Hero of the Republic: (The Parasite Initiative, Book 1)

by Britt Ringel

  Clayton sipped from his tea as he listened to the tirade. When she paused, he seized the moment to interject. “That’s bleeding edge technology, Aoife. AmyraCorp stands to make a lot of credits from the practical applications of those grains.”

  “I’m thrilled!” Aoife said with dramatic enthusiasm. The strain in her voice hinted at a profound frustration. “But nobody’s going to steal it when it’s cheaper just to purchase rights to the grain. So, I sit on my butt for four more years, now the most qualified and trained marine in the orbital, by the way, and the only action I saw was when a transport brought over a shipment of food stocks with a stowaway rat in it.”

  “Did you find it?”

  “Yes, we even had a little ceremony with an award to Private Herleson for his bravery in the face of a determined enemy,” she answered wryly. She sighed and looked at her brother. “And then my tour is finally up, I’m due for my next assignment and, lo and behold, I’m being transferred to guard yet another research facility, right here on Seshafi Major.” She clenched her fists. “It’s not fair, Clayton. You saw action against IaCom. You commanded a brig and defended AmyraCorp. You got to fight under Admiral Heskan and now he’s getting ready to retire.” She looked away and bit the inside of her cheeks to keep tears of frustration at bay. “I’ve worked hard. I’ve trained hard. I deserve a real assignment and I would’ve gotten one if Mum hadn’t pulled strings to keep me safe.”

  “Aoife,” Clayton said while pointing to a wall screen across the room. “Look at that.”

  On the large screen, two orderly rows of corvettes and brigs raced headlong toward each other. A fleet-wide massacre played out in half a minute. By the time the enemy formations swept by, the battlespace was strewn with burning warships and the debris of their less fortunate companions.

  Clayton’s voice turned somber, having partaken in the destruction five years ago. “That wasn’t glorious or valiant, Aoife. It was horrible and terrible and none of us deserved to go through that.”

  “But you saved AmyraCorp,” Aoife insisted. “I know war is terrible but fighting for what you believe in is glorious and valiant… and I deserve a chance to do it. She’s stolen that from me!”

  Clayton shook his head. “Mum didn’t pull any strings, Aoife. I did. I love you. I wanted to keep you safe. You enlisted while I was in the hospital.” He gestured again at the wall screen, now showing a massive parade in Port Crown. “All you witnessed was the fanfare of our victory. You never got to hear Admiral Heskan talk about how appalling the major powers war between the Hollaran Commonwealth and his Brevic Republic was.” He reached across the table. Aoife reluctantly unwrapped her arms and let her older brother’s hand hold her own.

  “Sis, if you had heard about that fighting…” He shuddered slightly. “It makes our corporate war against IaCom look like child’s play and the horror I witnessed fighting IaCom is burned into my brain.” He closed his eyes and shuddered a second time. “I’ll never unsee it.” With a final sigh he returned his gaze to Aoife and explained, “I just wanted to protect you.”

  Aoife squeezed his hand before withdrawing hers. “I’m not going off to fight against the ‘Vics, Clayton. Besides, there’s been peace between the Hollarans and Brevics now for half a decade. There’s no fighting anywhere now.” She looked at him, impassioned. “I just want to use my training. I’m good at what I do.” Her voice grew despondently quiet. “I just wish you and Mum believed in me. Dad did.”

  Silence stretched between them. For a long time, the clatter of silverware against fine china filled the void until Aoife spoke again.

  “You can’t protect me forever, Clayton. Give me a chance.”

  Another deep sigh passed through Clayton Covington. Reluctantly, he stated, “One of our swipe squads has an opening. They need a new combative technician.”

  Aoife felt her jaw drop open. “There’s an open position for a striker on an ATAC team?” White teeth gleamed behind a growing smile. “Are you serious?” she asked excitedly. “Would they take me?”

  “Mum’s going to kill me,” Clayton mumbled and began to bring his hands to his face.

  Aoife reached across the table and grabbed onto Clayton with both hands. She searched his eyes desperately. “Are you serious? I’ve got a shot at one of AmyraCorp’s three ATAC teams?”

