Incursion

Chapter 28: Mend

Heimdall staggered into his temporary quarters, still holding the strip of cloth he’d cut out of his lower sleeve to stem the flow of blood pouring out of the wound on his abdomen. He’d briefly inspected the puncture when he had gotten clear of the enemy team, but even without a good look he knew it was serious wound if left untreated long.

His quarters were empty when he stumbled in, his laptop’s screen dark and lifeless on the table where he’d last left it earlier that morning. He reached underneath the table for his second rucksack and from it dug out his first aid kit.

For the next twenty minutes, he got to work cleaning the wound, stopping a bit of residual bleeding, and dressing the site of the stab. He also managed to extract the bullet lodged in him. After the whole treatment was done, he gauged his general condition. When all he felt was a slight dizziness from the blood he did lose, Heimdall concluded that he was fortunate that none of his vital organs had been damaged.

After he changed into a fresh set of uppers, Heimdall finally allowed himself to dwell on his second failure. He was normally quite placid, but today even he had to marvel at how much of what he’d done lately didn’t work the way he expected them to.

Hornet had ordered him to eliminate the mysterious team of which Christina Valentine was a member. Locating the team in particular was easy enough; as Hornet expected, they were drawn to the now defunct hideout. Eliminating the whole team proved much more problematic than Heimdall had been counting on.

At best, Heimdall had killed one of the targets, but even then he couldn’t be sure of that. While he was certainly aiming for a headshot on the larger of the two men, the shattering of the glass right in front of him had caused him to naturally jerk his rifle at the last moment. He hadn’t accounted for another sniper seeing him through that window he was looking out of, and had to duck out of sight before he could confirm if his one shot connected. He didn’t have the time to ascertain the enemy sniper’s position, either – he didn’t think it wise to present the enemy with a target in the hopes of pinpointing their position.

That was the second blunder since he had arrived. Heimdall pondered if he was the one lacking, or if those so-called ‘Clandestine Operations Sector’ operatives were simply on par with him and Northstar.

In any case, his mission wasn’t complete yet. He would need to go back out again, but he knew he would be handicapped in his current state. It would be better to rest at least until morning before continuing the hunt. He would need to update Hornet first before turning in for the night.

Heimdall gingerly picked himself up off the stool by the desk in his dimly lit quarters, intending to ascend to the top floor to find Hornet. He was stopped halfway out of the room by his personal data assistant vibrating and emitting a mixture of flat chime noises and bland beeps.

When he pulled the device out of his pocket, he glanced at the screen to confirm the caller’s identity. In dull green, blocky lettering, three words filled the popup box that dominated much of the screen:

Doctor Frederic Hayden

Heimdall’s back straightened almost instantly as though he’d received a sudden sharp address for an instructor. He gazed at the name for a few seconds, wondering why the doctor was calling him directly.

Of course, there was only choice to make. Heimdall swiped at the screen to receive the call through his linked earpiece.

“This is Heimdall.”

“Heimdall, it’s Doctor Hayden.” The deep, gravelly voice of Heimdall’s benefactor came clearly over the secure line. “Can you hear me all right?”

“Affirmative, Doctor. I hear you clearly. What can I do for you?”

“More the other way around, my boy. It’s been a few days since we dispatched you on that trial. I want to know how you’re doing. Any problems?”

“Problems?”

“Yes, that’s right. Performance issues. Physical and mental impairments. Anything to do with your augmentations.”

Heimdall took a brief moment to consider the question.

“Only one concern has surfaced, Doctor. My reaction times have gone askew once.”

“Gone askew, how?”

“I would describe it as the flow of time slowing considerably.”

“Hmm.” The doctor seemed to assess Heimdall’s answer with great patience. “That is an intended effect of your enhancements, Heimdall. If anything, that’s a benefit.”

“My apologies, Doctor. I meant to say that the phenomenon occurred spontaneously during a period of relative rest.”

This time, Hayden hummed with a bit more concern.

“Can you tell me what you were doing at the time this happened?” he asked the mercenary.

“I was sitting at a desk, attempting to breach the security of an enemy intelligence device.”

“Definitely a low-risk, low-impact activity, then.”

“That is correct.”

“And this occurred without warning? No stress triggers that you can think of that may have set it off?”

“None, Doctor.”

“I see. And you said this happened… when?”

Heimdall paused for half a second before replying. “This occurred earlier today. This morning, in fact, Doctor Hayden.”

“Have you had any rest since we deployed you there?”

“Minimal.”

“I am aware I explained to you before your departure that your augmentations should bestow you with increased resistance to fatigue, but do remember that I mentioned the procedure affects everyone differently. Keep that in mind. In no way have I ever told you to forego rest and sustenance.”

Heimdall bowed his head slightly. “Yes, Doctor. I will better from here on.”

“Do that, Heimdall. Your symptom of unwarranted perception acceleration is not unheard of. Others like you have reported similar instances of this phenomenon occurring without due stress.”

“Doctor?”

“Yes?”

“May I ask a question regarding the… ‘others’ you mentioned?”

“You may. As you know, however, depending on the question, I may or may not disclose an answer.”

“I understand. My question hopefully does not delve too deeply into them. These ‘others’ you spoke of… Did all of them report symptoms exactly like mine?”

“No,” the doctor answered promptly. “Some of them did. Others did not. As I said, the treatment affects everyone differently. Some cope better than others. It all depends on a slew of factors. Family history, for one. There’s also the presence of congenital conditions, the duration in which the patient spends in the augmentation process, and even their general mental state prior to the administration of the drugs. These are just a part of the list of factors that play into how LATCHKEY subjects like you develop post-augmentation.”

