paused as he proceeded to get into bed when he heard the moan. It was muffled and low, but definitely a moan. His first concern was that Sandburg had somehow developed a sudden muscle cramp or something and that this was a sound of pain, but as he moved to stand with his ear against the bathroom door, he heard it again, and shivered. This time, the sound definitely held a note of lust. Oh, dear Lord, he's jacking off in the same shower where Sarris and I fucked! was the thought that went blasting through his mind. He stifled the groan in his throat as he felt his cock harden at this thought. He listened for a moment longer, then turned and made his way back to the bed and crawled in, leaving the lamp on so the kid wouldn't stumble into anything on his way back out to his cot. Shit. I would have to go and listen in like that and get myself all steamed up. Sandburg's probably fantasizing about some hot, long-legged beauty.

He was more right than he knew. In the shower, at that moment, Blair came, spurting into his hand and moaning low in his throat, "Ellison...." Shivering as the last of his climax wrung out of him, he hurriedly rinsed off, then climbed out. He toweled off quickly, then wrapped the towel around his hips and gathered up his things, exiting the bathroom. He made his way over to his cot and tried to be as quiet as he could in putting his things away and hauling out a clean pair of boxers, then dropped the towel and slipped them on. He went back to the bathroom to hang the towel up to dry, then went back to his cot. He reached over and turned off the lamp and settled in, sighing as he arranged himself comfortably. A few moments later, he tensed when he heard Ellison get out of bed abruptly, but the older man simply went into the bathroom. Feeling sheepish as he realized the Captain had probably been waiting all this time to use the facilities, Blair blushed silently and curled towards the wall, closing his eyes for sleep.

A few minutes later, James came out of the bathroom and settled back into bed, pulling the covers up to his shoulders. "G'night, Sandburg," he said quietly.

"'Night, Captain," was the sleepy reply.

Just before the older man dropped off to sleep, he thought, I haven't jerked off that fast since I was fourteen. That kid's ass is pure motivational inspiration.

"Up and at 'em, Sunshine! The Army waits for no man."

Sandburg cracked his eyes open to find Ellison standing over him, apparently attached to the hand that was roughly shaking him awake. "Sir, yes sir. I'm awake, sir."

The Captain nodded, satisfied, and stepped back. "Get up, Sandburg; we're out of here in thirty."

Blair nodded and got up. He quickly folded the extra blanket Ellison had let him use last night and placed it, along with the pillow, on the Captain's already neatly made up bed. He was careful to keep his gaze directly off of the older man, who was fresh from the last modernized shower he was likely to have for a while. Ellison had his back to the younger man as he unself-consciously went about the business of getting dressed.

James was aware of the furtive gazes and he grinned slightly to himself, but he did nothing about the looks. It's probably just "locker room" curiosity. Nothing to get excited about.

Sandburg hurriedly folded the cot back into storage shape and then began dressing as well, thinking silently, Jumpin' Joe Jeezly! I'll be stuck in the jungle with that and not allowed to touch?! No fair!

Fifteen minutes later, they were out the door and heading for the base's motorpool, from where they and the other six men would be driven out to a nearby Air Force base. They'd catch their flight to Peru from there.

The 7th Troop Ranger Special Ops Unit - and one highly intelligent Private - had arrived in Lima, Peru, on schedule only to be delayed for five hours due to a complication with the huey that would take them out to their drop point. Ellison ordered them all to take quick naps, as the rest would probably come in handy. Finally, however, they were on route to the drop point. Captain Ellison sat facing his men, his back against the helicopter cockpit wall, and spoke into the radio headset he was wearing.

