Romgar Military Research Base
Ten Years after E-Day
"Trials? We're not going to get convictions if he plays by peacetime legal rules. Where's the evidence? Who's going to represent the parties? I'm not letting dangerous scum into this city because we can't convict and deal with them. Martial law's there for a reason – when peacetime rules don't work."
- Colonel Victor Hoffman responding to the news that Chairman Prescott has ordered trials or amnesty for all Stranded refugees.
Ace was almost walking backwards as they left the Raven and headed inland for the research base. He was distracted, anxious, constantly turning around as if he could still see the Raven parked out near the bluffs. Every time he turned his head he was terrified he'd see a mop of curly brown hair following them at a distance.
When he turned around again for the umpteenth time, Opal nudged him. "Mind on the mission," she told him sternly. "Everything else will sort itself out with time."
Ace nodded at her and mentally refocused himself, but every now and again he found his thoughts traveling back to Bri. Stop it, he commanded himself. She knew there would be consequences when she pulled this ridiculous stunt. You can't protect her forever.
The sun above them was blazing down without mercy. The warm air was a far cry from the perpetual fog and rain that plagued Ephyra, and a constant reminder of how far they were from home. Lieutenant Kim had chosen the rocky leeward side of the island for their ingress, as there was more cover, but it made for harder travel. Ace had almost walked into a smoldering fire pit before he realized it was there.
"Camp fire," he called out, pointing it out to them. He waved a hand above it, testing the temperature. "Still warm."
"Look sharp," Kim ordered. "We're not alone."
The four of them paused and did another long, slow scan as if the person who had cooked their lunch here was still around. "Don't trust the natives," Clay warned in a low voice as they continued their hike.
Knowing that there were others on the island made it easier for Ace to refocus and get his mind off of Bri and the trouble that would await her when they returned home. It took another forty minutes before they reached the base, but either the person who had lit the campfire was long gone, or they were smart enough to stay away from the Gears.
The front doors had chains looped around the handles. Still, Clay reached out and gave the door a yank. They jostled, but pulled taut long before the chains caught. "It's a COG base," he said as he pulled a brick of C4 from his bag. "You'd think they'd hand us the keys."
"Unless no one knows we're here," Opal pointed out as Clay loaded the detonator.
Clay motioned them away from the door. "So, no one knows we're here, we're not alone, and we're miles from backup. Anyone else getting the 'we're totally fucking screwed' vibe?"
Before anyone could answer him he pressed the button on the detonator, and the doors blew open. Kim cleared the doorway with his lancer – left corner, center, right corner, then behind the door – a textbook Gear maneuver. "Clear," he said, then motioned them in with a hand.
They treated the building like any number of the ones they had cleared on the mainland. It was rare to find a building outside the wire that wasn't infested with wretches, or swarms of krill nesting in the basement. Ace kept an eye out for signs of Stranded, but either they were smart enough to steer clear of the base, or they hadn't managed to beat in the doors. But despite the dust and stale air, the base appeared empty.
Every now and again Clay would stop to plant charges, which was part of the mission plan. Blow the research lab on the way out to burry whatever sins the COG had committed here. As they crept deeper into the base Ace could see computer stations, complex machinery, and equipment that he couldn't even begin to name. Opal went to one of the computer stations and flipped a couple of switches. She waited for a moment, but nothing happened.
"Well, those were the long odds," she said. "Now let's try the sure thing." She headed further into the base and turned the corner like she had the layout memorized.
"What are you looking for?" Ace asked.
"Record keeping," she explained, as Clay blew in another set of high-security doors, designed to keep away those without proper clearance. "COG regulations mandated that all data be kept on physical copies. You know, in case one day the world ended, and our bases had to be abandoned."
"Who could see that coming?" Clay asked, attaching a block of C4 to a large machine with an almost childlike glee. He was one of the few Gears that seemed to genuinely enjoy being a soldier.
"In here," Kim said, motioning to a door on the left of the hallway. The four of them stacked up silently in the hallway, with Kim being the number one man. Opal stood behind him, then Ace, with Clay at his back. Once Clay signaled that he was ready, Kim stepped forward and booted the door in.
They flowed into the room without stopping in the doorway. Kim button hooked around and cleared the corner to the right of the door, so Opal took the left. Ace took the center, keeping the barrel of his sidearm up and ready. He charged into the room so Clay could enter and move away from the door. Once he had cleared the area in front of him, he checked the ceiling for any holes. Wretches liked to hide in the roof and leap down on soldiers.
"Clear!"
