by Autumn Birt
Derrick waited until the man had disappeared around the dark edge of the building. Then he waited a minute more. No more talking came from within the building, but scuffs and soft grunts told Derrick that the men were still inside. Packing, hiding the bombs, or rigging traps, he couldn’t be certain. But they were busy and hopefully wouldn’t notice as he slipped into the same gap the limping man had used to exit.
Barely seen in the darkness, two figures dug rapidly at the dusty debris against a wall. Pushing aside a block of concrete, one paused. “It’s here,” he said. The other swept small stones from something that sounded like canvas. Together they hauled out a sack the size of a body. One flipped open a corner.
The glint of oiled metal shone despite the dim light. Derrick’s heart sank. He should have dealt with them while they were still busy. Before they pulled out a bag full of guns. Now the best he could hope for was they weren’t loaded.
“How we going to carry them, just you and me?”
“We’ll take them out front and wait for—”
The man died on Derrick’s sword as he turned to nod toward the front door. “Fuck,” the remaining man cursed. He didn’t reach for the weapons at his feet, but pulled a handgun from his belt. Derrick dove as the man opened fire.
His landing nearly jarred the sword from his hand, and knocked his arm numb from the shoulder down. He kept hold, knowing the gun would run out of bullets. His sword wouldn’t lose its edge. He just needed to stay alive long enough.
Having the upper hand, the man stalked Derrick around the rubble pile that shielded him, firing recklessly. Derrick waited for the click of the empty cartridge. When it came, he leapt to his feet. The FLF agent was reaching for a new clip when Derrick’s sword pierced his heart. From outside sounded the stamp of horses.
“Shit,” Derrick swore, looking for new refuge.
“We have the building surrounded. Drop any weapons and step forward toward the front of the building.”
The voice washed a rush of relief over Derrick that weakened his knees. “Lieutenant Averys, it’s Derrick Eldridge. I have two FLF soldiers down. There are three others—”
“Yes, we caught them chasing down your horse,” Lieutenant Averys said, dismounting. In charge of the base, Averys took his duty of protecting its denizens seriously. Of course he would know Derrick’s mount and that he’d left the base without checking in. “Secure the surrounding buildings to be sure,” Averys ordered over his shoulder before sending in two soldiers with drawn weapons. Averys walked in behind, glancing over the scene casually. “We feared the worst, my lord Earl.”
Derrick frowned at the title, glancing away involuntarily. He didn’t need the reminder of duties and position. He’d be hearing it soon enough from his father.
“There is one more, too. Lennet, the tailor in town, was here. He delivered the bombs,” Derrick said, nodding to the satchel in the center of the room.
“You’re certain?” Averys asked, tense once more.
“Positive. I know his limp and girth.”
Averys nodded to a soldier at the door. “Take five more men and pick up Lennet for questioning. Hold him in detainment until I return.” Averys turned back to Derrick, gaze sweeping the room with its small bag of explosives and canvas sack of guns. “You did well. We owe you,” he said.
“I was with the Guard ... three years back.” Derrick answered, warm pride tingling in his chest. He never should have left.
“I wasn’t aware of that,” Averys said, scratching his chin. “You sent your horse running on purpose then?”
“Yeah. I didn’t think six to one was that good of odds. You find her? She’s a nice mare.”
“Out front. We didn’t waste time when she came galloping with men after her. You leave the Guard for Parliament then?” Averys asked conversationally.
“Nah. Took a wound when the PM died,” Derrick answered. “Better now though.”
“Well, we still need good men. The war isn’t over. If you want to come back, send me word.”
The idea raced through Derrick like lightning, stirring life and light. “Thank you. I will.” He just needed to find a way to enlist before his father found out.
—
“Your father will have the Lady Grey bundle you up and send you back,” Byran said, his concerned expression on his face removing a bit of the sting in his words.
“My father cannot rule my life forever. I’m thirty, almost thirty-one. I want to make my own choices,” Derrick argued, wishing the war hadn’t made good alcohol as scarce as bullets.
Byran leaned back from the table, brown eyes shadowed. “You really feel like you’ve done nothing since joining Parliament?”
Derrick heard the hurt tone in Byran’s voice. Damn Byran that he believed in the system for some reason. A reason that lay beyond Derrick’s ability to understand. Decisions were made in battle. Even their government, formed from war and tragedy, spent too much time debating meaningless tripe like percentages or representation. All it did was talk about solving problems that would come after the war ended. A war the representatives did not choose to fight in.
Derrick rubbed rough fingers across his eyes, uncertain how to explain without insulting his oldest friend. “It’s not that I feel I haven’t done anything, but that I could be doing more.”
“By being one of ten thousand soldiers?” Byran asked. Derrick shot Byran a hot glare for sounding too much like his father. “You’ve made a difference here. Embedding Parliament with the Guard was your idea. And the comms!” Byran said, searching for a different vein to prove his point.
“I know. I just ... can’t explain. I liked being a soldier. It felt important. More important than debating over words on paper.”
“Yeah, being filthy while the FLF shoots at you and all you have is a sword sounds really difficult to give up,” Byran drawled.
