As to how they would hang together - that was the next item on Stockham’s agenda.
“We managed to recover a decent amount of intelligence from Machigonne,” he recounted to Isaac and Babs. “My men are currently looking through the captured files and documents for anything of value. There’s also the matter of Sam and the four civilians taken prisoner.”
Isaac killed one of the office workers, while Babs killed three, meaning the four leftover were successfully rescued. Considering everything else that had happened, Isaac felt pretty good about that.
Stockham took another puff of his cigar. “Sam has proven surprisingly resilient to our enhanced interrogation techniques, which is why I’ll unleash Osip upon him tonight. No doubt it will be extremely painful, but this is the road Sam has chosen to take. Also - both Osip and Shokahu were appointed by me to their positions. They’re among the few allies we have in this precarious situation.”
The General opened a drawer and produced a slip of paper for Isaac and Babs. Typed neatly with methodical precision was a summary of the interrogation of the four civilians. Isaac wondered if the same techniques had applied upon them. Neither Stockham nor the report answered that question.
“All four of the office workers were kept in the dark about Machigonne’s illegal undertakings,” Babs surmised as she scanned through the paper. She read the next part directly off the report. “Thus, they provided us with little hard evidence. However, we noticed a consistency among their stories - all four had been recruited from the migrant neighborhoods of Neponset in northern Narragansett. Further questioning confirmed that the majority of Machigonne employees, especially ones involved in manual labor, were recruited from Neponset. Considering northern migrants form the bulk of the Restorationist support base, this only reinforces the connection between the Restorationists and the smuggling ring.”
The report looked succinct and accurate. However, Isaac felt like he already sort of knew of the connection between the smuggling ring and the Restorationists. Panama and Jackson provided direct evidence of that, after all. But by the time he got to the end of the report, Isaac found the new information. “The above interviews, combined with captured documents, reveal that the majority of Machigonne employees resided in the Four Eagles ghetto of Neponset. Formerly the concentrated home of northern migrants, in the past year Zhanghai Industrial Corporation purchased the land and subsequently evicted the majority of the migrants. While government intelligence merely wrote this off as scattering the migrants and only serving to add to our further woes, it’s entirely possible that not only was this eviction - it was also relocation.”
“Relocation?” Babs repeated.
“There’s a thin trail of paperwork,” Stockham said, retrieving said thin trail from a desk drawer. “Last night, Dan Turner infiltrated a Zhanghai mine in northern Arcadia and discovered a good majority of the workers had been former residents of the Four Eagles ghetto. After losing their homes, they had no choice but to sign yellow-dog contracts and work for wherever Zhanghai sent them just to survive. An investigation by Oksana Nazarov into a Zhanghai railroad revealed the same. And it looks like Zhanghai has sent some of the former residents to work for Machigonne.”
Isaac tried to piece everything together. “And wait…the atomic material aboard the Melusine is linked to Zhanghai as well, right?”
Stockham gave him a grim nod. “Indeed. It appears we’ve stumbled upon something quite large. What we initially assumed to be a mere smuggling ring turned out to involve a larger conspiracy involving the Restorationists and Zhanghai Industrial Corporation. Not only are they smuggling drugs, but Squad 1's investigation turned up Atalantan refugees and yours turned up the atomic material. But we’re still in the dark as to their ultimate goal-”
The door to Stockham’s office opened with a bang. A red-faced marine barged in, giving Stockham a quick salute before launching into his spiel. “Sir, it’s the Naval Police! They’ve taken Sam into their own custody!”
The general immediately stood, slamming his hands on his desk in surprise. “They’ve what?” The cigar fell from his mouth; Isaac had never seen Stockham move so fast before. He was already halfway out the door with his marine by the time Isaac and Babs rose to follow him.
“Do you know what’s going on?” Isaac asked in a hushed tone as they entered the hallway.
Babs just shrugged. “It sounds like the Naval Police took Sam into their own custody.”
