Disclaimer: The characters in this story are the property of Donald Bellisario, Belisaurius Productions, Paramount Pictures and Columbia Broadcasting Service Entertainment – this story is for non-profit entertainment of JAG fans only. No copyright infringement is intended or implied.

A/N1: Big thanks for Janlaw and Mary Ann for their guest-betaing. :)

…For Meritorious Service
Chapter 24



1230 Local
Baghdad International Airport [BIAP]
Baghdad, Iraq


As the helicopter touched down on the tarmac, Harm was shaken out of his slumber by his seatmate. Despite his unease with helos, the aviator/lawyer had been able to fall asleep quite soundly. It could have to do with the fact he and Mac had been going full tilt since the court martial proceedings had ended.

“Okay, you jet jockeys, up and at’em!” The helo’s crew chief barked, “let’s hit that ground running!” As Harm stumbled out of his seat, he noted the sadistic smile plastered on the man’s face.

The chief’s ‘order’ was met with grunts, mumbles, and a few under-the-breath curse words from the departing aviators.

As Harm made his way from his seat to the lowered ramp, his seatmate, a young cocky Marine First Lieutenant clapped him on the back. “C’mon Commander, time to get back to Naval Air.”

Jake had, in the past, served in a couple of carrier based F-18 squadrons, so he was familiar with both Navy and Marine slang.

Harm gave the Lieutenant a sleep-filled grin.

The JAG Corps attorney joined a line of bored and sleepy looking Marine and Naval personnel who made their way from their ride to the busy interior of the jetport. In his mind, the aviator/lawyer was thinking about what Mac had said to him yesterday evening….

**~~~**

“Well Mac, what did Mr. Green say?”

“Not much, but he did indicate that there was a DSD operation in Afghanistan in October 2001 and that Captain Lewis might have worked with them.”

“So where do we go from here?”

“We locate a Special Agent Albruzzo…we’re supposed to meet him at BIAP….”

**~~~**

Harm realized that with their respective new assignments, it was likely neither of them would get a chance to see the DSD Special Agent.

Maybe that was for the best.

Then he casually looked down at his watch and realized he and Mac were supposed to meet the DSD agent in less than ten minutes! Harm looked around and saw a tired looking soldier with Marine Captain’s bars who seemed to be manning an information kiosk.

“Excuse me, Jake,” he said to his seat partner, the youngish looking Marine aviator, “I’ll be right back.”

“You’d better be, buddy,” the Lieutenant said smiling, “I’m not going to hold your space on that COD.”

Truth was, Jake wanted to stick with Harm as long as possible. He was smart enough to know the Commander just might share some tactical advice with him – if he made himself available.

A COD. They were taking him out to a carrier…maybe. (Steady yourself, Hammer. They could be using COD aircraft to get the pilots to their land destinations more quickly…)

Still, he had to risk missing the flight to get this information from the DSD. It was vital to their case…and Bud, Sturgis and the NCIS team were going to need all the help they could get.

Harm walked up the kiosk. “Excuse me, Captain?”

The Marine Captain looked up from his terminal. “What can I do for you, Commander?”

“Terminal 1A?”

“Over there, just behind the stairwell.” He said pointing. Then he gave the tall Naval Commander an appraising look. “Say, you’re part of the aviators they’re recruiting because of the flu bug, right?”

The kiosk Captain noted the guy was tall, but at he realized that at this point CENTCOM probably wasn’t being too picky….

“Yeah,” Harm said hurriedly as he turned toward the terminal entrance, not wanting to lose anymore time than he already had.

“You’ve got fifteen minutes,” the Captain called out to Harm, “and then the COD goes without you. Good luck Commander, I hope it’s worth it.”

The JAG Corps attorney gave the officer a friendly wave as thanks.

“It is, Captain.” Harm said quietly.

*~*

Harm’s long stride brought him down the walkway to the terminal gates in a little under a minute. The airport was full of aviators and soldiers flying in and out of Baghdad.

As the Commander searched the surging crowd, he saw a guy dressed in a non-descript sport coat and khaki pants standing over to one side of the walkway. He was holding a brown leather portfolio and a tan attaché case. As the Commander approached, the man sat down on an adjacent bench. Harm walked over to him.

“Special Agent Albruzzo?”

He nodded and looked Harm up and down scrutinizing him “You’re Rabb, aren’t you?”

Harm looked grimly at the man, not knowing what to expect next. “You’ve heard of me, I take it,”

The agent gave him a humorless smile that quickly disappeared. “Yeah, in relation to Clark Palmer…. Look; I don’t have a lot of time. Here’s the information you and Colonel MacKenzie requested.”

As Harm slowly took the bulging portfolio, a look of confusion crossed his face “We didn’t request any packets of information…. Why are you doing this?”

The man smiled again; this time with a faint trace of warmth in it. “Call it a peace offering from the DSD for Palmer’s antics.” That brought a surprised looked from the Commander which melted into suspicion as he fingered the leather portfolio.

Albruzzo chuckled at the JAG attorney’s distrust. “Trust me Commander, you’ll want what’s in here. I have to go now; gotta plane to catch.”

With that, he hurriedly got up from his seat and jogged down the jetport and joined the passengers boarding a Swiss Air flight.

When Harm couldn’t see him anymore, he turned his attention back to the portfolio. As he slowly opened it, he found himself sitting down as he leafed through the papers that were inside.

It contained a service record for Captain Lewis along with an annotated list of DSD operations on which he’d worked and several other sheaves of papers both stapled and clipped together.

*~*

Mac stood on the firing range, willing her breathing to slow down. Carefully she took aim at the target downrange and squeezed the trigger.

A three round burst erupted from the automatic rifle she was holding.

The grizzled Sergeant, chewing on a toothpick, lowered his binoculars. “That’s mighty good shootin’, ma’am.”

Mac nodded her head in satisfaction. “Thank you, Sergeant. What’s next?”

“The 200 yard range, ma’am. Two magazines, standing to kneeling, full auto.”

“Let’s get to it.”

“Aye, aye ma’am.”

In the background a grim looking Captain Jacques Lewis watched the performance.



36th MEU/BLT Headquarters


Gibbs walked down the hallway toward the MEU main entrance. He had just spent a fruitless couple of hours talking with witnesses who knew less about the case than he did. He was not in a good mood. It seemed his team was being stymied at every turn. He was used to being stonewalled but when it was Marines that were doing the stonewalling that made the former Gunnery Sergeant even angrier. As he approached the front doors of the building, he met Commander Sturgis Turner entering.

“Commander,” Gibbs grunted as a way of acknowledgement and nodded as he passed the man. The senior NCIS agent had work to do and didn’t have time to say much else.

Sturgis turned toward Gibbs. “Special Agent, could I have a word with you?”

“I’m on my way to talk to someone.” Gibbs said brusquely. He didn’t want to be tied up with these JAGs any longer that he had to, besides he already had Commander Coleman on his team.

“May I remind you, Special Agent,” Sturgis said sternly, “this is supposed to be a joint investigation, under the aegis of the Judge Advocate General’s office.” When Sturgis whipped out his authoritarian voice, people usually stopped what they were doing.

Not Gibbs. But he did pause briefly. “Then c’mon, Commander.”

“Where are we going?” Sturgis asked as he caught up to the NCIS Agent.

“To talk to a possible witness,” he answered cryptically.

Commander Turner sighed and shook his head. This man was as bad as Harm or Mac when they got a lead.

*~*

“Okay, Colonel, take five…”

Mac sat down on the bench to catch her breath. Her hip vibrated. She reached into the lower pocket on her BDU’s and pulled out her cell phone, opening it.

“Colonel MacKenzie,”

“Mac, can you talk?”

The Marine Lieutenant Colonel got up from the bench and moved away from the other soldiers.

“Where are you?”

“At BIAP. I’m getting ready to board a COD.”

He could have told her it was headed to the Patrick Henry but remembering what happened the last couple of times he had flown from that ship, and he figured the less said, the better.

“Why the call?’

“If I told you I missed you, would you believe me?”

She smiled. “Hardly,” she said coyly. “So, what’s the news?”

“Some very damning evidence about Captain Lewis and his connection with DSD and the CIA, Mac. I’m having it sent back to Gibbs, ASAP”

Like most men, Harm sometimes did things like this; a kind of ‘random act of kindness’. “Thanks Harm, but you didn’t have to do that….”

“Hey, just because I’m going to be flying Tomcats for awhile doesn’t mean I’m not part of the team anymore, Mac. Tell Gibbs to give Darcy an extra hard stare for me.”

“Good-bye, Harm,” Mac said sarcastically. He knew she was giving him one of her wry smiles.

“Bye Mac,” Harm said smiling into the phone.

“So who was that, Colonel?” It was Captain Lewis. Mac fought the urge not to appear startled.

She whipped her head around in anger. She was getting tired of people sneaking up on her. “Do you always listen in on private conversations, Captain?” she snapped.

“My apologies, Colonel.” He said, sounding sincere. But he really didn’t mean it.

As he walked away, she wondered just how much of the conversation Jac Lewis had overheard.

*~*

"Ah the ‘rocks and shoals’, sir…."

The young Marine said smiling. The young Combat Engineer had been on guard duty when Gibbs and Turner found him. Now having been relieved, he was sitting on a plastic and metal lawn chair that looked really out of place when compared to his Iraqi surroundings. The lead NCIS Agent and the JAG attorney were sitting in similar lawn chairs, facing him.

The term had legal meanings if you were a military attorney, but using it in this manner gave Sturgis a hint about the man’s background. “You a, Navy brat, Corporal?”

The Marine nodded. “Yes sir, Commander, my father was stationed on the Rodger Young.”

The Bubblehead had to follow his line of thought. His Dad’s a Navy man, so-- “So how come…?”

The Corporal smiled again. “…how come I’m not serving on board some ship?” He finished for the Bubblehead.

It was sometimes unnerving to meet an enlisted man who was so at ease or unpretentious. “Yes.” The Bubblehead said somewhat hesitantly.

“Well, sir, this is my way of getting back at my dad. He hates the Marines.”

Gibbs smiled. Despite his initial impressions about this kid, he was starting to like him.

“You joined the Marines out of spite, Corporal?” Sturgis said incredulously. If the JAG attorney had thought about the idea long enough, he might have remembered that instead of becoming a chaplain, like *his* father, he had opted for the silent service.

The Corporal sensed he might have said something that upset the JAG, and that was not a good idea at any time, but especially not during the middle of a murder investigation. “At first, sir, but that quickly changed. The Corps’ now my life. I wouldn’t trade
it for anything….”

“Oo-rah,” Gibbs said in support of the man’s decision. “Did you see anything, notice anything unusual that happened when Lieutenant Dodge was shot?”

“Just what I told Commander Rabb, sir.” The Corporal answered honestly. “Uh, that is, one minute he was standing in the hatch of his AMTRAC and then, BAM, he was slumped over the side of the hatch, blood pouring out of him.”

Gibbs and Commander Turner exchanged interested looks.

Gibbs pressed him to elaborate. “Did you see who shot him?”

He thought about that for a moment, as if weighing what he was going to say. When he did speak, the two military investigators were impressed by his forthright answer. “A lot of the guys thought the two gunship pilots had done it, sirs, but I didn’t think so.”

Gibbs thought they might have found something. “Why not, Corporal?”

The Corporal addressed the NCIS Agent, but the answer was meant for Commander Turner. “Because, sir, Lieutenant Lukens wouldn’t make that kind of mistake.”

Sturgis decided to see if the man had anything solid or if he was just stating a strong opinion like many others had. “Anything else besides your belief that backs up that statement, Corporal Gage?”

The Corporal leaned forward in his chair. It was evident whatever he had he believed it was of value to these men. “Yes sir, Lieutenant Dodge slumped down too quickly to have been hit by the gunship crew.”

That was too bold a statement just to make in the heat of the moment. There was thought and observation and just maybe something else behind this. “What do you mean, Corporal?” Gibbs’ gut was telling him something was here that had been previously overlooked.

But the Corporal quickly lanced that idea. “It’s just my opinion sir, but those shots came way too quickly…the gunship crew didn’t even have a chance to chamber a round in their pistols before the Lieutenant was slumping in his hatch.”

Or did he? Sturgis was having a hard time swallowing what this Corporal was saying to them. “Are you an expert in small arms, Corporal?” he asked pointedly.

Again the man had an honest answer for them, but one that sustained the feeling in Gibbs’ gut that there was more here to be uncovered. “No sir, but my father taught me a lot about guns. Something just didn’t seem right about the fact that those nine millimeter rounds were hitting the man when no one around him had a pistol ready to fire. But like you said, I’m not an expert, so I guess my opinion doesn’t mean much. Guess that’s why Commander Rabb didn’t have me on the witness stand.”

It was still just circumstantial but a nagging feeling in Gibbs’ gut told him there was something else that this kid knew. Something solid, a piece of evidence, maybe. “Did you notice anything else?”

Again the Corporal paused, as if trying to recall the battlefield at that time. When he spoke, the two investigators could tell, he was telling something he hadn’t revealed before. “I saw a couple of holes made by a light fifty in the gunship….”

Gibbs gut was screaming at him now. “Are you sure about that?”

The kid nodded again. “Yes sir; I didn’t think much about it at the time, but when it was brought up in court about someone using a light fifty to bring down the gunship, then those holes I saw in the Cobra made sense.”

Gibbs and Sturgis exchanged glances. Although his info at the time would have just added to the ponderous list of witnesses and experts they had, now Corporal Gage was a gold mine of information for this case.

“Do you know Captain Lewis?” It seemed like an obvious question with an obvious answer, but sometimes those kind yielded the most valuable information.

“Company A’s commander? Sure; everybody knows the Cap’n…” Not a gold strike, but not a bust either.

“Is he a crack shot?”

“The best sir; it’s scary just how good he is.” Getting closer.

“Do you remember where he was when Lieutenant Dodge was shot?”

“Let’s see… I was over here with the rest of the quick reaction force/combat engineers who had been held in reserve. We had just made it to the square when the gunship was hit….”

Gibbs could see it in his eyes. Though the Corporal was sitting with them, in his mind he was back in the town square in Mirbullah on that fateful day. “…we made our way forward to the downed gunship where Lieutenant Dodge had his AMTRAC parked while he gave them protective fire…somebody, guess it was Gunny Sanchez…gave us the order to advance…we moved forward past the gunship, providing cover fire for the AMTRAC…and the Captain….the Captain….”

Sturgis sensed the man was searching for something and what he had found, he didn’t like. “What is it, Corporal?”

The kid sounded shocked “He wasn’t there, sir.” He gave both of them a lost, helpless look. “I just realized that in all the commotion that was going on, he wasn’t there with us.”

Jackpot. “Where was he, Corporal?”

The Corporal’s answer didn’t yield any solid evidence, but it did add to the number of fingers pointing toward Lewis and Livingston. “I don’t know, sir. I honestly don’t know, but he wasn’t there with us.”

*~*

Gibbs watched Sturgis carefully as they walked back towards the Visiting Officer Quarters. He could tell the former submariner turned attorney was deep in thought.

“Do you think he’s lying?” Gibbs finally said out loud.

Sturgis looked at the NCIS Agent. “I don’t think the Corporal was in this case.”

“And what makes you say that?” Gibbs wanted to know if this Naval Commander had the same gut feeling he had or whether it was just educated guesswork on his part.

Sturgis thought about the question. “It was the way he responded to our questions, the movement of his eyes….”

Gibbs decided to test this statement. “You’re very observant, Commander.”

Sturgis let a little pride slip in. “I’ve always been detail oriented. Plus I’ve been doing some reading on how to spot when people aren’t telling the truth. How about you, Special Agent, could you tell?”

Gibbs was holding all the cards, and he wasn’t about to let the former Dolphin see his hand. “Yep.”

Now it was the Bubblehead’s turn to probe. “Okay, how?”

Gibbs gave him a wry smile. “Trade secret.”

Sturgis stopped walking. “Are you screwing with me, Special Agent?”

Gibbs sensed that the JAG attorney wouldn’t let this rest until he knew the answer. He could string this out for a while, but he figured Sturgis wouldn’t take this well. Okay then, he’d tell him.

“He’s young, Commander, probably this is the first time he’s been away from home. He likes tweaking authority, but only when it’s safe to do so. This wasn’t the time or place for that.”

Gibbs studied the Commander’s face. He knew his answer had surprised the Commander. He decided to push it a little further.

“Plus, there were the little things that you saw in his face.”

Sturgis chewed over that well placed barb. He knew that the former Gunnery Sergeant was baiting him, much like he had at JAG Headquarters back in April when questioning him about Harm. He decided to do what he did then, bait the agent right back.

“I’ve heard that your Gut also helps you with this process. Is that what your Gut was telling you, Gibbs?”

Gibbs felt his irritation growing. Sometimes lawyers made his rear end hurt. “*My gut* told me that he was a young inexperienced kid. The rest of what I know about him comes with *experience*, Commander.”

He decided another dig was in order. Just to even the score. “By the way, did Lieutenant Roberts tell you he was headed to Bahrain?”

Now it was Sturgis’ turn to be irritated. “No he did not. How did *you* find out?”

Gibbs knew he had the upper hand again. “My lead agent told me that Lieutenant Roberts wanted to go to the NLSO BROFF in Bahrain and talk with Lieutenant Commander Lexington.”

Sturgis remembered the name from when Bud had mentioned it during the court martial. The junior JAG officer had uncovered information about the previous JAGMAN investigation, but Bud told him it didn’t seem relevant to their court case.

The Bubblehead wondered if Bud wanted to revisit that evidence, and why now….

“Commander?”

Sturgis and the NCIS Agent turned to see the young Lieutenant approaching them.

“Lieutenant.”

Bud quickly threw a salute. “Permission to --”

The Naval Commander returned his salute.

“Granted Lieutenant.” he said before Bud Roberts could finish his sentence.

Lieutenant Roberts was perplexed by the senior officer’s sudden burst of ESP. “But, sir, I haven’t even told you--”

Sturgis gave Bud a gentle smile as he held up his hand. “I already know, Lieutenant. Go.”

Bud didn’t waste anymore time. If he was going to catch that C-130 flight to Bahrain, he’d have to leave soon. “Aye sir, and thank you sir. Oh and Agent DiNozzo wants to go with me. That is okay, isn’t it, sir?”

