Taking Shield 05: Day of Wrath

SECTION ONE: THORN

32 Quintus - 33 Sextus 7491

Chapter One

32 Quintus 7491

Fucking Makepeace just would not lie down and die.

Not like the poor sods who’d been in the Makepeace pens, waiting to have the tops of their heads cut off. Not like Felix. No. They laid down and died, all right.

But not fucking Makepeace.

Same bloody problem bringing him here, time after time after time. Same office. Same chairs. Same mediocre paintings on the walls. Same dusty-leaved potted plants. Same tasteless coffee offered by the same bevy of personal assistants who guarded the President from all comers.

Different President, mind you, but Bennet didn’t count that as a change for the better. His philosophy was simple enough: all politicians bad, some politicians badder. The only good thing about Beatrice was she’d kept the coup bloodless when she’d ousted her predecessor following the failed secession of Cissante, one of Albion’s major colonies. The only good thing. Ex-President Maitland might have got them into the whole fuck-up at Makepeace, but at least he hadn’t personally targeted Bennet as a result. Bennet couldn’t say the same of Beatrice. The area between his shoulder blades itched from the invisible target she’d painted on his back.

Same austere, elegant Head of the Secretariat to greet him—which at least could be counted in the plus column. Seigneur Etienne was an ally. Etienne had the ascetic, thin, dark face of a saint from an ancient illuminated manuscript. The old man certainly had the patience of one, working so closely with politicians. It meant a lot, Etienne’s watching Bennet’s back.

The knot in Bennet’s gut unravelled a bit. He should have known that Etienne would be at the meeting. Beatrice would be a fool to exclude him. She was a lot of things, but he doubted foolish was one of them.

My dear boy, I’m delighted to see you again. Etienne took Bennet’s proffered hand between both of his. I do wish the circumstances were better.

Bennet did, too. It’s good to see you, sir.

Etienne gave Bennet’s hand a consolatory squeeze and released him, ushering him into one of the seats set around a low table. Etienne waited until one of the assistants had set refreshments before them and had gone, before speaking again. All set for this meeting?

Feeling a little exposed. I can’t slipstream behind the great and good this time. Bennet swept out one arm, the better to demonstrate the wide-open spaces around him. I’m astonished she wants to see just me.

It caused a great deal of consternation in a great many offices, believe me. Lowly captains are not normally summoned to give private briefings to the President. Several noses are severely out of joint in consequence.

Dad’s amongst them, I think. I got quite a lecture this morning on how to behave. In particular, I am not to let my opinion of my political masters show.

Etienne laughed outright. Excellent advice. Your father is as protective as ever, I see. As it happens, you’ll have a couple of allies with you. I’ll be there, of course. Supreme Commander Jak is in with her already and he’ll stay for the meeting. Seigneur Vines, who is also in there, will not. He is the owner of one such disjointed nose. He’s an important man these days. The Phoenix League’s popular support is growing. Following the situation with Cissante, he’s capitalised on the fear that other settlement planets and colonies will follow suit to parlay himself into the role of unofficial adviser. Etienne’s smile was crooked with the cynicism of a man grown old in the corridors of power. She is rather too canny to make it official, but for all that, he has a great deal of access. Maitland, by contrast, would never see the man. But to Vines’ dismay, she doesn’t admit him to everything. He is excluded from this—from, I hope, everything to do with Makepeace—and I believe that he has only just realised the limitations to his role.

Oh. Was that reassuring? Bennet didn’t know. He sipped his coffee and tried to keep his distaste from showing. He’d have preferred tea.

I’ve read your report several times. You may be called to IntCom when it meets tomorrow to discuss the Boeotia raid, so hold yourself ready. Then again, you may not be asked to give evidence at all. It all rather depends on the outcome of today’s meeting.

Bennet nodded. No less than he expected. The Intelligence Committee, IntCom, had had oversight from the outset, ever since he’d decoded the Maess data and concluded that live human prisoners were being held on the long-lost Makepeace colony. IntCom had given the green light to the subsequent rescue mission. The committee’s interest hadn’t died along with every rescued prisoner when the Maess had hit the holding facility on Boeotia where they were being debriefed.

The Maess had hit hard. There had been no survivors.

I haven’t seen any official line on Boeotia, he said. Any mention of it, in fact.

