He shoved the hand comp into the briefcase, followed by a personnel roster, both of which would be eagerly welcomed at Fort Howe.

While Raynor continued to fill the briefcase, a tiny brown head popped up from the boonie hat that was resting on a side shelf. After checking its immediate surroundings for signs of danger, a small lizard emerged and darted out of the hat. Its mottled body was motionless for a moment, as its tongue tasted the air, and its nearsighted eyes stared at the area directly in front of it.

Then the lizard was off, scurrying the length of the shelf to the point where it could jump down onto a tool box, and from there to the floor. After that it was a short run to the open door, the fold-down stairs, and the hot sand that waited beyond.

FORT HOWE, ON THE PLANET TURAXIS II

It was late afternoon as a necklace of dropships snaked around Fort Howe, turned toward the south, and landed in quick succession. Moments later ramps went down, field ambulances raced out to meet the newly arrived dropships, and medical personnel rushed aboard. Not only were there wounded to care for, but POWs as well, some of whom were in very bad shape. Then and only then were the troops allowed to make their way down onto the tarmac.

Doc tried to convince Raynor to ride in an ambulance, but he refused, insisting that he be allowed to exit the aircraft with the rest of his platoon. Of the thirty-five soldiers who jumped over the Kel-Morian base, only seventeen were still alive and three of them were wounded. So the bedraggled group that followed Tychus across the concrete toward the buildings beyond wasn’t much larger than a full-strength squad.

Two men were waiting in front of the nearest hangar. Both were dressed in civilian clothes but might as well have been wearing uniforms, because everything else about them was military, including their haircuts and erect postures. One was tall, the other was short, and he was the one who spoke. “Ark Bennet?” he inquired, as the group walked past. “We’d like to speak with you.”

Kydd nearly fell for it. The only thing that saved him was the fact that he’d been using “Kydd” for so long that it took a second to process what the man had said. And that was sufficient time for his brain to kick in and override the natural tendency to say, “Yes.”

Some of those around Kydd knew his true identity, of course—but a frown was sufficient to silence them. And by that time, the shorter of the two men had switched to a different tactic. “Private Kydd? My name is Corly… . And this is Sergeant Orin. We’re with MSS and we’d like to talk to you.”

“MSS” stood for the Military Security Service, a group it was almost impossible to say “No” to. But before Kydd could reply, Tychus chose to intervene. “I don’t know what this is about,” the noncom said ominously, “but whatever it is can wait. We just came in out of the field. Of course you rear-echelon sons of bitches wouldn’t know much about that, would you?”

When Sergeant Orin turned toward Tychus, his eyes were like blue lasers and his face was wooden. “Sergeant Corly has a medal of valor—and was wounded three times in the battle of Rork’s Rift.” He stepped closer until Tychus felt the agent’s breath on his face. “You think we don’t know what it feels like to put our lives on the line? To see our brothers and sisters get blown to pieces right in front of us? You watch your mouth, son, and pray you never turn up on my case list.”

Kydd knew that a large handgun was probably responsible for the visible bulge under Orin’s jacket. But Tychus was armed too, and Kydd could see the pressure starting to build, as the noncom took a step forward. “You know where you can shove your case list, Sergeant. Or maybe I should do it for you.”

Kydd hurried to get in between them. “No problem, Sarge… . I might as well get this over with. I’ll see you back at the barracks.”

Raynor nodded. “Come on, Tychus… . You can use your natural charm to get me some service at the infirmary.”

Tychus glowered, but allowed himself to be steered away. That left Kydd with the MSS agents. Corly eyed the sniper’s rifle. “Is that thing unloaded?”

Kydd nodded. “It is… . Would you like to check?”

“No,” Corly replied. “That won’t be necessary. Please accompany us to the command center. We have some questions to ask you—but the process won’t take long. We’ll have you back with your buddies shortly.”

Was that true? Or an attempt to put his fears to rest? Kydd didn’t know, not that it mattered, because the MSS agents would do whatever they wanted to do.

It was a short walk to the command center, through the entrance, and down a side hall to an office labeled maintenanceofficer. Kydd felt an emptiness at the pit of his stomach. Because here, after all of the combat, was a different kind of battle. It was a stark choice. Did he want to go back to being Ark Bennet—son of privilege, a businessman, and head of an Old Family? Or did he want to be Ryk Kydd—soldier, sniper, and adventurer?

Orin opened the door to the empty office. A round table was positioned in front of a utilitarian desk covered with clutter. Corly gestured to one of four seats. “Please, sit down.”

Kydd hesitated. This would be a crucial, life-defining decision—there was no turning back after this. What was the saying Raynor used every now and then? The one he always attributed to his father? “You are who you choose to be.” Yeah, that was it. Kydd had always laughed off Raynor’s attempts to impart his sentimental brand of wisdom—that kind of warmth was completely foreign to him. But somehow this one resonated with Kydd, even now, when his mind was filled with anxiety.

Both MSS agents were seated at the table by the time Kydd lowered himself into the steel chair. Corly eyed a viewscreen. “According to your P-1 file, you submitted affidavits claiming that your real name is Ark Bennet—and that you were snatched off the streets of Tarsonis by a rogue recruiter. Is that correct?”

Kydd took a slow, deep breath as he chose his next words. He thought about the former version of himself, the one that had gone for a stroll in the neighborhood called Hacker’s Flat back on Tarsonis, and understood what he had been looking for back then. He’d been looking for a chance to live life outside of the obligations he’d been born to, beyond the cocoon of safety in which his family preferred to live, and earn a place in the world rather than simply inherit it.

“I filed affidavits in which I claimed to be Ark Bennet,” Kydd admitted. “That much is true.”

Corly raised an eyebrow. “And the claim itself? Is that true as well?”

“No,” Kydd said, trying to appear remorseful as he looked down at the tabletop.

“So you lied to Major Macaby?”

Kydd looked straight into his interrogator’s eyes. “Yes, sir.” Kydd swallowed the lump in his throat. “I did.” He shifted his eyes toward Orin.

There was a moment of silence as the MSS agents glanced at each other. It wasn’t the response they’d been expecting.

Kydd’s mind swirled with worry. Did they believe him? Did they already know the truth? Was his father watching them right now? He pretended to cough as he glanced around the room. If there was a camera, he couldn’t see it.

Corly leaned forward. “Why did you lie?”

“Why? I wanted to get the hell out of the Marine Corps,” Kydd replied matter-of-factly. He continued, gaining confidence as he spoke. “I’d heard that a rich kid was missing, and based on the description they gave of him, it sounded as though we have a similar appearance.”