by Dan Moren
The general took his cane from its place leaning against the couch and rose with the mechanical whir and whine of servomotors. Leaning heavily on the stick, he limped towards the window. His shoulders slumped as he stared out through the glass.
“This isn’t good, Simon. Bleiden would have been a highly valuable asset, especially in looking into the Imperium’s links with Bayern.”
“We may still have a chance.”
The general looked back at him, eyebrows raised. “How so?”
Kovalic tilted his head. “Bleiden said something before he died – it’s vague, but it’s the best lead we’ve got. Apparently, there’s some sort of important meeting on Bayern in three–” He ran the events back in his head, muddled by his injury, the rescue, and the hospital stay. How long ago had it been? “Two days’ time.”
Hope, sharp and bright, dawned on the general’s face. “What kind of meeting?”
“That was pretty much all he had time to say before…”
The general stroked his chin. “Interesting. Whatever the Illyricans’ agenda is when it comes to Bayern, it seems as though it might be coming to a head.” His eyes went to Kovalic. “This is good work, Simon.”
The praise did little to dispel the ashy taste in Kovalic’s mouth. He rose and took another glass from the sideboard, awkwardly pouring himself a splash of bourbon with his good hand, then downing it in one go. It seared his throat on the way down, and set his stomach to roiling, making him wonder when had been the last time he’d eaten something that wasn’t through a tube.
He paused, unsure whether to tug on a thread of his curiosity, but he hadn’t exactly been holding back so far. “Sir, if I can ask: where did the intel on Bleiden come from?”
The general didn’t meet his eyes, instead leaning heavily on his cane to peruse the lone shelf of knick-knacks in Kovalic’s apartment. He picked up one – a porcelain penguin that, come to think of it, Nat had given him on a trip to Centauri – and turned it over in his hands.
“A highly-placed and very trusted source. That’s all I can say.”
Kovalic felt his grip tightening around the glass. “Due respect, sir, but I lost a man out there. It would have been nice to have the full story going in.”
“And knowing the source of the intel would have changed the mission outcome how?”
He could feel his teeth sawing against each other, but he just clutched the glass, staring into it.
“Simon, he knew the risks,” said the general calmly. “He was a soldier, like you.”
“Yeah,” said Kovalic, resisting the urge to hurl the glass to the floor. “Right.”
They both stood in silence, the general once again gazing out into the night sky, and Kovalic staring at the world contained inside the tumbler. The idea of drinking himself into a stupor sounded irresponsibly appealing, he had to admit, but that nagging part of his brain that thought about consequences was being pesky again. He set the glass down on the coffee table, next to the general’s. “So, what next?”
The old man combed his beard with his fingers. “The information Bleiden imparted, despite its unspecific nature, certainly merits further investigation. We’ve come this far, seems a shame to give up now.”
Kovalic tipped his head. “Naturally.”
With a nod, the general seemed to come to a decision. “The SPT will go to Bayern to find out exactly what this mysterious meeting entails.”
No rest for the wicked. “Of course. When do we leave?”
The general hesitated. “I’d like you to sit this one out.”
Kovalic blinked. “I’m sorry?”
“Commander Taylor has been seconded to our detachment by Naval Intelligence; she was already running an investigation into Bayern and the Imperium. I’m giving her command of the SPT for this operation.”
“You’re what?”
“She knows the ground, the players–”
“General, due respect, the SPT is my team. My handpicked team.” His cheeks were flushed, whether from alcohol or anger he wasn’t sure, but he found that he didn’t care. “You can’t just sideline me.”
If the general was taken aback by his outburst, he didn’t show it. His voice, when he spoke, was collected and cool– almost icy. “I most certainly can, captain. You are recovering from an injury and, if I may say so, a psychological strain as well. As your commanding officer, I get to make the call, and I say you are suspended from active duty.” The coldness warmed slightly. “Besides, the team will be in perfectly capable hands with Commander Taylor – unless you have concerns about her capability?”
