CHAPTER 48

The scene in the general’s office was eerily familiar, both in terms of location and the cast of characters. Rance had reclaimed her desk in the outer room and, as Kovalic entered, she was straightening a stack of flimsies with a critical eye. The yeoman wasn’t about to earn herself a medal for helping her boss evade the Commonwealth authorities, but Kovalic had heard that the general had lobbied hard for a significant paygrade increase as part of their return – and, having himself earned plenty of decorations over the years, Kovalic knew which he’d prefer.

Yevgeniy, for his part, had apparently declined the general’s offer of contract surveillance work, opting instead to return to his tea shop where, as he put it, the only thing he had to keep an eye on was a pot of Assam. Still, the two had parted on thawed terms, with the general murmuring something about the incompatibility of old age and regret.

A sentiment Kovalic was starting to understand. He tugged at his too-tight collar.

Rance spared him a warm smile, which transmuted suddenly into a quizzical look at his appearance, then inclined her head towards the general’s inner sanctum beyond.

Within, the general was already deep in conference with both Inspector Laurent and Aidan Kester, though rather than looming over him as they had just a few days ago, they sat comfortably in the pair of chairs opposite. Someone had removed the slagged terminal from the desk, leaving it unnaturally empty, though if anything its broad expanse made the general seem even more imposing.

“Mr Lawson has not been overly cooperative so far,” Laurent was saying as Kovalic entered. The inspector glanced up at him and nodded, even as he continued. “But I feel confident that he’ll realize it’s in his best interests.”

“That would be critical,” the general said, running his fingers through his beard. “There’s no telling how much sensitive information he had access to during his tenure.” He carefully avoided looking at Kester.

The mark still hit home: the acting director’s brow, already furrowed, only creased further at the mention of his former assistant. “CID’s inspector general is already conducting a thorough audit of Lawson’s files and possessions, as well as my own over the same period.”

Kovalic suppressed a smile. Kester may have been a useful ally in the end, but he didn’t mind seeing the man a little uncomfortable. It was good for you. Built character.

“I’ve already recommended to the Commonwealth Executive – which has graciously seen fit to restore me to the position of Strategic Intelligence Adviser – that such a review be conducted throughout the entirety of CID, just to be on the safe side,” said the general. “The amount of money Lawson was funneling was a mere fraction of what the Imperium, in its cash-strapped state, needs. Which raises the question: how many other Lawsons are there that we don’t know about?”

Kester’s jaw was tighter than a rubber band, but somehow he’d found untapped reserves of diplomacy. “A housecleaning may be long overdue,” he said, grudgingly.

“Indeed. As for my team,” said the general, gesturing to Kovalic, “I assume their clearances and credentials will be reinstated with all due haste. It seems the Executive has plenty on their plate with Lawson’s unmasking. They’re content to write off Isabella’s appropriation of funds as a… misjudgment on my part. More to the point, they agree that her attempt to sideline us only confirms our status as a threat – and nobody in the Commonwealth has more insight into her thinking than we do. I believe the word the secretary-general used was ‘indispensable’.” His white brows arched at that, a faint gleam of amusement in his eyes.

Laurent shifted in his seat as though it had suddenly sprouted spikes. “Of course. Although I’m afraid the images given to the press during the investigation can’t be retracted.”

Kovalic chewed his bottom lip. He’d known there was no coming back from that. The Bureau had reported an end to the search and clarified that the people it had been looking for had merely been sought for questioning and then released. Lawson’s arrest had not yet been made public, though from what Kovalic had heard, that was merely a matter of timing by the prosecutor assigned to the case.

Either way, having his picture out there definitely would make his life harder. He shifted his weight from foot to foot.

“That is unfortunate,” the general said. “Though not wholly unexpected.” His pale blue eyes went to Kovalic, acknowledging him for the first time. “But you’ve never been one to shy away from a challenge, have you, Simon?” He blinked and cocked his head to one side as he noticed Kovalic’s attire.

It was a while since he’d last squeezed himself into his uniform. The major’s tabs on his collar still felt unfamiliar; he found he still expected to see the captain’s double bars when he looked in the mirror. More to the point, it probably needed a little tailoring here and there – he wondered if Monsieur Habib did military uniforms. “No, sir.”

“Well,” said the general, looking back at the pair of officials across from him. “I look forward to seeing further reports on what information Mr Lawson has to offer as part of our new and improved sharing agreement.” The broad smile that crossed his face was all too genuine, and only widened at Kester’s discomfort. “If there’s nothing else, I believe Major Kovalic and I have some matters to discuss.”

Laurent and Kester moved to stand, but Kovalic cleared his throat. This was his now-or-never moment, and he found himself surprisingly nervous as the cliff loomed before him. “Actually, this will just take a moment, gentlemen. Don’t leave on my account.”

The two froze mid-rise, and Kovalic could see Laurent’s eyes shifting back and forth between him and the general, as if trying to see the invisible strands connecting the two of them. Kester, for his part, gave a surreptitious glance at his sleeve, but it seemed like he didn’t have the excuse of another meeting to beg off to, much to his dismay. Slowly, they both sank back into their chairs.

The general’s white eyebrows had risen at Kovalic’s invitation, but he put out one hand in a gesture of invitation. “By all means. What’s on your mind, major?”

Unconsciously, Kovalic found himself adopting an at-ease position, hands clasped behind his back, eyes front. Now that the moment had arrived, his chest had tightened. But as the general had said, he’d never shied away from a challenge, and he wasn’t about to start now.

Sometimes, as a crotchety old sergeant liked to say, the only way out was through.

“I’d like to tender my resignation from the Special Projects Team, sir.”

