“Good to see you again, Colonel.” She took my hand in both of hers when we shook, which annoyed me for some reason. It felt too intimate or something. I don’t like touchy people.
“You too,” I said.
“I hear you were down planetside. Also heard there was a bit of a fight.” She said it casually, though her tight lips and firm gaze came across as anything but casual.
“Yeah, we got in a bit of a dustup. Let’s get a plate. I’ll tell you about it, but I’m starving.”
“Sure,” she said.
We split up and met back at an empty table that seated eight. I counted on my rank to scare away anyone else who might think about sitting down. It tended to work that way.
“What do you know about Colonel Karikov?” I asked before she had a chance to start in with her own questions.
She looked at me. “You know, that’s not usually how reporters work. Usually I ask you questions, and you tell me things.”
I shrugged. “We’re off the record, right?”
She smiled at my joke. “Sure. Off the record.”
I swallowed a bite of bread. I really was hungry. “So what’s it hurt if we give and take a little?”
She stuck her fork into her salad, but didn’t take a bite. “Nothing. I suppose we can share information. I assume you have something for me.” She seemed suspicious. I didn’t blame her.
“Yeah, I do. I’m not sure it’s a story, but I was in the action.”
She appeared to consider it. “Okay. You’ve got a deal. Karikov. I don’t know a lot. Special Operators don’t exactly open up to reporters, you know.”
“I know.”
“But he’s got history,” she continued. “All the bad spots. Rensa 4, Polla 5. Multiple tours.”
“No kidding?” I talked through a mouthful of pasta. Probably poor form. “Those were some rough spots.”
“You’d know.” She still hadn’t eaten anything, but I didn’t let that bother me.
I chuckled, then hid it behind a drink from my water. “I guess you’ve done your homework.”
She met my eyes. “Come on, Carl. Did you ever doubt that?”
“No, I did not. I actually counted on it. What else do you know about Karikov?”
“I know he’s been here two and a half years.”
I whistled. “That’s not normal.”
She drew her lips into a thin line. “No. It’s not. And he’s spent almost the whole time planetside. I can’t find anyone who has even seen him up here in more than two years. Okay—my turn to ask a question. Why would they leave someone out here that long?”
I took a bite of some sort of meat to give myself time to think before I answered. It didn’t help. “I really don’t know.” It didn’t help her, but it was the truth. I’d never heard of a tour that long. Sometimes guys did an extension, but never more than two years.
“Not sure that’s a story,” she said. “But it’s interesting.”
“It is.”
“Other than that, it’s mostly standard,” she said. “His men are fanatically loyal, but that’s nothing new in his line of work. They don’t talk, also not unusual. So really, it’s about what you’d expect.”
“Except that he lives on a hostile planet, and never takes a break.”
“Exactly.” She gestured with her fork. “I wonder what the shrinks would say about that.”
“You haven’t asked one?” I wondered about psychs too, but not for the same reason.
“Didn’t really see an angle I could use,” she said. “So what do you have for me?”
I set my fork down. “We got ambushed. They hit the lead vehicle, then continued to fire on us as we tried to recover the wounded. It took us a good bit of fire and maneuver to break out from it, and we really didn’t gain much advantage at all until we got air support. Around twenty enemy killed in action. I’m sure you’ve got the casualty information from our side.”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s all you’ve got? That’s pretty weak for a story. I knew most of that already.”
I shrugged. “I can’t talk about the investigation, if that’s what you wanted.”
“Why are you fucking with me, Carl?”
I know this is going to sound sexist, but it always has a bigger impact on me when a woman swears than when a man does. I think maybe it’s because I don’t expect it as much. That didn’t include soldiers, though. Male and female soldiers were equal opportunity cussers. But when the reporter did it . . . that woke me up a little. “I didn’t think I was,” I said. “This attack . . . it wasn’t normal.”
“Really . . . go on.” I had her attention again, her big eyes staring at me.
“It was a new tactic. Nothing we’ve seen on Cappa in ages. Usually they hit and run before we can bring in firepower. This time, they stayed and fought.”
“Interesting.” She had stopped pretending to eat, and started tapping into her device.
“Don’t quote me on this,” I said.
“Okay. I’ll call you ‘a source.’”
I nodded. “That works.”
“What do you think it means?” she asked. “The new tactic by the enemy.”
I shrugged. “They hit us at a good spot, with good timing, and with some serious firepower.” I wanted to tell her about the satellite coverage gaps, but no way could I get away with giving out that kind of classified stuff. They’d track it back to me for sure.
Karen sat silently for a moment, fixing me with her stare. If she wanted to unnerve me, she was going to be disappointed. I was long past the point of being rattled by a pretty face and big blue eyes. “Why are you telling me this?”
“I owed you something for talking to me about Karikov,” I said.
“No.” She shook her head. “You want this story out there. Why?”
Shit. Had I been that obvious or was she that good? I did want the story in the press. I wanted Karikov to know that I knew something was off. He probably already figured, but I wanted to make sure he had no doubts. I needed to push him to do something. Anything.
“Come on, Carl. You’re trying to use me.”
