by Dennis Young
Talice sat with Briggs and Rory in the equipment bay sorting through weapons, armor, and the ATVs. Their assessment of “no return fire from the compound” had been, well, wrong. Both bore the marks of near-misses and ricochets, and ATV2 had sustained an unlucky shot directly to the engine block.
“Junk,” said Rory, gulping down his second beer. “Undercarriage shot to hell and literally dragged on the rocks. Tore up the rear suspension. Two tires shot to pieces. And there are some pretty heavy scrapes along the ramp where we dragged it all aboard.”
Talice looked to Briggs, his eyes half-closed and obviously exhausted. “Find a place to lie down, big guy. Your work is done for now. Rory and I can handle the rest of this.”
Briggs rose and staggered to ATV1, climbed aboard and laid back the passenger seat. In thirty seconds, he was asleep.
Talice watched for a moment, then turned back to Rory. “Weapons? Armor? How much real damage did we sustain? You okay?”
Rory tossed aside his beer pack and drew a fresh one, nodding. “Martin’s HCS will need a new torso. Weapons need maintenance, but we can do that on the way home. We’ll take stock of everything and give you a manifest. Nothing out of the ordinary, Captain.”
He gave Talice a knowing look. “You need to talk to Evans about all the shit we saw. These women have been forced into sex on a daily basis by Nemesis customers and various higher-ups if they were wanted. You saw their injuries from maltreatment. It’s gonna take some heavy psychological voodoo to get some of them back to normal.” He drank half his beer and belched. “Burning that place to the ground wasn’t punishment enough. The sleezy little office puke Evans dealt wasn’t the worst of the lot by a long shot.”
Talice glanced over her shoulder upship. “I have to ask… was there any point you felt Evans was selling us out? I watched the whole thing, Rory. I was terrified for all of you.”
Rory drank again, pondering the question. “I can’t say. Everything he did was convincing as hell, but it had to be, you know? I think Bělinka had a plan in the back of her mind, just in case.”
“Oh? What, exactly?”
He shrugged. “No idea for sure, but she never left his side. Once we were in the ballroom with the women, she had her knife in hand the whole time, just in case. The flunky and guards never saw it, though.”
Talice nodded slowly, thinking. She glanced up at him and smiled. “You did good. All of you. Good mission. You looked like an old adventure-holo tough guy in your leather chest piece.”
“Give me an HCS any day, Captain. I felt naked in that thing.”
Talice rose and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Get some rest. I’ve got to check on our passengers and pin a medal on Martin’s chest. We’ll do inventory later. We’ve got four days to recover, and by then I’ll have to get the story from everyone.”
“We getting paid? I’ve got my eye on a place up north.”
Talice sat down again. “You thinking about retirement, Rory? Just asking, but honestly, I don’t know how much longer we can do this before we all get killed. I think Martin was a warning.”
He shook his head. “Not yet. But, it’s been on my mind.”
“Good enough. Yeah, as soon as I present the report, creditmarks will happen. Always have, right?”
She rose again, and he caught her arm gently. “You okay, Captain? I know you’ve had some problems. Doing alright?”
Talice’s lips drew into a taut line. “Well enough. Thanks for asking.”
She sighed heavily as she walked upship, headed for the infirmary.
* * *
Mac was asleep in her hoverchair, the seat laid back and a light blanket at her arm. The TacOps screens were dark, the console lights green, and the biometric locks on red. The women had been given cabins and as Talice paused by each door, she thought she heard quiet sobbing from behind one or two. Damn, I hope it’s not because they wanted to stay. I can’t imagine the hell they’ve been through…
She glanced into the darkened infirmary as she passed, seeing Martin tucked away in a corner, sleeping soundly. Junior and Dosu talked quietly in the ready room and nodded as she paced through.
Talice knocked on the cockpit door. Jamal let her in with a weary grin, then sat once more at his Eng/Tactical board. Will was sleeping in the copilot’s seat. Abie looked over her shoulder and smiled, then attended her instrument panel. The cockpit was quiet except for the soft sounds of electronics, Will’s gentle snoring, and the subliminal vibration of Bird One’s engines.
