Voice Rhythm
James Seabury, reporting live from Aldastan with the BNN WarFront team. It is three days into the Battle of Bishkek, with no end in sight. I'm here at the city's airport, watching cargo planes full of fresh supplies and soldiers arriving in the war zone. Chinese troops and American bombs continue to pour into the city, which is burning under the onslaught.
But GLA militants are not giving an inch. They continue to fight from garrisoned buildings, aided by deadly snipers, booby traps, and well-concealed tunnel ambushes. Entire neighbourhoods have been destroyed, and there are reports of civilians being rounded up into detention camps by American commandos. The few civilians who've been willing to speak with me say they are watching the destruction of their homes by a new set of foreign occupiers. I-
I'm sorry, our Chinese hosts are telling us we need to cut the transmission. James Seabury, signing off.
-BNN WarFront news program
November 7th, 1995 - Tashkent, Uzbekistan, USA Air Base Dugan - 0645 hours
"You're crazy, you know that?"
"What's the matter, flyboy? They don't have sweat in Australia?"
Parker just grinned as he jogged along. Over the past couple days he'd been punched, burned, shot at, nearly blown up, and in a bone-jarring car chase. None of that had affected his stride. Behind him, Grady Keller puffed as he struggled to keep up with the sniper's early-morning PT run around the runway where the Rorqual was parked.
Both men were sweating hard despite the morning chill. Ten years older and accustomed to serving with his ass in a plane's cockpit, Keller was slugging it out behind Parker more out of pride than anything else. Parker respected his guts, but he was still gonna run the guy into the ground.
A neat line of Rangers trotted past the runway, Colonel Burton and his Achilles Team eyeing the Rorqual as they passed. The Special Forces troops had just come from the base's shadowy, windowless Detention Camp, whose razor wire could be seen glinting under the morning Sun from the runway.
Parker tossed them a wave and a shit-eating grin. Burton returned a glare. The Rangers were kitted out for a raid, and sizing up the Rorqual like they were on reconnaissance.
"Nice… bloke…" Keller said between pants.
"Burton? Oh, sure. Real nice." Parker rolled his eyes, talking without missing a step. "We made his guys look like chumps with that rescue the other night. He'd blow this plane straight off the runway if he got the chance."
The two men finished their last lap around the Rorqual, one of them on much steadier legs than the other. Keller had to bend over, hands on his knees, and catch his breath before he could speak again. Parker threw his head back as he drained half a bottle of water, then handed the rest to the grateful pilot.
"Our welcome's wearing thin, isn't it?" Keller said between gulps. "Wish we could wrap up Doctor Thrax and get the hell out of here."
Parker shrugged. "Doc said the hostage needed his beauty rest. Can't blame her. They really worked the poor guy over."
"Hope whatever he knows is fucking worth all this."
"Tell me about the symbol."
In the Rorqual's meeting room, Black Lotus pushed a photograph across the table to Adilet Kulov. It showed an arched scorpion's tail within a squared triangle: the calling card of whoever had tried to kill Doctor Thrax at the Black Market, three days ago.
Adilet was now wearing a spare set of tan overalls rather than filthy rags, and looked much healthier than the broken, exhausted man the team had rescued. He took the photograph and eyed it for a long, silent moment.
Black Lotus waited for him. She was the only person on Echo Nine who spoke Russian, which made her the sole candidate to debrief Adilet. Everyone needed this man's information, and needed it now.
She had wanted to debrief the hostage immediately after the mission, after Adilet spent hours guiding them back to friendly lines through the twisting warren of GLA tunnels beneath Bishkek. But Lieutenant Toyama had insisted on letting the civilian recover from his ordeal before obtaining his vital intelligence. Captain Solomon had sided with his second-in-command, as always.
Toyama was hovering outside the room even now, keeping a close eye on her patient for signs of stress or exhaustion despite not speaking a word of Russian. The medic herself seemed sharper and more confident since shedding blood on the rescue mission. Her brown eyes were still friendly and open to all, but hardened any time she suspected a threat to her patient. She'd given Lotus more than one hard stare while insisting on Adilet's recovery.
