by Eric Thomson
The sergeant major raised both hands, palms up and smiled beatifically.
“Son, you’re never too old to learn from the master. Now if you’re done drinking me out of hearth and home, it’s time this party broke up. QD, you need to start on your proposal so you can put in on your CO’s desk tomorrow morning. I need to make a few calls and line up transport, and Zack, you best get some decent rest. You strike me as a man who’s been napping with one eye open for months on end. This place may not look like much, but it’s probably one of the safest spots for a fugitive Pathfinder to catch up on his sleep.”
Forty
Decker sat on the veranda steps, enjoying his third coffee of the morning when Bayliss pulled up in a dust-streaked ground car. Based on its style, the six-passenger vehicle had probably come off the assembly line at the turn of the century. And although it looked like something on its last legs, the car rode smoothly and without the sounds that presaged an imminent breakdown.
Bayliss had left at dawn with most of Zack’s creds, to follow up on the previous evening’s calls. He cut the engine and jumped out, beaming at Decker.
“Snapped up four of these, each big enough for half a dozen. QD and his guys are stashing the other three at Camp Griffin,” he said, referring to a collection of huts used by school staff during the field portions of the Pathfinder course. “QD commandeered a corner of it to prepare his adventure training exercise.”
“I hope QD intends to take the things apart and make sure they won’t quit in the middle of the action. He also needs to confirm they have no stowaways, such as trackers, listening devices, anything that’ll link into traffic control, stuff like that.”
“Oh he will, have no fear, and we’ll give this one a complete inspection before leaving. I assume you have no issues if we arrive in Sanctum after dark. Because it’ll take us a few hours to do a thorough job.”
“No issues at all. In fact, I’d prefer it.” Decker drained his mug and stood. “Did you clear everything with the Colonel?”
“He wished me a good time off.” Bayliss pointed at a side door with his thumb. “My mechanic’s kit is in there.”
“Are you asking me to be your tool monkey?”
“I’m not asking, buddy. The way I see it, I’m a sergeant major, and you’re a private who deserted from his unit. Guess who the boss is? Besides, you have a knack for making things explode and now’s not the time to indulge in fireworks. Handing me tools will keep you out of trouble.”
Three hours later, Decker slammed the reactor compartment shut and wiped his hands on a rag.
“This thing is not only clean, but it’ll make the drive to Sanctum and then some.”
Bayliss tossed a cold beer at him.
“That’s what QD just called to tell me. Mind you, I’m not exactly surprised. I told the seller about my money-back guarantee before we concluded the deal.”
“Oh?”
A wicked smile spread across the sergeant major’s face.
“I told him that if he screwed me over, I was guaranteed to come back for my money and impose a penalty that might put him out of business.”
“Ah, the old Bayliss charm.” Decker drained half of his bulb in one gulp. “Works with everything but the ladies.”
“Says the guy who spends his life in the company of an assassin instead of settling with someone whose idea of killing involves nothing more than kindness.”
“Did you forget I tried that and have a kid somewhere to prove it? At least with Hera, I know where I stand.”
“Yep, with your back against the wall. Which is just as well. I can’t think of anyone better to keep you out of trouble. Finish your beer. Time to hit the road.”
“Weapons?”
“It’s best we travel light. QD promised to bring extra ordnance. Since he’s deploying under orders, no one will ask uncomfortable questions. Between the two of us and our pig-stickers, I’m sure we can handle most things.”
“I’d better not hear you whine about getting too old for this shit if we ever walk into trouble.”
“Isn’t bitching and moaning your job?” Bayliss asked over his shoulder as he went into the house. He reappeared moments later with a small overnight bag and Zack’s jacket. After locking up, he slid into the driver’s seat and looked up at Decker. “What are you waiting for?”
“Shouldn’t a private drive a sergeant major?”
“Do you have valid ID, the kind that’ll pass any nosy cop’s inspection? No, you don’t because you’re a damned fugitive. Now climb in and enjoy the ride.”
