“Having said that, I’m proud of my unit, sir. Providing the relevant disciplinary actions are taken against those responsible for this ‘mess’, I can assure you we will re-group and continue to be as strong as we ever were. The Aurora will indeed set sail again, sir, and we will continue to serve the UNF as we have done.”
The judge sat quietly for a moment, seemingly mulling over Harris’s words, then he finally nodded. “Is that all, captain?”
“I do have one more thing, sir.”
“What is it?”
“I want to ensure that my complaints against the Vortex crew will be duly processed.”
“What complaints are these, captain? I’m not aware of this?”
Harris turned and shot Dale a glare. The judge noticed.
“Officer Dale, would you care to clarify?”
Dale stood. “Sir, the UNF Vortex was the ship that intercepted the Aurora and escorted it back to base. Captain Harris has made several complaints against certain members of the Vortex crew, concerning their treatment of the Aurora team. A report is being filed as we speak. However, it is being treated separately from this mission, therefore you have not been advised of it.”
The judge eyed him over his glasses. “Very well. I accept that it should be treated as a separate issue. However, I am very interested in seeing that report, Officer Dale.”
“Yes, sir.” Dale nodded.
“By 0800 tomorrow. Take your seat.”
Dale sank back into his seat. Carrie felt a sense of satisfaction wash over her as he did.
“This hearing is now adjourned,” the judge told them. “This mission is now classified, and as far as the UNF and you soldiers are concerned, it never took place. You are all dismissed.”
*
Harris let out a quiet sigh and slumped his posture slightly. Part of him was relieved it was finally over, but part of him was surprised at just how well things had gone for them. Had Colonel Welles come through for them? Or did it mean something else? Was the UNF letting them walk away, because they now had good leverage against the team? Leverage that would pay for their silence and keep them in line? It left Harris uneasy.
He looked to his left, down his line of soldiers. They looked relieved, but also a little shocked, as though they were just as suspicious as Harris as to what would happen now. Hunter, Colt and McKinley reached for their wheelchairs, exhausted from the standing. He suddenly noticed Doc watching him.
“Good speech,” his lieutenant said, eyes questioning.
Harris gave a slight nod then turned away. He wasn’t really good with emotional intimacies, especially with his soldiers. Truth be told, he wasn’t really sure how he felt about the last part of his speech, and he knew that was what Doc’s questioning eyes were about. Harris had said what he had to for the sake of the team; playing the “good little soldier”, and confirming that the loyal Aurora team would indeed set sail again for the UNF. But the question right now was: Could he?
As he walked off he called over his shoulder to Doc. “Get everyone to The Vicar by 1200.”
“Yes, sir,” Doc said.
He looked at no-one else, spoke to no-one else, and simply walked right out of there, glad he no longer required a guard to shadow him. He headed for administration to begin proceedings to discharge his team from the UNF debrief and lodge a claim for extended leave. After all, their previous leave had been cut short, and he knew it would take McKinley and Hunter several weeks to recover from their wounds, and Harris sure wasn’t setting sail without them. Again, he was hit with that feeling; could he set sail for the UNF, after what they did? Did he even have a choice?
As he walked along the corridor the judge’s words resonated in his head. He thought about each of the findings against his team, what he agreed with and what he didn’t. McKinley got the harshest treatment, he thought, but if he had the time again, he would have no problem sending McKinley in and ordering him to do exactly the same thing. Grolsh deserved to die. They all did.
His mind crept to thoughts of Logan and Sharley in the bio cell. He hoped Martin’s team knew how to handle them, as Sharley’s words rang in his ears: “I may be submitting to you now, but the next time I see you, it will be you who submits to me.” Harris was very interested to see the outcome of their trial. He wondered, too, about Professor Martin and Colonel Isaack and what would happen with them. He’d seen Isaack there at the verdict. He’d been wanting to speak with him, but had not yet had the chance. Why did he show up now? Why wasn’t he involved in the debrief? He felt an overwhelming urge for the answers to the questions brewing inside him.
It took just over an hour in administration. While his body was on autopilot, lodging the forms, his mind couldn’t help but constantly return to wondering about Colonel Isaack and where he stood in all of this. The more he thought matters through, the more questions he had. He decided that when he was done with Administration, he would find him and get those answers.
*
“I’m sorry, sir,” the receptionist advised him. “Colonel Isaack has been reassigned and is no longer working from this office.”
“Reassigned? I just saw him a couple of hours ago at a debrief hearing.”
“That may be the case, sir, but as of three days ago he moved out of this office.”
“Can you tell me where he’s been transferred to?”
“I’m sorry, sir. That’s classified.”
“Do you know how I can get in contact with him? A number perhaps?”
“I’m sorry, sir. Classified.”
Harris stared at her a moment. “Well, if you could please get a message to him. Tell him that Captain Harris of the Aurora would like to speak with him. It’s quite important. He’s got my number.”
“Certainly, sir. I’ll ensure he gets that message.”
He turned and headed for his hotel room, his mind ticking over furiously. Reassigned? Where? Why? Did he know too much?
