Fires of Man

by Dan Levinson

  Sonja watched the sergeant go, and a rage began to build inside her. Her body quivered with both anger and grief. Finn had earned the sergeant’s respect? He was a real brave kid?

  Those were empty words! Useless platitudes that meant nothing! Accomplished nothing!

  Finn hadn’t been a kid. He’d been a man—the bravest, truest, kindest man Sonja had ever known. People had to know what he’d done. They had to know that he was a hero. That he’d saved her life, and the lives of more than thirty others.

  But how?

  The Psi Corps would never let the full story come out. They would protect the secret of psionics until the very end.

  But she wouldn’t. She didn’t care. The only person she cared about was Finn. He deserved to be known, honored, recognized. Not relegated to facelessness, another name among countless others who had perished in this awful war.

  She would do something, she decided. She would do whatever it took, even if it meant bringing the Psi Corps crashing down around her.

  Even if it meant telling the entire world the truth.

  When Sonja closed her eyes, she imagined Finn was with her.

  And when sleep came, she dreamed of him.

  Dreams she wished would never end.

  45

  AGENT

  The train sped through the darkness of the underground tunnel. Agent’s image was reflected back at him as he stared out the window.

  The mission was over.

  It would be hours yet before they knew if it had been successful. There was nothing left but to return to Calchis.

  He had expected the Grisham trains to continue running; the combat had occurred far out in the desert, too far for anyone in the city to hear the noise behind the great walls. If the Orion military had shut down the trains, with or without explanation, it might have instigated a panic. He was glad his instincts had proven correct.

  Though everything had gone according to plan, Agent felt a vague sense of unease. It was a familiar sensation after the completion of an assignment. Until his next mission, he would spend his days further honing his body, mind, and power. There was also the Waverly boy to see to, and reading he could do.

  He frowned. Was it no longer enough to wait and prepare until he was needed? When had he become so soft? His duty was enough; it had sustained him all these years, and it would continue to do so.

  Agent turned his mind to more important matters, namely Cole. Sitting across the business-class table from Agent, Cole had made a point of not making eye contact. At first Agent thought it was lingering resentment over having to terminate the Barrett girl, but the more he mulled it over, the more he wondered.

  Agent spared a wayward glance for Moreau, lying on the bench seat across the aisle, her earbud headphones playing some of that electronic noise she called music. It was just as well; this conversation was not for her ears.

  “What am I going to do with you?” Agent asked quietly.

  Even then, Cole didn’t bother to look at him. “You could kill me. Like you killed Hague,” he said.

  “I could,” Agent agreed. “But that isn’t preferable. For either of us.”

  “Something on your mind, boss?”

  “You didn’t kill the girl, did you?” Agent asked.

  “No,” Cole said.

  “You lied.”

  “I only said she wouldn’t bother us,” Cole replied. “I never lied.”

  “Words are fickle, worthless things,” Agent said. “Intent is the true measure. Your intent was to deceive me. Count yourself lucky you did not disrupt our plans.” He paused. “You’re aware she’ll die anyway.”

  Cole said nothing.

  Agent’s eyes narrowed. “What have you done, Cole?”

  “I gave her some cash,” he said, “and a fake ID. Told her to skip town.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know, boss,” Cole said. Finally, he met Agent’s gaze. “She was . . . special.”

  “You loved her,” Agent said, grimacing at the word.

  “No. I don’t know. Maybe,” he said.

  “You have a habit of becoming attached,” Agent said. “This was bound to happen. It’s my fault as much as yours. I’ve been too permissive.”

  “Boss . . .”

  Agent silenced Cole with an upraised hand. “It’s no secret you’re my favorite protégé. I’ve groomed you to take my place.”

  Cole looked shocked. “You can’t be serious.”

  “Who else would qualify?” Agent asked.

  “No offense, boss, but I’m not . . . like you.”

