by TR Cameron
Jax shrugged. “I imagine details will be provided as we need them, although I’m with you, and would prefer more data upfront. In any case, a conference is being held at the beach resort that is our primary destination, and the fact that it was mentioned suggests it’s relevant. I haven’t been told more than that about the where of the mission, but I have to assume there’s more to it than that, given the training we did. I don’t think we’ll be invading it in force or anything.”
The others laughed and agreed, offering their own opinions on where they might wind up. He let the conversation flow for a bit, then recaptured their attention. “What I do know is that we’re going undercover as Confederacy folks. New identities are included for each of us, along with reservation details and such. It appears they’ve given us the same jobs, except for me. I’m an executive for a shipping company.”
He linked the information on their new identities to their wristcomms while they laughed at the idea of him as a shipping executive, or maybe just as an executive. “One of the crates has clothes appropriate for the gig. Our equipment is packed into large suitcases that will be delivered to the resort. The plan is, we check in, kick around the place for a while, and move on our objective under cover of darkness.” He shrugged. “I presume we’ll know more as we near our destination. Everyone should get a good night’s rest because tomorrow is going to be busy.”
The group broke up and headed to their quarters while he assisted Cia in cleaning up and storing the tableware. He asked, “Everything ready for Grace to assume her alternate identity?”
The pilot nodded. “The new logo is already displayed, the drive signature is altered with only a little power loss, and the hull has been reconfigured enough that a database with records of the Grace shouldn’t match them up.” She looked uncomfortable for a moment, then blurted, “You’re not hiding any of the message the Professor sent, are you?”
His first reaction was annoyance, but after a moment’s reflection, he had to admit it was a legitimate question. Doubly legitimate if it’s causing her this much concern. He shook his head. “Nope. You know everything I do, or maybe more since you’re the one with the directions to get us there.”
She looked relieved as she nodded. “Okay. Had to ask. I’m off to sleep. Don’t worry, my girl’s autopilot will wake me up if there’s trouble.”
“Good deal. Rest well.” He went forward, climbed into the pilot compartment, and relaxed back in the right-hand seat. Watching the stars on the display reminded him of being in the observation lounge on the Cronus. He was eager to join his team again, eager to have his prosthetics sorted out, eager to meet his new subordinate. Most of all, he was eager to regain a sense of clarity. Two weeks before, his life had been predictable for the most part. Since setting foot on the grounds of the Academy, it had been anything but. Interesting, sure. Predictable? Hell, no.
Jax closed his eyes and let the sounds of the Grace lull him to sleep.
Cia navigated the formalities of getting the ship down to the planet without issue, seamlessly adopting the role of a Confederacy-born independent trader. The group disembarked from the mid-ship hatch since their cover identities would never be so pedestrian as to use the cargo ramp. They boarded a train to the resort and discovered the Academy had booked them a car of their own. The other four took seats in two rows that faced each other across a table, and he sat on the other side of the aisle.
They’d already gone over the plan multiple times, so rehashing it again would be wasted. Instead, they discussed the question that was at the tops of their minds at the moment. Ethan Kimmel asked, “So, do we have any better idea of what we’re here to get?”
Jax shook his head, and for once allowed his frustration to show. “No, and it’s almost at the point where I’m ready to call the whole thing off and enjoy some time on the beach. I mean, I understand need-to-know, but I would think we qualified for that before we got off the ship.”
General grumbles signaled agreement. Cia sighed. “I’ve been on a number of weird assignments since I started at the Academy. While this one is a little stranger than most, prior experience tells me we’ll know what we need to know when we need to know it, even though that it would make us all much happier if ‘when’ was ‘now.’”
More grumbles followed, but everyone seemed okay with the situation, maybe because they were all in it together. We’re bonding as a team faster and more effectively than I expected. Jax had thought there might be issues with Anton Sirenno, since the man frequently displayed his forceful personality with minimal instigation, but there hadn’t been any. They’re not military by any stretch of the imagination, but they’re good folks.
The team composition begged a question, however. Even though they’d practiced with weapons together, if their purpose was to fight, it didn’t make sense to have this group do it. Surely there were others with military experience who might have been a better fit. He shook his head. This close-to-the-vest shit was for the birds.
They disembarked from the train directly into the resort building, staggering their departure to avoid looking like they were together. Uniformed staff took each of them in hand and escorted them separately to their rooms, which had been deliberately booked apart from one another. His was twelve floors up in a tower that overlooked the ocean and the white sand beach below. His first stop was the shower. As wonderful as the Grace was, he had yet to be on a ship with anything like a luxurious bathroom. He had just wrapped a towel around his waist and stepped out when there was a knock on the door.
The porter delivered his luggage, and Jax tapped his wristcomm to transfer a tip. The man departed with a nod, and Jax dragged the heavy case across the room and threw it on the bed. After he opened the locking mechanism with a fingerprint scan, his wristcomm vibrated, and a voice emanated from his earpiece. It was Professor Maarsen. “Jackson, this is a recording prepared before you left our system. It was necessary to keep the details of this mission as quiet as possible, and even though every member of your team has been thoroughly vetted, Major Stephenson and I agreed on the need for secrecy just in case. A signal jammer was activated by your biometrics on the scanner that allows you to safely receive this message. Your target tonight is not a thing, but rather a person, and it is vital that you extract them from the planet whether they’re willing or not.”
