Prologue

In August 1990 America announced an interdiction program of Iraqi shipping in the Mediterranean Sea. The USS Eisenhower battle group was in the central Mediterranean, on their last month of a scheduled six-month deployment. Chief Petty Officer Mark Bridges stood on duty in the communications room deep inside the Eisenhower.

Mark turned towards the hatch. A Marine Sergeant walked into the room. Mark strode over to him.

“Sergeant,” Mark started icily, “just what do you think you’re doing in my Comm Room?”

“Came looking for you.” Sergeant Ray Hunter replied with equal disdain.

“I told you to never enter my room without my permission.”

“I don’t take orders from a squid. I take orders from Marines.”

The Marine guard outside the room heard the commotion and entered.

“Corporal, escort this jarhead out of my Comm Room!”

“Chief?”

“I said, get this piece of Marine garbage out of my face.”

Ray, not to be outdone, took up the challenge.

“Stay where you are, Corporal. I have every right to be here as this piece of sea garbage.”

Everyone in the room looked cautiously at the two.

“Sergeant?” Mark walked up and stood face to face with the Marine. Both stood about the same height, five foot nine inches, give or take an inch.

“Chief?”

They lunged at each other.

“Ray, you old son-of-a-gun. What the hell are you doing here on the Ike?”

Both men embraced on another, slapping each other on the back.

“Jessie and I got assigned. Just like Paul, Danni, and Larry.”

“No way. The Renegades? Together again? This is weird.”

The Corporal, seeing no further danger, went back to his post. The people in the Comm Room went back to their jobs.

“It is weird. But you know Uncle Sam, he sends you where he wants to.”

“How is Jessie doing?” Mark asked, referring to Ray’s wife.

“She’s great. She’s got a letter from Sharon.”

At the mention of a letter from his wife, Mark started towards the hatch.

“Whoa, sailor. Where ya going?”

“I got a letter to get.”

“I came to tell you the old man wants to see us.”

“What? Why? We haven’t caused any trouble, yet.” Viper added with a hint of a smile.

“He probably just wants to make sure that we don’t.”

“Yeah, right.”

*

Mark and Ray, standing outside the Captain’s ready room, knocked.

“Come.”

They entered and saw all of their comrades, including Chief Max Henson and Senior Chief Doug Vanderbil.

“Chief, Sergeant. Have a seat. I’ll be with you in a second.” The Captain acknowledged them with a slight nod.

“Aye, Captain.” Mark sat down next to Jessie.

“Got something for me?” he whispered.

“Not here.” she replied.

“Okay, people,” The Captain started. “It seems like your past missions have caught the attention of Army Intel.”

“Excuse me, sir.” Ray interrupted.

“Yes, Sergeant?”

“Our ‘missions’ have been bar fights. Nothing more.” Ray was being honest – the Renegades had never been assigned a real mission.

“I’m aware of your record, Chief. But the Army wants you.”

“Yes, sir.”

The Captain was strict but fair man who allowed open conversation when protocol allowed it. This time it didn’t.

“Hold all other questions and comments until after I’m finished. And I know some of you will have questions.” He gave a pointed look at Doug.

“A Colonel Franklin McMichael has requested a joint branches operation. He specifically requested you. Washington has approved a temporary reassignment. You will report to the Colonel’s camp in Kuwait in two days. Questions?”

After a quiet few seconds, Doug spoke up.

“Captain, are you telling me that you approve of sending us on a real operation?”

“I never said I approved it, Senior Chief. Washington authorized it.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Doug, don’t make waves on this one. And Mark? Try not to piss this Army officer off.”

“Sir, in all fairness, that was an Army Sergeant. He attacked Jessie, first. We jumped in only after his buddies-”

“I’ve read all of the reports. You have a serious reputation when it comes shore leave and the Army.”

 Mark and the rest of his friends just smiled.

“Dismissed.” The Captain said with a hint of a smile.

*

“When’s this Colonel going to see us, Doug?” The Renegades arrived a day earlier. After being assigned housing, they were told to relax until the Colonel was ready to see them. The base, an old outpost, had fully furnished housing that was barely used. Each member was assigned his or her own room, except for Ray and Jessie, who bunked together.