Heimdall listened quietly to the doctor’s response, hesitating momentarily at the end of it before eventually saying, “I do not… recall any of those things about myself, Doctor.”

Hayden paused a beat before replying. “Unfortunately, a foggy recall of those is a common side effect of the process, Heimdall. But as long as you’re fit and have no performance issues in the field, there is no need for serious concern.”

“All right. If that is the case, Doctor, I shall not worry too much.”

“You were provided with stabilizer drugs for this kind of scenario, weren’t you?”

“Yes. I administered one dose when I encountered the symptom today. The effects were… immediate. Thank you for that.”

“It’s why I’m monitoring you, Heimdall. You might be only three months fresh out of the enhancement process and our latest subject to date, but the moment you came out of treatment, you’ve been invaluable to Northstar already. You must take care of yourself. It’s… costly and challenging to produce soldiers such as yourself. Remember that.”

“I will, Doctor.”

“Good. Regarding the stabilizer drugs, Heimdall: I feel it is important to remind you to administer them sparingly. From reports regarding those who came before you, the average time in between required doses is four to five days, or when your symptoms begin worsening. Any more frequently than that, the drug will start hindering you rather than helping. You may even end up an invalid, so be mindful to pace yourself.”

“What will happen if I go too long without a dose?”

“That would be problematic, too. The process we put you through has some very specific variables and conditions. You can neither dose yourself too frequently nor infrequently.”

“In that case, Doctor,” Heimdall said, remembering his final dose of the stabilizer on hand, “I will need to resupply soon. I currently have only one more dose left. Do I need to temporarily withdraw to headquarters to obtain more?”

“Hmm, no. We’ll send you two weeks’ worth on the following resupply bird. That way, you can stay there until your mission is complete. At that point, you’re free to travel back here via the next available resupply helicopter.”

“Understood.”

“Allow yourself some rest. Eat and drink lots of fluids. These are basic, but important. Do not push yourself too much.”

“I will keep those in mind.”

“All right, then.” There was an air of conclusiveness in the doctor’s tone. “Any other concerns you wish to discuss? I do have a bit of time right now.”

Heimdall glanced down at where his wound was, placed a hand over where the bandages were, and answered, “No, Doctor. I am quite functional despite my report.”

“That is good to hear. Very well, I’ll go offline now, but you can reach me anytime if you have any further questions or concerns. Remember: take care of yourself as best as you can. Hayden out.”

The doctor terminated the link. Heimdall pocketed his PDA and exited his quarters, ascending the stairs to the third floor where Hornet’s room was.

When Heimdall knocked on the officer’s door, it opened slightly and promptly to reveal a rather worn Hornet. His long hair appeared to need combing, and there were dark circles beneath his eyes that Heimdall believed weren’t that pronounced just a day prior. He seemed to due for some rest himself.

“Heim—” Hornet stopped abruptly to close his eyes and produce a quiet yawn. “Heimdall. Did you finish the task I assigned you?”

“Negative, sir. I managed to locate them, but sustained a serious injury. I was forced to retreat.”

Hornet’s already tired expression shifted to one of halfhearted annoyance for a second before he sighed heavily and ran a palm over his face.

“Whatever,” he said dejectedly. “I suppose it shouldn’t matter to me now, anyhow.”

Heimdall cocked his head to the side a little. “Sir? I do not understand what you meant to imply.”

Hornet looked straight at Heimdall with a mixture of exhaustion and exasperation. “I got in contact with HQ earlier. There’s been a change of plans. They’re pulling me out in a couple of days.”

Heimdall had a mind to ask why, but hesitated when he remembered that he and Hornet weren’t necessarily cleared for the same level of information.

Hornet, however, indulged him in a little more explanation. “I’m getting on the last VTOL out on Friday morning, along with the last batch of prisoners. We’ll be taking twice as many as usual, but after that, my job here in the city will be done. Originally, the quota called for about thirty percent more intake, but apparently the higher ups are settling for less. Other cities are having trouble like here, as well. Management will take what they can get instead of gambling everything away.”

Heimdall didn’t comment on that even as he listened intently all the same. When Hornet was done speaking, Heimdall asked instead:

“Were there any updates about me, sir?”

“What?”

“What will I be doing, sir? Am I expected to return with you?”

Hornet stared at him, partly dumbfounded and apathetic. He sighed again.

“I wasn’t told anything about you. I’m thinking my time with you is nearly done. You’re free to do whatever HQ wants you to do once I’m out of the city.”

Heimdall nodded, then asked, “Do you still want the heads of Christina Valentine’s teammates before you depart, sir?”

“Like I said, I don’t care anymore. I’ve got bigger problems when I get back to base about what happened here. Kill them, fail to, whatever.”

“What should I do while you are still here, sir?”

“I don’t know. Fine, just stay put here until I’ve left. I want you on security when we transport the last batch of prisoners to the exfil point. HQ will also need to look at the device we found on Valentine more thoroughly, so I’m bringing it with me.”

“Understood, sir.”

“You can stand by and just make sure I and this site are secure, then accompany me in a couple days. After that, you and I are through.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Right. I’m going to get some rest.”

Hornet closed the door on Heimdall without waiting for another possible response from Heimdall.

Heimdall stood motionlessly in the hallway for a moment, then turned and headed back to his quarters to recuperate from today’s events.





I was vaguely aware of where I was before I was even the faintest aware of the condition I was in.

A green hospital curtain shielded my view of the rest of the slightly cold room, but from the colour of the ceiling alone and the strong smell of antiseptic, I knew I was in Haven’s medical suite.

So, not dead yet.

I moved my head against the pillow it was on, glancing around until I found someone slumped halfway to the foot of my bed. Her free, long black hair was covering part of her face, turned sideways toward me. Her head was perched atop her crossed forearms on the sheets, just by where my knees were. I watched her shoulders rise gently, hovering there for a second before falling just as peacefully back in place.

