Chapter 95 – All’s Well

  Eighteen hours down post off-world mission. That was the Kicker Convention, spelled out in the SOP in no uncertain terms. Yet, after checking in his gear at the armory, Cole went straight up to Lewis Hall, still in his dusty, charred uniform. The otherworld dagger he’d taken off Artian’s retainer was burning a hole in his pocket, just as his questions were burning in the back of his mind. He couldn’t put this off.

  Badging into Lewis Hall, he rode the elevator up to the third floor and stepped into Bricker’s outer office where Mrs. Mary was sorting through files on her desk with a classified stamp in her hand. She looked up as he entered.

  “Mr. Colton, I only just received word that you’d returned from Babel. You should be resting.”

  “Is the Director in?” he asked.

  Mrs. Mary frowned and nodded to the door. Cole walked to the inner office, knocked twice, and then opened it. Bricker sat within, desk phone couched between his shoulder and ear as he typed into his workstation. He spotted Cole and held up a finger. Cole nodded and closed the door.

  “Still on his call?” she asked.

  Cole nodded. “Looked important.”

  Mary chuckled. “Well, you don’t call the Director of Otherworld Rescue at 0200 hours to arrange nine holes.”

  “Shit!” said Cole, checking his watch, then “Excuse my language, Ma’am. I didn’t realize how late it was.”

  Ms. Mary yawned. “Oh, don’t remind me. The director doesn’t get much sleep during Babel missions. One of our team identified the kid the JIRF is looking for and he’s relaying details to them.”

  “Looks like you don’t get much either,” said Cole.

  “No, I suppose not. It’s a bit like squiring for him during field work, again.”

  Cole tilted his head. “You were Director Bricker’s squire?”

  “Of course.” Ms. Mary put down her stamp and couched her chin in her hand for a moment. “The Director and I go way back. I was his civilian administrative lead when he was in the Army almost twenty years ago. That was long before I knew where he’d been and what he’d been through.” She shook her head. “To think, he used to tease me for reading Anne McCaffrey novels.”

  “Is that the vampire lady?” asked Cole.

  Ms. Mary giggled. “Not quite. Those early days were something of the wild west. You’ll have to ask him how he got the Department off the ground, some time.”

  The inner door opened and Director Bricker looked at Ms. Mary. “Uh oh,” he said. “What’s she been telling you?”

  Cole grinned. “All your dirty secrets.”

  Bricker waved Cole into the office. Cole followed him and took a seat.

  “Welcome home, Cole. Well done on getting your team through and locating Ms. Black. That was the Director of the JIRF I just got off the phone with—err, the Japanese Isekai Retrieval Force. Their version of us. Looks like their Babel mission isn’t going as well. Two of their team members were wounded and they’ve requested our assistance locating a national that was taken to the tower. But that’s neither here nor there. What do you need?”

  Cole pulled the sheathed knife from his pocket and put it on the desk. “I got that from a dying man on the fifth floor.”

  Bricker pulled the pearlescent blade from its sheath and looked at the curved weapon and etched inlay. “Pretty. What’s it do?”

  “No idea, I didn’t kill him so I’m not soul-keyed to it. But the man came from a world in the midst of a demonic invasion. Apparently, he served a Lord Ryan. He mistook me for him, in fact.”

  Bricker’s hand froze as his eyes slid to Cole. “Lord Ryan?”

  Cole nodded.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  Bricker resheathed the dagger and ran a hand over his chin. “It’s a big multiverse. I don’t want to give you false hope or having you chasing after a wild goose, Cole.”

  “A survivor we traveled with gave some details that suggested their Ryan might not be from around his parts. The conversation is on the helmet cams,” said Cole. He shook his head. “I know the odds must be astronomical. But I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t at least try to plead my case.”

  “Well, the worlds do have links that draw people together sometimes, Cole. Siblings share a connection, one a Lewis Field somehow acknowledges. Fate isn’t quite such an ambiguous concept in other worlds.” Bricker drummed his thick fingers on the top of his desk in thought, then sniffed and leaned forward. “You truly believe this intel is credible? And the man who gave it to you?”

  “He was a con man and a huckster too clever for his own good,” said Cole. “And his survival depended on being in our good graces.”

