For Admiral Duquesne’s benefit, she added, “You guys didn’t seriously expect me to get up every morning, put on makeup and do my hair to go play BUD/S, did you?”

That got a laugh out of the press, and she leaned toward the mic. “I have to confess, though, that the instructors do call me Barbie from time to time.”

The reporters loved that. On that high note, she said, “If you’ll excuse me, I really don’t want to miss any more training. My team needs me.”

Admiral Duquesne started out onto the stage, and she flat-out fled. Not only did she not want to have to pose for pictures with him, but she also didn’t want to get stuck here any longer than absolutely necessary.

Poor Schneider couldn’t chase after her because he had to introduce the admiral.

She burst out of the theater and looked left and right. There. Her instructors were just leaving the building. She ran over to them. “Any chance I can catch a ride back to my team?”

Peevy moved over in the back seat of a Hummer. “Hop in.”

Frankly, she was surprised they hadn’t forced her to run all the way back to the beach. Relieved, she tried to be invisible on the ride back while the instructors chatted and joked. With a nod of thanks at them, she jogged down the beach to her team. The Smurf raft had capsized, and her buddies bobbed in the water, helpless against the power of the surf. Waves slammed them against the rocks and then swept them back out to sea over and over.

Jab had made it ashore, and she helped him snag Smurfs one by one as they washed back in over the next few minutes. The bottom had partially torn out of their boat, but that didn’t prevent them all from being sent back out into the water for one more surf passage and rock portage in the ruined raft.

Smitty shouted as they simultaneously hung on to the side of the raft and paddled for all they were worth, trying to get a wave to pick them up and carry them shoreward, “Never thought I’d say this, but I’m glad you’re back, Tate!”

“I missed you guys, too!” she shouted back.

They had no more breath to speak as they were unceremoniously dumped out of their raft and slammed into the rocks like the flotsam they were.

By the time Jab and another guy finally snagged her and dragged her ashore, she was more drowned than not. Thankfully, the evolution was secured, and they stumbled back to the chow hall to shove down as many calories as they could before they fell asleep in their food.

“How was the press conference?” Smitty asked.

“As short as I could make it. They loved my attire. Haute mud-mask couture.”

“You didn’t.”