Sexuality and Violence Disclaimers: We’re dealing with an updated dark Xena through much of the first half, and an updated redeemed Xena through the second. There’s gonna be violence. There are gonna be naughty words. There are also descriptions of sexual activity in this work. There are allusions to heterosexual sex, but nothing graphic. There are some graphic (though I hope tasteful) scenes of sexual expression between women as well. That is how I see the relationship between Xena and Gabrielle, and that is how I will continue to write it.

And, finally, thanks: To, as always, the incomparable Mike. A better beta and a better friend one could never hope for. Thank you also, as always, to Mary D, who rescued this story from the refuse heap and begged me to keep going on it. If you hate it, blame her. <w> Grateful and heartfelt appreciation goes out to DJWP, for continuing to write stories that grab me somewhere above the liver and giving her kind permission to mention her story in these disclaimers. If you haven’t read her stories, please, do yourself a favor and do so. Finally, this story is dedicated to a group of people without whom I would most probably be living on the streets. Elizabeth, Rachel, Sulli, and the rest of the “Get Sue to Atlanta” crew, this one’s for you!

Feedback: As always is gratefully appreciated. If you wrote to me regarding “Redemption” during the month of September to early October and I haven’t responded, please allow me the honor of apologizing in public. It was then that I was at my lowest point and making ready to move to my new home. Your words of praise and encouragement for my writing kept me firmly out of the pit of depression I was falling into and I shall be forever grateful to each and every one of you who took the time out to feed this bard. And for those of you patiently (or not so patiently) waiting for Redemption’s sequel, fear not, for with the conclusion of this piece, that piece will be started. Any and all who wish to may write me at SwordnQuil@aol.com . I’ll continue to do my best to answer each and every email. An exploding mailbox is a good thing to have. Thanks again!

DESERT STORM

by: Sword’n’Quill (Susanne Beck)

24 July, 1990. Very Early Morning. Temporary Israeli Military Camp. ~100 miles West of Tadmur, Syria.

A hot gusty wind blew through the open flap of the command tent, causing the papers on the large table set in the center to rustle, much to the consternation of the small figure who was trying to read a map in the near darkness of the enclosure. Commander Tovah Rybak raked a hand through the cinnamon curls on her head in frustration. “Damn it,” she hissed, trying futilely to prevent the map from rolling up once again.

Lt. Commander Benjamin Adellich, Tovah’s second in command and field medic, grinned at his friend, coming to her aid and flattening the paper down onto the table. “You’ll ruin your eyes if you keep trying to read in the dark,” he quipped.

Tovah rolled her eyes. “Thanks, dad.” Sighing, one small finger traced a route from where they were currently stationed into Iraq and the bunker hidden beneath the ever shifting sands.

“You’re sure they’re there.”

“At this point, Ben, I’m not sure of anything anymore. All I know is that we received a report of five captives being brought to that location two days ago. No one’s seen them since.”

“Any descriptions?”

Tovah shrugged, tracing the route again, calculating the dangers. “Only that they were dressed in robes and had hoods over their heads.”

“They could be ours then. Those are the clothes they were wearing when we lost track of ‘em. Minus the hoods, of course.” He gusted out a sigh, blowing black hair away from his forehead. “Of course, it’s just as likely not to be them. Things being the way they are, the Iraqis are seeing a spy in every pot these days.”

“Our people or not, Ben, they’re obviously enemies of Hussein. Which makes them friends of ours.”

“Friends perhaps,” Adellich countered, “but is friendship worth crossing hundreds of miles of open enemy desert? There’s a good chance we’ll go all that way just to rescue a bunch of corpses who don’t even belong to us.”

Tovah stepped away from the map, stalking to the other end of the tent, her tiny, compact body vibrating with tension. “I’m well aware of that, Ben,” she snapped. “But if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that you don’t turn your back to someone who needs your help. And if there’s anyone still alive in that place, they’re going to need our help. Kin or not.”

Adellich smiled warmly at his friend. “That’s my Tovah,” he said, grinning. “All fire and no fear.”

Tovah returned the warm grin, returning to the table one last time. Memorizing the route, she rolled the recalcitrant map back up and placed it in the case with the others. “Everything ready?”

“We’ll leave the moment you give the word.”

“Let’s go then. I want to be back here by sundown tonight.”

24 July 1990. Early Morning. Just Outside the Underground Bunker of the Republican Guard. Ar Rutbah, Iraq.

Adjusting the dials on his binoculars, Adellich squinted into the bright sunlight. “Something’s going on in there,” he remarked to his silent commander. “They’re running around like birds without heads.”

“Let me see,” Tovah replied, grabbing the glasses away from her friend, adjusting them and peering into the heavily guarded compound. Scarlet clad Iraqi soldiers ran back in forth across the flat cleared space where the squat bunker and its outbuildings sat. None seemed to be moving with any purpose. “Alright then. Let’s add to their distraction. ‘A’ unit ready?”

“And waiting,” her second replied, holding a radio to his lips. “Is it a go?”

“Yeah. Everyone ready here?”

Adellich nodded, clicking a button on his communications device. “’A’ unit. Set up a distraction on my mark. Ready. Now.”

‘B’ unit waited as the first sounds of mortar fire were heard around the periphery of the compound. The shots were designed to draw the soldiers away from the main target and they were working to perfection, compounding the distraction of the Iraqis. Drawing up their weapons, the Republican Guardsmen returned fire on their unseen tormentors, their attentions drawn totally away from the bunker proper.

