by Eric Thomson
Berglin examined them with undisguised curiosity.
“I thought Major Decker had been drummed out of the Service and exiled for life.”
Ignoring her comment, Talyn said, “Rear Admiral Grace Berglin, I am arresting you on suspicion of treason. Please stand.”
The deputy head of counterintelligence glanced at Vice Admiral Kruczek and asked, “Is this some sort of joke, sir?”
“You’d be well-advised to cooperate with Commander Talyn, Grace. She and her partner are among the deadliest agents in Naval Intelligence.”
Decker reached for Berglin’s arm and hauled her out of the chair with little regard for rank or comfort.
“You’re coming with us, Admiral, either voluntarily or shackled like a common criminal,” he growled.
Kruczek pointed at a discreet door to one side.
“Take my private entrance. A staff car is waiting for you outside.”
“Where are you taking me?” Berglin demanded.
“I’ve ordered them to show you something, Grace,” Kruczek replied. “You’ll be allowed to ask questions once that’s done. Then, the commander and her partner will return you to my office and release you into my custody.”
*
“This is safe house Marguerite,” Talyn said as their staff car pulled up to the closed doors. “We use it for covert detention and interrogation. It is completely deniable, and its ownership is untraceable.”
“A black site,” Berglin replied with a knowing nod. “If you intend to interrogate me, you’ll be disappointed. I’ve been conditioned.”
“We’ve been ordered to show you around and return you to the CNI’s office, nothing more.”
They climbed out of the car and, with Berglin wedged between the two agents, they entered Marguerite.
“We recently used this safe house for an operation dubbed White Sword,” Talyn continued, ignoring Berglin’s sharp intake of breath. “The particulars of that mission are not your concern. The results, however, are.”
She led them down the circular staircase into the basement.
“My partner has dubbed this place a miniature Lubyanka, and if you remember our profession’s pre-diaspora history, you’ll find the name is apt.” Talyn nodded at Decker. “Please open interrogation room one, Major.”
The stench of putrefaction washed over them, and even though both operatives knew it was coming, they gagged as much as Berglin.
“What the hell?” The admiral held a hand over her nose.
“Hell is likely where Allister Wynt ended up when Commander Talyn broke his neck once he’d told us what he knew about Black Sword.” Decker shoved Berglin into the room. “As you can see, the last few days haven’t been kind to his mortal remains.”
“Wynt wasn’t conditioned and spoke freely,” Talyn said. “Your name didn’t come up, so congratulations on maintaining security among your clandestine cells. But Wynt did tell us that Black Sword has infiltrated Naval Intelligence, including both counterintelligence and special operations. We found our traitor, and he gave you up.”
“I do not understand what you’re talking about, Commander,” Berglin replied in a dismissive tone. “But I find it hard to believe even Konstantin’s assassins would go so far as to murder a Marine Corps colonel. What deluded creature has accused me of participating in something by the ridiculous name of Black Sword?”
“The late Commander Yang. He confessed and took the honorable way out, rather than face a form of interrogation that can break conditioning. It makes medieval torture look like a day at the health spa.”
“Commander Talyn is one of the few acknowledged experts in the arcane art of interrogating someone who’s been conditioned,” Decker said. “She also helped Manny exit this life painlessly.”
“What is this,” Berglin waved at Wynt’s bloated corpse, “supposed to be in aid of?”
A cold smile spread across Talyn’s narrow features.
“Come now, Admiral. Even though you’re a career counterintelligence officer, surely you can recognize the gentle art of persuasion. You’re here to reflect on the choices you face. One option is to take poor Allister’s place. Of course, you’ll suffer hell long before dying, instead of afterward.”
“And the other?”
“Do I really need to spell it out?” Talyn jerked her chin at the stairs. “Let’s take the admiral back. Perhaps her brain will kick into high gear before she speaks with the Chief again.”
*
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone turn that pale,” Decker muttered after they had returned Rear Admiral Berglin to the CNI’s office.
“Wynt is getting pretty ripe,” she replied. “I suppose we should ask the boss whether he’s to serve as an object lesson for much longer. We should dispose of his body at some point.”
“Mummification is an option. Then we can put him in a display case in the lobby with a notation to beware the siren call of bitterness.”
“Macabre, but it would probably cause more than a few officers with stalled careers to think twice.”
They walked the rest of the way in silence. But once back in the section’s offices, Decker said, “I’ve been thinking that besides Ari’s unjust conviction, we might look at Delia Ward’s. Maybe hiring an empath to help us screen out traitors wouldn’t hurt and she’s the only one I know who’s not under the Sisterhood’s thumb.”
Talyn gave him a sad smile and sat at her former desk, preferring to leave Yang’s office vacant for now.
“I figured you might bring that up at some point, honey, and I looked into her record. Yang’s not the only inveterate liar you’ve come across recently.”
“You mean she fed me a load of hooey?”
“A big, juicy load and I suspect she messed with your emotions more than you’re willing to acknowledge. Deep down, you’re an anachronism, a knight in shining armor who wants to dispense justice, and she took advantage of that fact. Look at your screen. I’ve sent you a copy of her criminal dossier.”