Well, we can’t credibly announce the destruction of a facility that did not officially exist. There wasn’t much public interest in the returned prisoners there anyway. Sadly, their passing won’t be noticed. The families of the Strategy Unit and Infantry personnel killed there are being fed a line about their loved ones being caught up in the Kinlocheil raid. Etienne looked faintly, cynically, amused. An incident that is causing our new President and her government enough of a headache without admitting to secret bases full of potentially altered humans.

And my report, sir?

The problem is there is no proof, Bennet. Your hypothesis can’t be easily tested. It’s compelling, but not conclusive.

Do you think I’m wrong?

Etienne pursed his lips. Your report did raise one or two pertinent questions.

It raised a lot of questions.

Yes. Questions she wants to discuss. Privately.

Bennet managed a grin. And so, we come around full circle.

As you say. Etienne studied him for a moment. A word of advice, Bennet. I know you’re currently taking a break from the Strategy Unit. It’s time you accepted the inevitable and went back to work. He didn’t wait for any objection Bennet might want to make. I can’t abide waste, especially of rare talents. And it will keep you in the President’s eye. That will help you later. I have plans for you, you know.

Bennet didn’t want to think about what those plans might be. He wasn’t cut out for the sort of political machinations that evidently delighted Etienne. And that means the Unit? I know you’re right, but... He shrugged, trying to keep what he felt from showing on his face. Practice for later, he supposed, when he wasn’t supposed to show his political betters what he thought about them.

Etienne regarded him steadily. I liked Captain Felix. You were getting quite the reputation, the pair of you, and you did sterling work. Boeotia, and his death, were not your fault, Bennet.

Weren’t they?

No. Only if you think that everything you did, right back to you and Felix coming up with the idea of creating the Link to the Maess’ computer systems was wrong. If you think that every piece of intelligence you gained us at T18 was wrong, despite the hundreds of lives it has saved. Or that rescuing people from unimaginable torment on Makepeace was wrong. You are not responsible for Makepeace or Boeotia. You’re only responsible for trying to do something about them.

That’s probably enough.

I’d blame you a great deal more if you’d done nothing. We’re at war, and a war we’re perilously close to losing. We can’t go on complacently doing no more than we have in the past. We won’t survive. At Makepeace, you took calculated risks for a noble cause and, yes, only some of them played out as you hoped. But you took the risks that needed to be taken, and that’s something to be proud of.

It tastes like failure.

I understand that. Consequences can be the very devil. Not everything will fall out the way we want.

So Dad’s been telling me, ever since Makepeace.

Your father is right.

He didn’t need to tell me. I knew. Bennet’s voice was suddenly so hoarse he had to cough to clear his throat. I found Felix.

I know.

He’d shot himself in the head. He knew what could happen if they took him alive. I’d have done the same thing, if it had been me.

Perfectly understandable. Death is not the worst that can befall us. Etienne let the silence lie heavy for a minute or two. What is your greatest concern about Boeotia, Bennet?

Bennet’s gut clenched and ached, and clenched again. Fuck, he wished he was somewhere else. Anywhere else. It’s difficult not to try and rationalise the Maess. But they aren’t human. We have no conception at all about how they think, why they do things, and it’s stupid to try and apply human reasoning to what they do. We can’t... what’s the word? Anthropomorphise. That’s it. We can’t pretend they’re some odd sort of human and extrapolate from that to reason out why they do what they do. Still, I have to wonder why they decided to destroy the facility on Boeotia. They had nothing to gain by it. We already knew about Makepeace and what happened there, and they would know, wouldn’t they, that destroying Boeotia wouldn’t destroy that knowledge. Why did they leave so much evidence behind?

True, they could have destroyed Boeotia, the way you did the manufactory on Makepeace. They have weapons powerful enough to destroy small planets. Etienne’s mouth twisted into a small, cold smile. As we know to our cost.

Exactly. They left those people there for us to find. But I can’t work out why. A warning? An object lesson? We’ve had plenty of those over the last century. Why didn’t they take the three bodies I brought back from Makepeace? Why was the chimera drone casing the only thing that they did take? The only thing I can think of is that they don’t realise we’re starting to join the dots.

You mean, they know we know about Makepeace, but perhaps they don’t realise just how far the analysis has gone?

Or they just don’t care. We are too inconsequential for them to care. We register with them in the same way as an insect, or a bacterium. We don’t matter except as something to step on. Bennet frowned, and picked at a bit of lint on his sleeve. And that is possibly the most worrying conclusion.

