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The Hell Series Part Three:Hell Rewrittenby JodiMarie aka Shootem
I guess Colonel O'Neill and I didn't get out of the country fast enough. All transfer orders have been suspended until things get settled down here so we're stuck. In a sick kind of way it's been a nice few weeks. I've been working with the guys down at the computer center. It's a real change from Naquadah research but I like it. My main duty station has been changed to Al-Jaber which is a lot further from the front lines and closer the field Hospital so I get to stop in and see the Colonel at least once a day. He's definitely feeling better, the nurses are avoiding him. I really thought they'd have shipped him home, being injured, but
I guess Dad did too good a job and he told me he'd be released to
active duty tomorrow. Tonight if the nurses have anything to say
about it. I don't think I'll be seeing much of him after that. He's
still based out of Al-Salem. Maybe I'll sneak a pizza into his room
tonight, can't get beer though. I got the news yesterday Colonel O'Neill will be returning today.
I can't believe the guy is gonna stay after all he went through.
He could get a stateside assignment just for the asking, I'm sure.
He's requested to keep the team together, Corbin, Lambert, Tolbert,
Mitchell, and me. We're a good group, that weird mission proved
it to us all. But I must say I've got a new respect for science
fiction after that. I can't believe I'm back here again. They would've let me go back to Cheyenne if I griped hard enough but when I look around here at the young kids who are expected to fight a war, I can't bring myself to go. There won't be anything happening back home for a while anyway, George called and told me they've even suspended the diplomatic and scientific expeditions for now. The President wants all our attention focused where it should be- on matters here at home. I was expecting the declaration of war even before I shipped over. Sometimes it really makes me angry we get so tangled up in politics. The human race needs to get a grip and look at the big picture. Gen. Pike okayed my request to keep the team together thankfully. I know I can count on them but I'd like to see how they deal with the knowledge that's been entrusted to them. It's one thing to have reality hit you in the face and another to be able to move on. We've got a short mission coming up already but I suspect Pike
is holding out something a lot bigger. Maybe he's deciding if I'm
recovered enough to handle it. He made me talk to some Mackenzie
wanna-be who backed off the first time I glared at him, so much
for therapy. Went on my second mission under Col. O'Neill. I can't say how much
respect I have for a guy who can bounce back like that. Gen. P.
called me in for an assessment of how I think O'Neill is doing.
Nice to know the Gen. is listening. I told him the truth, the guy
is an irreverent smart-ass, and I don't know how he's stayed in
the USAF so long, and I'd be honored to serve with him any day of
the week. If for no other reason than I know he'd make sure I got
my butt back home. Pretty much he's just like he was before the
first mission. Over the past week Col. O'Neill called me four times, just to talk. Today he wanted to make sure I was free for dinner- a la Mess Hall. Like I'd be doing anything else out here in the middle of nowhere. We ate and then just talked. He couldn't stay long, but we really had a nice chat. I think he misses being able to drop by my lab and harass me. I miss him too; wonder when I'll see him again. Since part of my job is now gathering and interpreting Intel, I
have been able to keep up on the Colonel's missions. His team is
up for another run behind the border, verifying targets and collecting
Intel. Dearest Julia; Honey, I miss you and the kids so much I can't possibly tell you. We just got word an hour ago they'd pick up mail to go out and one of the guys had some spare letter writing stuff so I though t I'd write a quick note. I gotta tell you about my new CO. The guy is the most unconventional commander I've ever heard of. We went on this really far out mission a few weeks ago (you know I can't tell you stuff about it) and he went MIA. We put together a search and rescue and got him back of course. I figured he'd ship out after that mission, but not only did he stay, he requested the same team, including me. We've been on a couple short missions already and they guy is phenomenal. I've seen the man put together a mission when the Intel we've got is nothing but a pile of Post-It notes on his desk. He doesn't talk about it but I think he's been through all this stuff before, must have been in the Gulf War in '91. Anyway I don't know when I'll get any mail from you or when I'll be able to write again, so keep safe and hug the kids for me. Hey, you ever thought about moving to Colorado? Lotsa Love, I got as nice surprise today, Col. O'Neill showed up at the computer center with Ben and Jerry's Ice Cream, Chocolate Fudge Brownie, of course. How does he do that? And I've been bribing the guys at the commissary just to get blue Jell-O. He looked really tired and I have a feeling he was on a mission already. He didn't comment, but he did want to know why he's been getting Intel on Post-It notes when we have a state-of-the-art high tech computer center. I told him I'd look into secure e-mail and he made *that* face. After I was through for the day he showed up with a Jeep and took
me out to the end of the runway. We just sat there and looked at
the stars for awhile. I could tell he's got a lot on his mind; he
hardly said a word. When we said goodnight, he told me he was going
on a mission tomorrow. I could tell by his voice it was going to
be dangerous and in his own way I think he was saying goodbye just
in case. I could have sworn he wanted to say something else, but
he didn't. Maybe I should have. We're on our way to a drop point XXX, Baghdad. I know I should
have gotten some sleep earlier but instead I went to Al-Jaber and
spent some time with Carter. I didn't tell her what I'm doing but
I'm sure she figured it out. She's smart you know. I really wanted
to talk with her about, stuff, but I couldn't get my mind off the
mission. Just as well, I need to stay focused for what's ahead. This will be my last entry for a while. The Colonel anticipates
we'll be on maneuvers for at least two weeks, possibly more. My
'talents' as O'Neill refers to them will be put to good use. Wish
we had some of that NaqXXX stuff right now, it would make this a
lot easier. Scratch that, I wish we had General Carter's ship! It's
turning out to be hard to go back to the *usual* way of doing things
after that mission to get the Colonel out. It's like I've seen the
future of warfare and the Air Force in particular. I just hope I
live to see it happen. The mission is going as planned. Our contacts on the inside have
proven themselves quite to O'Neill's satisfaction. We've got a few
more days to gather specific Intel and send messages home before
moving on. Mitch and I have been digging through stacks of old fashioned
paper Intel on biologicals. It's up to us to protect the rest of
the team. The Colonel is being amazingly supportive considering
when I try to explain something to him, I'm sure he doesn't know
what I'm talking about. I don't get the feeling he's patronizing
me or humoring me, it's more like he just trusts me to handle it.
You know he treated that Major Carter the same way. I guess I should
consider myself becoming part of an elite group- 'people O'Neill
trusts.' Believe me, there is no higher honor. We're moving on from our first point of contact today. Up 'till
now our mission focus has been gathering Intel. From here on, we
will be preparing to take a more active role. It will be dangerous
to move during the daylight hours but it's a necessity. I suggested
we dress in Birkas but the team did not seem to appreciate my idea.
Was that Yak butter they stuffed down my pants? Who said Americans
don't know anything about biological warfare? I hope we get to our
next contact soon, and I hope they've got showers. I've been in Kuwait just over a month, and what a month it's been!
The Colonel went on a mission a week ago. I really shouldn't be
worried, he warned me it would be awhile, after all. He's got a
good team and I'm sure they'll be okay. Who am I kidding? The only
thing that would stop my worrying is if I'd gone along, or maybe
Teal'c. That brings up another matter. I really should contact the
SGC and let Hammond know what is happening. He knows why the Colonel
and I haven't returned but I'm sure he'd appreciate hearing from
me. Maybe if I let them know, I'll feel better, you know 'misery
loves company.' Received word from Major Carter today that O'Neill has embarked on another mission. If I understand her demeanor correctly, she is concerned for his welfare. I returned the communiqué with reassurances that O'Neill is a capable warrior and will indeed be victorious. Major Carter knows this but I have observed frequently humans must be reminded of that which is common knowledge. In my meditations today I also noted concern for O'Neill within
myself. This is surprising, and I will endeavor to 'remind' myself
of that which I already know. We've arrived at our second contact, and for the record, yes, *I* wore the Birka. Thanks to the lard I was smeared with, no one came near enough to recognize who I was. They don't have showers here, or baths, or running water of any kind. They do have a well and buckets. I guess I'll just to have to make do. Tolbert is insisting on it. Our present host will provide shelter for a few days while we finalize our plans. It's amazing how many people here are not loyal to Hussein. The people seem to be divided down sharp lines, some loyal and some not, the loyal ones far outnumbering those who might help us. But things are changing, more people cross over every day. The ones that are sympathetic are truly glad to see us and we've been treated quite well. I was thinking of how I might get a message back to Gen. P. Our host heard me mention it and showed me his computer with a satellite internet connection of all things! Gotta love technology. Maybe I should e-mail Carter? I found myself actually considering taking him up on it, despite the fact even with internet security it could put our host in danger, as Tuck not so quietly reminded me. We heard about the 48-hour deadline President Bush has given Hussein,
looks like things are right on schedule. I'm becoming obsessed with Intel out of Baghdad. I've stayed late
every night for a week going over every report I can lay my hands
on. I feel like something will be missed unless I read the reports
personally. Damn, I've got to learn to read Arabic. Today marks two weeks with no official contact from Colonel O'Neill,
however a pint of Ben and Jerry's showed up on my desk, still frozen
solid, packed in dry ice. The name? Would you believe it, 'Makin'
Whoopie Pie.' No, really. Of course it's chocolate. Did the folks
back in Vermont create this flavor just for him? It looks authentic,
but I'm tempted to have the lab guy's look at the carton, after
I'm done with it that is. I really want to know how he does this
stuff. I feel like I've been the target of a special op. I have
no reason to, but I feel a little better. We are prepped to go in at 0200. I have explained the risks to
my CO, Colonel O'Neill, and his response has been a bit cavalier.