Decker read in silence for several minutes, then sat back with a sigh.
“I really have to keep a lid on my libido, especially around mind-meddlers. It seems to make me overly suggestible. A black widow? Who could have guessed? Mind you,” he gave Talyn a twisted grin, “with her body count, she’d fit in with us no problems.”
“Except we don’t kill for fun and profit, and even then, we only do it when there’s no other reasonable alternative.”
“Can we at least do something to make sure no one else gets dumped into Desolation Island’s cannibal mountains? I know reforming the whole exile system is beyond us, but sorting out that bit shouldn’t be.”
Talyn grimaced.
“I ran it through channels and the Brendan Volks of this universe will be put out of business as part of the long-term cleanup. But if the Correctional Service is dumping its own irredeemable psychopaths on the island instead of keeping them locked up, there’s not much the Fleet can do.”
Decker sighed.
“Figures. Maybe that’ll be a job for us. We’re already at war with one part of the Commonwealth government. Why not another?”
“Don’t bite off too much, honey. This mission almost proved to be more than we could handle.”
“I guess. It’s that anachronism in me. Speaking of which,” he said lacing his hands behind his head, “I think we should take a run up the valley to Fort Arnhem for a few days. You know, hang out with Josh, Ari, and the rest of the knights in shining armor. There’s nothing like a few jumps from orbit to clear a mind that’s been polluted by too many damn idiots playing political games.”
“And by succubae with a penchant for libidinous Marines,” Talyn added with a sly smile.
“Present company excepted?”
“Careful, big boy. I might sabotage your chute.”
“Then you’ll have to find another deputy chief of staff to fetch coffee, give you a back rub, and do whatever else tickles your fancy.”
“Shou
ldn’t be too difficult.”
“You might think so, but no one’s able to tickle fancies like I can. What do you say we leave right now? The world won’t end if we take a break. I’ll give Josh a call and have him reserve us a double, in case I have to play deputy chief of staff in the middle of the night.”
“I don’t drink coffee at one in the morning.”
Decker gave her a hungry smile.
“I’m well aware of that. How about you clear it with the boss and I’ll get us an aircar?”
Fifty-One
Twenty minutes after lifting off, Decker’s communicator buzzed.
“Shoot. It’s the boss. If I don’t answer, he can’t tell us to come back.”
“Take the call, Zack. This is the man you don’t want to piss off, remember?”
“Right.” Decker accepted the link. “Major Decker, sir. How may I help you on this fine afternoon?”
“You can help by dialing back the flippant tone when you speak with me.”
“Aye, aye, sir. Dialing it back at once.”
“I just heard from the Chief’s office. Grand Admiral Larsson has signed off on Major Redmon’s rehabilitation so you can bring her out of hiding. She’s back on active duty, with no loss of seniority and a whole lot of back pay. Until the Corps decides what her next posting will be, Major Redmon is assigned to the Pathfinder School. The grand admiral asks that you pass on his apologies for what happened to her.”
“Yes, sir. With humongous pleasure.”
“Enjoy your visit. Ulrich out.”
Decker turned a grin brimming with anticipation on his partner.
“You were right about me taking the call.”
She gave him a suspicious glance in return.
“What’s cooking in that fertile mind of yours?”
“Wait and see.”
He asked for a connection to Fort Arnhem, and moments later, a familiar basso came on.
“Pathfinder School, Sergeant Major Bayliss speaking.”
“It’s Zack. Hera and I are inbound to your miserable collection of hovels.”
“Therefore, you felt the need to call me and insult the Pathfinder Branch’s home station?”
“That, and to give you a few orders. First, haul Major Redmon out of wherever you stashed her and into uniform. Service dress preferred. The slate’s been wiped clean, and her bank account will see a healthy chunk of back pay in a few days. And she’s been assigned to the school, meaning she’s one of yours. Then, I need you to have whoever’s senior on post today order everyone to evening formation, in service dress. We’re going to welcome Ari home in proper style.”
“Is that everything, my prince? Colonel Martinson, the CO of the Regiment is senior, so I’ll have to cross unit lines after I speak with my own CO.”
“When you do, let Capurso and Martinson know this isn’t just for Ari. This is also to warn every motherfucker who thinks he can screw with us that no one messes with the best.”
“Hot damn, Rookie Trooper. You sure don’t do things by half anymore, do you? And I don’t doubt that it’ll appeal to everyone here. Just make yourself presentable in blacks as well.”
“Why?”
“We’ll be welcoming your sorry ass home too. As far as everyone around here, except for QD’s folks and myself, are concerned, you’ve been fucked over by the system just as much as Ari. Can’t give her full honors and leave you on the sideline, right? I know yours was self-inflicted, but it wouldn’t be proper to forget the man who brought Ari back. And since you want to send a message...”
Decker could almost see the sergeant major’s fierce smile.
*
When they landed behind the school headquarters building, Bayliss and Redmon were waiting for them, both wearing their service dress uniforms and smiles wide enough to span galaxies.
“Right on time, Zack.” Bayliss gave his old friend a critical once-over. “And appropriately dressed. It truly is a day of miraculous events. You’ll be glad to know Martinson and Capurso practically stumbled over each other to get every breathing body into blacks and on parade.”