“Hell if I know.” Doug replied. Both men were sitting at the tiny table in the room.

“You’re senior rank. You get to lead.” Mark grinned.

“Okay, first rule, we can’t use our real names out there, if we go anywhere.” Doug perked up a little.

Mark didn’t wait long.

“My Sensei used to call me Viper.” Mark said as he carefully oiled his Shinobigatana, a Ninja sword. A large snake was engraved across the entire blade. The tsuba, or guard, was fashioned Yakuza style, square. The tsuka and the saya were black lacquered to a fine sheen. The tsuka’s ito was made from the finest silk the Orient could manufacture. This was no toy.

“I’m not leaving ‘Fang’ behind. I finally get to see how good my training is.” Mark said.

“Mark-“

“Viper. No names, remember?” Mark’s eyes twinkled.

“This isn’t going to be a game, Viper.”

“I know. Just got a lot of adrenaline pumping. Don’t tell me you don’t find this exciting?”

“On some level, yes. But we still need to be serious.”

“No problem. So, what do we call you?”

Doug thought for a bit.

“Let’s try Mole.”

“Why Mole?” Mark wrinkled his brow.

“That’s what they called me in basic.”

“You had a call sign in basic training?” Mark never heard Doug mention anything about it.

“Yeah. Seems I’ve got natural night vision. So they called me Mole.”

“I thought moles were blind.”

“Not totally blind, nearly, though. But they were kids who didn’t know any better. Anyway, it stuck.”

Ray and Jessie came in at that moment.

“Yo, Mark, Doug. What’s happening?” Ray said jovially.

“That would be Viper and Mole.” Mark pointed to himself and Doug in turn

“Huh?”

“Mole says that we shouldn’t use our names. So…”

“Ah. Nom-de-guerre, gotcha.”

Ray contemplated for a few minutes. “Jessie always says I’m quiet as a ghost. And she’s like a Wolverine with that K-Bar.”

“Great, now we just got to find Max, Larry, Paul, and Danni in here.” Mark said.

“They’ll be here in a little bit. I’ve already asked them to come over.” Ray said.

There was a knock at the door and the missing friends entered.

“Heard you wanted to talk to us.” Danni said.

Doug cleared his throat loud enough to catch everyone’s attention.

“I asked you to come over here for a few reasons. First,” Doug started ticking off the reasons with his fingers, “this isn’t going to be some bar where the MPs drag us out. We’ve got to take this serious!” He eyeballed Mark.

 “This is serious for us.” Mark said, with the twinkle still in his eye.

“Second, we need to come up with noms-de-guerres, call signs, handles, whatever. We just can’t use our real names if this Colonel actually sends us into the field. The last thing we want is for the enemy to put a real name to any faces. The enemy hears any radio traffic from us they can’t identify us. Not directly, anyway.

”Third, we all need to be prepared. So make sure your gear is ship-shape.

“Fourth, once this Colonel gives us our plans, we need to memorize everything.”

“You act like you’ve done this before.” Danni stated.

“Yes. He does.” Max agreed.

Doug chose to ignore the comment.

“As far as handles go, this one’s easy for me. Deadeye.” Max broke the silence.

“That’s appropriate. You hardly ever miss. You still got that CZ75 9 MM?” Ray asked.

“You mean Mother? Yep. In my duffle.”

Larry Harp, the quietest one in the group, looked up after contemplating for a while.

“My ma always said I was a wild Indian, growin’ up. An’ I am about twenty percent Comanche, so why not Comanche?”

“And someone calls me a little hurricane, at least at night.” Danni Brown, the other female in the group said. She shook her short brown hair, giving Max a coy look. He couldn’t hide his red cheeks.

“Well, guess that leaves me.” Paul Gonzales, the largest of the friends said. “Not really sure. Any one got ideas?”

“Well, you like the SAW better than any other weapon.” Ray pointed out.

“Yeah, it spits hellfire. I like that in a weapon.” Paul grinned.

“Why not ‘Hellfire’?” Jessie asked.

“Hellfire. I like that.” Paul nodded in agreement.

As the friends were swapping their call signs, trying to get used to them, an Army corporal entered.

“The Colonel wants to meet the Renegades. Follow me.” He turned and left.

