[TITANS RISING]

SCORCHED EARTH
by

D.E. Varni

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Fonts Used:
Series Title & Chapter Numbering: Morphica
TOC: Vandiana Platin
Book & Chapter Titles: Archaeologicaps
Main Body Text: Times New Roman
Story Location Titles: Andalus
Computer Text: Free Agent
Technology Designations: ISL_Jupiter
Dedication: Aquiline Two

[Titans Rising] Scorched Earth 2012 D.E. Varni

All Rights Reserved

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[Titans Rising]
SCORCHED EARTH
PROLOGUE: HOMECOMING

CHAPTER !: UNSEEN SIGNS

CHAPTER 2: THE CALLING

CHAPTER 3: THE POST

CHAPTER 4: THE TEST

cHAPTE R 5: THE LI NE I N THE S A N D

CHAPTER 6: IMPLEMENTING STRATEGIES

DANIEL'S INSIGHTS

CHAPTER 7: TRAINING

chapter 8: rebuilding the team

chapter 9: princeton park place kings

chapter 10: chariot

chapter !!: scrimmage with black ops

chapter 12: joseph little bird

chapter 13: terry lyons

chapter 14: brownsville

chapter 15: s.e. recruiting

chapter 16: breaking mandate

the trauma nostalgia

chapter 17: terror alert

chapter 18: u.s.s. elysium

chapter 19: standoff

chapter 20: all the president's men

CHAPTER 21: HANGAR 102

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CHAPTER 22: THE INVESTIGATION BEGINS

CHAPTE 23: DUBAI

C H A P T E R 2 4 : D UB A I C O N F L I C T

CHAPTER 25: TELERON GLOBAL

CHAPTER 26: PUERTO RICO

CHAPTER 27: ZURICH

CHAPTER 28: S.E. SERVICES

CHAPTER 29: NEW ORLEANS

CHA PTER 3 0: S.I.T.F. MOBILIZE S

C H A P T E R 3 1 : : X E R O RE F I NE R Y

CHAPTER 32: HIGH GROUND AND THE KILL BOX

THE TRAUMA REVISITED

ChapTER 33: HOSPITAL

chapter 34: chris young's plot

chapter 35: word on the street

chapter 36: north brother island

chapter 37: retribution of princeton place kings1

chapter 38: synkr-22

chapter 39: courting a congressman

chapter 40: unveiling

chapter 41: the legend of maximus

chapter 42: new orleans meeting

chapter 43: celestial clearance

chapter 44: s.e. preparations

chapter 45: daniel's frustration

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chapter 46: a hit on the profiles

chapter 47: the skybridge debacle

chapter 48: shipyard assault

chapter 49: the bomb

chapter 50: a tale to be told

chapter 51: veni, vidi

chapter 52: the betrayal

chapter 53: the new day

To
Thi Minh Thi,
Inara Minh & Eliana Kathleen
My three guiding stars,
My greatest loves.
You are the very soul of my inspiration
My Muse abides within you.

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Prologue:

Homecoming

2085 A.D.
War had long been a problem for the people of Earth.

And nothing within the realm of

understanding could dissuade any thinking being from that singular truth.
Looking to the Universe, itself, was enough to reckon such a small and basic
understanding. All life desired its continuance, and devoured other life to maintain its grasp on
thisnot so uniquestate of existence, hoping to attain the largest chance at longevity possible.
Stars have been known to eat their own satellites, and Black-Phase or Neutron stars had been
seen devouring other nearby, more plentiful stars, greedily. Almost nothing known existed
without feeding. The human population had long grown accustomed to this understanding, and
the dominant species of the Earth mirrored the universe in so many ways.
Human history had long enumerated the many artful ways in which men inflicted such a
method of achieving ends upon neighbors for whatever need the inflictor desired to slake.
And from galaxies to the simplest of amoeba, the war continued.

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But in this, The Year of Our Ascension i , 2085, the surviving 7.6 billion people who
comprised the totality of the human race desired only a respite from this cyclical-recurrent norm,
as they took some degree of solace from the announcement to the end of the constant state of fear
and dread they lived under the previous near-ten years of interplanetary conflict had finally
come.

So ended the great Sol War.

For over fifteen years, the young star that warmed the Earth had been tested and stressed
by fleets of space faring craft that were alien to this system which had resulted in events that the
surviving earth populations had come to refer to as Wave Eventsii.
The small star churned in its own furnace, reeling from the constant disruptions and
voicing its discontent in dramatic tantrums that terrified those who dared to look upward. The
bravest of men grimaced into the face of the distant inferno and silently began to pray for night
as the suns metabolism sped up under the stress of the near-constant assaults to its fuel stores. It
began to gorge itself on its supply of hydrogen in a rabid hunger, shortening the stars young life
as a Yellow Dwarf by a considerableand as yet scientifically undeterminednumber of years
for predicting its potential in transitioning to its inevitable Red Giant phase.
But all this worry was dispelled by the removal of the threat of imminent death from
above that came to the populations of Earth that bright dawn of early May. And now, as April
approached, a deep exhale of gratitude and giddy laughter still wound its way from the lips of
billions across the landscapes that comprised thetemporarilyunited nations of Earth. News
had broken out, only three weeks prior, that The Quilliii had, at long last, been defeated. At least,
that was what the populations of Earth had been told.
Very little information was forthcoming over the end, and no mention of a decisive battle,
homeworld assault or peace envoy was forthcoming. Still, it was enough that the United Nations
war machinespitting young human lives into space in their fever of patriotism, to never
returnhad slowed its consumption of youthful potential as so much cannon fodder and allowed
the world to, essentially, reset to a more or less relaxed posture.
But the children of the sun were still wary of their newly discovered neighbors, and as a
result, had deployed a series of satellites to act as an early warning net on a scale that had
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previously been considered unimaginable, and would, if not safeguard, warn them of any
incursions to, or near, their system. And so, the nearly fifteen year old UNIAFiv had turned their
faces upward, and studied the skies, pensively waiting the stars for sign of threat. And in turning
away from the skin of the earth, the stars unveiled at the edge of perpetual night, and the moon
and manmade satellites trailed their paths across the span of black interrupted with brilliant flares
of stellar nurseries amid the stars of the neighborhood the human race lived in.
Far above the rolling clouds, and past the communications satellite array which stared
down on the earth, the long/short range S/WPv defense satellites facing outward, sped along at
over a thousand miles per hour to hold a static position above their assigned points over the
globe, holding their positions in the web pattern and remained in constant communication with
all other satellitesthrough line of sight laser feedsand the United Nations Solar System
Defense Networkvi.
TRA-142 was the one hundred forty-second unit of the Threat Rating Agentvii S/WP
satellites to be manufactured and deployed, and was but one of those tens of thousands of nearly
autonomous objects in the UNSSDviii Network across the solar system. Beyond any feeling of
pride, it held a position of some bearing among the people of the newly risen cities along the
Eastern end of the North American continent, as its tethering laser unerringly struck the exact
center of the rising space needle at the zenith of the One World Trade Center, New York City,
twenty-two thousand miles belowwhose bedrock, thanks to the nigh-impenetrable PAAG ix
electromagnetic field along the storm breaks protecting the seaports that held the oceans waves
at bay, now rested at a constant twenty-five meters above sea level.There, facing the eternal
night above and removed from the comfortingly rolling white clouds, where dust and ice
particles rolled along their trajectories in the void, only altered by a collision with another object,
or forming a larger mote to tumble on a newer course.

The Sentry satellites remained in

constant vigilance, surveying its set range of void, encompassing over a hundred thousand miles
of space, and all it its long black depth.
As had been the case, since a passing comet after the end of the war, it detected nothing
outside the realm of normal, and all craft moving through the void were either sister sentries,
satellites or they had the proper catalogued identification markers and travel pass codes. If such
a thing as a life-taking qualifying monotony could be felt by a machine, then the sky would
have rained with the fire of thousands of sentry satellites allowing themselves to burn up in
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reentry. Which was probably why the sentry satellites were created with massive memory
storage capacity, yet without the means to qualify any meaning for their own existences beyond
cold function. They were burdened, as machines of utility, only by the perception of potential
threats, communicating such to the earth command, and should the need arise defending the
spinning orb beneath themnothing more.
TRA-142 droned on with its endless laser spread of the moon and its surrounding area
when the Yellow Alert Standby for Anomalous Near Earth Object Protocols activated
unexpectedly as, in the spans of the Roche Limit that divided the Earth from the moon, fifty
nearly submarine shaped objects, [roughly 180 meters long and 60 meters in width] seemingly
popped into existencethe L-SOTx comfortably spreading out into orbital positions.
The link to UNSSD Command activated and TRA-142 requested confirmation that its
sensors were accuratein the meantime, charging its weapons systems to a positive charge as it
waited for ordersthis was the standard battle scenario drill that was randomly sent to each
satellite for the sake of discovering any degradation in software or hardware, and each threat was
passed on to Command for assessment and confirmation or dismissal and pass code to disarm
routinely followed.

As the weapons batteries reached positive charge, the L-SOT system

detected forty more objectseach nearly a 500 by 80 meters in sizematerialized into

existence, followed almost immediately, by twenty even larger objects [1,680 by 300 meters
long], surrounding three slightly smaller [1,340 by 220 meter] vessels of an even more advanced
and imposing designall of which began to slow from speeds of 500 kilometers per second to a
more tame course of 160 kilometers per minute on an orbital veering trajectory toward the Earth.
Calculations of their approach estimated the objects, at current speeds, would reach ground
contact along the Southern California coastline within fifty-three minutes. The speed and
trajectories were now changing every minute, and all objects held the same speed and course
correction into a high geosynchronous orbit, within the Roche Limit.
TRA-142 scanned the moving threat with increased surety as its Watchtower-Systems
sent out blankets of X-Ray and redundant laser mapping/tracking as well as heat signature and
though unnecessary to the machines overall assessmentsvisual feeds.
Visual was only important to the humans below. But the sight of dust and ice particles
bouncing off of the fleet of large, nearing-anomalous, near earth objects that slowed as they
approached, and the swirling of other particles that seemed to be caught up in some sort of
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electromagnetic wake, confirmed all the sensors the satellite relied on to inform it of an
impending threat, and the weapons systems deployed on hold in wait for the order to either fire
or disarm.
And then the beacons of the UFOs communicated with every Threat Rating Agent
weapons platform and station on the Earth, the Lunar Base and the twin pole orbiting Space
Stations sending out the pass codes of UNIAF fleet vessels. The codes were over three years
old, but confirmed as valid, and with a snap, the weapons systems powered down and retracted
back into the satellite, as the new near earth objects were upgraded to FIFO Statusxi.
The beacons uploaded the intelligence on the secret vessel designs that had been put into
plans nearly two presidential administrations previously, and TRA-142 received the confirmation
from the UNSSDC:
It was the hastily designated 13th Fleet,a roughshod assemblage of the surviving
vessels comprised of warships from the Excelsior Command Strike Group: Chronos, with
auxiliary surviving frontline vessels from Titan Strike Group, Thor Strike Group and a
contingent of logistical deep space stations as the Olympus, the Elysium and the heavily damaged
Asgard in support capacity, arriving at laston time.
The mere dimensions of the vessels were somewhat problematic for the thousands of
Sentinel Weapons Platforms receiving the newly uploaded schematics: Most of the warship
designs, throughout the war, were loosely based on the Zumwalt-class and Littoral-classxii specs,
but these were wildly more inventive in their sharpness to the overall designs, and yet, pragmatic
in dimensions.

These craft were made for speed, stealth, weapons and shielding, guerilla

warfarethrough salvage and immediate reverse engineering analysis and implementation

through nanotechnologyand overall duration-of-service survivability.
The Defiant Few, as this motley assemblage of a fleet would later be affectionately
referred towere the sole survivors of the war, assembled from over a dozen of the frontline 1st
through the 8th fleets, as well as the sporadic vessels from support group fleets of the 9th through
the 12th. The rest of the surviving fleet suffered from incalculable repairs that lengthened the
return timetable to thousands of years, and as a result, were scuttled on the spot, with all
personnel and essential equipment was transferred to the 13th.

These lead ships from the

clandestine battle groups across the expansive front on several stellar groups, each a different
design for a different mission had been launched without ceremony from their secret ports on the
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far ends of the Oort Clouddeparted home as state of the art, only to return home obsolete, as
technologies evolved and were implemented, no longer by the span of decades, but by a
calculation magnitude of months.
And as the new vessel dimensions updated to the Threat Rating Agents matched the
protocols for the vessels were uploaded across the Defense Network, each Sentinel powered
down and indifferently observed the fleets relatively slow progression to earth.
Battered and scarred, the pockmarked, rusted vessels slowed as they neared their
destination.
Aboard the pockmarked and rusted fleet flagship, the U.S.S. Excelsior, the bridge staff
stared at the viewscreen in awe as the earth rolled beneath them, the moon, seemingly still as it
rotated around their long missed home. And in this moment of silence, great emotion was shared
between the crew.
Begrudgingly, commanding officers allowed the cheers and applause of the lesser grade
officers and enlisted staff, expressed from the sentiment that the great ordeal was over, and soon
they would arrive in the warm embrace of familiar, yet almost forgotten, terrain.
From the command chair on the main bridge, four-star Admiral, and chief of FIO xiii ,
Brian Emerson Dietz called out his command to the helm.
Slow to 100 kpm and bring us into her tidal pool, Agnes said the hard man, an easing
sigh catching in his throat upon catching sight of the Pacific Ocean as Eurasia fell away into
darkness. Steady as she goes.
Aye sir, answered the helmsman, a catch of a whisper of gratitude for this long dreamt
of vision of home in her voice.
Take us to our new home, commanded Dietz, with a sigh. San Diego shipyard should
be a pleasant sight.
The ship slowed and crept closer toward the Earth and the rest of the 13th followed the
flagship into the tug of the Earths pull.
The crew walked casually across the many decks, with a spring in their step as a giddy
excitement spread among them. Soon the Excelsior would touch down in the waters of the
harbor in Downtown San Diego, and the ground forces would disembark at Camp Pendleton, off
of Oceanside.
Soon they would be home.
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On the flight deck, the greener pilots ambled about battered and bruised, while the
recognized surviving aces among them gingerly climbed into their fighters like geriatrics,
preparing for the symbolic parade aerial displays for the thrill of the civilian populations, as they
guided the fleet in with a heroes salute.
In quick procession, they were loaded into the airlock chambers and launched out of the
hangar on the EM rails, and with grit teeth, quickly corrected their course to fly alongside the
fleet, standing as sentries while the parade made its way into the upper atmosphere above the
North-Western Hemisphere, and slowly descended.
In the Insertion/Extraction hold, rows of

AB-4 xiv transports

awaited the command to

launch, their battle weary soldiers packed in their holds, anxious for the first opportunity to
breathe the air they had long since forgotten. Even though the Earths atmosphere was polluted
with carcinogens, it was still a much desired change from the stale and humid recycled air
trapped in their REMAsxv, as well as the harsh chemical smelling air of their transports, from the

ABs of the fleet to the flagship itself, as if Windex and Febreeze air freshener had been pumped
into the environments to mask the stale, coppery, saline quality in the air that was all too
common in environments where the use of water for cleaning purposes was secondary, next to
the required drinking uses.
Still, it did nothing to mask the locker-room smell.
And so, the infantry and Special Forces divisions waited in fits of groans and heavy sighs
of impatient longing for their Bus Drivers to be command to launch into geosynchronous orbit
toward the distant Camp Pendleton tarmac, in San Diego.
Across the fleet, the most common feeling was the impatient excitement, and no more so
than the ABs in the hold. An almost giddiness infected many of the surviving infantrymen, who
despite the traumas they had experienced throughout the war, being surrounded by their
comrades in arms provided a buoyancy of spirit that pushed their nightmares and physical
traumas as so much background noise, easily dismissed. Soon they would see their families, their
friendsoon their future would open before them as civilians, again.
Honored and proud.
They would be respected and admired because they served; and their survival would be
contributed to their merit. From one individual to the next, in the cabins of the

ABs fleet-wide,
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these were the most common hopes, and all embraced them either in their hearts or openly in a
quickly growing fevered conversation with the comrade seated next to them.
Few were silent as the fever of longing for the embrace of civilian life spread among
them. Those who remained silent were passed over either as uncomfortably off-puttingor
more often deeming the sullen individual as being in some way deficientand considering this
natural, self-preserving desire to sever these poisoned limbs from them as some form of social
triage, it was not at all surprising to Private-First Class Daniel Henry Rooke, that he would be
alone in a sardine crammed cabin filled with people.
Gaunt and grim, with darkened, hollowed, bloodshot eyes set in his skeletal face, the
spectral visage of the hardened soldier was so devoid of humanity that the majority of the
hardened grunts took careful measured steps past him to pair up with comrades of their own
divisions that fared better than his. No one knew him. The soldiers were, to a one, not from his
division. And so he sat in full kit in the middle of the cabin, several seats on both his left and
right vacant, his helmet locked in place, with the visor up, as though expecting sections of the
cabin hull to be compromised by bombardment at any moment.
Silently, he peered around at the other troops and noted their full cheeksfuller than his
ownand casual natures, and envied them their well fed, pampered tour of duties. His had been
anything but. The clean shave he had treated himself to only a week ago had gone dark with
shadow, and he preferred it to the more pronounced hollows beneath his cheekbones and the
scars around his chin and lip from the alien ordinance that detonated in front of him, the shrapnel
penetrating his REMAs safety visor which hadduring its requisitioning to himbeen
purported, due to microscopic refraction of the armor, as resistant to flack breach.
Looking at the smoothed, less angular faces around him, he remembered his induction
into the United Nations Interstellar Armed Forces in the first week of the war, his baby fat
physique he had assumedas a boy on the cusp of manhood, still trapped in the assumption of
youths immortalitywas hard enough to withstand any threat and overcome any obstacle
before him, and he remembered vividly how that fatness in his cheeks became more pronounced
as his thick light brown hair had been shaven free from his scalp. That was before his training
began. Before the introduction to pain that the UNIAF Infantry Boot Camp affectionately named
Hell Week, followed by the four months of hell that left Hell Week as a blissful

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memoryBefore his Solobefore the first time he boarded an

AB.

Before the first time he set

foot on an extra-solar planetary body.

Before the weekly deathtoll became a dark joke.

That was over four two-year Tours ago, and he remembered the day vividly, pitying the
adolescent with no family and no care, but full of passion for country, planet and even God. It
had been long since that he found Him anywhere, and even now, only dread in coming home
could be measured as any form of commodity he possessed in surplus.
He gripped a long rifle that looked like a titanium spear between his legs, the butt resting
on the floor; as he eyed the tip of the long, elegant blade of his rifles bayonet in severe silence,
seemingly poring all his focus and energy on the blades edge until it parted his world into two
halves. Such was the severity of his stare, his immediate environment muted to a jostled blur,
like a subway car rolling along as it neared the clear delineating choice of either taking the
straight or diverging track. And with all the events of the past few years piling behind him like
so many cars, it occurred to him he must have built a considerable head of steam to something
though what, he did not yet fully perceiveall he knew was he felt the inertial buildup, like a
juggernaut powering along; the bayonets edge demanding a decision of him, soon.
Daniel had lived the last eight years of his life in an everyday existence of one life
threatening trauma followed almost immediately by another in what began as a patriotic fervor to
fight for his planet, that soon degenerated to a self-sacrificing determination for those who
fought alongside him, and as he returned from what he had later learned was the last engagement
of the campaign, a distant grasping hopeof understanding what his role in this war had been
about, and what had he actually contributed?was beginning to congeal in his skull.
To add to his dismay, he had learned upon speaking with an irritating Adjutant xvi from
FSO [Fleetwide Staff Office] who had informed him he had never been a Master Sergeant at all,
and as such, his pay-grade remained that of a P-FC [Private First Class]. The Adjutant had
actually accused him of trying to deceive a high-ranking officer into a higher and undeserved
rank and pay grade, threatening Daniel with prison time and forfeiture of honest accumulated
backpay.

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Somewhere between indignant fury and a widening despair that had overwhelmed him
for years, and threatened to pull him down if he stayed still long enough to process his past,
justifying his right to depression and oblivion, he did not even have the heart to pull the beating
heart out of the self-superior Adjutants chest.
Given that so many people he had knownbe they superiors, peers or those he was
himself responsible for, many of whom he had grown to care forhad died or disappeared, was
enough to feel a crippling despair. But, that he was one of only a handful of men in his entire
Division to survive the last engagementa fact he was still trying to processhe hardly had any
room left in his heart and skull to do more than roll his eyes at the news that, with his pay-grade
decrease, his lump sum awaiting him upon discharge, had been reduced substantially.
This irked him only a little, though it should have affected him far worse. In all honesty,
the Adjutant had taken his very life in the palm of his hand and carelessly thrusted it within
Daniels reach to abuse as he saw fit. To be accused, essentially, of marring the honor of those
who sacrificed their very lives by seeking aggrandizement and reward, was an insult that should
be paid, by any patriots estimation, in blood.
He knew that, by a proud soldiers rights, he should have been in the stockade for killing
the Adjutant, the insult was so great. And though he would have most likely been executed for
the simple task, no one would think ill of him for doing it. Quite the contrary, he would have
probably been honored by the entire infantry and many in command positions all the way
through court martial, through the prison sentence and even by the riflemen incorporating the
firing squad that would have undoubtedly awaited him at the end of his sentencehad he acted
on that honorable, correct and ultimatelyas he breathed and counted his heartbeatsfleeting
impulse.
Contrary to the stinging assumptions of the Adjutant, forever known afterward as that
prick, Daniel had actually enlisted into the new militarysigning up within days of the
announcement of the creation of an infantry division for the coming warin the passion of the
first few months following the lone Quill fighter crafts appearance in orbit over the Earth,
immediately following the utter decimation of the new UNIAF 1st Expeditionary/Assault Fleet at
the Battle of Sol, and the sole Quill pilots threat to the entire solar system itbecause The
Quill, it turned out, were hermaphroditesso cavalierly made that day, nearly ten years ago to
the day.
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Daniel had not enlisted out of some sick financial interest of a pay day. And though he
felt he was entitled to the lump sum he had held in his mind before the Adjutants rude slap to
the face, he could not bring himself to be entirely angry. In truth, he had too much on his plate
aside for the words of disgust the Adjutant burned into him like a branding ironfor the news of
his low rank to do more than register under the category of: That Figures.
With a heavy sigh and an ironic chuckle that could easily have built to a madmans
cackle, he shook his head and decided to let it go until the moment presented itself to attain the
proper request formsfor UNIAF pay-grade filing error investigationsfor processing.
Until then, there was really no use in even dwelling over the clerical error.
He took a deep breath and let it out long and low as he put it from his mind, letting the
edge of the bayonet go out of focus and his immediate environment returned to clarityand with
a jolt, he perceived the world around him.
The cabin buzzed with the chatter and activity of the infantrymenmen and women
talked boisterously about what they were planning to do when they finally reached the ground.
He did not join in their conversation or even make eye contact with them. Something intangible
isolated him from them.
He was removed from them all by a mounting wall of hardness that quickly grew
impenetrable, until they were reduced to characters on a viewscreen that he watched and listened
to detached, desiring human contact, but not fully knowing anymore how to proceed beyond the
barest of minimums in merely being present.
He remained still, merely observing.
A number of soldiers were apparently in agreement on the first thing they would do when
they were free to move from the confines of Camp Pendleton: To find a restaurant and have
actual real eggs.
Daniel gave a silent snort of derision at the thoughtnot condemning the conversation,
but the reason for itas a soldier through nearly the entirety of the seventy-three system, rockhopping ground war, he had spend the majority of it trapped in his REMA, living most of his life
trapped in the suit with food intake through an intravenous port in the soft of his forearm
sometimes for weeks on end, and the rare times there was an Environmental Chamber in one
piece for grunts to actually unfasten and remove their helmets for actual chow, and hopefully, a

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shave, it was usually powdered eggs with a plastic cup of tang, and the soldiers were so
malnourished, they were grateful.
Daniel had to agree with his comrades-in-arms, as he listened to the their collective
desires to, not simply eat a real chicken egg, but every culinary variation on how to prepare one
and all the multi-variant spices they would use on their meal, from salt and pepper to ketchup,
soy sauce and Sriracha sauce, as well as the popular choices of bacon, sausage or chorizo to
accentuate their near pornographic desire for the simple meal.
Before he could help himself, Daniel thought ahead to a likely future, immediately after
the disembarking and the chow to follow, suspecting the impending region-wide complaints
from Camp Pendleton to, most likely, most of North San Diego Countythat there was soon to
be an egg shortage by order of magnitude of twelve eggs per infantryman, minimum.
Daniel mused he would be complicit in the shortage, and almost felt he was part of the
group discussion and not merely an observer, when a burst of color passed his line of sight,
reminding him there was a wide space between him and the conversation. The almost neon color
irked him to a quite irrational degree and he realized he had grown accustomed to the standard
grey of the metal surfaces, or the ordinary red of the floor carpeting, while before, the blacks,
browns and yellows from the soils of dozens of planets had been so constant, it was almost
comforting in its consistency.
He blinked his eyes at the peacock coloring and shook his head to as though that would
reset his vision when next to him, a man sat down grinning like a mischievous child in giddy
wrongdoing and didnt bother to pull down the harness into a locking position. Rather, he
reclined and groaned, laying his head against the headrest, like a weary commuter.
Dressed in Bermuda shorts and a bright-white Hawaiian print, button down shirt
exploding with red, yellow, purple and green flowers like fireworks, almost incandescent, the
man was an oddity to the battle hardened soldiers in the cabin. He looked like he was waiting to
hit the beach, except he wore knee and ankle braces and his right forearm rested in a sling
strapped to his shoulder.
Then, as if just noticing Daniel, the man smiled and winked.
You mind if I sit here, soldier? said the man, the elflike grin flashing like a beacon.
Daniel shrugged.

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No. replied Daniel, uncaringly and said nothing else, but returned to fix his eyes on the
blade in front of him.
The Hawaiian print man rolled his eyes.
Well, youre a talker. he announced. Could I have picked a less talkative person to sit
next to?
The warm, and yet chiding gregarity in the mans voice was unmistakable and Daniel
found he could not suppress a slight smile for the man.
Sorry, sir. said Daniel. Im just not in the mood to be talkative right now.
The man studied him with knowing eyes and nodded.
You have the look of a man who lost everything.
Almost, replied Daniel with a wan smile and a suppressed scoff.
The Hawaiian print shirt adorned man nodded and leaned his head against the headrest
with a smirk that seemed to mask a long story he had no interest in getting into.
Ive been there, he said simply.
He did not elaborate or offer any form of a comparative tale to qualify him to Daniels
situation, but nodded with an empathetic expression and sighed some afflicted physical ailment
away with a half interested shudder.
This irked Daniel.
The man sitting next to him had the decided look of a man who lived in luxury for the
duration of the war. Probably a senators son, kept far in the back, or more likely, a starship
crewman.

They were renowned for their soft beds, their steak dinners and their real eggs and

milk. Nothing powdered. Nothing with nourishment supplements in it. No intravenous nutrient
intake ports in their uniform mobile armor for longer durations between supply drops.
I beg your pardon, sir, replied Daniel. But I doubt it.
The Bermuda man arched his right eyebrow in a hook, pursing his lips, his jaw set for a
moment, and then laxed as though not deigning to even fight over it.
Well, roused the man, his tone both annoyed and matter-of-fact, all at once. Im not
going to go into it, but Ive literally seen hundreds of good men go up in flames. And I knew
them all.
Daniel looked up at the man and read his face, finding something there that surprised
him. Behind the easy smile and the reckless glare in his eyes seemed to lurk a pain that almost
xvii | P a g e

matched his own. He mused over the decrepit peacock-man next to him and then nodded: There
was only one other kind of soldier in the entire campaign who, in Daniels estimation, had any
right to even claim to be battle wearyin addition, as he thought on it, there was only one type
of soldier who could get away with wearing a Hawaiian print shirt and Bermuda shorts with
sandals and not be barked down for being out of uniformand he now had the strong feeling he
was talking to one.
Youre a pilot, surmised Daniel.
Im a pilot, confirmed the Bermuda shirted man.
What do you fly? asked Daniel, unnecessarily aggressive.
The Bermuda-man smiled at the challenge.
I fly a

Romanxvii, he answered, smiling, then shrugged. At least, I did, until Wars

end.
Daniel eyed the man and nodded.
Thats a nice bird.
Yeah, they can do a hell of a lot of tricks, replied the man conversationally as he
unconsciously rubbed his affected shoulder with his good hand, Ill personally attest to that.
Daniel Rooke, he said, his right hand releasing his rifle and he offered it to the man.
Daniel, taking his hand, Im Tom. Tom Harris.
Daniel blinked.
Not Captain Thomas Harris.
Captain Thomas Harris? It couldnt be. The very man who piloted

Godsthe most advanced Roman starfighter in the fleet.

Chariot of the

Surely this was just a man with the

same name and rank. After all, Harris was a fairly common name. And Daniel had met
hundreds of Toms.
The Bermuda-man instantly flinched at the undertone of reverence in his name but
nodded.
Yeah, thats me. said the man.
Daniel blinked again looking at him in an entirely new light of awe.
Sir, its an honor.

xviii | P a g e

Harris smiled. Just then, a grunts voice broke the long buzz from the other soldiers and
took dominance in the cabin.
Excuse me, said the grunt, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Did I just hear you right?
Youre Captain Thomas Harris?
The cabin fell silent as three dozen soldiers turned and stared at Harris.
Yup, replied Harris, seemingly efforting not to groan out of an annoyance in having to
defend that he was indeed the owner of his own name and identity. Daniel got the feeling that
this was a commonplace challenge for Harris.
Zeus? challenged another grunt.
Thats me, smiled Harris, seemingly more to end the conversation, rather than belabor
the topic any further.
The silent eyes pored over him, studying him in a silent, awed reverence. Harris seemed
to shift uncomfortably, recognizing the hero worship and unconsciously rubbed his leg as though
he were trying to straighten his shinbone.
Finally, a woman undid her harness, set her helmet down and walked over to Harris,
extending her hand to him.
Sir, its a real honor.
The rest of the grunts nodded in agreement, and a few close by patted their fists on his
shoulder, or offered their hands to him, which he shook, somberly, a painful twitch at the corners
of his eyes and mouth as he did so. If anyone noticed his discomfort, no one commented on it.
Finally the woman continued with a grin of disbelief that remained, none the less,
inviting.
Why are you down here with the grunts? she chided.
I felt like going for a walk in the sunshine, smiled Harris, visibly glad the staring was
over and conversation had opened again. I hear were landing in San Diego. Maybe Ill walk
across the border and blow my backpay on cheap alcohol and expensive girls.
There was an eruption of laughter from the men, while the female grunts blushed or
frowned.
Youre really Zeus? asked another grunt, I mean, wow, the Zeus!
Look, chuckled Harris, its not that big of a deal.

xix | P a g e

You were the one who covered the AB advance during the taking of Gliese 876 d.
I had that honor, replied Harris with a solemn nod.
I heard you were ordered back to the fleet because they didnt want to lose you in that
turkey-shoot. You really led a team into the upper atmosphere against orders?
It was only against orders until I got commendated for it. Then it was all a part of the
Admirals plan.
The others laughed at hearing this and began slapping him on the back or merely
touching him as if to one day be able to say: I touched Thomas Harris. I touched Zeus.
Just then, a soldier flung himself into the AB cabin with excited eyes.
Hey, I just heard there are Specialsxviii on the Excelsior.
The cabin changed on the turn of a dime from awe and respect to nervousness and
excitement, depending on whose eyes and conversation you kept up with.
Specials? demanded the female grunt who had shaken Harris hand, Really?
Harris nodded to her, acknowledging it was indeed true. Several teams of Specials were
indeed on board the Excelsior.
Theres no such thing as Specials, scoffed the sarcastic grunt across from Daniel.
What do you mean, no such thing? challenged another soldier.
Theyre just comic book serial stories for the kids back home.
I hear theyre real, insisted one of the female soldiers.
You believe in the Tooth Fairy too? challenged the sarcastic grunt across from Daniel.
Something in him seemed on edge. He took it personal that someone would smear the Specials
teams and he found his voice.
Hey, called Daniel across to the sarcastic grunt. I got saved by a Special, once. Big
guy who didnt even need a re-breather. He was one tough mother. No. Specials are real.
Was it Maximus? asked a watery eyed soldier excitedly.
No, replied Daniel, Ive never seen this Maximus, except from the war footage feeds
to the rec-room.
Man, sighed the watery eyed soldier, pushing on his neighbors shoulders, can you
believe a guy can do all that stuff?

xx | P a g e

Not really, answered Daniel with a shrug. Ive seen a lot of men do extraordinary
things on the front. Ive just never seen anybody fly without an EM pack before.
I dont know much about the Specials, said Harris, instantly commanding everyones
attention with an easy smile. Back when I was doing

AB runs I had a few in my cabin, but I

didnt talk to them. I just did my job and deployed them planet-side.
You met Specials? asked the watery-eyed grunt with awe in his voice.
No, I didnt meet them. corrected Harris. I transported them toward the middle of the
war. That was all before I got promoted. Afterward, I didnt hear much about em. They were
kept away from the general population.
Yeah, scoffed a soldier toward the back of the cabin darkly. Ill bet.
Whats that supposed to mean? challenged Daniel, eyeing him critically.
You dont know? scoffed the grunt. Theyre not like us. I heard they turned on us
during the war. Fought their own men.
Bullshit, scoffed Harris. No one would turn against the Earth.
Daniel felt a growing respect for Harris, and turned to him for an answer that made sense
of the war and the Specials, painting either in a good light.
I dont know about that, replied the grunt, menacingly.
Ive seen a lot of things, answered Harris. But Im telling you, theres nothing that has
ever unified the Earth more than this war. Ideologies, religions, ethnic groups, they all got along
together perfectly fine once they all had a common enemy. The Quill unified us in a way thats
unprecedented. No one is going to turn away from their own planet.
Maybe they dont want to join The Quill, surmised the soldier across from Daniel,
Maybe they want to rule Earth. You ever thought about that?
Let an ignorant person talk, replied Harris, youll hear a lot of stupid things.
There was a smattering of chuckles following this statement and the soldier across from
Daniel went red-faced.
Hey, scoffed the soldier, freedom of speech.
Youre in the military, now, retorted Harris. Im ordering you to change the topic.
The soldier went silent and glowered at Harris. The silence was shared by the rest of the
grunts for several moments, as though the command were universal for the soldiers aboard the

xxi | P a g e

AB.

