Adamant Spirits, page 98
“Let’s get started, shall we?” he asked. “Lieutenant Kalos, please approach the microphone.”
A low growl escaped Kalos before he rose and walked to the center of the room. Sophia pressed her fists into the rough wool fabric of her charcoal-gray uniform skirt.
“Why don’t you start by telling us the mission objective?” Ichiro asked.
“The objective was to collect evidence of Tavian involvement with a rebel civilian group in Latin America. Tavian implant signatures and evidence of pulse gunfire had been found in the area on a previous mission.”
Ichiro shuffled his papers. “I see. That was the mission where your former commander was injured, correct?”
Niko’s shoulders flexed, pulling at the seams of his uniform jacket. “Yes.”
“And yet you thought another mission was appropriate?”
The muscles along his jawline rippled. Sophia cringed. Just like the opening conversations, there were rules when testifying. Body language was just as important as what was actually said.
“I was against this mission due to the risks,” Niko spat. “I was following orders.”
The panel exchanged glances.
“An order?” Ichiro asked. “From whom?”
“Captain Cipriani.” He leveled a harsh glare in Anton’s direction.
“Okay. That will be all,” Ichiro said, shuffling more papers.
Sophia frowned. That was it? They hadn’t talked about what happened or how they’d been ambushed yet. That couldn’t be it.
“Captain Cipriani?” Ichiro scanned the room. “Please approach the microphone.”
Niko returned to his seat beside her, every muscle coiled.
“Good afternoon,” Anton greeted the panel.
“Good afternoon, Captain Cipriani. It’s Lieutenant Kalos’s assertion that you ordered him to coordinate this mission. Is that correct?”
Anton never even twitched. “Absolutely not.”
Sophia’s mouth hung open.
“Kalos requested, and I authorized, an evidence-gathering mission after he’d greatly misrepresented the situation on the ground. I was not the commander during the previous mission and had no reason to believe Kalos would go to these lengths for approval,” he continued.
He may have been the type to smile and work the crowd in the wake of a tragedy, but to lie? She’d been there when Niko had returned from his meeting with Anton. She’d seen the dread in his eyes as he’d planned the mission. There wasn’t an ounce of her that believed Anton.
Niko launched himself from his chair. “You’re a liar!”
Sophia grabbed his arm to pull him back down, but she could have hung from him and it wouldn’t have mattered. He stared down Anton without moving. How could she quietly remind him that the truth of the mission wouldn’t matter if he lost it now?
And the truth did matter. The whole Guard needed to know what Anton had ordered them to do. They’d been outnumbered and cornered, but Niko had fought his way in to save her and Horacio. She didn’t have to go out on mission with Anton to know he would have abandoned her to the same fate as Layla.
“The blood of this mission is on your hands!” Kalos yelled, jutting a finger at Anton who stood with feigned wide-eyed surprise.
Sophia clamped her eyes shut. Niko didn’t see what was happening. They’d never ask about the mission because this wasn’t about the mission. This was about burying Niko, and he was playing into their hands.
“Order!” Ichiro called. “You had your turn to speak, Lieutenant. Captain Cipriani now has the floor. Please continue, Captain.”
Anton’s eyebrows pulled together for an award-winning performance in this sickening charade. “Given the initial after-action reports, Lieutenant Kalos either greatly underestimated or intentionally downplayed the Tavian presence in the area.”
“That’s not true!” Niko shouted.
“This was clearly a mission for a larger combat platoon,” Anton said over Niko. “But I suspect he was eager to prove himself in his new role as unit leader.”
“I wanted to prove myself?” Niko’s voice thundered around the dome.
Not good. So not good. She jerked at his arm, trying to get his attention. He had to sit and wait this out, or he’d never get another chance to tell his side of the story.
“Lieutenant Kalos, if you cannot respect these proceedings, you will be escorted out,” Ichiro warned.
Niko lowered himself to his chair but was so stiff he barely touched the seat.
“Captain Cipriani, you are Lieutenant Kalos’s commander, correct?”
“That’s correct, sir.”
“What is your recommendation for disciplinary action?”
Disciplinary action? They couldn’t ask that of a witness, could they?
Her father blinked several times and pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew what they were doing—everyone did—but he wasn’t stopping it. Her pulse pounded in her ears.
Anton sighed. “I’ve known Niko a long time.”
Niko’s arm jerked, and Sophia clamped both hands around it to hold him in place.
Not now…
“It pains me to say this, but given his long disciplinary record…”
Niko’s arm twitched.
“Stay put,” she murmured.
“His highly volatile temper…”
Niko growled.
“And a clear pattern of impulsive behavior, I’m forced to conclude that he’s not fit for service. The gravity of the incident necessitates a rapid and strong response. As the commander, I’m prepared to relieve Lieutenant Kalos of his duties, disband the black ops unit, and turn Kalos over to the legal system for full criminal prosecution for breach of the treaty.”
The whole room sat in stunned silence. Niko’s arm was rock hard. Even Sophia had to clamp her lips shut. The level of theatrics they’d been forced to endure was breathtaking, and good guards like Dad were allowing it to be taken seriously.