"If you gentlemen will give me your undivided attention for a moment," he called out in an authoritative voice. "I know we've been through this already, but I'll go through it one last time since we didn't have much time to drill. So listen carefully. Have your weapons in hand the moment we touch ground. We're coming in totally blacked out, and you'll be forewarned by Pilot Louis before the lights go out. Since we're dropping into a jungle plateau in the middle of the night with no light to guide us, take extra care. The one thing we can't afford is for any of you to have an accident before the mission begins; you guys already know that there's few enough of us as it is. Nobody's expecting us groundside, but you know we're dealing with a terrorist insurgence group. We can't afford to take prisoners and we certainly can't afford to let one of us be taken, so shoot first, worry later. Any questions?"

One of the commandos raised his hand.

"What is it, Sarris?" the Captain asked wryly.

"My wife wants an authentic Peruvian mule figurine. Can we take souvenirs?"

"What for, when she's got enough of an ass with you around?!" Petersen shot back.

They all laughed, though Sarris did lean over and give a somewhat friendly punch to Petersen's leg.

"Shove it, guys," Ellison said with conversational good cheer. He paused and looked at his unit, his eyes lingering on Sandburg's wide-eyed face. "Check your weapons and get in gear."

Clattering and clicking filled the air as the eight men began checking their equipment and applying camouflage gel to their faces. As soon as that was done, they were warned by Pilot Louis about the black out and then they were encased in darkness. They were finishing up on the checking everything when the huey suddenly tilted and lurched dangerously on one side and then slowly righted itself. A thunderous boom echoed in their ears even through their headsets, as did their shouts of surprise, worry, and upset. As the rotation of the blades faltered choppily, Blair froze and listened intently through his headset to Captain Ellison, who was half-in, half-out of the cockpit while yelling questions at the pilot.

"Louis?! What the hell's goin' on up here?!" Ellison roared.

"We're under attack, sir!" Louis yelled back. "We've been locked, stocked, and rocked!"

"How the fuck is that possible, Pilot? We blacked out, didn't we?"

"Yeah! I didn't hit any switches and there's no other outside illumination. We never should've been scoped, let alone smacked!"

"What's our damage?"

"The tail's shot. No way is this bird stayin' in the air. I've got enough control to set us down in one piece, but after that-"

Louis never finished the sentence. He barely had time to see the miniscule flash of a fired rocket launcher in the dense foliage below. He yanked hard on the stick and the huey plunged its nose upwards, sending Captain Ellison tumbling back into the cargo/passenger bay. He landed against Blair, who caught and held him. Neither of them could see the other, but James somehow knew it was the kid who had hold of him and he reached up and patted him on the shoulder in thanks.

The rocket missed the cockpit that the missile had been intended for, but it smashed through the tail of the huey, destroying what was left.

"We're goin' down!" Louis screamed, doing his best to wrestle with the dying helicopter while launching a distress relay through the radio channels back to base. He heard the static whine of interference and cursed fluently and steadily as he realized that somehow, the enemy was jamming them. He had only a brief moment to spare in wondering how a supposedly low-tech insurgence group suddenly got hold of equipment like that, then devoted all his attention to bringing them down alive.

"Brace for impact!" Ellison bellowed. He scrambled into the seat harness next to Blair blindly, then took his own advice. He could hear the choppy, frightened breathing coming from the young man beside him, and he reached over and took hold of one of the younger man's knees.

"Chief! Blair! It'll be okay!" he yelled to the younger man, trying to assuage his fears. God, oh God, please God, if you have any mercy, let it be okay! Let him get out alive! Let them all get out alive! he prayed silently.

James was startled when he felt a hand reach over and settle on his own knee, gripping tightly. He knew instinctively that it was Blair's and then smiled slightly when he felt the shaky, reassuring pat from the younger man before that hand gripped him again tightly. He squeezed once to let the kid know he understood, then huddled into his harness as the whine of the helicopter's engines and blades, plus the sudden rapid descent, let him know the crash was imminent.

The last thing he remembered when the helicopter hit the ground, hard, was the memory of looking into Blair's blue eyes only twenty minutes earlier.

