Way of the Warrior (Troubleshooters #17.5)(120)

But Senior held out his hand and said “Congratulations, son,” and Dan automatically took it and shook, still confused until Wolchonok added, “You’re a father, Dan. Jennilyn and the baby are both healthy and doing fine.”

Dan laughed his surprise. “Wait. What?”

Lieutenant Commander Jacquette, the team’s CO, was right behind the senior chief, and he, too, shook Dan’s hand, delivering his congrats in his basso profundo. Then the rest of the team surrounded them.

“Jenn had the baby,” Dan realized, and he turned to hug Izzy and then Jenkins.

Izzy took the opportunity to sit down. Thank God thank God thank God.

But Danny was not an idiot, and he soon realized… “You knew! She went into labor and everyone knew?” He aimed his accusation at the entire team—officer and enlisted alike. Although—again, because he was not an idiot—he waited until both the CO and the senior were well out of range.

Dan turned and punched Izzy in the shoulder.

“Ow! Why do I get punched?” Izzy asked.

But Dan was already extracting the details from Jenk, who’d admitted, without any punching, that Jenn had gone into labor while on an impromptu road trip with Eden, because apparently Tracy got food poisoning…?

That didn’t make sense, because the whole purpose of the trip was to check out some potential wedding reception site, so why go without the bride-to-be?

Izzy felt his phone rattle in his pants, and he pulled it out to see that Eden had sent him several photos via email. The subject header was “Stealth Penis.”

That was…interesting.

“Callista,” Izzy heard Dan say, as he opened the email and the photo slowly uploaded. “Callie, for short. Yeah, no, we picked out that name as soon as we found out we were having a daughter. Holy shit, you guys, I have a daughter.”

Izzy looked at the first picture—it was a selfie of Eden smiling, her head next to Jenn’s. Jenn was in a hospital bed, looking exhausted but happy, with an equally exhausted tiny baby in her arms. The baby was wrapped in a white blanket, with a little blue hat on its head and…

Wait a minute… Stealth penis…?

Izzy scrolled to the next shot, which was of Dr. Kelly Paoletti, holding a naked and yowling baby, a big smile on her face. And sure enough…

“Whoa, check out these pictures, Danny,” Izzy said. “Eden sent them. Dude! Congratulations! Your daughter has a penis!”

Danny grabbed Izzy’s phone, and as he looked for himself he started to laugh. “Holy shit, it’s a boy. I have a son—with a million pink toys.”

“He’s a baby, what does he care?” Izzy said.

But Dan stopped on the photo of Jenn in that bed with their baby in her arms, and the expression of gratefulness and love on his face was so private that Izzy turned away.

And found the senior chief heading toward him, on yet another mission. At their eye contact, Senior motioned for Izzy to step away from the crowd.

“’Sup, S?” Izzy asked, quickly adding, “and that S stands for Senior not Stan because even though I know that’s your name, I’d never call you Stan, Senior.”

The senior spoke over him as he handed Izzy a piece of paper. It looked like a short list of airlines, flight numbers, departure times, and gates. The first was a nonstop to Los Angeles. The second went to San Diego, with a stop in Tokyo. The third did the same.

“I just received our stand-down order,” Senior told Izzy quietly, “but we won’t get a military transport flight out of here until Thursday at the earliest.” He pointed to the list. “All of these flights are filled, but these airlines are willing to rebook passengers onto later flights—if you can get anyone to volunteer to give up their seat for Dan.”

“Whoa, this first one’s boarding in ten minutes,” Izzy realized. It was two gates down. He’d made note of the fact, during one of their walks through the airport, that most of the passengers there were American.

This could work.

“I thought maybe you could go over there and quietly see what you could do,” the senior said.

“Thank you, Senior Chief.”

Senior caught Izzy’s arm before he could go. “See if you can’t get yourself a seat, too,” he said. “Your wife and Jennilyn went up to the morgue in Obsidian Springs to ID the body of her—Eden’s—stepfather.”

“Oh, God,” Izzy said.

“I know you’ve had trouble with him in the past,” the senior continued, “but that couldn’t’ve been easy for her.”

Izzy had to agree. “Still, let me get Danny home, first.”

Senior smacked him on the same shoulder that Dan had punched, but this time Izzy didn’t say ow. Especially when the senior said, “You’re a good man, Zanella. Get it done.”

Izzy went to the gate, and yes, he was right. The passengers here were mostly Americans. He went right to the counter at the front, near the boarding door, and climbed up to stand on top of it.

“May I have your attention please?” he said, using his outdoor voice. “My fellow Americans, my name is Irving Zanella, and I’m a member of your military fighting force. I’m here with about a dozen of my Navy SEAL brothers-in-arms, and one of us, my dear friend Danny, just found that his son—his first child—was born about an hour ago, in a hospital not that far from San Diego. So if anyone here is not in a screaming rush to get back to the States, this very generous airline will put you on a later flight, and let Danny use your seat so he can go home and meet his beautiful, beautiful newborn son.”