I tentatively reached for her, and that was when I noticed that an intravenous line was hooked up to the inside of my right elbow. The line tracked up to a half-empty drip bag that was hanging from an IV pole.

I extended my arm until my fingers touched Genel’s hair. I hesitated, then figuring she was out cold enough that I wouldn’t wake her, I gently took a lock of her hair between my fingers and swept it away from her face. I tucked it behind her left ear to reveal more of her face and her closed left eye.

How many times now have I woken to a sight like this?

When is the last time?

Without warning, Genel’s eyelid twitched, then scrunched as if she randomly found something irritable in whatever dream she was having. The corner of her lips I could see expanded outward, then retracted back. She became still for a moment before groaning in her sleep. Her head shifted slightly on its perch that was her forearms, the movement being enough to send some of the strands I pushed off her face falling back down.

That was when she abruptly snorted, making me jump a little even as I lay largely immobile on my back, and her head hovered above her forearms for a few seconds. Even as her hair concealed the side of her face from my view, I heard her release a long, drawn out yawn.

She eventually turned her head, her face uncloaking itself from her hair as she absently stroked strands away. Her sleepy expression – eyes half closed, slightly pursed lips curled into something resembling a pout, and her scrunched up nose bridge – struck me with fleeting but nonetheless potent nostalgia.

Once her eyes had focused on me a bit better, I spoke up. “Morning.”

Her eyes snapped open fully in a flash, cursing under her breath when the sudden burst of light through her eyes blinded her momentarily. She brought a hand up to her eyes, muttering something about the brightness around her.

“Your shoulder. Is it okay?” I decided to go on ahead and ask, hoping I could circumvent the impending nagging if I took the initiative in the conversation.

“You’re awake,” she said, rubbing her eyelids with her fingers gingerly. A tinge of annoyance then began creeping into her voice as she lowered her hands to squint at me. “You reckless moron.”

Hope is a sad thing.

“Your shoulder,” I persisted, pretending not to hear the verbal attack to my intelligence. “The one with the knife lodged in it. Did you—”

“Yes, I got it out, as you can see. Yes, my shoulder’s fine. Now stop changing the subject.”

I stifled a comment about how she was the one changing the subject and not me, but I held my tongue.

Genel’s scowl deepened a bit.

“What’s with that look?” I asked her.

“You keep getting into this shit.”

“Don’t be delusional, Genel. In this line of work, these things are going to happen.”

“Well, if you weren’t in this line of work to begin with, these things are never going to!” she snapped at me abruptly.

She stared fiercely at me for a couple of seconds before she looked away with her hands curled into fists on top of the bed.

“Sorry,” she muttered grudgingly.

Just as the first signs of red began creeping into her face, I decided to move past this subject for both our sakes.

“How’s Josh? Is he okay?” I asked, softening my tone and hoping she would do the same with hers.

“He’s fine. Miracle that the wound didn’t hit his spine, but as it is he’s got only a flesh wound. He’ll recover, according to Christina.”

I paused momentarily, then asked, “Why? Is he having difficulty with something from having that injury?”

“You try turning your neck when a bullet shears the back of it off.”

I chose not to respond to that. Genel kept looking away with her arms crossed over her chest now.

“Is everyone here? The CSOR team?”

“Yeah, they’re all here. They said they’d bunk over at the mess hall. Most sensible place for them to sleep, anyway. We don’t have any other beds.”

“Ah. That’s fine.”

Silence followed. I temporarily ran out of things to ask or say, and Genel seemed content to be passive.

I cleared my throat. “So, where are we at with preparations for the Canadian Army detachment that’s coming to reinforce us?”

Genel turned her face toward me, even though her eyes remained low to the bed.

“Last time Chairman Coste updated us, the reinforcements were still on track to get here in a couple of days. King says her team did recon of possible routes and angles we can coordinate the company along. We haven’t discussed it at length yet.”

“Then let’s.” I propped myself up on my elbows, finding my whole body rather stiff and heavy.

Genel gave a sigh and grabbed me by the shoulder, her hand seeming to burn my skin.

“The SF guys are catching up on shut-eye right now,” she told me sternly. “And whatever’s going down on the thirteenth, you can’t possibly be involved in it.”

I nearly gaped at her. “Why not?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, Ian, you nearly died tonight. You’re in no shape to be out of bed. Correction: you were in no shape to be out of bed since Peter Lougheed.”

“I’ll manage.”

“No, you will not. You just don’t get it, do you, you stupid bastard. We brought you here bleeding by the pint. You were in hypovolemic shock. Reid and Christina had to work together to make sure you pulled through. If you don’t care about yourself, at least respect the effort that went into keeping you alive.”

“What, while you and Josh are out there and I’m just relaxing here?”

“Recovering, Ian.”

“No. The two of you won’t be able to—”

“We will. And no, there’ll be three of us. Plus the Special Forces team.”

“Three?” I echoed. “Who are you talking about?”

Genel’s hard determination slipped subtly. It was just a tiny slackening of the shoulders, but still enough for me to pick up on.

“Well… Christina, of course,” she said. Compared to her voice just seconds ago, she practically mumbled this time around. “She got roughed up, I know, but she’s still a damn sight better in terms of physical condi—”

“Excuse me?” I couldn’t hide the edge in my tone.

“With a day’s rest, I say she’ll be okay to get back to work. She can lead support ops and liberating the city alongside the—”

“Stop.”

Genel flinched at my sharp command. I glared at her, feeling something hot beginning to burn itself through my stomach.