With a wave of her hand, Tovah beckoned her fifteen member squad to follow her on a zig zag path up to and behind the outbuildings. “Tell ‘A’ squad to put their fire down further to the west. We need more of a clear shot to the building.” They were moving in from the east and the blinding cover of the rising sun. The bunker’s door was to the north. A few guards hovered around the entrance, their weapons at the ready. The others were still close enough to be a danger if Tovah and her people were spotted before they had a chance to silence the guards.

As Adellich complied with her order, Tovah and her squad made it to another outbuilding, the last piece of cover before the bunker itself. “Ok, everyone. This is it.” She pointed out ten of her men. “You stay topside and take out the commander and his guards. The rest of you down into the cells with me. Shoot anything that moves and wears scarlet. We’re not out here to make friends, understand?”

The men and women of her squad nodded at her, adjusting their weaponry and clothing, brave beyond measure. Tovah’s heart filled with pride for her people and she let that pride show in her eyes. “For the glory of God and our homeland,” she whispered. “Let’s go.”

The sixteen members of ‘B’ squad paired up and ducked from the cover of the last outbuilding. Their camouflage uniforms blended easily with the desert as they made their way to the front of the compound and the four guards who were standing uncertainly by the doors, their attentions off to the west. Tovah kept her weapon strapped to her back as, instead, she simply extended the first two fingers of both hands and drove them into the nerve centers of first one, then two guards, stepping past them as they slumped to their knees, paralyzed. Her partner took care of the other two with a knife across the throat and the pair stepped aside as two more Israeli soldiers stormed forth to blast open the door to the barracks.

Once inside, the group split up. Tovah’s smaller group made off to the left, down the slowly descending hallway that led to the cells. The rest of the squad moved off to the right and into the command center of the building. Weapons fire started up immediately.

The way to the cells was sparsely guarded, and the Commander found out why as she rounded the last curve and stepped through the door and into the prison proper. Throwing up a hand to cover her nose as the stench of death and decay hit her full force, Tovah led her group into the prison. Thick steel cell doors lined the long, dark corridor, ten to a side. Using hand gestures, the commander directed her men to begin searching the cells.

The sounds of steel hitting concrete soon filled the cramped corridor as Israeli soldiers searched the prison for any signs of life. Tovah raced down the narrow hallway, blowing into the last cell on the right. The stench inside made her step back outside for a second to clear her sinuses. With a deep breath of less fetid air, the commander ducked back into the cell. Two men lay curled in the cell, their bodies awash with dried blood. Sewer roaches crawled into and over open mouths and eyes as the two deceased Marines stared blankly into eternity.

Stepping further into the charnel house, Tovah got a good look at both men, matching up what she could see of their features with the memories of her own captured kinsmen. Neither was a match and her heart grew sad and hopeful at the same time. Maybe her cohorts were having better luck.

“Tovah, in here!” came the voice of Adellich from the adjoining cell. “We’ve got a live one!”

Finishing her quick prayer over the two dead men, Tovah quickly retreated from the cell, entering the next one down the line at a dead run. The stench in the new cell was worse and the commander could tell by the condition of one of the bodies that death had claimed one of the prisoners some time ago.

The second body was that of a young, thin man who had most of his face blown away. The back of his bloodied head was pillowed upon the chest of the third figure, next to whom Adellich was currently squatting.

Tovah edged further into the cell, intent on examining the third member of the cell. Her eyes widened as she took in the deathly pale face of the prisoner. “It’s a woman!”

“Yeah. And she’s nearly dead. With these wounds, it’s a miracle that she’s managed to stay alive this long.”

“Can she be moved?”

Shouts and screams sounded near to the entrance to the prison. The fighting was getting closer. “I don’t think we have much choice,” Adellich replied, gathering the long body of the woman and hefting her easily into his strong, stout arms. “Hang on for a little longer,” he whispered to the woman in his arms. “Just a little longer. We’ll get you out of here.”

Tovah squatted down, retrieving her friend’s weapon while looking closely at the other two. Like their compatriots in the other cell, their faces were almost unrecognizable, but they didn’t match with any of her missing kin. “These aren’t ours either.”

“No,” Adellich agreed. “At first I thought they were Americans, but when I saw her … .” The big man shrugged.

“I guess we’ll just have to wait till she wakes up.”

“If she lives that long.”

Tovah looked into the woman’s face once again, seeing the strength there even near death. “She will,” she said with confidence. “Come on. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Stepping back into the hall, Tovah and Adellich met up with the rest of their small party. All the other members were empty handed. “No one in the other cells,” one young soldier remarked sadly. “I guess we’ll never find them now.”

Smiling sadly, Tovah walked over to the young man, putting a warm hand on his shoulder. “Don’t give up hope, Itzak. They’re not here, so there’s always a chance, alright?”

Itzak returned his commander’s smile. “Yes, Ma’am,” he replied.

Giving the shoulder beneath her hand a fond squeeze, Tovah turned to the rest of her troops. “Even though we didn’t find our kin, our mission was a success. We’ve managed to save one soul from the arms of the Reaper. Now let’s get outta here and blow this place off the face of the earth.”

Raising their weapons, the squad let out a shout, turning to follow their brave leader back into the fighting.

The increased numbers evened the odds and the firefight quickly turned into a rout. Al-Hassein had been found much earlier in the battle, seated behind his desk, his life ended from a self inflicted gunshot wound to the right temple. He had died before the bunker was even stormed as in his killing rage he had managed to execute the last two people who could possibly tell him anything. Overcome with fear at the thought of what his superiors would do to him, the Iraqi Guard Commander ended his own life rather than face the tortures of the very regime he so gladly tortured others in the name of.