Incursion

Chapter 19: Wake

Genel “Archer” Martinez was assisting the civilians onto the back of one of the transport trucks with Chief Warrant Officer Angela King when Joshua started barking over Shadow Team’s private team channel to both Christina and Ian.

Despite Joshua’s repeated hails, neither responded.

Genel helped the last civilian on board the back of the truck before speaking to King, who was just starting toward where the Light Utility Vehicle was parked in front of the main entrance beside the ER entrance.

“King, Ian— Knight isn’t responding,” Genel reported to her. “I’m going back in to find him.”

The hardened Canadian Special Forces soldier glanced at her, to the trucks, then back at the sharpshooter. “He just told me to go on ahead and evac ahead of the rest of your team. Enemy reinforcements will be here any second. We need to leave now.”

“Then go. Take care of the prisoners. Sergeant Burke and his colleagues will know which route to take back.”

“Archer, this is the Grim Reaper we’re talking—”

“I don’t give a damn. I’m going. You guys go.”

Without waiting for further responses, Genel turned on her heel and took off at a sprint toward the ER entrance again, ignoring King’s calls for her to return.

As Genel rushed through the hallways that were previously cleared by her and CSOR, she felt her stomach sinking somehow.

She swiped and tapped at her TACPAD, ensuring that she was currently on Shadow Team’s channel, then tapped her earpiece and pressed it firmly against her ear without slowing down.

“Knight, it’s Archer. Come in. Knight, respond!”

No response.

“Goliath, where are you?”

Joshua’s reply was immediate by comparison. In the background, Genel heard the distinctive rattle of his assault rifle. “North entrance. Some Army stragglers have showed up. I’m trying to get to Knight.”

“I’m on my way to get him. Where was he last headed?”

“He and Angel were pushing to Laboratory Services. He said they were on their way back to me but if they were, they’d be here by now.”

“Okay, heading there.”

Using her knowledge of the layout of the building’s first floor, Genel managed to circumvent several areas of the hospital that were inaccessible to the public. Passing through those areas would have saved her precious seconds, but she couldn’t afford to be slowed down by electronic locks.

The entire mad rush to the other side of the hospital, she kept trying to raise the other two Shadow members when she wasn’t occupied with fighting through the occasional US Army soldier or two.

“Knight, come in. It’s Archer. Respond.”

“Archer to Angel. Are you there? Come on, answer me!”

“Archer to Knight and Angel. I’m en route to Laboratory Services. If you can hear me, either of you, respond!”

Each second of radio silence from both Christina and Ian made Genel’s mind wander to all manner of possibilities she wished she didn’t have the imagination to consider. Ian was unruly and reckless at times, but maybe he was right about one thing: she did worry a lot.

Still, pain in the ass or not, Genel knew that Ian understood deep down why she worried the way she did. It was like breathing to Genel – the only way she’d stop worrying about her friend was if he quit being a Sector operative and led a relatively normal life. Unfortunately, Ian was dead set on walking the dangerous path of an agent.

Ian. Your earpiece better be busted, you stupid bastard.

You better not be—

She didn’t care to finish that thought, suppressing the last word forcibly for fear that merely thinking it would make her worries a reality.

Genel’s journey to Laboratory Services took just shy of what she felt were the longest five minutes of her life. She shouldered some double doors riddled with several bullet holes and stumbled into the waiting room, practically almost falling forward into the Laboratory Services department and breathing raggedly.

At first glance the area was empty and looked unimportant, but as she strode over to the middle of the room where the plastic benches were, she noticed several casings laying beside the seats. She didn’t have to bend down to ascertain that they were casings of 45 ACPs. Her certainty was only compounded by the presence of a discarded Vector SBR lying on the floor not far from the casings.

Genel jogged over to the weapon, intending to pick it up and inspect it for clues, but when her eyes caught a motionless figure sprawled on its back beside the corridor leading east toward Parking Services, her heart stopped for a second.