All of those questions will interest the President. Etienne’s smile chilled like the north wind in winter. And that is why I urge you to bow your head meekly and end your leave of absence.

Bennet nodded. I know I must go back.

Jak will order you back, probably at the end of this meeting and probably on the President’s say so. He can’t afford to indulge you any longer on this. I don’t know how the interface with IntCom might work out—probably Colonel Jorgensen will take the lead there—but you’re intelligent enough to realise that the real work will be done by you for the President. She’s the end customer for your analysis.

Fuck.

I don’t know that she’s coming around entirely to your way of thinking yet, but she is moving out of shoot-the-messenger mode. Now her political aims have been achieved she is seeing a bigger picture. I don’t believe she likes it.

She couldn’t like it any less than Bennet. Because all that reasoning, all the evidence pointed to a conclusion he didn’t even want to start articulating. He glanced up as the door to the inner office opened.

Vines, the Phoenix League man, on his way out; familiar from a hundred broadcasts and news-line thought-pieces over the last few weeks. He’d been in high demand by every communications channel since Cissante’s attempted rebellion. He was also, as Etienne had said, in the President’s confidence to an unknown extent.

He stopped short when he saw them. Etienne. He inclined his head in a graceful acknowledgement and turned his attention to Bennet. Shield Captain Bennet, I believe. I have heard a great deal about you, but I don’t think we’ve met.

No. Bennet got to his feet, of course, to keep it polite. Vines’ hand was warm and dry. He had a strong grip. Bennet flashed a fast glance at the scars twisting over the man’s hands to snake under his sleeves out of sight. There were more on Vines’ neck, running down under his collar. None on his face, oddly enough. Caeden had said Vines had been badly scarred by whatever had happened to him during the Maess incursion of Thorn. The scars though looked reddened, fresh. The gods alone knew what the man had suffered. He brought his gaze up to meet watchful, unreadable eyes and managed a polite smile. I don’t think we’ve had the opportunity, sir.

Indeed. Vines turned at Etienne. Madam President has shared her concerns with me, and I think you and I need to have an urgent discussion. I don’t know where she heard about what was left on Thorn— He gave Bennet a sidelong glance. There are many things to consider about this, and we had better meet as soon as possible. I’ll be on my way now and allow you into your meeting. Madam President won’t want to be kept waiting. A pleasure to meet you at last, Captain. A brisk nod. Etienne. Good-day to you both.

Another nod and he was gone.

Bennet glanced at Etienne, whose only reaction was a twitch of the mouth.

Time to raise the curtain, Bennet. Put your performance face on. Etienne acknowledged a signal from one of the President’s aides, then led the way into the lion’s den.

President Beatrice sat at the conference table, Supreme Commander Jak at her right hand. The seat to her left was out of line with its fellows on that side. Where Vines had sat, presumably. Etienne took that seat now, as Jak nodded a greeting. Bennet slid into the seat next to Etienne and waited for it to start.

Madam Beatrice took her time. She watched him, her expression showing nothing of what she was thinking. At least she wasn’t sneering. Made a nice change, given the adversarial stance she’d always taken on the Makepeace data. Next to Etienne’s calm saint’s face and Jak’s hewn-from-granite impassivity, she looked surprisingly human. She was young for a top politician—the top politician—probably not much older than Bennet’s mother, her face still relatively unlined. That was likely to change. Power aged people.

Bennet waited for her to demand he explain all the doubts, all the reasons and questions that had assailed him since Makepeace itself. And at some point that morning he’d have to say it out loud and make irrevocable the conclusion those doubts and questions led to.

Someone had to have told the Maess that they could find that chimera drone casing and the Makepeace prisoners on Boeotia. Maybe the same someone who had told them about lobotomies.

The same someone who had betrayed them.

No, fucking Makepeace just wouldn’t lie down and die. Not yet.

Not ever.

Chapter Two

38 Quintus 7491

Graduation Day, The Military Academy, Albion

His face, every time he looked over and saw you in this! Liam poked at the thick knots of silver braid decorating the epaulette on Bennet’s left shoulder.

Bennet shrugged, continuing to smooth the fit of Liam’s Fleet dress jacket. He’s used to it.

It’s pretty flashy, Shield dress uniform.

Bennet pulled at Liam’s high, stand-up collar until his little brother made dramatic choking noises and clutched at his throat. He got a pat on the shoulder as reward for the performance. I feel a bit like a dray horse dressed up with ribbons for a country fair, but the point has to be made.

