FIC: 1991 (09/11)
TITLE: 1991: Chapter 09
AUTHOR: Starbuck92
CATEGORY: Romance, Angst, Action/Adventure
PAIRINGS: Sam/Jack UST, Sam/Other (in the past)
SPOILERS: Nemesis, Small Victories
SEASON: 4
RATING: R
CONTENT WARNING: Language, minor character death, sexual situations
SUMMARY: Flying and friendship, love and loss - what was Sam Carter’s life like during the Persian Gulf War?
DISCLAIMER: The lovely characters of Stargate SG-1 do not belong to me, and I am making no money off this story. Please do not archive without permission.
Friday, March 1, 1991
The roar of the afterburners from a fighter plane streaking by overhead jerked Carter back to consciousness only minutes later. Groaning softly, she opened her eyes, expecting to see the familiar green glow from the night vision goggles.
Inky darkness greeted her instead.
Blinking in confusion, she raised a bruised hand to her forehead, finding something wet and sticky where the goggles should have been. Blood, she vaguely realized.
Rolling on her side, she delicately patted the ground around her, hoping the goggles had slipped off nearby, when the clatter of people climbing carefully down the ridge stopped her cold. Eyes widening, her hands immediately reached for her weapon. A small sigh of relief escaped her as she felt it’s comforting weight pressed against her chest, the strap still hung over one shoulder.
Flattening her body to the ground, Carter listened attentively as the men approached, relying on her ears to compensate for the lack of sight in the pale moonlight.
The telltale sound of rock scraping against rock echoed from three separate directions as they climbed down the ridge, reducing her chance of taking them out in a single attack. Gripping the gun tightly, she took a deep, calming breath and concentrated, trying to pinpoint the closest man.
The crunch of gravel signaled one of their positions.
Twisting to the left, she trained her limited sight over the barrel and prepared to fire just as a swift, hard kick from the right caught her off guard. The unexpected blow jolted the weapon from her bleeding hands, and it clattered a few feet away from her.
Strong arms grabbed her from behind as one of the Bedouins tried to immobilize her. Thinking fast, Carter slammed her helmeted head back into his face, falling forward as he screamed and released her. She dived for the fallen M-16, only to encounter dirt and rocks beneath her bloodied fingertips.
Her weapon was gone.
Fighting against the growing panic and the wave of dizziness that passed through her, she looked up. In the dark of night, she was just able to spot the silhouette of another of the men towering over her, the outline of the gun clearly visible in his hands.
Instinctively, she swung her leg around and delivered a powerful sweep at his ankles, her combat training surging through her. Entirely unprepared for the abrupt tactic, the man landed flat on his back, grunting at the impact.
The scene sparked a flash of memories in her mind of a night many months ago.
Gentle arms snuggling around her as she came down from the adrenaline high of flying, feeling safe and secure as she basked in the warmth of Josh Thompson’s presence despite the chill of another cold night on the base…
Playfully knocking him down after one of his sarcastic remarks; her, smiling as he lay flat on the ground, him, grinning like a fool in love….
Shaking her head, Carter forced the memories back into her subconscious and scrambled over to her assailant, grabbing for the weapon. She was caught completely by surprise when he swung the heavy gun around, ramming it straight into the middle of her forearm. The crack of breaking bones reverberated loudly in her ears.
Absolute disbelief momentarily stunned her before a wave of intense pain coursed through her. She opened her mouth, unable to prevent the scream that welled up from the unbelievable agony that pulsated through her arm.
A hand clamped down over her mouth, muffling the sound before it could attract any attention. The man pressed his palm hard against her lips, leaning in close. In a very familiar voice, she heard him hiss, “Quiet!”
Abdullah.
Gritting her teeth against the pain, Carter glared defiantly at the Bedouin whom she had distrusted from the start, watching as he turned toward his two companions and began speaking to them in hushed, hurried tones. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the others rummaging through their satchels, pulling objects out and placing them on the ground. Her heart skipped a beat.
Grenades. Fifteen, maybe twenty of them.
The pair seemed to be hastily inspecting them, muttering quietly to each other and one of them occasionally wiping at the blood still running from his nose. Frowning, Carter listened, recognizing a few of the Arabic words she had picked up over the last few months.
Airplanes.
Ammunition.
Barracks.
‘Oh, God, they’re going to try to attack the base!’
She jerked beneath Abdullah, fighting to gain some leverage against him, but he only dug his knees harder against her tender ribs. The added pressure left her head swimming as she struggled for oxygen, desperately trying to think of something to stop them.
These people had used sheer force to overpower and invade their small, neighboring country, the actions eventually leading to U.S. involvement. As a result, her squadron had been among those assigned overseas, prepared to act should a declaration of war be issued. When the orders had finally been delivered, the missions began, most running relatively smoothly, lulling her into a false sense of security.
The illusion of safety had come crashing down the night Thompson was killed. These men had inadvertently been responsible for the death of one of the most important people in her life, and now they were intent on shedding more American blood. There wasn’t a chance in hell she would allow that to happen. With no backup in the immediate vicinity, she knew it was up to her to put an end to their plans.
Taking short, shallow breaths through her nose, Carter bided her time, waiting for the right moment to pounce. She didn’t have to wait long.