Talice lowered the jump seat and sat, relaxing against the bulkhead at her back. Mission accomplished. Minimal casualties, and we got everyone out. So why do I feel so damn dirty this time? Maybe Rory’s right. Maybe it’s time to think about a different life.
Talice realized only then she was shaking. Damn, I haven’t changed my patch since… hell, before this whole mess started. Better get back…
Her thoughts trailed off. Her mind went numb and she couldn’t stand. She sat for a moment, simply breathing and willing her head to keep from spinning. She couldn’t make her mouth work to tell Jamal she needed help. After three deep breaths and a passing wave of dizziness, she rose slowly, hand on Jamal’s shoulder.
“Captain, you okay?”
She shook her head weakly and nodded to the door.
Jamal stood quickly and took her arm. “Abie, I gotta help the captain.”
Abie turned, eyes wide. “What the hell…”
“Bugs…” was all Talice could manage.
Jamal almost carried her to the ready room. Junior cleared the table and they laid her on it gently. Dosu stood and backed to the corner, out of the way.
“Mac!” Junior stepped around the corner to the TacOps, rousing Mac quickly, then back to the ready room. He looked Talice in the eye. “Gotta do this again, Captain?”
She motioned weakly. “Pocket… bottle…”
Junior dug into her camis and pulled out the S-H bottle, popped the top, and raised her head to drink. Dosu held her, watching carefully. Mac appeared from around the divider, yawning, only half awake.
Jamal had bolted to the infirmary and returned with his gear. He quickly cuffed her arm and read her BP. “Well, your heart’s beating, so you’re not dead, but your BP is barely registering. Geez, Captain…”
Talice propped herself up as Dosu massaged her shoulders. His hands were strong, but gentle. She let herself relax into his ministrations.
Mac had her hand and Junior was eye-to-eye with her. Jamal slipped the BP cuff away and waited for an order.
Talice breathed deeply, then again. “Better. Gotta change my patch.”
“Clear the room,” said Mac quietly.
Dosu motioned Jamal downship and out of the ready room. Junior stayed for a moment, still watching carefully, then nodded to Mac, and followed.
“Get your pants off, woman.” Mac helped Talice from her camis and slid her hand into the pocket, withdrawing a C-12Plus patch. Talice applied it to her inner thigh before she peeled off the spent one. Mac helped her to a chair.
Talice rested her head against the bulkhead. “Sorry…”
Mac only scowled and sat back in her hoverchair. Their eyes locked for a long time.
* * *
Twelve hours, and Talice slowly recovered. She knew it was just another episode of the Crius bugs, something she’d endured for five years and counting. Something that, while it was a constant pain in the ass and scary as hell, also meant she was still alive. Still breathing. Still fighting. Compliments of Babs and better living through chemistry.
She shook it off and went back to work.
They took time with the women, each alone at first, beginning with Aya, then the others in turn. All told a similar story; abduction by drugs, enticement, or simply apprehended when alone. Waking in a ship bound for Crius, given no choices other than to comply or die. And their captors didn’t seem to care which. Though they were warned, death would not be pleasant, swift, or painless.
Two days
of individual sessions with Talice, Evans, and Mac, with Aya present during all of them. She was there at the request of every former escort. They all agreed Aya was their saving grace. Even during “conditioning” Aya had done everything in her power to minimize the effects and abuse. Coached them. Calmed them. Held them as they cried, promised help was coming and they’d all make it out alive.
“But we did not,” she admitted at the last, sitting with Evans, Talice, and Mac in a darkened ready room over coffee and tea. “There were three new captives I was introduced to, yet don’t know where they were taken. I fear they died in the attack.”
Talice exchanged looks with Mac, then faced Aya again. “Any ID or description you can give us? Anything at all, we can pass along to our contacts, so they can follow up?”
