by Cole, Myke
Therese started forward, arms outstretched. ‘We thought you were dead, Oscar. We thought we were trapped here, and you were dead.’
Britton permitted her the briefest embrace. He spoke quickly, pushing through a throat choked with emotion. ‘I thought I’d never see you again, either.’ He pushed away from her with an effort. ‘But I need your help. This is my dad. He’s hurt bad, please.’
Therese leaned over Stanley. Thorsson could feel her magic Drawing hard, Binding into the wounds. Truelove came along beside her, grabbing Britton’s hand and pumping it, grinning like a fool, speaking so quickly that Thorsson could barely follow him. ‘I can’t believe you’re alive! Marty took us in. There was some trouble at first, but he handled it. We thought we were stuck here for ever.’ He paused. ‘Where’s Sarah? What happened to her?’
Britton sighed. ‘I’m sorry, Simon. She stayed. It was her call, and she made it.’
She’s detained, being questioned. Even I couldn’t get to see her, Thorsson thought. They didn’t trust her, either.
Swift smiled at the sight of Britton. Then his eyes swept over Harlequin, and he snarled, ‘What the fuck are you doing here?’ Thorsson remembered their last encounter and Suppressed his flow, drawing his pistol and sighting down it at the Aeromancer’s scarred forehead.
‘Don’t,’ he said. ‘There’s no fucking time.’
The goblins raced to Swift’s side, leveling spears and shouting at Thorsson.
‘Everyone settle down!’ Bookbinder called out. ‘I’m Colonel Alan Bookbinder, commander of FOB Frontier. We need your help.’
Stanley was sitting up, patting Therese’s hand, thanking her in a brittle voice.
‘It’s okay,’ Britton said. ‘I don’t know what the hell is going on here, but these men just broke me out of prison. How the hell did you find my father? Dad, I thought . . . I thought you were dead.’
‘Later,’ Bookbinder said. ‘The FOB is completely cut off. We’re late to get help to them as it is. All those people are going to die when it’s overrun. There’s only one way to get them out of there, and I’m afraid you’re it. We can deal with everything once they’re safe, but we need to do something now. Like, right now.’
Britton cursed, turning in a tight circle, hands on his hips.
‘Come on, Oscar!’ Stanley called to him, also standing.
‘Oh, you’re one to fucking talk,’ Britton yelled back at him, tears in his eyes. ‘After everything, you show up at my cell door needing help? And now you want me to work for the army again?’
‘We’ve got some talking to do,’ Stanley said, ‘but there’s no time for it now. For now you need to know that the reason we never got along is that I taught you too damned well. You knew how to make the right call even when I forgot.
‘Well, you know what the right call is here. You have to help them, Oscar. No son of mine would turn his back on so many people in need, no matter what they’d done to him. The army may have turned you out, but you’re still an officer in your bones. The Brittons have been officers for five generations. That never changes no matter what the army says.’
Oscar Britton swallowed and looked away. ‘No time, Oscar,’ Harlequin said. ‘We need to go right now. Take us to the FOB.’
Britton hesitated. Stanley put his hands on his hips. ‘Damn it, Oscar! I didn’t just spend I don’t know how long clawing a life out of this fucking wilderness to come back here and watch you walk out on your countrymen! Now you cowboy up and do the right thing!’
Britton looked from his father to Thorsson and shook his head. ‘Looks like Dudley Do-Right went rogue. How does it feel to be a fugitive from your government, Harlequin?’
‘I’m doing the right thing,’ Thorsson answered, ‘so I’d say it feels just fine. I’m guessing you felt the same way when you got out of the FOB.’
Britton nodded. ‘I did.’
‘Well, we’ll talk about that. But for now, we need to get to that FOB.’
‘We’re not finished!’ Swift shouted, stepping around the earthen wall. ‘We’ve got business!’
‘No, you don’t,’ Britton shouted at him. ‘Right now, the only business is saving that base.’
He turned toward Swift again but was intercepted by Therese, who dragged him into another embrace, clutching him tightly. ‘Oh, God, Oscar. I thought you were dead. I thought you were dead, and I wasn’t going to get a chance to . . .’
Britton allowed himself to bury his face in her hair for a moment. ‘It’s okay,’ he said. ‘It’s okay. We’ll . . . we’ll . . .’
