Kayla chuckled as she pulled out her phone and brought up a photo. She passed it over to Sal, who inspected it, then showed Gaz. Both men only looked confused.

“What is that?” Sal asked. “A horse statue?”

“Oh, I know who that is,” Gaz said after a moment’s thought. “She was one of the statues in the regimental museum, don’t you remember, Sal?” He glanced at Kayla. “Some kind of historical war horse, right?”

“Sergeant Reckless,” she said.

“Wait,” Leod said, his brow furrowing. “I thought you said it was a horse.”

“A Marine horse,” Kayla corrected. “And a staff sergeant.”

“But… it’s a horse. How can a horse be—” Leod stopped as he took in the impatient stares around the room. He shrugged and raised his hands. “Okay, a Marine… sergeant.”

Gaz nodded as he handed her phone back. “Not sure where you took that, though. Some camp in the middle of nowhere? All our bases would have statues of more recent Marines.”

“That photo,” Kayla explained, “came from the camp where I was trained, on a moon far outside human space. You ever hear of the Night Stalkers?”

Sal crossed his arms. “Smuggler’s myths to excuse shoddy spacefaring practices,” he said confidently.

“Mate, are you serious?” Gaz said with a small chuckle. “It’s obvious where she’s going with this.”

“Yeah,” Kayla said. “That’s us. There was an alien civilization in this part of the galaxy before humans, and they had a huge war, and left a ton of advanced weapons and ordinance behind. Our job is to clean up, and keep it out of everyone’s hands. If we don’t do our job, the corporations, the cartels, and the League would get into an arms race that could destroy civilization.”

“Uh… okay,” Gaz said as he blinked slowly. “And so, that’s like… a multilateral agency or…?”

“We don’t answer to any political authority,” Kayla said.

“Then… who do you answer to? Who pays for your kit and your training, and your super soldier potion?”

“That’s not something I can get into right now. Consider this conversation a limited introduction.”

“Yeah…” Gaz thought for a moment. “Very limited. I mean, okay, aliens—that’s insane. But beyond that you haven’t told us anything. If we don’t know who you work for then we don’t know your agenda.”

“I just told you our agenda,” Kayla said patiently.

“No. You told us your current mission statement. Your agenda is whatever priorities your paymasters have that guarantee their security and success into the future. Up to now, you’ve shown us secrecy, and the desire to hoard advanced technology. I know I’m not exactly one to talk, but that doesn’t instill a lot of confidence.”

Kayla turned to Ray with a pleading expression.

“You are not wrong,” Ray responded smoothly. “However, you have seen for yourselves that we share common values. And you appear to be out of options for a way out of this mess.”

Kayla leaned towards her ear, hand covering her mouth and spoke in an audible mock whisper. “Did they confirm plan B, that we could just kill them all?”

“Wait,” Leod said, his eyes darting back and forth. “That was a joke, right? She was joking? Guys?”

“Who knows?” Kayla said with an exaggerated shrug. “Many secrets lie behind my mystical agenda.”

“Yeah, that’s great,” Sal said. “But you don’t have a way out of here either.”

“Oh, we can leave whenever we want,” Kayla said.

All three men looked at her with stunned expressions.

“Bullshit,” Gaz said evenly.

“Nope. We can just pop smoke around the building and sprint to the river. My personal top speed, with kit, is fifty kilometers per hour. Then, we can swim underwater at 8 knots for up to twenty minutes before coming up for air.”

“Bullshit,” said Sal, though he seemed to lack conviction.

Ray nodded. “She’s right. We stayed to get that lead on Milani and Rayker, and to make sure you guys got out okay. You have done a lot for us—we wouldn’t leave you to a glorious last stand.”

Gaz stared at them both for a long moment, then held up his hands. “Fine. Let’s hear your brilliant plan, at least.”

“It’s super awesome,” Kayla said with a grin. “We’re going to pop smoke and run to the river, and leave you all here to play out this hostage crisis.”

“You know, I’m actually starting to hate your sense of humor,” Leod said.

“What my colleague means to say,” Ray said in a more serious tone, “is that we will depart the premises to go and recover Milani and hopefully kill Rayker. You will stay here to draw the attention of the League’s security forces, with the cooperation of Agent Whist out there, who will shortly be in absolute control of the negotiations.

Gaz scoffed. “Milani is two hundred miles away in the mountains. And you’re going to somehow travel that distance with the League searching for terrorists all around the city? How, exactly?”

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

“Oh…” Kayla scratched her head. “We’ll probably walk it. Looks like a chill hike, and it should be easy to keep a low profile in the hills.”

“Oh, well… okay then.” Gaz looked surprised. “So, wait… you really expect to rescue Milani?”

“Yep. They’re holed up in an underground base, so it’ll be a tough fight. I’m confident though. Rayker won’t see this coming.”

“Where did she get an underground base?”

“It’s alien too. That’s kind of the whole deal with Caldera. There’s this giant super laser in the planet that can just blow-up stars and whatever—”

Ray smiled tightly. “She’s joking again. We have no idea what the base was built for, only that it’s very important to Rayker. She is, by the way, definitely working for alien overlords.”

“Oh,” said Sal weakly, “that sounds… well, you should probably go and take care of that situation. I think that makes sense, right, Gaz?”

Gaz nodded. “But what happens to us? We somehow play hostage traders for more than a week—”

“A few days,” Kayla interjected.

Gaz’s face went blank while he processed that information.

“Come on, man, they have superpowers,” Leod added. “Try to keep up.”

“… A few days, then,” Gaz continued. “After which, we all get arrested?”

“Yes,” Kayla said happily. “You surrender after giving up the hostages in exchange for some minor concessions from the Rackeye authorities. Whist leads your capture and shuts you up in a nice jail somewhere. Then, in a month, when all the excitement’s died down, we’ll come and break you out.”

