18% Gray

by Anne Tenino

  Lance gave a long sigh. “It’s James’s show, Matt.” He didn’t sound enthusiastic about it, either.

  “No. Fucking. Way.” He was not putting James through this. “Tell them we’ll run for it. It won’t be easy to find an empath who can sense an ambush a mile off. Or a guy who has top-secret SAIA-sensing technology.”

  “They have guys like James to track him, you know. And what top-secret tech?”

  “Later,” Matt said shortly. “They may have guys like James, but those guys haven’t had their implants ‘developed’ the same way. He can do shit they can’t imagine. And they never will if they don’t cut a decent deal.”

  There was a long silence. Matt looked at James. The look on his face sent a slicing pain through Matt’s chest. He looked destroyed and vulnerable, but as if he’d be okay with that if Matt meant what he was saying. Matt wanted to drop the phone and grab him. Hold him tight, rub his face in his hair—

  “They’ll never go for not being able to study him, Matt.” And didn’t that just sum it all up right there? James wasn’t a soldier anymore; he was a fucking science project. He may not have had any choices about the implant as a soldier, but he had some rights. Matt wouldn’t stand for his humanity being secondary to his implant and what it could do.

  “You’ll never see your family again, Matt.” Grampa said, his voice a little unsteady. “You’d go with him?”

  “I’ll go with him.” Matt was staring into James’s eyes. “If he wants me to.”

  James’s face was slack with shock, but his eyes glistened. James carefully planted a hand above his head on the rough brick wall. He leaned into it, and reached out for Matt with his other hand, gripping Matt’s neck and bringing his head in so James could rest his forehead against it. Like he needed Matt. James sighed and closed his eyes, and Matt could almost see the tension leaking out of him. Matt slid his free hand around James’s waist, gripping fabric and holding on.

  “So, what are you suggesting?” Lance finally asked in the silence.

  “They can study him.” James’s eyes flew open and stared into his. All Matt read was trust. He kept his mind as open as he could, only protecting that last little kernel of emotion he couldn’t bear exposing yet.

  He took a deep breath. “They can study him for two weeks a year, max. And he gets to take a guest with him. Eight-hour days.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.” Lance sounded a little more solid, now. “I might be able to swing this, if James stays with QESA the rest of the year. Anais will probably have to cough up periodic reports.” They both knew that was no issue. Anais didn’t do shit she didn’t want to, and she’d blithely bullshit her way through it and happily admit to it later. Major General Selkirk would back up whatever she chose to do.

  “’K, Grampa. We’ll check in tomorrow night and see where you’re at.”

  “No, Matt, no check-ins. Just get to the river and we’ll talk when you two get home.”

  When Matt hung up, James was vibrating with suppressed emotion. Matt wished he was an empath so he could figure out what all was going on in James. He’d have to find out the old-fashioned way.

  He slipped his other hand around James and rubbed his back in little circles. “What?” he asked, keeping his voice low. James just shook his head, his forehead still pressed to Matt’s.

  Matt let him have his privacy, and pressed on James’s back with his palms, instead, bringing him in. He gave James a full-body hug. Not sexual, but meant to bring warmth and comfort everywhere. “’S’okay, babe. We’ll work it out. I’m not letting you do this alone.”

  IT WASN’T that James wanted to do this alone. He just didn’t want to have to drag Matt into it. James was, to put it mildly, a bad relationship bet. He had a fucking mutant alien brain in his head, he was going to be a bug under a microscope for the rest of his life, and until they were out of Idaho, Matt was in grave danger because of him. If the RIA caught them, he’d end up as their lab rat, but Matt would be executed.

  And in spite of holding him in his arms, Matt was slowly closing him out of his emotions, again. Even a minute ago, when he’d opened up, James could feel a small part he’d walled off. He knew he had to eventually let Matt go for his own safety, but somehow he couldn’t bear the thought of Matt thinking that way.

  He was a pathetic, emotional mess. Consciously, James concen-trated on pulling himself back together. It was going to be a slow process. Sheepishly, he nuzzled into Matt’s neck a little further. May as well take the comfort while he could.

