Free Shadow Ops: Fortress Frontier-ARC (pdf conv.) by Myke Cole

anything?”
    “I’m sorry, I know I should have.” Damn it! Stop apologizing.
    “I wanted to wait until I was sure.”
    The doctor put the tablet down. “With all due respect, sir, it’s important that you share any development in your Latency with us at the earliest—”
    “I wanted to be sure of what I was feeling,” Bookbinder cut him off. “I’ll be sure to let you know about developments when I feel it’s appropriate.” That’s not the way to lead. You don’t exert authority by being a dick.
    “All right, sir,” the doctor said, making more notes. After a moment, he looked back up at the Suppressor. “You’re not doing anything?”
    “Not a thing, Doc. He’s pegged.”
    “What’s it Bound to?”
    “I have no idea, Doc.”
    “What are you talking about?” Bookbinder asked.
    The doctor ignored him. “Can we grab an active Sorcerer real quick?”
    The other Suppressor put down his cards and disappeared through the back flap of the tent. He reappeared with a SOC captain, a subdued flameburst pinned to the right breast of his uniform.
    “I already told you, Doc,” Bookbinder said. “I don’t need to be tased. Or burned for that matter.”
    The doctor continued to ignore him. “Captain, can you feel a current off the colonel here?”
    Bookbinder could feel the Pyromancer’s current. He felt his own current grasp it, the tendrils intertwining, tugging at it. The Pyromancer frowned, taking a step back. “Sir, he’s . . .”
    Bookbinder’s current intensified, his head throbbing with the force of it. It was as if it were buoyed, doubled by the Pyromancer’s magic. He broke out in a sweat. “Um,” Bookbinder said. “I don’t think this is good.”
    The Pyromancer took another step back. “What are you doing?”
    Bookbinder’s ears began to ring, his veins felt thick with power. “Not really sure,” he groaned. “A little help here?”
    The Suppressor raised his hands and Bookbinder felt his tide roll back. He breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks.”
    “What the hell just happened?” the doctor asked.
    “It was like . . . it was like he was stealing my magic. I felt this pull on . . . like he was pulling on it.”
    “What?” The doctor’s voice rose an octave.
    “You’re a Pyromancer,” Bookbinder said in amazement.
    “What?” the doctor asked. “Of course he is.”
    “No, no. I mean, I can feel it. I know what school he is. I can feel it in his flow. Or, at least I could before you Suppressed me.”
    “That’s impossible.”
    “No, I can tell. It felt . . . hot, caustic. I could tell he’s a Pyromancer.”
    The Pyromancer rolled his eyes. “I’ve got my pin on, sir.”
    “Damn it, Captain, I’m not lying!” Bookbinder said.
    The Pyromancer blanched. “I meant no disrespect, sir.”
    Bookbinder turned to the doctor. “I’m serious. I can feel his school. I don’t know how I can, but I can.”
    The doctor tapped frantically into his tablet, then jerked his head toward the Suppressor. “What about him?”
    Bookbinder paused for a moment. “Weak. That’s all. It feels weak.”
    “Let him go,” the doctor said to the Suppressor. “Take the Suppression off.”
    “Now, wait a second—” the Pyromancer said.
    “Captain, can you go get another Sorcerer for us?” the doctor cut him off. “Any school will do. Please ask him to remove his school pin before coming in.”
    “Roger that, sir.” The Pyromancer nodded and made a hasty exit.
    “What the hell is happening?” Bookbinder asked.
    “I have no idea, sir,” the doctor said, “but we’ll chip away at it until we figure it out.”
    A largish black man entered, slightly overweight, with a day’s stubble on his chin. Captain’s bars were Velcroed to the center of his uniform, and a dark patch showed where he’d removed the pin that marked his magical school. “You wanted to see me, sir?” he asked the doctor.
    “Yes, Captain. Thanks for coming. Just need you to hang tight for a moment.” He