Myke Cole - Shadow Ops - Control Point

“It’s not okay,” Britton whispered fiercely. “That Goblin, you sent him? For the worm?”

Marty smiled.

“Thank you, Marty, but…”

“Thank you,” Marty interrupted. “I thank you. You help me first.”

“Marty, they got him. They caught him.”

Marty nodded. “Okay. He mine Logauk.”

Britton looked at him, uncomprehending. Marty tapped his eyelids, then put his hand behind his neck. “My Logauk. He mine…” He paused, searching for the word. “…my contractor?”

“He works for you?” Britton remembered the respect Marty commanded among the Goblin orderlies in the cash, how he had threatened the Physiomancer with a work stoppage.

“But they caught him! They fired him! Truelove says he’ll be killed!”

Marty shrugged. “Sorrahhad fight. No like Mattab On Sorrah. We help.”

“These Sorrahhad will kill him?”

Marty nodded. “Maybe he get home. Long walk.”

“Marty, thank you for trying to help me. But I didn’t want anyone to die. For me, it’s a big deal when someone dies…even when that person works for you. Even when it’s your…Logauk.”

Marty’s forehead wrinkled. “No understand.”

“Just promise me. Promise me that you won’t do anything else that risks getting someone fired. I can’t…I can’t have that.” He thought of the cop in Shelburne. He thought of his father.

“Forget the whole worm thing. I don’t care about it anymore. God! I was such an idiot. I should have said something before you sent him to…we’ve got to help your Logauk…do you know any…”

“Spending quality time with your boyfriend?” Britton jumped as Fitzy’s voice sounded from behind him.

“Got a little banged up in the training with Rictus, sir,” Britton said. “Ma…this contractor has a knack for helping me out after I’ve taken a drubbing. I use him following most of our MAC sessions. I’ve come to rely on him.”

“Come off it, Keystone,” Fitzy said. “I know this little piece of Goblin filth drinks with you in the OC every night. Do you think I’m stupid? I’ve allowed it thus far because I thought it might be good for you to learn a bit about the indig here, but I’m putting the hammer down now. No more fraternization. You know it’s not allowed, and I’m done looking the other way. I catch this pointy-eared little terrorist in the OC, and I’m gonna have all your asses for breakfast. That clear?”

Britton boiled, leaning hard on the Dampener to keep his surging emotions in line. He pushed past Fitzy, heading for the exit. Maybe there was still time to help the Goblin.

“Don’t even think about trying to help that little thief either,” Fitzy called to his back. “He’s been fired and turned loose. That’s all, no punishment. Even someone as softhearted as you should be pleased with that.”

“He’ll die out there, and you know it,” Britton said.

“Maybe he should have thought of that before he decided to get high off our supply,” Fitzy said, crossing his brawny arms. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. He’s a quarter mile outside the wire by now. There’s no way you could find him if you tried. Let it go, Keystone. You told me that you’d made your peace with us, that you’re a company man now. I believe you. Tonight, you’re going to put your money where your mouth is.”

I get the whole right to protest thing. That’s real nice. It’s also real antiquated. This ain’t Martin Luther King out there. Some of the people in that crowd have the ability to level a city block. You can worry about civil rights after the mission debrief. For now, civil disobedience is still disobedience. You bring order to this chaos any way you can.

— Captain “Ridgebreaker” (call sign), Alleged mission prebrief

“Burning Man Incident,” Black Rock Desert, Nevada

At 0200, Britton opened his hooch door to see an electric cart idling, with Downer behind the wheel.

“Ready?” the girl asked him.

Britton nodded, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“Been working with Fitzy all morning. He said I could take liberty for the rest of the day if I came and got you. Apparently he’s got a recon gig for you,” she said.

He looked up at the sky, lit by the weirdly large moon and spray of stars. “You call this morning?”

Downer ignored him.

“You wanna drive?” She gestured to the cart and shrugged when Britton shook his head. “Good, I like driving.” She arched an eyebrow at him. “I am, after all, old enough.”

Britton smiled and huddled next to her while the cart bumped its way toward the flight line. He watched her, so excited to be driving a stupid electric cart, amazed by how young she was.

He looked down at her legs. Therese had done her work well. There was no sign of the damage the Selfer’s Rending magic had done.

“Are you…okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Downer asked.

“Come off it, you know why.”

“I’m fine,” Downer growled, her eyes fixed straight ahead. “We did what we had to. I got a little sloppy is all. That won’t happen again.”

Britton wanted to put his hand on her shoulder, to tell her he was her friend, that she wasn’t fooling anyone with the tough-girl act, that it was okay to be who she was, a scared kid who had gotten badly hurt. But he could tell by her tone that it would only drive her further away. So, he nodded.

“What’s the op?” he asked, keeping his voice businesslike.

“Damned if I know; I salute smartly and do my job.”

“Listen to you,” he said. She wants to be treated like an adult, to be taken seriously. You can do that much for her.

“What?” she asked.

“You sound like a military officer, saluting smartly.”

She grinned. “I do?”

He nodded. “Yeah. You’ve really come along. Dropped all that weight, too. You’re a shadow of your former self.”

Downer beamed in the starlight as the cart jounced. Her short hair framed a face that would be pretty when she got a bit older. The fat was truly gone now, hard training and military chow making her lean. “Thanks, Osc…Keystone,” she said. “Kind of wish my mom could see me now.”

“Why’s that?”

“She was always…you know, she was just really religious. She never found out I was a Probe. Well, she probably did, but that was only after she thought I was dead. She was a megabitch. She’s probably glad to think I’m dead.”

“I know what you mean,” Britton said, thinking of his father.

“But now I’m doing good work, I’m helping out. I think if my mom could see that, it might…you know.”

“Change her mind about you.”

Downer nodded, her voice grew pensive. “She never thought much of me. Used to call me her ‘little piggie.’ Mostly I think she was mad because I never took to church the way she wanted me to.”

“It was like that for me, too.”

“Your mom?”

“My dad. He was a real piece of work. He was pretty religious, too, and he never liked me.”

“Does he think you’re dead?”

Britton waved a hand at the concrete barricade wall, hidden in the shadows beyond the rows of tents and converted trailers. “He’s out there somewhere, probably in some monster’s belly.” He remembered Stanley’s wide eyes as he looked beyond the gate, the keening of the approaching demon-horses. His poor mother. Where was she now? I never got to say I was sorry to her, either.

“You gated him out here?”

He nodded. “In front of my mom. Right before I ran.”

She was silent for a moment. “Well, it’s all behind you now,” she said. “You got a presidential pardon, same as me. Harlequin says we’re all legal now. Totally in compliance.”