Chapter 154. Trial by Fire

The moment the massive door slammed shut behind us, breathing became a whole lot easier. Even with the window in Colonel Stewart’s office thrown wide open and fresh air pouring in, the room had been thoroughly saturated by years of heavy smoking. It felt like even the walls themselves had been permanently soaked in the acrid smoke of expensive Cuban cigars.

“So, Tom, how about a friendly sparring match on the drill field right now?” Sam suddenly twisted toward me as we walked and unleashed a lightning-fast, snapping combination of punches into thin air. “I heard that your internal S-Power reserve got a serious boost after training camp, and that’s freaking awesome! Now you can fight effectively at close range without that heavy, clunky armor! Like the great Bruce Lee used to say, speed is the most important factor in any fight. By the way, did you know his fists were so insanely fast that he could put out ten candles in a row with a single motion?”

“No, I didn’t. Thanks for the tip. Now I know what I’ll be doing tonight before lights-out.” I made a mental note to find and watch a documentary about the martial arts legend. “By the way, how do you know my energy reserve got stronger?”

“The recon guys who cleared that training Portal with you are still talking about how you ditched your armor and went after Commander Loz’an with your bare fists!” Sam clenched his massive, callused fists, his eyes lighting up with anticipation. “I can’t wait to see your upgraded combat skills for myself! Hey, why are we even walking so damn slowly? Let’s get outside and have a good sparring match on the grass before the sun goes down!”

He grabbed me by the sleeve and tried with all his strength to pull me along, like an eager fighting dog that had finally been let off its leash. Or at least, he tried. I activated my muscle density and planted myself in the middle of the headquarters hallway, barely moving when he yanked on me.

“We’ll definitely cross fists on the mat, Sam. I promise. Just not right now,” I said calmly, catching a flash of genuine, almost childlike disappointment in his widened eyes. “Duty comes first. I’ve got a few assignments from the commandant to take care of this shift.”

“Leon loaded you up on your very first day? Yeah, that sounds exactly like him.” The bald giant nodded knowingly, instantly dropping his aggressive stance. “What exactly do we need to get done? How can I help?”

“First, give me a tour of the key sections of the base and introduce me to the staff. But you already know that.” I pulled my smartphone from my pocket and opened the browser. “After that, we need to stop by the infirmary and see Tony. By the way, since you know him well, what does he like to eat?”

“Oh, you want to head off a potential conflict with your new combat partner? That’s exactly what a real intelligence officer would do!” Sam grinned from ear to ear and smacked me hard on the shoulder, the crack echoing down the hallway. “So, what does our technopath like... Damn, I have no idea. He never really talks about what he likes to eat...”

Sam’s bald head furrowed for a second like a storm cloud, but an instant later he lit up again like the sun.

“That’s it!” He slammed his fist into his open palm. “Get him some good meat! I’ve never seen that guy turn down a quality piece of grilled meat in my life!”

My evolved fingers, slightly longer and more flexible now and perfectly adapted for high-speed work with digital interfaces, immediately danced across the glass of the touchscreen. I quickly opened the map, filtered the nearby restaurants, and found a barbecue joint a couple of miles away with an excellent 4.5-star rating. After a quick scan of the menu, I ordered a double portion of sauced ribs and a juicy medium-rare steak. I placed an express delivery order and paid instantly with my credit card.

“I hope you guys don’t have any issues at the gate with the courier bringing the boxes to the base checkpoint, where I can pick them up myself?” I looked questioningly at my guide.

“No problem at all, Tom. We order food that way all the time.” Sam waved it off and headed toward the exit of the headquarters building with his long, ground-eating strides. “Come on, let’s head to the infirmary. I’ll flag down everyone we pass and introduce you along the way.”

I picked up the pace to keep from falling behind the bald locomotive barreling ahead of me. For some reason, I had a feeling Sam was rushing so openly not just because of his commanding officer’s orders, but because he wanted to get everything taken care of and still drag me into a sparring match before my six-hour shift was over. I had no objection to that. I was curious myself to find out which of us would come out on top in a fight using nothing but S-Power.

We crossed the drill field at a pretty good pace, but cheerful Sam somehow managed to practically yank every operative he encountered out of the crowd and loudly introduce me to them.

