by Wesley Chu
That voice, sharp and gravelly, sounded familiar. Nostalgia, good and bad, washed over Roen. He couldn’t quite place his finger on it. Both hands on his pistol, he crept forward past Faust and stopped a meter away from the mysterious figure. He knelt next to Jim, putting his finger on the unconscious man’s neck.
“Pulse faint,” he said. Then he stood up and jammed his gun into the stranger’s face. “Pull your hood back,” he ordered.
I think this is...
Roen could just make out a hairy chin covered with white tufts of hair sticking out of the bottom of the hood when the stranger suddenly disappeared from sight. Well, technically, he didn’t disappear. The faucets in Roen’s eyes turned on when the mysterious man flicked out his hand and struck Roen smack dab on the bridge of his nose. Before his team could react, the stranger charged forward. Roen saw the back of a hand fly toward his face. Instinctively, he dropped his gun and covered up.
Roen blocked the bitch slap, as he liked to call it, ducked under a follow-up punch, and countered with an elbow of his own that just missed the stranger’s face, instead punching a hole in the wall. Immediately, his ribs let his brain know that they had just eaten a crushing blow.
Watch for the trip!
Roen saw a flash of the stranger planting a leg just behind his. He sidestepped and grabbed his assailant by an elbow. Before he knew what was happening, the stranger swung his wrist in a whipping motion and reversed the grip, twisting Roen’s arm and flipping him onto his back. He landed with a hard thud, the impact knocking the wind out of him.
“Holy shit,” gasped one of his useless men, having just stood there while he got beaten up.
The entire melee lasted less than three seconds. The stranger brought his open palm down and stopped a scant inch from Roen’s face. He knew that if it had landed, the blow would have crushed his nose and probably pushed the cartilage up into his brain; a killing blow. The stranger’s hand hovered in the air before he offered it to Roen.
“Same clumsy oaf,” he growled, pulling back his hood.
“Silk reeling,” Roen groaned. “Always fucking silk reeling. I hate silk reeling.”
He took Lin’s hands. Halfway up from the prone position, Lin let go and dropped him again. Roen landed with an oomph back onto the floor. “I am not your father, and you are not a child. Pick yourself up.”
“You mean old bastard,” Roen barked. Lin gave him a look. “Master Lin,” Roen added hastily.
This time, Lin grabbed Roen by the wrist and pulled him up. Faust and the rest of the men still had their guns trained on Roen’s former teacher.
Lin looked at them with disdain. “Put your guns away before you get hurt.”
“Lin?” Faust said slowly. “The Cold War assassin?”
Lin tipped his hood. The rest of the team looked awed.
“It’s an honor to meet you,” Ray whispered as if a little girl to a teen idol. “You’re a living legend.”
“Wait, he’s still alive? The guy who took out nine Genjix Russian ministers?” Stan added.
“The one who singlehandedly handicapped the Soviet space program, so the States won?” Hutch gushed.
As someone who had had his noggin rung literally hundreds of times by Lin, Roen was a little less than impressed. “What, you want an autograph?” he snarled as he massaged his sore neck. He asked Lin in a more respectful tone. “What brings you here, Master?”
“I retired,” Lin snapped. “And came home. And what do you do, stupid boy? You bring the war to my front steps.”
“Still as cuddly as ever,” Roen grinned. “What happened to softening up with old age?”
Lin gave a rude bark. “With the way you are screwing everything up? I’m just getting ready for the end of the world.”
“Did Command get in touch with you?”
“What part of retired do you not understand? The Keeper tried to a few times. I didn’t return her call.”
“How do you not return the Keeper’s call? I hate her guts and I still come running when she beckons.” Roen paused and looked down at Jim’s still inert body, suddenly remembering that he had a man down. “What’s wrong with Jim?”
