SL1 - 1

Zachary Cantrell slowly sipped his water, his attention split between the thrum of activity at the outdoor cafe and the expectant young man across from him as he formulated an answer to the question hanging heavily in the air between them. The slender blonde – Zeke couldn’t remember his name, although it wouldn’t matter much longer, anyway – beamed back, propping his chin on his hands as he waited.   The date had been going so well, too.   “I don’t often have time to travel,” Zeke said at last, setting down his glass to fold his hands together on the table. “And I can’t leave Ruverth.” His practiced eye scanned his date, noting the brief falter in the younger man’s smile. The faint slump to his shoulders.   “But this is just one planet.” Zeke’s date laughed, casually brushing a curl from his eyes as he shook his head. “There’s so much out there. I want to visit all of them. Experience the mysteries of the universe for myself.” He reached across the table, laying one hand over Zeke’s. “Together.”   The alluring scents of black coffee and sweet pastries filled the air as the breeze teased the boy’s curls, much the way Zeke had longed to touch ever since he’d matched profiles on that blasted dating service his former apprentice had forced onto him.   Lorcan had meant well with the gift, trying to push Zeke out of the private refuge he’d built from his work. But Lorcan had always possessed this way of belonging, everywhere he went. Everyone wanted to be near him, following in the wake of the unassuming confidence he’d clearly inherited, judging from Zeke’s occasional intrusions into the Milroy family’s gatherings when work had demanded Lorcan’s immediate attention.   Zeke scanned the cafe crowd again on reflex, his thoughts still locked in his memories.   Work was the only place Zeke felt truly accepted. Those same genetic failings that left him planetbound and unable to interact with a surprising majority of modern conveniences had propelled his career to astonishing heights. The prestige carried its own disadvantages – Zeke rubbed the faint bump denoting the Space Defense Legion’s tracker at the back of his neck, the permanent locational monitor implanted in the spinal column of all government Assets – but the Program had built him a life where society had not.   He’d never had to apologize to the Program for his shortcomings. They’d always focused on the good he could do. The changes he could make, to better the lives of the entire faction. Not the pleasures he’d never have for himself.   Unlike the dating service.   There was a fierce squeeze of his hand, and Zeke jerked his head up to find two round brown eyes watching him with concern from across the table. “Did I do something wrong?”   “No,” Zeke reassured, forcing a smile. “No. No. I’m sorry, it’s just… You’re sweet. Sweeter than your pictures.”   The admission earned him a coy smile through beautifully long lashes. “You’re more than I dared dream, too. I can’t believe nobody’s snatched you up already.” His date liked his lips, grinning conspiratorially. “Are you certain you’re still single?”   “There you are!”   Zeke tugged at the sleeves of his suit as a familiar voice cut through the crowded cafe. He’d let himself get distracted again. Wasted too much time lost in his memories, and not enough watching his surroundings.   His date’s eyes widened as he turned toward the sudden sound, and Zeke hissed through his teeth. How could he be expected to protect anyone from anything, if he let his own coworker surprise them?   “I told you not to follow me,” he growled through clenched teeth as a familiar hand came to rest on his shoulder. “I’m on vacation.”   “You weren’t answering your calls,” the voice laughed back as its owner offered his other hand to the distraught young man across the table. “Hi. Lorcan Milroy. Zeke’s partner.”   There was a scrape of metal on pavement as Zeke’s date pushed his chair back. He wrung his hands, the veins of his neck slightly visible now. “You are married!”   “Former partner. From work,” Zeke corrected, shaking the hand off his shoulder to rise at glare at his apprentice. “We’ve talked about these interruptions, Mills. It wasn’t funny the first time, and it’s not funny now.”   “It is to me.” Lorcan grinned, scratching at a particularly scraggly section of his beard, before sobering. “We’re back working together. Boss sent me to fetch you. Vacation’s canceled.”   Zeke winced, rubbing at the tracker behind his neck again. “I have the proper approvals.”   “I know. Believe me. You deserve the time away, and I was proud of you for taking it. But if anyone else could handle this, they’d already be on it.” Lorcan tapped once behind his ear, glancing apologetically at Zeke’s date. “Classified.”   He waited patiently as Zeke fumbled for his earpiece and slid it home, before subvocalizing on their personal encrypted channel. <“Aleena caught a Confederation platoon out on Trion III. We need to know what they were doing there.”>   “Trion possesses their own Interrogators,” Zeke growled, switching language to the harsh Sparnick he’d learned for work. He snatched his napkin from the table and shook it at Lorcan. “They have no requirement for me.”   <“They brought a TAG,”> Lorcan hissed, following suit on the language shift. <“You’re the best Interrogator we’ve got. Command’s keeping the others at Trion, but him? They’re hopping him all the way here, just for you. I’m your backup.”>   Zeke whistled, dropping the napkin back onto the table and waving over a waiter. “Put everything on my tab. Whatever he wants,” he ordered, shifting back to a casual Loxiran. He smiled sadly at his date. “Work calls, I’m afraid.”   The young man stared up, wide-eyed. “Are you going to Trion? Can I come? I’ll stay out of the way, I swear.”   “I can’t travel,” Zeke said firmly, tugging on his sleeves again. “Can’t make the Portal hops; I’m Immune to magic. And I won’t ask you to give up your dreams for me.”   He wondered how many times he’d have to give this breakup speech before it started to feel comfortable. Not that anything felt comfortable these days.   Except work.   “But you said–”   “I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”   He shut out the boy’s protests, donning his suit jacket and fiddling with the cuffs as he followed Lorcan to the unmarked government car hovering quietly beside the cafe. He climbed in first, selecting the middle seat and fastening himself into the five point harness designed to compensate for his immunity to the vehicle's telekinetic safety systems. Forcing himself through a breathing exercise, he calmly folded his hands in his lap as Lorcan settled onto the leather seat across from him.   At a signal from Lorcan, the driver set off.   “A live TAG,” Zeke marveled. “How’d Aleena manage that?”   The Sparnell Armed Forces didn’t respect death. The SAF’s most formidable shock troopers, Tactical Assault Groups were fearless units of dead mages led by a necromancer – nicknamed the TAG – accustomed to wreaking havoc behind enemy lines. A TAG merely had to live long enough to allow the rest of its team to soften up the target, in preparation for a major assault.   It was an absolutely terrifying weapon in action, from what he’d gathered through Aleena’s descriptions of the times she’d faced one before. Whoever the necromancer had been before their training was replaced with emotionless machine. No mercy. No compassion. Merely a brutal obedience to their orders, wrapped in the cruel facade of life. Death became little more than a temporary obstacle, a brief intermission from the mortal plane until the guaranteed resurrection that would allow it to unleash its uncaring curse upon the SAF’s enemies once more.   The Legion had never captured one of the living weapons before, much less kept it alive and separated from its team of souls long enough to reliably contain it.   “Knocked him unconscious somehow.” Lorcan shrugged. “You’ll have to ask Aleena. Command won’t let me talk to her, but that’s never stopped you before.”   Zeke stared blankly out the window, absently cataloging the different arrangements of prefabricated shapes forming each building they sped past. Cheerful paint schemes and textures, strategically-placed architectural flourishes, and oversized gardens muted the harsh sameness across each design.   He missed the haphazard individualism of the ever-dwindling countryside where he’d spent his childhood, but he couldn’t fault the Legion’s engineers. The SAF had perfected their orbital bombardment into a perverted semblance of science. The Legion had merely risen to the challenge, constantly improving their methods to rebuild durable infrastructure as quickly and cheaply as possible. The architects had followed, redirecting their creativity into masking what they could of the modular construction.   He wondered how many cities the TAG had helped level.   “We’ll need full Antimagic protocols.”   “Already prepped your favorite room,” Lorcan reported. “Highest security we’ve got. I verified personally, before I came to fetch you.” His voice softened. “Another reason the boss wanted you on this one. We’ve never held a TAG before. Not sure how much we’ll need, to keep him contained.”   Standard Antimagic didn’t negate magic so much as absorb it. This kept the costs down, requiring minimal Imperium unless a spell was cast in the area of effect, but it also meant a particularly powerful mage could brute force their way free. Advanced Antimagic could also negate spells, but because of the continuous channel, the energy required was exorbitant.   And likely necessary, to keep a TAG’s capabilities properly suppressed.   “Not to mention, if he managed to break free… You are Immune.”   “To a point. Can’t cast magic at me, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be hurt by it,” Zeke corrected. He rubbed his arm, gritting his teeth at the unwelcome memory as he returned his attention to Lorcan. “Fire is still fire, after all.”   Lorcan scowled. “Right. Sorry. I… Didn’t mean to remind you.”   Zeke held out his hand, forcing a faint smile. “Forget it. What else do you have for me?”   His partner closed his eyes, tapping the file in his lap before meeting Zeke’s stare. It had taken several years of working together, but Lorcan had finally accepted Zeke’s preference for printed paper. “They tried to hide him as a healer, Zeke. He had that hat they wear, with the red circles on it. And his uniform? Twin silver stripes of a second petty officer, with none of the extra buttons like we’ve seen on TAGs before.”   “Wouldn’t be the first time they’ve pulled something shady,” Zeke said slowly, still holding out his hand for the file. According to the Legion’s intelligence, TAGs were always commissioned officers, but that didn’t mean they always fought fair. “But are we certain it’s a TAG? I have to ask.”   “Jumped to the middle of Aleena’s unit. Nobody else could have known they were there.” Lorcan bit his lip. “Listen. If TAGs are anything like the nightmares we’ve been told… Be careful, okay? You’re the best we’ve got, but that doesn’t mean he won’t figure out how to push your buttons. And you know he’s been trained in more than just magic.”   Zeke laughed. “I’ve been groomed for this job since I was six. I’ll be fine.”   “It’s not that,” Lorcan admitted, glancing at Zeke’s arm. “Look. I know I promised not to bring it up–”   “Then don’t,” Zeke growled, leaning forward dangerously. “Today’s not the day for reminders.”   “I have to,” Lorcan continued. “Boss assigned me as your partner because she wants to make sure you don’t cross the lines on this one.”   Zeke’s nostrils flared. “I know how to keep things professional, Mills. I taught you.”   “You did. And you do. But this isn’t just any TAG, Zeke.” Lorcan tapped the file again, seemingly torn on whether or not to hand it over. “I’m your partner, okay? And your friend. Promise me you’ll play this one by the book.”   “Give me the file, Lorcan.”   “I know the therapist cleared you for duty months ago. I’m just… worried about a relapse. It’s probably another ruse, but according to his uniform… His Family name…”   “I’m fine,” Zeke growled, reaching until the safety harness bit into his shoulders. “Give me the damn file.”   He ripped the folder from Lorcan’s hands, grinding his jaw as he threw it open to reveal the TAG’s profile. A hiss escaped his teeth as he studied the attached image, the unconscious Sparnelli's uniform proudly bearing a name Zeke swore he’d never forget.   “Jarkin.”