Derrick knew his friend was teasing by the spark in his eye. He snorted, reaching for his glass and remembering it held only water as he picked it up.
“We’re winning now,” Byran continued, putting optimism in his tone. The idea of Derrick leaving to fight was not setting well with Byran. Derrick could only imagine what his father would do. “Hopefully the war will be over soon.”
“Sure. That is why FLF soldiers are managing to sneak bombs a few miles from a Guard base for a strategic attack.”
Byran did not argue the point or Derrick’s tone. There were times that Derrick believed nothing could ruffle his friend. He’d only seen Byran agitated on a handful of occasions.
“Did Averys say anything about Lennet when you went in this morning?” Byran asked.
“No. He wanted to have a discussion with me on leaving base alone and without notifying Command.”
“Oh, no wonder you are in a foul mood. Not only can you not shoot anyone, you’re grounded!” Byran said, laughing, which brought a sheepish grin to Derrick’s face.
“Basically, yeah. He said that even with my military training, I wasn’t to leave unescorted.”
“No fun in that,” Byran said, slapping Derrick’s shoulder.
Derrick choked down the desire to tell Byran what else had been said. Averys had taken away Derrick’s freedom, but had also offered him an alternative to sitting around like a caged animal. He could rejoin. Immediately. Averys had invited him to the training grounds the next morning, promising Derrick a chance to burn energy and restore some of his rusty combat skills.
The invitation, both of them, burned under his skin. If he were on a different base than his father, it would be so easy. Blazes, did it piss him off that he was too much a coward to stand up to his father. He swallowed water, wishing it were vodka, and did his best to jump off the carousel of thoughts circling in his head.
“How is Isabella? And your son and daughter?” Derrick asked, knowing Byran would happily chatter on about the last time he had seen his family. Derrick still couldn’t fathom Byran married and with children. The transformation in Byran when he spoke
of them amused Derrick as much as placed him in awe. Byran’s eye might still wander, and Byran himself on occasion, but his heart belonged to his family. And Isabella was a lovely match to Byran’s fire, tempering his friend when needed.
Byran’s animation of two-year-old Santi’s newest antics and Cerilla’s thoughtfulness at the age of four distracted Derrick despite a desire not to be. “When will you see them again?” Derrick asked, hearing the longing in Byran’s voice and wondering if it were the same tone Derrick had when he spoke of the Guard.
“Every day the route to old Spain is getting safer. Merimarche is well built. But I worry. I just want this war over so I can be with my family,” Byran said and paused. Sadness misted his brown eyes before fading.
“Soon,” Derrick said, feeding his friend hope.
“Yes. With or without you, my friend,” Byran said, standing. “I want to check the reports. I will see you later?”
Derrick nodded, amused that Byran checked in on the fighting almost as much as he did. It was an unfathomable quirk in his friend who tried so hard to keep Derrick from returning to the war. Though if Byran anxiously awaited the end of the fighting or was looking for reports of the FLF near Merimarche, especially on the road there ... well, it did make sense really. Derrick just hadn’t considered Byran’s family the cause until now.
Alone, Derrick stared out the window toward headquarters. There was one other thing that Derrick hadn’t told Byran about the conversation with Averys. Derrick had mentioned that his father would stonewall any attempt to enlist at this Guard outpost. Hesitantly, Derrick had admitted to fighting with Captain Jared Vries in Voltzcrag, back when Vries had been a Lieutenant and Michael Prescot the Captain.
Derrick and Vries had practiced sword fighting a dozen times following that, whenever battles had thrown them together. Vries would remember him, he thought – hoped. Averys said he could ask. With Averys’ recommendation and Vries’ permission, Derrick could go to a different post and start fresh. He just needed to tell Averys to go ahead. And then hope Vries recognized his name well enough not to be annoyed by the request coming in the middle of a war.
Derrick choked on his last mouthful of water.
—
The base alarms sounded when Derrick was halfway to the training field. He ran the remainder. He shouldn’t have been allowed into Command, not in an emergency. But in the chaos of people entering, and Derrick’s rush as well, he walked in without question.
Realizing what he had done but hesitant to undo it, Derrick paused at the edge of the room. Screens blazed on the wall, both a live shot of a rapidly changing landscape from a camera on a plane and a satellite map of Europe. Derrick stood transfixed by the first video displays he’d seen in years. What it was they displayed took a minute longer to process.
Three bases were shown in red and under attack, two to the north and one in old Italy. All three were within easy journey of the coast or a river.
“Dammit,” Averys snapped. “I thought the FLF no longer could manage a coordinated attack.”
“Apparently they can,” a woman answered over the comm. “Did you really think they were only targeting you with the bombs you discovered, Lieutenant?”
“No, my Lady,” Averys grudgingly admitted. “But it would have been nice if we’d gotten wind of this from Lennet.”
“Keep questioning him. Learning how they are coordinating messages is important to ending this,” the Lady Grey replied to Averys. “Stay on alert. Report anything you find. Just because you thwarted one attack doesn’t mean the FLF is done with you. That base was one of those targeted for today.”
Averys signed off, ordering extra men to double-check the safe zone around the base. Then he saw Derrick. Derrick winced, expecting to lose the chance he wanted to claim.