Decker snorted.
“No way — I remember how you drive, Josh. Enjoyment doesn’t come into it. Why do you think I want the controls?”
“Get. In. The. Car. And if you wish to criticize my driving, that’ll be Sergeant Major Bayliss to you, Private.”
“You’re enjoying this way too much,” Decker replied, dropping into the passenger seat.
Bayliss turned his head towards Zack and allowed a slow grin to split his face.
“Damned right I’m enjoying myself. Why the hell do you think I signed on with you?”
“For the chance at a road trip?”
*
Tendrils of fog chased them along darkened streets edged by blurred lights and washed-out sight lines, where every available surface wore a coat of tiny droplets. Their trip through the Nestor Valley had taken longer than expected, thanks to road repairs, a detour, and an evening meal that stretched out long enough to test Decker’s patience.
In a government city such as Sanctum, little stirred this late on a weekday evening, and they had the damp avenues to themselves. They eventually left the lustrous architecture of downtown to enter less salubrious precincts and pulled into the hotel’s mostly vacant foreyard at around twenty-two hundred hours.
“Stay with the car,” Decker told Bayliss. “Hera’s not expecting company. She was in enough of a mood when I left that your smiling face might cause unplanned spasms in her trigger finger. Contrary to us mere Marines, she’s well-armed with the most modern blasters.”
Bayliss shut the car’s power plant and raised his hands.
“We’re back on your turf, secret agent man. Whatever you say goes.”
Decker scanned their surroundings for anything suspicious before climbing out of the car, senses alert. The strange feeling of being an enemy combatant in his adopted hometown momentarily overcame him. It wasn’t far from the truth. He was a convict, deserter, and fugitive rolled into one, planning a private guerrilla war. By any measure, sane people would consider him a terrorist, no different from the ones fighting government forces on Marengo.
He passed through an empty lobby and turned left before heading into a dingy corridor. The silence that enveloped him was almost deafening, as if no creature drew breath in this rundown building.
For all Zack knew, he could be utterly alone, or there could be an entire platoon of military police waiting behind closed doors.
He stopped just short of their room and listened intently, then reached out and tapped an irregular rhythm on the scarred door panel with his knuckle. Anyone inside could view the corridor via a video feed, so identifying himself hadn’t been the point of the coded knock. It told Talyn that he wasn’t under surveillance or, God forbid, under coercion.
After a few moments of silence, a different set of taps sounded from the other side, proving that Talyn was not only there, but acting freely. Had someone held her at gunpoint, Talyn’s coded response would have been entirely different. The door slid aside with a soft sigh, and he slipped in, eyes searching for anything unusual.
“We didn’t expect you until tomorrow,” Talyn said, stepping out of the bathroom’s shadows.
“If you’re not happy to see me, Josh and I can take a room at the Sanctum Excelsior.”
“Josh? Josh Bayliss?” Talyn frowned at her partner.
“The two of us drove here together. QD Vinn and fifteen of his troopers will follow within the next day.”
�
�Okay, lay it out for me, Zack.” She eyed him with suspicion.
“Four items — a snatch team, anonymous transport, a safe house, and interrogators. QD’s troop covers the first; Josh took care of the second; you and I are trained interrogators meaning we only need to find a safe house. Can you guess what we’re planning?”
Talyn gave him a slow nod.
“I can guess easily enough. The plan is to abduct Colonel Wynt and put him to the question, and then kidnap our way through Black Sword based on what he tells us. We interrogate them and what?”
Decker shrugged.
“Then, we find out how deep and far it goes. Figure out whom we can trust and who needs terminating. After that, we decide what to do about it.”
“What if Black Sword turns out to be a fantasy concocted by delusional or bitter staff officers whose careers have stalled? Heaven knows HQ has more than enough of them. We’ll have a string of illegal interrogations on our hands and every MP on the planet chasing us.”
“It’s no fantasy, Hera,” Ariane Redmon said.
Talyn raised a hand.