Her chuckle echoed through the hallway, but then died down once she saw the frown on Isaac’s face. “Sorry about that. But anyway…Stockham mentioned there would be a power struggle soon. I guess we’re seeing the opening salvo right now.”
Should Isaac end up on the losing side of that power struggle, the results wouldn’t be pretty. With bated breath, he picked up his pace, hoping to catch up to Stockham. Once he arrived in the lobby of the building, he found Stockham and the marine had stopped in their tracks. On the other side of them, blocking the door, stood the gray-haired Vice Commandant Spinelli, Mr. Cartwright, and a row of cultivators dressed in dark blue with black armbands - Naval Police cultivators. A man with a blonde mullet stood on the other side of Spinelli with a sneering grin; he must’ve been the squad leader of the cultivators. He waited in anticipation as Spinelli greeted Stockham.
“Good afternoon, General.”
“Enough,” Stockham cut in. “What’s the meaning of this?”
Spinelli gave him a faux-clueless look. “General Stockham, you forget yourself. Your job as head of the Cultivator Marine Corps is to train young men and women for war. All this clandestine snooping around, that’s the role of my department. You should know that the only job of the Marines is to fight as the tip of the spear - I handle all the rear echelon duties, including keeping watch over prisoners.”
"As I recall, your department's role isn't investigating this, either. You handle law within the Navy. I handle threats to national security."
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"The State Police and Army have made it clear - Chief Amien and Secretary Alexander do not believe this is a threat to national security," Spinelli said firmly. He changed his attitude now, dropping his previous innocent look in favor of a strong stance. "I'm shutting down this investigation. That includes taking custody of your prisoners."
Stockham kept his face composed. "What does Commandant Firmino have to say about this? Surely you never received an order from him to do this?"
Spinelli shared a knowing look with Cartwright. "Firmino is meeting with Amien and Alexander right now, explaining to them how the Navy's choice of commander for the Cultivator Marine Corps could've botched an operation so badly that we needlessly lost one of Arcadia's native sons. His hands are tied, as are Secretary Ricci's."
Isaac felt a red heat rise within him - these men were using Kieran's death for their own ends. He expected a similarly strong response from Stockham, but his superior’s hands seemed tied. He kept a stoic look on his face, but if those were the regulations, then there was little he could do. But before departing, Stockham looked at the odd man out.
“Mr. Cartwright, with all due respect, this is not the proper place for a civilian.” He looked back at Spinelli and spoke harshly. “And a civilian should not know about the status of high value prisoners.”
The tycoon gave a haughty laugh. “I can assure you, General Stockham, that I’m not merely a civilian. I’m a taxpayer. I'm a donor. I’m your employer, and should I see fit, I can end that employment.”
The empty threat hung in the air, gripping them like the heat of a humid day. Stockham gave his two opponents a hard stare, but that’s all he could do for now. Mr. Cartwright tipped his fedora in victory, a wide smile on his face.
“That’s what I thought. Now, Chief Spinelli, I take it Sam and the civilians will be well taken care of?”
“Affirmative,” Firmino answered. “They’re in the Naval Police brig, and nobody makes it out of there alive unless I say so. They’ll be under close watch.”
“Excellent. I’ll take it we’re still on for dinner tonight?”
Firmino nodded back. “Of course. We have lots to discuss regarding the future direction of the Navy.”
Isaac’s blood boiled as he watched the two go back and forth in their meaningless conversation.
“Hey!” he cut in. The conversation ended and all eyes were on him. The blonde Naval Police cultivator shifted his hand to his side; a brief spark of red went through it. A show of force like that didn’t scare Isaac. “Cartwright, your son just died. Don’t you care at all? Or was he just a pawn?”
Even Babs’ eyes widened in surprise at Isaac’s choice of words. If war had begun between the Corps and the Naval Police, then Isaac wasn’t about to back down. A silence descended over the lobby; the blonde officer’s fingers twitched in excitement.
Anger flashed through Cartwright’s face and his eyes narrowed, but he collected himself. “You’re right. My son did just die. The incompetence of the general standing next you resulted in his demise.”