Finally, the watery-eyed soldier broke the silence: I wonder if Maximus is on the

Excelsior. That would be so cool.

Maybe I can get a picture of him for my kids, added a female grunt.
The trivial conversation did not include any harsh criticism of Specials or talk of treason,
so Daniel felt no need to be a part of it and withdrew back against the back of his seat.
Daniel turned to Harris.
Anyway, sighed Daniel as Harris met his eyes, thats what it was like on the rocks,
referring to the planets and moons the infantries and Special Forces divisions had campaigned
across. Isolation breeds gossip. Without contradicting points, gossip becomes unassailable fact.
Try to break a grunts opinion. I dare you.
Well, the pilots not cut off from the flow of information. replied Harris. He gets it
every day. The good and the bad.
So you know how the war ended? inquired Daniel, excitedly.
No. Harris answer was emphatic.
Seriously?
Seriously. I was on sortie and the fight was pretty heavy, then two fleets jumped in at
the same time. The 13th and a Quill fleet composed of starships that made this ship look tiny. I
thought we were going to lose. Against those kinds of numbers? The math just runs out. Then
Harris added with a grim grin: And Im real good at long equations.
So what happened?
The Quill fleet rolled right past us and took position surrounding the space station we
were trying and dying to just get close to. But its guns were facing the stationnot usNext
thing I knew The Quill pilots went into full retreat.

Then the Excelsior made the call

commanding all operable fighters to stand down and land in her hangar bay.

There werent

many fighters left, so we didnt take up much room. Then The Quill fleet and the Excelsior sent
out drones to collect the escape pods and lifeboats and brought them back to us. Next thing we
know, the Admiral of the fleet is telling us the wars over.
But what happened?
Harris shrugged, his face flummoxed.

xxii | P a g e

Beats me, he chuckled, and grinned comradically at Daniel. All I know is my jobs
over. No need to train newbies, or beat myself up in a cockpit anymore. The wars over. Its a
new world, kid. You worked hard for it. Be proud.
And then, the cabin tremored and drifted, as ever stomach swam in that familiar way
before the waves of flack would pelt the hull and every jaw set as many sealed their helmets in
place and prepared to lower their visors.
Relax, soothed Harris with a chuckle. The fleet mustve ordered

AB deployment for

Camp Pendleton. Were on our way.

Harris then gestured to the viewscreens along the cabin and all the grunts craned to watch
the field grow black with flecks of light, and a moment later, distant stellar nurseries came into
view.
There, on the viewing monitor, they watched as the starlit black canopy was pushed back
to welcome the familiar blue and rolling white.
Harris smiled at the viewscreen.
Momma, Im home, he exhaled in long since pent up dread in his singsong filled of
longing.
As they descended into the atmosphere, turquoise skies became their ceiling and they all
watched, mesmerized, as clouds reached up and rose above the viewscreen. On they travelled,
cutting the mist, passing along the rolling California coastline, hugging on a southeasterly course
toward San Diego.
As they pushed on, they reached the bluffs of Santa Monica adorned with a pier with a
Ferris wheel and a rollercoaster filled with people, rushing about like ants, so far below.
Suddenly the sound of proximity claxons began ringing and every grunt in the cabin was
alert and keenly aware that something was wrong, and they eyed the viewscreen watching for
signs of attack, but nothing interrupted their view of the Santa Monica Pier.
Seagulls danced on the wind, venturing closer to the viewscreens. The grunts stared out
at the familiar sight and every eye welled up with tears. They were really home.
They were being welcomed home by the scavenging birds of the ocean. Bold birds who
seemed to fear nothing came in close and rode the very wind outside the hull of the Excelsior.
Just then, Harris let out a groan.

xxiii | P a g e

Daniel turned to him and saw him collapse in slow motion. It was as if his body turned
into a ball and rolled him flat on the cabin floor.
Grunts began shouting up to the

AB pilot to order medics and a crash cart to be brought

to their ABand that is when they saw it

Dancing in the sky, a boy with wings darting about, rising and falling on the winds
current waved at the ship with a broad smile.
They watched in disbelief, as the boy danced higher and seemed to cheer their progress
across the sky, mingling in with the seagulls that had moments ago inspired such a warm feeling
within them, now to be left stunned as the boy darted this way and that, like a feather on the
wind.
Daniel stared at the boy in utter shock, his mind awash with data he was handed on his
first day of boot camp, when a stern soldier stepped forward and told them all he was honored by
their bravery and selflessness in light of the coming battles they would face.
He then glossed over theory of space-time and how there was a real possibility that the
travel to another planet might take place in a matter of months for them but the time on earth
may be in the years. The understanding was thatregardless of the wars outcome or whether
they survived their tour of duty or notthey may never see their loved ones alive again.
Daniel, being an only son with his parents dead already, had not given the speech much
thought. But at the sight of the winged boy flying effortlessly on the breeze he glanced around
and saw all the faces of the hardened grunts grow long and full of dread; fearing their parents had
died, and they had traveled for thousands of years, only to return to a world of bird people.
The world might as well have perished.
Daniel glanced down at Harris body sprawled out on the cabin floor, twitching and
frothing at the mouth in the fit of a seizure. He stared at the oddity for a moment, vaguely aware
he should do something, but the boy on the viewscreen was such a powerful pull he turned away
to stare at the wild winged boy smiling and waving at them in all the joy of summer.

xxiv | P a g e

And the proximity alert claxon pressed in on him as he felt himself drifting into a
dreamlike state, praying the vision would evaporate altogether to the return of the seagulls. The
uncomplicated seagulls.
The claxon changed in pitch and urgency as his world blurred until all was blackness and
Daniel recognized his alarm clock was ringing.

xxv | P a g e

U n s e e n

1:

S i g n s

NINE YEARS LATER:

aniel awoke in a cold sweat and studied the oddity of the alarm clock next to him as it
blared 2:30 pm.
With a grunt and a swat of the snooze button he turned the alarm off and lay on his
back as the high humid chill of the New York winter warred with his heater venting seventy-two
degrees.
Cold one day, blistering the next, the New York weather was another climate change
reminder that infuriated the residents who never knew whether to bundle up or go out in shorts
and t-shirts. All you could count on was the humidity to compound whatever weather you were
experiencing at the moment.
Daniel laid there with an unmistakable sensation of dread. Both the problem and asset, as
a veteran, is one grows accustomed to dread and suppresses it.
With a shrug, he rose and proceeded with his day.
Entering the small bathroom, his claustrophobic throne room, he passed the sink and a
thrill of fear traveled through him at the full face that swam in the mirror. He blinked a few
1|Page

seconds before realizing it was his reflection. No longer was he the emaciated walking wounded
who first stepped off that AB at Camp Pendleton, nearly ten years ago. And after the mandatory
Veteran Affairs Psychological Requisite: Societal Reintegration Program, he had put on twenty
pounds, ballooning to a rough 168 lbs.

A weight that he had managed to hold, despite his

transition from field work to his now majority time committed to the encapsulated existence a
cubicle desk provided.
He did not much mind his layer of healthy fat, as it gave his musculature a slightly larger
roundness and appearance of strength and bearing that his former coiled muscles never promised.
It was all cosmetic. He was just as strong and tough, as far as he was concerned, as he was at the
end of the War. But the rounding of his cheeks and the slight roundness of his chin sometimes
surprised him, in passing. No matter how distant the War was from him, he still saw himself as
that emaciated ghost who first stepped off the transport onto that Base, a few miles north of
Oceanside, California.
With a scoff, he stripped off his underwear and climbed into the cramped shower, closing
the curtain, quite unnecessarily, as he let the cold water pelt his face, growing warmer, and then
hot. Showering was a wonder of tactile experience as the cold water hit the skin and warred with
the room temperature, to his thrill. He took his time in the shower, long after he was clean, just
to feel the sensation against his skin as he turned to let the water pulse against his face and chest.
As he toweled off, he looked out on the living room and listened to the sound that can
only be described as static that infects the immediate space around an empty room and pursed his
lipsas the sounds of the traffic and shouts on the street seemed to become more distinct,
perhaps to offer that he was actually not removed from the world, but instead merely shielded
from it by the four walls around him.This was not an entirely new experience, for him.
He had woken many times to the realization he was alone. But this was the first morning
that she was gone. The furniture stood there in his living room wholly reminding him he was
alone. Across his couch, his jacket lay haphazardly discarded. When she lived here, he would
always tear the townhome apart looking for it only to have her pull it out of the closet. He
always marveled at the idea of hanging his jacket up as novel.
The living room was relatively silent, allowing the sounds of traffic on the street outside
his door and the shouting on the sidewalk between the door and the street, and as the motion
sensor detected his presence, the viewscreen on the wall blinked to lifebroadcasting local news
2|Page

updates from the time he went to sleep until he woke in a steady stream of banality that quickly
focused to news that more particularly mattered to him as the Personal Interests Filter on his
DFESxix kicked in, highlighting the kind of events a police officer would take note ofand the
coffee pot began to cycle up. And though Daniel had not changed the grounds in three days
the stale, burnt smell of filtration drifted toward him ashe approached the rumpled jacket
strewn haphazardly across the back of his couch, still where he had discarded it, bleary eyed,
somewhere near the verge of Dawn.
He picked up his jacket and ran his hand across the fabric, efforting to press out the
wrinkles that had accumulated over the night on the non-wrinkle coat and sighed. It had been
hard on him to find himself in a relationship, somewhere between freedom and commitment.
He had reveled in the freedom to come and go as he pleased that bachelorhood and
ignorance had allowed. To work well into the night and return at dawn to crawl into his lovers
arms and sleep until noon.
To wake and find he was alone was nothing newTo wake and realize she was not
coming back was something Daniel would have to grow accustomed to.
His lifestyle had pushed her away. His work took up the rest of the space. There was no
room left for her, and Daniel was still too young in mind to realize he had to compromise. Her
absence bit into the morning, tearing at the walls and pressed in on him. He felt her absence like
a malignancy inside him.
He did not have the will or patience for mourning the loss of her. All he had was the
frustration that she had left. What was he supposed to do? Daniel was a Detective, in one of the
busiest Burrows for a cop to work, in Brooklyn. A relationship should be about more than the
petty arguments over lost time. He had a job that took its toll on his soul and necessitated him to
walk a rigid tightrope throughout the day requiring a maximum effort to remain on the good side
of office politics and the rest of his energy to weather the civilian populations aversion to
anything related to Law Enforcement.
Afterwards, he required silence.
He would stop by a diner, have a cup of coffee, and read over his notes from the days
traumatic events, divided into crime scene footage and documentation of events from witnesses,
if there were any. He would study the case file and pored through for any insights he might have
missed at work.
3|Page

After he put away his case files, he sipped his coffee and would read anything that
removed himself from his identity as a cop. He read Thus Spoke Zarathustra, and pondered the
possibility that his role was to make room for the ubermench to take his place. In this days
society, there was a clear population that fit the bill. They were called Specialsa community
of super humans that existed scattered across the globe.They were here. And Daniel found
new meaning in Nietzsches diatribe on the superman as he encountered case files dedicated to
Special attacks or eyewitness accounts of Special disruptions in the course of his daily police
work. He read Mans Search for Meaning and let himself consider the world through the eyes of
a man surviving in the darkest of circumstances.

He too, had survived in the darkest of

circumstances, and suffered flashbacks to this period in his life where nightmares walked on
planets under distant suns, toward the edge of the map where monsters lived. He read Malcolm
X and wondered what it would be like to die just when the light bulb went on, and a new path of
insight opened before him. This troubled him the most. As a young man in his mid-thirties, he
had the world open to him. The thought of some elusive insight being robbed from him by a
bullet just when the light hit him was just too much to process.
But mostly, he read about the Sol War, and studied it voraciously.
Somewhere deep inside, Daniel longed to find that one book that would explain the war
clearly enough that he would at last understand what role he played in the overall campaign he
had enlisted in so long ago.
Being a veteran of the war, he enlisted through passion and patriotism to his country and
his planet. But the war was fought so far away from Earth, it didnt make sense when you
thought about it too long.
Why did an alien race pick a fight with a planet that didnt even have a decent space
program?

It took an Earth spacecraft three months to reach Marsand that could only be

accomplished through careful planning, at certain points of the year to calculate the shortest trip
consuming the least amount of fuel and supplies for the overall roundtrip.It took The Quill
between twelve and twenty seconds. Any time of year This was a well documented fact.
And still, they felt like picking a fight with humans.

It didnt make sense. And with so little

information coming out about the end of the warjust that it had endedthe entire affair, and
all the deaths seemed nothing more than a shouting match before the politicians could meet

4|Page

across a boardroom table. Now The Quill were talked about as business partners with the nations
of the Earth. Their arrivals, celebrated.
Occasionally a story appeared on the nightly news that a Quill starship was in orbit at a
space station meeting dignitaries, or, even more surprising, landing on the Earth itself and
entering into business negotiations with emirs in Dubai, or one of the mega corporations in
Japan. It seemed the war ended with an opening of business talks.
Daniel would scoff at this. Thinking of all the men and women who sacrificed their lives
for their planet and now the enemy was entertained by the elite of every nation for access to the
miraculous technology they had.
We sacrificed our lives for flying cars... he would think.
This is what he did with his days after work. He worked some more, he let his mind
wander new topics or studied itching obsessions and finally, from fatigue, made his way home to
be with his girlfriend.
It wasnt like I was cheating or anything, he would protest when she would let her
disapproval have a voice. But it was not enough to be in a committed relationship. It was not
enough to live together. She wanted to be with him. Not what was left of him, when he came
home incoherent, his head aching from the days thinking and needing a decent home cooked
meal and a bed to lie in.
She argued that his apartment was just a place to sleep for him, and that she hardly saw
him unless he climbed into bed and ran his hands across her body, restless for the possibility of
intimacy.
Daniel replayed all the arguments in his head, how she provoked him. How she berated
him in her anger and infuriated him. But he could not let go of the good times of being close to
her. Being inside her. And afterward, lying there talking until he fell asleep in her arms.
He would miss her.
Finally, when the apartment yielded the last of its visions and ghosts of the dead
relationship that haunted him, he turned, dressed in uniform slacks with a military fit, a dress
shirt, and a sports coat, tucking a military sweater and a heavy coat into a duffel bag along with
his side arm. Just before leaving the apartment, he picked up his badge and walked out the door
which swung shut and locked behind him with no small amount of finality. He then made his
way down to the local diner and ate, and then made his way toward the police station.
5|Page

Yet today was to be entirely different from his usual undertakings. Yes, there would be
the chase and the arrest. There would be the snide comments and locker room jokes at his
expense he routinely ignored. There would even be the tension in meeting the public, that did
not trust him, based entirely on the acts of some of his peers.
But by the end of the day, Daniel Rooke would be a different man.
He just didnt know it, yet.

6|Page

T h e

2:

C a l l i n g

he 81st Precinct was located in the Bedford Stuyvesantor Bed-Stuysection of north

central Brooklyn borough. It was an older building, with parking on the first floor
beneath stilted columns supporting the second floor where the offices were located.
Daniel walked past the patrol cars haphazardly parked on the sidewalk, into the lobby on

30 Ralph Avenue and jumped onto the elevator just as the doors were closing, causing the
officers and secretarial staff to jump as he appeared in their midst and shot him annoyed
glancesfor slowing their progress to the second flooras they now had to wait for the elevator
doors to slide all the way back open, pause for an additional five seconds before slowly crawling
shut again.
The elevator was slow as it climbed, leaving them to listen to the grunting sighs and
deafening silence interrupted by the dreadful synthesized symphonic renditions of 1980s pop
musicnot even the good stuff a decade earlier, or five decades after, but music by people
whose horrid hairstyles were only barely more tolerable than their musicpumped dimly from
unseen speakers. Daniel scoffed as an eerie orchestral twisting of a bad song played in his ear
with a severe reverence. The Neo Classical 20th century, now holding equal footing with
Baroque, plagued him. Heaven forbid the elevator breaks down in mid-flight between
7|Page

floorsbetween the music and the amount of bodies in so close proximity, this tomb of surly
expressions and disgruntled nasal exhalations underscoring their discontentment would have
made for an uncomfortable, albeit amusing catastrophe.
Jumping on the elevator was not really necessary for any of them, however, most of their
offices were located on the second floor anyway. And being subjected to standing so close to
Danielwell known as the pariah among the NYPD, from officer to desk jockeywas enough
to make them second guess the lazy foregoing of the stairs. He just smiled into the reflection in
the chromed elevator doors back at the other officers, silently daring someone to say something
about him in actual earshot. They all looked down at the floor or the ceiling, interchangeably.
When the elevator doors opened again, Daniel stepped off, leaving the frustrated people
behind himtheir eyes burning into the back of his headand walked into a small room choked
with cubicles surrounded by offices where sergeants and supervisors peered out at the floor with
cold authority. When they saw Daniel, however, they merely turned away and ignored him. It
was for the best.
As Daniel walked past Watch Commander James McGuiness glass-walled office,
however, he felt eyes on him, and felt that this time, someone might actually put him to task. He
did not look, he knew McGuiness well enough to know what was about to happen, and was
therefore unsurprised when the office door flung open and McGuiness darted out with his arms
folded with a cold authority, a Panasonicxx fiber-optic sheet notebook xxi in his hand. McGuiness
stood irritated at the casual stride Daniel entered the cubicle area with.
A NYPD Sergeant, from a family of New York police officers going back at least five
generations, McGuiness was hard and demanding in his profession. His rank of Sergeant
afforded him gravity he, in Daniels estimation, did not earn, but was granted by family members
in positions higher up in the Department beaurocracy to afford him the opportunity of upward
mobilityand political clout, should he ever run for officethat most officers were fired or
pensioned-out before they could rise to any position of real influence. McGuiness was thirty-two
years old. His rank, considering he had only been an officer nearly as long as Daniel, was an
unheard of achievement. Nearly as unheard of as a Sol War veteran documented with PostTraumatic Stress Disorder making it into Specialized Crime Units and achieving credible status
as a fast-track detective without putting in time working in Internal Affairs Division.

8|Page

Daniel was aware of the ironythat he, a man with no connections and no Department
support, could achieve similar standing with McGuinessand strongly suspected McGuiness
intense loathing of him, for just that fact.
His tone was harsh, and condemning, as though his words would publicly shame Daniel
into kowtowing beneath his authority.
Youre late, snapped McGuiness, the glass door to his office rattling in the doorframe
as it slammed shut.
Im early, Jim corrected Daniel with a smile.
You missed roll call, snapped McGuiness.
Im a Detective now, Jim. replied Daniel. And my shift doesnt start until six, so you
can thank me for coming in early, now.
He smiled as McGuiness grit his teeth and flicked his hand as though chasing a
determined fly from around his head. Daniel had no respect for him, and it was obvious the
feeling was quite mutual.
Look, pressed McGuiness, Weve got a situation brewing in Boerum Hill. Units
patrolling the area think a group of people took over a project and that theyre setting up a drug
refining facility in plain view. The neighborhoods so hot I wouldnt be able to put bodies in
there without sending out coroners for pick up within the hour.
Daniel shook his head irritably as how McGuiness painted the picture, as usual, overdramatically.

Still, every police department around the country had at least one or two

neighborhoods a beat cop justifiably refused to enter without a police cruiser riding at least four
officers deep, and then, at least three patrol unitsaccompanying that officer with a similar
armed and armored complementfor back up. Interestingly, at night, the preferred number of
units for that particular neighborhood by all cops working graveyard, were at least doubled,
depending on heat, public hostility and lunar phase.
Regardless of the Sergeants poetic attempts at drama, Daniel had to shrug, acceptingly.
Given it was a full moon, that night, and the fact that there had just been an acquittal of twelve
New York police officers for excessive use of force, the burrowsfrom Brooklyn to the Boogie
Downwere churning.

In short, McGuiness was beating the dead horse raw, and Daniel

efforted to maintain a mask of politeness for the man, but his tone was a little condescending
anyway.
9|Page

Well, replied Daniel, were talking about Boerum Hill, here, Jim.
Sergeant or Watch Commander McGuiness, snapped McGuiness, irritably.
He quickly swallowed his open hostility for the sake of committing Daniel to the case
obviously he wanted Daniel to fail, and that he believed this was the case he could use to bring
the powers that be to have him fired, or at the very least, get him transferred out of Division
still, his disgust for him was obvious, and it was clear Daniel could find the nerves just under
McGuiness skin with an amazing ease.
The point is, McGuiness pressed through grit teeth, I need someone to take the case.
Since youre early, youre up.
Daniel extended his hand to receive the notebook.
Ill poke around and see what I can do.
McGuiness withdrew the notebook outside of Daniels reach, a stipulation in the air.
I cant offer you any backup.
Daniel shot an annoyed glare back at McGuiness and scoffed.
I havent had backup since I made Officer Third Class, scoffed Daniel, snapping his
fingers for the notebook.
So I can count on you? demanded McGuiness, as though he sought to trap Daniel in
some legally binding, or at least honorably binding wording that would leave him free and clear,
while the no-loophole-word-noose tightened effectively around Daniels neck.
Daniel snapped his fingers irritably at McGuiness, demanding the file and obviously
accepting the case.
Just give me the file, Jim.
McGuiness handed a wafer thin pad with a lit display scrolling with everything Daniel
would need down to the 911 calls that first put his district on alert and followed up by eyewitness
accounts from neighborhood snitches and patrol car video/audio in the area. All this data
contained in the memory of a paper thin computerwhich was nothing more than a fiber optic
sheet that allowed the user to access the data on the sheet itself with the flick of a fingertip
made durable by the plastic housing that encased it.
Daniel looked down at the viewscreen and scrolled through the data absently as
McGuiness patted him on the back.

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Youre a good man, Rooke, said McGuiness with a sly grin as though he had just
released a hot potato from his hand and turned to walk back into his office adding, Dont think I
dont remember favors.
Daniel had heard this before. McGuiness had doled out many favors like this before
and never paid anyone back for their working a task he had asked them to fill.
Yeah, right... scoffed Daniel, absently as he sat down at his cubicle in the middle of the
room.
Daniel pressed his hand on the touch screen of the file.

It blinked and the word

AUTHORIZED appeared across the screen and he perused the footage from an ATM across
the street of 1169 Boerum Place, showing two teams of menfive men per teamrushing into
the apartment complex, well armed, and moving with military efficiency.
Daniel watched them sweep the hallways and rooms on the interior security feeds,
shooting out the cameras as they proceeded deeper into the complex until every feed was black
and static. It was quick and efficient. Well timed like an antique Swiss timepiece. And over all
too quickly. They did more than take the complexthey conquered it.
Only a siege would squeeze them at this point. And now, they had hostagesEvery
angle of assault had been shored up with contingency upon contingency established as Daniel
probed the video feedsfrom ATMs to city feeds ranging from traffic and community
surveillance towers to telecommunications hubs, water and power and sanitation cameras as well
as neighboring propertiesfor emergency exits, rooftop entry and even sewer tunnels. All
shored up within twenty minutesThese men were definitely ex-military.
Probably Sol War veterans, he surmised as he watched the men move through the
building, securing and containing it, so expeditiously.
And though he had a job to do, he could hardly blame them if they were veterans of his
war. A lot of veterans had it hard coming home to find no jobs, and with no need to keep such a
healthy military now that the war was over they were awarded honorable discharge and a quarter
of their backpay, which was all the UN could afford without bankrupting the World Bank. The
veterans were left fumbling blindly.
The only ones who could find work were the smart ones who took work as soon as they
disembarked from their ships, or the lucky few with connections, either through a comrade-inarms or by the happy accident of birth into the right kind of families. For the rest, there was the
11 | P a g e

downward spiraling depression as the alienation of society set in after the parades, when the Sol
War became yesterdays news and soldiers became little more than someone to buy a drink for,
and then turn away, back into your previous conversation.
There were still veterans who wore their decorations to get free drinks at barsIt had
quickly become an embarrassment. And people quickly turned away from them, leaving them to
deal with the traumas of war on their own.
What was becoming increasingly more common was for veterans to turn to criminal
activity. There was the kidnapping/ransom and bank robberies that had grown so sophisticated
the police needed veterans like Daniel to train them on how to deal with the new threats.
People who had no problem firing into an open and busy street. Who understood face
recognition software and disguised themselves by hiding the shapes of their features. Who were
equipped to be tactical and technologically savvy. People who moved with boldness on the
urban landscape.
They understood how to control a street and how to adapt to an environmentmeaning
they could command a city block and vanish into the wilderness of the urban jungle. These were
dangerous men. Probably the greatest threat to a civilian population is a disenfranchised veteran
with Special operations training.
This was going to be tricky. Daniel only hoped he wouldnt come up against someone
who he knew from the campaign, or worse, someone who saved his life.
Daniel continued to flip through the media feeds, watching the men systematically take
over the entire project, entrenching themselves in key apartments, using the residents as human
shields against Law Enforcement. One could not storm into a project undetected. The eyes
watching the coming and going into the neighborhood would start a mile out. They would be
sophisticated. They would have their own monitor feeds. And more importantly, the eyes of the
community watching the infiltrating Law Enforcement personnel.
Any new face would be checked. Any recognized face as Law Enforcement would
receive either the cold shoulder, or the show of force, depending on how cocky these people
were.
Daniel was inclined to think they would be extremely cocky and hostile. He would
survey the perimeter of their stronghold. Look for the sign of being watched, and then watch the

12 | P a g e

watchers. He would shake them down for information on the security of the neighborhood. But
where to begin?
With a shrug, he pocketed the notebook in his coat and walked out of office space,
hopping the stairs down the solitary flight to street level, and took his unmarked, faded-grey
Chevrolet sedan out of the parking spot beneath the offices, onto the street, and into the setting
sun.

DUPREE DINER - OUTSKIRTS OF BOERUM HILL

Daniel sat at the diner down the block from the project, sipping his coffee and studying the faces
outside the window expecting something to happen soon. He kept himself busy going over the
notes on the notebook, and pursed his lips at the beat cops who took notes on the reports of the
invasion, looking up the histories of the various snitches and citizen complaints. Almost all of
the witnesses and complainants were now either missing or dead. This was hardly new to him
it was so common a truth it was darkly comical that the heroes of the community were
suppressed and killed off for working with law enforcement. And the posttraumatic effect of the
common loss of strong community members had shell-shocked those cognizant of that growing
void between the brave and the survivors, into a 1980s Beirut Syndrome or the similar 9/11
or Katrina Syndrome of laughing at brutal and traumatic events because, really, there was
nothing to do to change the environment all were tainted by.But what disturbed him even more
was the notes by the officers working that beat, usually suggesting motives to suspects who
had repeated run-ins with those particular officers, and the officers clearly had a beef withIt
was difficult to discern between suspects and victims under such a lens, and Daniel had to recall
his old mentor, Detective Douglass Freeman, and the words of wisdom he imparted to him as he
began his new life as the lowest level investigator, two years ago:
Clear your mind, Detective Freeman had told him. Dont get caught up in the story.
Look to the events and leave emotionespecially the beat cops emotionbehind. Many of
those assholes have an axe to grind with someone wholly unrelated to the case, and may see this
as an opportunity to break someones balls. Emotion plays no part in our role. Thats for
lawyers and juries. We are the seekers of truth, and not in the business of constructing stories

13 | P a g e

for unimaginative juries. Without us, there is only assumption. And that puts innocent men
behind bars, and sets dangerous men free.
Freeman was a great detective. Respected in the community, and hated by most cops on
the force, he had no problem reporting the failings of his peers and beat cops to Internal Affairs.
Daniel had to smile thinking about him. He had legitimately liked the old detective, and
Freeman encouraged a meticulous nature in him, praising his skills at thinking from the point of
view from the disenfranchised and the ambitious without means. And before he knew it, he
found he was running on insanely tight timetables, cranking out cases with solid evidence, and
discarding falsified evidence that most detectivesfor the sake of meeting said timetablesran
with.
Few men Daniel cared to know, let alone allow to be mentored by, but there was a
presence the man hadat first glance, he seemed a monk until you interfered with his cases.
And then it was clear he stood on some frontline against his colleagues, defiantly protecting his
cases from contamination, and he found himself enrapt by the aged soldier, fighting the wars no
one else dared for the right reasonsand that was enough for him. He stood somewhere
between a scholar and the Lieutenant Colonel he served under in the War, bent by the weight of
ageand the thought of an educated and bookish Forrester made him chuckle at what an
intellectual and physically capable rabble-rouser that would have made.Detective Freeman
was the other side of that same coin. He legitimately liked the old man.
He would have preferred a long partnership with the old man, and though he had reached
the mandatory pension age, he kept working, his role at that point, more of a guide to the newly
indoctrinated to his hallowed circle. That is, until the brass realized they had an opportunity of
getting rid of the old bastard. He was quickly retired, and he died quietly at home a month
latermost likely, Daniel suspected, from the boredom of civilian life.
He remembered McGuiness uncle telling him after the funeral: Lets hope you havent
picked up any of that old pricks bad habits, shall we?
And so began his love affair with the McGuiness dynasty to accompany his growing
contempt for the blindness that infected his environment, seeking the easy arrest, instead of
honoring the practice of diligent and timely investigation. And as he perfected his craft based on
the sound model of investigating imparted on himand many officers and detectives were
subsequently reprimanded or fired for placing false leads to relatively innocent civilians or
14 | P a g e

performed their documentation sloppily and stupidlyhis isolation from his peers grew wider.
He did not want to think so cynically, but most cops were lazy. It was a shame, to Daniel, that
he held such company, or the fact that it was necessary to do so.
He did not regret his isolation one bit. He had friends of honor in the departmentthat
he would back up, and he hoped they would altruistically return the favor, but he never would
askand that was enough for him. Though he often thought of old Douglass, with his laser
examination, his kind eyes ringed with the beginnings of cataracts, his cheap and dated wardrobe
and his thick woolen grey hair
But he had strayed in thought for too long on the old man who he would never again see
in life. With a shake of his head to clear his thoughts, like some old, outdated, handheld
computer with sand in it, he looked out the window and surveyed the parking lot and the streets
beyond, again.
The winter weather had decided to set in, and the temperature plummeted outside as
prostitutes shivered in the chill wind and nearly dove into cars for the warmth of the interior of
the cabs. Dealers bundled up and buried their faces into their jackets up to their noses, eyeing
the streets above the brim of their coats.
Seeing nothing new, he turned and surveyed his surroundings casually, but it was a
determined casualness that veterans possessed as he surveyed, less the people around him, but
the hands. Somewhere, in the room, anotherother than himhad a gun. It was just a matter
of finding it and catching an eye to determine whether or not others needed to see his. Dupree
Diner was a historic landmark with a long history as the hotspot for illicit activity. Drug dealers
and pimps, shot-callers all, ran their operations from the comfort of the pleather booths and kept
to themselves.
They knew Daniel. Each had been arrested by him at one point or another, and now gave
him a wide berth, the pimps comfortable in the fact that getting money from a girl who quickly
left the diner and headed back out for the Boulevard was not enough to arrest him over.
Besides, they all knew what Daniel was after. And with the grins they wore it was
obvious they both knew nothing helpful and were happy they didnt have enough even for a
shakedown. They were working the outskirts of the neighborhood for a reason. They didnt
want to be shaken down for their profits.

15 | P a g e

Daniel kept his eyes out the window, studying the building across the street. A Big
Brother surveillance cameraone of hundreds dotting the boroughs across New York City,
though suspiciously missing from the streets on the islanddominated the view between the
diner and the three story structure. It was obvious it had been shot at before, but the bulletproof
plastic protected the camera inside. It had become a standing joke to watch a young turk take out
his gun, fire a shot at the camera and within seconds, a police cruiser would pull up and arrest the
turk for criminal trespass, illegal possession of a firearm and destruction of city property.
Three years, and this turk would come out of prison like a college graduate.
It had been six hours since he arrived in the diner, sitting, reading over the case file,
occasionally glancing out the window at the streets activity. He glanced again at the camera
hovering over the intersection and studied it curiously. His eyes trailed the rooftops across the
street for any sign of movement. Nothing. If anything was changing in the neighborhood, it
remained hidden.
The only thing that stood out was what the city had installed. That camera network that
surrounded and penetrated the city streets, keeping watchful eye over the days street commerce.
It was allowed activity, so long as it was kept quiet. No loud shootings or elaborate dealsjust
the passing of cars and the simple handshakes exchanging money for drugs, or the prostitutes
who used motel rooms or private parking lots for their business transactions.
Daniel knew every girl working the street, having arrested many, himself. He knew
every man standing close by, and he even knew a few of the buyers, whatever business they
sought.
The diner was like an office for the petty drug dealers and pimps. It was lucrative, but
slow.

