Spearing the Siren

FIFTEEN

      Archambault, Varanger, Dahl, Ragnar and Lillevenn met in the conference room when William strode inside with an icy breeze. They stopped talking as he threw a device across the table and it slid before stopping a few feet from Archambault.
      "Were you out of your fucking mind?"
      Archambault didn't bother looking down at it, Varanger leaning over the table with difficulty to pull it toward her.
      "I did what I felt—"
      "Who knew about this bullshit plan of yours?" The former facilitator gave him an expression of rock. William grit his teeth. "You better start goddamn talking before I throw you in a cell."
      Varanger gave him a resigned look, setting down the device.
      "It was a bold plan." The comment earned her husband's icy gaze. "If Helenamor had proved to be an enemy—"
      "He kept those fucking things like pets—"
      "Weapons," Archambault quietly corrected him, but William never mistook it for humility.
      "These are living creatures, they cannot be used at your whim—"
      Archambault gave him a hard look.
    "I would have done anything to win this war—"
      "You were presumptuous—"
      "Yes," he said with cold fire in his eyes, his tone simmering with intensity. William calmed, appreciating his lack of apology as much as he wanted to ram his head through the wall.
      "And what if they had gotten on board the Freyja—"
      "I had them contained—"
      "Bullshit! There is no containing them. They are pure predatory will. It was sheer arrogance to think you could control them."
      "Perhaps, but if it came to them or Earth, I would have used them."
      William straightened his uniform, his passion returned to icy resolve.
      "I am almost entirely certain they managed to get off the carrier and onto the Dokkalfar vessel."
       Lillevenn frowned. "The brigade commander's—"
      "Not that one," William snapped. Varanger frowned and he waved a hand. "The queen's ship."
      "The one that Lysandril killed," Varanger clarified, William's expression not warming.
      "It's now crashing to the surface of Helheim. Morloc went after it."
      "That would place them—" Lillevenn started.
      "Right in your grandmother's territory, yes, I'm aware," William cut him off. "I'm assuming that's why Morloc went after him."
      "Generous of him," Lillevenn commented, William ignoring him, returning his gaze to Archambault.
      "The consequences for your little experiment might be far-reaching. Lysandril was an ally, perhaps the most powerful at our disposal. Now he may be dead—"
      "Lysandril is one man—" Archambault started.
      "The fucking admiral of the Ljosalfar forces!" William snapped. "The admiral who is the only one keeping them at bay. If he goes silent—"
      "Christ," Varanger whispered.
      "You're going into lockdown, effective immediately. Varanger stared at him.
      "He made a mistake—"
      "Don't give me that shit, Neith. He's become a liability—"
      "Extreme circumstances sometimes require extreme measures," Lillevenn said quietly. William shot him a glare.
      "You're lucky you're not going in beside him."
      "Lieutenant Archambault—" Varanger began heatedly.
      "His arrogance might have cost us a war we have no business fighting—"
      "That hasn't happened yet! He tried something and it didn't work—"
      "Do I really have to explain to you the consequences—"
      "You don't have to explain a thing to me," she said in a low voice. "This is war time. We can't afford to lose one of our commanders—"
      "Havard can take over—"
      "That isn't where she's need most and you know it—"
      "I have tried to respect it, Neith. But your coddling of my officers has gone far enough—"
      "I have coddled no one!" she snapped. "Are you just meeting me? Am I some teddy bear patting their heads—"
      "You've allowed him too much freedom."
      "He's earned his station, Will. You weren't on that mission to Helheim, I was, and I'm telling you he is a resource that we can't just lock away because he trampled your sensitivities—"
      "Sensitivities?" he asked quietly, fighting hard to control the rage pumping in his veins. "His arrogance could embroil Earth in a war—"
      "We're already at war!" she shouted. "Earth is less than four systems away! You may be all right with digging your head in the sand, but this fight is on our doorstep!"
      "I don't feel the need to save everyone like some of us—"
      "We cannot survive without allies!" she screamed at him. William didn't retaliate because he was focusing on not completely losing his temper with his lovely wife.
      "May I have a word with the commander, please?" Archambault said quietly, Neith's golden face darker than usual as she breathed deeply, glaring at her husband, who gave her an icy look. Lillevenn was the first to walk toward the entrance, William giving him a sharp look as he passed. Those calm green eyes only met his gaze and he grit his teeth, but let him go.
      Neith swept the device from the table and strode past him, her face a slab of ice, not even glancing in his direction. He looked down at the floor, experiencing a myriad of emotions he couldn't give into now. He barely noticed the other two lieutenants followed her. Archambault came to the other end of the table, William watching him with the eyes of a hawk.
      "If you want to make excuses for your irresponsible actions in my absence..."
      Archambault stopped just inside his comfort zone, looking into his eyes unflinchingly, and he knew he wouldn't like this.
      "Oh no. I did what I did and I'd do it again. Let me explain something to you, Commander. I lived the seven years of my life on a moon where the briefest moment of hesitation or fear would have cost not me, but the lives of the people under my care. I learned to be cutthroat, to use whatever resource at my disposal to fulfill my objective. I won't apologize for weaponizing the xenomorphs. You can lock me up and throw away the key if you wish." The expression in his eyes dropped a few degrees, revealing what William had seen in him from the moment he stepped onto his ship: a predator, without conscience or hesitation.
      "You may think me over ambitious, presumptuous, untrustworthy, and a plethora of other things that justify your mistrust of me. You do whatever you think is best. The fact is that I will do what I think is best in any given situation, just like when I was a facilitator. I don't care how I win, I don't care if I'm acting above my pay grade, I will do whatever is necessary to protect those in my care, and now that is this ship.
      "Put me in a cell, Commander, but I warn you, if something should happen that places this ship in danger, no lock or technology will keep me. I can be creative when I need to be."
      He walked past him, William turning to look after him with a sharp gaze. He let him go, the energy suddenly sapped from him. He'd rather deal with a predator with a dubious past than walk into his next confrontation.