by Lyn Gala
“More like lack of sleep. They poked and prodded me only to announce that I was fine and just needed to avoid getting hit again.”
Lev leaned closer to the bed. “And you were planning on going back to training today. Idiot.”
Tank shrugged. “It wouldn’t have killed me.”
A new voice interrupted them. “Now, you let me determine that.” A tall man with white hair and a medical chart walked up to the foot of the bed, flipping through the pages. Tank vaguely recognized him from his last trip to the infirmary to get checked out for any reaction to the alien pheromones before two corporals had shoved him in a cell. Mostly the doctor had been hurrying through the infirmary barking orders at other people. Apparently things that caused every single member of the base to need STD testing, pregnancy testing, and/or psychotherapy all at once made him cranky.
He gave Tank a disapproving look. “Twice in a week. I wish I could call that a base record, but it’s not.” He glared at Lev.
Tank looked at Lev. “I thought you had someone covering your back.”
The doctor answered before Lev could. “He has several someones, and he still rushes into trouble more often than not. You, however, are giving him a run for his money. Now, would you like to explain why you didn’t report to the infirmary after training?”
“Um, because I didn’t think it was a big deal?” Tank tried for puppy-dog eyes, but the doctor pinned him with one seriously nasty glare.
“Dr. Anderson, this is Private George Tankersley. Tank, this is Doctor Anderson,” Lev introduced them. “Now let him treat your injuries.”
“It’s bruising. Bruising. I didn’t break anything, I wasn’t bleeding, and nothing green or slimy was dripping out my nose or oozing from open sores.”
Dr. Anderson and Lev both gave him odd looks.
“Long story,” Tank said wearily. “But the guys who did the testing last night after the colonel dragged me here said I’d be fine.”
Dr. Anderson hooked the chart onto the end of the bed. “They said you had minimal damage to your kidneys and severe swelling that required treatment to avoid possible loss of circulation. You will be on medication for at least three or four days while serving light duty. I’m also going to talk to John about the appropriate use of force in training.”
“Hey, no. I’m the one who told him to stop pulling his punches.” Tank pushed himself up in bed, all sleepiness forgotten. “I mean, how can I get ready for an enemy if I don’t know how hard they hit? I don’t want to go out there expecting German shepherd strength and then find out in the middle of the fight that I’m up against a grizzly.”
Dr. Anderson frowned at him. “I’m regular military, Private. I understand training, and even training hard enough for accidents. For example, I’m not at all upset that you punched my wife in the face yesterday. However, you do not ignore injuries while you are on my base. If I even suspect you’re hiding your physical condition, you will go in my little black book, and you do not want to know what happens to soldiers who are on my bad side.”
“You can ask Clyde about that later,” Lev said in a stage whisper.
The doctor pointed a long finger at Lev. “Don’t you start. You’ve come close to landing in that book yourself.” The distraction didn’t last long, though, because he turned back to Tank. “Now, let’s get a few ground rules settled. If a hit causes enough swelling for the skin to look slick or the flesh to feel hard, you come to the infirmary. If you get hit hard enough to have even one drop of blood in your urine, you come to the infirmary. And if you have any open sore dripping anything, green or not, you definitely come to the infirmary. Are we clear, Private?”
“Yes, sir,” Tank quickly answered.
He gave a stiff nod. “Now that that’s settled, unless there’s something else you’re hiding….” The doctor took a second to study Tank, who shook his head. As thorough as last night’s exam had been, they’d pretty much found everything. “Well, then, I have paperwork to tend to. Private, light duty only, and I still plan to speak to John, although I will keep in mind that you were the idiot who asked him to use his full strength. Lord, what fools these mortals be,” he muttered as he walked off. Hopefully John would forgive Tank for siccing the doc on him.
“I think he likes you,” Lev said softly.
Tank frowned. “That’s him liking someone?”