Which is why these non-affiliated businessmen did their business outside the

neighborhood. Anyone seeking their business would have to venture out and seek them out at
the diner.

And these men sat there casually, waiting for the shakedownknowing it would

come soon.
Daniel knew if this was a new jack operation, it was only a matter of time before a hand
reached out this far, and he was not surprised when the entrance opened to permit three strangers
to the diner. They walked in with a cold authority, as if the diner belonged to them already and
approached the drug dealers and pimps.

16 | P a g e

Daniel slid his credit card across the card reader strip embedded in the table, got up and
made his way closer to the confrontation, tucking his notebook into his inside jacket pocket. He
merely watched, waiting to see how far the men went to making their presence known. If they
claimed territory in the burrow, he would be on them in seconds.
Look at these fools, said the smallest gangster, gesturing toward the pimps and dealers.
Dont they know who runs these streets?
Daniel watched as the pimps and dealers rose and squared off with the three gangsters.
Grabbing his shoulder holster beneath his coat he depressed the panic button hidden there.
Within minutes, the place would be crawling with cruisers.
Looks like youre in the wrong place, said a dealer with a dismissive wave. Your
territory ends a block from here.
The smallest gangster reached inside his coat and pulled out an old Austrian .40mm
Glock 35where he found such a relic, Daniel could only have guessed,and aimed it at the
dealer, shooting him in the abdomenthe force of the impact so intense, the dealers legs were
thrown out from under himthe next instant, he slammed into the floor with a wave of pain
washing over him. The other dealers and pimps backed away a fraction of a stepyet not far
enoughin an effort not to appear weak.
Who else got something to say? demanded the gangster, while his associates pulled out
their guns and aimed down on the dealers and pimps.
Behind them, Daniel pulled out his sidearm and aimed at the backs of the three men
cowing the pimps and dealers.
NYPD! shouted Daniel and he began to formulate the word Freeze! on the tip of his
tongue when the gangsters automatically turned and blindly opened fire in the general direction
of his voice, emptying their clips in nearly rapid-fireemploying the common understanding
that, with enough chances, the odds of finding their target would increase exponentially if they
just threw enough bullets at the problem, andinnocent bystanders be damned.
Daniel instinctively knelt down, letting the bullets pass over his head, firing back and
hitting one of the gangsters in the abdomenwho fell to the greasy Formica floor, dropping his
gun with a clatterwhile the other two retreated out through the entrance and ran into the street.
The man on the ground flailed his arm pleadingly for his comrades as they cleared the diner
entrance and it was clear to anyone Daniels bullet had cleft the mans spine and his days of
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walking without the benefit of cybernetic interventionwhich was usually denied for gang
members and other felonswere over.
Daniel pulled out his cell phone as he ran out the door with a glancing look back at the
two shot men on the diner floor.
This is Detective Daniel Rooke, badge number 9-9-0-8-4-1, as he ran to his car and
flung the trunk open, stripping off his jacket. I have a shooting at the Dupree Diner located on
the corner of Atlantic and 4th. I need two paramedic busses at that location to treat two black
males with gunshot wounds to the abdomen and spine for cart off. From the trunk, he pulled his
black RAMMW-8xxii and threw it on. It was a heavy coat, beginning stock at 36 oz, but with the
gel bladders filled and the trauma plates inserted in their internal pockets, not to mention the
winter weave removable thermal insulation, it quickly rose to just over 8 lbs. The weight was
comforting to Daniel as he sealed it with a slap of his chest, sealing the Velcro interior lining
with a slide of his palm down the coat length.
He looked up and saw the distant men strolling into the safety of their neighborhood,
confident in the common knowledge law enforcement would not dare follow them. Daniels
blood boiled and slammed the trunk shut, eyeing the gangsters casual strides deeper into what
local Law Enforcement had only a handful of days ago rechristened The Hurt Locker and
launched after the two men.
Im currently in pursuit, continued Daniel, into his radio, of two black male suspects
ranging from late-teens to mid-twenties travelling down PacificWill need assistance.
Roger, responded dispatch dispassionately. Detective Rooke, back up is twelve
minutes out.
Daniel scoffed. He had heard it all before. The point was, he was a problem in the
department and not many wanted to work with himHe was on his own.
As Daniel raced after the two suspects down Pacific, gaining on them as he ran, the two
gangsters, realizingnot only that he had the boldness to follow them into the neighborhood at
all (a rarity), but also,how close he was, grew wide eyed and quickly began to sprint, throwing
trash cans over to block him, which he easily hurtled.
The two gangsters then ducked down a corner and, for a moment, he lost view of them.
He pushed harder around the turn and found a deserted street stretching out before him, with no

18 | P a g e

evidence of even a shadow darting one way or another as the silence filled the thin trafficked
street.
Just behind him, Daniel heard the distinctive sound of a door latching and doubled back
to find, as often was the case, an apartment access doorway stashed between two businesses. He
looked up to the second floor and saw the two suspects racing up the stairs toward the third floor.
Daniel checked the door and found it secure. On the wall was a series of buttons followed by the
names of the tenants.
He slammed his fist on the button labeled manager.

After several rings, an elderly

voice grumbled through the speaker.

Sir, this is New York Police in pursuit of suspects in your building. Buzz me in,
please!
His plea was answered with a buzz and Daniel yanked the door open, racing up the steps
three at a time.
As he reached the third floor landing he saw the gun before it fired. Ducking back down
the staircase, he returned fire as the two suspects raced up the remaining stairs to the rooftop
access.
Above him, he heard the slam of the fire escape door and raced after them, bursting
through the roof access fire escape to see the two gangsters hurtling onto the rooftop of the
adjacent building, racing off like deer.
Running across the rooftops, his flak jacket pulled and buttoned tight to keep the extra
trauma plates in place, Daniel grit his teeth as his cheeks seemed to stretch and harden against
the New York evenings winter chill while the pops of sparks and the cuts of the ricocheting
bullets pelted his legs and face.
The two gangsters had found a ladder and laid it across the gap between the building and
the next and were walking it like a tightrope.
Daniel crept out from behind his shield point and aimed at one of the gangsters back. It
would be a simple thing to fire, but it was not his way to shoot a man in the back. With a groan
he raced up to the ladder just as the last gangster crossed, and they pulled the ladder across to
their side, letting it tumble down into shadow where it crashed loudly in the alley below, hitting
concrete and trash cans.

19 | P a g e

On the far side of the gap between the two buildings, the gangsters laughed at Daniel and
taunted him.
With a smirk, he pulled open his flak jacket, holstered his weapon with a snap and
stepped back several yardsthe gangsters watching him, now curiously. Daniel took a deep
breath, counting his heartbeat for seven seconds before the long, slow exhale and then raced
toward the edge of the building as fast as he could, doubled over from his effort. Jumping to the
faade at the rooftop edge, he used the two foot high embattlement to push himself just a few
more inches higher in his leap and subsequent arch in the hopes of reaching the next rooftop
across the long abysmal yawn of the alleyway, his flak jacket flapping like a lead drag weight
behind him.
Without even the time for his quickly mounting fear to truly manifest, Daniel held his
breath, as the shadow below seemed to move from the still bottom to the wall of the building he
had just leapt from, as if calculating the energy required to pounce and seize him to the wintry
tomb below.
On the far end of the gap, he landed on the tips of his toes, his heels suspended
precariously over the widening mouth of the shadows. Daniel fought the air in front of him
pleading with angels to take his hands, demanding a mere finger-hold on the falling snow flakes
on the airreckoning desperately, if he moved quick enough and pulled on the snow flake hard
enough, he might be able to push off of it and correct himself.
Two bright flashes of light like strobes followed thunderous pops followed by the bullets
that rushed past his ears with a crack alerted him to the fact the gangsters were not interested in
waiting for him to right himself, preferring to opt out of jail time through the most expedient
method possible, and Daniel considered whether or not he should take his chances with the fall
to avoid the certainty of being killed by the tearing of flesh caused by a hail of bullets.
Somewhere between the spiritual and the illogic state of the defiant at deaths doorway, his
salvation came in the form of a .45 shell slamming into his back trauma plate, sending him
forward, face down into the snow of the rooftop, his feet over the ledge.
I got chu! bellowed one suspect triumphantly.
You got him? heckled the other, He was gonna fall! Now we killed a cop!
Whatchu worried about?
I wanted him to die down there, you ignorant motherfucker!
20 | P a g e

Across the yawning chasm, a figure in a long grey trench coat stood resting his wingtip
shoe on the faade, leaning over the abyss with a casual demeanor suggesting both an easy
superiority and a wry disappointment. His white hair and bristly mustache blew in the winter
wind and his voice was rough and grizzly, yet held a bluebloods air to it.
And I would prefer he didnt die, said the man. At least until after he had heard my
proposal.
In their fright, the two men stood straight as rods for a long moment. As usual, the first
effort was in daring themselves to acknowledge a threat for what it was and then to deal with that
threatwhether it be it by subjugation to it or a display of superiority. Within a moment, it was
clear which of the two they had chosen as they aimed their pistols at the figure.
With the flickering puffs of fire and smoke from the barrels of their pistols, the two men
answered the threat with cold action. The return fire was instantaneous and overlapped their own
shots and the two men fell over the facade and tumbled into the abyss.
Figures, grunted the harsh voice in a mutter. Rooke! You okay?
Daniel stirred with a groan and craned his head and turned his asphalt and snow speckled
face back toward the man in the trench coat.
Who wants to know? he shouted back across the gap.
The stranger leaned over the edge of the abyss and grinned at Daniel, who instantly
recognized the enigmatic Agent Lawrence Boatman, formerly General Boatman, of the United
Nations Interstellar Armed Forces.
Your lifeline. replied Boatman, fastening his pistol into his shoulder holster. Unless
you want to go back to being shot at by drug dealers, pimps, gang bangers and junkies without
backup on a daily basis.
Hey, its a gig. retorted Daniel as he rose, dusting off his flak jacket and pant legs.
Not one for knuckleheads like us.
Whered my suspects go?
Down there.
Daniel looked down and noticed the scuffled prints in the snow on the rooftop and the
scuff marks at the edge of the building and leaned over nervously, peering down into the abyss.
Shit, spat Daniel as he dug in his pockets for his cell phone. Id better call this in.
They could still be alive down there. As he activated his GPS location feature on his phone and
21 | P a g e

ran his finger across the small viewscreento move the marker from his position on the roof to
the alleyway in greater order to assist the EMTs in their efforts of converging on the exact
location of the fallen suspectshe muttered under his breath: Either way, theyre going to feel
that fall in the morning.
My men can just as easily facilitate the handling of the bodies as your men could,
concluded Boatman with a dismissive wave leading Daniel to understand that, for the former
General, time was of the essence. In fact, I have five men down there handling it as we speak.
Daniel eyed Boatman closely for a moment, weighing his words and realizing that a visit
from the legendary General Boatman was a rare gift.
Im assuming this is something that shouldnt be discussed in a shouting match across
rooftops?
Not exactly, with a grin that complemented Daniel on being so quick on the uptake,
no.
Daniel looked at Boatman for a moment longer, just enough for his brain to calculate
contingencies and then smiled amiably.
Meet me downstairs. Well talk it up at the diner down the street.
You read my mind.

Twenty minutes later, Daniel and Boatman were sitting comfortably in their booth at Duprees
Diner. The paramedic busses had just pulled away with their cargo of gunshot wounds and the
patrol cars who had finally answered Daniels summons quickly retreated from the block without
so much as a word to him as though he were something undesirable and unwanted.
Daniel and Boatman sat patiently as the waitress laid down their plates. She was silent
and uncomfortable in serving the two men, and her hands shook as she set down the ketchup
bottle, glancing nervously at Daniels NYPD detectives badge at the end of his chain necklace.
Daniel realized her discomfort, tucked the badge into his, now open, flak jacket and
smiled to her politely.
Unsure what to do, the waitress turned and quickly hurried away.
A little skittish, wasnt she? observed Laurence.

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This diner is a local hang out for dealers and their buyers, replied Daniel with a
reassuring wave of indifference. We get a lot of pimps in here with their girls too. Im pretty
well known here.
Are we in danger? mused Boatman, his eyes showing he really did not care if the
answer was affirmative.
Not any more than anywhere else in the burrow, the way I figure it, Daniel said with a
shrug. At least they know me well enough to keep their distance. Besides, I dont need to bust
them. This Diners been under surveillance for six months.
Yes, I know. replied Boatman, Which is why Im curious as to why you chose this
place to have our little talk.
Well, said Daniel thoughtfully, lets just say if I dont like what you have to say, at
least I know itll be on record that I did not agree to your request.
You must know me better than that, chided Boatman. I have men over there
commandeering the surveillance post as we speak. There is no one listening that is not already in
the know.
Well, smirked Daniel, the second reason I chose this place is the club sandwich is
good, and they have free refills on sodas.
Boatman looked down at his undercooked eggs and then back up at Daniel with a trace of
annoyance.
I wish you would have told me that before I ordered the breakfast platter and coffee.
Sorry about that.
So I hope you dont mind if I go over some particulars in your background before I
begin.
Boatman pushed aside the breakfast platter and without ceremony produced a thin sheet
of plastic with an illuminated touch screen, laying it out before him as he fetched his glasses
from his suits breast pocket.
Daniel merely shrugged.
I got nothing to hide.
Boatman pressed his finger to the screen and scrolled down the list of documents until he
reached a file entitled RookeFile_1 and began to gloss over the dozens of documents with a

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look of critical boredom as he scrolled through the dossier. His nasal muttered tone seemed to be
somewhere between boredom and sleep.
You are Detective-First Class Daniel Henry Rooke of the NYPD. You started out this
illustrious career of yours with New Yorks finest as a beat cop working the Midtown West
area. Boatman took off his glasses and looked up at Daniel with curiosity. Thats the area that
used to be called Hells Kitchen, isnt it?
Yeah, replied Daniel. Some residents still call it that, for old times sake.
Unfortunately, its a boring shift working that area. Mostly, we just break up bar fights and
arrest the homophobes when they started getting a little too biblical and began beating up the
locals in the gay community, there. Other than that, being a beat cop in Hells Kitchen is just an
excuse to take long walks and draw a paycheck.
Not really your cup of tea, I take it? concluded Boatman with a grin.
No, not really.
Boatman donned his reading glasses again and turned back to the file and scrolled a few
pages down.
Within thirteen months youd been promoted to Police Officer Second Grade and
transferred into the Emergency Service Unit. Impressivebut only stayed there for ten months.
Why?
ESU sounds exciting. Kinda like the stories across the country about S.W.A.T. We
trained really hard, too. Unfortunately, when youre actually doing it, you find yourself standing
around a lot.
Boatman nodded drowsily as if the answer was sufficient enough for him and returned to
the file in front of him.
Jacket shows youve been decorated numerous times. Often receiving promotions in
accompaniment with the medalsreceived the Excellent Police Duty medal as well as one for
Meritorious Police Duty for pulling wounded officers and civilians out of a danger zone, under
fire from gunmen who had just robbed a bank. This raised you to Police Officer Third Grade. A
Commendation Community Service medal a year later for pushing a woman and her child out of
the path of a taxicab, which had in turn, ran you over. The hospital report shows you had burns
across your body from being dragged under the car for fifty yards and a dislocated shoulder.
Yeah, scoffed Daniel. It still pops out from time to time.
24 | P a g e

That incident raised you to Police Officer Fourth Grade, ignoring Daniels response out
of hand. You took the Detectives Exam, passing with the bare minimum, three points above
failing. You then received the rank of Detective-Investigator. And finally you received the
Police Combat Cross, which also gave you the added push you needed to make DetectiveSecond Grade. All within five years of your joining the force. Boatman took off his glasses and
added You are a regular commendation whore.
I just show up and do the job, replied Daniel. They can decorate me or let me get to
work. It really doesnt matter to me.
But you apparently had no problems with the fast track promotions.
With promotion comes a bigger paycheck, and a greater chance of being able to
implement change in the department and the community.

I wont deny being a little bit

ambitious.
And you no doubt made a lot of enemies as a result of those changes, Im sure.
Making enemies doesnt concern me. replied Daniel, matter-of-factly. When theyve
got the balls to deal with me, well see how it turns out.
Now Detective-First Class and very near making Sergeant. Currently working jointly
with the narcotics and gang departments of the Organized Crime Control Division, and you have
a reservist standing in both the Special Operations and Task Force Divisions as an alternate.
Busy boy. You are presently assigned to the 81st Precinct for the Bedford-Stuyvesant sector of
the Brooklyn borough.
No place for a veteran to call home but the Bed-Stuy.
Yes, a veteran. said Boatman, as if they had finally come to the point of their meeting.
Formerly of the UNIAF where you held the rank of Private First-Class in the 442nd, dedicated to
Special operations in the Chord Ranger detachment with the May-Eye Divisionxxiii, though there
is evidence to support you were to be awarded with an unheard of bump up in pay grade to
Master Sergeant, due to the deaths of so many officers, if not for the fact that The Quill had
attempted to sever our transmission relays by making the annoying habit of destroying our
transmission-boosting buoys, and with the untimely death of one Lieutenant Colonel Gerard
Chord Forrester, no doubt prevented the resubmitting of his request for your field promotion.
This bit of news, though the hollow pit of his stomach wrenched at being reminded of the
entire insulting ordeal with the Adjutant, was somewhat pacifying to Daniel, as the knot began to
25 | P a g e

unclench. In all his rejected paperwork for his claimfor his right to the rank of Master
Sergeant and all its privilegeswith the Virginia Branch of the United Nations Veteran Affairs
Office, he had never so much as received an acknowledgement of any transmission of his
paperwork ever being attempted.
Daniel caught a hole in the explanation, though. It didnt really make much sense. He
had been a field commanding Master Sergeant, with several rotating Chalks working under him,
for over two years by the time Colonel Forrester had been killed in the final engagement,
meaning he had plenty of time to correct the transmission error once it was clear the boosting
buoys were being taken out. Still, he recognized this mention of the loss of rank was a trivial
mention to Boatman, and so he just grinned and nodded, to carry the conversation to its ultimate
end.
Yeah, replied Daniel, Colonel Forrester was a good man.
Lieutenant Colonel Forrester was killed in action during the battle for Valley 862 xxivon
Gliese 876 d.
Daniel bowed his head somberly.
The Valley of the Wolves broke a lot of hearts, that day.
Yes, it did at that, replied Boatman solemnly.
And a silence stretched out between them that neither seemed willing to break, Daniel for
fear of disrespecting the dead, Boatman with an unnerving patience as if waiting for Daniel to
speak.
Eventually, Daniel grew uncomfortable and leaned back in an effort to return to the point
at hand.
So, began Daniel, I guess the million dollar question is: to what do I owe the honor of
the presence of the great Lawrence Boatman?
Boatman sat with his cup of coffee, swirling his half-and-half into the black and watching
it transform to a creamy brown. Daniel became transfixed on the swirling war of brown, white
and black mixing into darker browns, and the image of a gas giant planet rose in his minds eye.
When Daniel looked up, he caught Boatmans eyes on his. Piercing blue over his
spectacles, as the twitch of his white mustache gave him a critical expression. Daniel met
Boatmans eyes, which seemed to peel back the layers of his mind, and Daniel realized both he
and Boatman had been lost in the same thought.
26 | P a g e

Boatman glanced back down at the coffee and pushed the mug away from his line of
sight and leaned forward, his eyes fixed once more on Daniels.
Let me begin by putting a question to you, replied Boatman, Do you always pack the
spare trauma plates under your flak jacket for the work out, or is it more of a security blanket for
you?
A little of both, Id say. replied Daniel with an easy scoff. So what are you trying to
sell me, Lawrence?
Boatman propped his elbows on the table, adjusted his posture on the firm booth cushion
and folded his hands methodically.
I cant offer you a better paycheck than a local PD Detective rank. Its just not in my
budgetary means.
How little is the paycheck?
Unfortunately, a little less than a teacher makes.
Please tell me youre talking about a tenured college professors income.
Try less than a high school teacher without a license or a college degree.
That bad, huh?
Im afraid so.
So what are you offering me then?
Elevated entry into a new department of law enforcement not yet brought out into the
public, but technically on the books.
Elevated?
These are Specials teams were working with, continued Boatman, with a glowering
stare that told Daniel they had finally arrived at the point of the meeting. No one will work with
them. Which is fine with them, but the powers that be want them on a tight leash. I think you
can put on a good show of it while you take down collars in the field.
So how much of it is acting?
No acting.

Youll have cameras on you most of the time when you step out on

assignment, cameras on you some of the time when youre not. The rest of the time, youll be on
damage control.
Damage control?

27 | P a g e

One of your boys mouths off in earshot of a journalist, clarified Boatman, I want you
there to plug the leak quick. Our DC department will have heads up on all stories out of
Associated Press and the right to bury whichever story we choose. Unfortunately, the high risk
of the potential for leaks from your department has made it of great necessity for a large sum of
the projects funding to go to the damage control department.
So basically, theyll be paid well to cover our reputation, but well be paid shit to do the
actual work.
Unfortunately, concluded Boatman, with a surly grimace that brought the appetizing
nature of the job offer to a brutal finality. However, I think youll be very good at minimizing
the spread; which means more money to be allocated to other means, like say, a better salary.
I think youve got way too much faith in my abilities, Lawrence.
Really? I dont think so.
I do.
You dont think I should have so much faith in your abilities? Thats fine. But Ill tell
you two things I do have faith in. One is your performing abilities. Theyre Olympian to say the
least. Plus, Ive never known a man to jump across an alley from one three story rooftop to the
nextespecially when you cant see the ground. That alone, would make you desirable. These
guys arent easily impressed.
Im not here as a show pony act, Lawrence. No sale.
The other is the word of one of our subordinates who vouches for you in battle; someone
who witnessed your performance under pressure personally in the last real engagement of the
war.
Considering how bad the losses were in the Valley of the Wolves, that leaves only three
men out of fifty. How are they?
None of them made it back to earth. Davis and Grey were both KIA due to landmines
and Lennox has been MIA since the last engagement. Hes been upped to full K, just to clear the
books. Im sorry to break it to you, Daniel. Youre the last surviving man from your division.
The words hit Daniel like a punch in the stomach, and unconsciously pulled at his chest
as though feeling for the telltale signs of a heart attack. Boatman sat there for a moment,
realizing Daniel was troubled.
You okay, Dan?
28 | P a g e

Lennox too? scoffed Daniel, and he pushed his club sandwich away from him. He had
lost his appetite with the news.
Come on, son. said Boatman. Ill brief you on your new job on the fly.
Boatman rose, swiping his credit card through the reader embedded in the dining table,
and made his way toward the exit.
Daniel followed with numbly shaking steps behind him.

29 | P a g e

3:

he retrofitted C-47xxv roared high and hard in the frigid predawn sky at such speeds to
set the farthest tips of the craft ablaze with the sparking of frost to mist leaving long
trailing plumes of warmer air newly introduced in a horizontal tornado effect behind.
From the outside, the weathered military personnel and cargo transport seemed

perfectly ancient. Like many of the craft used by the military these days, the C-47 had been
stripped of all fossil fuel tanks and the outdated engine moving parts and then augmented with
the newer electromagnetic tech as a way of keeping a good tested and proven reliable transport in
service, without having to invest in the purchasing of a newer craft. Those expenditures were
mainly swallowed by the R&D and Defense Department for the purchasing of new fighter and
bomber craft, not the cargo/personnel transport wings. Still, the interior of the C-47 smelled of
oil and other hydraulic liquids as though Daniel were sitting in a cabin routinely sprayed down
with WD-40.
Inside the cabin, Boatman stared ahead at an overhead light, playing with the tip of his
finger along the ridge of his gum line, picking at his teeth. Daniel, who had been typing on his
notebook, inputting his suspicionsabout the big brother towers being used to probe the
neighborhood for possible threatsinto the new jack file, jumped with a start and lurched
forward, kicking his legs fee like a top unwinding.
30 | P a g e

So whos speaking so highly of me? demanded Daniel, at last.

Whats that? replied Boatman, still picking his teeth.
You said someone put in for me.
Maybe I misled you, said Boatman at last, and leaned over to speak in hushed tones,
demanding confidence. This guy wasnt in your platoon or your division or even the legion.
But trust me; he was in the mix right along with you. Hes a real tough son of a bitch. Not the
type of guy youd forget.
If he wasnt in my unit, or even the legion, then who could possibly vouch for me?
Boatman looked around the cabin casually, noting the soldiers and agents on board the
flightbending their ears toward them for something to hear to break up the monotony of the
drab, colorless existence they had been enduring in the C-47and patted Daniels hand.
I hope you understand I cant really talk about it right now. Youll see him soon
enough. And trust me, when you see him, youll remember him. Of that I have no doubt.
Daniel did not approve of the cloak and dagger tactics. The hints of government secrecy
only compounding his annoyance in being brought from New York with Washington DC as their
destination being the only thing he knew for sure, with hardly a word to relieve him of his
concerns, and the references to Specials involvement did not ease his worries. Many of the
Specials, it had been rumored, since their return from the front lines had taken to mercenary
lifestyles at best and lives of crime at worst.
Daniel could hardly blame them after the way they were ostracized by the government
and the populations upon their return. Many of them had successful careers of their own before
they were drafted to contribute their considerable talents to the war. Upon their return, they
received no military grants for college or loans for purchasing property. Their former careers
were, for many Specials, barred from them.
Being a Special, to many human resources interviewers had become the equivalent of
having a felony on your record. Many Specials now worked at minimum wage positions
performing menial or grunt tasks for pennies on the dollar.
It was as if the government closed the doors on their citizenship in every way but the
demand that taxes be paid. In many ways, this point of view was actually very accurate. Surely
there must be some hard feelings toward the normal human community.

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How could he be expected to lead a team of Specials who felt that normal human citizens
had ostracized them in almost every way that mattered when he himself was a normal human?
To be expected to lead men who resented him based on the fact that he was considered more
acceptable than them. It seemed an impossible task. Boatman seemed to read his expression and
leaned in toward him.
How you holding up, son?
What you are asking of me is harder than youre making it seem, said Daniel,
studiously. Theres the matter of how these people are going to handle being forced to take
orders from me. I dont see this happening.
Youre going to have to win their trust, son.
How?
I found a way. said Boatman, rather cryptically. You will too.
What do you mean you found a way?
Once upon a time, I commanded the whole damned battalion. It was meant as a
punishment for me being such a damned hardhead. But I soon began to feel privileged. To be a
part of their duties, and see what they could do on a daily basis. To watch them give their all
each time out through that hole. It was inspiring. I was damned proud of the lot of them. If a
disgraced general could win their respect and trust, I see no reason why a roughneck who
survived all the engagements of the entire war couldnt earn it with greater ease and style.
Whats the hole?
Thats classified, son. Shouldnt have said it. Youd be better off forgetting I said it.
Alright. said Daniel, with no small amount of annoyance.
He looked away toward the window and watched the cyclones forming off the wingtips
with a mesmerized gaze and tried to focus on the patterns they made in an effort to forget how
annoyed he was at how he could have an elevated position and not the same level of clearance as
his subordinates. This would battle in his mind the rest of the way to his destination.

WASHINGTON D.C.
Daniel stared out the limousines window and watched the morning foot traffic fly past his
window in a blur that his eyes hardly bothered to keep in focus as the restaurants, barbershops
and pool halls streaked by. They had passed monuments and sites that many tourists from
32 | P a g e

around the world had traveled continents just to see and the limousine had not slowed for
anything save traffic and the occasional pedestrian before speeding off again down the avenue,
taking turns through some neighborhoods with beautiful architecture, from modern to landmark
to dilapidated and still the car kept going. The only thing that was clear to Daniel was that
wherever this base of operations was, it was far from Georgetown.
Laurence Boatman was extremely tightlipped about the location they were headed. He
would not betray the slightest bit of information, informing him that, government vehicles, like
everything the government owns, has eyes and ears. All he knew was that wherever they were
headed, the destination had been designated The Post. This did little to assuage his desire for
more information about the location before they arrived. For all he knew, The Post was under
water in the Atlantic.
He had grown tired of trying to pump Lawrence for information and now contented
himself with watching the demographics change as they moved speedily from neighborhood to
neighborhood. They were at present, in a rough part of town. Ironically, it reminded him of the
Bedford-Stuyvesantonly the Bed-Stuy was much better off in terms of crime and city renewal
projectsThe Bed-Stuy had a bad reputation that had followed it for years. But even though the
subsection of the Brooklyn borough had its quirks, including a still large drug and gang problem
due to the low income the many inhabitants still suffered in, it was far more elegant and inviting
than the neighborhood Daniel currently found himself in.
Finally, the view slowed and came to a stop in front of a brownstone-type building on
3830 Georgia Avenue, right on the border of the rough and gritty Georgia Avenue and Shepherd
Street Districts of the northwestern District of Columbia. Georgia Avenue and Shepherd Street
Districts were famed for being resistant to gentrification, and battled with itself, eating itself
alive as gangs and Metro police patrols seemingly took turns tearing at the community, both
sides oppressing the neighborhoods law abiding citizenry, instead of aggressively attacking each
other. Local citizenry were hardened and street savvy, lashing out violently at new faces. The
faces peering at the limousines tinted windows with skeptical glares seemed to be anticipating a
need to be violent toward its occupants.
Boatman recognized the stances the pedestrians were taking toward them and with a
frown, unsnapped his shoulder holster as if anticipating having to shoot someone. Boatman then
turned and smiled at Daniel as if nothing were out of the ordinary, his hand on the door latch.
33 | P a g e

Were here, son, said Boatman. Then added, You ready?

Daniels eyes bulged and he glared at Boatman.
This is bullshit, gasped Daniel.
Like I said, replied Boatman indifferently. the Specials program is on a tight budget.
You were expecting a view of the Washington Monument? Not even spooks get that lucky.
Boatman opened the limousine door and turned back to Daniel, adding You coming?
Boatman stepped out into the DC street and made his way through the crowd of hostile
onlookers toward The Posts main entrance.
Daniel stepped out of the car and closed the door behind him. The limousine barely
waited for the door to shut before the wheels chirped and the long car darted down the street and
quickly around the corner.

He stared in surprise as the limousine vanished from view and

cursed himself for not listening to the voice that had been screaming in the back of his mind all
night.
I knew I shouldve stayed in New York, muttered Daniel.
He turned and faced the crowd of onlookers who seemed to be determining whether to
attack him or let him pass unmolested, depending on whether or not he was considered by them
to be a threat.

It was clear that the onlookers had made their determination and finding him

wanting. Daniel scoffed again, and walked through the crowd of hard stares with a mounting
annoyance at what he predicted would follow shortly.
Im going to have to drop one of these men if I want to get some neighborhood respect,
thought Daniel grimly. Otherwise, Ill be ducking and dodging fists and bullets for the
remainder of my time here.
Daniel did not look forward to this. Although he was a capable man, quite accustomed to
violence in his life, he did not seek it out, and certainly did not revel in the acts of combat he was
far too proficient in.

His grim demeanor soon possessed him, and his face and mannerisms

altered his appearance. And very soon, he appeared the most dangerous man on the block.
The crowd almost jumped out of his waya few heckles from the braver men at a very
safe distance from him underscored the hostility of the surrounding neighborhood and confirmed
Daniels opinion. He would definitely be left no other choice than to fight for his right to walk
these streets unmolested.

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Daniel counted the number of fights a white man would generally have to win before a
predominately black community in the average American low income neighborhood would
finally allow him to be there without undue threats of violence. He figured about five should do:
One or two against one adversary, and an additional three or four against groups of men in the
subsequent retaliatory fights for winning the first two man to man. If he was very lucky, he
would not be placed in a situation where he would have to shoot a man for attempting to gun him
down.
It was the retaliatory fights, which always gave Daniel concern.
He followed Boatman into the main lobby with stained wallpaper on the walls suggesting
water damage from leaking pipes. The carpet was hard and crackled when he stepped on it. The
varnished wood around the borders of the wall appeared in need of a second coat and the
elevator doors appeared to be smeared in some kind of dried grease that dust had clung to, giving
the doors a furry appearance.
Nice place, scoffed Daniel.
Again, you fail to remember; budget.
Right, lets just get moving.
Boatman took out two handkerchiefs, extending one to Daniel.
Daniel took the handkerchief and looked at him incredulously. Boatman covered his
mouth and nose and gave a slight cough as the elevator doors opened and a rancid smell of urine
wafted at them. Daniel instantly covered his mouth and nose and hesitantly followed Boatman
onto the elevator.
The elevator doors closed slowly, and the lift then hummed as it strained to crawl on an
unbearably slow ascent.
This just gets better and better, doesnt it?
Budget, replied Boatman.
How did you even find this place?
Metro PD had a surveillance post here for a few months. With this location, they were
able to gather evidence of several of their more high profile drug dealing and white slavery
operations and made arrests that gave the police department a great degree of fanfare. You
might remember a few from the news. Boatman began to enumerate the many cases in a wry,
matter-of-fact tone, There was the Terrell Arawak arrest, and that Russian Mafia family from
35 | P a g e

out of the Urals that were running the brothels with slaves from their own local peasantry who
thought they were getting married to rich American men for citizenship and ended up living
God-knows-what. Anyway, that raid was actually two blocks from here.
They arrested Malik White at the diner off of Warder Street, right around the corner
from here. And there were a few dozen very unspectacular cases that this surveillance outpost
aided in making cases for. Mostly by accident. Someone mugged a girl at the ATM right across
the street while twenty cops were watching it on a large viewscreen set up in the flat. Or the
prostitute who took a john onto a side street right in line of sight with the camera videoing the
enraptured look on the mans face as the womans ponytail appears just above the dashboard
then disappears, reappears and disappearsThere were a lot of other comical arrests like that
made because of his place.
However, due in part to the Departments increasing boldness in the neighborhood, what
with them walking in and out of here at all hours, and the cruisers that would park here and bring
up Chinese takeout, it soon became clear what was going on, and the community finally found
out about this place and grew so hostile about the police presence in the building that was both
disrupting the communitys status quo and arresting so many black men and womenregardless
of the fact they were caught committing felonies and misdemeanors on recorded feedthat the
officers that would routinely use this base of operations for stake-outs started getting attacked by
the locals.
The most popular incident in the media was the beating of Detective Miles Dennam who
ran the surveillance operation. A group of seventeen African American youths beat him to the
point of near death. He was rendered paralyzed and declared brain dead two weeks later. As a
direct result of the attack, the police, expectedly, flooded the neighborhood with riot gear,
leading to the arrest and injury of several dozen young men and women in the neighborhood.
And, of course, the NAACP started making claims of racism and declarations of the existence of
a police state in the greater DC area, and the forty-some-odd officers and detectives who were
brought up on charges for illegal search and seizure/arrest/and excessive force leading to
crippling or death of civilians, and the near riot when all the officers indicted were
acquittedThis location became so vilified in the community, that Metro couldnt give it away
fast enough.
Boatman smirked and chuckled to himself, glancing back at Daniels pale face.
36 | P a g e

We got this location at a steal, added Boatman, with a Cheshire smile.

