Forward Base Avalon hummed with tension like an overtuned guitar string. Lance Corporal Parvati Singh felt it as she moved through the camp, noting the way human soldiers clustered together, casting suspicious glances at their elven guests. The elves, for their part, kept to themselves, their luminescent eyes tracking every movement with centuries of practiced wariness.
Three days had passed since Captain Reid's reconnaissance team had departed for Seraphine's stronghold, and in their absence, the fragile alliance they'd built was showing dangerous cracks.
Singh paused outside Corporal James Hargrove's quarters, her hand hovering over the makeshift door. The evidence she'd gathered over the past seventy-two hours weighed heavily in her pack—and on her conscience. Taking a deep breath, she knocked.
"Enter," came the gruff response.
Hargrove was cleaning his rifle with the methodical precision of a career soldier. He barely glanced up as Singh stepped inside, closing the door behind her.
"Lance Corporal," he acknowledged, his voice neutral but his shoulders tensing slightly. "Something I can help you with?"
Singh remained standing, her posture deliberately casual despite the thundering of her heart. "Just following up on the armory investigation, Corporal. A few loose ends to tie up."
Hargrove's hands stilled momentarily before resuming their work. "Thought Williams was handling that while the Captain's away."
"He delegated to me," Singh replied, watching his face carefully. "Said I had a knack for details."
"That you do." Hargrove set his rifle aside and finally looked up at her. "So what loose ends need tying?"
Singh pulled out her tablet, swiping through to display a chemical analysis. "Interesting thing about C-4. The military-grade stuff we use has a very specific chemical signature. The explosives used in the armory attack match our supplies exactly."
"Hardly surprising," Hargrove said with a shrug. "The saboteur obviously had access to our armory."
"True," Singh agreed. "But what's interesting is that this particular batch has trace elements of a stabilizing compound that was only added to explosives issued to special operations units deployed to humid environments." She paused meaningfully. "Like your last deployment to Malaysia."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees. Hargrove's expression remained carefully neutral, but a muscle twitched in his jaw.
"That's quite a leap, Lance Corporal."
"Is it?" Singh swiped to another screen. "Because I also found this in the debris." She held up the tablet, displaying an image of a small metal fragment. "It's a piece of a detonator casing with partial serial numbers that match equipment issued to your unit six months ago."
Hargrove stood slowly, his eyes never leaving Singh's face. "You've been busy."
"I have," she agreed. "I've also been reviewing security footage. Interesting how the cameras near the armory experienced a 'technical glitch' precisely when someone with your build and gait was passing through that sector."
"Those cameras have been glitching since we set them up," Hargrove countered, but his voice had lost its casual tone.
"And then there's this," Singh continued, pulling a small evidence bag from her pocket. Inside was a scrap of fabric with distinctive camouflage pattern. "Found this caught on a nail near the explosion site. It matches the tear in your uniform jacket—the one you claimed happened during patrol."
Silence stretched between them, taut as a tripwire. Singh could almost see the calculations happening behind Hargrove's eyes—weighing his options, considering his escape routes.
"You're good," he finally said, a hint of genuine admiration in his voice. "Better than I expected."
"I'll take that as a confession," Singh replied, her hand drifting subtly toward her sidearm.
Hargrove noticed the movement and raised his hands slightly. "Easy. I'm not going to do anything stupid."
"Planting explosives in our own armory already qualifies as stupid in my book, Corporal."
A bitter laugh escaped him. "You think this is about me? That I just woke up one day and decided to sabotage our mission because I felt like it?"
"Then explain it to me," Singh said, keeping her voice level. "Why risk the lives of your fellow soldiers? Why undermine everything we're trying to build here?"
Hargrove's face darkened. "What exactly are we building here, Singh? A cozy little alliance with creatures that were slaughtering Londoners a few weeks ago? These aren't people—they're things. Magical, dangerous things that should be studied, contained, or eliminated. Not invited to tea."
"The elves we're protecting had nothing to do with the London attack," Singh pointed out.
"So they claim," Hargrove spat. "And we're just supposed to take their word for it? While they whisper among themselves in a language we can't understand, while they perform their little magic tricks that could kill us all in our sleep?"
Singh studied him carefully. "This sounds personal, Corporal."
Something flashed in Hargrove's eyes—a glimpse of raw pain quickly masked by anger. "My sister was at Trafalgar Square when the Gate opened. She was a tour guide, showing some Japanese tourists the sights." His voice grew hollow. "They found pieces of her three days later. Identified her by dental records."
Singh felt a pang of sympathy but kept her expression neutral. "I'm sorry for your loss. But that doesn't justify endangering this mission."
"This mission," Hargrove echoed with contempt. "Do you even know what the real mission is, Lance Corporal? Because it's not making friends with elves or studying magical energy patterns."
"Enlighten me."
"Control," Hargrove said simply. "Securing assets. Establishing military dominance over a new frontier with resources beyond imagination. That's what Crowe cares about—not peace, not understanding. Power."
Singh frowned. "And you know this how?"