Lotus had stared right back. Their supposedly elite special operations team had wasted a day waiting for a civilian to wake up. Adilet had spent the time dead asleep, rising only to drink water, eat, bathe, drink more water, and let Lieutenant Toyama treat his injuries. Solomon had called it needed recovery time after the rescue op. Black Lotus would rather have kept working, despite her own bruising.
She had spent the forced downtime collating and analyzing available intelligence on the Battle of Bishkek and the surrounding Central Asian War. General Kwan's tank columns had shifted their Eastern advance to secure the Kumtor gold mine, one of Aldastan's biggest natural resources. The Russian offensive into Kazakhstan, the GLA's political and military heartland, was slowing down as guérillas ambushed and sabotaged their logistics. The European Allies had condemned Communist "aggression" and implored the United States to stop cooperating with the Red bloc, to no avail.
Within Bishkek itself, Colonel Burton's Achilles Team had raided a mosque last night in search of Doctor Thrax, snatching a dozen detainees off to interrogation in the Detention Camp. General 'Pinpoint' Townes was raining laser-guided airstrikes onto suspected militant supply caches to strangle the enemy's resources. General 'Tigress' Liang's airborne troops had pushed down Chüy Prospekti to seize Ala-Too Square, the core of Bishkek. Chinese and American media were united in confidently predicting the GLA's imminent defeat.
Lotus wasn't so sure. Through her laptop, she saw the real figures and pictures that the media would never access: Chinese tanks destroyed by cheap IEDs. A $25 million Chinook helicopter, trailing smoke and turning homeward after being hit by a $100 RPG rocket. Bishkek civilians picking up rifles and firebombs alongside GLA militias as their homes burned around them. And entire squads of Chinese troops sprawled dead in the street, wiped out by an unseen sniper who never missed, never revealed himself, and never got touched by artillery or airstrikes.
Jarmen Kell was stalking the battlefield like a wolf among sheep. Just like he had in Beijing.
She could sense some hidden pattern beneath the data, lurking like a crocodile at a shore. Doctor Thrax had provoked this war by attacking Beijing. Now he was throwing away his resources in a hopeless confrontation with superior forces, while exposing himself to the shadow faction that wanted him dead. Why?
This question hung in the back of Lotus' mind as she waited for Adilet to finish examining the photograph. Eventually he pushed it back to her, with a question of his own.
"Do you have family, Agent Lotus?"
She pursed her lips for a moment, then let her face fall, a crafted display of grief. "My mother was in Beijing when the gas came. The GLA… killed her."
A lie, but perhaps a useful one for this task. The lost child sent to the Black Lotus program from a State orphanage may have once had blood ties, but the Party had carefully shaped the heart and mind of the adult who left the program so that she would have no relationships beyond serving China. They'd made her the perfect agent, and the perfect agent would say whatever was necessary to achieve her objective.
Adilet nodded slowly, his face stony. "I understand. I have also lost many. The wars, the famine, the revolution…"
He shook his head. Black Lotus waited for him again, quietly cracking the tension out of her knuckles. Her fingers were poised over her open laptop, ready to record data.
"I have a sister and nephew," he said. "Amina. Umar. All I have left. They're in a UN refugee camp, across the border. No medicine, no heat, no dignity. Do you understand?"
Lotus suppressed a sigh and started typing, looking up information instead of inputting it. "What do you need?"
"A new life, somewhere safe." Adilet stared into her, his brow casting a shadow over his face under the meeting room's bright lights. "Europe, maybe. Please, help me one more time."
"I can arrange money, documents and a flight," she said. "But it will take time. And we must know things now, to stop the GLA."
Adilet looked at her as though he was trying to see through her eyes, into her brain, into her heart. Agent Lotus kept her face blank and professional, in control.
"We've heard so many promises from foreigners," he said. "Russians, Arabs, China, USA. Forgive me, but I need to hear from my family once they are already on a plane, with the papers in their hands. Then I will tell you."