On his back, unconscious and with a knife protruding out from his chest, was Ian. Genel rushed over to the team leader and her oldest friend, tossing her marksman rifle onto the floor. A foreboding tightness came over her chest as she fought not to scream, fought not to lose her head.

“Josh,” she spoke shakily over the team channel, forgetting entirely to address using callsigns. “Shit, Josh—”

“Archer, what’s the matter? Did you find them?”

“Yes… he… Ian’s down. God, Josh… he’s down! I don’t know what—”

I’m slipping.

“Archer? Archer, listen to me. I’m at the north lobby. The LUV is parked in front of—”

Genel took strained, choking breaths. She couldn’t think straight, and everything felt simultaneously real and not real. It was something she had struggled with in training. Her mentor in the Sector had recommended that she go to counselling for suspected panic attacks early during her induction to the organization, but even when she had gone the issue was never permanently resolved.

“What do I do? Josh, I don’t… I don’t know— What should I do?”

“Genel, be quiet a second. Can you do that?”

Joshua’s firm, authoritative voice somehow reached through the fog swathing her mind. Genel fought with all her might to hang on to that pocket of sanity.

“I—Yeah. I’m sor—”

“Save it. We’re nearly out of time. Listen carefully. Is Ian alive?”

“Alive—?” Genel’s mind was still drawing blanks. She remembered this feeling being much like the one she felt during that one March morning nearly four years ago now, when she found out that her two best friends were either dead or dying.

It took her a precious four or five seconds to regain enough of her senses to take her glove off and place two of her trembling fingers to Ian’s neck in search of his carotid artery. It took her even more time to understand the presence of a beating sensation at her fingertips because of how badly she was shaking from the dread that there would be no pulsing whatsoever to be found.

Ian’s pulse was slightly rapid, but after a moment Genel allowed herself to believe that it was there. She let out a sigh of immense relief before answering Joshua, feeling lightheaded.

“He’s got a pulse,” she reported, her throating hurting and raw even though she hadn’t done any screaming.

“Good,” Joshua said, his tone softening a little. “Of course he does. Can you get him here to me?”

“I… can’t. He’s too heavy for me.”

“Okay. Then I’ll be right there to haul him out. Just cover us on the way back. Enemy reinforcements should already be on site. We have to do this fast.”

“Okay. Okay, Josh. Please hurry.”

“As fast as I can, Genel. Hold tight.”

The channel went quiet. By then, Genel had calmed down enough to allow her the opportunity to glance around at the waiting room. There was a small puddle of blood about three metres away, toward the middle of the room, practically right beside the fallen submachine gun. Genel glanced around at the room twice, then thrice.

Christina wasn’t here. Where did she go? Had she left Ian for dead?

No. Genel shook her head vigorously. Chrissy wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t leave Ian here if she had that choice.

She wasn’t sure how long it was exactly before the doors leading north toward Outpatient Services flew open. Because of her still admittedly wracked nerves, Genel snatched up her marksman rifle and reflexively aimed it at the newcomer with her finger on the trigger before making the critical distinction that it was Joshua who had come in.

“Friendly!” Joshua said, freezing a second when Genel trained her rifle at him.

Genel lowered her weapon, nearly dropping it entirely. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”

Joshua rushed over to her side, gave the unconscious Shadow leader a quick look-over, and immediately proceeded to pick up the other agent. Joshua put one of his arms around Ian’s back, then draped one of Ian’s arms across his shoulders and hoisted him to his feet.

“Come on, you’ve got point,” Joshua said briskly, jerking his head toward the door he’d come through.

Genel took the lead back the way Joshua had come, thankful to have gotten back enough of her wits to check each turn and corner, each open door for hostiles. Every now and again, she glanced behind her to see Joshua fortunately keeping pace, holding Ian up as he followed her only a few steps behind.

No enemies came to greet them on their way out, although by the time Genel, Josh, and Ian had exited through the north entrance, there were four US Army approaching from the eastern side of the hospital.