"Captain? Captain, can you hear me? Oh god, oh God, please be able to hear me.... Ellison? Can you-"

"S-Sandburg? ... Chief..." James groaned as Blair's voice seeped into his consciousness.

"Oh, thank God! Captain! Can you open your eyes? Please? I really need you to wake up now...."

It was as easy as that. Sandburg needed him, so he opened his eyes.

And immediately wished he hadn't.

James discovered that he was still strapped into his seat, but he was hanging upside down at an odd 45-degree angle. The blood was pounding harder in his head now that he was conscious. Blair was half-crouched, half-standing beneath him. Blood from a gash across his forehead and on one cheek was beginning to dry in rivulets on his sweaty, pale skin. A small, battery-operated field equipment lantern that had survived the crash illuminated all this. That made James turn his attention to what else might have survived.

"Blair. Yeah, Chief, I can see you fine and I'm awake. Got a headache to end them all and I feel like one giant bruise, but that seems to be it. How about you? Hurt anywhere else besides the cuts?" he asked.

Sandburg shook his head. The sound of Ellison's steady voice was helping to calm him down, and the calm tone he used when speaking his name helped ground him and made him feel connected to the older man. He suspected that's why the Captain used his first name like that, to help him remain calm. Must be something medics are taught, he mused to himself. "No, sir. Just the cuts, a hit on the head, and some bruises, but I'm fine. But ... but P-Pilot Louis is d-dead, sir." His voice caught on a sudden hitch in his breath as he remembered his glimpse of the pilot he'd gone to check on after waking up lying against the cockpit wall.

James heard the hitch, too. "Blair, listen to me. I need you to help me out of this thing. You're going to have to brace me up when I start to come down, okay? C'mon, soldier, work with me here."

Nodding, the younger man eased himself further under Ellison's body and braced his shoulders and chest against the larger man's torso. The top of his head was nestled against the Captain's neck as he reached for the buckle releases on the shoulder straps. One by one, he managed to work them loose, grunting slightly as the Captain's weight dropped onto his shoulders, but he kept them both upright. Finally, he worked loose the belt buckle that was snugged around Ellison's waist and the older man dropped completely onto him. Sandburg lost his balance then and went down, "oof-ing" as 200+ pounds of Army Ranger Captain squashed him flat onto the metal wall of the wrecked chopper that lay on its right side.

Immediately, Ellison got to his hands and knees, crouching above the prone form beneath him. "You okay, Chief?" he asked, concerned he might have damaged the younger man just when he'd need him.

"Yeah, Captain; just knocked the wind out of me," Blair replied.

"Okay, then. Wait here a minute; I'm going to check on the others and then I'll let you know what you can do to help." James patted Sandburg carefully on the side of his face, then levered himself up and took the small lantern with him.

His first glimpse of Pilot Louis made his jaw clench hard. The pilot had done the best he could to bring them down alive, but the branches that had crashed through the window of the cockpit had nailed the man. A large, broken branch protruded from Louis' back; it had entered through his abdominal cavity, just below the ribs. James was thankful for that. It meant the pilot had died instantly, with probably very little recognition of pain. Blood had trickled from a corner of his mouth and lay in greasy rivulets around the branch wound, his eyes staring and vacant. Shit. And this is the first thing the kid saw when he woke up and started moving around. Shit, shit, shit.

Crawling out of the cockpit, he moved back into the cargo/passenger bay. "Sandburg?"

"Yeah, Captain?"

"From the looks of it, he died instantly and most likely had no time to feel any pain. He didn't suffer."

"Thank you." The gratitude and relief in Blair's voice let James know that this was the best thing he could've told the kid.

Murmuring a sound of assent and reassurance, he moved on to the rest of his unit. What he found made his heart hurt in the worst way.