"Clear," Ace repeated, finally lowering his muzzle. The room inside was filled with rails of movable bookshelves. Each shelf was labeled with a small white tag displaying a series of numbers. "Know what you're looking for?" Ace asked.
"I will when I find it," Opal answered, examining the white labels closely.
"Is it alphabetical? Look under 'Fenix, A.'," Clay suggested. "Although there might be a couple of shelves with just his name."
"Now that I think about it, why the hell did Prescot send us out here?" Ace asked. "Wouldn't it have been easier for the professor to just recreate his data?"
"Maybe the professor is too busy," Clay suggested.
"Or maybe Prescot doesn't want Fenix to know he's got the data," Opal said.
Clay met Ace's eye as they both took a second to consider that. "You've kinda got a dim view of our esteemed Chairman, don't ya'?" Clay asked.
Opal shrugged. "A background working in covert ops will do that to you."
"Yeah, I bet the COGs got all sorts of dirty little secrets."
"And most of them don't matter anymore," Opal closed the rack she had been examining, and started twisting the hand crank to open the next row. "All that matters is killing grubs."
"Amen," Clay answered. "But then why the hell are we here?"
Clay continued to chat with Opal, but Ace wandered to the far side of the room. The first rack of shelves was open, and he examined the rows of files, most with a red spine labelled 'confidential'. One folder was slightly ajar, and curiosity got the better of him. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one was watching, before plucking the file off of the shelf.
The file was about a centimeter thick, with the emblem of the COG embossed on the front. The words 'Classified: Eyes Only' were stamped on top in red ink. He opened the file, only to be greeted with thick black lines. Every piece of paper had been inked out, leaving only broken phrases and nonsense. He flipped hopelessly through the file, disappointed to not find any of the COG's darkest secrets.
He almost closed the file and placed it back on the shelf, but something on the back of one of the sheets of paper caught his eye. Written by hand was a single word – 'Azura'.
"Got it," Opal said from across the room. Ace, startled, quickly closed the file, and tucked it back onto the shelf. Kim crossed the room and silently held his hand out to Opal, who passed over a stack of files. "All the info on the Maelstrom Generator."
"Good work," Kim said. "Now let's get out of here. Carmine – did you plant enough explosives to take out the base?"
"The base, the island, and a good chunk of the seaboard."
"Alright then. We'll blow it once we're back at the Raven. Move out."
As they started filing out of the base, Ace fell back to speak with Opal. "What is a maelstrom generator?" he asked.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" she answered. "Find anything interesting in those files you were perusing?"
"Not really," he said. "Unless the word 'Azura' means anything to you?"
A sudden crash of movement interrupted them. Kim and Clay both raised their lancers as a tall, white bird took flight out of the rafters and glided out of the door to the base. "Just a bird," Clay said as he lowered his barrel. "Everyone remain calm."
They walked out of the base and started heading back down the hill towards the Raven. Clay played with the remote detonator as they walked, clicking the safety cap off and on. "So?" Ace asked Opal again. "Azura?"
"If I were you, I'd forget I'd ever seen that word, Private," Opal answered him in a low voice, fixing him with a dark look. "If you start asking the wrong questions, it will end very poorly for you, and anyone you care about."
Ace stumbled over his boots for a moment. Opal hadn't threatened him – not quite – but her words came worryingly close. A cold chill crept up his spine as he considered briefly if he really wanted to know.
"Hey, what's that?" Clay asked, pointing towards the sky. Three, large, black figures were creeping over the horizon.
"More birds?" Kim asked.
Ace pulled his longshot around and focused the figures in his scope, feeling his stomach drop as he recognized them. "Reavers," he warned the others. "Coming in hot."
"Carmine, blow the base," Kim ordered. "KRZ, we've got locust incoming. Prepare for a swift evac."
"Roger," the Raven's pilot answered over the radio. Ace's stomach flipped when he remembered that Bri was aboard the Raven – the same bird that would be heading into battle to rescue him. Shit, he thought as his jaw clenched.
ka-BOOM! The detonation sounded behind him, loud enough that his ears were left ringing. The shockwave from the explosion swept past him like a warm wind. For a moment all he could smell was the slightly bitter almond scent of C4, and blown dust. When he turned around all that was left of the base was a charred stack of rubble, with small fires burning deep inside. The secrets were now destroyed, but it was a smoke signal straight to their position.
Ace checked his scope, and sure enough the reavers had adjusted course. "Get ready," he warned the rest of the squad. "Here they come."
An arm nudged me, and I snapped out of my daydream and back into the present. Dom stood in front of me. "You okay?" he asked me for the millionth time this morning. He waved a finger in front of my face, expecting me to follow it with my eyes. Standard examination for a concussion, even though I had been examined and cleared by medical staff late last night, after the bombing.
