MB Short Story: The Truth Behind Fort Lauderdale (Contains Spoilers) (Patreon)

“You’ll rendezvous with the contractor leader in Jelgava.” Adsila pierced Hope with a stern look over the edge of her paperwork. “Play nice.”

Hope’s upper lip twitched with an instinctive sneer of disgust, but she managed to keep her expression impassive as she nodded. She despised working with PMCs, but a Ment supremacy group called Six Above was causing problems in Eastern Europe due to their escalating conflicts with Vengeance. Hope was flying out to apprehend Augustus Greenway, Six Above's leader, but a Norm group like Vengeance required that UCRT cooperate with non-Ment agents. The Latvian government had refused to play nice more than strictly mandated by Unity protocols (Hope suspected that their prime minister was still petulant that his mildly-telepathic daughter hadn’t qualified to become an AMO), and thus Unity was being forced to rely on a private military contractor. Hope understood Adsila’s decision to outsource; she just didn’t like it. Mercs were the fucking worst.

Adsila sighed, setting the papers down. Hope already knew what was in the files, having been the one to give them to Unity’s MIV supervisor in the first place, but habit meant that Adsila placed them facedown on her desk anyway. The desk itself was ridiculous, a mammoth of engraved oak meant for intimidation rather than practicality, and a far cry from the folding plastic table upon which Unity had been first conceptualized by her and John.

“Minerva Corp is a newer company,” Adsila said. “Has a squeaky-clean rep for abiding by the Montreux Protocols, and primarily contracts out as defense for nonprofits.”

Hope only arched a brow, causing Adsila’s frown to deepen.

“Most of Minerva’s clients are humanitarian nonprofits,” Adsila said. “They provide security for hospitals in warzones, bodyguards for journalists and aid workers.”

“For a paycheck,” Hope replied tersely.

“I ran background on Minerva Corp myself. They’re clean.”

Hope let her skeptically raised brow fall slowly back into place. While she didn’t fully trust Adsila’s definition of “clean,” the reassurance at least meant that Minerva must be at least reasonably ethical as Adsila had an archaeological talent when it came to digging up dirt. Still, she wished that John was here: her husband was the optimistic one and usually able to keep her darker doubts at bay. But they’d mutually agreed never to be sent on a high-risk mission together when Nick was born (unless UCRT faced a threat that required both of them, but thus far that hadn’t happened).

However, being the one left at home had become more difficult for Hope ever since Ellery had entered junior high. El was struggling so much, and yet far from being able to help her child like she could when they were younger, Hope was finding that she could now barely last more than an hour in their presence without feeling on the verge of tears herself. It wasn’t Ellery’s fault that they were broody; Hope had been the same at her age. But El’s feelings and mood swings were so overwhelmingly constant that Hope sometimes felt as if she could no longer hear her own thoughts or experience her own emotions around her child. The loss of self-identity terrified her.

Which is why John was on kid duty, and Hope had volunteered to fly halfway around the world. To gain a reprieve from her own child.

“I’m not trying to be difficult, Addy,” Hope said, focusing the mission in order to avoid thinking about other, even less pleasant, realities. “But Unity took a hit after the public learned about our connection to Whitewater, never mind that we had only bought intel from them. Aeon, UCRT, this whole grand experiment . . . we need everything to be as aboveboard as possible for it to work.”

“I know.” Adsila’s expression remained grim. “But UCRT is prohibited from engaging non-Ments directly, so we have limited options for dealing with anti-Ment groups like Vengeance. We need Minerva.”

* * * *

Hope met with Minerva’s squad at what had once been a Soviet airbase in Jelgava but was now no more than an abandoned field with grass forcing its way through the concrete landing strip. Temperance, Peace, and Fortitude had already been in Latvia for two days; she’d meet up with them at the safehouse tonight. First, she had to deal with the mercenaries.

As if the jetlag wasn’t bad enough.

The mercs were already waiting on the airfield when she arrived, a group of eight heavily armored soldiers leaning against an equally heavily armored utility truck (a modified MTRV, Hope thought, although she didn’t have John’s encyclopedic knowledge of tanks). Not exactly inconspicuous, but Hope hadn’t expected subtly from a PMC.

A man stepped forward to greet her as she exited the helicopter. He was short and stocky, his dark hair cut a little too short over the ears as if he’d done it himself. Despite clearly being the merc leader, Hope’s first thought was that he was too damn young to have eyes that coldly calculating. He looked to be only a few years older than Nicky, but whereas her son was still a student at Aeon, the merc ordered his crew to refuel helicopter’s fuel tank with the authoritative ease of someone accustomed to being obeyed. 

Hope rolled her head, wincing at the popping of her neck. It hadn't popped like that when she was in her thirties. Shit. Was the merc really that young, or had she just gotten old? 

The merc introduced himself with a firm handshake. “Ambrose Kim," he said. "Commander of Minerva Squad X752. My contact inside Vengeance says that they’re planning to hit Six Above’s headquarters this Wednesday—we can delay Vengeance until the weekend, but you’ll need to move in on Greenway fast to before another turf war breaks out.”

Hope frowned. While she appreciated someone who got directly to the point, she wasn’t sure how she felt over the fact that Adsila had shared sensitive intel with Kim. Was it really that hard to come up with a cover story? Why on earth had Addy told a soldier-for-hire the truth? Minerva was only supposed to be here to step in if Vengeance interfered, not take over the entire mission. Simultaneously, Hope was reluctantly impressed that Kim had already managed to get a mole inside Vengeance. She’d brought Peace along on this mission for the very same reason: UCRT’s strongest Empath had a way of persuading informants.

“My team will handle extracting Augustus Greenway,” Hope said. “Your people just need to ensure that Vengeance doesn’t interfere.”

