David Leadbeater - Weapons of the Gods

Tears sprang into her eyes, not for all the men and women she’d killed but for those that didn’t deserve it, and those she’d cared for. The thing is — life didn’t care whether she enjoyed it or not. It was up to her to make the good times, and make them memorable.

As thoughts of Grace flowed around a happier outlook she felt the presence of someone beside her. She looked up, knowing already that the shadow would be huge.

“Mind if I sit?”

She nodded, and the enormous soldier sat himself down. They didn’t speak for a minute, gauging each other’s mood, but then Luther offered a thoughtful subject.

“This team,” he said. “I’m still trying to get my head around it. Some of you are friends, some are enemies, but then you’d die for each other. And has everyone slept with everyone else? ’Cause that’s just bizarre.”

Mai laughed. “This isn’t an American sitcom, Luther. We’ve been together a long time, been to hell and back. This team was forged in fire, literally in the tomb of a god. We’re enemies and friends, united and conflicted at times. We are a family, however that sounds. You live and breathe and fight with someone long enough—” she paused “—you form the greatest bond.”

Luther shifted. “I get that. I’m a soldier. I can’t forget some of the things I’ve seen but I can use my better memories to overcome them. War will never end, but as soldiers we can make all the innocent lives we touch a little better.”

“And how about other lives?” Mai asked impulsively. “Can you make those better too?”

Luther looked anywhere but at her. “I can try.”

Mai reached out a hand. “Then… try.”

“Soldiers, eh?” Luther let out a noise that was half grumble, half laugh. “When it comes to personal, we don’t have a clue.”

“Depends what you start with.” Mai smiled again. “Let me know.”

And for the first time since she’d met him, Luther looked unsure.

A number of phone calls later, Drake announced there were two choppers inbound. One, to collect the Waters of Neptune; the other — Hayden’s recently arrived team who were flying out to them. Within half an hour the artifact was winging its way covertly to London and the entire SPEAR team was reunited. Drake tried hard not to appear overly happy to see Dahl, but when the Swede grabbed him in a bear hug he held on tight.

“Well met,” he said, meaning it.

“And you, my friend. We have a lot to catch up on.”

So, they sat like carefree companions as the sun soared higher, and each told their stories. Kinimaka had brought a bagful of food and bottled water, and shared them out equally. Hayden related their train exploit and Dahl threw in the garnish. Five weapons collected so far and they were still behind Tempest. Kinimaka spoke of the new list of weapons and how the Gates of Ishtar were claimed to be “practically unobtainable.” They wondered aloud where Tempest were at and how many weapons they might have seized.

“We’re of the mind that it’s the weapons’ material Tempest want,” Mai said. “Or the element within.”

“Makes sense,” Hayden agreed. “Why the hell didn’t I think of that? Anyway, Lauren and Secretary Crowe are doing their best in DC. Crowe helped get us out of the country.”

“Any news on the other disavowed Special Forces teams?” Drake asked.

“Not yet. Clearly, they don’t know who to trust.”

“If we could find a way…” Drake let the rest of the sentence hang, thinking hard.

“Whitehall could do it,” Dahl said. “Think it through. They’re connected everywhere, even helping us all over the world at the same time as storing the weapons and preserving our cover. Give them the job.”

“To say what exactly?” Alicia played devil’s advocate. “’How about a play date?’”

Drake tended to agree. “She’s right, in her idiosyncratic way,” he said. “First, we need to come up with a strategy. But first, let’s give Whitehall the heads up.”

“We learned a little more about the terrorist training camps that Tempest is creating,” Hayden said. “They’re run by mercs, hand-picked, and are basically a double-bluff. Recruits are fed the usual beginner shit, half-brainwashed, and introduced to several ‘father’ figures, who will be their handlers. They’re then put to use, around the world, doing Tempest’s dirty work. Stealing. Killing. Covering missions up beneath the general veneer of terrorism. With every passing day, they become stronger.”

When Dahl saw Kenzie again he smiled tentatively, unsure how to greet the woman he’d hurt. She’d wanted more than he could give; but she knew that. She’d known Dahl was married with children. And still she kept coming.

I did the right thing.

So why did it feel so wrong?

Their relationship had soured badly and even now, he wasn’t sure why Kenzie remained with the group. Privately, he thought it was for just one reason — a reason she’d never, ever reveal.

Kenzie wanted to belong to something good, doing something good, with the right people.

Dahl felt the same, and wanted her to stay. But he couldn’t see how she could get past the problems she’d wrought between them. Whilst it was true they’d had barely a moment to speak since their own clash — where Dahl told her he would keep fighting to stay with his wife — nothing had really changed. She still resented him.

Now, as the group made their decisions, he became aware that she was sat behind him. It was a perfect sunny day with no pressure. Who could stay angry on a day like this?

“How are you?” He turned slightly.

Kenzie stiffened but said nothing.

“That bad, huh?”

“What’s the point of answering?” she bit back quietly. “As if you really care.”

“I care,” he said truthfully. “Just not like you want me to.”

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself. That ship already sailed. You’re just another grunt to me now.”

“Is that what we all are?” Dahl asked.

“Pretty much.”

“Then why do you stay?” He hadn’t meant to force it, to push the sensitive part too much, but Kenzie seemed to have a knack for pushing all the wrong buttons.

“Y’know, I’m wondering the same thing.”

Kenzie walked away and leaned up against the quietly ticking chopper. Dahl saw a single chance then, an opportunity to walk up to her and try to make it better. It would take truth, honesty. It would take a huge effort.

But all too suddenly, it was time to go.

When Drake rose, Yorgi was suddenly by his side. The young Russian’s fists were clenched into tight balls and his lips were white with worry. It appeared that Yorgi had something to say and Drake had a very good idea what it would be.

“When you told us what happened to your family, why you killed your parents, I wondered if that would change you.”

Yorgi looked grateful for the easy opening. “It is not a change,” he said, the stress thickening his Russian accent. “But it has strengthened my resolve. You know what I must do, don’t you?”

Drake nodded quickly. “I saw it in your eyes, mate, even as you told the story. It’s not over, is it?”

“No. It is not.”

They walked together toward the waiting chopper, taking their time. Alicia stayed to Yorgi’s left, listening intently.

“I have to return to the graves of my kin,” Yorgi said with quiet passion. “I cannot just leave them out there, unmarked, lost in that icy wilderness forever.”

“You don’t have to go alone, mate,” Drake said. “We’ll go with you.”

“No,” Yorgi said. “This is for me. I did not come to this decision lightly, either. I told my story — it seems months ago now — and I have struggled ever since. Now I know I must go back.”