“Did you really suggest having that woman take over for me?” I asked her, squinting slightly at her as if to dare her to continue on this train of thought.

Genel’s composure seemed to rapidly turn into jelly. She picked at her hoodie’s strings while still not meeting my eyes.

“Well,” she said on tenterhooks, “yeah. She’s still the team XO, no? If the team leader can’t perform their duties, then the XO takes ov—”

“Have you listened to nothing at all that I’ve said about her? Or did you forget the file I showed you yesterday?”

Genel sighed tiredly. “Look, I haven’t forgotten anything, all right? But the way things stand now, we’ll need to make our biggest move in two days, and unless you’re some kind of freak of nature, you’re not going to heal fast enough, Ian. You’re—”

She seemed to hold back a second, then continued:

“—You’re going to slow us down.”

I blinked at her, her words taking a moment to

You’re weak.

You’re nothing.

Look around you. Who have you managed to save, boy?

Your mentor is gone.

Your best friend is dead.

Do you think you can save anyone?

You can’t even save yourself.

You’re a blight to the people around you.

sink in.

I dug my nails so deeply into my palms that it hurt. A heavy, hot sensation rose up my neck like magma.

I glared angrily at Genel, whose expression turned fearful upon looking at my face.

“You think I’m useless, don’t you.”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” she protested, holding up her hands in an effort to placate me. “I’m just saying you’re in no condition to—”

“Don’t you?!”

She jerked away from me in her seat, recoiling at my outburst. We stared at each other wordlessly for several moments. I watched as Genel’s eyes warily appraised me before she took a steadying breath and leaned toward me again with a straight expression.

“Not once in my ten years knowing you did I ever think you were useless. You won’t hear that from me now, and you won’t hear that from me ever. But Ian – you’re hurt. You nearly bled out on your way here. I’m… scared, that if you push yourself again so soon, you won’t be as fortunate.”

Her gentler approach mollified me a little, partly to my frustration. I was forced to consider that deep down, this was always what she meant. Why she always played mother in Shadow Team.

But I’m—

I sank back onto the pillows and ran a hand over my face.

I don’t want to do nothing.

Now that my steam had died down somewhat, I was left staring up at the ceiling, my mind drifting aimlessly for something to fill the silence with.

“Ian?”

“What?”

“This is going to sound either sudden or weird – probably both, but…”

I turned my head to look at Genel again, who was peering at me with a slightly coy expression.

“I’ve probably mentioned this before, but I’ll say it anyway. I’m happy you’re alive.”

I heard her clearly, though I did not respond to that comment. To be honest here would be too cruel to her.

After several more moments, Genel changed the subject.

“So, did you find the answers you were looking for?”

I grunted. “What do you mean?”

“You know. With Christina.”

Answers, certainly. The resolution, however…

“I asked, and she answered. You might say that.”

“So you know who was behind the… that night, years ago?”

“Yeah.” I waited, expecting Genel to ask me to share the names of those who were to blame, but she did nothing of the sort. Instead, all she said was:

“I see.”

“It wasn’t just her. She was in a team. There were others. Fabian Yansen, Theo Rho—”

“Ian,” she interrupted, sharp but gentle at the same time. “what Christina told you, that’s for you. Not me. Please, I don’t need to hear any more.”

“What are you saying? Of course it’s for you, too.”

“No, just for you.”

“Then why’d you ask?”

“Because I was hoping you’d feel some semblance of contentment now that you’ve found what you were looking for.”

I inhaled sharply and shook my head. “Hardly. Not until they’ve all answered for what they’ve done.”

Genel’s eyes fell slightly. She looked down at her hand and mine sitting on the bed beside one another.

“Then—” she mumbled, seeming hesitant.

“Yeah?”

“Why haven’t you finished off Christina?”

“What?” I blurted out even though I heard her well enough.

“I never doubted you when you showed me she was involved with Miyaku’s… You know. So then why is Christina still here, Ian? Why didn’t you kill her?”

I looked away from her face, instead returning my gaze to the ceiling.

“Who says I didn’t?” I asked after a moment.

“You saved her. When the bullets started flying, you dragged her out of the line of fire. Why?”

“Don’t misunderstand, Genel. I wouldn’t let some… stray round kill that woman. If she’s going to die, it’ll be because I’m the one behind the trigger. I’m not this far into it just to let her worm her way out of things.”

I could feel Genel burning a hold in the side of my face. After a few seconds, her tone took a slight upbeat turn.

“Okay,” she said, almost chirping.

“What’s that tone for?”

“What tone? I don’t know what you’re going on about.”

I finally glared at her. “You think I’m joking.”

“I never said that.”

“You’re thinking it.”

“I am not.”

I squinted at her. Her expression remained neutral despite her earlier tone.

After a brief silence, I sighed. “I want to be present when we confer with King’s team about plans for taking back the city.”

Genel frowned. “I said, you’re in no condition for that.”

“Just because I’m injured doesn’t mean I’m out of the team, Genel,” I told her, managing to speak calmly. “I need to be in the loop regardless of whether or not I’ll be out there with you and Josh.”

Genel seemed to find this fair, because she backed down fairly quickly.

“All right, fine.”

She glanced at her TACPAD on the inside of her wrist, then gave a lengthy yawn while stretching her arms.

“Let’s talk more later. It’s late.”

“What time is it?” I asked her, noticing that I wasn’t wearing my brace.

“It’s about one-thirty. You were unconscious for a while.”

“All right. Hey, two things.”

She seemed to perk up a little at my vastly less antagonistic tone. “What’s up?”

“Angel’s TACPAD was compromised. I want you to get everyone else’s on lockdown mode. I don’t want us getting tracked here. That must have been how the US Army found the 41 CBGs.”

