operative.
Myers’ eyes grew round and he looked back at Joiner. ‘You can’t be serious?’
‘Deadly. This is what I want. Can you make it happen if I get you the necessary clearance?’
Myers puffed out his cheeks. ‘It’s an ask. Perhaps you should get one of those S.I.L.V.E.R. mercs on it if they’re as good you say.’
‘They’re not an option in this instance.’
Myers frowned as he thought about the ramifications of such a task.
‘Well?’ Joiner said, as Myers continued to deliberate.
‘If you can get me the relevant clearance, which will be a feat in itself, then, yes, I can make it happen. I take it you have a good reason for such a move, as it won’t go unnoticed?’
‘I have two very good reasons, each worth the risk in isolation.’
Myers nodded and then raised an eyebrow when Joiner remained looking at him over the tops of his glasses. ‘You want me to go now?’
‘This is top priority. By the time you get to your destination I’ll make sure you’ll have everything you need to get it done.’
‘Okay,’ Myers said, his expression still dubious, ‘I’m on it.’ Without another word he departed, leaving his director alone with his thoughts.
Picking up his portable computer for a secure connection, Joiner dialled the first number on a list of many and switched the video feed to his wallscreen.
The image of a woman in a suit appeared. ‘Attorney General’s office, how may I direct your call?’
‘This is GMRC Director of Intelligence Joiner, put me through to your boss.’
The woman’s eyes widened as she realized who she was speaking to. ‘Certainly, sir, I’ll … patch you through … immediately.’
Joiner waited until another feed replaced the first. A man finished speaking to a legal aide, who left the room, then looked up at the camera.
Joiner stood up. ‘I need a favour.’
The AG’s relaxed demeanour turned guarded. ‘Do I have a choice?’
A cruel, self-satisfied smile broke Joiner’s deadpan expression. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Now, this is what you’re going to do—’
Chapter Four
Dresden Locke, commanding officer of the secretive Sanctuary Exploration Division, the SED, shifted in his seat as he waited to be seen by a high ranking GMRC official. Across from him sat one General Stevens, a U.S. Army officer who oversaw the SED’s operations out in the dangerous environment of Sanctuary Proper, beyond the safety of the USSB. Stevens, a larger than life individual with an extensive gut stretching his officer’s uniform to bursting, sucked on a similarly fat cigar, the end glowing orange as the packed leaves crackled and popped as they ignited under combustion. Between the two men, a pall of smoke hung in the room’s reception area and General Stevens’ eyes had closed in apparent relaxation.
Locke, on the other hand, was far from at ease. As a civilian he rarely mixed with the upper hierarchy, be they U.S. government, GMRC or dual role chameleons who held positions within both power structures; however, he’d received a video call earlier that evening requesting his attendance at Sanctuary’s giant GMRC Command Complex and ever since he’d been on edge. Getting impatient, he stood up and walked to the window to look out at the dark landscape of the Dome level’s New Park district. Simulated night reigned and his reflection stared back at him in mute contemplation. In his fifties, Locke had short silver-grey hair framing an uncompromising expression. A strong jaw, broad shoulders and narrow waist indicated he worked out, while his white and red SED uniform hugged his athletic figure in a complimentary fashion.
The GMRC dignitary’s personal aide, who’d introduced himself as Grant Debden and sat at a curved reception desk, cleared his throat. ‘The director will see you now.’
Locke gave a nod and nudged the foot of the general, who’d failed to stir from his slumber.
‘What?’ he said, sitting up in his seat, a lump of ash from
Myers’ eyes grew round and he looked back at Joiner. ‘You can’t be serious?’
‘Deadly. This is what I want. Can you make it happen if I get you the necessary clearance?’
Myers puffed out his cheeks. ‘It’s an ask. Perhaps you should get one of those S.I.L.V.E.R. mercs on it if they’re as good you say.’
‘They’re not an option in this instance.’
Myers frowned as he thought about the ramifications of such a task.
‘Well?’ Joiner said, as Myers continued to deliberate.
‘If you can get me the relevant clearance, which will be a feat in itself, then, yes, I can make it happen. I take it you have a good reason for such a move, as it won’t go unnoticed?’
‘I have two very good reasons, each worth the risk in isolation.’
Myers nodded and then raised an eyebrow when Joiner remained looking at him over the tops of his glasses. ‘You want me to go now?’
‘This is top priority. By the time you get to your destination I’ll make sure you’ll have everything you need to get it done.’
‘Okay,’ Myers said, his expression still dubious, ‘I’m on it.’ Without another word he departed, leaving his director alone with his thoughts.
Picking up his portable computer for a secure connection, Joiner dialled the first number on a list of many and switched the video feed to his wallscreen.
The image of a woman in a suit appeared. ‘Attorney General’s office, how may I direct your call?’
‘This is GMRC Director of Intelligence Joiner, put me through to your boss.’
The woman’s eyes widened as she realized who she was speaking to. ‘Certainly, sir, I’ll … patch you through … immediately.’
Joiner waited until another feed replaced the first. A man finished speaking to a legal aide, who left the room, then looked up at the camera.
Joiner stood up. ‘I need a favour.’
The AG’s relaxed demeanour turned guarded. ‘Do I have a choice?’
A cruel, self-satisfied smile broke Joiner’s deadpan expression. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Now, this is what you’re going to do—’
Chapter Four
Dresden Locke, commanding officer of the secretive Sanctuary Exploration Division, the SED, shifted in his seat as he waited to be seen by a high ranking GMRC official. Across from him sat one General Stevens, a U.S. Army officer who oversaw the SED’s operations out in the dangerous environment of Sanctuary Proper, beyond the safety of the USSB. Stevens, a larger than life individual with an extensive gut stretching his officer’s uniform to bursting, sucked on a similarly fat cigar, the end glowing orange as the packed leaves crackled and popped as they ignited under combustion. Between the two men, a pall of smoke hung in the room’s reception area and General Stevens’ eyes had closed in apparent relaxation.
Locke, on the other hand, was far from at ease. As a civilian he rarely mixed with the upper hierarchy, be they U.S. government, GMRC or dual role chameleons who held positions within both power structures; however, he’d received a video call earlier that evening requesting his attendance at Sanctuary’s giant GMRC Command Complex and ever since he’d been on edge. Getting impatient, he stood up and walked to the window to look out at the dark landscape of the Dome level’s New Park district. Simulated night reigned and his reflection stared back at him in mute contemplation. In his fifties, Locke had short silver-grey hair framing an uncompromising expression. A strong jaw, broad shoulders and narrow waist indicated he worked out, while his white and red SED uniform hugged his athletic figure in a complimentary fashion.
The GMRC dignitary’s personal aide, who’d introduced himself as Grant Debden and sat at a curved reception desk, cleared his throat. ‘The director will see you now.’
Locke gave a nod and nudged the foot of the general, who’d failed to stir from his slumber.
‘What?’ he said, sitting up in his seat, a lump of ash from
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