“So, what?” Taylor snorted. “Your junkie kid fed you a sob story about how bad his life was, so you put in a call to Terry and had him assigned to the Bogrider?”
Ron grimaced, and for a second, part of Taylor hated that he’d gone that far.
“Sammy had been clean for a while by then,” Ron said in a small voice. “He was also never supposed to have that kind of clearance. He was just there to work with the programming team and upgrade efficiency on a handful of minor systems around campus. That’s it.”
“How did he gain access then?” Taylor asked.
“If I had to guess?” Ron shrugged. “He played the ‘my dad’s a Carnegie’ angle to get through security, then leveraged his skills as a coder to get what he needed from there.”
Taylor muttered a curse.
“I swear to you, kid,” Ron said, almost pleading. “I had no idea when I signed Sammy up for the exchange program that things would go down this way. And for what it’s worth? He didn’t, either.”
Taylor raised an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”
Ron eased up a hand, as if asking permission to move it.
Taylor nodded, then watched the old man reach into his desk and come back with a slip of paper. Tattered and worn, it resembled an old-style letter.
“What’s that?” Taylor asked.
Ron stared at the document for a long moment, then slid it across the desk. “Sammy’s death in New Orleans wasn’t due to an accidental overdose at a party. It was a suicide.”
Never in Taylor’s life had he felt so blindsided. He allowed himself a moment to process, then picked up the letter and began reading.
Dear Dad, the opening line read. I know you and I have had our differences over the years. A lot of that was the result of my poor decisions. I wholly accept that. As God is my witness, though, you must believe me when I say I didn’t know what was happening until it was too late to stop it.
Taylor continued down the page, taking in every last agonizing word of a nineteen-year-old boy’s confession. Once he’d passed the final sentence—I am so, so sorry—he refolded the paper and returned it to its owner. “Sammy thought the Zuul meant to raid Terry’s data core, chasin’ dirt on a contract. He had no clue they’d go after the engines.”
The old man shook his head and looked away.
“My family had a right to know this stuff, Ron,” Taylor said with all the calm he could muster. “You should’ve come forward with what you knew.”
“And what would that have changed?” Ron flipped up a palm. “Seriously, Taylor. I mean no disrespect, but what would my telling you any of this really have changed?”
Taylor stabbed out a finger to answer, but Carnegie continued.
“Not a day went by that I didn’t want to tell you Sammy’s secret. I’d have done anything to bring Terry back, but that wasn’t in the cards. All I’d have achieved by outing my son’s mistake would’ve been to drag my family’s name even deeper into the mud, while simultaneously showing the galaxy what a shitty father I’d been.” Fresh tears welled in the old man’s eyes, so he wiped them away with the back of his hand. “Don’t you see? That’s my fault, kid.” He pointed to the letter. “Every last bit of it. Sammy’s mistakes? His lifestyle choices? Even his end in New Orleans. It’s all my fault. If I’d just been there for him earlier on in life, I might’ve been able to…”
Taylor settled back into his seat as the last of the old man’s strength gave way to a deluge of grief and regret. “Sammy made his own decisions, Ron. He said as much right there in his note. You can’t pin everything that went wrong in his life on yourself.”
“You’re not a dad, Taylor, so I don’t expect you to understand.” Ron sniffled. “A man oughta always—always—put his family first, no matter what. I didn’t do that. Instead, I gave everything I had to Steeldriver. My time, my energy, my soul. And for what? So my kids could grow up in a nice house with gobs of money and a fleet of toys they were bored with within a month?” He scoffed. “Trust me when I say, kid, that material stuff adds up to squat in the end. What my family needed—what Sammy needed—was his father. What he got was a handful of leave days from a ghost who spent most of his life off-world, chasing the next contract. I’ve had to live with that for almost seven years now, and for the sake of my wife and our other children, I’ll go on living with it until the day they put me in the ground. That’s my cross to bear, but I’ll carry it as best I can…for them.”
Silence filled the air as both men sat speechless. Meanwhile, the patter of rain escalated against the office window outside.