“You believe his actions to be criminal?” Ichiro clarified. “A breach of the treaty outside normal military authorization could mean exile.”
“I’m aware, sir, but a strong condemnation of these actions before the summit will prove that this wasn’t a sanctioned mission.”
Ichiro nodded gravely. “Indeed. In the coming days, the panel will render its recommendation for the council—”
“Excuse me, sir. If I may,” a small voice from the edge of the panel spoke up. The man in white robes held up a knobby finger.
Niko’s arm relaxed. Ichiro winced. Even Dad raised an eyebrow. Who was he?
“Captain Cipriani, you said you believed you’d approved an evidence-gathering mission.”
“That’s correct, sir.”
“And the after-action report states that the black ops unit was ambushed shortly after arriving at the location.”
“Yes, but no one was there when Lieutenant Ahmadi was captured. The evidence is still being analyzed,” Anton replied as the smile faded from his face.
“Hmm.” The man frowned. “As the commander of this unit, I’m surprised you’d be so quick to make a recommendation for disciplinary action.”
Anton laughed, but it seemed a little too forced and condescending to be natural. “Well, as a commander, I have to think about the captured guard as well. The Tavians will soon call a summit to discuss reparations. Swift condemnation from our side may go a long way to negotiating Ahmadi’s return.”
“I understand you haven’t been in command very long and appreciate your…” He looked around the room with a kind smile. “What did you call it? ‘Eagerness’ to prove yourself, but I would caution this entire panel against doing anything rash.”
Anton cleared his throat. “The Tavians—”
“Pardon me, young man, but I know quite a bit about the Tavians. Many see me as the foremost expert on them.” He kept his tone fatherly even though his words cut deep.
The foremost experts on the Tavians were the Seers—
Sophia’s eyebrows jumped. No wonder she’d never seen him before. He was a Seer.
Ichiro’s face tightened. “Royce, Nios owes you and all the Seers a debt of gratitude, but the rules of the summit are clear. The Tavians could make it appear as though we were guilty of the illegal activity in Santa Rita, and they’re holding one of our guards as proof. We could have as little as thirty-six hours to prepare for the summit, and they could move forward with punitive action against her if we try to contest their accusations. Commander Mendoza, as well as the council, will be expecting this panel’s recommendation.”
Royce extended his hands outward with a wide grin. “The Magnolia Festival is coming. With all the ceremonies, we could easily claim scheduling conflicts until it’s over. The Tavians will be confident in their leverage. They will give us the time to observe our traditions because they’ll want to look reasonable when they demand steep reparations.” Royce leaned forward, his gaze returning to Anton. “I’d rather take that time to investigate than be so eager to make concessions too early.”
An awkward silence followed.
Ichiro cleared his throat. “It’s not clear what the Tavians will do, but perhaps he has a point. I will postpone this hearing until either further evidence is gathered or a date is set for the summit. Until that point, Lieutenant Kalos will remain a part of the unit, but all leadership duties will be suspended. Full command and supervision will be given to Captain Cipriani.”
Sophia shut her eyes and released a breath. Layla was being held prisoner, and Anton had somehow found a way to capitalize on it. All he’d had to do was to toss Niko aside.
She glared at the panel, glad-handing as if nothing had happened. How could Leadership do this to one of their own? No one stopped it—including Dad.
Dad.
This flew in the face of everything he’d taught her. He stood, speaking with another captain she didn’t recognize, but she caught the subtle turn of his shoulders away from her. He was trying to avoid her. She didn’t care what was on his schedule next, she’d be following him to his office.
“We should do lunch!” Anton’s voice drifted over the crowd.
Niko launched himself from his chair. She leaped in front of him before he could get any closer.
“Now’s not the time or place,” she muttered. There was no sign he’d heard her through his cold glare. “You’ll just give them what they want.”
His gaze darted to her, hard, unrelenting. His lips curled, but he stormed from the room.
Sophia rubbed her forehead. What a mess.
A warm hand slid over her shoulder. Dad? She turned, and Anton smiled at her. She jumped away, scowling.
“How are you doing?” Anton asked, eyebrows drawn up together, a quiet smile. He’d lied about her unit leader, and he had the audacity to ask how she was doing? If she could have, she would’ve dropped him with a swing kick right now.
Now’s not the time or the place.
She forced a smile but couldn’t force out the words. He was a commanding officer. She might never be able to tell him exactly what she thought.
A moment passed.
“I don’t want you to be worried about what will happen if we disband your unit. I will personally make sure you have your choice of assignments. I have a little time right now. Would you like to come back to my office? We can talk about it.”
“I need to speak with my father right now,” she said, unable to relax her glower.
“Okay. Maybe some other time.” He smiled so easily, she would have never guessed what he’d just done.
Feeling more and more like Niko every second, she needed to get out of here before she said something she’d regret. She brushed past him without another word.
The corridor was crowded, but no one would stop a lowly L-1 to talk when there were captains around. She easily wove her way to her father’s office.
His assistant, Fulton, rose from his desk as she strode past him. “Um, your father isn’t back yet—”
“I’ll wait.” She plopped down in the chair in front of his desk. The longer she waited, the more her skin burned. How could he do this? He knew it was wrong.
