We've Got Your Back

I got back to my apartment in the Bronx that night a little after nine. And before I even had a chance to pour a martini, The Source found me again.

Unknown User has added you to the chat. Say hi!

Unknown User: I hear Langley gets a ton of rain this time of year. I hope you remembered your raincoat.

KT: Now how the f*k could you possibly know I was in Langley today?! Are you spying on me?

Unknown User: It's simple logic. I knew you wouldn't sit on that package for long, that you'd go to Fed-Sec right away. And in full transparency, I am keeping an eye on you. You're my lifeline right now, so I don't want anything bad to happen to you.

KT: I don't appreciate people watching me without telling me. You do something like that again, we're through and damage risk or not, I'm taking everything I have public.

Unknown User: I'm sorry. It won't happen again. No secrets going forward, I promise. Where are we at with Fed-Sec?

KT: My cop buddy thinks he can run down the money. That should flush Blackjack out into the open. He also thinks we should keep the Fleet away from it for the time being.

Unknown User: Good, that's better than I hoped for. And he's right. We should keep the fleet out of it until we have a good case. This should help your Fed-Sec Guy.

[six files uploaded]

KT: ?

Unknown User: Financial records, bank statements, the address to a safe deposit box on Bolia and the code for the key.

KT: I've got two more things to ask. My cop buddy says this is probably going to get bad. Anyone with a handout is going to be really mad. What do you think we should do about that? And how do you have all this evidence just on hand like that? And just who the f*k are you?!

Unknown User: That's 3 questions.

KT:

Unknown User: LOL, just wanted to smile for once. I've been working on this for 2 years, and Blackjack wasn't exactly careful about covering up his tracks. I'm still not ready to tell you about me just yet, but just know, for now, I'm a friend. As for the blowback… I think the Marines can help us. Do you know Dan Beckenridge?

KT: Yeah, Dan's a friend too.

Unknown User: It's good to have friends like that. Let him in on our little party. I'll leave it to you how much to tell him, but remember he's got a big stake in this because of Bagsley.

KT: I'll head to Beaufort tomorrow. Any preference on the blouse I should wear, since you're keeping an eye on me and all?

Unknown User: The pink one looks really cute on you If we make it through this I'll buy you dinner at the River Café. Good luck in Beaufort tomorrow. I'll be back again in a little while. Don't forget to look up.

Unknown User has logged off.

I might be nervous around cops, but it takes everything in me sometimes not to laugh at Marines, even if the group they work for bothers me in a legal and philosophical sense.

I'll never understand how to Marines can wake up at 0430, drill and run like their lives depend on it, be so meticulously dedicated to their training and their skills that they can disassemble and reassemble a rifle blindfolded… and then do something as stupid as start an impromptu wrestling match in the mud to try to impress a reporter.

"Giddie on lil' piggie!" one Tall Marine said to the shorter Marine he had locked in keyhole, "Do us a lil' oinkie for the ol'pigeon there!"

And what did our shorter Marine do? Oink.

The Sharkies are fiercely competitive. Not just with each other. The FMC has had to fight to justify its existence for almost 40 years, to me, to the Federation Council, to Starfleet… to anyone who isn't a Marine. The way they stay ahead of it is by being the best at everything when it comes to fighting.

As I walked down the concrete of camp, two more Sharkies started running back and forth across the parade deck, carrying crates of some kind over their heads. The shorter of the pair looked pissed off. "God damnit Sharkie! Move your lazy fat ass! We're still six seconds off the company record!"

The Taller of the pair hefted his crate along and shouted back at the short one. "I'll need three seconds to shove my foot up your ass, bootneck. Move it up!"

They were both working up a terrible sweat in their grey jackets and black pants. The part of me that was a 28 year old single reporter from NYC admired the bravado and testosterone. The part of me that did her undergraduate studies at MIT before getting her Bachelor of PoliSci at McGill thought it was terribly stupid.

I felt dreadfully out of place in a pink blouse, a black tartan skirt, fishnet stockings and stiletto boots among the sea of grey jackets and black pants. Camp Nath is an incredibly busy place at all hours of the day. Running, training, shouting, shooting training rounds, shipping off to assignments. But the Marines themselves still had time to look.

More then a few Marines stopped and drunk in the sight of me. And, in as much a surprise to me as it may be to my readers, the majority of the Marines who stopped to look at me were female.

"Hey, Pigeon," one very tall, very pretty, and very well built Andorian shen said to me slowly and softly, "Stop by the Officer's Club later, I'll buy you a drink."