“Hey, Judy!” Sam shouted across the drill field, making the fit young woman in a camouflage cap actually jump in surprise. “Meet Tom! He’s just as good at hand-to-hand combat as I am! And as of today, he officially serves with our agency!”

“I know perfectly well who he is, Sam.” Judy adjusted the brim of her cap with an annoyed expression and gave me a sharp look. “Thomas Ross. Born in Los Angeles, California. Currently lives in Washington. Former accountant.” She recited the information in an even tone, as if reading from a dry personnel file, then politely extended her slender hand. “I’m Judy Brand. Nice to meet you, Lieutenant.”

The same thing happened at every stop we made on the drill field. To me, all these men and women in black tactical uniforms were faceless strangers. To them, I was a thoroughly studied target for elimination. Leon had clearly made his entire staff memorize my personnel file while they were still planning the morning assault. Intelligence work at its finest.

“Do you welcome every new guy this warmly?” I asked once there were finally no unfamiliar employees left within sight. “Or was the whole mines-and-stun-guns routine specifically for me?”

“Tom, don’t even think that way.” Sam suddenly stopped in the middle of the walkway, turned around, planted his massive hands on my shoulders, and looked me straight in the eyes with complete seriousness. “Nobody out here was trying to humiliate you today. This wasn’t hazing, Tom. It was character building and an adaptation test. Every single scout went through the same hell on their first day. Hidden traps, power suppression, surprise attacks from behind, overwhelming numbers of armed opponents... This isn’t some whim of Leon’s. It’s the reality we face every time we deploy into a Portal. If you break down and panic here, on a safe patch of grass with rubber bullets flying, you’re guaranteed to be dead within the first second on the other side. We were testing whether you could watch our backs. And you passed.”

“Thanks, I guess.” I relaxed my shoulders slightly. “There’s just one thing I don’t understand. Why are you the one explaining all this to me now instead of the man who actually ran the whole morning operation? Did the cigar in Leon’s mouth keep him from having a normal conversation with me?”

“And that’s part of it, too,” Sam said with a laugh, taking his hands off my shoulders as he kept walking along the asphalt. “But honestly... Leo’s always been one hell of a blunt guy, at least for as long as I’ve known him. He can’t stand sitting around by the river and philosophizing.”

“That’s why he prefers to dump all the talking on his subordinates,” I said with a crooked smile. My inner voice immediately reminded me that I did exactly the same thing to Ted back at my home base, ruthlessly making the kid handle intelligence gathering and barracks logistics. Well, effective delegation was the foundation of any healthy management system.

We reached our destination. The P-EAR infirmary turned out to be a small building with just two patient rooms, a treatment room, and a single duty doctor. Apparently, the scouts tried not to seriously injure one another during training unless absolutely necessary. That was the right approach. Fighting and testing your strength belonged on the other side of the Portal, against alien creatures, not with your own colleagues.

We found Tony in the first room, lying on the bed by the window. His advanced stealth suit had already been carefully removed, leaving him in a lightweight hospital gown. The shoulder I had dislocated was back in place, with thick elastic bandages and rigid orthopedic supports holding his arm firmly against his chest so the joint would not pop out again if he made a sudden movement.

“How you doing, buddy?” Sam beamed as he stood beside the injured operative’s bed. “You already know Tom, of course. By the way, he came to see you in person, make amends, and he’s already ordered some damn good meat!”

“Wow. Nice to meet you, Lieutenant.” Tony looked at me, and instead of the anger or resentment I had expected, there was a warm curiosity in his eyes. “Honestly, you’ve got nothing to apologize to me for. I’m the one who screwed up. I got cocky and charged straight in even though the colonel specifically said during the briefing that it was a bad idea. But I really wanted to test the new stealth modules in an actual fight against a strong opponent... So the tactical mistake was entirely mine.”

“Everybody makes mistakes,” Sam declared solemnly, tilting his bald head toward the ceiling. Judging by the dramatic delivery, this was probably another Bruce Lee quote. “The wise learn from their mistakes. Fools never learn.”