I have come to expect this. Capt. Tucker says it's his way of letting
me know he trusts my judgment. In reality its gonna take every one
of us and a huge amount of luck to pull this off. The war has been escalating as expected. Bombing runs are being
made any time of the day, but more often at night. Tonight we were
called in to receive high priority feeds from our AWACs flights.
At precisely 0340 a large chemical plant west of Baghdad went up
in a ball of fire. We reviewed the footage and are confident this
was O'Neill's team at work, as we had no bombings scheduled in that
area. Our mission was successful. Scratch one XXX factory. Now comes the hard part. It's just before dawn and we are holed up in the basement of some burned out building. We didn't make the escape window in time. I hope our contact got away okay; he's a good man. We've got our packs with MRE's, water and ammunition, and lots of time on our hands. We can't risk moving until dark so I've ordered everyone to rest. We'll have two men on watch at a time, I don't want a dog to scratch in our vicinity and not know about it. This would be a good time for Thor to need me for something. Of
course the explanations would take longer than this mission, but
what the hell. Friends did not return. Suspect route unfavorable. Possible capture
or elimination. Advise. Colonel Wilkes liked the young Major but bristled at her insinuation, "That is none of your business, Major. You do not determine the course of this conflict nor do you assign missions. It has been determined that some losses are acceptable." She couldn't believe her ears. They were planning on leaving O'Neill behind enemy lines to fend for himself and his team. Her shoulders slumped visibly. Wilkes rose and walked around his desk. "Major, I'm sure a rescue mission is still being considered, in fact they've run a few in the last couple days. If it's possible they will go. Just not right now, there are too many bombing runs going on. If O'Neill can just lay low for a few days our forces will be within shouting range of Baghdad, they'll get him out." She turned away hastily and straightened her shoulders. After composing herself she turned back to him. "Sir, There must be something we can do." "Our job here is Intel. If you can figure out something within these confines that could help O'Neill, be my guest." He made a sweeping gesture with his hand as he spoke. She smiled just a little for the first time in several days; in
effect her CO had just given her permission to free-lance her abilities.
Little did he know she intended to make full use of the opportunity. She knew she could originate just about any kind of information she wanted to send out, even Sat. photos and orders, but it might be suspicious. She had to stay low. A better option would be to get to the reports first and rewrite the information already there. She was going to need an accomplice. Just at that moment there was a knock at her door and her aide, Lieutenant Beck poked his head in. He was a young Californian, who here in the desert still thought it was worthwhile to work on his tan, but she had to admit the kid was a genius. Or he could be if he applied himself. "Major?" "Come on in, Lieutenant." She answered with a tired voice. "I know you just came back from Wilkes office and I just wanted to tell you I'm sorry about your old CO. Sometimes I wonder if the Air Force cars about anybody. He really got a raw deal after all he went through." She eyed him thoughtfully. He sounded like he knew a lot more than what he should have been able to pick up about the recent missions. "Ian, what do you know about Colonel O'Neill?" He flushed obviously. "Only what's in the reports Ma'am." She knew he was lying. "Close the door and have a seat, Lieutenant." Her eyes followed his movements to the chair beside her desk. "All right, spill it. What do you know?" He fidgeted in his chair before answering, "I, uh, noticed the attention you have given to following his whereabouts and I just wanted to know why." She leaned forward, "And." Under her scrutiny his only option was to come clean. "I know he's been in Iraq before, as a prisoner of war and I know you served together at Cheyenne Mountain. The reason you were both transferred out here was some super highly classified operation. I don't know what it was but you were both hand-picked by the Joint Chiefs for the mission." "Anything else?" He looked her in the eye, "I know how he was rescued." Her jaw wanted to drop but she held it in place, they had been so careful to hide her father's ship. She decided to bluff. "We used a Helicopter and mounted a rescue mission." "No, Ma'am. Those explosions a couple weeks ago, they're being attributed to internal causes because no aircraft was ever found on Iraqi radar or by us. Not a peep from satellite or AWACs. There were sporadic reports of something on fire hitting the targets. They're actually saying they were meteors. Kind of convenient that a meteor just happens to hit a previously designated target, don't you think? There was something in that hangar out at Al-Salem but it wasn't any conventional aircraft. And it was not just good luck that no one saw it. It was some kind of stealth technology and both you and Colonel O'Neill are acquainted with it. I don't see why the General doesn't use it again to go back and get them out." Carter looked down at her hands. That same idea had occurred to her as well, but things were different. They were at war now; it was no longer an option. He picked up on her body language, "Maybe he can't. Maybe it's not here anymore." "That will be all, Lieutenant, dismissed." He rose from the chair and turned to leave, "You know he's not dead. He's just pinned down west of the target site waiting for an opportunity to get out." Her head bobbed up, "How do you know that?" What had he seen that she missed? He smiled and his youthful cockiness came out, "I can read between the lines. There's been an increase in activity in that area. There are no installations out that way and no other targets we might hit. I think Hussein is looking for something." The honesty of the airman made her look more deeply at him. "We might be able to help the Colonel and his team." She paused to decide how much she could tell him. "It would have to be outside ordinary channels and involve manipulating data." His hand moved away from the doorknob. "Ours or theirs?" "Both." His smile widened and he turned fully back toward her. "You know how I got into the Air Force?" She shook her head. "I got in trouble hacking government sites. They offered me a deal. I could spend time in prison, or use my talents to the benefit of my country. My old man was Air Force, so here I am." He walked back and stood by the chair grasping the back of it with both hands and leaning forward. "I'm already in Saddam's network. I can intercept or send anything you want." She couldn't stop the smile from spreading across her face. "Lieutenant, sit down, we've got work to do." Several hours of brainstorming later, Carter and her new accomplice
had come up with a plan. They needed to intercept reports of the
Republican Guard and rewrite them so Saddam would believe the Americans
had either died in the explosion or already escaped. Then they needed
to get a message to O'Neill to hold his position if possible and
keep him apprised of how close Coalition Forces were getting. He'd intended to move to a better location and hopefully somewhere in the direction of their contact but the whole first night the Iraqis troop movements kept them in their original hiding place. If they didn't move by the end of the second day water and rations were going to be an issue. The light was finally fading and O'Neill got up and stretched his legs a bit, then took a seat beside his 2IC. Two days of inactivity was making them all stiff and irritable. "Sir? Are we going?" "Yeah, soon, give it another 30 minutes." His eyes scanned the room ascertaining the level of light. He dug out a crinkled and dirty piece of paper that served as their map and laid it out on the ground. "I want you to take point with Tolbert, cut through here and make your way along this wall." The Major watched as his finger traced a line on the paper. "That takes us back into Baghdad." "It does." After a brief pause and noting the concern on Corbin's face he continued, "Our contact is back that way. I don't think we have much of a choice. Coalition forces should be on their way by now, but we can't risk heading south or west, the possibility of resistance is too high." Corbin sighed, he knew the Colonel was right, at least they knew what to expect if they went back the way they'd come and there was a chance, however slight, they'd meet up with Americans. Their conversation was cut short when an air raid siren was heard in the distance. Tolbert was standing just inside an open doorway facing east to Baghdad and a flash of light momentarily lit his face. The young man didn't even flinch as the bomb hit, the sights and sounds of war were already second nature to him. Captain Tucker rose and joined him watching the display. Corbin shuffled with his back against the wall, "You know if we go out there, we'll be walking right into the line of Coalition fire." "Yeah." O'Neill answered quietly with his eyes downcast.