“So,” Ron finally said. “Now that you know the truth, where do you intend to go with this?”
Taylor stroked his whiskers and weighed the myriad answers to that question. As much as he wanted to hate this man for his lack of an admission, the fact remained that Ron’s point was valid. Revealing Sammy’s betrayal would’ve succeeded only in trashing the Carnegie line, none of whom had done anything to deserve it. Steeldriver would’ve also been finished, since few organizations—and no one on Earth—would likely have ever worked with them again.
Did Ron Carnegie have an obligation to tell the truth? Yes. However, he also had an obligation to protect his surviving family and dismantling his livelihood wouldn’t have done that. At the same time, it wasn’t fair that the Van Zants had been forced back to the poorhouse because of the elder’s Carnegie’s silence.
That ain’t entirely the case, T, and you know it. Taylor winced at that reality.
Sam Carnegie’s role in Terry’s death couldn’t be argued. What also couldn’t be argued was that the boy’s decision to deal with the Zuul hadn’t been the only driver behind the Van Zants’ return to poverty after the accident. That had come via Terry’s decisions, specifically those pertaining to his finances. Because of that one misstep, not even a testimony from Ron would’ve stopped the banks from taking everything. What the old man had done, though, was intercede on the Van Zants’ behalf wherever they’d let him afterward. He’d paid their bills when they couldn’t afford to, put food on their table when tips were scarce at the Hell House. He’d even offered to pay for their mom’s nanite treatments when she’d gotten sick, but by then the MCA deal had materialized, which had allowed Taylor to cover those on his own.
In many respects, Ron Carnegie had been the father Taylor had never known, since his own dad passed of a heart attack prior to seventh grade. Now he understood why. “You know I’ve gotta tell my mom and the others, right? They deserve to know the truth about what happened.”
Ron cleared his throat. “I know. Who else?”
Lisa Kouvaris comes to mind. Taylor knew the malicious origins of that thought, so he put it aside. He then rose from his seat and extended a hand. “Ron, I want to thank you for everything you’ve ever done for my sisters and me. You’ve been a real friend to us, and I want you to know nothin’ will ever change that history in my book.”
“History.” Ron studied his guest’s palm, seeming to chew on the word. “And what about the future?”
“There is no future,” Taylor said. “On behalf of my family and everyone at Swamp Eagle Security, I’d like to wish you and Steeldriver well with your future endeavors. This, however, will be the last time we exchange pleasantries as anything other than colleagues. Is that clear?”
Ron nodded somberly. “Yeah.”
Taylor polished off his whisky and started for the door.
“Hey, Taylor?”
“What?”
Ron swallowed. “Take care of yourself, okay kid?”
Taylor had looked back to address Japhara the day before on the stargate. He couldn’t bring himself to do that here, no matter how much part of him wanted to. “You, too, old man. Goodbye.”
* * * * *
Chapter 33: A New Dawn
Taylor purposefully avoided the news for the rest of that day. He didn’t think Ron would do anything rash, but he couldn’t know for sure, and he didn’t want to hear about it on
the Tri-V if he’d been wrong. He’d just topped off his second cup of coffee the next morning when his comm link rang.
“Go for Van Zant,” Taylor said via pinlink.
“Hey, it’s me,” Billy said. “You need to get upstairs right now.”
Oh no. Taylor closed his eyes and braced for the worst. “What’s goin’ on?”
“Lisa Kouvaris is here,” Billy said. “She’s got some news you’re gonna wanna hear. Trust me, it’s important.”
The tenor in the XO’s voice wasn’t dark at all. If anything, he sounded intrigued.
So not bad news then? Taylor certainly hoped so. “On my way.”
Polishing off the last of his java, Taylor shimmied into a t-shirt and jeans, then pulled his ponytail through the back of his Generals cap on his way out the door. A minute later, he was up the stairs and crossing the Clubhouse’s second floor to the conference room.
“Morning, Taylor,” Lisa said. “Good to see you again.”