"I'm fine," I snapped at him. I resisted the urge to shove a finger of my own in his face before pushing past him and out of the APC. The armor I wore made the action graceless and awkward. I tried not to wince as my plates scraped against fresh bruises and superficial cuts along my back. The sun was now high in the sky, burning straight down on all of us, making shade scarce. On my left was the ocean, sparkling and glass-clear, reflecting the afternoon's beauty. But on my right was a pillar of white smoke made from the still smoldering wreckage of the field. Further inland graves were being dug for seventeen civilians. Families were grieving the loss of loved ones, in a place that was supposed to be safe.
Every Gear had been tasked to patrol or sweeping the woods for other targets. Dom had tried to persuade the medic who examined me to keep me off active duty. It took a couple of choice words to let him know exactly what I thought of that plan. Dom's over-protecting, smothering instincts were running in overdrive, and he refused to let me out of his sight. The compromise was that I could finish the night's patrol, as long as Dom was my partner and could keep an eye on me.
Sam barreled out of the APC after me, tongue and tail wagging happily. She jogged a quick circle around the vehicle with her nose stuck to the ground. My comm unit was buzzing in my ear with random reports from all squads. I kept waiting for some news, but every report was more of the same – no contact. Which meant that whoever had planted the bomb last night had either managed to sneak in and out of Vectes, or that they were still here, hidden amongst the pardoned Stranded.
I watched a Raven as it flew a slow sweep of the southern end of the island. From this distance it was barely a black dot, scarcely larger than the sea birds that dotted the coast. All of the resources of the COG, and yet we couldn't keep people safe in the heart of the city.
Dom finally seemed to realize that I wasn't in the mood for conversation. Earlier he had been playing twenty questions about the bombing – where I was, how close to the detonation, did I see anyone suspicious – but I mostly answered with curt, one-word responses. Later we could rehash the how, when, and where of it all, but right now I just wanted a target.
Sam trotted up to me with a stick in her mouth the size of my forearm. She laid it at my feet, then backed up, her head tilted hopefully. For a moment I didn't move. Then, sighing, I picked it up and threw it side-armed as hard as I could. Sam tore off into the brush after it.
"Santiago," I heard Dom say behind me. I turned, and he had his hand pressed to his comm., answering some private call. "Go ahead." He turned away, listening for a moment, before nodding once. "Wilco. On our way."
My pulse picked up half a beat. "Someone find something?" I asked hopefully.
Dom shook his head. "Hoffman's calling a debrief with Delta. They want us back at command."
You mean they want you, I thought to myself scathingly. No one wants the ex-Stranded at the Stranded debrief. Instead of voicing my cynical thoughts, I called Sam back out of the underbrush. She gave one last, enthusiastic sniff for the lost stick before returning to me. "Load up," I commanded her, holding the door of the APC open.
Dom was shifting into gear before I had my door shut. He gunned it once we were back on the dirt path to Vectes.
Both the inner and outer gates to the base were closed. Dom eased to a stop as a squad of MP's surrounded the APC. One of them had a mirror attached to a long stick. He waved it underneath the APC, checking for hidden explosives. Three weeks, I thought to myself. Three weeks, and this is what we've come to. Maybe the Grubs should have finished us off after all.
I expected control to be a flurry of activity, but the building was almost empty as Dom and I headed inside. Every able-bodied Gear had been tasked out. Mathieson was manning the command desk, zipping around the room in his wheelchair. He wore a headset that he spoke into almost constantly as he responded to Gears in the field. Before Dom could even ask, Mathieson pointed to the back room before marking something down on a map of Vectus.
Hoffman, Marcus, Anya, and Mataki were gathered around a table in the back room. Mayor Gavriel stood slightly off to the side looking out of his depths. Hoffman glanced up when Dom and I entered, but he didn't pause talking. "…all civilians are now under curfew, including Pelruan. No one out on the streets between 2000 and 0530 unless they've got a signed farming exemption. Gatherings over ten non-family members have been banned. We've increased patrols in the Stranded segment of the city," he paused. "What am I forgetting?"
"All fishing vessels have been docked for the time being," Anya filled in for him. She looked more at home over a command table than she did shouldering a rifle. "COG vessels have been warned – if it's on the water and not one of ours, assume it's unfriendly."
The door opened again behind us. Sam and Cole entered – each with a small spattering of new superficial cuts and bruises that gave their faces new depths. The door almost swung shut again, but a hand reached out and caught it as the last member of Delta arrived. My breath caught in my chest as Baird appeared. He had a chinful of day-old stubble and his goggles pulled low over his eyes.
