Tap-Dancing the Minefields

by Lyn Gala

  “I should be out there.” Tank looked at the door. If he even tried to leave base, some officer was going to shove him in the stockade and call Aldrich in the morning, but Tank still felt that itch to try. He was tap-dancing through a minefield, but he couldn’t hear the music—and he wasn’t sure which wrong step might lead to failure or more dead friends or alien enslavement. Without someone giving him better directions, he only knew how to keep on flailing and hoping he didn’t set off one of the mines, even while he knew he would. The sense of impending doom was a second skin clinging to him.

  “If there were anything we could do, I would call Clyde and nag him into including us, but this part—checking locations—is a military thing,” Lev said.

  “I am military, and I am a fighter.” Tank felt strange saying that out loud, but it was true. He wanted to get closer to the action, not hide from it.

  “You were ordered to rest up. There will be time for fighting later, and if Clyde and John try to leave you out, I can demonstrate the effectiveness of incessant and caustic nagging. It’s like a superpower.”

  A laugh slipped out even though Tank didn’t feel amused. His heart hurt, and he felt guilty and angry and really wanted to shoot someone. Tank wasn’t sure he trusted himself in the field right now because all these emotions were bubbling up and he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be feeling.

  “Come on, let’s just go to bed,” Lev said. He put the condom back in the table, and now Tank felt guilty about disappointing his lover.

  “We could….” Tank’s voice trailed off as his imagination failed him.

  “We can sleep. We can hold each other and rest so that we’re ready for tomorrow.” The gentleness in Lev’s tone made Tank ache even more. He felt wrung out. He had too many emotions shoved under his skin, and they kept seeping out. Lev turned off the light and then pulled at Tank until they were lying next to each other in the dark. Then he curled around Tank so he was the big spoon. Tank closed his eyes, but he didn’t expect sleep to come any time soon. No matter how tightly Lev held him, it would never slow the racing thoughts in Tank’s head.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  CLYDE STOOD outside the VIP quarters and waited for Lev. He’d buzzed Lev’s phone, so it shouldn’t be too long. Sure enough, Lev slipped out the door and started buttoning up his shirt. “Do you have a lead?”

  “We have a location with three confirmed avatars.” Clyde refused to get too hopeful, but it was a place to start. “I have a security team on location, Sadler is bringing in technical. You’ll be joining her.”

  Lev stopped. “And Tank?”

  Clyde closed his eyes and counted to three before he kept walking. It was all he had time for, but he was getting tired of every conversation coming back to Private Tankersley. “John will be picking him up and taking rear for this mission. He should be here any minute to get the private, and they’ll head straight to the location while we set primary objectives with the rest of the team at the BoO.”

  “Why would John take rear?”

  “Something about your private being worth saving, and John wants to be there when Tankersley tries another suicide move. John also thinks that the aliens are likely to go after Zhu, and he wants to be in the rear with the technical team.” Clyde didn’t mention that John planned to infiltrate the building ahead of time to try to extract Marie. If the aliens packed up and went home before the team found her, she would be forever out of reach. Clyde had argued against offering Tankersley a chance to go on the raid, but John had insisted that Tank was his now, and John wanted to take the person who had the most direct contact with these aliens. At some point Clyde was going to have to explain the difference between chain of command and slavery in more detail.

  “So John’s using the second team as bait?” Lev asked.

  “No.”

  Lev raised his eyebrows.

  “No,” Clyde repeated. “Tech stays back until we’re clear. SOP.”

  “With John staying with tech.” Lev sounded fairly suspicious.

  “Do you think the aliens will target you?” If that was the case, Clyde would happily leave Lev and the rest at home. Leading noncombat personnel into dangerous situations was the worst part of this job, but with such a large incursion, they might have a lot of tech to dismantle and move before it started to disintegrate. If the geeks could figure out how aliens recycled their equipment, they could save the damn planet—all the alien machines turned to either dust or slime if left in place. The guy who had hired Lev before Clyde joined the program had been the first to disable the self-destruct. Even now, a short delay in getting Lev’s team on scene could result in most of the equipment vanishing.

