“Good. Then we won’t have to ruin any lives.”
“Not up front anyway.”
“I’ve got a flight to catch. See you in Coronado.”
“It’ll be good to have you home, brother.”
Hawk Masters let out a noncommittal sound and broke the connection. He closed up the phone and watched as an incoming plane approached for a landing. The truth was, he still had issues to deal with when it came to his onetime home.
They say you can’t go home again.
Hawk Masters shouldered his duffel and walked into the airport.
Time to prove them wrong.
Commissioned in 1944, Naval Base Coronado quickly became one of the central hubs for military training and planning on the West Coast of the United States. Since the inception of the SEAL Teams, it had simultaneously been home and hell to every man who cared to take a shot at the grueling training ordeal designed to shake loose all but the most determined of the navy’s best.
For Hawk Masters, it was a bittersweet return to the place that had been his home for the better part of five years.
“Bro!”
His melancholy feelings lifted at the familiar voice, and he turned to grin at the approaching figure, dropping his duffle to the ground.
“Hey, Eddie.”
The man in the navy-master-chief uniform just stared at him for a moment, then grinned and grabbed him up in a bear hug. Masters laughed, returning the grip, and fought to keep his feet on the ground against the stockier and stronger man.
“Put me down, you big buffoon, before the kiddies start to talk!” Masters managed to get out through his laughter.
“Let ’em!” Eddie Rankin replied. “I haven’t seen you in almost four years, and now we get to work together again? Screw the kiddies.”
Masters laughed, but broke the embrace and shook his head. “Still a crazy bastard, huh?”
“Always. How else would I survive in the Teams?”
Hawk had to grant him that, and nodded. “You’ve got a point. Did you get me that list of names?”
“Done you one better,” the master chief replied. “I’ve got all the guys here, waiting to talk with the legend himself.”
“Legend?” Hawk snorted. “I lived, just like you did. Nothing legendary about it.”
“That’s not what they think. Of course, I’m famous.…You, you’re infamous.” Rankin smirked. “Going nuts will do that, though, or so I gather.”
“Oh, Lord.”
“Come on, I’ve got an office cleared out for you, and that admiral friend of yours had them assign an entire floor in B Block for you to use.”
“Well that’ll make things easier, I guess.”
“Yeah, try explaining some of the shit you’re going to be talking about to the fresh meat going through BUD/S.” Rankin laughed aloud, drawing even more attention as the two made their way across the parking lot and headed for the building complexes.
A glare from Rankin and a glance at the master-chief-petty-officer insignia on his shoulder was enough to send most of them running in the other direction. The rest, even those who outranked him, suddenly found something of their own affairs to take up their entire attention.
Rankin led them to the B Block complex, a series of buildings assigned to the SEALs for administrative purposes, and then immediately turned right into a stairwell and headed down.
“An entire floor, huh?”
“The subbasement is a floor,” Rankin defended himself with a chuckle. “Or it has a floor anyway. Mostly packed dirt, if I remember correctly.”
Masters shook his head, chuckling in return.
In truth it wasn’t that bad. No windows, and a little cool and damp, but Hawk had learned to appreciate having a lot of packed earth in between him and threats. He didn’t like the fact that the only way out seemed to be through stairwells that were easily blocked, but the flip side was that the only way in was through stairwells that were easily blocked.
“This is your office,” Rankin said, nodding to a room that had been furnished, just as cold and damp as the rest of the place but with nice solid cement walls. “Most of the rest of the space is for briefings, classes — you know the drill.”
Masters nodded.
“You need anything else?”
“No, just get the volunteers down here tomorrow morning, 0900.”
Rankin snorted. “Getting soft in your old age, civvie?”
“No, but I won’t be back from my run until 0830, Master Chief,” Hawk responded with a put-on sneer.
“Right, take the extra shower time. No need to knock the boys out from the smell.”
“Get out of here, you old wharf rat.”
Rankin left, laughing, and Hawk circled around his new desk as he thought about what was to come.
Alexander Norton grinned slightly, a little more of a leer really, as he leaned in and whispered into the ear of the woman sitting next him. Her eyes widened, almost bulging as she snapped back to look at him, her mouth dropping open.
He just winked, trying to convey a sense of supreme confidence.
She hesitated for a moment instead of lambasting him verbally or with her purse, and he knew he had an in. He smiled a bit wider and leaned in closer. “Spectacular night, isn’t it?”
For a moment she seemed torn between hitting him or laughing, but then she decided to split the difference and laughed while slapping his shoulder. He knew then that he’d made the right play, and suppressed the smirk that was threatening to form.
“You’re horrible,” she told him.
“No, I’m Alex,” he responded, winking. “And you?”
“I’m not sure I should be giving you my name.”
“That’s all right, I only want to borrow it.”
She laughed again, shaking her head. “I’m Alice.”
“Lovely to meet you, Alice.” Alex grinned.
This was the part about driving cross-country that Alexander enjoyed, even though flying was so much more efficient. As a practitioner, he preferred to keep his feet on terra firma. He’d seen too many fancy electrical doodads go nutso over the wrong push of energy at the wrong time.
He knew a few practitioners who flew all the time, even swore by it. He couldn’t imagine being one of them, though. Playing with the laws of nature the way his kind did…well, it messed with your head sometimes. He liked to give himself as many chances as he could to avoid a lethal mistake, and at thirty thousand feet you really only had the one.
Besides, look at what they were missing out on. A nice night, decent enough music, and a fabulous bottle blond who was laughing at all the right places. He slipped an arm around her back, and smirked inwardly when she leaned into him.
His smirk died when he felt that telltale twitch along the hairs at the back of his neck. Trouble was on its way; he could always sense it.
Alexander leaned forward, shifting to look down at the far end of the bar. In the loud blare of music he almost missed the soft whish of air where his head had been, but the shocked scream from the blond at his side would have filled him in anyway.
He twisted, lifting his elbow to just the right angle to miss the man at his left, and connected with the man who’d just tried to knock his head off from behind. His attacker grunted in surprise, falling back as he clutched his injured face.
“Oh, terribly sorry there, sir. Are you all right?” Alex called over the music, affecting a puzzled expression.
Bad call, apparently, as the music cut out halfway and his voice carried across the bar. Apparently the band liked to watch fights in progress.
Great.
The man got himself straightened up and glared at him. “What are you doing with my girl?!”
On the other hand, there are some upsides to flying I hadn’t considered.