  But everything snapped back into place in an instant when he realized what was coming their way. He stood up so fast Matt fell against the wall.

  “James?”

  Without really thinking about it, he stalked over to Beni—strangely silent this whole time—while calling Miz to him. Beni had taken off her pack, the idiot. He picked it up and roughly started pushing her arms into it.

  “What are you—?” she began. Shriekily, of course.

  James cut her off in his command voice. “You’re getting on Miz and she’s riding out of here with you. We’ll rendezvous on the other side of Cambridge; she’ll know where.” James tried to push a little bit of a “trust me” command with his words. He couldn’t tell if it took. Beni was too freaked out by getting on a horse.

  “I’ve never been on a horse!”

  “Be quiet and get on. Miz won’t let you fall off. Just hang on tight to her mane.” He relayed instructions to Miz mentally. Miz snorted in disgust but grudgingly agreed.

  Matt, silently checking his own pack, then standing behind James to double check his, interrupted Beni’s next spate of protests. “All the best damsels are escaping on the horse while the knights cover their retreat, Beni. Very chic.”

  Beni’s mouth closed with a snap. She eyed Matt suspiciously. Along with her suspicion, James felt a healthy dose of wanting to believe Matt’s bullshit. James didn’t give her time to think it over. He threw her on Miz.

  Predictably, she shrieked. She clutched Miz’s mane reflexively. The second Miz felt she was secure—as secure as she was going to get—Miz started off.

  More shrieking ensued. Shit, they may as well just send up a flare for the recon he could feel coming their way. In desperation, James sent out a mental gag order.

  Beni’s shriek cut off in mid-arc.

  Cool. Nice of his alien brain to come through on that. Too bad he couldn’t really rely on it to come through regularly.

  Around the street side of the building, James could sense less from the approaching team. Of course they were coming from the convent. He and Matt left the shadows and sprinted across the road, throwing themselves into the ditch on the other side.

  Matt silently followed him as James crawled on his belly toward Cambridge in the ditch. It was too obvious an escape route. They’d have to get out of it ASAP. The recon team was practically breathing down their necks.

  One hundred forty meters down, there was a culvert under the road. It was mostly dry, just starting to run again after irrigation season ended and the rain started higher up. He could feel Matt’s annoyed resignation as they crawled through the mud, under the road. It was a big culvert, one of the old mix-crete jobs, wide enough that they could have crawled side by side if they hadn’t been in this situation. Course, they probably wouldn’t crawl through a culvert in their leisure time.

  It was as James neared the other end that he felt someone out there. Close enough that their presence ricocheted into the culvert. He signed a halt to Matt. Silently, Matt rolled over on his back and covered their rear. He had out the rifle they’d taken from the mountie.

  No movement. For ten minutes James could sense no directional change in the pattern of the brain waves. They ricocheted around a bit, making it hard for him to pinpoint, but the ricochet pattern didn’t seem to differ much. One person, he was almost sure.

  Suddenly he felt Matt’s head drop behind him. Without thinking, he dropped facedown into the mud. Another person was at that
end of the culvert, now. A different presence, but a familiar one. No ricochet. Wariness and hyper-attention. Kandy Melore was looking in directly, probably dropped down from the road next to the entrance. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the familiar glow of a wand bounce around the culvert. He stopped breathing.

  The bottom of the culvert was a foot deep in mud, and debris and garbage dotted it. Even with a light shining directly on them, their night-camo should fade into the background. Shit, he hoped he had enough mud in his hair and on his neck. He hoped Matt had managed to coat his face.

  The faint murmur of an earpiece—turned up too loud—and then James could clearly hear Kandy’s response. “Looks clear. I’ll have Johnson go in, but this doesn’t look like a likely hiding spot.”

  She hadn’t stayed unconscious long. Or someone brought her around. And she was clearly an idiot when it came to the best hiding spots. James cracked an inappropriate smile as he felt Matt’s wave of amusement breaking over him.

  Suddenly the light shifted. James chanced a peek to his side. It was off them. Pointed to the floor back at the entrance?

