Captain Saul Harris sat in an empty room at the UNF Command Center on Fort Centralis. He looked at his watch. 15:23. He’d been waiting there since 1500. His mind was ticking over at a fast pace, his curiosity mounting. Finally, he heard someone punching the keypad on the other side of the door. It opened, and he recognized the broad, ash-blond man who entered. He quickly stood and saluted him.
“Colonel Marchant,” he greeted him.
“Captain Harris,” he nodded, holding out his hand to shake, which Harris did. They both took a seat and Marchant placed an e-file on the table in front of them.
Harris eyed him carefully. “So, is the UNF getting some kick out of pulling me off my leave, colonel? Or are we experiencing a shortage of soldiers in the UNF?”
Marchant looked back at him. “Well, you got six and a half of your eight weeks, captain. Unfortunately, we had to call you up because you’re the only one qualified to do this mission.”
Harris’s interest was definitely piqued, but he stayed silent, waiting.
Marchant watched him and then looked down at his e-file, chose one of the pre-loaded folders, and opened it. He turned it around and pushed it in front of Harris. He looked at the photo displayed in front of him and recognized the man in it instantly. It did not leave him with a good feeling. He knew the white-gray hair, the dark eyes, the long face, and angular nose, very well. It was Professor Ray Sharley, the man behind the chaos that was the Darwin mission. The man ultimately responsible for the loss of four of Harris’s soldiers.
“Why are you showing me this?” His face turned steely.
Marchant pulled the e-file back and closed the folder. He took a second, staring back at Harris. “There’s no easy way to say this, captain, so I’m just going to say it. Sharley is not in the custody of the UNF. The fact is, he hasn’t been for some time now.”
“What?” Harris’s face turned to stone and his eyes froze on Marchant’s. “I kept calling Command for updates. They kept telling me that he was in custody and that I would be advised of any outcomes once they were cleared to do so.”
“Command instructed the relevant parties that that was the case until we sorted out this mess. We were in damage control. It turns out there was an unsavory element within the UNF who were on Sharley’s payroll. It appears a back door was left open on the Darwin and he walked right out of there.”
Harris’s eyebrows jumped to the top of his forehead. “He walked right out of there? Just like that? And Logan?”
“He walked right out of there with him. We have no idea where they are.”
“Fuck!” Harris said, sitting back in his chair, as though winded. “Professor Martin. Right?”
“Possibly. Both he and Officer Dale, who ran the Darwin debriefs, have gone awol.”
“Officer Dale? You’re kidding?”
Marchant shook his head somewhat embarrassed. “Professor Martin had us initially convinced that Sharley had begun to stray from the UNF, that he was doing his own thing and that he, Martin, had been unable to control him. He assured his CO that he was going to the Darwin to rein him in. Now both Sharley and Martin are missing. I’ve been handling the case ever since. We’ve been investigating the whole scenario, trying to trace everyone involved, and more importantly, trying to track down Sharley and Logan themselves. We’ve uncovered minimal information. They’ve hidden themselves very well. I guess this is where you come in, and why we need you.”
“Why do you need me?” Harris folded his arms defensively.
“We need you, because you and your team are the only ones who, a) have seen and dealt with Sharley recently, and b) know what his Jumbos are capable of.”
“Jumbos? Logan’s the only one left, isn’t he? Or are there more out there?”
Marchant looked down at the e-file and scratched the back of his head in thought. “We don’t know for sure, but it’s always a possibility he’s created more. We think it would be foolish to assume otherwise. We are certain of one thing, however,” he looked back up at Harris, “and that is, that Chet’s body was never recovered.”
Harris felt a strange feeling crawl down his spine. “I shot Chet. He went down.”
“Yes, you did, but I read the transcripts from the Darwin debriefs. Neither you nor Corporal Welles could confirm unequivocally that he was, in fact, killed. You said you shot him, he went down, and then you left him on the second floor.”
Harris felt the blood slowly running down his body to his feet.
“After this whole thing went down,” Marchant continued, “I went and personally inspected the bodies of the other Jumbos. All their bodies were accounted for, except Chet’s. Why would they take his and leave the others? If he was dead, why would they take him?”
Harris took a moment, trying to block out the feeling crawling up his spine, and subtly catch his breath. “So, you think he’s still alive?”
“We don’t know, captain. All we know is that his body is missing.”
Harris exhaled regretfully and rubbed the back of his neck.
“So, this means, captain,” Marchant continued, “that Sharley and at least one Jumbo, if not two, or maybe even more, are out there somewhere on the loose. We need to stop them. We need to contain them. We need to bring them in.”
“You need to destroy them!” Harris said firmly, shooting the colonel a hard look.
“That order has not been given as yet, captain. My orders are strict. They are to be captured and brought in alive. That is what I want you and your men to do.”
Harris took a moment, then stood from the table and walked over to the coffee station in the corner of the room. He poured himself a straight black, then sipped it, keeping his back to Marchant while his mind ticked over. He suddenly remembered Sharley’s last words to him: “I may be submitting to you now, but the next time I see you, it will be you who submits to me.”
“I believe you’ve been searching the database for soldiers to replace the crew you lost?” Marchant asked, pulling him from his thoughts.
Harris turned back around and nodded. He knew the UNF tracked all searches in the UNF Portal, especially those involving personnel.
Marchant gave him a nod back and continued. “I see Second Lieutenant McKinley has made excellent progress recovering from his broken leg. I hear he’s been working very hard and is back to full fitness. And First Sergeant Hunter’s almost there as well.”
“I believe so,” Harris nodded.
“And Brown and Walker were uninjured, so they’re ready to go?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I also see that one of the women has already signed on for a permanent placement on the Aurora?” He pulled up another folder on the e-file. “Sergeant Packham. She’s going to be your co-pilot?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And the other women?”
“Corporal Colt contacted me last week to decline my offer. She wanted to get in first before I called her.”
“And Corporal Welles?”
“I’ve not spoken with her yet.”
Marchant nodded. “You should do that asap, Harris. We need to get the Aurora out there looking for them. And we want you to persuade Welles to join up. It would be very useful to have her back on board.”
“Why’s that?”
“We’ve had some of our best UNF psychologists go over Sharley’s profile. They tell me that he’s a control freak, which means he does not like to lose. Technically, he lost against the Aurora team. So, our psychologists think that Sharley may just take up the chance for revenge, should it be offered to him … or should I say, should she be offered to him.”
“She?” Harris arched his eyebrow, as that crawling feeling moved down his spine again.
“Yes. Corporal Welles. Packham’s your co-pilot, we can’t offer her up. Besides, Sharley almost had Welles and wanted you to leave her behind. There’s a greater connection that we can play on.” Marchant pushed the e-file pane over to Harris’s side of the desk. “All the info is in here. Take a read of this tonight and we’ll meet back here at 0600 tomorrow.”
Harris eyed the pane and then Marchant, as the colonel stood and stepped closer to him.
“You’re the only one with the experience and the inside knowledge to do this Harris. The UNF is counting on you. I’m counting on you to get these fuckers before they kill anyone else.” Marchant shook his hand, grasping it tightly and eyeing him firmly. “You left them unattended on that station, Harris. You have to right this wrong.” The colonel dropped his hand, then turned and left the room.
Harris’s eyes fell back to the e-file, lying like a quiet little bomb on the table before him. He stared at it for a moment, feeling his heartbeat banging within his throat. He moved over to the table and sat down, placing his coffee cup next to him, and flicked his fingers across the e-file pane, to open it.
Jesus fuckin’ Christ. This shit cannot be happening. Can it?