“Likewise.” Taylor halted next to Billy. “What brings you back out here to swamp country?”
Lisa reached into her bag and fished out a slate. “You’re gonna wanna take a seat for this.”
Taylor’s earlier sense of dread returned. He glanced uneasily at his XO, then proceeded to his chair at the head of the table as Smitty, Quint, Frank, and Keeto entered the room.
“Captain,” Smitty said to Billy.
“Commander,” the XO answered.
Taylor couldn’t help but notice the faintest of smiles shared between the two officers as they crossed paths. It’s about damn time.
“Not to be an a-hole here, Billy, but I had to cancel leave for this meeting.” Quint yawned into a fist. “Can somebody please tell me why that is?”
“Ms. Kouvaris here was just about to get to that,” Billy said.
Quint offered his usual indignant look to the reporter. “Oh. Well then. Do carry on.”
Lisa swiped open her slate. “My editor called me just after six this morning in a total panic.”
“What about?” Taylor asked.
“According to a source of his over at Steeldriver,” Lisa said, “Ron Carnegie held an emergency meeting late last night with his senior staff. Shortly thereafter, all missions were cancelled, all ships were grounded, and all company operations were suspended indefinitely.”
Taylor looked to Billy, who raised a shoulder.
“I was just as surprised as you were,” the XO said.
“Why has Steeldriver shuttered its doors?” Taylor asked.
Lisa shook her head. “Your guess is as good as ours. We’ve heard nothing from the head office save for a brief press advisory, letting us know that an official word of some kind is forthcoming.”
“Any clue what that word could be?” Smitty asked.
“Nope,” Lisa said. “Some are saying Steeldriver may be put up for sale. Others are speculating that this is the prelude to some sort of major organizational shakeup. Until Carnegie’s people make their announcement, we can’t know for certain.”
A knock at the door prompted everyone to turn.
“Sorry for the interruption, Chief.” Paul cracked an opening and peered inside. “We just took a delivery at the front gate. It’s for you.”
“Can it wait?” Taylor asked.
“I guess.” The doctor adjusted his glasses. “I’d be remiss, though, if I didn’t mention that the package was marked as urgent.”
Taylor motioned for Paul to enter.
Once to the table, Paul reached into his breast pocket and came back with an old-style mailing envelope.
“Haven’t seen one of those in a while,” Quint said. “Who’s it from?”
Taylor gave the doctor his leave, then tore open the envelope’s seal. Inside, he found a letter like the one he’d seen in Ron’s office.
Hey, kid, the message began. There are no words of apology strong enough to convey just how truly sorry I am for the harm my family has done to yours. I know you said it wasn’t my fault, but blood is blood, and Sammy was ours. That makes his mistakes ours, too. My son’s debt to you is one I could never repay in a thousand lifetimes, so I won’t even try. What I would offer, humbly so, is the closest thing I have to a conciliation.
Taylor blinked in disbelief at the next line.
“What is it, Chief?” Frank asked.
Taylor had to read it twice to make sure he wasn’t seeing things.
The time has come for me to leave the mercenary business, the letter continued. I’ve run my course with it, just as you’re beginning yours as owner of the Eagles. I’ve taken what I need of my assets to live out the rest of my retirement in peace, and I hereby relinquish the rest to you. Do with them what you will. All I ask is that you never forget what I told you back in my office. Always, always put your family first, no matter what. Remember that, and you’ll do just fine. Good luck, kid. I’m here if you need me. Your friend, Ron.
Taylor refolded the paper and stared blankly out the window to his right.
“Enough with the suspense already,” Billy said. “Are you gonna tell us what it says or not?”
Taylor gulped. “As of last night, every acre of the Steeldriver Defense Group campus, along with every asset that goes with it—equipment, personnel, CASPers, everything—is henceforth the sole property of Swamp Eagle Security.”
Quint’s jaw all but smashed the table on its way down. “You’re kidding.”