Petersen was dead. He had broken free of his harness in the crash and had been caught between the wall and floor of the helicopter when they had accordioned together in the crash. He'd been crushed instantly. Harrison was also dead, though his neck was snapped and there was a large gash on the side of his head. Looking around, Ellison found a piece of equipment nearby that had blood and a tuft of Harrison's chocolate brown hair on it; it was clear that the piece of equipment had hit the Ranger with enough force to snap his neck and kill him. Sarris was alive, but he lay pinned beneath rubble and his breathing was labored; James estimated some internal damage, but he didn't know what. One of the newest members of the unit was a guy by the name of MacKecknie. He was still alive, but James doubted it'd be for much longer. The jagged piece of metal that was gouged deep into his thigh had apparently cut the artery; already the Ranger was weakening. Williams had a broken arm, a couple of ribs, and a multitude of cuts from shattered glass and metal, but he was alive and beginning to groan as he came to. Stevens' leg was pinned under the same metal that had crushed Petersen; it was a good bet that the Ranger's leg was crushed as well. James knew that it would most likely be amputated if they wanted to get him out of there and out here in the damp jungle, there was a good chance gangrene would set in before he could get help for the man.

He sighed. This was not good. Out of the entire group, it looked as though only he, Sandburg, and Williams stood a very good chance of surviving, and Stevens a very marginal chance. MacKecknie probably wouldn't last the rest of the evening. Sarris would most likely die from his internal injuries, a thought that made Ellison want to howl in denial.

"Captain?" Sandburg said softly.

"Yeah, Chief, I'm here. Petersen and Harrison are dead. MacKecknie is going to die; his left femoral artery has been severed and I can't do anything about it. Sarris has internal injuries; he's most likely going to die as well. Williams has a broken arm and ribs and lots of cuts, but he'll be fine. Stevens' leg is crushed and will have to be amputated to get him free, which will probably result in gangrene. Out of all of us, you, me, and Williams are going to survive, Stevens maybe. The rest are in God's hands."

"Oh, damn..." the younger man whispered, his voice sounding a little clogged.

Gritting his teeth, Ellison forced himself to stay 'in command.' "Come on, Sandburg, get it together. I need you to help me move the live ones out. Get over here."

Blair swallowed back his emotions and the sharp retort that wanted out. "Sir, yes sir," he said hoarsely, and clambered over the debris to join him in front of Williams.

"I'll catch him while you release the straps and then we'll crawl out of here," James said, gesturing toward the hole that had been torn in the side of the 'copter, facing out. It was just large enough for a single person to crawl through at a time. When Sandburg nodded his understanding, Ellison set the lantern down. "I'm switching the light off for now; we need to conserve the battery."

"Okay, I've got the first strap in hand, so it shouldn't be too hard to locate the rest," Blair replied. A moment later, the lantern was shut off, and they were in darkness again. The private worked as quickly as he could. "Captain?"

"Chief, right now, I'd really prefer it if you would call me 'Ellison'. If that's too cold for you, then try 'Jim'. Okay?"

"Okay, si- Jim."

"Good. What'd you want to ask, Chief?" Jim was doing his best to keep Williams' torso braced against his and the man's legs wrapped somewhat around his hips.

"How long do you think it will be before whoever shot us down finds us and tries to finish the job?" Sandburg asked as he finished the shoulder straps and moved to the seatbelt around Williams' waist.

"Don't worry about it, kid. My watch survived the crash; I took a look at it. It's been four, almost five, hours since we were shot down. The ones who caused the damage would have found and killed us by now if they were searching for us. Apparently, they're either way too confident or way too complacent and haven't sent out a search party. We've got time to attend to our men and then get on with the mission."

Blair got the buckle free and Williams fell free and draped on Ellison with a tiny, barely aware groan. The Captain staggered slightly and then shifted a bit, restoring his balance. With a small grunt, Jim turned and moved toward the exit.

