“How long’s not long?”
Homer tried not to give her too pained a look, but then just followed the kids over to their bed, where they each had small backpacks, with toys and books spilling out of them.
“What’s this?” he asked, sitting on the bed and picking up a thin hardback.
“Horton Hears a Who!” Isabel exclaimed.
“I remember that one,” Homer said. “Want to hear a little?” He opened it to the front page, but Ben grabbed it from him.
“We’re already reading it,” he said. “Look.”
Sure enough, there was a bookmark, a few pages before the end. Homer opened it there and started reading.
“Horton fought back with great vigor and vim but the Wickersham gang was too many for him. They beat him! They mauled him! They started to haul him into his cage! But he managed to call to the mayor: ‘Don’t give up! I believe in you all! A person’s a person, no matter how small! And you very small persons will not have to die if you make yourselves heard! So come on, now, and TRY!’”
“I’m small,” Isabel said, cuddling up to Homer on the bed. He stroked her hair as she looked up at him with wide eyes.
“But Dad’s big,” Ben said. “He doesn’t have to die. He didn’t.”
Homer blinked and tried to focus on the page, and to go on reading. But he had a lump in his throat, and he could feel Sarah’s eyes on him from across the room. Waiting. Expectant.
“Take over for me, Ben, okay?”
The boy nodded, took the book, cuddled up with his sister, and started reading aloud.
Homer retreated to the far side of the room.
And he huddled up with Sarah.
* * *
“We have to stay a little longer,” he said.
“Define ‘have to’,” Sarah said.
Homer grimaced. “We need to. I need to. It’s important.”
“Important to who?”
“Dammit, woman.” They both smiled a little at this.
“You know the carrier’s getting farther away every minute?”
“I do,” Homer said. “And with it Handon.” But he immediately regretted saying this, and the insinuation.
Unsurprisingly, Sarah frowned. “That’s not what I meant. But it is true. And not just Handon. Also Ali. As well as your whole team.” She paused. “Assuming they made it back there.”
“They did,” Homer said.
“You know now?”
“Not for sure. But I believe so.”
Sarah seemed to soften. “Did you ever doubt they would?”
“No. Not really.”
“Then that’s also where your mission is.”
“What my mission is just became a fluid concept.”
Sarah shook her head. “But the carrier’s also our ride back to Britain. Right?” When Homer didn’t answer, she said, “We’re not staying here? Are we?”
“No. We’re not.”
“Then why wait?” Once again, Homer didn’t answer her. “Kili said he was going to ‘read you in’. I’m guessing that means on another mission. One of theirs.”
Homer looked around and considered. Aside from his son and daughter reading quietly together across the suite, they were alone. And Homer was feeling more than just alone in the room. Bizarrely, he was feeling alone in the Annex.
Still, he thought very carefully before he went on.
Ancient and ingrained habits of OPSEC, INFOSEC, and PERSEC for that matter, dictated he not discuss operational matters with anyone outside the teams. And that had very much included his wife. But, then again, the world where he’d had those habits ingrained was gone, a long way behind them.
And everything was different now.
Homer told himself there was no one left alive Sarah could tell. And, if there were, she couldn’t get out of the Annex to tell them. But he was smart and self-aware enough to know that was a story he was telling himself. The reality was: he needed someone to talk to.
Back in the ZA nightmare that had been his world these last two years, it would have been Ali. In the real world before that, Kili. In neither case would OPSEC have been an issue. But Ali wasn’t here. And as for Kili – well, Homer couldn’t bring himself to embrace the doubts Sarah had expressed about him.
But he couldn’t completely banish them, either.
Finally, lowering his voice and leaning in closer, he said, “It’s a rescue mission.”
Sarah just nodded and listened. Homer went on.
“It turns out the NCA – the National Command Authority – isn’t completely gone after all.”
“Who? God, not the President?”
“No. Secretary of Veterans Affairs. Seventeenth in the line of succession.”
Sarah didn’t look impressed. “Is he even worth rescuing?”
Homer ignored this. Those weren’t the kind of judgments he got to make. His job was to do his job. “There’s also a rumor that SecDef Mattis may still be alive. Sixth in line.”
“A rumor.” Sarah cocked her head. “But wait, so why do they need you for this? They have a hundred and fifty operators.”
Homer knew this wasn’t a bad question. But he still had to give it a little more thought before deciding to answer. “It’s because of a security clearance I’ve got. Which will make it a lot easier and faster for them to get into where they need to go.”
“What kind of clearance do you have that they don’t?”
Homer took a breath. “Almost everyone in this unit has DoD TS/SCI-level clearance. But – you remember the North Korea mission I told you about?”
“Yes.”
“For that, I was granted Department of Energy Q clearance.”
Sarah squinted in thought. “Why Department of Energy?”
“Because it gave me access to specific RD, restricted data, as defined by the Atomic Energy Act.”
The two locked eyes now. Sarah said, “This doesn’t involve, like, recovering the nuclear football or something. Does it?”
