Under Fire: The Admiral by Beyond the Page Publishing

full responsibility. I’m the
senior officer here.”
    “Ma’am, you have to know on a mission I’m not
under obligation to take orders from you,” Vegas said.
    Gemma stepped close to Vegas. “I understand
and acknowledge your authority. You understand, I will not let you
take any heat for this.”
    An awkward moment of silence passed. Vegas
and Hunter nodded, turned, and left as silently as they came,
absorbed by the wall of green.
    Ben figured Bambi, by virtue of being low man
on the team, drew the short straw and had to stay back and babysit.
The SEAL held up a green can that looked like a hand grenade.
“Insect fog. No odor.” He pulled the pin and dropped the can. As
the mist enveloped them Bambi used a wicked-looking machete to
enlarge the tiny clearing, careful to avoid the ant tree. Gemma,
spread out a couple of the cloths, giving the three of them enough
space to sit and lay down. He and Bambi stretched out their legs
and lay down. Gemma sat cross-legged, stick in hand, eyes darting
to the edges of the cloth looking ready to do battle with any
creepy thing that dared set a claw, leg, or antenna on the
cloth.
    They shared another delightful meal of jerky,
gourmet protein bars, coconut and vine water, and sucked down
protein gels Bambi provided. The SEAL went down the list of dos and
don’ts expected of them, also teaching them basic hand signals to
use in the no-talk zone.
    “The LT’s risking a lot letting you stay
here,” he said around a mouthful of protein bar. “We want to be real clear ,” he exaggerated the words. “ You follow
the rules. Be aware this is the real thing.” He tipped his head in
Ben’s direction.
    “Couldn’t get any more real for me,” Ben said
sarcastically.
    “I know the admiral here knows her way around
firearms, but what about you, Doc, you know anything about
them?”
    “I know you point them, pull the trigger, a
missile flies out of the end, tears through a body destroying
tissue, muscle, and disintegrating bones.”
    Bambi gave him a what the fuck is up with
you? look. Ben went on. “Said body is then brought to me to be
restored to original condition.”
    “You need to answer him,” Gemma said
quietly.
    Ben took a drink, carefully placing the water
container beside him. “Because I’m not in your knuckle-bumping,
chest-pounding group doesn’t mean I’m an idiot.”
    Bambi’s gaze flicked to Gemma and then back
to him. “Wasn’t implying you were, sir ,” he said very
deliberately. “You’re an unknown. A civilian. Like I said, this is
not a drill. This is real-world. I have to get a feel for what you
can and can’t do. I’m real particular where my safety is involved.
My main goal out here is to go home safe.”
    “Yeah,” Ben drawled. “I’ve heard about main
goals.”
    “Sir.” The SEAL leaned his direction,
smiling. “I don’t give a flying fuck if your feelings are hurt.
Understand, you go asshole on me I will slit your throat in a
heartbeat and you will be officially listed as having died in that
crash.” He took a large bite of jerky and stared him down.
    “Okay. I get it,” Ben said. “I know about
shotguns, rifles, and handguns. I’m from Texas.” He pushed himself
up to sit. “I started hunting when I was six. I’m good with a
knife. Cleaned and dressed everything I shot. I’m fucking brilliant
with the scalpel. I haven’t fired a gun in years. If push comes to
shove I suppose it’s like riding a bike, once you know how you
don’t forget.”
    “Let’s hope there won’t be any pushing or
shoving and you won’t have to worry about handling a gun,” Bambi
said. “Admiral? You and that gun you got tucked up under there.”
Bambi jigged his thumb in the direction of her chest. “On good
speaking terms?”
    She said nothing but nodded.
    “Automatic or revolver and you have a
reload?”
    “Revolver. Ruger .357 five-shot. One
reload.”
    Bambi nodded appreciatively. Ben blurted,
“Jesus.” To his mind a .357 had to have