“Your ugly mug was plastered all over the television at the pachinko parlor. Once I got to the site, there was an army of police combing the area as if the ghost of Mao was on the loose. It wasn’t hard to follow. Then the world’s worst scout here got himself seen, and I had to rescue him.” He shook his head in disgust. “No wonder the Prophus are losing. Army of incompetents.” He watched as Faust and Ray went to check up on Jim. “He should be alright when he wakes. Ground hit him in the head when he jumped out of a second story window.”
Faust looked at him suspiciously. “Jim is a special ops sniper. Before that, he was an Army Ranger. You’re telling me he doesn’t know how to tuck and roll out of a five meter drop?”
Lin shrugged. “We were in a hurry, so I threw him off. He needs more training.”
Roen signaled for the men to stand down. “It’s been a long night. Grant, you have next watch. Then Stan.”
Lin looked around at the room. “It’s too late for me to go home. I will sleep there.” He pointed at the couch, and then his face brightened. “You have pizza. I’m starved.” Lin went to the dinner table and helped himself.
Faust was patting Jim on the cheek.
“Leave him,” Roen said.
“What if he has important intel?”
“We’re in no position to mount anything actionable anyway,” Roen replied. “Get some shuteye.”
Roen watched with a sense of resignation as Lin finished inhaling a slice of pizza and then lay down on the couch, the only place with cushions. Stan magically appeared with a blanket and pillow, offering them to Lin as if they were tribute. Roen later found out it was the only pillow and blanket in the entire place.
“I don’t suppose you have a nice place we can stay, Master?” he asked hopefully.
Lin chuckled. “A very nice place. I had a very nice pension with the Prophus. You are crazy if you think I’m going to risk it for you sorry lot.”
A total pipe dream.
“Ah, well, it was worth a try. Tao, we get pension?”
That program was canceled years before you joined. On account of us losing the war and all.
“Man, I want pension.”
I am still working on that Brazilian lingerie model you asked for five years ago.
Roen waited until the rest of the team settled in and then took an unused corner in the kitchen. Before he turned in, he took the time to clean out his pistol. The soothing ritual helped clear his mind as he went through the process of disassembling the gun and wiping down each part. When he finished, he placed it in its holster, stood up and stretched. His back wasn’t happy about being hunched over for so long, another indication of the wear and tear on his body.
He made one final jaunt around the apartment to check up on his men. He nodded to Grant, who was on watch, and then brushed his teeth with his forefinger in the kitchen sink. Toothbrushes were another casualty of the night’s escape.
“Excuse me, sir,” Grant said as Roen turned to leave. “Those stories about Lin, are they true? Is he as good as everyone says he is?”
“Even better,” Roen replied, chest puffing up a little. Lin was his master after all.
Get some sleep. Tomorrow’s another long day. The team is fragile and will need your leadership.
“What leadership?”
That is why it will be a long day.
TWENTY-TWO
TRAINING
During the hundred years that we stayed in Europe, I climbed the ranks of French and Prussian nobility while Yol moved in philosopher circles. Eventually, I reached the pinnacle of the empire and my host became the Royal Prince, Archduke Franz Ferdinand, at the time still a young child.
Nobility of birth, however, did not guarantee nobility of stature. Franz was a strange host. He was hard to influence, and prone to reckless and self-involved wa
ys. I admit that he would have made a terrible emperor. However, we will never discover what his rule could have been. The Black Hand who assassinated Franz and his wife Sophie saw to that. Unfortunately, it also paved the way for the Great War.
Baji
Jill stared at the black hole of the gun barrel pointing at her.
Uneven ground, fifteen degree slant. Cover to your right, three shrubs and a cliff edge. A flat clearing to the left. Go now!
She dove just as Marco pulled the trigger. The hammer slammed down on the empty chamber with a loud click. She rolled off her shoulder into a kneeling position, her own pistol pointing at his head.
Well done.
“Good,” he remarked. “Again. This time, don’t telegraph. Your eyes wandered. Trust Baji’s signals.”