We hadn't spoken after last night. We had kissed, and then been interrupted by a patrol of Gears executing a sweep of the base. I had been shuttled off to medical – where Dom had been waiting, damn close to having a conniption – and he had been tasked elsewhere. In the wake of the bombing, whatever was happening between us had faded into the background. But now that he was here the air felt electrified. I gave him a small smile, but he didn't even glance my way as he stepped up to the table.
"Byrne," Hoffman barked out as she entered. "You were EOD. What do you have for me?"
Sam rubbed her forehead, leaving behind a long streak of dirt. "Sir, we're still evaluating, but it looks to be an improvised pressure cooker bomb. Packed with lots of nasty bits to serve as shrapnel, a pocket watch as a timer, could have been tucked under the stage at any time within the past few days. Simple, doesn't require a lot of parts or expertise, and deadly."
"Who could have built something like this?"
Sam shrugged. "Anyone with a work bench and basic bomb building skills? This wasn't a complex bomb. IEDs like this were popular during the Indie war."
"You invited this when your Chairman invited in the Stranded!" Gavriel said in an accusing voice. "We told you how to deal with them, but you insisted on this ludicrous idea of amnesty."
"Has anyone claimed responsibility for the attack?" Marcus asked.
"Not yet," Hoffman answered. "We've quarantined the Stranded element, and are questioning their so-called leaders."
"You don't know it was the Stranded."
The words were out of my mouth before I had even consciously decided to say them. Everyone turned to look at me. "Of course it was the Stranded!" Gavriel argued back. "Who else would it have been?"
"Plenty of people in Pelruan aren't happy that the COG is here, taking over their island," I pointed out. "Matter of fact, I've been shot at twice by your people, Mayor."
Hoffman turned to Marcus with a raised eyebrow, silently demanding an explanation. "Warning shot when we first arrived," Marcus clarified. "I didn't take it personally."
"And another civilian took a pot shot at me during the Stranded attack our first night here," I said. "I'm just saying, maybe some in Pelruan are more upset than you realize."
"They fired at you because, well…" Gavriel motioned vaguely at me. "You looked like-"
"Go ahead, asshole," Dom snarled, stepping bodily into Gavriel's personal space. "Say it. Say what you wanna say."
I looked like I was Stranded, I filled in silently. So, sure, in Pelruan's eyes I deserved to be shot on sight.
"Santiago!" Hoffman snapped in an echoing voice. Marcus grabbed Dom's shoulder and ripped him away from the Mayor. Gavriel fell silent. He looked slightly stricken at Dom's demonstration. For a moment no one said anything, until Hoffman turned to Anya. "Double the patrols in Pelruan as well. Get me a list of everyone in the village who has the skills to build a bomb."
"Colonel, I can assure you that is a waste of time," Gavriel said.
"Call it an over-abundance of caution," Hoffman answered.
"Yes sir," Anya said.
"In the meantime, order any Gear that's been up for more than 26 hours to grab a hot and a cot. If they attack again it'll be under cover of darkness, and I don't need my Gears too tired to shoot straight. Pull back patrols from the farmlands and focus them on the village and base."
I felt someone poke my back, under my plate armor. "That's you," Dom whispered in my ear, as if I'd forgotten.
I shifted away from Dom. Sam, who had been lying against my boots, got to her feet as she prepared to follow me. Mataki turned at the sound of toenails clicking against the wooden floor, and her lips pursed with a thought. "Hey, can that dog bomb sniff?"
The attention once again turned to me and Sam. I considered briefly before answering. "She's not accelerant trained. But if you had something I can scent her off of, she'd probably track it down."
"Byrne?" Mataki said, a question in her voice.
Byrne shrugged. "Most of the parts are pretty standard fare. But the explosive component would be easy to scent – think she'd track down TNT?"
"Worth a shot."
"Do it," Hoffman ordered. "Report if you find anything. I want the bastards responsible for this strung up by sundown."
A chorus of 'yes sirs' echoed around the room as Hoffman strode toward the door. Anya followed after him like an obedient hound. As soon as the door clicked shut behind them I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. Marcus rubbed one fist along his stubbly jaw and sighed. "Alright, Delta, you heard the man. Bri, you're off duty. Dom – you're with me. Mataki, you take Sam and Byrne and see if you can get a scent trace. Baird-"
"Hold up," I interrupted. "She's my dog. No one can read her like I can. If anyone is going to work her, it'll be me."
"You need to sleep," Dom answered. "Colonel's orders."