  “If the aliens decide to target an individual, it won’t matter where we are.”

  Clyde did a little mental rearranging as he considered the possibility that these aliens might pick up the last part of their experiment. “Sadler and Zhu can take one car. You, Reed, and Campbell can take a second.” That put the person most likely to be targeted in a vehicle with regular Army and away from civilians.

  Lev rolled his eyes as if Clyde’s concern for safety was unreasonable. Clyde would request additional military assets so each van would have more fighters. He also changed the subject, because Lev could get downright annoying when he thought Clyde was coddling him. “Sadler said Zhu is learning the tech faster than anyone she’s seen, and Sadler has seen some terrifyingly smart people.”

  “I wonder if India or Russia has seen this kind of human modification before…,” Lev said in a distant tone, as if he were considering the wording on a request to swap technical data with the other countries’ versions of the IF.

  “Stop right there,” Clyde said. “No. Just no.”

  “You don’t know what I’m thinking.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  They’d reached the front door, and a random sergeant smiled as they passed. Clyde and Lev had been hanging around Picatinny way too much if the staff knew to be amused by Lev’s antics.

  “Yes, I do,” Clyde retorted.

  “Okay.” Lev pushed the front doors open and a blast of cold air rushed into the building. “I’m thinking you should assign Tank to the technical team instead of giving him to John.”

  Clyde frowned. “What?”

  “Tank. Private George Tankersley. Why did you assign him to report to John? John’s not even in the military.”

  “I assigned him to John because if someone didn’t sit on him, he was going to get himself and someone else killed.”

  That led to an even more elaborate eye roll from Lev. “Don’t exaggerate. I fly into battles without pulling my weapon all the time.”

  Clyde glared at Lev. While that was entirely too true, Clyde didn’t like thinking about it. “First, you have a weapon with you all the time. Second, you’re tech. You’re allowed to be a tactical idiot.”

  Lev had been going around to the far side of the SUV, but now he reversed and came back just so he could cross his arms and glare at Clyde. “And you keep trying to turn him into a soldier when he’s not one.”

  “He’s regular Army. He is a soldier. And don’t suggest he’s not a fighter anywhere around him. I finally got him to stop calling himself a dishwasher. Don’t pretend he’s a fluffy puppy, Lev. He’s not. The man went to war with the largest incursion we’ve seen in the last two decades. He lost friends in battle. He grew up in a fucking war, and the worst part is that the war was psychological as much as physical. His high school has its own death statistics.”

  “I know that. But you’re not helping with your unrealistic expectations.” Lev went around to his side of the SUV, and Clyde enjoyed the two seconds of silence. That was all he was going to get until they got back to the hotel and met up with the others.

  Sure enough, as soon as they were both in the SUV, Lev started in again. “He wants to be a dishwasher because he’s avoiding being a soldier. Avoiding, Clyde. Avoiding.”

 
“Yeah, I think I figured that out.” Some days Clyde really wondered how stupid Lev assumed he was.

  “Then why make him be a fighter? He has incredible talent with technology, and if you really paid attention to the things he can do almost intuitively, you’d notice.”

  “And he denies having a talent for engineering with a vehemence that makes it pretty clear he doesn’t want to be a full-time geek,” Clyde countered. He couldn’t see Tankersley sitting behind a desk sixteen hours a day any more than he could see him washing dishes. The kid was too quick to jump into a fight, and too levelheaded once the bullets started to fly. Of course leading up to the fight, he’d pull boneheaded moves that would strain the patience of a saint, but Clyde didn’t intend to get into a game of “insult the lover” with Lev.

  “But you keep calling him a soldier and acting like he should follow your whole code. Face it, Clyde, if I had done the same things, you wouldn’t have blown up at me.”

