Soldier of Fortune

There was a pause in which Gideon, uncertain he’d heard correctly, stared, then shook his head. “That’s a joke, right? Tell me you’re joking.”

“I don’t do jokes,” she told him, then held up a hand to forestall protest he was already forming. “Hear me out,” she began. “You know the war is over, and for the most part in our favor.”

“Because we won,” he said.

“On paper, yes,” she agreed. “But imagine what would happen to our very new and very delicate peace if it came out that a Midasian agent had not only been siphoning intelligence from under the Corps’ nose for at least twelve years but was still doing so? The public wouldn’t stand for it, which means the Colonial Congress would demand action—sanctions at best and renewed conflict at the worst.”

“Which is bad,” Gideon admitted, “but do we really want to negotiate with a power that, by their own spy’s admission, doesn’t think the war is really over?”

“No one in the trade thinks the war is really over,” she told him. “Shadow wars never end. What we can’t risk is a renewal of armed hostilities, and we can’t risk it,” her voice went flat, “because the cold truth is, if we were to take to the field at our current strength, we would lose.”

“Wait,” he began. “I read the news reports—Esa was huge for us.”

“It was,” she agreed. “But that battle also cost us dearly. The best that can be said is the retaking of Esa led the Coalition to believe we were in better shape than they, so they sued for peace.”

Which was not what Gideon expected, or wanted, to hear. “What are the chances,” he asked, “that Odile has already passed that information on?”

“I’ve considered that, but the truth is, General Rand had only just been assigned to Tactical, meaning he likely hadn’t learned how precarious our situation is.”

“And if he had, and Celia had alerted her superiors, the Coalition would have taken action by now,” Gideon concluded.

“That is our hope, at least.”

Gideon nodded, though it all felt a little optimistic. “We were really losing?”

“One more major engagement—two at the most—and the eastern territories would have begun to fall like dominoes.”

“And what about them?” Gideon nodded to where DS Hama and Mia were rolling his cycle to a stop under the pier’s lamp. “Do they have to keep Odile a secret too?”

“They weren’t privy to Msr Rand’s confession and only know what I shared, which isn’t much.”

Gideon nodded. “So, if I can’t talk about Odile, what are we saying happened at Nasa?”

“It was a crime of passion,” she said, the relief in her voice unnerving as it highlighted to Gideon how precarious the Colonies’ position must be. “Celia Rand, in revenge for your refusal of her advances, misled her husband into believing you had assaulted her, leading to his actions at Nasa. Tawdry, I’ll admit, but close enough to the truth that we should be able to make it fly.”

“Make it fly?” Gideon said. “Twenty starbucks say it’ll be on the center stage at the Circus inside a month.”

“I don’t believe I will take that bet,” she said with a small smile, which quickly disappeared as she asked, “And will you do it? Will you keep this secret? I can’t say the Corps deserves your silence, but—”

“I won’t talk. Anyway, I’m not sure my truth sounds any more plausible than your fiction.”

Her smile returned and, as one, they turned toward the dock and started walking. “At least you’ll have your freedom, and your reputation.”

But not those six years, he thought. And those five soldiers are still dead.

He didn’t let himself think of Dani.

“You also have your rank,” Satsuke offered, almost as if responding to his thoughts, and he wondered if perhaps the general had a little sensitivity of her own. “That is, if you want it. The Corps still needs people who think . . . differently.”

By now they were at the landward end of the pier. On the dock to Gideon’s left waited Mia with DS Hama, and to his right, the general’s staff car.

Her driver was already at the door, holding it open.

It would certainly be easy to accept Satsuke’s offer.

After all, his entire life had been one of following orders. Dodger, soldier, convict . . .

As he thought this, a fine rain began to fall, and he thought of stepping off the Ramushku the day before, carrying little but his anger, a draco, and a whole lot of doubt.

“Thanks,” he said, pausing at the foot of the pier to meet the general’s gaze. “It means something you’d make the offer, but I don’t think this is the kind of war I’m cut out to fight. In fact,” he added, looking out over the city, “I think I’m due for a career change.”

“What sort of change?” Satsuke asked.

“Uncertain,” Gideon replied, considering the question.

He could always take ship, like Horatio Alva, and see where he landed. Or do as Jinna had when she left the Corps and find a nice normal job.

His thoughts danced over to the Errant and Pitte’s crew, but even if Jagati didn’t shoot him on sight, there was a bit too much history there.

He looked at Hama and thought, copper?

But no, too many regulations. And if there was one thing Gideon was sure of, he was through taking orders.

He thought again of Jinna, the troubles with Minister Del, and of what he’d learned of Nike’s politics, then he looked at DS Hama, a decent cop in a very not decent system, then of Tiago and the issues in Lower Cadbury.

“I’ll think of something,” he determined as they joined Hama and Mia.