“I’m playing devil’s advocate, Ari. One last sanity check if you want. So it’s no fantasy. Let’s start with Allister Wynt. QD’s folks snatch him off the street and bring him to a safe house. Then you and I go to work. Once we’ve squeezed him dry, then what?”
“If he’s as guilty as Ari says, he has a fatal accident. If not, then the authorities will find him drugged, delusional, and muttering something about terrorists. Josh, QD, and company are thoroughly sanitized and completely deniable. Ari and I don’t exist anymore and you? You’re a ghost. If we have to let Wynt or anyone else go, it won’t be traced back to another faction in the Fleet. Of course, there will be a lot of heads spinning at the thought of terrorists on Caledonia, the most heavily garrisoned planet in the Commonwealth.”
“And the other Black Sword members? Do they suffer fatal accidents as well?”
Decker made a dismissive gesture with his shoulders.
“If necessary, depending on how much damage they’ve done. Treason is a capital offense.”
Talyn studied him with hard eyes in silence, then asked, in a soft tone, “What happened to you, Zack? I’m supposed to be the cold-blooded assassin and you my restraint. I feel as if we’ve somehow swapped roles. This plan of yours, it’s war. Zack Decker’s private war at the heart of Fleet HQ.”
“Marines screwing over other Marines like Wynt did to Ari and God knows who else is a sin that can’t be forgiven,” he replied. “This isn’t a war, this is a cleanup. This is good Marines taking out the trash on behalf of the Fleet as we’ve always done. Remember the cases we analyzed? Those people who died because of treason? They were our friends and colleagues, the folks who put service ahead of self to preserve what humanity has built. If you don’t have a better plan to offer, then I suggest we call Josh in here and discuss practicalities.”
A sardonic smile slowly replaced the stony expression on Talyn’s face.
“I do believe I heard bugles calling the charge. Did you, Ari?”
“I’m more partial to war pipes, but yeah, and by the way, I wholeheartedly endorse Zack’s sentiments and his proposal.”
Talyn snorted.
“What a surprise. You nut bars who jump out of perfectly good shuttles from low orbit stick together like stink on manure. Speaking of which why is Josh here?”
“He’s our liaison with QD. Remember, we don’t exist and therefore don’t want to leave a trace on the net.”
“That’s hardly a good reason, Zack,” Talyn replied. “Anyone in Vinn’s troop could do that job.”
“Okay. The truth is, he wanted in on this and earned his place by getting the disposable transport. If you think I’m an angry Marine, you should have seen Josh when I told him the sordid story. Plus, he’s one of the few people besides you I can trust with my life.”
Talyn took a deep breath, and then slowly exhaled.
“Fair enough. Considering you’ve presented Ari and me with a fait accompli, we might as well move forward.”
Decker gave her a searching look.
“Something’s eating at you, darling. Want to talk about it?”
She chewed on her lower lip for a few seconds.
“Throughout my career as an intelligence operative,” Talyn said, “I’ve always known I had a safe harbor in the Special Operations Section. I’ve had colleagues and superiors I could trust to watch my back. After all, we’re the most thoroughly vetted people in the entire Commonwealth. Now? I don’t know anymore. What if Black Sword has corrupted or co-opted some of us? What if the betrayal goes so deep even Special Operations is no longer safe? I guess what’s eating at me is that the one certainty I’ve always believed in might have become an illusion. You still know your Pathfinder friends will have your back. I’m not sure anymore what I have.”
Decker touched her cheek with his fingertips.
“Hey, Hera. Don’t forget that you’re also one of us. You’re a jumper, a NILO with combat drops. Pathfinders are your family too, and we’ll always have your back.”
She looked up at him with a twisted smile.
“Fetch Josh before we get emotional and go through a few renditions of Blood on the Risers.”
Forty-One
“Looks good so far,” Decker said, studying the rundown commercial building. “No close neighbors, garage seems big enough for four cars and in an area of Sanctum that probably sees a police patrol once a decade. Is it connected? You know, sensors that call home to HQ if anyone enters?”
