The thing about downtime was that Henry had never figured out how to spend it. Of course, some scenarios were easier than others; sometimes there wouldn’t be enough time to do anything but play on his phone, so he’d have an easy answer. Sometimes he’d have homework or reports to work on. And sometimes he’d have enough time to binge a show. This current bout fell into none of those categories.
Well, technically it did fall under the last one, but how the hell was he supposed to binge a show without internet? The last time he’d resupplied his laptop was weeks ago, and he’d already burned through everything he’d saved.
So he’d gone looking for something to do, and it turned out there really was something.
With their campaign assignment on hold until Sinclair and the Guild got everything sorted out, the only thing left on his plate was figuring out what to get Sera for their one-month anniversary. It wasn’t due for another couple weeks, but Henry didn’t much like kicking the can down the road, so he’d decided to scope the market early – get a feel for his options, come back with a plan, and spare himself the indignity of scrambling for something last minute.
As luck would have it, the search had gone sideways almost the second he started. The enchanted gear that would’ve actually upgraded her kit was somewhere in the millions of lumens. Everything under that he’d either failed to understand or couldn’t picture her wanting.
After scoping out several equipment shops, he’d ended up trying his luck at a jewelry store. Nothing came to him at the time. He’d stood at the case for minutes – long enough that the shopkeep came over to figure out whether Henry meant to rob the place or just have a stroke in front of it. It was neither, of course. Henry had explained it was a gift for a girl, and that he didn’t have the first clue what she’d like.
The man, to his credit, hadn’t tried to move the priciest thing in the case. He’d just asked why Henry didn’t bring her something from his own homeland instead. It was admittedly a bit embarrassing that he hadn’t thought of something so obvious, but it was true: there was nothing here she hadn’t seen a thousand times over, but everything back home she’d never laid eyes on. Anything he wanted was just a requisition form or an Amazon order away.
So he’d resolved to do just that, thanking the man before heading back to the inn to make a list of all the stuff Sera might find interesting.
The others found their own ways to fill the days. Hayes spent his becoming a local legend, which had been inevitable from the moment the first dwarf in Kharvûk recognized him as the Kraggen Slayer – the man who’d bested Var at his own drink back in Krevath. Word like that got around, and now every dwarf in town with something to prove wanted his shot at the title. Hayes turned every challenge down, partly because a hungover operator made for a bad look, and partly because Hayes knew to quit while he was ahead.
Sera and Doc had spent most of the three days with Sinclair. Sera knew the political landscape from the inside – the standing tensions between the powers, the alliances that held and the ones that only looked like they did, the history that explained why the Nobians being here meant what it meant. Doc, meanwhile, made sense of it all, drawing on past conflicts for the parallels that fit and handing them to Sinclair to run down. Between them, they’d helped shape the Korth Varren mess into something Command could take to a war council.
And then there was Ron, who’d somehow talked Isaac Yen into leaving the wire for something other than work. Henry would’ve bet against that one at long odds and lost, which was more or less the mood at breakfast when Ron tried to explain how it had happened. Or rather, what happened during their outing, because apparently that was a lot more important.
“– and this dude ain’t do shit!” Ron put his fork down to free up both hands. “She talkin’ for an hour, half an hour, whatever. And guess how many words Yen says during that whole time? Three.” He sighed. “It’s bullshit, cuh.”
Yen continued working through his plate, like none of it concerned him.
Henry shrugged, landing on his usual response for the big guy. “Gotta lock in, bro.”
“Yeah, lock in what? How? Fuck am I supposed to do? Mew?” Ron lifted his tongue and closed his mouth, mugging across the table.
Henry lifted a palm toward him. “There you go.”
“Whatever, man.” Ron picked the fork back up. “Y’all don’t get it. One day I’ma figure out his secret and then it’s over for everybody.”
“Well, you’ve got time.” Henry went back to his own plate. “Even once Kel gets here, it’ll be a week plus before we deal with that dragon. Plenty of runway to crack the code.”
