by Martha Carr
One magical and six humans. Can’t make it an objective meeting with those numbers.
Squinting, Cheyenne tried to improve the clarity of the outlines and at least get an idea of who was waiting for her besides Major General Van Lurig. But the closest human form stood and moved across the room.
The door opened, and Cheyenne lost all her focus when the outline of the human’s head was suddenly Rhynehart’s face. He froze when he saw her, then quickly collected himself and stepped into the hall, closing the door behind him.
She blinked. “What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing.” Frowning, Rhynehart stepped past her down the line of chairs and took the one at the opposite end. “They called you in for a debriefing?”
“Yeah.” She swallowed and looked him over. “You too?”
His jaw muscles worked over and over as he slumped back in the chair and folded his arms. “Not gonna lie. It’s one of the last things I expected.”
“Yeah, no kidding. But you’re done now, right?”
He gestured at the door. “They asked me to stick around. Didn’t make any sense until thirty seconds ago. Now it looks like they’re pulling us in one by one to corroborate our stories. Feels like being called to the fucking principal’s office.”
I still wouldn’t know.
“What did you tell them?”
Rhynehart slowly turned his head to look at her. “The truth, Cheyenne. That’s what they want.”
“As long as it’s the truth they wanna hear, right?”
He closed his eyes. “Just the truth. For fuck’s sake, don’t try to give them anything else.”
“I’m well aware of what’s riding on whether or not they believe us, but thanks for the warning.”
The door opened, and the large ogre woman Sheila poked her head out. She didn’t give Rhynehart a glance, instead staring at Cheyenne as she muttered, “You’re up.”
“Right.” The drow pushed to her feet, gritting her teeth against the throbbing pain spreading pretty much through her whole body at this point.
“And maybe don’t hold anything back this time,” Rhynehart murmured.
“Yeah, I know what the truth means.”
He watched her hobble to the slowly opening door as Sheila released her hold on the doorknob and returned to her place inside the conference room. “You okay?”
“Peachy.” Cheyenne stepped through the door, pulled it shut behind her, and turned to face the FRoE board for the second time in less than a month.
“Have a seat, Miss Summerlin.” Major General Van Lurig gestured at the open seat at the head of the table. The woman’s short, slightly graying hair made her look distinguished instead of old, especially when she was surrounded by three other high-ranking male officials with fully gray or white beards and a lot less hair. And then, of course, anyone looked distinguished sitting two chairs down from Major Guy Carson.
The man sat back in the rolling conference chair, both arms draped over the armrests, and glanced at her briefly before settling his gaze on the much smaller conference table than the last time they’d all met like this.
Great. Now it feels like I’m on trial.
Cheyenne pulled the chair away from the table and lowered slowly into it. Every board member and Sir watched her intently. The major’s eyebrows flickered together when Cheyenne grimaced and wiped the expression off her face again in a second.
“First, Miss Summerlin, I want to thank you for agreeing to meet us here on such short notice.” Van Lurig folded her hands on the table at the opposite end and nodded. “We very much appreciate your cooperation, especially when you’re under no obligation to join us for these proceedings.”
“Huh. Helen seems to think differently.”
The man sitting on Van Lurig’s right bowed his head so he could pinch the bridge of his nose without having to lift his elbow from the armrest.
Van Lurig glanced at him, then cocked her head. “Yes, she takes her job very seriously. As do we.”
“I hope so.”
The major general held Cheyenne’s glowing golden gaze for a moment longer, expressionless, then cleared her throat. “Before we go any farther, I want to ensure there aren’t any oversights in this. So I’ll make the introductions I neglected the last time we met. My name is Catherine Van Lurig.”
“Major General, right?”
The woman dipped her head in agreement. “This is Lieutenant Colonel Lance Oppenhaur.”
Van Lurig gestured at the man rubbing his temples, and he slowly lifted his head.
“Colonel McMillen.”
The man with no beard and no hair nodded grimly at Cheyenne.
“Mr. Anderson Weber.”
The man with a closely trimmed goatee and large round glasses tinted yellow raised his eyebrows and stared unblinkingly at Cheyenne.
So not everyone’s military. I have no idea if that’s better or worse.
“And, of course, you’re already acquainted with Major Guy Carson.”
Cheyenne leaned back in her chair and stared at Sir. “Yep.”
He swiveled toward her but didn’t bristle, flush, scowl, or cuss her out. The guy could have been another board member sitting here with the others, objectively listening to an unaffiliated drow halfling describe the process of bringing down one of their own who had betrayed them and their entire organization.
Probably ‘cause he’s the one with his ass on the line this time.
“Now, Miss Summerlin.”
“Please stop calling me that.” Cheyenne looked quickly at the major general and lifted her hands from where they’d been dangling over the ends of the armrests. “We don’t all have to be on a first-name basis, but I don’t answer to Miss Summerlin. It’s a personal thing.”
“That’s fine.” With a raised eyebrow, Major General Van Lurig glanced down at the three pieces of paper spread out on the table in front of her and nodded. “Cheyenne, we’d like to ask you to describe for us in your own words how you first became aware of Colonel Les Thomas’ personal and financial dealings with the magicals in possession of what are currently being referred to as war machines.”