“To reiterate, ma’am: we can buy you until this weekend. If you require more time, you’ll need to renegotiate our contract. We're due back in London on Monday.”

Was that a hint of resentment in Kim’s voice? Hope’s eyes narrowed on the man’s face, but she could detect nothing but polite professionalism in his lowered gaze. Nevertheless, she decided to take a shot in the dark: wild guesswork had been her most effective tool back when she worked for the diplomatic service. If her assumption wasn’t correct, people tended to forget and move on. But when that blindly thrown dart hit the target?

To gain support for Unity, she’d once blackmailed a Supreme Court judge based on nothing more than the way he’d eyed his secretary and an educated hunch. Who needed telepathy when you possessed hutzpah and intuition?

“You’re displeased with the assignment,” Hope said bluntly. “Got a problem with Ments, Kim?”

Kim’s head snapped up, his dark eyes wide and startled. So the man wasn’t made of ice after all. Given his youth, it would’ve been a shame had he already learned to repress all of his emotions, no matter how much stoicism was encouraged in this line of work. Kids his age needed to still feel things, otherwise it was too easy to misplace their moral code.

“I have no problem with Ments, ma’am,” Kim said, but Hope wasn’t done fishing.

“Yet you didn’t deny that you’re unhappy with something,” she pressed. “What’s the problem, Kim?”

Kim hesitated, his gaze straying over to where his crew were loading their gear onto the chopper.

“They can’t hear us,” Hope said. “If you have an issue with your assignment then I need to know.”

“Just prefer to be in the thick of things rather than on babysitting duty.” Kim threw her a lazy half-grin, his formal intonation sliding to a casual drawl that oozed with stereotypical merc bravado. But the sudden mask of “reckless ne’er-do-well” felt performative, and Hope had known enough government officials in her life to recognize a liar.

* * * *

True to his word, Kim kept Vengeance occupied for the next few days with a series of raids by Interpol. Hope assumed he must’ve bribed someone at the NCB—Adsila had certainly paid the mercs enough to pad a few pockets. Kim’s team also ensured that several weapons shipments to Vengeance were . . . “misplaced,” as he phrased it, forcing the organization to further postpone its planned assault on Six Above.

Regardless of how ethically dubious Kim’s methods, his running interference meant that Hope never even encountered a member of the Latvian terror cell. Which was good, because there wasn’t much she could do if confronted with by a non-Ment civilian, even if said civilian was a member of a Ment hate group. Hate crimes weren’t Unity’s jurisdiction, and they’d only be supported so long as they stayed (or at least, appeared to stay) firmly in their lane.

Augustus Greenway had been enough of a hassle taking into custody, so Hope was simply relieved that Kim had done his job. Reports of Greenway’s empathy had been overexaggerated—Hope clocked him as a Nine, max—but his second in command had been a Precog. They’d anticipated UCRT’s approach, and Temperance had almost gotten herself blown up by one of the landmines that had been planted  around the Above Six compound.

Fuck Precogs, Hope thought as she finished off her second drink at the hotel bar. They’re more trouble than a dozen Telepaths combined.

Sally excluded, of course, although Hope prayed that Button’s best friend never decided to become an AMO. Precogs were invaluable on the field, but most tended either to burn out by their fifth year or migrated to the private sector where they could both earn millions and weren’t forced to constantly envision the possible deaths of their teammates.

Kim settled down onto the barstool beside her, and Hope motioned the bartender to pour two more glasses of Lagavulin. She slid one across the counter towards the merc.

“Now,” she said. “You finally going to tell me what’s wrong?”

Kim’s took a long sip of the Scotch, his dark eyes affixed on the old-fashioned cuckoo clock on the wall. 2am: only five hours until Hope flew back to Chicago and the endless noise that was her youngest child.

“I was born in North Korea, ma’am,” Kim said. “My sister was a Ment.”

Hope sucked in a sharp breath. Shit. That explained his discomfort working with Unity, then; she couldn’t blame the poor boy for feeling uneasy. He looked so young and vulnerable at that moment, so goddamn sad, that it was all she could do to not lay a hand on his head and gently stroke his black hair the way that she would’ve done to comfort one of her own children. Her grip tightened around her glass, her heart twisting at the thought of Nick and Button being separated.

“What were her abilities?” Hope asked. There was no point in asking for the girl’s name; that would’ve been changed for her own protection. But if the girl’s powers had been unique, then maybe there was a chance that Hope could help Kim reconnect with his sibling.

“She was—she is an Empath,” Kim replied. “I believe. I was young when she left.”

The phrasing was more diplomatic than she’d come to expect from the matter-of-fact mercenary. Then again, Kim was asking a favor. Not overtly, of course, but the very fact that he’d decided to share this information with her meant that he was desperate and that it included a silent plea. But empathy wasn’t exactly a rare ability and locating Kim’s sister amongst Unity’s rank and file would be like finding a needle in a pile of other needles. Assuming she’d even completed the program, which not all the kids had.

“There’s a yearly training seminar in Fort Lauderdale,” Hope said. “Unity brings in external instructors for the MIVS—mostly contractors like yourself.”

Kim’s brow furrowed at the change of subject, but he remained silent, watching her with narrowed eyes.

“I’ll recommend you as a speaker,” Hope continued. “You can decide what to lecture on. The important thing is that Adsila Branham will be at the conference; tell her what you told me.” Hope stood, internally debating whether or not she should polish off her half-empty glass. Her mother’s face flashed through her mind; perhaps it was better to leave the drink unfinished.

“Talk to Adsila Branham,” Hope repeated, staying put until Kim slowly nodded. He didn’t voice any gratitude at the tip, but then again, Hope didn’t expect his thanks. Didn’t deserve it. Giving Kim a chance to search for his sister was both the least and the most that she could do.