Black Lotus decided that being nice had run its course. Now it was time to be effective.
"Mr. Kulov," she said. "Consider your position. You're a known GLA member. You've confessed that your engineering skills built structures and tunnels which terrorists are using to kill Chinese and American soldiers as we speak. What do you think will happen if you don't cooperate?"
Adilet shrugged, slow, heavy. "They'll take me, I suppose." He held up a hand to show the puckered scars of his captivity. "I've had worse."
"Yes, but this time we won't be able to rescue you."
"Of course." Adilet's face darkened. "Because you would never have helped me if I was being tortured by China or the Americans, no? Then you would just ask them for your precious information. Even as they burn my home."
He shoved the photo of the scorpion emblem back across the table to her.
"To you, I'm just a thing that contains data. Like a computer disk you found in a box. But I am a man. And I won't serve you until you help my family."
Frowning, Lotus typed a quick message to Captain Solomon's pager.
We need more time.
"King Solomon? Seriously, Ben?"
Ben 'King' Solomon just shrugged. He still wore his shining silver sunglasses as he ate his breakfast oats. He'd slipped away from his squad at the mess hall to sit outside the barracks and eat with his little brother, whose tan GDI uniform stood out among the American personnel like a goose among ducks. They were getting looks from USA soldiers passing by, but if King cared, he didn't show it.
"It was right there, Jim. Wish you'd thought of it, huh?"
"Wouldn't be caught dead calling myself 'King Solomon.'" Jim spoke offhandedly as he checked his buzzing pager.
"Nah, I forgot. You're the code name expert, now." King wiggled his fingers dramatically. "'Echo Nine.' Sexy. Mysterious. Sounds like a telemarketing company."
"Dear Mom, I regret to inform you that Ben is never coming home from the Army," Jim said, writing in the air using his fork as a pen. "Because you see, I had to shoot his ass after he ran his mouth too many times."
King snorted and dug at his oats. The glow of the Uzbekistan sunrise flared orange across his shades.
"Yeah, Ma wishes you wrote to her. What, the UN doesn't have a post service?"
Jim didn't know what to say to that. He poked at his eggs a moment, ignoring the lingering, buzzing pain in his hand from the Tesla zap he'd taken. Ben pressed him.
"Look, Jim. I know it's been a long time, but I didn't ask you here just to bust your chops. We gotta talk about the asset you're holding in that big dumbass plane of yours."
Now Jim looked up.
"His name is Adilet."
"No, his name is 'confirmed GLA member with vital intelligence who needs interrogating by experts'. You gotta hand him over to the Detention Camp guys so they can start workin' on him."
Jim frowned, set down his fork.
"Hold on. We brought him in. Our op, our intel. He's GDI's responsibility now."
"Yeah, and he's in a plane sitting on an American runway, which is sucking up American fuel and supplies, in an American base full of American soldiers trying to win a damn war." King punctuated each point with a raised finger. "Held by a UN 'fact-finding' team that one, isn't fooling nobody, and two, doesn't have a legal leg to stand on, here."
"Ben, I promised I'd help this man. He's not the enemy. He's one of their victims."
King shook his head. "You and your bleeding heart. He's a Gladys engineer, Jimmy. If he's lucky, he'll spend the rest of his life in prison… after the CIA is done with him."
Jim set his jaw. "Yeah. That's what you're into these days, huh? Torture, assassination, bombing civilians-"
"Don't start this shit again-"
"-This is exactly why I stayed with the UN!" Jim set aside his eggs so he wouldn't spill his breakfast while he gestured.
"You could have come with me-"
"I can't be part of this. There have to be lines."
"For the-" Ben's shining shades reflected Jim's angry face right back at him. "This is urban warfare. We're all getting our hands dirty out here. Including you, man. You're runnin' an illegal black ops unit! With Chinese backing, too."
Ben shook his head.
"You know the PLA is here to conquer this country, right? Having the same enemy isn't the same as having a friend. We found that out after New York. Two thousand dead, and did the Allies have our backs? Nah, they ditched us. So here we are, on our own."