They were attacking police officers?
Yes, replied Boatman, as though they had reached an important area for discussion. It
would be a good idea if you refrained from producing your badge to any of the locals. Not that it
should matter.
Why wouldnt it matter?
Youre no longer a civil servant. replied Boatman, matter-of-factly, at least not for
New York City.
Whats that supposed to mean?
Boatman turned and scrutinized Daniel with the barest trace of empathy in his tone.
You couldnt expect this meeting to be only an interview, could you? As soon as I
explained the function I sought you out for, you knew too much. There is no return to your old
life, now. You are now the Assistant Director and Commander of the United States Department
of Specials Investigations Task Force. Or S.I.T.F. Welcome to the team, Special Agent Rooke.
The elevator doors opened revealing a barren room with fold out tables and ancient
computers plugged into frayed wire outlets. The walls were similarly stained to the water
damaged walls in the main lobby and only the carpet seemed relatively new, though it was
clearly bleached from sunlight, and there were several unaccountable stains on it throughout the
room.
There, before him stood impressive physical specimens all dressed in plainclothes. They
walked about the room in boredom with cynical faces, or leaned against the fold out tables or
walls with their arms folded. They hardly seemed to notice him, or care that he were there.
Against the wall, the two largest menone black with long wrapped hair to his
shoulders, and one bald and whitesat, the man with the hair-wrap glared disgustedly at him as
though he had already summed him up and found him laughably lacking in all respects, and the
other, a menacing Neo-Nazi looking goateed man, sat up from his seat in an old squeaky
chiropractic office-chair.
He sprang up and grinned from ear to ear, the tips of his graying blonde mustache twirled
up into curls at the endsa playful style of facial hair only a man who cowed others in all
physical respects could pull off without jeeringand Daniel was dumbfounded. The powerfully

37 | P a g e

built grinning man stood at full height, easily clearing six foot three inches, and walked across
the room with a gregarious demeanor toward him.
Despite for the fact the last time Daniel saw him, he was clean shaven, wearing a neck-tofoot exoskeletal body armor, donning a Corinthian-style variant Kevlar helmet with a re-breather
hanging loosely around his throat, Daniel would have recognized Leonard Stonebreaker
anywhere. The new facial hair and crows-feet around the corners of his eyes gave him a
grandfatherly gentleness to offset is severe volume, like a once grizzly-bear of a man reduced to
a teddy-bear of a fatherthe grizzly held in check behind a thin pane of glass, to be broken
only in dire case of needand for all intents and purposes, given the way the other younger
Agents in the room seemed to look to him, Daniel perceived this as a very real role he held in the
Task Force.
Leonard? breathed Daniel, Is that you?
Guilty as charged, replied the tall, hulking man, rubbing his bald head absently.
I thought you were dead, scoffed Daniel, a grin starting to stretch across his face.
Not yet, beamed Leonard. So I take it you got the full briefing, ah? Glad to have you
aboard.
Leonard turned to Boatman and growing instantly rigid, saluted him. Boatman returned
the salute casually, and Leonard spoke casually again, giving Daniel an stern, approving
onceover.
Didnt I tell you this son of a bitch was tough? he barked, calling all those in the flat to
attention, Yeah, hell do just fine.
Daniel chuckled self-effacingly and waved off the praise, despite his grinning pride in
being recognized as such by someone as revered, by him, as Leonard Stonebreaker.
So I take it you referred me?
Dont look at me, replied Leonard, throwing his arms up playfully, I just said if I had
to take orders from norm-hume, I wanted it to be someone Id fought alongside in the war. I
mightve told em about how you handled yourself on Gliese 876 d, that day.
The term norm-hume was a slang for Normal Human that the Special community adopted
during the war. Because the Special community had been so segregated, they have developed
their own slang to passive aggressively combat the spite that normal human populations use
when they mention Specials. Daniel recognized the slur and pursed his lips.
38 | P a g e

Leonard put his arm around Daniel and redirected him so that they both faced the others
in the room in an attempt to include them in the conversation.
Ol Rooke over here, is a war hero. Hes one of only fifty-three soldiers to make it out
of that little suicide run in Valley 862.
Daniel nearly grinned out of embarrassment, a discomfiture that was greatly compounded
by the fact that no one else was smiling, but Stonebreaker.
Daniel tried to change the subject to something that did not include the disinterested
others when a young and handsome dark haired man in the corner came forward with an easy
smile that was quite disarming. His piercing blue eyes seemed to offer a warmth and eerie
captivating quality and stood pronounced, flashing from behind thick dark brown hair that had
seemed black, at the far end of the room.
I remember that engagement, said the handsome young man, Valley of the Wolves,
if Im not mistaken. The heads put every body from seven armadas they could find into that
valley. Terrible tragedy. Such a waste of lives for a rock without the slightest strategic value.
Yeah, it was. replied Daniel. I lost a lot of good men in that valley.
Daniel, said Leonard, this is Bradley Overman. Call sign: Maximus.
Daniel was stunned. The legendary Maximus had a mythos as great as a comic book
character. And there he was. Young, vibrant, powerful and beautiful. It was no wonder he was
given so much press time. The poster boy of the Specials Battalion in the flesh. He was easy
and personable, with a silent charm and very easy to like.
Bradley did not seem easily impressed, but gave credit to Daniel solely for surviving the
engagement and appeared pleased at the prospect of his leading them. However, it was also
obvious that he, like the rest in the room, with the exception of Leonard and Boatman, was
reserving his judgment.
A beautiful black haired Asian woman stirred from the corner, her figure was firm and
shapely, but her voice was filled with mockingly dry sarcasm.
You were at the Valley of the Wolves? said the woman, I didnt think any officers
made it out of that engagement.
None did. replied Daniel, matter of fact.

39 | P a g e

It was at that moment that every man in the room went rigid and she grinned as if she had
proven her point. Every jaw tightened. Daniel noted this, and was taken aback. A wiry olive
skinned man in the back of the room stepped forward with a critical eye and a harsh tone.
And youre not an officer? demanded the man coldly.
Leonard hazarded a smile and appealed to Daniel.
Mr. Rooke, Id like you to meet Stephen Giordano. Callsign: Kiloton. Hell be your
offensive player in the field. Trust me, when he goes off, you want some yardage between you
and him. And the girl whos acting like its that time of the month is Elizabeth Meng. Callsign:
Burn.
Nice to meet you, said Daniel with an easy smile and extended his hand.
Kiloton did not take the hand.
What was your rank, demanded Giordano, then seeing the expressions on Stonebreaker
and Boatmans faces, he quickly added, if you dont mind my asking?
Technically, I was an enlisted man. Private-First Class.
The others looked up and scoffed, glancing over at Boatman and the black man with the
straightened plaits of long hair rose, standing at least six foot seven, with, at least, four hundred
pounds of bulk, kicked off the wall and glared down at Daniel.
And this man is going to lead us? spat the man. A private?
Leonard stepped in between Daniel and the towering figure of a man with a look of
warning that hardly phased the much larger one.
At ease, Donovan.
The intimidating figure instinctively halted short of Leonard as though estimating his
chances of taking the much older, but shorter man before him. Finally, Boatman who restored
order with a quiet, yet reprimanding tone..
Stand down, Henry. replied Boatman coolly, Thats an order. Then spoke plainly to
the room at large demanding attention. He was a PFC the duration of the war due to a
communications mishap between Enlisted Division of the Human Resources Command and his
Division Commander. As far as everyone on the ground was concerned, he was a decorated
Master Sergeant. Thats it. The matter drops here.
So, grumbled Giordano. In effect, he had brevet duties.

40 | P a g e

Daniels head was spinning and his blood boiled as his face interchanged between pale to
bright red. He had served his country and planet, honorably and with distinction. He was proud
at being one of the first classes through the new United Nations military ground troops training
program, and he felt it was an honor that he had known so many great men and women, often
cradling them as they died before him.
In an instant, all their faces and all their myriad deaths flashed before his eyes in rapid
procession as his anger became an almost tangible thing.

These distasteful summaries of his

abilities, related solely to his questioned rank status, devalued him and his entire division, from
his subordinates, to his peers, on to Lieutenant Colonel Forrester, himself.
Look, barked Daniel, hotly, it was official to everyone in my entire Division. I didnt
find out I was a buck private until I got planet-side, and it remains unofficial only because no one
wants to risk their careers by taking credit for the paper-trail screw up that kept my
Rank/Specialty Code to such a low bulk sum upon discharge.
But, hes still just an enlisted man, spat Meng, rolling her eyes. Our bare minimum
demand for an Anchor was Lieutenant. From there, we wanted to find someone who had led
troops or devised strategy effectively.
No disrespect General, but this is bullshit! railed Donovan Henry.
Donovans right, said the man in the back.
He spoke softly, but his words were immediately registered by everyone in the room, as
if they reverberated in their skulls.
Daniel, said Leonard, seemingly hoping for a more measured discussion from this new
voice. May I introduce Tobias McCormack, callsign: Paladin.
Ive heard of you, said Daniel, impressed by the man he never met before.
Dont take this the wrong way Daniel, said McCormack disgustedly, But I havent
heard of you. And that means something to me. General, we all signed on to serve under you,
but when you informed us we were going to have to serve under a field commander who was a
normal human, we had hopes that at the very least, it was someone credible. I dont see how you
expect us to follow someone this green.
Thats right! chimed Donovan, and glared down at Daniel, jabbing his fat finger into
his forehead. We dont care how badly you want to walk with the Specials and say you were

41 | P a g e

one of us. This little dream you got of playing with the big boys aint going to happen. Your
little fantasies of rolling with the top dogs is going to get one of us killed.
In one deft move, Daniel gripped the long thick finger and wrenched hard, causing a
spasm throughout the massive frame of Donovan, followed by a kick to the back of his knee,
sending the giant form crashing to his knees, as he twisted the bent arm behind his powerful
back. The other Specials rushed forward with every intention of attacking Daniel.
Leonard and McCormack raised their hands in warning, and the others stopped dead in
their tracks as Donovan yelped in agony, and Daniel continued to twist and reposition his grip
depriving Donovan of any chance to discern how to break free of the hold without graver injury.
Okay, listen up, shouted Daniel in annoyance. One, I dont like being judged. Two, I
dont appreciate being poked by fingers. What is this, high school?! I did my time! I proved my
merit. I could give a fuck what you think. Ive been working as a New York City cop in BedStuy for the past five years since I got back from the war and cut loose from my mandatory
eighteen month Veterans Societal Rehabilitation training program. And I was happy with that.
I was just informed last night that I was being drafted into a job that pays less than what I was
making. I am not happy. But Ive been given the job, and Ill do it the best way I can. As team
leader, I need to know that you will follow my orders to the letter and trust my decisions. If that
can only happen putting me to the test to see if I can keep up; then name the test already. I was
given a job, and I took the job. And I dont like these games of whos the alpha male, so get
used to me. Because Im right here, and I dont back down.
Daniel released Donovan, sending him forward with a kick to the back to collapse to the
floor. Donovan gripped his finger and glared back at Daniel in a rage, seeming to billow and
expand.
McCormack raised his hand and everyone in the room cringed as he spoke the word
Stop.
Daniel was intrigued, as McCormack had not so much as opened his mouth, yet the
powerful man who seemed to be a veritable wall cringed as if he had screamed at him.
Donovan began to decrease in mass to his original height and musculature, though still
not taking his eyes off Daniel.
McCormack walked up to Daniel and with a slight grin, nodded his approval.
Alright, said McCormack, A test.
42 | P a g e

The others nodded their agreement.

4:
43 | P a g e

half hour later, Daniel and the Specials were climbing out of an old primer colored
van with tinted windows in front of Dukes Olympian Gym, an abandoned boxing
gym located off of the 1300 block on Randall Street.

Graffiti covered the walls of the building and seemed to stand out from the white paint on

the exterior. Daniel assumed it was the new spray paint that all the kids in Bed-Stuy were
usingthe paint so resilient to attempts to cover it over, that would show through up to twenty
coats of paint as if it were sprayed on just an hour ago. The edifice had crumbled from deep
holes, apparently from being used for target practice by the gangs in the area. It was clear from
the spread of the holes it was caused by automatic weapons fire. Wood panels covered with
advertisements for inner city music releases and liquor brands covered the glass doors.
Leonard led them to the doors covered with heavy chains, unlocked the padlock, removed
the chain and pushed in the doors, revealing a dust covered floor that opened into a lobby.
The Specials poured in and Daniel followed them into the main gym as they gathered
around in a wide circle surrounding the dilapidated ring and they traded glances with each other
in amused interest, waiting for Daniel to enter the ring.
Remember son, you can walk away at any time, whispered Leonard with some
concern. Theres no harm in it.
Yeah there is, replied Daniel dryly.
Daniel stripped off his flak jacket and shirt, revealing his swimmers physique and with
the expulsion of a heavy sigh through his nostrils, climbed into the ring with a bored and
annoyed expression. Upon entering the ring, he stretched his back and contorted his neck until a
series of loud pops escaped.
Meng grinned and glanced at the wiry young man, Chad Beach, callsign: Crimson.
44 | P a g e

Looks like the norm-hume thinks he can win, sniggered Meng to Chad.
Remember Liz, replied Chad, in a real fight, the other guy wouldnt allow you the
time to stretch.
You got that right, muttered Donovan in a chuckled as he pulled his long ironed
straight hair back into a thick hard ponytail that pulled at the corners of his eyes, and with his
high yellow skin, gave him a distinctly Samoan appearance.
He then cracked his neck and glared at Daniel with a menacing look of anticipation.
All I see is a lot of posturing, he continued, Well see how this white-bitch acts when
the chips are down.
Donovan, Beach chided through a grin, you realize most of us here are white, right?
Yeah, but Ive seen you fight, Chad. replied Donovan. And you fight like a nigger.
Dont get it all twisted. I dont see color in yall. We cool. Donovan then glowered at Daniel,
adding: This pasty motherfuckers going down, though.
Just dont get too tall on us, Mammoth. chided Chad. The roof is not that high.
Donovan glanced up at the ceiling and pursed his lips considering Chads assessment.
True, replied Donovan. Good looking out.
Gentlemen! barked McCormack. Meng quickly turned to him and glared hotly.
Lady McCormack added, Are we done yet?
Yes sir! they said in unison.
Good, concluded McCormack, and then took a judicial tone bordering on drill sergeant.
Daniel Henry Rooke, you have elected to enter into a trial by fire of your own free will. This
will be a fight that will last until you have been pinned three times, or until you tap out.
Were wrestling? scoffed Daniel.
Not exactly, replied McCormack. You want to lead us into battle. This team has been
organized solely for the purpose of subduing and arresting Specials who are breaking the law.
Since you wish to lead, it is only fair that you prove you are even remotely capable of going up
against a Special. We are asking you to go up against the team. Since this is a test, and you are
only a normal human, we will not use extreme measures. This means no third-degree burns,
Elizabeth. No growing taller than a truck and trying to stomp on Rooke, Donovan. No use of
telepathy in order to halt Daniels progress, Brad. That goes for me too. Telekinesis only. Other
than that, the match is fair game with the only exception of match rules, which are no hitting a
45 | P a g e

man while hes down, unless he is still an active threat. Which means if he is in TKO or KO,
you return to your corner and wait until he is revived to determine whether or not he can
continue.
This is going to be fun, snickered Stephen. Ill try to leave a little bit of him left for
you guys.
Youre sitting this one out, Giordano, said McCormack evenly, not even turning to
look at him.
What? railed Stephen indignantly.
You heard me, responded McCormack.
Stephen waved his hands in disgust and walked away, propping himself up against the
wall, letting his eyes bore into Daniel.
Chad brushed his long brown hair out of his eyes and raised his hand.
What about me, sir? asked Chad.
Have fun, Mr. Beach. replied McCormack.
Donovan tapped Chad on the shoulder with his fist as a show of support and they shared
a smirk as they turned and eyed Daniel as a prize. Donovans face then contorted.
Wait a minute, said Donovan, So if we knock him out, you can still wake him up and
he can go again?
He is only a normal human, replied Meng.
All of us have been downed in combat, and we returned to the fray with renewed vigor,
answered McCormack. It stands to reason that we should give Rooke the same chance weve all
had.
What if we accidentally kill him? asked Chad.
General Boatman has already made arrangements with cleanup crews in the eventuality
that comes to pass.
Great, scoffed Daniel, I feel better already.
You can step down out of that ring any time you like, Rooke. retorted McCormack.
No ones keeping you.
Lets just get this over with, snapped Daniel contemptuously. Im getting bored up
here all by myself.
You heard the man, said McCormack. Mammoths first up.
46 | P a g e

Donovan grinned and stretched his leg over the ropes, as he entered the ring.
Daniel seemed puzzled for an instant. He did not remember Donovan being so tall. An
instant later, Donovan had grown an additional five feet, and glowered down at Daniel.
Time to bring the pain, white boy.
Daniel scoffed and his heart sank. How was he ever going to bring down a man who
could add to his size andquit possiblystrength at will?
Mammoth scattered the thought by bringing his foot down so hard, it went through the
decaying ring leaving his knee at an even level with Daniels hips.
Daniel sidestepped and kicked hard against the side of the knee and Donovan roared in
pain.
With a powerful wide arch of his arm, Daniel was blown out of the ring and he bounced
off the far wall, crashing to the ground.
Daniel laid on the ground and did not stir.
Its over, concluded Meng.
Donovan finally pulled his leg out of the hole in the center of the ring and stood on his
pensively, testing his knee gingerly. A moment later, Daniel rose to his knees and spat blood,
wiping blood from his nose and flicking it off his fingers disgustedly. He rose and cracked his
back, letting out a groan. Then walked shakily back to the ring and just cleared the ropes where
Donovan stood even taller than before.
You thought that was cute, didnt you, bitch? spat Donovan. Kicking me in the knee?
I kinda liked it, yeah. replied Daniel with a grin.
Donovan swatted Daniel again, and he bounced off the ropes, rolling in between
Donovans legs and jumping upward, punching Donovan in the groin as hard as he could.
Donovan doubled over and hit the mat wide eyed and gasping.
That little bitch cheated! railed Donovan and rolled onto his back with his hands
between his legs, cupping his groin.
There are rules in this street fight? spat Daniel. Sorry, I didnt get the memo.
Actually, there are rules, retorted McCormack. The sparring rules that any boxer,
wrestler or martial artist abides by. Even in Muay-Thai, there is no below-the-belt punches or
kicks.

47 | P a g e

First of all; if I make it through and end up leading this team, Im going to have to pull
some pretty dirty rabbits out of my hat to hold my own against our collars in the field. Secondly;
Im in here going up against seasoned Specials without a weapon, so Id appreciate a little
leeway.
Alright, fine. replied McCormack. Mammoth, youre out. Take a break. Crimson,
Burn, youre in.
Chad and Meng grinned as they congratulated each other with a slap of their hands while
Donovans eyes burned into Daniel. Finally, Donovan climbed out of the ring pointing to
Daniel, silently promising their personal fight was not, by a long shot, finished and then slowly
turned and stepped over the ropes and returned to the wall, crashing hard onto the ground next to
Stephen and took to nursing his knee. Daniel frowned as Meng and Chad eagerly jostled up
through the ropes and hopped in place anxiously awaiting the go ahead as they cockily glared
back at him.
If Im going up against two, scoffed Daniel, and one of them is an energy emitter, Id
appreciate a weapon.
You pull a weapon on me, this gets ugly. spat Meng.
What, demanded McCormack, makes you think one of them is an energy emitter?
The chicks name is Burn, scoffed Daniel. I dont think she got the call sign for her
sunny disposition.
You got that right, private, spat Meng, and with a flick of her hand, a flame billowed
between her fingers.
Daniel gestured to McCormack, silently informing him his point had just been made for
him. McCormack chuckled and shook his head.
How about a bo staff? suggested Leonard with a wink to Daniel.
Daniel knew exactly why Leonard was suggesting one, but still glanced a look over at
Meng, skeptically.
You got one made of carbon with a fire-resistant coating?
No, just the wood. replied McCormack. But Ill make it a rule that we can take away
the weapon and use it against you, but we cant destroy the weapon through energy projection or
telekinesis.

48 | P a g e

Daniel pursed his lips and considered for a moment. It wasnt much, but he had the
strongest feeling Donovan Henry was the least threat in the room, and he had graduated to a
more complicated scenario against two tougher opponents. There really wasnt any better option
he could fathom.
You got a deal, he agreed.
Give it to him, barked McCormack over his shoulder to Leonard.
Leonard walked over with nearly five foot long, one inch thick wooden bo staff from the
darkest corner of the gym and tossed it to Bradley, returning to stand between them, twirling the
corner of his mustache upward, absently with a knowing grin. Bradley tossed the staff into the
ring to Daniel, and he absently snatched it out of the air, as though his muscles remembered the
length of the tool and how to employ it. Feeling the weapons light weight, he determined it was
around 750 grams, more or less, and felt its weight shift as he turned it in the air, until he felt he
had a comfort with the weapon.
Leonard gave a grin to McCormack and Bradley.
Watch this, said Leonard.
Are we ready, yet? scolded Chad.
Baby needs a security blanket, chided Meng in a mocking coo.
Daniel took a defensive position and waited with his bo staff at the ready position. It
seemed rather flimsy and lame, considering he was courting a fight between two seasoned
veteransadding to that the fact that they were Specials attacking him as a team, and the odds
did not improve with his being granted in using said weapon, in the slightestbut he doubted
any greater act of kindness from the gallery than he had already been granted to present itself,
and so, with a grunt, he did what he usually had in lopsided situations such as thishe sucked it
up, and waited for the storm to break.
Daniel surmised that Meng would have to be taken down fast, suspecting Chad to be a
greater physical threat in close quarters combat and his mind raced with possible close quarter
assaults, discerning how he could be neutralized and studied the harder road of combat, where
the soldier takes the role of an athletic chess player, studying moves, probing for weaknesses,
and most importantly, praying he is still conscious by the time he finds the Achilles-Heel.
His scenarios shattered amid the booming call for war that shook down his spine to his
knees and continued down to his heels as he pensively bounced on the balls of his feet.
49 | P a g e

Begin! shouted McCormack.

Daniel quickly launched at Meng. Within an instant, her fists glowed and seemed to
transform into billowing balls of flame. The heat was so intense; Daniel instantly recoiled,
feeling his skin burn within five feet of her. As he suspected, comically enough, he was to fight
a woman bearing the callsign burn with a wooden stick. The irony was not overlooked by the
eyes on him and a few snickers escaped to linger in his ear.
Raising her fists, Meng launched the balls of fire repeatedly at Daniel, singing his hair
and scalding his skin where the fire balls passed.
Daniel was lucky. It seemed pretty obvious by her call sign that her abilities would be
related to radiating energy of some kind, but he had not expected her abilities to include the
projecting of fireballs.
Meng laid down a suppressing fire while Chad launched overhead with an aerial display
of kicks and punches with the seeming strength and dexterity of a chimpanzee in a tree, equally
using both his arms and legs to press his attack, while scarcely ever touching the ground; using
Daniels own chest, shoulders, arms and headand incredibly, at one point, for a tremendously
heavy instant, used the raised bo staff itselfto land a blow to Daniels face and then propelled
himself upward and away again. With seemingly incalculable spins, leveling several precise
punches and kicks to Daniels head, Chad seemed to dance around the fireballs as if he had them
timed perfectly.
Fighting Chad was unlike anything Daniel had ever anticipated. Chad was easily faster
and far more powerful than him, and he proceeded to fight with a bored and lazy expression that
impressed upon Daniel that not only was he performing maneuvers done so many times his
actions were second nature, but even worse, was holding backan interpretation that angered
Daniel.
The wooden stick in his hands snapped and spun violently, almost keeping up with Chad,
and many of his blows were blocked as Chad became more and more annoyed at his inability to
land a solid strike on Daniel.
Every time Chad attacked, the heat from Meng dissipated and the field of fire quickly
diminished to almost nothing. Daniel began to see their strategy in taking turns, keeping him off
balancewhile the other laid down an assault to suppress his attacksand on the defensive. He

50 | P a g e

began to appreciate their teamwork and solidarity of mind. It was clear by their joint assaults
and their apparent boredom they had performed these maneuvers hundreds of times.
Time for something new, said Daniel with a smile.
Chad was frustrated by Daniels grinning and began to fight harder, but temporarily
overwhelmed by the severity of Chads responding assault, it was all Daniel could do to merely
block, and no attack was made until Chad had leapt back, and Meng continued to press her
assault.
Daniel recoiled from Meng and when Chad launched at him, tossed the bo staff into
Chads midsection and with his foot, propped up the other end of the staff against the mat,
causing Chad to pole vault over him.
Daniel darted into the space the bo staff opened between Chad and the mat, and rushed
Meng; punching her in the forehead, knocked her into a backward slide across the mat as Chad
landed hard on his back, roiling on the ground in agony a short distance from where Meng laid
staring at the ceiling, as she processed the trauma she had just sustained in a state of utterly
disbelieving shock. As her cheeks flooded with red in a mixture of embarrassment and rage, she
tried to raise her head, or will her arms to move, in vain.
McCormack seemed surprised, but only for a moment.
Maximus, called McCormack, Youre up.
Chad and Meng rose shakily and glared back at Daniel with disgust, then smiled when
they noted Bradley climbing into the ring.
Looks like I just graduated, smiled Daniel.
I dont know what youre smiling for, said Bradley, youre not going to win this
match.
Youd be surprised, said Daniel with a scoff, how many times Ive been
underestimated.
Im sure, replied Bradley. But the point is: Youre now facing a telekinetic. He
studied Daniel hard and added, Do you have a strategy?
Daniel pursed his lips and shrugged.
Not really, replied Daniel. In situations this fluid, I kind of have to come up with a
battle plan on the fly.

51 | P a g e

Well, replied Bradley, I hope you dont mind if I dont give you time to form one,
then.
With that, Bradleys fists balled, and Daniel was stunned by an impact to his nose and
mouth from out of nowhere, sending him back three steps, and his nose began to bleed again, the
flow more torrential than from the blows of either Chad Beach or Donovan Henry. Daniel wiped
the free dripping blood from his nose, testing the cartilage that ran the length of it gingerly, and
looked perplexedly at Bradley for an instant.
Bradley stood ten feet away from him, and appeared not to have moved so much as an
inch toward him. Daniel then charged Bradley and a series of blows propelled Daniel backwards
landing hard onto his back as the audience looked onMcCormack, Leonard and Chad
watchedwhat was quickly developing from a combat/strategy test to one of endurance
critically, while Stephen Giordano, Elizabeth Meng and Donovan Henry grinned malevolently
watching the beating Daniel tookwith no small amount of satisfaction for their indignities,
either real or perceivedwhile in the ring, Bradley looked almost sad at Daniels inevitable
defeat and set his jaw.
Like I said, Bradley reiterated grimly, Im not going to give you the chance to form a
battle strategy.
Daniel rose slowly and stared perplexed at Bradley. The next blow came hard across his
chin, bending his head back hard in a snap and Daniel fell to the floor again, his bo staff rolling
out of his grip. He laid their stunned for several moments.
If you get up, Im going to keep going. said Bradley, matter of fact. Tap out, Officer
Rooke. Theres no shame in it. You just arent up to the task.
Officer, thought Daniel. Not AgentThis guy thinks Ive already been measured and
weighed...
Daniel rose to his knees, and Bradley did not wait for him to rise. The assault sent his
head crashing back to the mat with a crack.
Daniel rolled over onto his stomach and pushed himself to his knees again, taking up the
bo staff.
Bradley merely sighed, and with a nod of approval, took a defensive stance.
Daniel then charged Bradley and held his bo staff firmly in front of him. In an instant, he
felt the force like solid air or invisible concrete pressing against his fist and bo staff, bending it,
52 | P a g e

as another force came right up the middle and propelled him backwards, crashing against the
matt again.
Im impressed, said Bradley with approval.

You made three feet on me.

But

playtimes over.
Daniel rose and took his bo staff up again.
Youd be right about that, retorted Daniel with a grin, and he charged on Bradley again.
Bradley seemed to frown as if he did not prefer to lash out at him. This only flashed
across his face for an instant.
The next instant, Bradleys eyes grew wide and focused and Daniel felt the brick wall
pressing against his bo staff and right arm again. Using the staff, he felt the field and discerned
that the force was no more than a few inches in diameter and rolled away from it, discarding the
bo staff as it bounced off another projection leaving Daniel only three feet from Bradley.
Daniel leaped up and kicked Bradley directly in the face, sending his head back with a
snap that brought him to his knees.
Bradley put his hands on the mat and fought to regain focus quickly.
Daniel brought his leg back for a kick to the back of the skull, when a sudden pain
affected his own skull with the severity of a dozen migraines piggybacking all at once into the
space between his eyes and his earsand sent him back a step.
Perplexed, Daniel stood still for an instant and quickly recovered, fearing Bradley would
regain momentum. The next instant, he had grabbed Bradleys wrist, yanked it hard from the
mat and dug his fingernails into the nerve between his index fingers, pinching the nerve hidden
there. Bradley yelped and his arm went limp allowing Daniel with a hard wrench to twist his
arm behind his back, forcing Bradley to lay flat on the mat.
For a brief moment, Bradley seemed to resist, and Daniel felt the concrete force begin to
stretch out and press against him, almost enveloping him.
With a hard yank, Daniel threatened to dislocate Bradleys shoulder.
An instant later, Bradley, frustrated and in agony, tapped the mat three times.
Daniel recognized this as the sign of submission, which ended the match and released
Bradley, who laid perfectly still, groaning as he gripped his arm gingerly.

53 | P a g e

Meng, Chad, Stephen and Donovan each took steps collectively toward the ring, but
Leonard, McCormack and Bradley waved them off, and the four stopped in their tracks, with
silent annoyance.
Bradley heaved backward onto his knees, and gingerly felt his arm, massaging the
muscles from his shoulder down to his wrist. McCormack seemed momentarily awestruck, but
quickly reverted to the blank-expressioned wall.
That was an interesting tactic. concluded McCormack coolly. Tell me, why did you
grapple Brad? It seems a threat as powerful as Maximus should have deserved a more direct
physical assault.
Daniel looked over at Overman and tried to slow his heart with a few deep breaths in
order to speak without sounding labored.
Mr. Overman is a powerful threat, agreed Daniel, with a nod to the now rising
Overman. But he underestimated his opponent, which can get you killed in the field. As far as
why I chose to grapple him, I gotta say, kicking him was a tempting alternative. But I had a
feeling a man as seasoned as he is would probably recuperate fast and be prepared for such an
assault. And then I figured out that what I really needed to do was scatter his thoughts and make
it hard for him to focus.
McCormack was perfectly still, his face pale, his eyes severe.
And how did you come to that conclusion? he demanded, coolly.
I dont know, he muttered, unsure how to define the last two minutes in actual words.
Something occurred to me and I decided to change my strategy.
Can you tell me what occurred to you?
Daniel pursed his lips. He actually had no idea how it had come to him. He was good at
recognizing and classifying new threats at a quick pace and coming up with solutions to the
problem facing him, but his decision with Overman seemed to be out of his own character.
It was like all of a sudden my mind flooded with hundreds of facts that I never
considered before, responded Daniel, with a shrug. The primary fact I ended up focusing on
was that telekinesis, like telepathy, was a focusing of will, which the agent forces into reality
against or onto a selected subject. That that will can be broken through distraction. And pain
was a perfect distracter. I cant explain it. It just sort of popped into my head. It gave me a little
bit of a headache, too.
54 | P a g e

McCormack stared at Daniel for a long moment studying him critically.