Only minutes later, she heard the sound of one of the men cursing loudly. Glancing in their direction, she noticed it was the Bedouin who had tried to subdue her, still trying to stem the flow of blood from his apparently broken nose. The distraction was enough to draw Abdullah’s attention away from her, and his hand shifted slightly over her mouth, the pressure loosening considerably.
Carter seized the opportunity, sinking her teeth into the heel of the man’s hand. He howled in pain, wrenching himself away and landing at a heap at her side, leaving her free to move at last.
Sitting up swiftly, she squeezed her eyes shut as her stomach rolled and her vision temporarily blurred. Inhaling sharply, she staggered to her feet, wrestling against the relentless pounding in her head and the urge to throw up.
Abdullah recovered quickly, getting to his feet and racing toward her, but this time she was prepared for him. In the blink of an eye, Carter unsheathed her combat knife, holding it before her in her left hand. Blinded by his rage, the Bedouin missed seeing the glint of the blade and rammed himself into the weapon.
For a brief moment, she stared at the man, her eyes wide with shock as he began gasping for breath. Feeling something warm beginning to coat her hand, Carter lowered her gaze, blinking at the dark blood oozing from where the knife was embedded in his abdomen. Revolted at the sight, she stumbled back, withdrawing the weapon as Abdullah fell to his knees.
In a daze, Carter knelt by his side and sliced the strap of her M-16, pulling the weapon away from his motionless body. Keeping an eye on Abdullah’s shell-shocked companions, she holstered her combat knife and keyed her radio, biting back a yelp of pain as she put her injured arm to use.
“This, this is Carter! I, I need backup, NOW! Northwestern perimeter of the base!”
The confirming reply was drowned out by the sound of a bloodcurdling cry. One of the Bedouins raced towards her, screaming in his native language, his hands outstretched and reaching for her neck. Reflexively, she raised her weapon and quickly fired off a couple of rounds, bringing the man tumbling to the ground.
Quickly, she turned her attention to the remaining Bedouin whose nose she had broken earlier, only to find him running the other way in fear. Carter aimed and shot once again, accurately hitting the ground near his feet in warning.
“Stop right there!”
Skidding to a halt, the Bedouin raised his arms above his head and turned around, dropping to his knees in surrender. Standing stock still, Carter kept the M-16 trained on his chest, panting from the adrenaline rush.
The realization of what had just happened slowly dawned on her.
The three men almost managed to attack the base and inflict some major damage. She had barely prevented that from happening, resorting to killing someone in hand-to-hand combat for the first time in her life. The image of the Bedouin’s face as his life slowly faded away flashed before her eyes. It was not a pretty sight, no matter how necessary his death had been for the safety of her comrades.
Up in a plane, thousands of feet above the earth, a pilot easily forgot the damage and destruction their ordnance was inflicting upon those below, using the distance to remain detached. Close range battle, where a soldier actually witnessed the consequences of his or her actions, was another matter entirely, one Carter hoped never to grow accustomed to. Ending someone’s life, even to save her own, had left her shaken to the core.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of four men climbing down the ridge, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Her reinforcements were finally arriving.
“Lieutenant Carter?” Major Wells called.
“Sir!”
Within seconds, he was at her side, barking orders to Lieutenants O’Malley and Hall to secure the prisoner while Captain Martinez checked over her injuries. Once he was satisfied the two lieutenants had the situation under control, Wells returned his attention to Carter, his demeanor mellowing just noticeably.
“What happened, Lieutenant?”
She gave her CO a short assessment of what had transpired, stiffening as Martinez examined her broken arm. Just as she was finishing her report, O’Malley and Hall appeared by the major, each keeping a firm grip on either side of the Bedouin.
“Where do you want him, sir?” O’Malley asked.
Wells glowered at the man subdued by his two officers, his jaw clenching tightly.
“Captain, you and Lieutenant O’Malley lock this asshole up in the brig. Lieutenant Hall, you’re with me. We need to sweep the base and the surrounding area to make sure none of his little friends are planning on an equally stupid idea.”
O’Malley nodded in acquiescence, his fingers contracting around the Bedouin’s arm.
“Right away, sir.”
Martinez moved to join him, but paused in front of the major, cocking his head towards Carter in concern.
“Someone should take her to the hospital, Brayden. She needs medical attention a.s.a.p.”
“I’ll see to it, James. But for now, I want you and O’Malley to get that piece of shit out of my sight,” Wells responded icily, directing his eyes once more to their prisoner, who cowered beneath the major’s heavy gaze.
Without another word, Martinez took up the spot vacated by Hall and helped O’Malley march the Bedouin back to the base. Wells, Carter, and Hall trailed just behind. As they walked up the ridge, Wells radioed Lieutenant Colonel Anderson, alerting him of the situation and asking him to rally up some troops to begin a search of the base for any more signs of hostile activity.
Anderson worked quickly to comply. By the time they had reached the crest of the ridge, armed soldiers were lining up and breaking off into small units, ready to begin the search. Wells nodded his approval and turned to his two subordinates.
“Lieutenant Hall, assist Lieutenant Carter to the base hospital. I’ll keep an eye on things here,” he ordered, glancing back at the two bodies at the base of the ridge.