*

“Good afternoon. I’m Colonel Franklin McMichael, Army Intel.” The Colonel stood just over six feet, weighing 185 pounds. He looked lean and fit with a uniform that seemed tailor-made.

“I’m glad you could make it.” He started without preamble.

“Our current position is here,” he pointed to a map of Kuwait and Iraq. “We’re about 5 klicks from the Iraqi border.

“You’ll InFil by chopper to within ten klicks South East of Jalibah.” again pointing to the map.

“The chopper will then proceed to this spot, ten klicks north of your drop point, and drop off your gear. I don’t want you burdened down when you meet our informant. No field packs, nothing that can slow you down.

“You will proceed across the Hawr al Hammar Lake, through the marshes to a small place between Kharfiyah and Al Madinah.” This part was circled in red.

“Don’t worry. The airfield and bunker are abandoned. This is a simple extraction. Tariq Aziz, the Iraqi Deputy Prime Minister, wants to defect before we hit Saddam.

“This is just a simple extraction. Questions?”

“Yes, sir. Why us? I mean, none of us have any combat experience.” Doug stated.

“You came highly recommended by someone I trust explicitly, Chief.”

“Senior Chief.” Doug corrected him. “And, sir? No disrespect to whomever, but the most combat any of us has seen has been bar fights.”

“I understand your concern.” Colonel McMichael took on a fatherly tone.

“As far as training goes, there is one of you that has been to advanced explosives school. A Danny Brown?” Colonel McMichael looked around expectantly.

Danni stood up. “That would be me, Colonel.”

 “There you go.” Colonel McMichael managed.

 “One other thing. Which one of you is Chief Bridges?”

“I am, sir.” Mark spoke up.

“Bridges, you will lead this group.”

“Begging your pardon, sir?”

“I said you have tactical command.”

“Sir, Senior Chief Vanderbil has seniority over me.”

“Not on this operation, Chief.”

“But why, sir?”

“Because your record indicates that you are the leader of this group. That’s what I am looking for.”

“Colonel?” Ray asked

“Yes, Sergeant?”

“What about our ExFil?”

“Make your best route back. You’ll be in the field. You’ll have a better assessment of the ground situation at that time. Be warned, you will probably encounter up to eight Republican Guard Force Command divisions.”

The Renegades looked around at each other in surprise.

“Sir? Eight RGFC divisions?” Jessie asked.

“Up to eight, that is correct. We don’t have any firm numbers.”

“One more question, Colonel?” Doug asked after a brief silence.

“Yes, Senior Chief?”

“What can you tell us about the informant?”

“You will meet Rashid al-Hakim in the market place. He is expecting you between zero hundred and oh-four hundred. He should ask you about Sandstorm. This is your pass phrase.

 “One last thing, I expect to see this completed as expected.” Colonel McMichael dismissed them, ignoring any other questions.

*

“I don’t like this. Something about it gives me the creeps. I say we requisition a chopper and get back to the Ike.” Mole said, once they were back in his tent.

“You know the old man as well as I do.” Viper said. “He’s by the book. We have legal orders. Find a loophole and I’m right with you.”

“He’s right Dou- Mole,” Wolverine added. “The skipper will court-martial all of us.”

“Fine, let’s see what kind of gear we can get.” Mole gave up.

It didn’t take long to gather the standard scouting gear, more MREs than anything else. This was what the Colonel had requisitioned for them. After getting their gear, each went to spend the last hours praying, thinking, or whatever they felt they needed to do before the operation.

*

August 29th, the Renegades all met in Mole’s room, a ritual they did every day at eighteen hundred.

“Do you think we’ll go today?” Viper asked.

“Don’t know.” Mole replied. “Everyone ready?”

Deadeye patted his side holster, where Mother was kept. “Any time.” He replied somberly.

“I got me a couple of special packages for just in case,” Danni said.

“Some what?” Viper asked.

“We get ambushed, they’ll get a blast out of it.” She winked at Viper.

Everyone else nodded they were ready.

*

A skinny lieutenant came to Viper’s room around twenty-two thirty.

“Chief? Lieutenant Grady. The colonel said to get your team prepped. Chopper’s ready and you are a go.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Good luck, Chief.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant Grady.” Viper picked up his gear, heading out with the Lieutenant.