Cheyenne fought back a snort. I wonder who suggested that name.
“My neighbor.”
Van Lurig studied her. “Please elaborate.”
“I live across the hall from the colonel’s nephew Matthew. Ever heard of him?”
“No. Despite what you may have heard, we don’t generally make it a point to delve into our colleagues’ private lives.”
When Cheyenne looked at Sir, the man glanced quickly away to stare at the table again. The only sign of his frustration was one hand balling into a fist on top of the armrest.
Relax, Major. I’m not here to talk about Alice and your secret home life.
She looked away from him and found the board members staring at her expectantly. “That’s how I found out.”
“So Colonel Thomas’ nephew told you what his uncle was planning?”
“Oh. No.” Cheyenne dropped her head back against the cushion of the office chair. “I hacked into the control center of one of those machines and followed the data stream back to Combined Reality’s servers. Wasn’t that hard. After I found the program was being run from those servers, all I had to do was walk across the hall.”
I mean, that’s an oversimplification, but whatever.
Oppenhaur cleared his throat. “Combined Reality?”
“Yep.”
The man glanced at Van Lurig, who looked back down at her notes. “I’m not familiar with the name.”
“It’s one of his smaller nested companies,” Cheyenne said.
“Colonel Thomas’ company?”
“No, his nephew’s.” She frowned at the board members and waited while the major general made a notation on one of her loose papers. This is gonna take forever. I should’ve stuck with giving them only the important parts so they don’t hurt themselves trying to keep up.
“And yo
u obtained this information illegally?” the woman asked.
“Nope. Just from the privacy of my home. I mean, you can’t blame me for getting to know my neighbors, right?”
The board members looked at her again, but no one said a word. Sir didn’t take a break from staring at the table.
“Describe what happened when you ‘walked across the hall,’ as you put it.”
Cheyenne blinked slowly. “I talked to Matthew about it. It took a while, but he finally told me his uncle had connected him with the magicals running these war machines and letting them loose all over the place. Which I know you know about already.”
“We do, yes. Cheyenne, do you have any verifiable proof that Colonel Thomas was involved in this alleged weapons deal with the aforementioned group of magicals?”
“Well, yeah.” Cheyenne frowned. “And I emailed it to all of you. Didn’t you get it?”
Colonel McMillen drummed his fingers on the table. “We did. Just wanted to confirm it was you who sent it.”
“Who else would it be from?”
“At this juncture,” Van Lurig added, “we have to turn every stone and explore every avenue, Cheyenne. The severity of the charges against Colonel Thomas warrants a particularly thorough approach. You understand.”
“Sure.” Should’ve been more thorough when you brought the asshole onto the board.
“Is there any other evidence you would like us to be aware of at this time?”
Cheyenne’s first reaction was to say no and keep skirting along through this meeting, hopefully, a lot more easily now that they’d gotten over the apparently confusing parts about Matthew Thomas and Combined Reality. But then she remembered Rhynehart still sitting out in the hall. He definitely told them. I’m screwing us both over if I don’t.
“Yeah. I also uploaded personal files from the colonel’s computer in his office on base and sent them to Rhynehart.”
“Captain Brian Rhynehart?”
Cheyenne cocked her head. “That’s the one.”
Her sarcasm was lost on all five officials sitting at the table.
“Why him?”
“Because I needed his help. And I guess you could say we trust each other to a certain extent.”
“Even though he was no longer on active duty or an employed operative of this organization at the time. Is that correct?”
Cheyenne nodded. “Because Colonel Thomas fired him on a hunch.”
“What type of hunch, Cheyenne?”
Jesus Christ. I’m gonna end up ripping my eyeballs out before this is over.
“The kind traitorous assholes have when they’re dirty and they don’t want anyone to dig up all their shit, okay?”
The board members blinked at her. Van Lurig made another notation. “So you believe Colonel Thomas anticipated an investigation into his dealings, specifically instigated by Captain Rhynehart, and relieved the man from duty in order to prevent said investigation.”
“Yeah. And he didn’t just fire the guy. He had one of those machines sent to Rhynehart’s house to kill him. Which it would have if Rhynehart had been alone in his house.”
“So, you were there too?”
“Yes!” Cheyenne gave a long, heavy sigh. “Look, Thomas knew we were onto him, okay? He fired Rhynehart without a justifiable reason, then he invited me to his office here for a private chat. That’s where I got the files from his computer that told me exactly when and where he was meeting with the Bull’s Head.”
“What’s that?”
The drow’s eyes widened. “The magicals with the machines. And I shared it with Rhynehart because he had nothing left to lose, and I wanted to take Thomas out the right way, without leaving room for any mistakes. Because in case you haven’t noticed, he’s been fucking around with those machines, funding their operating systems and whatever else the Bull’s Head needed, and making things damn hard for everyone. I’m sure you can agree with me on that one.”
“Yes, we can.”
“So we pulled a team together, made a plan, and went with it. The colonel tried to kill me too, by the way. Held a gun to my head and would’ve pulled the trigger if Major Carson hadn’t shown up on time.”