A few minutes later he rose to his feet, "Time to go." Beck loaded up a Republican Guard field report and began hacking away at it. He removed the current location of the unit and changed it to a position several miles to the southwest, to an area he knew was not far beyond where the Coalition Forces were making their march. The report was made to imply the Americans were spotted making a run to meet up with the advancing Coalition, but were yet some distance from their goal. He ended by requesting additional units be sent to close in on them before they could escape. Carter looked over his shoulder cocked her head to one side, "Okay, you're drawing them away from the Colonel's most likely position but why are you giving them orders to move out?" "No harm in spreading them a little thinner, is there?" She smiled and shook her head, "You're a dangerous man, Lieutenant." O'Neill caught up with Tolbert and crouched beside him to wait for Corbin to return. They hadn't even gone two miles yet and had to change their course twice due to roving patrols or the route being blocked. The air raid sirens had almost become background noise to them; it was so constant now. Despite the noise Lambert used the stop as an opportunity to try to contact Command. Their Satellite uplink phone had been damaged but he was convinced he could still get it to work. The Major finally returned to report. He knelt and leaned up close to O'Neill to make his voice heard, "No patrols up ahead, Sir. The streets are in bad shape but I think if we circle to the north and cut through those abandoned buildings we can get through." O'Neill nodded and motioned to the three men behind him to move up and follow the Major. He held back until they were all close to the building before moving ahead himself, constantly scanning the area with the nose of his MP-5 following his eye movements. A nearby siren began to wail and to the south he could see anti-aircraft fire. The bombs hit less than a mile away with a fierce explosion and a shockwave rattling any windows that were still unbroken. His team was too far ahead to warn effectively so he just dove for cover and waited for the ground to stop rumbling. He figured they were dropping J-Dams, as long as they didn't get any closer than a block or two they'd be all right. When he night quieted once again he made a quick dash to the doorway and inside. Luckily everyone was okay, a little dirtier from the dust and dirt that was stirred up from the shock but uninjured. Just as he reached them the sky was lit by another explosion, this one much closer. "Shit!" O'Neill pointed to a doorway with steps leading downward, "In there. Now!" Tucker was the closest and immediately headed down the steps using the light on his weapon to see into the darkness. He was followed by two of the Lieutenants and then the Major. They were almost out of time when O'Neill shoved Tolbert down the steps and followed. It was too late to be concerned about running into hostile forces right now, so they plowed into the cellar and hugged close to the walls for some protection from the falling debris. The chamber was inhabited, but not by soldiers, there were four women and three small children huddled in the corners. A small lantern made their forms just visible through the dust. At the sudden entrance of unknown soldiers, they covered up and shrank back and hid their faces. Corbin, being the most fluent in Arabic, quietly told them they would not be harmed. O'Neill wasn't in the room a minute when the bomb hit. It felt like the whole building was coming down around them, an earthquake wouldn't have been much worse. Bits of plaster and glass were flying everywhere and when a beam crashed down the stairway a great cloud of debris came with it. One of the women was hit by something and fell to the ground unconscious. In two long strides O'Neill was at her side crouching, using his body as at least a partial shield against further harm until the debris stopped falling. He snatched up the child she was holding with one hand and with the other reached to touch her neck. "Lambert! Get that Med kit over here!" The young soldier has a hard time getting his feet to work with the ground still shaking but managed to half crawl over to the woman and started to check her injuries. As soon as the shaking stopped O'Neill started shouting orders. "Everyone Okay?" He didn't wait for verbal responses but eyed each of his men and continued, "Mitch, Tuck, check on the other women. Corbin, you and Tolbert see if there's another way out of here." They did as they were asked and when Corbin returned to inform the Colonel of his findings, he had to stop in his tracks at what he saw. O'Neill hadn't moved, he was still on one knee, beside the unconscious woman, scanning the room and watching out for the group. He seemed totally oblivious to the comfort and support he was giving the child he still cradled in his arms. The boy was probably not yet two years of age and had a death grip on O'Neill's vest with one hand. His face was partially hidden but Corbin could see his eyes were closed and he was sucking on his thumb, completely content. The sight was not missed by the three other women who were still seated and murmuring quietly to each other. One of them rose and approached. Instead of reaching out for the child, she knelt and assisted the Lieutenant to clean and dress the wounds of her friend, often sneaking a look at O'Neill and the child. Corbin's reverie was broken by the Colonel's irate voice. "Tom! What the hell are you looking at? Is there a way out of here or not?" He stumbled at first but was finally able to spit out, "No, Sir, just the stairway. It's not too bad though, I think we can get it cleared." O'Neill nodded his consent and rose to his feet. He moved to the two women still at the far wall and crouched in front of them, speaking to them softly in broken Arabic. It took some doing but the boy relinquished his grip and was handed off to one of the women. The Colonel patted the boy's head and ruffled his hair before rising to rejoin the team. In a short while they were able to open up the passageway enough to get through. O'Neill took a look around above and decided to move out. It was almost daylight now and a suitable hiding place would have to be found. If the cellar had been in a little better shape they could have just stayed there. The injured woman was awake and able to move so O'Neill had each of the women helped by one of his men up to the main floor. He intended to take their leave at that point, but the eldest grasped his arm and pulled him aside. She spoke hurriedly and gestured with her hands in earnest. Tuck tried to follow but barely understood a word. "What is it, Colonel?" "It would seem we've made some friends. She wants us to follow her." Corbin shook his head and said, "You're not really considering that are you? You know one of the latest strategies they've been using is to play nice and then shoot you in the back." "I don't think so. This woman is saying her son was beaten for just asking to be relieved of duty when his son was ill. She hasn't seen him now in over six months." His eyebrows rose, "She says Hussein is a very bad man." The Major flailed his arms in the air, "Well, we can't argue with that, now can we?" "Major." O'Neill felt his ire coming up. "We don't have a lot of options here. We are out in the open and we are out of time. If we don't find somewhere to be a little less conspicuous we're going to be in serious trouble." He sighed at the downcast look Corbin was giving him and reached out to touch his shoulder. "I know, it's dangerous, but we have to take the chance. Let's go." O'Neill waved his hand to the door and the women headed out single file. The eldest was last and as she left the building she instructed O'Neill to stay put. She crossed the street and sent the other women on ahead before motioning for the Americans to follow. She weaved her way through several ruined buildings and finally out through a courtyard area and into a small shop. At the rear was a stairway down to a small musty cellar. It would suffice as their home for the day. After they settled themselves as best they could in the tight quarters, a young woman brought them a few hard-crusted loaves of bread and a jug of water. The day was spent either sleeping or talking quietly. Only one of them at a time ventured to the surface to use the facilities or stretch a little, with one of the women constantly present as an escort. O'Neill agreed with the suggestion of the old woman and insisted they stay covered up with thick robes whenever out of the cellar, despite the heat. In the late afternoon the older woman came to the top of the stairway and called to O'Neill. She led them out to the front of the building where a canvas-covered truck was waiting with the engine running. The women and children who they'd met the night before were already waiting in the cramped space. They were urged to get in and she lowered a cover over the back. The driver was only a boy and drove the vehicle far too fast for the road conditions, giving them a bumpy ride, but he did avoid all of the patrols and most of the debris. After what seemed like hours he pulled up to a narrow alley and the woman stepped out from the front seat. She motioned for them to come along. With a growing sense that he'd made the wrong decision, O'Neill followed with his team close behind. Just before the end of the alley she turned into a low doorway. Even though the sun was full up, the room was dark and she moved a drape back just a little to let a ray of light into the room. Once they were all inside she led them through another doorway and up a flight of steps. The room they entered was large and open but bereft of any furniture except one chair, a desk and three cots. At the foot of one of them was a large empty basin and a stack of towels. The draperies were already open here and she drew a filmy gauze fabric across as a screen. She already knew O'Neill could understand her and spoke directly to him. "You will stay here. Please rest. I will see you have water and bread." O'Neill nodded his thanks as she left. "Well boys, this is our new hideout for the day. Mama says she'll see if she can round up some food and water for us." The smell of food cooking in the various homes nearby was already wafting on the air and they all realized just how hungry they were. Everyone settled in as best they could, and O'Neill allowed Mitchell to light up some sterno. In a few minutes he had heated the last of the water from his canteen and made enough coffee for all to have some. Tuck sat on the floor and went through his pack, trying to find something palatable to eat, and tossed a few MRE's aside with disgust. "What I wouldn't give for a ham sandwich right now!" Almost on cue the elder woman's daughter appeared at the doorway with a covered tray. She lowered her eyes to not look at any of them and demurely set it on the table. O'Neill had been sitting in the chair and rose to help her. She showed obvious surprise when he thanked her in her native language, and shyly smiled at him. A young boy now approached, lugging two large plastic containers of water. He stopped dead in the doorway when he saw the men. "Azir, come, bring the water." The young woman waved her hand to call him into the room. He didn't move and Corbin took a turn with his language skills, "Azir, is it? Come here, I'll trade you." He picked up one of Tucks discarded MRE's and tore open the outer package. It was supposed to be a balanced meal; complete with dessert, and after a moment he produced something that at least approximated an oatmeal cookie and another that might have been a graham cracker. He waved them out to the boy, "For the water." Waiting for a nod from his mother the boy took a deep breath and waddled over to Corbin, letting the jugs smack against his legs as he went. He set both jugs down with a plop and looked back at his mother who was now hiding a giggle with her hand. She turned to O'Neill and said, "He really isn't like this. He usually cannot shut his mouth!" Corbin got the boy's attention back by waving the treats and then tossing them to him. He grabbed them in mid air and ran to his mother, clutching her skirt. The comical sight brought a round of chuckles from the group and an immediate release of tension. O'Neill decided to see what gift the young woman had brought them and lifted the cover from the tray. The contents before him were nothing short of a feast. The tray was packed full with an assortment of roasted meat, goat cheese and hard crusted dark breads sprinkled with sesame seeds. There were several fruits too, small grapes, dates and some kind of citrus that was cousin to an orange. He tossed one of the seeded rolls at Tuck and grinned, "It's not ham but it'll make a hell of a sandwich." Any suspicions the group may still have had was banished when Azir snatched a date off the tray and popped it into his mouth. The young woman made a face and playfully slapped his hand, "Come now, son. We must leave these men to rest." She turned back to O'Neill before starting down the steps. "If your men need to-" She cut her words short and blushed. "Call Azir if you need anything, he will show you where to go." O'Neill smiled and touched two fingers to his forehead in a salute which only made her blush more and she quickly escaped down the steps. Alone again and as safe as they could be, O'Neill grabbed a couple
dates and sat on one of the cots. He ate the fruit though he was
definitely more tired than hungry and a lot more than he wanted
to admit. The stress of the last few days was catching up with him.