  “Because you’re not a fighter. I expect you to piss me off in the field!” Clyde had stopped to show his ID at the gatehouse, and the guard was trying hard to hide his snickers. Clyde narrowed his eyes. He might not wear his uniform while he worked undercover, but he was still a goddamn colonel who deserved a little respect. Some of that aggravation must have shown on his face, because the corporal straightened up and returned the IDs quickly.

  “Tank’s not a fighter either!” Lev said, oblivious to the silent confrontation Clyde was having with the corporal.

  “Yes, he is. I wish he wasn’t, but when there’s a fight, he always mysteriously ends up in the middle.”

  “So do I,” Lev argued.

  “No, you keep your head down during a fight. You stick your neck out when you think someone’s in trouble or if you see a pretty gadget with crystals that light up. And when the team is in danger, you’re always there. But you aren’t interested in fighting.”

  “I fight all the time.” Lev’s anger was approaching critical levels. For the life of him, Clyde could never figure out why people were more afraid of him than Lev. Lev was the scary one. Clyde got sarcastic, but Lev went ballistic and cut off people’s hot water and took down the spam filter on their computer. He was a walking nuclear ordinance when he lost his temper, and the whole base should be thanking their lucky stars that he didn’t lose it more often. Part of Clyde even felt sorry for Tankersley—living with Lev must be a little like handling live explosives.

  “Yes, Lev. You fight. Most of the time, you even manage to remember your weapons training. But your first instinct is to avoid conflict.”

  Lev snorted. “Just because you shoot weapons first and talk later—”

  “Yes, Lev! That is my first instinct,” Clyde nearly shouted to cut him off. His ex-wife insisted that Clyde didn’t know how to recognize a feeling, much less discuss one. The woman was an idiot. Some days Clyde felt like he didn’t do anything else. “Your precious Tankersley has those same instincts. He wasn’t out there trying to negotiate with Mr. Chow. He wasn’t keeping his head down until the avatar left. He antagonized the alien.”

  “His friend was in danger.”

  “And he rushed into a fight unarmed. And you broke cover to intentionally draw enemy fire. You do understand that it can’t ever happen again, yes? That’s why I assigned him to John. Now focus on the job. We have a missing friendly, and she deserves our attention. Later you can be as angry as you want—but for the record, I will never regret assigning Private Tankersley to John, and I will not even consider a request to transfer him to engineering. Not only does he lack the requisite education, but I can’t afford to have someone with the instincts of a soldier and the training of a fucking lemming.”

  Clyde clutched the steering wheel and fought to rein in the rest of his angry words. He hadn’t been this annoyed with Lev since aliens had forced him to live in the same room with the man for six months.

  “Why do you hate him?”

  Clyde so missed having a nice simple command where he shot enemies and fought paperwork snafus that meant he had a shit-ton of ammunition for weapons his men didn’t carry. Now he had to deal with civilians. When Sadler had gotten engaged to the base doctor, she was kind enough to send him a memo and never mention it.

  “I think he’s a good man. I hate that you’re exposing yourself to danger because of him. You are the best chance Earth has to develop technology fast enough to prove useful in any coming conflict. I would get cranky about Mother Teresa if her inclusion on the team compromised your safety.” Clyde didn’t add that Lev was his friend and his teammate. They had suffered together and celebrated together, and Clyde would put a bullet through Tankersley’s head if it was necessary to protect Lev. That wasn’t the same as hating him.

  Clyde pulled into the hotel back lot and parked. Three other vehicles were already there, all different colors and models to avoid looking like a caravan of government vehicles. Before Clyde could get out, Lev put a hand on Clyde’s arm, holding him in place.

  “I get that you’re protective, but Tank isn’t the threat here.”

