“How are you doing?” Trevor asked in a low voice.
“Feels like a bender that’s slowly wearing off,” Jamie admitted just as quietly.
Back when they were Recon Marines and Trevor had been their medic, they’d come to a quiet understanding about taking hits in the field. Unless it was a critical injury, Jamie didn’t like Trevor making a fuss over him. Bruises and strains and mild lacerations could be dealt with off the field. Jamie was used to powering through those kind of hits. His enhanced strength and durability made it so that he was harder to wound now and he healed in half the time he used to. Not as quick as Kyle, whose ability to come back from a wound that would be fatal to anyone else in less than a day was stunning, but the difference was still significant.
The ache in his muscles was receding in slow degrees, his wavering vision beginning to settle. Now that he was awake and not being dosed every hour, his body seemed far more capable of working through whatever those bastards had pumped into his system. His metabolism was breaking up the drugs at a fast pace, pushing his body through the symptoms at a clip that left him reeling, but less so with every minute that passed.
Trevor patted his shoulder, not bothering to hide his worry. “Try to get some rest. Sleep will help clear your system now that you’re no longer drugged up.”
“We’re in the middle of a mission.”
“Yeah, and as your doctor for the moment, I’m telling you to get some rack time. You’ll burn through everything quicker that way.”
Jamie grimaced, knowing better than to argue with Trevor when he spoke with that tone in his voice. “You wake me the second there’s a problem.”
“Yes, sir.”
Jamie closed his eyes and let himself drop off into a fitful doze within seconds. Like all military men and women, he’d learned the skill of sleeping with his head rattling against the side of an aircraft years ago. In the field, you snatched sleep when and where you could, because you never knew when your next full night’s rest would come.
He jolted awake what felt like minutes later but had to be longer than that. Jamie blinked his eyes open to see Katie leaning over him, her hand resting gently on his shoulder. Despite the clusterfuck they’d escaped from, his head knew he was safe with his team and so he hadn’t lashed out while waking up.
“We’ve crossed into Poland and are being hailed by the Polish Armed Forces. Annabelle wants to know your orders,” Katie said.
“Are we sure they’re legit?” Jamie asked.
“Identification falls within acceptable parameters.”
Jamie scrubbed hard at his face with one hand, feeling his mind churn, or maybe that was his stomach. “Squawk idents. Tell them we’re in need of assistance.”
No surprise they’d been hailed right after crossing the border. Poland was nothing if not always on guard against Russia and the contested countries. Even with the bolstering of its defenses by NATO and the promised support of the United States, Poland still patrolled its borders as if it were at war. Technically, a treaty for peace had been drawn up and signed by multiple parties, but everyone in this area of the world pretended it didn’t exist until it suited them.
Annabelle’s voice came through the headsets, sounding apologetic. “Sir, base wants to speak to who’s in charge.”
Jamie sighed, letting his head fall back. “Patch them through.”
The connection buzzed through the headsets with static, nothing like the clean sound their now-dead comms used to have. Jamie wasn’t looking forward to having those cut out of his skull and reset. “Base, this is Apollo, captain of Alpha Team out of the United States Metahuman Defense Force. We’re formally requesting a safe space to land and medical help through our partnership with the EAMSG. Confirm, over.”
English was still the language of the skies. The person on the other side of the comms responded immediately, though the English words came out heavily accented. “Apollo, this is base. Be advised, we have scrambled fighter jets to your location. They will escort you to the Eighth Airborne Brigade base in Kraków. If you do not comply with their orders, they will shoot you down. How copy, over.”
“Wilco. Out.” Jamie met Katie’s calm gaze with his own. “Let’s get ready for this dog and pony show.”
Having grown up in the midst of the cutthroat world of politics, Jamie was good at playing the game, whether in the civilian world or the military. That didn’t mean he liked it. But he would walk through a minefield of words for his team any day. This was no different.
