| Subject: ...For Meritorious Service, Chapter 25a |
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TxJAG_b
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Date Posted: 12:41:26 06/24/08 Tue
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TxJAG_b
's message, "...For Meritorious Service" on 09:04:26 05/08/07 Tue
A/N1: **~~** indicates flashback or dream sequence ( ) indicates the thoughts of a person. *~* indicates a scene shift not otherwise indicated by a JAG time stamp. ~~~ indicates a dream sequence. Warning for some language - we're in a combat situation, folks....
A/N2: A big thanks to My betas [Karen, Janlaw and Mary Ann] who have had their share of troubles this spring/summer ...as for me, I also thank the invention of Memory Keys which allowed me to save FMS twice when my brand new laptop failed not once, but twice within the space of a month. Okay, on with 25a....
1242 Local
Recreation Area
Camp Chesty Puller
Faith didn’t know why Gibbs had asked her to meet him here, so she decided a little reconnaissance wouldn’t hurt….
**~~**
He looked back at her desk and then gave her a wry smile. “There are other ways to work out your frustrations, Commander,” he said cryptically.
“Meaning?” She turned her head to see what the NCIS Special Agent was looking at on her desk and then turned back to him.
“Meet me at the recreation area at 1300, Commander. We’ll talk about it.”
**~~**
The Naval attorney looked around the recreation area, such as it was. There was a basketball court – where a group of Marines were playing a ‘friendly’ game – which resulted in several of the players being knocked to the ground as ‘the game’ progressed.
Those knocked down, though, didn’t seem angry and willingly took hands offered by those who had knocked them down in the first place.
She didn’t think she would ever understand that sport….
To her right were a set of makeshift batting cages, and just beyond that, a field of mostly dead grass. She guessed that the parched area of grass served as a football field…
So just what was Gibbs going to talk to her about here?
“You’re early.”
His voice made her jump, again. She mentally cursed herself for letting him catch her off guard, again. He was carrying a canvas sack which had a couple of bats sticking out of it. In his hands, he held two faded blue helmets.
“I wanted to see what kind of facility they have….” It was a believable lie.
“Good enough for our purposes,” Gibbs replied without elaboration. “Here, you’ll need this….” He tossed one of the helmets to her which she almost didn’t catch.
Faith looked at the helmet in her hands as if he had tossed to her a live snake. “What’s this for?”
“Protection.” Was his one word answer as he walked past her. When she didn’t move, he looked back at her and gave the JAG attorney an annoyed look. “C’mon.”
MEU Dining Facility [DFAC]
Camp Chesty Puller
Bud was just finishing the last of his apple cobbler. It wasn’t anything like Harriet would make, but it would do for now.
“…so now former Agent-in-Charge Phillips is talking?” he asked Commander Turner between bites.
“He’s being more cooperative than he was…” Sturgis replied evasively. Bud Roberts could tell that the former Dolphin still thought Sedrick Phillips was holding back. “By the way, thank you, Lieutenant, for getting that document to Special Agent Gibbs….”
Bud swallowed the last of his pie and put his fork down. “Just doing my duty, sir.” He still wasn’t sure where he stood with the former Bubblehead.
“You’re being too modest, Bud,” Sturgis knew he and the Lieutenant had a long way to go before things would be okay between them again. But maybe revealing that it was Bud’s information that caused Phillips to begin really cooperating would help mend their relationship. “The information you provided Gibbs, lead to Phillips’ giving us some invaluable information regarding the deaths of PFC Krivstad, Corporal Gearson, Sergeant Colwell, and Captain Butler. If it wasn’t for you, Gibbs and I would probably still be interrogating that traitor.”
Bud gave Sturgis a tentative smile. “Thank you, sir. So, what exactly has Sedrick Phillips told you?”
*~*
“Now step in and swing; just like I showed you….” Gibbs said by way of instruction.
Faith Coleman stepped forward and fiercely swung the bat. The air whistled as it was cut by her action and the ball went sailing past her. It hit the padded backstop with a resounding thump.
“You need to learn to relax,” Gibbs said with uncharacteristic gentleness. “Don’t chop at the ball….”
“I’m not…” she stopped herself and looked took a deep breath. “I am not chopping at the ball. I am swinging as you instructed.” She replied with more calm than she thought possible.
Gibbs gave her that damnable smile of his. “Here. Let me show you again….”
He stepped up to the plate and took his batting stance. Faith stood to one side and observed his positioning.
“Keep your eye on the ball….”
“Why didn’t you tell me about Sergeant Rathum’s body being found?”
Gibbs swung and missed.
