Free Provenance I - Flee The Bonds by V J Kavanagh Page A

altogether more clandestine purpose. Special Operations Headquarters, Sector 2.
    Steve swiped his ID card and the heavy oak doors swung back to reveal the mosaic-tiled foyer, its left-hand wall held captive two pairs of metallic doors.
    With a cursory look over his shoulder, he stepped into the lift, swiped his ID and pressed the second and third floor buttons simultaneously. The lift descended. When it stopped, Steve swiped his card again. Behind him, a panel slid open.
    Dry sterile air pervaded the khaki corridor, its bare walls broken by two doorways on each side. He reached the second doorway on the right and pressed the BRD.
    Steve’s narrowing gaze pondered the op’s room silent emptiness. SOHQ’s ubiquitous battleship-grey walls rose from a sea of navy carpet tiles. To his left, two rows of three metal desks aligned perfectly. Even their viewscreens stood in rank and file.
    Only one desk dared to differ. A brass plaque read, ‘If we are all created equal, why am I the boss?’ Steve smiled; the Quad had bought it to commemorate Jason’s promotion. In a drawer somewhere was the gold plaque of Advocate Commander Sector 2, but Jason had thought theirs’ more appropriate.
    Steve wheeled right towards six high backed chairs that curved around the semicircular glass table. He took his seat opposite the blank viewscreen and authenticated. The table’s built-in display glowed, one icon flashed. Steve shifted in his chair and tapped the icon. The empty office was unusual, the emergency ‘Castle’ call a career first.
    The viewscreen illuminated and the CONSEC rings melted into the head and shoulders of Admirals Smithson and Choo. Steve straightened his back.
    Choo spoke, feet first as usual. ‘Why did you take so long to respond, Captain?’
    ‘I was on my boat, sir.’ CONSEC Command believed Steve lived with Jason and that Cool Breeze was a weekend hobby.
    Admiral Smithson flicked Choo a sideways glare and sighed. ‘I’m afraid we’ve bad news, Steve. Jason died yesterday.’
    Steve’s head emptied, his gaze dropped from the screen.
    Admiral Smithson continued. ‘We don’t know all the facts, but we think it was the Resistance. This wasn’t the only assassination. Resistance attacks are on the increase in all Sectors.’
    Choo’s tone held no solace. ‘We know Commander Valenbrotti broke regulations and gave his identity in public. Did he contact you?’
    Steve’s mind disengaged, selfish thoughts entwined his grief. He didn’t want things to change, not yet.
    ‘Commander!’
    Steve lifted his head. ‘No, sir.’
    Choo’s inky eyes pierced his. ‘You are Advocate Commander of special operations for Western Europe, Sector 2. Captain Thibeauchet of Quad sierra-four is your new 2IC. Your appointment is confirmed after assessment on next mission. You will brief Captain Thibeauchet tomorrow and then begin PreOps.’
    Choo paused, his face mellowed. ‘I know you like Commander Valenbrotti, but he is gone. Your duty is to Continuity. The investigation is not your mission, do you understand?’
    ‘Perfectly, Admiral.’
    Steve understood, but it made no difference. He’d find Jason’s killer — and burn them.
    Admiral Smithson smiled flatly. ‘I’ll download the mission brief to your Quad bin. Good luck, Steve, and keep safe.’
    He was sure Admiral Smithson had wanted to say something else.
    Steve pulled his ID and mused at the reception screen. Why hadn’t they mentioned the broken rings? Answers tumbled around his mind. He reached in and plucked one out. The Resistance had infiltrated CONSEC and murdered Jason.
    On the way out, he stopped and picked up the brass plaque. Perhaps if everyone had been created equal Jason would still be alive.
     
    * * * *
 
    When Steve returned to Cool Breeze , daylight had succumbed to dusk and a misty veil hung over the canal. He secured the boat and made his way to the galley. While the coffee brewed, he mashed a banana into a bowl of muesli.
    Back in the saloon,