by Daniel Gibbs
Jackson did as instructed. Gina flipped a data module toward him. He snagged it in midair. “Your souvenir from Bellwether.” She beamed. “It’s even got their logo. A bit crass, but I did the best I could.”
“Please don’t tell me this is the classified data I turned over to Colonel Sinclair.”
Gina giggled. “Now, wouldn’t that be a sight when he plugged it in and realized he got a blank one too? No, it’s a spare. I picked up a handful when I intercepted Ciara, before I pickpocketed you and made the switch.”
“What’re your diabolical plans for the others?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Maybe I’ll start a collection of keepsakes like you do. Why take them, anyway? Just hanging on to a more tangible memory than a report?”
“Something like that. If I can touch it, I was really there, and I didn’t imagine it all. Playing those roles feels like dreaming.”
“I understand.” Gina reached up and, with a gentle touch, plucked a stray blade of grass from his hair. “Do you miss him? Your father?”
“I hadn’t spoken to him in a long time.” The chest ache returned. “Still wish I could have had one more day, even if I had to drag him from the house for a final talk.”
Gina sighed but didn’t comment further. She rested her chin on her knees, arms hugging her legs.
Jackson didn’t know how long they sat there until his wrist comm chirped. The time stamp told him they hadn’t moved for fifteen minutes. He wasn’t surprised when he saw the sender and her ID code, Castillo, Abril.
“Pretty name, Abril.” Gina hadn’t looked over, so far as Jackson could tell, but she smiled all the same. “Is this the one who made the offer? Handy with sensor posts. You owe her dinner, right?”
Jackson smiled. “I do.”
“Then get moving.” She poked his shoulder. “You need a good woman around.”
“I thought that was what you were here for.”
Gina stretched her legs and yawned. “Me? Good? You’re cute.”
Abby Castillo waited for him down at the property line, West One Seven sensor post. She was not dressed to go to a fancy dinner, or any kind of dinner, but instead wore grease-stained coveralls and a thin sweater over top.
“Hell of a first date.” Her smile was kind, sure, but Jackson could detect the concern in her expression.
“Then you’ll forgive me if I beg off,” he said. “I know I owe you—”
“This isn’t a good time. I know.” Abby reached for his hand. “I am sorry for your loss. My parents send their condolences too.”
“Thank you.”
“But I’d be lying if they didn’t have other reasons for wanting us to make contact.”
“Really?” Jackson felt himself slipping into the familiar routine of guarding his speech, attempting misdirection, but fought the instinct. It was Abby, after all. “We haven’t even had the funeral yet.”
He’d kept his tone light, but Abby’s smile faded. She kept her hand on his, though. “We both know Harry won’t let you maintain your inheritance without a fight. My parents are willing to back your legal defense.”
“In exchange for the merger we discussed.”
“It makes the most sense—our workforce is bigger, more experienced. We can fold in whoever you want to keep, reassign our people to your spread, even rebuild the machine shop—but not without your approval.”
A partnership. He’d pondered it off and on while on deployment but hadn’t had time to focus. Standing there, though, on the boundary between their neighboring ranches, the realization crushed him—he could do it, for the good of his family’s legacy, only because Dad was dead. The Castillos could buy them out with Jackson using the leverage of his inheritance.
“There’s only one problem, if you’re assuming we can bypass Harry,” Jackson pointed out. “Mom.”
Abby nodded. “My parents tried reaching out to her, even after you left, but this… no one wants to bring it up when she’s grieving.”
“No one except me.”
“Jay, if it were anyone else, I’d say give it time, but you…” She gave him a small smile. “You’re bound to be off saving the Coalition again soon. We lack time.”
“Yeah, we do, don’t we?” On impulse, he brushed his hand along her cheek. She closed her eyes and leaned into the gesture. “We should get dinner, you and I, tonight.”
“Are you sure? Your family—”
“Will have to do without me. If I interject myself into their affairs now, I’ll only drive a bigger wedge between us.” Jackson frowned. “I was kidding myself when I held out hope at reconciliation.”
“Don’t give up.” Abby hugged him. For a moment, they were teens again, riding the hills along their properties. “Please. I know you. It’s not in your nature.”
Jackson thought about Harry, Mom, his team—and Vasiliy. “No, it isn’t.”
They were to meet at Osteria La Barchessa, a restaurant dating back four generations in Port Nomad, at nineteen hundred hours. Jackson struggled with his memory. Haven’t I been there with her once before? Prior to signing up for service? Surely he had a memento in his apartment.
But half an hour before Jackson was due at the tram station, he pressed the greeting panel at the Adams ranch house. It was an odd sensation, standing in the warm-yellow glow of the porch light outside the front door that he used to run in and out of unfettered. He’d maintained access, of course, up to and including his visit prior to the Bellwether mission.
It didn’t feel right, though, waltzing in for this conversation, given how furious Harry was. Jackson didn’t want to speak with him at the moment anyway.
The door opened—no hatch, but a big wooden unit with a carved A surrounded by etched mountains. The woman inside was shorter than he remembered, then again, she’d loomed over his memories in a way beyond a physical presence. Her curly brown hair had gone gray with white streaks. She was dressed in comfortable work clothes, including a maroon sweater Jackson knew she’d spent weeks knitting by hand. Some traditions never died.
“Jack?” Gloria Adams’s face went paler than Jackson thought possible. “You’re here? Now?”
“Hey, Mom.” Tears brimmed in Jackson’s eyes, turning his mother’s visage blurry. He brushed them away with the back of his hand. “I—I’m so sorry, Mom. When I heard Dad—I wish I could have—No. I should have been here for you. Can I come in?”
Gloria’s eyes were already red from crying, but she didn’t seem to have any tears left. Her expression hardened. “Harry’s making an appointment with the attorney. I’ll call you in the morning.”
She shut the door. Electronic locks clicked. The porch light died, leaving Jackson in the dark.
THE END
Deception Fleet: Book 3 – Hazard’s Near: Captain Jackson Adams and his team set a trap for the League, only to find themselves ensnared. Will the cost of his drive to find Vassily cost Jackson more than he can bear to lose? Find out in book 3!
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Also Available from Daniel Gibbs
Battlegroup Z
Book 1 - Weapons Free
Book 2 - Hostile Spike
Book 3 - Sol Strike
Book 4 - Bandits Engaged
Book 5 - Iron Hand
Echoes of War
Book 1 - Fight the Good Fight
Book 2 - Strong and Courageous
Book 3 - So Fight I
Book 4 - Gates
of Hell
Book 5 - Keep the Faith
Book 6 - Run the Gauntlet
Book 7 - Finish the Fight
Breach of Faith
(With Gary T. Stevens)
Book 1 - Breach of Peace
Book 2 - Breach of Faith
Book 3 - Breach of Duty
Book 4 - Breach of Trust
Deception Fleet
(With Steve Rzasa)
Book 1 - Victory’s Wake
Book 2 - Cold Conflict
Book 3 - Hazards Near
Acknowledgments
I hope everyone continues to enjoy the Deception Fleet series. We’re aiming for something a bit different than set piece battles, and it seems to be coming along nicely.
Captain Adams and his team have many more adventures in front of them - and their stories will be told!
As always, I give thanks to those brave men and women in the US military I have had the pleasure of working beside for the last fifteen years. Thank you for your service.
Finally, I give thanks to God for the words I’ve written and the life granted to write them in.
Until next time, Godspeed.
- Daniel Gibbs
