You froze at the critical moment. As soon as things started south, you shut down. Your job was to finish the mission, not pussy out.” Kyle returned his own pistol to the holster in the back of his belt and lowered his voice. “You can’t call cease fire in real combat, Powell. You just can’t. There are no second chances out there, buddy, and my opinion is that you don’t want to be here, not really. Something has taken the heart out of you and has left only your natural talent. It’s time for you to get on with your life.”

“You are full of shit. Who the fuck do you think you are?” The raging Powell felt the touch of Rockhead on his elbow. “Who is this asshole, Senior Chief?”

“Somebody you would not want to meet in a dark alley, Powell. Let’s you and me go have a talk, son.”

* * *

ROCKHEAD SHERIDAN MET SWANSON back at the same watering hole that evening. This time they sat inside, at the bar. A news report was on the TV about the upcoming launch of the first mission that would eventually lead to a Mars landing. A cut of cool ocean air had moved in to drop the temperature, and rain was blowing onto the patio. Neither man was in a good mood.

“Had to be done,” Rockhead said. “Powell has already departed for a thirty-day leave to try to get his act together. Turns out he had some serious home problems and a set of new twins, both of them real sick, so he was at a personal crossroads. I told him to go home and do what was really important, take care of his family.”

“So he’s done with Team Six?” Kyle folded a wet napkin, just to be doing something. He had not enjoyed taking part in the collapse of Ryan Powell.

“Yep. If he wants to stay as a SEAL, we’ll rotate him into being an instructor in the BUD/S training. He’d be close to home and probably be pretty good at the job.” Rockhead shrugged. “Life sucks sometimes.”

They went silent for a little while. Then Kyle asked, “You gonna let me have another run at the Ghost House tomorrow? By myself?”