“Agreed. All right, I’ll fix up yours and Josh’s before I go to bed. Anything else?”

“Yeah. You got my backpack?”

Genel nodded. “In the armory.”

“There’s a handheld military radio inside. I took it from a Northstar merc last night. I want you to extract the encryption chip and monitor all associated channels. Let’s fight fire with fire.”

She smiled. “Sure thing, Ian. I’ll get on that first thing in the morning.”

“Thanks. All right, get some sleep.”

“Think I can leave you unsupervised for six hours without you sneaking out?” she asked, one corner of her lips lifting more than the other.

“Very funny.”

Genel, to her credit, managed to chuckle at my response. Her reaction undid a knot or two in my chest that I didn’t know I had until then.

She finally got to her feet and prepared to exit the curtains’ domain around me. She seemed to hold back before glancing at me.

“Err,” she said in a noticeably lower voice, as if she was trying to confide something. “one more thing.”

“What now?”

She squinted at me. “What was that thing with Angela King earlier?”

“What thing?”

“She mentioned there was something she wanted to ask you.”

The chief warrant officer’s words came back to me. Something about me needing to stay alive so that I could give her an answer to something.

“Oh,” I said slowly, “that. I don’t know.”

“Oh, really?” Genel’s eyebrow arched in suspicion, though I could tell she wasn’t at all upset.

“Really.”

“How long have you known her?”

“I don’t. Not really. I was on a mission in Crowsnest back in ’18. So was she. We met then and there.”

Genel gave me that smirk that usually made me want to groan. “You got an unabridged version of that story?”

“Yes. It’s in the classified report I filled out right after that.”

“Boo. That’s no fun.”

“And is it supposed to be?”

Genel’s eyes widened. “Could have sworn you two had more history, going by how she talks to you.”

“What are you blabbing about now?”

She looked at me as if I was some kind of pitiful snail, then shook her head.

“Nothing, nothing. I’m going to get some sleep right after I get our TACPADs on lockdown mode. I’ll see you in a few hours. Get more rest, too.”

“Fine. See you later.”

Her lips curled into a smile that resembled the one she used to have before the two of us became coworkers. It was soft, gentle, almost innocent. One that hid none of her amusement with me.

“Yeah, goodnight.”

With that, she stepped outside of the hospital curtains surrounding my bed. A few moments later, I heard the medical suite door slide open, then closed. Genel’s footsteps faded in the distance.

When she had gone, my mind returned to less pleasant matters: the bombing, what I should do now, and that pair of brilliant sky blue eyes that seemed to analyze me sharply.





The next morning, I got up from bed at five, having tried to go back to sleep to no avail. Figuring I should do something useful with my time, I grabbed a change of clothes and headed for the showers.

It took me ten minutes of bathing and drying before I remembered that for once, I had nothing productive to do with my time after all; I wasn’t part of the team anymore.

What do I do now? Why am I still here?

I finished toweling my damp hair and changed into a fresh shirt and leggings. Just as I was about to leave the locker room, the door into and out of the showers swung open. I glanced in that direction, finding a slightly familiar face stepping tentatively onto the mat just inside the door.

The woman, who was a bit taller than me and wearing arctic camouflage, looked around at the shower room and eventually laid eyes on me. She broke into a sort of cavalier smile and lifted a hand to greet me.

“Yo,” Chief Warrant Officer Angela King said, “I was told there’d be a shower here.”

I returned a tentative smile. “Well, you found it.”

“And, uh… there wouldn’t happen to be any toiletries around here?”

“In here. The cabinet.”

“Great.”

King came over to where I was and I pointed at the mirror cabinet in the back of the locker room. She offered her thanks and started rummaging through the space for whatever she needed.

I gathered up my clothes in my arms for the laundry basket in my quarters. I turned to leave, but before I could make it far, King spoke again.

“So, it was Angel, right?”

I glanced up at her. She was now facing me, holding a bottle of Pantene in one hand and an Irish Spring in the other.

“I… Well, yes, that’s right.”

Part of me wanted to elaborate that as someone recently removed from Shadow Team, that callsign might well be null already. However, at the same time, I reminded myself that she and her two companions were not with the C.O.S., so I still had some obligation not to be too forthcoming with details. Until there was a process to officially relieve me of my role within the Sector, I was still ‘Angel’.

“Sorry,” King said in a sheepish, carefree tone. “We haven’t really talked yet, have we?”

“I guess not.”

King sat down on the bench I was sitting in and put down her toiletries beside her. She then began unlacing her boots. After removing her right boot, she gave me a shrewd look.

“Pardon my staring. I just can’t get over how petite you are. I’ve served with plenty of ladies in my time with the Army and even CANSOFCOM, but until now I hadn’t met anyone… like you.”

“Oh.” I wasn’t quite sure if that was a compliment, so I mumbled a vague non-comment, but otherwise kept quiet.

King proceeded to take off her other boot before noticing that I was looking at her perhaps a bit too stiffly. She suddenly raised her hands, palms out, and gave me a contrite look.

“Ah, that wasn’t meant to be a slight or anything,” she said hastily. “No, I meant to say that for someone as gentle looking as you to be working with the Grim Reaper, that’s pretty goddamn impressive. You must have some skills.”

“Umm, thanks, I suppose.” I shrugged, trying for a casual response. “I could say the same about you, evevn if I haven’t yet seen you at work. Making it into Special Forces isn’t easy.”

“I’m not gonna lie and say that it is,” King said with an equally casual manner. After that, she did turn slightly more seriously, however. “So, Angel. How are you holding up?”

“Huh?” I blinked, not really thinking.

“Well, you were captured, weren’t you? Doesn’t look like they left you unharmed, either.”