  Clyde sighed. “No, you are,” he said. “Your judgment goes to crap around him, and it probably always will, because your heart is too damn big. Hell, you were stupid enough to fall for me, and trust me, I’m no prize. My ex-wife will give you chapter and verse on how much I suck. But you… you see the good everywhere. You’re in the middle of a secret war, and you still have that oversized heart. But since I can’t change you, I have to get Tank to stop and think about his actions. He is a warrior, Lev. He has the instincts, and John will train him to stop taking risks that put everyone in danger.”

  Clyde knew he was dangerously close to hitting that do-not-coddle-me button Lev had, but sometimes Lev did need a little more tending than a soldier. He got distracted by his toys, and he’d been so damn young when he came to Alaska that he reminded Clyde of one of his kids.

  For twenty years Lev had been surrounded by only the best and most trustworthy of Army special ops. He’d skipped the critical formative experiences of dealing with the backstabbing-asshole end of the human race. Not that the Incursion Forces didn’t have their share, but no one mistreated the IF scientists. That rule had started with the program. Every commanding officer got it tattooed on their ass—protect the damn scientists—because they were the only hope of developing a defense.

  “I didn’t mean to worry you,” Lev said softly.

  Clyde rubbed his face. “It’s my job to worry about you and make sure that you stay behind the fighters. I just need to make sure Tankersley understands that it’s his job to stand in front of you.”

  Lev pressed his lips together, so Clyde knew Lev didn’t like that answer. Tough shit. If Lev couldn’t handle loving a soldier, then Tankersley couldn’t stay in the unit at all. Clyde waited for the counterargument, but Lev got out of the SUV. For a second Clyde sat and watched him walk up to the back entrance. Sometimes Clyde wondered what sort of man Lev would have been had the Army not recruited him so young. Would he have kept that idealism and ability to love people who were so screwed up that most people wouldn’t take the risk?

  Shoving that thought aside, Clyde got his colonel-brain in gear as he considered the coming operation. They had one blast inhibitor that would shut down alien technology. John usually carried it when he took point, but Washington was fast and levelheaded. Once they had gotten to a main computer and started downloading data on the aliens’ experiment, the aliens should pack up and go home. That was standard.

  He just worried about John and Tankersley. He worried about Marie, and he worried that so far this incursion didn’t look anything like the standard.

  Chapter Thirty

  TANK LOOKED at the building. Colonel Aldrich and the others would be bringing the cavalry later, but for now it was the two of them versus a building that might or might not have alien security and actual aliens. Tank’s stomach got that familiar sour feeling that meant either food poisoning or abject fear. “How sure are we that Mari
e is in there?” Tank asked as he looked at the modern building. John had parked in back where there was a loading zone.

  “Not very,” John said. “If she’s not, breaking in will be easy. Human security isn’t great.”

  “And if she is?”

  “Then I’m risking that they could take me with them.”

  John went to get out of the sedan, but Tank caught his arm. “Whoa. You can’t do that.”

  Tank’s words seemed to startle John. “Why not?” he asked.

  “Because getting kidnapped isn’t cool.”

  John frowned at him. “You nearly got yourself killed to save Marie.”

  “She’s my friend.”

  John shifted around to face Tank. “Would you have rushed in if the avatar had a child instead of Marie?”

  “Of course.” Internally, Tank started plotting hypothetical ages against the likelihood that he’d get involved. Anyone fourteen or over was pretty much screwed, and he probably would have hesitated for a tween. Now, if Mr. Chow had grabbed a six-year-old, Tank definitely would have jumped in. Not that he had done much good. “I would have been equally incompetent, but I would have tried.”

  “That’s because it’s about protecting people who can’t protect themselves.” John gestured toward the street. It was still predawn, but several people were wandering past. It was Manhattan, after all. “Do any of them know the truth? Can they defend themselves?”

  Tank watched the ignorant people passing what could be an alien stronghold without even a clue.

  “I want to help, but I can’t even save people I love, much less strangers,” Tank finally said. Now that John had pointed out their helplessness, Tank felt a growing bubble of despair in his chest. There were so many innocents, and Tank couldn’t save any of them.