“No, I heard it loud and clear,” Wayne assured her. “But if the el-tee is taking this on, he’s got my unwavering support.”
“Mine as well,” said Cano Snick. He was generally a reserved man whose shorter-than-average stature masked the fact that he was a deadly martial artist.
“Us, too,” Sergeant Loyola chimed in, speaking on behalf of herself and the man seated next to her. As usual, Loyola wore tinted goggles that fit snuggly over her eyes (or rather, the place where her eyes would have been, if she’d had any).
The fellow next to her, whom she’d spoken for, was Fierce Augman – an Augmented Man who stood over seven feet tall and whose body appeared to be comprised of solid muscle from head to foot. For a moment, he looked as though he had a comment to add, but then he merely nodded in agreement with Loyola’s statement.
“I guess that leaves me as the lone holdout,” Diviana said, noting that everyone was staring at her.
“No pressure,” Wayne muttered jokingly.
Diviana ignored him, stating, “Needless to say, I’m in.”
“Great,” Wayne practically gushed. “I knew you wouldn’t want to miss out on the action.”
“No,” Diviana said, shaking her head. “I’m just trying to avoid attending six funerals after you people get yourselves killed.”
Chapter 16
Following Diviana’s acquiescence to joining the mission, Maker brought the meeting to a close and dismissed everyone. There was a lot to do, but thankfully everyone knew their job and could be counted on to make the necessary preparations for departure with minimal supervision.
On his part, Maker retreated to his office in order to reach out to Lafayette. (He had a secure comm link there that could be used for confidential transmissions.) As he entered and closed the door, he reflected on what he knew of the admiral.
For starters, Lafayette wasn’t a Marine, so he wasn’t officially in Maker’s chain of command. That said, he had been present at Maker’s debriefings and had presented credentials which had made it clear that he had carte blanche to exercise authority over Maker’s team if he so chose. In short, he actually could have ordered Maker to escort Skullcap home, but the fact that he hadn’t (and didn’t seem inclined to do so) gave the impression that he was a decent fellow.
That fact aside, however, it was pretty clear that Lafayette (and whatever shadowy group he represented) was single-mindedly focused on reclaiming the tech that the Vacra had taken. It was the nigh-desperation in that regard that made Maker wary; higher-ups had previously made secret deals with the Vacra for the tech, and he couldn’t be sure that the same thing wasn’t happening now. Basically, he didn’t know if he could trust Lafayette.
In the end, he mentally shrugged, deciding that there was just no way to know for sure how much faith he could put in the admiral. He’d just have to play it by ear and keep his guard up. Mind made up, he got on the comm and sent a message to Lafayette stating that he wanted to meet the following morning and providing a time. (It occurred to him as he was firing off the communiqué that the proposed meeting time might conflict with something on Lafayette’s schedule, but Maker didn’t care; the admiral could work it out.)
After sending the message, Maker took a moment to lean back in his chair, feeling a bit smug and self-satisfied. His self-approbation was short-lived, however, as a moment later someone rapped resonantly on the door.
“Enter,” Maker barked.
Almost as soon as he spoke, he saw Diviana step inside. After closing the door behind her, she marched smartly to Maker’s desk and saluted.
Maker returned the gesture and then announced, “Be seated.” Diviana did as instructed and sat down in a chair across from him.
“At ease,” Maker said, then sat back and eyed the sergeant critically. “Okay, out with it.”
Diviana raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “Out with what?”
“Oh, come on,” he said. “You come to me before every mission with some request or complaint. So what is it this time?”
For a moment, it looked as though Diviana was going to protest, but then she seemed to relent. “I wanted to ask what you were planning to do about Planck.”
“Of course,” Maker muttered. “I should have known that’s what you wanted to discuss.”