Liam sniggered. Given how little anyone’s seen of you since you got home—

Too many meetings, little brother. Far too many.

Not to mention a funeral. Two days earlier he’d helped carry Felix to his grave. He didn’t think any burden could be heavier, although trying to find words, any words, to comfort Felix’s distraught fiancée and parents had come close.

You know, you can’t win the war by committee.

Bennet choked out a laugh. Tell me about it.

Liam, bless him, gave Bennet one sharp-eyed glance—really, the kid was far smarter than anyone Bennet knew—and changed the subject. The point I was trying to make before you interrupted me is, that given how little we’ve seen of you this week, I’m glad you and Dad came here for breakfast.

Sweet, if unexpected. Liam wasn’t given to sentimentality.

He felt the need to dispense parental guidance before the ceremony.

Yeah, his strictures on how to behave sure made the meal. It went down a storm with all the other cadets. Liam rolled his eyes. Did we get his standard speech to new officers? He likes the honour and glory bit. I could tell.

My favourite part.

Really? Mine was the Sad Sigh of Stoic Suffering he did every time he saw your uniform.

Yeah. Bennet cast a critical eye over his handiwork before picking up the ceremonial sword, brought from the bank vaults the day before, that officers in their family had carried on graduation for at least the last three or four hundred years. Not that he had himself, of course. Estranged then from their father, Bennet had worn the new, highly decorative sword that Joss, at that time his lover and the cause of the estrangement, had designed. It hung at his belt, a sharp reminder of choices and consequences.

I get it all the time. In fact, I think Dad perfected it on me. I’m very proud of that.

I’m sure you are. Lift your arms up.

Liam obeyed and allowed Bennet to cinch the leather belt and scabbard around his waist. Bennet left him to tug it into place and turned to the window, staring out at the Academy parade ground for a moment. Gods, he was tired. Between dancing attendance on the President, repeated Intelligence Committee debriefings and the funeral, he hadn’t slept well for days. He glanced back at Liam. The top brass are here. It won’t be long before Parade.

Liam fidgeted with his gloves for a second. "I wish you weren’t leaving the Gyrfalcon. I’d have liked to have you there for my probationary year."

Bennet turned back to face him, perching on the window sill. Yeah, I’m sorry about that, too. No, wait. What am I saying? I go down on my knees every night to thank the gods for my deliverance. You’ll have your commander grey-haired within the week.

Liam sniffed. Dad already is grey-haired.

He’s very proud of you, you know.

Liam blinked rapidly, before letting his jaw drop and pressing both palms to his cheeks. He stared.

It took some effort for Bennet not to roll his eyes. You are a great loss to the stage. Third rate melodrama’s perfect for your talents.

Liam grinned.

I meant it. About Dad. Why else do you think he wanted to come early to have breakfast with you? He may not say much, because you two go out of your way to aggravate each other, but he is proud of you.

At least he knows I’m around, Liam said.

He can’t miss you.

The door opened to admit the very man they were discussing. For the gods’ sake, aren’t you ready yet?

Bennet waved a hand at Liam. He’s all set.

Caeden looked Liam up and down, flicked some imaginary fleck of dust off the front of Liam’s jacket and reset the sit of the sword belt by a fraction of an inch. His hand rested heavily on Liam’s shoulder for the briefest second. Behind Caeden, Bennet mouthed See? Liam’s eyebrow twitched in response.

You’ll do. Caeden sounded rather gruff. What took so long?

We were just talking, Bennet said. I was being soothing.

Their father snorted. If you’re going to tell me you were settling Liam’s nerves, I’ll have to call you on that one. He doesn’t have any. And as proof, I’d remind you how much breakfast he scarfed down this morning.

Hey! Liam’s protest fell on stony ground.

Your mother and the girls will be here in a minute. Caeden pulled a holo-camera from his pocket and gestured to the other side of the room. Go and stand over there, the pair of you.

Don’t you want to wait for them to arrive? Bennet asked.

I’ll take more when they get here. Just go over there and smile.

They did. Liam couldn’t stop smirking all the while and flung an arm around Bennet’s shoulders. Bennet let him.

When Caeden professed himself satisfied, he allowed his sons to view the holopics on the camera screen. They were really very good. He had a talent for taking good portraits, ones that showed something more of the person photographed than merely the outside of their skin. There was life in his pictures, a feeling of motion or thought arrested and held still, a glimpse of what was going on underneath the surface. Bennet envied him that. He was a point and press man himself and counted it a win if he got the thing to focus.

