"Pull over we can't see a thing."

The wind is howling like a lonely wolf and the desert sand is flying everywhere. Visibility is zero.

Tech2 pulls the Suburban off the road and down off the pavement. You can literally hear the sand scratching the glass and I am glad this vehicle has upgraded NBC interior environmental filtration and special seals. Who would think they could be handy in such a natural setting. A tumbleweed hits the car with great force and is pushed up over the hood.

"We've just lost our satellite link" says Tech7 rather nonchalantly, "this sand is somehow blocking or possibly damaged the reception dish.

"Activate secondary electrical system and activate generator and batteries. Hook up that terminal and get Rumsfeld back!"

A loud snort and loud whirring comes from another medium sized generator tucked securely underneath the vehicle and the secondary electrical system comes to life providing much needed signal strength..

"I'm getting an automated signal from Schriever AFB telling me that their is an, 'interruption in payload management.' "

That doesn't happen often and means that the break in communication actually was not the sandstorm's fault, but the Milstar system is experiencing some sort of technical difficulties.

"Keep trying. As soon as you can raise Arlington, let me know."

Tech2 turns to me and speaks, "This mission is not going particularly smoothly is it? It feels like we've been jinxed since we left Shamballa. Do you ever get the feeling there are some missions we were not meant to complete?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know, like there are some things better left alone or missions perhaps where an unexpected dust storm and signal break keeps us from arriving at the scene of one of these 'disturbances'?"

"You know my take on it. We make our own destiny. There is no danger that can' t be dealt with constructively."

"What about destiny? What if there are just some things man shouldn't know about. After all, you keep more secrets than lurk in the files at the Central Intelligence Agency, surely you must believe that man was not meant to know everything?"

"There are some things that are best kept withheld for others benefit and security, however I don't believe the universe withholds any secrets, nor intentionally sabotages our timely arrival at a disturbance."

"Suit yourself. I can see, all too easily, the old Parkay commercial version of 'mother nature' whipping up this storm out of nowhere. 'It's not nice to mess with mother nature!' "

Tech7 raises her voice from the back, "Humans are most illogical creatures. They fall back to mysticism and pagan beliefs everytime the weather changes."

I laugh loudly and I can see Tech2 is dreaming up some sort of response in his head.

"You wouldn't know what to do with an honest to goodness feeling would you?"

"Ok, break it up. We've got a mission to perform and duties to fulfill. I want everyone on their toes. It's clearing up a bit. Let's get back on the road and get to our destination."

The Suburban moves back up on the pavement and even its 3 and a half tons are shaken by the unseen hands of the wind.

"Incoming!" shouts Tech7 who's monitoring the radar console from the second seat. Tech2 takes evasive action and an automatic chaff grenade erupts from a roof mounted grenade launcher.

I still don't know what is happening but I hear the noise and feel the vehicle impacted by the shockwave of the grenade explosion from what should be just 50 yards up into the air.

"What is it! What is it!"

"I don't know but it's going to hit us in like 15 seconds!!!"

"Eject! Eject!"

Tech 2 slams the brakes and I depress a button which opens all the doors at once. I jump from the vehicle and it is still easily doing about twenty five miles per hour. I think about rolling with the impact, but the hard pavement just tears at my jumpsuit and I feel my skin burning against the asphalt. All I have time to think about is my helmet and the others. A loud explosion deafens me and renders my senses, already overloaded, into what seems like a temporary shutdown.

I awaken. I don't know how much time has elapsed but my shoulder and leg hurt. I raise my head with much effort and see that I have rolled off the highway and into the dirt. The Suburban, or the burnt out hull that's left of it, sits sideways in the middle of the road smoking and still burning debris that was scattered by the impact is strewn all over the highway and the still windy desert.

I try to stand but my right leg wants to buckle and does. Down I go again. I see the reason why as I look down at the bloodied thigh and grit embedded over about 8 inches of my exposed upper leg.

"Tech7! Tech2! You ok! Answer me!"

I climb up again with sheer determination and I realize that the wound was just painful and ugly, but it is really my twisted ankle that is what brought me down. I look for Tech7 and Tech2. I still am in shock and I know it. Then suddenly it occurs to me there may still be hostiles nearby and so I stop shouting and use my eyes. I pull my Sig Sauer P229 from its holster and look around. I spot Tech2 near some burning debris. Is he dead? No, just unconscious. He's still breathing. He's got wounds like mine I think. Does it appear any worse? No. I don't think so, unless there are internal injuries. Where is Tech7! I'll get back here in a minute. I Must find her! I hobble around and look for her. Suddenly I see her in the distance. She must've gotten out even faster. What is that she is doing? Oh, she is vomiting. I hobble faster now, but as I increase my speed it is harder to keep from falling. I go down yet again.

"Tech7 are you ok?"

"jjjust peachy. How's Tech2?"

"He's unconscious. We need some medical attention."

My brain starts working just a little bit more and it suddenly occurs to me to activate the homing beacon embedded in the rubber sole of my boot. I can only hope that Shamballa was monitoring our progress and already has planes or choppers up in the air. As Tech7 gets closer I can see her right sleeve is missing and her arm is very bloody, but she seems intact.

"It's ok everything is going to be ok." I hold her and press her head against my chest. I can feel her sobbing and convulsing. She is still in shock.

As we walk over back to Tech2 we hear Tech2's voice, "Do you ever get the feeling that somebody doesn't like you?" Tech2 smiles a lame little smile and it shows more pain than mirth.

"Actually, somebody must like us a lot, after all we're all still here."

"Were we targeted by the air? There were no planes in the area! What was it that hit us? We should seek some cover in case someone out there is looking for survivors." Tech7 seems to be regaining her composure and she follows my example and reaches for her service pistol.

"Whomever did this to us is going to pay...oh yeah bigtime!" says Tech2 as he grabs his pistol and starts looking up at the skies.

"Wrong attitude. You know that."

"Yes sir, mr. optimist...sir - perhaps we should thank the mother ------ who almost succeeded in killing us?"

"We don't even know who or what happened. Until we have the facts, violent emotionalisms will not get us out of our predicament any faster."

As if to reinforce my point, I hear two combat helicopters approaching from the southeast. They are ours and in moments they land in the highway and two small teams emerge and secure the location. Several meds rush towards us and before I know it I am off my feet and being carried by a gurney towards the helicopter.

After I have been strapped into place, one of the meds hands me a handset receiver.

"I heard what happened. Are you ok?"

"Yes sir, Mr. Secretary - just shook up a bit. What exactly happened? Do we know yet who was trying to take us out?"

"It was a missile equipped automated drone. We knocked it out of the sky ten minutes after your vehicle was hit" We've sent a retrieval team to pick it up. Could be terrorists - or some other group. This may very well be some other human sewage."

Rumsfelds language "Sewage" is a code word. A plumbing matter - an internal leak or double agent. We are the primary user of stealth drones, though drone knock-offs are already known be in operation in various parts of the world. But to target us implies first hand knowledge of America's invisible national security infrastructure - and that stinks of internal sewage.

"I see."

"You just get yourself and your men back to par, I'm going to take care of this ASAP."

"Ok. Over and out."

I hand the handset back to the med. I close my eyes and wince as alcohol and disinfectants are liberally being applied to clean and treat my gashes.

"Owwwww. My god, what have I done to deserve this?"

"You do what you always do, turn death into a fighting chance to live."

"What?"

I can faintly hear Tech2 laughing from his gurney as the blades increase their noisy song and the helicopter rises into the air.

This is going to be a long night.