Kovalic’s jaw clenched. Much as he might have liked to challenge it, he recognized the urge for the petty impulse it was. There were no flies on Nat. “No, sir.”
“Good,” said the general, nodding to himself. “Commander Taylor, Lieutenant Page, Sergeant Tapper, and Lieutenant Brody will depart for Bayern tomorrow morning.”
“Wait a minute. You’re sending Brody too?” Kovalic said, his gaze snapping towards the old man. “He’s not trained for this.”
The general shrugged. “With you out of commission, the team is shorthanded. He acquitted himself well on the Sevastapol operation, according to Commander Taylor. Besides, he already knows the team and vice versa. And a pilot might come in handy, now that…” He trailed off, his mouth closing in a tight line.
Kovalic stiffened at the reminder of Jens’s death. “It’s a bad idea.”
“Your objection is duly noted,” said the general. “Now try and get some rest. I’ll see myself out.”
Taylor snapped to attention when the general hobbled out of Kovalic’s apartment and Eli hastily scrambled to do the same, if a bit more raggedly.
“How’d he take it?” asked Taylor, her eyes darting to the door.
“About as well as you might expect,” said the general. He continued on towards the elevator, Taylor and Eli trailing in his wake.
I have no idea what the hell they’re talking about. This evening, the role of Third Wheel will be played by Eli Brody.
Taylor pushed the elevator call button. When the doors slid open, the general stepped inside and gestured for the other two to follow him.
“We’ll do a mission briefing tomorrow morning,” said the general as they descended. He tugged at his carefully trimmed beard as he looked at Taylor. “Send Lieutenant Page to my office early; I have a special assignment for him. 0830 should do. You, Sergeant Tapper, and–” his eyes slid to Eli, “–Lieutenant Brody can be there at 0900.”
Me? Eli tried not to make his gulp too obvious. This is what you signed up for, Brody. They say “jump” and you say “off which cliff?”
The elevator chimed softly as they reached the ground floor, and they paraded out and across the lobby’s faux marble surface, then let themselves out into the cool, but still humid, night air. A second hovercar, its headlights blaring white hot in the darkness, had pulled up behind the one that they’d arrived in. The rear door opened of its own accord and the general raised his cane in their direction as he entered.
“See you tomorrow, commander, lieutenant.” The car pulled smoothly away from the curb, turned left on the cross street and disappeared.
The afterimage of the red tail lights shimmered in Eli’s eyes; he turned to Taylor. “Well, that was fun. Thanks for letting me tag along.”
Taylor sighed. “Anybody ever tell you you run your mouth off a little too much?”
“Only everybody.”
Lips curved in a slight smile, a crack in the ice, and Taylor shook her head. “It’s been a long day, Brody. I’ll drop you home.”
Eli glanced at the sky, which he fancied was already starting to show the dim streaks of light that presaged dawn. Public transit wasn’t running this late – or early? – and his apartment in Heiwa was a long way out for an autotaxi ride. Not to mention expensive. “Works for me.”
Having shifted the car out of its self-navigating mode, Taylor drove crisply, precisely, always coming to a f
ull stop at intersections, despite the lack of other traffic on the road. Her turns were sharp, smooth 90-degree affairs that didn’t lag but weren’t strong enough to throw Eli around inside the car. In short, it was hyper competent – the kind of driving you might expect from someone who had been trained and drilled in how to use a car just as they had any other weapon.
“You know the nav system could do all this, right?” he said at one point.
Taylor eyed him. “You let a computer do all your flying, do you?”
“Touché.”
They didn’t speak again for another few minutes. Eli drummed his fingers impatiently on the dashboard, trying to stifle the impulse to pepper the woman with questions. He wasn’t exactly sure what was driving this need to know about Kovalic’s domestic life, but he couldn’t deny the fascination.
It’s just too… normal. A part of him had almost been convinced that Kovalic was some sort of automata, a metal-and-silicon machine designed with a single-purpose efficiency. But it seemed that there was a human side to him after all.
“So,” he said, unable to contain himself any longer. “How did you guys meet?” He regretted the cavalier tone almost immediately.