Well, Liam said. It’s a good likeness of me. But then, I always photograph well.

Bennet cuffed him out of sheer good nature, to teach him not to be vain and on general principle.

Noise and commotion at the door heralded their mother’s arrival with Natalia, Thea and her husband Alain bringing up the rear. The next few moments were a confusion of greetings and hugs, people talking over each other and Caeden raising his voice above the hubbub in an attempt to herd everyone into a group picture. In the midst of it, Liam said quietly, "I really do wish you were staying on the Gyrfalcon. I’d have liked to fly with you."

Bennet didn’t laugh and he didn’t scoff. He’d have liked to smile, but it would be a shame to make fun. He moved a little closer to Liam as Alain passed him to take the camera from Caeden. I’ll make sure we get the chance before I leave.

I’ll hold you to that. Liam stumbled to find words—a most unusual occurrence. Because it’s... well, it’s important. I mean, you’ve done a lot... I want to prove.... He added, in a rush. I’ve always been thrilled that my big brother was in Shield, you know. Something to boast about.

"I’m very proud of you, Liam. As long as I’m on the Gyrfalcon, I’ll be proud to fly with you."

Then just as their father joined them and Alain focused the camera on them, he slung his arm around Liam’s shoulders again and pulled him into a rough hug. He stared into the camera and smiled as though he meant it.

**~*~**

Seigneur Etienne gestured at Bennet’s dress uniform. I suppose this is you being subtle?

I’m playing to my audience.

Is it working?

Bennet glanced towards the table where his parents sat, and grinned.

I see. Shield uniform is a visual cue to remind your father that you’re not in his shadow? Or as little in it as you can manage, perhaps. Who else is it aimed at?

Bennet indicated the crowd of great and good at the other end of the Academy’s assembly hall. Despite the throng of people taking genteel refreshment after the excitement of the Graduation Parade, he could see General Martens clearly; her uniform, as black as his own, was distinctive against the scarlet Infantry jackets and dark Fleet grey. I was sort of hoping that I’d catch the general’s eye and she’d remember to tell me where I’m going at the end of next month. I’m returning to Shield, you know. They just haven’t bothered telling me which ship.

Etienne smiled. You could just walk up to her and ask.

Bennet watched him, suspecting that smile. Or should I just ask you?

I’m flattered that you think me omniscient.

Didn’t you once tell me that you knew where all the bodies are buried?

I merely try to keep abreast of what’s going on.

Who’s digging the graves, you mean.

Etienne’s smile deepened. Yes. And yes, I do know what’s planned for you, but I wouldn’t dream of stealing Martens’ thunder. Just go and ask her.

Well, I would, but she’s talking to the Supreme Commander.

Scared?

Bennet laughed. Of course I am, sir. Anyone with half a brain would be! And...

And?

There aren’t many captains who can claim him as a godfather. When I was a kid, home was always full of people. Most of them are over there with him, covered in gold braid. I went into Shield to get away from all that.

Ah. You mean the Supreme Commander treats you differently.

I get away with stuff no one else my rank would manage, and I know it. And if I didn’t want to serve in Fleet because virtually every damned commander in it rocked me in my cradle, it’s a bit inconsistent to try and use that sort of influence now, isn’t it?

There was a moment of silence. Etienne broke it. If you weren’t who you are, if you were any young captain here watching his brother graduate and you had the chance to meet the Supreme Commander, be seen and noticed by him, wouldn’t you take it?

I suppose so, yes.

But you don’t need to, because you’re his godson and he likes you, and everyone over there rocked you in your cradle. Choosing not to exercise privilege is the ultimate exercise of privilege.

There was no arguing with that. Bennet sighed. Shield provides a mitigating distance.

Yet I’m willing to wager that General Martens notices you more than most of her other junior officers. Because of who you are.

Bennet shrugged. He picked up his cup and stared into his tea, aware of Etienne’s thoughtful gaze. The old man was right. There was no escape from his parentage and the privilege that brought with it. He gave up on the teacup as an oracle, but swirling the tea dregs was curiously soothing. It’s been made official at the Strategy Unit, by the way. I’m back in. Makepeace and Boeotia are my pet projects and mine alone. In a very behind the scenes, no one knows I’m dealing with them kind of way.