“He didn’t threaten you with the big needles. He threatens Clyde almost every time, which might be why Clyde avoids the infirmary. Anyway, I brought you clean clothes and your boots. Don’t worry, I will be talking to Clyde later about what an asshole move it was to drag you across the base in your bare feet.”
The way Lev wasn’t quite meeting Tank’s gaze was worrisome. “Hey, if you’re uncomfortable being here…,” Tank offered softly.
That made Lev look at him. “What?”
Tank looked around. “People might see you and start wondering about us. I’m fine with you keeping your distance in public.” Hell, Tank had lots of experience with it.
Lev cocked his head to the side. “Do you really think I’m that shallow? I don’t care what people think. You’re the one with the military career to protect.”
Tank snorted. “I’m not protecting a military career at all. If they want to kick me out, I don’t really care. Oh, it’s nice to have a regular income—income was less than steadyish back home. But this isn’t going to be my life,” Tank said with a wave at the concrete walls. At least he hoped it wouldn’t be his life. Now that he’d managed to land in the middle of a giant conspiracy, there was a chance Tank would be peeling potatoes into his sixties. He’d be the Army’s oldest private.
“Oh.” Lev was back to not making eye contact.
“Is this you having your version of the gay freak-out that you thought I was going to have?” Tank asked. “Because if so, you need to be really specific with me, or I tend to misinterpret things. Badly. I tend to assume I’ve done something to piss people off, probably because most of the time it’s true.”
Lev stepped close and caught Tank’s hand in his. “No. Absolutely not. Tank, I’m not sorry we had sex. I’m just feeling guilty.”
“Because I’m twenty? That’s an adult. I get to vote and have sex and everything. I can’t technically drink, but even when I’m twenty-one, I don’t plan to throw any keggers, so that doesn’t really matter.”
Lev gave him a dirty look. Okay, Tank had clearly missed the boat again. “I told Clyde what you said when you saw that memory device.”
“What did I say?”
Lev turned away, and for a second Tank thought he was going to get walked out on. Instead Lev sat on the edge of the bed with his back to Tank. Lack of eye contact was never a good thing. “I told him you seemed to recognize it. You called it a periculum, which suggests you knew it was dangerous.”
Ah, so it was guilt. That did complicate things a little, but Aldrich was smart enough and suspicious enough to know that Tank’s story didn’t add up. Either that or Tank really sucked at having a secret life. Either way, Lev couldn’t make this any worse. When spring came, Tank just had to figure out a way to get ahead of the Army. Marie and Zhu deserved a head start on whatever trouble the government might bring. Tank had heard about people stowing away in the wheel wells of transport planes, and Tank knew those planes. He had already found a dozen different hidey-holes where he could nap without one of the officers out of Fort Wainwright catching him. He could do this. The biggest danger was having someone notice he was gone before the supply plane took off.
Tank reached out and rested his own hand on the back of Lev’s. “Hey, I wish I could tell you everything, but I owe it to people to keep their confidences. You know how it goes.”
“Are you spying on the base?” Lev studied him.
“No,” Tank promised.
“But you won’t tell me about it?”
Tank sighed. He hated this. He hated secrets, but he wouldn’t betray one group to another, even if his heart told him the
y were all on the same side. “I want to,” Tank said softly.
Lev shifted his hand so he could intertwine his fingers with Tank’s. “I understand that sometimes you can’t talk about things, even when you really want to. I get it. I understand confidentiality agreements and ethical obligations. Just tell me that, looking back, you still believe you were on the right side.”
Tank could feel the fear and need hovering in the air around them. “Without a doubt,” Tank said firmly. “I know I did the right thing. I feel guilty about the fact that people got hurt, but I know I always did my best to make sure that good people won. Every time, Lev.” Too often, Tank’s good intentions had led him to make horrible choices, but for today, it was enough to honestly say that he had always tried to take the best option to help others.
Lev smiled at him. “I believe that. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to know your secrets, though.”