*

After dropping the team at their drop off point, the Blackhawk proceeded to the equipment drop point.

The Renegades weren’t in shape for the hike. It took the team just over three hours to make the trip.

Breathing hard, they entered the city.

“Take five,” Viper said over his throat mic.

Not wanting to get caught, they had spaced themselves about ten yards apart.

“’Bout damn time.” Hellfire said.

No one disagreed. It took an additional thirty minutes to find the marketplace. Rashid was the only one there. He hid himself in the shadows.

“Rashid?” Viper called quietly.

“You Sandstorm peoples?” a voice quietly answered back. With the natural acoustics, it could have come from anywhere.

“Yeah. Sandstorm. Here to get Aziz.”

A fat Arabic middle-aged man stepped out in front of Viper.

“I Rashid al-Hakim. I take you to Aziz.”

 “We need to get going.” Mole whispered to Viper.

“You’re right. Thanks, Mole.”

“Let’s roll, people. See if we can’t pick up the pace.” Viper said.

While they were moving, Mole came up to Rashid. “Why are we picking up Aziz in the Basrah region? He’s not Shiite.”

“He is liking this area. Nice farmlands, once. His father farmer.”

“But his affiliation is Baath, not Shiite. Why not just defect from within a territory he could be safely extracted from?”

“He say here.”

“No, seriously.” Mole insisted.

“I not know.” Rashid’s broken English was passable.

*

At zero five hundred the Renegades made it to the rendezvous spot. Comanche picked up the radio and his gear. Mole and Hellfire each grabbed a raft.

“All equipment accounted for.” Hurricane finally said.

The team started a northeasterly push towards the bunker. They were glad for the rafts. Several marshes still had deep water.

*

Four days and 100 kilometers later the team was within fifty yards of the airfield.

“Comanche, hand me the hand set, will ya?” Viper asked as he looked at his watch. Zero four thirty exactly.

“Quarterback to Goalpost.”

“Go, Quarterback.” a familiar voice came back, but Viper couldn’t place it.

“Fifty yard line is within sight.”

“Affirmative, Quarterback, Fifty yard line is in sight.  Will relay to referee.”

“Roger. Quarterback out.”

Mole, who was point, stopped. He didn’t take cover, signal, or anything. He just stopped.

“What’s up?” Viper asked as he came up to Mole.

“Something’s not right, Viper. Something deep down don’t feel right about that guy!” Mole glanced back at Rashid.

“Yeah, I know. Let’s just get this over with.”

“Yeah? There's something else bothering me.”

“Of course. What now?” Viper replied sarcastically.

“See the airfield?”

“Yeah? So?”

“SEE the airport?”

“Yeah… Damn! Why are lights on at an abandoned airfield?”

“Exactly. How were we supposed to even know it’s there at this hour? Something just ain’t right. I say we ditch.”

“No can do. We’re this close, and if this is legit, there will be hell to pay when we get back to the Ike.”

“Yeah. Whatever.” Mole replied.

Starting forward again, they crouched down. Within the hour they arrived at the bunker’s main entrance. It appeared to be abandoned.

“Rashid, how many layers does this onion have?” Deadeye asked.

“I see no onion.”

“Levels, Rashid, how many levels?”

“Oh, I sorry. There maybe five. Maybe four.”

“Ghost, point.” Viper said.

Ghost moved forward and took over. Once inside, Rashid started getting excited, even a little nervous.

“I think it only one onion layer down,” Rashid said in a very loud voice.

“Shhhh.” Ghost motioned for silence.

“Oh. I sorry. I no mean to talk loud.” Rashid spoke a little softer, but not much.

Deadeye pulled Mother and put it in the back of Rashid’s head. He was as nervous as Mole.

“The next sound you make will be your brains coming out of your mouth. Got it?”

“Sorry.” Rashid barely whispered, dropping to his knees. In the same voice, he added. “I stay here, if you like.”

“Like bloody hell. Move.” Deadeye grabbed his collar, pulling him up while pushing him forward.

On the third level all hell broke loose. There were only five enemy soldiers, but they had the advantage. Deadeye shot Rashid in the thigh to, as he later explained, ‘guarantee we know where he is when we need to leave.’

