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Battalion, with the teams falling directly and permanently under the battalions of the companies they led. The current system had seemed promising, but had never quite worked out.
    “Why?”
    “Because I don’t know shit about them,” Warrington answered. He pointed his chin at the general direction of the splash. “That means you go first.”

    The ship had been modified in a couple of significant ways. For one thing, there were reinforcements built into the deck and gunwales to allow the crew to set up landing pads for helicopters. For another, the two bottom levels of containers contained nothing but food, cots, bedding, arms, ammunition—to include one container labeled “APERS mines”—and equipment for a strike force. Of those levels, the lowest was only partial, leaving a substantial open area—roughly nine hundred square meters—with containers held on steel beams above it, to allow for a mess and planning area for the embarked force. Since the area also served as a sort of recreation center, one wall—actually just the ends of forty-foot shipping containers—held a wide screen TV which was turned on only at night or at the commander’s discretion. Currently, the television displayed one of the more attractive female talking heads from CNN, though the sound was turned all the way down.
    “The message I got was cryptic, at best,” Pearson said. “What are you bringing aboard and what’s the mission, Major?”
    There can be only one captain aboard ship.
    Stocker smiled wickedly at Warrington, seated across the table in the expansive mess hall down near the bilges. You can send me up the ladder first, but you’re in charge and you get to brief.
    Warrington shrugged. To Pearson he answered, “The mission’s a hostage rescue. Under the circumstances, we can’t grab counterhostages which, frankly, blows. We don’t know yet where the hostage is being held, except that he’s probably still somewhere in the Philippines. We don’t know what kind of force the people holding him can muster. Our advance party is trying to answer those questions, even as we speak.
    “As for what’s coming aboard . . . a lot less than I’d like. One infantry company; Stocker, what’s your strength?”
    “One hundred and eighty-six officers and men, including three armored car crews with vehicles, two mechanics, seven cooks, and a six man medical team,” the Canadian answered. “Three armored cars and crews are what they gave us. But with only a single LCM, that can only carry two, one of them is probably useless.”
    Warrington had already known that; the answer was for Pearson’s benefit.
    “In addition,” Warrington continued, “I’ve got thirty-eight from A Company, Second Battalion. The rest are already forward or moving there. We’re also taking on one UAV, two helicopter gunships and two CH-750 STOL fixed wing aircraft—”
    “So we’ll need to assemble a flight deck?” Pearson interrupted. “Which means we’ll need to practice it. A lot.”
    “Yeah,” Warrington agreed. “The flyboys will include fourteen flight crew and eighteen ground, including for the UAV, which is something less than generous. We’re getting one LCM-6, with a crew of five. Yeah, just one, so I hope your stash of rubber boats is adequate.”
    “I’ve got eighteen Zodiacs,” Pearson replied. “Ought to be enough. Yes, with motors. At least I’m supposed to have eighteen. I’ve only found seven so far. My predecessor in command was possibly not as organized as one might have liked.”
    “Which possibly has something to do with why he got moved to staff,” Warrington said. I hope to hell all eighteen are there.
    “Lastly,” Warrington continued, “regiment is sending us with a seven-man medical team, three more cooks, and a four-man intelligence cell. All told it comes to two hundred and seventy-five. You have space and rations for that many?”
    “For twice that many,” Pearson said, “though that would be a