Despite their present safety he found himself wondering if they'd
be able to make it out alive. Their best chance would be to sit
tight and wait until Saddam was defeated, but wars like this had
a nasty way of dragging on and on. If they left it would be a risk
no matter which direction they went from here, the woman had brought
them straight into Baghdad after all. She nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of his voice so close behind her and frowned at him, "Actually, no." She admitted. With the bombing of the Iraqi telecommunications center and most of the electricity being down throughout Baghdad and the surrounding areas the options had become quite limited. "We could broadcast a general message and encode it, but who knows if they'd receive it? If they had a Sat Phone they'd have already checked in. We have to assume their communications are down. It would be a complete stroke of luck to contact them." She leaned back in the chair; of all the things Major Samantha Carter did well, admitting defeat was not one of them. "Maybe we should just concentrate on finding them." "Well, I've got something for you there. We've gotten a sporadic signal from somewhere southwest of Baghdad. Charlie upstairs says it's a ghost or an echo, but it's just off frequency for our Sat Phones. How much do you believe in coincidence?" "Not at all." She closed her laptop and stood up, "Okay,
lets go see Charlie and see if he can pinpoint his 'ghost' for us." After the introduction, Charlie removed a stack of papers from a stool next to his desk and motioned for the Major to sit, leaving Ian to scrounge a chair from an adjacent office. Charlie was far from convinced that his 'ghost' was in fact a lost Special Forces team, especially so deep in Iraqi territory but he humored them. It helped that Carter was such a 'pretty little thing' and despite their ranks and the impropriety of it, he told her so. He brought up his logs of incoming transmissions and singled out the unknowns. Of that list he deleted several, griping all the while that his computer would log in garage door opener transmissions if he didn't filter them out. He didn't miss Carter's grin even though she tried to hide it. She wondered if he ever picked up one of their 'GDO' transmissions- probably not, but the thought was funny. Eventually he narrowed the list down to a dozen viable options and tied in the GPS system. In a matter of minutes he had four possible locations identified. One was southeast of Baghdad, near Basra so he scratched that as coming from the advancing Coalition Forces, just off channel. Another was removed due to having only one transmission setting the location; the error curve was just too high. That left two. One was west-southwest of Baghdad and the other was much closer, almost within the city limits. He was about to write that one off too when Ian stopped him. "What if they moved?" Carter's ears perked up and Ian continued. "They could have moved. I mean if the first location wasn't secure, or if they decided to try to get back to their point of contact for evac. These frequencies are the same. Remember what you said about coincidence?" She nodded but pointed to the screen. "Still, these coordinates are way too far in, if they went there, they would have gone right past the contact point." Charlie frowned and scrutinized the screen. "The area between was bombed out pretty bad the past few days, I don't think anyone would go through there. If your group wanted to get to that site they'd have had to circle around, either north or south." Ian's eyebrows rose, "Or maybe their contact was taken out. Is there any other reason they would have gone into Baghdad?" Carter shook her head, she couldn't even think of one. Charlie started working his magic on his computer again, this time
with a program that would monitor the selected frequency and others
nearby. He saved his work to a disk and ejected it. "This will
monitor our friends. If they transmit again, it will zero in on
their signal and respond automatically. If they can receive at all,
we'll get them. We just need a little cooperation from the guys
at Communications Central Command." As the afternoon wore on the room became a little warm and O'Neill took a trip down to the main floor where Azir's mother and grandmother were busy preparing an evening meal. He was surprised to see no men around. In the front room several children playing and recognized the women they'd helped in the cellar the previous night. The younger woman noticed him leaning against the wall at the base of the stairway and motioned for him to come forward and sit at the table. She poured a cup of water and set it before him. She was still surprised at how well he spoke Arabic and struck up a conversation with him. He learned her name was Ramah, and all of the men from their little community had been either enlisted to fight in Saddam's army or imprisoned. A small group of the women decided it would be safer to band together, and they had converged on 'Mama's' home. She was the eldest and most respected among them and their unofficial leader. O'Neill chuckled, "Oldest and wisest among us?" He earned a scowl from the elder woman for that barb even though it was essentially correct and held his hands up in mock surrender, "I swear, Mama, it's just an expression." She snorted and turned back to chopping vegetables, now with fervor. He young woman who had been injured before was part of the group and entered the room. She was balancing a large basket of bread on one hip and her baby on the other. She didn't recognize O'Neill and eyed him warily but the child knew him immediately and started to squirm. Ramah just managed to catch the basket before it toppled to the floor. The woman held the child in both arms and was shocked to see him reaching out for the American. Ramah assured her it was okay and lifted the child into her arms and carried him over to O'Neill. "This is Terrin. I believe you've met." O'Neill had almost forgotten holding the child though it was less
than a day ago. He grinned and settled the child in his lap. "Well,
you're a lot more clean than the last time I saw you." It wasn't
a moment later that Lieutenant O'Connor came tripping down the steps.
"Colonel! Lambert got a contact! He made contact!" O'Neill handed Terrin back to Ramah and bolted for the stairway, beating the younger man to the top easily by taking the steps two at a time. Lambert had his gear laid out in one corner of the room with bits and pieces of electronic equipment scattered everywhere and the outer cover off the Sat phone. He was listening excitedly through his earpiece and jotting down notes. The Colonel crouched beside him and touched his shoulder to let him know he was near. The young man looked up and nodded, then quickly completed the note he was scribbling. "Sir, it's a recorded message, but it's specifically for us." His voice was full of relief. "Apparently they've been looking for us all this time, Major Carter doesn't give up does she?" O'Neill grinned. "No, she doesn't. What have you got?" Lambert handed over the pad and pointed out what he'd written. "They've been using my attempts to get this thing to work to triangulate our position. They've got it narrowed down but really don't have a fix on us yet. They just know we're way too far into the city." The Colonel nodded. Now that was an understatement. "They've honed in on the frequency I've been using and we should be able to talk to a real person soon." His attention was pulled away by a transmission coming through and his hand subconsciously went to the earpiece, pressing it more firmly into place. His eyes fell as he listened intently, and then rose to meet the Colonel's. "Yes. Yes, I read you. He's here, hang on just a sec." He removed the headset and handed it to the Colonel. "O'Neill." "Colonel?" There was quite a bit of static but the voice was unmistakable and he grinned, it was Carter. "Great to hear your voice, Sir!" "Ditto, Major. Good work. Both you and Lambert need to get medals if we get out of this. I don't suppose General Pike or any other Commanders are there?" "No, we're here at Al-Jab. And the CO is being notified as we speak. My immediate CO is Colonel Wilkes, he should be here in a few minutes." "Roger. I gather you have a pretty good idea where we are by now. How close are we to the line?" She knew he had figured out his team was likely right in the line of fire of the advancing Coalition Forces and he was right. "Smack in the middle, Sir. Colonel Wilkes is here, go ahead." There was a slight change in the level of static and O'Neill surmised they had him on a speaker. "Colonel Wilkes. How's it goin?" "Despite having a borderline insubordinate Major on my hands, pretty good. They're getting your coordinates now but I think we both already know you're not exactly in an accessible location." "Yeah, but we're secure for the moment- even had some real food. If we have to, we're prepped to move out tonight." The General came in just in time to hear O'Neill's last statement. "Colonel, General Osborne here, don't start thinking about going anywhere just yet. The front has moved up more quickly than we'd thought it would. The best thing you can do is sit tight, as long as you're secure. It's gonna be a bit busy around here for the next several hours so don't expect another contact for a while." "Yes, Sir. We'll be all right. We're among friends." The General spoke to the others in the room, verifying they had the team's coordinates mapped. "Colonel, stay sharp. If there's any change be prepared to move fast. We'll touch base in four hours if the connection stays up. Good luck." O'Neill acknowledged the orders and handed the headset back to Lambert. "It's all yours. Do whatever you have to and keep this thing working." O'Neill returned to the lower floor and spoke with 'Mama' about the group staying a bit longer than was originally planned and found she was surprised he had even considered leaving. She was more than aware of the position he and his men were in so far behind enemy lines. She accepted it as something that couldn't be helped, a fact of the state of war. The first siren went off only a few minutes later. Corbin was conversing with one of the older children and learned the adjacent building had a large cellar. The women were afraid to go there since they had been trapped underground once and didn't want to repeat the mistake. O'Neill convinced them it would be for the best and ordered the team to split up. Half would gather up their gear and the rest would assist the women and children to gather whatever they needed and get it to the protected location. Lambert was sure the Sat phone wouldn't work underground and refused to leave. Tolbert considered forcing the issue but was given a respite when O'Neill showed up. He sent Azir back to his mother with Tolbert and took a seat on one of the cots, he wasn't about to let one of his men stay in a dangerous situation alone. O'Neill's radio cracked to life. "Colonel?" It was Corbin's voice. "We're all settled in, Sir. Are you coming?" "Negative, Major. Lambert and I are baby-sitting the equipment up here. Stay put." A few hours later the sirens were still intermittently blaring. There had been a couple of bomb hits but nothing close by, which may or may not have been a good thing. If the bombing runs were suspended it may have been due to the proximity of Coalition Forces, but if that were the case, the possibility of confrontations on the ground would be high. Another hour passed and the sounds of gunfire and mortar explosions