  For some reason this amused Agent. “Not like me, how? Not a sociopath? A monster?” He actually chuckled, which appeared to unnerve Cole even further. “I’m perfectly aware of what you are and are not. I’ve known you since you were a boy. Almost twenty years, Cole. I fully comprehend that you would be a very different Agent than I am. But that does not change the fact that you are clearly not ready for the responsibility.”

  “I don’t want it,” Cole said.

  Agent froze. A sudden, unexpected rage washed through him.

  He had been willing to forgive so many things for Cole, more than he ever would have for anyone else. But this! It was the height of ingratitude.

  All those years ago in Tripana, Virard had saved Agent from the hell that was his life. And for the next thirty-three years and two hundred seventeen days, Agent had served the general faithfully. Unwaveringly. Agent, in turn, had saved Cole.

  So where was Cole’s sense of duty?

  Agent took a deep breath, and the tide of anger receded.

  Cole would have to learn what real duty meant.

  “This is not a choice,” he said. “I am an agent of change, Cole. With these hands, I sort through the chaos of this miserable existence. One day, you will too.” He paused. “As for your lapse in judgment with the Barrett girl, there is still time to rectify matters.”

  “But the mission—”

  “Enough,” Agent hissed. This would be the first lesson. “This is no longer about the mission. It’s about you. If it turns out she followed your instructions and escaped the city, you are going to hunt her down. And end her. I’ll want proof this time.”

  “You can’t be serious,” Cole said.

  “I want her head, Cole.” He paused. “Have I made myself perfectly clear?”

  After a long time, Cole nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  The train sped on toward Calchis.

  46

  KAY

  Clink!

  Beer sloshed over the sides of five pint glasses. Kay regarded the smiling faces of her squad with relief. They’d all survived.

  She couldn’t say the same about the other soldiers.

  She glanced around Hardy’s Bar & Grill—a bright, cheery place with blonde wood furnishings. Orionan soldiers packed the room as far as the eye could see, drinking, talking, carousing. The sound of chatter filled the space, and smiles abounded, though Kay could see the pain behind them. Some squads sat grouped at tables, like Kay’s own, empty chairs marking the places where their fallen comrades had once sat.

  The numbers had come in a few hours ago.

  Forty-seven recruits had been killed—or slaughtered, really—among the six training outposts. On top of that, another fourteen full-fledged soldiers had died driving back the Calchans, half of them in the point Sandbike Squads. Ninety-six more were wounded, most of them recruits as well.

  Kay had known some of the dead; good men and women, all of them. But right now, she was just too tired to mourn. The tears and sorrow could come later.

  The first beer went down smoothly. So did the second, and third. They ordered a fourth round.

  By then, it was only 2100, but nearly everyone had been up since before dawn. The bar began to empty out. The remaining soldiers gravitated toward newly empty tables, until what had just been a lively gathering transformed a somber, quiet affair.

  “So, what happens now?” Jensen asked. He looked around
the table.

  “Dude, they just tried to invade us,” Maddick said. “We’re going back to open war.”

  “Don’t jump to conclusions,” Zweig said.

  “Are you fucking kidding me, man? We can’t just let this go,” Maddick said. “We have to retaliate. They can’t get away with this shit!”

  “They didn’t try to invade,” Zweig said. “They staged a skirmish, and we don’t know—”

  “So the fuck what?” Maddick shot back.

  “For the love of God, Mads,” Turner said, “let the man talk.”

  Zweig gave Turner a nod of thanks. “We killed more of theirs today than they did ours. The attack made no sense. Until we understand what their objective was, we can’t jump to conclusions,” he said.

  “The way I see it,” Maddick replied, “the ‘why’ doesn’t matter. They hit us, we hit them. Simple as that.”

  “You’re an idiot,” Zweig muttered.

  “You’re an asshole!” Maddick shot back.

  “Boys!” Kay smacked the table with her palm.

  Her squad immediately fell silent, their eyes on her.

