Chương 135: Chapter 134 – Shake-up

Cole tried to see Bricker as soon as he got back to Earth, only to be stonewalled by Ms. Mary.

"Eighteen hours down. Non-negotiable. Rest, Mr. Colton," she said. Cole glanced at the door behind her, where Bricker had his phone glued to his ear. Despite it being 2100 hours by the time their armaments and kit were checked back into the armory.

"But there's information he needs. While it's fresh." Ms. Mary shook her head.

"The downtime isn't just for you. It's to put some distance between what happened on the mission. To let the situation—and hot tempers—cool down. Mission footage needs to be reviewed. Director Bricker and his superiors need to be on the same page before the conversation you want to have." Cole bit his lower lip.

"Eighteen hours," he said.

"Eighteen hours." Cole left the top floor of Lewis Hall and returned to the billets. He was dog tired, drained, angry, guilt-ridden, and a host of other conflicting emotions. Maybe there was something to Ms. Mary's insistence. The constant fight-or-flight adrenaline surge of offworld missions always came calling once the enhancements wore off. Maybe having boosted intelligence made things easier to rationalize or process, or did something someone smarter could explain.

Compounded with losing the super-human strength and stamina, Cole could count on one hand the number of times he'd been more exhausted, and have a few fingers left over. Even a three-day-no-sleep convoy across the desert in full battle rattle didn't make the list. He stepped into his shower and let the water scour him, washing away enough layers of dried sweat and dirt to clog an industrial drain and then fell into bed. He blinked, and suddenly the sun was up and someone was knocking on his door.

It didn't sound like Roxy's staccato lunch-time summons. It almost sounded timid. He reached for his watch and checked the time. Eighteen hours, on the dot. Cole pulled himself out of bed, sore in more than a few places. Where the Arrowhead bug had tried to skewer him through his ballistic plate, he had a massive black and blue bruise. The thing had hit him at least as hard as a 5. 45 round. He touched it and winced. The rib underneath was definitely bruised as well. Maybe even a hairline.

It hurt when he breathed in fully and hurt more when he pushed himself off the bed and pulled on a fresh uniform. He'd have to swing by medical later. He pulled open the door to see one of the administrative aides from the first floor of Lewis Hall looking up at him.

"Sorry to bother you," she said.

"But the Director told me you'd want me to knock at exactly 1500 hours, and not to stop until you opened the door."

"I take it he wants to see me, now," said Cole.

"Got it in one, sir," she said, smiling awkwardly.

"Do you, um, need me to take you up?" Cole laughed, then groaned and put a hand to his rib.

"Not necessary. Thanks for the wake-up call…"

"Marcella," she said, fidgeting and trying to fight a smile.

"See you around, Mr. Colton."

"See you, Marcella," he said. Of course, she descended the billet stairs ahead of them and fell into step beside him, cheeks and ears growing red.

"I, uh, need to go back to Lewis Hall too, actually." She ran her hands across her cheeks and groaned.

"Please kill me. This is too awkward." This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Cole glanced down.

"It's only as awkward as you're making it," he said.

"That's not helping," Marcella muttered. Somehow, they made it back to Lewis Hall without Marcella dying of embarrassment and she made such a quick exit back to the administrative wing that Cole thought she might burn a hole in the carpet. He shook his head and headed for the elevator. Ms. Mary wasn't in the office, this time. Bricker had the door open and spotted him the moment he stepped into the antechamber, waving him in.

"Cole," said Bricker.

"Have a seat. Coffee?" Cole entered the room.

"I'll help myself, sir," he said, pouring himself a Styrofoam cup full. He hefted the pot.

"Need a top-up?" Director Bricker held up a faded mug with an Army logo and the old motto, BE ALL THAT YOU CAN BE, stenciled on the bottom. Or, at least it had probably once said that, but the YOU CAN BE had long-faded, leaving only BE ALL THAT. Cole tipped the pot and topped him off before sitting down. Bricker, uncharacteristically, slapped his face with both hands and groaned for a moment before sitting up and regaining his composure.

"What. A. Cluster," he said, shaking his head.

"There was so much we didn't know about Hexighast. We had no idea that Hextant was actively flooding the planet. Or that there were praying mantises that could slice through automotive steel, bots that gained levels like native otherworlders, or that there was a fleet of level five-hundred dreadnaughts—one of which was headed for your AO."

"Or that the rescue had been copied like a movie on a portable hard drive." Bricker held up his hand.

"One crisis at a time, please." He rubbed his chin and took a sip from his coffee, and Cole couldn't tell if it was a sigh of appreciation or a gasp of relief that came after it.

"Hexighast has been retroactively reclassified from Risk Index Two to Risk Index Four, based on the challenges your team observed and somehow survived. Congratulations, Cole. You're punching way above your weight, here." Cole absently rubbed at his ribs.

"Really? Because I made a mess of things. I went off-mission. It got another Kicker killed. I was expecting… well, I'm not sure what I was expecting. NJP, maybe."

"Don't forget the part where you handed a sixteen year old kid the keys to a fleet of warships and god-like control over the local Lewis Field. Or Hodges-Bridger Layer, as they called it." Ah, there's that, too. Bricker drummed the top of his desk.

"What happened to Deadlight was a disaster. I won't bullshit you about that. And it's going to have far-reaching consequences for the Department. Deadlight was one of our most senior Kickers. He'd been at it for almost nine years. Would have been nine in October. That's twice as long, on average, as most Kickers careers. When a fixture like him is displaced…" The Director sighed.

"It makes ripples. Scratch that, it makes tidal waves."

"Going to make some people question if this is worth it," said Cole. It wasn't a question, but Bricker nodded anyway.

"Yes, that's right. Some senior Kickers will be turning in discharge petitions. One has already submitted a request for hiatus. Others might come back from hiatus, hoping to fill the hole Deadlight has left. But their decisions—and Deadlight's—are not something I blame on you. Not just anyone is allowed to be a Kicker team lead. You get that, right?" Cole raised an eyebrow.

"I thought I was voted in by the team." Director Bricker leaned back and laced his fingers together.

"That was part of it, yes. I've mentioned it before, but it's critical on a conceptual level that Kickers pick their teams and their missions. We try to force it and it starts to interfere with the enhancement leveling process. That doesn't mean I have to approve those teams or allow them off-world. I approved you to lead an off-world team of novices because I had faith in your ability to assess a situation and make decisions. Maybe they won't always be the right decisions or the choice I would have made."

He raised an eyebrow at that.

"And mind you, those two things aren't always the same, even from the big chair up here. But your judgment has proved to be sound beyond your years. Even in this instance." Bricker stood up, walking to the opposite wall and putting his hand on the top of the display case that carried his saber and arquebus from Curahee before continuing.

"Kicker team leads are the final authority on any and all orders given during missions. It doesn't matter what your original objective was. Doesn't matter what FRAGO comes down the line. Sometimes you'll knowingly give orders that might lead to the deaths of your subordinates. If you say it needed to happen, then it needed to happen. And in this case, what needed to happen was the preservation of an advanced culture with values similar to our own."

"Alexa said something similar. Said that Hexighast could possibly become the next Curahee."

"It's more than just that, though another world sympathetic to Earth interests— if Eliot Werner does remain sympathetic to Earth interests, given his condition—is a rare thing." Bricker turned away from his display case.

"Cole, are you familiar with Operation Paperclip?"