“Clear them out!” Joshua yelled as he hobbled Ian behind a cement pillar to protect him from a barrage of M4 fire from the enemy soldiers.

Genel took cover behind another pillar and spent twenty seconds picking the unwanted attention off one by one with her G28 rifle. Once all four hostiles were down, Genel shouted the all-clear. Joshua then brought Ian to the LUV parked right at the entrance and with Genel’s help loaded the unconscious Shadow in the back seat. Genel got in beside Ian, putting her arms around him as more rounds pinged noisily off the LUV’s rear chassis. She placed Ian’s cheek to her chest and her chin on the top of his head as she held him closely, instinctively trying to shield him even though she knew standard M4 rounds wouldn’t penetrate the truck.

“Josh—” Genel said hoarsely, but Joshua was already behind the wheel and putting his foot on the gas. The vehicle lurched forward abruptly, zooming out of the loading and unloading area in front of the north entrance, mounting a sidewalk on two wheels before zooming wildly onto 36th Street and heading north before Joshua made a hard right onto 32nd Avenue.

Despite the loud churning of the powerful wheels beneath them as Joshua drove well past eighty kilometres an hour to put as much distance between them and the hospital as quickly as possible, Genel found the first couple of minutes of their escape rather quiet. Still, even though they were relatively safer than just minutes previously, she kept the side of Ian’s face to her vest and her lips to his hair, holding him as tightly as she could for fear that he might slip away somehow.

It wasn’t until a minute or two later when the LUV was flying south down 68th Street, about three and a half kilometres away from Peter Lougheed, did Joshua glance behind his seat and ask.

“How is he?”

Genel reached up to stroke Ian’s hair. Part of her was numb, while the other was trying to decide if it was relieved or anxious. She hesitated before succumbing to her temptation; she lifted Ian’s watch cap a little and placed her lips momentarily against Ian’s sweat-coated forehead.

“He’s going to be fine,” Genel said more to herself than anyone else.

Joshua gave a nod from the driver’s seat and tapped his earpiece with one finger. “Goliath to rescue team. We’ve got Knight and we’re on our way back. How are things on your end?”

The voice of CWO King responded over the comms. “That’s… a relief. We’re en route back to base, too, but—”

“But what?”

King paused for a second. Genel was still too preoccupied with Ian to notice the shift in the CSOR operative’s tone. When King informed the Shadows about what had happened, Genel took a while to understand what she had said.





I was aware of the chatter of people around me before I was aware of the stiffness in my neck and jaw and the sharp pains somewhere over my torso. I tried shifting my body where I lay. The slightest movement was enough to trigger waves of pain exploding over my chest and abdomen. It felt like I was being stabbed in a couple of places.

When I finally opened my eyes, I found myself lying in a bed far smaller than mine, with what looked like a second mattress hanging above me. A couple sideways glances – harder to do than normal with the condition my neck was in – showed me about six or so people in CADPAT fatigues going about their duties: taking stock of supplies, monitoring communications over by a computer station, and tending to a couple of bedridden colleagues in other bunks.

What am I doing back here in the rec centre? Wasn’t I—

I took a second to search my memories for the latest one, quickly bringing me back to Peter Lougheed Centre. The op was going well enough. The rescue team had secured the civilians and were about to start evacuation. I was on my way back to the infil point when—

We were ambushed by Northstar operatives.

The memory spurred me to prop myself up on my elbows in bed. The minute effort alone was enough to make me wince and grunt as the same stabbing, almost tearing sensations radiated over my chest and stomach.

I lifted the thin military blanket off me to look down at myself. Even more of my torso was swathed in bandages than I remembered. It looked like my abdominal dressing had been changed recently, and even the gunshot wound to my right pectoral seemed to hurt more than normal.

A Canadian Army soldier noticed me awaken. The young soldier who looked no older than eighteen or nineteen walked over to me from where he was sitting two bunks over to my right.

“Are you feeling all right, sir? It’s Knight, right?”