  “Listen,” she said. “It’s been a long day, a really long fucking day. Everyone’s a bit raw right now, and a bit drunk. So talking about this stuff is not productive. We can’t afford to be divided. Am I right?”

  “Yes, Sarge,” they mumbled back.

  “I’m not drunk,” Maddick hedged.

  “God, you guys suck,” she said. “Get outta here. Get some sleep. Put yourselves back together. Better minds than ours will figure out what’s next, and I need you all ready for whatever that is. We clear?”

  “Hooah,” grunted Zweig.

  “That’s the spirit,” she said.

  “What about you, Sarge?” Jensen asked.

  She smiled. “I’m gonna finish my goddamn beer.”

  After her squad departed, Kay sat to finish the remnants of her drink. A waitress came; she cleared away the squad’s half-finished beers and wiped down the table. Soon, there was no evidence that they had been there at all.

  She was alone at last.

  She sighed.

  The truth was she was every bit as concerned as the others over what was to come. Would they go back to full-fledged conflict with Calchis, as Maddick had suggested? The thought made her feel ill. It would mean so much more violence and heartache. Would she see Tiberian again after all, if that happened?

  God, it had been hard to watch him leave today, but at the same time she finally felt . . . free. She would employ any means within her power to keep full-scale war from breaking out. Even if it was in small, unimportant ways. Even if it meant never seeing Tibe again.

  She took a long gulp of her beer.

  Life would be different from now on, she thought. She wondered if the day’s events might wipe away Dobbs’s memory of her indiscretion with Jackie, and immediately felt a twinge of guilt. There were more important issues now than her commission. The threat of Calchis was paramount.

  She drained the last dregs of alcohol from her glass, and set it on the table. She looked up, at the empty seat across from her, and had a sudden, powerful image of someone sitting there—a man with a broad frame; his rugged face all hard angles and rough-hewn edges; his emerald eyes suffused with a depth of emotion and caring she’d never seen in anyone, except her brother.

  Nyne.

  After this awful day, she longed for him. How could she have ever been afraid of his compassion? His generosity? His love?

  Perhaps it was that she’d finally let go of Tibe; in doing so, she felt like her heart had opened a little. Before, she’d been terrified of Nyne’s unconditional support, his desire to “be there” for her, hear what she was thinking and feeling; she had truly believed that if she confided in him, she would drive him away. Now, inexplicably, she wanted to talk to him more than ever, and lighten her burden.

  And that’s all he’d ever asked for, wasn’t it? A chance to carry some of her baggage.

  A swell of sorrow rose in her breast, and she clamped down on it before it could become a sob. God, she’d acted like such an idiot! She was the one who’d ruined everything between them, she felt; she was the one who’d given him no choice but to run.

  Now, it was too late.

  But she still had to try.

  She went to the bar and paid her tab, then left Hardy’s, walking the ten minutes back toward Littman Plaza and the base. She took out her cell phone, spending the entire time trying to find Camp Jouka’s directory assistance number on the Orion Armed Forces website. Luckily, when she did, it came with instructions on how to dial from overseas.

  She took a seat on a bench in the plaza, the bright lights from the army compound shining at the opposite end. She made the call.

  After several rings, an operator answered. Kay identified herself, and told him she was trying to contact Major Nyne Allen. She told him it was personal business.

  “I can connect you to Major Allen’s personal landline in his on-base residence,” the operator replied. “The major’s probably occupied at this hour, but you can leave him a message.”

  “That’s fine,” Kay said.

  “Hold a second.”

  Again, she heard ringing. And then . . .

  “Hi, you’ve reached Major Nyne Allen, with the Orion First Ephyric Army Corps.”

  Her breath caught in her throat; hearing the warmth in his voice made her miss him even more.

  “I can’t come to the phone right now,” the message went on, “but if you leave your name and contact information, I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Thanks.”

  Beep.