could be heard over the alarms. Since they weren't going to the
war, it evidently was coming to them. Then one piece of information made her heart skip a beat. The Generals had decided ground losses would be unacceptable with the great increase in Iraqi troops present. They were going to pull back from the front and send in bombers then return and retake the area. It would take several hours to implement, and the bombing runs would continue well into the morning. She immediately went to the Communications Center with the intent of contacting O'Neill and giving him a heads up but Wilkes stepped in and stopped her. "Sir? Colonel O'Neill really needs to know this. His entire team could be wiped out." "I can't let you call him. Not right now. You know that. We're on blackout except for coded transmissions. This is a major change in our tactics and it is vital the plan succeeds. We've got his position, and the bombs won't be dropped there." "Right." She snorted. "And what if they had to move? And if they are in the same location, how long will it take the Iraqis to figure out we're purposefully avoiding a particular area and investigate to find out why?" He placed one hand on each of her shoulders, "I know, Major. But we can't do anything right now. Not even contact them. Why don't you go get some rest? In the morning we'll see. I'll talk to the General and suggest we move O'Neill's team up a notch on the Search and Rescue roster." She had to agree a little rest might give her a fresh perspective and left for her quarters. When she arrived the duty officer handed her a message, Ian wanted her to call him as soon as she got in. The only available phone was a community use one in the officer's lounge so she plopped down in a chair beside it and dialed the number. A panting 'hello' the other end made her take notice. "Ian, what's wrong?" "Major Carter, we got a transmission from O'Neill's communications man- it was pretty garbled but I'm sure he said they were going to move, their position was compromised." She closed her eyes and took in the news. The one thing she most
feared had happened and she already knew Wilkes' answer to it. She
thanked him for the information and added, "It's okay. I already
discussed the possibility with Colonel Wilkes. I've got some things
to do right now, I'll be in touch." She hung up before he could
protest. Forty-five minutes later she found herself at Al-Salem Airfield, where O'Neill's team was based, and less than forty miles from the Iraqi border. Not that it mattered much anymore; Coalition Forces had taken control of the area past the border for well over a hundred miles. She sat at the side of the road, just inside the gate and wondered what she could do. A thought suddenly struck her like a bolt out of the blue. There was one person who had been a member of the original team who wasn't with O'Neill and out of reach right now. Captain Hastings, the helicopter pilot, O'Neill had hand picked the man for the original mission so his credentials were above scrutiny as far as she was concerned. If he weren't already on a mission he'd help in any way he could, or at least be a willing ear to her concerns. She knew she'd find Hastings either hanging around the Mess Hall or sacked out in bed and opted for the 'awake' version first. Even though the base was not the size of Al Jaber, the Mess had it's own parking lot as did most of the larger buildings. Even though it was early evening the lot was nearly empty. She pulled up close and turned off the ignition. The end of the runway was just visible from where she'd stopped and she sat still a minute to watch three large planes taking off in rapid succession. They weren't bombers, more likely support aircraft for the Coalition Forces that were camped far into Iraqi territory. She noted there were several helicopters sitting near their respective hangars, apparently not needed just yet until the ground assault was underway. Her face and neck felt dusty from the ride out and she ran her fingers through her hair and wished for a ball cap. Not standard issue with dress blues but she'd come to like wearing one through all her exploits with SG-1. The front room of the Officers' Mess doubled as a recreation room complete with two large television sets, one at either end of the room. The place was much more crowded with people than she expected; it seemed every off duty person was there watching one of the news broadcasts currently tuned on the TV screens. She'd forgotten how privileged she was to get as much information on the war as she did. These soldiers didn't have that edge and the satellite broadcasts were often more up-to-date than what filtered on down to them through command. A few airmen turned in her direction when she entered but they were more interested in the news footage; all except one, that is. Hastings recognized her immediately and stood to his feet, waving her over. She joined him at a table with six other men, all pilots or mechanics she presumed. The ground crews and flight crews were often a very tight knit group, taking responsibility for their assigned aircraft. He introduced her and then leaned back in his chair, "What are you doing out here, Major?" "I have a problem and I thought you might be able to help me." He gave her a half-cocked grin, "Me help you? Ma'am, if you don't mind me saying so, you are a person who has more answers than I will ever have questions. I doubt there's anything I could do to help you." She smiled at his relaxed manner, she knew why O'Neill liked this man; he wasn't pretentious in any way. "Not me personally, but there might be something you can do for Colonel O'Neill." At the mention of that name his demeanor changed in an instant from light amusement to deadly serious. "What's happened?" He certainly wasn't one to beat around the bush. She made a quick scan of the room before answering, "I've got a Jeep outside, you want to go for a drive?" He switched back to his lighter mood for a moment, "With you, Major? Anytime." She flipped him the keys as they exited the building, "Find a quiet spot, Okay?" Once in the passenger seat she pulled out her ever-present laptop and turned it on. In the five minutes it took to drive out to an empty hangar she'd brought up everything she wanted to show him, and when the vehicle came to a stop she turned it sideways on her lap so he could see the screen. The first image was a map of Iraq. "What I am about to reveal to you is classified and I do not have any authorization whatsoever to divulge the information." She looked into his eyes and paused, waiting for his reaction. Hastings nodded and said, "I understand." Carter took a breath and pointed to an uneven red line drawn west and south of Baghdad. "Our forces advanced to here and met extreme resistance. The Iraqis didn't outnumber us but there were far more of them than we predicted. A new tactic has been set in motion to counter them. Our troops were pulled back and now a series of bombing runs are scheduled to go all night to clear the area for them to retake it in the morning." "Sounds like a good plan, so what's wrong?" She switched to the next view, which was a close up of one section. "O'Neill was here." She pointed to a spot on the map. "His team was pinned down, and he was ordered to stay put if possible. The bombers were given the coordinates and instructed to stay clear of that location but-" She blew out a deep breath, "The Colonel's location was secure and they would have been all right, but the last word we got was that something happened and they had to move. We don't know where he is and he doesn't even know the bombers are coming." Hastings frowned, "Major, I really don't think I can do anything, I mean as far as getting a Helio or two into the air on short notice, that's no problem. The General has been pretty lenient with rescue missions; I guess we kinda blew his mind with that big one we pulled. It's just, where would we go? If we don't have coordinates we're stuck." Her head dropped, but not in defeat. "I have an idea about that." Hastings was all ears. "Everyone on the team is carrying a pocket radio. Standard issue. If we can get close enough we can contact him." The pilot made a face, "You know they're limited to a mile or two." "Yeah, we'd have to get pretty close, but I know where they started from and how much time has passed. I can estimate how far they'd get on foot traveling through debris and trying to stay out of sight. I think it's worth a shot." Her eyes belied the calm voice with which she spoke. Hastings suddenly understood. "They won't let you go will they? They've got a war to carry on and they're willing to allow O'Neill and his team to become casualties." His head fell back against the seat. "Major, they 're not bad men, the Generals. But they have a really huge picture to deal with." She was sure he was going to refuse to help. "So." He paused and looked her straight in the eye. "That's why they give some decision-making power to officers lower down the ranks. Such as search and rescue to a protected area." Her eyes narrowed as she tried to grasp his meaning. He pointed to the spot on the map where the bombers were told to avoid. "It seems to me, that section of the front line has been designated 'protected', at least from friendly fire, if you know what I mean. If that's the target pick up zone, I have standing orders to go." He was stretching his 'standing orders' to the limit and she knew it but didn't care one whit. She could have burst at that moment but settled for jumping up so quickly he had to grab her laptop to save it from flying onto the floor. "Can we go now? It has to be soon. I don't think they'll get far but if we delay, it will make them that much harder to find." The words tumbled out of her mouth. "And Captain, I'm going with you." He shook his head and grinned. "Major, if you have half the
tenacity of your Colonel, believe me, I would not presume to try