“Oh, yeah.” Ron’s voice flattened into mock enthusiasm. “Lemme just go compete against the high-ranking adventurers with their magic and their fancy mithril gear. Real even playing field.”
“It worked for me,” Yen said.
Ron shot him a look.
Yen shrugged, unbothered. “Just saying.”
“He’s got a point.” Henry tipped his fork toward Yen. “Just lean into the novelty. Think about how many times the locals have geeked out over us – our gear, where we’re from, all of it. The folks back in Eldralore. Livia. Half the dwarves in this town.”
“Oh, speaking of – we ran into Livia’s crew at the tavern. Whole party of ’em rolled in yesterday.” Ron pointed the fork like Henry might’ve missed it. “Wild, right? Out of everybody. Sera’s gonna be in for a surprise when she gets back.”
Henry hadn’t known that. “Huh. They in for the campaign?”
“Yup. They came straight from Enstadt, too. Apparently the dwarves are prepping for–”
Henry’s radio crackled before Ron could finish.
“Alpha, Durin Actual. We’re on final approach to your position, two mikes out. Kelmithus is with us, along with your fires element. Over.”
He keyed back. “Copy, Durin. We’ll come out and meet you. Alpha out.” He pushed up from the table. “Alright. That’s us. Let’s go say hello.”
They stepped outside. The convoy came up the lane a minute later – two MRAPs sandwiched between two UGVs. The lead vehicle pulled up short of the inn, doors already opening before it stopped.
A pale blond guy Henry didn’t recognize swung down from the lead MRAP and made his way over, tablet in hand. The unloading had already started behind him, the convoy’s personnel dragging out the first crates of goodies.
“Captain Donnager? McMillan, sir.” He held out the tablet. “Got your requisition here. Everything's accounted for. Figured you’d want eyes on it before we started unloading.”
Henry took it and scrolled. The list ran longer than he remembered putting in, though most of that was the ammunition padding it out. He thumbed through the line items, found nothing missing, and handed it back.
“Looks good. Appreciate the haul.”
“Yes, sir. We’ll get it staged and out of your way.” The sergeant tucked the tablet under his arm and turned back toward the vehicles, leaving Henry to the two passengers stepping down from the cab.
First came Kel – the mad genius himself, probably already itching to nerd out about something. After the chaos of the last few weeks, seeing him was a damn comforting sight.
“Kel.” He went to meet him. “Good to see you. How’s it been?”
“Busy, Captain. Gloriously so.” The weariness lost out to the enthusiasm without much of a fight. “I have at last met your forgemaster. Ah, Captain, what a fellow! Balnar and I have scarce quitted the workshop since. We sit down to discuss one matter and find ourselves embroiled in six ere the first has settled.
“Indeed, three days ago we laid a binding upon one of your metal plates, merely to discover whether it would take the charge. Well, it did, and with such success that neither Balnar nor I would credit it at first. We ran the trial again, and then once more for good measure, yet still arrived at the selfsame conclusion.”
He caught the thread running off without him and reeled it in. “Ah, but this is intolerably rude of me. How goes the campaign? You fare better than I feared, and I’m glad of it.”
“Shit, it’s going well – real well, all things considered. Long story, though. I’ll tell you over dinner.”
“Very well,” Kelmithus said. He glanced toward the inn. “Though I ought to find Sinclair first.”
“I’ll take you,” Yen offered. “She’s at the Guild.”
Kelmithus nodded and set off after him.
Henry waved them off. “Oh, and Yen – tell Sera about Livia.”
The other passenger had hung back through all that, waiting his turn. The chunky field radio he set down marked him for the JTAC, plain as anything. Years of humping that thing through sun and hard country had worn him lean and dark.
The guy waved as he came over, going for a poker face but not quite getting there, clearly too starstruck to pull it off.
Henry nodded him toward the door. “Come on, let’s head inside.”
