Black Sword (Decker's War, #5)

by Eric Thomson

  “But how could respected senior officers, including the Marine Corps Commandant’s advisor on special operations be subversive? I admit it, my lack of experience with Fleet HQ politics meant I was hopelessly naïve. At first, it was small favors. You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours. If I had difficulties getting something fast-tracked to support a mission, I made a call to someone who made a call. Things would miraculously happen. Then, Wynt hinted that my next career step would be a promotion to lieutenant colonel and a job with the Fleet’s Special Operations Command. In a highly classified area where I might do a lot of good.”

  “Good for who or for what?”

  “That was a question I didn’t dare ask.” Redmon sighed. “Remember? This is Major Naiveté we’re talking about. Once support from my new friends had made me a superstar S-3 who could get anything done and call on any backing from HQ, I received polite requests to reciprocate. At first, it was innocuous. The sort of information that goes through back-channels all the time to help speed up planning while a formal request makes its way up and down the chain of command.”

  “But then the requests started crossing certain security boundaries, violating the principle of compartmentalizing operations, right?” Decker asked. “Nothing too egregious at first. Just that one bit of a camel’s nostril under the tent flap, and because it came from senior officers you trusted, where was the harm in speeding things up? It was for the good of the Fleet.”

  Redmon grimaced.

  “Exactly, and if you figured that out, you know how it ended. The slippery slope became unmanageable, and soon I had the entire damn camel in my tent, to mix metaphors. I realized my position had not only become untenable, but I’d trampled on the values most dear to me. After a while, I became convinced that some of the information I’d been passing along to my circle had led to covert operations failing, but with no real proof. When I stopped responding to and meeting with the members of my circle, Colonel Wynt took me out for coffee and explained that no one leaves the fellowship.”

  She shook her head ruefully.

  “He made it clear that once you commit, it was for life. I made the mistake of threatening him and his friends with exposure if he kept pressuring me. Next thing I knew, the military police had me in restraints and hauled before a closed court-martial. I never spoke with Wynt again, but it was evident he was punishing me to send a message aimed at anyone wavering in their commitment.”

  “Why didn’t you spill the beans on Wynt and his gang? At that point, you had nothing to lose.”

  “Because, while awaiting trial, it was made amply clear, via various visitors, I would not be believed. The word of a major under indictment spinning tales of conspiracies most vile, against that of a respected senior officer who had the ear of the Commandant? No contest. Besides, I had no idea whether anyone I talked to was a member of the fellowship. They also made me understand that accepting my fate meant life, but in exile, while struggling against it meant I would meet an accidental death before a court passed sentence. If I could stay alive, perhaps there might be a chance to put things right, and so I took my lumps.”

  She gave Zack a sideways glance, to gauge his reaction.

  “Right now, you’re trying to decide whether I lost my marbles, aren’t you?”

  Decker gave her an ironic grin.

  “You’re as sane as any of us, which isn’t saying much. Did you discuss any of this with someone you trusted, Colonel Drake, maybe?”

  “I didn’t dare involve him. Drake is one of the good guys, in line for a general’s stars. Wynt would have made sure the promotion never happened.”

  “Yet he involved himself anyway, tore through Fleet HQ after your sentencing to find someone who’d listen. Once they shipped you off to Parth, he took early retirement and left Caledonia for Aramis, his home planet. Colonel Drake died in an aircar accident within days of arriving.”

  “Oh.” A stunned Redmon stared up at him. “I had no idea.”

  “My partner and I figure it wasn’t an accident.”

  “Damn Black Sword bastards.”

  “Is that what they call themselves, Black Sword?”

  “Yes. Sounds unbelievably theatrical, like something made up by a crazy person, right?”

  “You don’t strike me as a madwoman, and I’m a good judge of character. Then there’s the fact that covert operations have been failing in greater numbers, more than can be explained by bad luck.”

  Decker drained his coffee bulb.

