sharp words. “Forget it guys, let’s get this show on the road. What’s this super program I’m in charge of funding called?”
Crucible and Fitzsimmons both spoke at the same time.
“Coven Four, Umbra,” said Crucible.
“Shadow Coven,” said Fitzsimmons.
By the time Fitzsimmons was halfway through his explanation of the Shadow Coven program, Bookbinder was completely overwhelmed. “An entire Coven of Probes? A Portamancer? And that’s who we’re going to meet?”
“That’s right, sir. Britton’s a pain in the ass, but he’s coming along. I’m confident Shadow Coven will be operational within two weeks at the most. I just need a little more time to bring him into line.”
“Oscar Britton,” Bookbinder said. “I’ll be damned. I saw that guy’s face on the FBI’s Ten Most Wanted List every day at work. You had him here the whole time.”
Taylor had fallen into step with them as they made their way toward a plywood guard shack standing beside a giant corrugated metal gate on wheels. A sign hung from one of them, bearing the SOC arms. restricted area: appropriately badged soc personnel and contractors only. absolutely no foreign nationals or source-indigenous contractors permitted without escort.
The sky darkened. Thick clouds suddenly formed unnaturally low over their heads. An air-raid style siren wailed. A voice began to repeat, “All personnel, take cover, take cover, take cover.”
Bookbinder felt the hairs on his arms stand on end as a powerful magical current eddied somewhere nearby, followed by a crack of thunder that shook his bones. The smell of ozone and churned earth filled his nostrils, and he caught a glimmer from the corner of his eye that looked like a column of lightning as thick as a tree trunk. He dove to the ground, covering his head with his hands and pressing himself against one of the concrete blast barricades. The thunder sounded again two more times, each more distant than the last. He realized he was trembling and forced himself to be still.
“Oh, come on now.” Taylor’s voice dripped with scorn.
Bookbinder rolled over and got to his knees, looking from the mud that now plastered his uniform to the men standing around him. Taylor shook his head. Crucible and Fitzsimmons looked uncomfortable.
“You’re going to have to get over that,” Taylor said. “We get several of those a day, and the men will be watching you.”
“What the hell was that?” Bookbinder asked, blushing. The difference between his administrative role and the real soldiers surrounding him was plain enough without his groveling in the mud at the first thing that went boom.
“Lighting strike,” Fitzsimmons said. “Conjured by some indig Aeromancer. Goblins come up Latent more often than we do and tend to have stronger magic.”
“You’ll get used to it after a while, sir,” Crucible said. “Just remember with indirect fire that it’s a small target zone and a big base. Odds are slim you’ll get tagged.”
“Hell, that one wasn’t even danger close!” Taylor said.
Bookbinder stood, dusting off his uniform and avoiding Taylor’s scolding gaze. Crucible coughed uncomfortably and patted his shoulder. “It’s okay, sir. Just remember, small round, big base.”
Yes, I’m fine, Bookbinder thought. And whatever little respect I had in the eyes of these men is now gone.
They kept on in silence until they were intercepted by a group of MPs, who waved them back. “Sorry, sir,” said one, “gate to P–Block got hit. We’ve got the whole place locked down.”
“That’s all right,” Taylor said, sounding relieved. “The colonel’s got everything he needs on the program to authorize funding. He doesn’t need a face–to–face with the operators. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Fitzy was impassive, and Crucible looked like he didn’t agree at all, but both men nodded and chorused, “Yes, sir.”
The gate to P–Block was sliding back, a small group stepping outside as electric
Crucible and Fitzsimmons both spoke at the same time.
“Coven Four, Umbra,” said Crucible.
“Shadow Coven,” said Fitzsimmons.
By the time Fitzsimmons was halfway through his explanation of the Shadow Coven program, Bookbinder was completely overwhelmed. “An entire Coven of Probes? A Portamancer? And that’s who we’re going to meet?”
“That’s right, sir. Britton’s a pain in the ass, but he’s coming along. I’m confident Shadow Coven will be operational within two weeks at the most. I just need a little more time to bring him into line.”
“Oscar Britton,” Bookbinder said. “I’ll be damned. I saw that guy’s face on the FBI’s Ten Most Wanted List every day at work. You had him here the whole time.”
Taylor had fallen into step with them as they made their way toward a plywood guard shack standing beside a giant corrugated metal gate on wheels. A sign hung from one of them, bearing the SOC arms. restricted area: appropriately badged soc personnel and contractors only. absolutely no foreign nationals or source-indigenous contractors permitted without escort.
The sky darkened. Thick clouds suddenly formed unnaturally low over their heads. An air-raid style siren wailed. A voice began to repeat, “All personnel, take cover, take cover, take cover.”
Bookbinder felt the hairs on his arms stand on end as a powerful magical current eddied somewhere nearby, followed by a crack of thunder that shook his bones. The smell of ozone and churned earth filled his nostrils, and he caught a glimmer from the corner of his eye that looked like a column of lightning as thick as a tree trunk. He dove to the ground, covering his head with his hands and pressing himself against one of the concrete blast barricades. The thunder sounded again two more times, each more distant than the last. He realized he was trembling and forced himself to be still.
“Oh, come on now.” Taylor’s voice dripped with scorn.
Bookbinder rolled over and got to his knees, looking from the mud that now plastered his uniform to the men standing around him. Taylor shook his head. Crucible and Fitzsimmons looked uncomfortable.
“You’re going to have to get over that,” Taylor said. “We get several of those a day, and the men will be watching you.”
“What the hell was that?” Bookbinder asked, blushing. The difference between his administrative role and the real soldiers surrounding him was plain enough without his groveling in the mud at the first thing that went boom.
“Lighting strike,” Fitzsimmons said. “Conjured by some indig Aeromancer. Goblins come up Latent more often than we do and tend to have stronger magic.”
“You’ll get used to it after a while, sir,” Crucible said. “Just remember with indirect fire that it’s a small target zone and a big base. Odds are slim you’ll get tagged.”
“Hell, that one wasn’t even danger close!” Taylor said.
Bookbinder stood, dusting off his uniform and avoiding Taylor’s scolding gaze. Crucible coughed uncomfortably and patted his shoulder. “It’s okay, sir. Just remember, small round, big base.”
Yes, I’m fine, Bookbinder thought. And whatever little respect I had in the eyes of these men is now gone.
They kept on in silence until they were intercepted by a group of MPs, who waved them back. “Sorry, sir,” said one, “gate to P–Block got hit. We’ve got the whole place locked down.”
“That’s all right,” Taylor said, sounding relieved. “The colonel’s got everything he needs on the program to authorize funding. He doesn’t need a face–to–face with the operators. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Fitzy was impassive, and Crucible looked like he didn’t agree at all, but both men nodded and chorused, “Yes, sir.”
The gate to P–Block was sliding back, a small group stepping outside as electric
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