  Clayton looked around the restaurant before answering in a hushed tone. “There’s a project coming up and one of their strikers was just forced into retirement for medical reasons. The window for the project is closing and the other two Advanced Tactics and Collections teams are already out on assignment. We need someone unquestionably loyal to AmyraCorp and qualified for the position... and it needs to be a female. There’s just not much time to screen candidates.”

  Aoife began to bounce up and down uncontrollably in her seat.

  Clayton cast a cautionary eye toward his sister. “I can get you through the door, Aoife, but you’ll have to prove yourself if you want to stay in the room.” He looked down at his datapad as his stomach growled. Ideleos’ menu was centered on rustic Saden cuisine. “We’ll talk about this in a more secure environment. For now, can we just enjoy our lunch?”

  * * *

  The man’s tone was harshly nonnegotiable. “I need at least a week, Alden.”

  “Are you crazy?” Alden Wills looked skeptically at the large man seated across from him. He threw his hands up dramatically while explaining, “I don’t have that kind of time, Joab.” He rose from his chair and pointed at the hulk before him. “You gave me strict assurances on your abilities to deliver and I trusted you.”

  Joab snarled and shot from his own chair to tower over Wills. Hazel eyes stared fiercely down, daring a response. The muscular man with the singular moniker raised his left hand, reached across the table and thrust a chrome finger into Wills’ chest, forcing him back a half step. His voice was a threatening growl. “You didn’t say it was a layered cake.” The juggernaut turned his cybernetic hand and tapped his own chest. “I’ll need to freeze the layers for at least a week to create a sufficiently firm surface to frost on. If you want half-measures then feel free to use some instant-puff, corner bakery but I’m not compromising the integrity of the decoration just because you failed to plan ahead.” His voice became even more menacing. “You want it to look nice, don’t you?”

  “Who wouldn’t?” Wills replied reflexively. “But I can’t move the party back—”

  “Gentlemen,” a third man at the table called out while tapping its surface to bring attention back to him. “We’ve strayed a little off topic.”

  Both Wills and Joab turned to look at the man still seated at their table. Although in his late forties and showing superficial signs of his age, the older gentleman retained much of the fitness from his former youth. Wills shrugged slightly in consideration. “You think we’ve jumped to a tangent, Kyle? Well, yeah, I guess a little bit.”

  Kyle Danzy nodded. “Maybe we can return to the matter that’s a bit more pressing?”

  The fourth and final person seated at the table mumbled to herself without looking up from her datapad. “I don’t know. Joab was about to press Alden through the wall over the finer points of cake decoration—”

  Joab’s face contorted angrily. “You just can’t rush blindly into the frosting.” His alloy index finger gouged a groove into the surface of the table as he continued through clenched teeth, “You’ve got to freeze it first, then there’s the crumb coating before you can even think about frosting and that takes planning and time.” He jerked his thumb toward Wills. “I don’t care how Mister Make-it-up-as-you-go operates in the field—”

  Wills sucked his lower lip into his mouth while gesturing at the ceiling in exaggerated frustration. “You, you have no appreciation for what I do, do you?”

  “People!” Danzy said loudly to silence the room. “We’re getting back to finding Joab’s counterpart.”

  “I don’t want to work with another pheromone hype,” Joab insisted darkly. “T
hat crap makes you twitchy and I’m not working with someone who needs boosts to keep her edge.”

  Wills stared incredulously at the hulking man. “You don’t like augments? Says the man with a cybernetic arm.”

  Joab turned threateningly toward Wills. “I didn’t ask for this arm, man.”

  Innocencia Soto continued tapping on her datapad while muttering, “No, you only asked for the ocular implant, right, Joab?” She shook her head slightly, causing long, black hair to brush the right side of her face. An intricate, wire diagram tattoo filled the shaved, left side of her head. “Talk about half measures… you should’ve gone with an entire transplant.” Her datapad beeped loudly, causing the woman’s face to light up with a bright smile.

