Page 84 of Delta

"Just Harris is fine, son. Kill the mister and the sir. You're not in the service anymore."

I notice Rush isn't correcting the "son" comments anymore. Interesting.

"Now," Dad says, his voice all business once more. "Sitrep."

"Sitrep is Pugli fucking got away. Had a bolthole and a helo."

"Shit. Well, Lear's on it. And when Lear wants to track someone, there's no getting away. The man could track a mouse fart in a tornado.”

Rush snorts a laugh. "Descriptive."

"Just facts, kid. Lose anyone?"

"Nah. We took 'em by surprise, but he bugged out rather than fight. Pussy."

"Well, get airborne and wait for Lear to update you. This ain't over until Pugli is dead."

"That's a fact."

"And for what it's worth, I don't know if I would've done anything different, Rush. With Pugli, your daughter, and the situation with Bryn. It was fucking impossible. If Bryn is still by your side, then that's good enough for me."

My eyes burn a little at Daddy's casual statement.

"You shoulda seen your girl work, sir. I mean, Harris—that might take me a minute. She dropped a tango from two hundred yards, clean as a whistle. She knows her business, and I say that from a professional standpoint."

"Well, she's our kid. Just…stick with her, Rush. That's my daughter."

“You take care of mine, sir, and I'll take care of yours."

"You know it, son." A pause. "I've got a call coming. Gotta go. Talk soon. Harris—"

"Daddy, do not say that," I say, leaning closer to the phone. "It's embarrassing for everyone involved."

A pause.

"Harris, out." Click.

I groan. “He's such a troll, sometimes."

"It is the way of fathers," Ulrich says—I'd forgotten he was there, honestly. "My daughters are always embarrassed by me no matter what I do, so I must have fun with it, since I am such an embarrassment simply for existing."

Rush looks at him. "Lucky me, I'm still my girl's hero." A disgusted sigh. "Try convincing Evelyn of that, though. I'll never be good enough for her."

Ulrich nods. "This I understand and empathize with, very much. My wife comes from a very important family. Her father worked for the Chancellor, and her mother ran a fashion magazine. I came from a very poor family from a very rough part of Berlin. Plus, when I met my Gisela, I was only a lowly submarine sailor. Gisela loves me, but her parents have never learned to do the same. They tolerate me at best."

Rush nods. “Richard and Evelyn ain't rich or nothin'," he jerks a head at me. "But they're good, solid, Christian folk who go to church on Sundays and have tea every afternoon and talk about the bloody Royals like they fart rainbows and shit glitter." A shrug. "They don't understand me, or my life, or anything. Thanks for your service an' all that, yeah, but they don't get it and they don’t get me.”

Ulrich claps him on the shoulder. "Who can, my friend? Only we who have done the job can understand."

"Pugli's men are watching us," Chico says on the comms. “They don't seem interested in pushing their luck, but let's not take any chances."

“The rat bastard really just left his men here?" Rush asks. "Guess he either didn't care or figured we ain't the slaughterin' types."

"A bit of both, I think," Chico answers. "Falcon One is en route. Gather at the E-Z."

Not long after, I'm strapped into a jump seat in the back of the Osprey.

Yay, more traveling.