Aya shrugged and sipped tea. “A tall black woman, a brunette of Olde Earth Middle Eastern descent, and a short blonde. I saw them only once.” She thought for a long moment as everyone waited. “They might have been transferred to the main base, but I can’t say for certain.”
Mac refilled Aya’s cup. “How many days before the attack did you meet them?”
“Two, maybe three. I only saw them for minutes.”
“Any details would help. Please, think about this and add it to your report before we land.” Talice laid a hand on Aya’s arm. “Thanks for your assistance. You’ve saved a lot of lives.”
Aya shrugged again. “These men are monsters. I’d kill them with my bare hands if I could.”
Talice glanced to Mac again, then Evans. “Yeah… I’m with you there.”
Aya rose, headed for her cabin. Evans started to stand, but Talice motioned him to sit again, then faced him squarely. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say there’s been that same coaching going on right here on this ship.”
Evans furrowed his brow and shook his head. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“She means all the stories are the same,” said Mac. “Okay, so the routine conditioning was a procedure, we understand that. But we have no details about where these women came from, families, or anything else. They refuse to say. Why?”
Evans was silent as they waited. At last he shrugged with his hands. “Yes, I advised them not to reveal any family information until we land. Safety precautions, that’s all.”
“So we’re not supposed to send messages about who they are so their families can be notified?” Talice shook her head.
“What part of covert-ops do you not understand, Captain?”
Mac gave Evans a look. “That’s enough. We’re thinking of the families and these women. What part of decency do you not understand?”
Talice held a hand after a minute. “He’s right. It’s unlikely any message we send would be intercepted, but we can’t take the chance. Honestly, I don’t think even the Marines have any idea of Nemesis’s capabilities. I keep thinking of the fiasco on Crius during the first mission and how easily they broke our encryption. They’ve got former Marines themselves, we know that. So we’d better be careful.”
“What about Aya?” Mac looked to Evans again. “She’s finished with Nemesis, so now what? For that matter, what about you?”
“Aya, I don’t know.” Evans drank and set his cup aside. “She’s no longer a Marine, not even military at all. She can walk away if she wants to. My guess is, she’ll still want to be involved somehow.”
“And you?”
He showed a half-smile. “Honestly… I’d like to stay with the team. At least I can be of some use here.”
“But you’re a Marine,” said Talice. “Not our decision. Or yours, for that matter.”
Evans nodded. “But you carry a lot of good will with Colonel Fawkes. I’m hoping you’ll put in a word for me.”
Talice looked to Mac with a wink. “Fucking spies. Can’t live with ’em… can’t kill ’em.”
Mac laughed as Evans blushed as red as Talice had ever seen. She didn’t know if it was embarrassment or anger. She really didn’t care. But deep down inside, she knew they still needed his talents.
* * *
Northland Marine Base, and Home…
Bird One made approach under strict orders of stealth and cover of darkness. Evans supervised the transfer of the former captives to medivans that swept them immediately to the infirmary for evaluation and debriefing. Then he and Aya were gone as well, with a perfunctory “thank you” and little else. Talice watched them leave in a swirl of dust and headlamps.
The team slowly made their way down the ramp and collected around Talice and Mac. No one said anything as they watched the receding lights.
Rory shouldered his pack and moved closer to Talice. Briggs did the same, then Junior, Ollie, and Dosu. Talice almost felt like they were gathering as protection around her, and thought about it.
“So… that’s it?” Briggs wasn’t the happiest camper in the bunch.
“Need-to-know,” replied Mac. “Our work is done. We’ll make our report and get everyone paid. Then head back to the training facility.”
“Take a couple of days off,” said Talice. “We’ve got a lot of work to do when we get back. Mac and I will see about our next mission.”
“Next? Aren’t we going after the big bosses?” Junior stood between Briggs and Rory, almost hidden.
Talice nodded. “And the sooner, the better.” She glanced around. “I don’t want any of you to take this the wrong way, but we’re soft. I thought about this a lot on the way home. Our layoff hurt us, and if this had been a shooting battle, it could have gotten really bad.”