to stop you." They hurried to meet the others and while the Iraqi soldiers were checking into the results of their handiwork, O'Neill's team was led away by the women. The cellar they were in was connected to two others by underground tunnels and once they were at the farthest point they had no choice but to go to the surface. This time the entire group covered up with loose robes. Not quite Birkas, but definitely less conspicuous than their uniforms. Their packs were a bigger problem. They had to leave them behind with much of their equipment. O'Neill opted in favor of defense and ordered them to load up all the arms and munitions in any sack or carrying bag they could find. The women packed up the water containers and first aid supplies in addition to their own their own rolled up blankets and small packs of personal items. The children were surprisingly silent; this was not the first time they'd had to flee and even the youngest ones seemed to instinctively be quiet. The group traveled quickly, keeping to the shadows as much as possible, O'Neill allowed the old woman to lead, but stayed close by her side, frequently offering his hand to help her over rough areas. They intended to keep moving as long as they were able but after two hours the children were becoming restless and the women obviously tired. O'Neill figured they had gone barely four miles. The old woman stopped for just a moment and sat on a low wall surrounding what looked like a market area. The Colonel took the opportunity to check all of his men and have a look at the women as well. They were all exhausted. He returned and sat beside their leader, taking her hand. "Mama, my men were able to rest and can keep moving but the women cannot. Is there somewhere you can take them nearby? My men and I will go on, it will be safer for you if we're not together anyway. If we're found-" She turned her hand over and clutched his tightly. "No, Colonel Jack, it would not be more safe, they will know what we have done. We have made a choice, all of us, I want my grandson to grow up and have children, if he must do it in a country not of his birth, then so be it. We must all stay together, I will show you where we can go." He smiled at the name she'd used for him and wondered how she came up with it, he didn't recall giving her any name other than O'Neill. Her sincerity touched his heart and he nodded silently, agreeing to her wishes, and then helped her to her feet. She pointed down a wide street to the north, and led him around a corner to see the way more clearly. "There is a house of worship there, not far. It has a large underground space with several rooms. There is a tall tower as well, you may be able to use it as a vantage point." "Mama, if I didn't know better I'd say you have some military training." She blushed and playfully slapped his hand. Just then two Iraqi soldiers stepped out of the shadows and waved their guns at the group of women and robed men, shouting for them to submit. O'Neill heard the commotion and ran back to the corner of the building where he crouched and peered around it. "Dammit!" They'd been found after all. He had no choice but to take them out. Even though gunfire would surely bring more soldiers it might buy them a little time. It was the best he could hope for. He could feel the old woman's eyes on his back; she too, knew what must be done. Without a moment of hesitation he fired two shots in rapid succession, expertly hitting one man in the head and the other in the chest. Both fell to the ground, the first already dead. The women shocked their American 'protectors' by bashing in the head of the second man with a couple of large rocks they picked up. O'Neill glanced at Mama, then turned and ran to his team giving
orders in a hushed tone. "Hide the bodies and take whatever
weapons they have. There's a church down the road this way, we'll
have to make a stand there. Move, now." She looked down and grimaced, she'd totally forgotten she was wearing a skirt uniform, standard for the Communications Center. "One of the crews has a Latino navigator who's just a kid, he's not much bigger than you. I think we could steal a flight suit from them. C'mon, let's go." Thirty minutes later Hastings and Carter arrived at a hangar in the middle of a long row. He parked the Jeep and motioned for her to get out. There were three helicopters on the tarmac and men were busily performing their pre-flight checks. Carter grabbed the Captains arm, "There are three of them. I thought we were going alone." "You're kidding me, right? Go into hostile territory alone?" She looked back at him sheepishly. Obviously the go-it-alone-and-come-back-in-one-piece attitude around the SGC had gotten under her skin. She should have known better and felt naïve for thinking this would be a quick little low profile mission. Hastings pointed to the helicopter with a large red cross on the side. "This is a standard setup for search and rescue, the armament is minimal, but there's plenty of room and if anyone is injured we'll have everything we need." "But these-" He swung his arm toward the other two aircraft, "are state of the art AH-64D Apache Attacks, just upgraded and fully fitted out. They've got sixteen Hellfire missiles each plus a 30 millimeter Chain Gun. We're not planning on getting into a conflict, but if the situation arises, you're gonna be glad these babies are backing us up. Come on, I'll introduce you to the pilots." As they walked over she couldn't help but ask him what he had to do to make this happen. "Joe, you can't tell me you have enough authority to order all this." "You're right. I had to run it past my CO, but it wasn't a problem. You'll never guess who he served with about twelve years ago." His eyes slid toward her to see her expression. "A certain brash young Major named O'Neill. He gets around doesn't he?" Her jaw dropped. Maybe it wasn't such an odd thing that a number
of high-ranking officers gave support to O'Neill so easily, he seemed
to have friends everywhere. After checking their radios, Tolbert and Mitchell were left to stay on sentry duty. O'Neill and Corbin continued the survey of the main floor but found nothing of interest except more blankets and several terra-cotta jugs of water. They carried what they could to the cellar and handed them over to the women. While they settled in O'Neill took a few minutes to relax. It would likely be quite a while before they could rest again if the Iraqis came around. He tried to focus on the present circumstances but kept drifting off to thoughts of the SGC. Oddly enough he missed the place. With all the strange things that went on there, it was still home to him. He missed the people, so different yet so much the same as here, good people, trying to accomplish a worthy and honorable goal. His pensiveness must have showed because presently the old woman came over and eased herself down to a blanket beside him. Her knees creaked as she lowered herself, but when he raised a hand to protest, she stopped him. "The getting down is easy, Colonel. You can help me when I want to get up." After settling herself against the wall as comfortably as she could she said, "Tell me about her." O'Neill looked at her with a hint of surprise on his face, "Who?" "Your wife." "Oh, uh, not married. I mean, I was, but not anymore." Sara had been the furthest thing from his mind. "Do you still love her?" Despite the personal nature of the question he answered. "We're still friends, but we've both moved on. Why are you asking me this?" She clasped her hand over his and leaned in closer, "It seemed you were thinking about someone. Am I wrong?" The relative anonymity of the situation made him suddenly able to voice the truth. "No, Mama, you're not. There is someone I care for very much. I miss her." "She is in America?" "No, actually she's here. In Kuwait rather, she's in the Air Force, too." The sounds of sirens and explosions cut their conversation short. O'Neill was at once back to his military alertness and rose to his feet. He reached a hand down to the old woman. "I think you should go back to the others." She nodded in agreement and let him help her up. Before going she
hugged him tightly and said, "Be careful, Colonel Jack. We
are in your hands." "T, negative copy, repeat." "Sir, our bombers are in the air. Not close yet. They're hitting to the south and east of our position." "Any sign of ground forces?" "Negative, Sir." "Stay put for now. If those bombs start coming this way, get out of there. Understood?" Tolbert replied in the affirmative and the radio went silent. O'Neill
headed to the back to get the rest of his team up and moving. This
night was just getting started. When they were within a mile of the targeted coordinates Hastings gave Carter a sign. She nodded and pressed the 'talk' button on her handheld radio. "Colonel O'Neill. Come in. Colonel O'Neill. This is Carter. Come in." When there was no response her heart sank. She knew they'd moved, but how far and in which direction? Hastings acknowledged the shake of her head and turned back to the pilot. After a short exchange, which included all three pilots he directed his attention back to her. "Major, it seems there are significant ground forces to the east and north of here. The consensus is that a rescue attempt there would not be successful. We'll be heading due west in a moment. I suggest you continue to attempt to make contact every half-mile or so." She nodded, trying to look grateful that they weren't just going to turn back right now. From here on out, they'd be defying orders, she knew every one of the airmen would be acutely aware of that fact and wondered if Hastings' CO had factored in the possibility of them straying wide from the pick up zone. If he was anything like O'Neill's other friends, it wouldn't be a problem. As they veered away from the 'safe zone' it became clear the survival of O'Neill's team would be nothing short of a miracle. As far as they could see were the ragged shells of buildings. Not a single block had escaped at least some damage and the clouds of smoke and dust in the air were constantly limiting their vision. When Hastings turned and informed Carter they were coming up on the ten-mile mark she still had not made a contact. It didn't really surprise her though, she didn't think they'd have gone five miles, let alone ten and was glad they were turning back for another sweep, this time a mile north of the first run. When they got back to the pick up zone she had to admit she was really worrying. What if their radios weren't functioning? Or worse, what if they'd gone somewhere else altogether?" she shook off her pessimism and tapped Hastings on the shoulder. "We're going another mile further to the north, right?" He nodded. "Okay, only don't go the whole ten miles this time. There's no way they could have gotten that far. Turn around at five." Hastings opened his mouth to say something but thought better of it and nodded again. He spoke into his headset and explained Carter's request to the pilot, who she could see nod in answer. On their third leg of the grid she got a static-filled open channel when she called for O'Neill. Hastings had the pilot pull back on the throttle to give her a chance to try it again. She lost the signal completely and made a circular motion in the air with her finger to Hastings. He had the pilot turn back and swing out a little further north. It wasn't a problem for the S&R but was playing hell with the larger and somewhat less maneuverable Apaches and Carter made a mental note to thank the pilots for being so accommodating. Hastings turned to ask if she had any luck yet and was greeted
with a million dollars worth of smile. This time Carter heard a