“No problem, sir,” Hall answered dutifully.
Reaching out, Major Wells gave Carter’s good shoulder a light squeeze.
“Hang tough, Lieutenant. You’re going to be just fine.”
Cradling her arm to her chest, bruised and bleeding, Carter still managed to grace her commanding officer with a small, grateful smile.
“Yes, sir.”
As they began the tricky journey down the steep incline, Carter was surprised to feel Hall carefully settle his hand on the small of her back, guiding her through the most unstable sections of the ridge. More than once, she found herself involuntarily clutching his arm, deciding she’d rather seek his help than fall flat on her face and risk injuring herself further. Once safely at the base of the slope, the pair traveled across the runways to the hospital.
The dull pounding in her head and lancing pain shooting through her arm consolidated with the various aches riddled through her battered body, making her feel like she was about to drop from the exhaustion at any moment. Carter was so intent on keeping one foot in front of the other that she went rigid as a heavy weight settled over her shoulders.
Glancing at her companion, she was startled to see he had removed his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. Noticing her curious look, he shrugged.
“You’re shivering,” Hall explained simply.
She eyed him a bit suspiciously, unfamiliar with the civil treatment. She had spent far too many months watching her back around this man, learning to expect the unexpected, but this was certainly out of the ordinary behavior for Hall.
At least as far as she was concerned, she silently mused.
Frowning slightly, she inquisitively asked, “Are you just being nice because Major Wells ordered you to accompany me to the hospital?”
The corners of his mouth turned upwards slightly.
“Although you have every reason to believe that, no, I’m not.”
Carter deliberately slowed her pace, partially because of the ambiguous nature of his reply, but more precisely due to the fact that her head was aching in earnest now. She closed her eyes, running a hand over her dirty forehead.
“So why the sudden change? I mean, given our history, I half-expected you to let me fall down the ridge and humiliate myself instead of helping me,” she stated, wincing.
Hall observed her closely for a moment before gently slinging her good arm around his shoulders. Without objection, she leaned into him heavily, the fatigue and shock becoming too much for her body to bear. Through the haze of her exhaustion, she heard him answer her question.
“I was wrong about you, Carter. Let’s just leave it at that.”
The remainder of their walk to the hospital was a blur in Carter’s bleary mind. She remembered Hall calling for help as they stumbled into the building, the sound of running feet approaching, and the feeling of being hoisted onto a gurney. As she faded in and out of consciousness, a familiar voice suddenly pierced through the confusion.
“Okay, people, what have we…?”
Doctor Janet Fraiser paused mid-question, immediately recognizing the young woman lying in her emergency room.
“Lieutenant Carter?”
Hall’s voice, somewhere in the background, began explaining what had happened. There was a faint awareness of nurses shuffling around her, following Fraiser’s orders as she examined Carter.
Pained blue eyes snapped open as the doctor inspected her broken arm, a sharp gasp escaping her. Fraiser grimaced in sympathy.
“Shh, I’m sorry, Lieutenant, I’m sorry,” she murmured soothingly, taking extra care not to jar her patient’s arm any more than necessary.
The doctor sighed in disgust and mumbled under her breath, “Damn the bastard.” A little more loudly, she explained, “In addition to the mild shock and various lacerations and contusions, her arm is badly broken in two places, a compound ulnar and radial break. And from what you’ve told me, Lieutenant Hall, I suspect she has a concussion, but I’ll need to take a CT and some x-rays to rule out the possibility of any more serious internal injuries.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Hall said. “With your permission, ma’am, I’d like to go report Lieutenant Carter’s condition to our CO.”
“Not a problem, Lieutenant. She’s in good hands,” Fraiser replied.
As someone covered her with warm blankets, Carter slipped into a deep sleep agreeing with her doctor’s proclamation.
Under a heavy dose of morphine, her slumber was undisturbed for several hours, the rest allowing her body to recuperate from the traumatic events of the night before. It was nearly midnight when the pleasant sensation of someone gently caressing her hair woke her. Momentarily forgetting where she was and what had happened, she sighed softly, her eyes remaining closed.
“Josh?” she whispered in a hoarse voice.
“Sam?”
Eyelashes fluttering, she forced her eyes open, immediately blinking against the harsh light in the room. The man clad in desert fatigues sitting by her side quickly alleviated the problem, reaching out to turn down the illumination from the lamp at her bedside. As her eyes adjusted, the familiar face of her father came into focus.
“Dad…”
“Hey kid,” General Jacob Carter responded, sounding relieved. “How’re you feeling?”
She ran her tongue over her dry lips and cleared her throat, her brow creased in contemplation.
“Dad, do you remember the old saying that goes ‘combat flying is long hours of total boredom interrupted by seconds of sheer terror’? I want to start a petition for the replacement of the words ‘combat flying’ to ‘watch detail’.”
Anyone unacquainted with Carter would assume she just cracked a joke and perhaps laugh in appreciation of her humor. But for all the time he spent away from her, Jake Carter could still read the tiny nuances in his child’s face and voice. The general easily deduced the true meaning buried within her words: the encounter out on the ridge scared the hell out of her more than she’d like to admit.