Trevor passed him a ration bar and spent a couple of minutes giving him a quick checkup. Jamie still felt like shit, but at least the dizziness seemed to have passed. His vision had finally settled and the headache was nothing more than a faint heaviness in the back of his skull. The drugs were burning out fast, which was good, because he needed to be able to interact with a foreign, possibly hostile military with a clear mind.
They heard the fighter jets before they saw them. Annabelle had turned on their lights and pushed the helo to a higher altitude after they connected with the Polish military base. No sense in trying to hide from radar when they’d already been found out. Jamie twisted around in his seat to peer through one of the few windows on the helo for a brief moment, squinting through the darkness. The Polish fighter jets weren’t using stealth, and he could just make them out as they passed by parallel to the helo, their lights flashing in the dark.
Jamie tapped into the comms, listening to Annabelle as she calmly repeated the orders given to her and altered course. Clear skies didn’t always mean clear flying, and the team sat in their seats for a tense hour before Annabelle began their descent.
“Let me do the talking when we land. We don’t split up, we use code names, and the first chance you get if we need to go inside, Katie? You run your elimination virus,” Jamie said to his team.
Katie gave him a thumbs up to show she understood. Their identities were supposed to be classified. If the citizens of their own countries weren’t supposed to know who they were, then the people of a foreign country couldn’t either. Katie’s elimination virus, accessed through encrypted avenues via a hidden cloud account on the dark web, was only used in an emergency to hack out and find surveillance footage of the team and delete it all. It wouldn’t have mattered if they’d managed to retain their gear, but Durand’s people had removed the nanotech strips on their faces that blurred their features beneath their helmets and tactical goggles. Jamie was carefully not thinking about how their identities could have been compromised if that information was sent out before the base was blown.
The helo shuddered as the landing wheels made contact with the ground, the rotary blades spinning into a slowdown. Trevor opened up the side door, but not before raising a telekinetic shield between the team and whoever was outside. No one was surprised by the guns aimed their way, but the soldiers on the field didn’t take a shot. Jamie didn’t need to tell his team to leave behind their stolen weapons after they exited the helo and stayed low while jogging to get out from under the rotary blades. The cluster of soldiers was less than what Jamie was expecting, even if the distrust by way of raised weaponry was anticipated.
Jamie came to a halt several feet away from the group, gaze flicking over the pins and patches of those gathered before him, picking out the person in charge within seconds.
He saluted the base commander first before gesturing at his team. “Sorry for the intrusion, ma’am. We were escaping the enemy and looking for friendly territory.”
The base commander eyed him from beneath her stiff cap, hands on her hips, before speaking. Her English was better than the voice from the comms, but still just as accented. “I am Pułkownik Woźniak, Apollo. We confirmed with the MDF that Alpha Team was MIA. The EAMSG was kind enough to send a representative to confirm your credentials.”
Jamie turned his attention to the tall, willowy brunette dressed more for a night out on the town than a firefight. The pale pink wrap dress she wore had a plunging neckline a
nd a hem that fell to mid-thigh if one were being generous. Her sharp stiletto heels were better suited for a club floor than the black tarmac of a military base. Chestnut-colored hair was twisted into a loose chignon, flyaway strands framing her delicately featured face and the friendly smile she gave Jamie, paired with a wink.
“It has been a while, mes amis. I do wish it were under better circumstances,” Brigitte Moreau said.
The leader of the top French metahuman team deployed by the EAMSG used to be a diehard Parisian club girl before a terrorist attack at a Paris night club forever changed her life. The Splice chemical bomb that exploded on the dance floor killed everyone but her. Brigitte had been eighteen at the time and was twenty-eight now. She’d spent the decade between those years fighting for her country. Jamie’s team usually paired up with Brigitte’s team or the lead team out of the United Kingdom for the handful of times the MDF had worked with another metahuman agency on a joint mission.
“They pull you away from dinner?” Jamie asked.
“It would not be the first time.”