I felt her eyes tracking the cuts on my exposed forearms as she said this. It also wasn’t until now that I seriously thought about everything else that was done to me, like what those US soldiers did back in that jail cell. The memory of being taken advantage of that way, no matter how foggy my recollection of it, filled me with shame and mortification. Any woman in my position would feel the same. But I didn’t feel angry about it.

“I’ll be fine. It was rough, for sure. But… I wasn’t expecting a pleasant experience beforehand, anyway,” I said offhandedly.

“Wish I could say I knew how it felt,” King said with a little reverence. “But I’ve never been in that situation before. Still, you made it through. You’re harder than you look.”

She began unbuttoning the top half of her uniform, revealing a black tank top within. Once all the buttons were undone, she smiled a bit to herself and shook her head.

“What?” I asked, perplexed by her expression.

“I was just thinking about the Reaper. I guess I’ve always seen him as batshit crazy in a way, but the past couple of days really cinches it,” she answered, sounding rather matter-of-fact about it.

“What do you mean?” I asked, curious now that she was actively mentioning the Reaper, Knight.

“I mean, the man is absolutely mad. You weren’t around so I guess you wouldn’t know, but after that botched job at the hospital, he came back seriously injured. Reid, my medic, had to patch him up since Reaper got stabbed in the chest. You know what your boss did as soon as he woke up?”

“I’ve got some notion. But what’d he do?”

She smirked, looking rather tomboyish as she did so. “Hah. He gets up and goes AWOL on all of us to come get you by himself. Talk about insanity. I know he’s got some history being a lone wolf and all, but in his condition he really shouldn’t have gone. No offense.”

“No, I agree,” I said wholeheartedly. “Wait, you know him?”

King ran a hand through her short hair, then blew a breath out her mouth. “Well, yes and no. Yes, in that we’ve met before. No, in that I don’t know much about him. Don’t even know what his first name is.”

I found myself leaning backwards onto the lockers behind me. “How’d you two meet?”

“Wait, he hasn’t told you?” King asked, sounding quite surprised.

“I’m not exactly a long-time member of this team. I wasn’t part of it until this invasion started. Besides, with Knight, he’s… He’s got a lot of black ink to him.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you were that new. And I don’t really know about how things work where you work. Aren’t you all spooks?”

I considered the question. It was probably the first time I was discussing my job with someone not directly affiliated with the C.O.S. or the Canadian Intelligence Security Service, so naturally I felt like I was in uncharted waters speaking to the military officer at the moment. It would also make sense that even Special Forces personnel would have next to zero knowledge about us; the C.O.S. was that fringe.

“Him more so than the rest of us,” I answered her eventually. “As far as I know, no one with our organization is supposed to be a solo operator… except him.”

“I’m not entirely surprised, given what little I do know about him.”

“So… what do you know about him?”

To my surprise, King narrowed her eyes a bit and smiled teasingly at me.

“Are you interested in him, or me?” she asked with a furtive look.

“Well, I… Both, I guess?” I gave an awkward little chuckle.

“Ho. Is that so?”

The sensation of having my arms slung over Knight’s shoulders and my cheek brushing against his neck revisited me for a second. I resisted the urge to shake my head in front of King, who thankfully dropped the subtle undertones quickly.

“I realize the irony of keeping secrets away from walking secrets, so I’ll tell you,” she said. “No harm in you knowing, anyway. The very few people I told about this think I’m making it up.”

I crossed my arms in front of me, pinning my clothes to my torso. I looked straight at the chief warrant officer, waiting for her to speak.

“Might be a dumb question,” she began, “but have you heard of the Alberta Free Vanguard?”

I gave a nod. “Of course. They were a not-insignificant group that wanted this province to secede from the rest of Canada over economic disagreements with the federal government over anti-oil-and-gas policies. Started off as mostly peaceful protestors, but snowballed and attracted plenty more people with more than quiet resentment for the government.”

“Right,” King said, “that’s exactly what they are. They started off peaceful, but over the span of a year since the group’s formation, became a lot more hostile and violent. Government branded them a militia threat by 2018.

“In the closing months of that year, the CSIS pinpointed the precise location of the Vanguard’s de-facto leader, Alfred Imlay, to a remote mountain village on Mount Tecumseh, close to Crowsnest Pass and practically right at the border of Alberta and British Columbia. CANSOFCOM decided to send a team of Special Forces on a covert mission with a kill/capture objective on Imlay.

“You probably already guessed it: it was my team they ordered to carry out the mission. I had… reservations, about sending in only four soldiers to deal with a faction leader with a following numbering close to fifty thousand at the time, but being SF, I wasn’t going to reject orders. I mean, we’re not special if we couldn’t buck up and do difficult shit.”

I watched intently as King’s expression turned considerably more sombre at this point before she continued.

“This being covert, naturally we couldn’t go into the village blasting and chanting. I wish I could say it all went well and we bagged Imlay without any problems. But that’d be a lie.

“We managed to infiltrate the village compound without alerting every militia grunt in there, but our intel was grossly inaccurate. There were only supposed to be a couple dozen or so guards keeping Imlay safe. Not… shit, well over a hundred.

“I was… Well, I’m not gonna sugarcoat it now. I was dumb. I should have pulled out when I saw the opposition was too large. At the very least, I should have paused and radioed Command to tell them their intel was off. But I wanted to get the job done. Call it bravado or hubris or whatever. Maybe I wanted recognition as the leader of the team that brought down a well-known domestic terrorist.”

King chuckled, sounding slightly bitter for the first time since I met her. It didn’t quite suit her.