Taylor blinked, her eyes never leaving the road. “I’m sorry?”
“Uh. You and Kovalic.”
Her mouth set in a hard line. “On assignment,” she said shortly, her own tone inviting no further questions.
“Love on the battlefield, eh?”
“Are you this charming with all the ladies, Brody?”
Eli blinked. “Uh, I was just making conversation.” Because I get the feeling that if I were flirting with you, the only question would be whether you or Kovalic would put me in a chokehold first.
“Do me a favor, and make it somewhere else. Or something else. Or, better yet, don’t talk.” It wasn’t quite a growl, but there was some uncanny channeling of Kovalic in the way that she said it. Better, probably, that he didn’t mention that as a fun fact.
The rest of the trip was conducted in funereal silence. Taylor navigated the car smoothly to his front door.
As Eli stepped out onto the curb, he bent down to look at Taylor. “I appreciate the ride, commander. Sorry about the… Well, sorry. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
The woman gave him a sidelong glance. “0900 at the general’s office. Don’t be late.”
“Christ,” said Eli, squinting at the sky, which was now conclusively taking on signs of light. “That’s only a few hours from now. Can’t a poor guy get some sleep?” He stifled a yawn.
“Duty calls, lieutenant.”
“Well, tell it to try back at a more reasonable hour.”
Taylor rolled her eyes and slid back into the car. And with that, she was gone, the hovercar’s tail lights fading into the dark of night, leaving Eli Brody alone and wondering, not for the first time, what he had gotten himself into.
Chapter 6
She was pretty, the woman outside the general’s office. No doubt on purpose, Eli thought. Not because the general seemed the type to surround himself with beautiful young things, but because at some point he’d likely calculated that a certain class of people were bound to be disarmed by a pretty face.
And damned if it isn’t working.
Then again, she could also probably kill him six ways from Tuesday, using just the items she had on her rather sparsely equipped desk. Knowing the general, it seemed like one of the many qualities he’d insist on.
As though alerted to his thoughts, she looked up and smiled, her brown eyes friendly. “Sorry for the wait, commander, lieutenant,” she said, nodding to Taylor and Eli in turn. She had one hand pressed to her ear. “The general is just finishing up with Lieutenant Page. Shouldn’t be a moment.”
It was 0907 by Eli’s sleeve-comm. He freely admitted that he wasn’t the most punctual person in the galaxy, but he’d been here for twenty minutes which he normally would have spent sleeping. At least the general’s coffee was good. He took another sip from the disposable cup and glanced sidelong at Taylor.
Clearly, she was more accustomed to the military habit of “hurry up and wait.” She sat on the edge of one chair, right leg crossed over left, peering closely at her sleeve. Thumbing through the morning’s communiqués, no doubt. Leaning back in his own chair, he tried to take a surreptitious glance at her screen, but it was going to require being far more blatant than he had any intention of.
Sighing, he looked back down at his coffee and scratched at his chin. It had been a few days since he had shaved, and it was getting to the point where he’d have to decide whether or not he wanted a beard. Big decisions in the life of Eli Brody.
The front door to the anteroom opened and Sergeant Tapper, short and barrel-chested, strolled in, earning everyone’s immediate attention. For Eli’s part, he found it impossible to read the older man – his face was so lined and craggy it was hard to tell whether he’d had a rough night or a rough decade.
“Bloody hell,” he muttered, looking at them. “Still waiting?” He nodded to the woman behind the desk. “Hello, Rance. We backed up today or what?”
“Good morning, sergeant,” said the woman, leaning her chin on her hand. Her wide, relaxed smile suddenly threw Eli into doubt about the wholeheartedness of the one that he’d received. “Did Owen get the birthday present I sent?”
“That he did, lass,” said Tapper, filling a cup with coffee from the tureen on the side table. He leaned against the wall and smiled as he stirred in a sugar cube. “Won’t let it go, in fact. Jamie’s worried that he’s going to lose it, but I said it was pretty unlikely with the death-grip he’s got on it.”