  “Besides, your story dovetails nicely with the situation my partner and I have been investigating. And, unlike you, serving with intelligence has exposed me to plenty of treachery, most of it from within the Commonwealth government, some of it from within the Fleet. We, the Special Operations Section, have been fighting a shadow war for a long time. Nothing can surprise me anymore when it comes to the human penchant for wickedness.”

  Thirty-Six

  Decker spied Karin Hurst heading for them. He climbed to his feet and brushed the dust off his armor.

  “Looks like we’re about to head out. I need an answer from you within the next couple of seconds. Are you coming back with me to Caledonia so we can put these Black Sword clowns out of business? I can’t guarantee we’ll succeed, or even survive, nor can I guarantee you’ll get your life back, but if you don’t, I won’t either.”

  “You intend to walk out on the regiment?”

  “Yep. It means burning your boats. Once we leave, there cannot be any turning back.”

  “Hey, guys!” Hurst waved at them. “Had a good chat about common acquaintances?”

  Decker grinned at her. “Sure.” He glanced at Redmon. “You good?”

  She nodded, a slow smile creeping across her face.

  “Best I’ve been in a long time. In fact, I’m in a mood to burn things.”

  “We’re off,” Hurst said. “I’d like to finish the tour today and be back home before nightfall. We might own the day, but the terrs think darkness is theirs, so they become unconscionably frisky.”

  Redmon rose. “And I’d better go back to sleep. Our day starts when yours ends.”

  “Hah.” Hurst snorted. “Our day never ends. Who do you think spends the night in the CP, ready to send you fire support, casevac or anything else your little heart desires?”

  “House-elves?” Redmon asked mischief dancing in her eyes.

  Hurst examined Zack from head to toe.

  “An elf he’s not, and as to whether he’s housebroken...” She slapped Redmon on the shoulder. “Say bye-bye, Sharon.”

  “Bye-bye, Sharon.”

  “Okay, House Elf, let’s wind her up and leave sleeping beauty to her rest.” Hurst nodded at their combat car.

  Decker gave Redmon an encouraging smile.

  “Sweet dreams. We’ll do this again soon.”

  Once aboard the skimmer, Hurst said, “You must have had a grand old time together. I can’t remember ever seeing Sharon in such a good mood.”

  “We come from the same extended family, and it’s nice to speak with kinfolk after being away.”

  “True. You have to keep practicing that secret Pathfinder handshake.”

  “What happens inside the Most Ancient and Mystic Order of Pegasus stays there.”

  “Is that really a thing?” Hurst asked with amused disbelief.

  “Sure, but it’s mainly an excuse to get shit-faced after an orbital jump.”

  “Figures.”

  Decker caught one last glimpse of Redmon as they left FOB Lucasz, and fancied he could almost sense the hope radiating from her every pore.

  “Where to now, Sergeant?”

  “Hang a left at the main road. Let’s say hi to a little place called Glaison, where they farm by day and lay IEDs by night.”

  “Sounds charming.”

  “And yet, they’re the friendliest bunch around.”

  “Figures.”

  *

  Talyn, a light sleeper at best, woke before her tablet’s first
vibration faded away. She glanced at the small screen and smiled. Decker had wasted no time in finding Ariane Redmon. Or at least the agent hoped the signal, transmitted via Marengo’s satellite constellation, meant he’d found their elusive quarry and was ready for extraction.

  She rose a few hours later, at daybreak, and pulled on the Marine battle dress she’d worn aboard Birkenhead. This time however, she sported a lieutenant colonel’s rank insignia at the collar. Talyn packed the rest of her belongings and the items she’d bought to help Decker and Redmon escape.

  Then, she carefully inspected the room assigned to her in the transient officers’ quarters, ensuring she had left no traces. An unmarked military skimmer, borrowed from the HQ Battalion, 14th Marine Regiment motor pool the day before waited for her in the parking lot outside.

  After landing from Valeux Station, two days earlier, she had become Lieutenant Colonel Marina Bucceri, Naval Intelligence, complete with credentials and mission orders capable of passing scrutiny. Provided no one checked with HQ on Caledonia, that is. It was one of her last cover identities. She carried one more, besides her last resort, along with those reserved for Decker and Redmon.