"Get on with the mission?" Sandburg repeated incredulously as he followed behind, snatching up the two carry packs he felt as he was climbing over them. He slipped them over his shoulder and kept going. "But, Jim, this unit's been crippled! How can we possibly-"

"Sandburg, I realize you're not a Special Ops Ranger, so I'll explain as best as I can," Jim replied, panting slightly as he set down his cargo carefully. He crawled through the hole and reached back in. "Tilt Williams carefully into my hands; then get his legs and help guide him out."

Blair did as instructed and as they slowly worked the injured Ranger through the exit, Jim began his explanation. "This is a Special Ops Unit sent on a Covert Operation consisting of putting down a bunch of terrorists. Even though we were going to - will - play it subtle and sneaky, there's always been the chance that some of us, if not all, would die, but we were to carry out the mission until we either succeeded or all of us were taken out. Now, if it looked as though the mission would fail, I would have gotten the locals to get you out of here and back to Lima somehow."

"Would have?" Blair echoed as they finished getting Williams through the hole. He waited until Jim had gathered the other Ranger up in his arms and moved away, then tossed the survival packs through and crawled out after them. He stood and stretched, breathing deeply of the humid, warm Peruvian jungle evening air. A moment later, he picked up the survival packs and walked over to join his Captain and the injured Williams, who was sitting propped against a tree.

Jim took one of the packs, opened it, and brought out the thin, thermal mesh field blanket and the bowie knife that was inside. He began cutting it into strips as he said, "Yeah, Chief, would have. But now you're not only the translator who is going to help me enlist the aid of the local tribes, but you're one of the few of us left who knows how to fire a gun with accuracy. I'm going to need you, all the way. Now, do you know anything about binding ribs?"

"Uh, yeah," Sandburg replied, a little lost in the sudden topic shift.

"Good. I want you to do the best you can for Williams and see if you can't fashion a sling for that arm. I'm going back in for MacKecknie; he's still alive, for the moment, and I want to at least get him comfortable so he can die in peace." When he saw Blair's hands falter in the process of removing Williams' jacket, he sighed and rested a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Chief; it's hard, I know, to hear such straight talk when you're not used to it. But beating around the bush about it isn't going to change anything, okay?"

Blair nodded and resumed his task. "Yes, sir," he said, his voice catching slightly. "Nobody should have to get used to it," he added quietly.

"No; no one should have to," Jim agreed. "You going to be okay?"

"Eventually. For now, following orders will help keep me going."

"Good boy. I'll yell when I need you to help haul MacKecknie out." Then he got up, taking one of the blanket strips with him, and walked back to the wreck and crawled in. While Blair worked on Williams, Jim slowly made his way over to where he'd left the lantern. He carefully felt around for it, found it, and shut his eyes as he switched it back on. Slowly, he opened his eyes, letting them adjust to the glaring brightness again, then made his way over to MacKecknie. The Ranger had weakened further, his pulse and breathing shallow, his breaths coming rapidly. Ellison guessed death was about an hour away.

Since MacKecknie was closer to the ground, Jim simply undid the straps and let the other man slide down to the floor. Squatting, he gripped the shrapnel that was impaling MacKecknie's thigh, took a deep breath, and yanked it out. The injured man's body twitched and he moaned gutturally, but he never woke up. Working quickly, Jim wrapped the strip tightly around MacKecknie's thigh. When he was finished, he looked at it critically, judged it sound enough, then looked around. Spotting another of the survival packs, he crawled over and picked it up, slinging it over a shoulder, then went back to his teammate. Plotting the course to the exit in his mind, he switched off the lantern and this time he tucked it into his jacket.

Scooping the dying Ranger into his arms, Ellison made his way to the exit hole, then set MacKecknie down. He tossed the survival pack out first, then shouted, "Sandburg! Get over here and help me, will you?"

"Coming, Jim!" Blair called back and a moment later, he was crouched in front of the exit, a dark silhouette against the slightly less dark background of the jungle.

"He's coming through head first. Ready?"

"Ready. Pass him out."

