Command Sergeant Jonathan Dixon took a deep breath as he stared down the cell door at the end of the hall. He cursed his terminally sweaty palms staining the otherwise perfect manila folder in his hands, and forced down a wave of nausea.
It’s just like any other asset interview. Except it wasn’t. No amount of lying to himself would change that.
General Mattias Banden was a hard man to face in the war room, but Dixon’s task was far more difficult today. With slow, deliberate strides he counted out the paces until he reached Isolation Cell 4.
The beep of the access panel was the only sound, somehow deafening in that moment, as the guard stood aside to admit Dixon.
Blue eyes locked onto his immediately, before Jonathan even fully registered the rest of Cell 4. Through polished silver bars the eyes followed him as he drew up a chair within suitably prudent distance. They pierced him even as the reinforced steel door thudded shut behind them and Jon forced down another spike of nausea.
“General.” His greeting was stronger than he felt as he nodded to the other man.
“Sergeant.” The answer was clipped, but that wasn’t unusual. General Banden was never one to waste words.
Jon flipped open the folder, pretending to review the equally pithy dossier within. “You have been briefed as to the terms of the current negotiation, General Banden. Are you prepared to accept a lowered sentence in exchange for cooperation in Operation Ferndale?”
“You mean am I prepared to sell out Insurgence Leadership Ania McKee to protect a corrupt government operation.”
Jon smiled thinly. “Your country appreciates the significant history of sacrifices you have made for its safety.” He’d practiced that one in the mirror, it came easily despite the heat creeping up his body.
How many times have I told an asset that.
How many times did the man behind these bars say that to me. Those exact words. Hell, he’d heard that same line at the briefing for this assignment. Anger welled up, but he pushed it down, knowing there would be more where that came from by the end of this.
The only answer was the General’s chuckle, a seeming mixture of condescension and amusement.
The younger man began again. “The government is prepared to reduce charges and keep all mention of you out of the feeds.”
“They must be pretty desperate, huh? They always loved a good scapegoat.” Hollow laughter filled the cell. He leaned forward, and despite himself Jon found himself leaning forward to the bars as well. “You like being the shitheel lapdog to a corrupt leadership, son?”
There it was. The reminder of exactly why Jonathan Dixon had been chosen to face down the most respected man to ever lead the Fleet. The man who’d taken him under his wing, groomed him for power, treated him better than his own son. “Mattias…” The lump in Jon’s throat grew. “Mattias Banden, I am recommending that for your crimes of insurrection, abandoning your post, and collusion to mutiny, you be sentenced to ten years labor in Erosian Mines and twenty years house arrest in the Belt.”
The General rose, fury rising in his eyes. “You always were a coward!”
Jon had known it was coming, of course. That didn’t make it sting any less.
“Your country appreciates…” The briefing commander’s voice echoed in his brain. Like his country even knew his name. What a joke. He ignored the general’s outburst.
“Your unchecked gross use of military action on planets in Merisser 31. Duplicitous behavior against your own staff. The unsanctioned relationship with a hostile asset against the interests of the mother country. None of it has earned you friends on the Council.” With every shred of resolve he met Banden’s gaze. “And believe me, I checked.”
Banden’s lips curled into a sneer. “I burned an entire continent for a woman that didn’t love me. Imagine what I’d do for the likes of Ania McKee.”
Jon’s eyes dropped to the floor and bit back a rebuke. Serving under Banden had once been an honor. Once. But not since the firebombing of an unidentified operative force on Outpost 9 in Merisser 31, under Banden’s orders. Jon’s stomach turned to think of the innocent settlers who paid the price for the general’s hubris… and his own. Donning his medals of honor came with a wave of revulsion ever since. Not many things gave him pride in his service anymore. The Insurgence Leadership knew it. Ania McKee knew it.
“Don’t think for a second you’ve got clean hands, Dixon.” The general’s memory hadn’t failed him either. “You’ll get your own little neat cell just like this one soon. You’re a dead man walking, Sergeant.”
That fear had crossed Jon’s mind more times than he cared to count… It was probably true. It was the only thing he was almost positive of. Despite how terrifying the thought was, he took comfort in knowing that he at least knew something. So much was uncertain since he’d realized he was well and truly compromised.
He’d heard that the Erosian Mines were kinder to cooperative “assets”. Perhaps he’d get lucky, and die of black lung instead of live out the whole sentence. That was a kinder fate than what would surely be planned for the former General Mattias Banden.
Jon rose, slipping the forgotten dossier back into the folder and smoothing his uniform. “I appreciate you taking the time to hear me out, General. I’ll be sure to pass on your regards to Command.” The sharp inclination of his head as he turned to go was a force of habit.
“I’ll see you in the Mines, Sergeant.” It was a hiss of pure hatred.
Jon suppressed a shudder, but looked back one more time at the general who had been a second father to him. He almost felt sorry for the older man.
“If you make it that far, General Banden.”
It was a shame, really. Ania McKee preferred younger men.