Strains of martial music unexpectedly shattered the stillness of the evening air.
“Oh yeah,” Bayliss continued, “and they laid on the band after I reminded them you couldn’t march in step without one. Who’s senior between you two fine majors?”
Redmon nodded at Decker.
“Even though my oak leaves are older than his, Zack has the only seniority that counts — as a Pathfinder.”
Bayliss slapped Decker on the shoulder.
“Try to remember the proper words of command when you’re called up by Martinson. Hundreds of Pathfinder eyes will be watching, waiting for a screw-up they can discuss at the beer call I’ve laid on in the Pegasus afterward.”
“I’m sure everyone understands Ari and I will have picked up some bad habits from the Marine Light Infantry, so I’ll blame any misstep on them.”
“Whatever helps your tender feelings.” He pointed at the HQ building’s north corner. “You head out around there and take position as supernumeraries on the right flank. The commander and I will join our colonels via the direct route.”
When Bayliss and Talyn had left, Decker gave Redmon a tight smile.
“Ready?”
“I would have preferred my return not be accompanied by a lot of hoopla, but Josh told me why you arranged this, so yeah. I’m about as ready as can be.”
They marched out on to the parade square, side-by-side, arms swinging and came to a precise halt perpendicular to the formation’s right marker, a dozen paces from the front rank.
Bayliss hadn’t been kidding. There must have been over five hundred Marines on parade, not counting the band, all wearing Pathfinder wings on their left breasts.
At an unseen signal, the officer in charge of the formation, one of the 1st Special Forces Regiment’s senior majors, called them to attention. Colonel Martinson, Lieutenant Colonel Capurso, each trailed by their respective sergeants major, and Commander Talyn, emerged through the Pathfinder School’s main door.
After the customary exchange of salutes, Colonel Martinson let his eyes roam over the formation. Then, in a booming voice, he said, “It is with a great sense of satisfaction at justice finally being done that we can welcome two of our own home. No Pathfinder will ever forget the shabby treatment they received or the fortitude and courage with which they fought back. You don’t mess with the best. Majors Decker and Redmon, front and center.”
Decker, in a low voice, said, “Detail, quick march.”
When they took their first step, the band broke into a rousing rendition of the Commonwealth Marine Corps hymn. Its strains followed them until, after a ninety-degree wheel, both stood three paces in front of Colonel Martinson. Then, the band fell silent.
Talyn, the sole Navy officer in a sea of Pathfinder Marines, stood with the other spectators behind Martinson and couldn’t fail to miss the pleased, almost smug expression on Decker’s face.
Nor had she failed to notice the warm welcome she’d received from everyone, a reminder of Zack’s claim she was an adopted member of their elite tribe. Here, the gold Pathfinder wings Talyn had earned through her many combat jumps were the only things that counted. And though she wore a blue uniform to their black, today, standing among them, she knew this had become her home and her family as well.
Decker and Redmon saluted. After returning the compliment, Martinson stepped forward and grasped Redmon by the forearms, a grip she returned.
“Welcome home, Ari. Your family has missed you.”
He released her, turned to Decker, and repeated the gesture, saying, “I think we now have proof positive that nothing will ever keep you down, Zack. I’m glad you’re back.”
A roar that seemed loud enough to reach Sanctum erupted from hundreds of throats, signaling defiance and a fierce pride, as the troops on parade, and then the spectators cheered. Talyn found herself cheering just as loudly while trying to ignore the
moisture that had unexpectedly collected in the corners of her eyes.
Black Sword had better start praying for salvation, she thought. Because no one screws with us and lives to tell the tale.
Zack Decker and Hera Talyn will return.
About the Author
Eric Thomson is the pen name of a retired Canadian soldier with thirty-one years of service, both in the Regular Army and the Army Reserve. He spent his Regular Army career in the Infantry and his Reserve service in the Armoured Corps.
Eric has been a voracious reader of science fiction, military fiction, and history all his life. Several years ago, he put fingers to keyboard and started writing his own military sci-fi, with a definite space opera slant, using many of his own experiences as a soldier for inspiration.
When he’s not writing fiction, Eric indulges in his other passions: photography, hiking, and scuba diving, all of which he shares with his wife.
Join Eric Thomson at http://www.thomsonfiction.ca/
Where you’ll find news about upcoming books and more information about the universe in which his heroes fight for humanity’s survival.
Read his blog at: https://ericthomsonblog.wordpress.com
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Also by Eric Thomson
Siobhan Dunmoore
No Honor in Death (Siobhan Dunmoore Book 1)
The Path of Duty (Siobhan Dunmoore Book 2)
Like Stars in Heaven (Siobhan Dunmoore Book 3)
Victory’s Bright Dawn (Siobhan Dunmoore Book 4)
Decker’s War
Death Comes But Once (Decker’s War Book 1)
Cold Comfort (Decker’s War Book 2)
Fatal Blade (Decker’s War Book 3)
Howling Stars (Decker’s War Book 4)
Black Sword (Decker’s War Book 5)
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