The Last Mission of the Living (The Last Bastion #2)(67)

“Which stirs the Scrags up.”

“In the original images, there was a series of sheds here. Over time, they collapsed. Now they’re bunched up against the fence. We’ve been worried about the evac site, but this is where our breach will be.”

“But if we close the doors, we add time to our removal of the containers because we’ll have to reopen the entrance again. Which will definitely ensure we get rushed by the Scrags.”

Lindsey set her hands on her hips and her fingers tapped against her armor. “We have to cut our mission time down and expect the breach.”

“Fuck,” Torran muttered.

The doors behind them opened and Chief Defender Solomon entered. Her short hair was pushed back from her face by a black headband, giving her an even sterner appearance.

“Where is the squad?” she asked.

“On break,” Torran responded.

“Dismiss them. We leave in seven hours. We need to be at the depot at daybreak.”

“We have a problem in the mission specs,” Lindsey said, gesturing to the playbacks.

“Then resolve it before morning.” Solomon’s voice was tight. Torran wasn’t sure if it was with fury or some other emotion. “President Cabot himself will be attending our departure. He has made it implicitly clear to me that success is of vital importance, and nothing short of success is acceptable.”

“He’ll have it,” Lindsey replied.

Torran wasn’t too sure he shared Lindsey’s confidence, but he nodded. “Consider it done.”

“Excellent. I’ll see you in the briefing room in the morning.” Solomon turned to leave, but then turned back. “Rooney, I want the revised mission specs to me within the hour. Then get some sleep.”

“Yes, sir.”

When the doors shut behind the chief defender, Torran swiveled toward Lindsey, his arms crossed. She was staring at the playback footage with a thoughtful expression on her face.

“I’ll dismiss the squad and get us shakes and water. Then we’ll do this together,” he informed her.

Lindsey nodded, her eyes never wavering. She had the look that frightened yet intrigued him. Daring to risk the cameras watching, he kissed her cheek.

Startled, she looked up at him, then slowly smiled. “Thanks.”

Torran gave her arm a light squeeze before striding out.

The squad didn’t complain when he dismissed them upon entering the mess hall, but they did look disgruntled at the news of their early morning departure. Grabbing two shakes from the dispenser and several bags of water, Torran hurried back to the training room.

Entering, he saw that the simulation was running again. Lindsey stood near the doors with her pad in one hand, craning her neck to gaze up.

“The cargo ships are going to cause a big commotion when they land, right? Which is why weren’t not letting them set down until the last minute and we’re disembarking on the roof.”

“Right...” Torran handed her a shake, already opened.

Looking faintly annoyed by the interruption of her train of thought, she took it.

Though he hadn’t said anything, she was looking slimmer than when they’d first met. A lot of it had to do with stress. He’d noted that she tended not to eat when fixated on a problem.

“Drink. One swallow.”

Lindsey scowled, but obeyed. Once she gulped some of the liquid, she instantly continued her litany. “So we’re coming down along the exterior catwalk and stairway, right? Part of it is over these loading doors we have to open to enter the storage area.”

“Right.” He tapped the bottom of the protein drink she was holding.

With a sigh, Lindsey guzzled down the whole thing and handed him the empty container. “I checked the SWD inventory, and I’ve got good news.”

“You’ve lost me.”

“This stuff...” She pulled on the material that was attached to the exterior of his suit. “They have more of it. Bolts of it. So we just need a screen big enough to cover the doorway. We can hang it from the rail above. I already have the dimensions we need. We just need a roll of the stuff and an aerial drone to take a snapshot of the closed doors to display on the screen.”

“It’s clever and might work.”

Lindsey sighed. “We don’t have enough time to make the screen to the exact specs we’d need to ensure success. The internal workings of this suit are impressive, but it’s all old parts. But if the screen can hold up for the ten minutes allotted to check the containers, it could work to buy us time before the Scrags come over that fence.”

“You’re a genius. You know it. Send that to the chief defender. She can crack the whip to get it made. And let’s call it a night.”

Glancing into the fake daylight, Lindsey sighed. “I still think this should be a night mission.”

“We’ve got no choice. The higher ups are worried about the aircraft. They’ve been mothballed for a long time and the pilots are used to sim craft, not real ones.”

Lindsey exhaled, then lifted a shoulder. “Our people haven’t been out on the field all that often either. Cloak of night would greatly reduce the visibility of our squad.”

“Preaching to the choir,” Torran said, then took a sip of his own protein shake. It was rather tasteless and far too thick.