“Fair enough. But if we’re jumping HAHO, we’re limited with supplies. Only what we can carry, really.”
“At your landing point you’ll receive more gear. Colonel Reynolds will go over the inventory, but you’ll have access to three dune-buggies and enough weaponry. You’ll use the dune-buggies to make up for time. However, once you reach the valley’s crest, you’ll be on foot,” Elizabeth said.
“We bringing the norm?” Dale asked.
“You’re bringing everything,” Elizabeth said, “including the kitchen sink. Your team might encounter some resistance, but once you near the valley, they’ll back off. Trust me on this.”
“I don’t trust anyone but my boys here,” Clements said brazenly. “But if we have the gear, we’ll do our thing.”
“Yup,” Jefferson replied in his deep voice. “What happens if we see Taliban along the way? You got us exposed by doing this shit in daylight. What’s our rules of engagement?”
“You have no rules,” Elizabeth stated bluntly. “You are under no jurisdiction, no formalities. You may exercise whatever force you believe is needed. If you see a threat, neutralize it.”
Jefferson grinned. “Darling, I’m starting to like you.”
She sighed, rolling her eyes. “Once set up on the ridgeline, you’ll be able to formulate an approach. The cave is your destination. The Colonel and I will be here at the command center. We’ll provide you with up to date intelligence, with anything you need. But once you’re in, the mission plans will be up to you.”
“We like it that way,” Dale said. “Once we’re inserted, and once we’ve done recon, and we enter the cave, then what?”
It was a straightforward question, one needing answered.
“You’ll kill with no hesitation,” Colonel Reynolds said, his eyes steady. “Sergeant, your team is to kill any and all hostiles within that cave. Simply put, there are no rules. We want… we need them all dead.”
“I see,” Dale said, frowning. “And we’re up against how many again? Possibly two thousand?” The whole situation was baffling to the hardened war veteran. Two thousand monsters?
“We have no clue,” Elizabeth replied. “Perhaps a few dozen, perhaps thousands. We do know this: they will be extremely hostile. In no way should you hesitate. I want that to be clear. Anything that lives in that cave is to be killed. We need every single living thing dead. That’s your mission.”
“Look here,” Dale began, looking up to the map. “We’ve done some fucked up ops, but the lack of intelligence doesn’t sit right with me.”
“It’s the way things are, Sergeant,” Colonel Reynolds stated.
“Fine. So be it. But there’s a few things we’ll need. You say we’ll have access to whatever we want. Great. I’ll tell you exactly what’s needed. First, air support. A shit-ton of it.” Dale decided to try once more.
“That’s a negative again, Sergeant. There’ll be no air support,” the Colonel said.
“Backup? Ya know, in case shit goes down. Got some Rangers standing by? Marines will do. Someone in case we need to get the hell out of there,” Dale requested.
“Again, that’s a negative. This is too sensitive a mission. Your team will be the only ones going in,” Reynolds stated, not bothering to hide the severity of the situation.
“All right. Guess we’ll do our thing,” Dale said, reluctantly.
“I have faith your team will do just fine.”
74
The meeting adjourned, Elizabeth went to her office. She had much to do. Reynolds returned to his living quarters, tired from a long day, knowing this upcoming week would be hectic.
Svetlana left also, leaving the six Delta members and the lone SEAL.
Rivers.
They huddled, all facing Rivers, chattering away, excited and anxious and nervous all at once.
Within minutes, Clements began starting trouble. He simply didn’t like Rivers, and his mouth began to do what it did best — pick a fight.
“Fighting monsters, or whatever the fuck they are, sounds fun and all, but I ain’t doing it with no SEAL,” Clements said, eying Rivers, huffing his chest.
“Rivers is perfectly capable,” Dale defended.
“Why you defending him?” Clements asked. “He’s not Delta. Shit, don’t know who he is.”
“I do. I’ve done missions with him. Been in combat with him,” Dale replied.
“Say what?”
“He’ll do fine,” Dale said again, then turned to leave. He wanted to start some checklists, start going through what he’d need for this operation. He made it down the hall before turning back as the voices grew louder, and an argument ensued.
“DEVGRU, my ass! I call ’em as I see ’em. You’re a Vanilla, west coast, Hollywood pretty boy,” Clements said.
“Country Fuck, out of my face,” Rivers replied.
“You been in Afghanistan how long?”
“Few hours.”
“How you gonna handle it? Fucking mountains up here, rocks and Taliban up the ass. I’m not watching your back.”
“Don’t expect you to,” Rivers returned. “Not sure why you’re so hung up on me, but I don’t give two shits. See, they brought you along to shoot. Me, I bring the neat toys,” Rivers grinned. “And remember, we’re SEAL: Sea, Air and Land. Don’t ya worry, Country Fuck.”
“We ain’t in Hollywood,” Clements returned. “This isn’t the newest Alien movie, and if we’re up against—”
“Drop it,” Rivers said, stepping forward.
That was enough. It was all a man like Clements needed. He swung, and swung hard, catching Rivers on the left temple. “Fucking Vanilla Seal,” he shouted, raging, swinging wildly.
Rivers fought back, though. He hit Clements in the gut, hard, then two quick jabs to the man’s eye.
The pair locked up, Clements using his brute strength to shove Rivers against the wall. Rivers grabbed Clement’s wrist, swept his leg, and brought the man down. Then, Rivers smashed his fist hard into Clements’ nose.
It took Jefferson, Marcus and Rodriguez to pull Clements off. Thompson made no move to do so, enjoying the fight.
“Let me go!” Clements bellowed.
“Step up, I’ll bust you up more,” Rivers taunted.
Clements surged forward, the three men holding him back.
Yet Rivers held his smile; there was no fear in his eyes. “You can call me Hollywood all day long you country fuck, but I was running ops while you were still in Ranger school. So go fuck yourself.”
“Enough!” Dale shouted, storming up the hallway. “What the fuck’s going on?”
“Ah, nothing Dale. Just making friendly talk with the Navy boy,” Clements said, bringing his hand to his bloody nose.
Dale eyed them both. Rivers’ lip was cut, his temple beginning to swell. Clements' nose dripped blood, under his left eye beginning to turn purple.
“From the looks of it, you two aren’t being friendly.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Clements said.
“You struck an officer,” Dale said.
“He’s fucking Navy, Dale, doesn’t count.”
“Sure as fuck does.”
Rivers interjected, saying, “It’s fine.”
But Dale turned, snapping at Rivers. “And you should know better. We have an op in a week, tops. Stop your shit and get along or we’ll do some serious PT.”
They were all surprised, for an enlisted man never spoke to an officer in such a manner, Delta or not.
The men huffed, engaged in a few more words, but Dale’s threatening look was enough.
Clements walked away, his Delta friends following. Dale stayed, looking at Rivers, a slow grin forming.