Gibbs tried hard not to let his surprise and anger show. Tony was supposed to notify him directly – not send a messenger. “Thanks for letting me know, Lieutenant.” Gibbs said without a hint as to his current emotions.

“Yes sir,” Bud saluted again and then headed off in the direction of the Camp’s runway.

The JAG and NCIS man watched as Bud Roberts stumped his way toward the airfield. “Very good Commander, a couple of more years and you’ll be as good as me….” Gibbs said without looking at Sturgis.

The JAG and NCIS man watched as Bud Roberts stumped his way toward the airfield.

“Very good Commander, a couple of more years and you’ll be as good as me….” Gibbs said without looking at Sturgis.

[part two, FMS Ch. 24a]

1158 Zulu
NCIS Headquarters
Washington Navy Yard


Despite getting little sleep last night , Abby was stoked. Could be because of that king- sized Caf-Pow! she had bought on her way in.

After she turned on the lights, she looked around her lab and let out a deep sigh of satisfaction.

Abby was in heaven. Or close to it. Her pictures, her electron microscope, her DNA analyzer, all of it made this job her dream job. She turned on her workstation and put CD from a group called Numeriklab in her CD player.

The song had a catchy beat and the music spoke to her. In the middle of a dancing turn, she slammed into…NCIS Probationary Agent Tim McGee

She squealed and gave Tim a bear hug. “Oh Tim, it’s so good to see you!”

Tim was clearly unnerved by this reception. They had only been on one date and she hadn’t even seemed to be that interested in him. “It’s um, good to see you too, uh, Abby….”

“Timmy?” She said in a disapproving voice, “What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing’s wrong, Abby…” He was as transparent as glass. There was something wrong.

“McGee, don’t tell me you aren’t glad to see me?” Her voice was tinged with hurt.

“Of course I am,” he said softly, touching her shoulder.

The Goth girl cupped his face with her hands. “Look me in the eye and say that, Timmy.”

Tim sighed and pulled away from her. “Abby, I’m just up here because Gibbs and the rest of the team are in Iraq. I’m the understudy, the second string ‘B’ team. When they get back, it’s back to Norfolk for me. I’m still on probation, you know.”

She walked over to where he was standing. Now it was her turn to put her hand on his shoulder. “I know, I know, but I thought you were doing so well, I mean, you were so good with Chris on that bust the other day….

He turned to her and gave her a shy smile. “Thanks Abby. But it’s not enough. Gibbs will send me back. I need an edge of some sort….”

“Now you listen to me, Timothy McGee,” she said sternly. “You’re doing good work here, Gibbs will see that and keep you here. You just wait and see.”

“I wish I could be as positive as you are, Abby.” Tim said morosely, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Think positively, Tim.” She grabbed his hands out of his pockets and held them as she gave him a big smile. “Repeat after me: it will happen, it will happen, it will happen.”

He felt the warmth rush from her hands to his. He never got tired of looking at her…or her tattoos or ‘tats’ as they were often called. “It will happen…” he said confidently.




1831 Local
NLSO BROFF
Bahrain

Lieutenant Commander T.[iffany] Lexington was sitting in her office wading through reports. She hated the name Tiffany; it made her sound like an air-head. It was hard to present the image of a stern, no-nonsense CO with a name like ‘Tiffany’. And with three new SJAG junior officers to break in, there was a lot for them to learn and she wanted their undivided attention…

Suddenly her intercom buzzed.

She stabbed her intercom button. “Yes, Petty Officer?”

The tinny voice crackled. “I have two gentlemen out here to see you, ma’am.”

The Commander sighed. (One more little detour to make this day last a bit longer,) she thought. She stabbed the button again. “I told you I didn’t want to be disturbed, Petty Officer.”

“Yes ma’am, I know, but they said it was urgent. One of them is from the Judge Advocate General’s Office in Washington and the other is from NCIS, Washington.”

Tiffany sighed again rolling her eyes in exasperation. (Great, just peachy; so much for catching up the paperwork on my desk….) “Send them in.”

“Aye ma’am.”

The door opened and Bud Roberts and Anthony DiNozzo made their way inside.

Bud spoke up first. “Commander, Lieutenant Bud Roberts, JAG Corps, and this is--”

“Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo,” Tony said holding out his badge and ID before Bud could finish, “NCIS, Washington Office.”

Bud immediately wondered if bringing this glib, brash NCIS Agent along with him was such a good idea. Up to now, his experiences with NCIS Agents hadn’t been pleasant ones.

Commander Lexington flicked her eyes up at them. “As you were. Yes Lieutenant, I remember you, what can I do for you…and Agent DiNozzo?” She didn’t offer either man a seat.

Bud and Tony exchanged surprised glances. They hadn’t expected this kind of reception. “Uh, well, ma’am, we need to ask you again about the JAGMAN team you sent to Mirbullah….”

Lexington’s mouth became a thin hard line as she listened to Bud. Tony could tell she was close to grinding her teeth her jaw was so taut.

“What about them, Lieutenant? We’ve been over this ground already….” She started looking through her papers again, ignoring the two men.

Bud and Tony briefly exchanged unspoken comments. Bud: What do I do now? Tony: Ask her about Colonel Livingston. Go on, ask her! So he did.

“Ma’am, did any of your people…Captain Branch, Lieutenant Burns, Lieutenant Seaforth, …did any of them mention working with or talking to a Colonel Livingston?

Commander Lexington stopped reading and looked up from her papers. “Who?”

“Colonel Livingston, ma’am, Colonel Darcy Livingston….”

Her voice betrayed more curiosity than anger.

“The head of the Task Force Makin’s Force Recon Detachment? They might have, Lieutenant, they had to talk with everyone who might have been involved with that clearing operation. Why are you asking me this?”

Tony quickly decided that if they were going to get anywhere with this gorgeous but reticent JAG officer, he was going to have to help the bumbling Lieutenant. “How about working with or talking to Captain Jacques Lewis, Commander?”

She held up her hand. “Lieutenant, Agent DiNozzo; as you can see, I’m buried under a mountain of paperwork while I try and break in three new junior officers.” She made a grand sweeping gesture with her hand at the stacks of paper on her desk “Now normally I’m a very understanding person, but you can probably guess right now, I’m short on understanding. So do you two want to stop dancing around the bush and get to the point and tell me why you’re asking these questions?”

Tony nodded his head and smiled as he spoke up first. “It’s part of an on-going murder investigation, Commander.”

“You mean one in addition to Lieutenant Dodges’ murder?” her voice was incredulous. Why hadn’t she been informed? Was Admiral Chegwidden keeping her out of the loop on purpose?

Tony could tell this comment had unnerved her. He decided to push her buttons a little more. Maybe she knew more about this than she was letting on. “Yeah, Commander, you might have heard there have been several others that have occurred in and around Mirbullah recently….”

“And they all have a possible tie-in with the terrorist attack on JAG Headquarters, ma’am.” Bud added in a respectful but stern voice. Maybe having Tony DiNozzo here with him helped him find his courage.

Lieutenant Commander Lexington sighed heavily and was quiet for a long moment. Then she took a key out of her pocket and unlocked a drawer on her desk. “If you’re certain about that connection, then you two need to see these….”

She pulled open the drawer and pulled out two sealed folders.

She looked up at the two investigators. “Are you two sure about this? That what happened to my investigators might have a connection to the terrorist attack?” was all she said.

“And the deaths of Lieutenant Dodge and several others, Commander,” Tony added just to make her feel a little more ill at ease. (Just what is she going to show us?) Tony loved it when he uncovered something like this….

She nodded in response to his answer, and then began to strip off the tape that sealed the folders. Bud’s eyes widened.

“I sealed these in response to a request from the SecNav when all this began….”

She motioned for the two men to come around to her side of the desk. Bud stood to her left and Tony to her right. Both leaned over and looked at the opened files.

“In my seventeen years as a JAG officer, I’d never seen anything like this in a report. It was like hieroglyphics. There you have his official report and in the margin these, well, hen scratch marks and this extra wide margin at the bottom of the page. I figured Captain Burns had lost his mind….”

Now it obvious why LCDR Lexington wasn’t exactly thrilled about having this conversation. Somewhere along the way, the Bahrain BROFF capped her career at Lieutenant Commander. She had been hurt once career-wise and probably didn’t want to stick her neck out again.

Bud looked at the marks intently. Tony was impressed. Apparently the Lieutenant saw something important in those scratch marks.

“What do you see, Lieutenant?”

“I’m not sure, Ma’am, can I borrow your pencil?”

Lexington was mystified. “Uh, sure, here….”

Bud began to assemble a chart on the lower part of the page. True, there was a lot more room at the bottom of the report’s page then there should have been. A quick check of the entire report confirmed that had been true with each page of this report. Bud scanned the first page again and began to see a pattern. What sounded like a somewhat stilted, slightly odd JAGMAN report was turning into something else.

“It- It’s a code.” he said more to himself. He was intrigued by its level of sophistication.

“A code?” Tony was momentarily taken aback.

“What kind of code?” added the Commander. Her tone was insistent.

Bud was now in his element. “Well, ma’am, if you look at the first word in this paragraph, you can see the each word was chosen because they helped form a different word. When I take the first letter from each of the words in the first paragraph and cross reference them with hidden words in the rest of the paragraph and combine it with the calculations he’s given off to the side, you get this… M-a-r-c-h, uh, 31, I, s-a-w, um, oh wow….!”

Bud gave the piece of paper to Commander Lexington, then returned to his de-ciphering.

Commander Lexington was perplexed. To her this was just more gibberish. “Just what is this you’re handing me, Lieutenant?”

Bud looked up from what he was reading. “Ma’am, did Captain Burns have an affinity for puzzles?"

Lexington growled her response. “An affinity? Try obsession. He was always doing word jumbles, crossword puzzles, mazes of all kinds, if there was an unsolved word puzzle around, he would be working on it. Sometimes to the detriment of his official duties. I once asked him if he’d rather be a crypto officer….”

“Take a good look, ma’am.” Bud said soberly.

“Oh my God….” Lexington whispered with anguish.

Tony picked up on what Bud had uncovered. It reminded him of that movie he’d seen last week, what was it called? Oh well, it would come back to him “Commander, did he try to tell you anything about his report?”

“Almost every day, Special Agent.” Lexington said resignedly. Bud could tell she now realized she’d made a mistake with her JAGs. A terribly tragic mistake that could cost her career. “I-I stopped visiting the stockade, his rambling…it just…just didn’t make any sense. I couldn’t take it anymore….”

“This is like something out of an old spy movie,” Tony said in an impressed voice still admiring Bud’s work. It was unusual for him to ignore a woman, any woman, in distress, but he was absolutely impressed with this junior JAG officer. Whom up till now, he had considered…somewhat nebbish.

That opinion was quickly changing.

“Well, I’ll be damned….” Lexington said aloud as Bud continued to work the graph. The more text was de-ciphered, the more they learned about what had really happened to the original JAGMAN team.

It fit perfectly with Commander Rabb’s and Lieutenant Colonel MacKenzie’s theories about Darcy Livingston and Jacques Lewis. Bud and Tony exchanged grim looks. Bud went back to deciphering Burns’ notes.

“Agent DiNozzo, look at this….” Bud handed him several papers with words circled. Some were diagonal, some were vertical, some were horizontal, and some were spelled backwards.

Tony took the papers in hand. “It looks like a one of those word puzzles…you know, um, word find?”

Bud knew he meant ‘Find-A-Word’ but the NCIS Agent had the right idea.

“Exactly; match these words with the coded numbers and --”

“Viola’, the hidden report comes out…good job, Lieutenant…Bud.”

Bud Roberts would have smiled, but the current situation wouldn’t allow it. “Thank you…Tony.”

All three looked at Burns’ hidden report as discovered by Bud. When they reached the concluding paragraph, they all reacted to the final words with stunned horror.

Tony was the first to recover. He looked over at the Branch’s Officer-in-Charge. “We need to see Captain Burns right away, Commander!” he said with an air of urgency.

Commander Lexington didn’t need any further prodding. She stabbed her intercom button. “Petty Officer, we need a Hum-vee out front, ASAP!

“Aye ma’am!”


1831 Local
Baghdad International Airport [BIAP]
Baghdad, Iraq


Faith Coleman hated BDUs.

They weren’t as crisp as her regular uniform and they had an annoying habit of being dirt magnets – even worse than summer whites, if that was possible.

The boonie hat she wore also ruined her perfectly coiffured hair. She would never be like Colonel MacKenzie or the others who could just ram their hair under these covers and not worry about it.

She was still recovering from her bumpy and dusty helo flight from Mirbullah. She desperately wanted to find a ladies room and clean herself up, but that might take too much time.

At least her briefcase was still intact. She walked towards the terminal exit. Hopefully, her ride would soon be here and she could get this job over with….

“Commander Coleman?” A young Shore Patrolman was standing by a ratty looking Hum-vee, well, it was ratty looking to her. He threw her a hasty salute.

“Yes Corporal?”

“I’ve been instructed to bring you to Marine Corps HQ, ma’am. Special Agent Phillips is waiting to speak with you.”

Faith fought the urge to say ‘in that?’. The two ton truck looked as if it had seen better days.

“Then let’s go, Corporal,” she said burying that thought as she gingerly opened her door and got in.

The SP gave her a friendly smile as she settled in the seat next to him. “Don’t let her looks fool you, ma’am, she’s still got a lot of life left in her. She’s just a little beat up from the daily wear and tear….”

(‘Wear and tear?’) This thing looked look it was a refugee from a demolition derby.

Thankfully, the HMMWV started right up, the engine actually seeming to purr. The Corporal put her into gear and eased her out into the airport terminal traffic.

*~*

“Nightingale is on the move….” Gibbs was listening through his headset to Director Morrow back at the Multiple Threat Assessment Center (MTAC). Sturgis pulled out into airport traffic behind a three-quarter ton truck and a beat-up Volvo station wagon, a couple of vehicles in back of the SP’s HMMWV.

“Solid copy Bravo two,” Morrow intoned as he watched the airport security video of Faith’s HMMWV followed at a respectful distance by Gibbs and Sturgis. “Remain in Overwatch. Don’t let her out of your sight. We don’t know who in Agent Phillips’ unit may also be in on this.”

“I copy Bravo one, we’re in position, two vehicles back, maintaining overwatch….”

Sturgis struggled to maintain his position in the early evening Baghdad traffic. Several blue and white Iraqi police cars passed them. The officers gave them momentary scrutiny until they were distracted by traffic violator of one sort or another. A couple of Army trucks passed them as well. The former Dolphin was not trying to win any race or trying to get back to his base. His goal was to stick as close to Faith as possible without it becoming obvious that they were following her.

He had never really thanked her for her defense of Harm after he was accused of murdering Lieutenant Singer, now he just hoped he wasn’t following her to her funeral.

*~*

Faith cleared her throat. “How much further, Corporal?”

“We’re almost there, ma’am,” slowing down to make a left turn, “better get your identification out now, the guards here get really jumpy after dark…”


1921 Local
USS Patrick Henry
Persian Gulf

Nicole Hollands, aka ‘Supergirl’ stood at the rail on Vulture’s Row, watching Tomcats and Superhornets land and take off. The flight surgeon had told her she needed rest, or he’d ground her. He didn’t specify where she had to do it.

“I thought I’d find you up here.”

Nicole turned to see her friend and RIO, Sandy ‘Dust Storm’ Ribkins, coming through the door to settle down next to her.

“You’re supposed to be relaxing, taking it easy, doctor’s orders.” Sandy gave her friend a wry grin.

“I think you’re supposed to be doing the same thing.” Nicole said knowing neither one of them would.

“My mistake, I made a wrong turn down below, you know how confusing these big boats are to me.”

Nicole laughed. That comment was far from the truth. Sandy probably had a mixture of jet fuel and sea water running through her veins.

“What’s your excuse?”

“Insomnia.”

Another Tomcat slammed onto the deck and caught the second wire, bucking to stop.

“Yep, this will take care of that problem…” her friend said sarcastically.

“Meaning, Lieutenant?” Nicole said trying to sound serious.

“Meaning the avgas fumes will knock you out and I’ll have to drag your sorry butt down to your rack, ma’am.”

Nicole chuckled as she looked back at Patrick Henry’s deck. “You’re lucky I like you, Dust Storm, otherwise I might think you were being insubordinate.”

“Me, insubordinate, Supergirl? Never.”

Sandy’s tongue could cut anyone to ribbons that got in her way, or on her bad side.

“Hey, here comes the COD….”

Nicole looked out to sea behind them and saw the carrier’s Grumman Greyhound C-2 winging its way toward the carrier on its final approach.

“I sure hope these Reservists aren’t too rusty.” Nicole said as the plane edged closer to the carrier’s deck. “The old man will have a fit if any of our birds end up in the drink because of them.”

“So is that them?” asked Sandy, as she leaned on the rail to get a better look at the incoming COD.

“Yep,” said Nicole tersely, “I just wanted to see what kind of prospects we have as replacements.”

They watched as the C-2 touched down on the carrier deck and began taxiing out of the flight line.

The plane feathered its left prop and circled around to face the two women. It took the plane several moments to feather the right prop and begin deplaning its passengers.

“Well, here they come,” Sandy said as the replacement pilots came out of the open door and onto the flight deck.

They watched as several ordinary looking men and women got off the plane. Sandy began categorizing the men as they stepped off the plane.

“Boring…dull…boring…hey, he’s not too bad….”

Then Sandy caught the arm of her friend.

“Don’t look now Argosian, but it looks like the call for pilots netted a jolly green giant.”

Nicole’s eyes flared in surprise as the tall Naval Commander stood on the deck looking around. It was obvious that the man was enraptured with what he was seeing. Nicole just hoped that he wasn’t too starry eyed to fly. (Probably his first time aboard a carrier,) she thought.

“Wow, he’s a big one,” was all Nicole could say.

“Wonder how he crams himself into a Tomcat cockpit?” mused Sandy.

A/N: **~~** indicates flashback or dream sequence ( ) indicates the thoughts of a person. *~* indicates a scene shift not otherwise indicated by a JAG time stamp. ~~~ indicates a dream sequence. Thanks to Mary Ann and Janlaw for the team beta! :)


0232 Local
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, Virginia


AJ yawned. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

He’d thought that since he wasn’t getting much sleep at home, he’d just stay late and catch up on his paperwork. There were reports that were coming due and they didn’t care that his command up until a few days ago had been a bullet-riddled wreck.

