Prime (Chess Team Adventure, #0.5)

“I am responsible.”


“No, you aren’t.” There was a sadness in Deep Blue’s reply that the artificial voice modulator could not disguise. “The ultimate responsibility lies with me. But if I had it all to do over again, I would make the same decision.”

When King didn’t respond, Deep Blue continued. “One of the burdens of command is that you feel personally responsible for every soldier lost on your watch. In my book, that doesn’t make you unfit to lead; it makes you human.

“There’s something else you should consider also. Lewis hasn’t been able to figure out why, but instead of blocking radio signals, the limestone in that cave amplified the outgoing transmissions. You couldn’t receive, but I was able to monitor your comms.” His electronic tone lowered almost to a whisper. “I heard everything that happened in that cave.”

The revelation hit King like a cold slap. He looked around at the others, expecting to see unasked questions on their faces, but none of them would meet his gaze.

They know, he realized. They all know.

Deep Blue went on as if the former matter was permanently concluded. “You were given an impossible task, and you accomplished it. You went up against an enemy with resources that—speaking frankly—still boggle my mind, and you beat him. So, by any standard, that’s a win in my book. So pull it together, and get back on the horse. I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather have leading this team.”

Rook stood up raising his hands like an old-time preacher. “Amen, brother.”

The others just nodded in silent agreement.

King was speechless for a moment, but when no one else—not even Rook—filled the silence, he gathered his wits. “So, what’s next?”

“For the moment: recovery. Mandatory R&R. Stay loose, but stay sharp. Chess Team is going to be on alert status 24/7.”

“Chess Team,” Rook said. “I still think it sounds like an after-school club for nerds.”

Aleman threw him a withering glance. “I never played chess.”

King ignored them. “We’re going to need an HQ.”

“You’re sitting in it,” Deep Blue replied. “It’s temporary until we can come up with something better, but feel free to redecorate as you see fit; just submit your requisitions to General Keasling.”

Rook rolled his eyes at that news, but then his face seemed to brighten. “Dudes. We’ve got to have a horseshoe pit!”

Bishop’s face creased in annoyance. “Horseshoes? Really?”

“Just promise me this,” King said, cutting Rook off before he could launch into an impassioned defense of his favorite hobby. “Next time, can we just go up against some normal bad guys; you know, tangos with loose suitcase nukes and nerve gas? No more freaky science experiments, killer mountain crocodiles, historical voodoo…no more weird shit.”

Deep Blue laughed. “I won’t make promises I can’t keep, but it’s hard to imagine that you’ll ever have to deal with anything quite so extreme in the future.”

King had a sudden urge to knock on wood, but before he could rap his knuckles against the tabletop, he realized that it was molded plastic.

Ah, hell, he thought. Deep Blue’s right. Nothing could be as weird as what we just went through.





Shanghai, China



Three days was long enough—too long, really.

Rainer wasn’t coming back. The rogue Delta operator had failed, and given the resources he’d taken into the field, that was a frightening prospect indeed.

The telephone trilled once, twice…

Damn it! They know they need to pick up on the first ring.

“Reinhart.”

“What took you so long?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Never mind. You’ve just been promoted; congratulations.”

“What?”

God, the man is thick. “Rainer’s not coming back. He’s either dead or—God forbid—captured. Either way, you’re running the show now. First order of business is damage control.”

“Got it; no loose ends. I’ll make sure there’s nothing that ties us to him.”

To his credit, Reinhart seemed to grasp what was being asked of him, but was tidying up after Rainer going to be good enough?

The whole situation had been a farce from the beginning. He had no interest in plague research; that had been Katherine’s passion, and the only reason he’d even started down that road was to honor her memory; he’d thought that perhaps if he could salvage something useful from her work, her death wouldn’t feel like such a waste.

Sentimentality is for suckers. It’s time to write this whole fiasco off.

“Good. And while you’re at it, I think it’s time to dissolve our partnership with the Chinese.”

“When you say ‘dissolve?’” Reinhart let the question hang.

“Complete liquidation of our assets.”

“Clear as crystal.”