Rance laughed, a deep, rich sound that made her eyes sparkle. “I’m glad. You’ll have to bring him by again, sometime.”
“I will at that,” said Tapper, raising his cup. He glanced over at Eli and Taylor. “Long night, Brody?”
Eli grunted. “Early mornings don’t agree with me.”
“You call this early?” said Tapper, his eyebrows lifting as he took a sip of his coffee. “Christ on a crutch – pardon my language. Early was when the crims dropped onto Arcadia Planitia at 0430. This is practically tea time at the Centauri Plaza Hotel.”
That earned him a bleary blink from Eli; Taylor smiled faintly, but didn’t look up from her sleeve, and even Rance turned a laugh into a cough. Some day, thought Eli. Some day that guy’s going to give me an opening, and I’m not going to hold back.
A light suddenly blinked on Rance’s desk and she cocked her head, apparently listening to something on her earpiece.
Taylor had gone instantly – though not obviously – alert at the movement, letting her sleeve shift ever so slightly towards Eli. He risked a glance at it, and blinked at the paneled black-and-white line drawings and word bubbles.
Huh. Well, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised she has a sense of humor – she was married to Kovalic, after all.
With a nod, Rance looked up at them and offered another all-too-genuine smile. “The general will see you now. Go right in.”
Taylor stood, and inclined her head towards the woman; Tapper patted her shoulder as he passed her. Eli pushed himself up off the chair and followed suit, giving the general’s assistant his best rakish grin. Or, at least, he hoped it was rakish – he’d be happy if it weren’t sickly, given the state of his stomach. She returned it with the same smile as before; to Eli, it felt a bit like a last meal for the condemned.
He wasn’t paying immediate attention to the room they stepped into, so it was a minute before he took it all in.
It was packed to the gills. Mostly with books, which were piled on every available flat surface and filled a whole host of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, but also with paintings, most of them classic landscapes and portraits that hung on every available span of wall, and finally with ornate furniture, including a pair of overstuffed leather armchairs and a matching loveseat, a heavy mahogany desk embellished with carvings of flowers and trees, and a green-shaded lamp that look
ed like something out of a twentieth-century detective novel. Even just shipping all this crap here must have cost a fortune.
The general wasn’t behind the desk, as Eli had expected, but sitting in the leather armchair, set at right angles to the loveseat. Page was nowhere to be seen; Eli scratched his head and looked around. He supposed there could be another door hidden behind one of the pieces of furniture, but that would be… well… exactly like the general, from what little he knew of the man.
“Ah, good,” said the old man, looking up at them. “Please, sit down.” Eli waved for Taylor to take the other armchair, then took a spot on the loveseat. Tapper closed the door and leaned against it.
“Lieutenant Page has been given his orders,” said the general. “Let’s discuss your mission.” He glanced at Taylor, then waved a hand, almost casually. “First, though, an operational matter: Commander Taylor will be in charge of the Special Projects Team for this assignment. Captain Kovalic has been placed on temporary leave.”
Eli did a double take, his eyes scanning the rest of the room: Taylor, it was clear, had already known this. If there were anybody as shocked as Eli, it was Tapper, who pushed himself off the door with an expression verging on belligerent.
“Hold on just a minute, sir,” said the sergeant, crossing his arms over his chest. “What do you mean the captain’s on leave?”
“Precisely what I said, Sergeant Tapper.” Though Tapper was standing off the old man’s right shoulder, the general didn’t crane his neck, didn’t even turn to face him. “Is there an issue?” he said, as though addressing the room at large.
Tapper frowned, shifting his gaze between the old man and Taylor. For the first time, Eli saw a crack in the commander’s veneer, as she gave the sergeant an almost apologetic look. With a shake of his head, Tapper leaned slowly back against the door. “No problem, sir,” he said, his tone curt.
“Very well. Despite our setback in the Bleiden extraction on Sevastapol, we’re continuing to investigate the ties between Bayern and the Imperium. Now, as this is Commander Taylor’s show, I will turn the floor over to her.” He opened his hand towards her.
