The Last Mission of the Living (The Last Bastion Book 2) (24 page)

Lying next to her, he lightly brushed his palm over her bare hip and rested his head against her shoulder. She stirred enough to mold her body against his while angling her head toward him to rest her cheek against his hair. “Everything okay?” she murmured, not really fully awake.

“Yeah. It’s good.”

“You sure?”

Pressing his lips to her shoulder, he said, “I’m sure. Sleep, Linds.”

She didn’t answer, and he took that as a sign she’d dropped off again.

Listening to the sound of her deep breathing, Torran agonized over the situation he was trapped in. Though he loved her completely, at some point, he was going to betray her trust in him. If the vaccination to ISPV was in Maria Martinez, Torran would move heaven and earth to find her so he’d never have to fear for Lindsey’s life again. There were things much worse than worrying for your own life, and that was living in terror of losing the person you loved. Lindsey would never be a Scrag. He’d find Maria to ensure Lindsey’s safety. Would Lindsey forgive him? He wasn’t sure, but at least she’d be safe.

And if he saved the world along the way, that was something he could live with.

 

 

 

Part 4

THE END GAME

 

 

 

Chapter 23

 

“This is ridiculous,” Lindsey declared.

Commandant Pierce arched an eyebrow, but remained silent as she watched Lindsey stalk back and forth in front of her desk. Lindsey knew she should rein in her temper and show more respect, but it was difficult. She was exhausted, bruised, and mentally worn out.

“Four missions in one week! Four! The sheer amount of intel that we have to collect and then disseminate into a viable plan is staggering. I’m a fuckin’ genius, but I’m starting to make mistakes because I’m so fuckin’ tired.”

“Yet all the missions have been a success with zero loss of life. The commendations you’re garnering are impressive, Vanguard Rooney.”

“I don’t care about them, you know. This is about helping the people. It’s not for the higher ups or to decorate my uniform with pretty medals. Frankly, I can barely stand that stupid smile President Cabot gives me whenever I have to attend one of his bogus press conferences.”

“Because of your missions, the city is now back at Level Three rationing,” Commandant Pierce pointed out. “That’s excellent work.”

Lindsey stopped pacing, rested her hands on the desk, and leaned toward the commandant. It was so neat compared to her own workstations in the prep room back at the SWD Facility. She used to have neat workspaces, but those days were over for now. “I’m glad the riots are over. I’m glad the city isn’t on lockdown anymore, but...”

“But?”

“Do you really think they’ve given up on finding Maria and Dwayne?”

The commandant shook her head. “No. Of course not.”

“Then why aren’t they making their move?”

“But aren’t they?” Commandant Pierce swiped her desk so that a screen appeared. “According to your report, the remote generators are used on each mission to send out pulses to activate the security grid of each city.”

“So that we can use the city scanners to detect the movements of the Scrag swarms...” Lindsey realized she’d missed something vital. The shock of that revelation hit her in a tidal wave that sent her head spinning. With a dazed look on her face, she collapsed onto a chair. “Oh, shit. Of course! How could I miss it? They’re looking for them in each city we raid.”

“Most likely.” Commandant Pierce settled back in her chair.

“I guess I didn’t think about what else might be going on for the pulses because it was
my
idea to activate the local security.” Feeling ridiculously tired, a bit stupid, and very embarrassed, Lindsey sat in silence. Just because she and Torran were planning the expeditions didn’t mean that the SWD wasn’t twisting the excursion specs to their advantage. And she hated to think that maybe Torran had a hand in assisting the SWD.

The nearly round-the-clock duty schedule had her on the edge. She wasn’t even sure how Torran could stand her sometimes, but usually he just let her rant while agreeing with nods of his head. Then he made her some weird, but delicious meal out of their bars of protein and made her laugh until she forgot why she was so annoyed. The pang in her heart at the thought of him made her situation even more challenging. Were they already on opposing sides?

“They’re going to keep us going at this pace until they find them, aren’t they?” The thought made Lindsey frustrated to the point of anger. She was tired of the secret games people were playing in which she and Torran were pawns.