Taylor pulled a second document from the envelope—this one a legal affidavit confirming everything he’d just said—and showed it to the group.
“Well now.” Smitty folded her arms. “That bloody well changes things, doesn’t it?”
“Why would Carnegie do this?” Lisa asked. “Come on, Taylor. I know you went to see him yesterday. What did he say?”
Taylor shook his head. “I promise you, Lisa. Ron never breathed a word of any of this. We talked business and family. That’s it.”
That was true enough, Taylor thought.
“Hot damn, I can’t wait to see my new digs!” Quint jumped up and sprinted for the exit, halting awkwardly at the door. “That’s assuming, of course, that we’re dismissed…sir.”
“Go.” Taylor chuckled.
Quint bolted out the door in a blur of denim and tattoos.
“Am to presume, based off this development, that we’ll be expanding the senior staff in the days ahead?” Smitty asked.
“I’d call that a safe assumption,” Taylor said. “More bodies typically translate to more companies, meanin’ more company commanders. I’ll have to check the Steeldriver personnel files to see whose comin’ over, but I’ve got some ideas about a few internal candidates.”
Smitty tilted her head. “The farts?”
“The farts,” Taylor agreed.
Smitty laughed and rose from her chair. “Well, all right, then. If you gents will excuse me, I think I’ll go make sure our favorite ex-slugger doesn’t do something stupid like shoot out the lights of our old house before we make it into our new one.”
“I’d be mighty grateful if you did,” Taylor said.
“Yo, I got a question.” Frank raised a hand once the Aussie had gone. “Are we also takin’ on new ships with this deal?”
“Looks like it, yeah,” Taylor said.
“And will those ships be requiring new pilots?” Frank asked.
“Possibly,” Taylor said. “Again, I won’t know what we’re workin’ with until I get the Steeldriver personnel files for review.”
Frank’s expression was surprisingly serious. “None of them touches the Osyrys. That’s my one request. After everything that Navarro and I have been through, she’s my girl, and nobody’s taking her from me without a fight.”
“I would echo that sentiment for engineering,” Keeto said. “Steeldriver’s ships are impressive, yes. However, the Ryley Osyrys is one of a kind. It would be my honor to keep her spaceworthy.”
“Relax, fellas,” Taylor said. “The Osyrys ain’t goin’ anyw
here, and neither is her crew. She’s yours as long as you’re a part of this outfit.”
Both aliens seemed good with that answer. They said their goodbyes, then left to join the makings of party outside.
“Speakin’ of the Osyrys.” Taylor turned to his XO. “I’ve been doin’ some thinkin’. How does the title EMS Bowden sound to you?”
Billy wrinkled his nose. “You considering a moniker change?”
“I am,” Taylor said. “The joke’s over. I’ve had my fun with the name as is, and frankly it ain’t fair to keep somethin’ like that around, given the dubious history one of my officers has with its origins. It’s time for a change.”
Billy propped his chin on his fist, considering. “You know, I don’t think it is.”
Taylor furrowed his eyebrows. “Really?”
“Colonel Terry Van Zant gave the Ryley Osyrys her name,” Billy said, “and while I wholeheartedly realize the Eagles are no longer under his command, I think it’s important for a company to remember where it came from. I say keep the name as is.”
Taylor couldn’t have hidden his astonishment if he’d wanted to. “Okay, it’s settled. The Eagles’ flagship is now, and forever will be, the EMS Ryley Osyrys.”
“May God have mercy on our souls.” Billy laughed, then departed to rejoin the others.
This left Taylor and Lisa as the room’s final two occupants.
“So,” the reporter said. “It looks like Swamp Eagle Security is poised to become a big deal around town again. What do you plan on doing next?”
Taylor weighed how best to answer that. “Honestly? I was contemplatin’ a trip to the bar to ponder that very thing. You interested?”
Lisa checked the time on her slate. “It’s nine in the morning.”
“Yep.” Taylor grinned. “And it just so happens, I know a place that’s open.”
# # # # #
About the Author
Free Bird Rising Page 29