“…Time and tide wait for no man…” he said to himself chuckling. Of course, all of the people who were requesting these reports would certainly make allowances considering what had happened this past week, but the Navy/Marine JAG was not one to make excuses.

He had a computer, he had paper, he had a printer. He had internet access. There was no reason in the world that he shouldn’t be able to get these reports done….

Except that it going on two in the morning. And he hadn’t slept well in days…Dammit! He sorely missed his Chief of Staff, who would have expertly prepped these reports for his approval. It wasn’t any sort of secret romantic longing for Mac; he really did need a Chief of Staff who could be there when he needed them. Maybe having one of his top troubleshooting lawyers do this job was too much of stretch….

(But she did it so well…) Well, there was that, he grumped to himself, but he needed someone here to help him with this, not someone a half a world away. Still no Chief of Staff or not, the reports needed to be done, and soon. (So just suck it up and keep going….)he told himself. (That’s an order, SEAL!)

He sighed heavily as he took off his glasses and laid them on the desk pad while he rubbed his exhausted eyes, willing them to keep going.

Then his phone rang.

Who in the blue blazes would be calling his office at this hour? He thought irrationally just for a moment, till his brain reminded him it was still early evening in Baghdad and something might be going on that needed his attention.

He picked up the phone receiver and punched the lit button.

“Admiral Chegwidden.”

“Sorry to disturb you, sir,” It was the night duty desk officer, Sergeant Hanson.

“You’re not disturbing anything at the moment, Sergeant. What’s the problem?”

“I have Lieutenant Roberts on line two, sir. He asked to speak with you.”

AJ sat up in his chair. He hoped Bud had some good news, but considering the hour, it might just as easily be bad news.

“Put him through.” he said without preamble.

“Aye sir.”

The phone line clicked for a moment and then the Admiral heard the background noise you sometimes get on an overseas call.

“Admiral?”

“Good evening, Lieutenant.”

“Good morning, sir.”

“I take it this is not a social call, Lieutenant,”

“No sir, though I wish it was.”

The frankness of Bud Roberts’ statement and tone surprised him.

Before the Admiral could ask him what he meant, Bud continued.

“I apologize for the frankness, sir. The reason I’m calling is to tell you that Captain Branch, Lieutenant Burns, and Lieutenant Seaforth have been released into Lieutenant Commander Lexington’s custody.”

AJ shot up out of his chair. “Why Lieutenant?”

“Captain Branch’s report sir. What they have to say ties directly to a plea bargain agreement, sir. They wanted to be moved from their cells temporarily while they negotiate with Commander Lexington. They have a very strong case, Admiral.”

AJ didn’t know what to say.

Bud was telling him that the JAGMAN report from Captain Branch held more information than it appeared to on the surface. Especially if Commander Lexington was willing take personal charge of them while they ‘negotiate’. Luckily he picked up on the Lieutenant’s cues or their mole would know even more than they did. All of this – the attack on JAG HQ, Secord’s confession, Bud’s discovery – all of it, had to be tied to that renegade Force Recon CO. So just what had Bud discovered? Trumped up charges? Coercion?

“Admiral?”

AJ focused on the matter at hand. He could play ‘what if’ later. “Where are they now, Lieutenant?”

“They’re in the Brig Commander’s office, sir. Agent DiNozzo is with them.”

(Good job, Gibbs, I knew I could count on you wanting your men everywhere mine are ….)

So they’re not in danger at the moment, the JAG thought. But once word got back to that wayward Force Recon CO, their life expectancies could be shortened considerably.

“Lieutenant, listen to me carefully; stay with the Commander and Agent DiNozzo at all times. You’re not to buy into their plea-bargaining. Do you read me?”

“Y-Yes sir. I understand.”

“I’ve already said enough on the matter. With Agent DiNozzo in attendance, it will show we’re not trying to run any sort of mustang operation. NCIS oversight is crucial.”

“Understood Admiral.”

Great. With Harm recalled to active pilot duty, Mac undercover, Sturgis in Baghdad and now Bud in Bahrain, his folks were stretched dangerously thin. All it would take would be one mistake, one misstep and Darcy Livingston would be able to add four more JAGs and maybe a few NCIS agents to her scorecard.

“As soon as you get what you need from Lexington’s people, you and Agent DiNozzo get back to Mirbullah.”

“Aye sir.”

“And by the way, Lieutenant, good job.”

“Thank you sir, but it was a team effort, JAGC, NCIS, and NLSO BROFF. Commander Lexington has been most helpful sir.”

“Understood Bud. Let me speak with her.”

The line clicked as AJ figured the phone was being passed from Bud to the NLSO BROFF.

“Sir I--”

“Before you say anything, Commander, listen very carefully to me. You will listen completely and with the utmost concern to whatever deals these officers have for you. Understood?”

“Uh, y- yes sir.” she said hesitantly.

“When they have finished, you are to escort them back to their cells, do you understand me, Commander?”

“Absolutely sir.” Good. She was on board with whatever plan Bud and Agent DiNozzo had cooked up.


*~*

Up on the bridge of USS Patrick Henry, Captain Tobias Ingles observed the COD pull off the flight line and disgorge its human cargo. (Well, well, well; if it isn’t Harmon Rabb, Jr.….)

Commander Alfred Aldridge, the Strike Group’s Judge Advocate, made his way to the Captain’s chair and saluted the CO. Ingles, keeping his eyes on the aviator/lawyer, returned the salute.

“Evening sir,”

Ingles studied the men getting off the COD for a bit longer before turning and acknowledging the presence of the his JAG Corps officer. “Evening Commander, you’re just in time….”

“In time for what, sir?”

Tobias looked away from Aldridge to the Oriskany’s Expeditionary Strike Group’s Staff Judge Advocate (SJA) who had just made her way to the Bridge.

He gave the dark auburn haired SJA a sardonic smirk. “In time to see a celebrity of sorts, Captain.”

The Strike Group Judge Advocate was the first to spot him. “Commander Rabb?”

“In the flesh, Commander.”

Alfred couldn’t help feeling a little ill at ease at seeing Harmon Rabb stepping off the Grumman Greyhound. The last time they had met at JAG Headquarters, Commander Aldridge had felt out of his league. His work with Rabb had enabled him to work at JAGC while Patrick Henry was in port at Norfolk for routine maintenance.

It had been both an awe inspiring and humbling experience. It was during that tour that Lieutenant Commander Aldridge learned he wasn’t ready to be a JAG Corps troubleshooter. He really felt like he had failed to live up to Commander Rabb’s expectations of him. After all, it was Commander Rabb who had invited him to fill a temporary position at JAG Headquarters.

The Naval Commander hadn’t said anything to him about his performance, but then he really didn’t have to. Alfred knew that he’d better stick with being a Staff Judge Advocate.

As Alfred stood looking down at the replacement pilots being directed off the flight line, he didn’t notice the ESG-JAG glimpsing down at the desk as well.

“So why is he here?” Her voice startled Aldridge. He turned to her. Sometimes she was like a cat, being able to sneak up beside someone in that manner.

“The Commander’s here to fly planes, Captain. Specifically my planes. He’s not going to stick his nose in your affairs.” Then a sly smile crossed the carrier commander’s face. “Well, not unless you two do something that will cause him to want to stick his nose in, that is.”

Both JAGs snapped to attention. “Understood sir.” they echoed.

Captain Ingles was making an observation. And in this case, the CO’s observation was as good as an order.

All three watched as Harmon Rabb made his way across the weather deck and toward the ladders that would head to the Bridge.

“Sir, if I may, who is Commander Rabb replacing?”

“You may, Commander. Rabb is replacing Commander Graffington as squadron leader. The Commander succumbed to the unfortunate effects of the flu this afternoon.”

“What about ‘Undertaker’ sir?” added Lawboss. “I thought he was second in command….”

“He was, Captain, until he succumbed to the flu as well.”

Ingles looked out at the darkening sea. “We’re down below 60% in terms of pilots who can fly right now.” He turned back and faced the JAGs “We have to plug people in where they are needed.”

“Understood sir.” they echoed again.

“I thought so,” Ingles said smiling.

As the Patrick Henry’s CO turned back to out the window again, Lawboss leaned in close to Alfred’s ear. “My fun meter’s pegged, I’m going below….”

Ingles turned back to the JAGs. “Stick around, Captain, you’re going to enjoy this….”

Lawboss straightened up as if someone had struck her with a cattle prod. “Aye sir…”


2008 Local
BOQ/VOQ
Camp Chesty Puller
Near Mirbullah, Iraq

Stuart Dunston didn’t think much of these pre-fabricated housing units. Scuttlebutt going around the camp was that if the 3-2 Marines stayed here much longer, the Corps was going to replace all the temporary buildings with containerized housing units, like those being brought into Baghdad.

He hoped he wouldn’t be here that long.

Stuart reflected on past few days’ events. After the attack on Welles building, aka, JAG Headquarters, he and his cameraman Sully had traveled all over this region getting local reaction to the attack. It was surprising to him how many Iraqis – not just those in positions of power – were angry and incensed something like this could happen. More than once the terrorists were referred to as ‘cowards’ or ‘dogs’. Some of the braver ones even smacked shoes on pictures depicting ‘Muslim volunteers’ working with Saddam’s soldiers during the closing days of the Coalition invasion. Hitting a likeness with a shoe is considered the ultimate form of insult as a shoe/foot is considered to be the dirtiest part of a person.

Still, as was always the case in Iraq, it all depended on who you talked with. There were a few they met who openly spoke of joining Osama bin Laden’s cause and were glad that terrorists had attacked the American military facility.

Surprisingly, very few if any of the Marines spoke about revenge or blood lust. All interviewed agreed that they should find out first who perpetrated the act and then respond ‘appropriately’. Even the Naval personnel attached to the unit felt the same way.
To do otherwise, they said, would only antagonize the locals.

Then the Court Martial of the Cobra gunship crew came to a surprise ending, and just like Rabb had promised, Stuart received exclusive reporting rights for the story. Interviews in the aftermath of Secord’s public meltdown ranged from shock to disgust. Many could not believe a Marine would kill someone in cold blood, much less a brother Marine. A few stated that Gitmo (military slang for Guantanamo Bay) was too good for the likes of him.

It was great stuff. Added to the exclusive interviews with the accused Cobra crew, the prosecuting and defending attorneys, and the Cobra crew’s CO, they had a story which would decimate the lead on every other network and cable news station.

Stuart figured after this kind of exclusive he would be able to write his own ticket.

He imagined at any moment he’d get a call from Chuck DePalma and be told to ‘pack your gear, you’re headed to Afghanistan’ or some other hotbed in the Global War on Terror. It could even earn him that coveted anchor job he had been gunning for since he arrived at ZNN.

Yeah, if he got that job, that would show that blowhard, Tom Nevens, the current afternoon anchor….

As he tried to settle deeper into his cot/bed and relax, his cell phone chirped. He pulled it out of his pocket and flipped it open.

“Dunston…”

“Stuart?” It was an overseas call. The feedback in the line suddenly cleared. “Stuart, can you hear me now?”

Stuart broke into a broad smile. “Hey Chuck, what a pleasant surprise.” He remembered that when you smile, you sound cheery on the phone.

As usual, the Executive Producer for ZNN wasn’t buying it. “Always the charmer, aren’t you, Stuart?”

“Pays to be charming in my business. What can I do for you, ‘Boss’?” He added the ‘boss’ because it was a private joke between them that went back to when Dunston was fresh out of journalism school. Chuck DePalma had been his mentor at ZNN back then.

“I’m sending someone out there to you….”

Stuart sat up on his cot. “You’re sending me someone?” he repeated.

“Yeah. He’s a new guy we hired away from CBS.”

“What’s his name?”

Chuck sounded like he was rifling through a pile of papers on his desk. “Holliman, yeah, Brad Holliman.”

“Why are you sending him here?”

“He was their top Middle East correspondent. Wanted to find a replacement for you.”

“A replacement?” Stuart couldn’t believe it. After all his hard work, he was being reassigned?

Chuck laughed at Stuart’s nervousness. It was good to keep subordinates on their toes. “Don’t tell me after your exclusive you didn’t figure on me moving you to that anchor spot you’ve salivated after for so long.”

Stuart still couldn’t believe it. “He’s replacing me out here?” And why him?

Chuck’s voice turned sarcastic. “What’s the matter, you don’t want the anchor job? You’d rather be slaving away in the dust and rocks of Iraqistan?”

Stuart hurriedly tried to head off that line of thought. “No, Chuck, it’s not that…”

“Well, what is it?” Chuck seemed to be growing annoyed with Stuart’s reluctance to accept this plum job.

“I’ve built a pretty good reputation with the military here, Chuck.”

That drew a long pause from the ZNN Executive Producer. “Meaning?”

“I don’t want him blowing it with sloppy reporting.”

“Sloppy reporting?” Chuck obviously didn’t believe Stuart’s accusation.

So the senior ZNN reporter tried to explain. “Chuck, in his last report he described dozens of tanks descending on that Palestinian village….” He hoped Chuck would pick up on what he was saying.

“So?” He didn’t.

Stuart spelled it out for him. “They were personnel carriers!”

If he expected the Executive Producer to understand now, he didn’t get his wish. Instead, he got more sarcasm. “Oh I get it, you’ve been out there so long that you’ve become an expert on military vehicles….”

Now Stuart was getting annoyed. “Chuck, you know what I’m talking about. Yeah, it’s a little thing, but it adds up. Every time we get it wrong, the military folks place a little less trust in us…we lose a little credibility.”

Chuck DePalma didn’t see this as any major roadblock. “Then you’ll just have to teach him to ‘talk the talk’.”

“And there’s also my relationship with Rabb,” he added.

“You two going steady now?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Teach him to respect that as well. I’m counting on you Stuart. I want you on that anchor desk by the end of the month.”

Stuart gave in. Maybe this would work. He’d need a few days to get ready for this hotshot. But that was all right. He probably wouldn’t be here for another week or so. “Okay, okay. So when does he get here, next week?”

“He should be arriving in Mirbullah sometime tomorrow morning.”


2030 Local
NCIS Field Headquarters/Criminal Investigative Division
Green Zone - Baghdad, Iraq

Faith walked the long corridor past rows of empty workstations down to the Regional Investigative Coordinator’s office.

Her driver had called it the ‘jewel in Emerald City’. She wondered if the driver knew this jewel was flawed. He hadn’t come into the building with her. Said he had some other business to take of.

She hoped that didn’t mean he was following her movements with a sniper scope.

She reached the end of the hallway and turned right as she had been instructed to do. She thought her footfalls sounded unusually loud in this hallway. At the far end was an open door with a desk/workstation to the right side of the entrance.

Faith took a deep breath and approached the Petty Officer Shore Patrolman occupying the desk.

The 2nd Class Master-at-Arms, who had been reading a stapled set of papers, stood up as soon as she came into his field of vision.

She pulled out her ID badge for him to see. “Lieutenant Commander Faith Coleman, JAG Corps. I’m here to see Special Agent in Charge, Sedrick Phillips?”

“Yes ma’am, he’s been expecting you.” He moved an open book toward her. “If you’ll just sign in right here, ma’am.”

Faith ignored his proffered pen and took a pen out her BDU tunic, clicked it and scribbled her name with a flourish. Then clicked it again and reinserted it into her pocket.

He gave her a momentary odd look which quickly vanished. After all, she was a Lieutenant Commander and he was only a Petty Officer. If she didn’t want to use his pen, that was her prerogative.

“This way, ma’am.”

*~*

“ ‘This way ma’am….’” Gibbs and Sturgis heard through their headsets. This was followed by sounds of movement as they made their way through the room and they guessed towards Phillips’ office.

Back at MTAC, Tom Morrow had a split screen that he was watching intently. On one side was the Gibbs’ HMMWV sitting silently in the building parking lot. The other half of the screen was devoted to a moving picture view of the room Faith was being lead through.

“We have a visual on Nightingale, Bravo Two,” Morrow intoned as he focused his gaze intently on the screen.

“Copy that, Bravo One,” Gibbs replied.

Sturgis in the meantime had dug out a pair of night vision goggles and was entranced by the eerie green and white view of the building and Faith’s image as she passed a couple of windows.

“ ‘Sir, Commander Coleman, from JAG Corps Headquarters….’” the SP’s disembodied voice announced.

As Coleman and Sedrick Phillips exchanged pleasantries, the passenger door behind Gibbs opened and a burly African-American Marine slid in the back seat and shut the door.

Sturgis fought the urge to look back at the man. Because Gibbs hadn’t moved, he had to assume the senior NCIS Agent knew this Marine.

Gibbs’ face broke into a wry grin “Glad you could join us, Master Sergeant,” he said without looking back

The big man smiled back. “Pleasure to serve with you again, Gunny,”


*~*

“Commander Rabb, reporting as ordered, sir.” Harm threw a sharp salute.

“As you were, Commander,” The Patrick Henry CO replied shaking his hand, “It’s good to have you here.”

“It’s good to be here, sir.”

“You remember my JAG, Commander Aldridge?”

Harm reached out and exchanged a handshake with the Patrick Henry Strike Group JAG, noting the change in his shoulder boards. “Congratulations on your promotion, Commander.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Harm gave Alfred Aldridge a friendly smile. “You don’t have sir me now, we’re of equal rank.”

“Sorry; force of habit, s- uh, Commander.”

Lawboss suppressed a grin as she stuck out her hand. “Captain Seranovich, Oriskany SJAG. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Harm gave her a chagrined look. “All good, I hope.”

“Oh yes sir,” she said quickly. A little too quickly.

That comment had the four sharing uncomfortable looks until Ingles decided to mercifully end the embarrassing silence by clearing his throat and changing the subject.

“Well, um, Commander, we’re putting you to work as soon as you finish your check-in with the flight surgeon.”

Harm was momentarily taken aback. “The flight surgeon, sir?”

“Commander, you don’t intend to dump anymore of my Tomcats in the drink, do you?”

“No sir.” The aviator/lawyer said emphatically, somewhat surprised by the comment. He’d thought they were past this.