Interesting, muttered McCormack.
Well you made the right choice, chimed Bradley with a gregarious slap on Daniels
back. I was augmenting my telekinesis into a shield. If you had attacked me with a blow, it
would have redirected back at you. But manipulation of the joints and pressure points! That, I
wasnt expecting.
Hows your arm? asked Daniel, mainly out of concern, but also to remind Bradley of
the pain he had just inflicted on him. Bradley grinned and rubbed his shoulder.
Nothing a pack of ice couldnt cure, replied Bradley with a smirk. Trust me; Ive had
worse during the war.
Glad to hear it, Mr. Overman.
Brad, chimed Bradley, offering his hand.
Daniel.
Welcome to the Task Force.
Donovan, Meng and Stephen grew instantly indignant, while Chad seemed accepting of
the decision.
He didnt even get to fight me, spat Stephen.
Stephen, replied McCormack, Youve caused serious injury to your own team
members by detonating too close to them in simulated combat. My shields have trouble blocking
your explosions. Im not going to pit you against a normal human just to make a point. To many
Specials, thatd be suicide.
Yeah, well, pressed Stephen mulishly, If he cant hold his own in a safe environment,
hows he going to hold up in the real thing?
Stand down, Stephen, commanded McCormack.
No! demanded Stephen defiantly, This is important! Im not going to put my life in
the hands of a norm-hume.
Giordano, bellowed Leonard, and Stephen instantly jumped to attention under the
commanding voice of Leonard and remained at attention until Leonard dismissed him with a jut
of his chin. Stand down!
Stephen skulked away back to Donovan and Meng.
So thats it? said Daniel in disbelief. Im in?
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No, answered McCormack not yet.

So what next?
You and me are going to have a little talk, concluded McCormack, and glanced at the
others alone.
Back at the post. One hour.
McCormack then turned to leave and the others followed. Leonard pulled Daniel into an
expressive one-armed hug that displayed both his comradic feelings for Daniel and his desire to
keep the others from assaulting Daniel from behind.
There, cooed Leonard, gregariously, that wasnt so hard, was it?
Oh, piece of cake. scoffed Daniel, and they chuckled out to the van while Bradley and
Chad kept pace between Daniel and the mutinous three.
So, said Daniel as he and Leonard climbed into the van, this meeting between me and
Tobias, anything I should be worried about?
Nah, sang Leonard. Hes just going to give you the run down. Dont sweat it.
Daniel looked at Leonard sideways in a moment of doubt. If McCormack or Boatman or
even Bradley had made the statement he would have walked out the door then and there. But
Leonard had stood next to him alone, with no supportwhen everyone else was either dead or in
full retreatand fought long after he had felt he should have, by rights, fallenAnd inspired
him to rise and press on. Anyone elseHe nodded to Leonard complicity.
I trust you.
Leonards eyes widened for an instant as the full depth of Daniels simple sentiment set
in, and the degree of consequence to be laid at his feet if things should go in a direction he did
not foresee. As though his honor and merit he had earned in Daniels interpretation of him could
easily be cast aside should McCormack pursue a less than welcoming dialogue at this impending
office meeting. Leonard smiled grimly, hoping he was not a liarthat he was accurate in
McCormacks intent. Gregariously, he pulled Daniel along out the door of the dilapidated gym
and onward toward the dark-tint windowed van, and into the midmorning.

56 | P a g e

The Post
When the van had pulled in front of the nondescript brownstone-style building that housed the
Task Force, Daniel immediately filed behind McCormack, who led him up the lobby staircase up
to the third floor, into the flat and down the long hallway to the last door on the right hand side
and the aging Paladin opened the door, leading him into the small converted office. McCormack
manned his seat behind the desk and was putting files back into the desk drawer when he noticed
Daniel still standing there.
Have a seat, said McCormack politely.
Daniel sat in the old office chair delicately nursing his injuries and sighed.
So what now?
You and me are going to have a test of wills, first.
How?
Im going to try to enter your mind, began McCormack matter of fact, and youre
going to try to stop me.
Youve got to be kidding, scoffed Daniel.
This is the only way youre going to be able to stay on the team.
I just proved myself back there on your own test, spat Daniel hotly, now you want to
change the rules?
You can think what you like, spat McCormack, glaring at him with a cold authority, I
dont give a damn what you think. But when we get out there, well need to be able to trust
you. His eyes bored into Daniel grimly. Do you think Bradley and me are the only telepaths
out there? There are some who are even more powerful than we are.
McCormack studied Daniel for a moment, as though choosing his words very carefully.
Finally he returned to speaking.
There are three reasons why the powers that be usually trained telepaths to provide
strategy in combat. One, they could save money on communications devices, and two, a telepath
could orchestrate the battle from a very safe distance.
Whats the third?
McCormack took a deep breath and exhaled hard as his eyes bored into Daniels.
There was a darker aspect to our presence on the battlefield. It was called the DC
Protocols. It stood for Divide and Conquer. These were protocols for psi talents to affect
57 | P a g e

enemy troop movements during battles where enemy forces had control of the battlefield through
a form of psychic infiltration, forcing hostile combatants to turn on their own forces and sow
discord among the enemy. In several engagements we received these protocols which gave us
permission to affect enemy troop movements directly, by entering their minds and turning their
own forces against them.
Daniels face grew long as the implications of what McCormack had just told him set in.
Jesus, he gasped.
McCormack continued, seemingly indifferent to Daniels discomfort.
It required a great deal of skill, and more often than not, the horror of it drove a great
many Specials insane due to the fact they were under orders to murder so many so callously.
They called it bombers guilt. In effect, they said it was the same as pilots dropping bombs at a
distance killing so many unknown faces. To a telepath, it was far worse. We experienced their
thoughts and dreams. Flashes of their lives. And then turned them on their comrades, in some
cases relatives, and forced them to pull the trigger. The best of us could affect nearly entire
battlefields, turning a great threat into powerful allies. They were aware of the fact they were
murdering their own men and were screaming and weeping in horror. When their own men
finally killed them, the psychic blowback was almost the same as killing us as well. We felt
ourselves die and then our consciousness would snap back into our own bodies. The second
most powerful of us was a young man Ill never forget. Errol Polls. He was a good kidbut
Errol was a powerful psi talent. He had the ability to possess multiple targets at once and force
them to lash out violently at their own men, turning entire legions against the remaining forces.
McCormack seemed to drift into a dark nostalgia and did not speak for a long moment
that grew maddening to witness. Finally, Daniel braved to prod McCormack to finish the tale.
What happened to him? he breathed, though he was sure he knew the end of the tale, he
had to hear it. At last, McCormack began to speak again, his eyes returning to Daniel.
This is just conjecture, but in one engagement, when the protocol was activated, he
spread his consciousness too thin. There were thousands of them, that day. He began weeping
but he turned the tide. Saved us all. After the enemy troops were decimated, though, something
happened. The next thing we knew we were fighting each other. I was also swept away in the
madness until I realized I was not in control of my actions. Then I looked up and Errol was on
the hill screaming. Hed lost control of his own abilities. A handful of us who were thankfully
58 | P a g e

moderately resistant to his effect on the battlefield had to go up that hill and eliminate the threat.
McCormacks expression was grim as he added in a mutter, I can still see his eyes.
Daniel was horrified.
To kill a comrade in arms, he thought. He could never have done it.
Oh, assured McCormack with a sad smile. I think you could have. Daniel pulled
away with anger at having his mind read; but McCormack continued, armed with the cold logic
that often accompanied honest analysis. Youre a soldier. If one of your own was killing your
other men, I think you could have done the exact same thing. Thats why I let you take the test.
If you couldnt do it, I would have told the General to take you away immediately.
Not at all comforted with McCormacks rationale for humoring his consideration as team
leader, Daniel grew cold, sensing a dark response to his burgeoning question.
Why are you telling me this?
Partly to lower your defenses so I could get a good reading on you, replied
McCormack, matter of fact.
Daniel was mortified, and a deep sense of betrayal overtook him.
So all that was one big lie? he spat as an indignant rage began to build within him.
Just to break into my mind?
McCormack merely sat there, silently indulging in a reminiscent smile.
Errol was a good kid. He was very real, concluded McCormack. The next moment,
his eyes became hard and regretful. all the way up until I killed him.
There was a long pause that seemed to stretch out between them. One that McCormack
did not intrude upon. Daniel began to squirm in the silence. His anger had subsided a great deal,
but he could not take the snapping bite out of his question.
Whats the point of the story, other than so you could peek into my mind?
Daniel was instantly apologetic for having spoken too harshly when McCormack smiled,
and seemed to wave off his silent self-rebuke.
You have to understand how dangerous this task is going to be. Every time we go out,
we could run into a Special that was a part of the psi program. One that could have been subject
to the DC Protocols. Thats a high level psi talent. I need to know you wont be compromised
so if you do end up leading us into battle, you wont become a liability to us.
So how do we fix that?
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Look at me.
What is this, some kind of mind-meld? chided Daniel with a scoff.
Do I look like Mr. Spock to you? scolded McCormack, Just shut up and look into my
eyes.
McCormack leaned close, peering into Daniels eyes.

Daniel was instantly

uncomfortable, fully aware how this would seem if someone had merely opened the door to see
the two men leaning toward each other, gazing intently into each others eyes.
As their noses verged on nearly touching, Daniel grew increasingly wary and scoffed his
discomfort with a verging threat.
If you kiss me, I swear to God
Shut up, please, muttered McCormack, a trace repressed of irritation in his tone as his
jaw set.
Daniel sat uncomfortably and tried to breathe calmly.
This may hurt, said McCormack.
Great, scoffed Daniel.
Then his world went white. There was an almost audible pop and a sensation of pain in
his skull that almost brought him to screaming out loud. It felt as if a cool gel had begun to creep
across the space between his brain and his skull, and he was aware that something was filling up
his skull, causing the sensation as if his head was ripe for bursting. Then the gel seemed to form
needles, and began to penetrate his brain.
He could feel the movement of the liquid deeper into his brain, down past his eyes, and
he gasped as he felt an electrical current travel through his skull, as if the gel had caught fire
inside his brain. Then the world went black, and all he could hear was his heart beat pounding as
though it were threatening to rip out of his chest and his own breathing racing, labored near the
point of panting.
When Daniel opened his eyes, he was shuddering and his heart was racing. He was
drenched in sweat and he fought to control his breathing. He felt like he had run ten consecutive
one minute miles and his muscles ached from tense spasms.
What the hell did you do? panted Daniel.

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Made it difficult for a psi talent to read you, replied McCormack. If someone tries, it
will prove extremely painful. Like all predators, the hunter prefers the weaker prey. This should
remove you from being a target by all but the most powerful or persistently curious psi talents.
What happens then?
If a psi talent is that powerful and determined enough to see inside you despite the pain
and risk to him or herself, theres ultimately nothing that can be done.
Why?
Because if theyre powerful enough to get through your mental defenses, replied
McCormack grimly, Theyre also powerful enough to compromise everyone on the team.
A pit dropped to his stomach and plunged far below his seat as the understanding of the
potential conflict he might yet face congealed into an almost eventuality that McCormack did not
bother to dispel.
I was afraid of that, he muttered.
Theres nothing more I can do for you, concluded McCormack with a wave of his
hand. Your defenses could block both Bradley and myself quite effectively. Less so, with
Brad.
How do I know what your saying is true?
McCormack dabbed his ears and held it up to the light in front of Daniel to show the
droplets of blood on it.
Because, replied McCormack, after I taught your brain how to defend itself, I then
attacked you. Trust me. Theres no way a high level psi talent could invade your thoughts or
affect your actions without paying a dear cost.
Daniel sat and weighed McCormacks words of reassurance, and was far from reassured.
He had received a valuable gift from Paladina thick and powerful wall that prevented him
from being read or controlledbut his words made him feel that all the defense in the world was
just so much tissue paper compared to the real threat of the highest level psi talent. Daniel felt
sick to his stomach, and his strength left him, finally, leaving him only the pain his body felt
from the traumas he had received only a few hours earlier.
You need rest, concluded McCormack. I suggest you get some sleep to recover.
Youve had a busy day.

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Daniel looked toward the window to discern the time by the inclination of the sun, only
to find the sky was black with an occasional dim light flickering there. Below, the lights of
windows, streetlamps and the passing headlights of cars told him he had spent a great amount of
time in the office with McCormack.

Far longer than he had even noticed or could have

imagined.
What time is it?
Its late, answered McCormack, seemingly anticipating Daniels apparent confusion.
Your internal alarm clock will catch up. Frankly, this kind of process often resets it and all
sense of time is lost for a few hours. It will reassert itself while you sleep.
Daniel nodded, and after a minute of struggling with hisnumbed from lack of use
legs, he rose slowly, walking over to the door and held onto the knob as a thought occurred to
him. An annoying question that began to weigh heavily in light of all he had undergone and
learned from McCormack. Especially in regard to the Divide and Conquer Protocols.
Who was the strongest?
Whats that? said McCormack, looking up.
You said Riot was the second most powerful psi talent in the Specials Battalion. Who
was the first?
McCormack seemed to recoil into his chair, as if the subject was one he would have
rather avoided.
Simon Kolinsky, said McCormack with concern, as if the mere mentioning of his name
was the same as being in his presence. Call sign: Ark. The most amoral man I ever met.
Messing with peoples minds was like a game to him. All any of us were to him were pieces on
the board to be moved on a whim. He was so powerful, he not only mastered the DC Protocols
against the enemies he controlled friendly troop movements as well. Both sides. At the same
time. We kept him in a stasis chamber that was carried into battle like the Ark of the fucking
Covenant and opened only at the utmost need. Last I heard, after the war they took that box to
the deepest, darkest hole they could find, hooked it up to a life support system and kept it shut. I
dont think anyoned be stupid enough to free him. Ever.
And if someone did let him out?
Theres a reason he liked to call himself Pandora, McCormack said with a scoff.
Trust me, if we ever go up against him, there will be no hope.
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Daniel nodded silently.

It was not the answer he would have liked to hear, but the truth had often worked that
way with him. A heavy sigh escaped him, and his eyes nearly shut. His head bobbed and he had
to shake his head to remain alert.
Do I have a room here? Or do I need to check into a hotel somewhere? Preferably in
the Northwest section of the city.
You can always go check in at the Courtyard Washington Northwest; its got some
incredible views of the landmarks. Unfortunately, its a little pricy and youll be responsible for
the bill and transportation costs. Didnt the General tell you? No one gives a shit about us.
Daniel nodded as if he had expected that answer and scoffed.
Any place here?
McCormack laughed, and pointed down the hall toward his left.
Your bags and weapons were delivered while we were at the gym. Theyre in room
406, down the hall and to the left. We tried to clean it up a little, but dont expect miracles. This
place is a shit hole.
Right, muttered Daniel. Thanks.
Have a good night, sir. Well work on your strategies for us first thing in the morning.
Daniel waved McCormack off half caring and walked out of the room, feeling his mind
growing heavy and the need to lie down becoming a paramount necessity. Daniel did not even
care that federal agents had been in his apartment, going through his things. He knew they
probably bugged his place to ensure he would not be a leak for information. After all, its what
he would have done if he were assigning someone else to a sensitive job like his.
Daniel reached room 406 to find Donovan Henry standing against the wall next to the
door. He looked down at Daniel disgustedly.
So you think youre big shit now that youre on the team, huh? scoffed Henry coldly.
Well let me tell you something. There aint no way Im going to take orders from some pastyfaced, white-assed, norm-hume bitch like you. You heard me? I dont know when, but sooner
or later, you an me are going to finish what we started back there. You feel me?
Daniel nodded uncaringly and pushed the door open weakly and left Henry standing there
frustrated as the door closed behind him. Daniel stripped off his clothes and let them fall
wherever they would without a care.
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The room was musty and stale and the aroma of mold and old decay battled with the
smell of Lemon Pledge and air fresheners. In short, it smelled like a new used car with a dead
rodent in it. Daniel did not care. He fell on the starched sheets and did not bother to wrap
himself in them or climb under them. He buried his face in the pillow and smelled the only thing
that smelled truly fresh in the entire roomthe smell of new pillows.
Probably the most expensive thing in the room, he thought as the lights went out and
he drifted into the darkness.
Within the count of three breaths, he was snoring.

Back in McCormacks office, Bradley entered and sat down as his friend stared out the window
in deep thought, wholly disinterested in the distant and nearing sounds of police sirens wailing.
You felt it too? said McCormack, unsurprised.
Yeah, replied Bradley.
Im not wholly concerned with my decision to train Rooke. He would have found a way
to overcome you eventually. But it probably would have taken him a half hour or so. Maybe he
would have lasted that long, I dont know.
Hes pretty tough, replied Bradley, He just might have lasted that long. McCormack
chuckled, nodded his agreement, and then trailed off again, staring out the window again.
Bradley was equally as frustrated. Who do you think it was?
I dont know, said McCormack. I havent the foggiest idea who. But what worries
me, is how strong he was.
Yeah, it wasnt even subtle. It was like whoever it was didnt care that we heard.
Whoever it was, its clear they want Rooke on our team, concluded McCormack. This
either makes him an asset in keeping him close, or a liability in keeping him too close.
So what do we do?
Ive already done the best I could to keep that from happening again, replied
McCormack. If theyre that powerful, it wont matter much.
So what about Rooke, then?

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Hell sleep off the trauma I put him through. Hell feel like he got hit by a bus in the
morning. Then well work with him on implementing strategies for combat scenarios. Make a
playbook and get the team to memorize it.
You know, not everybodys happy about you appointing Agent Rooke.
I know. It cant be helped.
I think were going to lose some of the team.
Not Chad, replied McCormack. And he has more reason than any of us to leave.
Yeah, replied Bradley. Its a shame about Sophia.
A Greek tragedy, replied McCormack.
Do you think we can even get him a visitors pass to the AbSpec Facility?
AbSpec stood for Abnormal Special. An Abnormal Special was a class of Specials who
were visibly different and have no ability to blend in with the normal human populations. They
are viewed as alien or animalistic.
Are you kidding me? With everything theyve put her through shes nothing more than
what they think of her, at this point.
Someone should burn that place to the ground.
Dont even think about it, growled McCormack. Dont even nurse that thought. Just
let it go. The sooner Chad forgets about Sophia, the better off all of us will be.
I guess youre right.
The only way we can function in this job working for the government, is if we forget
how much theyve wronged the entire Specials community. Thats the only way.
Right, said Bradley. Ill let you alone to think. Good night, Toby.
Brad, said McCormack, his tone rooted Bradley to the ground. Dont ever mention
The Zoo again, especially to Chad. It wouldnt take much to find the facilitys location, with our
level of clearance. And the last thing we need is him going off in some misguided attempt to
break out those prisoners. Thats the last thing we need.
The AbSpec Facility was nicknamed The Zoo because of all the animals and
freaks caged there. It is described as a science facility in some federal grants, a prison in
others and rehabilitation and reintegration facility for abnormally mutated Specials on closed
congress file. No matter where the funding came from, all denied such a program had ever
existed.
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Bradley swallowed at the thought of a mass breakout and the harm it would do to normal
human/Special relations and knew McCormack was right. He did not like it much, but he had no
choice.
Right, replied Bradley, grimly. Good night, Toby.
Night, Brad.
McCormack sat introspectively for a few moments, listening to the sound of Bradley
Overmans footsteps growing fainter down the hall until he could no longer hear anything but the
sirens wailing in the distance and the occasional shouting match down the street.
When he was sure he was alone, he opened the drawer on the side of his desk, and began
to rummage through the numerous books and field manuals within, until he found one marked
Psi Talents [A two volume manual]: Unlocking their Abilities & How to Neutralize Them.
Across the front cover were the bold letter words: CELESTIAL CLEARANCE: EYES
ONLY.
McCormack flipped through the manuals appendix, passing chapters with odd titles like
Chapter 1: The PreCog: Myth Or Asset? Chapter 2: The Psi Ball: A Psi Talents First Steps, or
Chapter 4: The Remote Viewer: From PROJECT STARGATE to Now. The second section of the
manual was filled with chapters far more ominous. It was entitled PSI TALENT: Neutralizing
The Threat.
In the second volume of the manual the chapters had titles less dedicated toward the
training of the psi talents, but more focused on the breaking of them. This was evident in chapter
titles such as Chapter 12: Sensory Assault: The Use Of Techniques Formulated by First Earth
Battalion and PsiOps And Tested In Gitmo And Abu Ghraib For Use Against The Psi Talent or
Chapter 14: Penetrating And Nullifying The Psi Ball. Finally he found the chapter he was
looking for. Chapter 17: How To Cancel Out The Psis Talent, Pg 373. Halfway down on page
375, McCormack found what he was looking for:

As we touched upon in Chapter 12, we now revisit the Psi Talents ability to
maintain their phenomena under stressful conditions. Telekinesis, like
telepathy, is a focusing of will, which the agent forces into reality against/onto
a selected target/subject. The Psi talents mind is the cause of the
phenomenon. However, it is also the source of the Psi talents downfall.
The will of the Psi Talent can be broken through distraction. One primary
66 | P a g e

distracter, using a wider classification, is pain. Through the introduction of

pain into the controlled environment, Psi talents become disoriented, unable
to maintain the focus necessary to continue to capitalize on the phenomenon
they themselves manifest. Thus, through distraction, i.e. pain, the Psi talent
is neutralized with greater ease.
McCormack closed the training manual and returned it to his drawer, then returned to
staring out the dust and oil stained glass in quiet contemplation pouring over Daniels words and
scrutinized the similarity between his new insights and the research manual. There was no doubt
that the text had been fed directly into Daniels mind by an unknown party. The one thought
returning again and again to McCormack was:
Who are you?

67 | P a g e

5:

The Line in the Sand

aniel laid in his bed in a contorted angle with his arms extended straight between his
thighs and his neck arched in an odd way. A long low snore drew out of him and he
moved his head subtly, in an unconscious attempt to wipe the drool on his cheek and

chin onto the pillow without moving his arms. He did not open his eyes, though he was so very
near to being awake. He made every attempt to resist the waking world, as was evident from his
head constantly turning away from the morning sun light pouring in from the stained windows.
He lay there motionless for quite some time, until a fist pounded on the door.
Daniel, up an at em! shouted the commanding voice, You got ten minutes until your
meeting with McCormack and Overman. Shake a leg!
Daniel attempted to jump up, only to grow rigid and still, his eyes opened wide in
surprise. He let out a soft labored groan and remained perfectly still as he slowly took inventory
over every sore joint, muscle and bone. The cartilage in his nose throbbed and he could not
prevent the single tear from trickling out of his eye to maddeningly tickle his cheek. He did not
bother brushing it off for fear of the wrenching, seizure causing pain he fully expected to feel.
My God, muttered Daniel, I think Im dying.
Another pound on the door shook him, and he unconsciously turned his head to the door,
sending another jolt of pain down his spine. He winced and grit his teeth.
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Come on, Rooke! shouted the now clear voice, easily distinct as Leonards Were
burning daylight, here!
Gimme a minute, will you? shouted Daniel.
What, inquired Leonard with mock concern, do you want time to finish jerking off?
I cant move my arms to jerk off, asshole!
Toughen up! bellowed Leonard critically, and he pounded on the door.
Hey, Im your superior officer, now! Do what I say and get me a gallon of ICY/HOT!
There was a long pause and when Leonards voice intruded on Daniel again, it was with
some sincere concern.
Are you okay?
I think I got a little more hurt yesterday than I realized, Daniel muttered, testing his
muscles. Just give me a few minutes to stretch out, will you?
Sure, replied Leonard with some nervous concern. Take your time.
Right, muttered Daniel, and with a sigh, rolled off the bed to collapse onto the floor
with a thud. His cheek pressed against the hard-crusted carpet, Daniel felt a tickling sensation all
over, as if he were laying on soft fiberglass.
He quickly rose to end the odd sensation and brushed his arms, legs and face with
disgust, trying to brave the waves of severe pain he felt with every motion. After the pain had
passed, he took long moments to stretch to ease pain in his muscles, though it did nothing for the
pain to his bones and nose.
Finally, he opened his suitcase and dressed and within a minute, he was walking down
the hallway toward the common room. Donovan sat with his arms folded on the chiropractic
office chair, leaning back against the wall.
You still here? spat Henry with disgust.
Obviously, scoffed Daniel. Wheres the kitchen in this place?
Find it your damn self, spat Donovan, a wanton malice in his eyes.
Thanks for your help, replied Daniel in frustrated annoyance, and cringed at the loud
voice that echoed explosively through the common room and reverberated down the hall.
Fuck you!
Daniel muttered to himself as he walked down the hallway toward McCormacks office
as Leonard appeared out of a side room with a grin.
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Seems like youre up and about.

Only in body, scoffed Daniel. Wheres the kitchen in this place? Im starving.
We dont really have a kitchen. But breakfast was brought in an hour ago. Its in here.
Leonard stepped out of the way to allow Daniel into the makeshift commissary. Daniel
was surprised. There was no stove, no microwave or even a refrigerator, but the room was clean,
with white and black tiles on the floor and countertop shining back at him in the soft illumination
of the overhead fluorescent light.
This place is so clean, gasped Daniel.
Well, we gotta eat somewhere, scoffed Leonard. Hurry up with chow; you got a
meeting in five.
Right, replied Daniel, and he sat down at the table, and began to fumble through the
take out containers and empty scrambled eggs, bacon and toast onto a paper plate. Daniel was so
content with the notion of eating the first solid meal he had had in nearly forty-eight hours that
he did not even care when he noted there were no forks or spoons anywhere. Soon, he was
shoveling handfuls of eggs and bacon onto the toast slices and forcing the piles into his mouth
and licking his fingers.
Within a few minutes, he had finished his meal with great satisfaction despite the
inconvenience of not having silverware and he tossed the paper plate into the trash bin in the
corner of the room and walked down the hallway toward McCormacks office, still licking the
excess egg off his fingers.
When Daniel reached McCormacks office, he found McCormack and Bradley sitting
idly, discussing potential strategies for the next training exercise.
Morning, said Daniel.
Agent Daniel, chimed McCormack, Leonard informed me you were in pain. I trust all
is well?
Im fine. Ive actually had worse, if you could believe it. But its been a long time since
Ive had it at all.
Well, concluded McCormack, dryly, its better your body remember and grow
accustomed to pain. Theres going to be a lot of it in your future.
Thats comforting, scoffed Daniel.
Have you had time to think about how you intend to use us? asked Bradley.
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Beg your pardon?

Did you learn anything about our strategy, he pressed, and how to fix the problems in
our protocols from what you saw in the scrimmage, yesterday?
I learned that Beach spends too much time in aerial attacks, and though hes faster than
anything Ive seen and he hits like a mule, he still has to come down. And when he comes down,
hes open to attack.
Good, said McCormack, What would you do about that?
Id like to see him stay more grounded. Has he had training in martial arts?
Hes been versed in all the important forms of hand to hand combat.
What are the important ones?
Did you recognize any of the styles?
It looked like a cross of Tae Kwon Do and Regional Capoeira, though some of the
grappling and pressure point maneuvers he attempted suggest Krav Magda.
Thats a good assessment, congratulated Bradley, How would you handle Crimson?
Id take his legs out from under him when he came down before he could get proper
footing. He can press a powerful and intimidating attack in the air, but he also doesnt have the
power he would have from a grounded assault. He cant pivot off the heel to give a greater
whipping effect to his punches or kicks that he would be able to do if he stayed on the ground.
In the air hes vulnerable. If hes going to keep jumping, hes got to do it faster and hit harder.
A seasoned fighter could dodge an air attack and hit him hard before he touches the
ground, sending him flipping through the air. And after yesterday, I confirmed a suspicion I long
had about jump kicks. They give up power for an intimidating show of force. That intimidation
doesnt work on seasoned fighters. Id like to teach him how to pivot on the balls of his toes to
add a little extra power to his punches and kicks.
Plus, he added, hopefully. Id like to see how he handles himself against a bladed
weapon or an opponent with speed and strength more on par with him. I find that when one uses
a martial style and they fight another opponent who uses another style, it can be problematic for
the fighters. His problem is not everyone knows how to fight. I figure that despite his obvious
skills, hes just been getting lucky and getting by.

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McCormack and Bradley turned to each other and traded looks of approval that clearly
demonstrated what Daniel said had confirmed their suspicions and beliefs and then returned
intently to Daniel.
What about Elizabeth? said McCormack clinically.
Daniel blinked as the fog of his brain rushed to the forefront in a sudden rush of
lightheadedness he had hoped would be shooed away by force of willthe cloud on his
thoughts, however, refused to be dispelled by any degree of determination he attempted to
muster.
Who? he stammered.
In his early morning stupor, compounded by his obvious concussion, he was still
operating on autopilot, and his brave face was cracking.
Elizabeth Meng, corrected Bradley, somewhat dismayed, but politely all the same.
The fog of sleep still cob webbing his mind, Daniel seemed visibly perplexed for a
moment.
Burn, added McCormack irritated, then sighed. Dont worry. Ill get you dossiers on
all team members after were done, here. You can study them at your leisure.
Okay, said Daniel, and then pursed his lips as he tried to laser in on his memory of the
fight the previous morning. As a strategy, projecting the fireballs as a form of suppressing
firepower is a solid formula, but she has a problem in that she can only release them in bursts,
and you can figure out the timing of her bursts as well as the speed of the fireballs.
How fast are the fireballs traveling, then?
Id say about thirty-five miles per hour.
Interesting.
What, am I wrong?
Not really, replied McCormack. The fireballs travel at thirty-four, actually.
So why are you breaking my balls? snapped Daniel, with annoyance.
McCormack just glared back at him with a reserved annoyance.
Get on with it, Agent Rooke.
Right, scoffed Daniel. Anyways, like I said, its a good strategy, but her bursts can be
timed. I assume her rapid fire bursts was her full capacity?