“Sorry about that.”
She gave a very Gallic shrug at his apology. “It is my job, oui? Besides, when your codes came through, my CO pulled me in to verify since I deploy the quickest.”
As one of the few teleporters within her country’s metahuman ranks, Brigitte had been through many military bases over the years. Wherever she’d been, she could teleport to. No wonder they’d sent her on ahead.
“Will you or your team require any medical care?” Pułkownik Woźniak asked, eyeing Jamie’s half-dressed state and the dried blood Katie hadn’t completely cleaned off him.
“I’d rather we get a flight back home, if that’s possible?” Jamie said.
This time it was Brigitte who nodded. “I can offer something quicker. Pułkownik Woźniak?”
“Yes?” the base commander asked.
“Merci beaucoup for your assistance in this matter. I will take over from here.”
The woman tilted her head slightly in Brigitte’s direction before her attention settled back on Jamie. “We’ve been operating dark since you landed. No need to worry about your identities.”
All the countries working within the European Alliance, a group cobbled together out of the long defunct European Union, had signed the Paris Accords that instructed them to protect the identities of any and all metahuman soldiers. The United States, United Kingdom, Canada, Australia, Japan and South Korea had signed on as well. Jamie still wished he could have Katie work her magic to ensure they left no trace, but he’d have to settle for trusting their allies.
“Thank you,” he said.
The Polish soldiers stepped back, lowering their weapons and giving them room. Brigitte strode forward, gesturing for Jamie and his team to stand closer. She didn’t invade anyone’s space more than she needed to. Brigitte understood the stress that came from being in the field, especially when coming out of an extremely short-lived POW situation.
“Do not get sick on my shoes this time,” Brigitte said to Trevor, but the smile twitching at her lips softened her words.
“That was one time and I paid for new ones,” Trevor grumbled.
“Let us not make it twice.”
It was the only warning they had before the world dropped out from beneath their feet in a wrenching sensation that made Jamie’s stomach crawl up his throat. Everything went black for a split second before reality snapped back into existence, the world shifting on its axis. Jamie stumbled, but was kept from falling on his face by Trevor’s firm hands.
The walls of the MDF’s teleportation receiving room hadn’t changed since the last time Jamie had been down in Sublevel 3. Beyond the red line no one ever crossed without permission to ensure a clear space for incoming teleports, the director stood amidst a gaggle of medical personnel, with Gracie standing front and center. Her hourglass figure was hidden beneath a white lab coat and comfortable looking scrubs, the colors standing out against her medium-brown skin. She wore no gloves, unlike her minions, and was waiting impatiently for the go-ahead to proceed.
“Thank you for bringing them back, Étoile. Your help is always appreciated,” Nazari said, using Brigitte’s code name.
“Je vous en prie,” Brigitte replied. “Now that my transportation skills are no longer needed, I still have a dinner to attend. Bonne nuit.”
She winked out of existence, the loud crack of her exit snapping through the room as air rushed in to fill the void of her absence. That was the cue for all the medical personnel to descend on Alpha Team, sweeping them up in their take-no-prisoners care. Gracie delegated her people appropriately and would have seen to Jamie herself, but he shook his head.
“Check Kyle over first,” he said, pointing at where the sniper was busy arguing with Alexei off to the side in Russian, the both of them scowling at their assigned nurses. “He took a bullet to the neck that almost killed him.”
Gracie blinked in surprise. “Come again?”
“He and his partner are metahumans.”
At that little revelation, Alexei shot him the dirtiest look Jamie had seen in years. Nazari’s head snapped around, eyes wide with surprise—something that startled Jamie, because the director never revealed his true feelings in public—and Kyle looked like he was contemplating murder if he could get his hands on a rifle within the next three seconds.
Jamie pinned Kyle with his own stern look and said, “You’re getting checked out. Properly.”
He didn’t know how long those two had been metahumans, but the fact that they’d hidden what they were meant they had probably never received the correct after-mission care.
