sighed. “It’s a low-priority mission.”
“That seems to be something of an understatement. We’re a shooter short, Tucker looks like death warmed over, and Mako sprang a jailbird.”
“Look, Mako doesn’t have the men, but he was getting leaned on from up top. I guess one of these New Center guys predicted an earth-quake in Santa Cruz, gave the residents twelve hours’ notice to evacuate. Saved some lives, including—”
“That of our very own Secretary of the Navy, Andrew Benneton,” Cameron said with a grimace.
“Favors, like shit, flow downhill. You know the drill: Secretary of the Navy calls the Commander, who calls the Team THREE CO, who calls our favorite Operations Officer, John Mako, who, with little notice and a big headache, needs to field a SEALs squad.”
“So he scraped together reserves and pulled you back from leave.”
Derek nodded. “His ass is covered as long as he provides BUD/s-trained soldiers. We’re just here to dog-and-pony. The best I could do was request old platoon-mates. No one wanted this. It’s a jerk-off of a mission—keep the slipper in one piece and get him home as quickly as possible. If it’s feeling a touch half-assed, that’s because it is.”
Cameron let her breath out in a whistle. She glanced at the kids run-ning over the lawn. The girl attempted a cartwheel and landed flat on her back. “How’s Jacqueline?”
Derek bit his lip, turning his face to the breeze. “You never know just how tough you are until something like that happens. Just how much you can stand.” His face looked narrow and displeased, as though he’d bitten into something sour. He murmured, “You have no idea what it’s like to lose a baby.”
Cameron averted her eyes, uncomfortable. “No. No I don’t.”
Derek shook off his thoughts like a chill and turned back, all business again. “I’m gonna run the squad like they used to run half platoons before they kicked the fulls up to sixteen. Szabla’s next in rank as an 0-2, so she’ll be the AOIC. Believe me Cam, I’d rather it was you.”
Cameron wasn’t really sure what to make of his rapid mood swings— she figured they were bumps in the road of his mourning process.
“At least we don’t have any screaming seamen on board,” Derek con-tinued. “You five are all E-4 and up, though Savage and Tucker haven’t kept up proficiency training in some time. Like I said, low-priority mis-sion.”
Cameron grimaced. “What a squad.”
“Hey!” Szabla yelled from across the street. “You about done with your little tea party?”
Derek waved for her to shut up and nodded at Cameron. “Ecuador’s in a martial law state—first time since ’78, I think. Heavy UN influence. There was some talk upstairs about having NATO move in so we could have more control, but the French weren’t having it. We’ll have to cut through a decent amount of red tape at Guayaquil, but it should be clear sailing once we hit the islands.”
“Is Guayaquil that dangerous?” Cameron asked.
“Hell no,” Derek said. “The city center’s cordoned off—it’s basically a UN camp. Outside of that, there’s still a lot of random crime, as always, but things are up and running. I suppose it’s no place for a civilian, but it’s hardly Borneo. These scientists are just freaked out because that last guy went missing.”
“Or they’re using us to cut through the red tape.”
“Probably a little of both.” Derek formed a fist and held it out. “Gonna need your level head and your bad Spanish.”
Cameron tightened her hand and Derek brought his down on top of hers. He smiled, and a few faint wrinkles fanned through his cheeks. Cameron noticed a patch of stubble on his chin that he’d missed while shaving and felt a sadness move through her. Derek had aged a decade since she’d seen him last month. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” she asked. “It’s hardly been six weeks.”
“I know. But this is a cakewalk of a mission.
“That seems to be something of an understatement. We’re a shooter short, Tucker looks like death warmed over, and Mako sprang a jailbird.”
“Look, Mako doesn’t have the men, but he was getting leaned on from up top. I guess one of these New Center guys predicted an earth-quake in Santa Cruz, gave the residents twelve hours’ notice to evacuate. Saved some lives, including—”
“That of our very own Secretary of the Navy, Andrew Benneton,” Cameron said with a grimace.
“Favors, like shit, flow downhill. You know the drill: Secretary of the Navy calls the Commander, who calls the Team THREE CO, who calls our favorite Operations Officer, John Mako, who, with little notice and a big headache, needs to field a SEALs squad.”
“So he scraped together reserves and pulled you back from leave.”
Derek nodded. “His ass is covered as long as he provides BUD/s-trained soldiers. We’re just here to dog-and-pony. The best I could do was request old platoon-mates. No one wanted this. It’s a jerk-off of a mission—keep the slipper in one piece and get him home as quickly as possible. If it’s feeling a touch half-assed, that’s because it is.”
Cameron let her breath out in a whistle. She glanced at the kids run-ning over the lawn. The girl attempted a cartwheel and landed flat on her back. “How’s Jacqueline?”
Derek bit his lip, turning his face to the breeze. “You never know just how tough you are until something like that happens. Just how much you can stand.” His face looked narrow and displeased, as though he’d bitten into something sour. He murmured, “You have no idea what it’s like to lose a baby.”
Cameron averted her eyes, uncomfortable. “No. No I don’t.”
Derek shook off his thoughts like a chill and turned back, all business again. “I’m gonna run the squad like they used to run half platoons before they kicked the fulls up to sixteen. Szabla’s next in rank as an 0-2, so she’ll be the AOIC. Believe me Cam, I’d rather it was you.”
Cameron wasn’t really sure what to make of his rapid mood swings— she figured they were bumps in the road of his mourning process.
“At least we don’t have any screaming seamen on board,” Derek con-tinued. “You five are all E-4 and up, though Savage and Tucker haven’t kept up proficiency training in some time. Like I said, low-priority mis-sion.”
Cameron grimaced. “What a squad.”
“Hey!” Szabla yelled from across the street. “You about done with your little tea party?”
Derek waved for her to shut up and nodded at Cameron. “Ecuador’s in a martial law state—first time since ’78, I think. Heavy UN influence. There was some talk upstairs about having NATO move in so we could have more control, but the French weren’t having it. We’ll have to cut through a decent amount of red tape at Guayaquil, but it should be clear sailing once we hit the islands.”
“Is Guayaquil that dangerous?” Cameron asked.
“Hell no,” Derek said. “The city center’s cordoned off—it’s basically a UN camp. Outside of that, there’s still a lot of random crime, as always, but things are up and running. I suppose it’s no place for a civilian, but it’s hardly Borneo. These scientists are just freaked out because that last guy went missing.”
“Or they’re using us to cut through the red tape.”
“Probably a little of both.” Derek formed a fist and held it out. “Gonna need your level head and your bad Spanish.”
Cameron tightened her hand and Derek brought his down on top of hers. He smiled, and a few faint wrinkles fanned through his cheeks. Cameron noticed a patch of stubble on his chin that he’d missed while shaving and felt a sadness move through her. Derek had aged a decade since she’d seen him last month. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” she asked. “It’s hardly been six weeks.”
“I know. But this is a cakewalk of a mission.
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