“I want everyone called in off leave, I don’t care if they are at the hospital about to squirt out their firstborn,” Rooker growled as he peered at his Admin Officer.

“Sir, all our female forward action war fighters are in the field,” the young man answered unhelpfully, and Rooker rolled his eyes so hard he ended up looking toward the celling.

“Just call everyone in, dang it. I swear I never should have let Diz pick an AO, she went for Chip and Dales over brains,” he complained, not caring that the young man could hear him.

“Wilhelmina Of Idaho, Sir,” the man responded.

“What the hell you are going on about?” Rooker said looking up confused.

“Chip and Dales requires you to dance, I’m not very coordinated, so I went to Wilhel-“

“Shut the hell up and make the dang call,” Rooker laughed, as if pained.

“You shouldn’t be so hostile to your admins, you never know when one will become important someday,” a professionally sounding female voice cut in.

Turning, Rooker spied the curvy figure, as she stood holding a black gift bag and a professionally tailored smile.

“Fashionable high heels, a black and white pants suit, and cat’s eyeglasses, don’t you look like you mean trouble? “Rooker said, but if his eyes were tracing her figure, it was because he was looking for her hold out gun.

“What did Gordon send his man-eating siren for this time?” Rooker said as he glowered at her.

“Man Eater? Mr. Rooker, my tastes are gender neutral, but Mr. Gordon has sent me to discuss the current situation with your unsuccessful sortie in the Outlands, not my appetites,” she said in an even tone that was all business.

“How the hell would he know anything about that? I just found out about it, and hell, here you are, what is he bugging people’s offices now?” Rooker asked as he glared at her.

“Besides Erin, from what I understand it’s not just your morbid tastes that are gender neutral, not that many have lived to tell the tale,” he scoffed.

“But how did you find out about the convoy being raided? What business is it of Gordons?” Rooker said, dropping into a slightly less openly antagonistic tone.

“Mr. Gordon has a multifaceted enterprise. If you like we can review your own past dealings with Vision Dynamics, or we could take this to your office and have a commemorative drink to honor the dead,” She raised the black gift bag once again, a cryptic smile touching her full down turned lips.

“It’s a bit too soon to be memoralizing, we don’t even know who survived yet. Besides, I doubt Gordon sent you down here just for that,” he said.

Erin raised a brow and smiled a little more, “That and perhaps talk about a little tactical cooperation.”

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

Rooker paused just a moment and realized the silence meant everyone had eyes on their interaction. “Yeah, we can talk in my office,” Rooker said uncertainly, went to his office without waiting for her.

Moving to the self behind his desk Rooker grabbed two glasses from the decanter set, then turned and plopped down in his chair. The cut crystal was out of place in the tactical atmosphere, but somehow Rooker felt like it was right for the situation.

Erin moved into the room, lingering for a moment at the open door, her dark brown eyes sliding from Rooker to the glasses. She closed the door behind her, then made her way to his desk and took the seat opposite him.

“Mr. Gordon wants you to stand down all current operations in the Outlands, effective immediately,” she said, as if the matter was of passing interest.

Pulling the Glen-Freeze Scotch from the bag, she unsealed it. The top was a press-in cork, sealed with a blue sealing wax. It was impressive, but Rooker’s eyes were fixed on Erin.

“The fuuuuck I will,” Rooker drew out the word like the anticipation would have an effect.

“He is very insistent that you do, his own people in the area will conduct the recovery operations,” She countered and tilted the bottle until some of the expensive amber liquid sloshed around in each glass.

“Those are my people. I won’t leave them out there until Vision Dynamics lets them come in. Hell, if it suits Gordon, he might leave them out there, or kill them himself. I’m not about to let that happen. I’m loyal to my team,” Rooker said in a rush, and picked up his glass with attitude.

“I understand loyalty, Rooker. You have my word we won’t take any action against your people,” Erin picked up her own glass with care, then raised the glass to the light before bringing it to her nose and sniffing.

“You’re something else, Erin. After you defected to play fetch and step for Gordon, you’re going to talk to me about loyalty?” Rooker laughed and took a gulp of the whiskey.

“That was a professional choice, it shouldn’t make our current roles any less friendly,” Erin said still examining her drink.

“Gordon offered a better opportunity with his team than I had previously. Besides, after the Kane incident, you can’t exactly use the loyalty line, now can you?” Erin said, her brows slightly knit.

“Diz, Jensen, Beto, hell even Abby is out there, you can’t seriously expect me to stand down!” Rooker nearly shouted.

“Abby Emerson?” Erin laughed. “What kind of idiot puts a drunk cripple in the field? You can’t still have a flame for her.”

“I only ever had a flame for one woman,” Rooker growled, “she found a better opportunity.”

Erin sat back in her seat her eyebrows raised. Slowly she relaxed and with it a soft chuckle escaped Erin’s lips. “Oh Rooker, you always were a day late and a dollar short.”

Rooker downed his whiskey and casually put his glass back on the table. For a moment, they both sat in silence, each contemplating his words, and their options they were left with.

“You swear no harm will come to them?” Rooker asked, his eyes locking onto Erin’s own with a mixture of pleading and menace.

“I swear that as long as they stand down, and take no actions against Vision Dynamics, then we will ensure they safety, and,” Erin paused and reached for the glass again filling it, “we can discuss financial compensation.”

Rooker shook his head in annoyance and reached for the glass once more. Erin put her hand on his, her red painted nails pressing slightly into the skin as she peered at him intently.

“Do we have a deal, Mr. Rooker?”

“You want me to sell out the settlers, leave my people in your organization’s hands, for assurances and a payoff?” Rooker said evenly.

“I want you to do it for a significant consultation fee, and my personal assurances,” Erin relaxed her fingers and lightly slid one over his knuckles, “We can work together again, Rooker. We can get through this and maybe see where it goes?”

Erin released his hand then lifted her glass in salute.

Rooker raised his own, somberly, “to the past and all those who sacrificed,” Rooker said his tone both subdued and flat.

“To the future, and further negotiations,” Erin smiled and as Rooker nodded, they touched glasses and drank.