Jim tipped MacKecknie's torso into Blair's waiting hands and then carefully picked up the injured man's legs and they began guiding him out of the wrecked huey. When Blair had dragged MacKecknie far enough out of the way, Jim crawled through and then gathered the other man up and carried him over to where Williams sat propped against the tree, his ribs bandaged, his arm in a makeshift sling, and his jacket pulled back around him. His head was nodding slightly which meant he was coming to. Sandburg dropped the third survival pack on the ground next to MacKecknie, who was stretched out on the ground.

"Put a blanket over him, Chief, and use the pack as a pillow for his head. It's the best we can do for him; he doesn't have much longer," Jim said quietly. "I'm going back in to get Sarris. I'll need your help in moving debris off him." He paused for a moment to gently brush his fingers over MacKecknie's forehead. Godspeed, John MacKecknie. You were a good Ranger, and a fine man. You'll be remembered as such, I promise. Then he got up and walked back to the huey and crawled back in.

Blair quickly opened the pack, pulled out the blanket, and then draped it over the dying man. He gently lifted MacKecknie's head and slid the pack under it, then settled the man back down. Placing his hand over the other man's chest, above his heart, he whispered, "Shalom, John." Then he too hurried over to the wreck and crawled in, making his way over to where Jim crouched by Sarris in the lantern light.

"Okay, here's what we're gonna do," Jim told him after carefully assessing the situation. "I'll pull the smaller equipment off him and give it to you; you chuck it off somewhere out of our way. Then I'm gonna lift up the large stuff that's pinning him down and you haul him out from under it, okay? Just be as careful as you can when getting him out; we don't want to injure him further." The realization that Sarris, his friend and sometimes lover, was injured and possibly dying, was very difficult for him to accept, but he had no other choice. He was startled when his friend suddenly spoke up.

"J-Jim..." Sarris groaned quietly, startling the both of them into looking down at him. He grinned up at his Captain and friend weakly. "I don't care ... how you ... get me out ... of this. Just ... do it."

"Sarris..." Ellison growled, then sighed. "Okay. Hang on and we'll get this started." He began pulling pieces of equipment off the pile that was pinning his friend down and handed them over to Sandburg, who chucked them off in the opposite direction. After a few moments, there was only a section of wall left lying atop the injured man. "Get ready, Sarris; this is going to hurt like a bitch of a bag of a thing."

The lieutenant nodded and his jaw clenched as he braced himself while Blair positioned himself by the injured man's head. Jim reached down, hooked his hands under the jagged metal, counted to three, and lifted with a grunt.

Sarris let out a low, guttural groan as the pressure was taken off of him and his blood began rushing a lot more quickly.

Blair grit his teeth and reached down, grabbed Sarris under his shoulders, and began hauling him backwards and out from under the debris. When the man was clear, he said, "He's free, Jim, but don't let go yet. I can see the other survival packs under there." Moving quickly, he gently set Sarris down, then squirmed under the metal and grabbed the packs, then backed out fast and back over to Sarris.

Ellison let the debris go with another grunt and it clanged to the floor loudly. He turned to the other two men, taking one of the packs that Blair handed to him and slipping it on. "How's it hangin', Sarris?" he asked quietly.

"Hangin' better than all the rest, Cap'n," the injured Ranger replied breathlessly with a small grin, then he grimaced, stiffening in pain.

Jim smiled back slightly. "Just hang in there, buddy; we're gonna get you out, now." He bent and took hold of Sarris' legs by gripping the backs of his thighs just above his knees. He looked over at Blair. "Ready, Chief?"

Blair nodded and took a firmer grip on the lieutenant, the other two packs resting securely on his own back.

"Okay, on three. Ready? One ... two ... three!"

They lifted and Sarris did his best to stifle his cry of pain; he didn't want to spook the kid any further than he probably was. Looking up into Jim's eyes and seeing the carefully hidden pain, though, hurt a hell of a lot worse.