“Something for what?” Mia asked.

“Colonel—pardon me—Msr Quinn is having something of a career crisis,” Satsuke told her.

Mia opened her mouth.

“I’m trying to decide what to do with my life,” Gideon explained.

“Oh,” Mia said, “that’s easy. You can do what you been doing since you got here.”

Hama looked a little panicked, and Gideon couldn’t blame him.

“You can facilitate,” Mia explained.

Gideon, who’d been ready to protest, shut his mouth.

He looked at Mia, then at Elvis, curled around the girl’s neck, and then, for no reason he could fathom, to the shadow in the front seat of the general’s car.

“I could,” he said after a moment, turning back to Mia. “I could absolutely . . . facilitate.”

The general blinked. “I wasn’t aware such a career existed.”

“Gideon just invented it.” Mia beamed.

“Keepers preserve me,” Hama sighed. “The paperwork you have generated in one night will keep me busy for a month.”

Mia patted his arm. “It won’t always be that bad, and you got five right wasps inna nick in one night too.”

Hama appeared to brighten at this thought.

“You’re sure about this?” General Satsuke asked Gideon.

Gideon tried on the idea, discovered he liked the fit. “Surprisingly, yes.”

“Then I wish you well,” she said. “May the Corps’ loss be Nike’s gain.” She turned on her heel and started for her vehicle, but after three steps stopped and turned back. “Tell me, as a private—facilitator—would you be open to the occasional military contract?”

His head tilted as he felt a surge of something too new to recognize. “That depends.”

“On what?”

Gideon’s teeth flashed in not quite a grin. “On whether I like the job.”

“Fair enough.” She nodded. “Goodbye, Msr Quinn. For now.”

Satsuke turned again, this time not stopping until she reached the staff car.

She climbed in and waited for the Corpsman to close the door, take his seat, and start the engine before she spoke to the officer sitting shotgun. “You were right. He’s not coming back to the Corps.”

The captain nodded, though she continued to watch Gideon, who was speaking to the detective and the girl.

“I wonder, though,” Satsuke continued, also watching Gideon, “if he’d have made the same choice, had I let him know you were the officer who made his freedom a possibility?”

“I don’t have to wonder,” Captain Indani Solis, whom Gideon had always called Dani, replied. “He would have returned. Out of gratitude, he would have come back.”

Now her eyes dropped to her left hand and the wedding band which graced it. “I don’t see that working out well for any of us.”

Outside, Gideon, Mia, and Hama waited for the general’s car to drive off before turning for the city.

Once the car departed, they set off, Hama walking his cycle while Mia perched on the seat and Elvis perched on Mia.

As they made their meandering way from the riverfront, Mia continued to regale the men with plans for Gideon’s new business, from where to set up shop—near but not in Lower Cadbury, she determined—to the type of jobs he should take, to what sort of advertising would best serve Nike’s first ever Private Facilitator.

Hama, for his part, continued to intersperse which laws and statutes would have to be observed to keep Gideon out of the nick and, more importantly, paperwork off Hama’s desk.

Gideon, amused, let them wrangle over the details.

For himself, he was perfectly happy to make it up as he went along.

Six years’ back pay from the Corps wouldn’t quite elevate him to the level of a risto, but it would provide a significant cushion.

Enough to keep himself and Elvis, and—he glanced sideways at the animated dodger on the bike—his assistant, fed and under a roof while he worked it out.

In the meantime, he was, for the first time in memory, free to do as he chose.

Chances were what he chose would be messy, skating the edges of legality and, if the past thirty hours were any indication, worthy of at least the box theatre at the Circus.

It would also, almost certainly, be interesting.

And who knew, while he was making interesting messes, he might also manage to help a few people out. People like Jinna and Tiago and—admit it, Quinn—himself.

People the system had somehow overlooked, or left behind, or simply turned its back on.

He thought all of that as he walked along with Mia and the detective, and then he thought maybe they should grab some grub, as he was at least a quarter past starving, and Elvis was looking a bit gray as he hunched away from the despised rain.

He thought about how to find homes for the dodgers currently sheltering with the keepers at the Elysium, and whether the Ohmdahls had gotten their radio back, and what sort of charges Killian Del might be facing.

Which made him think they should get word to the Errant that it was safe for Jinna to return to Nike if she chose (possibly breaking Rory’s heart), and if she did, what were the chances of her still having a job to return to?

The one thing he didn’t do, as they turned onto the main road to the city, was count how many steps he was taking.

Thank you for reading!

The first edition of Soldier of Fortune was originally published in 2015. It has since been revised and re-released, and also (as you've just read), is being shared out on various platforms as the Fortune Chronicles Amb If you enjoyed, please take a moment to leave a review or rating, or tell your book friends who also enjoy a tarnished hero, a quippy sidekick, and dracos with opinions.