Those simple words and our mutual acknowledgment of each other’s strengths were more than enough to defuse the potential conflict Leon had been so concerned about before it could even get started. And when, fifteen minutes later, a delivery driver pulled up at the checkpoint and Sam hauled a large insulated container into the room, the mouthwatering smell of barbecue still drifting from inside, I earned the last of the points I needed to win Tony over completely. Watching the guy practically drool onto his hospital sheet at the sight of those saucy ribs convinced me that I had handled the situation like a professional auditor. I had invested a couple dozen dollars wisely instead of wasting a few cents on some bland snack from a vending machine in the hallway. Money buys loyalty.

Sam dutifully continued my orientation tour of the base. He systematically showed me the spacious lecture halls, indoor firing ranges, and administrative areas. We ran into other operatives along the way, and I confidently shook each of their hands. During those introductions, I discreetly tested everyone I met with [Analysis] until I had exhausted the ability’s remaining charges. The results were fascinating. Every P-EAR operative had complex, highly developed, and remarkably specialized abilities. There was not a single primitive bruiser on Leon’s roster who could do nothing but run fast and hit hard. Their overall S-Power control was also significantly above average across the board. Pure elite.

I managed to meet every scout physically present on the base. Three more full combat teams were currently conducting reconnaissance inside Portals.

At first, the introductions were perfectly standard, dry, and meaningless, exactly the sort of thing that happened in any large office whenever a new clerk showed up. My real immersion into the P-EAR ecosystem began the moment it was time for a late lunch.

A whole cavalry of civilian delivery drivers suddenly converged on the base checkpoint as practically every scout ordered restaurant food to suit their own tastes. But instead of scattering around the grounds and miserably eating burgers alone, the operatives worked together to haul a huge wooden table out onto the central drill field. All the food and snacks they had ordered were piled onto it, creating one enormous spread. Even Colonel Stewart came down from the main headquarters building, personally placing two bottles of expensive vintage liquor in the center of the table.

“Do you guys have a feast this big every day?” I whispered to Sam, taking in the sheer number of calories on display.

“Only for really special occasions, Tom.” The bald giant grinned. “Like today, for example, to celebrate the official arrival of a promising new recruit!”

Right. The military equivalent of an office party. Fortunately, my body was now immune to toxins and the effects of alcohol, so I did not have to worry about keeping a clear head.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m not gonna drag this out,” Leon announced loudly as he poured generous shots of whiskey into his colleagues’ glasses. “All of you saw our Tommy-boy in action out on the drill field this morning. One hell of a mad dog. Turned that roof into a damn meat grinder. Even managed to land a solid punch on my jaw, the bastard... Bottom line, we desperately need tough people who can think on their feet in Intelligence. So here’s to Ross!”

And the drinking began in earnest. By Corps regulations, the whole affair was a blatant violation of every rule of discipline, but I understood the psychology behind it. It was the fastest and most effective way to bring a team together and relieve the mental strain after difficult missions. I had read that even top investment bankers on Wall Street threw huge office parties every week, and that it ultimately had a significant positive effect on sales and trust within their teams. The system worked.

The conversation at the table ranged all over the place, but almost every topic eventually circled back to me. The veterans laughed about my obnoxiously flashy sport bike, asked detailed questions about which martial arts I practiced, and wanted to know which high school I had attended. I answered calmly and politely, but for some reason, the veterans took my courtesy for complete openness and absolute honesty. All in all, we had an unusually enjoyable and productive afternoon. Boundaries were established, bridges were built.

As far as my tactical interests were concerned, Sam got drunk early in the proceedings, which allowed me to quietly wriggle out of the sparring match he had been planning and slip off the P-EAR grounds unnoticed the moment my six-hour shift officially ended.

As my Buell Hammerhead rumbled steadily back toward the dreary P-SWAT compound, I took my time reviewing the events of the packed day and repairing the damage.

[Special Command: Fully regenerate the hematoma beneath the right eye, restoring the facial tissue to its original healthy condition.]

The skin over my cheekbone tingled for a moment, warmth spread through my body, and the deep purple mark left by Leon’s punch vanished without a trace. It would not do for a Corps officer to show up in the barracks sporting a fresh black eye in front of a bunch of snot-nosed privates and undermine the authority I had worked so hard to build.

The next day, my work schedule called for a visit to the fourth stop on my employment contract: the Federal Bureau of Awakening. It was time to find out exactly how the Corps tracked down Awakened criminals who broke the country’s laws.