Jim couldn't think of a single thing Ben had said that wasn't objectively true.
He felt the argument slipping away, just like it always did. His brother always seemed too big, too strong, too good to ever stand against.
Silence hung between them for a moment. Jim's eggs were getting cold. King sighed, and shook his head.
"Look, I'll give you something," Ben said. "If only so you'll get a clue how serious this is. That scorpion symbol? It doesn't matter, forget it. What really matters is what Thrax was buying at that Black Market."
Jim raised an eyebrow and waited. King's face was carved from stone.
"Strategy Center went over the intel we snagged on the raid. It all points to one place. Doctor Thrax has been making sarin nerve gas."
Solomon stared.
"Sarin? The shit Stalin used in Greece?"
King nodded. "Colourless, odourless, but it sure as Hell ain't painless. He's been importing the ingredients and manufacturing it in-country. Calls it 'Gamma.' Must be saving it for something special."
"Like wiping out two armies who've invaded Aldastan."
Another nod. "Thrax will be the man who beat two superpowers with one attack. Making him Gladys' top dog overnight."
Jim closed his eyes. He saw the trap now, ready to spring. He had warned the Chinese that the atrocity in Beijing could be a provocation. Now they'd taken the bait, right along with the USA, and they didn't know when the jaws would close on them.
But Solomon did have an idea where Thrax could have bought sarin components from. Maybe from a man who was running secret biohazard sites in the middle of the Sinai Desert, sites worth killing to protect. 'Prince' Kassad.
"I need to talk to General Townes," Jim said.
"Pinpoint's running a war. He has no time for you," Ben retorted. "I'll bottom-line it for you, bro. You have an asset that can tell us about Thrax's gas program. Either you hand him over now, or Colonel Burton is gonna roll up to your plane to come get him."
"He can't do that."
King scoffed. "You serious? This is the guy who killed 'Demo' Aziz. The man retook Baikonur. Colonel Burton answers direct to the President of the United States, and he can do whatever the Hell he wants."
Solomon's big brother leaned toward him, casting a shadow, the sunrise flaming an orange halo behind him.
"Jim, you got one friend on this base - just one- and he's sittin' right here, right now, telling you to hand the fucker over."
Jim had nothing to say to that. Instead, he thumbed at his pager again.
Get him talking or Burton will take him. Out of time.
In the plane, Black Lotus glanced at the text message from Solomon popping up on her laptop screen. Her fingers kept dancing on the keyboard, keeping pace with her racing mind.
Across the table, Adilet had folded his arms, tucked his bearded chin, and was trying to glare a hole through her head. He'd made it clear they had nothing further to talk about until his family had their escape assured.
Lotus thought fast, reviewing what she knew about Adilet, trying to read the eyes beneath his heavy brow. He would not be intimidated. He would not alter his terms. And she would be surprised if the CIA could break him after Doctor Thrax's men had failed.
Information could not solve this problem, nor could force. All her skill with computers could not get his family out of the country any faster. What did that leave?
Black Lotus put on her most earnest, helpful face, trying to channel Solomon's conviction or Toyama's compassion.
"The Americans call you 'terrorist.' But I know you didn't help them by choice," she offered.
Adilet nodded. "Workers get to eat. We all do what we have to, here."
"That must have felt shameful," suggested Lotus. "Doing their bidding after all they've done."
He frowned. "Yes."
"Not being able to help your sister."
"Yes. I couldn't visit, couldn't write." Adilet lifted his head, scowling. "They laughed when I asked. They told me to bring her to Bishkek so she could marry a GLA man."
"For a supposed 'Liberation' army, they treat people like dogs."
He unfolded his arms, and laid his clenched fists on the table. "Agent Lotus, you are trying to manipulate me."
"Not at all," she said. "By the way, I've reserved your family's flight to Germany, and their bus to the airport."
Adilet blinked. "What?"
Lotus turned her laptop around so he could see the tickets and the routes. She'd even translated them into Russian for his eyes.