  “I wasn’t talking to you, Crazy,” Joab retorted while brushing back his long hair to reveal the tiny port near his right temple. “And I don’t want an entire transplant; I just needed enough for a hardline to network with my weapons.” He brought his hand down and stared at the willowy woman. “You know, Inn. Nessus has virtual interface hardware that they can splice right into your brain now. Why don’t you go have some brain doctor carve up the inside of your head if you’re so hot for cybernetics.”

  Soto stopped typing and looked at Joab with dark eyes. “Who says I haven’t?” She immediately resumed her work on her datapad.

  “Well,” Joab judged while crossing his arms, “that explains a lot.”

  Danzy cleared his throat loudly again. He gestured toward a wall screen inside the small conference room and asked, “Inn, what do you have on her?”

  Soto smiled wickedly in response. “What don’t I have on her?” She pecked at her datapad.

  The official service portrait of a female marine popped onto the wall screen. The red-haired beauty with a slightly crooked nose wore the occupational badges of an infantryman and an alternative warfare graduate. The short list of her training and assignments filtered down the right side of the screen.

  “She’s practically a rookie,” Joab grumbled.

  Soto began over Joab’s interruption, “Staff Sergeant Aoife McKenna Covington. Five years with the Seshafian Marines. She earned a rifleman military occupational specialty in basic training and then added scout sniper and corporate reconnaissance MOS’s at Alternative Warfare School. Trained in aikido for close-quarters combat along with the standard marine martial arts program.”

  “I like that,” Danzy commented. “Aikido is one of the few martial arts that has concern for the wellbeing of the attacker.”

  “Would make interrogations easier,” Joab admitted.

  “I thought aikido wasn’t a realistic martial art. Can she really defend herself with aikido against an actual threat?” Wills asked innocently.

  Joab chuffed. “Let’s have you fight her then.”

  “What else do you have, Inn?” Danzy asked.

  Soto swiped her datapad and the wall screen flashed six juvenile corporate security reports.

  “Got into a lot of trouble as a youth,” she said with obvious fondness.

  “Juvenile security reports are supposed to be sealed,” Joab stated crossly.

  Soto shrugged. “Mostly physical altercations. Fights in secondary school. Burned down a building but that was reduced to criminal mischief. Has an indecent exposure report too but nothing really… dishonest.”

  “You better not go digging into my childhood.” Joab glared at Soto.

  “Who says I haven—I mean… okay.”

  “She committed arson?” Danzy asked dubiously.

  A corner of Soto’s mouth turned upward. “I think she burned down an abandoned building being used to make drugs.”

  “Oh,” Danzy said. “Anything else? How do we know we can trust her?”

  Soto smiled again impishly. “She’s also the daughter of the late Archduke Joshua Covington.” She looked at the stunned expressions around the table and laughed maniacally. “Should I have led with that?”

  Joab leaned close to Danzy and muttered, “Her brother was a warfighter before he entered finance and politics.”

  “She enlisted two weeks after the Sade-Seshafi conflict. At the age of seventeen,” Soto added quickly.

  Wills’ mouth dropped fractionally before breaking into a huge grin. “You like her, don’t you, Inn?”

  Soto looked away shyly. “She’s a new toy.”

  “Innocencia, she is not a new toy,” Danzy clarified. “Okay, let’s talk with her.”

  Soto spoke into her datapad. “We’re ready.”

  Moments later, the door opened and Aoife Covington appeared.

  * * *

  Covington smiled nervously at the foursome seated in front of her. The long-haired giant was clearly a striker and the gangly woman with the odd hairstyle who appeared more interested in her datapad than the people in the room was most likely a cyber technician. Covington looked between the gorgeous blonde man in the impeccably tailored suit and the older man with messy, curly hair.

  The more fashionable of the two spoke first. “I’m Alden Wills, Aoife, and this is Kyle Danzy,” he said, pointing at the older man. “Next to him are Joab and Innocencia Soto.”

  The mountain grumbled something unintelligible and nodded while the cyber appeared to have missed the introductions entirely.

  “It’s nice to meet all of you,” Covington said while thinking, Joab is obviously the muscle and since he’s sitting next to Kyle Danzy, that makes Danzy the leader. She smiled directly at Danzy and said, “I appreciate this opportunity, Mister Danzy.”

