Free The Seraphim Sequence: The Fifth Column 2 by Nathan M Farrugia

you already know the answers to?’
    ‘I’m not so much interested in what you know but how you know it.’
    ‘Commanding the Blue Beret battalion doesn’t automatically give you every security clearance on offer,’ DC said. ‘But one can learn all sorts of things in the right places.’ He popped a pill from a plastic container in his pocket.
    She grabbed his hand. ‘What are those?’
    He didn’t pull away. ‘Antidepressants.’
    ‘I didn’t know the Akhana prescribed amphetamines,’ she said.
    ‘I didn’t know it was any of your business,’ he said.
    Sophia felt his hand tighten under hers. She released her grip. In the months that DC had been assigned to guard her, he’d always stood by her. He’d never doubted her abilities, or her reasoning. He questioned it, relentlessly, but he always trusted her.
    ‘I know what it is,’ he said softly.
    ‘What?’
    ‘You choose who you allow inside. I suppose you always have. But Freeman, he just threw me in there.’
    Sophia ground her teeth. ‘What’s your point?’ she said.
    ‘That’s what annoys you, isn’t it? You didn’t choose for me to be here. Getting in your way, questioning what you do, questioning why you do it.’
    She crossed her arms. ‘Sometimes I wonder that myself.’
    He smiled. ‘Keeping you alive.’
    She snorted in amusement. ‘I think you actually have to save me before you can put that on your resumé.’
    ‘Like when Dolph wanted to sell you to the Fifth Column and we busted you out?’ he said. He reached into his pocket. ‘Just a second, I’m updating my resumé as we speak.’
    ‘I never thanked you for that,’ Sophia said. She pulled him by his overall strap and kissed him on the cheek. His stubble brushed her lips. ‘Thank you.’
    DC opened his mouth and words stumbled out. ‘Uh, that’s … that’s fine.’
    She stepped past him and out of the lockout trunk. She made her way back to her bunk, deep in thought. DC knew more about Project Seraphim. And if she was going to get to it, she needed to pull the right threads.

Chapter Nine
     
     
    ‘In twenty-eight years of service, I’ve never seen muscular repair like this before,’ the hospital corpsman said.
    Jay felt a slight pinch as the corpsman removed a stitch. ‘So I’m good to go?’
    ‘You shouldn’t be,’ she said. ‘But you are.’
    ‘Thanks, doc.’ Jay slipped his overalls back over his shoulders.
    The corpsman was shaking her head, lips parted. ‘I don’t understand how … What drugs are you on?’
    Jay listed them on his fingers. ‘Scotch, gin, beer—Italian preferably—tequila. Oh, and Polish vodka, homemade.’
    ‘Is there anything else I can help you with?’ she said. ‘Prescriptions?’
    A few options came to mind but he pushed them aside. He wasn’t in his apartment with nothing better to do than drink and sleep. He felt renewed, fresh. He needed to do something else. Something better.
    ‘I think I’m good,’ he said. ‘Thanks.’
    He took the ladder to the recreation deck and gravitated toward the bench press, watching from the corner of his eye as Nasira, Benito and half a dozen crew sparred on the other side of the deck. They were running through some sort of drill. It was probably a good thing, Jay thought. If Benito was going to be hanging around this lot, he needed to learn how to shrug off a combatant or two.
    Jay slipped weights onto both ends of the barbell, clamped them in place, then settled in on the bench. He slipped on his fingerless gloves and flexed them with satisfaction. He stared at the ceiling; it seemed unfinished, with banks of fluorescent lights, metal boxes and pipes threading overhead. He closed his eyes, found an even grip on the barbell and inhaled.
    The crew circled Nasira and attacked her en masse. Jay paused to watch. She moved calmly, taking them down one by one, sometimes two by two. Her movements were fluid, deceptively fast. The crew got back to their feet, wincing but eager for another go.