I was flattered – and pretty intimidated – but I had to take care of business before pleasure, as much as I wanted a drink at that moment, to say nothing of the intimidating but flattering company on offer.

After wandering around for a few minutes, I found Dan Beckenridge at the motor pool working on an old-style combustion engine that belonged to an even older vehicle he called a Bradley IFV, which he explained to me later was a much older cousin of his 5th Mech's Lynx IFVs.

And as usual of a Marine, Dan was never one for mincing words, or decorum. Dan Beckenridge was born on Turkana IV, an ex-Federation colony that descended to chaos after they voted to leave the Federation. His father, a corrupt police officer turned gangster, was gunned down by a rival gang in his kitchen when Dan was just 12 years old. On his own until he was able to escape into the Corps at 17, Dan has little time for anything that isn't a Marine.

"That blouse looks ridiculous and you're distracting my Marines, Terev. Toss me the #14 wrench and tell me what you want. Otherwise, put a jacket on and go bother someone else, I'm trying to get some real work done here."

I had to smirk. The fashion sense of a Marine is about as refined as their tactical knowledge. And that's a compliment and a curse. I brought him the wrench and the PADD with the details about Blackjack and Bagsley, and stepped back to time how long it took for him to switch to violence. 30.26 seconds, about 10 seconds faster than I predicted.

"That spineless son-of-a-bitch!" Dan shouted, hurling the wrench into the side of the Bradley, "I had a feeling he was in on getting our ride called off during Horizon, but if I'd known that gambling mother fucker was in on getting Bagsley captured?!"

The amusement ended, and the fear started. Dan picked up his rifle from the worktable, charged it, and looked me dead in the eyes. "You know where he is? Fuck it, I don't even need an exact location. Just get me a vector and he'll be dead this time next week."

You can't just kill him, Dan.

I probably said that about three times that afternoon. He stepped about an inch away from my face. At 6'4 and 260lbs of finely-honed FMC killing power, My 5'2 and 106lbs of journalistic integrity was fearing for her life just then.

"And why the fuck not?" Dan said to me, calmly, with a coldness in his voice that terrified me more than his screaming, "Unless that video you just showed me is bullshit, you just gave me confirmation that Blackjack Ashcroft wronged a fellow Marine. That makes him my enemy. Do you know I deal with my enemies?"

I could only shake my head. Dan snapped the charging handle of his phaser rifle into battery. The snap of metal mixed in with the unmistakable hum of the phase crystals powering up made me jump.

Dan looked down at me, and said to me, so low and so cold that I thought my very soul had frozen. "I kill my enemies."

I've done embedded assignments in warzones. I've been on starships where warp cores were seconds from exploding. I've sat face-to-face in the same room with serial killers, knowing the closest guard was five minutes away. Not once did I shake those times. But today? Today, I was shaking.

It took every bit of courage I had, and I'm still sure my voice wasn't nearly confident enough.

If we kill him, the Federation won't ever know what he did. If we bring him in alive, he stands trial, and he has to tell the galaxy what he's done.

Thirty seconds. That's how long Dan continued to stare me down. The eternity of thirty seconds. A hundred thoughts ran through my head. Would Dan shoot me? Would I run away? What would happen next?

Dan's hand snapped the safety catch of his phaser rifle. The sudden snap made me jump, but he turned away, put the rifle back on the worktable, picked up his wrench, and went back to work on the Bradley's engine.

After a few stunned moments of silence, he looked at me again. "I'm guessing you got a plan?"

After I shook the sense back into my head, I explained everything to him that John and the Source had told me. He nodded, and then seconds later made me jump as she shouted yet again. "Lance Ashryr! Motor Pool, on the bounce!"

And ten seconds later, that very tall, very pretty, and very well built Andorian shen appeared and shouted back to Dan. "Lance Corporal Ashryr, reporting as ordered, Colonel!"

"Lance, you and 2 Section are officially detailed to guard duty over the Pigeon here until otherwise notified. I want three rifles with her at all times and no less than nine observers on her dwelling. Understood?"

"Aye Colonel!"

Just like that, Ahsryr left on the bounce (a theme the FMC freely admits they stole from the Heinlein novel), and for the next few months, I had a personal guard of 12 finely-honed killing machines called the Federation Marines that went with me everywhere I went. As much as their service bothers me, I'll admit that I've never felt safer in my life. Especially with Dan's final words before I left Camp Nath that day.

"Don't worry about a thing, Pigeon. We've got your back."


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