He closed the door to his room and moved over toward the window and looked out over Fort Centralis. He felt strange, not as relieved as he should. Although he felt a certain weight had been lifted, he still felt a pressing gloom hanging over him. He knew those alive had been taken care of, but he still had to deal with the dead …
He recalled his speech again, surprised at the words he’d spoken. After what the UNF had put him through, he was tempted to quit. But he knew that leaving wouldn’t be such an easy thing to do now. Not with the Darwin hanging over him. Could he leave? What would he do? This was what he’d done his whole life. This was all he knew. This is what he was good at. He’d never thought of doing anything else.
He stared out over Fort Centralis and his mind continued to tick over, intrigued. There were so many questions unanswered. So many questions he wanted answered. As he rolled them around in his mind, Sibbie and Etta appeared like reflections in a window pane, staring at him like they did. And he felt a sudden strange sensation within. Despite all that had happened, he felt a pull to stay. A pull to Fort Centralis. It was like there was something that had to be done; like there was something he was needed for; like it was beyond his control to walk away…
It was only a small element within the UNF that had betrayed them, right? Just Martin. Maybe Isaack? And no charges were laid against the Aurora crew in the end. So maybe someone, somewhere, was looking out for them. A serious fuckin’ mistake had been made, but now it was being corrected, right? Too late for his dead soldiers, but he could still believe in the UNF and what it stood for.
Right?
He lay back on his bed, and stared at the ceiling. He pictured the faces of his four dead soldiers, and yet again, Sibbie and Etta, too. He sighed and closed his eyes.
You’re back on Earth, Saul. It’s time to start again. Time to move forward.
For the first time in days, he thought of the Jazz Club Woman, but sure enough, he very swiftly pushed her aside for thoughts of Taya and Ty.
*
He arrived at The Vicar at 1156. It was a small Irish pub, frequented by UNF soldiers, just down the road from the Command docks. At the end of a mission, he always met the team at The Vicar and bought them drinks. Today was only going to be a taste test, however; a quiet celebration of making it through the debrief. The real drinks would follow after the service tomorrow, although they would also double as a wake.
As he entered he saw the team gathered in one corner, wheelchairs and all.
“Gentlemen, ladies,” he greeted them.
They all acknowledged him with quiet smiles, and nods.
Doc stepped forward and handed him a beer. “We took the liberty of ordering a round, captain.”
Harris took a gulp, then stood near their tables and looked at them all. “So, the verdict’s in. Most of us came out of it fairly unscathed. I knew we would. You all did a good job, given the circumstances we were thrown into. I meant what I said. You should be proud of yourselves.” Harris raised his glass, the team joined him, and they took a drink in silence.
“Captain,” Doc began, “I know I speak on behalf of everyone when I say that there’s no-one else we trust more with our lives, either, than you.”
Doc raised his glass to him, and the team followed suit. McKinley, Brown and Hunter called out in approval, drawing attention from the rest of the bar. Harris was touched, but somehow didn’t feel worthy of it when four of his men were dead. He waved his hands at them to quieten down.
“Thank you, Doc, gentlemen … and ladies. I guess now is a good time to tell you that you are all officially released from UNF custody.”
“Hallelujah!” Brown called out, then turned and slapped Hunter’s hand which was already waiting for him.
“Now, I don’t need to remind you that we need to play it cool for a while.” He lowered his voice a little but kept it firm. “Whatever you think or feel, you cap that shit, alright? Keep your head down and play normal. I have requested extended leave for you. For the old team here, we’re owed a few weeks, and I’ve requested a further five weeks on top of that. So, pending UNF approval, which I have requested be fast-tracked, you should all have a good eight weeks to get away, recharge, and for those of you injured, recover.”
“Nice one, captain.” McKinley raised his glass to him.
Harris gave him a nod. “After this drink, you will all go back and pack your things and leave Command. You will, however, stay in town, as we have a service tomorrow for the four soldiers who are not here right now, drinking with us.” Harris eyed the team, as they drew quiet and still. “Carter. Bolkov. Louis. Smith. They should be here with us, but they are not. Now, you may be free men and women, but if any of you turn up hungover or drunk tomorrow, you will be visiting Captain Harris’s world of pain.”
“Yes, sir,” they answered.
“Good. So shut up and let me drink this, would you,” Harris said dryly, taking the spare seat next to Doc.
31
The Visit
Carrie smiled to herself as she watched Harris take a seat. As each day passed, she became more intrigued by him, the respect for him growing. He was a strong, brave soldier, smart and intuitive; a leader who looked out for his team. He struck her as a man she could learn a lot from. She hadn’t ever felt that way about anyone before. Other than her father, of course.
Harris noticed her watching him. He raised his glass to her, and she raised hers back.
“So, Welles, you took two of them out in the end, eh?” Hunter said, moving into the spare seat beside her.
Carrie looked at him and smiled modestly. “How’s it all going?” she asked him, eyeing his wounds.
“It’s good. My head’s still a bit foggy from being in that pod, but they’re releasing me tomorrow. I really will be a free man!”
She smiled.