“No.” I looked down at my hands, then back up. “Maybe. I don’t know.”
She chuckled. “Okay, which is it?”
“I don’t know.” I sat quietly for a moment. “I really don’t. This investigation is going nowhere, I’ve got nothing but dead ends, and I really don’t know what to do next.”
“So no leads on the whereabouts of Lieutenant Mallot.”
This lady was good. “No. None.”
“Can I use that?” she asked. “Come on, Carl. You’re going to want a favor at some point. Hell, you want one now.”
“I’m giving you a real story on this attack,” I protested.
“I’ll give you that.” She paused. “But only because it’s convenient. Give me something else.”
I thought about it for a moment. “Write this down. Word for word. ‘A source close to the investigation says that there are no new developments in the disappearance of Lieutenant Mallot.’”
She finished writing in her book. “That’s not much.”
“That’s all you’re going to get.”
She thought for a second. “Okay. I’ll take it. For now.”
“For now.” I pushed my plate away. “This food sucks.”
“That’s not news,” she said. “One more question?”
“Sure,” I said. “Shoot.”
“How does a colonel on the back side of his career who’s buried at Student Command end up assigned to investigate such a high-visibility case?”
I started to answer too quickly, then caught myself, smiled, and stood up. “That’s a great question. If you figure out the answer, let me know.”
Chapter Seventeen
I sat slumped on the fake-leather sofa in my room several hours later, halfheartedly tabbing through the original investigation for the second time, looking for anything I might have missed in there about Sergeant Caena. I
still hadn’t found anything when the buzzer from my door sounded.
“Open,” I called, and the door voice-activated with a whoosh. I tossed back the end of my whiskey.
“Carl.” Stirling walked in, still dressed in his work uniform and giving the impression that he’d just left the office, even though it was late.
“Aaron.” I stood and wobbled a little. “You want a drink? I was going to pour myself one. Ferra Three whiskey. Good stuff.”
“You look like you’ve already poured a couple.”
I glared at him, but without malice. “Sure.” I’d already had three, but who was counting?
He thought about it. “Yeah, I’ll have one. Mind if I sit?”
“It’s your base. I’m just a guest. Sit wherever you want.”
Stirling rolled the chair out from behind the desk and sat it so that it faced the sofa at an angle. “Thanks.”
“Ice?” I asked.
“In Ferra Three? Just a little.”
“Good man.” I poured us both a couple fingers, added two cubes, and handed his over on my way back to the sofa.
“Going over the initial investigation again, I see.” He wanted to sound casual, I think, but it wasn’t his nature.
I swayed back to the sofa. “Yeah, trying to see if there’s something I might have missed now that I’ve talked to some folks on my own.”
He stared into the liquor in his plastic tumbler. “You find anything?”
“Not really, no. Nothing useful.” I raised my glass, and he raised his back.
“That’s good,” he said, after taking a sip. “Major Alenda said you were going to come by and see me.”
“I was. Now I don’t have to.” I wanted to see how long it took Stirling to come find me if I dodged him. About eight hours, as it turned out.
“She said you were coming right away.”
“Yeah. Sorry about that. I meant to do it, but I got caught up with that reporter. The blonde one.”
“Plazz.” He said it flatly, and I took away the impression that he’d dealt with her before and wasn’t a fan.
“Yeah. Her.”
“What’s she want?”
I shrugged and took a sip of my drink. “What do reporters ever want?”
“You didn’t give her anything, did you?”
“During an active investigation? Of course not. I gave her a bullshit statement.” Mostly true, I thought.
“Okay.” Stirling swirled his drink in the cup, still studying it. “You know it’s hard for me to help you out if I don’t know what’s going on.”
“Yeah.” I let the silence linger for a moment to see if he’d speak more, but he didn’t. “I’m not really sure who’s helping and who’s hurting at this point.” I probably shouldn’t have said that, but a few drinks in, I favored the direct approach.
“What do you mean by that?” Stirling sat straight up in his chair and lowered his drink.
I shifted to a little less of a slouch. “Nothing.” I paused. “No, not nothing. What I’m saying is that things in this investigation have seemed to have a high propensity to disappear.”
“You’re talking about the radar tracks of the MEDEVAC,” he said. “You can’t think I had anything to do with that.”
“I didn’t say anyone had something to do with anything. I said things were disappearing.” But it’s nice to know that you’re defensive about it. “It’s not only the radar feed. There’s the female sergeant from the hospital who conveniently disappeared before I could talk to her.”
“I heard about that.” He relaxed, and took a sip of his drink. No way could I blame him for hospital personnel, so no need to be uptight.
“And you’ve heard about the ambush yesterday.” I watched him closely as I said it.
“Of course.”
I took a drink. “Did you see the satellite feeds of the fight?”
“No.” He pursed his lips, and wrinkles appeared on his forehead. He knew I wouldn’t be asking that question without a reason, but I didn’t think he knew the reason.
“Look at them,” I said.
“Okay, I will,” he agreed. “But why don’t you save us some time. Tell me what I’m going to see.”