“Yes,” I said, feeling mildly groggy. “What happened? How did the rescue operation go?”

The soldier’s slightly bright expression turned to slight concern. When he didn’t answer right away, I lowered my eyes to his name stitched above the pocket of his shirt: E. Diaz. The patch on his shoulder told me he was a private.

“Private? Is everyone back?”

His eyes darted to the office of his commanding officer warily.

“I’ll get the CO,” was all he said before scurrying off in the direction of Burke’s office.

I followed him with my eyes as he approached the door, knocked, and peered inside. After a few seconds, the private backed away from the door as it swung open and out came another soldier dressed in similar fatigues.

It wasn’t Burke.

The man who came up to me was a bit shorter and younger than the sergeant. He had short, cropped brown hair and dark brown eyes. Compared to the sergeant who was reasonably well-built, this soldier was leaner by comparison, as if he hadn’t eaten well in a while. Before he came up to my bed, I recognized him as the soldier who was the first to confront Genel when we first made contact with the 41 CBGs last week.

The soldier regarded me with a weary gaze when he stopped next to the bunk. “Master Corporal Lane, sir. It’s good that you’re still with us.”

“Still with— Where’s Sergeant Burke?” I sat up, braving the pain from simply moving that much.

The master corporal’s eyes fell, confirming the budding suspicion in my gut.

“Sergeant Burke was killed in action, sir.”

What?

I couldn’t offer anything to say to that. I wished I could, but if this was true, nothing I could say would change anything.

Lane ran a palm over his face exhaustedly. He stared at me as if just doing that was tiring enough.

“You’re welcome to recover here as long as you need,” he told me. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Where’s the rest of my team? Where are the Special Forces personnel?”

“I’ll go get them.”

“Yes, please.”

“Wait here.”

Lane left my side and vanished past the door that led to the staircase. When he had gone, I lifted my wrist to check my TACPAD for the time.

21:14.

It wasn’t long before someone came back for me. His gargantuan bulk strode over to me with none of the usual sunny demeanour. He looked somber, further cementing what Master Corporal Lane had just told me.

“Good to see you back with us,” Josh said, sitting down on the next bunk.

“The sergeant, Burke. I heard he’s—”

Josh nodded twice almost lethargically. “We weren’t there when it happened. He got shot trying to defend one of the trucks from one of those mercs. We… lost him and the civilians on board that one truck. Only twenty prisoners made it here. There were supposed to be forty-three.”

I let the news wash over me like icy water. We’d lost over half the civilians we intended to rescue. We’d lost Sergeant Burke, who died trying to fend off Northstar.

“Genel?” I asked Josh, keeping my voice low.

Josh sighed discreetly, looking away. “She’s upstairs. We don’t have Burke’s body with us. But she said that Burke was her—”

“—boyfriend,” I finished for him. I hadn’t known the sergeant long or well, but I knew how he felt about Genel even after everything that had happened.

“Yeah.”

“Is she okay?”

“Physically.”

I bowed my head, then remembered something else. I lifted my face again quickly, causing more pain to erupt further down my neck from the sudden movement.

“Where’s Angel? Is she—?”

My stomach sank when Josh shook his head. “We couldn’t find her when we pulled you out of there. The US Army had reinforcements on site, and we couldn’t afford to stay.”

“But is she—”

“No, I don’t know if she’s dead, Ian. We didn’t see a body.”

I slowly hung my head again, feeling my face burning. I squeezed my fingertips into my palms.

I kicked the blankets off and swung my legs over the side of the bed. Pain again exploded from my stomach, chest, and neck, but I managed to ignore it.

Josh got off his seat and put his hands on my shoulders gently. “Whoa, hey. Where are you going?”

“Out of this bunk, where I can be useful.”

“You need to rest. You shouldn’t be up.”

“I’m fine, Josh,” I said through gritted teeth, pushing back against his hands that were trying to keep me in bed.