Jill nodded. They were three weeks into her training and had just started integrating free running into combat. They were working on basic techniques, from coordinating leg and hand movements during a climb to tucking the body during a jump to rolling out of a high drop. It was physically exhausting, and she went home every night a walking mass of welts, but she was starting to get the hang of it. Tonight, the ground was a wet mush of dirt, gravel, and grass, which left her looking like she was wearing a ghillie suit. If anyone from the Hill saw this, it would probably end her career.
They rehearsed the encounter several more times, each time putting her through a different scenario. At a distance, she trained to juke and angle toward cover. Close up, she was taught to dive forward and sweep her assailant’s legs. And as a last resort, she now carried a rack of knives strapped to her thigh.
This was the plan that Baji and Marco had devised for her self-defense: dodge, counter, and flee. They called it her Flight and Flight tactic. It took Jill a while to warm up to it, but eventually, she found herself enjoying the game. It was a demanding mental exercise and wasn’t yet second nature, but she was getting the hang of it.
Always have a dodge direction ready. Angle at opponent’s sixty degrees. Stick and move.
“Alright,” Marco said an hour into their session. “Let’s free run.”
Jill grinned. This was her favorite part. She took off and disappeared into the forest, hurdling over rocks and brushes. A second later, she heard Marco crashing through the trees behind her. The forest was dark but her eyes had already adjusted and as long as she paid attention, she was fairly confident she wouldn’t smash into anything.
She scanned ahead and zigzagged around cover, constantly taking angles and changing directions to throw him off her trail. She grabbed a tree trunk to her right, swinging around and changing directions without slowing down. She caught a glimpse of him cutting toward her. She jumped over a fallen log and flattened herself to the ground, her pistol aimed up. A moment later, Marco passed by and she pulled the trigger. He stopped when he heard the click.
“Good,” he said. “Continue.”
Jill smirked, held up one finger, and then took off running again. They played this game of tag for another five minutes until she found her next ambush point. She scampered up a short cliff, using free running to climb over a three-meter rock. A moment later, Marco passed by and she pulled the trigger again. She held up two fingers once he acknowledged the kill.
The next few attempts weren’t as successful. When they reached a clearing with sparse coverage he drew his gun at the same time she did. That was a point for him. It was imperative she always drew first. The last encounter was near the river. Jill crossed the brook, backtracked upstream and doubled back. Several minutes later, she caught sight of Marco and tried to get the jump on him.
But just as she was about to pull the trigger, he heard her rustling among the leaves and faded back into the woods. They played a game of cat and mouse, each looking for an opening. However, Marco won this round and somehow corralled her back to the river.
He advanced on her with a large smile on his face. “Situation change. Holster your sidearm.”
You should have retreated and regrouped.
“Duly noted.”
Jill grimaced, put her pistol in its holster and crouched, trying to make herself a smaller target. She tried to circle away from the river, but he cut her off. Watching his eyes, she stayed out of his arm’s length as he advanced.
Right thirty degrees... now!
She dove toward the river bed and rolled onto her feet as he pulled the trigger.
Sixty left... now!
Again she just got out of Marco’s sights.
Two meters range. Attack!
Jill instinctively followed Baji’s instructions. She slid in close to Marco and kicked at his legs. She felt the satisfying contact of her heel digging into his ankle as he readjusted his aim. The blow knocked him off balance. Unfortunately, he toppled directly on top of her. She grunted as her body cushioned his fall.
“Well,” he said, “if this was your plan all along, I say mission successful. What was your mistake?”
“I should have swept from the side of the ankle instead,” she replied.
Exactly.
There was a moment of awkwardness. Jill’s heart rate quickened and she felt a sudden urge to lean forward and see what came next. Paula was right. He did have nice eyes, a combination of blue and turquoise that could keep a girl mesmerized for hours.
Instead, Jill tore her gaze away and pretended to act annoyed. “Okay, you can get off me now.”
His face was very close to hers. “The view’s pretty good from here.”
She slapped him playfully on the shoulder. “Get off me. I’m not one of those peasants your lordship can just have your way with.”