“That’s probably the plan.”

Lindsey clasped her hands in her lap and leaned forward. “Why can’t they send out another squad?”

“Resources. We still don’t have the fuel depot working at full strength. The mix has to be just right to get the stagnant stores returned to full potency. That’s the official word. Unofficial word is that Legatus Martel has convinced the President to keep your squad as the only active one.”

“How? I don’t get it.”

“Legatus Martel has the ear of the president. He likes her quite a lot in spite of my warnings. She’s more… accommodating than I am. She tends not to argue as much. Also, she’s been very adamant that the one team is sufficient and points to the calmer city population. Each time you return with more food supplies, you validate her viewpoint. The effectiveness of your team actually works against you.”

“And he buys into it? You’d think he’d want a bunch of teams out there making him look good.”

Commandant Pierce sighed. “It’s propaganda, Lindsey. The names and faces of each squad member are known by every civilian in the city. You’re heroes. I know you’re not allowed to watch the news vids, but you’re a celebrity now.”

“I really don’t like the sound of that,” Lindsey grumbled. She had already hacked into the news feed to see how their missions were being depicted. The coverage was what she’d expected. The news vids from the tiltrotors were used to show the heavy infestation in the cities, but never the beauty of the outside world. The president was making sure that all the hopes and dreams of the people were squarely on the survival of The Bastion. She supposed it made sense, but it also made her sad. Hope was important to the human spirit. That was a lesson she was learning as her aspirations for a future with Torran began to solidify. She’d also seen the way the squad was being immortalized, and it made her uneasy to be held up as some iconic figure when she was just a weary soldier doing her job. “Why do they need us to be celebrities?”

“President Cabot is doing his best to ensure his legacy as the savior of The Bastion. That means the propaganda machine is working overtime to create a narrative that favors him. Right now the theme is ‘leading against all odds.’ So having one specialized team busting their ass to save The Bastion fits that narrative. Limited personnel plus limited resources equals heroes against all odds. Also, Vanguard Rooney, the more people we send out, the more chances there are for failure and death. He’s trying to minimize that possibility.”

“But we need more food, right? We could haul in so much more with multiple squads running missions.”

“Yes, but President Cabot’s people assure him that as long as the Level Three rationing stays stable, there won’t be any more riots. The supplies you’re bringing back will keep the city at Level Three. Plus, the first crops will be harvested in a few months. That may drop us to Level Two.” Commandant Pierce cocked her head. “Also, you need to consider that the less people they have going out there, the easier it will be for the SWD to capture Vanguard Martinez and Castellan Reichardt and control that narrative as well.”

“Does everything have to be so damn political?” Lindsey huffed, irritably tugging at her braid.

“Sadly, yes.”

“I’m a soldier. I’m not cut out for all this intrigue.”

“You’re doing a fine job, Vanguard Rooney.”

“I missed what they might possibly be doing with the pulses,” she groused.

“Well, the suspected SWD purpose for the pulses is disguised as a legitimate facet of a well-planned excursion. Honestly, I’m just guessing that’s what they’re doing. Only you can discern if they’re actually looking for them using the pulses.”

“Which I will,” Lindsey said darkly. She was already planning to study the pulses and take another look at their excursions for any hidden patterns.

“I can see that exhaustion is coming into play. I’ll request very strongly that the squad have two days off. I’ll make the suggestion to the president in a way that will appeal to him. Like he’s showing fatherly compassion or something of the sort.”

“We could use two days after today’s mission. This one is a big challenge. The Notre Dame Food Depot is massive. We’re taking six transports. Luckily, it’s well fortified. In fact, all the excursions since the first one have been to food depots that have much better security. Which brings me to this... why all the food depots? If our founders knew they were moving to The Bastion, why not move the food here?”

“The Bastion was supposed to be self-sufficient, remember? Also...” Commandant Pierce hesitated. “Well, Lindsey, there was always the hope we would be going back to claim the world. And part of the plan was to provide resources for the new pioneers.”