“All due respect, boss, you’re really not,” Josh countered, visibly concerned. “We had to yank a knife out of your chest when we got you here. If it wasn’t for your vest and what clothing you had on, it may well have poked a hole in your lung. Your jaw’s swollen and I’m amazed you can even talk like normal. You had an existing wound on your stomach that opened up and Reid had to stitch it up. You were bleeding a lot.”

I placed a hand over the bandages on my abdomen. My knife wound must have reopened from being punched there. Now that I was able to test it, my jaw did feel sore. The back of my head felt like it was being drilled by a jackhammer. The wound on my chest stung with every movement involving my torso.

Still, I was alive. I couldn’t stop.

I pushed back harder against Josh, knocking his hands away with a wave of my arm. Even though I felt battered all over, that pain was nothing compared to that familiar corrosive, burning sensation that had nothing to do with my stab wound eating away at me from the pit of my stomach.

“Are you listening to me?” Josh asked frustratedly, applying more force to keep me from standing up. “You need rest, okay?”

“What I need is to find Christina now. She’s… If Northstar took her, I need to get to her.”

“Ian, you can’t go in your condition, goddamn it!”

“This is nothing,” I tried to assure him, managing to get my butt off the mattress. Pain shot across my body once I got to my feet, causing me to stagger sideways and grab the bunk’s frame to steady myself. “I’ve been worse, trust me.”

“Like hell.” Josh straightened up, grabbing me by the waist to support me while I tried to stabilize myself against the bed. “You can barely stay upright.”

“That doesn’t matter. I need to find her. Just get my gear.”

“Boss, you don’t even know where she is.”

“CFB Calgary. That’s where Christina met that Northstar merc. I’ll start there, and if she isn’t there, there should at least be a clue about where they’ve taken her.”

“You’re not waltzing in there like this.”

“I have to try,” I hissed angrily, using one hand to shove at Josh, but he was much too large and holding onto me too firmly to be pushed back.

They’re going to carve her up just like those dead agents, Ian. What are you going to do?

No, I can still get to her. There’s still time…

You’re weak. You’ve always been. If you were better, all the civilians would have made it here. Burke would still be here. Christina wouldn’t have been taken away.

Erin would still be alive.

“Josh.” I placed my forehead against the bedframe, turning my face away from the man propping me up. I hated having to beg, but I didn’t know how else to ask him. “Let me go. Please.”

“I’m sorry, but negative on that order. I can’t do that, Knight.”

I beat the heel of my fist against one of the columns holding up the upper bunk. After a moment, I took a deep breath that slightly calmed down enough for me to stop fighting Josh.

Taking my forehead off the steel bunk’s frame, I finally glanced back at Josh.

“Fine. Can you at least take me to see Genel?”

Josh looked at me with what looked like genuine sadness for our mutual friend. His eyes fell and he looked away for a second.

“Okay, boss,” he replied after giving it some thought. “Put some clothes on.”

Josh reached down to the foot of the bed I’d been laying in and handed me my sweater, which had a noticeable hole in it from where the knife had pierced it. I pulled it on with a little difficulty, ignoring my aches and pains, and let Josh drape my arm over his shoulders.

Without a word, Josh assisted me out of the 41 CBGs’ floor, up the staircase, and out into the first floor of the Copperfield | Mahogany Association Centre.

When we emerged from the stairwell, a soldier leaning against the receptionist’s desk turned her head and glanced at us. She strode briskly toward me and Josh right away.

“You’re up,” Angela King said with clear relief in her expression, putting a hand on my arm for a second.

“I heard what happened,” I mumbled, almost afraid to have events confirmed a second time.

King’s relief rapidly turned to lamentation. “Yeah. We lost one truck and the prisoners loaded in that one. My team… we tried to hold them off, but there were too many closing in after Northstar stepped in. Sergeant Burke was the only one handling the one truck and he… he took a round. There was no time and we had to decide to save who we could.”

I nodded, my head feeling heavy.

