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Sean looked up, frowning. “What do you mean?”

“You told them he’s not going to care, but we both know he’s going to notice we weren’t here the full day. He’s going to say something,” Ricardo said, though he didn’t sound bothered.

Sean shrugged but couldn't think of anything to say in response. He had no doubt General Winter would be curious to find out why Sean had called off the exercise early. Team Maelstrom was temporarily out of commission until Command could determine someone to take Clint’s place on the team.

Sean didn’t believe they would ever be able to find someone who could fill his dead friend’s shoes, but he wasn’t going to waste his breath telling Command that. Team Maelstrom was supposed to be an elite squad, experts in reconnaissance and extractions. Once, they had been very good at what they did, and Command wanted them back in the field when the entire team’s slots were filled again.

They didn’t care about the emotional aspect, the hemorrhaging of team morale, or the slow, agonizing death of their bond. They wanted a good fit, one that looked good on paper, and to shove the stranger into the group. Which was why General Winter wanted Sean to keep the team in shape. That way, they’d be able, theoretically, to integrate a new member without trouble.

Sean heaved himself over the side of the boat. “He’ll call me into his office and ask me why the hell I called the exercise off early. I’ll make up something that sounds reasonable, and he’ll either give me that iron glare of his or give me hell. Then he’ll remind me how important it is that we stay at our best, and I’ll agree completely. Then he’ll make me leave, reminding me not to let it happen again.”

“And probably remind you that they’re still searching for someone else,” Ricardo added as he stepped into the boat.

The last time Sean had been in General Winter’s office, the older man had all but said they were close to finding someoneto replace Clint. Sean wasn’t sure what the delay had been, as he didn’t believe for a moment that those in charge cared about the team's emotional well-being and were trying to give them time. Yet he couldn’t think what could possibly have delayed them finding a replacement for nearly four months.

“I’ve given that a lot of thought, and I think they’re running out of intel guys who are willing to do fieldwork,” Sean said with a shrug.

Ricardo frowned. “I don’t think so.”

Sean eyed him. “Are you going to say that Command actually gives a shit about how we’re doing? That they’re trying to give us time?”

“No, but I think Winter does.”

Sean raised his brow in disbelief. “General Winter? Really?”

Ricardo shrugged. “I’ve never heard anything bad about him, and most people at Fort Dale seem to enjoy working at his base. When was the last time you heard someone bitch about him specifically?”

“Well...never.”

“If anything, most people on base have nothing but respect for him. You don’t earn that kind of universal respect by being a prick.”

“Wait, so you think General Winter is putting off the decision?”

Ricardo waited a moment, nodding slowly. “I think because we were put here, and he’s been keeping an eye on us, he’s been trying to figure out a good fit for us.”

Sean snorted derisively. “You really think he’s going to know what’s going to work, or who’s going to work, let alone gives a shit?”

“I think you’re too busy being pissed off at everything to notice anything else,” Ricardo said, sitting down at the helm.

“I am not pissed off.”

“Just because you haven’t taken a swing at anyone doesn’t mean you’re not pissed off.”

Sean opened his mouth, spared having to respond by the crash of heavy feet. It was followed by a loud complaint from Matt when he caught sight of them, equipment on his back and under each arm. Nick was right behind him, quick to start arguing with Matt over his moaning. And just like that, they were back to bickering as they fought to get the equipment into the boat.

Sean looked at Ricardo. “I hope you’re right, and General Winter knows what he’s doing. It’s going to take a miracle to fix this disaster of a team.”

AIDAN

As a rule of thumb, mind games were supposed to be Aidan’s wheelhouse. Most intelligence officers were trained in deciphering and collating information and collecting it, both from non-living and living targets. Depending on their future placement, either at a base or in the field, the specialization of their training changed.

A future field agent like himself was trained to decipher information before leaving and to gather and utilize limited intel out in the field. Aidan had been trained to read the environment, data, and people. Field agents needed a great many skills, but knowing how to read your team, the enemy, and other people was vital. It was one of the skills Aidan had enjoyed learning to hone, figuring out how people worked, what motivated them, and how he might get reactions or information from them.

Even with all that, he still hated the politics of the military.

“The General will be with you soon,” the small man behind the desk informed him for the seventh time.

Aidan had been keeping track.