Solomon Planck had been the lead scientist aboard the sub rosa vessel at the time it was raided by the Vacra. He’d spent the next few years as their prisoner, suffering extreme amounts of abuse (including having a bomb implanted in him). He’d ultimately been rescued by Maker’s unit, but he was still recovering – mentally and physically – from his ordeal. Plainly speaking, he was a basket case in some ways, but had proven invaluable during their last run-in with the Vacra.
“We need him,” Diviana declared, interrupting Maker’s reverie. “Planck knows the Vacra better than anybody.”
“Agreed,” Maker said with a nod, “and asking him to join our little expedition is on my to-do list.”
Diviana gave him a critical look. “That’s probably a bad idea.”
“What – asking him to join us?”
“No,” she replied, shaking her head solemnly. “Having you ask him.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Maker demanded.
“Just that you took the lead on asking him to join us last time, and completely mucked it up.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say that,” Maker droned sheepishly as he reflected on the incident in question. “He was just hard to convince.”
“Whatever,” Diviana grumbled. “I was able to fix it then, but I thought maybe we’d skip the part where I have to clean up your mess by letting me take first crack at him this time.”
Maker spread his hands in a magnanimous gesture. “Be my guest.”
“Thanks,” Diviana said with a smile.
“Anything else?”
“No, sir,” Diviana answered, coming to her feet.
“Good,” Maker stated approvingly. “Dismissed.”
Diviana gave a salute (which Maker returned), then swiftly departed. However, it seemed that the door had barely closed behind her before another knock sounded. Upon being told by Maker to enter, Fierce came into the room. After exchanging courtesies, the Augman sat down in the chair recently vacated by Diviana.
“Well, this is a rare treat, Doctor,” Maker declared. “Usually someone’s lying prone in the infirmary when you and I have a conversation.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Fierce shot back. “Given how our missions have typically unfolded, I’m sure it will happen soon enough.”
“I guess we’ll just consider this practice, then,” Maker noted, chuckling. “Anyway, what’s on your mind?”
Fierce frowned, appearing to struggle for the right words for a moment, and then simply blurted out, “Loyola’s pregnant.”
Now it was Maker’s turn to be at a loss for words, and for a second he simply stared at the Augman, completely dumbfounded.
“Are you kidding?” Maker finally managed to say.
Fierce shook his head. “Unfortunately, no.”
“How’d that happen?” Maker almost demanded.
Fierce looked at him in surprise. “I’m sorry, Lieutenant. I just assumed that at this stage of your life, on at least one occasion, you’d have met a woman who–”
“I know how it happened, wise guy,” Maker interjected. “Physically, that is. My question was from the biological perspective. I thought Augmen and normal humans couldn’t procreate without some help from science and medicine.”
“That’s always been the prevailing sentiment, and it’s what years of in-depth research and testing would seem to indicate. Bearing that in mind, we probably didn’t take as many, uh, precautions as we should have.”
“So what happened?” Maker asked.
“Don’t know,” Fierce admitted with a shrug. “But my best guess is that some outside factor came into play. Something with the ability to affect bodily functions and reproductive systems – perhaps t
hrough chemical or biological compounds.”
Maker leaned back, lifted a hand to massage his temples and at the same time let out a frustrated sigh.
“Erlen,” he said flatly.
“That would be my first guess,” Fierce conceded with a nod. “It certainly seems like something that falls within the ambit of his talents.”
Maker didn’t say anything, but Fierce was right. Just as licking Maker’s hand earlier had conveyed some healing element to deal with his injuries, what was being suggested was quite likely within Erlen’s capabilities.
“But Erlen wouldn’t do that,” Maker insisted. “He wouldn’t just do something to make you guys compatible unless…”
Maker trailed off, his thoughts going down an unexpected path as something new occurred to him.
“So tell me,” he said, leaning forward, “did you and Loyola talk about having kids?”
“We’ve discussed it,” Fierce admitted, “but it was something that we knew wouldn’t happen on its own.”
“But it’s something you wanted?”