“That’s good to hear, because we have very few we can spare. You’ve heard about the influenza ravaging the fleet. That’s why you’re out here in the first place.” It was obvious that Captain Tobias Ingles was trying to make a point.

That pulled Harm up short. “Ah, yes sir.” he said stoically.

“We can’t have you out there sick, flying my planes, Commander. Report to the flight surgeon.”

Harm snapped to attention. “Aye, aye, sir.”


2048 Hours Local
NCIS Headquarters Office/CID

Regional Investigative Coordinator, Sedrick Phillips motioned to a chair in front of his desk. “Commander, please take a seat.”

Faith looked at the dirty chair and decided since she was wearing BDU’s anyway, a little more dirt wouldn’t matter at this point. Still, she wanted to at least try to brush it off before she sat down. But she didn’t want to appear to look odd. She decided to resist the urge to clean it off -- this time.

“Thank you Special Agent.” She politely took a seat.

Sedrick gave her friendly smile. “What can I do for Admiral Chegwidden’s office?”

“We’re following up on leads to the terrorist attack on the JAG Corps’ Headquarters.”

“Oh?” Sedrick said trying to sound casual. Faith could tell though that he was surprised by her saying ‘we’re’.

“Yes.” Was her one word answer to his comment.

“You’re in charge of the investigation?” he ventured.

Faith shifted in her chair. “Actually Special Agent Gibbs is in charge of the investigation, but we report to Admiral Chegwidden.”

“I see,” he said blandly, however, beads of sweat had started to appear on his forehead. “Well then, what do you need from me?”

She noted he was even more unnerved by this information. After all what would the top NCIS Major Case Response Team from Washington be doing in Iraq? Maybe it had to do with the terrorist attack, but then again maybe it had to do with something else. Either way, Special Agent Phillips decided to act nonchalant about her comments.

Faith reached down and pulled her briefcase across her lap. Snapping it open, she removed a folder and closed the case, laying the open folder on top. “Just a couple of minor things, Special Agent. Private Krivstad’s body was found in a stream north of Mirbullah.”

Sedrick appeared to visibly relax. He leaned back a little in his chair. “By Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr. as I recall….”

Faith didn’t like his smug attitude or his insinuation. “Yes; well, what’s troubling us is what you said in your official report.”

The tenseness returned to the Regional Investigative Coordinator’s body. “Come again?” he blurted out.

Faith looked at her folder and then at him. “You stated that PFC Leonard Krivstad died as a result of drowning and that the injuries he received were the result of his having been tossed into the creek.”

“Sure, that’s the way it looked.” he said dismissively.

“The official autopsy report indicates that PFC Krivstad had been severely beaten, strangled and a karate chop administered to his larynx.”

“Whose report?”

A/N1: **~~** indicates flashback or dream sequence ( ) indicates the thoughts of a person. *~* indicates a scene shift not otherwise indicated by a JAG time stamp. ~~~ indicates a dream sequence.

A/N2: You know the saying 'It's five o'clock somewhere?' Well, it's already night somewhere, so that's why I'm posting now. Thanks again to Janlaw and Mary Ann for their team-betaing and to all the others who support this effort.

[continued from last night…]

“Whose report?”

“Well, certainly not the one made by the MEU Chief Surgeon. This came from the one made by NCIS Medical Examiner Doctor Donald Mallard and Naval Forensic Pathologist Commander Teresa Coulter. Would you like to see it for yourself?” She held out the folder to him.

“Uh, yeah, sure….” He reached over the desk and gingerly took the open folder into his hands. “You mean the MEU Doc was lying?”

She couldn’t believe his gall. “And you missed some vital evidence, Special Agent.”

“Yeah, I sure did at that….” he said distractedly. Then he looked into her eyes trying to see some compassion in them. “Look, I made a mistake….”

But Faith didn’t really care what he had to say. “Not the first time, I believe,” She reached into her briefcase and pulled out another folder laying it on top. “On 1 April, you stated that FIREFLY ONE had been shot down due to enemy fire. Bullets recovered from the craft indicate it was shot down by rounds from a .50 caliber Barrett sniper rifle.”

Sedrick wasn’t standing for any more of this. “That rifle could have been stolen--”

“That’s entirely true,” Special Agent,” Faith said seeming to back off from her accusation. “However, it doesn’t explain the bullet wounds suffered by 1st Lieutenant Phillip M..Dodge….”

Sedrick Phillips had had enough of this. “Just what are you driving at, lady?” he said pointedly. If she had something on him, he wanted to know.

That thin smile appeared on Faith’s lips. “We seem to have some discrepancies between your reports and these reports, Special Agent.”

Now they were getting down to business. She wasn’t here to arrest him. She was here to make a deal.

Sedrick settled back in his chair again. “Okay, Commander, it does appear that we do. So, what should we do about it?”

“I’m in a position to get these reports altered….”

Sedrick held up his hand to stop her. He was obviously dealing with a rookie. He idly wondered whether he should kill her here or take her to one of the Shiite neighborhoods here in Baghdad and dump her body there.

“How much is this going to cost me?”

“Money is not what I’m looking for, Special Agent.” said Faith trying to sound insulted and bored at the same time. “If you would rather that I turn these over to proper authorities in my chain of command--”

“Wait up, wait up, uh, Commander--”

“Faith,” she offered as a gesture she was willing to still negotiate.

He gave her a sly grin. “Okay…Faith. Look, just what are you looking for?”

“I need to find out who is in charge, overall. I have information for them regarding an operation being conducted by NCIS and JAG Corps.”

“That would be me.” Sedrick said in a confident, almost cocky, tone.

“Please don’t insult my intelligence,” she said coldly. “It wasn’t easy gaining Admiral Chegwidden’s trust and getting assigned to this investigative team….”

Boy was she touchy. “Easy Faith, sorry, I didn’t mean to try to snow you like that…it’s just….”

“Just what?”

“We have to be careful, you understand.”

“Of course, I understand, nevertheless, I must get this information to them….”

“And what about those reports?” he probed.

“An editing program can make all the necessary changes.” she said dismissively. “And, I have signature authority to sign off on any and all reports related to this case….”

*~*

“ ‘An editing program can make all the necessary changes….’” Gibbs threw open his door before the conversation ended and bolted out into the darkness, followed by the Master Sergeant. Sturgis gave both men a surprised look. “What?”

“She pushed it too far!” Gibbs said almost too loud. “He’s going to kill her!” He had had this happen before; an inexperience agent, undercover for the first time, gets overconfident. So far it had only resulted in injuries. That might change tonight.

*~*

Sedrick smiled. So she did have a weak hand after all. Well, one more death for the cause would not trouble his mind. After he got her to sign off on those pesky reports and learned what she knew, he’d get rid of her and give the information he gained from her to Darcy.

*~*

Gibbs sprinted down the hallway, followed close behind by Sturgis. Both had their weapons drawn. “ ‘Colonel Livingston will generously reward you for your aid to our cause….’” Sedrick’s voice was echoing in Gibbs’ ear. Any minute he expected to hear pistol fire.

He cupped his mouthpiece so he could be sure that the NCIS Director heard his whispered voice. “Bravo two to Bravo one! Nightingale has been compromised! We’re going in!”

“Understood Bravo two,” said the NCIS Director as he stood up from his chair and watched the scene unfold.

As Gibbs and Sturgis rounded the corner, they could see that the Master Sergeant already had the night duty officer in custody. Both pulled up to the open doorway, Sturgis aiming high and Gibbs aiming low. They were joined by several MPs who were apparently friends of the Master Sergeant.

Gibbs motioned silently for the former Bubblehead to take two MPs and he’d take the other two.

Forming two teams, they entered the RIC’s bullpen and made their way toward Sedrick’s office. All the while, Faith continued chatting with the Special Agent, seemingly oblivious to the danger she was in

*~*

“That’s why I am here, Special Agent Phillips. To make sure no more mistakes are made.”

Sedrick gave her a gentle laugh. (So young and naïve,) he thought sadly. His hand started to move toward his middle drawer where his service pistol was resting.

Faith meanwhile had picked up on the slight scuffling noises behind her moving ever closer. That would be Gibbs and his rescue party…..

*~*

Gibbs hand signaled to Sturgis: ‘tango visible.’

Sturgis nodded and indicated he was in position. They could now clearly hear the two voiced coming from behind the partially open door. Sedrick hadn’t felt the need to shut it all the way.

*~*

“Just one more thing, Special Agent,”

“Yes?”

Faith dropped to the floor using the desk as a shield. The door to his office swung open to reveal Special Agent Gibbs, Commander Sturgis Turner and four heavily armed Marine guards in various stances pointing their weapons at Special Agent Sedrick Phillips.

“Sedrick! Let her go!!” bellowed Gibbs aiming his pistol right at his heart.

“Get away from that desk, Special Agent! Lay down on the floor, hands out in front of you!” added Sturgis.

Sedrick couldn’t have looked more stunned. His hand had almost been on the drawer handle. Odds were that he wouldn’t survive if he tried to open that drawer. Instead of going to martyrdom, there might be a chance to salvage this situation if he did not lose his head….

Slowly the RIC started to get up from his chair, his empty hands raised high in the air.



USS Patrick Henry
Chief Medical Officer’s Office


Captain Ingles comments to him were still buzzing around in Harm’s head as he knocked on the entryway into the Doctor’s office.

“Got a minute, doc?”

“Sure, come on in.” He looked at the tall man entering his office and then he noticed the pilot wings on his uniform.

You must be one of the Reservists. He looked at how tall the aviator/lawyer was. “Do you have any problems resulting from fitting yourself into the cockpit of a Tomcat?”

“Never have.” Harm answered honestly.

The doctor nodded and made a note on his chart. “I see. Okay, let’s take a look…go ahead and take off your shirt, please.”

Harm unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off, laying it on the nearby examining table. The doctor motioned for Harm to sit on the table.

The Patrick Henry’s doctor felt around on either side under his jaw. “We have to make sure you aren’t showing any symptoms of the flu.” he explained as he felt the lymph nodes under the Commander’s armpits.

“Have you been nauseous in the last 72 hours?”

“No.”

“Any persistent cough or runny nose?”

“No.”

“Any sinus congestion?”

“No.”

“Any muscle aches or pains?”

“No.”

“Any diarrhea?”

“Ah, no. Why all the questions, doc?”

“It’s the sinus congestion we’re most concerned about. This virus attacks the upper respiratory area and your intestinal tract. Different people respond different ways of course, but the most dangerous is, as you know, is any problem with your inner ear, Commander.”

“Let’s take your temperature.” He picked up a tricorder-like device and took it’s attached pen and stuck in his mouth.”

“Hold it under your tongue, please.”

After a moment, the device beeped and he pulled the thermometer out of Harm’s mouth. The doctor consulted the device then nodded.

“Okay, you’ve got a clean bill of health, but I want you get as much rest as you can, wash your hands frequently, eat those fresh fruits and veggies whether you want to or not, and avoid anyone that might be sneezing or coughing.”

“The fruits and vegetables won’t be a problem, doc, but on a boat this size it’s gonna be kinda hard to avoid people who might be sick….”

The doctor gave him a wry smile. “Tell me about it, Commander. Just try and do your best.”


BOQ/VOQ
Camp Chesty Puller


Mac flopped down on her bed, trying to will her muscle aches to go away. As she lay in quiet agony, she reviewed the day’s events.

It started with a Physical Fitness Test (PFT) to make sure she still qualified, then a timed obstacle course and calisthenics. While some of the ‘recruits’ were already wheezing and puffing, Mac’s high school track and field experience gave her the stamina and pacing so that she hardly broke a sweat at this point. This was only the beginning, however. Next she and the other ‘recruits’ were taken to a nearby makeshift pool and had to complete a series of grueling swim exercises.

And this all happened before noon. While they were still drying off, they double-time marched over to the firing range and began their rifle and pistol qualifications.

Other members of Darcy’s unit stood around and watched the recruits, making snide remarks about their performance and other rude comments trying to psych them out. Mac noticed that even Kayce had joined the group, laughing and seeming to get in on the ‘merriment’. She’d have to be more careful about what she told Kayce from now on.

It was tough, but Mac kept her concentration. She credited that to being one of the few girls in junior high and high school who’d excelled in her track and field events while being able to ignore the razzing her classmates gave her.

This was followed by a ten mile run with full pack and rifle. At the end of the run, they were given ten minutes to collect themselves, before the Company Sergeant Major and Darcy began leading the recruits to nearby tents to begin the psychological screening.

Mac might have been unnerved by this part except for the fact she had been through this once before; back in 1996 when she went to Bosnia. She knew some of the questions Darcy was going to ask her, figuring their meeting at the bar had been an informal screening of sorts.

Darcy didn’t waste any time with pleasantries. She got right to the meat of the matter. She probed the Lieutenant Colonel about her drinking and father’s drinking problems. Then she delved into her family problems, her petty crime spree with Christopher Rangel. And the death of her best friend, Eddie.

It was painful having those closed wounds ripped open again. Darcy made no secret of the fact she wouldn’t tolerate Mac drinking while in combat or on duty. If they were at the bivouac, though, she could get falling down drunk for all the Colonel cared.

Mac played the part of a grateful lush to the hilt. Darcy seemed satisfied with her answers and told her to hit the rack and get some rest. Tomorrow, she told her, would be here sooner than she thought.

Mac thanked her for the advice, got up and left the tent. It was pretty close to 2100 hours and she could care less if she ate or not. Every bone and muscle in her body ached. Even her teeth hurt. She thought falling into bed was a great idea.

The Marine JAG Corps officer wondered what tomorrow would bring. She also wondered what Harm was doing right now. (Probably out flying an F-14….) she grumped to herself.

As she started to roll over, she froze when she saw Kayce Danvers sitting at her desk.

“Corporal?!” Mac sat up, getting over the initial shock of seeing the Force Recon Marine sitting at her desk. Now she was angry. “How did you get in here?” she said sharply.

“Best if you didn’t know ma’am,” the Corporal said evasively.

Mac got up off her bed. “Okay, let’s try a different tact. Why are you in my room?”

If this was supposed to fluster Kayce Danvers, it didn’t. “Colonel’s orders, ma’am. I was told to keep my eye on you.”

Mac felt a pin prick of fear as she faced Kayce. Maybe getting close to her was a bad idea, since truthfully trusting anyone in this unit was almost impossible. She decided to handle it the way she would any mistake an enlisted person would make. “I think she meant check in on me, not follow me into *my room*, Corporal.”

A normal enlisted person would have been properly chastised by this rebuke. Not this Force Recon soldier. “No ma’am, I was told to ‘keep a close watch on you,’ ma’am.

As a last resort, Mac tried sarcasm. “Are you going to sleep with me, too?”

“No ma’am, I wasn’t going to, but if you like, I can,” that comment raised Mac’s eyebrows. Recognizing what the JAGC Officer thought, she added, “that is, if it will make it easier for you to get to morning formation on time.”

*~*

Harm collapsed into his rack. He thought about washing his hands before going to bed, but fatigue wiped out any intention of doing that. He kicked off his shoes and laid down, never even feeling his head hitting the pillow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The images that passed before him were a kaleidoscope of color. Harm trying to land on the Seahawk that fateful night. He heard the man screaming ‘Power! Power! POWER!!’
before he was forcibly ejected out of his seat. His last thoughts as his Tomcat plowed into the carrier’s deck were about his RIO and his career as pilot being over.

Before he could fully process what had happened, he found himself lying on the deck of the carrier, several people around him including the CAG, the Flight Surgeon, Mace and a few others he didn’t recognize. Probably part of the deck crew.

“Is he going to make it?” he heard Mace say, sounding as if he were in another room rather than right next to him.

“I can’t tell you yet….” The doctor said his voice equally distant. Harm tried to get his fuzzy vision to clear, but nothing seemed to help.

“Harm?” He looked to his left and saw Diane in her summer whites, lean over him. “Harm, can you hear me?”

Harm tried to respond but his voice wouldn’t work. He felt liquid bubbling out of his
mouth.

“He’s aspirating!” the doctor barked, “I have to open an airway…” he leaned closer and the Naval Commander could see the glint off the knife edge of a scalpel.

The aviator/lawyer turned his head left and right trying to avoid the knife. ‘Don’t do this!’ he wanted to scream. ‘I can breathe! I’m not struggling for breath!!’

But no one was listening to him. As he struggled, the people above him faded and grayed out completely, leaving him alone in the dark, hearing the blade cutting his throat.

For whatever reason, he couldn’t feel any pain. Maybe the doctor had given him a local anesthetic? Where was everybody?

Again he tried to call out, then he heard voices in the distance and the blackness was replaced by a gray light that slowly grew brighter.

People appeared over him, most he didn’t know or recognize but one he did. That was Mac, not just Diane in a Marine uniform. Somehow he just knew it was Mac. there were tears in her eyes.

“Harm? Harm! Dammit! I warned you Harm, I told you, you’d be shot down…and killed if you go on this mission….”

Before Harm could say he wasn’t dead, a white sheet was draped over him.

Mac’s words echoed in his ears.

“You’ll be shot down…and killed…”

“Shot down…and killed…”

“Shot down and killed!!”

As Harm struggled with the sheet, he heard and saw that haunting scene played before him just as Mac had described it:


“Missiles inbound...”

“Brace for impact...”

“Eject! Eject! Eject!!”

Harm felt his body shred apart as the SAM hit his Tomcat.

His final thought before darkness overtook him:

(I love you Mac.…)


A/N: Thanks to my beta-trio Karen, Janlaw, and Mary Ann for their help with this 'segue' chapter'. :) And to Mkim for helping me figure out Faith Coleman.

2048 Hours Local
NCIS Headquarters Office/CID

After Regional Investigative Coordinator Phillips was lead away by the Marine MPs, Gibbs moved over to Faith Coleman and spoke to her in a quiet, but firm voice.

“A word, Commander.”

Faith Coleman had no idea what Gibbs wanted, but she could tell he was angry.

They moved to an adjacent office and went in, with Gibbs closing the door behind them. She had seen this happen before. With DiNozzo, with Pacci, and with Special Agent Blackadder. He only blew up at his agents if they weren’t in the public eye. Now it was her turn.

Gibbs didn’t waste time with a preamble. He was blunt and cutting. “What the hell did you think you were doing?!”

Faith considered many responses in the brief time before she spoke, but she decided that a practical answer was the best bet…it would defuse the situation.