“Your son was only there because you demanded it,” Stockham answered coolly. “You wanted the glory of a successful mission conducted by your two children. You didn’t care about Kieran’s success for his sake - you just wanted to advance your own name and image.”
“And Kieran’s death will cost you yours.”
Silence returned; the two factions stared daggers at each other. The tension in the blonde officer’s face was about to reach a crescendo; that’s when Isaac noticed Babs’ fingers twitching next to him, the anger of a crusader on her face.
“Kieran wanted to prove himself to you,” she declared. “And you didn’t care at all. You still don’t care about him. I think Kieran deserved a better father.”
Cartwright stepped forward; the officer nearly surged past him to attack Babs, but Spinelli placed a strict hand on his shoulder, keeping his attack dog at bay. The officer grumbled, but the sudden movement gave Cartwright time to compose himself. He gave Babs one last stare.
“I don’t think about you at all.”
One-by-one, the Naval Police faction followed Cartwright out the door. Spinelli kept a fatherly arm on the blonde officer’s shoulder as they departed, leaving Isaac and company standing in the lobby.
The entire time, a handful of clerks and soldiers had been awkwardly waiting around for the confrontation to end. Now that it was over, they scurried about, all keeping quiet and looking away from Stockham. Isaac expected Stockham to appear angry, but instead, he had his eyebrows bunched up and a hand on his chin as he plotted his response and next move.
“You two cadets are dismissed for now,” he finally said. “I suggest you check up on Cadet Reed. She’s still gripped by battle fatigue.”
----------------------------------------
Neither of the two spoke for a while while returning to their apartments on the other side of the base. All around them, life continued on as usual - cadets trained at the fields, patrol units roamed the base, trucks carried supplies down roads. And all the while, a gray sky hung above them and the chill of a foggy mid-autumn clung to them.
“I did try to kill Sam at the end of our fight,” Babs bluntly admitted, evidently needing to get it off her mind. “I know you just made that speech to Mackenzie about needing him alive and all that, but I just couldn’t do it.”
They passed in front of the tail lights of a running truck; two soldiers sat on crates next to it, playing cards. “I fight for justice,” she said, repeating her mantra. “And sometimes, justice requires death. Or, to put it another way, there are times when justice is death. There are times when we have to pull the trigger ourselves. You think we’ll get anything out of Sam now? Or will he make some sort of bargain with the Naval Police and become another operative for them?”
The whole time, Isaac never considered Sam being set free, let alone employed by the military.
“We don’t know that for sure,” Isaac answered. His response sounded weaker than he would’ve liked. “Sam said he was done fighting for money. And the Restorationists pose a direct threat to the Arcadian military. The Naval Police should understand it’s in their best interest to work with us to bring a stop to all of this.”
“Do they?” Babs merely questioned. Isaac had no answer to that, so the two just walked on in silence past a row of marines running in formation. “I admire your fight against evil, Isaac, but you need to be smart about it. Fighting evil is an abstract. You need to have a plan. How will you actually fight it? Will you accept collaboration from former enemies? What will you do with all the prisoners taken from the Restorationists and the government? When you create a new world, what will your tax plan be?”
That was a laundry list of further questions Isaac didn’t have answers to. But then he thought about how to learn the answers to those, and something dawned on him. “I can’t answer any of that right now. But that’s why I’ll learn. You’re right. I can’t just make up an empty slogan of fighting evil. I need to have something concrete behind it. So, even though I don’t know right now, I’ll study and train as hard as I can until I have those answers. You can count on it.”
The banter and conversation felt just like old times. But something had changed between them. The two fresh-faced cadets who did a carefree dance together on the day of their meeting were long gone. They had transformed along the way into budding warriors with a far better understanding of the world around them. And not only that - they understood how little they actually knew now.
As they arrived back at their apartments, Babs plopped a stick of gum in her mouth. A moment later, the pink bubble popped around her mouth. She rested both hands behind her head. “I wonder how Reed's doing-"
"Reed's doing terrible," she answered from the roof of the apartments.