Ghost, still at point, got a few rounds off before he crumpled. He had taken one in the shoulder and one in the gut. Viper took a round in his left bicep and hit the ground from the force of the bullet. Comanche took several in the chest and went down, emptying his clip as he dropped.

Mole and Hellfire grabbed Ghost and Comanche and pulled them back to the stairwell.

“Goalpost, this is Quarterback” Viper barely managed.

“Go ahead, Quarterback.”

“Goalpost, the field is compromised. I say again, the field is compromised.” Viper shouted over the gunfire.

“Explain, Quarterback.”

“Are you deaf? We are taking fire-“

“Negative, Quarterback, finish the mission. Do not, I say again, do not abort! The field is safe.”

“Negative Goalpost, we are under heavy fire and taking casualties.”

“I say again, Quarterback. Your field is clear. Proceed forward as planned.”

“What planet are you on, Goalpost? Get the Colonel, now!”

“This is Colonel McMichael! And I say again, the field is safe and secure; do not abandon this mission!”

“Colonel, you're nuts. This place is anything but safe! We’ve lost one, and have several wounded!” Viper’s voice straining.

“Finish your mission, Viper!”

Viper flung the receiver hard, but the coil brought it back and hit him in the forehead. Dizzy, he fell to a sitting position.

While Viper was on the horn, Mole had received a gut shot, but he hid it, at the time. They would later learn that he also took one in the shoulder from Comanche's ricochets. Hurricane had a leg wound, but managed to deliver one of her special deliveries. She ate dirt and hollered for them to do the same. They didn’t waste time taking what cover they could. The package landed perfectly behind the enemy. The blast shook the stairwell, but the team was safe.

They started hobbling forward, with Hellfire in the lead. He sprayed the stairwells and any passages he saw as he went. The SAW was tearing up the walls. Before long they ran into another group of soldiers. For every four or five that dropped, replacements would appear. Hellfire went down quick. He never felt it. The team had reached the fifth level.

The team backed back up to the stairs again, pulling Hellfire with them. Ghost was useless by this time. His wounds were more serious than anyone had realized.

Wolverine dressed up Ghost’s wounds, and started working on Deadeye, who had a couple in his shoulder and one high in the thigh. A lucky ricochet grazed Wolverine’s forehead. Rashid, still dragging along, quickly yelled out something. Right before Deadeye took a shot to the chest, he hit Rashid hard with the butt of his pistol.

Hurricane was leaning over Deadeye.

“You damn well better not die on me, you stubborn old goat. I love you too much!”

“Yeah, well maybe you should get us out of here,” Deadeye joked, coughing blood.

She got up and walked down the passageway like she owned it. Viper saw her take two, but that little runt didn’t flinch once. She threw her entire pack at them followed by a frag grenade. She was scrambling back to the stairs when Viper reached her. He started dragging her, but the explosion was too much. A piece of shrapnel hit her squarely in the back – she was down. She had managed to seal off the enemy from the team.

Slowly, everyone managed to get back outside. The process moved slowly due to the wounded and dead. Once outside, Wolverine took out her K-Bar and started cutting Rashid, slowly.

“You bastard. This was a trap! You bastard.” She screamed. “You killed my husband!” She sliced his forehead. “You’re going to die slowly!” She cut his arm and chest in one swoop.

“No… I will tell all. I know who responsible. Please- no…” Rashid screamed in total panic, looking at Viper for mercy.

Viper grabbed Wolverine’s wrist to stop her. She turned and punched the blade into his side before she realized it.

“Shit! Viper…”

Punching Rashid in the head with the butt of the knife, she went to work on patching Viper up.

“I’m fine.” Viper insisted.

“Like hell you are. What were you thinking? Never grab me.” She pressed his wounds until the bleeding stopped.

It took Rashid twenty minutes to come to.

“OK,” Viper said weakly, “one chance, then I turn her loose on you.”

“Your Colonel McMichael. He say elite group of Rangers were coming in to assassinate Foreign Minister Tariq Aziz. Your Colonel say he not like assassination. He want to warn Mr. Aziz.”

Wolverine pounced on him, blade at the ready.

“You lying son-of-“

“No! I swear. I tell you all. I swear. Please no more torture. Please, I have children and wife.” His eyes showed the terror she had wanted him to feel.