  “Johnson!” he heard her shout. Jesus, who taught her covert ops?

  Probably no one, come to think of it.

  “Ma’am?” came the reply, quieter, from whoever was on his side of the culvert. The guy he’d first sensed.

  “You go in and search.”

  James tried to communicate a simple plan to Matt. Shoot Melore when James nudged him with his foot. He felt a very subtle nudge on his toe. “Got it,” he clearly heard in his mind.

  Okay, now that was covert ops communication. Better than a Brain-link, which required a mic to send. He decided to worry later about how he could “talk” to Matt this way all of a sudden. It seemed like his abilities were heightened during stressful situations.

  Amazingly, once Johnson was in place at the other end of the culvert, Melore put the light out completely. “Gotta save the NV,” she said conversationally down the culvert to Johnson, who was just crawling in.

  James could feel Johnson’s disgust. “Ma’am.” He wasn’t happy about taking orders from an ignorant civilian.

  “Moving on in search pattern,” Melore told her headset.

  Th’fuck? She was a complete yahoo.

  “Ma’am,” Johnson acknowledged. He thought he’d be better off without her.

  James could feel the tension slowly leach out of Matt, leaving only the hyperawareness. James was still unnaturally still, and it was only as Johnson was about to step on his hand that James was up, covering his mouth and restraining him in a split second. Not an idiot, just not at the same level of training. Probably regular militia. He let James subdue him once his rifle was gone. He lay in the mud, his heart rabbiting but otherwise still.

  “You’re regular RIA militia?” The guy didn’t answer, but James could almost hear the affirmation echoing in his brain. He nodded at Matt. Matt was up and crouched against a wall, covering both entrances.

  “You on, babe?” Johnson started with shock at the endearment. Matt hadn’t done it for shock value, James didn’t think. It worked, though.

  James probably couldn’t ask the questions, read the waves, and keep his mind on alert for hostiles at the same time. “You ask the questions. I’ll just keep open. Babe.” He looked up with a little smirk, in time to see Matt’s face darken slightly. Now he realized what he’d said.

  Matt turned to Johnson. “You know who I am?” After thinking it over, Johnson gave a slight nod. Matt turned his face up to James. “If you uncover his mouth, will he call out?”

  “I’ll break your neck if I hear a peep.” James’s tone was conversational. “And I imagine you know I can do much worse to your mind.” He was counting on Kandy Melore’s exaggerations after their encounter. He read no intent from the guy to raise an alarm as he cautiously took his hand away.

  “Tell me who you think I am,” Matt ordered.

  “QESA agent.” The guy’s voice was a little hoarse.

  “Know my name?”

  “Matthew Barrow.”

  “Fuck. Guess I’ll throw that ID out. Wasn’t doing me any good here, anyway. Who’s he?” Matt indicated James with a head nod.

  “First Lieutenant James Ayala, Psi-force, SOUF. Aka James Wahlberg from Caldwell. They got that ID from the convent’s records,” Johnson offered.

  “Guess we’ll throw yours out too. You’re gonna have to keep the real one, though.” Matt turned back to the militia soldier. “You don’t know me by any other names?”

  Johnson shook his head. James breathed a sigh of relief, and took a second to sweep more intently for any approach he could pick up from outside. Nothing, still.

  “Matt, they’re gonna expect him to report back any second. We should move.”

  “You willing to radio in and okay this culvert?” It was a delicate question. He could radio in, but use a code term indicating they were here.

  “I’ll know if you’re lying,” James pointed out. “Or if you tip them off.”

  Johnson swallowed. He had to know they wouldn’t just leave him here. He was either going with them, or he was going to be neutralized, probably permanently. He turned his head slowly to look at James. “Will you trust me if I say I’ll radio in, then we move to a more secure location?”

  Suddenly, James realized what had changed about the guy when he positively identified them. He wanted something. Badly. Badly enough to cooperate and play traitor. Should he trust a guy like that? He could tell Johnson didn’t intend to expose them, but what if he didn’t get what he wanted?