“Well, guess what, we found Imlay. Or maybe it would be better to say he found us. Son of a bitch knew we were coming. That was why security was so bloated. My team managed to avoid stirring things up at first, don’t get me wrong. But when we thought we had our target dead to rights, he pulled a big, fuck-you reverse Uno card on us. The mission went from kill/capture to ‘just survive’ faster than we could blink.”

“How did that happen?” I asked, hoping she didn’t mind me interjecting. “Sorry. Even without your decision to go in, it doesn’t change that fact that Imlay seemed prepared for you.”

King sighed, looking a bit rueful. “I only found out after the mission that a few of the CSIS analysts who worked to get us this ‘intel’ were sympathizers to the AFV’s cause. So they doctored the data and fed us some fatal bullshit about opposition strength being somewhat manageable for a four-man team. They got tried and sentenced later for it, but that hardly mattered for me and my guys on the ground in the thick of it when shit started hitting fans.

“Imlay slipped through our fingers. We couldn’t do anything about that. All I could hope to do was get my team out alive. I remember thinking – even as bullets were flying and we were getting boxed in – stuff like, ‘This is going to look bad on my record’. Ain’t that selfish? My colleagues were all dying and all I could think about was how much shit I was going to catch because of my decisions.”

She scoffed with that same bitterness, shaking her head some more. King certainly seemed to have a confident front. She was brash but not to the point of disrespect. But I didn’t have to know her long to tell that the memory hung on her conscience like a ball and chain.

“In the end,” she went on, “we were fucked. We were trapped in there, and we all knew it. If we were in the Middle East, we’d have had air support and at least another B team to back us up, but not here. One of my guys, Garrett – he was our demolitions pro – caught a frag grenade trying to keep me out of its blast radius. He didn’t die from it, but the way things were going, we were all going to within the next sixty seconds.”

King suddenly smiled, though she looked devoid of genuine mirth or amusement.

“I still look back on that moment a lot. Often, it seems like God or the universe or whoever was there to tell me, ‘you blew it, Angie, but you’re gonna live to dwell on your dumb decisions’.”

“What happened next?” I prodded her.

“There were several controlled explosions throughout the village, each one just going boom one after the other. At the time, my mind was half gone, you understand. So I didn’t get the details until after I got back from the mission. But the detonations crippled key structures around the camp: the comms tower, the ammo dumps, the vehicle bays, even Imlay’s hideout at the center of it all. Heard later on the explosions themselves took out nearly forty percent of the enemy force breathing down our necks, which probably isn’t a lot… but it was enough to give us a chance to fight back and retreat. I’m sure you know this, given our line of work, but when your survival rate goes from one percent to twenty percent, that’s still a big deal. You grasp it and don’t let go. That’s when he came.”

“Who?” I mumbled, so absorbed in her story that I failed to consciously remind myself that the answer was obvious.

King looked me in the eyes, suddenly lighting up at my rhetorical question. “The Grim Reaper, of course. He seemed to come out of nowhere and started cutting down tangos in our general vicinity like some kind of angel of death. At the time, he didn’t much look like an angel, though. Satan’s pissed off Number Two, more like.” She gave a laugh at her comparison. “The kills he racked up gave me and my team enough of a window to fall back while the terrorists were distracted. Gave us time and room to reach the village outskirts. I remember how… tense and terrifying it was, wondering when one of the gunshots screaming behind us would send a bullet or two into our backs while we were retreating. But none of them ever did.

“Garrett was bleeding out and couldn’t walk. The grenade he took for me saw to that. I couldn’t see how one guy was supposed to stop the angry mob after us, but in hindsight that didn’t matter. He came back for us, offered us a ride out and to the nearest place with a clinic or hospital for Garrett. I kept asking him who he was, who he worked for, what he was doing here… But he wouldn’t tell me. Not at first. Just kept driving a truck he commandeered from the village silently with the best version of a resting bitch face I’d ever seen.

“Twenty-two minutes. That’s how long it took for us to get Garrett to the one health centre in Blairmore. The place wasn’t equipped to fully treat him for shrapnel wounds and third-degree burns, but we managed to stabilize him there with the help of some of the local doctors. From there, we got a medical chopper to come and fly him to Chinook Regional in Lethbridge, which was equipped for his injuries.”

King bobbed her head gently, more to herself than to me.

“What happened to Garrett?” I asked.

“He recovered. Mostly. The shrapnel damaged his legs and there was no saving his ability to walk. He’s been in a wheelchair since. I visit him every now and then. Good guy, that Garrett. Always looked on the bright side. He says the only regret he has about that mission was never meeting the guy who gave us a chance to survive. The others on my team – me, Jacobs, and Reid, we were relatively unharmed. Garrett, even when he lost use of his legs, is still alive today. Got married and an honourable discharge, in fact.”

King’s smile turned pleasantly reminiscent. I could feel the fondness she had for this particular memory even though what she went through had to have been nerve-wracking and stressful. She took a breath before going on.

“Oh, and eventually I got the stranger to talk. At first I was really wary of him despite his help. I mean, how could I not be? This guy could have come straight out of hell for all I knew. He wasn’t dressed like he was military, but he fought like he was and carried gear like a commando. Wouldn’t tell me anything about himself at first. But before he left, he told me two things. His name and what he was after. He said his name was Reaper, and that – like us – he was trying to get to Imlay, who managed to elude all of us that day. This Reaper guy said it was his job to find the AFV leader and slot him.”

“So… he let Imlay get away… to help you guys?” I said tentatively.

“What other result could there be? It was us or Imlay. One or the other.”

“But I heard Imlay—”

“Yeah, I know. I was getting to that. Found dead three weeks later. No one claimed responsibility. But I’ll bet my salary it was Reaper who did it.”