"I'm fine," I said in a sour voice.
"I've worked with K9 units before," Mataki said. "Damn, bloody useful dogs. I can work with Sam."
"But-"
"Hey, I've been up more than 26 hours," Baird finally spoke up. The silence from him had been getting unnerving. "How come no one cares about me getting my 40 winks?"
"You ain't pretty enough!" Cole answered with a half-hearted chuckle.
"Maybe I would be if I got my beauty sleep!"
Marcus did a long, slow blink as if he wanted to roll his eyes but wouldn't lower himself. "You've got your orders. Baird, rack out. Cole, you're with us."
Everyone moved for the door. "I gotta get the APC back to motorpull," Dom told Marcus as we walked.
"I'll take it," Baird volunteered, then finally glanced at me. "Want me to drop you off at barracks?"
"My, my, Baird," Byrne teased. "If you're being gentlemanly, I may die of shock."
I gave Baird a slight nod as my throat went dry. Here it was – the chance for us to talk, for him to let me down easy, to say I was too young, not his type, not interested – any number of excuses he could have come up with overnight. Dom tossed the keys to Baird, who caught them easily. Sam immediately followed after me, but I stopped her. "Stay," I told her, as Mataki reached down and looped two fingers around her collar. "Scent her off it, then tell her 'find it'. You might want to put her on a leash, or she'll leave you behind."
"Will do," Mataki said as Sam whined softly. Mataki had to tug on her collar to get her to follow her and Byrne.
Marcus, Cole, and Dom started to walk away, but Dom paused as he passed me. "Get some sleep, okay?" he said, resting a hand on my shoulder. "Radio if you need anything."
I nodded once, and he jogged a couple of steps to catch up with Marcus. A few patrols crowded the street, but no civilians to be seen. And, as they passed, it was just Baird and me.
He climbed up in the APC and turned over the engine. I climbed aboard, trying to ignore the pounding in my chest. He didn't glance my way as he easily shifted into gear and maneuvered the narrow city streets. He drove with one hand resting atop the wheel, and the shifter clutched gently between three fingers. We didn't speak the whole way to the vehicle pull. Baird whipped the APC around, and easily backed it into an open bay. I blinked as the sun disappeared behind the garage door, plunging us into darkness.
Baird cut the engine and was out of the cab before I could even move. It took me a second to find my feet before I opened the door and jumped out. As I landed, a hand reached out and shut the door beside me. Looking up, Baird was standing far too close, one hand on the door, pinning me between him and the vehicle.
"We need to talk," he said. His goggles were still pulled down low over his eyes, so I couldn't read his expression.
I glanced around the garage. It was empty; evidently the Gears who usually worked here had been pulled to supplement patrols. "So, talk," I invited him. I squared my jaw and stared at my reflection in his goggles.
The hand he had resting against the door curled into a fist. Evidently he had wanted me to jump in first. Not a chance. "What the hell are we doing here?" he finally asked, using his free hand to motion between us.
I shrugged. "We're friends, remember?"
"Friends?" he leaned away for a second. "I don't usually make out with my friends."
"Not even Cole?"
He didn't answer. Behind his goggles he was impossible to get a read on. Evidently he had planned on this being a serious conversation. I dropped my eyes to my boots. "I like you, alright? More than I probably should. And I get it if you don't feel the same. And I'm sorry about last-"
A wide, warm palm lifted my chin so he could press a sweet, chaise kiss to my lips.
Electricity tingled through my nervous system as he pulled away. Finally Baird was wearing his trademark smirk. "I like you, too," he admitted. "Way more than I should."
I smiled for what felt like the first time in years. The morning's stress faded away from my shoulders as for a moment, I forgot all that was wrong with the world. It was goofy – childish – how we finally admitted our feelings to each other, and to ourselves, but somehow also perfect. Seized by a sudden urge to look in his eyes, I reached up and gently pushed his goggles back up on his forehead. His blue eyes were warm, like sunshine on the water.
"We're going to need some rules," he said, dropping his hand from my cheek down to my waist. "Fraternization is against the regs for a reason."
"Right," I agreed, my head feeling a little disconnected from my body. "Rules."
"Out there, in the field, you're just another soldier. And so am I. That's the only way you don't get assigned to another squad, and I don't get busted down to Private."
"So…no one can know…" I thought it through. "Deal. And that goes double for Dom."
Surprise flitted across Baird's face. "Really? I mean, I'm not complaining. I just kinda figured you two girls shared everything."
I slapped the front of Baird's chest plate. "The world has blinked out of all recognition about a dozen time recently. Two dozen for Dom. Let's…give him time to get settled before we explode his world again."