“Shaking the pursuers was a challenge, but we managed,” King continued, her sombreness almost overpowering.

I nodded a second time. “Where’s Archer? I need to see her.”

King pointed to the hallway that Christina took me down only three days ago. “She’s down there. She said she wanted some time alone.”

“Thanks,” I said, nearly whispering. Josh turned me in that direction and continued to support me as we made our way to Genel.

We eventually found her in the same small conference room where Christina treated my previous wounds. I saw through the glass window beside the door that Genel was sitting with he back to the door, slumped over the table and her face buried in her arms.

I stared at her through the glass, almost unable to bring myself to face her. I swallowed nervously, for the moment forgetting entirely about how battered I felt.

I wasn’t sure yet what to even say, but I had to try for her sake.

“Josh.”

“Yeah?”

“Give us a moment. I have to… I need—”

“I get it. Can you stand?”

“Yes. I’ll manage.”

Josh slowly let go of me, gauging if I could stand without his help. I found it possible as long as I moved stiffly and slowly enough.

Once he was sure I wasn’t going to topple over, Josh gave me a small nod, then turned around and walked back in the direction of reception.

I stood there silently with my hand on the doorknob for what felt like minutes. After berating myself for my hesitation, I turned the knob and pulled the door outward.

The door wasn’t even fully opened when Genel shot up like a jack-in-the-box from her seat. I still couldn’t see her face because she had her back to me, but I didn’t need to. Her watery voice and the way she hastily rubbed her forearms across her face before turning around were indication enough of how she was feeling.

“Yeah, Josh, I’m fine. I’m—”

She froze when she saw me. I entered the room and closed the door behind me.

“Not Josh,” I said as the door clicked shut.

Genel’s eyes were red and swollen. If I looked hard enough, I could see the wet streaks that had made marks on her face. Despite this, she cleared her throat and eventually forced a smile that I knew she knew wouldn’t fool me for a second.

“Ian, hey. You’re finally awake.”

The two of us stared at each other in silence for a few moments. I wanted to break it as soon as I could but seeing the hurt in her eyes – something that her smile did nothing to mask – rendered me unable to say anything for a while. What could I even say to her?

“I’m sorry… about the sergeant.”

I hated that that was the extent of what I could say. For a second, I questioned if I was better off not saying anything.

Genel nodded twice very slowly, during which her smile crumbled when the uncontrollable trembling of her lips and the resurgence of moisture in her eyes overtook her. Within a blink, Genel devolved to quiet weeping in front of me, her head bowed in an effort to hide her falling tears.

I limped over to her and gently pulled her to me. One of her arms hooked under my shoulder and her fingers clawed at my shoulder. She buried her face in my chest as I held her closely and listened to her bawl and sob against my sweater.

This was all I could do.





Lieutenant-Colonel Steven Baker stepped out of the armoured personnel carrier after hearing back from his subordinate officer that the Peter Lougheed Centre was indeed secure. Baker bristled at the word “secure”, finding the word ill-fitting to attribute to the hospital in light of what had transpired the previous evening.

In the early, still-dark hours of January 8th, 2021, the lieutenant-colonel trudged up the path from the southern parking lot to make his way over to the lobby, where short of a dozen of his men were busy bringing body bags containing their fallen close to the doors for ease of transporting them out later on. The deceased would have to be flown back to the States later on; it was only fitting that every soldier be laid to rest in their home country.

Baler stopped in the middle of the lobby, looking around him at the seemingly hundreds of body bags lined up along either side of him. They appeared more numerous to him than they actually were, but to him he felt like he really did lose more of his men. After a moment, he approached a young specialist who was consulting a clipboard of what the lieutenant-colonel assumed was a list of the names of the men killed in action.

“Specialist,” he said curtly to the young man who looked as though he’d just come of age.

The enlisted man looked up from his clipboard, a hasty look of recognition passing across his features. He dropped the clipboard to his thigh and snapped to attention, bringing his free right hand up to his temple.

“Lieutenant-Colonel, sir!”