scratchy voice and cupped her hand over her earpiece as she listened. Her grin widened, "Look up, Sir." "You're kidding, right?" O'Neill made a beeline for the nearest doorway and heard the helicopter blades just as he got there. "Sweet." Hastings switched out his helicopter headset for an earphone to another handheld radio and thumbed the talk button, "O'Neill, where the Hell are you, man?" "Hastings? They'll let anybody fly these days! You see a church with a steeple? Tolbert, you on frequency? Wave your light." Carter scanned the area and pointed to a tall bulbous tower ahead of them. At the uppermost level two dark figures could be seen against the dimly lit night sky, both frantically waving lights. At the base of the building she could just make out another light waving from a darkened doorway. "Colonel! We've got you. Anyplace we can set down?" "Keep going around the other side. We'll light the way." He yelled back to his team to break out whatever light they had and outline the rear courtyard. They were going home. As he ran to the back to prepare the women to move his radio sparked to life again in one ear while the sound of gunfire echoed in the other. He stopped in his tracks and covered the earpiece so he could hear his teammate. Tolbert's voice was fearful, "Sir! The Iraqis! They followed the choppers, they're here!" It was the one bit of news O'Neill hoped he wouldn't receive. "Which direction?" "From the south, Sir. Right behind the choppers." The orders flew out of O'Neill's mouth. "Tolbert, Mitch! Get down here! Tuck! You got those lights up yet? Lambert! Get the women ready to move. Now! Corbin! C-4. Meet me at the east entrance. Move it! Carter, we've got women and children who need a lift out, take them first." He barely heard her acknowledgement as he raced through the building. His brain was in full ops mode; by the time he met up with Corbin he had a plan. "How much C-4 have we got?" "Four large bricks, Sir. If you're looking for a big bang, can do." O'Neill pointed to a side stairway going up then took two of the bricks and detonators from his 2IC. "We need to blow the tower. Timers on three minutes. Lay the charges on the south side, I don't want it falling into the courtyard." "Can't those Apache's help us out any?" "Too close for the missiles." He had another idea. "Carter? You on the ground yet?" "Almost there Colonel, descending now." Her point was emphasized by a pulsing whooshing noise from behind the structure. "Good. Can you get those A-tacks on either side of the tower? We'll need cover fire, but not too close. The tower comes down in three minutes. Copy?" As he spoke he waved to Corbin to go and start setting the charges. "Roger, Sir. Relaying message."
The decibel level all throughout the mosque was deafening as the sounds of a small war converged there. From the front and sides the Iraqis were shooting rifles and light anti-aircraft weapons while the Apaches hovered above. They created their own racket in the sounds of their engines and blades punctuated by the rattling firing pattern of the big guns all echoing off the sides of the buildings. From behind, the small courtyard amplified the sound of S&R One on the ground where Tuck and the Lieutenants were herding the women and children rapidly across an open stretch and into the waiting door. Carter and Hastings were standing outside the helicopter on either side of the opening helping the refugees get in. As the last ones arrived Tuck ordered the airmen to load up as well, then stepped up himself. Several large blasts rocked the stone structure and the tower fell forward. A plume of dust blew out of the windows and doors facing the courtyard as it came down. The Apache pilots, always ready to improvise took O'Neill's lead and were ready each with one Hellfire missile hot. As the tower blew they lit them off to targets just far enough away to amplify the diversion but not pose any threat to the rescue operation. Carter and Hastings stood open-mouthed at the unexpected display. Carter's heart lurched in her chest as she realized O'Neill was nowhere to be seen, nor Major Corbin. She took a step away from the helicopter and felt Hastings grab her arm but wrestled it free and glared at him. "Don't." She warned him. Hastings knew the drill, 'We don't leave anyone behind.' It had been brought home much too recently and with this same Colonel involved, as well. He shook his head in defeat and ordered Tuck and Mitch to hand over their submachine guns, then yelled at the pilot to take off. He followed Carter away from the swirling dust and handed her a weapon. "Let's go find them." They were barely into the building when bullets started raining down on them from two sides so they dove for the nearest cover and began to return fire. Some of the Iraqis had evidently escaped the tumbling walls and mortar. O'Neill and Corbin peered out of a protected doorway at the front of the building's second floor. The battle between the Apaches and the ground was still in full swing. O'Neill spotted a duo of soldiers with missile launchers and shook his head. "Oh, no you don't. Not this time, pal." He pulled out a grenade and lobbed it with his best baseball pitch right at them. The explosion sent them both flying several feet. When no more appeared, he turned his attention elsewhere. Explosions and gunfire seemed to be coming from everywhere as Corbin spotted a target of his own on the first floor below them. They were firing at someone else on the ground. He was sure the others had gotten off all right and waved to O'Neill. The Colonel immediately sized up the situation; someone needed
help and they were going to get it. He motioned to the best vantage
points they could get to and waved Corbin on before going himself.
In a few minutes they had flanked the Iraqis and began a barrage
of their own. O'Neill rocked back his head and rolled his eyes. Never a break, it could never be easy. He called to Corbin to follow him down to the lower level. There was enough light to spot two Air Force uniforms slouched against one wall where more debris had fallen in the last shockwave. They each went to one thinking they'd find a team member but were in for a shock. Corbin reached his man first and gasped as he looked into the face of Captain Hastings. He recognized the man immediately and shouted to O'Neill. The Colonel was busy with his own surprise. He knelt at Carters side and lightly touched her neck, checking for a pulse and feeling her neck before lifting her head and shoulders under his arm. His head was spinning a million miles an hour. What the hell was Carter doing here? Stupid question, coming for him of course, but how did she manage to get herself hurt? He patted her cheek and called her name several times before getting a response. "Sir? Colonel? You're all right." "More than I can say for you right now, Major. Think you can stand?" She nodded and let him slide his arm down her back to help her up. She swayed a little so he didn't yet release her and started picking bits of plaster out of her hair. "What the hell were you thinking, getting off that chopper?" She flushed and pulled back regaining her balance and quickly dusted off her uniform. That done, she picked up her weapon and stood up straight. "Sir, we're here to rescue you." All O'Neill could do was burst out in a laugh. "That I figured out, but I think now we all need a rescue. By the way the Apaches are a nice touch." The remark was punctuated by another explosion. He grabbed Carter's arm and hurried them both out from under the collapsing ceiling. Outside was far too exposed and once Corbin and Hastings arrived the group made their way through a narrow alley and to the back of an adjacent building. As long as they stayed to the north side it seemed the Iraqis wouldn't spot them. They stopped in the deep shadows of an arched entryway. O'Neill turned to Carter and Hastings and asked "I suppose you have a plan for getting us out of here?" Carter for once was lost for words. No she had not planned, she assumed they'd signal a helicopter and get a lift out, but with all the noise their small radios were near useless. Hastings wasn't so reserved as the Major and produced a flare gun from his vest pocket. "Thought this might come in handy." O'Neill nodded and turned to peer out of their hiding place. He surveyed for possible landing sites and decided there were none on this level. "Unless we can get to a roof I don't think a helicopter will be able to land for us. Any ideas?" Corbin agreed. "There's a way up over there." He pointed to a stone stairway leading up the exterior of the next building. "It's not very high but the rooftops all seem to be level, might be our best shot." They moved out toward the stairway up, keeping in the shadows as
much as possible, they would soon draw enough attention to themselves
when Hastings fired the flare. Hastings held the gun at arms length, pointed it straight up, and fired. The flare burst forth from the short barrel with a loud pop and immediately filled the sky with a blinding red-tinged trail of light. In a split-second one of the Apaches swung around and moved toward their position. The second one adjusted its position to widen their coverage area. Once in position overhead the helicopter began to descend but before it got very far it pulled back up. A man in the open side door of the helicopter waved his hands back and forth and shook his head, 'no'. It was too risky for them to land here; they 'd have to go with their second option. Several harnesses were dropped from above and after Hastings retrieved them, a single winch line was dropped. Each of them strapped on a harness and prepared to be lifted off. O'Neill insisted Carter go first and under protest she complied. He assured her it wasn't some male gallantry thing, it was just that she'd been the most seriously hurt. Hastings went next, also under protest but this time was overruled by rank. As the winch dropped for the third time O'Neill and Corbin were forced to drop to the ground to avoid debris from a grenade going off near the corner of the roof. The Iraqis had found them and the tension went up a notch for both men. O'Neill clipped the line to Corbin's vest while they were still lying down and waved for the pick up to proceed. The winch retracted and the helicopter pulled up and away just slightly to distance themselves from the gunfire below, which was now directed solely at them. Corbin made it safely aboard and the helicopter had to swing out and around to get in position for O'Neill. This time a mortar shell just missed them. The pilot swung the tail around forcibly to avoid it and the entire craft shuddered in response before stabilizing. It came in close to drop the line but had to back off when bullets began to pelt the fuselage again. The pilot called to the other two for support. S&R One had been holding back but now joined the foray with machine gun fire. It's only real weapon to speak of. This time the Apache moved in but not as low as before. The winch was dropped to its full length and hit the roof with a loud thud. O'Neill had been off to the side in the shadows and now dove for it, tossing two grenades over the side of the building as he went. He clipped the line to his vest and stuck his thumb up in the air. He was jerked unmercifully up into mid air as the helicopter rose and started moving away from the site at full throttle before the winch even started to reel in. The explosion from the grenades gave only a momentary respite from the ground assault and another mortar lit the sky. Bullets continued to whiz by O'Neill and he ducked his head into his shoulders for minimal protection knowing full well he was a wide-open target. The second Apache moved in a wide arc to the north and then turned
back to the base of the buildings and fired off two Hellfire missiles.
