Chapter 153. The Price of Trust

I remained seated in the deep armchair across from Colonel Stewart, carefully holding the memory card in my hand. Seconds turned into minutes, but nothing else happened in the office. Leon lazily studied the glowing tip of his cigar, ignoring my presence with the practiced indifference of a career staff officer.

“Ross, what the hell are you still doing here, staring holes into my carpet?” Stewart finally looked up at me and blew a dense cloud of bluish smoke toward the ceiling. “In this office, outsiders and subordinates are allowed to stick around for exactly two reasons. Either they’re getting a hell of a dressing-down from me, or they’re getting a medal. You’ve already gotten plenty of both from me over the past hour. So get the hell out of here. I’ve got a mountain of work to do.”

“Whatever you say, big boss.” I calmly got to my feet and tugged at my wrinkled, slightly singed uniform shirt. “In that case, I’ll see you exactly one week from now.”

“Hold it, Ross. You’re not leaving my cozy little nest just yet.” Leon suddenly took control of the conversation, reached for the smartphone lying on his desk, and started rapidly scrolling through his contact list. “Stay on the grounds until the official end of your six-hour shift. That’s a direct order.”

“Why?” I stopped beside the desk and folded my arms across my chest. My inner accountant immediately flagged the inefficient use of my time. “You’ve already given me all the training materials I need. It would make much more sense for me to return to my primary base right now and start studying them without delay.”

“You’ll have those texts and schedules down in a few hours. I’m not worried about your brain in the slightest.” Leon frowned as he hit the call button and raised the phone to his ear. “But getting acquainted with your combat partners and learning how to work with them isn’t something you can rush. I wasn’t joking today. Your first real Portal deployment is scheduled for next week. The enemy doesn’t forgive mistakes.”

Without waiting for my response, he barked into the phone’s speaker. “Sam, quit sitting on your ass and get your bald head in my office. Right now. You’re going to introduce Tommy to the rest of the team.”

“I’ll be there in a few minutes!” The voice coming through the speaker had such a booming, cheerful bass that I could hear it perfectly well from where I stood.

Leon winced as though he had just been struck by a sudden migraine, immediately ended the call with a click, and took a long swallow of whiskey straight from his glass. He looked like he was genuinely trying to drown that excess noise in his own head.

“What’s the point of all this formal socializing?” I asked evenly, waiting until he set the glass back on the desk. “I find it hard to believe that, with your level of paranoia, you didn’t pack detailed dossiers, psychological profiles, and ability limits for every active P-EAR operative onto that memory card.”

“Don’t take me for a complete idiot, Ross.” He wearily exhaled a thin stream of smoke through his nostrils. “All the critical information on the personnel is already encrypted on that chip, of course. I did that specifically so you’ll be fully prepared for our joint special operation seven days from now. And by the way, keep this in mind: if you accidentally or deliberately pass even a single byte of that information to anyone who isn’t authorized to have it, I’ll personally put a bullet through your forehead for treason. No trial, no nothing.”

“You didn’t even have to mention something that obvious,” I said condescendingly, without doubting for a second that he meant every word. “If I already have all the information in my pocket, then this little tour is just an exercise in getting acquainted with my new coworkers? What’s next on the agenda, Colonel? Corporate team-building, personal-growth seminars, and a company barbecue?”

“Goddammit, Ross!” Leon nearly choked on his cigarette smoke and slapped a hand against the desk. “Don’t even mention that civilian bullshit on my base! No birthday parties, no stupid little cakes with candles, and none of that sappy corporate crap for white-collar desk jockeys! This is an elite regular Army unit, not some goddamn dollhouse for spoiled children!”