“I could use you on the perimeter, but I suppose MOTHER summoned you?” Averys said to Derrick as he glanced over scrolling reports.
His agreement to help was halted by the second half of the sentence. His hesitation brought Averys’ full attention to him. “I should check in with MOTHER, of course. But I’ll see if they can spare me,” Derrick answered.
“Good man. Find me when you are free. Shaun, take the Earl back to MOTHER’s office,” Averys said to a young soldier.
Shaun escorted Derrick out of Command along a back hallway. Soldiers dressed in bulletproof gear nicer than he had worn three years before dashed around them in the hallway. Questions percolated to Derrick’s tongue, but he hesitated to ask the silent man with him for fear of revealing how out of place he was.
A new alarm sent soldiers scurrying faster. “Perimeter alarm,” Shaun said, eyes darting back the way they’d come. The same direction most of the Guard soldiers were hustling.
“Go. Just point to which room,” Derrick told the young man.
“Third door on the right at the next intersection,” he instructed, hesitating one more moment before dashing away.
Derrick let out a relieved breath. Explaining his presence to MOTHER when it had not been requested had just been resolved. What MOTHER was doing operational despite having been dissolved some six years before was a little more difficult to work out. He headed against the flow of the armed soldiers to find answers.
At the intersection, the hallway to the right stood empty. One doorway remained partially open as if entered and pushed closed in a hurry. He heard his father while still several paces from the room. Curious as much as cautious, Derrick approached and paused by the door.
The view into the room through the narrow gap was of a smaller vid screen. The image was broken up into seven faces.
“What do you mean she didn’t have time to give you a report?” one man asked, hair gray against his dark skin.
“Her impertinence is getting worse. We need to know what is happening! The base here is under attack,” a woman said, German accent thickened with anger.
“You spoke to her directly?” a man Derrick recognized asked calmly. Le Marc had aged in the last three years since Derrick had seen him, but his grey blue eyes and refined French pronunciation were unmistakable. As was the frailness written in pale skin and a slight shake to his movements.
“No. I did not even get that far. The Chief Communications Officer relayed that they would give us an update as soon as the situation had been evaluated,” Derrick’s father, David Eldridge, replied.
One of those on the conference snorted. “This is treason,” the woman snapped.
“Responding to an attack is not treason,” le Marc answered.
“Why are you protecting her?”
“Because she is winning the war,” le Marc shot back, heat sparking his words. “When the war is over, then you can do with her what you will. I think you can appreciate that she is saving Europe.”
“She is not saving Europe. The Grey Guard is saving Europe and Captain Vries is in charge of the Guard. We do not need her,” David said, enunciating each word. Derrick watched his father, surprised by the anger he saw. His father wasn’t fond of the woman they called the Lady Grey, but there was more than dislike in David’s tone. He hated her. And his father, with all of his political ambitions and aristocratic life, did not display hatred often.
“You made her the liaison with the Guard and set her up for this position. The time to remove her was before Captain Prescot died, before she won Sofia. We are stuck with her now,” one of the men answered.
“She can still be removed,” David pushed.
“Don’t try it,” le Marc warned. “She knows we still control the government no matter what Parliament plays at. We do not need to make an enemy of her. You may not think she controls the Guard, but they follow her when she isn’t their sanctioned leader. If you can’t figure out how dangerous that is, David, then ask your son. I’m sure he can enlighten you,” le Marc said to Eldridge.
One of the women laughed. Derrick wasn’t certain how his father held back the rage trembling through him.
“Speaking of which, there are
decisions to be made once this is done. Some of the proposals Parliament has come up with need to be shut down,” she said. “They are discussing elections again. We don’t control enough of the senators to ensure we’ll keep power. Not yet.”
“Call us when you have a report, David. Otherwise, we should speak tomorrow when this is over.”
It was the threat of the call ending, and his father’s attention being free that woke Derrick from his shocked state. What he’d heard couldn’t be real. If it were, then truly all he’d thought he’d accomplished in the last three years since leaving the Guard had been an illusion. His father ruled him. More than that, his father was one of a handful that controlled Europe. Except for the Guard. And that was directed by a woman who had as little right to it as his father did to Europe.
Shaking, Derrick backed down the hallway. The waste of the years mixed with the fury of too many manipulations. Outside, he heard gunfire. Turning, he ran to find Averys, burning to join the fight.
—
“You were fighting?” David shouted, storming into Derrick’s quarters. “What right do you think you have to pick up a gun and ...”
“I helped save the base,” Derrick answered his father calmly. “They needed soldiers.”
“You are not Guard!” David snarled. Derrick did not answer. David’s fury turned cold. “I will have Averys’ head.”
“Why? It is my choice!” Derrick said, jumping to his feet though it strained his twisted knee. Derrick would limp for a month, most likely for the damage caused when he dropped to safety too quickly.
“You are a member of Parliament and not a common soldier!” David said, retreating from the room.
“Why did you bother to have me put in Parliament?” Derrick asked his father. “MOTHER controls everything anyway. I’ve made no difference.”
David returned and stared at him. “How ... what do you mean by that?”