“Hey, my secrets are only thirty-seven percent as interesting as yours. Aliens? Invading alien scientists? Now that is interesting. And you guys wouldn’t have told me anything if I hadn’t gotten whammied.” Tank shoved at Lev’s butt with his leg. “But now I have to go wash dishes for the guys and gals who deal with aliens and whammying alien devices.”
“I hate that you’re washing dishes.”
“Someone has to,” Tank pointed out. “Otherwise the whole base would look like my old room. There was definitely a lack of dishwashing in that place, although to be fair, I think the funky smell came from the drains. Besides, they have a really cool conveyor-style dishwasher, so it’s pretty awesome to run.”
Lev’s fingers tightened around his. “Tank, you have a talent with technology. With some education, you could pull down serious money. We need good people to do this reverse engineering, to create tools and weapons our teams can take in the field. Think about it. Right now the aliens are sending scientists, but how long will it be before they send soldiers or overseers? We’re working on a clock here, and the fact that these aliens don’t move quickly is our only advantage. You could even go on a team, raid the alien posts, and help confiscate technology or keep it from blowing up. We’ve had a few cases where damaged alien systems nearly caused catastrophes, which is why the teams always take engineers.”
Tank frowned. Logically that should sound great, but the idea of being responsible for helping save the planet and repel aliens? Yeah, that wasn’t sounding so good. Washing dishes was more his speed, but he wasn’t sure how to explain that to Lev. If he went with the self-deprecating humor, Lev was going to have a total Ellie moment and insist on tutoring him, which would defeat the whole purpose.
“I know I told you about Zhu,” Tank said slowly. “He is really smart. I mean scary smart. I can’t even figure out how smart he is. But he’s more the sort to relax and watch life go by. He’s like a Buddhist or a Hindu or Taoist or something.” Tank wished he hadn’t given Lev any names, but at this point if he stopped mentioning Marie and Zhu, that would make it even more obvious he was trying to hide their identities. However, he made a mental note to make sure he kept his mouth shut around others.
Lev gave a little huff of laughter. “Those are three very different religions.”
“Yeah, but I wasn’t really listening when Zhu talked about it,” Tank said with a shrug. “But I know he thought it was important to do what you wanted and not what someone else thought you should do or could do.”
Lev looked confused. “And you want to be a dishwasher?”
Nodding, Tank said, “Yeah, I do. It’s quiet, and there’s something simple and easy and just nice about shoving the racks through the machine. It’s a groove you get into.”
“Dishwashing as meditation,” Lev said slowly.
“Maybe,” Tank answered. “But I’d rather do it dressed.” He gave Lev another shove with his foot.
Lev slid off the bed. “You know, meditation is a means, not an end, Tank. It’s not about avoiding something.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Lev gave him a skeptical look. “No, really,” Tank promised. “No running away from things, and I will honestly consider whether I’m running away, but right now, I just need to report to duty before someone is buried under breakfast dishes.”
“Okay, okay. I’m going.” Lev started heading for the door, grabbing for the curtain around Tank’s bed to give him a little privacy.
“Lev?” Tank called.
Lev stopped and looked back at him.
“I really am sorry about the secrets.”
Lev’s sweet smile forgave Tank before he even said anything. “Trust me, I understand secrets. When this all gets sorted out, we can talk about how much it really doesn’t matter. Okay?”
Tank nodded. He was still afraid, but he wasn’t sure if he was afraid of the two halves of his life colliding when the colonel found out the truth, or if he was afraid that the colonel wouldn’t find anything. In the long run, Tank understood this new relationship would never survive having big honking secrets between them, not forever. With one last look, Lev pulled the curtain shut and Tank was left to get ready for work. Moving slowly, Tank got out of bed and grabbed for his clothes. Yeah, even without Dr. Anderson’s threats, Tank would not have been working out with the others today. John hit hard.