  Talyn loaded her bag into the vehicle and visited the 14th’s operations center next door to obtain clearance for a trip to the 1st Battalion’s HQ.

  Half an hour later, Treves faded in her rear-view screen. Two hours after that, she pulled up through the chicane fronting Marine Base Sinjin’s main gate.

  Sentries subjected her to a thorough examination and once satisfied Lieutenant Colonel Bucceri wasn’t an insurgent trying to pass for an honest Marine, directed her to the HQ company lines.

  There, the duty officer carefully examined her ID and orders before saying, “We were warned of your arrival by the 14th Marines earlier this morning, Colonel. But no one told us why a visitor from Fleet HQ was coming. What can the 1st Battalion do for you?”

  “I need to borrow two of your people who’ve worked with my branch in an earlier incarnation. They have knowledge of classified matters involving the Marengo government.”

  “Borrow, sir?”

  “As in take them back to Treves with me for a day or two, have them use their knowledge to help me progress in my mission, then return them here.”

  The captain gave her a dubious stare.

  “I see. If you’ll wait here for a moment, sir, I’ll fetch our CO, Lieutenant Colonel Sanwa. He’ll want to make the call on this one.”

  “Please do,” she replied in a pleasant tone, to show she wasn’t put out by his hesitation. “I suppose common courtesy should have dictated that I approach Colonel Sanwa in the first place, but you know how it is with us intelligence types.”

  “Yes, sir. I suppose so, sir.” He clearly didn’t quite know how to interpret her comments. “If you’ll excuse me.”

  The man reappeared a minute later.

  “Please follow me, sir. Colonel Sanwa would like to buy you a cup of coffee.”

  “Certainly.” Butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.

  Sanwa was what she expected when thinking of a Marine Light Infantry battalion CO. Stocky, muscular, with a square face topped by short, graying hair and dominated by a flattened nose. He stood when she entered his office and stuck out his hand.

  “Colonel Bucceri, welcome. Please,” he indicated a chair in front of his desk. “Coffee?”

  “Black, if you would.”

  He filled two mugs from a waiting thermos jug and handed her one before retaking his seat.

  “We don’t see many visitors from on high at the nasty end of this counter-insurgency, Colonel. And you’re the first from intelligence, so you’ll understand that I’m mighty curious. Alan tells me you’re after two of mine?”

  “Two former Pathfinders involved in covert work for us on Marengo a while back, before things turned ugly. They have local knowledge involving the colonial administration, information I need for my mission.”

  “Former Pathfinders? Did they perchance come through the rehabilitation program? If so, I’m puzzled how you tracked them here. We’re strict about the anonymity provisions.”

  The ghost of a smile tugged at Talyn’s lips.

  “We have our ways, Colonel, something I can’t discuss.”

  Sanwa held her gaze for a few seconds, then nodded.

  “Of course. Who are these individuals?”

  “You know them as William B. Whate and Sharon Lee. Both passed through convict-recruit training within the last year.”

  “Indeed. Private Lee has turned out to be a heck of a tracker. The terrs recently put a price on her head. Whate, I believe, arrived a few days ago. Both are with recon platoon, doing valuable work in choking off the insurgents’ backyard. Alan says you wish to borrow them for a day or two?”

  “You’ll understand that I can’t discuss the details of my mission, Colonel. Suffice to say they can lead me to people in Treves who could prove valuable in our efforts against the rebels.” She pulled out the data wafer with her forged orders and placed it on his desk. “This is my authority to draft any Fleet personnel on Marengo, provided I don’t affect ongoing operations.”

  “Taking two of my valuable recon platoon people out of circulation for a few days will affect my operations.”

  “I understand, Colonel, but intelligence really needs their help. Otherwise I wouldn’t have made the trip here. It’s not as if I’m drafting your entire recon platoon.

  “True,” he said in a grudging tone. “Give me a couple of hours to haul them out of their FOBs — if neither is out on patrol. If one or both are, your wait will be longer.”

  “Thank you, Colonel.”