“I took a calculated risk,” she said as if presenting her argument before a jury, “I knew that if I didn’t, we might not be able to catch Special Agent Phillips--”

“You call that a calculated risk?!” he barked like a seasoned DI. “I call that suicide! You overplayed your hand when you told him you could edit it! All he had to do was ask you how you edit it and he wouldn’t need you anymore!”

Before she could say anything else in her defense, he gave her a swift glancing slap to the back of her head.

“Ow!” she yelped as she shot him a nasty look. “I *will break off* your arm the next time you try that!” she hissed.

The gray haired senior NCIS agent gave her an equally spiteful look with his steel blue gray eyes. “You pull a stunt like that again, and I will *kill* you myself,” he said softly in that quiet voice of his that could send chills up your spine…and not the good ones, either.

Faith however was only a little disturbed by his comment. She was about to fire back with a snotty retort when there was a knock on the door. Gibbs gave her one last glare as he moved over to open it. Sturgis Turner was standing there at the entryway, eyeing the two of them.

“Is everything all right in here?”

Gibbs looked over at Commander Coleman then back at the Bubblehead. “I’ll let the Commander tell you. She likes to do things on her own!”

“That was uncalled for, Special Agent,” Faith in a cool voice.

Sturgis tried to play broker between what was obviously two very angry people. He had done it a thousand times before with clients. This shouldn’t be too hard.

“Hey, hey, calm down, you two. No one got killed….”

“Not this time,” Gibbs said harshly, giving her another hard stare.

No, it wouldn’t be like handling clients, it would be worse; like handling two wildcats.

The Bubblehead knew that NCIS Agents by nature were supposed to be gruff and abrupt and Gibbs, he knew, had a reputation for being gruffer and more abrupt than most. But his comment did seem uncalled for. “Special Agent Gibbs--” he began.

Only to be cut off the Head of the Washington, DC Major Case Response Team. “She’s part of *my* team, Commander Turner. “She obeys my rules, or she’s off *my* team!”

Commander Coleman wasn’t fazed by his threat. She had one of her own ready. “That is fine by me! And just so you are aware of the fact, Special Agent, I’m preferring charges against you--!”

“Feel free to do so, Commander,” he shot back in that calm, stern voice that was frightening and infuriating at the same time. “But you’ll find that since you are part of my team, what I say, goes.”

Faith’s lips became a hard, thin line. “Commander--!”

Sturgis looked from the senior NCIS agent to the JAG/NCIS liaison. “I’m afraid I have to agree with Special Agent Gibbs, Commander.”

He turned to her, addressing his comments to the junior officer. “You are under his command right now, Commander, even if you still do report to Admiral Chegwidden,”

“Besides, what you did was pretty foolish.”

“Foolish?!” She couldn’t believe it.

Sturgis’ voice became out hard, tinged with just the right amount of anger. “Commander, you went into an isolated room with a suspected felon and then you proceeded to bait him to the point he would try to do you harm. Does the word ‘entrapment’ mean anything to you?”

Faith began backpedaling. “Sir, I did as we had agreed. I talked to him indicating I knew about the discrepancies between his reports and the official reports.”

“Yes that you did very well. But neither Special Agent Gibbs, nor I, sanctioned you tell him you were going to talk to senior officers or edit that document yourself.”

“I admit that was a calculated risk, sir,” Faith stated firmly. Maybe a little too firmly. “But in order to make Phillips show his hand, I reasoned I had to do it.”

“During an undercover operation, you cannot be a lone wolf, Commander,” Sturgis voice signaling his displeasure with her actions. It was typical Turner, calm and reasoned responses becoming more irritated every time she didn’t get the point.

“What would have happened if there had been a communication malfunction, or if he had found your wire?”

Faith had not stopped to think about that. She was so intent on showing Gibbs how good of an undercover person she could be--

Her internal debate was shattered by the indignant Commander Turner who was now on a roll. He had gone back to how her actions might have cost them the arrest. “Commander Coleman, it’s only because *we* found a loaded service weapon in the desk drawer – which he had *his hand on* when *we* entered-- that enabled *us* to arrest him. That, and the incriminating conversation you two had had up to that point!”

Despite his anger with her, she had to try to make him see her point of view, “Commander Turner, if you’ll just--!”

“Commander, I strongly suggest, that in the future you follow Special Agent Gibbs’ orders when you are part of his team. Are we clear on this?”

“Yes sir.” She replied with a slight tremble in her voice.

*~*

Special Agent Gibbs walked out the office and back into the staff bullpen headed for the exit. It had been a long night and he didn’t want to dwell on too deeply on why he had reacted so harshly to Faith Coleman’s actions.

But his mind wouldn’t let it go. He had seen this kind of thing go badly once before. When he was still a Probie under Mike Franks, his former boss.

**~~**

“Probie! Walters is down!!”

“I got the tango in my sights Boss!”

In his minds eye, Gibbs’ could see Special Agent Clarissa Walters laying sprawled on the pavement. Next to her through his rifle’s crosshairs was the wounded tango. He couldn’t even remember the thug’s name now.

The next moment his rifle kicked into his shoulder, and the tango’s head bucked just before he fell from his kneeling position onto his back.

He remembered Mike rushing over to Clarissa’s still form, cradling it in his arms.

“C’mon Clarissa, don’t do this to me….” Mike moaned as he held the pretty woman in his arms.

**~~**

He remembered laying his hand on Mike’s shoulder. He hoped this would never happen to him. That’s why he dug into the Lieutenant Commander so hard.

It was not something he wanted to see again. He didn’t want to be the one holding a dead agent in his arms. Mike had never been the same after that and he felt sure he didn’t feel the same either. And he never wanted to be in that position. Especially with her. He didn’t know why, but he just didn’t. End of story.

Right now, he had to get out of this office. He wanted to interrogate Phillips as soon as possible. That’s where his thoughts were when he saw Sturgis at the door talking with an SP.

Sturgis turned and silently acknowledged Gibbs before turning back to the SP.

“That will be all, Petty Officer.”

The PO came to attention and responded with an ‘aye sir’ before heading down the hall away from the two men.

“You handled that pretty well.”

“You mean the SP?” Sturgis was confused by his ‘out-of-the-blue’ comment.

“No, I meant how you ‘talked’ to Commander Coleman about her behavior.” Gibbs remarked.

“I find a soft spoken approach mixed with the right amount of ‘officer indignation’ works wonders.” Sturgis Turner said evenly. “Harm once said I’d make a good school hall monitor and I think the Admiral is thinking of me as a supervisor of sorts….”

“You mean for Lieutenant Roberts?” Gibbs said as they began walking together.

“In a way, yes,” Sturgis said as he turned more thoughtful, “But also as a steadying influence in the office….”

Gibbs had no idea how carried away Sturgis had become with his ‘steadying influence’ while Harm was flying for the CIA. At several points, many in the bullpen thought that Sturgis and Mac were going to come to blows over more than a few cases.

Sturgis regretted that things were still rocky between him and Mac; it was something he wanted to work on as soon as this case was over.

“I take it you’re referring to Commander Harmon Rabb, Junior.” Gibbs’ comment brought him back to the current conversation.

Sturgis grimaced as if he had smelled something bad. “Actually both him and Colonel MacKenzie….”

Gibbs’ eyebrows went up. A direction they rarely went. “Really….”

The Bubblehead nodded. “Both are given to fits of irrationality,” Sturgis said, his voice weary, as he remembered vividly the ‘which JAG stays’ incident aboard the Seahawk when Bud was badly injured by that anti-personnel mine.

Gibbs could see now that Commander Sturgis Turner had been the ‘man in the middle’ for a while…maybe too long a while. With two explosive personalities like Rabb and MacKenzie, that had to be grinding.

“So you’re not much for staying there,” Gibbs concluded. He liked Sturgis.

But if he thought Sturgis was ready for a change, the former Dolphin’s next answer tossed him. “On the contrary, Special Agent, I really enjoy it. Harm and Mac are my best friends….”

Now it was Gibbs’ turn to be confused. “But you just said….”

“We all have feet of clay,” Sturgis said. He suddenly realized he was talking about himself as well.

“Admiral Chegwidden knew what he was doing when he put our various personalities together. We clash sometimes, we even do unorthodox, and some might say bizarre things to get the job done. But we do get the job done.”

They both stopped in front of the interrogation room where Gibb’s friend, the Master Sergeant was standing with an SP. They were positioned on either side of the door.

“How is he?”

“Not ready for you, Gunny.” The big African-American said with a smirk.

Gibbs gave the Master Sergeant a faint smile in return. “Make sure no one interrupts us.”

“You got it, Gunny.”

*~*

Former RIC Sedrick Phillips glanced around the room nervously. Many times he had been on the other side of this table, interrogating suspects. But he had never been on this side.

Stay calm, he told himself. They only have circumstantial evidence on you right now, if you handle this smoothly, you can get out with a reprimand about your reports and a warning about not following procedures….

Then he would make that JAG officer pay for her insolence.

Sedrick was already making plans about what he was going do with Commander Coleman when Special Agent Gibbs wrenched open the door and strode into the room, followed by Commander Sturgis Turner.

Gibbs was holding a thick folder. Sturgis walked over to the far wall and stood facing the two men.

The silver haired Special Agent didn’t say a word as he reached into the folder and began slapping down papers on the table in front of former RIC Phillips. There were stapled multi-page documents interspersed with photographs of people. The photos had obviously been taken as part of autopsy reports.

“Who is your contact?” Gibbs said as he sat down opposite Phillips.

“What?”

Gibbs enunciated slowly as if talking to a slow person. “Who…is…your…contact?”

Phillips cleared his throat. “Special Agent Gibbs, I know my rights--”

A patronizing smile flitted across Gibbs’ features. “Did you hear that, Commander? *former* Regional Investigative Coordinator Phillips knows *his* rights.”

Sturgis chuckled, not moving from his spot. “I’m sure he does, Special Agent.”

Gibbs turned back to Phillips. “Then you also know, Sedrick, that you are accused of being involved with the Iraqi insurgent movement?”

The RIC’s eyes widened. “The insurgent movement?! That is insane--!”

I looked believable, but Gibbs wasn’t buying. “Is it, Sedrick?”

“Do not call me that,” the former RIC said coldly.

This was not the man that Gibbs remembered. It was almost as if another person were inside of Sedrick Phillips. That’s what they said about sleeper agents. They could even fool their own mother.

“Call you what?” grunted Gibbs.

There was an aire of disdain in the RIC’s voice. Like he was dealing with two people unworthy of his attention. “Refer to me by my last name if you must, but do not use my first name….”

Gibbs chuckled and shook his head. “You talk to him,” he said to Sturgis.

Commander Turner walked over to the table. “Special Agent Phillips, you really aren’t in any sort of position to dictate anything to us.” The former Dolphin rumbled ominously.

Again Sedrick made it look like he was the victim. “Look Commander Turner, I know I screwed up some reports, I’m willing to take responsibility for that--”

Gibbs cut him off, coming back at him hard. “How about for the deaths of Lieutenant Dodge and Captain Butler? PFC Krivstad? Are you willing to take responsibility for those?”

Again Sedrick widened his eyes, trying to look like a frightened animal. “I don’t know anything about their deaths--!”

He looked to Sturgis, hoping to find that a brother would be more sympathetic to him.

But Sturgis had dealt with traitors many times before. To him, a traitor was a traitor. “Special Agent, I believe you were the lead investigating agent on the deaths of Lieutenant Dodge and PFC Krivstad. Tell me why you wrote your reports the way you did and we’ll see about a deal….”

Sedrick Phillips would not find any sympathy from Chaplin Turner’s son.

While Sturgis and Phillips traded basically worthless information, Gibbs looked at his PDA. He had to do something while waiting his turn. For the life of him, he never could get the hang of these things…then a message appeared on his screen.

It was from Tony.

‘CDR Lexington’s JAGMAN team worked w/ Phillips…coerced team into falsifying report…’

Gibbs pulled out the PDA’s stick pencil and wrote in big block letters ‘WHERE ARE YOU?’ Then he hit send. He wanted to see if Tony would tell him he went to Bahrain without permission.

His PDA screen remained blank. No response from Anthony DiNozzo to that query.

Gibbs looked back at Sturgis. The former Dolphin backed away from the table “I can’t help you Special Agent Phillips, if you won’t give me something to work with….”

“Captain Branch said to say hello, Sedrick,” Gibbs said quietly.

For the first time, Sedrick Phillips looked unnerved. “Who? I don’t know what you are talking about--!”

“The head of Commander Lexington’s JAGMAN team, Special Agent,” Gibbs leaned over the table and into Sedrick Phillips’ face. “You know, the man you forced to falsify evidence regarding Lieutenant Dodge’s death and then when it started to come apart, you hung him and his JAGMAN team out to dry? Does that sound familiar to you, *Special Agent*?”

Sedrick’s comment was borne of desperation. “You’ll never be able to prove that,’ he sputtered weakly.

Now it was Sturgis’ turn. “We have the doctored reports in your handwriting. The 36th MEU’s Head Surgeon has confessed that he helped you blackmail the JAGMAN team and alter the report on PFC Krivstad’s death…we even have a couple of insurgents who finger you as PFC Secord’s accomplice.”

Sedrick Phillips looked from the JAG Corps officer to the NCIS Agent. It was over for him. The former RIC bowed his head and his shoulders sagged.

“I want guaranteed immunity,” he said quietly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harm felt his body shred apart as the SAM hit his Tomcat.

His final thought before darkness overtook him:

(I love you Mac.…)

HARM! OH DEAR GOD!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The bark of Mac’s voice made aviator/lawyer awake with a start. His heart felt like a jackhammer in his chest. The image that swam into his vision was that of an aviator peering into his bunk.

“Hey Commander, are you all right? You look like you’ve seen a ghost….”

Not so much seen a ghost as almost become one, Harm wanted to say. Instead, he wisely bit his tongue and swallowed that comment. He could still feel the imaginary shards of shrapnel in him. Why was it so real?

What was the connection between these bizarre dreams and what Mac was seeing in her nightmares? Was there a link of some sort? Could Mac really be seeing his death?

He decided now was not the time to think too deeply about the dream. He was on dawn patrol this morning and anything that screwed with his concentration could really make him a dead man.

Harm looked up at the Lieutenant who was now taking off his shoes and then at his watch. It was 2307.

“I didn’t catch your name….”

The aviator gave Harm what he thought was an embarrassed smile. “Sorry sir.” He stuck out his hand. “Lieutenant Jeff Rodriguez, everyone calls me ‘Pitcher’.

They shook hands. “Pitcher?”

There was that embarrassed smile again. Something was familiar about this guy’s face. “Um, yeah. Played in the minor leagues for a while before becoming an aviator.”

“Not meaning to be nosy, but why are you just now coming to bed?”

Jeff carefully got into the top bunk. “Was on the last COD bringing reserve pilots out to the carriers. Then we had to get our physicals. I’m just glad I’m going to get this much sleep. They put me on mid-morning patrol.”

“How many came in?”

“Six of us, sir.” Lieutenant Rodriguez’s drifting voice reported. “We were the last of the pilots that answered the call-up….”

Harm didn’t hear anything else from the Lieutenant, who must’ve fallen asleep. He decided that unless he wanted to be bleary eyed for his dawn patrol, he’d better get back to sleep too, if he could.


BOQ/VOQ, Camp Chest Puller
Near Mirbullah, Iraq


The helo ride back to Mirbullah had been without any attempt at conversation on Faith’s part. She sat stone-like in her seat. Gibbs and Sturgis had sat close enough together to discuss what to do next with Sedrick Phillips. He would not be flown south until morning.

When the CH-46 Sea Knight had landed at the ACE airfield at the Camp, Faith told both men she was headed to her quarters, saluted Commander Turner and moved out smartly.

Faith Coleman had learned over the years to hide her emotions and she was very good at it, but this time a single tear found its way down her cheek. Because it was early morning, she thought no one would notice.

She headed directly to her housing. Opening the door, she walked to the table and placed her briefcase squarely in the center. Her room, despite the conditions of this dusty area, was immaculate. A visitor with a smart mouth might say you could eat off her floor.

Faith swiped at a second tear that tried to make its way down her flushed cheek. Right now she wanted out of these clothes and she wanted to be clean.

She grabbed her running gear, her soap, a loofah sponge, a back brush and headed for the communal showers. When she got in, she scrubbed carefully, trying to remove the last bit of grit from her body. In her mind, she ran over the nights’ events again and again, reliving the scary meeting with RIC Phillips and her fateful conversation with him. Then her argument with Special Agent Gibbs.

Gibbs! Her anger flared each time she thought about him slapping her and the way she had dressed him down. The worse part about that was that he was right – although the smack to the back of the head was overkill. At least in her mind.

Then she re-lived the dressing down and humiliation she had felt when Commander Sturgis Turner admonished her for reckless behavior. The worst part was he was right, as well. It was reckless behavior.

Having finished her shower, she turned off the lukewarm water and began toweling off. As soon as her body was dry, she wrapped a second towel around her torso and began scrubbing her hair dry. When that was done she carefully wrapped her hair in another towel. Despite her precise actions, her mind was still focused on finding out the reason for her inattentiveness when it came to her personal safety.

Why was she acting this way? It had started in Falls Church when she had grabbed that female terrorist. She had never been one for foolish stunts. She was logical person. At her last duty station, NLSO & TSO West near North Island NAS, she’d won her battles with arguments, not physical exertion.

So why, in the last week had she acted like a commando? Was it due to the events at JAG Corps Headquarters? A lot of people had strong reactions to what happened. That was predictable, even expected. It could explain her actions. But it didn’t. Although the loss of 17 Naval and Marine personnel was heart wrenching, she didn’t know any of them personally or otherwise.

So that brought her back to her original question. As she put on her running shorts and
t-shirt and tied her hair in a loose pony tail, she thought back to what might have triggered her devil-may-care-attitude. As she finished tying her shoes, a possible reason came to her. No, that couldn’t be it.

She made her way back to her quarters. When she got inside, she sat down at her desk. After making sure the arrangement of everything on it was just so, she opened her seabag which she’d left sitting on the floor next to the desk.

She pulled out several packs of unsharpened No. 2 pencils. Then, she opened her briefcase and pulled out a manual pencil sharpener. As she began her ritual of sharpening pencils, her mind clamored for her to reconsider the verdict she had given herself earlier.