He smiled down at his wide-eyed daughter, tenderly stroking one smooth, pale cheek, careful of the scratches and bruises on her face.
“That was a very brave thing you did, young lady,” he reassured her, handing her a small glass of water. “We could have lost a lot of good people, but you stepped up and did your duty.”
Feeling marginally better, Carter automatically reached up to take the glass with her right hand, only to find it immobilized. Glancing down, she noticed for the first time that her arm was encased in a cast, resting in a sling, and the fingers of both hands were wrapped in gauze. Wriggling the fingers of her left hand experimentally, she realized she’d have to become familiar with using it for the next few weeks.
Securing the glass in her grasp, she took a couple of tentative sips, closing her eyes as the liquid trickled down her parched throat. As she passed the glass back to her father, a flash of color on the cast caught her attention. Curiosity piquing her interest, she carefully unfastened the sling to take a closer look.
A stunning brown falcon with powerful-looking wings spread wide in flight decorated the plain, white cast. Adorned atop the bird’s head was a wizard’s pointed hat, fitted at the cocky angle many of her squadron buddies typically used while wearing their flight cap. Caught within the glittering beak rested a simple magician’s wand, stars shooting out from it’s tip.
“Your friends have been in and out throughout the day. Lieutenant Hickam was just finishing up his little painting when I arrived,” General Carter explained.
“It’s beautiful,” she murmured, her fingers lightly grazing the small work of art.
Her father chuckled in amusement.
“You think that’s impressive. Be sure to ask them where they picked up that monster.”
She looked up, her gaze wandering across the room to the side of the door, her eyebrows shooting to her hairline at the unexpected sight.
“Oh, my God.”
A huge, hairy stuffed camel, sporting a pair of aviation goggles and a jacket with the 421st’s patch on it sat comfortably in the other visitor’s chair, a large, stupid grin embroidered on it’s face.
As the surprise passed, a slow smile broke across her face.
“Is this the Middle Eastern equivalent of receiving flowers, teddy bears, and get-well-soon cards?”
The general laughed out loud, happy to see her spirits had lifted.
“It’s going to be a nightmare getting that thing past customs, but I think I can manage to pull a few strings so it can accompany us back to the States.”
“Us?” Carter repeated, wondering if she had heard him correctly.
Settling back in his chair, he nodded.
“I’m at the end of my tour, Sam, and from what Doctor Fraiser tells me, you aren’t going to be flying F-16s anytime soon. General Davis has authorized a medical leave of absence that will cut your tour short, so you’re welcome to return home with me if you’d like.”
She considered the proposition, weighing the outcomes of such a decision. Certainly, she could remain on base at Khalid with her squadron, choosing to stick it out, but she was no fool. Despite the good gesture of gifting her with the stuffed camel, Carter continued to feel out of place for the first time since her assignment to the 421st. Some time away from the guys could prove to be beneficial.
It was just the opportunity to satisfy the need to put Saudi Arabia and all of its horrible memories behind her.
Sighing quietly, she looked her father straight in the eyes, decision made.
“I’m ready to go home, Dad.”
Appearing pleased at her choice, he nodded once and rose to his feet.
“All right, it’s settled then. I’ll go inform General Davis and Major Wells of your decision, and I’ll be back tomorrow morning to help you get your gear ready.”
Tugging her lip between her teeth, Carter watched as he walked towards the door, debating whether or not to inform him of some of the things that had transpired within the last few weeks. Unsure of what his reaction would be, she decided to disclose at least one detail, feeling he had the right to know.
“Dad, Josh Thompson is dead,” she blurted.
The general stopped in his tracks as the words left her mouth, the reality of her statement gradually sinking in. Slowly, he turned around to face her, his voice soft as he spoke.
“The same Josh Thompson you’ve known since you were at the Academy?”
She nodded in reply, feeling the tears sting her eyes.
Returning to her side, General Carter settled himself at the edge of her bed, still as a statue, his face remaining impassive.
“What happened?”
Staring down at her lap, she fidgeted with the edge of the scratchy blanket as she explained what had taken place during the sortie when Thompson was shot down over Iraq, struggling to maintain her composure in front of her father. She managed to keep her emotions under tight control until the end of her narrative, when a couple of errant teardrops broke free, sliding down her pale face.
Leaning over, her father delicately smoothed the hair from her forehead, placing a swift kiss on her brow.
“He died for his country, Sam. That’s quite a heroic thing to do.”
Carter felt a stab of guilt pierce right through her and looked away, swallowing hard.
‘No, Dad,’ she thought. ‘He died for me…’
The general stood, clearing his throat as he gave her blonde locks one final touch.
“Try to get some sleep, kid. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Settling back against the pillow, she closed her eyes, hearing the door click shut behind him, and released the shuddering breath she’d been holding.
The renewed pain of losing the man she had fallen in love with tore at her heart, but knowing he had sacrificed his life for her cut through her like a knife. She couldn’t help but feel responsible for Thompson’s death, believing if he hadn’t loved her as much as he did, he might still be alive today.
Burying herself beneath the blanket, she tried to expel the troublesome thoughts from her mind, but it was a long time before she finally fell back into an uneasy slumber.