  “You know,” Sanwa sat back in his chair, “you’re a damn sight less demanding and arrogant than most intelligence types I’ve met.”

  “I’ve always believed a bit of courtesy goes a long way.”

  “Indeed. A refill on your coffee?”

  *

  “Bill,” Hurst stuck her head into the HQ section’s bunk area, “your presence has been requested at battalion. Alex is winding up a skimmer as we speak. Grab a bag for two or three days. Have fun and do nothing I wouldn’t do.”

  Decker sprang to his feet and pulled on both battle dress and armor.

  “That doesn’t exactly narrow it down, Sarge. See you in a few.”

  “Ta.” She wiggled her fingers at him before retreating to the operations room.

  A summons to battalion could only mean that Talyn had come to extract them via official means. Finally.

  Decker joined Suvorov in the vehicle compound shortly afterwards, successfully overriding the urge to give Lora Cyone a goodbye wave through the door. Their reunion, such as it was, had been strained anyhow.

  Perhaps, when this was over, he could pay Cyone a visit and clear the air between them. Perhaps. He gave her a mental farewell and climbed in beside the lance corporal with the eighteenth-century general’s name.

  After an uneventful run back to Marine Base Sinjin, Decker found himself pacing an empty briefing room, trying to appear like an average, bored private wondering what the higher-ups wanted. The door opened admitting Ariane Redmon, also carrying a small pack with necessaries for a few days.

  “Hey, Bill,” she said, her eyes scrutinizing him for a hint. “What’s up? They roped you in as well?”

  “Looks like it. Could be the CO’s putting an all-Pathfinder ball team together. Whatever they want, we’re stuck playing along, right?”

  Redmon didn’t have time to reply before the door opened again. Talyn, accompanied by Lieutenant Colonel Sanwa, entered. Decker schooled himself to show no recognition, and along with Redmon, snapped to attention.

  “Privates Whate and Lee reporting as ordered, sir,” he said.

  “At ease. This is Lieutenant Colonel Marina Bucceri from Naval Intelligence. She needs to borrow you two for a few days on account of local knowledge you gained during a previous tour on Marengo.”

  He raised a hand as if to forestall objecti
ons.

  “Our anonymity rules have been temporarily suspended where you’re concerned, in the interest of our efforts against the insurgents. I expect you to give Colonel Bucceri your full cooperation.”

  “Yes, sir,” Decker and Redmon replied in unison.

  Sanwa turned to Talyn.

  “Privates Whate and Lee are yours, Colonel. Take good care of them. I’ll expect to see you back by the end of the week.”

  “You have my word that I will ensure their safety to the utmost,” Talyn replied. “Thank you again for your courtesy. If this works out as I hope, we may be able to save many lives in the long run.”

  “From your lips to God’s ear, Colonel. Whate, Lee, good hunting.”

  Sanwa left them to gaze at each other silence. Then, Talyn nodded at the door, “My skimmer is parked outside, folks. I hear driving at night in these parts is not good for one’s health, so I suggest we move along.”

  When Sinjin dropped out of sight behind their racing vehicle, Decker turned to Redmon, who was sitting in the back row.

  “Ariane, say hi to Commander Hera Talyn, my partner.”

  “A pleasure, sir.”

  “Glad we could finally track you down, Ariane,” Talyn replied over her shoulder. “There were times when I thought I’d lost Zack. And it’s Hera, among friends. We don’t stand on formality in the field, and we’re about to face a completely new level of undercover. I can’t wait to hear your story, but that’ll be for when we’ve dropped off the sensor net.”

  “Speaking of which, sweetheart,” Decker drawled out the word, “how are we getting away this time?”

  “In a blaze of glory, big boy. In a blaze of glory.”

  “Hey,” Decker brightened, “maybe we’ll have forward operating bases named after us, Ari. FOB Whate and FOB Lee. They were good troops. Their only mistake was to trust a silver-tongued succubus from intelligence who took them to their doom in a fancy staff car. We will miss them.”

  Redmon chuckled, shaking her head. “Is he always like this, Hera?”

  “No. Sometimes he’s worse.”

  Thirty-Seven