Chapter Eleven
CLYDE WAS reading the last of his notes on his tablet computer when Sadler came through the narrow door. Clyde hated this base. Part of it was so cramped and institutional that he felt like he was back in basic. The majority was alien. Clyde couldn’t spend too long in the bowels of that damned ship without remembering all the times their missions had gone FUBAR. Three times Clyde had been captive on ships, and once had been for six months. It gave him hives to look at all those muted colors and uneven angles. Give him concrete any day.
“Sir,” Sadler greeted him.
“Major.” Clyde gestured toward his other chair, and she settled into it.
“I thought I would see if you had any questions on the report I got you.”
“None, other than how the hell did no one pick up on this?”
Sadler grimaced. “I’m going over our programs to see why this sort of a data glitch didn’t trip an alarm. My only guess is that whoever is hiding this, they put a lot of effort into the code. And by setting up inside New York, the anomalies were harder to spot. New York had three hundred and fifty-two murders last year, and many residents remember the nineties, when the number of homicides sometimes exceeded two thousand per year. No one saw anything unusual in a few murders.”
“That’s going to go over great with the general,” Clyde said sarcastically.
“I could go with you, sir.”
“Major, I would rather have you here, hunting down any additional information.”
Sadler gestured at Clyde’s tablet. “I just sent you an email saying that I finally pierced the fluid wall. My original report listed Captain Brian Hoffer of the Rangers as Tankersley’s Big Brother. His mother enrolled Tankersley in the program after several juvenile arrests for vandalism and delinquency.”
“I thought juvenile records were sealed.”
“They are, especially since Tank was never convicted. However, if I can break through an alien-based malware that defies all laws of programming, government computers are not really an issue.”
Clyde raised his eyebrows and waited for her to say something interesting.
“Tankersley’s most serious hospitalization came seven months before he joined the Army. Recruitment documents say he had to delay his enlistment in order to finish physical therapy.”
“A wall fell on him, right?” Clyde asked. It was the sort of injury he expected from a war zone, not a teenager in New York City.
“Yes, sir. It turns out that same night Captain Hoffer checked into the same hospital. Apparently a wall fell on him as well.”
“The same wall?”
Sadler pressed her lips together and shrugged. So she had no proof, but she had a few suspicions. Clyde opened his ema
il and searched for the new document. “This is good. At least now I have a lead. I find commanding officers are easier to placate when you can point them at someone else.”
“I wouldn’t know about that, sir. My commanding officer is perfectly perfect in every way.” She gave him a shit-eating grin.
“Yes, he is,” Clyde said firmly. “Go compute something, Major.”
“Yes, sir.” Sadler headed out of the office, and Clyde checked the clock. He had to leave now if he wanted to avoid keeping the general waiting. He took his tablet and his cover and headed for the transport room.
They’d moved the transport portal from the ship into the oldest of the human-built rooms, a concrete and lead-lined room the size of a warehouse. Engineers had overdesigned it back in the sixties. After a team in the eighties had captured a second unit, it had been installed in Picatinny Arsenal, north of Dover, New Jersey. But it wasn’t until Lev figured out how the controls worked that the IF had gained easy transportation to and from the base.
Now the room that had housed the first exploratory teams in the sixties was the staging area for most transportation. They still had supply planes come in six times a year with basic necessities, but that was more for cover than out of any need.
The lieutenant on guard saluted. “Sir.”
“Fire it up,” Clyde said.
“Yes, sir.” The lieutenant stuck his hand into the side of one of the three pillars and poked something. The gesture always looked borderline obscene to Clyde, but he didn’t comment. The lights on the top of the three pillars started to spark, and lines of energy slowly formed. Once a solid line connected each of the three pillars, it was as if curtains of light fell. Clyde hated this part. A man’s atoms should not be flung across thousands of miles only to be caught by a matching piece of equipment on the other end.
However, this was his job. Clyde stepped forward. When the energy hit him, the familiar cold washed through his bones, and then he stepped out to find General Zeller standing in the staging room of the New Jersey base of the Incursion Force.