“And I had a husband.” Wolverine cut off two of his right hand fingers.

“Aieeeeeeeeeeeeeee! I swear. That is truth! I SWEAR!”

Wolverine was satisfied nothing else was coming. She slit Rashid’s throat.

Ghost let out a soft moan a few minutes later.

“Ray? You’re alive?” Wolverine ran to his side.

Ghost passed back into an unconscious abyss.

“Viper,” she sobbed, turning to her friend, “God, I didn’t mean to. Are you alright?” Viper wasn’t sure if she was talking about Rashid or him.

“I’m fine. Let’s get our people out of here.”

Viper looked at the bodies. Hurricane, Comanche and Hellfire, dead. Deadeye and Ghost near dead.

“Mole, we need help.” Viper said.

“Yeah. I’ll try…”

Viper saw the dark stain in Mole’s lower right side. Mole helped as best he could.

It was very slow going, but the three of them managed to eventually drag everyone to what appeared to be a safe area.

Viper took their dead friends’ dog tags. Knowing they would never be able to carry the dead and the wounded, Viper and Wolverine buried them in shallow graves.

“Radio’s shot.” Viper commented, after looking it over.

“Great. Any more good news?” Wolverine shot back.

“Nah. I wouldn’t have called in, anyway. Not after what Rashid said. McMichael’s dead. He just doesn’t know it.” Viper pulled Fang out and grinned evilly.

“I’m goin’ to slit him from his crotch to his Adam’s apple.”

“Not if I get to him first.” Wolverine said.

“Can we argue… about this later?” Mole barely managed.

“Yeah. Let’s get you back to the Ike.” Viper said, giving Mole a worried glance.

“How long we been out here?” Wolverine asked Viper.

“We left the bunker four or five days ago.”

“How are you and I going to pull three bodies?” She knew Mole couldn’t help.

“Mole’s still with us.” Viper retorted.

“Barely. He’s passed out twice today. Once while you were digging.”

*

The Renegades were twelve days overdue when they finally made the post perimeter. It had been touch and go for Deadeye and Ghost. Both were barely alive. Mole seemed stable, but unconscious.

“Come forward and be recognized.” A voice shouted out of the darkness.

“We’re the Renegades. Operation Sandstorm. Reporting back.” Viper managed.

“Call sign?” came the stern reply.

“How the hell should I know? Radio went dead over a week ago. Last one I knew was Sandstorm.” Viper said.

They could hear an M16 being cocked.

“Call sign?”

“If you want to keep your balls between your legs instead of wearing them for earrings, I suggest you help us with out wounded.” Wolverine snarled.

“I’m not in the mood for this shit. My husband’s dying over here, and you want a call sign? Lower that weapon and get your ass over here now, Private!” She guessed at his rank.

“I, uh. Yes, ma’am.” The private, keeping his weapon facing in the general direction of the team, cautiously came forward. One look at the team was all he needed. He grabbed his radio.

“Medic. Southeast post. Two or more wounded.”

*

Wolverine and Viper declined attention; they had to report in. And report in they did. A second look at Wolverine told Viper that the graze on her forehead was not her only wound. She had taken a round in her left thigh. But they both let the anger take over, feeling no pain. The duo marched into the command tent.

Colonel McMichael was standing over a map, reading as he talked.

“So we should be able to-“ He looked up. He was a man who did not startle easily, but startled he was.

“Viper. Good to see you made it-“

Viper never let him finish. With Fang out, he made his way to the Colonel. He pinned the Colonel to the table, put the blade to his stomach, and was getting ready to push it in.

“Hey, asshole. Remember me?” a voice from behind Viper hissed.

 Viper turned his head. Sergeant Jeremy ‘Weasel’ Schneider was holding a pistol on Viper. The voice on the radio. Viper saw Wolverine coming up behind Weasel.

”Remember ME, asswipe? You still got that reminder of the last time we met? Here's another.” She slowly drew blood from his neck. Weasel quickly dropped his weapon.

“What the- Jeremy, shoot this- Damn you, Bridges-“ The look on McMichael's face was remarkable. He had wanted Weasel to pull the trigger.