“No.” Homer hesitated. “That I know about. But this clearance also gives me access to special Q-cleared security areas.”
“And you can’t just—”
“Give them a physical token? No. It’s keyed to my biometrics.”
“What security area? Where the hell are these politicians?”
Homer exhaled. “I haven’t been told that. Yet. I only know it’s in or near DC.” He interpreted her incredulous look. “Being ‘read in’ isn’t all or nothing.”
Sarah sighed. “And they can’t get in there without you?”
“Given enough time, these guys can get in anywhere. But with me just retinal-scanning them in, it will save them significant TOT – time on target – plus a lot of noise and light from breaching.”
“That’s what they told you.”
Homer didn’t need to ask her where she was going with that. And he didn’t want to go there.
When he didn’t respond, she went there anyway. “How much do you trust these people?”
“Kili? With my life. With the lives of my children. Obviously.”
“And the others?”
This caused him to hesitate. Figuring he was going to regret it, he said, “The others… are a mixed group.”
“Which means?”
“It means, since I’ve been gone, there’s been a lot of turnover. It’s not the same team. Over time, people come and go.”
“And?”
“And a lot of the missing faces, I’m slowly realizing, are some of the men I was closest with. And a lot of the ones that are still here are… guys I was dubious about. The ratio is a little too skewed to just be coincidence.”
“So why do this mission for them?”
“Because it’s my job. And they’re still my brothers. And I may save some of their lives by jumping in and helping. And because Kili, to whom I owe everything, asked me to.”
Sarah shook her head. “Isn’t the timing a little odd? More to the point, do we even have time for this? If yo
u do it, will we have any chance of catching the carrier?”
“Yes. We’re going to get transport, a small plane. I’ve done the math, and we need to leave no later than…” he checked his watch “…sixteen hours and fifty-one minutes. From now.”
“And if the mission goes any longer than that?”
Homer shook his head.
“Going to be a little tight, isn’t it?”
“As the choirgirl said to the bishop.”
Sarah’s eyes went wide. “Jesus, what kind of a Christian are you?”
“What’s the fun, if you can’t joke about lecherous clergy?”
Sarah shook her head. “Stop dodging the issue.”
Homer stood up. “I’m sorry. I can’t say no to this. We’re rescuing people. Important ones.”
Sarah stood up as well. “Is that the reason you can’t say no?”
Homer ignored this. He also knew where she was going with that, and didn’t give her a chance this time. “I’ve got to be in the staging area for mission prep in an hour. Then we jock up. We go at dusk.”
Homer got up and moved across the suite to his kids. He picked up Isabel and held her in front of him. He saw she had what looked like a fresh jam stain on the front of her shirt.
“What’s this, poppet?” he said, sniffing it.
“What’s a poppet?” she asked.
He put her down again. From behind, Sarah said, “Sorry. They were a little messy at breakfast.”
“It’s like a popinjay,” Homer said. “But in your pocket.”
“That’s silly,” Isabel said.
“No. It’s true. I’ve seen them. They’ve got them in England.” He turned back to Sarah. “Hey, you think you can you take them back to their room for me?”
“Uh, sure. Why?”
“To change into fresh uniforms, for one thing. Also, I think they’ll be more comfortable with their own stuff around them. If you could stay with them there until I come get you, that’d be great. They know the way.”
“Fine.” Sarah hesitated. “But if you’re not needed for an hour, why are you going out now?”
“There’s something else I’ve got to check on.”
“You want to tell me about it?”
Homer both did and didn’t. Finally, he said, “Those marauders we went out to interdict last night.”
“Yeah?”
“I realized… they were all wearing black.”
Before Sarah could drill down, he was out the door again.
Taskings
“Do we have to go back to our room?” Isabel whined.
Sarah was discovering the difficulty of getting small children out the door, especially when they didn’t want to go. “Yes. That’s what your dad said. Come on, pack up.” She speeded them in shoveling books and toys into backpacks, then finally shoo’d them into the hall.
“Which way is it?” she asked.
Ben stuck his arm out, looking exasperated. Sarah gave him a gentle push, then felt a tiny hand in hers from the other side. Sighing, she held hands with Isabel as they walked.
As they headed down the first stretch of corridor, she thought about what Homer had told her about this mission they had to stay for. She wasn’t a huge fan. It was great they were off the road and safe. And of course she was overjoyed for Homer that he’d found his kids.
On the other hand, this place was starting to give her the creeps.
And even if Homer couldn’t see it, she knew he was being lied to. She was sure of it. When you worked in law enforcement, out on the street, everyone lied to all you day long, so it did tend to make you jaded. On the other hand, you also knew pretty quickly when people were full of shit. Homer seemed unwilling to question what he was being told, or what was being asked of him – his loyalties to Kili and the others clouding his judgment.
Then again, Sarah also knew she needed to tread carefully. Not only were these not her decisions to make, they were also about incredibly important matters – the lives of national leaders, perhaps, and the lives of Homer and his children, definitely. On the other hand, it was also about her own life – and whether any of them would ever get out of there, and back to the carrier.
