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“It’s a good thought.” Patrick nodded and took a drink of water for himself. He imagined for a moment that he tasted Fal’ran on the rim instead of the tang of metal and sanitized drinking water, then tucked the canteen back into his pack with a half-smile. “Good, but wrong.”
Fal’ran straightened. “Why?”
Patrick leaned against the trunk, swinging one of his legs back and forth through the open air. “You tell me.”
Fal’ran pressed his lips together and looked down below them at Sazahk inching up the other tree.
Patrick watched Fal’ran pick away the bark beside his hand with a thumbnail and waited, the little bundle of pride in his chest warming. Patrick had always nurtured a kernel of pride for his men, ever since his first command over a decade ago now. He loved watching them work, watching them fail and learn and succeed and move on. When he’d first taken on this squad, he’d looked at the way they’d looked at him and looked at each other and worried he’d never have that again. He couldn’t have been more wrong.
“He’s not a fighter.” Fal’ran tapped his thumb against the wood where he’d already worried off the bark, still observing Sazahk.
“Nope,” Patrick agreed. “He’s a scientist.”
“He needs to stay out of sight, out of reach, or at the very least needs someone covering him so he can make an escape if he gets found.”
“Yup.”
“He can cover someone else too, though.” Fal’ran waved a finger back at Patrick, his eyes still on Sazahk as the qesh pulled himself up to a sturdy branch where Tar sat waiting for him. “He’s not completely useless with a rifle.”
“No, he’s not.” Patrick had steered clear of Bar’in’s shooting lessons for Sazahk, not wanting to put Bar’in off by sanctioning them, but he’d observed from a distance that Sazahk was making progress. “And he doesn’t scare easy.”
Fal’ran shot Patrick a dubious expression over his shoulder, then looked back at Sazahk sitting up in the tree branch and trembling as Tar patted his back.
Patrick laughed. “Yes, he’s fucking terrified of heights. But remember, cartel.”
“Yeah, so you say.” Fal’ran chuckled as Sazahk shooed off Tar’s steadying hand again. “He doesn’t let himself get pushed around, does he?”
“Nope.” Patrick swung one of his legs up onto the branch and stretched it out in front of him, tapping Fal’ran’s knee with his foot. “So, where does he go?”
Fal’ran caught the toe of Patrick’s boot before Patrick poked him with it again and tapped his fingers against it. “Well, if he doesn’t go in a tree, he goes on the ground.”
“But why?” Patrick wiggled his foot in Fal’ran’s grip and Fal’ran scowled and wrapped his other hand around it to hold him still.
He frowned down at Patrick’s black boot—still shiny from Patrick buffing it that morning despite the dust of the camp—before clicking his tongue and lifting his head with triumph in his eyes. “Because if we put him in the trees, he’ll be trapped.”
“Good.” Patrick let his lips curl in a smile and savored the way Fal’ran’s eyes lit up at the praise. “Go on.”
“If we put him in the trees, he’ll be too scared to move, even if he can figure out this rope monstrosity you’ve made us.”
Patrick jerked up from his slouch. “It’s not a monstrosity.”
Fal’ran rolled his eyes and continued, “So we put him on the ground where he can be mobile. He’ll still be able to see what’s happening and report up to us. He’ll even have a better angle on some things.” Fal’ran nodded as his understanding took hold. “There are enough bushes for him to hide in, and once they realize most of us are in the trees, they won’t search for him down there.”
“Good job.” Patrick settled back with a proud smile. “You catch fast. You’ll have my job one day.”
Fal’ran’s face beamed with that heart-tugging hopefulness for just a moment before he ducked his head, the tops of his cheekbones pinking up like the sunburned tip of his nose. “Yeah, well…” He rocked Patrick’s boot back and forth for a moment, then slid one hand up to Patrick’s ankle and his eyes up to Patrick’s face. “When I’m a captain, I won’t have such bullshit rules about what’s right and wrong.”
Patrick’s gut tightened at the challenge in Fal’ran’s gaze, his blood already rising to meet the fight. He licked his lips and then cursed himself when Fal’ran zeroed in on the motion. He pressed them together instead. “Mhmm, we’ll see about that.”
He tried to tug his foot out of Fal’ran’s grasp and, for a moment, thought Fal’ran might not let go. But after one last daring twitch of his lips, he did. “Yeah, we will.”
Patrick pulled his foot back to himself, his cheeks blushing to match Fal’ran’s, and didn’t know what to say.
“Captain Smith!” a deep, familiar voice boomed up from the ground below them. “Is this a fortification or a jungle gym?”
Fal’ran’s back snapped up, and he looked to the ground with a snarl. “Who the fuck is that?”
“No way.” Patrick almost plunged to his death in his haste to get his eyes on the speaker. His heart soared out of his chest, and he laughed with an agonizing combination of joy and relief. “You’ve been out of the game so long, old man, you can’t even recognize tactical brilliance when you see it.”