Continued in Chapter 10.
AUTHOR: Starbuck92
CATEGORY: Romance, Angst, Action/Adventure
PAIRINGS: Sam/Jack UST, Sam/Other (in the past)
SPOILERS: Nemesis, Small Victories
SEASON: 4
RATING: R
CONTENT WARNING: Language, minor character death, sexual situations
SUMMARY: Flying and friendship, love and loss - what was Sam Carter’s life like during the Persian Gulf War?
DISCLAIMER: The lovely characters of Stargate SG-1 do not belong to me, and I am making no money off this story. Please do not archive without permission.
Friday, March 1, 1991
The roar of the afterburners from a fighter plane streaking by overhead jerked Carter back to consciousness only minutes later. Groaning softly, she opened her eyes, expecting to see the familiar green glow from the night vision goggles.
Inky darkness greeted her instead.
Blinking in confusion, she raised a bruised hand to her forehead, finding something wet and sticky where the goggles should have been. Blood, she vaguely realized.
Rolling on her side, she delicately patted the ground around her, hoping the goggles had slipped off nearby, when the clatter of people climbing carefully down the ridge stopped her cold. Eyes widening, her hands immediately reached for her weapon. A small sigh of relief escaped her as she felt it’s comforting weight pressed against her chest, the strap still hung over one shoulder.
Flattening her body to the ground, Carter listened attentively as the men approached, relying on her ears to compensate for the lack of sight in the pale moonlight.
The telltale sound of rock scraping against rock echoed from three separate directions as they climbed down the ridge, reducing her chance of taking them out in a single attack. Gripping the gun tightly, she took a deep, calming breath and concentrated, trying to pinpoint the closest man.
The crunch of gravel signaled one of their positions.
Twisting to the left, she trained her limited sight over the barrel and prepared to fire just as a swift, hard kick from the right caught her off guard. The unexpected blow jolted the weapon from her bleeding hands, and it clattered a few feet away from her.
Strong arms grabbed her from behind as one of the Bedouins tried to immobilize her. Thinking fast, Carter slammed her helmeted head back into his face, falling forward as he screamed and released her. She dived for the fallen M-16, only to encounter dirt and rocks beneath her bloodied fingertips.
Her weapon was gone.
Fighting against the growing panic and the wave of dizziness that passed through her, she looked up. In the dark of night, she was just able to spot the silhouette of another of the men towering over her, the outline of the gun clearly visible in his hands.
Instinctively, she swung her leg around and delivered a powerful sweep at his ankles, her combat training surging through her. Entirely unprepared for the abrupt tactic, the man landed flat on his back, grunting at the impact.
The scene sparked a flash of memories in her mind of a night many months ago.
Gentle arms snuggling around her as she came down from the adrenaline high of flying, feeling safe and secure as she basked in the warmth of Josh Thompson’s presence despite the chill of another cold night on the base…
Playfully knocking him down after one of his sarcastic remarks; her, smiling as he lay flat on the ground, him, grinning like a fool in love….
Shaking her head, Carter forced the memories back into her subconscious and scrambled over to her assailant, grabbing for the weapon. She was caught completely by surprise when he swung the heavy gun around, ramming it straight into the middle of her forearm. The crack of breaking bones reverberated loudly in her ears.
Absolute disbelief momentarily stunned her before a wave of intense pain coursed through her. She opened her mouth, unable to prevent the scream that welled up from the unbelievable agony that pulsated through her arm.
A hand clamped down over her mouth, muffling the sound before it could attract any attention. The man pressed his palm hard against her lips, leaning in close. In a very familiar voice, she heard him hiss, “Quiet!”
Abdullah.
Gritting her teeth against the pain, Carter glared defiantly at the Bedouin whom she had distrusted from the start, watching as he turned toward his two companions and began speaking to them in hushed, hurried tones. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the others rummaging through their satchels, pulling objects out and placing them on the ground. Her heart skipped a beat.
Grenades. Fifteen, maybe twenty of them.
The pair seemed to be hastily inspecting them, muttering quietly to each other and one of them occasionally wiping at the blood still running from his nose. Frowning, Carter listened, recognizing a few of the Arabic words she had picked up over the last few months.
Airplanes.
Ammunition.
Barracks.
‘Oh, God, they’re going to try to attack the base!’
She jerked beneath Abdullah, fighting to gain some leverage against him, but he only dug his knees harder against her tender ribs. The added pressure left her head swimming as she struggled for oxygen, desperately trying to think of something to stop them.
These people had used sheer force to overpower and invade their small, neighboring country, the actions eventually leading to U.S. involvement. As a result, her squadron had been among those assigned overseas, prepared to act should a declaration of war be issued. When the orders had finally been delivered, the missions began, most running relatively smoothly, lulling her into a false sense of security.
The illusion of safety had come crashing down the night Thompson was killed. These men had inadvertently been responsible for the death of one of the most important people in her life, and now they were intent on shedding more American blood. There wasn’t a chance in hell she would allow that to happen. With no backup in the immediate vicinity, she knew it was up to her to put an end to their plans.
Taking short, shallow breaths through her nose, Carter bided her time, waiting for the right moment to pounce. She didn’t have to wait long.