  Bricker leaned back and roared with laughter. He pinched the bridge of his nose as the laughter petered off. “Oh, yeah. Met my fair share of those. The problem is, they do know things, and they do know people. Friends are in short supply out there. Hmm…” He looked at the dagger again. “I know I told you to let your brother lie. But I also pulled the files on his disappearance. I don’t want to give you false hope, Cole. But I’m also not going to dismiss this out of hand. Between Curahee and Vael, I think I’ve seen enough of how you operate to know you’re on the level and focused on the mission. If that trend continues with the review of Babel, I think I can extend some latitude. Did this huckster give you a name for this world?”

  “He just called it The March. But, after Curahee, Morganstern implied we have a lab that can trace otherworld armaments back to their home worlds. She took Ram-head’s Axe for that reason, and I want to do the same with this dagger.”

  Bricker nodded. “Not surprised you put that together. But I want to dispel the notion that it’s a surefire thing. To wit, the axe didn’t give us the Beast Cult’s home world, and locating it is a top priority. We don’t know if it didn’t work because the soul-key transferred to your team, or because that knight got his armament somewhere else, or if it just fizzled for an unknown reason. Otherworld armaments are fickle like that.” Bricker held the sheathed knife out to Cole. “You say you didn’t kill him. Know what did?”

  “An ape monster,” said Cole.

  “A monster? That’s good,” said Bricker. “If his soul-key died with him, and if this armament is from his home world—which I think is likely, as this holster looks well-loved, then there might be a chance.”

  “So you’ll follow up on it?” said Cole.

  “No, but you will.” Bricker pushed his chair back and drummed his fingers on his desk as he considered. “Good chance for you to visit Knoxville and see some of our other facilities. But for now, take this back to Jefferson and get some rest. I’m running on caffeine and fumes, so I know you must be practically dead on your feet.”

  Cole took the dagger and stood, turning. But the director’s voice stopped him.

  “If this is your brother, Cole. He’s been alive in this otherworld for as long as he was alive on Earth. He might not consider this his home anymore. Be cognizant of that possibility as we pull at this thread.”

  Cole looked back over his shoulder. “I understand, sir.”

  He left, saying goodnight to Mrs. Mary before returning the dagger to the armory with a brief explanation for Jefferson.

  Not inclined to make the forty-minute drive to his house, he decided to crash at his on-post billet for the night where he had toiletries and spare clothes stashed.

  He was surprised to see Roxy out in front of the billets, sitting at the smoke pit table, staring off into the distance.

  “Rox?” he asked, taking a seat across from her.

  She startled, only just realizing that he was across from her. “Cole!” she said.

  “Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, realizing as he sat down that she hadn’t showered, hadn’t even changed clothes.

  “No, I just wanted a smoke,” she shrugged and laughed. “But I gave them to Beth.”

  With her singed hair and soot-smeared face, she looked like she’d had enough smoke. But he pulled his vape pen from his shirt pocket and handed it over. “I know it’s not the same.”

  Roxy looked at it. Her face started to scrunch up, and Cole reached across the table and took her hands. “Hey, hey, she’s in good hands, Roxy. They’re going to pull her out. And if they don’t, it’s cause she’s squirrely enough to give a team of high-level Kickers the slip in which case there’s nothing in that tower that could pin her down.”

  Roxy laughed, and then huffed and sniffed, staving off the tears for the moment. She took the pen and took a drag, blowing out the vapor. “You’re right. It’s not the same.” She breathed out and held her thumb and forefinger an inch apart. “I was this close, you know. To pulling out my own fucking knife and digging out that transponder.” She shook her head. “Leaving her alone was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

  “What’s the first rule of treating a mass casualty on the battlefield, Roxy?”

  “I know, I know. Don’t become part of the casualty. Don’t make more work for the rescue personnel.” She sighed.

  “Not to mention Dallemonte was on our ass there at the end,” said Cole. “If you’d stayed, you’d be dead. And probably Beth with you.”

  “Stop being logical and let me vent!” she said. Then chuckled. “You’re right. But you’re an asshole.” She took another draw of the vape pen. “God, I’m exhausted.”

  “I feel that,” said Cole. “But I might have a lead on my brother.”

  “The dagger?”

  “The dagger.”

  Roxy nodded. She rubbed her thumb on the back of his fingers as she squeezed his hand. “I really hope it works out for you, Cole. If your brother is anything like you, he could definitely survive being spirited away. If it ever comes time to go pull him out, I’ll be right there beside you.”

  “More like in front of me, with that big-ass shield so I don’t get shot at.”

  Roxy laughed. “Asshole.”

  “We all have our strengths, right?”