An obvious cough from Bookbinder brought him back to himself. He stepped away from her with a will. ‘Later,’ he said. It’s always later.
‘Can you convince some of these indig to help?’ Bookbinder asked.
‘Let’s see what we’re up against first,’ Britton said, opening a gate. ‘We’ll have to head back to the Home Plane first. These things only work between worlds.’
‘Fuck you.’ Swift took a tentative step forward, then checked himself as Thorsson raised his pistol again. ‘We’re not helping you.’
‘I am,’ Therese said.
‘Thank you,’ Bookbinder breathed.
Britton shook his head. ‘I’ve dragged you around enough. I thought I’d lost you all back there in New York. I’m not gating you into a potential war zone without a look-see first. Stay here. I’ll be back when I know what the story is.’
‘I’ll talk to Marty,’ Therese said. ‘I’ll tell them to be ready if you need us.’
‘Will they help?’ Bookbinder asked.
Therese nodded. ‘It’s their religion. They have a commandment to keep you safe. They’re already skirmishing with the Prendehad Defender clans on a daily basis.’
Bookbinder looked incredulous.
‘She’s right,’ Truelove said. ‘I’ve been learning about their religion. They don’t get many Necromancers out here, so . . .’
Britton silenced him with a wave. ‘You can tell me after. For now, let’s go. Everybody stays here. Dad, you too.’
Stanley Britton laughed over the chorus of protests. ‘The hell I will. I’ve been fighting to get back to you for months. I’m not letting you out of my sight until we put paid to this mess and go find your mother.’
Britton shook his head. ‘No, Dad. Christ, I thought I’d killed you once. I’m not going through that again. I promise you, we’ll be back. Just sit tight. Can you just listen to me this once?’
Stanley made to argue, but Thorsson waved him down. ‘No time, damn it!’
Swift’s eyes never left Harlequin, but he stayed put as Britton rolled open another gate, stepped through, and looked around. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘It’s clear. Follow me through, and we’ll gate to the FOB from there.’
‘Be ready,’ Bookbinder cautioned them. ‘We have no idea what we’re walking into.’
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Relief
Sir, our presence in the Source is absolutely vital to continued combat overmatch capabilities in the arcane domain. Every day the special projects activity at FOB Frontier is in operation, we make leaps forward. We are discovering entirely new schools of magic. We are learning how to adapt the flora and fauna of that plane to augment systems in every arena, from medical to offense to logistics. The FOB’s existence is a boost to our military capabilities far beyond any technological breakthrough in history. It is critical to this nation’s continued security to expand the base, and ensure our adversaries do not gain a similar foothold.
– Lieutenant General Alexander Gatanas
Commandant, Supernatural Operations Corps
Briefing to the Senate Appropriations Committee (Special Session)
The FOB’s main plaza was unrecognizable. The MWR and DFAC tents were gone, the entire space given over to a vast Terramantic garden. Rows of fat fruits and vegetables trotted out in all directions, basking in magically warmed air. Bookbinder counted at least five cisterns bubbling freshwater in just the first sweep of
his eyes across the ground before him.
Gunfire rattled faintly in the distance, followed by the crackle-boom of magical lightning. Bookbinder didn’t hear any air traffic, which was unusual when the enemy was on them. They must be running seriously low on fuel. Or aircraft. A few soldiers gaped as they stepped through the gate, first raising weapons, then lowering them at the sight of Bookbinder.
‘Sir!’ said an air force tech sergeant, trotting toward them. Bookbinder’s gut twisted at the man’s appearance. He was unshaven, sunken eyed, and filthy. ‘We thought that . . .’
Bookbinder stopped him with a wave. ‘I’m fine. We’re bringing help. What’s the SITREP?’
‘We’re in a bad way, sir. Pretty much out of ammo and medical supplies. We ran out of food ages ago.’ He gestured at the gardens around them. ‘We just regrew this last night. They burn it up pretty much every time they come. It’s touch-and-go, sir.’
‘Sounds pretty quiet.’
‘They’re just getting warmed up, sir. It’ll pick up as the day wears on.’
‘Casualties?’
The tech sergeant shook his head. ‘I couldn’t say for sure, sir, but it’s a lot. Maybe twenty per cent. They make it past the perimeter most nights now.’