Only minutes later, she heard the sound of one of the men cursing loudly. Glancing in their direction, she noticed it was the Bedouin who had tried to subdue her, still trying to stem the flow of blood from his apparently broken nose. The distraction was enough to draw Abdullah’s attention away from her, and his hand shifted slightly over her mouth, the pressure loosening considerably.
Carter seized the opportunity, sinking her teeth into the heel of the man’s hand. He howled in pain, wrenching himself away and landing at a heap at her side, leaving her free to move at last.
Sitting up swiftly, she squeezed her eyes shut as her stomach rolled and her vision temporarily blurred. Inhaling sharply, she staggered to her feet, wrestling against the relentless pounding in her head and the urge to throw up.
Abdullah recovered quickly, getting to his feet and racing toward her, but this time she was prepared for him. In the blink of an eye, Carter unsheathed her combat knife, holding it before her in her left hand. Blinded by his rage, the Bedouin missed seeing the glint of the blade and rammed himself into the weapon.
For a brief moment, she stared at the man, her eyes wide with shock as he began gasping for breath. Feeling something warm beginning to coat her hand, Carter lowered her gaze, blinking at the dark blood oozing from where the knife was embedded in his abdomen. Revolted at the sight, she stumbled back, withdrawing the weapon as Abdullah fell to his knees.
In a daze, Carter knelt by his side and sliced the strap of her M-16, pulling the weapon away from his motionless body. Keeping an eye on Abdullah’s shell-shocked companions, she holstered her combat knife and keyed her radio, biting back a yelp of pain as she put her injured arm to use.
“This, this is Carter! I, I need backup, NOW! Northwestern perimeter of the base!”
The confirming reply was drowned out by the sound of a bloodcurdling cry. One of the Bedouins raced towards her, screaming in his native language, his hands outstretched and reaching for her neck. Reflexively, she raised her weapon and quickly fired off a couple of rounds, bringing the man tumbling to the ground.
Quickly, she turned her attention to the remaining Bedouin whose nose she had broken earlier, only to find him running the other way in fear. Carter aimed and shot once again, accurately hitting the ground near his feet in warning.
“Stop right there!”
Skidding to a halt, the Bedouin raised his arms above his head and turned around, dropping to his knees in surrender. Standing stock still, Carter kept the M-16 trained on his chest, panting from the adrenaline rush.
The realization of what had just happened slowly dawned on her.
The three men almost managed to attack the base and inflict some major damage. She had barely prevented that from happening, resorting to killing someone in hand-to-hand combat for the first time in her life. The image of the Bedouin’s face as his life slowly faded away flashed before her eyes. It was not a pretty sight, no matter how necessary his death had been for the safety of her comrades.
Up in a plane, thousands of feet above the earth, a pilot easily forgot the damage and destruction their ordnance was inflicting upon those below, using the distance to remain detached. Close range battle, where a soldier actually witnessed the consequences of his or her actions, was another matter entirely, one Carter hoped never to grow accustomed to. Ending someone’s life, even to save her own, had left her shaken to the core.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of four men climbing down the ridge, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Her reinforcements were finally arriving.
“Lieutenant Carter?” Major Wells called.
“Sir!”
Within seconds, he was at her side, barking orders to Lieutenants O’Malley and Hall to secure the prisoner while Captain Martinez checked over her injuries. Once he was satisfied the two lieutenants had the situation under control, Wells returned his attention to Carter, his demeanor mellowing just noticeably.
“What happened, Lieutenant?”
She gave her CO a short assessment of what had transpired, stiffening as Martinez examined her broken arm. Just as she was finishing her report, O’Malley and Hall appeared by the major, each keeping a firm grip on either side of the Bedouin.
“Where do you want him, sir?” O’Malley asked.
Wells glowered at the man subdued by his two officers, his jaw clenching tightly.
“Captain, you and Lieutenant O’Malley lock this asshole up in the brig. Lieutenant Hall, you’re with me. We need to sweep the base and the surrounding area to make sure none of his little friends are planning on an equally stupid idea.”
O’Malley nodded in acquiescence, his fingers contracting around the Bedouin’s arm.
“Right away, sir.”
Martinez moved to join him, but paused in front of the major, cocking his head towards Carter in concern.
“Someone should take her to the hospital, Brayden. She needs medical attention a.s.a.p.”
“I’ll see to it, James. But for now, I want you and O’Malley to get that piece of shit out of my sight,” Wells responded icily, directing his eyes once more to their prisoner, who cowered beneath the major’s heavy gaze.
Without another word, Martinez took up the spot vacated by Hall and helped O’Malley march the Bedouin back to the base. Wells, Carter, and Hall trailed just behind. As they walked up the ridge, Wells radioed Lieutenant Colonel Anderson, alerting him of the situation and asking him to rally up some troops to begin a search of the base for any more signs of hostile activity.
Anderson worked quickly to comply. By the time they had reached the crest of the ridge, armed soldiers were lining up and breaking off into small units, ready to begin the search. Wells nodded his approval and turned to his two subordinates.
“Lieutenant Hall, assist Lieutenant Carter to the base hospital. I’ll keep an eye on things here,” he ordered, glancing back at the two bodies at the base of the ridge.