"They leave in three days," she said. "We could send them sooner, but it's better for us to be certain their money and papers are ready, don't you think?"
He brushed a stray hair from his beard, and carefully scanned the screen for any trick. "Yes, that seems wise."
"Of course, a lot can happen in three days," Lotus continued. "By then, Doctor Thrax could have killed us all with his nerve gas."
She turned the laptop away, back towards her. "Certainly he will have killed many more people while we wait to evacuate two. Hundreds, maybe thousands. Brothers. Sisters."
Adilet frowned at her. Then he looked out the airplane's window, across the tarmac of the American base. Southwards, to where his home was crumbling. Lotus noted he was not surprised by the mention of nerve gas.
"We have a chance to punish Thrax, and all the others," Lotus continued, softly, carefully now. "To stop the suffering. But time is running out."
The engineer frowned. "And I suppose once Thrax is dead, your armies will pack up your tanks and go home in peace?"
"I don't know," Lotus lied. "Perhaps China will be satisfied once Beijing is avenged. But with Thrax gone, the future will be in the hands of men like you. Not madmen with no decency."
Adilet didn't answer for a moment. Lotus waited and watched. Then he spoke, still not looking at her.
"When the GLA took over, they made a big speech to us in the central square. They promised they would kill the foreigners, kill the criminals, kill the corrupt. Many people cheered.
"But my brother-in-law, my sister's husband, stood and asked a question. He was a teacher, you see? The children loved him. He asked the rebels what they would build."
Black Lotus knew the GLA had only one answer for that kind of question.
"They shot him," she said.
"Eventually."
Lotus nodded solemnly. Quietly, she sent Solomon another text.
I almost have him. Stall.
Jim glanced at his buzzing pager, then returned his full focus to his brother.
"If Burton storms a UN plane, it'll cause an incident. You don't need that right now."
King scoffed. "C'mon, man. No one takes the UN- sorry, "GDI" - seriously. What are they gonna do? Pass a resolution?"
"This GDI team might surprise you."
That gave Ben pause for a moment.
"Are you seriously going to fight American soldiers, Jimmy? That's treason. Not to mention suicide. Burton won't hesitate."
Jim leaned towards him.
"If Burton's willing to kill your brother for a chance to torture a civilian, then maybe it's time to ask yourself who the good guys are here."
King set his mouth in a line.
"We're trying to stop the GLA. That's all that matters."
"Really?" Jim leaned further, bringing his face closer to his brother's. "By that standard, China's the good guys. But didn't you say they're here to conquer?"
Ben sat back, scoffing, shaking his head. He didn't say anything.
"Maybe we're all getting dirty hands here," Solomon continued, the Voice of God flowing clear and strong now. "But there's still got to be right and wrong. Otherwise, it's all pointless. Just different groups of assholes killing each other over different flags."
"Just because you don't like it doesn't mean it doesn't work, bro," King insisted.
"You sure about that?" Jim said. "Two years of raids and airstrikes. Is the GLA any weaker? They're still killing. Ask Beijing."
He lifted his chin and looked his brother in the eye.
"A soldier without honour has already been defeated. Kosygin."
"You really wanna do this?" Ben asked. "Fine. War is Hell and you cannot refine it. Sherman."
"The life of the nation is secure only when the nation is honest, truthful and virtuous," Jim responded without missing a beat. "Douglas."
"The strong do what they can and the weak suffer what they must," said Ben. "Herodotus."
"Wrong, Ben," Jim cut in. "That's Thucydides. Running with Burton's got you seeing things sideways."
"Really? Shit, hold on-"
"One more," Jim insisted. "Just one. If you need to hide it from me, then you already know it's wrong. I know you know that one."
Ben scowled. "Low, man. That's low."
Jim shrugged. "Hey, you're the one who brought Mom up earlier. Think about it, Ben. What would she say if she saw what's inside the Detention Camp? If she knew what Burton wants to do to Adilet?"