Just what the President wanted. Etienne smiled that faint, cynical smile again. Look on it as a vote of confidence.

I was thinking more of a poisoned chalice, myself.

Etienne didn’t laugh the way Bennet had expected. She doesn’t like the questions you posed, Bennet, but she does think they need answers. You’re reporting directly to Jak, I expect?

Yeah. And through him to her. I was told I’d get called back to brief her if anything significant breaks. Bennet glanced again at his general. That’s partly why I want to talk to my boss. For a day or two I thought I was going to be seconded full time into the Unit. I’d like to get back out there before someone thinks that would be a good idea.

Etienne did laugh this time, but it was curiously uncomforting. I suspect the President’s plans were your salvation. Later today she’ll be announcing a tour of the settlement planets, to mend fences and improve relations. To build consensus, she says, and give them the chance to voice their concerns directly. The aftermath of Cissante’s attempted secession has hardly begun to be felt. The settlement planets and colonies are a hair’s breadth from catching fire. Dangerous times.

Something she’s cooked up with Vines?

Etienne raised one hand, and let it fall. The gesture was curiously helpless, something Bennet had never before associated with the wily old man.

To be honest, he said, when she talked about it yesterday after the Ennead meeting, I got the idea he wasn’t delighted. She’s determined to take the opposite line to Maitland. He, of course, almost never visited a settlement planet or colony. If they wanted to talk to him, they had to come here. You have to give her credit for being more willing to listen. A more enlightened and accommodating President could do wonders to calm their jitters and bring them back into the fold.

Uh-huh. Given how much their taxes are needed to pay for the war, I’m sure she’ll be accommodating. Money talks in a very sweet voice.

That at least made Etienne laugh. "Don’t ever change, Bennet. Anyhow, the Gyrfalcon and the rest of First Flotilla will form the escort for the presidential yacht, the Lyonesse, and accompany her on the tour."

Oh gods. Bennet would rather face a hundred Maess drones. Unarmed. I hope I’m gone by then.

Not a chance. She’s scheduled to leave in about three weeks. Your father knows.

And had kept quiet about it. Bennet sent a glower in the direction of the table where his parents were chatting with various friends, most of them in the same gold-braided grey uniform as Caeden.

I suspect she’ll like having her personal analyst close by. Etienne didn’t bother to hide his amusement.

Bennet was tempted to put his head in his hands and groan aloud. Oh joy.

On another, but related matter, the President has agreed the official line if any enterprising journalist picks up on the Boeotian raid. Not that I expect they will. They’re too busy running after other stories—the attack on Kinlocheil and the simmering unrest on Cissante and the other settlement planets. Understandably, those are the stories with the most political impact. As I said, the secession crisis is still very pressing. His smile was rather chilling. And long may they be distracted. But should anyone ever realise Boeotia took a hit, the line will be that it was merely circumstantial. The Maess hit it on the way to Kinlocheil to clear their flank of possible attack points, that is all. No other explanation needed.

Right. Bennet shook his head. That’s the sort of semi-intellectual thinking that’s about at the level of our politicians. And our journalists. They’re all too easily distracted by something shiny.

Semi-intellectual? Etienne laughed. I must be having a good influence on you. The usual you would have just said ‘half-witted’ and be done with it.

I’m learning to be subtle.

Etienne reached over and rested a hand on Bennet’s shoulder. The old man’s touch was light, his frail-looking fingers curving over the silver-braided epaulette. It will be my privilege to continue your education in the art. Now, why don’t we start with lunch tomorrow?

Chapter Three

38 Quintus 7491

Graduation Day, The Military Academy, Albion

Bennet’s looking happier, Meriel said.

Caeden glanced across the room to where Bennet stood talking with Shield General Martens. Bennet was certainly looking more animated than he had since the Boeotia raid. Meriel hadn’t missed how tired and worn Bennet had been and it had been the subject of more than one maternal interrogation that both he and Bennet had managed to deflect. Now though, Bennet looked as if Martens was handing him a long-desired present. Tied up with tinsel and ribbons, if the expression on his face was anything to go by. Caeden hadn’t seen him look so genuinely delighted for a long time.

I suspect that Martens is telling him the good news, he said.

"Oh? Is she giving him the Hyperion back? That would please him. Meriel frowned. It would have been difficult for him if Rosie had still been there, but isn’t she on her rotation out of Shield? In Infantry, somewhere, I believe. I am sorry that didn’t work out.