Chapter 22
Laying the Snare
8th of Fourthmoon, Saintclair 12
E27, Elsanto Mountains, Neveland
Root hadn't taken a shower since he was taken off confinement. To conserve water, they were only allowed a brief shower every two or three days. He was almost at Day Five and a lot had happened that time. As tempting as a long angsty shower would be, the water was cold and held in pre-measured tanks that only allowed for about a five-minute stream. If you were smart, you took about minute or two to get wet, then turned off the water to lather up and used the rest of your ration to rinse off. When things got really dire, you had to make do with a damp washcloth, which could very well be the point they'd reach if they stayed out too much longer.
Once Root was done with his shower, he went back to his quarters and laid down on his rack. He wanted to get some sleep if he could, but the more the messy business with the Palatinians rolled around in his head, the less likely he was going to actually get any sleep. If nothing else, he could keep his eyes closed and lie still. It wasn't quite as good as actual sleep, but it was better than nothing.
He had no idea how much time had passed—minutes? hours?—when there was a knocking at the door. He got up and opened the door. It was Follet. Not the first face you wanted to see. Not the last either.
"What?" Root asked.
"Centurion Tofels wants you in the conference room," Follet replied. "Five minutes."
"Alright."
Root closed the door, quickly got dressed and made his way up. Follet escorted him. Entirely unnecessary and unwelcome, but he didn't say anything about it.
Once again, the conference room was filled with all the relevant officers for the latest stage of the mission.
"Nice of you to join us, Lieutenant Maartens," Tofels said.
Root had a feeling he was deliberately summoned last to make him look bad, but it didn't really matter. Anyone whose opinion he actually cared about wasn't going to be moved by something so petty.
"What's the story?" he asked.
"Now that the Palatinians are no longer a concern, we can focus on completing our mission," Tofels replied. He then pointed to a comparatively flat slope two peaks down, closer to the basin where the target was located. "We will be moving the ship to this location, cutting the travel distance to the target site in half."
"Iokannan Faustman is still out there," Root noted. "If you want to go to the target, he has to be taken out."
"And you think you're the one to do it?" Tofels asked.
"If you've got anyone else with sniper training, he's more than welcome to go instead."
Tofels frowned. Apparently he didn't have anyone better suited for the job. Though for hunting such a legendary sniper, it certainly wouldn't have hurt to have more than one marksman out there.
"What's your plan, Lieutenant?" Tofels asked.
"Miss Anju and I go on ahead," Root said. "She takes the air and I take the ground. You start to move trucks as bait. He shows himself and I take him out."
Tofels folded his arms as he thought about Root's proposition.
"This Faustman has quite a reputation, I hear," he said. "It could be useful if one of our soldiers manages to kill him. Are you sure you can do it?"
"Unless you're willing to abort the mission and go home, this is the best chance we have."
Tofels grinned. Not a pleasant sort of grin either, not that you could expect anything pleasant from him.
"The Legionnaire and the Gandee versus the White Wolf," he mused. "What a story that will make in the papers back in the capital."
"Is that a yes?" Root asked.
Tofels nodded and said, "We'll try your plan, Lieutenant. If it fails, it'll be on you."
Root kept himself from rolling his eyes.
"Some things never change."
"You'll head out before dawn," Tofels said. "You have four hours to get into position. You had better hope this White Wolf shows."
"You'd better hope he doesn't," Root replied, "but I don't think we're gonna be that lucky."