The two ambulatory men made their way as quickly as they could to the exit hole and when they were finally there, Jim carefully set Sarris' legs down, tossed the pack out and crawled through, and then reached back in for him. Together, he and Blair got the man outside and over to where Williams and MacKecknie lay.

Williams had come around by then and he lifted his head and looked blearily at the small, war-torn group that was making its way towards him in the dark. "Captain?" he said raggedly.

"Doug. How're you feeling, man?" Jim asked as he and Blair carefully set Sarris down next to the less injured Ranger.

"Like I went twenty rounds with Godzilla, blindfolded and tied up," the other man replied, then coughed, his breath rasping dryly.

"You'll be fine, Doug, I promise. Me and Sandburg will get Sarris comfortable and then we've gotta cut Stevens free. Then we'll try to rustle up some water for us," Jim said quietly as he slipped one of the survival packs beneath Sarris' head.

"I can go look for some now, if you want-" Blair began, but was cut off.

"Negative," was Jim's quick and somewhat harsh reply. He moderated his tone as he looked up at the younger man. "At this time, you are to go nowhere without me, is that understood? I don't know what's out there at the moment and I am not going to risk any more of this unit."

"Sir, yes sir," Sandburg said, nodding.

Jim nodded back, then looked at the other men. They were staring at him with questions in their eyes, but they didn't say anything. Jim glanced around, then noticed the glow coming from inside the helicopter and swore, then said, "Chief, we left the lantern on. Go in and shut it off, will you? No, wait! Better yet, use it for a few more minutes to try to clear a path to Stevens, then shut it down, okay?"

Blair nodded and got to his feet. "You got it, Captain." Then he went over to the huey and crawled in.

Jim looked down to find Sarris grinning at him. "You're going to have your hands full with him, Ellison," he said quietly.

The Captain laughed shortly as he covered his friend with the blanket from the pack he'd been carrying. "Don't I know it. He was the first to wake up and he managed to get me down out of my harness all by himself. I squashed him into the floor. He's holding up really good, though. We may make a Ranger out of him yet."

"What're our casualties, Jim?" Sarris asked breathlessly.

Ellison stilled, then sighed. "Louis, Petersen, and Harrison are dead. Stevens' right leg is crushed in the debris that killed Petersen; we're going to have to amputate to cut him free and that most likely means gangrene and death for him. John is lying a few feet to the left of you, Doug. He's on his way out now; a piece of metal cut into his thigh and severed his femoral artery. Doug, you have a broken arm, a couple of broken ribs, and lots of cuts that are probably going to itch like hell for a while. Sarris..."

"I'm probably going to die, Jim, I know," the other man said calmly. He looked up into tortured blue eyes and grinned. "Even I can tell I've got internal injuries that you can't fix without a surgical team on hand, buddy. I'll try my best to hang on, you know that, but facts are facts-"

He was cut off by a cry from inside the huey, along with a thud and loud crash of shifting objects and metal scraping on metal.

Jim bolted to his feet and ran over to the darkened wreck. "Sandburg! Are you all right?" When silence greeted his query, he growled softly, "Dammit!" and then spoke louder. "Answer me! Are you okay?"

A quick series of coughs were his reply and then Blair said shakily, "Y-yeah, Jim. I'm fine, just got the wind knocked out of me."

The Captain closed his eyes and breathed a silent prayer of thanks, then opened them again. "What the hell happened, Chief?" he asked.

"I was shifting debris and I saw a torch wedged into a corner of stuff. It's intact and we can use it to cut the metal away from Stevens, rather than the other way around. I tried to get it out and that's when the whole thing shifted and came down on me."

"Came down on you?" Jim demanded.

"Yeah, but I'm not trapped and nothing's broken. Not even a scratch. I'm going to start cutting Stevens free, sir."

"You know how to work a torch?"

"I spent a summer about three years ago working on a welding crew in a factory. Fastest torch in my crew, Jim." There was a note of pride in that young voice that made the captain grin.

