Colonel Beale glanced at Gibson, who reacted by not reacting. She nodded as if that meant something.
“Saddle up. Captain Kylie, seat all but you and your best three at the front. Captain Rose, just you at the back.”
Before Abby could protest about leaving her crew in the wind, Beale turned on her heel and headed for the outside passenger stairs. The inside steps to the passenger seating area embedded in the top curve of the cargo bay couldn’t be lowered with the third Chinook in the way.
Derek waited until they were the last two in the cargo bay. “Are legends always kinda spooky?”
“Yes,” the girl Dilya answered from close behind them. Even his Delta-trained situational awareness had missed her remaining. “Of course, that’s only because you can see them. I prefer being invisible.” Even with her dog, she had been invisible.
“How much training has the pup had?”
Dilya’s smile was radiant. “Zackie is ten, so not a pup. And a lot. Mostly by the Secret Service dog teams.”
Derek finally caught on that he was in over his head—again—and called out to the crew to load up. By the time they were all aboard, the four massive engines had already spun to life.
The upstairs rear passenger cabin on a C-5 looked just like any commercial airplane that had seen too many years of service. Seventy-odd seats, three to either side of a central aisle, all facing backward. There were no windows anyway and, being seated backward, it was far safer in case of a crash—never a cheery thought.
Derek was unsure who to select. Even with Delta training, you couldn’t be a specialist in everything. They’d been using the DAGORs a lot. And if the action team included any of these supposed legends, they’d need the seating capacity.
That meant Hot Rod, possibly the best driver in the whole Unit, definitely the best in a DAGOR. And if he took one of that fireteam, he needed the other, because Compass could find anything anywhere. He also could work strange and interesting magic with a block of C4 or a thermite torch. And, as much as he hated to admit it, Misty could outshoot Derek on his best day.
He kept it simple. First, he chased everyone to the far front of the cabin. “Hit the galley. Get sleep. Great job on the loading.”
A few minutes later he signaled to his three choices. The rest of the crews spread out a bit as there were plenty of extra seats, but that still left a six-row gap to the huddled group of people and one dog at the very rear of the upstairs seating area. With the noise level of a C-5 cabin, they were huddled to hear each other, not over any fear of being overheard by the others.
36
“Who’s going to say it? Not my job anymore.”
Dilya rolled her eyes at Lt. Colonel Henderson.
“Hey, I’m retired, squirt. That has to come with a few perks. One is not giving that damned speech.”
No one had explained who she was, but Abby noted Dilya was completely comfortable with the Three Colonels—which sounded even scarier than the Two Majors. Back when Henderson and Beale had led the 5th Battalion D Company, they’d become the best team in SOAR history. The advanced techniques they developed were still top-of-the-textbook a decade later. Dilya was certainly more comfortable than Abby would ever be around Colonel Beale. Still, it was damned weird to have a civilian and her pet dog along for the ride.
Beale looked at Colonel Gibson, who shrugged his discomfort with doing whatever the task was. Or perhaps he embraced being the role model for Unit operators never speaking. Thankfully Derek didn’t hold to that model, at least not completely. Though it would have saved himself and Abby a lot of trouble if he’d spoken up this morning; their respective crews weren’t exactly buddying up just yet.
“Fine,” Dilya huffed out. She turned to face Abby and Derek’s four-person team. “There may or may not be a load of heavy shit about to go down. If it does, you’re not allowed to talk about it—ever. If it isn’t one of these people—” she indicated the circle of people leaning forward to hear “—this never happened.” She turned to Colonel Beale. “You sure about this, Emily? This has to be the biggest group ever in on one of these things. Your biggest was what, five plus me? Claudia’s was four, I think.”
Colonel Gibson scowled at her.
“Hey, not deaf or blind. I may not know what happened, but I sure know who was in it.”
Beale shook her head. “You forgot about Mark’s bird on that one when you stowed away. And you’re missing three people on Claudia’s. And no, I’m not saying who. Get on with it.”
Dilya pouted for all of about three seconds. She was clearly a girl who liked to know things. Girl? She was probably all of three years younger than Abby herself. Which, she now understood, was part of her disguise. I’m just a kid, so it’s like totally safe to ignore me. Probably not.
“Okay. If the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs asks, you tell him you wanted to go to England in November to work on your tan because Scotland has such fine and sunny beaches. You can’t even tell Peter or Zack. Not if they ask nice. Not if they corner you in the Oval Office and make it a Presidential order. No how. No way.”
“Oh.” Abby, finally having a frame of reference, recognized the dog, which led her to the girl.
“Oh?” Derek asked.
Abby pointed. “This is the First Dog, Zackie.” The dog popped her head up and wagged her tail at being named.
Derek’s eyes shot wide even as he reached down to scratch behind her ear. “Which makes you the First Dog Sitter and First Kids’ Nanny.”
“Was the first dog,” Dilya replied. “Anne gave her to me when I quit because she’s the awesomest other than Emily or either of my moms.”