They filed in out of the cold. Once they’d taken a table, the man set his pack down and put a hand out.
“Captain.” He took Henry’s hand with both a grip and a grin he couldn’t fully tamp down. “Staff Sergeant Delgado – but you can call me Tripp. I’m your JTAC for this one. Shouldn’t be in your hair long – half the job’s just pointing a laser, anyway.” He cleared his throat. “Real glad to be here, though, sir. Been hearing about Alpha for weeks now. Kind of a big deal, getting put on you.”
Henry shook his hand and waved him into a chair. “Likewise. Glad to have you.” He sat back down across from him. “But what do you mean, just pointing a laser?”
“Exactly that, sir.” Delgado sat. “This isn’t a normal CAS run. No talk-on, no nine-line, nothing you really need me for. The General’s using Tomahawks for this one. We’ll launch a timed strike toward the AO, then use a laser to paint the target for terminal guidance. Could be me, could be a drone, could be you if you want hands on it.”
“That simple?” Ron asked.
“As far as you guys are concerned, yeah.” Delgado tipped a hand side to side. “How hard it is to mod the missiles, I can’t say. There’s a whole setup behind it, too – relays strung up the corridor, the bird flying itself on internal nav the whole way, all that. The way I heard it, it’s a lot of moving parts. But none of those parts are yours. What matters is they get the missiles to the target area, and the laser does the rest.”
He pulled a map from his cargo pocket and spread it on the table.
“Right now they’re still finding it. There’s an RQ-180 up, running the search. Once it pins the target down, it hands routine tracking off to a Reaper to keep watch until you’re ready to move out.”
“How many Tomahawks we got?” Henry asked.
“Twelve. Three Typhon systems, four missiles each.” Delgado ticked them off. “One system’s running conventional, one’s thermobaric, and the last one’s the experimental stuff. Word is the eggheads cracked the chemistry once they got the new powder figured out. I don’t know how hard it is to go from deflagration to an explosive payload, but they did it. So after some quick testing, the first thing they did was load up four and send ’em along to see what they do.”
Ron whistled. “That’s some serious firepower.”
“That’s the idea. You’re going up against a Tier Ten.” Delgado said it plainly, the way a man states a fact he’s made his peace with. “Which is why they’re not picking and choosing. They’re putting all twelve on it at once. One salvo, all in.”
He let that sit for a moment.
“Which means you do not want to be anywhere near it when they land. Klick and a half off, minimum – and I’d push it further if the ground gives you the option.”
“Contingency if it survives?” Henry asked.
“Then you get into the Gatebuilder site and you hunker down.” Delgado shrugged. “Nobody told me why, specifically. But I guess at this point it’s kinda obvious we might go nuclear.”
Henry glanced at Ron, then back at Delgado. “Shit, dude.”
Delgado folded the map back up. “Yeah, I know, right? But nukes should be able to handle any Tier Ten, or at least hurt ‘em bad enough to deter them, I think. Dr. Perdue said as much.”
The guy’s tone wasn’t as reassuring as Henry might’ve preferred, but the logic underneath was sound enough. If Dr. Perdue said so, then there probably shouldn’t be anything to worry about.
Delgado looked back up after stowing his map. “Oh, right. Forgot to mention this. As far as the brass is concerned, I’m a formality – somebody’s gotta sign off that you had fires support attached, and that’s me. I don’t need to be out there with you. The Reaper can hold the laser fine on its own, or one of you can do it. It’s just holding a designator on the target.” He shrugged. “But if you’d rather have a dedicated guy running it, I’ll come. Up to you. Just let me know before the op.”
“We’ll sort it out,” Henry said. “Appreciate the rundown.”
Delgado nodded. “Just the messenger, sir.”
Henry checked the time. With nothing pressing on his schedule, the rest of the day was wide open. “You wanna tour around town?”
Delgado’s face faltered again, the poker face slipping. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m down for that.”