Trevor prodded at Jamie’s shoulder, moving him into the hands of the closest nurse now that Gracie had promptly fled his presence for the challenge of two Strike Force operatives who did not, in any way, wish to be looked over.
Jamie didn’t care. He still had the memory of Kyle’s blood on his hands from nearly losing him. Those two were getting checked out first.
Alpha Team followed their assigned medical personnel into the elevators in small groups. The director joined Jamie for the short walk to Medical once they reached the ground floor of the main building.
“Did you know?” Jamie asked.
Nazari shook his head. “No. You know the law, Callahan. Metahumans who choose to fight must fight with the MDF. If the Strike Force chain of command knew Brannigan and Dvorkin were metahumans, heads will roll.”
Jamie momentarily closed his eyes, some of the tightness in his body easing now that he was back in familiar territory, out of the hands of the enemy. “Kyle took a bullet to the neck that was meant for me. It tore open his artery. He should have bled out, but he didn’t. He heals quick—his words. Alexei is a pyrokinetic.”
Nazari silently absorbed that information and didn’t press for further information, content to follow in Jamie’s wake as the medical personnel put him in an exam room. Trevor spoke with one of the nurses just outside the door, pressing several vials into her hand. Jamie didn’t know what they contained, just that they must have come from the Ukrainian base.
“Please undress, Captain Callahan,” his nurse ordered.
After spending nearly half his life in the military, Jamie had long ago excised any bit of body shyness he might have possessed. He shucked off his boots and pants before taking a seat on the biobed. Nazari posted himself off to the side and watched as the nurse swiped her fingers over the control screen on her med-glove before flicking the data at the display embedded in the wall, where it expanded on the larger surface. Jamie didn’t flinch from the cold feeling of the med-glove as the nurse pressed her hand over his heart to take readings.
Jamie ignored his vitals in favor of the director. “Debrief, sir?”
“Short and to the point, Callahan. I need something to tell the Joint Chiefs regarding your absence and subsequent return. They didn’t take well to hearing you and your team had dropped off the grid.”
“Not by choic
e,” Jamie admitted before launching into a succinct recital of events, starting with their infiltration of the processing plant to when they escaped the base. “I don’t know much of what happened inside the base while I was unconscious. Your best bet would be to debrief Alexei. He was the only one not wearing a Faraday cage and wasn’t as incapacitated as the others.”
Nazari nodded as he headed for the door. “I’ll want your after-action report by tomorrow night. Dr. Gold will inform me of your status once she’s finished her rounds. Get some rest.”
Jamie watched him leave with tired eyes, wondering what would happen to Kyle and Alexei now that their status as metahumans were revealed. He had no doubt the MDF would claim them for their ranks if the pair still wanted to fight. He hoped they chose to stay. Kyle had proven to Jamie beyond a shadow of doubt that the sniper would cover their six.
Always.
“You’re good to go.” Gracie gave the screen on her med-glove one last critical look before smiling at him. “All the tranquilizers and other drugs they used to keep you under have been flushed out of your system. Your blood volume is back up to normal as well and all lab workups on our end have come back clean.”
“Thanks, Doc,” Jamie said as he slid off the biobed. “How’s the rest of my team?”
“Oh, they’ve been discharged for a few hours already. I eased their migraines from the Faraday cages, which seemed to be the worst injuries they sustained aside from minor bruising. I kept you longer to be on the safe side since you were playing lab rat to a mad scientist.”
“What about Kyle and Alexei?”
Gracie sighed and shook her head. “You know, I thought you and your team were my prized troublesome patients. All six of you combined have nothing on those two.”
Jamie frowned. “Can I see them?”
“Sorry, Jamie. No can do. They’re undergoing standard metahuman baseline testing all day today. Then I think the director has dibs.”
In the Wreckage: (M/M Sci-Fi Military Romance) (Metahuman Files Book 1) Page 12