He caught his breath, took another drag, and continued much more calmly, his words clipped and deliberate. “Just understand one simple thing: Portal military intelligence is a rare commodity. There aren’t many of us, but every one of us knows without hesitation that we can trust our partner to have our back in another world. I have no doubt that you and your fucking superbrain could memorize the names, call signs, and even Social Security numbers of every soldier on this base in a couple of minutes. But the other guys don’t have that kind of memory. They’re ordinary people. The men and women on these recon teams need to get at least a little familiar with your new face and understand that you’re not some desk-rat outsider. So go. Walk around the grounds, talk to the veterans, and for the love of God, don’t start showing off.”

I silently gave a firm nod. There was an ironclad logic to his crude words, and my analytical mind had no argument against it. Back at Betty’s quiet administrative center, I could afford to be detached and indifferent about getting acquainted with my fellow accountants. The nature of desk work allowed personal interaction to be reduced to an absolute minimum. But with combat partners who would be stepping into the unknown of a Portal with me, building a solid working relationship was a matter of life and death. They needed to know exactly what kind of man I was and whether they could rely on my calculations in a critical situation.

“And one more thing, Ross.” Leon called after me when I had already turned toward the door. “On your way back, don’t forget to stop by the medical ward and see Tony. Buy him a couple of cans of Coke from the vending machine or some decent snacks. He’s the guy in the stealth suit whose shoulder you dislocated so neatly during the first second of the fight today.”

“The invisible guy with the club?” I turned back with a frown. “Why the hell should I buy him treats with my own money and suck up to him when he was the one who attacked me from behind, without warning, in the first place?”

“Because I’m personally responsible for this base’s combat readiness, and I don’t need some long-running feud or blood vendetta breaking out among my personnel!” Leon spoke sharply, but there was a deep, hard-earned seriousness in his voice. “If one officer accidentally or deliberately injures another during hard training, then instead of walking around the parade ground with a fucking victory grin on his face, he’s expected to show up in the ward and properly apologize to his partner. We have our own code here. Is that clear, Second Lieutenant?”

“In that case, I have a question of my own.” I pointed meaningfully at the crimson mark swelling beneath my right eye. “When exactly am I going to get my official apology for that punch?”

“You already got it, asshole.” Leon gave me a thin grin and meaningfully slapped the left side of his jaw, where the spot I had struck with pinpoint precision was already showing the unmistakable outline of a massive bruise. “You didn’t seriously think I’d let a dangerous guy like you get within striking distance if I wasn’t prepared to take a shot to the jaw in return, did you? Now we’re officially even, Tommy-boy.”

That particular brand of logic from the old Army dog was foreign to me, having been raised entirely in the civilian world. Still, I could see the practical sense behind it. In the military, it was far more efficient to trade a couple of hard, symmetrical shots to the jaw right away than to spend years nursing hidden resentment, smiling through meetings, and quietly sabotaging the department from within.

“It’s going to be pretty damn miserable without a good tech-sensitive operative inside the Portal,” I remarked, mentally returning to my first joint operation with Tony in the training Portal. “How long did I put him out of commission with that move?”

“Hell if I know.” Leon blew out a noisy plume of smoke. “The medic on duty took him from the ward about half an hour ago. Said the bones are intact and there’s nothing serious. You know how to control your strength and place a hit, Tommy. Pure anatomy.”

The colonel absently ran his fingertips over the fresh bruise on his own face and winced slightly at the dull ache.

“A simple dislocated joint isn’t life-threatening. I’d say three or four weeks of rehab, and the kid should be fully ready for deployment and hard fieldwork again.”

“A whole month without a valuable operative,” I said grimly, mentally calculating the agency’s losses from such a personnel shortage. “And all because of your stupid tests. Don’t you have advanced medical regeneration tech in your supposedly elite division? Or at least one Awakened with a healing ability?”

“Ross, don’t talk nonsense.” Leon snorted dismissively. “All the Corps’ experimental medical technology is in extremely short supply right now and under the Ministry’s tight control. As for Awakened healers... Yeah, they exist. But they sure as hell aren’t available to people like you and me.”

“What exactly does that mean?” I narrowed my eyes.