Talyn shook her head.
“The only safe houses wired into our surveillance network are on acknowledged Fleet properties, where unauthorized personnel can’t trip across sensors, transmitters, and so forth. This one, which goes by the innocent name of Marguerite, isn’t. Or at least it wasn’t when I last checked. None of the houses on ostensibly private land are.”
“And when did you last check?” Decker asked.
“Before heading to Parth. I had an idea we might need a safe place for a while upon our return.”
“How incredibly prescient of you, Commander,” Bayliss said, chuckling.
Talyn glared at him.
“What did we agree on before leaving the hotel? No ranks — first names only, in case our tongues slip where someone can hear?”
The sergeant major hung his head in contrition.
“Sorry, Hera. Old habits die hard.”
“You have no problems calling Zack by his first name. Just think of me as a better-looking version.”
Decker made a few discreet choking noises, earning a glare of his own.
“How do we get in?” Redmon asked.
“Coded locks. I memorized them before leaving.”
“Let’s hope they haven’t changed either,” Decker said.
“I doubt it. This one’s the least favored of the bunch, so it rarely sees use.” Talyn seemed to hesitate, then opened the passenger door and climbed out. “Josh, I suggest you stay with the car. The area might seem mostly abandoned, but it’s surprising what critters emerge from the shadows when they see shiny objects.”
“I’ll stay as well,” Redmon said. “Buddy system.”
“Good idea.”
Talyn headed for a metallic door near the garage portals, Decker on her heels. She opened a discreet panel set into the blank concrete wall beside it, revealing a gray screen. The operative traced an intricate design on its surface with her finger. A soft click reached their ears, and the door swung outward.
They stepped into an undecorated lobby with a similar door at the far end. This one’s control surface wasn’t hidden and showed a backlit keyboard. Talyn entered an alphanumeric code and the second door swung outward.
“The locks haven’t been changed. That’s a good omen,” Decker said, following his partner into Marguerite. When he caught his first glimpse of the bare walls and conduit-laden ceiling, an ironic whistle escaped his lips. “Low-tech chic. I like it.�
�
“A safe house isn’t a luxury hotel,” Talyn replied in an annoyed tone. She pointed at the first room on the left. “This and the one across the hall should do as dorms for QD’s troops.”
She kept walking, and pointing.
“That one will suit the four of us; there’s the kitchen, and that door leads to the garage.”
Decker opened the latter and stuck his head in.
“There’s enough space for a company’s worth of combat cars.”
“It used to be a warehouse, so that stands to reason.” She led him down a flight of stairs. “The dungeon is through here. It’s connected to the garage via a second staircase.”
“Four interrogation rooms? I’m impressed,” Decker said examining each in turn. “Cells?”
“Over here.” Talyn beckoned him to follow her.
“Nice. It makes me think of a miniature Lubyanka. How about you?”
“No it doesn’t.” She turned and stared at him arms crossed. “But I sense I’m about to receive another history lesson.”
“I’m keeping to a theme here,” he replied with an easy grin. “Remember how I called this culling of the covert operations community a revived Smert Shpionam? SMERSH for short? That nasty organization operated out of an equally nasty building in Moscow called the Lubyanka. It’s where many an enemy of the Soviet and Russian states were interrogated, tortured, and executed.”
“Sounds cheerful. I thought your SMERSH were our enemies. That doesn’t quite compute with calling this safe house a little Lubyanka, now does it?”
She cocked a skeptical eyebrow at her partner.
“I guess not.” He looked back at the interview rooms. “What conversational inducements do we have, besides my knife, fists and winning personality? I don’t think Wynt and company will have received conditioning, but that doesn’t mean they’ll talk if I merely say boo.”
“There should be a hidden closet or room containing everything we need. As you’ll no doubt have deduced, we also use Marguerite an interrogation facility for prisoners who can’t be seen near an official Fleet establishment. This place’s out of the way location wasn’t my only selection criteria, perhaps not even my first.”