He was shaking Captain Foyte's hand and grinning broadly over being selected for ODA 574 . . .

A commotion began at the edge of the field, and Rutang tugged on Mitchell's shoulder. Mitchell stirred, looked up, and saw the entire Taiwanese team emerging from the trees: all twelve of them, looking exactly as they had upon entering the jungle, perhaps a little sweatier.

His first thought was, Why aren't they all dead? Dead men tell no tales--or answer radio calls.

Mitchell sprang off his pack and jogged toward them, his bandaged arm and leg stinging again. He spotted Captain Fang near the back of the group.

Fang's English was pretty good, though he'd asked on several occasions for people to speak more slowly around him.

Well, Mitchell was happy to oblige, and his question, voiced entirely out of breath, was simple: "Captain, where . . . were . . . you?"

Fang brought himself to full height, and although he was several inches shorter than Mitchell, his muscular form and penetrating eyes offered ample intimidation. "Sergeant, I am sorry for your losses."

"You were listening?"

"Yes."

"You heard my calls for help?"

"I ordered my men to fall back."

"Excuse me, sir?"

Fang's team was beginning to gather around them, along with Captain Yano and his men.

"You heard me, Sergeant Mitchell."

Yes, he had, and the news made Mitchell nauseous.

"We weren't brought here to cross-train with you. We were brought here to be sacrificed--and I won't allow that to happen. Not to my men. Not for you. Not for anyone."

Mitchell began to tremble in rage. "Captain, what have you done?"

"I made a decision. And I stand by it."

"Captain Yano lost four men. I lost nine. You're insane." Mitchell took a step closer, coming within inches of Fang, getting directly in the captain's face. Mitchell raised his voice. "How could you walk away from the fight?"

"Step back, Sergeant."

"Answer my question!"

"Step back!"

Mitchell took another step forward, thrusting his bare chest out into Fang's and shoving the officer backward. "I will not step back! You should have stepped up! You're a coward! You're a traitor! You abandoned us! You left us to die!"

One of Fang's men shouted something, and Mitchell craned his head to Captain Yano, who quickly translated: "He says the American is right. We are cowards. We wanted to fight. But you wouldn't let us."

Even as Yano finished the translation, Fang spun around, reaching into his pack and unsheathing a strange, sticklike sword with many edges.

He started toward his man with the weapon, but Mitchell grabbed Fang's wrist with one hand and latched onto the sword's handle with the other.

Suddenly, Fang tripped Mitchell to the ground, wrenched free his sword hand, and struck Mitchell on the side of the head with the blade.