Someone whispered in the lobby, and a tired sigh followed—Dad’s tired sigh.
“I have a full schedule today, Sophia,” he said, approaching her from behind.
“If you were so pressed for time, you could have canceled that hearing. Sounds like the panel has already made its decision,” she snarled.
He shut his door and rounded his desk. His jade eyes narrowed as he sat. “Every guard has a right to a hearing.”
Her skin reached a boil. “You missed a word. Every guard was supposed to be entitled to a fair hearing.”
His fingers curled around a pen as his gaze hardened. “Watch the way you speak to me. You’re an L-1, and I recused myself to ensure a fair hearing.”
“Ensure? Anton was allowed to give false testimony that no one challenged, they gave him full command of the unit, and you think that was fair?”
He leaned over his desk. “There’s no record of that order, and both Cipriani and Kalos’s records speak for themselves. You expected the panel to simply believe Kalos?”
She sprang up. “No. I expected you to investigate instead of pinning this all on one person, who, might I remind you, saved me from the same fate as Layla.”
Dad’s lips pressed into a flat line.
“The facts are there, but everyone is in such a hurry to make this go away that you’re willing to sacrifice a good guard.”
“I recused myself!”
“You recused yourself to be fair!” she shouted. “You think that hearing was fair? Even as an observer on the panel, your word has power. You could have pushed them to do the right thing.”
“Why are you doing this, Sophia?” he asked, eyes narrowing again. “The outcome will be the same. Even if we investigate down to the minutiae, mistakes were made. He was the unit leader. Whether he’s relieved of command now or later, he will be held responsible. Everyone in the Guard knows that.”
“Everyone in the Guard knows that they could be turned over to a criminal court to be exiled simply because they were forced to lead a bad mission?” She shook her head as he looked down at her.
He’d always taught her to stand up for what was right, and now he lectured her about how this was different—the exception to the rule.
“Maybe I’m not cut out to be a guard.” She stormed to the door and yanked it open.
Dad heaved the same tired sigh just before she slammed it behind her.
Eleven
Niko rolled his eyes. Frayed threads blew across the ground of their workout room and floated through the air.
“I don’t understand, though,” Guthrie said, scratching his head. “How did you split the punching bag? That should be impossible.”
“It was either the punching bag or Anton’s face,” Niko replied. Actually, if they exiled him, he’d probably still do this to Anton’s face anyway. “Are you going to help me clean it up or not?”
Guthrie shrugged, still frowning. “Yeah, I guess.”
“Kalos.”
Niko rose with a handful of filling. Dark hair. Lean build. Eagle emblem. Captain Anuva. Just when he thought his day couldn’t get any worse.
Guthrie jumped to attention.
“I’d like a word with you,” Captain Anuva said, surveying the punching bag devastation.
“Right this way, sir,” Niko said, trudging to the door. He led him into his office, where Captain Anuva’s gaze bored into him as he shut the door. If he thought Niko would be intimidated, he was wrong. Niko plopped into his chair and leaned back to look at him.
“Tell me what happened in Santa Rita.”
Niko shrugged. “I’m surprised you’re asking me at all. Seems Captain Cipriani felt he had a strong understanding of what happened.”
Captain Anuva planted both hands on the desk and leaned forward. “You want to whine and complain about the hearing today? Go do it to your casual. I’ve got a full day of meetings and your disciplinary record memorized, but someone reminded me that even you deserve fairness.”
Niko almost laughed. Fairness in the Guard? Who would demand that? They’d just taken away his leadership role on the word of a liar. Captain Anuva’s green eyes sparked—just like Sophia’s did when she was angry.
Sophia.
He sat up. Why would she help him? After everything he’d done to her? He swallowed hard.
He’d seen that hearing for what it was. That mission had disrupted the harmony at the top of the chain of command. A guard had been captured. Another had been grievously injured. They hated any reminder of the war being fought below them, but this? For a moment, they’d have to step away from their white-tie dinners and ceremonial summits, which were nothing more than lavish vacations. They’d have to do some real work, and they blamed him for that. Easy to do when he’d spent his career doing things they found distasteful but couldn’t live without.
And never once had he played their game. He didn’t talk about his missions often, but he’d never pretend they didn’t happen, that his kills weren’t necessary, that his unit’s accomplishments weren’t important. He’d already burnt his bridges, but her?
She’d just started her career. She had everything going for her, including powerful allies. She should’ve been looking for the first opportunity to get as far away from him, this incident, even the whole unit, if possible—but especially him.
She wasn’t doing that.
Something flipped inside him. It wasn’t nearly on the same level as when something didn’t go as planned on a mission, but it was there. He’d missed something—something big. It had been staring him in the face all along—she had been staring him in the face, and he had misjudged her. Not just her skill, or aptitude for combat, her.
Captain Anuva raised his eyebrows.
“We were sent to collect evidence of the Tavians dealing directly with one of the rebel groups.”
“What kind of evidence?”
“There have been reports of strange gunfire in the area for months. The mission with McCade showed us that not only were the Tavians there, they were willing to kill to hide whatever they were doing. Captain Cipriani wanted proof.”
