Chapter Seven

Ripcord and Covergirl began to head toward each other with a quickened step, and stopped about four feet apart. Both just stared at each other for long moment while the wind whipped their uniforms and hair around. Neither said a word, mainly because neither really knew what exactly to say. The tension of the moment shattered as Biggles hobbled over with the assistance of Big Ben,
"Crikes! That Stinger looks like `ell." Biggles said as he stood gawking at the partially destroyed roof and missing rear missile rack of the black jeep.
"What?" Ripcord asked quizzically as he looked around Covergirl to see Biggles. Who promptly pointed out the vehicle.
"It's called a Stinger." Biggles said with a nod of his head and smile. The sound of engines could be heard nearby as a column of vehicles pulled up. Several British soldiers and medics stepped from the vehicles and head towards the group. Ripcord looked back at Covergirl as the medics began to take Biggles into an ambulance and Big Ben was ushered to a Land Rover. Covergirl opened her mouth to say something but was cut off as a medic approached the two.
"Sir?" the medic said to Ripcord, who turned to look at the medic. "If you could come with me please."
"No, No, it's alright, I'm not hit." Ripcord said with a slow shake of his head. However Ripcord followed the medic's gaze down to his forearm. The black assault BDU fabric was scorched. Ripcord had been so concerned with the mission and later Covergirl to realize that he caught of the armored suits' flamethrower. After seeing the wound, the pain set in, like a sunburn but worse. As the medic started to cut the sleeve of the uniform open, two soldiers appeared and escorted Covergirl away. Ripcord's gaze followed her all the way to the Land Rover she was lead into.
"You're lucky sir, the Nomex woven into the suit saved you from anything too serious, you've just got mostly second degree burns, with a few spots of third degree." Medic said as gave Ripcord an injection of local anesthetic. The medic led him to an ambulance where the blisters were drained before bandages, a cold wrap, and a plastic covering were applied to his arm. Immediately after his wounds were attended to, he was escorted to another Land Rover. He really needed a shower and some sleep but the Brits insisted he be debriefed first. The coffee was a poor substitute for sleep as he lazily recounted the actions from earlier that morning. The data was accompanied by the data Biggles had raided, so Ripcord's worries now had names. Crimson Guardsmen, ASPs, SNAKEs, Night Vipers, and of course Stinger and HiSS. Finally after recounting his misadventures for the fourth time the MI-5 personnel seemed satisfied.
"Well Specialist, you'll be happy to know that the data is now safely stored and we have confirmed the building to be completely destroyed, well done. Tomorrow at 13:00 local your flight, a USAF KC-135 will take you and your teammate back to Pope AFB. Big Ben will also go back with you to act as a go-between for SAS and G.I. Joe."
"Thanks." Was the biggest sentence that Ripcord could form. After he was released, he headed back towards the room that RAF had given him. He really wanted a shower and a change of clothes but it could wait, he was too tired. He entered and after setting an alarm he literally fell onto the bed and drifted off to sleep. The buzzing of the alarm woke Ripcord up, which he slammed his hand down onto it with almost destructive force. Lazily dragging himself off of the bed he stripped down and headed for the room's small showered. After setting the water to almost scalding temperature he stepped in and just stood leaning against the wall. The steam swirled and the water ran off his red hair as he just stood there reflecting on the events that now seemed to be years ago. So that was it. Combat. He had killed people. 4 Crimson Guardsmen. 12 Soldiers. The ASP operator. And 3 Night Vipers. 20. 20 men that he had personally sent to the grave. Plus whoever else was still in the building when the charges blew. Despite the heat of the water, a chill went through his body. Then another horror set in as he listened to the patter of water hitting the plastic wrapped around his arm. He could have been killed. The image of a soldier in Class A's walking up to his mother's door played through his head. Ripcord shuttered again and fought the urge to vomit. He exited the shower used the time it took to pack his gear and put on a pair of clean BDUs to gather his thoughts and re-compose himself. After a short time he was his old self again. No. He could never be his old self again. But this was as close to it at he could come to. He walked the distance to Covergirl's room and knocked on the door. "Hey Covergirl, it's time our flight back to the states leaves in about an hour, we need to head out the flight line."


The debriefing seemed to take forever, even though Cover Girl felt she didn't have much to recount. She wasn't sure if it was the thick English accent or the fact she was drained that kept her from comprehending everything that was being said, but finally it was over and she was shown to a room in billeting. A room that was eerily too quiet. After a long, much needed hot shower, she pulled her damp hair back into a loose braid and crawled beneath the covers. She stared blankly at the alarm clock for a few minutes before snapping on the television, not really caring what was on, just needing some sort of noise. She wasn't sure how many old BBC comedies she saw that night, but sleep just wasn't cooperating. Still, the British sit-coms were helping to keep her from replaying any of the day's events. She thought back to General Hawk's words in the meeting…'Ripcord and Covergirl, Yours will be most likely the best and easiest assignment.' Her thoughts went to the others in the meeting, names she didn't recognize, but faces she could picture.