A long silence. Ben's eyes were unreadable behind his silver glasses. He ducked his head, and poked at his breakfast half heartedly.
"I never wanted to walk away from you, Ben," Jim added quietly. "But maybe you walked away from yourself. Time to come back."
Solomon heard boots on tarmac, heavy and purposeful, getting closer. He looked, and saw Colonel Burton marching toward him, hoisting a 'Vulture' combat shotgun ideal for clearing out close-quarters targets. Eight Rangers of Achilles Team were with him, fully armed and ready for a raid. They were looking towards the Rorqual.
"Time's up, King,' said Burton, looming over the brothers. "What's it gonna be?"
Lotus passed the photo of the scorpion emblem back to Adilet, who examined it again. His face was grave.
"I know very little," he admitted. "A different cell. Very secret, very well funded, maybe outside the GLA. People join, then they disappear. I heard them called the 'Brotherhood' once."
"Do you know why they hate Thrax?" Lotus spoke as she typed, putting down notes while her laptop's microphone recorded Adilet's words.
Adilet looked at the wall, remembering.
"Thrax - or his double, rather - met a man from Cobra Cell. General Kassad's people, from far away. I was fixing the wiring in the Market, I overheard some things. Thrax paid a lot of American cash for chemicals, and information on the Brotherhood. Something about a crystal, I didn't understand. Ah, and they discussed a GPS Scrambler."
"A GPS Scrambler?" Lotus' fingers paused on the keyboard.
"Technology Kassad got from the Brotherhood. Like the Allies' Gap Generators, but smaller, cheaper. It tricks satellites and cameras, hides things from eyes overhead."
Lotus remembered the long, hideous minutes she had wasted hunting for Jarmen Kell as he picked off Chinese soldiers in Beijing. The sniper had somehow made himself invisible to the electronic eyes she saw through.
"So Kassad is betraying the Brotherhood."
Adilet snorted. "Kassad betrays everyone. The man is a snake with legs."
"All right. And then the deal was interrupted?"
There was a pause. Adilet drank a long swallow of water, gulping. "It is hard to say. It sounds like a story for children, something from a legend of ghosts and spirits."
"I know that you're an educated man," Lotus assured him. "Please, describe what you saw."
"There was a… shape in the air." Adilet gestured vaguely. "Large, more than six feet. Fast and strong. It broke people, ripped them apart, cut them with a laser."
"A laser?" Lotus asked. Adilet nodded.
"For certain a laser," he said with an engineer's confidence. "A bright red beam of energy. Like the Americans have experimented with, lasers on turrets and vehicles. But smaller."
He shrugged, and continued. "The guards shot it. It didn't even slow down. Trained men, experienced men. I know they hit it. I slipped away while they died. Then the Americans came in their helicopters, and I kept running until Thrax's men snatched me up and called me a spy. You know the rest."
Black Lotus saved her notes and rested her fingers for a moment, cracking her knuckles, thinking. The lurking shape in the data was clearer to her now.
Doctor Thrax had bought weapons and technology from Prince Kassad. This deal had enabled him to attack Beijing with chlorine gas, produce sarin nerve agent, and lure his enemies into Aldastan for a trap. But Kassad had betrayed the secrets of this shadowy 'Brotherhood' in the process, which was why Thrax was now being hunted by some kind of super-commando with impossibly advanced gear. Kassad himself had to know his days were numbered.
"Do you know where Thrax is now?" She asked. "What is he planning with the gas?"
"I need a map."
Paper maps were inefficient. Black Lotus hit a shortcut on her laptop, and the electronic display screen in the Rorqual's meeting room glowed to life, showing an interactive display of Bishkek. She gestured for Adilet to use it, but he shook his head.
"Zoom it out, please. At least forty kilometers."
Lotus frowned as she did as she asked. The map now showed the area around Bishkek, including the steppe where General Liang's airborne forces had made their landing, the Ala-Too mountains to the north, and the Tian Shan mountains to the South. It was here, to the South, that Adilet pointed.