I took a moment to process all this information, In the beginning, it was hard to see Knight as anything but the C.O.S.’ infamous agent, but as time went on he became less some kind of mythic death machine and more just a person to me. But hearing what King said all about him was reminding me that Knight was both something to be feared and someone who was worth understanding outside his legends.

“He put aside a mission for someone else,” I said in a low voice.

King nodded solemnly. “Didn’t know us personally. But he did it for whatever reason. Because he did, the four of us are still alive.”

She paused, then added: “Just his crazy stunt these past couple of days reminded me of that time.”

“King—” I said, but she waved a hand in my face.

“You can call me Angela. Makes me feel younger, you know?”

She said this plainly and lightly, though I could kind of feel she truly wished more people would call her that.

“Angela.” I smiled back slightly. “Okay. I’m… well, a bit curious now. Is it coincidence that it’s you specifically who came to back us up?”

She chuckled softly. “Yes and no. A former CSOR veteran came to us with a job, asking if we could take it. He said a certain ‘Reaper’ could use our help. Naturally, there was only one answer when he asked us.”

“So you volunteered?”

“When you’re Special Forces, you learn never to say no even if you’re told you can. Besides, we owe him. I owe him.”

She certainly didn’t sound at all bothered by being indebted to someone. On the contrary, she seemed to carry the debt with pride.

“I see. Well, if nothing else, I’m sure he’s glad you’re here,” I told her.

“That’s nice to hear. It’s… kind of scary, though, seeing him so battered. Maybe I elevated him to some kind of… I dunno, someone who just doesn’t lose.”

“Me too.” I nodded solemnly.

“Yeah?” Angela grinned sheepishly, reaching up to scratch at the back of her head. “I’m glad I’m not the only one, then. I felt silly for a bit thinking such a thing.”

The two of us fell silent for a moment, then Angela spoke up again.

“Hey, Angel.”

I lifted my gaze to meet hers. “Chrissy.”

“What?”

“That’s my name. Chrissy. You can call me that if you like.”

“Aren’t you supposed to keep your identities a secret?”

“Yeah, well—”

It’s not like mine will matter much soon, anyway.

“—you told me your first name. Even if I knew it before, it only seems fair, right?”

She gave me a good natured grin. “Fair enough. Okay, Chrissy. I hope it’s fine if I ask you a question this time. About you and the Grim Reaper.”

For some reason, the memory of my escape from certain execution came back to me in a flash.

“What, err, what about us?” I asked her.

Angela eyed me tentatively, seeming to pick her words carefully, then said, “Are you and the Grim Reaper having a falling out?”

That term was rather tame for what was actually going on here, but I silently commended Angela for her close conjecture all the same.

I shifted slightly uneasily on the balls of my feet. “That’s, uh… I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you about that. It’s a personal matter for him, and I’d like to respect his privacy.”

She smiled a bit more openly, as if she expected this exact response. “That’s completely fine. I didn’t ask you to tell me the details. I just wanted to know if you two are having a spat. Simple yes or no question.”

“Oh. Well… without getting into it, it’s more than a spat. He has every right to take things out on me.”

“Huh. Okay. Without getting any further into it still, was it over something serious you did?”

Some paranoid part of me wondered if she knew more than she was letting on. But again, it was a simple yes or no question.

“Yeah, that’s right,” I answered, then added: “And I’ll do everything I have to, to make things right.”

Angela looked surprised for a second, her eyes widening slightly. Then, to my own surprise, she laughed – albeit not in a mean way.

“Did I… say something funny?” I said, confused by her reaction.

Angela shook her head, even though she did seem quite amused all the same.

“No, no. Sorry. It’s just that I was thinking you looked so dead serious when you said that. It kind of took me by surprise, that’s all.”

Still kind of odd to laugh, though.

“But it’s okay,” she said abruptly.

“Huh?”

It’s okay.

“Whatever it is, I’m sure the two of you will work things out,” she said in a most certain tone.

To her credit, Angela’s smile shrank a little and a healthy amount of uncertainty crept its way into her features.

“Well, okay, I’m not. But… you’re sorry, aren’t you?”

“I am.”

“And you feel that strongly about making it up to him, right?”

I paused.

“I do,” I said, as if it was a vow.

Angela’s big smile returned. She reached over to lightly rap her knuckles against my arm in a genial way.

“Then guess what, Chrissy. You’re his friend. You want so badly to right your wrongs. I’m sure he sees that. We’re all allowed mistakes, you know?”

The image of Knight pressing the muzzle of a gun to my forehead flashed in my mind for a second.

Impossible. What I’d done wasn’t just a ‘mistake’. It was more than that. To call it something as innocent as a mistake was an insult to Knight’s ordeal.

But…

He could have gotten his revenge. Yet he never claimed it.

Why? He has all and every reason to kill me. I deserve it. So why?

Why am I still alive, Knight?

“Uhh, hehe,” Angela said sheepishly once more, peering at my face. “I got a bit sappy and deep there. Sorry, but don’t tell anyone about this, all right? I’m totally not waxing poetic because I’m nearly thirty.”

“…huh? Oh, yeah. Sure. I’ll keep quiet,” I said distractedly, only half listening to her now.

“Well,” Angela said conclusively, clapping her hands together loudly once. “It’s been a good chat, Angel. I mean, Chrissy. But I’m feeling sweaty and dirty, so I’ll be seeing you. Later, I mean. Not in the showers. I guess we’ll be talking about our Army backup later?”

“I think so. They’re nearly here, so yeah.”

“All right.”

With that, Angela shifted her focus to undressing in preparation for a shower, so instead of watching her, I grabbed my own clothes and left the locker and shower rooms.

My head swam in questions as I made my way back to my quarters.

Could someone like me…

…. ever be a friend to someone like Knight?

Do I have any right to be?