“Exactly what I said. Awakened healers are incredibly rare. The moment they’re identified, the big oil tycoons, weapons barons, and senators on Capitol Hill snap them up and keep them close. Just so they’ll always have a personal supermedic on hand who can heal a zit on some powerful asshole’s ass in a second or clean up the aftermath of a brutal hangover. For ordinary expendable cannon fodder on the Pentagon payroll like us, there simply aren’t any healers left.”

His words were cynical, but they were also brutally realistic. My inner accountant had no choice but to acknowledge the economic logic. Really, why would some uniquely gifted Awakened with cellular regeneration risk his neck in Portals for a government paycheck when any billionaire on Wall Street would gladly give him a luxurious wing in a guarded mansion and an unlimited lifetime contract? And if that healer could also slow the aging process and rejuvenate tissue... For some reason, I had a feeling General Crowley, with those enormous muscles of his, probably had a couple of people like that on personal contract.

At that moment, the heavy oak door to the office suddenly flew wide open without warning, slamming against the wall hard enough to nearly come off its hinges. Sam came barreling inside, just as bald as ever, radiating an almost offensively cheerful energy, dressed in a spotless white training gi and fanatically devoted to everything involving Eastern martial arts. And he was literally flying through the doorway, caught in midair with his right leg extended straight ahead. His hard heel was coming at full speed, aimed directly at the bridge of my nose.

Even without activating [Tactical Mode], my enhanced baseline reflexes and accelerated biochemistry were more than enough to respond to the threat. I simply shifted my body half an inch to the side, caught his flying ankle with both hands, locked it down, and used a sharp circular motion to spin Sam through the air, turning his own momentum against him and sending him into a sweeping throw toward the floor...

“Ross! If you break even one damn chair leg in my office, I’ll personally deduct the full cost from your next paycheck!” Leon hissed through his teeth, completely serious and without raising his voice.

I sighed with genuine, if slight, regret and carefully set Sam back on his feet in the middle of the carpet, bleeding off his momentum as I did so.

“Damn, Tom, I’m so sorry I couldn’t personally take part in your epic fight on the parade ground this morning!” Sam wasn’t the least bit upset that his attack had been interrupted. His face was still glowing with excitement, and a heavy sigh escaped him. “Leon locked me in the basement so you couldn’t make me give you your S-Power access back early! But that’s all behind us now! You’re officially serving here at P-EAR with me! We’ve got a whole hell of a lot of free time ahead of us for daily, grueling sparring sessions until we’re both ready to drop!”

“I’m glad to see you’re still in one piece too, Sam.” I smiled and shook his massive, callused hand. “I’ve got nothing against a proper sparring match, but let’s put that off for a little while. First I need to meet the rest of our colleagues, and before that, I need to follow the colonel’s orders and visit Tony in the medical ward.”

“You’re absolutely right, Tom! Discipline and respect for a defeated opponent are the foundation of the path! As the great Bruce Lee once said...”

“Both of you, get the hell out of here! Move!” Leon suddenly roared at the top of his lungs, angrily pointing his cigar toward the open doorway. “No damn Bruce Lee and no kung fu quotes in my office! Out!”

Sam and I promptly retreated from the command office in perfect step, carefully pulling the heavy door closed behind us. For a brief moment, I felt like an immature schoolboy who had somehow managed, through his own deliberate actions, to drive the strict principal completely over the edge. Objectively speaking, it was not exactly professional behavior on my part, but it was damn satisfying. I was beginning to understand, on some deep level, that troublesome Selina from the engineering center. There was a unique kind of pleasure in methodically driving certain people crazy, one teaspoonful at a time.

My heavy and unpleasant conversation with Commandant Leon was officially over. Now it was time to get acquainted with P-EAR from its more civilized, human side. Something told me that among professional intelligence operatives, the team atmosphere here was going to be far better than the rotten pigsty of my primary P-SWAT base. Maybe, in time, I might actually come to like this department.