“Copy.”
“What do they want to talk about?” Jug asked.
Talon shrugged. “No idea.”
“Couldn’t be about that email, could it?” Jug asked and laughed as Talon flipped him off.
“It’s about the email,” Ronan said. “How you doing, Jug?”
“Well, that’s a voice from the past.” Jug chuckled. “I’m fit, fast, and damn happy to be alive.”
“Married life agrees with you, or so Talon tells me,” Ronan said after he laughed at Jug’s fit and fast comment.
“Can anyone join this conversation?” Gabby asked.
“Absolutely,” Talon said. “Please join, or these two will cluck all night long. Like two broody hens in a coop.”
“And you know about that how?” Jug asked.
“Grandpa Frank.” That was Jason King’s voice. The CEO of the company got instant attention and respect as everyone shut up when he came into the conversation.
“Roger that,” Talon said and leaned forward, automatically invested in the conversation. Jason King was Talon’s uncle, and Grandpa Frank had influenced the entire family. He and Grandma Amanda were the rock of the extensive family.
"All right, let's get down to business," Jason said, his voice carrying the authority that had builtGuardian Security into what it was today. "Talon, that email of yours lit up some conversations here, in DC, and in Burundu's capital."
"Good or bad conversations?" Talon asked, though he suspected he knew the answer.
"Both," Gabby interjected. "The Burundu government wasn't thrilled about us essentially telling them their equipment was garbage and their timeline was suicide."
"But," Ronan added, "they also weren't thrilled about the idea of losing an entire SRF team on their first real mission because they were undertrained and underequipped."
Jug shifted on the floor, getting more comfortable. "So, what's the verdict? Are we pulling out or doubling down?"
"Doubling down," Jason said firmly. "Way down. Four-year commitment, Talon. You and your team are going to be the foundation of a permanent training facility."
Talon felt his eyebrows shoot up. "Four years? That's … significant."
"It gets better," Gabby said, and Talon could hear the smile in her voice. "Or more complicated, depending on how you look at it. They want permanent infrastructure. We're talking concrete buildings,proper barracks, a real chow hall, medical facilities, climate control, the works."
"Jesus," Jug muttered. "That's not a training rotation. That's a deployment."
"Exactly," Ronan confirmed. "The Burundu government has agreed to extend training cycles to six months minimum, provide proper equipment, and I mean proper, not the Soviet-era hand-me-downs you've been dealing with, but in exchange, Guardian commits to a four-year presence with you as the core training cadre."
Talon took a long pull from his water bottle, processing. "What about rotation schedules? You can't expect the same team to stay here for four years straight."
"We've thought about that," Jason said. "Eighteen-month rotations for most personnel, but the core leadership—that's you, Jug, and your team—would need to stay for the duration to maintain continuity. Of course, you'd get regular leave, and families could visit."
"Wait," Jug said, sitting up straighter. "My wife is going to be between assignments. I won’t get to go home?”
“Your wife is a doctor, right?” Ronan asked.
“You know she is.” Jug frowned and looked at Talon.
“Did you catch the part about medical facilities?”
Jug’s jaw went slack. “You mean you’d offer her a job here?”
"With proper compensation," Gabby added quickly. "Hardship pay, family relocation allowances if you choose, educational benefits for dependents. This isn't just a mission anymore. It's a career assignment."
