Myke Cole - Shadow Ops - Control Point

“Well, there’s good news and bad news about that,” Harlequin went on. “First, the bad news.”

He handed Britton discharge papers.

“You were court-martialed in absentia,” Harlequin said. “It’s a shame you weren’t there to make the same speech about the difference between laws and morals that you just made to me. Perhaps you could have swayed the presiding authority. But this came down from the president himself. Your commission has been rescinded. The court-martial also found you guilty of unauthorized magical use, gross insubordination, and murder. You’ve been sentenced to death.”

“And yet here I am, alive,” Britton said.

“And kicking!” Harlequin agreed. “That’s because the SOC commandant agrees with my assessment of your past record.”

“Which is where I come in, Oscar,” said the Asian man, moving to Britton’s side. He placed a leather briefcase across his knees, popping open the brass catches. “I’m Howard Kwan, with the Office of General Counsel.

“The president is inclined to agree with the SOC commandant. He doesn’t want to see an ability as precious as yours lost to lethal injection. He’s authorized me to give you this.”

He handed Britton another document. Gold-embossed letters read GRANTING CONDITIONAL PARDON TO OSCAR BRITTON — BY THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. A PROCLAMATION, across the top.

“Conditional?” Britton asked. “These things come with conditions?”

The Asian man nodded. “In rare instances, yes.”

“Let me guess,” Britton said. “My condition is that I join the SOC.”

Harlequin recoiled. “Hell no, Oscar! You’ve been dismissed by the president and convicted by court-martial! You can never serve in the armed forces again. You can’t even hold a position of public trust, which means you can’t be hired as a government civilian.”

“So…what do you expect me to do?” Britton asked.

Kwan smiled and produced a glossy-faced white folder from his briefcase, stuffed with papers. “I’ve discussed your case with one of our top vendors. The Entertech Corporation has been one of our leading providers of technology and manpower solutions for over twenty-five years. You’ll find a conditional offer of employment in the packet.”

Britton almost burst out laughing. “You want me to become a government contractor?”

Kwan’s face was completely serious. “That’s right, Oscar. Your acceptance of Entertech’s offer and the associated conditions satisfies the terms of your pardon. Your sentence will be commuted. You will be permitted to return to the service of your country and repay the debt to society that your crimes have incurred. It’s a win-win solution for everyone.”

“Conditional pardon, conditional job offer. Everything comes with a catch,” Britton said.

“Naturally.” Kwan smiled. “The catch in this case is just a simple nondisclosure agreement. Of course, since you’re a criminal, even one with a commuted sentence, you can’t hold a security clearance. However, Entertech is going to share proprietary information with you that’s confidential to their business enterprise.”

“Meaning,” Britton said, “I don’t talk about whatever I see.”

“Exactly,” Kwan agreed. “If you do, you negate the pardon, and your sentence is reinstated.” Kwan passed Britton yet another document.

“This is binding for ninety-nine years!” Britton exclaimed. “What if I refuse?”

“Then I have the authority to pop that cork in your chest right now,” Harlequin said. “We’ll turn your body over to our medical research facility to see if they can learn anything from your tissues. Either way, you help us.”

“Bull,” Britton said. “You’re not going to kill me. The commandant himself just told you that my ability is too rare and precious to lose. You put expensive hardware in my chest to keep me in line. You got one of your best Healers out here to fix me up. You don’t invest that heavily in someone you’re intending to fry.”

Harlequin leaned in, his face hard. “Try me. I’m begging you, Oscar. I follow the regs, but that doesn’t mean I won’t take some personal satisfaction in zapping a guy who killed his own dad. Please, try me.”

He waved to the blonde behind the computer bank. She nodded, flipped a plastic cover off a switch, and looked at Harlequin, her finger hovering over it.

Britton tried to fathom the depth of the bluff. The Aeromancer’s eyes were blue ice. Britton looked down at the sheaf of papers.

“How much do I make?” Britton asked, trying to buy time to think.

“The company is offering you eighty-five dollars an hour,” Kwan answered, “to be garnished one hundred percent toward the fine of $250 million levied against you at your sentencing.”

“What happens if they fire me?” Britton asked.

“Boom.” Harlequin smiled.

“So, I’m a slave,” Britton said.

“You’re alive, Oscar,” Kwan said. “Slaves don’t get choices.”

“I wouldn’t call do-this-or-die a choice,” Britton said.

Kwan only shrugged.

Britton’s mind spun. The trailer’s air-conditioned interior felt thick and close. Did he really have anything to live for? His home in the 158th was as lost to him as his home in Shelburne.

Why go on? Because he did not deserve to die. Britton reminded himself of the internal conversation he’d had beside the stolen police car. Just because they have power and authority, doesn’t mean they’re right. They don’t get to kill you. Not without your fighting them every inch of the way.

He could run anytime he wanted. Dying on his feet would beat the hell out of having his heart burst in the back of a stuffy truck.

“Anybody got a pen?” Britton asked.

Kwan produced a slim gold pen from his coat pocket. Britton took the pen, swallowed, and signed.

And signed.

And signed.

By the time he had signed all the documents in all the places that Kwan indicated, his wrist was cramping.

Kwan shook Britton’s hand. “On behalf of Entertech, welcome aboard.”

Britton turned back to Harlequin. “What happens to Mom?”

“Desda Britton will be well cared for,” Harlequin answered. “We have some questions for her about her son’s proclivities and upbringing, but I’m sure she’ll be more than cooperative once she’s recovered from the nasty shock you gave her.”

“You fucker. If you do anything to her…”

Harlequin dismissed him with a wave. “Whatever, Oscar. You stormed into her house and killed her husband. Something tells me that you’re probably not the best advocate for her interests just now. She’ll come to no harm. I’ve seen more than enough folks suffer over you.”

“What are you going to do to her?” Britton asked.

“Nothing,” Harlequin said. “We’ll just keep an eye on her. Should anything go south with the deal you’ve just struck with ol’ uncle sugar, we might need to call her in for additional questioning, and perhaps for her own safety. You with me?”

Harlequin let the threat hang in the air. Oh, I’m with you, Britton thought, but only so long as I have to be and not one second longer.

Zazen is critical to training. Only when you center yourself and place your spirit in balance, will you be able to call the elements to your hand. The Kensei told us that the way is in training. This is as true for the Shukenja as it is for the Senshi.

— Japanese Self-Defense Forces Instruction Manual 4.677

Shukenja Corps Policy and Procedure

The vehicle shuddered to a stop amid the hiss of the air brakes. The doors slid open, and two soldiers lowered a collapsible stair. Kwan hefted his briefcase and exited without another word.