All board members turned to look at Sir next. The man glanced up from the table with wide eyes and glanced around at his superiors. “You don’t have to look at me like that. You’ve already heard this part.”
“And we appreciate hearing it again from Cheyenne’s perspective.” Van Lurig made another note. “To the best of your ability and in as much detail as you can, describe the confrontation at the showroom in Westphalia two nights ago, where Colonel Thomas was subsequently detained.”
Cheyenne looked at Sir, and he jerked his head at the major general.
No wonder Rhynehart went into my scheduled time. I should’ve just written a fucking report.
Chapter Sixty-One
When Cheyenne finished recounting the entire night from her memory, which was still sharp enough not to leave anything out despite how uncomfortable she’d become in the office chair, she rolled backward away from the head of the table and stretched out her legs. “And that’s it.”
“Thank you, Cheyenne.”
Mr. Weber leaned forward and tapped his pen on the table, despite not having anything on which to write with it. “I have one more question if you don’t mind.”
Cheyenne couldn’t help from rolling her eyes this time. “I kinda do mind, but go ahead.”
“We’ve heard multiple accounts of these war machines being on the premises on the night in question. Most notably, before you made an appearance and confronted Colonel Thomas. We also have visual confirmation of the machines in the footage you so graciously sent out via private email.” The man cocked his head, his pen still tapping. “Which, I might add, should with good reason be in the custody of this organization as we speak. So what happened to the machines?”
For a moment, the conference room fell tensely silent. They want to hear the truth. Sir and Rhynehart have already told them everything, and it’s not like they know more about Maleshi than I do.
Crossing one ankle over the other, Cheyenne waved off the question. “Some nightstalker rolled in, opened a portal, and took ‘em all.”
The board members shared confused glances.
Van Lurig looked down at her notes again. “Was this the same nightstalker who singlehandedly incapacitated every single member of the magical group selling this weaponized technology while you and Major Carson were otherwise indisposed?”
“Yep.” Cheyenne watched the woman slowly write another note to herself. “Not all of them, though. She saved one for later.”
“I’m sorry?”
Sir grunted, and Cheyenne couldn’t tell if he was pissed off at her lame joke or trying not to laugh.
“The nightstalker took the one survivor as her prisoner. Does that clear it up?”
“Yes, thank you. Do you know what happened?”
“No.” Cheyenne shook her head. “I have absolutely no idea where she took the poor bastard or what she did or will do to him.”
Colonel McMillen shifted in his chair. Across from him, Lieutenant Colonel Oppenhaur dipped his head again, this time to massage his temple with one hand. The silent seconds stretched on.
Yeah, this ‘make the halfling wait just for fun’ bit isn’t gonna fly.
Cheyenne slapped her hands on the armrests and swiveled back and forth in the chair. “Now you have all the details. Should be pretty helpful in making a decision. I’d recommend kicking Les Thomas out on his greedy, magical-hating ass, but you guys are paying yourselves the big bucks, so I’ll leave it up to you. If there’s nothing else?”
“Actually, Cheyenne.” The major general slowly set down her pen, removed her narrow reading glasses to place them on the table too, and sat back in her chair to fold her hands in her lap. “There is something else we’d like to discuss with you, and it has much more to do with your unique perspective and opinion than anything else.”
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Cheyenne relaxed back into the chair again and glanced at Sir. “No more questions?”
“No more questions.” Van Lurig offered a thin smile. “We’ve concluded the debriefing, so think of this as more of a consultation, if you like.”
“Huh.” I might get up and dance if they ask me what they should do with Sir. “Okay. What can I help you with?”
Sir’s bushy eyebrows twitched over his beady eyes when he scowled at the table. But still, he was playing the good underling who’d barely managed to redeem himself and kept his mouth shut.
“For some time now,” Van Lurig continued, “we’ve been acutely aware of a need to make certain changes within this organization. No, we haven’t been around long, but we’ve accomplished quite a bit in the last two decades. Be that as it may, this organization was founded as a defense protocol first and was never quite restructured in ways I personally feel would have prevented this whole incident in the first place. Now that we’re aware of what Colonel Thomas felt was possible and necessary to accomplish within his role both on this board and as a commanding officer, the subject of an organization-wide restructuring has become something of a top priority. A necessity, if you will.”
“Uh-huh.” Cheyenne narrowed her eyes at the major general. “Probably a good choice.”
Van Lurig spread her arms. “Well, do you have any ideas?”
Too surprised to think about the pain radiating from her shoulders down her arms, Cheyenne leaned quickly forward in her chair and gaped at the woman. “You’re asking me?”
“Yes.”
“For ideas on how to restructure the FRoE so Les Thomas wannabes don’t kick up another shitshow like this one.”
Van Lurig cleared her throat. “I didn’t use those exact words, but yes, Cheyenne. That is the gist of it.”
“Yeah.” A small smile crept across the drow’s lips, and she nodded slowly, gazing at each of the board members in turn. They made this too fucking easy. “Yeah, I have some ideas.”
“We’d love to hear them.”
Cheyenne rolled her chair back to the end of the table and pointed at the woman’s papers on the opposite end. “You’re gonna want to get that pen ready.”