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Thats her top speed as far as delivery of her payloads, answered McCormack. but she
has a few other tricks up her sleeve.
Like what? demanded Daniel.
Ill leave that to your research when I give you the dossiers.
Daniel scratched his head.
Youre not really helping me, here.
McCormack grew visibly perturbed and studied Daniel for a moment.
Were not here to help you, Daniel. snapped McCormack. Were here to train you so
you can help us. All the information youre requiring of us can be found in the dossiers. Youll
find theyre quite thorough when documenting the abilities and endurance levels of Specials.
Youre doing fine so far. Just get on with it.
Fine, scoffed Daniel, more than a little put off. Because burns bursts can be timed,
they can be avoided, putting her and the rest of the team at risk. I would like to have her train to
vary her pulses into random patterns, so that the enemy cant get a good timing on her pulses.
What kind of patterns?
One pulse per second one barrage, three pulse per second another barragethat sort of
thing. Make the enemy gun shy by making her assaults unpredictable. I would like the enemy to
worry that every attempt they make to move from one cover to another could be the one attempt
they get nailed in. If we can pin them down, we can easily create a strategy that doesnt result in
risking injury to members of our team.
Setting aside the whole Special/Norm-Hume problem, interjected Leonard, Id like to
offer that a cornered man is a dangerous man. Whats your solution to a pinned down Special,
then?
Thats what grenades are for, concluded Daniel, as if the answer was obvious.
Problem solved. No one on our team gets hurt.
Bradley and McCormack traded looks of concern, but then returned to the role of the
stone-faced audience.
And what about Henry? inquired McCormack.
Daniel thought for a moment. Donovan Henry was a physical threat from the beginning,
and there was not much he could say against the mans strategies, other than the fact that he was
such a big target, he was likely to draw the majority of enemy fire. That was a concern.
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Donovans abilities are obviously to change height and mass, but I also suspect to
change density and strength.
Go on.
Donovans problem is ego, Daniel concluded. He gets cocky, and he thinks that by
being bigger and stronger is enough to turn the tables on the situation. Setting aside the fact that
hes a big target in a firefight, and the fact that as far as I can discern, hes not bulletproof, my
problem is with his physical structure when he grows. It seems to me that his bones lose their
density in the change. Its my contention that if he were to grow bigger than a house, his bones
would become brittle. Kind of like those spindly tall basketball players. Theyre always falling
down and getting injured for the season.
Okay, Im still with you, said Bradley, Go on.
Well, if he can also augment his density, he could harden before he grows then harden
again and grow some more. It seems he just plain grows, leaving himself needlessly open to
injury.
Harden? said McCormack, skeptically, and traded an exasperated look with Bradley.
I figure theyre two separate things, replied Daniel, Pushing up to grow, and pulling in
to harden. By pulling in, he increases his mass. Like shrinking.
McCormack looked at Daniel incredulously.
I dont think you understand his abilities all that well, he said irritably.
Really? challenged Daniel, Then tell me something; why does Donovan have a
changing waistline?
What are you talking about? demanded McCormack, irritably.
Yesterday I saw his waistline change three times, pressed Daniel against the his
disbelieving audiences glare of disagreement. It seems to me, he has the ability to increase his
strength and density by shrinking or pulling inward. He may not even be conscious about it, and
just sucking in so he doesnt look so fat.
Wait, scoffed McCormack, an almost derisive chuckle building in his throat, youre
telling me that youve discovered something that the Camp Gamma Specials Medical Staff, in
over five years of study did not detect?
Daniel blinked at the new term, and frowned, visibly nonplussed.
Camp Gamma Specials Medical Staff?
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The Base Science/Medical Facility for Specials Base Camp Gamma, said Bradley.
They wereon papera Mobile Military Hospital unit only stationed at Base Camp Gamma to
monitor the military personnels health and perform surgery on the wounded returning from the
front lines. However, they were also the mad scientists who experimented on the weaker
powered Specials, in order to encourage their usefulness in combat through DNA splicing, drugs
and radiation exposure. The desired result was a powerful Special with a high endurance and
survivability level. As a result of the experimentation, the scientists were responsible for the
creation of 98% of all Abnormal Specials.
Leonard stared hard at the ground, clearly a sore subject. McCormack looked into
Daniels eyes matter-of-factly.
And you think youve learned something new that wasnt first documented by them?
When you put it that way, chided Bradley, it sounds a little farfetched.
Daniels face flushed as the back of his neck began to burn under the critical glares of
disappointment.
Maybe you should just read the dossiers and we can continue this after dinner, said
McCormack, ignoring Daniels hypothesis out of hand.
Fine, snapped Daniel, You want me to prove Im right? Ill be back.
Daniel stormed down the hallway into the main living room and spotted Donovan Henry
still propped against the wall in the rickety chiropractic office chair.
Mammoth, snapped Daniel, authoritatively, I need you.
Bitch, fuck you, spat Donovan, I dont give a damn about you.
Leonard appeared over Daniels shoulder and glared at Donovan.
Staff Sergeant Henry, barked Leonard, You are disobeying a direct order from a
superior officer.
This aint the military no more, Leonard. scoffed Donovan. I respect you, man. But dont
bark at me like you can handle me. The only man Ill take an order from is the General or
Paladin. Shit, its Paladin who should be leading us, anyway. Not some white-assed normhume bitch like this, here.
Leonard took a step forward and Daniel put his hand on his shoulder bringing him to an
immediate halt.
I got this, said Daniel.
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You want to go? spat Donovan, and he kicked the chair out of the way and clenched his
fist. Come on.
You want to get embarrassed again?
Man you got lucky yesterday and you cheated, too.
McCormack and Bradley raced into the room to separate them, but DANIEL warded them
off with a wave of his hand.
I cheated? spat Daniel, I guess thats the best explanation you can come up with, since
I beat your fat ass fair and square.
Donovan seemed to billow, and then shrink, his stomach pulling in and forming near rock
hard abdominal muscles under a layer of considerable body fat. His arms became more defined
and his thighs and ankles took on a powerful body builders physique as he began to stretch
outward and upward to nearly the ceiling.
Bitch, Im gonna kill you, bellowed Donovan.
Daniel merely smiled and raised his hand to Dillard in pause.
Hang on a second, Mr. Henry. said Daniel, and turned back to McCormack and
Bradley. See? He can do it.
Donovan stood up straight and was instantly frustrated. He had been waiting to fight
Daniel ever since he first arrived, and now Daniel was not even facing him, but talking with
McCormack and Bradley.
Do what? spat Donovan, What the fuck is that white-motherfucker talking about?
Daniel walked out of the room and McCormack and Bradley followed him back to the
office leaving Henry to stand there in growing mortification and contempt.
Back in the office, Daniel sat down as McCormack and Bradley entered.
That was crude, said McCormack with a wry smile. But you made your point.
Bradley however, did not seem pleased at all.
I hope you know, said Bradley, you just alienated a team member who was already
thinking about dropping from the team. This is not at all the way you should be leading us.
I understand your being displeased with how I got my results back there, Overman,
replied Daniel, but as far as Mammoths concerned, I dont think hes going to want to be on the
team much longer as long as Im here. And I refuse to have my orders questioned or overridden

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in the field, so as far as Im concerned, unless we have a meeting of the minds and overcome this
little power play hes committing me to against him, me and him are at an impasse.
The three of them sat in silence staring at each other for a long minute until McCormack
broke the silence with a stern nod.
Understood, replied McCormack.
But Toby, began Bradley critically, you saw what happened back there. He baited
him into a fight. Donovans livid. I havent seen him this upset since he found out Mirage was a
former Crip.
Your discomfort with how Daniel achieved his results is noted, Brad. But we both knew
it was a gamble taking Henry on the team in the first place. His racism and belief in conspiracies
committed by white people against the black community was bound to become an issue when we
went public.
So hes already fired? scoffed Bradley in disbelief, Just like that?
No, replied McCormack coolly. Its up to him. But judging from how hes actively
seeking to undermine Daniels authority, and his encouraging of others to take sides with him in
protest of Daniels appointment as field commander, it seems like hes taking himself out.
I dont believe what Im hearing, declared Bradley with a building annoyance that
began to affect the desk between him and McCormack with a vibration. Hes our team mate.
We went through the whole war together.
Can you control him? replied McCormack critically, Can you keep his mouth shut?
Can you keep him from exploding whenever Rooke gives an order in the field?
What do you want me to do, spat Bradley, rewrite his thinking?
Daniel sat there for a moment dazed, quickly recovering and whirling on Bradley.
You can do that? gasped Daniel.
Not now, Daniel. spat McCormack, and returned his critical glare to Bradley. If
Donovan is out, its because Donovan cant figure out how to overcome his own racism to be a
team player
I cant be a racist, said the deep bass voice, raised higher in indignant dismissal, from
the hallway, and Daniel turned around to see Donovan, who now filled the doorway, glowering
down at them. Im black. Racism was invented by white people. Yall motherfuckers are
racists. But I love you guys because of what we went through together, and I know you two got
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my back. But dont expect me to follow this white, racist-motherfucker, right there. You want
me to go, Ill go. I dont want to be ordered around by no bitch-ass cracker who doesnt know
the first thing about fighting a real fight. Ill be gone tonight. And I promise you, Lizzie and
Stephen dont want none of this white motherfucker here, either. I wont be going alone.
Thats fine, replied McCormack. We need a team thats going to act like a team. If
you cant get with the program, then thank you for letting us know now, and no hard feelings,
Henry.
So you keeping this bitch?
McCormack eyed Donovan Henry deadpan.
The bitch stays, replied McCormack.
Donovan stood in the doorway staring in utter disbelief for a moment. He was so
confident his protest would have won McCormack over. Now, Donovan realized he had just
fired himself.
Fine, scoffed Donovan, Im out.
You can stay till the cargo plane leaves in the morning, if youd like. said Bradley,
despondently.
No, Im cool. replied Donovan. I dont want to even eat anywhere with that
motherfucker right there.
Whatever, replied McCormack and he turned to the window, fuming.
Donovan, think this through, urged Bradley, What are you going to do if you quit?
Do you even have a job lined up?
Im sorry, man, replied Donovan, You guys and the General are my heart, but I dont
like the way this is headed. Its better if I leave.
You always got a place here, Don. said Bradley, kindheartedly. You know that,
right?
I know, man. said Donovan softly. And I appreciate that. I really do. But I dont
think Ill be coming back to this team, especially with the direction its going down. This
politics is bullshit.
If you turn your back on us, warned McCormack, just dont fuck up out there. I dont
want to have to meet you on the opposing side of a battlefield. Can you do me that?

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Oh, Ill keep my nose out of trouble, for sure, man. replied Donovan, dismissing the
concern out of hand. I dont want to be playing around and give these motherfuckers an excuse
to lock us all up in concentration camps or something.
Remember you said that, Don.
Right, said Donovan, fully aware of the threat McCormack had just made and
nervously shifted in his stance. Look, Ill tell you what. Im going to walk the straight and
narrow, and Im done with the whole adventure thing, but if you guys need me, holler at me. Ill
come running. You got my word on that.
We just might do that, Donovan. replied McCormack. Knowing the road we got ahead
of us, we just might do that.
Right, well, Im out.
And with that, Donovan Henry shot a glare at Daniel, and disappeared around the corner.
All there was to prove he was still even in The Post, was the heavy footed plodding sounds the
floorboards made as he walked back and forth in his room as he put his belongings into his duffel
bags.
So what now? asked Daniel, breaking the silence.
We tell the others at lunch, replied McCormack, if Donovan doesnt tell them first.
Then we got to find out how many people want to follow him, and take whats left to form the
team around. McCormack rose and turned to Daniel. Take a break and regroup. Well work it
out at lunch.
And with that, Daniel realized he had been dismissed from the office. With heavy legs,
he rose and a gnawing self-doubt began to grow in the pit of his stomach as he entered the hall
and closed the office door behind him.
This just got difficult, he muttered, and retraced his steps to his own room.
Once in his room, he closed the door, gingerly laying his sore bones on his stiff bed and
stared at the yellowing, sun-faded white paint on the ceiling trying to project his options before
him. Taking deep calming breaths to slow his heart-rate so passion would not cloud whatever
decision he would eventually come to, he allowed the events and facts to present themselves to
him as a third party observer, in the hopes that he would become impartial. After a handful of
minutes, he found himself growing angry andthough his newfound mounting rage, as a
response to the ignorant diatribes and conflicts of the last few days was more satisfying was not
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entirely constructive, and soas a result, again, emptied his mind, breathing deeper and more
slowly, and attempted the process all over again.
After a while, he gave up on the process altogether, and let his mind dwell on people who
faced similar uphill battles and how they faced them. This, he found to be more constructive, as
the sun crept incrementally higher outside his window until he was lost in a less brooding
process of thought.

It had been a little over two hours since the disastrous meeting with McCormack, Overman and
Leonard and Daniel laid his the hard bed in quiet frustration, his head on the new pillow, and he
reflected on the first days in office that Abraham Lincoln had when the Southfearing he would
be an abolitionist President who would bring the federal government firmly over the states to
dictate governing laws and policy, and in a preemptive decision to negate his potential future
policies regarding the loss of state sovereigntyseceded from the union.
Here, Daniel sat facing the certainty that the Special team he was appointed to lead would
disband before he even gave his first order. He sat in silence and stewed over his likely return to
the Bed-Stuy in defeat and neither Bradley nor McCormack even dared to dismiss his fears. It
was almost certain that the Specials Investigations program was over before it even had a chance
of beginning.
He found himself, as he had many times before, reflecting on his battle training before he
was deployed to the front all those years ago, when he was set on his surprise zero-grav combat
training: The Ceres Solo.
On a transport to the lesser-planet Ceres, he remembered he had been ordered down to
the cargo cabin to replace a damaged fuse so the transport would not have environmental failure,
and he had assumed by their tones the decision was based on the fact he was not of their crew,
and therefore unimportant. It made perfect sense, to him: Why risk anyone who could contribute
beyond cannon-fodder over such a stupid death?
And that is how he found himself in the empty cargo hold in full kit, the environmental
armor sealed tight against the subzero cold of the cabin interior.
He recalled the airlock opened unexpectedly, picking him up in the sudden hurricane
winds that sought the open hatch which launched him into the void. A maddening tumble filled
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with terror as the transport continued at tremendous speeds into blackness, leaving him hurtling
on a trajectory shaken by the wake the transports EM field had made, spurring him in new
twisted directions, at incredible speed.
A feeling of utter helplessness and desperation swelling in him, and he remembered
screaming as he rocketed across the void.
The first thought he had was to rid himself of the mad tumbling he found himself in, and
retrieved his rifle from his back. The idea was to fire into the void and correct oneself to a
stationary position, which basically meant, eliminating the tumble, because in space, you were
always moving, even though you couldnt feel it.
The first shot almost ruined everything. Without another plane of gravity to consider, he
did not anticipate the recoil of the Gauss rifle throwing him so hard, and nearly lost his only
weapon to the void, holding onto it by mere fingertips. After the thrill of fear after the first shot,
he wrapped the shoulder strap around his forearm and began a series of EM bursts into the void,
until he found himself, discharge by discharge, correcting his spin and trajectory until he had
achieved a slower momentum and no longer rotating across his central point of personal gravity,
his hips. For a long time, he fought the urge to vomit his mad spin had left him with, but once
the trauma of disorientation faded and he acclimated to his new environ, the void, just beyond
the Oort Cloud, he began to study his surroundings first, determining immediate threat
levelssuch as rocks and dust traveling at the speed of bullets, around himthen began
focusing on his personal chances of survivability as he looked for a way to save himself.
As is usually the case when disoriented, first you look for a bearing, and then decide upon
your ultimate goal. He found the distant sun winking in the distance beyond the floating dust
particles and rolling boulders made of mineral and ice and knew his chosen direction. It would
be toward the light.
He then shook himself from this dark memory and turned his mind to his current
dilemma.
So what was the difference between then and now? He thought.
It was the Ceres Solo all over again. He was set adrift in a political minefield and he had
moved from a wild trajectory he had been committed to by external sources to a more controlled
one, but he had not yet decided on a direction. And the question was daunting. He could not
come to a readily available answer, but his path was now clear.
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The only choice was whether or not he dared take it.

In that grim, vague stupor, he found himself rallying to some solution. It was dim and illformed, but it seemed to him as though there was a road to walk, and at the far distant end of the
tunnel, a light gave him hope.
But, as often occurred in battle, no full idea formed. Just the decision to commit to
action.
I should do something, he thought. Find my star and take action to get there.
Before Daniel realized it was happening, he found himself walking down the hallway to
the kitchen with a grim sense of purpose; the dominating thought on his mind was that somehow,
he would have to counter the fears and contempt of his subordinates in order to even begin to
hope to make a case for the possibility of salvaging the team.
He could hear the muffled voices on the other side of the kitchen door rise and lower
followed by occasional bursts of dry laughter as he reached the end of the hallway.
He pushed the door open to find that he did not need to bring his grim mood with him. It
had been waiting for him in the kitchen.
Well, look whos here, scoffed Elizabeth with a dry laugh.
Hello, Private. spat Stephen.
Chad sat at the far end of the table, saying nothing. He had at least, remained neutral,
though it was clear he was aware of Donovan Henrys departure, and was not pleased. He
busied himself with his ham sandwich and kept his head down. Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at
Daniel, and smirked.
So, what are your orders, sir? she snickered.
You dont have to call the private sir, Lizzie. joined Stephen.
Leonard kicked the table, sending it crashing against the far wall and both Elizabeth and
Stephen fell silent. He did not say a word. He merely stared at them as if he had visions of
devouring their flesh while their hearts still beat in his hands. They both squirmed under his
eviscerating glare and traded nervous glances to each other like errant children under a heavy
handed fathers watch.
Sorry, sir. said Leonard, at last. Wont happen again.
Yeah, it will, gainsaid Daniel. Itll keep on happening until they learn whos in
charge.
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And who is that spat Elizabeth, too angry to care of Leonards disposition any
longer. You? It takes more than an infantry man to get me excited. You cant handle me.
No man can.
And if you think Im going to let you throw your weight around over me just because
you happen to be a normal human, you can forget it. railed Stephen. The only reason youre
here is because the Defense Department and Homeland Security dont feel comfortable letting a
Special lead Specials. They want a normal human in the role of the slave driver. And Im too
powerful to be your whipping boy. Besides, I outrank you, private.
Thats fine, concluded Daniel. You dont want me leading you? Thats fine. But as
youve stated, the government isnt going to let this little team form unless theres a norm-hume
at the helm. Without me, youve got no job. No job means no paycheck. Where are you going
to go, if youre not here?
Ill find work, replied Stephen, dryly. Believe me.
At minimum wage? replied Daniel. The truth is, for a Special, there are only three
lines of work left: Theres government work, theres minimum wage brute work, and theres
mercenary work. And thats it. If you take mercenary work, the pay is good, but youll be going
up against the government team that does get formed and taken down by us.
Ill take my chances, spat Elizabeth. Stephen grunted his agreement.
Thats fine, replied Daniel. I wish you well. I really do. But you wont do well for
long. Why do you think Specials cant get jobs that pay well? Why do you think Specials are
rejected from higher paying jobs? Why do you think that Specials with United States citizenship
cant leave the country? Because the State Department had declared you as either being an asset
or a threat. Thats why youre all labeled, not by tattoos, but by your credit reports. A job does a
background check on you and a word with big capitol letters flashes over your report saying
SPECIAL. I should know. My buddy does Human Resources for the New York City Police
Department. Hes always complaining about how nervous he was when the word flashed across
his screen.
Your kind is so vilified in this days society, its virtually impossible for you to have
normal lives outside the government. The government is making it impossible for Specials to get
work outside the military and government branches because they want control over you. Its a
fact of life and its unavoidable.
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If you work for the government, youre an asset, and theyll throw you a bone. It
doesnt taste good, but its better than minimum wage. And the mercenary job will pay you well,
but like I said, the government will find some reason to bring you in on charges and process you.
Most likely, for leaving the country without proper visas.
Listen to me very carefully, because this is the greatest bit of wisdom you were ever
offered, and I ask you to consider it. You are now in the eye of the hurricane. If you step
outside of it, just an inch, youll risk getting swept away. And youll find it is very hard to find
your way back.
If you quit, you can easily be replaced. Those on the outside, looking inwant in.
Your departure will just delay the teams debut by a month, maybe three. But it will happen,
with or without you.
Ive seen most of you perform, and I see potential for growth that Im interested in
working with. But if you want out, I wont try to stop you. Its your life. Its your choice. I just
think if youre going to make a choice it should be with all the facts.
Daniel looked at each set of eyes and all of them appeared appalled by what they had
heard. Stephen looked as if he had been punched in between the eyes, and his eyes burned
bloodshot as his mind worked through the logic in Daniels words. Chad had set his sandwich
down and pushed the plate away and was now staring out the window. But Elizabeth looked
murderous; she kicked her chair back, rising to her fullest height and glared at Daniel with
disgust. If her eyes could have burned him, and considering her callsign was Burn, Daniel
expected it was quite possible, they would have left scorch-marks in the kitchen wall behind him.
Any place is better than being in front of you, private. Elizabeth spat, and she stormed
out of the room, down the hall, and slammed the door to her room.
Sir, muttered Leonard, his complexion pale, his jaw set. Could I have a word
outside?
Seeing his presence in the kitchen was more of an invitation to mass departure at least,
with outright violence becoming a greater likelihood by the instant, he turned to the intimidating
figure before him who fought valiantly to maintain discrete decorum and acquiesced to his
request.
Right behind you.

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Leonard walked out into the hallway in a daze, and as soon as the door closed behind
them, grabbed Daniels arm in an unbelievably powerful grip and virtually dragged him to
McCormacks empty office, closing the door behind him.
Are you out of your mind? rasped Leonard harshly.
Leonard, they were about to walk out en masse. This way, we get to keep about fifty
percent.
I could have seen Donovan and Giordano being lost causes, but you just drove Elizabeth
out with that little speech. Do you have any idea where that leaves us?
Burn is a powerful asset, to be sure, but from what Ive read Kiloton is also an energy
projector with far more firepower.
You want to talk about firepower? What youve read was misinterpreted. Giordano has
no control over his abilities. He just explodes. He destroys more than he preserves, and hes a
liability to the team because he sometimes goes off when there is no threat at all. Hes a hothead
with literal explosions.
What do you want me to say? replied Daniel, heatedly. burn walked, and Kiloton
might actually stay. I can work with whoever wants to stay but Im not going to beg to keep
someone from leaving.
We need Elizabeth, retorted Leonard, She has precision control.

Her ability to

maintain an almost continuous rapid fire with her energy projection is an asset to the team. You
just traded a known asset for an unknown variable.
I can deal with that, replied Daniel. After all, I am an unknown variable. If Stephen is
willing to get over himself and let himself be led into battle by a private, then I can show him a
thing or two about his abilities.
What do you know about his abilities?
Nothing, replied Daniel, matter of fact. But it seems to me, that he was allowed to
train this way because of the impact he would have on frontline enemy movements on the
battlefield. I think his abilities can be focused in different ways, if he commits to training.
Thats a big risk youre taking.
No more a risk than the Camp Gamma Specials Medical Staff underwent when they
encouraged the talents of the Specials on the frontlines.

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They did that through drugs and radiation exposure and tortured and perverted more
people than they helped. spat Leonard. In the end, the Specials Battalion was a shadow of its
former strength because we lost more soldiers to the Camp Gamma Medical Staff than we ever
did to the enemy. And Im not even going to mention what happened in SMD 552nd.
Whats that?
Science Medical Division 552nd was a program designed to research and implement
DNA manipulation in Specials to capitalize on their abnormalities and produce more durable and
effective abilities for use against the enemy. SMD 552nd is the cause of most of the degenerative
conditions resulting in Specials being reclassified as Abnormal Specials.
Daniel stood there momentarily taken aback at the horrors and atrocities that first
McCormack and now Leonard were explaining to him about the war effort to make better more
efficient soldiers. It seemed the Specials community had an even more raw deal than he had
initially known from his limited contact with the community in his former life as a New York
Detective. At the same time, he could not allow himself to be sidetracked from his original point
in this argument with Leonard, but he took a more somber tone in going about it.
Look, I dont expect to have an ideal situation by having the men I want under me. No
officer has the pick of the litter. They take what they have and mold it to the best of their
abilities. Im going to have to be part team leader, part mad scientist. And I need you to back up
my plays to keep me from killing my men during their training. I dont know how much they
can take. Ive never even considered what it would take to train a Special. I dont want to work
without a safety net here. I want you to be my back up. I cant do this alone. I trust you, more
than anyone else.
Im a Special, Daniel. replied Leonard. Im one of them and Im on their side. How
can you trust me?
Same reason you trust me, replied Daniel with a grin. We fought in battle together,
and when everyone else ran, we were standing our ground fighting right alongside each other.
Ive got your back. I need you to have mine, and save me from making the huge mistakes Im
bound to make.
Leonard shook his head and sighed hard, rubbing his bald head in thought for a long
moment before responding.

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I can do that, replied Leonard. And Ive got your back. But I need something from
you.
Anything.
The next time you feel the need to lecture the men on something, check with me first.
That was too much reality for them.
Im sorry about that. I wasnt thinking. I just wanted to contain the threat of the team
disbanding.
By pointing out theyre third class citizens who cant get a real job outside the
government? That the shit pay theyre getting is the best they can get without risking prison
time? That the government is out to get them? Do you honestly think the men will be able to
fight for a government that does this to their own kind?
I honestly dont know, replied Daniel, But Id rather have them know, than have them
make rash decisions and regret it.
Do you honestly believe the government is out to get us?
No, replied Daniel, I believe that there are individuals in the higher echelons of the
government with an axe to grind or a policy to enforce, or both, and that the persecution of
Specials is being largely affected by these individuals. I also believe that these individuals will
eventually need to be dealt with, in some manner, if theres ever going to be a state without
persecution of any minority group. Until we can find a legal way to do it, were bound by those
policies and were going to have to enforce them.
Leonard nodded, critically staring at the ground weighing every word Daniel said before
finally craning his head up to him and staring directly into his eyes.
I think Im looking down the road the same way as you, but I dont like how youre
going about it.
Youre not going to like every decision I come up with. But those I come up with in the
heat of the moment, youll have to back up. I promise you, Ill do everything I can to brief you
on my decisions before I implement them from now on, but youre going to have to take into
account the occasions where there is no time to second guess and immediate action is called for.
In those moments, Ill rely on your support.

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Its a start, replied Leonard, not entirely happy with Daniels stipulations. When I
dont agree with your decisions made in those moments when immediate action is called upon,
Ill try to pull you aside or at least get my disagreements publicly on the record.
I can appreciate that for now, replied Daniel, not pleased with the implications in
Leonards choice of words.
In that case, concluded Leonard, if you dont mind, Ill go check on the men and make
sure theyre not all packing their duffel bags.
Good call, replied Daniel apologetically. And thanks.
Yes sir, replied Leonard. And with that, he turned and left Daniel alone in Paladins
office.
Daniel stood silent for a long moment, then crashed down onto the chair facing Paladins desk
and buried his face in his hands as a long sigh escaped him.
Ive heard youve been busy, said the voice from the door.
Daniel looked up to see McCormack leaning against the doorframe with a grin meant to
offset his mocking tone and critical glare.
Please dont start, begged Daniel, Ive just went toe to toe with Leonard, and I dont
think I could handle another bout with you.
Fair enough, replied McCormack, taking his seat at the desk. You couldnt have
expected anything you said to go well, could you?
Was there something better I could have said?
Not really, replied McCormack, no. They needed to hear it. But it was rough coming
from a normal human, and came off condescending and belittling.
How?
Kind of like a white cop peaceably preaching common sense to a black man; it may in
fact be accurate, correct and proper, but it just sounds belligerent and patronizing to the listener
and grates the nerves. In the end, the listener feels as if the authority figure is using another
tactic to place himself firmly in a position above them. No proud man is going to allow another
man to be anything more than an equal with respect ideally going both ways. Im surprised no
one attacked you.
Im sure they thought about it.

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Im sure they did, chided McCormack. Look, Im sure youre tired of having this
pointed out to you, but youre a normal human. And being normal, you have no idea what its
like to be a Special. You cant hope to relate to them. Its just an impossible undertaking.
Going back to the Special/black comparison, I want you to appreciate the state of the
average Special a little better. A Special is mistrusted as soon as he enters a room. A Special is
viewed with suspicion and assumed to be of malicious intention before they even introduce
themselves. That is where the similarity between the two ends, though, because a large number
Specials were not born black, so the whole persecution based on what you are is relatively new
to us.
Those that are black, like Mammoth, have a different outlook.

Nothings really

changed, for them. They just have a lot more power and street smarts. But they expect their
civil rights to be violated anyway.

They already had contempt for government and law

enforcement because they fought hard for equality and civil rights and learned that even though
it is in law now, government and law enforcement can choose to ignore it when it suits them.
This is new for the rest of us. Were upset because we knew what we had and have now
lost it. We had civil rights, as well as the right to go where we pleased and do what we liked as
long as it did not infract laws. Now there is a policing state within the state. Did you know that
Specials have to carry Special licenses? The licenses tell where we are from, and we can be
arrested for going outside our zones. For a Special, we might as well be a farmer in China. And
if we want to move to a new area, for work or a change of scene, we need to check in with the
government to plea for authorization allowing for the move, and they notify the neighborhood
were moving into beforehand that were coming. One of the key differences between us and the
black society in America is that for the majority of Specials these days, they can simply blend in
with society and avoid all suspicions.
Daniel blinked in astonishment.
How? demanded Daniel. Such a thing was not possible with the background checks
following the Specials.
McCormack smiled grimly.
They were the lucky ones who were able to avoid detection by the government for the
draft. Or they attained their abilities in one of the dozens of wave events that hit the earth after
the Specials Battalion had been formed and the draft had been stopped. Or they were simply too
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young at the time to be considered for the draft so the government didnt even bother to examine
their cases with greater scrutiny. Its easier to get accepted into a good university and find good
work without that damnable label following you on a background check.
The picture McCormack painted was bleak and Daniel could empathize, but he was being
told it was unacceptable to try to relate to them.

In frustration, he ran his fingers through his

hair and scratched his scalp.

Look, said Daniel, I may not be able to relate to a Special as far as having abilities that
appear at least paradoxical to normal humans, but I can relate to them as one human being to
another. Nothings stopping me in that regard.
Except yourself, replied McCormack. Lets set aside the fact that they see you as
different and dont trust you because they dont know you and dont want to know you. Do you
really expect to reach them by reminding them they are different, and underscoring their
isolation and alienation from society?
I was letting them know their options, replied Daniel hotly. If I didnt tell them, Id be
doing the men a disservice and letting them loose into society no better than sheep.
And in doing them a service, you put the nails in your own coffin. To the Special, what
youd said merely reinforces their persecution complexes and gives them the option of either
submitting to a slave state of existence or the life of a hunted fugitive.
McCormacks argument was unassailable and Daniel sank lower into the springy old
leather chair in defeat.
I wasnt thinking while I was saying it. I was just telling them. Daniel sighed and
buried his head into his hands. I really fucked up, didnt I?
McCormack sat on the edge of the desk over Daniel and patted him on the shoulder.
Buck up, said McCormack, It wasnt that bad. Its salvageable. Just watch what you
say, next time.
And what happens the next time theres a mutiny?
It might very well happen. But that little stunt of yours wont work twice, anyways.
Theyre all angry now. If you reinforced your position at this point, theyd really turn on you.
And you would have to explain to your superiors how your entire Specials team became
fugitives.
Even you? stammered Daniel, in disbelief. And Bradley?
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Were Specials, Agent Rooke. replied McCormack, matter of fact. We may be

patriots, but we wont turn a blind eye to this persecution forever. The government knows this.
Thats why theyre creating as positive a spin about our organization as possible in order to
create a symbol of what can happen when Specials loyal to the United States dedicate their lives
to the safety and security of our nation and its states.
One of their hopes is that other Specials will want to join up and put themselves more
directly under government control. The media spin will make it desirable for Specials to enlist in
the Specials Investigations Task Force through a hero campaign. And with the desired and
eventual influx in ranks theyll be able to document more Specials who might have avoided
detection. In doing this, the government will be taking potential dissidentsdue to their own
machinations against our kindand turning them into loyal soldiers.
As far as if well turn rogue at some point, it depends entirely on the direction the
government policies against us leans towards. If it bridges gaps the government made in the first
place, and makes at least the smallest form of reparation, like fixing the background check
reports so we can get out from under the Teflon ceiling, well remain good soldiers to the cause.
And if not?
McCormacks smile was foreboding.
Then it was a pleasure serving under you, Agent Rooke.
Daniel blinked in astonishment.
So this could still blow up in my face at any time, then?
Most likely, replied McCormack, matter of fact. But it wont be your fault. Even
though, in all eventuality the blame will be passed onto you regardless.
Great, sulked Daniel, Just perfect. Is there anything else you want to tell me?
Not right now, he replied no.
I need to think.
Thats fine, replied McCormack, Just remember, dinner should be at six.
Right.
Daniel rose in a daze and walked out of the room, down the hallway and past the main
room where several sulking eyes burned into him before returning silently to the floor, ceiling
and walls.

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He hopped over a barricade and walked down the steps next to the elevator, through the
stale moldy air, past the stained and weathered wallpapered walls as he wound his way down to
the lobby, walked out the door, and onto the sidewalk of Georgia Avenue. The neighbors
walked around him with hard stares to which Daniel was oblivious, and he walked down the
street past the restaurants, pool halls and barbershops until he found himself at a small restaurant
at the end of the block on the corner of Quincy Street.
Without even caring, he pushed the door open and entered the establishment, his feet
finding the way on autopilot while his mind swam with the precarious position he found himself
in. He was a soldier once, with the greatest fighting force the world had ever seen, quickly
overshadowed by the Specials Battalion that they quickly grew to rely on, and now found
himself working with Specials on an elite government project only to learn that the Specials
were only conditional employees with political policies playing the major role in their conditions
as to whether or not they would continue working for the federal government.
It seemed that he had been dealing with the Specials/normal human politics for yearsas
if the strife developing between the two branches of society had been warring for all his life. It
was all too much for him, and Daniel was extremely frustrated in that he had only dealt with
such political and social issues as long as he had held the position of team commander, which
had now totaled four long days. It felt much, much longer.
He sat down at an empty table amid the staring faces without noticing.

Even the

waitresss tone was threatening.

You lost or something?
Daniel looked up at the woman and took her in. She was tall and frail, her skin was soft
and dark, and her hair was beautifully shaped, yet wild and free and accentuated her beautiful
face. If not for the cold expression on her face, Daniel would have been very pleased with seeing
such an attractive woman. Her dark almond eyes bored into him. Because of her cold demeanor
and judgmental tone, he confirmed that today was definitely one of those days and could not help
but chuckle.
You have no idea, sighed Daniel, and shook his head.
You want some coffee?
Yes, please.

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The waitress studied him critically for a moment, and then turned and walked back to the
counter to pour him a cup and then returned and set it unceremoniously on the table.
You want anything to eat?
What do you have?
Soul Food, she said with a cold challenge in her eyes.
Do you have ox tails?
You want ox tails? replied the waitress with an astonished blink.
And greens, if its not too much trouble.
You eat soul food? she asked with a dumbfounded expression, plainly finding Daniel to
be an oddity.
Maam, said Daniel with a wry smile, Im from Bedford-Stuyvesant in New York.
Even the Chinese food is Soul Food.
Youre from Bed-Stuy? scoffed the waitress. She then leaned over her shoulder and
yelled back into the kitchen. Hey, Tremell. This white boy says hes from Bed-Stuy.
Probably, shouted the man from the kitchen. Theres a lot of everything there, now.
What part of Bed-Stuy you from?
Im off of Amity Street in Cobble Hill.
Hey Tremell, shouted the waitress over her shoulder with an amused smile. This white
boy is claiming BoCoCa.
Damn, exclaimed Tremell from the kitchen. Tell him Im from Boerum Hill.
Im very familiar with Boerum Hill, said Daniel with an easy smile.
The waitress seemed to suppress a mirthful curl of her lips and her eyes seemed to
diminish in hardness.
Can I get you anything else to drink?
Id like a beer if I could.
No beer here, she replied, and leaned toward him with a lowered tone as if offering him
a secret pleasure. But I could get you some wine cooler in a coffee mug.
Maybe Ill just stick with the coffee.
You sure? smiled the waitress. We take care of our own, here.
I appreciate that, but I shouldnt be drinking anyway.
With that, the waitress eyes narrowed and grew cold.
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You a cop?
No.
You sure? pressed the waitress critically. You look like a cop.
Im sure, replied Daniel, fully aware how critical it was that he answer correctly. I do
government work, but its not really cop work.
Youre not one of those stakeout fools are you?
No.
Because we dont want no white people watching us, here.
Maam, said Daniel, slightly annoyed, I used to be a cop in New York. I quit. I now
work for the government. Last time I checked, Homeland Securitys main charter was for the
protection of the United States from terrorist activities inside the U.S. or against U.S. embassies,
or U.S. interests around the world. Discovering terrorist plots and putting an end to them before
they happen. Now, are you a terrorist?
No, blinked the waitress, nervously.
Then Im obviously not here for you or your neighborhood, concluded Daniel. Which
I might add, I now live in.
You live here?
Yes.
Where?
Down the street, he replied. The brownstone down the block, just shy of Warder
Street.
The knowledge that a government operative was now operating out of that particular
building instantly registered to her as a dangerous element being injected into the neighborhood.
What is Homeland Security doing in that place?
Metro sold it, replied Daniel, matter of fact. And the government got it at a good
price.
Theres a lot of people in the neighborhood that dont like white people and hate cops
taking up in the neighborhood. You may want to move before you get rushed.
Trust me, if they rush that place, theyll wish they hadnt.
You a cocky white boy, replied the waitress disapprovingly.