  James looked up at Matt. Matt was waiting for his call. Suddenly, the amount of trust Matt put in him was a lump in his throat. “Yeah, we can try that. We’re cuffing you, and you’re wearing a gag after you call in. Do you have a place in mind?”

  “Three hundred meters southeast of here is a small pond with drainage into this ditch. Was already searched, but I’ll say I saw something in the poplars and I’m going back to inspect. They’ll think I’m just slacking off, but the LT won’t do shit about it as long as I don’t take more than fifteen minutes or so.”

  They made their way back to the south end of the culvert, and Johnson checked in on his headset, clearing the culvert and feeding the line about the poplars.

  “You need help with the search?” The lieutenant sounded like he was faking officious. Melore must be close by.

  “No, probably just an animal. I’ll be alert.”

  Chapter 19

  JAMES took out Johnson’s gag but kept him cuffed when they got to the tree-screened pond. He nodded to Matt to keep the questions up.

  “What’s your name, rank, and serial number?” James looked at Matt in surprise. Seriously?

  Matt smirked. “I always wanted to ask that. What’s your name?”

  “Tech Specialist Two Logan Johnson.”

  “Weapons tech?”

  Johnson shrugged. “What else?”

  “So, what is it you think we can help you with?” James broke in. Matt looked at him in surprise this time.

  Johnson licked his lips nervously, his face paling rapidly. James could practically hear his heartbeat pounding from here. “You guys are, uh, f-, uh, queer, right?”

  Matt nodded slowly. Suddenly this started to make a lot more sense to James.

  “How does QESA figure out who to rescue? Who wants out?”

  “We have to have a clear request for help,” Matt answered. At Johnson’s blank look, Matt said, “You need to request help escaping moral persecution, like if you’re gay or something. Then the Blue States of America Federal Court rules on your request—whether to extract you. Then NGOs like QESA bid on the contract, or sometimes get handed it. If you rendered assistance to an agent and a refugee, you’re almost guaranteed to get okayed for extraction.”

  Johnson swallowed. “How should… my friend request help?”

  Matt smiled. James could see him fighting the smirk that wanted to take over. “Well, if he
were close by, he could simply ask me, and I would log the request. I could record it and get a voice print, but that would put your friend in danger if I were captured. Or he could make it more official—but even more dangerous—and text my hookup. Then I have proof that can definitely stand in international court. If he were close by, he could text me and it wouldn’t hit a booster, wouldn’t leave a signature.”

  Johnson swallowed hard. He was terrified, but James could feel how desperate he was to get out. He broke in. “How old are you, Logan?”

  “Thirty-one.”

  “No family? No, um, partner?”

  Johnson snorted in disbelief. “Partner? You mean like a boyfriend? Look, you guys know we’re talking about me.” His voice had a soft accent, now that he was letting loose a little. Backwoods twang. Growing up had to be rough on a gay boy in rural Idaho. If he’d even realized that’s what he was. “There’s no way I was gonna jeopardize my nuts by getting with any guy. The best I could hope for was re-education. If anyone I knew ever caught me…. And for some stupid fucking reason I thought joining the militia would help. Not that I had a lotta choice.”

  James studied him a minute longer. Finding a boyfriend, or even a one-night stand, wouldn’t have been difficult for Logan if he’d looked. Even in Idaho. He was tall and broad-shouldered, heavy bones hung with sleek but substantial muscles. His head was stubbly with a traditional military cut. And it looked like he had freckles? A redhead, maybe. Lots of guys he’d met had a ginger-boy fetish. At thirty-one in the Blue, Logan would have been experienced and confident in his ability to attract a man. Any man, really. He was hot, in a boy-next-door kind of way.

  Instead all James got off Johnson was bone-deep fear and a fucked-up sense of self. Surprisingly, Johnson seemed to be aware of his messed-up self-image. James glanced at Matt. And tried not to smirk at Matt’s cataloging of Johnson’s attractions. Or be jealous. Hell, he’d just been doing the same thing.

  And really, it was just a little bit hot that Johnson had his arms cuffed behind him, sitting on the ground while Matt and James stood over him. Time to end that. James dropped down and cut the cuffs off, then stayed kneeling. Matt crouched down next to him.