“You were supposed to be interrogating Corporal Richards,” he said blandly, trying to focus on the pitching machine instead of her ill-timed words.
“Which I had finished and I was going to tell you what I had learned, but then I found out you had left the camp along with Commander Turner and Lieutenant Roberts.”
The pitching machine spit out another ball. This time, Gibbs’ bat connected with the ball making a metallic ping. The impact sent it hurtling into the padding at the far end of the cage.
“What did you learn?”
“When were you going to tell me about finding another body?” she pressed.
Gibbs swung and connected with the next ball as well. “When I got back…Commander.”
“Gibbs, as part of the this joint JAG-NCIS Op--”
Gibbs hit the next ball just a little harder. “That’s ‘joint NCIS-JAG Operation,’ Commander.”
She ignored his correction. “I have to keep Admiral Chegwidden informed about our progress. I have a right to know when something like this happens.”
Gibbs swung and missed the next ball. He shook his head and turned to face her. Faith could tell he was working hard to suppress his anger. “You’re part of *my* team, Commander,” Gibbs’ steel blue eyes locked onto hers. “I keep all my people informed about any *new* developments. Now what did you learn from Richards?”
“Secord was his contact. He ordered him to keep an eye on Colonel MacKenzie and Commander Rabb--”
“Since when does a PFC give orders to a Corporal?”
“Since Richards has gambling debts totaling approximately $20,000…owed to PFC Secord. In return for his silence about Secord’s involvement and for forgiving the debts, Secord asked him to keep tabs on the Colonel and the Commander.”
“What about ties to Colonel Livingston or Captain Lewis?”
“Richards says he’s only met Captain Lewis once in passing. As for the Colonel, the only time he saw her was when he washed out of Force Recon--”
Gibbs looked away from the pitching machine for a moment. “Commander, can you tell when someone is lying?”
“Gibbs, I’m a trained attorney --”
“I didn’t ask you about your background, I asked you… ‘can you tell when someone is lying?’”
She knew what he meant. Could she instinctively tell when someone was not telling the truth?
“Do you really think you can tell what a person is thinking by looking in their eyes?”
Gibbs looked away from the pitching machine and directly at her. “Yeah, Commander, I do.”
“What do *my eyes* say, Gibbs?”
Gibbs was about to answer when the shriek of an incoming round caused him run for Faith, tackling her hard as the ground shook from the detonation.
*~*
Mac had gone back to her quarters. She was still dusty and gritty from her harrowing ride, and her lap was still damp from Ebbits’ blood that had seeped through her uniform. She slammed the door open and stormed in backhanding it so hard it crashed shut.
She wanted to hit things, tear this place apart…she wanted to make Darcy Livingston pay…then she spied the bottle staring at her from her bed. There was a folded note taped over the label, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out the contents of that folded paper.
She snatched at the bottle and tore off the note, flipping it open.
‘This should ease some of the pain. I know it’s your favorite. -D’
Her hands trembled with rage. She thought about smashing the bottle of Vodka against the wall, but that wouldn’t bring Carlson Ebbits back. And it wouldn’t convict Darcy Livingston, either.
As Mac stood there holding the bottle, she heard a soft knock at her door. Turning, she strode over and wrenched it open.
Standing there with a startled look on her face was Kayce Danvers.
(Coming to check and see if the lush had found her reward for a job well done…) Mac thought angrily. “Well, Corporal, what is it?” she snapped harshly at the Lance Corporal.
That jolted Kayce. The Lance Corporal threw a quick sharp salute. “Sorry to disturb you, ma’am. I just…” her formal voice softened just a bit indicating her concern. “I just wanted to see if you were all right…”
It really sounded like sympathy. (Even if it isn’t, I’d better play along…) Mac thought. In the brief time that she had worked with this young Lance Corporal, she had found her to be likeable, but the light Colonel had to be careful; her ‘actions’ might just be part of a honey baited trap.
“Look down at my uniform, Corporal,” she said bitingly as if Kayce had been the one who’d shot Ebbits. “Do I look all right?”
Kayce’s face stiffened. “No ma’am,” she said solemnly as she looked down at the vodka bottle in Mac’s hands. “You don’t look all right.”
“Well I’m about to fix all that,” the light Colonel sneered. She turned and walked over to a table that had a plastic pitcher and a couple of paper cups. As she picked up one of the cups, she turned and gave the young Lance Corporal a mocking grin. “Would you care to join me, Corporal?”
Kayce flinched as if hit by a fist. “No ma’am and I--”
Their conversation was interrupted by the whoosh of a rocket on a terminal trajectory followed by the hollow boom as it impacted its target and exploded.