Fierce nodded. “Yes – it was more of a ‘when’ as opposed to an ‘if’ discussion.”
“And how does Loyola feel about the baby? I mean, is she happy about it?”
“Are you kidding? She’s over the moon about it! She can’t wait, and she–”
Fierce stopped speaking practically mid-sentence, and his brow crinkled. Maker smiled internally, knowing that the good doctor was coming to the same conclusion he had reached.
“Wait a minute,” Fierce muttered, finally getting his thoughts together. “Are you saying Loyola may have asked Erlen to do this?”
Maker raised his hands defensively. “I’m not saying anything. However, you two obviously have a lot to talk about.”
“Clearly,” Fierce said in agreement. “But the pregnancy is only part of why I wanted to speak with you. I also wanted to discuss Loyola’s role on this mission.”
“Say no more,” Maker insisted. “I’ll make sure she’s taken off hazardous duty and–”
“No,” Fierce objected, shaking his head. “That’s exactly what you shouldn’t do. She doesn’t want to be treated any differently, which is why she hasn’t told anyone – especially you.”
“My hands are a little tied here,” Maker insisted. “There are rules about expectant mothers in the theater of battle. She can go on this mission because technically it’s nothing more than escort duty, but there are limitations on the tasks she can be assigned.”
“I get that, but can you try to find something that makes use of her talents without making it seem like you’re deliberately taking her out of harm’s way?”
“She’s a sniper!” Maker blurted out, throwing up his hands in exasperation. “There aren’t a lot of subtle ways to take advantage of that skill set.”
Fierce didn’t reply. Instead, he simply gave Maker an expectant look.
“Fine,” Maker muttered in acquiescence a moment later. “I’ll find something to keep her occupied. Anything else I can do for you?”
“There is one other thing,” Fierce said, now looking incredibly concerned. “This baby – it’s going to be unique.”
“That’s for sure,” Maker agreed. “The conception alone makes it one-of-a-kind.”
“Yes, and the military has been looking for a way to enhance Augmen for generations now. Anything that looks like a new development in that arena is going to pique their interest.”
Maker nodded, understanding what Fierce was getting at. “You’re saying that they’re going to try to take this baby.”
“What I’m saying is that I don’t want my child to end up in a bell jar,” Fierce stated hotly. “Or being raised as a lab rat.”
There was a scowl on the doctor’s face as he spoke, probably the closest thing to anger Maker had ever witnessed an Augman display.
“That’s never going to happen,” Maker said flatly. “I give you my word: I won’t let any harm come to this baby.”
Fierce didn’t say anything but merely nodded solemnly, obviously reassured by Maker’s comment.
Chapter 17
Fierce left almost immediately after Maker made his promise about Loyola’s unborn child, staying only long enough to hear – and agree to – an odd request from his commanding officer. Afterwards, Maker found himself contemplating the commitment he’d made (and how he’d fulfill it). However, no more than a minute passed before a knock once again sounded at his door.
Now what? he wondered, then yelled out, “Enter.” The door opened and he saw that, much to his delight, his latest visitor was Chantrey.
“Well, this is unexpected,” he said, rising as she headed towards him carrying a couple of brown paper bags. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
She gave him a quick peck on the lips then sat down in the visitor’s chair, placing the bags on his desk.
“I’m afraid I won’t be able to make dinner,” she stated as Maker sat back down. “I’ll be tied up with work, but I thought I’d make it up to you with a late lunch – assuming you haven’t eaten yet.”
“I haven’t had time to even think about lunch,” he said, noting that it was early afternoon.
Taking that as her cue, Chantrey began taking items from the bags. Moments later, she had unpacked a couple of sandwiches, fruit cups, cookies, and bottles of a local beverage that tasted like a cross between onions and bananas. (Maker was certain she bought the drinks just to see his reaction.)
“Bon appétit,” Chantrey said, and then took a bite of her sandwich. Needing no more of an invitation, Maker followed suit.
