Page 30 of Holding the Line
Chapter Seven
Later that night, Marshsat hunched over his workbench, the soft glow of multiple monitors reflecting in his glasses.The lab was cool, dim, quiet—except for the rhythmic hum of his custom-made processors and the subtle hissing of the 3D printer in the corner.On one screen, his language translation prototype scrolled streams of phonetic mappings and algorithm simulations.On another, the code for his modified prosthetic interface blinked in diagnostic loops.Both were running well—better than expected.It felt good.
He shifted in his chair, flexing the knee of his prosthetic leg.This one fit better.A lot better.Eli had been right—it wasn’t painful, just tight in a few spots.The custom adjustments and the biometric flex had been worth every goddamn frustrating hour.He could walk with it now.Not flawlessly, but with a steady rhythm.And he was damn sure he would be running again someday soon.
The translation device chirped.Marsh leaned in.He’d narrowed Eli’s mysterious language down to two Polynesian dialects, both similar, but distinct.He had a hunch it was Maori.The vowels, the cadence, the inflection—it was beautiful.Musical.Eli had been cagey about it, that mischievous grin on his face when he’d said, “Nice to know you don’t know everything, Marsh.”
Marsh smirked to himself, already compiling the next firmware patch.If it wasn’t Maori, he would have it soon.He was going to wear the device next time Eli slipped into it—catch the words in real time.
His main terminal pinged.
He turned, eyes narrowing as he scanned the encrypted message from one of his offshore mirror servers.A flagged military record was ready for review.With a few keystrokes, Colonel Adrian White’s service file filled the screen.
“Let’s see what kind of monster you really are,” Marsh muttered.
The door opened behind him.
Bateman stepped in, wearing the scowl that meant something was already on fire.
“What the hell is going on, Marsh?”he demanded, eyes already narrowing.“I just had a call from HQ.An admiral accusing us of harboring a kidnapped civilian.And the name he dropped?A Colonel Adrian White.I know the guy, and I have a feeling you do, too.”
Marsh leaned back slightly, frowning.“You know who White is?”
Bateman’s jaw tightened.“Yeah, I’ve had a run in or two with the man.Didn’t know he had anything to do with us now, though.”
Marsh turned his monitor slightly, letting Bateman catch sight of the file.“He’s Eli’s ex.An asshole.Abusive, manipulative, and clearly still obsessed.We ran into him in town today—he tried to grab Eli outside the store, tried to drag him back to him kicking and screaming.”
Bateman blinked.“And I’m only hearing this now because...?”
Marsh frowned at him.“This is what I do.I gather intel, put together a picture, then bring it to the team.”
Bateman arched a brow.“Nice to know you think of yourself as part of the team again.”
Marsh flinched.“It wasn’t the team I lost faith in, LT.It was me.”
Bateman nodded slowly.“I know that.”
Bateman’s eyes flicked over the screen.Redactions.Service medals.Deployment logs.Suspensions.Complaints that had disappeared into silence.
“He’s dangerous,” Marsh said.“And he’s not going to stop.”
Bateman crossed his arms.“You think he’ll come back?”
“I think he’s already working angles,” Marsh replied.“He’s used to power.To not being told no.And he thinks Eli is his property.That doesn’t go away.”
Bateman let out a slow breath.
He glanced toward the monitor, then back to Marsh.“So, who is he to you?”
Marsh didn’t hesitate.“He’s my Blake.”
Bateman stilled.Marsh pressed forward.
“I might not have known him long, but he’s ...integral to me now.I need him like I need my next breath.And, yeah, that scares the shit out of me—but it’s the truth.He sees me when I can’t even see myself.And I’ll be damned if I let that bastard White get anywhere fucking near him again.”