The team had set up prearranged meetings to avoid the need to contact each other in a traceable fashion. There would, of course, be cameras all over the resort, but all they could do about that was try to make deliberate encounters appear to be random ones. He dressed quickly in obnoxious tropical beach attire and headed down to the outdoor bar nearest to the front entrance. He sat with his back to the building and gazed out at the water, thinking it would be a pretty enjoyable place to vacation. Several single-person racing boats zipped around on the waves, and it looked like the kind of slightly dangerous fun he could get into.
Cia slid into the seat next to him and ordered her own drink, something with a tropical sounding name, and gestured toward the ocean. “I’m thinking the resort should host races. Sure, some people might crash and die, but what’s life for without a little adventure?” She grinned and extended a hand, then gave him her fake name. He replied with his own and she asked, “What are you up to here? Come with the family?”
He shook his head. “Solo trip.” He’d thought about how to communicate the information out in the open on the way down in the elevator. “Here on a lark, pretty much. I hired an ‘executive connections’ company to set me up on a blind date tonight. If I’m lucky, maybe I’ll get to take her home with me.” He laughed. “I’m not that ridiculous, but it seems a little nerve-wracking, having an arranged meeting, don’t you think?”
She frowned and took a long sip through her straw. The drink turned out to look as tropical as it sounded, with multiple colors of slushy liquid and a piece of fruit he’d never seen before as a garnish. It was purple and looked kind of like a pineapple, but more like a kiwi. O
ne more thing about this place that would be fun to try if I were really on vacation. Finally, she replied, “I can understand where it would be daunting ahead of time, especially if you don’t know much about her. Did the people you hired provide many details?”
He shrugged. “I’ve got her name and a description, and I presume she’ll be looking for me, too. I mean, I’d like to think that the company gave her a heads up about me, but maybe it’s all mystery on her end or something. One kind of vacation package for me, another for her.”
Cia nodded. “If it’s not rude to ask, where are you meeting her?”
He forced a chuckle. “That’s the best part. Apparently there’s a formal dance tonight, so I’ll get to show her how awful I am on my feet.”
She snorted, then broke into a laugh and waved a hand. “I’m sorry, but that sounds incredibly daunting.” He had to give her credit for her acting skills because underneath it all, she had to be as concerned as he was about the strange twist their mission had taken. “But I wish you luck.”
He finished his drink. “Maybe I’ll see you there. I’m sure there’s some eligible person around here who would like to dance with you, and you seem to be unaccompanied, at least at the moment. How about we meet here tomorrow, and I can tell you how it went?”
She lifted a flirty eyebrow. “You’re going on a blind date tonight and setting me up as a backup plan tomorrow? That is a totally sly-dog move, dude. But sure, I’ll look for you if I happen to be wandering nearby.”
He stood up with a sigh and a stretch. “Guess I should start getting ready. Dance is at nine in the main ballroom. It’s probably swanky, given the rest of the resort. I hope there’s a formal clothes store or something like it around here someplace.” He shook his head. “Pray for me.”
She laughed. “Will do. Break a leg. Or an arm. Whatever.”
As he walked toward the elevator, he thought, Now I’m going to spend the whole night worrying about my prosthetics locking up. I’ll get you back for that one, short stuff. Count on it.
Chapter Thirty-Two
He figured he’d given Cia all the clues that he reasonably could and trusted she’d get the word to the rest of the team while he prepared. His case contained a black tuxedo with a gray and black checked tie and a matching vest. The discovery that he wasn’t obliged to wear a bow tie gladdened him because he didn’t like them, had never liked them, and couldn’t see ever liking them. Some things are too much to ask, even for king and country.
The half of the case that held his weaponry had a different entry code than the suitcase and required two specific fingertips pressed simultaneously to the sensor just to open the input pad. He recognized Stephenson’s influence on the Academy in the setup since the security protocols for this mission were similar to ones he’d used under her command previously. Or maybe they’re just customized that way because it’s me. Whichever it is, good choice. The foam insert held the pieces of the Academy’s version of a standard suppressed rifle and suppressed pistol. Several shaped charges sat in their cutouts, as well as extra magazines and batteries for the weapons. A thin black uniform was folded within, along with a few light strap-on armor plates. Too bad smuggling a suit of combat armor was too much to ask.
He selected the remaining two items, a holdout pistol no bigger than his palm with five shots and a ceramic knife. Its blade retracted into the handle, and a switch on the side popped it out stiletto-style. He slipped the knife into his trousers pocket and the pistol into a cunning hidden holster sewn into the jacket, then checked his look in the mirror and found nothing that would betray his disguise. Jax closed his eyes and pictured the person he would be that night: confident, a little on the arrogant side, and definitely in predator-mode. He wanted people who saw him with his supposed blind date to think poorly of him, but not poorly enough to act on it. That way, they wouldn’t imagine it was anything more than the awkward meeting it pretended to be.