Okay, maybe that could be a factor in the cause of her behavior of late, she conceded, as she continued her work, but that couldn’t be the sole reason….

Or could it? That thought made her anxious and increased the tempo of her work.

As she started on her last set of pencils, there was a knock at her door. Still absorbed in her self cross-examination, she opened the door automatically.

“Yes?” There stood Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

“Do you always open your door to anyone who knocks on it, Commander?”

Faith was flustered and embarrassed at the same time. “I could tell by the knock it was you, Gibbs.” She snorted, trying to cover for her lapse in judgment.

Gibbs ignored the barb and looked around the room. It was just as Tony had described it. Immaculate. Well ordered. And six packs of precisely sharpened pencils lay in formation on her desk.

“Why are you here?” She walked away from him, feeling embarrassed about having so little on in front of him.

Gibbs watched her walk away from him. Her insecurity was palpable; he’d caught her off guard and vulnerable.

“I owe you an explanation for my behavior earlier, Commander.”

She stood with her back to him, smirking. “Are you apologizing, Gibbs?”

There was twinge of irritation in the senior NCIS Agent’s voice. “No, I’m not Commander. What you did was dangerous.”

She turned around to face him. “So why are you here?”

Gibbs looked at her with those penetrating blue gray eyes. “Because I feel you’re owed an explanation since you’re not a permanent member of my team.”

She started to walk away from him again. “I really don’t need to hear your justification, Gibbs. I’m temporarily under your command--”

“People get killed when they do stupid things, Commander. NCIS Agents, even ones temporarily assigned to my team, can’t afford to do stupid things.”

Faith had overlooked that little item when creating arguments in her mind. But she still wasn’t giving up. “Hitting me--”

“--Got your attention, Commander. That’s why I did it.” Gibbs said, finishing her thought for her before she got something else wrong. “Don’t pull a stunt like that again.”

Faith anger returned. But this time now not so much with him, but with herself for doing something as stupid as baiting Phillips and then using flawed arguments and logic to back up her defense! Gibbs was right, as usual.

“Understood Gibbs.” She once again, had to fight not saying ‘Yes sir’ to him.
He looked back at her desk and then gave her a wry smile. “There are other ways to work out your frustration, Commander,” he said cryptically.

“Meaning?” She turned her head to see what the NCIS Special Agent was looking at on her desk and then turned back to him.

“Meet me at the recreation area at 1300, Commander. We’ll talk about it.”


0350 Local
36th ACE Airfield, Camp Chesty Puller
Near Mirbullah, Iraq


The warm air was somewhat disconcerting at this hour. The sky though was crystal clear and the stars twinkled like precious stones against a black velvet backdrop. The only other thing that marred this beautiful sky was the harsh stab of sodium emergency lighting around the airfield and the entire camp.

Mac sighed as she felt a tiny pang of homesickness for Arizona that she quickly buried in her subconscious. She forced her mind to focus on the current situation. Mac had left Corporal Danvers sleeping peacefully as she made her way to the airfield.

Reveille would not sound for another forty minutes, so she had that much time to come out here and see Colonel Blakely off. As she headed for the airfield terminal, she saw Special Agent Gibbs walking in the same direction.

“What are you doing up at this hour, Special Agent?” Mac said as Gibbs moved toward her.

He gave her that wry smile of his. “I was going to ask you the same question, Colonel.”

“I’m here to see Colonel Blakely off. Briggs got him on an early morning flight back to Baghdad.”

“No doubt as a thank you for his services,”

“Yeah, but you might call it sort of a back-handed compliment.”

He looked at the cargo aircraft being serviced. “I wouldn’t.” Mac would have sworn there was a hint of longing in his voice. She wanted to ask him about that, but a more pressing question was asked instead.

“So why are you here; just to admire the aircraft?”

He turned back to her. “I’m here to break up with my girlfriend.”

“The plot thickens,” she said playfully.

He nodded. “Yep; I don’t like her joining Colonel Livingston’s unit.”

Mac chuckled at the irony. “Well I can’t say I’m thrilled at that prospect either. But there’s really no other way to find out if the Colonel’s dirty.”

“Well if she isn’t, she keeps a lot of dirty company….”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning one of our Regional Investigative Coordinators, Sedrick Phillips, admitted to working with the Iraqi insurgents.”

“And al-Qaeda?” Mac gasped.

She couldn’t believe it. Just how far had Livingston’s ‘cancer’ spread?

“He wouldn’t admit to that, but odds are that he was.”

“al-Sahood?”

“Most likely,”

Mac spoke urgently. This was the break she and Harm had been looking for. “Gibbs, if we can tie him to al-Sahood and to Livingston, it would fill in a lot of missing gaps in this investigation.”

The silver haired senior NCIS Agent understood her response. It was like finding the missing piece to an annoying puzzle. He wanted the nail them as bad as she and Rabb did. “I’m way ahead of you, Colonel. We’re interrogating him this morning.”

Actually the interrogation had started earlier, but the real business of finding out what he knew would begin later this morning

“Just make sure it’s done by the book, Special Agent.” Mac said suddenly turning
stern.

“I always do, Colonel.” Gibbs said solemnly. “So, should we get this over with?”

“You mean you’re about ready for me to publicly let the air out of this budding relationship?”

“No time like the present, Colonel. Happens to me all the time.” Mac was pretty sure that last part wasn’t a tongue-in-cheek comment.

“…Uh, just one request though.”

“What’s that?”

He gave her one of his shy, boyish grins. “Don’t use any golf clubs to make your point.”




0358 Local
36th ACE Airfield, Camp Chesty Puller
Near Mirbullah, Iraq


Colonel Clifford Blakely had his gear stowed. The KC-130 actually only made a few visits to Mirbullah each week, and that was usually only to deliver supplies or mail -- Colonel Briggs, though, felt the Military Judge was at least owed a little better than a bumpy helo ride back to Baghdad.

In a way, he would miss Iraq. Any real Marine would. He had to admit that, in that way, he and Commander Rabb were alike – they missed being part of a combat unit. It had been a long time since he had done tours in country, but he had never really lost his taste for it, even though he had on the Mid-Atlantic Judicial Circuit for years.

But, orders were orders and he needed to get back to Falls Church billet as soon as possible. Admiral Morris wanted all the able bodied people he could lay his hands on for the court cases that would result from the al-Qaeda suicide attack.

Besides he had his fill of riding herd on Commander Harmon Rabb, Colonel MacKenzie and the other members of Admiral Chegwidden’s legal/investigative team. He honestly didn’t understand how the Navy/Marine JAG did it….

He wasn’t looking forward though to getting back to JAG Corps Headquarters. The email he had received from Commander Helfman she’d indicated he would be sharing quarters with Captain Sebring for a while. That meant his office had been damaged or destroyed in the attack. Great.

(Oh well, it could be worse….) He and Owen had a pretty good working relationship. And he wasn’t too bad of a guy, even if he was a Swabbie.

“Excuse me, Colonel?”

Clifford Blakely turned to see Commander Sturgis Turner, Lieutenant Bud Roberts and Lieutenant Colonel MacKenzie standing as if they were awaiting orders.

“Commander, Colonel, Lieutenant, I hardly expected to see any of you at this hour….”

“We’re early risers, sir,” Bud said. That elicited gentle chuckles from the assembled group.

“We all wanted to see you off, sir.” Colonel MacKenzie added with a hint of admiration in her voice.

He smiled warmly. “Well I’m grateful for that….”

“You pulled us through a stressful situation, Colonel,” Sturgis said trying to clarify their reason for being there.

Blakely knew what he was referring to. “I just did what any senior officer would have done in that situation, Commander, but your sentiment is appreciated.”

“Yes sir.”

Blakely eyed the stone-faced NCIS Special Agent standing over to one side.

Their paths hadn’t crossed that often, but when they did, he found Special Agent Gibbs to be a solid investigator who usually brought in air-tight cases. The one exception being the court martial of Harmon Rabb, Jr. for the death of Lieutenant Singer. Still, he made amends for that by not trusting the evidence found, and following a theory proposed by Rabb’s attorney, Lieutenant Commander Coleman, Gibbs had Agent DiNozzo find out who was the real killer.

He wasn’t sure what Admiral Chegwidden was doing in this particular case by having all of the JAG Corps investigative team play ‘roles’ as characterized in Theodore Lindsey’s infamous report, but then Chegwidden was well known for his unorthodox methods for uncovering the truth in any case.

As he understood the report, Rabb and MacKenzie had a long running ‘under the table’ relationship. Both attorneys, mirrors of Chegwidden, were highly exaggerated by Lindsey’s report, so they played their parts…as did Lieutenant Roberts and Commander Turner. The only exception to this was when JAG Corps Headquarters was attacked.

He came down hard on Lieutenant Roberts at the time, but it was for his own good. He didn’t want to see the Lieutenant’s career take a hit as a result of emotional outbursts and uncontrolled behavior. Still, he understood the man’s sentiments. It would take all his training as Military Judge not to mete out some revenge of his own.

In a weird way, he was essentially now caught up in this dance …and so apparently, were the Special Agents of the NCIS Major Case Response Team, most notably Gibbs. Though he hadn’t actually been a part of this whole ruse cooked up by Admiral Chegwidden, he thought it wouldn’t hurt to give anyone watching some more fuel for the fire. Besides he had to tweak this Special Agent just this once.

“Special Agent, Gibbs, isn’t it?” Blakely said as if trying hard not to remember the senior NCIS Agent. Bud and Sturgis were stoic. Mac almost had to bite her tongue to suppress a smile. She didn’t know Judge Blakely was such a good actor.

“Yes sir, your honor.” Gibbs said respectfully.

“I take it you’re with Colonel MacKenzie,” there was obvious disdain in his voice.

“Yes sir,” Gibbs was the model of respect despite his urge to whip his head around and say to Colonel MacKenzie, ‘did you put him up to this?’

Judge Blakely gave a labored sigh. “Well, at least you show more public decorum than Commander Rabb.”

Mac’s dark brown eyes went wide.

“Yes sir, your honor,” There really wasn’t anything else he could say to that comment.

Then Judge Blakely turned and smiled again at the Colonel. “We miss you up in the judiciary Colonel; hopefully we’ll see you there again when you get back.” Mac blushed at the compliment.

He turned back to the JAG Officers and NCIS Agent. “Gentlemen,”

The JAG officers came to attention. “Colonel,”

Blakely walked out into the cool morning and headed over toward the idling KC-130. A smile creased the lips of the Marine judge. If anyone had asked him about it, he would have answered that he heard a good joke recently.

Judge Blakely got on board the transport and strapped himself in. For once, there was a window next to his seat – through the window he saw Special Agent Gibbs move closer to Colonel MacKenzie.

As the plane began taxiing for take-off, he wondered what would happen next?

*~*

Mac turned to face the NCIS Special Agent. “Yeah, what is it? It’s too early to do this, you know.” Her tone was supposed to indicate she really didn’t want him here.

Her ability to go from zero to bwitch in less than sixty seconds impressed him. Gibbs decided anything she could do, he could do better. “I just wanted to *report* to you that Special Agent in Charge Sedrick Phillips is on his way to Gitmo….” That was a half-truth, but then he couldn’t let Colonel Livingston know all the details.

Mac’s eyes flared for a moment, but then she recovered and a sarcastic smile came to her lips. “What do you want me to do, Special Agent? Pin a medal on you?”

Gibbs didn’t flinch, “I’d like you to appreciate me busting *my hump* catching *your* criminal, Colonel.”

If her disdain was an act, it was a good one. “Y-You weren’t supposed to arrest him,” He thought she was going to add ‘you dope’ in her next breath. But she didn’t.

Instead she began lecturing him. “You were supposed to see who he was tied to--”

Okay time to play the irritated boyfriend. “--So you could come in and clean it up to look good for Colonel Livingston, Colonel?” he interrupted.

She put her hands on her hips, striking an indignant pose. “What do you mean by that crack?”

“You seem to have gotten pretty cozy with the Colonel.”

She talked to him like she was talking to a child. “She asked for legal liaison, Special Agent, although I don’t know why I’m telling you this; it’s really none of your business.”

His face became like stone. “It becomes my business when you *interfere* with my work.”

Mac blew out a frustrated breath and took a quick look around the room. “Why don’t we finish this outside, away from sensitive ears and prying eyes?” She gave Bud and Sturgis a cutting look.

The two Naval Judge Advocates pretended not to notice her glare. Over on the far side of room, a Private who had walked in just before Judge Blakely left seemed to be taking too keen an interest in what was going on. Mac turned back to Gibbs and indicated who was ‘eavesdropping’.

Gibbs gave her that patronizing smile and ducked his head. “As you wish, Colonel.”

The senior NCIS Agent hoped the Private would try to surreptitiously follow them outside, but he guessed that the man would merely move closer to the double doors they were heading for and report what he saw.

The Marine Judge Advocate and the NCIS Agent practically knocked the double doors open as they strode out the building, headed for the tarmac. As Gibbs suspected, the Private moved closer to the doors, but didn’t follow them outside.

Gibbs made sure they were far enough away from the doors to cause the amateur to move closer and peak through the windows at the developing scene

“So what did the Judge mean by that comment?” Gibbs was good at playing the jealous boyfriend – he had seen it enough times in his line of work.

Mac gave him a mirthless chuckle, the kind reserved for stupid, jealous boyfriend questions. “I’ve served on the bench a couple of times when we were short staffed….” She began.

Gibbs walked away from her, shaking his head. “Investigator, Lawyer…and Judge; does that mean you could be a jury too?”

The light Colonel’s anger flared. “What did you just say?”

Gibbs turned back to her, his voice callous. “You heard me, Colonel. I said; you’re interfering with a criminal investigation…my criminal investigation. That is a felony.”

Mac played her wounded indignation for all it was worth. “You’re accusing *me* of interfering with *your* investigation?!”

Special Agent Gibbs maintained his harsh demeanor. “Interfering with a criminal investigation is *exactly* what you are doing. Has anyone else here joined a Force Recon unit in the last day or so?”

“Unbelievable…” she muttered.

Gibbs’ face morphed into that of an angry DI “What did you say!?” he hissed. Mac’s flinch at his change wasn’t all acting.

She then regained her ground and drilled into him with equal DI ferocity. “You heard me, I said ‘unbelievable’! You’re more rigid and unbending than Sturgis Turner, if that’s possible!”

Gibbs gave a smile that would have made her want to smack his face – if she was really mad at him.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Take it any way you want.” She countered.

She began chuckling and shaking her head. “Harm was right about you,” she said spitefully, “You’re more trouble than you’re worth!”

Gibbs laughed quietly, the smile staying on his face. “That’s what my three ex-wives tell me. Are we done here?”

He was good. For a moment, she lost her place. “What?”

His voice turned stern. “I said, are we *done* here?”

Mac thought about the different ways she could respond but decided the best one was to just give him a sullen look. “We’re done.”

Without saying anything else, Gibbs turned on his heel and walked away from her.

Mac noted when Gibbs turned to leave, the Private had disappeared. No doubt to inform Colonel Livingston or Captain Lewis about what had happened.


0500 Local
36th ACE Airfield, Camp Chesty Puller
Near Mirbullah, Iraq


Mac felt like the proverbial little old peddler with her pack. There had to be at least eighty pounds worth of equipment that she was carrying. It seemed like too much to her…she didn’t remember any of her previous jumps involving this much equipment, but then again, she had never jumped for Darcy Livingston before.

She had gotten back to her quarters just minutes before reveille sounded. It was earlier than Livingston had told her it would be, but then she expected that would be the case.

Within minutes of it sounding, Kayce, who she’d left sleeping on the floor, was on her feet and doing a quick scrub down. Mac was right there with her. If Darcy wanted this birddog with her every moment of the day that was fine with her...she could play along with the best of them.

**~~**

“You’ve always been like this ma’am?”

“Ever since boot camp, Corporal.”

“I think I’m really starting to like you, ma’am.”

**~~**

They both trotted down the dirt road to the airfield gate. Assembled around it were several other Marines. A couple of them turned and a Lance Corporal shook his head as if the two Marines approaching were the sorriest sight he had ever seen.

“Well, well, well, if it ain’t Corporal ‘Dead Eye’ Danvers and--”

“--And who, Corporal?” Mac snapped, cutting the man off in mid-comment.

The Lance Corporal stiffened for a moment at the rebuke. But then he began smiling and threw a quick sloppy salute to the light Colonel.

“Begging your pardon, ma’am,” he said with an air of mockery, “the light made it hard to tell who you were,” That comment brought a few snickers from the other assembled Marines.

“Wipe that smile off your face, Corporal!” Mac snarled as her eyes narrowed to slits. Then she turned her fiery gaze on the others. “You Marines think his comment was funny?”

The snickers died away, replaced by sober faces and mumbled ‘no ma’am’s’. Mac noticed out of the corner of her eye that some of the senior NCOs had stopped what they were doing and were watching this incident with interest.

Mac turned to the Staff Sergeant who was standing closest to the chastened Marines. “STAFF SERGEANT!” she bellowed.

It had the intended effect. The Sergeant hustled over to the light Colonel. “Yes ma’am!”

“These Marines seem to have nothing better to do with their time than to run their mouths,” Mac’s voice dripped with contempt. “Are these your Marines, Staff Sergeant?”

“No ma’am!” he retorted with equal scorn as he eyed the embarrassed Marines, “but I’ll take care of them right now--”

Mac held up a hand silencing the Staff Sergeant. She turned to the ringleader. “Lance Corporal, drop and give me 100.”

“Wha?” Bledsoe couldn’t believe what this…this…. He was so angry and humiliated, he couldn’t see straight.

“Make that 200! Now Corporal!! BEFORE I KICK YOUR SORRY BUTT TO THE DECK!!”

DO IT BLEDSOE!! Screamed the Staff Sergeant, “NOW!!”

Lance Corporal Bledsoe, his face screwed up in indignation, dropped to the ground and began doing push-ups in silence.

Mac squatted down next to Bledsoe, a cruel smile on her face. “Have him start again, Staff Sergeant. He isn’t counting!”

“Start again Bledsoe,” the Staff Sergeant said sharply.