  Danzy and Wills exchanged a brief look before Danzy placed both of his hands atop the table. “Aoife, my team recently lost our other striker. Marka was forced into early retirement so I need a woman conversant in the application of violence as well as finesse. I know there are stories in every corporate system that glamorize what ATAC teams do but that’s just fantasy. The reality is we do incredibly dangerous work that will shorten your career—”

  “Your life,” Joab growled between clenched teeth.

  “Considerably,” Danzy finished with a sideways look at Joab. “The payoff for our work is the knowledge that what we accomplish preserves and enhances AmyraCorp’s security and wellbeing in addition to receiving the corporation’s gratitude.”

  “Lots of gratitude,” Soto said delightedly. She lifted her hands away from her datapad and gestured grandly, “More gratitude than a marine sergeant makes in a year.”

  “Our indoctrination process is usually longer but we’re running up against a deadline and I’d rather not go in without a full team.” Danzy leaned back comfortably in his chair and explained, “I’d like each member of my team to ask you a pointed question, after which you can ask them a question. If all of us like the answers, we can proceed with your candidacy.”

  Covington nodded eagerly.

  “Alden, you’re up.”

  The stunning man with piercing blue eyes flashed a dazzling smile. He leaned toward her, inviting an immediate connection. “How would you introduce yourself to Lydia Hughes’ husband?”

  Covington returned Wills’ smile with one of her own to buy time before answering. “Well,” she started, “since I am a titled Lady, I’d have to wait to be introduced to the duke during an official function. But assuming that happened, I wouldn’t curtsy because I’m not a Saden subject and I’d use his full title in my first response but ‘your Grace’ or just ‘Duke’ afterwards.”

  Wills nodded approvingly and then gestured openly. “Anything for me, Aoife?”

  “Have you ever lied to your team?”

  Joab barked out a short fit of laughter and even Soto stopped her data-browsing to watch the response.

  Wills’ smile became more genuine and he answered, “Lied to the team? Of course.”

  Danzy turned to his left and prompted, “Joab?”

  Thick arms remained crossed over his broad chest. Joab simply asked, “What was your everyday carry?”

  Covington frowned slightly at the question. “A
t Tasos Station, when I was under arms, I was required to wear the Brito-Martis Predator. I understand I’m in the minority but I always hated it. The caliber never impressed me and the pistol constantly FTFs in my hands.”

  “It’s a lousy weapon,” Joab spat. Even in agreement, he sounded angry.

  Covington nodded enthusiastically. “I don’t know why the marines chose it as their standard sidearm.”

  Danzy offered an explanation. “Pinga Arms’ CEO was sleeping with Maria Baxter and that angered General McCormick so he recommended Brito-Martis over them.”

  Soto leaned forward to look around Wills and Joab. “Why would that general care?”

  “Because McCormick wanted to sleep with her,” Joab answered for Danzy.

  “Oh.”

  Covington pressed forward, avoiding the new topic. “If I had my choice, I’d strap on a Pakhet or Neith but go with the ten millimeter. It’s more snappy but recoil has never bothered me and the stopping power is better than a nine or eight.”

  “What caliber do you use, Joab?” Wills was grinning openly.

  “Shut up,” Joab snarled before glaring at Covington. “Your turn.”

  “Why do you carry less than a ten millimeter?” Covington asked while forcing herself to maintain eye contact with the intimidating curmudgeon.

  Joab snorted lightly. “Because gunfights are like real estate: location, location, location.”

  Danzy faced Soto and sighed. “Inn? Do you have a question for Sergeant Covington?”

  “Your birthday plus your last name isn’t a password.”

  Danzy rolled his eyes. “That’s not a question, Inn.”

  Soto bounced on her chair excitedly while smiling at Covington. “Now, you go.”

  Covington watched the slender woman with an infectious smile. “Turning it off and then on again usually fixes everything.”

  Soto turned toward Danzy with a wide grin. “She’s right. Don’t tell anyone but she’s right.”

  Danzy ignored the banter. “That leaves me.” Creases appeared around his grey eyes. “What shall I say if I return Lady Aoife Covington to her mother in a body bag?”