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No, replied Daniel. Not cocky. I just know who Im living with, and theyre far more
efficient than any DC S.W.A.T. team. If the locals decide they want to rush my flat, theyll be in
a firefight they have never imagined.
So you living with cops, concluded the waitress, coolly.
No cops, he replied as he took a sip of his coffee, just some, ah, Special friends.
How Special?
Forces. Lets just say they can handle themselves as well as I can, if not better.
The waitress stared, unsure whether or not to take Daniel at his word.
Trust me, he concluded. No one wants to go up to that flat. Theyd be taking their
lives into their hands and handing it over to my boys. And the last thing this neighborhood needs
is another killing.
The waitress put the check down and backed away from Daniel.
Thats six-fifty for the coffee.
What about my ox tails?
We dont need your business.
Maam, I meant no offense.
I dont care. No. Get out.
An old man rose from the corner and immediately took an authoritative role in the room.
The others instantly returned to their coffee and food and tried to shut out the scene the waitress
was making as the old man grabbed her arm and pulled her around.
Tamika, demanded the old man. What are you doing?
This white motherfucker is not going to come onto this block and talk shit. No. I want
him gone. When she turned to face Daniel, her eyes had welled up to nearly overflowing, and
her mouth was pursed with contained fury. I want you out of here. Her command that
followed, however, came out as a childish whine: Go!
Soothingly, lovingly, the old man placed his hand on her left elbow, and effortlessly
steered her away from Daniel, as though her will had been dispelled by his very touch and she
seemingly complied both implicitly and reluctantly at the same time.
Tamika, go take a break.
But grandpa, she whined, and her words were hushed and loud all at once.
This white boys a cop.
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Several of the patrons turned and glared at Daniel. He ignored them. The old man was
incensed.
So? replied the old man, authoritatively. Cops get police discounts, around here.
Do you realize how much trouble we could get in from helping him? pleaded Tamika.
Kick him out, grandpa. Please. Do it before Jonas finds out.
And the old mans eyes were set with disgust.
Im not afraid of that thug, growled the old man. He can kiss my ass. Him and his
gang.
Realizing the depth of the situation and the implication for the restaurant if he stayed,
Daniel grew instantly compliant.
Sir, interjected Daniel appeasingly, if its a problem for you, I can leave. Its alright.
Well, its not alright with me, growled the old man. With a wave of the hand, he
dismissed the waitress. Instantly and indignantly, Tamika obeyed as the old man sat down at
Daniels table. The others in the restaurant returned to their meals and did not look up again.
The old man removed his spectacles, wiped the lenses with one of the place set napkins
and folded them wearily as he set them down methodically. Daniel was alerted to the ceremony
of the laying of glasses downhaving noticed his old partner, back when he was still a novice
detective in the NYPD, do the same before an interrogationas an opening for something, but
he dismissed the comparison quickly. Something about the old man engendered trust, but an
instinctive apprehensiveness welled in the back of his mind like a fog that quickly rolled to the
front of his consciousness.
So much gang trouble in the neighborhood, sighed the old man, matter-of-factly. With
all the drugs and turning girls out to tricking and all the protection pay offs, people start getting
so they afraid to even be kind to each other. Its enough to make you sick.
See, when I was a kid, we had racial tension, but we could still play basketball and
football with the white boys and the El Salvadorians and the Chinese, and it was all good. My
granddaughter is so young; she doesnt know that this neighborhood was gentrified a few
decades ago. But then the riots came around again, like they always do, and after that, the gangs
started attacking the white people and the yellow people and the brown people and then everyone
who wasnt black moved almost overnight. It was so bad the cops couldnt do a damn thing.

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And then the black on black crimes started up. And the cops wouldnt do a damn thing. Now,
this neighborhood is so closed off now, its eating itself alive.
Daniel didnt know what to say. He merely sat there and listened to the old man rattle on,
and actually began to enjoy himself with the old mans easy smile.
Yeah, replied Daniel, New Yorks not much different.
No, replied the old man, I wouldnt think so. Brooklyn, Harlem, The Bronx, they got
the same problems we got. Its just the cops seem to actually care, around there. Over here, the
police are just interested in keeping us from moving too close to the White House. After that,
they leave us alone to just kill each other.
Instantly he felt a little guilty for not analyzing his surroundings more thoroughly. As a
cop, this was an unforgivable, life-jeopardizing mistake, and at the same time, his pity for the
mans environment he had obviously lived for more than one lifetime in came to the forefront,
crystallizing in his mind.
Its that bad, here? he asked grimly.
The old man scoffed.
You live in the neighborhood. You telling me you dont know?
To tell you the truth, a little sheepish smile playing on his lips, We just keep to
ourselves.
The old man pursed his lips, and a grin played at the corner of his lips as he eyed Daniel,
both critical and jovial all at once.
You just here for a place to sleep, then?
Pretty much, replied Daniel uncomfortably. To be quite honest, I could have thought
of a few better places to lay my head at night.
True that, replied the old man. Thank you for the honesty, by the way. Not many
white folks want to let it all out like that.
Well, since I cant get too much into whats going on with my situation, I figure I gotta
be honest about the rest.
Fair enough, replied the old man cagily. You saying you got no issues or agendas
with the district, thats cool with me. But my granddaughters right. There are a lot of brothers
and sisters who dont really care what youre here for. They just want you out.

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Really? prodded Daniel, sensing something malevolent in the neighborhood

environment beyond what he had noted with the overt hostility as he came and went.
Theres already talk about it, replied the old man, as casually as a conversation about
who the real father of a baby could be. They think the police rolled back up in there. Seeing too
many white faces walking into our neighborhood. Getting out of limousines and strolling
aroundTell me you werent stupid enough to come up in here with a limousine.
Daniel let out a groan of gripe as he rolled his eyes indignantly.
Dont look at me, he scoffed, I didnt order the damn thing. My new boss took me in
his car.
Well, everyones talking about the white boy who rolled up in here in a limousine, and
strolled right through a bunch of brothers and sisters and made his way through like he owned
the block. If that was you, Id suggest you keep your ears sharp. Because a lot of ignorant
niggers already know about you.
Tamika dropped a plate and it shattered on the ground. Her body was rigid and straight
with shock.
Grandpa! she hissed scornfully with a look of reproach.
The old man leaned over his shoulder and barked back at her and craned his head around
the room with authority, challenging with his eyes anyone to criticize him or tell him he was
wrong.
Thats right, I said it, he shouted. Theyre a bunch of ignorant niggers. What do I
care? Im an old man and I stopped being afraid of ignorant niggers years ago. They want to
fight me, as old as I am, I may die pretty quick, but theyre gonna have the fight of their lives
before I go down.
Most turned their attention back to their plates, as if these momentary explosions were an
all too common occurrence while others laughed to themselves at his courage. Daniel was
impressed by the fearlessness of the old man. He liked this man. He couldnt bring anything ill
to his door, either direct or indirectly.
Sir, he began, preparing to excuse himself, his calves and thighs tightening as he
prepared to rise.
Charlie, please. Same as the restaurant. said the old man. And you are?
Instantly, he relaxed back into the chair.
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Daniel, he replied.
Charlie smiled.
Nice to meet you, Daniel.
Pleasure, he responded with a wry smile.
So what do you have to say? inquired Charlie, gregariously, a glimmer in his eye. Go
on, spit.
Whats with this Jonas Im hearing about?
No, shouted Tamika resolutely. Were not talking about them. Grandpa, please!
Charlie waved her off and returned to Daniel with a plain expression drawn with lines of
frustrated worry.
Chris Young has got a gang down the block called Princeton Place Kings. Back when I
was a kid, the Kings had a different name, back when they were bloods. But that fell apart years
ago. Princeton Place Kings used to be Princeton Place Parus or 3P, until the Bloods organized
into a national family to more effectively fight Mexican Mafia and the Salvadorian Gangs. Then
the DC bloods rebelled to continue business relations with the Salvadorians. Now Kings fight
against local black gangs Quincy Street Crips and Shepherd Street Mafia.
Why?
They had dealings with a Salvadorian gang that sprung up out of Los Angeles, years
ago. Called themselves Salva-tuchis, or something else that makes you trip over the word.
Anyway, the Salvies brought the drugs in, and the brothers bought it, packaged and nickel and
dimed it. It was a pretty sweet deal, until the Bloods unified into their own right little black
mafia to branch into interstate crime, that is. Once that happened, the Salvies became a threat.
They controlled a lot of the drug and skin pipeline out of Central and South America, and ran it
straight up to a few blocks from here. The Bloods couldnt have that. So they told 3Ps to hit
them and close the pipeline down. 3Ps made some serious green off that pipeline, though. So
they told the mafia to go fuck. So bloods started driving up into the neighborhood and paying
off the local Crips to take em out. The mafia called 3Ps traitors, and rats, telling everyone they
could they werent really bloods. 3Ps didnt give a shit. They just changed their names and told
em fuck you. There was some serious gunplay in the neighborhood for a while. The Kings
sided with the Salvies, and every time Bloods came on the block claiming, they got dealt.

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Eventually, the mafia just decided theyd stop at Virginia and then skip DC and Maryland and
move straight on up to New York.
Charlie leaned back in the chair and sighed, thinking about how far back his memory
traveled, still keeping his eyes on Daniels, and the sparks swimming around the corneas danced
a little as he drank in Daniel deeply.
These days, theyre always fighting with another gang a few blocks up. The Quincy
Street Crips. And dont even get me started on Shepherd Street Mafia.
What do they fight over?
Territory to run their businesses, mostly.

They got their drugs, their girls, their

protection. Not much has changed since I was a kid, son. Gangs always fight over the same
reasons. But you know this. Youre a cop.
Ex-cop, Daniel corrected, I retired last week.
With that, Charlie gave a loud laugh and ended in a snicker, shaking his finger at Daniel
as if he had just told a good joke.
Man, cops dont retire. They just get killed. It may be a heart attack or cancer that does
them in, but thats just a bullet of a different kind.
I heard that, agreed Daniel, and he gave an easy smile back to the grinning old man.
So anyway, lets get serious. Whats really going on?
With all Charlies gregarity, it was difficult to spot, but Daniel instantly realized he had
been buttered up for the better part of ten minutes just to come to this question and he was fully
aware of every ear bending toward himevery sense on alert to their conversation.
Daniel had to grin. He had to appreciate the man. Charlie was good at cracking tough
nuts. Still, aside the fact that the public was not supposed to know yet, telling a room full of
battle weary strangers that a team of Specials working for the government had just moved in
down the block would have set the neighborhood into a tailspin for sure, and Daniel had no
interest in dealing with an angry mob.
Well, the government bought a property off Metro PD and were using it as a halfway
house for veterans until we get a real location.
Veterans, huh? pressed Charlie, disbelievingly. A skeptical glare took his eyes, the
pinwheels of sparks swimming the edges of the corneas. I was in the Marines. What about
you?
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Honestly? said Daniel and a wry grin took his face as he swelled with pride. UNIAF
infantry.
And the others? pressed Charlie.
Mainly infantry and Special operations.
Charlies face instantly contorted and he rubbed his head as if he had an itch.
All these new fangled militaries, scoffed Charlie, seemingly meandering into new
dialogue, though somehow, Daniel doubted they would stay derailed for long. I liked it when it
was just the Army, Navy, Air Force and the Marines. It was just simpler. Now we got the space
army or whatever. Anyway, Im just too old to really care about space. Theres such a rush to
get there and be in it and just too much of it. And then you want to go places; this planet and that
planet around this star or that star. And it doesnt do any good, because its not like you can
breathe on the damn planet anyway. No. They have to bring their space suits and their breathing
chambers and tents and things. And then the new tax system to cover the expenses the
government is spending to pay for the whole thing. And all it means is less money for me, but
the government gets to do new cool shit. It just gives me a headache.
Charlie leaned in and sighed, folding his arms on the table, visibly exhausted. Daniel
studied the old man as an oddity, and waited for the train to find the tracks again. Charlie
chuckled and looked back at Danielthe sparks swirling the cornea again.
Listen to me. Just yammering on and on. Enough of me. So the governments taking
good care of you then?
Im in the Georgia Avenue District in between gang lines, and youre the first local face
Ive seen thats actually smiling at me. I dont know about taking good care of us.
Yeah, this neighborhoods not real keen on strange faces.
Yeah, agreed Daniel, efforting to steer the conversation farther away from
employment. I heard about the cops that got beat down.
Charlie seemed instantly ashamed and shook his head wearily.
That was terrible. It really gets me. We called the police and told them what was going
on and asked for help. The cops gave us the help in cleaning up the streets, then everyone started
hating the cops for doing their jobs and then the neighborhood started attacking cops. Then the
cops came back like an army in Riot gear and went door to door. Plain insanity.
Ive seen that before.
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Im sure you have, replied Charlie and gave him a funny look that made Daniel aware
Charlie was referencing his background as a police officer. This only lasted for the briefest of
moments, before he changed the subject. The sparks circled and danced around the cornea, and
two pinpoints of red light seemed to laser into him. So why the long face, son?
Daniel stared at the sweet old mans face and felt himself fighting himself to steer away
from sensitive information.

At long last, he compromised, picking through sensitive

information, and placed a larger degree of emotion and frustration into the events of the morning
than he actually had.
I had an argument with my flat-mates. I guess I stepped on a racial landmine and I
ruffled some feathers.
For the briefest of instants, the old man grimaced, and the pin lights in the center of his
corneas faltered. The very next instant, Charlie had recovered, and it seemed as though he had
merely empathized with Daniels pain and offered a shoulder.
That can happen, began Charlie, with a shrug. Believe me, I know. Then his stare
fixed on Daniel again. You want to talk about it?
Daniel studied Charlie for a moment and had the striking feeling that the old man had
failed in some task, and had either from frustration or interest in Daniels problem given up
trying, for the sake of the conversation. Normally, Daniel did not play with people he felt were
trying to hustle him, but a part of him that was curious if the old man was actually trying to turn
him, or if he had misinterpreted the situation altogether. Regardless, he knew he liked Charlie,
and that there was some mystery about the old man that drew him closer, seeking some prize to
be gained. Some skill to be sharpened.
Daniel smiled sociably and chose his words carefully, occasionally stalling for time, and
subconsciously, allowing himself to play a part of a more submissive individual, waiting to see if
the spider is attempting to seduce the fly into its parlor, or to teach the fly to be a better spider.
Well, I cant really talk about it. But basically, I tried to relate with them and empathize
with where they were coming from. They wanted to remain segregated, and I pushed the issue.
Thats when the bomb went off.
Damn, son. snickered Charlie with a wry look as if he had figured Daniel out. Youre
like one of those utopiansidealistic white boys trying to heal race relations. Ive seen it before.
The problem is they either get killed quick or get cynical and quit. And its a damn shame,
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because they usually got a point, but the folks theyre talking to are just plain ignorant or too full
of hate to let a white boy help. You cant help them. They either want to know you or they
dont. You gotta let the ones who dont want to be your friend go.
Yeah, I guess. scoffed Daniel. Its just such a waste. I really dont know what Im
doing here.
Shit, youre trying, exclaimed Charlie. Its better than most. Keep on trying, and
forget them if they dont have the sense to do the same.
Daniel suppressed a grin.
Do you always take strangers under your wing like this?
Charlie smiled and stretched his arms out as if he were declaring himself the lord over all
he surveyed.
Thats why they call me pops. I help who I can, when I can.
I appreciate it, Charlie. I really do.
Dont think on it, Daniel. Now let me see whats taking them ox tails so long. You
wanted some greens too, right?
Only if you got them.
We do soul food here, declared Charlie as if the answer was obvious. Of course we
got greens.
Within a few minutes, Daniel was hunched over his plate of ox tails and greens eating the
first meal he could call home cooked in a while. And as his belly filled, a deep sense of
contentment overtook him as he remembered the soul food restaurant down the street from his
flat in Brooklyn, and his ex-girlfriends meals she would easily throw together, whenever he had
the slightest notion for soul food.
After his meal Daniel put down his money, but Charlie wouldnt hear of it and was so
adamant on Daniel feeling at home and not isolated from the community that he offered that he
come back any time, and invited his friends to join him for the best ox tails this side of New
Orleans.
Daniel thanked Charlie gratefully and left a twenty-dollar bill as a tip, which led to
another confrontation with Charlie, until they finally agreed that the money would go to his
granddaughter for her kind attention to his needs.

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When Daniel finally stepped out onto Georgia Avenue, he quickly made a right, and
made his way back past the pool halls, restaurants and barbershops, until he was walking into the
brownstone lobby, up the foul elevator and out into the flat to be greeted by none other than
Laurence Boatman himself.
Daniel could tell from the silence of the flat that the Specials had gone. Boatman stood
before Daniel leaning on a cane with a disappointed glare of annoyance in his eye, and his white
bushy moustache picked up at the corner of his mouth and almost gave him the look of a sneer.
There was no mirth in his tone. He was immovable, and his voice ground like stones.
Good afternoon, Daniel Henry Rooke. Im glad youre finally here. I believe we have
an appointment. If youll be so kind as to follow me, we can begin.
And so fell all hope.

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6:

Implementing Strategies

aniel sat down in the rickety leather chair facing McCormacks desk and was
instantly uneasy. The desk seemed cleaner than before.
Had it been straightened up? Daniel thought Or had Paladin decided

that enough was enough and took the team with him?
Daniel did not have time to nurse the thought, as Boatman manned McCormacks leather
chair and folded his hands on the desk.
It seems youve had an interesting day, Daniel. said Boatman, his voice damning.
Yeah, scoffed Daniel, you could say that.
Youre not going to waste my time by denying anything, I take it? said Boatman,
examining his cuticles with a severe expression.
I dont see the point, shrugged Daniel, considering the flat is bugged.
At that, Boatmans eyes rose from his cuticles to Daniels eyes.
And what gives you that notion?
You told me, he replied.
Boatmans face contorted and he pursed his lips as his cheeks turned red.
Im getting old, concluded Boatman in a whispered scoff, I used to lead men into
battle and could remember the name of every man and woman under me as well as their dossiers
in their entirety, adding the updates to their jackets oftentimes myself. Now, I have trouble
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remembering what I said and to whom. He brooded for a moment and then discarded the
thought out of hand adding, What to do?
In the long silence that followed, Daniel grew irritated, waiting for Boatman to come to
the point of the meeting, until he could not take it any longer and opened to the reason they were
presently sitting in Paladins office.
I believe you were about to drill me a new one, General?
Boatmans eyes fixed on Daniels, apparently considering his response, until his hand
waved in the air dismissively, with a quick shake of his head as though the thought was a fleeting
one he had little interest in pursuing.
No, replied Boatman. I should. Youve been negligent in your role as team leader,
allowing two to quit.
Daniel sighed. Only two had quit. This gave him hope.
Elizabeth Meng I take it?
Yes. Meng. muttered Boatman scornfully. A Beta Class energy projector, with the
potential of reaching Alpha, under the proper stress environment, supervision and training. A
potential Alpha Class on the team is a considerable asset. And you let her walk.
She was going to walk regardless, Lawrence.
So was Donovan Henry, I know. You will still be blamed for their leaving the team and
it will appear on your jacket. After the first outburst where Henry left, you were under scrutiny.
Then only a handful of hours later, you have a second outburst.

This second one is

monumentally more grave. It is graver because of what you said in an effort to create a more
manageable environment for yourself. It suited your purposes to make them more docile, but
you gave them a new target for their hostility in order to achieve your goals. What you said
paints their employer in a bad light, to say the least.
You arent honestly going to sit there and tell me its not true.
With a flash of the eye, Daniel was aware how thin the ice was where he tread and
instantly grew silent. Boatmans eyes bored into him, and he leaned toward Daniel, seeming to
tower over him from his seat. Boatmans eyes dared Daniel to say but one more word. Daniel
knew better than to anger him.
But its not true, growled Boatman, murderously. And you would do well to
remember that. Its not true because my superiors wish it to not be true. And if I have to say its
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not true, I am sure as hell not going to let my subordinates say any different. Do you understand
me?
Lawrence, began Daniel, trying to inject reason into the dangerously volatile
conversation.
Mr. Boatman, at this point, replied Boatman, with a cold smile.
Mr. Boatman, began Daniel, passively. I dont see how I could have handled that
situation any differently.
Neither do I, replied Boatman. But that is why Im not the teams field commander.
Your job is to think of new and innovative ways to accomplish this governments desired
outcomes. Not new and innovative ways to fuck up. I think two is quite enough, dont you?
Yes, sir.
There will not be a third.
No, sir.
Remember you said that, warned Boatman and held his stare for an uncomfortably long
moment, only to be broken by his pressing on. All in all, you did better than I thought you were
going to do. But in all honesty, that little speech you gave could have gone either way. Still, you
managed to save sixty percent of the team. Mammoth and burn are fine soldiers, but their loss is
no great one. In all actuality, their absence offers us a greater ability to contain loose ends.
Henry and Meng are highly volatile individuals and they both have problems with both authority
and respecting their oaths to keep state secrets a secret. There were bound to be problems with
them in the media anyways, so their not being here any longer actually ties that problem up
nicely. Filling their slots should be no great problem, and you were quite right; it should only
take us between one and three months to fill them. The problem is who? And what are their
capabilities? What we need is an energy projector with a greater degree of control.
We still have Kiloton.
Yes, and I heard what you had to say about Giordano. And its good to hear you so
optimistic. But I am a pessimist. In that way, I am hardly ever disappointed. Giordano has no
control over his abilities, as formidable as they are. He is a wrecking ball, while Meng was a
laser beam. You see the problem?
The other problem is that your optimism does not sit well with me, and it does not sit
well with my superiors or our funders. It does not sit well because you are not an expert. You
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are not an expert on leading men into battle. You are not an expert on Specials abilities and you
are not an expert on the human genome. Given that, I cannot put much stock into what your gut
tells you, what your feelings are, or what your opinion about a given subject is. The only thing
you did get right is that you are an unknown variable. If Giordano does succeed in controlling
and manipulating his abilities to the teams advantage, thats fine. But Im not putting stock in it.
Im going to find another energy projector with control and skill. And youre going to be nice to
them. I dont care if he tries to kill you. Do we understand each other?
Yes, sir.
I did not start this project to see it fail at the whim of a man without experience,
capability or intellect. Ive watched you Scrape by since youve gotten here. Mostly on dumb
luck and force of will.
I put you with McCormack and Overman so you could be trained in strategy and
battlefield logistics, not so you could bond with Stonebreaker or trade stories over highly
classified protocols or incidentsthat never happenedthat are way above your pay grade. I
dont care about your feelings or your level of comfort with Specials. What I do care about is
seeing this project make it out into the public and the results we will get once the program picks
up steam. And I cannot do that with dead Specials by bad leadership.
Youve had two days, and I want results. Now your strategy session this morning was
insightful, Ill give you that, and its clear you have a degree of insight that would allow you to
take these soldiers and get them to a state battle readiness. But you are not battle ready. You can
fight, of that Im sure. And you can certainly take a punch. But you cant implement strategies to
the men yetnot because you arent quick enough or smart enough, I havent seen you perform
yet to make that call, butbecause they dont trust you. I need them to rely on your decisions. I
need to see the men enact your orders in the field.
And how is that going to happen? You want me to take them down to the street and run
a scrimmage for the locals to see?
I did not give you permission to speak, Rooke. snapped Boatman. Daniel began to
burn inside with the way Boatman has lectured him and bit his tongue, returning to a reclined
position, his eyes burning into the old man. Boatman did not give the slightest inclination that he
either noticed or cared. He pressed on. Dont worry about the training. Im taking you to the
James J Rowley Training Center for that.
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Were going to the Secret Service training facility?

Youre talking, Daniel. See to that, will you?
Daniel grew silent and looked forward again.
Im going to put the men through the training course, and give them a good stretch.
Theyve been cooped up here for too long, and its starting to affect them. They need a good
run. Afterwards, they will have time at the academy to look over the playbooks and memorize
their tasks. Do you have any idea how youre going to use the team yet?
Yes, sir. But do you think its wise to set up a strategy if the teams not assembled yet?
Theyre two short. In battle, that happens. I need strategies from you covering attacks
from single combat for all the team members all the way up to battalion strength.
For the enemy?
Both sides.
Thats a lot of strategy.
They will memorize it, and then well put them through the paces to see how quick they
can implement your strategies. Youll have the remainder of the day to work on it. I suggest
you use their expertise in this to help formulate your methods more effectively. McCormack,
Overman and Stonebreaker especially.
Ill put something together.
With that, Boatman smiled and rose from his chair, notifying Daniel that the meeting was
now over. Daniel sighed with relief and put his head down feeling utterly defeated.
At the door, Boatman stopped and turned.
Oh, before I forget, he began. Your little romp to that soul food caf on the corner of
Rock Creek Church and Georgia? I suggest you refrain from giving out information on the
goings on here. I dont want a repeat of what happened to the local police happening with us.
The last thing we need is a group of Specials injuring and killing residents in a neighborhood
such as this. Especially considering there is now no black man on the team. You nearly cost
yourself your third strike with that reference to your Special friends. Nearly.
Yes, sir. replied Daniel, too mentally exhausted to reply in any other way.
However, we did like your cover story you came up with in your conversation with that
Charlie character. We can use that.

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Daniel blinked and the fog seemed to part briefly to recognize Boatman was opening the
tightly shut door to his own thoughts, just a little, for him.
How?
Well simply leak to the press that there is a halfway house located in the Georgia
Avenue district of the metropolitan District of Columbia area for veterans who returned from the
war and upon being discharged, found themselves homeless and jobless. We can easily spin it to
the media as a reward from a grateful nation for their heroes in uniform who have returned home
to unnecessary hardships.
We can even add that we are also actually assisting them with work placement, and
explain that in the military, each soldier was educated in a trade. Why not? There are programs
like that for veterans anyway. Any information the associated press digs up regarding the use of
the location and any job assistance for Sol War veterans can only support our claims. There.
The people now know about you and the others and we have control over how and how much
they know.
Boatman seemed pleased that he had resolved the dilemma in his own mind and was
resolute in his planning and it seemed it had been as much for his own benefit as for the hidden
microphones scattered somewhere throughout the flat. It was as if Boatman had dictated his
scheme to an invisible secretary taking notes and Daniel knew that somewhere, there was a tech
crew rushing about trying to process everything he said and send it up the chain of command for
implementation at the soonest possible timetable.
Daniel could not suppress a grin of utter awe.
Youre enjoying this.
Daniel, answered Boatman. I used to affect grand changes to the battlefield from troop
movements and logistics at a whim. These subtle manipulations are for men with far more
political ambitions. And I am not a politician. However, playing the game is unavoidable and I
am beginning to take to it, though in retrospect, if I played the game years ago, I would already
have my pension and be enjoying my early retirement with full honors as a high ranking officer
who served his country and planet honorably and with distinction should.
And now?
Boatmans eyes focused on Daniel and locked him in a severe gaze.

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Now I will play the game, he replied. And you had better start playing it too, if you
dont want to end up going back to Bedford-Stuyvesant and the low rank of Deputy Inspector.
Daniel leaned back in his chair and folded his arms indignantly.
At least I had respect and the pay was better, he replied.
Well, theres nothing I can do about your pay grade, concluded Boatman, and then
leaned toward him. But I will tell you thisRespect is something earned. Its not going to
come to you because you survived so many engagements and lived to tell about it. Your men
can claim the same thing. Youre going to have to give them something more.
Like what?
I garnered their respect through being a hard disciplinarian who worked them to the
point they either produced excellence or died. My implementation of battle strategies made them
an unbeatable fighting force, and allowed them to have pride in themselves and each other for
their accomplishments.
Most importantly, I encouraged them to consider themselves as soldiers as being part of
a brotherhoodan ancient fraternity of comrades in arms that encouraged fealty and fidelity to
each other in creating this unity among the men it left me no place to stand due to my rank and
leadership than the position of a surrogate father. The men will look to you as a leader in similar
ways and you must encourage the bond between them.
Something tells me they wont take too well to viewing me as their father.
Maybe not, granted Boatman, But considering you were from the 442nd, you have
some notion of what it is to lead through example. First one onto the battlefield, last to leave.
That is the truest way to forge a bond between yourself and the men. If you are willing to put
yourself in harms way as much as they are, you may not be viewed paternally, but you will have
their respect and they will follow you anywhere.
Ive got no problem with being in the middle of it. In all honesty, the main problem I
have with being team leader is that I have to hang back to give the orders necessary to make the
battle turn in our favor.
Your main role is to lead the men to victory and if at all possible, bring the men back
safe and sound. Your role as strategic advisor is crucial to the success or demise of the team.
Youre going to have to compromise with your ethics and hold a safe position and leave the

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grunts to handle the demolition and assaults. That is your role. They know theirs. Know your
own.
Daniel put his head down and mulled over Boatmans conflicting advice to him, critically
reexamining his own position as team leader.
As Boatman left the flat Daniel could not help but reflect on his commanding officers
ethics in leading the men into battle. An ethic that in all likelihood contributed to his being
killed. Daniel knew his own infantry commander, Lieutenant Colonel Forrester, would have grit
his teeth at such a command.
As the late afternoon sun began to poke through the kitchen window, Daniel turned his
back to the glare and used the light to write his strategies out by.

His mind poured over the

different kinds of battlefields he had fought on. He considered the rocky to liquid terrain,
temperature, thinness of air. Whether the battle would be in mountainous, jungle, swamp or
desert terrain, and after an hour had passed, began writing up strategies for urban assaults. A
chill went down his spine as he calculated his worst fear scenarios. A heavily populated area
with an enemy using the terrain, architecture and populations as cover to fire from behind,
limiting and choking the possibility for return fire. Daniel began to work up a model of attack
plans for these contingencies and found himself devoting most of his time to developing rules of
engagement.

D a n i e l s

I n s i g h t s

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Daniel leaned over McCormacks desk furiously writing in the dark when all of a sudden the
lights blinked on, temporarily blinding him. He sat there cringing in a daze as the prismic
flashes of light danced in front of him.
You know, chided McCormack, you could go blind like that.
I could go blind from this, railed Daniel, pointing back at McCormack with one arm
and shielding his eyes with the other. McCormack just laughed and walked over to his desk,
picking up Daniels strategic formulas and glossing through them. Daniel was instantly self
conscious.
Come on Daniel, said McCormack, Lets see what youve got.
Its not ready yet, warned Daniel, self-consciously.
War strategies never are, replied McCormack, Even when theyre being
implemented.
McCormack stood quite still as he flipped through the pages with a critical look that
frustrated Daniel and his heart sunk at the thought that his attempts at designing a proper battle
strategy had just met with utter failure.
So how bad is it?
Its a start, replied McCormack. Your strategies on Air/Land Battle scenarios bear
promise. Im not sure we can stick to all your rules of engagement, though.
The rules of engagement for urban assault are kind of mandatory, insisted Daniel
hoarsely.
It can be expounded on, replied McCormack, unconcerned. We need to ensure the
publics safety as a first objective, of course, but most of them will have been running for cover
long before we ever arrive. Mostly, the only worries we will have are news cameramen and
journalists getting in our way, trying to get the perfect shot or the more gung-ho police officers
jumping into the middle of it. Still, your mock up on how to deal with hostage situations is
promising. I cant think of anything to add to it, actually. Good job.
And the other contingencies?
Were mainly going to be employed in an urban setting, so we wont work too much
with your other contingencies. Besides, most of your insights into jungle warfare seem to match
up with insights drawn up in the Vietnamprimer report.
Oh, replied Daniel with a defeated sigh, youve read that.
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That was standard reading for officers in training when I was in basic, replied
McCormack, dryly. You know what they say: Those who forget history It was informative.
And what about the other environments?
The mountain terrain scenario sounds like you read it out of Kargil War: Battle Plans &
Logistics Revisited. Dont get me wrong, it was an enlightening manual, and any soldier would
take the lessons learned in that text to heart. But youre not giving us anything new. Everyone
on your team has considered these scenarios because as Specials, we were all trained in every
environment our drill instructors and the scientists could think up.

We even took a unit

consisting of the most durable of us and were ordered to perform a five-minute battle scenario
halfway down the Marianas Trenchand you havent lived until you try just moving with those
kinds of pressures. And by the wayrainforests and forests are not classified as jungles, no
matter how thick the canopy. They would be separate environmental classifications.
So I just wasted seven hours for nothing then, scoffed Daniel and he kicked
McCormack desk in frustration.
Actually, you put your head in the game for the first time. Im being critical because
youll need to be. You turn in this to your superiors; they will laugh you out of the office and
make you a punch line at the committee hearing. But as far as your Fighting in Fortified
Objectives section is concernedyouve listed bunkers, forts, projects, strategically contained
neighborhoods and cul-de-sacs.