“As you were.” Baker returned the salute, believing in the importance of discipline even during this time. “How many, Specialist?”

The soldier relaxed his posture slightly, lifting the clipboard to read off it for a second before answering.

“Thirty-eight casualties, sir.”

“Wounded?”

“Zero, sir.”

Baker internally marveled at the report numbers with mostly bitterness and contained fury, but also slight wonder.

“All right. Keep record of everyone we’ve lost. Their families deserve to know.”

“Yes, sir.”

Baker nodded grimly, leaving the specialist to his dour duties. He walked past the bodies of the fallen, heading deeper into the hospital. The further he was from where he entered, the quieter his surroundings seemed to become.

Eventually, Baker happened upon a closed coffee shop near the western entrance of the hospital. This area, unlike others he’d passed, appeared comparably immaculate in that the floor was clear of spent casings and or gore.

He gazed almost idly at the darkened café interior, his eyes settling on the lifeless coffee brewers and the pockets of assorted pastries still on display inside a glass case on top of the counter. Seeing such everyday things brought him thoughts of home. It felt too far from where he now stood.

His reminiscing didn’t last long. He had even more soldiers to bury. Part of being a military officer meant doing one’s best to ensure that the lives one paid in service to their country were not paid in vain. Were the lives he’d paid tonight necessary losses? Something in Baker instinctively answered with a no. If he was being truly honest with himself, that answer was obvious.

Tonight’s events racked up the casualties of US Army soldiers under his command in the city to over one hundred. The brazen attack by unknown forces on the collection point in the Calgary Stampede before the New Year was bad enough, but the subsequent assaults on the South Health Campus and the Peter Lougheed Centre added more dead to the pile. Moreover, his second-in-command, Bradley Steele, had been MIA for a week now. It felt like the situation was rapidly deteriorating all around Baker.

As if he’d been woken from sleep, Baker twitched abruptly and took the radio dangling from his belt and keyed in the frequency to that mercenary company’s headquarters. He was told by the top brass not to contact anyone from that company unless he had an emergency, but to Baker, one hundred dead constituted a suitable reason to call.

He waited for the transmission to go through, not knowing if it even would. Just as he was about to cancel the call after ten seconds of trying to reach the other end with no one answering, there was a crackle on the radio and a gravelly voice spoke to him first.

“Northstar Security Solutions,” the man on the other end said. “Who is this?”

“This is Lieutenant-Colonel Steven Baker of the United States Army.”

The voice on the other end seemed to pause, as if the owner hadn’t accounted for being called directly by anyone under the rank of general or admiral. After the pause, the man said: “Lieutenant-Colonel Baker. How may I help?”

“I’m told one of your mercenaries is within my city of jurisdiction. Is there any way I can make a request of them?”

“Unfortunately, we don’t honour ‘requests’ without prior indication on a written contract.”

Baker squeezed the radio in his fist. “This is part of the contract, damn you. Your operatives are supposed to be supporting us! So far, your representative has not been keeping your end of the bargain!”

The Northstar employee fell silent once more. Baker took this opportunity to assert himself further.

“What is your name, soldier?” Baker demanded.

“You can call me Lancer.”

“Lancer?” the officer echoed. Just what sort of name was that, anyway? Soldiers deserved the respect of being allowed their real names.

“That’s correct.”

“All right, Lancer. As I understand, your mercenaries should be supporting our troops in neutralizing local threats. Am I right?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“There appears to be some misunderstanding, then. Just last night another one of our outposts was attacked by a hostile force, killing three dozen of my men. The viability of the outpost as a base is also now questionable. How is it that you greedy bastards seem incapable of doing what the government is paying you for?”

Lancer did not sound fazed by the Army officer’s sharp criticism.

“Understand, Lieutenant-Colonel,” Lancer answered with unflappable calm that infuriated Baker to hear, “that we are merely your support. We don’t have the available resources or manpower available to the United States military. Which city is your jurisdiction?”