"There. The National Park. Thrax had us build a base there over the past three years, among the caves and rocks. A miserable job. Absurd demands and a brutal schedule. Many problems, many workers died. Others disappeared after, to keep his secrets. But I was too useful to him. He kept me."
Adilet lowered his hand.
"We installed large tanks and pipes. Good for chemicals. And launchers for big ballistic missiles: Scuds. Nine Scuds. That's why you can't find him in the city: he's planning to launch from outside."
Lotus almost asked how such a base could have avoided detection. But the GPS Scrambler could explain that.
"How much gas does he have now?" She asked.
"Enough to kill the entire city."
Solomon stood up to face Burton and his men. The Special Forces Colonel was like Hollywood's ideal of an all-American military action hero: tall, barrel-chested, with bronzed and calloused skin, muscles on muscles, and squinting gray eyes over a frowning face. Solomon was a well-built man himself, but Burton looked like he could pick him up like a toy.
"Adilet stays with us," Solomon said.
"I was hoping you'd say that," Burton growled, and stalked forward. "King insisted I give you a chance to do the right thing, but I knew you wouldn't. You know why?"
His finger came up and jabbed Solomon in the chest. Hard.
"Because you're not an American soldier, 'Jimmy.' The USA educated you and trained you to serve the flag, and what did you do? You chose the United Nations over your own homeland in a time of war. Maybe you told yourself it was for some misguided idealism, but the truth is?"
Another jab, hard enough to rock Solomon back on his heels. Burton kept going.
"You're a coward and a failure. You couldn't face the reality of war, you abandoned your own brother, and then you got your whole team killed on a peacekeeping mission. You're a disgrace. Which is why my unit of real, loyal American soldiers are about to kick your plane's door in, and-"
Suddenly the finger vanished from James' chest. There was a rush of wind, a sensation of motion. Solomon hadn't seen his brother move, but suddenly Ben was standing between Jim and Colonel Burton, holding the offending finger in his hand.
"Enough, Bruce."
Burton's face went tomato-red. "What?"
"I said enough."
The two men stared at each other. Behind Burton, the members of Achilles Team exchanged confused looks, shuffling their feet. And behind Ben, Solomon checked his pager.
"Well Colonel, it's been nice chatting," Solomon said casually. "But as it turns out, while you were giving your speech there, my team went ahead and got a full, voluntary brief of vital intel from our asset. So it looks like the Detention Camp won't be needed today after all."
He lowered his pager and stepped forward, standing beside his brother.
"Because while I'd love to stay here and tell you about the difference between an honourable soldier and a swaggering thug, I actually have more important things to do that involve saving people's lives. But don't worry: we're going to share every bit of Adilet's info with you and with your Chinese allies. Because that's the only way any of us are winning this - with allies."
Burton gaped at him. Solomon ignored the Colonel, and nodded to his brother. King returned the gesture.
"Good talk, Ben."
"Good talk, James."
Captain Solomon walked past Burton and his team, heading back to the Rorqual and to Echo Nine.
In an earlier design phase, the Rorqual had been intended as fast and comfortable transport for diplomatic VIPs, supporting UN diplomatic summits. Nowadays the plane served as a mobile headquarters for a multinational special forces team, but elements of its previous purpose remained. Like the astounding luxury of an onboard shower.
Parker and Keller were emerging from the shower now, having rinsed off the sweat and dust of their earlier run. The two men entered the plane's main cabin and stopped short. The rest of the team - Solomon, Toyama, Black Lotus, and now Adilet Kulov - were all gathered, all looking like they were at a funeral.
"So," Parker said brightly. "What've you all been talking about?"
A/N: A talky character-focused chapter. I've been fascinated by fiction where characters simply having dialogue can have the same tension and thrill as a fight scene or shootout, and wanted to try my hand at those kinds of conversation here. More action is coming in the next few chapters.
Major Vladimir Kosygin was a Soviet nuclear strategist who defected to the Allies in the war with Stalin. He appears in Missions 9 and 10 in the Allied campaign of RA1. The 'Vulture' combat shotgun is from Renegade.