A cold finger of dread slid down her spine. “So us raiding those resources is us giving up on that hope, isn’t it?”

Commandant Pierce looked down at her desktop and the screen glowing there. “Yes, to some degree. We need to concentrate on saving ourselves right now. Returning to the outside world is something that just doesn’t seem viable.”

Lindsey wondered if it would
ever
be viable.

“I think we’re done here,” the commandant said finally.

Standing, Lindsey saluted and started for the door.

“Vanguard Rooney, be a little more diligent in the future missions. A little more... inquisitive. And don’t trust anyone,” Commandant Pierce’s voice said, the granite in the words a little frightening. “Even bedfellows.”

Lindsey almost turned around, but thought better of it. It seemed Petra was keeping an eye on Lindsey and Torran for the commandant. “Yes, sir.”

She left the office and the doors shut behind her.

Petra swiveled about in her chair, her pad in one hand. It was if she were waiting for Lindsey to say something. Anger pricking at her determination to be civil, Lindsey pulled a protein bar from her pocket and set it on the desk.

“For your kids.”

“Thank you, Lindsey.”

Setting one hand on Petra’s desk, Lindsey bent toward her. “Stay out of my private life.”

Petra met Lindsey’s stare with a calm expression. “Even though your worm has been very good at eradicating all traces of you and Torran in the city security feeds, people have eyes. They see things. Such as you entering his flat and him joining you in your dorm room. And people talk, Lindsey. I know you’re completely enmeshed in your tech, but the tech is not always going to protect you.”

“How far has the word gone?” Though she hated that Petra knew about her private affairs, she was even angrier at herself for letting down her guard. Now she’d have to sleep alone and only see Torran while they were working.

“I’ve been keeping a watch on correspondence and nothing official has popped up. So far, it is only idle gossip among a small group. So I would suggest discretion.” Petra did appear to actually sympathize with Lindsey’s predicament. Her long fingers gently lay over Lindsey’s. “You’re needed out there. Don’t give them a reason to pull you.”

With a curt nod, Lindsey straightened, drawing her hand away. “Right.”

“And thank you for the protein bar. It’s appreciated. I know things will be better soon thanks to what you’re doing.”

Lindsey just nodded again and made her escape. The twisting knots in her stomach and rapidly building headache were not going to make her day any easier. She was due at the SWD Facility within the hour.

The bustle of people around her in Constabulary charcoal gray was a welcome departure from the black and white uniforms of the SWD. The Constabulary halls were filled with chatter, a rather different atmosphere than the quiet sterility of the SWD hallways. She missed her old stomping ground and wondered when she’d return to it.

“Good job out there,” someone said in passing.

“Thanks,” Lindsey answered, then ducked into a lift.

Thankfully, she was alone.

Pressing her hands to her queasy stomach, she stared up at the numbers flashing on the screen over the door. The walk back to the SWD Facility would do her some good. The time would let her get her head together and calm her nerves. Her insides were a gnarl of knots.

When she reached the front gates, she was startled to see a pod car sitting near the curb. Ground vehicles were rarely seen on the streets of The Bastion and were mostly used by high government officials. The highly polished white exterior and the curved black windows reminded her of a bug. The door popped open and slid up to reveal Dr. Curran.

“Vanguard Rooney, would you care for a ride?” the blond woman asked.

“I was planning on walking,” Lindsey answered, unnerved by the woman’s presence

The Constabulary gates shut behind her with a clang.

“You are returning to the SWD Facility, aren’t you?” Dr. Curran’s fingers tapped on the steering wheel.

“Yes.”

A surprising needle of fear pierced through Lindsey. Dr. Curran was the mad genius who had helped save The Bastion with her modification of the ISPV, but she’d also helped doom Maria to exile. Lindsey’s heart ached for her best friend, but her reluctance to get into the vehicle wasn’t founded in her anger at the doctor, but dread of what the woman might do in the future.

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