Even if Grant didn’t get captured, wounded, or killed, his marriage was a cost that would almost certainly be paid, especially if things continued like they were going. He went back and forth in his mind—sometimes for hours a day—about whether there was a way to get through this without damaging his marriage. Yes, there was. By quitting the Patriots and not putting his very special skills to good use.
But, try as he might, Grant could not get past the absolutely undeniable conclusion that he was there for a reason. People were counting on him. He had a job to do. A really important one. One he didn’t want to do, but he had been placed there, at this time, and with these people to do. He had no choice. If his only concern was never making Lisa mad, he wouldn’t have prepped and he would have stayed in Olympia. And, he would very likely be in jail or dead now. So not making her mad could not be the sole thing he had to consider.
As Grant did less and less of his Pierce Point day job, he filled up that time by doing more and more for the unit. He went out to Marion Farm as often as he could, which was at least every other day. He had Sunday dinner out there. That tradition was really taking off. Pretty soon he was going out to Marion Farm every day. Then he started staying overnight there a few times a week. He told Lisa that he had to work with the Team. She was actually glad to have “grouchy Grant” out of the house.
The Team was integrating very nicely with the rest of the unit. Just like when they rolled into Pierce Point for the first time, they were not acting like they were experts. This was even more appropriate because they were now among regular military personnel, some of whom were accomplished infantrymen. The Team, with some initial guidance from Grant, approached their role within the unit by thinking of themselves as specialists. They specialized in the SWAT stuff. They had a very specific job. They didn’t try to be infantrymen. Or medics, or RED HORSE, or electricians, or communications guys, or cooks. They learned all they could from everyone else. They were always the first to set down their rifles and help unload supplies. They made sure and took their turn on KP, which was the military acronym for helping in the kitchen with washing dishes and other unglamorous tasks.
While they were integrating with the 17th, the Team still did their own thing and remained a tight group. They trained together at the Richardson House in Pierce Point. They did their day jobs out at Pierce Point, away from the 17th out at Marion Farm. They only spent about ten percent of their time at the Marion Farm with the 17th, so they were the same close-knit band of brothers the other ninety percent of the time. Training, working, and living together.
The Team Chicks were getting more and more used to the Team being gone much of the time, especially overnight on their “training” which was at the secret place they couldn’t tell the girls about. While the Team still wanted to spend every second they could with the Team Chicks, especially in the privacy of one of the cabins, they had been together for several weeks now and things had cooled down a bit with the girls. Things were still smokin’ hot, just not white hot, which made it a little easier to be away.
Sure enough, people were starting to wonder what was up out at the Marion Farm. The 17th was doing a great job of remaining hidden. They took secrecy seriously. They only came in from the beach landing at night, had hidden guards around the perimeter to keep others out, limited guests to very trusted people like Grant and the Team, and kept the noise down.
But still. It was hard to have a few dozen people in on a big secret and not have them talk, which was especially true when the only form of entertainment was the rumor mill. Luckily, most people discounted the rumors they heard because most gossip had proven to be notoriously unreliable. But it became almost a sport for people to sit around and say, “You know what I heard?” and then slightly exaggerate a story that had been slightly exaggerated when they heard it. These slight exaggerations added up over a short period of time into big exaggerations until the rumor became unbelievable and most wouldn’t believe it, though a few always would.
Some people in Pierce Point knew that something was going on in the area around the Marion Farm. The cover story about the “rental team” was proving a good one because people took the story and then tried to analyze it. How many fighters were on the rental team? Were they from around here? Were they ex-military or law enforcement? How much rent was Pierce Point getting? But they were confining their rumors to talking about the details of a “rental team” instead of a new topic, like whether there was a Patriot irregular unit out at the Marion Farm. A rental team was much, much less of a threat to the authorities.
One of the topics of conversation between Grant and Ted in Grant’s frequent trips to the Marion Farm was exactly what the Pierce Point rumor mill was saying about the “rental team.” It seemed that most people in Pierce Point thought a rental team was out there, but they realized they needed to keep it secret for the safety of the rental team—and to make sure Pierce Point got the rent. That was the beauty of the rental team cover story: people had a personal incentive to keep the secret.
Ted told Grant that the unit was now up to thirty-seven fighters. They were mostly ex-military recruited and screened by HQ at Boston Harbor. They came out in boatloads of two or three, along with supplies. Paul was ferrying them in every night. Sometimes, a couple of runs a night. The Chief would make the runs, too.
One night, Grant was out at Marion Farm and had just met the latest boatload of fighters, which he always did when new fighters joined the group. On this specific night, the first boatload had three new fighters; two were former Army. One was an MP, or military policeman, and the other was an air defense technician. Grant and Ted were glad to have the MP; he would help the Team on their unique mission.
“Air defense, huh?” Grant said to the former technician when she came into the farmhouse kitchen, which was becoming the “office” to meet the new Commanding Officer.
“Yes, sir,” the very attractive twenty-something woman said as she stood at attention in the kitchen. Better get a big stick to keep the men away from her, Grant thought. Ted had a system set up for the females to have separate quarters and facilities. There was a strict no-fraternization order. In an ideal world, the distractions between men and women would be dealt with by completely separate facilities, but this was not an ideal situation. Grant and Ted needed every fighter they could get, especially those with skills. This woman could shoot and march and build up the facilities at the farm, which was really all that Grant and Ted cared about.
“What was your unit?” Grant asked.
“The 5-5 of the 31st Air Defense Artillery Battalion at Ft. Lewis,” she said. Her name tag said “Sherryton.”
“You were a technician, Corporal Sherryton?” Grant asked. He had her file in his hands. Her first name was Anne and she held the rank of a Specialist 4 in the FUSA Army, but was made a corporal in the 17th Irregulars.
“Yes, sir,” she answered. “I kept the computers running.” What she didn’t say, because it wasn’t the most best point to make, is that she joined the Army to pay for college, which was very common before the Collapse. The military was another way for people to qualify for entitlements. This was not universally true, but was often the case, especially among the support personnel such as the technicians who kept the high-tech military running.
“Why are you here, Corporal?” Grant asked in an inquisitive, not demeaning, tone. He knew that she had passed the screening at HQ, but was interested in each of his soldiers.
“This can’t go on any longer, sir,” Sherryton answered. “I want my country back. It’s that simple, sir.”