Fire for Effect by Kendall McKenna

watch their descent.
    “Honestly, neither did I,” Kellan concurred, admiring the stark beauty of the Afghan countryside. “Secretary Burnett is keeping his word and facilitating Hammond’s and Giammona’s investigation, but he has solidly stonewalled us.”
    “Which means there’s something there to find,” Jonah concluded darkly.
    “Mmm.” The 747 banked and the sprawling features of Camp Leatherneck came into view.
    Designed to accommodate 20,000 Marines, Camp Leatherneck was a combination of single-story, pre-fabricated structures and beige colored tents. Marines slept on cots, twenty to a tent or 2,000 to a structure. As austere as it was, it had been built up extensively since its establishment just a few short years before. The 3,282 yard runway they were currently landing on was just one of the new and improved features.
    Jonah stood and retrieved their bags from the overhead bins. He pulled their sidearms from inside the bags and handed Kellan’s to him. All through the cabin, passengers were donning holsters and handguns. Their flight had originated at Ramstein Air Base in Germany, so all passengers were military or CIA.
    With their nine millimeter Berettas secured in their thigh holsters, Kellan followed Jonah down the stairs of the plane. Jonah paused to place his utility cover on his head. He was dressed in his desert MARPAT cammo utilities.
    Kellan had worn and packed the most practical civvies he could find. Cotton tee-shirts, light-weight, long sleeved cotton shirts to protect from the sun, Carhartt canvas pants and beige lug soled boots. He pulled his Padres ball cap down over his eyes and slid on his sunglasses. Jonah called his shades ‘snivel gear’, but Kellan just smiled in response.
    “Would you be Mr. Kellan Reynolds, sir?” asked a corporal standing at the bottom of the stairs.
    “I am,” Kellan replied, stepping onto the tarmac. “My aide, First Sergeant Jonah Carver.”
    “First Sergeant,” the corporal greeted with a nod. “I’m Corporal Ruhl. I’ve been tasked with escorting you to meet with the base commander, Colonel Chuck Mills.”
    “Lead the way, Corporal.” Kellan fell into step beside the young Marine, Jonah close on his six.
    “I trust you had a pleasant flight, sir?” Ruhl asked politely.
    “We did, thank you. Is this your first deployment?” Kellan had long ago mastered the art of small talk.
    “No, sir, my second,” Ruhl replied. “When I complete this one, I hope to be accepted into BRC.”
    Kellan nodded. The corporal knew exactly who he and Jonah were. “Good luck with that. I’m sure you’d make an excellent Recon Marine.”
    Activity was peaking inside the camp perimeter. Marines bustled around, some wearing combat gear and carrying weapons, obviously preparing to head out on a patrol. Others wore Under Armor fleece shirts or cammo uniform blouses as they conducted in-camp business. There was a tension in the air, a constant sense of readiness that felt vaguely familiar to Kellan. His time in Afghanistan had been during the opening months of OEF and they had all had such conviction and enthusiasm, nearly a decade ago.
    The bright sun reflecting off of all the light colored structures was blinding and Kellan was grateful for his sun glasses, snivel gear or not. Despite the sun, the temperature wasn’t as warm as Kellan had expected. He knew from experience the nights got cold. So cold that it seeped into his bones and took up residence, no matter how many layers of bedding he rolled up in.
    The paths between camp facilities were all hard-packed and well-worn from the passing of many booted feet. Everything around them was coated in a layer of fine, powder-like dust, the same pale beige as the endless sands that surrounded them.
    “Damn moon dust gets into everything,” Corporal Ruhl muttered.
    “Excuse me?” Kellan asked, not quite hearing what the corporal had said.
    “The top most layer of sand is this fine, powdery stuff we call moon