Baird caught my hand as I went to pull it away, and instead used it to pull me in closer. "So…we doing this?"
My cheeks warmed as the blush took over my face. "You and me?" I hedged as he inched closer. "You know Dom is gonna totally freak if he ever does find out."
My toes curled inside my boots as he pressed his lips to the corner of my jaw. I tilted my head to give him better access. Suddenly I was glad that he had me pressed up against the APC, because otherwise I would have melted into a puddle at his feet. "Frankly, I don't give a damn," he whispered in my ear.
I turned and caught his mouth with my own. The kiss I gave him was anything but chaste. I could hear him groan as he eagerly followed my lead. My fingers trailed upwards before knotting themselves in his hair as our kiss deepened and heated.
A loud clatter at our left interrupted us. The garage door opened as someone lifted it from the outside. Baird and I sprang apart as the morning sun flooded in. Cole stood, holding the door up with one hand. "Come on," he said without a smile. "Y'all are gonna wanna hear this."
Cole led us straight back to command. The room was mostly the same – Hoffman, Anya, Marcus and Dom – with one noticeable difference. Captain Quentin Michaelson, a tall, grizzled man with an iron mustache, stood to the left of the Colonel. Michaelson was the leader of the NCOG, and a man I had only heard of in passing or on the radio.
"We're willing to meet you," an unfamiliar voice said over a HAM radio centered on the table. "Neutral water, no more than two vessels each."
"And remind me why I want to meet you?" Michaelson said, depressing a button on the side of a mouthpiece.
"You're holding a member of our management, and we'd like to discuss terms. We know you haven't killed him yet."
"And what terms could you offer us?"
"If you hand him over, we'll steer clear of Vectes," the man answered. "Maybe stop dropping bombs on your civvies."
Oh. This was the terrorists calling to make their demands after the bombing last night. "Management?" I whispered to Dom, asking for clarification.
"Massy," Dom answered.
Massy – the one imprisoned for raping Bernie. In the aftermath of the attack, I had almost forgotten about him. Was the bombing revenge for taking him prisoner?
"Why should I negotiate with terrorists? With criminals who attack unarmed fishing vessels?" Michaelson asked.
"We haven't touched your boats, man. Not for a while, anyway."
"And I assume I'm to take your word for that? Perhaps another subsidiary of your Stranded enterprise sank the Harvest."
If it hadn't been the Stranded that sank the Harvest, then…I thought back to a few days ago, when Dom and I had brainstormed the how and why the trawler had gone missing. The smart money had been on pirates, or a Stranded gang and a hitchhiking gone bad. But if this man was to be believed, and the Stranded weren't responsible…what else was out there big enough to sink a ship? Were there grubs out on the water attacking boats?
"And if I were to hand this gentleman back to you, instead of standing him in front of a firing squad as he deserves," Michaelson continued, "then I would want that done by your 'management team' in person."
I gasped in outrage, and Dom slapped a hand over my mouth before I could voice my disagreement. Suddenly it struck me that Mataki wasn't present for this conversation. I could only wonder if that was by design. Were they seriously willing to trade off that rapist peace of scum, just so they wouldn't have to hold a trial?
Well, of course they were. They'd done it before. To me.
"And," Michaelson continued, "to show goodwill, I'd like the handover to be at your main location."
"We're not that stupid," the man on the radio answered. "Or trusting. Neutral water, time and coordinates to follow. No more than two vessels each. Nothing bigger than a patrol boat. No tricks. And we want to see that our colleague is alive and unharmed before we do or say anything."
The radio went dead. Michaelson tossed the handheld back onto the table so he could cross his arms. "Sounds like a hell of a deal," Marcus spoke first. "What's the real one?"
"You're seriously considering handing over that rapist piece of shit?" I said once I had worked my way out from under Dom's hand.
"We don't negotiate with terrorists," Hoffman pointed out.
"We could afford to ignore a lot of piracy when the COG had a mainland presence," Michaelson clarified. "Now we can't – Vectes is going to be the single richest target they'll have, and we have to depend on safe seas until we can reclaim the continent. So now's the time to give them a serious smacking and not just dick around picking off the occasional boat when we run into it."
"And maybe see how well they like bombs hidden in their camps," Baird said, with an edge of a threat in his voice.
"Exactly."
"What did you have in mind?" Hoffman asked.
"Find their bases. Cream their vessels and eliminate their members."
"Sends out a message to the noncriminal Stranded, too," Baird pointed out.