"All right, hop to it. I'll be with you in a moment."

"Sir, yes sir."

Jim turned and made his way back over to his injured men and settled down next to them again. He pulled out a blanket from one of the other packs and began draping it over Williams as a loud snap and hiss filled the air from inside the wreck and a dim glow filled the darkness.

"What the hell is that?" Sarris demanded.

"The kid found a torch and brought a pile down on himself, but he's okay. In fact, he knows how to use a torch, so he's going to cut Stevens free. I'll go help him out now," Jim said.

Just as he stood, MacKecknie made a small sound, a shuddery gasp of breath. The three other men looked at him and a moment later, his chest went still, his body relaxing.

Williams made the sign of the cross and closed his eyes, Sarris muttering a soft, short prayer under his breath.

Jim sighed, nodded and walked over to the dead man. Gently, he brushed John's hair back away from his slack face and then pulled the blanket up to cover his face. Then he turned and hurried over to the huey and crawled in. He crouched next to Blair and watched, admiring as the kid cut through the metal cleanly and quickly without making a mark on the injured man. Finally, it was done and Blair grinned and snapped the torch off. He flicked the lantern back on almost immediately and inspected his work. "We need to wait a moment and let this cool off, then we can start moving him," he said.

Jim nodded, then looked at the young private, catching his gaze. "MacKecknie just died, Chief," he said softly.

Blair blinked, shocked, then swallowed and looked away. He nodded and whispered, "Yeah. Um, okay. Thanks." A moment later, he lifted his head and looked at his Captain. "He went quietly, at least."

Reaching over, Ellison clamped his hand gently onto one of Blair's shoulders. "And he never woke up. He didn't realize he was injured or in pain; it was easy for him."

"Good," Sandburg said softly. Shaking himself subtly, he passed a hand over the metal he'd cut with the torch. "This is cool enough we can shift it off him and get him out of here if we use something to pry it away."

Jim looked around and found a couple of pieces of debris and handed one to Blair. Quickly, they pried the metal away. "Okay, Chief. You take his shoulders and I'll take the rest of him. Turn off the lantern and let's get out of here."

Blair did as instructed and ten minutes later, they had Stevens resting next to Sarris, covered in a blanket, strips of another binding his leg and stopping the blood flow.

Sandburg was sitting down next to Williams, resting for a moment while Jim was back in the huey, rooting around through the debris looking for salvageable weapons.

"You okay, kid?" Doug asked, concerned for the young private. This was hard enough to take even for the trained unit; it had to be tough on an unseasoned kid like Sandburg.

"I'm not injured, if that's what you mean," Blair replied. "As for the rest of it, I guess I'm still shell-shocked. I'll be fine, though."

Williams nodded and then they all looked up to see Jim coming back towards them, festooned with rifles and a few knives. The captain grinned at them.

"Two of them need a patch job, but we've got six here that are useable. Here's our plan for right now: Sandburg and I are going to scout around for some water. Williams, you and Sarris are going to stay here and be as quiet as possible. You know the drill: if anything dangerous is coming at you, shoot it. We'll try to hurry."

"You got it, boss," Doug replied, taking one of the rifles, cocking it, and then resting back against his tree, two of the other weapons placed next to him.

Another rifle was put down next to Sarris, who grinned and offered a thumbs up.

Jim handed one of the guns to Sandburg, who took it and checked it over, cocking it mechanically as he stood to join his captain after Jim finished loading one of the survival packs with all the available canteens.

Ellison glanced quickly at the younger man, then at Williams and Sarris. All three Rangers' expressions were identical: concern about Blair's ability to keep going without a major breakdown.

Nodding, the captain said quietly, "Let's go, Chief."

Without a word, Blair followed him and the two of them melted into the evening darkness.

Continued in Part Two.

Link to text version of part two: http://www.squidge.org/archive/cgi-bin/convert.cgi?filename=7/covertoperations_b