Quiet ones. Intelligence collection’s part of the game, but we maintain the capacity for direct action operations as well. And that’s about all I’m going to tell you. Until you come work for me.”
Lincoln smiled at the use of the word until. “For the 519th.”
“That’s right.”
“Which I know nothing about.”
Almeida nodded.
“Not giving me a lot to go on, sir.”
“Get used to it. The ability to operate on incomplete information is a requirement, captain,” the colonel said. “I expect my people to be comfortable living in that reality. You’ll be making a lot of high-stakes decisions on partial data, some of it likely false. You’ll have to act decisively, and you’ll have to make the best of the consequences, come what may. But…” Here he held up a hand and ticked off the points as he mentioned them. “Some highlights of the job: pay’s not great; most sergeants will have command of more people than you; you’ll be in the Information Support Brigade, which makes you sound like the biggest weenie on the planet. Oh, and , if you do the job right, a bunch of other people will always get the credit. It’s pretty much a career-killer.”
Lincoln blinked at the job description. A moment later, he added “… and the downside?”
“Responsibility.”
“How much?”
“A world’s weight, at least. I need a team leader. Someone I can put in the field and trust do the right thing without a lot of handholding. We move fast. The nature of our work requires it. I need someone who isn’t afraid to figure things out on the fly.” The colonel leaned forward. “Someone who isn’t afraid to act on a clearer understanding of fluid situations that require timely responses.”
Almeida let the phrase hang in the air, an echo of the very words Lincoln had used earlier that day. Had Almeida been in that room? Or did he have people reporting to him? Either option had uncomfortable implications.
“I’m honored that you’d consider me, sir,” Lincoln said. “But I’m sure there are a lot of other individuals out there better suited for that than me.”
Almeida shrugged as he sat back and cleared his throat. “It’s currently a list of one, captain.”
“That is flattering, sir, but I would expect someone of your caliber to have a, uh…” Lincoln paused, searching for the most diplomatic word he could think of, “… more robust set of options available.”
The colonel rumbled with a chest-deep chuckle. “Yeah, OK, so there might be a few other folks in line. But you’re at the top. And first. I haven’t offered this opportunity to anyone else yet, cross my heart.”
Lincoln looked down at his own hands, clasped in his lap. Most of his career had been in more traditional special operations forces, and while he’d certainly done his best in every one of them, he’d never considered himself to be a superstar or a stud. He could have easily rattled off the names of fifteen men and women who’d be better suited to lead a Special Mission Unit, as far as he was concerned.
“And what makes you think I’m the right one for the job?” Lincoln asked.
“I don’t think. I know. And I know because it’s my business to know,” Almeida said.
“Can you be a little more specific?”
The colonel scratched his nose with his prosthesis, a gesture that would have looked completely natural if not for the gunmetal grey surface of the hand. “I’ve been at this a long time, captain. If you hang around the halls long enough, you hear names picking up buzz. Rock stars in a community of superheroes.”
Lincoln’s eyebrows went up at that. He’d never gotten the impression that anyone knew who he was outside his immediate circle of peers.
“And,” Almeida said, “I’ve never once heard anyone talking about you.”
Lincoln let out a single, involuntary bark of a laugh. “Easy, colonel, you keep talking so nice, I might start getting uppity.”
“Well, you’ve never been in the
Lincoln smiled at the use of the word until. “For the 519th.”
“That’s right.”
“Which I know nothing about.”
Almeida nodded.
“Not giving me a lot to go on, sir.”
“Get used to it. The ability to operate on incomplete information is a requirement, captain,” the colonel said. “I expect my people to be comfortable living in that reality. You’ll be making a lot of high-stakes decisions on partial data, some of it likely false. You’ll have to act decisively, and you’ll have to make the best of the consequences, come what may. But…” Here he held up a hand and ticked off the points as he mentioned them. “Some highlights of the job: pay’s not great; most sergeants will have command of more people than you; you’ll be in the Information Support Brigade, which makes you sound like the biggest weenie on the planet. Oh, and , if you do the job right, a bunch of other people will always get the credit. It’s pretty much a career-killer.”
Lincoln blinked at the job description. A moment later, he added “… and the downside?”
“Responsibility.”
“How much?”
“A world’s weight, at least. I need a team leader. Someone I can put in the field and trust do the right thing without a lot of handholding. We move fast. The nature of our work requires it. I need someone who isn’t afraid to figure things out on the fly.” The colonel leaned forward. “Someone who isn’t afraid to act on a clearer understanding of fluid situations that require timely responses.”
Almeida let the phrase hang in the air, an echo of the very words Lincoln had used earlier that day. Had Almeida been in that room? Or did he have people reporting to him? Either option had uncomfortable implications.
“I’m honored that you’d consider me, sir,” Lincoln said. “But I’m sure there are a lot of other individuals out there better suited for that than me.”
Almeida shrugged as he sat back and cleared his throat. “It’s currently a list of one, captain.”
“That is flattering, sir, but I would expect someone of your caliber to have a, uh…” Lincoln paused, searching for the most diplomatic word he could think of, “… more robust set of options available.”
The colonel rumbled with a chest-deep chuckle. “Yeah, OK, so there might be a few other folks in line. But you’re at the top. And first. I haven’t offered this opportunity to anyone else yet, cross my heart.”
Lincoln looked down at his own hands, clasped in his lap. Most of his career had been in more traditional special operations forces, and while he’d certainly done his best in every one of them, he’d never considered himself to be a superstar or a stud. He could have easily rattled off the names of fifteen men and women who’d be better suited to lead a Special Mission Unit, as far as he was concerned.
“And what makes you think I’m the right one for the job?” Lincoln asked.
“I don’t think. I know. And I know because it’s my business to know,” Almeida said.
“Can you be a little more specific?”
The colonel scratched his nose with his prosthesis, a gesture that would have looked completely natural if not for the gunmetal grey surface of the hand. “I’ve been at this a long time, captain. If you hang around the halls long enough, you hear names picking up buzz. Rock stars in a community of superheroes.”
Lincoln’s eyebrows went up at that. He’d never gotten the impression that anyone knew who he was outside his immediate circle of peers.
“And,” Almeida said, “I’ve never once heard anyone talking about you.”
Lincoln let out a single, involuntary bark of a laugh. “Easy, colonel, you keep talking so nice, I might start getting uppity.”
“Well, you’ve never been in the
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