Even though the flight home wasn't scheduled until 1300 that day, she was up and dressed in a sweatshirt and shorts at dawn. She had seen a running track along side the flight line the day before, and figured a jog would help clear her head. The jog soon turned into a hard run, but even running didn't seem to help. She had thought it would be different, killing someone. Actually had hoped it would be different, thought it would… bother her more. The fact that it didn't is what kept her up most the night. When her shallow breathing lead to a stitch in her side, she stopped her running cold, and walked back to the billeting room to take another shower and change into clean BDU's. She thought her blue eyes looked a little grayer in the mirror, but then again, it was probably the steam built up on the mirror, she rationalized. She grabbed some coffee and sat in one of the room's small arm chairs, turning to some local news as a distraction. Oddly there was no mention of a building collapsing, or of anything that had transpired the night before. She flipped through the pages of an old car magazine she had brought with her, drifting on and off. The next thing she knew, there was a knock on her door that jolted her awake.
"Hey Covergirl, it's time our flight back to the states leaves in about an hour, we need to head out the flight line." She checked her watch, glad Ripcord woke her up.
"One sec…" She called out, ponytailing her hair to keep it off her shoulders in regulation. She grabbed her cover and gear and met Ripcord in the hallway. She still wanted to tell him that she was glad he was okay, or words to that affect, say something about yesterday, but could only come out with a quick. "How's the arm?" He nodded an "okay" response, but the two were joined by Big Ben before he could answer.
"'Hello, Mates. Good day for a trip across the old pond, isn't it?" He asked. She smiled and nodded as they headed towards the flight line. "I checked on Givens this morning, lad, looks like they'll be able to save his thumb, thanks to you. `E of course, says thanks as well." "You yanks `hungry at all?" He continued, not taking a break between sentences. "I picked up some sandwiches from the mess, don't exactly think we'll be getting peanuts on the flight across." He offered one to each of them as they waited to board the Stratotanker that would take them home. Between his droning on and the roar of the refueling jet's engines, Cover Girl was finally able to grab some sleep. Finally, the large craft set down on the runway at Pope AFB, where they caught a Tomahawk back to Headquarters. A young lieutenant met them out on the apron, and both popped him a perfect salute after departing the large transport craft.
"Good work on your assignment." He told them, returning the salutes as the rotors stopped turning. "I know you've had a long flight, but I need to bring you over to debriefing." He sounded almost apologetic, something definitely CG was not used to hearing from a butter bar. Then again, a few days ago she had been face to face with a full one star general, not something she was used to seeing on the firing range or motor pools where she normally worked either. Cover Girl straightened the stiff fabric of her BDU's and checked her cover to make sure everything was in order. Even if they used code names, he was still an officer. She put on her best calm and collected face, at least being a model for all those years taught her how to keep her bearing, even back when she was the only 'chick' in armor tech school. He walked them over to a small room, and stepped inside with them, giving the 'At ease' command almost as a side thought, when he noticed the two American soldiers still caging their eyes and standing stiffly. "Just have a seat." He said, pointing to the metal chairs by long folding tables. "Grab some coffee from the back if you need it." He shut the door behind him, but remained standing outside. Cover Girl took one of the hard chairs to wait for yet another debriefing to begin.


Law finally reached a his destination, a simple wooden door in the bowels of The Pit with the only marking being a simple 133 stenciled above the door in black. Coming to a halt he gave the door three firm knocks. "Enter." Came the muffled response from within. The stocky MP walked in and saw three people gathered around a small table. On one side of the table he saw some officer he hadn't met before. The two on the other side he recognized as Ripcord and Covergirl. Law was a little shocked at first, he'd heard the mission went a little bad but it was a success and that his two teammates had performed greatly. But now he saw that it had a price. Both of them looked like hell, tired, bruised, and maybe even a little dumpy. "What is it soldier?" The officer asked in an inpatient voice. The comment knocked Law back to reality.
"Sorry to interrupt sir but I have a message from the general." Law said as he came to attention and shot a salute up. The officer returned the salute. The officer then nodded for Law to continue. Law turned to Covergirl and Ripcord. A bit of grief swelled in Law with his next words, as he felt sorry for the two. "The General has just ordered a operational briefing which the two of you are required at." With that said, Law turned smartly on his heels and exited the small room. The two soldiers exchanged a knowing glance. So much for down time.

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