Bookbinder tried not to let his horror show on his face. He kept his voice even. ‘Where’s Crucible?’
‘Should be in his office, sir. He usually doesn’t head out to the perimeter until after chow.’
‘All right, as you were. Don’t spread the word about us, please. I want everyone’s head in the fight until we can execute a plan. But we will get you out of here, you understand me?’
‘Yes, sir.’
Bookbinder gestured to Britton, his father, and Harlequin, and they made their way toward the camp commandant’s office. ‘That kid won’t keep his mouth shut,’ Bookbinder groused. ‘Everyone is going to know we’re here by the time we get to Crucible. But at least the FOB’s still here.’
Britton looked around. ‘I never thought I’d see this place again.’
‘We’re only here long enough to get everyone out safe,’ Bookbinder said. ‘Then you’ll never have to look at it again.’
Crucible was rushing out the door toward them before they’d turned onto the muddy, potholed track that led to his office. Someone must have radioed ahead as Bookbinder predicted. Carmela was at his side, her office clothing replaced by boots, cargo pants, and military parka.
‘Holy shit, sir.’ Crucible choked on his words. ‘Goddamn but it is good to see you. We all thought you were dead.’ He slammed to attention and saluted.
Bookbinder, uncovered and out of uniform, returned it anyway, then embraced him. ‘We’re here to get you out. You recognize this guy?’ He gestured behind him.
Crucible’s smile faltered. ‘Oscar Britton. I guess it’s good to see you, too.’
Britton nodded. ‘No love lost, sir. Let’s get everyone to safety, and we can hash out differences later.’
Crucible turned to Harlequin. ‘Jan,’ he said, grinning. ‘There are no words.’
Harlequin smiled back. ‘Later, Rick. I’m glad you’re okay.’
‘I can have Britton open a gate in the main plaza,’ Bookbinder said. ‘How soon can you give the order to pull back?’
Crucible swore. ‘I could give it now, but I might as well order them to lay down their arms and give themselves up. We’ve lost too many. The goblins come twenty-four/seven at this point. We abandon our positions now, they’ll cut us to pieces as we fall back.’
‘Some tech sergeant told me you’re at twenty percent casualties,’ Bookbinder said.
Crucible hung his head. ‘That’s about right. Though, I haven’t gotten last night’s count in yet.’
‘Jesus, Rick. I’m sorry,’ Bookbinder said.
‘Doesn’t matter,’ Crucible said. ‘If we’re going to fall back, we need breathing room.’
‘You need the enemy repulsed,’ Thorsson said.
‘That’s right.’ Crucible nodded. ‘For at least an hour. That would do it. But it’d just be people. Everything else would stay here. Gear, documents, you name it.’
‘Repulse them at twenty per cent casualties?’ Thorsson said. ‘Jesus, you’d need an army.’
Crucible cursed. ‘I don’t suppose you guys have one of those in your pocket?’
Bookbinder thought for a moment, then turned to Carmela. ‘Can you grab me one of my spare uniforms out of my office? Is it even still in there?’ Carmela answered by racing back into the building.
Bookbinder turned to Britton. ‘You ever been to Colorado Springs?’
Britton frowned. ‘You mean the Air Force Academy?’
‘Close enough.’
‘Once. Joint service familiarization. Why?’
‘Can you get us back there?’ Bookbinder asked.
Britton shrugged and rolled open a gate. Bookbinder glimpsed the inside of an empty auditorium through the shimmering surface. Carmela returned and tossed him a bundle of digital camouflage, then handed him a pair of boots. He thanked her and turned to the gate.
‘Let’s go,’ he said, stepping through.
‘Where the hell are you going?’ Crucible called after him.
‘To get you an army,’ Bookbinder said. ‘Hold tight. We’ll be back soon.’
Bookbinder directed Britton to gate-hop himself and Thorsson a few miles outside of town with a brief pause to change clothing. Looking the colonel again, he directed Britton to jump back to the FOB’s plaza, then to a point on the horizon that Bookbinder pointed out. After fifteen minutes of it, a tall fence came into view, surrounding a sprawling compound of the prefab plastic-sided buildings they’d all come to associate with deployed military forces. Next to the Stars and Stripes, an eagle fluttered before a map of North America. A sign affixed to the gatehouse read US NORTHERN COMMAND – QUICK REACTION FORCE POST 6. THE IMMOVABLE OBJECT!