Jax grinned at the jerk in the mirror and headed for the door. He wished he had Juno’s contact lens display for this operation to know where the rest of his team was positioned. Surely I’m not just going to whisk whoever this woman is onto the ship and blast off. There has to be more to it than that, or why send all of us? He passed Anton Sirenno in the lobby, where he sat in a comfortable chair smoking a cigar and reading a book with a tumbler of whisky next to him.
A grand staircase that looked to be made of light-veined marble led up to the balcony. He took the stairs carefully, mindful of Cia’s comment from earlier. At the top, he spotted Maria Verrand, and had to stop his mouth from dropping open in shock. The woman was attractive on a daily basis, something he’d noticed and then chosen to ignore as he did with all female subordinates. His mind innocently observed, Technically she’s not a subordinate. Worth considering. He told it to shut the hell up. Tonight Verrand was in a ball gown and heavy makeup, and she would draw every eye in the place. She already exerted a gravitational pull on a number of men who circled her, perhaps without realizing they were doing it. An excellent distraction. Good choice.
Jax passed through the double doors into the ballroom and stepped to the side to take it in. Tables for two were scattered around the periphery of the oval space, two or three deep in places, all with enough room surrounding them to ensure at least the illusion of privacy for their occupants. Overhead, a line of ornate crystal chandeliers marched along the centerline, with smaller ones creating a circle at roughly the distance of where the seating began. On the far end of the ballroom, a stage replaced the tables, supporting a band in white-coat tuxedos with red ties, male and female both. They held musical instruments, most of which he recognized, and played a soft swing tune as the place filled up.
The dance surface occupied the rest of the floor space, gorgeous mahogany polished to a warm glow. Fortunately, special forces training actually included instruction in ballroom dancing, as officers were expected to be able to blend into any social situation. He was far from the best, but neither would he be stumbling over his own feet. Now, to find my date. Or, rather, to let her find me. The message had indicated that she would receive a gift upon checking in, an invitation to the dance and a handkerchief that matched the fabric of his tie and vest. As spycraft went, it wasn’t awful. It was incredibly unlikely that anyone else would be wearing that pattern or have a piece of it to show. But it meant he had to spend his time circulating the room as if he had a purpose until she made contact.
Wait staff circled with trays, all of them in turquoise. The men wore jackets in that shade over white shirts, black bow ties, and black trousers. The women sported long dresses that showed a conservative amount of skin, compared to the rest of the outfits he’d seen the staff and guests at the resort wear. All of them were young and attractive, which was doubtless what their moneyed clientele liked to see. He snagged a flute of something sparkling from one of them and sipped it to keep his hands busy.
He completed a circuit and a half of the room and paused to watch the band. They increased the tempo as they started a new song, and several couples made their way onto the dance floor. These bold ones were clearly practiced, based on the skill they displayed, and he wondered if the resort had ringers among them, people to take that first step to get the rest moving. A quiet female voice from his side interrupted his musings. “Jerry? Is that you?”
He cringed at the use of his false name—someone would pay for that choice—but covered it with a smile. He turned to see a woman who looked to be about his age, perhaps a little older, who seemed to feel as out of place as he did. She wore a beautiful red dress that stood out well against her pale skin. Modest, but not overly so. She didn’t need much makeup but had accentuated her lips and eyelids faintly. Her blonde hair was curled and styled in such a way that he figured she’d had it done professionally for the occasion. Pretty awesome for a blind date. He smiled. “You must be Veronica.” She gave a tentative smile in response and nodded. “Would you like to dance? Or maybe have a seat at a table?”
She bit her lip and looked around. “Dancing. That would be good. Do you need to see the, uh…” She suddenly seemed flustered, and he gently touched her arm.
“No need. You can show me the ‘uh’ later.” He smiled so she’d know he wasn’t teasing. “But you’ll have to let me lead.” His plans to be less chivalrous went out the window at the sight of her discomfort, but he was confident that no one took notice of them. He led her out to the dance floor, and she put the chain that held her tiny purse over her head and an arm so she could swivel it to the back. They assumed an appropriate ballroom position, one hand on the waist and the other extended, and began to move. He was rusty, despite a few practice moves in his room before coming down, but after a few minutes, it began to flow. He asked, “So, come here often?”
She laughed, and he saw a bit of what might be her true self in the reaction. “Not so much. Let’s get the icebreaker stuff out of the way. My name is Veronica Larsen. I’m here for a conference. During the day we work, and during the night, well, let me just say that this whole blind date thing is far better than trying to avoid my groping colleagues at the bar.”
He laughed and twirled her through a series of turns. She handled his direction well, and he got the sense that she was enjoying herself. The information matched with what he knew; she couldn’t use a false identity, given her presence at the resort as part of a legitimate group. He hoped for the chance to tell her that his name wasn’t really Jerry. He’d met several very cool people with that moniker, but it didn’t fit him. “I can see where that might be a challenge, depending on the field you’re in.”
She pressed in close and replied in a husky voice, “Robotic sex dolls.” His mouth dropped open in surprise, and she gave another of those real laughs. “Not really. But something distantly related to that. Maybe if you take me on a second date, I’ll tell you more.”