It then turned to the southeast and joined the other two helicopters
already on their way home. Behind them the remaining walls of the
Mosque exploded and it fell in upon itself, completely destroyed. As he neared the opening Tuck and Tolbert leaned out to pull him in. They were already a mile from the Mosque when they managed to drag the unconscious man aboard. Unfortunately they weren't on the rescue helicopter so medical supplies were only the bare necessity standard issue. One of the benches along the side of the helicopter was vacated and O'Neill laid out on it. Carter knelt beside him and started to loosen his clothing to look for any signs of wounding. She berated herself for not at least grabbing an additional med kit or getting Lambert to come along, he was their medic and the best suited to deal with this kind of thing after all. She should have realized at least one of them might be injured. Why did it always have to be him? Tuck watched her struggling with the clasps on the vest and came over to help her. He saw it was not due to any lack of aptitude on her part but rather because the whole front of the vest was saturated with sticky blood. She pulled her hands back and gasped at it. In the darkness she'd assumed it was dirt or sweat or even mud, but not this. She let Tuck finish the task and called to one of the airmen, "We need a med kit! Anything will do!" A young man jumped up in response and opened an overhead compartment, pulling out a standard kit and a large pack of extra bandages. He didn't wait for the Major to take them but laid them out on the floor and started tearing open wrappers for her. With Tuck doing the harder task of getting the clothing out of the way, Carter was able to focus on the two gushing bullet holes in O'Neill's chest and hold pressure to them. She could barely feel his chest move under her hands and at one point had to pause to check for a pulse, fearful she might not find one. It was there, though not strong, and far too rapid. She recognized the sign of shock setting in and cursed under her breath. Corbin leaned over her to get a better look and saw her reaction. "It's bad, isn't it?" She nodded. "He's lost a lot of blood. Can you raise his legs up any? We're supposed to do that for shock." Her words felt hollow in her own ears. He complied and then found a blanket and tucked it in around O'Neill's body. He remembered from somewhere that a patient in shock should be kept warm, too. Carter thanked him and rechecked the dressings. The blood had all but stopped flowing, at least on the outside, and his pulse slowed a little. They were doing what they could but his only real hope was the base and it's wealth of medical technology. Once they crossed the Coalition Front line the three helicopters touched down at a makeshift base camp. O'Neill was rushed to the medical unit and stabilized for transport to Kuwait. Carter and the others tried to stay near but were promptly told they were interfering with his care and forced to keep their distance. All they could do was pace around at the tent entrance. The body that was moved out of the ward and loaded up on the rescue helicopter was vastly different than the one they wheeled in. He was now surrounded by an assortment of medical devices and tubes including an oxygen mask, two IV's, portable heart and blood pressure monitors and the worst thing to see, a large-bore tube coming out of the right side of his chest. His lung had collapsed and had to be re-expanded so he could breathe. It was clamped off at the moment but was still gruesome to see. The helicopter had been freshly refueled and checked while O'Neill was being seen and was now ready to fly again. He'd be taken directly to the hospital at Kuwait City where several ICU nurses were prepared to meet them at the helipad. Carter assumed at least one or two of them would be allowed to accompany O'Neill on the final leg of his journey but was stopped from doing so by the Base Commander. The whole affair was up for scrutiny and O'Neill's team, Carter
and Hastings were to report to Al-Jaber at once for debriefing.
The women and children who accompanied them were now considered
refugees and would be 'processed' as such. It meant food, water
and decent living conditions, but not freedom. The only available
transport was a large troop carrier class helicopter and everyone;
Iraqi and American alike were loaded up for the trip to Kuwait. She sat scrunched up in a corner of the cargo area and considered her actions. It really had been worth it in the end, and no American lives were lost. It was not always a dependable gauge of success but still made her feel better. Every one of those men had volunteered as well, Hastings made sure of that. They all knew what they were getting into and made the decision without pressure. As she sat lost in thought Corbin made his way over to her and said. "How are you holding up, Major?" "Well, considering I might be court-marshaled, not too bad." "You don't really think it will come to that." He took a seat beside her. "Maybe not, but the General is gonna be pretty mad, although I technically wasn't AWOL until I didn't show up at work this morning." He didn't respond and she realized he wasn't even paying attention. "Major, was there something you wanted to talk to me about?" He jerked his head back to her, caught. "Um, Mama, the old woman who came with us. She wants to talk to you. She doesn't speak any English so I'll have to translate." "What could she possibly want of me?" He blushed. "She has this idea that you and Colonel O'Neill are involved." "We're not. It's just not something that- what did he tell her?" Her eyes narrowed. "I don't think much really, not about that, but they talked quite a bit over the past few days, she really likes the Colonel. You could humor her, make her feel better about having to go to the camp." It wasn't until then Carter understood there was something more between these men and the Iraqi women they'd 'liberated.' She could tell Corbin was genuinely concerned about their welfare. He leaned back against the wall and spoke again. "It was the boy, I think." She looked at him; he'd completely lost her now. He blushed again when he realized he'd spoken that thought out loud. "Sorry. Um, there was a kid, a little boy. We were trapped in a cellar while the building collapsed over us and the mother was hurt. The Colonel actually shielded her from the worst of the debris and picked up her kid and held him like he was his own and it was the most natural thing in the world. He still gave us orders and saw that the mom was tended to, but he held that kid." He rubbed his hand over his face, lost in the memory. "Kinda reminded me of something. I know it sounds stupid but those women saw it too, and in a split second they trusted him. They hid us and fed us for two days without question. I never woulda believed it." "So? You were Americans. There are a lot of sympathizers out there." "Uh, uh. It was more than that." Carter grinned, "What? She thinks he's some kind of hero? Sure I'll talk to her." Corbin slapped his hand to his forehead, "She didn't say that! And neither did I, just forget it. Come on." She followed behind him suppressing a case of the giggles as they moved forward in the cabin to the old woman's location. Corbin spoke to the woman and motioned for Carter to sit across from her. So far the only part Carter understood was her name. The old woman, Mama, took her hands and smiled. She began to speak in the throaty Arabic language Carter had heard so much of the past few weeks but was never able to comprehend. Corbin listened for a minute then began to speak, never taking his eyes off the old woman's face. "She wants you to know how grateful she is that you brought the helicopters to save them. She knows the only one you really wanted to save was O'Neill, and the rest of us were a lesser concern." Carter bristled. "That's not true! Sure, I've known the Colonel longer than any of you, but it was the whole team in trouble, not just him." He glanced at her and rapidly translated it back into Arabic, eliciting a grin from the woman. She spoke again. "She says you should not be ashamed that he was your reason for coming. You should, ah, treasure, I think, what you have with him. The future is uncertain, we must all live for today." "Sounds like an oldies recording." Corbin looked at her, suddenly irate. "Major, this woman has lived through Saddam's entire regime, she just might have a point. Who knows how many loved ones she's lost. The fact she can even imagine a future is amazing." Chastised, Carter swallowed and bit her lower lip. The old woman didn't get the words but understood Corbin's tone and raised a hand to hush him. She offered a few harsh tones of her own then turned back to Carter and continued. Corbin translated again. "She knows what happened to him and isn't surprised he was the only one to be seriously hurt. She thinks he makes a habit of putting others first and thinks its time someone did the same for him." A short conversation passed between Corbin |