The Lance Corporal looked up at the E-6 NCO with a look of disgust on his face. “Oh come on, Sarge--”

“NOW BLEDSOE!!” barked the Staff Sergeant

“ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR…!” the Lance Corporal began yelling as he started again.

Mac shook her head and stood up, grinning wickedly at the Staff Sergeant. “I don’t hear any ‘thousands’, do you, Staff Sergeant?”

“BLEDSOE!!”

All hints of surliness and disrespect were now gone from the Lance Corporal’s voice. “AYE, AYE, STAFF SERGEANT!! ONE ONE THOUSAND! TWO ONE THOUSAND! THREE ONE THOUSAND…!”

As Lance Corporal Bledsoe continued doing push-ups and counting out his cadence, Mac turned back to the little group of now humbled Marines.

“What is this? A fraternity meeting or a Marine Force Recon unit?! STAFF SERGEANT!!”

“FALL IN!” Bellowed the Staff Sergeant. “ON THE DOUBLE!!”

The Marines who had been laughing at the Lance Corporal’s joke were now hurrying to make a line. Kayce started to head over and join the others, but the light Colonel put her hand gently on her arm.

“Stay with me, Danvers.” Mac said quietly.

Danvers didn’t know what to make of this. But the Colonel was in charge, for now. “Aye, aye, ma’am,”

They watched as the Marines formed a line of four abreast. The fire team dressed right, spacing themselves equidistantly apart. Nervous looks flitted through each man’s features as they looked at the Staff Sergeant, Mac and Lance Corporal Danvers.

“I can’t hear you, Lance Corporal….” Mac sang.

“MA’AM! SORRY MA’AM! THIRTY ONE THOUSAND, THIRTY-ONE ONE THOUSAND, THIRTY-TWO ONE THOUSAND….”

Mac turned back to the sorry-looking fire team. “The rest of you give me 100…now.”

The four men dropped to the ground and began their push-ups.

“AYE, AYE, COLONEL! ONE ONE THOUSAND! TWO ONE THOUSAND! THREE ONE THOUSAND--!”

“Don’t let their cadence mess you up, Lance Corporal or you’ll have to start all over again.”

“AYE, AYE, MA’AM! SIXTY ONE THOUSAND, SIXTY-ONE ONE THOUSAND--!”

As Bledsoe and the others continued their push-ups, Mac turned back to the Staff Sergeant. “Thank you for your assistance, Staff Sergeant, please see to it that they finish before we’re ready to take off.”

The Staff Sergeant gave her a knowing smile. He was sure glad they weren’t his fire team. “It’ll be my pleasure, Colonel.”

As Mac turned to head toward the runway, she saw Colonel Livingston approaching.

The Force Recon Lieutenant Colonel chuckled at the sight of the Lance Corporal and the four other Force Recon Marines doing push-ups. “Well, Cher, it’s good to see you so bright and cheery at this hour.”

Mac gave her a gung-ho grin. “What do you mean, Colonel? Isn’t it nearly lunchtime?” Her comment recalled the time she had said something similar years ago to the Force Recon Colonel who was Captain Koonan’s superior that time when Harm went undercover as a Gunnery Sergeant.

Darcy laughed heartily at Mac’s bravado. “Excellent Cher, you will fit in perfectly.” She turned back to the Staff Sergeant. “Have these men report to Colonel MacKenzie when they are done, Staff Sergeant.”

“Aye, aye, Colonel.”

Darcy motioned to Mac, “Come Cher, let us have some chow before we board our plane….”

“I’d like Corporal Danvers to stay with us, if that is all right,”

Darcy laughed again. It was a soft, gentle laugh. “Of course, Cher. Corporal, please do join us, we’re having some cold MRE’s with the rest of my staff before our mission begins this morning….”

“Aye, aye, ma’am.”


*~*

As Mac finished the last of her cold chicken pot pie, the unit’s S-2, or intelligence officer, began passing out the latest intelligence update.

“Overnight, we got word from one of our SEAL teams that our insurgent friends have managed to get one of Saddam’s Soviet-built BMD personnel carriers operational.”

There were a couple of shocked looks and some murmurs. The S-2 held up his hand so he could continue.

“The team wasn’t able to get close enough to see how ‘operational’ this piece of hardware is, but even if it only has rounds for its chaingun, that presents a significant threat.”

As the assembled officers and enlisted men digested that, he handed out a map of the town and some photos of the personnel carrier sitting in what looked like the village square. “The carrier was spotted leaving the village of Amariya just northeast of here. Amariya is known to be sympathetic to the former Baath regime of Saddam Hussein. There are unconfirmed reports that former regime soldiers have been spotted in the low hills near the village.”

“Colonel Briggs has given us the green light to dispatch that BMD. Colonel MacKenzie, you will go with Lieutenant Ebbit’s team and assume the part of Iraqi insurgents to gain access to the village and destroy that BMD.”

The Force Recon Commander nodded to the S-2. “Thanks, Captain,” she looked out at the assembled group. “Well, it looks as if you have your work cut out for you, Colonel MacKenzie.”

If she was waiting for a startled reaction from the light Colonel, none appeared. “Yes Colonel,” the Marine Judge Advocate replied like any good Marine should. Even though they were equals, Mac figured that deference at this point wouldn’t hurt her.

Mac’s response seemed to unsettle Darcy. “Ahem, yes, well you’re going along on this mission, Colonel, because it’s a training mission of sorts. And, with you and Corporal Danvers along, you two can talk to any friendly locals you run into to find out just how operational this thing is.”

“Understood Colonel.” Was Mac’s only response. Kayce wasn’t sure, but she thought that Colonel Livingston seemed somewhat disappointed that Colonel MacKenzie had not said more. It then seemed as though the Force Recon CO dismissed that thought and continued with her part of the briefing for Colonel MacKenzie.

“You’ll be para-dropped in behind the village and make your way to an observation point to confirm the existence of that BMD. Once confirmed, you and Lieutenant Ebbits will make your way overland to the village, destroy the carrier, and return to our lines.”

“You’ll be using our version of Fedayeen transport….”

Mac turned and looked as two elderly looking Dodge pickup trucks, each with a M2HB .50 caliber machine gun in the bed of the truck, were loaded into cargo hold of a KC-130 that was sitting to one side of a hanger.

“It’s amazing what you can find on E-bay these days,” Darcy quipped as she watched the trucks being loaded. That caused some polite chortles to ripple through the assembled group.

Mac wanted to ask why such elaborate measures were being undertaken for such a routine sounding mission, but she figured she’d find that out soon enough.

“Report to Ebbits, Colonel. He’ll fill you in on the rest of the mission,”

“Aye, aye, Colonel.”

As she and Corporal Danvers started to leave the assembly, Darcy walked over to them. “Oh and Colonel? A word?”

She looked at Danvers and then back at Livingston. Mac walked over to where the Force Recon Colonel was waiting away from the assembled group. The S-2 was now speaking again.

Darcy’s voice was friendly, almost casual. “You hit me with accusations of code reds, blanket parties and GI showers. Well Cher, have you seen any?”

Mac tried to act non-plussed. “None so far, Colonel.”

Darcy nodded, smiling. “Not so easily impressed…for a person in such a…precarious position, Colonel, I find that invigorating and intriguing.”

The light Colonel stood her ground. “I’m an officer of the court, Colonel. If you or anyone in your unit was doing anything that could be considered injurious to peoples’ health and welfare, I have a duty as a JAG Corps officer to take action against it.”

Darcy’s smile faded some. “Well Cher, you’ll find that no one engages in that kind of behavior in this unit. If they did, they’d have to answer to me.”



0515 Local
USS Patrick Henry


Harm walked down the crowded corridor toward the Raptors’ squadron ready room. It had been over two years since the aviator/attorney had stepped foot into this room.

As he walked in it was evident that he immediately became the center of attention. A couple of other aviators who had been playing cards stopped their game and looked up at the tall Commander entering the room. Another pilot who had been reading a magazine lowered it and nodded to Harm.

Harm returned their guarded greetings. He noticed that he was the only Reservist who had made it into the ready room so far. As he walked over to the coffee pot, he passed two female aviators sitting under the Velociraptor logo for their squadron, engaged in a game of checkers. The brunette who sat with her back to him was intently studying the board. The other aviator, her golden blond hair tied in a loose pony tail, glanced up at Harm as she waited for her partner to make a move. The nametag on her flight suit read “Hollands”

“C’mon Dust Storm,” she groaned impatiently looking back at the woman across from her, “this is a friendly game of checkers, not a world championship chess match.” Why in the world she had let her RIO talk her into a game of checkers at this hour of morning, she’d never know.

“Give me a minute, will ya?” the brunette grumbled. Then she nodded and proceeded to jump her checker piece across the board until it reached the other side.

“King me, Supergirl” she said glibly.

“I’d like to crown you, that’s what I’d like to do,” growled Hollands.

“Oh don’t be such a sore loser,” Sandy ‘Dust Storm’ Ribkins said obviously close to gloating. “You could have done that if you had just been a little more patient earlier in the game.”

“Yeah and we’d both be twenty years older if I used your strategy….”

That comment elicited a deep chuckle from the tall Commander who had filled his cup and now was walking back toward them.

Both women looked up at Harm. Dust Storm gave him a shy smile. Nicole Hollands, aka Supergirl, wasn’t interested in what this guy had to say about their game. She felt like he was an interloper.

“Can I help you?” she challenged.

“Easy Commander,” Harm said holding up his hands to the young blond Lieutenant Commander, “I couldn’t help but overhear.”

Nicole dropped her defensive stance, realizing she was being rude, especially since the man she was talking to was a more senior office, a full Commander.

“Sorry sir, that was out of line,” she said referring to her initial response to him.

“It’s all right, considering the walloping the Lieutenant just gave you; I probably would have been a little sore myself.”

“You’d think I would have learned by now *not* to play her,” She stuck out her hand. “Lieutenant Commander Nicole Hollands; and this is Lieutenant Sandy Ribkins, my RIO.”

“Pleasure to meet you, sir.” Sandy almost gushed as she shook Harm’s hand. Nicole fought the temptation to roll her eyes at her RIO. Sometimes Sandy could be such a girl when it came to meeting a handsome guy.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant, Commander. Commander Harmon Rabb, Junior, I’ve been assigned to your squadron.”

So this was their new squadron commander. Nicole wondered where they got this guy from. “You came in on the COD last night?”

Harm took a sip from his steaming cup. “One of the earlier ones.”

That wasn’t much help. Reserve pilots had been pulled all over the region because of the damage inflicted by this flu bug. This guy could have come from any duty station in the Gulf. She just hoped he wasn’t a nugget or some desk jockey that occasionally got to ferry aircraft from one base to another.

She was about to ask what experience he had, but starry-eyed Sandy beat her to it.

“So are you stationed here in the Gulf?”

The tall naval Commander gave both of them a small smile. “Ah, no, I’m from JAG Corps Headquarters,” Harm said somewhat sheepishly, “I was with a JAGMAN team at Camp Chesty Puller near Mirbullah when I was pulled for some flying duty….”

Great, she thought, we need pilots and they send us a land based Washington weenie…. “So have you flown a Turkey before, Commander?” It was a leading question and a loaded one at that.

“I prefer to call them Tomcats, Commander,” Harm replied in a clipped tone that indicated he really didn’t care for the uncomplimentary nickname.

Her assessment of this tall Naval Commander went up by a few notches with that comment, but in her eyes, he was still a legal weenie. Not something she really cared for that much.

“Hey Commander, there you are.” The ladies looked at the aviator coming up behind Harm. The aviator/attorney turned to see Jeff making his way toward them.

“The CAG’s making his way back here.” Jeff reported

Nicole and Sandy got up from the table, “Time to go earn our pay, sir”

Harm and Jeff followed them up towards the front of the room to a set of leather chairs with fold down writing tables situated in front of a large whiteboard.

*~*

The CAG looked around at the assembled pilots. The last time he’d seen Commander Rabb, he was still holding onto some bitterness about the Commander losing his ‘Cat during a storm off the Atlantic seaboard back in May of 2001. Now here the Commander was back again, this time as the squadron commander of his Raptors.

“Rabb, you and Hollands will patrol the northern quadrant up to rendezvous point Texas. You can expect lots of traffic around the area. The Iranians have been shadowing our flights lately. Nothing serious, it just seems to be more curiosity than anything else.”

Harm looked up from his notes. “They don’t appreciate us playing in what they consider their pond, CAG.”

The CAG gave the assembled aviators a slight smile. “Then, Commander, I expect you to make our intentions clear to them. We are conducting our usual air combat patrols and regular air-to-air training in our designated areas. Warn them off if they get too nosy. Otherwise be diplomatic. You know the routine.”

Harm nodded. “Aye CAG,” He probably understood the gist of that comment better than any of the other aviators assembled here for this briefing. He had been, in times past, in many delicate situations that could escalate into combat if not carefully handled.

“Some of the other Gulf air forces will also visit from time to time while you’re up there. Show them every courtesy, Commander.”

“Aye, aye sir.”

The CAG knew that Harmon Rabb, Junior was probably the best pilot to lead the Raptors at this point. The man was good; there was no doubt of that. And as for losing his plane, he had eventually learned from Captain Ingles that his bird had suffered an electrical malfunction in that storm. And not due to anything that Rabb had done.

Still it was hard for him to forgive the aviator/attorney for losing that Tomcat in 2001 and for subsequently ‘borrowing’ another ‘Cat to get back to Patuxent Naval Air Station back in December 2002.

Sure, he had been carrying Admiral Boone with him, but it still irked the CAG that this wily Commander had snookered one of his best pilots at the time, just so he could get the Admiral back stateside in time for Christmas.

“You have your orders,” the CAG told the assembled aviators. “Now get to it,”



“Hey El-Tee, here come the last of our recruits…”

1st Lieutenant Carlson Ebbits turned and saw two figures hustling towards him. (Cripes, they look female…) Ebbits groaned silently. His worst fears were confirmed as the two approached.

Yep, they’re both female. Even worse, one of them was a light Colonel. (Great…)

He gave her a crisp salute. “Colonel,”

Mac returned his salute. “Lieutenant Ebbits, Colonel MacKenzie; this is my aide, Lance Corporal Danvers….”

Kayce gave Mac a furtive sidelong glance. That was just what the light Colonel had hoped she would do. Until now it had been an unofficial assignment. She wanted to keep this Lance Corporal as close to her as possible. If Kayce was a spy for Colonel Livingston, then Mac was going to follow the old adage ‘Keep your friends close and your enemies….’

Ebbits looked the two up and down as the Marine light Colonel continued her introduction. (At least they aren’t prissy. Neither one had a compact out, checking their hair or makeup…so far, so good….)

“…Colonel Livingston said that you would brief us on the mission particulars…” Mac trailed off, noting that the Lieutenant seemed to be lost in his own thoughts. “Lieutenant?”

If Lieutenant Ebbits was embarrassed, his voice didn’t betray it. “Got a lot on my mind this morning, Colonel,” he said by way of an apology, “I’m sure you understand….”

Mac didn’t miss a beat. “Of course, Lieutenant.”

“You and the Lance Corporal can store your gear temporarily with Gunny Dallas and Corporal Calapango, ma’am,” Ebbits said. “Then I’ll brief you and your aide on our mission.”

Mac was certain Ebbits had just a hint of sarcasm in his voice but decided to let that slide for the moment. Though she was a senior officer, she was technically under his command. Besides, it could be fatigue or something else that could be causing that tone. Better to wait and learn more about this junior, but seasoned Marine Force Recon officer.

She nodded her appreciation. “Thank you, Lieutenant.” She turned to Kayce, “C’mon Corporal.”

“Yes ma’am,” the younger woman said as they both walked over to the two Force Recon soldiers who Mac surmised were Gunny Dallas and Corporal Calapango. The men were standing by a neat row of stacked gear.

*~*

Mac and Kayce were carefully checking their chutes one last time. They checked their MC1-1B parachute lines and rigging as well as their canopies on both their main and reserve chutes. The light Colonel thanked God it was still dark. She didn’t want Danvers to see how nervous she was. Maybe she would just think Mac was being cautious.

“Begging your pardon ma’am, I don’t blame you for being overly cautious. I haven’t jumped in a while either….”

Relief flooded through Mac. Danvers had bought it. Or at least she was acting as if she had bought it.

“You can never be too careful when doing this, Corporal,” Mac replied trying to sound confident. “You remember ‘Blood on the Risers’ from airborne school, don’t you?”

“Like it was yesterday ma’am. They changed the lyrics when I was getting ready to jump. It was supposed to psych me out.”

Mac turned to the young Lance Corporal. “Did it?”

“It psyched me up rather than out, ma’am.” She gave Mac a big grin.

Mac couldn’t help but give her a bright smile in return. Part of her really hoped Kayce wasn’t a spy for Colonel Livingston.

“Colonel,”

Mac turned and stood up as did Danvers. Lieutenant Ebbits walked over to them. He had what looked like several paperback books in his hands.

Ebbits looked down and saw that their parachutes had been expertly packed. That impressed him…some. So there was more to these two than the proverbial ‘meets the eye’. He gave the Light Colonel a steely look. “I heard you were with Captain Walls’ Force Recon Team in Bosnia…”

Mac couldn’t see Kayce Danvers’ flared eyes. Apparently Lieutenant Ebbits had read her package…all of it.

“Yes Lieutenant.”

“Well, that’s good. I hope it means that you’re a fast learner, Colonel….”

“I can do what you need me to do, Lieutenant.”

“Good, because you’re going to be my second in command on this mission, my assistant, if you will. The Master Guns is going along with us to make sure everything goes smoothly with the new recruits – those new recruits include you, Lieutenant Colonel.”

Mac mentally debated about verbally slapping the Lieutenant for this breach in protocol, but figured she would find out soon enough what was behind his slip. It was clear something was bubbling just beneath the surface.

Ebbits seemed to rein in whatever he was trying to control. “Here; keep these with you at all times….” He handed each of them a small paper bound book with a green cover.

Mac assessed the compact volume in her hands. “Small Wars Manual….”

Ebbits nodded. “A lifesaver out here, Colonel. It’s how we operate. And this….”

The other small book looked more like a copy of a dissertation. “A History of the US Army versus the Indians of the West….” She said as she fingered the volume.

“Another God-send out here, Colonel, and don’t either of you lose these. You’ll need’em both…and you’re responsible if you lose them.”