“Calgary. Calgary, Alberta.”

“We currently have three operators within that city. Hardly the numbers to deploy to actively respond to every abrupt pocket of resistance.”

“Then increase your numbers!”

“I’m afraid that is not within my power to decide. I am merely a coordinator between the operators of the different cities. Much of our bulk is, as you know, tasked with security back home.”

“Then tell your superiors!” Baker roared into the radio, his frustration with the unhelpful mercenary boiling over. “Don’t sit there and tell me there’s absolutely nothing you can do to help!”

“We’re doing what we can. We sent one of our best there only two days ago.”

“One? That’s it?”

“I believe Frederic Hayden would say that one is enough.”

At the mention of that name, Baker faltered slightly. Anyone who’d picked up a newspaper or scientific journal in the last few years would have heard of that man to some degree.

“You mean,” Baker said slowly, his eyebrows knitting together as his speculation began to form, “You sent one of them?”

Lancer allowed a couple of seconds for a pause before replying. “Yes. One of our best.”

“I… see.”

Baker was glad for the substantial backup, though he was still fuming at his loss of steam in the conversation.

“Do you have any idea who is causing us much trouble here?” he asked after gathering a train of thought. “I refuse to believe it’s some ragtag militia made up of civilian volunteers. We’re not incompetent.”

“We’re still investigating that, Lieutenant-Colonel. One of our operatives is planning to capture and interrogate any rebels he can. I will inform him to share information with you.”

“That’s appreciated, but not enough.”

Lancer did not respond. Baker took his silence as a prompt for elaboration.

“I want to make an example of any rebels you capture,” the officer said.

“What do you mean?”

“Any rebels your representative manages to catch, I want them brought to me.”

Lancer seemed taken aback at this, if Baker’s interpretation of the man’s three-second bout of silence was any indication.

“Ever since the disappearance of one of my lieutenants, and the attack on the second and outpost a couple of days ago, morale among my forces has been declining. It’s far from a big issue right now, but if this keeps up, it will be soon enough,” Baker humoured the mercenary on his line of thought. “They’re understandably on edge, wondering when and where they’ll be attacked next. We can’t have a faceless enemy. I’m sure you understand that.”

“I do. Say we capture one of your enemies. What will you do then?”

Baker failed to fathom how that was of any concern to the soldier of fortune he was speaking to, but he answered the question anyway.

“My men will want justice for the comrades they’ve lost. I want to give them a face with which to associate their losses. And I want to send a message to the anyone else working against us – we will hunt them down, too.”

“An execution, Lieutenant-Colonel?”

“Public. Our enemy isn’t untouchable. I want to remind my men of that.”

“Understandable. I’ll speak to my representative in Calgary about your proposition. This doesn’t go against anything previously agreed upon in the contract, so we’ll just consider it a favour between allies.”

“I appreciate that,” Baker said, some of the weight leaving his mind, however slight. “I’ll keep my radio with me at all times. Can you update me soon?”

“Understood. I’ll be in touch.” Lancer paused one more time, as if to hesitate in saying something else before deciding to forego saying it. “Will that be all?”

“For now, yes. I expect progress within this week, Lancer.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Lieutenant-Colonel Baker. I’ll speak to you again soon. Lancer out.”

The transmission ceased and the military radio fell silent. Baker was about to reattach it to his hip when the radio crackled again, and a different voice came through.

“Lieutenant-Colonel, this is Captain Graham.”

Baker brought the radio close to his face again and depressed the send button on the side. “I read you, Captain. What have you got?”

“We’ve finished finalizing the data on the prisoners we have here so far. If there’s nothing else, this phase is complete.”

“Are we finally ready, then?”

“Yes, sir. Just need your approval.”

“You have permission to start disposal. You can begin as early as today.”

“Understood, sir. I’ll have our men start it today.”

“All right. Baker out.”

Baker lowered the radio and hung it on his hip, then retraced his steps to the southern entrance of the hospital.