It was also about Alpha’s mission, to save all of humanity.
Then again, to borrow a line from Homer, maybe she wasn’t so smart. She still doubted terribly whether any of her own decisions had been the right ones – about family versus duty, love versus the mission, and which commitments counted.
Still, she knew what she knew.
But she also knew if she pushed him too far, she’d just push him into the arms of these people he’d known much longer, and trusted more – but who might no longer be worthy of his trust.
She really wished there were some way she could find out more, figure out what the hell was actually going on. Maybe even get some evidence, some proof, that would convince Homer – and convince him they should get the hell out of there.
But there wasn’t any way for her to do that.
“Can we at least go to the family area?” Ben asked.
Sarah looked down at him, as the three moved down the hall, far too slowly for her liking. “What’s there?”
“Other kids,” Ben said. “Plus parents usually.”
“Yeah,” Isabel said. “We can play.”
“What do the parents do?” Sarah asked.
“Dunno,” Ben said. “Just talk, mainly.”
“Really,” Sarah said. “Is it close to your room?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, little people,” she said. “Lead the way.”
* * *
The Dam Neck Annex served as team command post, indoor and outdoor training ground, vehicle depot, operational support facility, and administrative headquarters for DEVGRU.
But it had never been intended as an operating base, much less a forward one – for the reason that, post-9/11, no wars were being fought on Virginia soil. When Team Six SEALs went downrange to get their guns in the fight, they either attached to in-theater combatant commanders and their bases, or else brought their own operational support infrastructure forward with them.
Nonetheless, the Annex did have its own small TOC – tactical operations center – which included every type of advanced communications system, data link, and hardware and software needed for the team to independently support its own missions. That included virtually any type of intelligence, recon, direct-action, hostage rescue, or other live ops out on the ground.
Homer knew the team had drone coverage up, presumably full-time – both because Kili had said as much, and because he’d caught a glimpse of the live video on last night’s patrol.
So it was the TOC he headed for now.
He was slightly surprised when his keycard opened the door. Access to different parts of the Annex had always been granularly controlled, and tightly managed. When last here, Homer had the run of the place. Either his access had never been changed, or else Kili was looking out for him with the card he gave him.
Inside, he found only a skeleton crew – three TOC jocks, all of them support personnel, none Trident holders. That was a good sign. In general, the support guys were pretty well trained to do what team guys asked of them. Unless it was an obvious security issue, they didn’t ask too many questions.
Sure enough, one of them sat at a UAV control station. JSOC used to have its own drone pilots, not to mention its own large fleet of drones. As the counter-terror wars progressed, they liked relying on other commands, never mind other service branches such as the Air Force, less and less. Homer recalled that a couple of the drone jockeys had been billeted here.
“Morning,” he said approaching this one, moving down the aisle of stations. “Sir,” he added, when he clocked the man’s rank insignia – Lieutenant (junior grade).
“Heya, Homer.” This guy remembered him, which was also a good sign, though the recognition didn’t go both ways. The Tier-1 guys had always been like superheroes within the community, plus relied o
n a lot of support personnel, and not to mention were always outrageously busy. So the recognition of names and faces was sometimes a one-way street.
“I’ve got a little micro-tasking for you. Can you take it?”
“No problem. Just lingering right now.”
Homer looked down at the screens. “What do you have up?”
“Blackjack, RQ-21.”
Homer nodded. That made sense. A last-generation UAV with 16-foot wingspan, long endurance, great optics, and low noise, it had been a favorite of SOCOM. And would be ideal for the team’s use now, in the ZA. “Where is it?”
The pilot smiled. “Where do you want it?”
“You have the target coords from last night’s patrol?”
“Hell, I’ve got the whole op on video, if you want to see it.”
“Maybe later. Right now, can you just show me that location?”
“No problem, Homer.” The man didn’t even reach for the controls, the joystick or throttle – the asset was obviously on autopilot – but just used the keyboard and trackpad to control the camera. What Homer needed to see, evidently the drone could see from where it was. In seconds, and with perfect accuracy, the video on the console zoomed in on a daylight scene that Homer recognized: T-intersection, forested ridge alongside.
And eight dead bodies in the road.
“A little tighter on the pax,” Homer said.
The pilot nudged in the zoom, until the figures filled the frame. “Anyone in particular?”
Homer knew the optics on that camera could fill the screen with a single face without losing resolution. But he could also see most of the bodies were face down. Of those face up, none looked familiar. However, by the outstretched dead hand of one of the face-down men, Homer saw what he was looking for.
It was a carbine.
One with a distinctive futuristic shape – a Beretta CX4 Storm.
“Crap,” he said aloud. He felt the pilot’s eyes looking up at him – but then they went off him again. And when Homer followed the man’s line of sight, there was a shadowed figure standing behind one of the glass walls that overlooked the TOC. The man’s shoulders sloped with fur.
And he was shaking his head slowly, features shadowed.
“Sorry, man,” the pilot said. “Got another tasking.”
Odyssey Page 22