“No problem, sir,” Hall answered dutifully.
Reaching out, Major Wells gave Carter’s good shoulder a light squeeze.
“Hang tough, Lieutenant. You’re going to be just fine.”
Cradling her arm to her chest, bruised and bleeding, Carter still managed to grace her commanding officer with a small, grateful smile.
“Yes, sir.”
As they began the tricky journey down the steep incline, Carter was surprised to feel Hall carefully settle his hand on the small of her back, guiding her through the most unstable sections of the ridge. More than once, she found herself involuntarily clutching his arm, deciding she’d rather seek his help than fall flat on her face and risk injuring herself further. Once safely at the base of the slope, the pair traveled across the runways to the hospital.
The dull pounding in her head and lancing pain shooting through her arm consolidated with the various aches riddled through her battered body, making her feel like she was about to drop from the exhaustion at any moment. Carter was so intent on keeping one foot in front of the other that she went rigid as a heavy weight settled over her shoulders.
Glancing at her companion, she was startled to see he had removed his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. Noticing her curious look, he shrugged.
“You’re shivering,” Hall explained simply.
She eyed him a bit suspiciously, unfamiliar with the civil treatment. She had spent far too many months watching her back around this man, learning to expect the unexpected, but this was certainly out of the ordinary behavior for Hall.
At least as far as she was concerned, she silently mused.
Frowning slightly, she inquisitively asked, “Are you just being nice because Major Wells ordered you to accompany me to the hospital?”
The corners of his mouth turned upwards slightly.
“Although you have every reason to believe that, no, I’m not.”
Carter deliberately slowed her pace, partially because of the ambiguous nature of his reply, but more precisely due to the fact that her head was aching in earnest now. She closed her eyes, running a hand over her dirty forehead.
“So why the sudden change? I mean, given our history, I half-expected you to let me fall down the ridge and humiliate myself instead of helping me,” she stated, wincing.
Hall observed her closely for a moment before gently slinging her good arm around his shoulders. Without objection, she leaned into him heavily, the fatigue and shock becoming too much for her body to bear. Through the haze of her exhaustion, she heard him answer her question.
“I was wrong about you, Carter. Let’s just leave it at that.”
The remainder of their walk to the hospital was a blur in Carter’s bleary mind. She remembered Hall calling for help as they stumbled into the building, the sound of running feet approaching, and the feeling of being hoisted onto a gurney. As she faded in and out of consciousness, a familiar voice suddenly pierced through the confusion.
“Okay, people, what have we…?”
Doctor Janet Fraiser paused mid-question, immediately recognizing the young woman lying in her emergency room.
“Lieutenant Carter?”
Hall’s voice, somewhere in the background, began explaining what had happened. There was a faint awareness of nurses shuffling around her, following Fraiser’s orders as she examined Carter.
Pained blue eyes snapped open as the doctor inspected her broken arm, a sharp gasp escaping her. Fraiser grimaced in sympathy.
“Shh, I’m sorry, Lieutenant, I’m sorry,” she murmured soothingly, taking extra care not to jar her patient’s arm any more than necessary.
The doctor sighed in disgust and mumbled under her breath, “Damn the bastard.” A little more loudly, she explained, “In addition to the mild shock and various lacerations and contusions, her arm is badly broken in two places, a compound ulnar and radial break. And from what you’ve told me, Lieutenant Hall, I suspect she has a concussion, but I’ll need to take a CT and some x-rays to rule out the possibility of any more serious internal injuries.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Hall said. “With your permission, ma’am, I’d like to go report Lieutenant Carter’s condition to our CO.”
“Not a problem, Lieutenant. She’s in good hands,” Fraiser replied.
As someone covered her with warm blankets, Carter slipped into a deep sleep agreeing with her doctor’s proclamation.
Under a heavy dose of morphine, her slumber was undisturbed for several hours, the rest allowing her body to recuperate from the traumatic events of the night before. It was nearly midnight when the pleasant sensation of someone gently caressing her hair woke her. Momentarily forgetting where she was and what had happened, she sighed softly, her eyes remaining closed.
“Josh?” she whispered in a hoarse voice.
“Sam?”
Eyelashes fluttering, she forced her eyes open, immediately blinking against the harsh light in the room. The man clad in desert fatigues sitting by her side quickly alleviated the problem, reaching out to turn down the illumination from the lamp at her bedside. As her eyes adjusted, the familiar face of her father came into focus.
“Dad…”
“Hey kid,” General Jacob Carter responded, sounding relieved. “How’re you feeling?”
She ran her tongue over her dry lips and cleared her throat, her brow creased in contemplation.
“Dad, do you remember the old saying that goes ‘combat flying is long hours of total boredom interrupted by seconds of sheer terror’? I want to start a petition for the replacement of the words ‘combat flying’ to ‘watch detail’.”
Anyone unacquainted with Carter would assume she just cracked a joke and perhaps laugh in appreciation of her humor. But for all the time he spent away from her, Jake Carter could still read the tiny nuances in his child’s face and voice. The general easily deduced the true meaning buried within her words: the encounter out on the ridge scared the hell out of her more than she’d like to admit.