He grinned, rolled off and pulled her up to her feet. “Next time, coming from the angle you did, kick higher at the knees or sweep the ankles.”
“Yes, sir,” she replied, brushing the chunks of mud off her pants. She was doing laundry almost every day now.
He looked up at the sky and checked his watch. “Let’s call it. We’ll move training to the city from now on. You’ll have more encounters in the urban jungles than the wilderness anyway.” That was music to Jill’s ears. She couldn’t wait to stop rolling around in the dirt.
“First thing tomorrow night?” she asked as they walked back to the car.
“Double sessions,” he said. “One at dawn and at night.”
She sighed. Sleep was becoming a rare commodity.
Baji initially wanted to call Roen at four in the morning over there just to give him a taste of his own medicine. It was tempting but Jill decided to be the bigger person. She waited and called at what should be lunch local time. Instead, she was surprised to catch him just waking up.
“Starting the day a little late?” she joked. “Wuehler have you on permanent guard duty?”
She knew she had hit a nerve when he mumbled something too low to make out. At first, he pretended things were fine, but like all good wives, she knew how to dig the truth out. Eventually, he caught her up on the events of the past few days.
Killed by the Genjix? What about Ramez?
“What about Wuehler’s Quasing?” Jill asked. This tale was becoming all too familiar these days. It seemed far too often these days, another of Baji’s friends was sent to the Eternal Sea.
“I got him out,” Roen sighed. “I had to do it. Shoot Wuehler. It was the only way.”
Jill felt his grief right there. It was the one tragedy that he could never get over, and now it had happened again. Granted Wuehler didn’t own Roen’s heart like Sonya had, but it still must have hurt. A little itch of jealousy bubbled up in her as she thought of Sonya, but Jill pushed it out of her mind. This wasn’t the time.
You honestly need to get over it.
“I’ll get over it when you do.”
“Any hits on Dylan?” Jill asked.
“The fat bastard’s fallen off the face of the Earth.”
“Have you considered heading south to that Genjix operation?”
“I thought about it, but I don’t know.
It’s a large port and we’re undermanned. Might be more than we can chew. We lost most of our supplies and are in pretty bad shape. There’s a lot of heat on us too.”
Jill picked up the piece of paper. “I got a name for you: Punai Corporation. Found some docs through the Department of Commerce. Much of it was redacted but that only shines a bigger spotlight on it. That means someone from up on high in this administration is covering for them. And of course, their primary refinery and export hub is in southern Taiwan. I don’t think it’s a coincidence. It should help narrow your search.”
“I’ll give it a shot.” Roen sounded so deflated. Jill couldn’t remember the last time he had sounded this insecure. Ever since she found out about Tao, Roen had tended to exhibit an overabundance of confidence.
“Listen, Roen, you take care of yourself,” she said softly. “You have a son. Remember that.”
There was a long pause.
“Jill, when this is all over, I want to talk. About us being us again.”
Something got caught in Jill’s throat. No words came out, and she suddenly felt the need to turn away and face the window. The last thing Wilks and Tammy needed to see was her crying at her desk. Wilks would fly into a rage and Tammy would gossip. Politics was a rough sport, and there was no place for crying in it.
“I have to go,” she said quickly, hanging up. She kept her face turned for several seconds.
Maybe we should talk about this. Marco is confusing you.
Jill wiped the tears falling down her face and breathed in sharply. “No he’s not, Baji. There’s nothing to talk about. Let’s get back to work.”
TWENTY-THREE
NEW MANAGEMENT
The war between the Cro-Magnons and the Neanderthals was wider in scale than any humans have seen since. There was little strategy and coordination, save for what the Quasing could coax out. It was genocide by any definition. By the end, only one species remained.
After the Cro-Magnon established their dominance, the next several thousand years became a time of great innovation. We harnessed our new tools and showed them how to bend fire to their bidding. We taught them how to follow the stars when they traveled and showed them how to cultivate the land for sustenance. Then in Mesopotamia, the Keeper, in all her wisdom, offered the humans a new gift: the written word.