“So running through exploding alleyways isn’t bad?” Rory huffed.
Talice nodded. “But I thought you did that stuff for fun, big guy.” She looked to Bělinka and Nikolay, listening closely. “What I mean is… hell, I don’t know what I mean. I wasn’t there.” She turned away, headed back up the ramp and into the ship.
Briggs shook his head, looking at Mac. “What the hell?”
Mac looked over her shoulder. “Everyone get some rest. I’ll talk to Talice. She’s got stuff on her mind.”
* * *
Talice sat alone in her cabin, noticing a forgotten scarf laying on the floor. She picked it up. It was green and blue and purple in some cultural design, singed around the edges and smelled of smoke. The bunk was unmade, and three used cups sat on the tiny desk, one still half-full of cold tea. She sighed. She couldn’t even remember the name of the women she’d offered the cabin to on their return trip.
This sucks. But we all knew it might come to this eventually. Hostages are one thing, slaves another. Especially sex slaves. What kind of person does this? Damn, I’d almost rather face live fire than what they went through.
“You okay?” Mac stuck her head through the open doorway.
Talice shrugged. “Sorry about that. Just a lot of things right now.”
Mac eased her hoverchair closer. “You need to go home and rest. We all do. We could use a bit of soul-cleansing.”
“Yeah, I’ll be sure to sign up.” Talice toyed with the scarf. “I don’t know what to do, Mac. When we make our report to Fawkes, I know he’s going to want us to take a break. And I can’t think of anything right now but turning this ship around and heading back to Crius as fast as we can get there.”
“Let’s do that. What can he say? Why would he stop us?”
Talice nodded slowly. “And I’m worried about Babs.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I need to stop by the infirmary and see if she’s back. I need to see her with my own eyes.” Talice looked up. “That comment Aya made about the three new ‘recruits’, one being a short blonde.”
Mac sat back. “I didn’t even see that. Alright, I’ll go with you. Get on your feet, Marine.” She gave Talice a grin.
“Yeah, let’s go. Has everyone left?”
“No, they were milling around, talking about taking you out drinking. You know what a party animal you’ve become.” Mac grinned wider.
“Yeah, that’s m
e. Two drinks and in bed by 2000 Hours. Alone.”
They headed down the ramp. Only Junior and Ollie were left, and they said their goodbyes quickly, then headed for the metrolink station. Talice and Mac crossed the airfield, catching a ride with a late-night jeepster on sentry duty, and dropped off at the infirmary doors. They checked in quickly and waited for the night resident.
“Ms. Wyloh?” A young man in a stained white lab coat appeared from the security doors. “I’m Nurse Hayward. What can I do for you?”
“This is former Marine Master Sergeant Jonie Macauley, and I’m a former Marine Captain. We’re working civilian now and looking for a mutual friend, Dr. Barbra Cromwell. She goes by the name Babs sometimes. Short, blonde, energetic.”
Hayward slowly shook his head. “I’m not familiar with the doctor, but I’ve only been assigned here for a few days.” He turned to the duty station. “Jonas, do we have a Dr. Cromwell on staff?”
“Sure, everyone knows Babs, but…” They waited as the tech searched the files. “She’s on extended leave. Hasn’t been here for… well, quite a while.”
“Like you said, sitting on a rock somewhere,” Mac whispered.
Talice said nothing for a long moment. “Alright, thanks. I’ll send her a commtext and maybe see if I can join her.” They left quickly, headed for the metrolink.
“I don’t believe it, Mac. Babs wouldn’t neglect her patients this long.”
Mac shrugged. “You said Fawkes talked her out of resigning. Maybe she’s reconsidered.”
“But she’d contact me. I sent her messages before we left. Nothing. It’s not like Babs to just disappear.”
They paused to purchase tickets, then waited at the que. Mac turned to Talice and spoke quietly. “Trouble in Paradise?”
“Fuck, I hope not. I hope it’s just my fucking over-imagination. Still, what Aya said…”
“You know you use that word a lot when you’re upset?”