There was initially silence as Maker chewed and swallowed the first bite of his lunch. Then, as was typical for them, conversation ensued as they continued to eat.
“Missed you earlier today,” Maker muttered between bites of his sandwich.
“Awww,” Chantrey droned. “That’s so sweet.”
Maker shook his head. “No, not missed as in longed for your presence. Missed you as in you didn’t show where you were expected.”
“Oh?” Chantrey said, as if surprised.
“You got a message on your p-comp at the same time I did,” Maker explained. “I didn’t see it, but I assumed yours read the same as mine. However, when I show up at the designated meeting spot, there’s me and Browing, but no Dr. Chantrey.”
“Oh, is Papa Bear grumpy that I wasn’t there?” she teased.
“No, because I assume you were watching,” Maker said in a matter-of-fact tone.
Chantrey eyed him for a moment, looking slightly dumbfounded. Although she knew Maker exceptionally well from the dossier the Marine Corps had on him – as well as by virtue of their budding relationship – she still found herself occasionally astounded by how astute and perceptive he really was.
“They had cameras on you from the moment you entered that first elevator,” she said after a few seconds. “They wanted to know if you’d accept the mission.”
“And what did you say?”
“I told them your psych profile, along with everything I saw today, suggested that you probably would.”
“Hmmm,” Maker mumbled, brow wrinkled in disapproval. “So Lafayette was probably expecting to hear from me.”
“Yes, but expecting to hear from you and knowing exactly what you’ll say are two different things,” Chantrey noted.
Maker’s brow crinkled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well, if you recall when we first met, I had correctly concluded that you’d accept the initial mission to go after the Vacra, but didn’t foresee all the questions you’d ask or the demands you’d make.”
“So is that what you’ll be working on tonight – determining what demands I’ll make?”
She shook her head. “No, because that would be a waste of my time.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Are you saying I’m that unpredictable in that regard?”
“Hardly,” she clarified with a smile. “Truth is, they’re so desperate
for the sub rosa tech that they’ll give you almost anything you want. Still, I wouldn’t get too crazy with the ask.”
“I hadn’t planned to,” Maker averred, although he did have some things in mind. “So if it’s not my demands, what are they asking you to do – a work-up on the team?”
“That’s part of it,” Chantrey acknowledged. “But the main thing they want are assurances that you aren’t going to fill Skullcap full of holes or jettison him into space the second you take off.”
Maker laughed. “I can give them better odds on the likelihood of building a snowman in Hell.”
“I’ll just let them know the jury’s still out on that issue,” she said with a smile.
Maker grinned back at her. As usual, Chantrey found a way to lighten the mood, even when the topic was serious. However, despite their previous conversation, discussion of her work – especially in regards to him – made him worry.
“So,” he said after a few seconds, “do your puppet masters know that you’ve kind of been an open book in terms of your work for them?”
“What they’ve learned from past experience is that a certain level of probity is required to solicit your cooperation. That means answering your questions candidly, and they’ve left it to my discretion to determine how much to disclose. I choose full disclosure.”
Maker’s eyes narrowed. “You didn’t mention any of that when we talked this morning.”
“I didn’t?” Chantrey said quizzically, her eyebrows going up. “Must have slipped my mind.”
Maker rubbed his chin in thought. “So you tell me everything you tell your bosses, and tell your bosses everything you tell me.”
“Sounds convoluted when you put it that way, but yeah.”
“So you’re basically a double agent,” Maker concluded, his tone suddenly serious.
She gave him a confused look. “How can I be a double agent if we’re all on the same side?”
“Hmmm,” Maker mused, ignoring her question. “I just realized something else: I’m less like a boy toy, and more like a mark.”
“And there it is,” Chantrey said, throwing up her hands in exasperation. “That’s why I didn’t tell you about me fully disclosing everything to everybody, because I knew you’d reach that conclusion – that you were being hustled.”
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