Hargrove's laugh was cold. "Because those were my orders, straight from Crowe's office via military intelligence. 'Create controlled incidents to justify increased military presence.' 'Gather intelligence on demi-human weaknesses.' 'Identify magical resources with strategic value.'" He shook his head. "Reid's humanitarian approach is admirable but naïve. He wasn't supposed to make allies—he was supposed to identify targets."
Singh felt a chill run down her spine. "You're saying the sabotage was ordered by Crowe himself?"
"Not directly, of course. There are layers of deniability. But the directive was clear—create tension, undermine cooperation efforts, push for military solutions over diplomatic ones." Hargrove's expression hardened. "I didn't plant those explosives because I'm a traitor, Singh. I did it because I'm a soldier following orders from the highest levels of government."
"Orders that could have killed your fellow soldiers," Singh pointed out.
"The explosion was calculated to cause damage without casualties," Hargrove countered. "I'm not a murderer."
"Tell that to Private Jenkins, who nearly lost an arm clearing the debris."
Hargrove at least had the decency to look uncomfortable. "Collateral damage happens in war."
"This isn't a war," Singh said firmly. "Not unless people like you make it one."
"It's been a war since the moment those creatures came through the Gate," Hargrove insisted. "The only question is whether we'll fight it on our terms or theirs."
Singh considered her next move carefully. Hargrove was dangerous but also valuable—a direct link to whatever game Crowe was playing from London.
"I'm placing you under arrest, Corporal," she finally said. "You'll be confined to quarters under guard until Captain Reid returns."
Hargrove's eyes narrowed. "And then what? A military tribunal? You think Crowe will let it get that far? He'll have me extracted before Reid even files the paperwork."
"That's the Captain's problem," Singh replied, drawing her sidearm. "Now, hands where I can see them. We're going to walk very calmly to the detention area."
To her surprise, Hargrove complied without resistance, allowing her to secure his hands behind his back. As they stepped outside, he glanced at the elven refugees watching from across the compound.
"You're making a mistake, Singh," he said quietly. "Choosing them over your own kind."
"I'm not choosing sides," she replied, guiding him forward. "I'm choosing right over wrong. Something you might want to reconsider."
"Noble," Hargrove muttered. "But nobility doesn't win wars. Ask the elves how their honor served them against Seraphine's forces."
As they crossed the compound, Williams approached, his expression darkening as he took in the scene. "Singh? What's going on?"
"We found our saboteur," she replied, keeping her voice low. "And it's worse than we thought. We need to secure him until the Captain returns."
Williams glanced at Hargrove, then back to Singh. "You're certain?"
"Beyond reasonable doubt," she confirmed. "And he's admitted it."
"Only following orders," Hargrove added with a bitter smile. "Isn't that what good soldiers do, Sergeant?"
Williams's face hardened. "Not when those orders betray everything we stand for." He nodded to Singh. "Take him to the storage bunker. I'll assign guards I trust."
As Williams turned away, Hargrove called after him. "They'll come for me, you know. And when they do, you'll all have to choose—your captain or your country."
Williams didn't bother looking back. "Already made that choice when I followed Reid through the Gate."
Hours later, Singh sat in the command tent, her report complete but her mind troubled. The evidence against Hargrove was damning, but his claims about Crowe's involvement were harder to prove. Without concrete evidence linking the sabotage to London, it would be Hargrove's word against the Prime Minister's—a battle no soldier could win.
The tent flap opened, and Williams entered, his expression grim. "Guards are posted. Hargrove's secure for now."
"For now," Singh echoed. "But if what he says about Crowe is true..."
"Then we have bigger problems than a saboteur in our ranks," Williams finished. He dropped heavily into a chair across from her. "You believe him?"
Singh considered the question carefully. "About Crowe's orders? It's plausible. The PM has been pushing for more aggressive action since day one. Reid's diplomatic approach must be frustrating for someone looking to exploit Aeltheria's resources."
"Bloody politicians," Williams muttered. "Always playing chess while we're on the board getting sacrificed."
"The question is, what do we do now?" Singh asked. "Reid needs to know, but we can't risk sending this information through official channels if Crowe is monitoring communications."
Williams nodded thoughtfully. "The reconnaissance team should be back within forty-eight hours. We keep Hargrove isolated until then, maintain normal operations, and report directly to Reid when he returns."
"And if Crowe's people make a move before then?"
A grim smile crossed Williams's face. "Then we'll give them a proper Royal Marines welcome."
Singh couldn't help but return the smile, though her eyes remained serious. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that."
As she left the command tent, Singh paused to look over Avalon. The blue glow of the ley-lines illuminated the compound, casting everything in an otherworldly light. Human soldiers and elven refugees moved about their evening routines, separate but sharing the same space—a fragile coexistence that could shatter at any moment.
Hargrove's words echoed in her mind: You'll all have to choose—your captain or your country.
But as Singh watched an elven child cautiously accept a chocolate bar from a young private, she wondered if perhaps there was a third option—one that transcended the false dichotomy of us versus them. Perhaps the real choice wasn't between species or allegiances, but between the kind of world they wanted to build from the ashes of the old.
And that was a choice worth fighting for, no matter who gave the orders.