“All right Lieutenant,” Mac said like a senior officer willing to tolerate this kind of treatment - up to a point. “What about our mission?”

Ebbits nodded. He squatted down and pulled a map out of the case he had slung over his right shoulder. Mac and Kayce squatted down to join him. All three studied the map.

“You heard about the Fedayeen element in Amariya during the intel briefing?”

Both the light Colonel and the Lance Corporal nodded. “Well, that was just part of it. The SEAL team got a prisoner that they brought back with them. Seems that our friendly neighborhood al-Qaeda has been helping Saddam’s boys.”

Ebbits took out his grease pen and began marking on the map. “They’ve got a well entrenched series of bunkers, emplacements and fortified houses on this hill right in back of the village.” He circled “Hill 522” located in back of Amariya.

“The SEALS saw the BMD carrier here.” Ebbits hastily scribbled a symbol for an armored personnel carrier near the crest of the hill. “Our job is to make a detailed observation of the Fedayeen/al-Qaeda positions from this hill, lure that BMD out of its hidey hole, knock it out or at least disable it, and hightail it back here.” The Force Recon Lieutenant placed symbols for their team on “Hill 520” and marked a kill zone between the two hills near what looked like a farm.

Ebbits stood as did the two women. “Marine CAS will take care of the rest; any questions?”

“Just one, Lieutenant,” Mac said “The trucks I saw being loaded…?”

Ebbits gave her a knowing smile. “One of the Colonel’s personal touches. She got them surplus-ed from an Army unit shortly before we came overseas. Thought it would give us more of a local flavor since Technicals are the vehicle of choice for the Fedayeen.”

He paused for a moment. “How long has it been since your last parachute drop, Colonel?”

“Oh, it’s been a couple of months,” Mac said glibly. (More like a couple of years….) she thought grimly.

The Lieutenant gave her a fake smile. “Don’t worry ma’am, it’s like riding a bicycle, you never forget.”

(I sure hope that’s the case….)

Ebbits looked at his watch, “We’re getting close to zero hour, Colonel, you and your aide better grab your gear and prepare to board.” He then looked at Kayce. “Danvers, I heard you were a sniper….”

“Yes sir,” she replied.

“Good. You’ll be with Corporal O’Grady; we’re short a sniper for this mission. You familiar with the Mike 82 Alpha three?”

“My weapon of choice, sir.” Danvers smiled wolfishly.

Ebbits chuckled at her enthusiasm. “Glad to hear it. Your job will be to disable that BMD or any other motorized bandit we run into along the way.”

“Aye sir,”

“Outstanding.” Ebbits saluted Mac, “Colonel, see you in a few.”

When the Lieutenant was out of earshot, Kayce turned to Mac. “If I may ask, what’s your impression of our CO, Colonel?”

Mac shot her a ‘you know better than to ask that’ look. “I think we’d better get our gear in order, Lance Corporal.”

“Aye, aye, ma’am.”

*~*

The KC-130 transport rocked and swayed in the pre-dawn darkness. Mac thought back to the Patrol Order that Lieutenant Ebbits had handed to the assembled team members just before they boarded the aircraft.

He had waited until this moment because it turned out that Mac and Kayce were a ‘surprise’ that Darcy had thrown in for Ebbits to deal with at the last instant.

Ebbits, a true Force Recon Marine, handled this aberration with aplomb. His Patrol Leader’s Order reflected that. There were no last minute scratch-outs on the paper she had been handed. The Lieutenant had anticipated his second in command would not be named until the last moment.

At least Kayce Danvers would not be her concern for a while. Mac looked down the row of seats. Kayce and Corporal O’Grady were deep in conversation. One then the other nodding their heads in response to something the other had said.

The Marine Judge Advocate only hoped that Kayce wasn’t reporting to one of Darcy’s ‘eyes and ears’.

While Mac had been doing her mental gymnastics, she hadn’t heard the aircraft commander tell a lanky Staff Sergeant that Ebbits had three minutes to the drop zone. The Force Recon Lieutenant nodded and shuffled over to the door.

The Staff Sergeant released the lock and the big back door of the KC-130 slid up and locked open overhead. The whistling of the warm morning air added to the noise in the cabin.

Ebbits, acting as jumpmaster hooked up and looked at the team sitting on either side of the aisle.

“GET READY!” He barked above the howling wind.

Everyone leaned forward, one foot under the seat and one in the aisle. Mac could hear the pilot throttling back.

Carlson Ebbits stuck his head outside of the craft and looked all around the exterior. Satisfied, he pulled his head back in.

“OUT-BOARD PERSONNEL, STAND UP!” Mac, Kayce and the other two Force Recon Marines stood up and secured their seats. Ebbits nodded his approval and then looked to the other side of the aircraft.

“INBOARD PERSONNEL, STAND UP!” The last three of the Force Recon Marines stood up and secured their seats against the side of the aircraft walls. Mac noticed the Master Gunnery Sergeant gave her a nod. She didn’t respond.

The assembled team turned toward the Lieutenant. “HOOK UP!” He barked.

They unsnapped their hooks from the reserve carrying handle, reached up and clipped it to the anchor line. Then they slipped the safety wire into the hole, toward the aft end of the aircraft and bent it down. Next, they took the slack out of the static line by forming a bight at eye level and held it. As one they turned toward Ebbits. The First Lieutenant nodded.

“CHECK STATIC LINES!”

Mac and the other Force Recon Marines took one last time to feel the line that was hooked to the anchor line. She checked it minutely for frays or tears, that it was properly attached, that it was properly routed and there was no excessive slack. The others did the same. Their inspection completed, they turned back to the First Lieutenant.

“CHECK EQUIPMENT!”

With one hand still on the static line, Mac used her other hand to quickly check herself. No loose belts, the lanyard to her 9mm pistol in her thigh holster was secure. She looked back up at Ebbits. Apparently so did the others.

“SOUND OFF FOR EQUIPMENT CHECK!”

Each Marine sounded off one by one. As they did, they would tap the Marine standing next to them who would then reply “OKAY!”. That continued until she was tapped by the Marine standing next to her.

“ALL OKAY!” She reported to the 1st Lieutenant.

Ebbits nodded. He made sure the cargo door was securely open and then made a final safety check of the immediate outside area around the thundering aircraft.

Satisfied, Ebbits motioned to Mac to come forward. Mac shuffled up to the open cargo door. The dark land was lit only by moon and stars and nothing else. The cool high altitude wind whipped at her face.

Ebbits leaned in so he could be heard. “Ready Colonel?”

“Ready!” (as I’ll ever be) she added silently.

She had made a few jumps on and off since her Bosnia adventure, just to keep from losing her skills completely. She had jumped with Harm twice; once when their MiG was shot out from under them when she’d gone with Harm to Russia to search for his father; the other time had been in response to a dare from the good Commander. Despite the fact the moments up to the jump gave her a major case of the butterflies, she’d shown Stickboy just how seasoned she was. Harm had admitted she was damned good. The glow had stayed with her for the rest of that weekend.

“STAND IN THE DOOR!”

Mac put her hands on the outside of the aircraft, her eyes on the horizon.

“GO!”

Mac thrust herself out of the Hercules transport and led her ‘stick’ out of the rocking aircraft.

She counted to five and pulled the ripcord. Like clockwork, the parachute she had packed earlier so carefully, opened.

Mac looked around and saw Kayce to her left and other members of her stick around her.

The Marine Judge Advocate tried hard to remember her training from long ago. As she looked around, she ran down her mental checklist:

(…eyes open…

…chin…

…elbows…

…fingers…

…right hand…

…legs…

…toes…

…bend forward…

…check canopy…)

Mac looked around and saw the rest of the Recon team floating around or above her. As she looked toward the horizon, it was slowly starting to turn gray. Before long it would turn bright as the sun rose. She watched the KC-130 slowly turn in the purplish gray darkness, her navigation lights glowing.

It was time to get ready to land. Again she began her mental checklist.

(…head up…

…feet and knees…

…elbows…

…hands…

…legs together…

…pull steering mechanism…

…drop and roll….

…get up and snag the chute, spill air out….)



0530 Local
USS Patrick Henry


Harm felt his body slammed back against his seat as the carrier’s steam catapult launched his F-14D Super Tomcat into the pre-dawn sky. Following immediately to his left and behind him was Nicole’s Tomcat.

Both planes quickly gained altitude.

Harm and Nicole’s planes soared over the dark warm waters of the Persian Gulf, heading into the brightening pre-dawn sky. As he always did when flying, Harm felt more alive than he had felt in quite a while.

“Great view isn’t it, Hammer?”

Harm reached over for his combination radio mike/oxygen mask. “The best, Supergirl.”



0532 Local
Drop Zone
Northeast of Mirbullah


‘Master Guns’ Rudy Willbane grinned “Okay Recruits…good job, not outstanding, but it’ll do for this morning. Now heads up because I don’t want anybody squashed flat by the supplies they’re dropping on our heads!”

Mac looked up with her night vision goggles and saw the transport lazily circling overhead had disgorged several large crates with chutes which were now making their way earthward.

“Look alive, Recon! After these packages are safe on the ground, our transport will come in low and drop off our rides!”



0540 Local
Persian Gulf


The two Tomcats sliced through the warm morning air. Harm still couldn’t believe he was back in the cockpit again. He looked over at the F-14D riding shotgun.

“So what’s on the agenda for today, Nicole?”

Harm could tell Nicole Hollands was grinning. His eye caught the name stenciled on the side of her aircraft ‘Supergirl’

“How about we see *how good* you really are, Commander?”

Harm got a sly smile on his face as he clipped on his oxygen mask, kicked in his afterburners and watched his wings fold back. “Bring it on, Supergirl.” He said softly.

Harm, out of the corner of his eye, could see Nicole streaking toward him. She was eager for the first kill. Harm kicked his Tomcat into a corkscrew that brought him briefly into her sights, but not long enough for a gun or missile lock. He passed to the left of her as she attempted to close on him.

“Dammit! We overshot him Supergirl!”

“I’ve got eyes Dust Storm! Just keep him from blowing our tail off!”

As the two Grumman fighters wheeled through the early morning sky, Nicole could see the Reservist had made a fatal mistake.

“Engaging with missiles!”

“You haven’t got a lock!”

“I’m only going to get one chance!”

In Harm’s plane, the warning tone of a missile trying to obtain a lock could be heard.

“Harm! She’s gonna blow us out of the sky!”

“Not if I can help it! Hang on, Pitcher!!”

Harm corkscrewed out of Supergirl’s line of sight.

“Damn! Missed him!!”

“He’s good Supergirl!”

“Oh yeah?! Well, I’m better!!”

Nicole yanked her ‘cat over into a similar corkscrew, hoping to catch Harm at his own game.

The aviator/lawyer smiled at the younger pilot’s maneuvers and reduced his speed, causing the other F-14 to shoot out in front of him.

“Gotcha Supergirl,” he said softly as targeted her plane and ‘fired’ his missile. “Fox two….”

The warning tone sounded in Supergirl’s fighter.

“He’s tracking us!” barked Sandy

Nicole looked around frantically. “Where is he?!”

“Eight o’clock high! Hammer has both gun and missile lock on us!”

The warble changed to a solid tone indicating a kill.

“We’re toast!!” Sandy barked.

Nicole swore under her breath as she brought her plane around. She shouldn’t have fallen for such an obvious trap. She had underestimated her opponent. She wouldn’t do that again.

With the tone still ringing in her ears, Nicole laughed hard, trying to show the Reservist pilot that his ‘lucky kill’ hadn’t rattled her. “Damn legal eagle, where did you learn those maneuvers?”

“In the Gulf of Sidra, Supergirl.” Harm replied laconically. He looked in the mirror and smiled at Jeff. The RIO was grinning too. Since they were both Reservists, it was nice to put this hot shot in her place.

“Wanna go for best two out of three, Hammer?” the challenge in her voice was evident.

“Anytime you’re ready, Supergirl….” Harm felt the adrenaline rush as the fight or flight feeling took over.

Supergirl yanked back on her stick, sending her ‘Cat off towards the stratosphere.

“What’s she doing?!”

“Trying to line us up for a kill, hang on!” Harm broke right and then instantly regretted it. In his mind’s eye he could see what Supergirl was doing.

“She’s rolling inverted! She’s gonna come down on top of us!!” Jeff reported.

“I know!” Harm snapped as he tried to coax a little more speed out his plane. At the right moment, he would throttle back and Nicole’s fighter would streak into his kill zone.

“I’ve got a warning tone!”

“Damn!!”

“She’s letting us have it; missiles and guns!!” Jeff added unnecessarily.

“Figures,” Harm said disgustedly

“Sorry Hammer,” Nicole sounded like a gleeful kid trying not to gloat. “Looks like we’re even now….”

Harm looked over at Supergirl who was now flying even with him. “Good job, Supergirl,”

“Thank you, Hammer,” she said trying to sound gracious. She was surprised by his compliment. She was used to sullen silence or snide remarks from someone she had just shot down, not gallantry. There was more to this aviator/lawyer than she thought. Maybe he was just showing off his courtroom manners, like he would to another attorney who’d just beaten him in court.

“Shall we give it another go?”

“Sure; you did say best two out of three…”

As soon as the words left Harm’s mouth, he yanked his plane over in a screaming right turn that caused Nicole to overshoot him.

“Oh Crud!” Supergirl yelped as she tried to decelerate and catch him at his own game.

But Harm rolled his plane back to the left and vicious game of aerial scissors developed as each pilot tried to gain the advantage.

Harm maintained his climb and at the last possible moment did a barrel roll that brought him above and in back of Nicole’s plane.

Nicole swore softly as the warning warble changed to a flat tone.

“Damn Supergirl! He got us again!!” Sandy’s voice was full of awe and admiration.

“Yeah I heard,” she muttered. Though she was aggravated with herself for falling prey to this Reservist, she had to admit he was damn good.


0600 Local
Northwest of Mirbullah

The Toyota Landcruiser sailed down the black ribbon of highway leaving Najaf. The last time Brad was on this highway was when the then CBS reporter was embedded with the 2nd Brigade Combat Team of the 3rd Infantry Division [Mechanized] as it raced the other way during the opening days of Operation Iraqi Freedom.

He and his passenger hadn’t said very much to each other while negotiating their way through the Marine and Army checkpoints as they headed out of the city, but now that they were on the open road, Brad relaxed a little, though he still had to keep an eye out for any possible Improvised Explosive Devices [IEDs].

He stuck his hand out to the tall Latino Marine Gunnery Sergeant sitting next to him. “Brad Holliman, ZNN.”

His passenger obviously felt more relaxed as well. “Gunnery Sergeant Victor Galindez”, he replied shaking the younger man’s hand. “I appreciate the ride Mr. Holliman, they weren’t going to get that helo fixed anytime soon and I need to catch up with my unit as quickly as possible.”

Brad took his eyes off the road for just a moment so he could make eye contact with the Gunny. “No problem,” he said with a smile. “What unit did you say you were you with?”

Victor gave the man a brief smile in return before resuming his scan of the road. He didn’t want them stumbling into an IED. “2nd Force Recon temporarily attached to the 36th MEU in Mirbullah.”

Brad Holliman chuckled at his good fortune. “No kidding? That’s where I’m headed…I’m meeting up with the correspondent who covered the court martial of that Cobra gunship crew.”

Victor paused in his scanning and turned toward the driver. “Stuart Dunston?”

Brad rewarded the Gunny with another smile. “The one and only…say, would you be willing to give me interview on what it’s like to be in Marine Force Recon, it’ll be good publicity for the Marines….” (And what a feather in my cap this will be….)

The Marine Gunnery Sergeant resumed scanning the sides of the road, looking for anything unusual. “Only if my CO approves it, Mr. Holliman.”

Stuart’s replacement wasn’t going to let a little reticence on the part of a Marine stand in his way of a potential exclusive. “I’m sure that…” Off to the side of the road, something was sticking up out of a sand-filled gully. The morning sun was making it difficult to see. “Hey, do you see that?” He said motioning with his chin.

Gunny immediately looked that direction. “See what?”

Brad motioned with his chin again. “That…sticking up out of that gully over on the right….”

Victor’s eyes zeroed in on the cylindrical object sticking out of the gully. “Pull over, sir.” He said tersely.

Brad knew better than to argue with the Marine. More than once when he was embedded with the 3rd Infantry, they had kept him from getting his head blown off. He figured this Gunnery Sergeant had spotted an IED. He carefully eased the Landcruiser off onto the shoulder of the highway.

Victor had his door open before the SUV had rolled to a stop. “Stay here Mr. Holliman,” he ordered as he got out carrying his rifle, and moved toward the object.

Brad nodded. When he was sure the Gunny was far enough away, he grabbed his personal minicam off the seat and began filming as the Marine closed in on the object.

As Victor got closer to the object, his years in as a recon solider and law enforcement officer told him what he was seeing. An arm, a human arm sticking up out of the gully. The fingers were missing. As far as he could tell there weren’t any protruding wires or other tell-tale signs that this was a gruesome IED.

Brad was having trouble seeing what the Gunnery Sergeant had found. Slowly, quietly he opened his door and resumed filming. Brad felt a flick of revulsion when he zoomed in on the object. It wasn’t an IED. The ZNN Correspondent inadvertently fingered the door latch when he realized it was a body.

Victor heard the snick of the SUV’s door latch. “Stay in the car, Mr. Holliman.” He called over his shoulder as examined the arm. He wished he had a camera.

He turned around to look at the ZNN Correspondent who had disobeyed his request. Mr. Holliman was holding a minicam, pointed right at him.

Brad stopped filming for a moment. “Is he--?” The ZNN reporter wondered if the Marine was going to chew him out.

Gunny waved the man toward him. “Yes sir. Come over here, I need you to record this….”

Brad slowly made his way over to the Gunny, filming as he approached. “Shouldn’t we call someone? Who is he?” The reporter said asking the obvious questions.

Gunny could see that all the fingers had been removed and the pattern of blood coloring the sand in back of the arm indicated the head was missing as well. Whoever did this wanted to be sure that except for being Caucasian, that the body couldn’t be identified.

“I don’t know, but yes sir, we should call someone….”

As the ZNN correspondent continued filming, Gunny fished his cell phone out of his pocket.

End of Chapter 24

--TBC

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