emerging from the trailer. The captain ran his hands over Dawes’s wounds. Water droplets formed around him, misting the burned skin. The angry red color began to subside.
Dawes’s eyes opened, fixing on the Hydromancer’s lapel pin. “No!” he shrieked. “Don’t let him hurt me, sir!” he struggled against Young and Britton. “Don’t let him cast no spells on me, sir! I want a real doctor!”
The Hydromancer’s jaw tightened, but he continued to work. Puffs of steam carried the smell of cooked flesh into the air. “That’s all I can do without a Physiomancer, and we don’t have one detailed here. You have to take him inside.”
An orderly helped the nurse lift the gurney and race up the trailer steps, slamming through the door.
The Hydromancer turned to follow, but Britton caught his sleeve. “How’s he doing?”
He looked at Britton with the same contempt the Pyromancer had shown inside the helicopter. “Please, sir,” Britton said. “I can’t lose him.”
The Hydromancer’s eyes softened. “The burns dried him dangerously. I moisturized the affected areas and was able to drop the temperature of the burned flesh a few layers down. That should give him a head start. But he’s still going to have to heal normally, and I don’t need to tell you how hard burns are to treat.”
He turned to go, but Britton held his sleeve. “Thanks, sir.”
The Hydromancer nodded and shook his arm free. “Let me get back in there, Lieutenant. Might be there’s more I can do for him after all.”
Britton turned back to his team, but Harlequin, back from dropping off the girl’s corpse, strode in front of them, blocking his view.
“How’s your boy?” the Aeromancer asked.
“He’ll be okay, sir.” Britton bit off the words, not trusting himself to speak.
“He’ll be better than okay, Lieutenant. He’s got a SOC burn-trauma expert on the case. He’s very lucky. Just like you were very lucky to have an Aeromancer between you and that elemental back there.”
Britton felt his temper rise, but his men were watching; it wouldn’t do any good to teach them to be proud. Harlequin was arrogant, but he was also right. The issue of the murder would be for a court-martial to decide.
“Yes, sir,” he said, trying not to sound bitter. “It’s much appreciated.”
“You can show your appreciation by writing the after-action report,” Harlequin said, handing him a packet of papers. “I’ve got to get with public affairs to deal with the press.”
It was too much. “Where do I fill in the information about you killing a helpless captive?”
Harlequin’s smile went vulpine. “Anywhere you damn well please. I can counter with a report of a Probe dealt with according to authorized ROE. I can also put you down for assaulting a superior officer and conduct unbecoming.”
Britton took a step forward, his chest touching Harlequin’s. “Go right ahead. Nothing will make me happier than to tell a court-martial the truth. You better put the rest of my men down while you’re at it, because they saw everything, too.”
“Not too bright, are you? You’ll get your day in court. But there isn’t one in all five armed services who is going to rule against a SOC officer for killing a Probe. You might as well campaign for cockroach rights, you damned idiot. She resisted. If she’d turned herself in, she’d still be alive.”
“As a Probe?”
Harlequin sighed and slammed the paperwork into Britton’s chest. “Just don’t forget; two Selfers employing Black Magic during a lawful SOC assault. They were given ample opportunity to surrender.”
“They were given thirty seconds. And I saw one Elementalist and one Pyromancer. Heck, you just told the TOC that only one was a confirmed Probe, and you only took one corpse.”
“It’s all Black Magic when they run, Lieutenant. You write that report any way you want, but I guarantee you that public affairs will have a different perspective.”
“I’ll make copies. People will know what happened up there.”
“Yes, Lieutenant, they will. They also won’t give a damn. That’s because they, unlike you, know who the good guys are.”
Britton watched Harlequin’s departing back, biting back a retort. He turned to his team. “Dan, take the guys in there and get everyone checked out. I’ll report to the TOC and get started on this damned report. I’m going to write it as I saw it, no matter what that asshole says. I want to get everyone’s signature. No pressure, you only sign it if you agree.”
Cheatham nodded. “He’s right, sir. It won’t mean a damn thing, you know that.”
Britton shut his eyes and gritted his teeth. “Yes, Dan. I know that.”
“Dawes’ll be okay,” Cheatham said. “Hightide is the best burn-trauma specialist I’ve ever seen. He was out at our field cash in Baghdad before the pullout.”
“We both know Hightide’s only here in case one of their own gets zapped.”
Cheatham shrugged. “Same difference, sir.”
“If the SOC really wanted to help, they’d send a Physiomancer to fix his face. That’s going to be tough on him.”
“No doubt, but Physiomancers are a rare breed, sir. I haven’t seen a Healer on detail to the 158th in a dog’s age.”
“I’ll put in for him to get Physiomantic treatment later.”
Cheatham shook his head. “That’s a long line to wait on, sir.”
Britton knew Cheatham wasn’t kidding. Physiomancy was a rare talent. Britton shook his head, adrenaline giving way to helpless exhaustion.
“I know you did your best up there, sir,” Cheatham said. “I’ve run with a lot of officers in my day, and even the best lose men sometimes. Dawes signed up for air assault, same as the rest of us. He knew the risks.”
Britton was silent. He knew the warrant officer was right, but it was too much just then.
“That girl, Dan,” he finally said. “I can’t believe that just happened.”
Cheatham nodded. “I know it’s rough, sir. I’m not saying it isn’t. But Probes are Probes, and the ROE’s clear. You know I’ve got your back, and I admire you for what you did and what you’re doing, but she was dead the moment she pulled our Kiowa down.
“That doesn’t mean he’s not an ass.” Cheatham jerked his thumb at Harlequin, standing beside the Kiowa and berating his assaulter, a Rump Latency whose magic had never Manifested powerfully enough to actually use. By law he still served in the Corps, but would never make Sorcerer, and instead toiled among the SOC’s cadre of gunslingers, administrators, and auxiliaries.
“Poor guy,” Britton said. “Shame he’s stuck working for a bastard like Harlequin. He’s got the infantryman’s job without the infantryman’s badge.”
“Or the infantryman’s brotherhood,” Cheatham said.
Britton nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “You’re right, Dan.”
“Course I am, sir, that’s why they assigned me to you. Somebody on the team has to know what the hell is going on.”
Britton nodded, trying to accept Cheatham’s attempt to cheer him and failing. “Well, let’s go show some of that brotherhood. I’m camping out by Dawes’s bed.”
Cheatham nodded. “And that means we all are.”
CHAPTER II: LOSS
— Loretta Kiwan, Vice President
Council on Latent-American Rights