Michaelson nodded. "Pirates are harder to pin down than you think. We don't have the reach, or the kit these days. But here we have the opportunity to send a message."
Marcus' eyes narrowed just the slightest. I could tell he wasn't quite on board with this plan. "So, we double cross them on a handover. Blow them out of the water. Don't you have to leave people alive to spread the message?"
"Enough people go missing, they'll figure it out."
"So you kill some of their leadership. What's to stop others from taking their place?" Cole asked.
"People are replaceable. Their boats aren't," Michaelson pointed out.
"Hold up," Baird interrupted. "You want to identify their camps, right? Figure out where the assholes live? How are you going to do that if we're meeting in a neutral area, and you blow them up?"
Michaelson smirked, and I figured it out just as he answered. "The Clement. I've heard you're a very capable engineer, Corporal Baird. Think you can make her sea-worthy before the hand off takes place?"
"Does a bear shit in the woods?"
"Is that a yes?"
"That's a hell yes."
Baird suddenly looked very self-assured. Suddenly the plan made perfect sense. Meet for the handoff, follow the Stranded back home with the submarine, then deploy Gears to wage a suitable response to last night's bombing. There was only one major kink they were ignoring.
"And Mataki?" I asked, looking hard at Hoffman. "Have you spoken to her? Is she okay with this plan?"
Hoffman returned my hard stare. "Leave Bernie to me," he said, in a tone that I knew meant she hadn't been looped in for a reason.
"And if the Stranded attack after the handoff?" Marcus asked.
"Why, that's what you and your squad will be aboard for," Michaelson clarified. "Delta squad – the ultimate deterrent. Assuming that's alright with you, Colonel?"
Hoffman considered a moment, then nodded. "Make sure they don't fall overboard, would you?"
Michaelson clapped his hands together. "I love when a plan comes together. Colonel, you, and I will iron out the details. Baird, I'll radio ahead to the Clement, and they'll have a list ready for you. And, Sergeant," he turned to Marcus, who was examining the map on the table like he was trying to memorize it, "I look forward to seeing you and your squad tomorrow on the water."
"Yes, sir," Marcus answered. I may have imagined it, but there was a slight hesitation in his voice. He motioned us towards the door, and Delta left the command room.
Baird was almost giddy as we walked in a group towards the center of base. He wasn't quite grinning, but there was an undeniable spring in his step. Marcus was far less chipper. His ever-present frown had deepened impossibly further. "Okay, I'll say it," Dom said to Marcus as we walked away from command. "The day you start wondering if we're being fair to fucking pirates is the day I haul you off to Doc Hayman to get your head examined."
"Fair?" Marcus said. "They're assholes. They kill and prey on innocent people. I just feel…uneasy. That's all."
"Talk to Bernie. Get yourself mad. Then declare war on the mother fuckers. I have. I'm fine with it."
"Man, it's barely a step above entrapment," Cole pointed out.
"They started this," Baird said. "Would you care if they were grey and had scales?"
"'Course not," Marcus answered. "Hoffman tasked us on this mission. We'll do our jobs. In the meantime, we've got our orders." From his voice it sounded like the conversation was over. He, Cole, and Dom peeled off towards the mess hall. I hesitated, trailing behind until Dom noticed I no longer was in step.
"You coming?" he asked.
"I'm going to hit the barracks," I lied smoothly. "See you later?"
He nodded, then jogged a couple of steps to catch up with Marcus. I waited until they turned the corner before turning back to face Baird. He had his arms crossed over his chest, and a self-satisfied smirk entrenched on his face.
"You look like the cat who caught the canary," I said accusingly.
"I'm having a good day," he defended himself. "I got to kiss a pretty girl, and now I get to go play with a submarine."
I quickly glanced around. The square was too crowded for us to be alone, but no one was within earshot. "I kinda want to ask which one of those makes you happier, but I'm actually afraid you'll tell me."
He sighed dramatically. "I just called you pretty, and you're still jealous over the Clement."
"Of course I'm jealous," I said with a smile. "I know which one of us is going to keep you up all night."
I saw his hand twitch towards me, like he wanted to pull me in close but remembered last second that we were in public. "Don't worry," he said as we walked. "I'll be thinking of you the whole time."
Rolling my eyes, I waved him off. He broke south to head towards the docks, and I wandered towards the barracks. I headed upstairs towards our room, pulling the key out of my pockets as I took the stairs two at a time. I had only meant to stop for a minute, but once inside the cool darkness of the room called to me. Warm rays of sunlight peered around the threadbare curtains Dom had hung up. My bed was still made in the corner. I hadn't slept in it since the day prior. Exhaustion crept in close, and I considered falling in between the blankets and surrendering to blissful sleep.