He smiled down at his wide-eyed daughter, tenderly stroking one smooth, pale cheek, careful of the scratches and bruises on her face.
“That was a very brave thing you did, young lady,” he reassured her, handing her a small glass of water. “We could have lost a lot of good people, but you stepped up and did your duty.”
Feeling marginally better, Carter automatically reached up to take the glass with her right hand, only to find it immobilized. Glancing down, she noticed for the first time that her arm was encased in a cast, resting in a sling, and the fingers of both hands were wrapped in gauze. Wriggling the fingers of her left hand experimentally, she realized she’d have to become familiar with using it for the next few weeks.
Securing the glass in her grasp, she took a couple of tentative sips, closing her eyes as the liquid trickled down her parched throat. As she passed the glass back to her father, a flash of color on the cast caught her attention. Curiosity piquing her interest, she carefully unfastened the sling to take a closer look.
A stunning brown falcon with powerful-looking wings spread wide in flight decorated the plain, white cast. Adorned atop the bird’s head was a wizard’s pointed hat, fitted at the cocky angle many of her squadron buddies typically used while wearing their flight cap. Caught within the glittering beak rested a simple magician’s wand, stars shooting out from it’s tip.
“Your friends have been in and out throughout the day. Lieutenant Hickam was just finishing up his little painting when I arrived,” General Carter explained.
“It’s beautiful,” she murmured, her fingers lightly grazing the small work of art.
Her father chuckled in amusement.
“You think that’s impressive. Be sure to ask them where they picked up that monster.”
She looked up, her gaze wandering across the room to the side of the door, her eyebrows shooting to her hairline at the unexpected sight.
“Oh, my God.”
A huge, hairy stuffed camel, sporting a pair of aviation goggles and a jacket with the 421st’s patch on it sat comfortably in the other visitor’s chair, a large, stupid grin embroidered on it’s face.
As the surprise passed, a slow smile broke across her face.
“Is this the Middle Eastern equivalent of receiving flowers, teddy bears, and get-well-soon cards?”
The general laughed out loud, happy to see her spirits had lifted.
“It’s going to be a nightmare getting that thing past customs, but I think I can manage to pull a few strings so it can accompany us back to the States.”
“Us?” Carter repeated, wondering if she had heard him correctly.
Settling back in his chair, he nodded.
“I’m at the end of my tour, Sam, and from what Doctor Fraiser tells me, you aren’t going to be flying F-16s anytime soon. General Davis has authorized a medical leave of absence that will cut your tour short, so you’re welcome to return home with me if you’d like.”
She considered the proposition, weighing the outcomes of such a decision. Certainly, she could remain on base at Khalid with her squadron, choosing to stick it out, but she was no fool. Despite the good gesture of gifting her with the stuffed camel, Carter continued to feel out of place for the first time since her assignment to the 421st. Some time away from the guys could prove to be beneficial.
It was just the opportunity to satisfy the need to put Saudi Arabia and all of its horrible memories behind her.
Sighing quietly, she looked her father straight in the eyes, decision made.
“I’m ready to go home, Dad.”
Appearing pleased at her choice, he nodded once and rose to his feet.
“All right, it’s settled then. I’ll go inform General Davis and Major Wells of your decision, and I’ll be back tomorrow morning to help you get your gear ready.”
Tugging her lip between her teeth, Carter watched as he walked towards the door, debating whether or not to inform him of some of the things that had transpired within the last few weeks. Unsure of what his reaction would be, she decided to disclose at least one detail, feeling he had the right to know.
“Dad, Josh Thompson is dead,” she blurted.
The general stopped in his tracks as the words left her mouth, the reality of her statement gradually sinking in. Slowly, he turned around to face her, his voice soft as he spoke.
“The same Josh Thompson you’ve known since you were at the Academy?”
She nodded in reply, feeling the tears sting her eyes.
Returning to her side, General Carter settled himself at the edge of her bed, still as a statue, his face remaining impassive.
“What happened?”
Staring down at her lap, she fidgeted with the edge of the scratchy blanket as she explained what had taken place during the sortie when Thompson was shot down over Iraq, struggling to maintain her composure in front of her father. She managed to keep her emotions under tight control until the end of her narrative, when a couple of errant teardrops broke free, sliding down her pale face.
Leaning over, her father delicately smoothed the hair from her forehead, placing a swift kiss on her brow.
“He died for his country, Sam. That’s quite a heroic thing to do.”
Carter felt a stab of guilt pierce right through her and looked away, swallowing hard.
‘No, Dad,’ she thought. ‘He died for me…’
The general stood, clearing his throat as he gave her blonde locks one final touch.
“Try to get some sleep, kid. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Settling back against the pillow, she closed her eyes, hearing the door click shut behind him, and released the shuddering breath she’d been holding.
The renewed pain of losing the man she had fallen in love with tore at her heart, but knowing he had sacrificed his life for her cut through her like a knife. She couldn’t help but feel responsible for Thompson’s death, believing if he hadn’t loved her as much as he did, he might still be alive today.
Burying herself beneath the blanket, she tried to expel the troublesome thoughts from her mind, but it was a long time before she finally fell back into an uneasy slumber.
Continued in Chapter 10.