“You’re not going to see anything. Because there were no feeds. We got hit in a window without coverage.”
He stared blankly. “What about the geo-synch?”
I shook my head. “Down.”
“What?”
I chuckled. “Yeah. Exactly.”
Stirling breathed out loudly through his nose. “That’s a lot of coincidences.”
“Yeah. Coincidence.”
“Nobody reported that.” He paused for several seconds. “Okay. I can see why you’re suspicious.”
I nodded. “I don’t like ‘coincidences.’ As far as reporting, I’m not sure who knows about the satellites. Zattel down at the company, for sure, but I’m not sure battalion got the word. Although they pushed air to us, so they had to have looked for some sort of feed during the event. Maybe it didn’t register.”
Stirling tossed back the rest of his drink. “Well, they should have noticed. And they should have reported it. It’s on the critical-information list.”
“I’ll leave that to you, then. Have Alenda let me know what you find,” I said.
“Sure. Can I pour another one?” he held up his empty tumbler.
“Of course. I’m good for now.” Four was as many as I needed. I still had work to do. Stirling got up and fixed himself a drink, then stopped to look at me. “You think there’s something to the satellite feeds being down?”
I considered my words before I spoke. “It seems likely.”
He nodded and poured. “Yeah. I don’t believe in coincidence either. But that would mean . . . well it could indicate a few things, but none of them are good.”
“None of them,” I agreed.
He sat back down. “I mean, it’s unlikely that the Cappans cracked our feed, but we’ll need to check. And if it wasn’t them . . .”
I nodded.
“That’s preposterous, right?” He didn’t specify, but I knew what he meant. He’d come to the same conclusion as me.
Karikov.
But I needed to say it out loud. We’d been dancing around it, and I didn’t want to give him a chance to deny it later. So I asked, “What, that our own folks did it?”
He sipped his whiskey. “Right. That’s absurd, isn’t it?”
I shrugged. “How far a leap is it from deleting radar tracks to shutting down a satellite?”
“It’s a long, long way, Carl. One is data. The other is lives. If somebody did this intentionally, I’ll personally hang the bastard.”
“I’m good with that.”
He set his cup down, making a thunk against the table and causing the amber liquid to leap. “We’ll look into it. Hard.”
“I’d appreciate hearing the results.”
Stirling waved his hand. “Of course. That’s what we do. We share information.”
It was a nice dig, if not very subtle. “Okay, I hear you. In the spirit of sharing . . .” I paused, picked up the report lying beside me. I waved it in the air. “There’s one thing I can’t figure out in here.”
“What’s that?” Stirling leaned back in his chair, savoring his whiskey.
“Why there’s no mention of Sergeant Caena.”
“Who?” he asked, his lips hidden behind his drink. He was a bad liar.
“Sergeant Caena. From Zattel’s company. Transferred out on a psych call.”
“Never heard of him.” He did a better job keeping his face steady, but I still read him for a lie. I’d have loved to gamble with the man.
“You have to approve any transfers out of theater, even medical if they aren’t emergency, right?”
“Yeah. I sign about twenty-five or thirty a month though.” I knew it for truth, this time, because it was normal in any unit this size.
“Makes sense,” I said. “Turns out, Sergeant Caena mig
ht have reported something.”
“Oh? What?” There he went again, trying to be casual and failing. It was coming close to pissing me off.
“I don’t know. Someone tipped me off that I should talk to him. But my source wouldn’t say what.” I’m a much better liar than Stirling, even four drinks in.
Stirling thought about it. “I’m sure we can get word to him.”
“He’s probably on a med ship somewhere in the middle of empty space,” I said.
Stirling nodded. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” He sat silently for a moment. “Who mentioned him?”
“I shouldn’t say,” I said, intentionally coy.
“Come on, Carl. I thought we were sharing information.”
We were. Shit. I wished he hadn’t lied to me. I really needed an ally. “All right. Zattel let it slip. What can you tell me about him?”
“Zattel?” The way he said it, I didn’t know if he was surprised that Zattel was my source, or buying time to think.
“Yeah. What kind of officer is he?” I decided to change the direction. Throw up some false trails.
“Huh.” Stirling tossed back the end of his second whiskey. “Middle of the pack, I guess. Definitely not a top guy, but not bad. Solid. Doesn’t take a lot of chances.”
“By the book?” I asked.
Stirling thought about it. “I think so. Yeah. I guess you never know.”
“Yeah. I’m not sure he even knows he told me. It wasn’t a direct question.” In fact, I was quite sure Zattel didn’t know he’d told me, since—you know—he hadn’t.
“I see,” he said. He stared off over my head, as if he was thinking.
I could almost see the gears spinning in his head. Setting Stirling and Zattel at odds with each other was a dick move, but I figured I’d stir things up and see what happened. Neither of them had played straight with me, so they deserved whatever they got. Assholes. If nothing else, the false information about Zattel would throw them off the trail of my real sources for a little while. Cause some confusion. Maybe that would give me time to figure out why Stirling lied about Caena. I was tired of being the only one looking over my shoulder at people he should be able to trust. See how they liked it.
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