Then a mental image of the man and his lost arm flashed across my consciousness. For a minute I swore I could feel his blood pulsing out from between my fingers. I grabbed my ear plugs, and let the door slam shut behind me.
The smell of burnt gunpowder teased its way up my nose, making me fight the urge to sneeze. Gun smoke and exhaustion made my eyes itch, but the rhythmic firing of my pistol drowned out my own thoughts. Downrange my target was so full of bullet holes that it was little more than hanging scraps of paper. I felt my gun click as I pulled the trigger a final time, so I dropped the empty mag and reloaded with a spare. My sights were aimed downrange again before the echoes of the last shot had faded.
After I had left the barracks I headed for the gun range, and found it mercifully empty. Stored with the ammo was a collection of gun cleaning tools. I had field stripped my rifles and pistol, going over every piece and brushing hard with some gun scrubber. Then, when even the tiniest cotton swab came back squeaky clean, I had decided to dirty them up again.
I was halfway through my new mag when a hand reached out and plucked one of my earplugs out of my ear, making me jump about half a foot in the process. I whipped my head around to find Bernie standing far too close to me. She already had one finger out in an accusatory point, a glare settled on her face. "Are you trying to piss me off?" she snarled at me, "Or are you just incapable of following a single damn order?"
Biting back anger, I simply shrugged. "This relaxes me."
Sam stood at her side, wagging her tail from left to right. She nudged my hand, then tucked her nose into my palm to beg for pats. Mataki held one hand out for my pistol, and I handed it over. She dropped the loaded mag, then pulled the slide back to release the chambered round. "How long have you been up?" she asked.
There was a pause as I calculated, rubbing Sam's ears. "Thirty-six, no…thirty-seven hours."
"Consequences of sleep loss include slowed reaction times, reduced alertness, attention deficits, impaired problem solving…" Mataki listed off. "And royally pissing off your sergeant."
"I'm fine," I insisted, removing the other plug from my ear.
"I didn't ask if you were fine. You were ordered to get some sleep. Now, I don't care if you gotta super-glue your eyelids shut and count sheep until they turn into sweaters. Get."
My hand stopped mid-stroke on Sam's head. I couldn't meet Bernie's eyes, although I could feel her glaring at me. I couldn't outright refuse a direct order, but I wasn't sure how to explain why I couldn't do as she asked.
Bernie sighed, and placed my pistol on the bench next to the empty mags. "Alright private, spill. What's wrong?"
I started to shake my head, but found myself answering instead. Maybe being tired did affect your reflexes. "I'll see him in my sleep tonight."
Mataki nodded once, long and slow. "Nightmares?"
"Just the one."
"Wanna talk about it?"
I shook my head. "It's not really something I can talk about." I brushed a hand over my eyes, smelling the burnt powder that stuck to my fingers. "The bombing yesterday…it brought up some stuff. Stuff that I thought I had handled. And I know…if I fall asleep now, I'll have to watch him die all over again."
Mataki rested a hand on my shoulder and guided me to a nearby bench. Once we were seated, I heard her sigh. "Shit, kid. The whole world has nightmares. I'd be more worried if you could see the things we have and not have trouble sleeping. But you can't spend your whole life running from it. You damn sure can't just decide to never sleep again." She paused, waiting for a response but I didn't have one to give her. She was right, of course. And I didn't have the energy to argue.
"Besides," she continued. "I'm not taking a soldier who's dragging arse out to a prisoner exchange."
My head snapped up as I finally met her gaze. "You talked to Hoffman? About trading Massy?"
She nodded. "Yeah. And I'm okay with it. It's better this way; at least some good will come out of this whole mess."
"And I'm coming on the mission?"
"Only after you get forty winks," she said, with a slight smile. This was it – a real, complete mission with Delta. Not just patrolling, or training. My first mission as a full Gear. I leapt to my feet to gather my things and clear my firing lane.
Bernie chuckled when she saw my excitement. "Relax. The mission's not until tomorrow. And everything on the radio has been quiet. We're going to go to the mess and get a decent dinner in you, then you're going to take a nice long shower and relax. And if you show up bleary-eyed tomorrow then I will not hesitate to leave your arse behind."
"Yes ma'am! Come on, Sam!"
Author's Note: Oh boy. This next chapter is going to be a doozy. Sorry that it took so long to get this written; a lot of plot lines are starting to converge, and I want to make sure I get it right.
Also, just saying…we're only 14 reviews away from 300! Would be pretty cool to hit that. Again, just saying…
Thanks for reading!