An alert MP came in to see what the commotion was about. Confused at all the weapons showing, he finally took aim at Viper, as Viper was the one assaulting the officer.

“Drop the weapon, Chief.”

“You'll die slower than I will, Viper whispered to Colonel McMichael.

“Private, it's OK. This is entirely my fault. I... I made a very rude comment about the Chief's wife.” Colonel McMichael tried.

“Sir, he is assaulting you. I cannot let that go.”

The Colonel pushed Fang aside and stood, continuing to explain the situation to the Private.

“Private. Do you know where GitMo is?”

“Uh, yes sir. Guantanamo Bay, Cuba.” Looking back one might say the look on the confused Private's face was hilarious, but not at this time.

“Very good, Private.” Colonel McMichael continued. “This incident never happened. Do you understand me?”

“No sir…”

“I said this incident never occurred, do you read me?”

“Sir, I saw the chief…”

“You didn't see anything! And if you ever do, I will see to it that you are permanently posted to GitMo, walking the perimeter in an orange hunter's jacket. Am I clear on this, Private?”

“Uh. Yes… yes… yes, sir.”

“Chief?” Colonel McMichael looked back at Viper, “Do we have a problem here?”

“Yes, we do!”

“Let me put it this way, Chief. Your friends may be considered traitors. You can be put away for a very long time. Your wife may not see you for fifty plus years. You may put me away, but what about her? Or your friends?”

Viper thought long and hard trying to figure out if the Colonel was bluffing or if he had something held in reserve. Viper was shaking with anger at the choices he had. Either way, He would have to compromise. Compromise his values or his honor. Finally, Viper answered.

“We don't have a problem, Colonel.” Viper answered loudly enough for the Private to hear.  Then, lowering his voice to barely a whisper, “But if you ever get near me again, we will resolve this!”

“Fine by me. Private, that is all. You are dismissed. So are you, Chief.”

*

“You two are not alright. You will stay in bed until I say otherwise.”

Viper looked at the doctor. “And if-“

“Look, Chief. Your friends are fine. They’re resting. You and the Corporal also need to heal. You both lost a lot of blood. Hell if I know how you managed to drag these three back.”

“We have others-“ Wolverine started, but the sedative a nurse had given her started working. She fell asleep.

*

Two weeks later, the Renegades reluctantly requested a two-week pass from Colonel McMichael.

“And the purpose of this vacation would be?” Colonel McMichael asked.

“To retrieve our dead, sir.” Viper bit off.

“Why? They're dead.”

Viper was seething.

“I don't care, they are my dead! And in my company, we all go home! I can go without your permission, sir!”

“And then you would be AWOL, I believe the Navy term is?”

“And then I would be forced to explain this operation during my court-martial…” Viper let it hang in the air.

It didn't take McMichael very long to calculate where that would lead. He realized that this time Viper held the high card.

“Take all the leave you need. Dismissed.” Colonel McMichael turned back to the paperwork he seemed to always have.

They left that evening after requisitioning a gunship. The chopper flew them right in, but there was no resistance. They quickly found where they buried their people. But found them stripped of their uniforms, some parts were cut off, and other parts looked like animals had eaten on them.

Wolverine lost her lunch. Deadeye and Ghost turned pale. Mole just got a real mean look on his face. Viper stoically started carrying the bodies to the chopper. You will pay for this, you bastard. One day there will be a reckoning. I just pray to God I’m there.

*

After getting back to the Ike, the Renegades all kind of stayed by themselves for a while. The Skipper told them they did an excellent job, and that Colonel McMichael had recommended commendations for all of them. Viper told the Skipper to give his to the dead. The rest followed suit.

Several months later the Ike returned to her homeport in Florida. Shortly after arriving, the Renegades went to a local bar.

They ordered a shot of whiskey for everyone, including the three dead comrades. They toasted the living and the dead.

“I’ve got friends in places you don’t want to know about,” Mole started. “I had them look into McMichael. It seems that McMichael was looking to get into the JCS's G-2, the Joint Chiefs of Staff Intelligence Division, but that the recommendation from them was he needed to have at least one combat mission under his belt to be considered. And that he needed to be able to make the hard choices. So he set up a team to fail.”

“Figures.” Viper said. “If we ever cross paths again…” Viper let it rest.