“I suppose I don’t need to ask how you expect to do that so easily?”

Kayla looked thoughtful. “Dunno really. We’ll figure it out when we get there.” She waved a hand. “I’m sure it’ll go fine.”

Gaz raised an eyebrow, then exchanged a look with Sal. “So, uh… what about Tensall?” he asked

“Well,” Kayla said with a grim smile. “That’s where things get interesting.”

Whist’s heartbeat hummed as he waited for the hostage takers to make their move. Around him, Sentinels, cops and army officers were standing around with bated breath to see what consequences would follow the failed assault. A few minutes ago, Taylor had contacted them to announce a broadcast, and although Whist knew exactly what it would contain, he was still very nervous. A lot could go wrong before he was able to consolidate his authority over the regiment that had come to Caldera in search of a fight.

The command group watched a monitor that had been rigged outside the communications truck, only showing static for the moment. But that would change any second. Whist took comfort in the distant harangues of Marinou, who was on the phone to a nearby shop owner. She was promising wealth and favors if he would agree to stay open past business hours, and threats if he didn’t. At least Zhang’s people seemed to be both energetic and committed.

A hush fell on the crowd as the screen went black, quickly replaced with shocked muttering when Tensall’s face appeared. He looked tired, and stressed, but his smug and self-righteous tone of voice eased the tension, at first. An interviewer was questioning him, and he was answering frankly. He went on for several minutes, while images of young teenagers appeared in the corner, together with ages and planets of origin. Then the close-up cut to video footage of private rooms, in which Tensall and a young lover—presumably Milani Mayosi—talked, flirted, and then became more intimate.

“What a piece of shit,” a female police officer said in a shocked voice.

A soldier spat on the ground.

More video played of Milani, alone in her room, crying, and sometimes shaking. Then the feed cut back to Tensall.

“It’s all accepted,” he said. “Everybody knows how it works. The whole galaxy does the same. And you still can’t tell me what’s wrong with it, can you? Don’t you see that I’m helping them? So many people are crushed by the machine, but shouldn’t such divine beauty have its chance to rise up?”

The mood darkened. Men and women either looked at the sky or at the ground. Nobody seemed to want to make eye contact with their neighbors.

Whist cleared his throat. “Conspiracy theorist am I, Jarrel?” he said to Caldera’s station chief.

He received a sidelong glance, but nothing more.

The video cut again, showing a view from inside the operations office, with a clock displaying the current date and time. Through a nearby window, one of the distant police cruisers of the perimeter was just visible. Men with balaclavas stood next to a hooded Tensall, seated in a chair.

Whist watched silently, hoping that nobody noticed how unnaturally still the Director seemed.

A police officer marched away from the group, yelling into his radio for a shooter team to get a sightline on the room.

Then another man, face exposed, appeared before the camera, and began to speak.

“For too long, Helvetic society has hidden the crimes of their leaders from the galaxy,” he began.

“Gareth Slake, Frontier Marine and currently employed by Eagle Rescue Services,” Whist said over the speech. “You may recall they have been implicated in a variety of attacks on corporate and cartel targets, most recently on Intaba.”

“There was a VennZech man involved in that too,” a Sentinel agent said bitterly. “Courts ruled no investigation was needed.”

“Of course they did,” Whist said, and turned his attention back to the monitor.

“Even as we try to bring justice to a proven child trafficker, the League’s soldiers attack us,” Gaz went on, his voice full of enraged passion. “They want to stop us from revealing the truth. They want to kill the witnesses. Now we are left with no choice. If Tensall is not punished for his crimes now, he will be released to terrorize more victims. We cannot allow this to happen. Innocent children must be protected at all costs. Now witness the punishment that is due to men or women such as him.”

He stepped to the side of the unmoving Tensall, aimed a pistol at his head, and fired.

Only tuts, or sighs came from the gathered officers. They had seen it coming, and had little desire to signal sympathy, or outrage. A few embarrassed Sentinel agents murmured obscenities against the army for inviting the execution, and were soon joined by the cops. Whist was only grateful that nobody questioned why a man about to be shot dead hadn’t flinched, or begged for his life.

Gaz faced the camera once again. “We have no desire to harm innocent people. Once the government of Rackeye agrees to our demands for justice and protection against human traffickers, all hostages will be released. As a show of good will, we allow the woman known as Bunny to be released immediately. You may approach the western fire escape doors to take her into your protection.

There was a collective sigh from the command group, while men from the tactical intervention team hurried off to prepare for the handover. A powerful VennZech executive had spoken to Whist, and now her daughter was being let go. Obviously, a deal had been made. Money had changed hands—understandings had been reached. Against the backdrop of a now peaceful city, the prospect of a confrontation between colonist terrorists and the League had suddenly been reduced to a larger-than-life crime scene. It was a story of politics, corruption, and revenge. They had descended from the hysterical peaks of a confusing nightmare to the mundane problems that Helvetic life usually managed to sweep under the rug. After a little cleanup, all would be right with the world.

In the distance, armed police approached the building. The doors opened, and a terrified young woman stumbled out, looked around in confusion, then raced for the waiting officers.

Whist had no idea who she was. Probably the most well-connected employee the Marines and Zhang’s operatives—whoever they were—could find. It didn’t matter; different messages had been sent to their relevant recipients, and everyone could breathe a little easier. Of course, when the operation was reviewed, someone would discover that the pieces didn’t fit together, but by then the narrative—with Tensall cast as an innocent victim—would have been broadcast across the League. Nobody would encourage further digging.

The command group began to break away from the monitor, while the army officers were treated with a cold shoulder. Whist was summoned to another teleconference, for which, he saw with relief, Colonel Stratos had not been invited.