Hunter took a mouthful of his beer, and his turquoise eyes looked back at her a little awkwardly. “Thanks … for taking out Fairmont,” he said. “It was a good shot.”
Carrie flashed another smile, a little shyly. “Next time I might shoot Grolsh first though, save you some bullet wounds.”
“Ah, don’t sweat it, Welles. I’m still here, aren’t I? If you hadn’t taken out Fairmont, then I might not be.”
Hunter raised his glass to hers and they clinked them together. He flashed her a friendly smile, then stood up gingerly and limped over to Harris and Doc. Carrie locked eyes with Doc as he placed his glass on the table in front of him. He gave her a subtle smile, but held his eyes strong, and she did the same in return.
Out of the corner of her eye, she suddenly noticed McKinley watching her and turned to view him. They both held a poker face, staring each other out for a moment, before Carrie laughed to herself and shook her head. She lifted her hand, holding it as though it were a gun and pretended to shoot him. He cracked a smile, laughing quietly to himself, then turned back to Brown who was watching their exchange, amused.
When they had finished their drinks, Packham departed for some much needed sleep and Harris settled the bill at the bar.
“C’mon, you weak and wounded, I’ll escort you back to the hospital,” Harris announced as he returned to the tables.
“Oh, c’mon, captain! We were just getting started,” McKinley said.
“Want me to break your other leg, McKinley?” Harris said dryly.
The team chuckled as McKinley smiled and placed his empty glass back on the table. Harris waved to the nurses who had been waiting by the door. They came and took their allotted patients and headed for the exit.
Harris turned to Brown, Doc and Carrie, who were still sitting at the tables. “I so much as smell anything resembling alcohol on any of you tomorrow …” he warned, pointing his finger at them.
“Yes, captain,” Doc smiled.
“And don’t forget you still need to sign those release papers,” Harris told him.
Doc nodded, dropping his smile, as Harris turned and left with the others. Carrie, Brown and Doc looked at each other.
“Well, thank fuck that’s over,” Doc said, moving up a couple of seats, closer to them.
“I’ll drink to that,” Brown said, clinking his glass with Doc’s. “You want another?”
Doc looked at his watch and smiled. “Alright, but only one more, sergeant!”
“Yes, sir,” Brown replied, then turned to Carrie. “How about you, Welles? You up for another?”
Carrie glanced briefly at Doc, then smiled at Brown. “Sure. Why not?”
“Alright.” Brown walked off to the bar.
Carrie watched him walk away, suddenly noticing the quiet surrounding her and Doc. She looked over at him, his eyes returning her glance.
“So, how you holding up?” he asked her, finishing the beer in front of him.
“I’m doing alright.”
“Yeah? I was a little concerned when you didn’t show up to the mess hall last night,” he said eyeing the empty glass in front of him, twisting it back and forth.
“I thought I was supposed to avoid you?”
He looked up from the glass at her. “Don’t confuse avoid with ignore,” he said, returning his eyes to the glass.
She stared at him a moment, looking down at his tanned forearms as he twisted the glass back and forth. She glanced back up to his serious face, which looked tired and worn out, but still made her eyes want to linger. She hesitated, but then spoke what she thought.
“I don’t think ignoring you is an option for me.”
He stopped twisting the glass and looked up at her.
“So, how are you holding up?” she asked, quickly changing the topic of conversation, and watching Brown at the bar.
He eyed her carefully, “I’m alright. I’ll be a lot better after the service tomorrow. Everything will be a lot better.” He pushed his glass away and sat back in his chair. They stared at each other a moment, before he turned his gaze to Brown who was heading back their way.
“Carrie the Ki
d,” Brown said, placing a beer in front of her, then placed one in front of Doc.
“Thanks, Brownie,” she said.
The sergeant then held out his glass to them both. “For going to hell, and then getting the fuck back out of there!”
“Amen,” said Doc, clinking his glass.
Carrie smiled and clinked them both, too, noticing that Doc was avoiding her eyes now.
They drank their drinks at a slow pace, while Brown recounted some rather large nights the Aurora crew had had at The Vicar before. Carrie sat quietly, observing them, her heart melting every time she saw Doc smile. Brown noticed that she was quiet, and soon turned the conversation onto her.
“Say, Welles, you do know it’s tradition to be initiated into the team? First drinks is usually when it happens, ain’t that right, Doc?”
Carrie stopped Doc before he could answer. “I hate to disappoint you, Brown, but we were only a test case. I’m not an official ‘new’ member of the team.”
Brown scoffed. “You were a member of our team for the Darwin mission, and that’s the mission we’ll be drinking to. So, don’t think you’re getting out of initiation, Welles.”
Doc gave a half smile. “Brown, as your senior officer I cannot condone initiation of any kind.”
“Yes, you can, and yes, you have, sir!” Brown challenged him.
Doc pulled an innocent face and held out his hands as if to say, Who, me?, “As the medic onboard the Aurora, I do not encourage irresponsible drinking, sergeant.”
Brown gave him a challenging look. “I believe you bought the shots that Smith consumed that night.”
Darwin Page 54