  “Hey, N, um . . . it’s me,” she said. “Listen, some . . . crazy shit went down today. I won’t go into it, because I’m sure you’ll hear soon enough, but . . . um . . . It got me thinking.” She hesitated, the words on the tip of her tongue. How could he possibly forgive her after she’d driven him to the ends of the earth, just to get away from her? “I . . . I . . .”

  The words just wouldn’t come. She balled her fists, willing herself to speak. One, two, three, four, five, she counted.

  “I’m sorry,” she finally managed. And just like that, it all came tumbling out of her. “I am so goddamn fucking sorry, N, I . . . I can’t even . . .” Her chest rose and fell as she sucked in air; she blinked away tears. “I treated you like shit when all . . . all you ever did was try to watch my back. I don’t know . . . how you feel about me, right now . . . but . . .”

  She hunched over, crying into the phone. “I love you,” she whispered. “I still love you, and I miss you, and I want you to come home. I don’t . . . I don’t care how long it takes. If you still love me, too, then come back. I’ll wait. I swear. And if I have to transfer out there myself, then . . . then that’s something we can talk about. Okay?” That last bit would conflict with all her newfound goals. Yet, in imagining a life far away from Orion’s shores—a happy life, together with Nyne—she actually found herself considering it.

  For a minute, she said nothing more, simply calming herself down. When she did, she started to laugh. “God, you must think I’m so crazy, right now,” she said. “I’d . . . I’d understand if you decide that things . . . really are done between us. I would. So . . . call me back. If you want to. Only if you want to, okay? Don’t . . . feel obligated because I’m acting like an emotional wreck here. Seriously. I’m ready to . . . share more things with you. But this is what you’re getting yourself into, just so you know.” She laughed again. “Anyway, um . . . yeah. I love you, and, um . . . I hope I’ll hear from you soon. All right.

  “Bye.”

  She hung up, and felt an urge to start crying again. Even talking to his answering machine, she’d felt connected to him; she’d been able to picture his reactions—how he might smile, or chuckle, or just shake his head at her in disbelief. But now, they were separated again, both by distance, and the emotional rift between them.

  It was the latter that left her most conc
erned. Still, she’d done all that she could.

  She returned to base, and headed down to her quarters. She collapsed into bed, exhausted, but her sleep was restless, fitful. She tossed and turned, until she awoke in the dark, with her clock reading 0355.

  She groaned and turned over, knowing she’d have to get up in an hour anyway. Yet her eyelids just wouldn’t stay closed. For a minute, she stared at her ceiling, willing herself to feel tired again. It didn’t work.

  Her stomach growled.

  Kay exhaled heavily. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, and gave her mattress a frustrated punch for good measure. She needed rest, badly, after yesterday. But lying in bed and vainly trying to sleep was the last thing she wanted to do.

  She got up, walked to her dresser, and grabbed a protein bar from the box on top. She tore it open, and held it clenched between her teeth as she rummaged through a drawer for clean gym clothes. If she wasn’t going to sleep, exercise would be the next best thing, she thought.

  Then she brushed against something small and hard.

  The jewelry box.

  Kay stopped, and slowly withdrew the box.

  She opened it; though she couldn’t see the gleam of the platinum in the dark, she knew how beautiful the bracelet was, just the same. For the first time since that day with Nyne on the Ferris wheel, she slipped it around her wrist. It would only be until she got to the gym, but . . . it felt right.

  She shoved her clothes in her gym bag, and bit off a chunk of the protein bar, forcing herself to swallow the chalky, chocolatey stuff.

  She stepped out of her room as the clock ticked 0400.

  A dull rushing noise filled the corridor. There was a breeze, here of all places, as if the air was being sucked down the hallway by a powerful force.

  In that instant, Kay knew something was very wrong.

  A tidal wave of pure fire burst through the hall. Walls and ceiling collapsed in the face of its fury. Instinctively, Kay squeezed every last drop of her depleted power into the strongest shield she could create.

  Time slowed, not from psionic powers, but from the panic of imminent death.

  Nyne, she thought desperately. And then, Oh, God, not like this!