Bookbinder began to stride purposefully forward, mustering every inch of the command presence he had. ‘What the hell are we doing?’ Thorsson asked, as they walked.
‘I am being a high-and-mighty colonel,’ Bookbinder replied. ‘You are being the guy in the class A uniform that everyone knows from TV. Now straighten your crap up and get out in front.’
Thorsson did his best to brush out the creases and wipe off the worst of the debris as they approached the gate.
The two privates on duty snapped to attention, saluting crisply.
Bookbinder flashed his ID. ‘Colonel Alan Bookbinder, Commandant, Forward Operating Base Frontier.’
The privates exchanged glances, frowning. ‘Excuse me, sir? But I . . .’
‘Never mind that.’ He gestured at Thorsson. ‘This is Major Jan Thorsson, Special Advisor to the Reawakening Committee.’
One of the privates nodded. ‘Seen you on TV, sir.’
‘Hopefully I didn’t embarrass myself.’ Thorsson grinned.
‘Not at all, sir.’
Bookbinder continued the good-cop, bad-cop routine. ‘Who’s in charge here?’ he growled.
‘That’s Lieutenant Colonel Blake, sir.’
‘Great. Give him a ring and have him meet me in front of the squadron bay. The QRF is getting scrambled.’
‘Scrambled!?’ The private stammered. ‘Sir, we didn’t get a cable, or a call or . . .’
‘Damn it, I don’t have time for this!’ Bookbinder shouted, taking a step forward. ‘I’m your fucking cable, son. Now open this goddamn gate!’
‘Sir, I’m not supposed to do that, I don’t even know who this guy is.’ He gestured at Britton.
Bookbinder took another step forward, letting his saliva mist the private’s face. ‘Son, you are addressing a field-grade officer in the United States Army.’
‘Flag officer, actually,’ Thorsson added. ‘Colonel Bookbinder just got picked up for his first star.’
The privates exchanged another look and scrambled to open the gate.
Bookbinder, Thorsson, and Britton strode through and hea
ded for the hangar-sized building in the middle of the compound.
‘Flag officer?’ Bookbinder muttered to Thorsson. ‘That was a bit much.’
‘Got us through, didn’t it?’ Thorsson smiled.
‘You’re one to talk,’ Britton added, looking at Bookbinder. ‘Beating up on privates? As a full bird? Not cool.’
Bookbinder shrugged. ‘Got us through, didn’t it?’
‘What the hell is this place?’ Britton asked.
‘USNORTHCOM’s QRF. It’s a ready unit for homeland defense. They should have at least a company ready to scramble inside of fifteen minutes. It’s not much, but it might do the job,’ Bookbinder said.
‘How the hell did you even know about this?’ Britton asked.
Bookbinder shrugged. ‘I wasn’t always the dashing leader of men you see before you now. I used to be AMC’s J1. I authorized this unit’s budget line for the last five years.’
A heavyset lieutenant colonel raced toward them, puffing at the exertion, straightening his patrol cap. ‘Just what in the hell is going on here!?’ he shouted as he reached them, irritatedly returning Thorsson’s salute.
‘I’m scrambling the QRF,’ Bookbinder said, showing his ID. ‘By order of the President of the United States.’
Lieutenant Colonel Blake saluted, red faced, and sputtered, ‘I don’t have any official comms on this! I need time to . . .’
Bookbinder crossed his hands behind his back and raised his chin. ‘I’m sorry, Colonel. I was under the impression that this was USNORTHCOM’s Quick Reaction Force, ready to jump on fifteen minutes notice when needed for homeland-defense matters. Was I mistaken in that?’
‘No, sir, but . . .’
‘Outstanding. The homeland is under attack. Scramble the ready company. We’re jumping right now.’
Blake turned to Thorsson, his eyes narrowing. ‘You’re that major on TV. The . . .’
‘Special Advisor to the Reawakening Commission, yes. That’s me,’ Thorsson said.
Blake turned back to Bookbinder. ‘I’ve received no higher authorization, and no word that the homeland is under attack. I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.’