In truth, it was Fletcher’s assassination plan, but one that was needed to cull the men loyal to Frost. It was a tough step, but he was on board with the operation. Leading it, in fact, something he’d have to reconcile in the days that would follow. He knew he could handle the guilt, but only after a few ghosts paid him visits in his sleep.
When he landed a step in the next hallway, he ran into Fletcher marching in the opposite direction. “Hey boss. Got a minute?”
“Sure. But make it quick,” Fletcher replied. “We’ve got a mission to complete.”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Is there a problem?”
“Not exactly. Just wanted to be clear about the objectives today.”
“It’s simple. We shoot anything that doesn’t surrender.”
“That’s my point. Why not shoot everyone? End it once and for all, instead of these half-measures. I worry they’ll come back to bite us in the ass.”
“I thought of that initially and it would certainly be easier, but there is tactical value in keeping some alive.”
“Assuming our advance force doesn’t wipe them all out. They’re not exactly a well-trained army.”
“True on both counts, but a few of the enemy will certainly take refuge during the invasion. Count on it. There’s zero chance they won’t have fallback positions already established, where they can hunker down and ride out an assault like this.”
Just then, a new thought penetrated his mind, taking Dice down a new path of thinking. “Oh, that’s why you’d been syphoning off all the explosives when Frost wasn’t looking.”
Fletcher slapped Dice on the back. “You catch on quick, my young friend.”
“Just doing my part, sir.”
“Once we’ve liberated the holdouts, we’ll interrogate them. Someone has to know where they’ve stashed their advanced technology. And you know there will be plenty of it. That compound has to be full of it.”
“Too bad Lipton isn’t here. We could use his eye for the better stuff.”
“We’ll make do. I’m sure the valuable stuff will be easy to spot.”
“And if it isn’t?”
“We leave it behind.”
“Especially with the limited space in the transports.”
“Our primary goal is to find something to help with the refinery issues.”
“Or someone.”
Fletcher nodded, his eyes full of determination. “In the end, no matter how this plays out, we’ll adapt and overcome. Like we always do.”
Dice pounded a closed fist on his chest, amplifying his voice. “Together, victory is at hand.”
Fletcher made the same gesture. “Nothing, and I mean nothing, is going to stop us now. This is what we’ve been working for.”
“And sacrificing.”
“Roger that. Let’s roll out. Time to finish this thing.”
Wilma Rice walked the remaining steps to Craven’s private kitchen and went inside, where she found her boss standing at a prep counter with a meat cleaver in his hand.
The smear of red across the front of his pants caught her attention, running vertically from just above his knee to the front pocket on his right side.
The cutting board in front of him held a stack of sliced meat about the size of a shoebox, each slice with a precise width no wider than a quarter-inch. It appeared Craven had been at it for a while, taking his time to prepare every portion, almost as if the carvings were a work of art.
Craven brought his eyes up from the cutting surface, stopping the work of the blade. “Report?”
Rice took a seat in a high-back swiveling stool. She brought her legs around to face him, keeping her feet in tight to avoid smacking into the cabinet. “Commander Stipple’s runner just arrived. They’re almost in position.”
“Excellent. He made good time.”
“Stipple or the runner?”
“Both,” Craven said, running his fingers down the blade before bringing them up to his lips. He opened his mouth and stuck the tip of his thumb inside, licking off a drip of red.
Wilma cast her eyes downward and didn’t respond, acting as if she hadn’t noticed his lack of sanitation. Or his culinary decision.
Craven brought the knife back to the slab of meat, continuing his work. “It’s good to know the training worked. I was wondering if he could convince a Scab to stay on task and not get distracted on the way here.”
“The man works wonders. You chose him well, sir.”
“Now we’ll see how well the latest enhancements perform in the field.”
“My guess is the success rate will be far superior than the last.”
“For us, it better be,” Craven said, pointing the tip of the knife in her direction. “Otherwise, questions will be raised. And we both know what that will mean. Especially now, heading into the next phase.”
Rice agreed, but chose not to further his line of self-reinforcing paranoia. He was obviously looking for validation. “Stipple has been working the troops hard, so to speak.”
“I swear, that man never sleeps.”
“It comes with the job, sir. Though I do worry about that heart of his. Word has it, he passed out again the other night. I think his condition is getting worse.”
Craven scoffed. “He’ll be fine. Nothing he can’t handle.”
She nodded, but didn’t respond.
Craven turned to the wash sink on his right, running a stream of water over the knife. The new coating of blood rinsed off and disappeared into the drain, along with a wedge of meat that had been clinging to the glistening edge. “I’m sure you’ll agree, Wilma. Never in my wildest dreams would I have ever thought we’d be here right now, about to share a meal on the eve of our greatest accomplishment.”
“Actually, boss, we did discuss this. Four years ago. Don’t you remember? It was right after that incubator suffered a meltdown, nearly taking out the lab. You turned to me and said that it wouldn’t always be like this. That one day, we’d be raising a glass to toast our success.”
Craven held still for a few moments. “Oh yes, that’s right. What a long night. How could I forget?”
“I’m sure the lack of sleep didn’t help with your memory at the time.”
“For any of us,” Craven said.
“I think you sensed my doubt that night, about whether I was the right woman for the job.”
“Sometimes setbacks happen and I didn’t want you to lose confidence. Especially when we were breaking new ground.”
“I’ll never forget how that made me feel, sir. That one statement really made a world of difference. I was about to tender my resignation.”
A smile took over his face, then it vanished a moment later, almost as if her gratitude had struck a nervous tone within him. Or perhaps it was her admission of almost quitting.
Craven put the knife down next to the edge of the sink. “Actually, the time period I was referring to was just after graduation, when I was still struggling to make a name for myself. If it weren’t for a few lucky breaks back then, I never would have landed that first job.” He smirked, then laughed again. “It’s amazing how life unfolds.”
“That’s an interesting comment, given all we’ve been up to.”
Craven seemed to ignore her reference, his eyes now focused on the meat waiting for him on the counter. “Think about what that really means, Wilma. One simple decision to apply for that first job affected the flow of history. And not just mine, either. For the entire planet.”
“What’s left of it.”
“True, that did help narrow the possible outcomes a bit.”
“That it did, sir.”
“But it still doesn’t change the fact that we are here, right now, together, on the eve of sheer greatness.”
She nodded, but chose not to respond.