Both Marines dived for the floor.
*~*
Stuart had just finished uploading his weekly commentary on the recent events in Iraq, sending it via satellite telephone to their New York office.
He was glad to be alone for a while. Sully had been mooning around his quarters since early this morning. Stuart knew he was worried about Pam Somers, the local ZNN reporter who had been wounded during the terrorist attack at JAG Headquarters, but he really didn’t have time to play counselor when he had deadline coming up so soon. Finally he told Sully to go get some lunch, but not to forget his mini-cam. You never knew when a big story was going to break and where.
Sully had been reluctant at first, but Stuart had been able to convince him that if heard anything more about Pam’s condition, he’d let him know.
Getting Sully out of his hair for a moment allowed him to think about what to do with his incoming replacement, wunderkind Brad Holliman, in the time he had remaining before he had to report to Chuck DePalma.
Chuck had wanted Stuart to show Brad ‘the ropes,’ but a part of Stuart really didn’t want to do that. Brad was okay as field correspondents go, but he had kind of a bland personality. Why Chuck and the rest of the ZNN honchos thought he would make such a stellar replacement, he’d probably never figure out, but orders were orders, and like it or not, Chuck wanted Stuart to mentor the new guy.
Stuart powered down the sat-phone and got up from his desk. Taking Brad to lunch in the Marine eating facility might not be a bad way to start off this mentoring gig. He and Brad could discuss the environment of this particular Marine unit and the folks that Stuart could rely on to give him as much access as was legally allowed in this day and age. He could also tell him who to look out for, like the unit CO, Ashton R. Briggs.
(Then again,) he thought as he opened to door to his quarters, (Maybe it would be better for Brad to find this out via a ‘learning experience’.)
Stuart smiled to himself about that idea, but he quickly changed his mind when he realized that if Holliman pissed off Colonel Briggs bad enough, he might give him a one way ticket home like they did Geraldo Rivera when he got carried away with himself in Afghanistan.
“Stuart?”
The veteran ZNN reporter looked up to see the young field correspondent headed his way.
“Brad!” Stuart said putting on his best fake smile and pumping his hand when they met. “Good to see you! Did you have a good trip?” They began walking back the way Brad had come.
“If by good, you mean did I get a story, then the answer’s no.” Brad grumbled.
“Sorry to hear that,” Stuart said trying his best to sound sympathetic. “Let’s go grab some lunch while it’s still available. Tell me what happened….”
“Oh, you know how it goes,” Brad’s tone indicated the incident really wasn’t that much of a surprise. “An NCIS Agent confiscated my videotaping of a body they’d just found north of here on the highway to Najaf.” It was more of an annoyance to Brad than anything else.
“An NCIS Agent?” Stuart probed. He was incensed at this rude behavior. “Who?” The veteran ZNN war correspondent was getting his First Amendment speech ready for whoever this rube was.
Brad liked it when Stuart got his First Amendment dander up. “Oh you know,” he said chuckling, “that silver haired guy, Gibson or something like that, I think.”
All the fight went out of the veteran ZNN Reporter. “You mean Leroy Jethro Gibbs?”
Brad snapped his fingers. “Yeah, that’s the name!” Then he saw that Stuart’s demeanor had totally changed. “What’s wrong?”
Stuart shook his head as if he had experience this kind of treatment many times before from this Gibbs. “You can kiss that tape goodbye for the foreseeable future, Bradley. When Gibbs gets a piece of evidence in his hands, he rarely lets it go prematurely.”
“Damn!” Brad hissed disgustedly “There was some good stuff on that tape, Stuart.”
Stuart gave him a knowing smile. “I’ll bet. That’s why Gibbs kept it.”
Brad figured ‘what the hell’ and told him what else was on the tape. “This Gunny I rode with, Galindez? He found the body, and get this; no head and no hands….” With a little luck, ole Stu would see the value of the tape and help him try to get it back.
“Somebody didn’t want this poor slob identified….” Stuart said thinking aloud.
Brad nodded sagely. “You got it. Then the JAGs and CID folks arrived--”
Stuart stopped walking and gave the new ZNN field correspondent an admonishing look. “Brad, CID is Army; its JAG and NCIS for the Navy and Marine Corps.”
Brad also had stopped. He really hated this ‘older brother act’ Stuart was pulling on him. “Got it;” he snapped, eager to get on with his story, “anyway, they started taking pictures and making drawings; asking the Gunny all sorts of questions about the body….”
“Sounds like they may have had a break in their case….” Stuart said as he began walking again.
“What case?” Brad obviously had not been paying attention to any of ZNN chatter about the connection between Mirbullah and the Washington DC terrorist attack.