In the silence that ensued, Kovalic thought he could hear electrons buzzing. Laurent stared fixedly at a spot in front of him, the only concession to the news his widened eyes; Kester, meanwhile, had done a double take, shooting a speculative glance in Kovalic’s direction.

The general seemed to not react at all, beyond a slow blink. After a moment, he leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “I see. May I ask why you’re making this request?”

“Request” was a careful choice of words. Kovalic was technically on secondment to the general’s staff from his official assignment at the Marine Intelligence Group, and, as such, it was ultimately up to his superior officers in the Commonwealth Marine Corps whether to recall him from his tenure here – or for the general himself to ask for his dismissal. Kovalic just went where the orders stated.

So it was well within the rights for the general to inquire and, ultimately, make the decision.

“Permission to speak freely, sir?”

“I’ve never known you to be less than frank, major.”

Kovalic ducked his head. “I’m… tired.”

The general raised an eyebrow. “Understandable, after everything we’ve been through: first the Novan Liberation Front, then this whole Lawson affair. I believe you have some leave due to you –”

“That’s not it, sir. I’m tired of the whole…” Kovalic waved a hand, “…cat-and-mouse game. No sooner do we neutralize one threat than another rears its head. Like you said a moment ago: we found one mole, but how many others are lurking out there?” He shook his head. “It’s not what I signed up for. I think I can ultimately be of more use to the Commonwealth by returning to my active duty post.”

Genuine surprise crossed Laurent’s face, while Kester seemed to be covering something that looked suspiciously like a smirk. In an ideal world, Kovalic wouldn’t be doing this in front of them, but it was all too easy to walk back a decision made in private.

“That is most… disappointing,” said the general at last, his voice carefully neutral. “Especially in the light of our recent progress. We’ve only just discovered Isabella’s nature – her agenda remains a mystery to us. This move to take me off the board, Commander Taylor’s report about the Illyricans buying up palladium… it all speaks to a larger stratagem. We’re just starting to analyze the surveillance footage of Isabella’s compound retrieved from Ofeibia Xi to see what else we can glean. There’s more work to be done.”

“There always is.” Kovalic hesitated, then plowed forward. “But this isn’t where I need to be right now.”

The old man eyed him, blue gaze inscrutable as ever. “Then there’s nothing I can say to make you reconsider?”

Kovalic straightened his back. “I’ve made my decision, general.”

With a nod, the older man reached for a tablet and stylus. “Well, far be it from me to keep someone against their will. You hereby stand relieved of your position as commanding officer for the Special Projects Team, effective immediately. I’ll contact General Wyman in personnel to have her process the order.” He scribbled something on the tablet and passed it across the desk to Kovalic. “I’ll also notify Commander Taylor that she will be acting as CO until further notice.” The general cocked his head to one side. “Unless you’ve already informed her of this decision.”

Kovalic’s hands clutched each other more tightly behind his back. “I’ll leave it to Commander Taylor to discuss the particulars with you, but it is my understanding that she is shortly being recalled for an opportunity in NICOM.”

“Ah,” said the general. “The role as Admiral Chatterjee’s chief of staff, yes.” Fingers drummed across the desk. “Am I also then to assume that Sergeant Tapper will be making a similar request, given your long association?”

“That’s up to the sergeant, sir.”

“I’ll take that as a yes. Very well.” He glanced at Kester, brandishing a self-deprecating smile. “It seems my team is much reduced. Lieutenant Brody and Specialist Sayers are both very adept, but two people severely limits our operational capacity.” The general let out a pent-up sigh. “I’m afraid the Special Projects Team has reached the end of its present path. A fact you’ll no doubt be delighted to hear, Aidan, given our contretemps over it.”

The acting CID director straightened his tie. “I can’t say I’m sorry, Adaj. Your people have always played fast and loose, working outside of the chain of command.” Kester relented slightly. “But I agree that Major Kovalic and his team managed to accomplish a great deal in their tenure.” He looked up at Kovalic and dipped his head. “I’m sure the Corps will be glad to have you back.”

Kovalic returned the nod. “Thank you, director.” Summoning his last ounce of wherewithal, he reached up and peeled the unit patch from his shoulder, then stepped forward and placed it on the general’s uncluttered desk. “I appreciate everything we’ve accomplished together, sir. And I wish you the best of luck from here on out. Perhaps our paths will cross again.”

The general made no move to pick up the patch, though Kovalic thought he saw a bolt of sadness cross the older man’s face as his eyes landed upon it. “And to you, major,” he said quietly. “I hope you find whatever it is you’re looking for.”

Kovalic straightened, if not unburdened then at least through the worst of it. “There’s only one thing I’m looking for, general. And it’s the same reason I first agreed to work with you. I’ve given more than two decades of my life to this service for a singular purpose, and I feel I’ve been drifting farther and farther from that goal.”

Kester’s head swiveled back and forth between the two; the only thing he was missing was a bucket of popcorn. As Kovalic’s words hung in the air, he inserted himself into the silence. “And what’s that, Major Kovalic?”

Fixing the director with a hard stare that made the well-dressed man shrink in his seat, Kovalic smiled. “Earth, Director Kester.”

And with that, he executed a smooth turn on his heel and walked out of the general’s office, leaving the three men gaping in his wake. The road ahead was full of twists and turns and he had no idea long it would take, but he found that if he squinted he could still see, just over the horizon, a slowly spinning globe of blue-and-green hanging in space, a world that he hadn’t set foot on for more than twenty years, but one that he still saw every night in his dreams – that the merest smell could bring him back to, as surely as if he’d been teleported. He’d put it off far too long, and the last few days had made him realize that the opportunity would never be handed to him on a silver platter; he had to make the choice. The Illyricans had taken it away from him, but damn it, he was determined to do whatever was necessary to take it back.

Home. He was going home.