Stuart sighed heavily. Dealing with Brad was more wearying than he had expected. “Commander Rabb of the JAG Corps told me they were on the hunt for a spy in the Marine unit….”
The eagerness to get a hot story boiled up in the younger reporter. “A spy? You mean, a mole? For al-Qaeda?”
His eagerness was infectious. “Yeah, c’mon; we gotta go lean on the JAGs and get them to give us more. Rabb said we’d get an exclusive--”
As both men started to round a corner in the camp, the air was filled with shrieking whoosh, followed by a thunderous boom.
Both ZNN reporters ducked as flying debris sailed over and around them.
BLT Headquarters, Camp Chesty Puller
Near Mirbullah, Iraq
Colonel Briggs shook off the plaster and mortar dust that covered him.
“Sir!” called out his aide, “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine Sergeant!” He called back, “what did they hit!?”
The pause was only momentary. In the background Briggs could hear men shouting orders and vehicles racing around the camp at high speed as he got up off the floor and put on his helmet.
“The DFAC sir!” yelled his aide above the din, “It took a direct hit!!”
*~*
Kayce and Mac joined several other Sailors and Marines who were running toward the venomous gray cloud that was boiling into the cloudless blue sky.
“Son of a bitch! They hit the DFAC!!” Mac heard someone yell.
As they reached the site, they found the dining facility or ‘DFAC’ was a shattered ruin. There was a yawning ugly hole in the middle of the prefabricated roof. The jagged tear in the fabric indicated the missile had partially penetrated the roof before detonating. Certain areas along the sides of the facility bulged, sagged, or in some cases had collapsed completely.
For some reason, there were no massive cremating fireballs rolling into the sky; only clouds of grey smoke and a few curls of flame here and there from natural gas burners and other combustibles. Sailors and Marines were scrambling all over the debris, pushing burnt fabric and twisted mental framework aside. They worked in teams to lift particleboard wall pieces and shattered concrete out of the way, so they could get into the smoky interior.
Mac’s ears were overwhelmed with a cacophony of voices – some angry, some pleading, some calm, some panicked.
“Get that crane from motor pool!”
“I need a tourniquet over here now!!”
“The Seebees said they’re bringing in a backhoe, Lieutenant!”
“Over here, I need someone to help lift this!”
“Move that crane over this way! This way!!”
“No! The other way! You’ll cut him in half!!”
“Jesus! What hit the DFAC!?
“Lucky bastards hit us with a rocket!”
Mac waded into the turmoil without thinking. In fact, she didn’t want to think, only work. She didn’t want to dwell on the fact that it was lunchtime and most likely Bud and Sturgis might be here somewhere under all the debris. She began helping the others remove twisted pieces of metal, chunks of concrete, torn and scorched canvas, broken and shattered tables, and twisted frames of chairs. She tried to enter the tent, but the acrid smoke made her eyes tear up and she involuntarily coughed.
“You three, give me a hand with this!”
Mac looked up to see a couple of Marines scrabble over to where the Sailor, a Master Chief Petty Officer, was standing by a leaning concrete wall with a large iron bar sticking out of it at a crazy angle.
“Could you use an extra pair of hands, Master Chief?” Mac said as she made her way over to the group.
The grizzled and dusty Master Chief looked at her momentarily with goggled eyes. “Wha? Why yes ma’am! Absolutely!!”
Mac quickly joined two surprised Corporals and an equally shocked Seaman 2nd Class who had wedged themselves against the bent iron bar. The idea, which the Master Chief had, was easy to see; push the bar away from them and a darkened shaft so that the wall would fall over in the other direction.
“Ready?” Mac and the others nodded.
“On Three…. One… two… three… puuusssshhh!!” Mac could feel her muscles screaming in protest as she and the others pushed with all their might against the bar.
“Again!!” Bellowed the Master Chief.
“One… two… three….puuussshhh! It’s coming, it’s coming! Watch it!!”
With a loud metallic groan and rumble of collapsing concrete blocks, the mental bar gave way revealing the formerly dark shaft into the Officer’s galley kitchen area.
Presently, two soot covered mess management specialists were pulled from the hole.
Unknown to Mac and the other Soldiers and Sailors, Stuart’s ZNN cameraman, Sully, was silently filming everything.
“Anyone else in there?” asked the Master Chief.
The first soot covered man shook his head. “Only us…”
The other man nodded his agreement to the first man’s comment, and then waved away a Corpsman who was trying to get a better look at him.
“Yeah, we took cover in there when we heard the rocket approaching…”
[concluding part tomorrow...]
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