I think that about covers the urban element to fortified

objectives. And I wouldnt touch your highlighted sections pointing out the watch points.
Especially the sniper points. Thats the part thats worrying me. Going into an area where were
on the ground, and theyre on the rooftops pinning us down and picking us off. Well have to
put that scenario up in our drills as a top priority. And I agree with your assessment. Its vital
that before the team goes into any area, we will need a complete layout of the region from streets
to architectural blueprints, to sewer, electrical and subway tunnels. Walking into another mans
territory means they know where all the hidden areas are and how best to exploit them. We
would be at a disadvantage without those schematics. How would you train us in this?
Id take you to an urban warfare center, give everyone a layout of the area and give us
five to fifteen minutes to memorize them as best we can. Then Id get us dropped smack in it
and wed have to overcome resistance and reach our objective in say, five or ten minutes?
Lets try to do it in five, replied McCormack, approvingly. Resistance?
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Id like there to at least be a twenty to forty man team against us. If we can make it out
of that, I think well be good in the real thing.
McCormack was visibly worried and eyed Daniel skeptically.
Twenty to forty what?
Forty infantrymen or twenty Special ops, replied Daniel, more confidently. Or ten
Specials.
And where do you expect to pull in ten Specials from? scoffed McCormack. Its going
to take us months to replace the two we just lost.
Daniel eyed McCormack for a long moment.
Does he honestly think Im that stupid? thought DANIEL as he glared at him.
Boatman virtually pulled me in off the street to field a highly visible team to take down
collars in the field, he replied coldly. I may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but I know you
dont put out a high profile team unless you also have a black ops unit in the background. I
suggest we use them and both teams get the chance to sharpen their tusks implementing strategy
and stealth to outmaneuver the other team.
McCormack was stunned at the logic Daniel had displayed and it was obvious to Daniel
that he had never considered the possibility that there might have been a second team performing
operations that are more clandestine in nature. McCormack seemed disturbed by the notion and
he leaned against his desk letting out a sigh.
I think were done, for now, concluded McCormack after a long moment. Ill have
Leonard work with your field strategies.
Daniel studied McCormack for a long moment.
Damn, thought Daniel I guess he never thought about it.
It was clear McCormack was shaken by the thought which was obviously just a hunch
and yet, it made too much sense to disregard. He walked around his desk and collapsed into his
chair and stared out the window in silence. There was nothing more to say.
Finally, Daniel rose and left to seek out Stonebreaker.

Four hours later, Leonard, red in the face, waved furiously at Daniel.

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No! shouted Leonard, Thats final! I dont want to hear you make that suggestion
again!
Why not? retorted Daniel, waving his hands back at him. Grenades is a perfectly
acceptable solution in dealing with either a joint assault or a hostage situation.
I said no. There is no way Im going to be put into a situation where grenades are the
standard operating procedure in dealing with other Specials. I dont want you bringing it up.
Now lets move on!
No! I will not take it off the table! Weve run through this scenario a dozen times and
we still dont have an answer for the likely possibility of a group of Specials either attacking us
in suicide runs or falling back and taking up hostages when we corner and overwhelm them.
Thats what negotiation is for!
Negotiation is for local law enforcement!
Federal too!
Our job is to nullify Special threats in general population theatres. Do you think that if
they are breaking the law and get caught they are likely to put their hands up and surrender like a
game of capture the flag? They lose, they go to jail. Theyre going to fight, and if we die so
they can get away, oh, well. I dont want to go out like that, do you?
And killing Specials with shrapnel is a perfectly good solution to you? accused
Leonard.
We dont have to use shrapnel grenades, if thats such a problem for you.
Maybe phosphor then? said Leonard sarcastically.
We could use flash-bangs or tear gas, or any number of things. Wholesale slaughter is
not the only option.
Yes, but the problem is, for you, its still an option!
Leonard sat down and kicked his legs up as though this would end the debate. Daniel
ignored this gesture and pressed on.
Look, Im not gifted with super strength or invulnerability or super speed or mental
powers. Im just a guy from Brooklyn. And I sure as hell have no interest in getting killed while
Im fighting to ensure the bad guys get taken down and my team doesnt get injured or killed.
Leonards eyebrows raised as he looked up at Daniel as though seeing him clearly for the
first time.
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So now, Specials are bad-guys.

Daniel rolled his eyes.
Give me a break, Leo. Ive seen you use grenades in combat before during the Sol
War.
That was the enemy! retorted Leonard, kicking his feet to a standing position. And
Ive never used a grenade to take a life. If youd recall, The Quill set us up against drones!
Thats bullshit and you know it. We fought a lot of species.
Those were slaves and clones, and I never used a grenade against them!
Dont go getting self-righteous on me, Leonard, we didnt even know they were slaves
until after the war! And as I recall, you didnt have a problem with calling down bombardment
on the cloning facilities.
Leonard grit his teeth and shut his eyes as though straining for control.
Im trying real hard, said Leonard low and severe, to not make the connection youre
putting Specials in the same boat with an intergalactic empire that was trying to make our sun go
red giant. Id hate to think I vouched for someone who would throw in against my kind like
this.
Your kind? scoffed Daniel, Youre human, Leonard. Special or otherwise. But if
youre going up against a regular human and they used a grenade to drop you before you got to
them, I wouldnt be surprised. As far as Im concerned, we need to employ it and figure out a
way to neutralize the same threat being used against us in the field. Im not looking at Specials,
Im looking at the guy on the other side of the divide between cops and criminals, and if he has
an advantage in reaching us at a distance, I want the same assurances.
No, drop it! snapped Leonard emphatically. Its not us and them, for us! Its us
ensuring we all get a chance at having a normal life! All of us! That cant happen if we kill
some of us!
And the guys well be going up against will not be so utilitarian user-friendly as you.
They will be looking at it from the other end. They will be thinking Im oppressed. Ive got
nothing to lose. Im going to make myself great any way I can, or Im going to make the
normal humans feel my pain. You cant reason with them, because most of them are retaliating
against society just by using their abilities. And with men like that, hard works best.
Leonard eyed Daniel in silence for a long moment, mulling over Daniels words.
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Look, began Leonard, I know what were going up against, and I understand your
perspective. I also have it in the back of my mind. But if were going to have any kind of
success with this, were going to have to show we can take care of the threat, rehabilitate the
suspect, and return them to society as a symbol of what can happen when you work with the
system.
Daniel blinked.
I never knew what a dreamer you were, Leonard, said Daniel at last. I agree with
what you seek, but that has no bearing on what were discussing.
And what do you think were discussing?
That the guys were going up against dont want to go through rehabilitation any more
than the morgue. They lose time in their life, be it incremental or the whole thing. They will not
go quietly unless we convince them it is best if they do so. That cannot be accomplished without
shock and awe.
Leonard was wary of the term and studied Daniel critically.
Shock and awe?
At least in the beginning, amended Daniel pragmatically. A few big shows for the
press, and then we can go softer, with the occasional show of force.
These are human beings were talking about!
Lets get this straight, Leonard, Id toss a grenade into a pack of normal human thugs. I
have no problem with it. Stop making this about Specials. Human is human. And Id take the
same measures with a street gang or a bank robber or a sexual predator or a mob or a Special. It
doesnt matter to me.
And I say, replied Leonard grimly, Its a shame that Specials hold such company in
your eyes.
Give me a break! snapped Daniel. And stop twisting everything I say into some other
thing.
The two of them stood in silence staring at each other, neither blinking, which seemed
immeasurably easy task for Leonard, but Daniels eyes were red and watering from the effort to
stare the big Special down. Finally Leonard looked away, visibly disappointed.

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I think weve accomplished just about enough of what we can on this issue, said
Leonard at last. Im tired. Why dont you go back to your room and write it up any way you
want to, and we can pick it apart tomorrow?
Fine, scoffed Daniel, and he slumped toward the door with a confounded annoyance.
But when Daniel put his hand on the doorknob and gripped it tightly, he merely toyed
with the thought of turning the knob and throwing the door open. He was exhausted, both
physically and emotionally and wanted nothing more than to lie down in his own bed. But the
nagging thought that Leonard viewed this argument as a friendship ending line that was crossed
swelled to the front of his fogging mind and shook him. Daniel could only play with the
doorknob absently.
Hey, Leo, he murmured, are we okay?
What? blinked Leonard, clearly uncomfortable with the display of sensitivity.
You know, discussing this and saying something that bothers you or brings you low, I
mean, I dont want to hurt your feelings, or anything.
Hurt my feelings? chuckled Leonard, as though silently pointing out how feminine this
string of words sounded being uttered between men.
Daniel shrugged, perceiving how his choice of words must have been interpreted.
Well, chuckled Daniel. You know.
Look, replied Leonard, with a conciliatory smile. Youve got a good point. I just
dont like it. Youre the boss. Im just getting my objections on record, but I hope youll listen
and take my opinion into consideration on these touchy subjects.
Yeah.
Were good, Dan. Just write it up without me, and well discuss it at the 0830 meeting.
Right, sighed Daniel, appreciatively, Just so were good.
Goodnight, sir.
Right.
With that, Daniel finally turned the knob and disappeared into the dark of the hallway,
letting the door close softly behind him, concerned that a hard slam might be misinterpreted as
anger.

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With a sigh, Daniel felt his way in shadow, until his eyes adjusted to the semi-darkness of
the hallway and perceived an obstruction in his path; there in the darkest shadow stood Stephen,
propped up against a wall.
You guys through? scoffed Stephen, bleary eyed.
What?
The walls are kind of thin in this place.
Sorry if I kept you awake, then.
Oh, dont sweat it, replied Stephen, This was nothing. Don and Lizzie used to go at it
all night. and Stephen pushed with his fist for visual effect. That was a hell of a lot worse than
this.
Oh, I didnt know.
Know what?
About Henry and Meng being an item. That explains why she left after him, though.
Oh, they werent seeing each other. They hated each other. Donovan kept thinking Liz
was Korean, and Liz hated Donovan, period.
Through the fog of exhaustion Daniel found it difficult to plug the pieces together to
answer the question he was unnecessarily latching onto in his haze and eyed Stephen nonplussed.
I dont get it then. If they werent dating, why would they-
Man, Liz just liked the fact that Donovan could grow.
Daniel pursed his lips at the image of Meng and Henry together and shook his head to get
the image out.
Good night, Stephen.
By the way, I think youre right about that.
About what?
Grenades, replied Stephen. Its about time someone showed some balls and said what
needed to be said if were really planning on taking down Specials in the field without risking
our lives to do it. Just wanted you to know, those of us who are put in the middle of it, we
appreciate the fact that someones actually concerned about writing checks that the cannon
fodder have to cash in. Im not saying I like you, Im just saying I like where youre headed.
Well, dont fall in love with me just yet. Ive got plans for you.
Like what? scoffed Stephen.
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It seems to me youve been underutilized as a team member, and thats something Id

like to see corrected.
What, retorted Stephen, as though he had Daniel summed up. You want to put me on
the front lines to get a better body count? Man, thats where Ive been since the Sol War.
Youve got nothing new for me. Now the only thing I see is an asshole that wants me on the
front line and then wants to throw grenades at my back.
You really are hard of hearing, arent you? Im not talking about using you as a human
grenade. That may have been your function up until now, but thats not how I want to use you.
Ill come right out with it. We lost Meng. Thats a loss of power. Were stuck with you, and
your ability is a hell of a lot more powerful, but also limited in use. I want you to take up
Elizabeths old position and use your abilities in a more long range capacity.
I explode. You want me to drop the bomb? Im the guy. But I dont shoot.
I think you can. I think youre being lazy.
Man, dont even think you can talk down to me! You thought Mammoth was a handful,
just try me!
Oh, Im going to try you. Report at 0530. Be up and ready. Im going to have
Boatmans men put you through the paces.
Science Medical? he scoffed, Been there, done that.
Yeah? answered Daniel, Then youll know your way around. Youre going to be in a
bomb shelter with a cinderblock target, and youre going to stay in there until you can force the
target to fall. You flare upyou lose, and the cinderblock target will be set up again. Pack a
lunch, cause youre there for the day, Giordano. You got a problem with that?
Fuck you.
05:30. Dont be late.
Daniel left Stephen alone in the hallway and slipped into the dismal room, sat at the desk,
where he pulled out a notepad and a pen. After staring at the notepad for a long time, he flipped
it open and began writing a continuation of what he had argued so forcefully with Leonard.
While he wrote, his vision blurred, and he shook his head vigorously to shake himself awake.
Again, Daniel returned to the topic of hostage situations and running firefights with retreating
Specials, his mind dizzy and fogged as he fought exhaustion to keep his point in the forefront of
his mind. Slowly but surely, darkness crept in from the corners of his vision until all was black.
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122 | P a g e

7:

hen Daniel awoke, the alarm clock read 12:48. Somewhere between dream and
awareness he blinked at the clock as the numbers slowly wended their way into
his consciousness until at last he remembered he had an appointment at 08:30. He

had missed it. He bounced up in alarm and pulled off the sheets of the bed, throwing himself to
his feet.
Perplexedly, he glanced around the room, trying to get his bearings. He was sure he fell
asleep at the desk writing up his belief that grenades were a necessary implement in their arrest
operations, but the desk was neat, and there was no sign of a notebook to be found.
Finally, Daniel scoffed, threw open the door and darted down the hallway to
McCormacks office. At the door, he heard what sounded like rancorous argument as violent
muffled cries spread out by intermittent and frequent obscenities echoed thinly through the glass
pane of McCormacks office door.
Daniel swallowed hard, expecting to find them all in a frenzy over his grenade strategy.
And with a hard sigh, opened the door to McCormacks office to be met with the sound of
uproarious laughter. Inside, Leonard, McCormack and Bradley sat convulsing in hysterics,
slapping their thighs.
They noticed Daniel, and cheered, like welcoming a regular in a neighborhood bar.
Well, called Leonard chidingly, look whos here! Hello, sleeping beauty!
Yeah, scoffed Daniel, look, Im sorry I overslept. I thought I set the alarm clock.
You did! chuckled Leonard, I turned it off.

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Daniel looked at Leonard in shock.

He should have felt relief that there was an

explanation for his oversleeping, but all he felt was annoyance.

You did what?
Well, I couldnt disturb you. pouted Leonard, at the point of giggling. You looked so
cute sleeping there all cuddled up to your pillow.
Daniel felt the room shift beneath his feet uncomfortably, as embarrassment set in.
I was asleep at the desk, recounted Daniel trying to remember exactly what happened
to him after he left Leonards room.
Yeah. I had to carry you to bed, laughed Leonard with McCormack and Bradley
chuckling behind him. Kinda like a little baby. Leonard leaned forward and slapped his thigh.
You know, picking you up is like trying to carry a sleeping cat? You were all over the place! I
nearly dropped youTwice. To be honest, I was a little uncomfortable about it, what with me
carrying you like we just got married and here I am bringing you across the threshold. It felt a
little gay to me, adding in an aside, No offense, Brad.
Bradley socked Leonard in the arm and they both laughed heartily. Daniel shook his
head to keep up with them.
Why didnt you wake me up? demanded Daniel, his rage building to a boil.
I couldnt disturb your slumber! replied Leonard sarcastically. You looked so cute!
All cuddled up and all. So I turned off the alarm clock and left you there.
You let me sleep in, began Daniel, his anger barely in check as he pinched his nose and
shut his eyes, knowing we had a meeting at 0830?
Youve been burning the candle at both ends for a few days now, Dan. said
McCormack, finally. We figured you could use the extra shuteye. So we let you get a few extra
winks in.
Knowing that we had a meeting at 08:30, repeated Daniel, fuming.
Is there a problem, Daniel? said McCormack, his eyes scrutinizing Daniels.
Yeah, spat Daniel, The problem is you guys arent taking this seriously. You guys are
on cruise control and we should be running. We have a limited timescale to accomplish a lot to
get us ready for the task of establishing a cohesive working unit and you guys are fucking
around. My problem is that were two men short! My problem is were going to need people of
color and women to give the team a universal look.
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Daniel was just running through the mental checklistof team requirements he had been
nursing in the back of his mindand had only just begun what was surely to mount into a full
blown tirade, when McCormack suddenly turned to Overman and Leonard instantly delving into
the new topic.
As far as the timeline, replied McCormack, were actually ahead of schedule. Barely,
mind you, but youre picking up the necessary disciplines at the quick step, so we can get back
into training at your leisure, now.
Now, chimed in Bradley, the people-of-color issue is something we do need to
address.
Yeah, Daniels right, added Leonard with a self-deprecating scoff as he rubbed his bald
head. If were going to look like the Aryan Special Task Force, we might as well have two
lightning bolts on our logo.
The problem is, rebutted McCormack, we only have the list of Specials who were in
the war. They were tested and proven, and we know what were dealing with.
Daniel studied McCormack, hanging onto every word as he leaned forward and folded
his hands on the desk, his eyes grim.
The problem is the abilities, concluded McCormack. Most of the documented people
of color dont have the abilities we need.
Whys that? demanded Daniel.
McCormack merely shrugged.
Most of the people of color who had the abilities we require were killed in the war.
We lost a lot of energy emitters in battle, nodded Bradley.
Why? demanded Daniel.
McCormack rolled his eyes as though the answer was obvious.
Being able to project energy assaults doesnt mean youre invulnerable, Daniel, chided
McCormack. You can be killed as easily as you kill.
Yeah, added Leonard. I hate to break it to you, but the difference between a Specials
durability and a normal human infantry man is that you carried a rifle into battle. We had our
abilities. But that was about it.
McCormack leaned back in his chair and sighed.

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The reason why there are more white energy emitters is just the luck of the draw,
actually.
What about Plasma? interjected Bradley, hopefully.
Jeff Rodriguez got deported to Mexico, replied McCormack.
I thought he was from East LA, said Leonard.
Immigrations looking into it, replied McCormack. But I think theyre happier having
him on that side of the border.
He cant even speak Spanish, exclaimed Bradley.
I hear hes learning, replied McCormack with an irritated scoff.
What about Dragons Eye? said Leonard.
Sent back to China, replied McCormack. Junko Oshina was also deported back to
Japan.
Damn, scoffed Leonard. She was cute, too.
They took her student visa away from her? gasped Bradley.
Thats the way it goes, replied McCormack.
Mitra? ventured Bradley.
Ashoka was sent back to India, replied McCormack. Matteh Al is back in Israel
working for Israeli Counterterrorism. Reverb has disappeared.
Coronas a possibility, said Leonard. Anything happen with Reggie?
Mr. Estrin is currently in prison, replied McCormack. He flared up at a park in
Baltimore.
How about Clarion? ventured Leonard.
Darell is out of the country, replied McCormack.
Wait, hes American! scoffed Leonard, an indignant rising ire in his voice. Not just
American, but more than me! Im like, fourth-generation French/Austrian. His familys been in
America since they were brought over on slave ships! Howd he get deported?
Wait, blinked Daniel. Youre French/Austrian?
He never saw Leonard beyond the abstract of the hardnosed Special who stood toe to toe
next to him. And even though this was trivial throw-away information, he reeled at the new
subtle dimension to the powerful man before him.

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Yeah, what of it? snarled Leonard, suddenly harsh. My moms Jewish, too. You want
the whole family tree?
Daniel blinked in astonishment at the visceral response and, seeing his shocked
expression, Leonard was instantly ashamed, apologetically waving him down.
McCormack looked over at Leonard as though patiently waiting for the off-topic
addendum to be put away to return to the discussion.
Darell didnt get deported, replied McCormack. The government leased him out to
work in the European theatre.
Everyone was silent. Daniel had already discarded the unknown Darell as a lost cause,
when Leonard grew critical of the new information.
Doing what? asked Leonard.
I dont know, replied McCormack. But hes got the highest clearance possible. All I
could find out is that hes somewhere in the French Alps.
Overman kicked the desk and ground his teeth.
That lucky bastard, scoffed Bradley.
Leonard chuckled darkly.
Relax, Brad, mollified Leonard. Hes working, not working on his tan. Then added
with a grin, Besides, I dont think they have your kind of clubs outside of Paris.
Bradley laughed and gave a crude gesture to Leonard, who affectionately touched his
own heart as though the gesture were a gift.
So basically, interrupted Daniel, weve got nothing?
Not entirely, rejoined McCormack, for patience. What youre failing to understand is
that even though a lot of the requirements were going by have limited our options, there are still
thousands of undocumented Specials out there. Finding them will be a problem, though. Even
the Specials we do know about will be hard to track down. A lot of them are hiding out in their
own communities trying to do their best impressions of a needle hiding among a stack of
needles. As long as they dont use their abilities, they could just blend in with the wallpaper, so
to speak.
Its hardly a problem, though, he continued pragmatically, We may not be starting out
with all the colors of the rainbow, but eventually, once the recruitment drive starts up, youll
have your pick of the litter.
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And until then, concluded Daniel, weve got a bunch of white guys? he scoffed
darkly and added with a mutter: This sounds like a bad comic book.
Relax, soothed McCormack. Were assembling the best team we can. What we need
is ability. Color and gender will fall into place later. Until then, youll just have to be patient.
Now, said Daniel, back to the part about you guys not training on my account. We
should have been training every day, if that was your regimen. As youve already stated, I can
pick things up on the quick-step. What are we doing to rectify this problem?
What seems to be affecting you now? asked McCormack.
We need to get back in there and get our training back on, replied Daniel with an edge
to his voice.
We can start back up at any time, replied McCormack, leaning back in his chair.
How about now? challenged Daniel.
McCormack grinned and turned away from Daniel, facing Leonard.
Leonard, go have the men change into the new sweats we got from Quantico this
morning and have them assemble in five.
You got it.
And you too, added McCormack to Leonard. Youre getting a little thick around the
middle.
Thick around the middle my ass, grumbled Leonard as he left the office.
Brad, continued McCormack, go get changed into your sweats.
Right on! replied Bradley with a grin.
Realizing that they were actually getting ready for training, Daniel turned to leave the
office to get ready when McCormack rose from his desk.
Daniel, beckoned McCormack, you got a minute?
This going to be your version of a pep talk? snapped Daniel.
McCormack glared at him for a moment and then sighed.
Youre annoyed right now, concluded McCormack, and to some degree with good
reason, so Ill let this slide. What I want to talk to you about is what were looking at.
Daniel plopped down into one of the now vacant chairs in front of the desk and looked
over at McCormack.
Okay, he replied.
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Our training will consist of S.W.A.T. training. Your infantry training is on par with
Special Forces, and youve trained extensively in Sting and No-Knock Warrant procedures, so
what youre going to have to take into consideration is your function in all this. Your role will
be that of Anchor.
Okay, I read that on your and Maximus jacket. Whats the function of an Anchor?
Anchors are field commanders. They hang back and call shots from a safe position,
with the capability of entering the engagement at any time depending on enemy troop
movements. In other words, youre to hang back until we are being routed and overrun. Not
until.
With that, Daniel scoffed, waving his hand dismissively.
Thats not how I roll.
Well, replied McCormack, its going to have to be a discipline you take on. We dont
need a liability. We need orders and we need them to keep on coming.
I can do that just as easily in the fray.
And there will be too many variables that you will be too close to, to give the proper
orders for. We will be committed to close-quarters combat, with the hostile target most likely in
the next room, bracing for an attack. They will have more time to aim and act, while we are still
locating the threats. If you go down, there goes our chain of command.
We can sort this out later. Right now, I want to see how my team moves. I cant do that
unless Im going through the door with them.
Thats not how Anchors function.
I could care less. Im going through the door with my men. If you dont like it, you can
stay here in your little office.
With that, McCormack leaned forward, his irritation showing on his face.
Let me explain something to you. This office is not my office. Its your office.
My office? blinked Daniel.
Im holding the position of temporary team leader until you get up to speed. replied
McCormack. The office is for your use.
And when were you going to tell me this?
When you were ready, replied McCormack, matter-of-factly. Frankly, I didnt know if
you were going to make it this far to break it all down for you.
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We were going easy on you to keep you from being overwhelmed by the office you
were taking over. In retrospect, we were kind of patronizing you, and Im sorry for that. When
youre ready, this office will be yours.
Daniel nodded and looked at McCormack for the first time as a commander to a
subordinate.
Clear your things out, commanded Daniel, and set up office down the hall. Im
assuming command of The Post.
McCormack smirked with a small glimmer of pride and stepped to the side.
Yes, sir.

Fifteen minutes later, Daniel watched the road race by as they drove northwest down Grant
Circle and continuing on New Hampshire Ave, jumping onto the 495 and switched over to the 95
exiting on Powder Mill Road.
Daniel watched a stone and mortar wall rise up and fly past for a few minutes until the
SUV finally turned into a driveway with a security checkpoint at 9200 Powder Mill Road.
There, a sign bore the words: James J. Rowley Training Center (JJRTC) Beltsville, Maryland.
The guard took his time reading the identification, then finally nodded and pointed down
the road on the far side of the barricade.
The urban warfare training facility is down this road, said the guard to the driver. Be
prepared to show your credentials again when you get there.
With a wave of his hand, the barricade slid away, parting to yield to the SUV.
The driver waved to the guard and drove over the speed bump on the far side of the
barricade, driving past the parking lot and the security building and down an elm-lined road,
passing offshoot roads leading to different facilities and parking lots. In the distance, a concrete
pavilion filled with people stretched out ahead with a series of houses and apartment complexes
filling the lot.
The driver pulled off to the left and parked in a parking lot just adjacent to the pavilion
and turned to Daniel.
Here we are, sir. said the driver.
Right, said Daniel, and he climbed out into the cold rain and studied the pavilion.
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It looked like a shopping mall surrounded by houses and apartment buildings. As Daniel
approached the pavilion he was disconcerted by the notion that none of the people in the pavilion
appeared to be moving. As he neared, their shapes seemed to come together until he was staring
at a sea of mannequins.
Just then, a Secret Service agent appeared from around a building and approached Daniel.
You must be Agent Rooke, said the agent.
Daniel, said Daniel, extending his hand. The agent shook it.
Im Agent Padilla. replied the agent. You might want to step away from the
mannequins. We have snipers training.
Daniel looked to the rooftops, and indeed, saw the faint tips of the muzzles of rifles only
just protruding from the ledge, pivoting ever so slightly, and Daniel knew they were hunting the
crowd of mannequins for something.
We put a gun on one of the mannequins. When the sniper finds the suspect, hell call it
in to get the go ahead to take the shot.
How long does this usually take?
Well, the records inside two minutes from positioning to confirmed kill.
Daniel didnt find this at all comforting. A lot could happen in two minutes. He stared
off in the distance.
These are all training structures?
Every one, replied Padilla. Weve got your site set up over there.
Padilla pointed into the distance to what looked like an ordinary apartment complex.
You ever run through one of these?
Not in a simulation, admitted Daniel, But, yeah, Ive been through hundreds of these.
I hear you, said Padilla with a knowing nod and pointed downrange, Weve got your
specifications set up and a Special Forces team is waiting for you.
For the first run? blinked Daniel.
Padilla caught the trepidation in his voice and turned to him.
You want me to send them home?
No, replied Daniel. I want to see how my team handles themselves.
Good, sighed Padilla. I dont much want to be the one to tell these guys they wasted
their morning. Ill leave you with Agent Morgan. He runs the GhettoFab.
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The what?
Ghetto Fabrication, explained Padilla, Its for urban warfare training. Washingtons
Metro PD runs it twice a month.
Daniel and the others followed Agent Padilla as he led them around the back of the
pavilion, showing the bare broken concrete and exposed bricks on the back of the buildings.
The ground was broken asphalt with weeds shooting up through the cracks, and it was slick from
the rain.
In the distance, a trainer stood with his back to them.

He turned and glared down the

road at them and walked over to meet them halfway. Morgan was a short and stocky bald man in
his late forties, with a handlebar mustache. He walked with a wide stance, his muscular arms
swinging in a military rhythm.
Youre the Specials team, I take it? said Morgan. It was not really a question.
Agent Daniel Rooke. said Daniel. This is my team.
Morgan studied them with a critical glare, sizing them up.
Alright. replied Morgan. Let me show you the staging area.
Morgan turned and walked off with a slight twitch of a gesture, indicating he wished
them to follow him. Daniel turned and shook Padillas hand and followed Morgan, and the
others followed behind.
Morgan came to a stop on the far side of the pavilion, facing the apartment complex and
stepped under a tarp. Daniel and the others followed him and shook the rain out of their hair.
Morgan and Leonard merely wiped their bald heads and flicked the rain off.
Finally, Morgan turned and faced them again. He inhaled, and his chest swelled as he
eyed them and when he spoke, his voice was loud and clear, like a drill sergeants.
Welcome to the James J Rowley Training Centers Urban Warfare Simulation Station.
Also known as the GhettoFab. Here you will be running through an obstacle course with live
hostages, being held by live hostage takers. This is a non-live training exercise, so no use of live
rounds or extra-human abilities. Morgan eyed them with disgust, as though predicting their
eventual behavior and finding them contemptible, then pressed on, adding: We have Special
equipment for you to use within the facility, and we expect you to use them.
Morgan gestured to the table to the left and pointed to the first item on his mental list.

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Here is the Gel-Grenade. It is called the Gel-Grenade because it contains a blue dye
under compressed, air-tight conditions. When it is armed, it will detonate in the precise time, set
on the dial you will note here, and indicated the timer on the grenade with his index finger,
exposing the compressed compound to the air, and will release its contents in a rapid-expanding
state up to three meters in diameter in exactly 0.98 seconds. At these speeds, it will sting when it
hits you. Anything in that three meter area will be painted. The timer can be set up to ten
seconds. If you do not set the dial, it will expel its contents within the minimal three second
setting. It acts, for the sake of the exercise, the same way shrapnel would, so if you get a little
bit on you, you are to consider yourself wounded. If you come out covered in the dye, it means
you are dead.
Pointing to the rifles on the table next to the Gel-Grenades, Morgan continued.
These are modified paint guns, manufactured to work in the same fashion as a
SOPMOD assault rifle. That is Special Operations Modification, girls. The magazine holds
twenty rounds of non-live ammunition and the rifle fires the same way a life weapon would
handle, so be aware of the recoil.
Morgan then pointed to the item next to the rifles.
These here are the headgear you will be wearing in infil scenarios. It provides night
vision, targeting, building schematics and

WinVidxxvi, which is to say if you look at a wall, you

will see the enemy like youre looking through a window at them. Please dont wave, added
Morgan unnecessarily, obviously a joke at their expense, the enemy cant see you.
Morgan then turned to face them straight on, again, and folded his arms.
You will employ your training in stealth, teamwork and marksmanship to make your
way through the urban facility, neutralizing all threats and determining the difference between
threat and hostage, and you will be timed. The urban facility record is five minutes. You will be
expected to not exceed fifteen. And questions?
Daniel and the men just stood there silently examining the equipment, nonplussed.
You heard the man, gentlemen, concluded Daniel, eyeing them all with his best drill
sergeant glare. Load up on the dope.
Daniel began passing out rifles and clips. And each took the rifle gingerly. Leonard
gripped his and it cracked down the grip.
Plastic, scoffed Leonard.
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Daniel slid a magazine into another rifle and handed it to Leonard, who took it gingerly.
Chad slung his rifle over his shoulder and put the butt of the rifle into his shoulder like Special
Forces would do.
Daniel gave him a rare grin. Chad grinned back.
Leonard tucked his rifle into his shoulder and took a headset, lowering the visor over his
eyes. McCormack and Bradley locked and loaded their rifles and put on their headsets.
Daniel noticed that all of them refused the grenades.

Nonplussed, Daniel took a

bandolier of Gel-Grenades and slung it over his shoulder.

Lets move out, called Daniel, and turned to walk toward the GhettoFab.
Time will start when you reach the gate. called Morgan.
Alright, Chad and Leonard are on point. Tobias and Brad, follow my lead.
Yes, sir, chimed the Specials.
McCormack and Bradley traded disappointed looks at Daniels choice to have the
physical force lead and followed skeptically into the rain.
Outside the complex, Daniel took a knee and checked his rifle. Leonard tucked his rifle
into his shoulder with the barrels pointing down to the earth. Chad noticed this and followed
suit. McCormack and Bradley knelt with their rifles at the ready and they all waited.
Daniel studied them all, noted they were ready, and with a wave of his hand raced up to
the gated entryway with the Specials close at his heels.
Time has started! bellowed Morgan from behind.
Daniel came to the main door and found it locked.
Its locked.
Let me take a crack at it, said Leonard.
No, said Daniel, Chad?
Chad nodded and flipped over the gate into the complex, quickly opening the gated
entryway and standing sideways to make room for the team to enter the complex. Daniel
covered Chad and Leonard took point down into the dark hallway.
Through the dark narrow corridor, they proceeded at a quick crouched step, their
weapons pointed, darting from one possible attack point to another. Daniel tapped Leonard, who
raised his fist to call for a halt. Daniel tossed a Gel-Grenade at an open doorway just ahead and
in the burst of sound, light and debris, Daniel slapped Leonards back and shouted out:
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Go! Go! Go!

At the doorway, Leonard knelt, pointed his rifle barrel into the room, and shouted:
Clear!
Chad took the far point and entered the room quickly, while Leonard entered into the
apartment behind Chad and gave a more commanding sweep of the room he was responsible for:
Clear!
Leonard then took a kneeling position at the edge of the room and signaled Daniel to
move in. Daniel entered the apartment, behind Chad. Chad turned at the kitchen and entered
through the smoke and haze.
Chad made his way to the edge of the wall of smoke and dust studying the movements
through the cloud barked into the room:
Specials Investigations! Drop your weapons, now!
The figures raised their weapons to fire and Chad fired two shots, knocking the two men
back, who bounced off the wall, studied their blue paint marks and nodded, sitting on the ground.
Daniel darted into the hallway, moving straight past Chad, putting his hand on Chads shoulder,
signaling he had support. Leonard then signaled McCormack to enter the apartment with Bradley
in support. Daniel made his way into the second bedroom, kicking the door open:
Specials Investigations!
Inside were two men with signs over their chests that read HOSTAGE and Daniel
swept the room coolly, seeing no sign of threat. He made no effort to free the hostages, merely
checked their bonds to ensure they were securely tied:
Clear!
McCormack studied the hostages, and gave a nod to Daniel, and Bradley pointed his rifle
back toward the door leading out into the hall. Chad sighed and lifted his headgear with a grin.
Well, that wasnt all that bad.
Just then, in the living room another terrorist rappelled down from the second floor
from a hole in the ceiling and fired at Chad, who moved with surprising speed, avoiding the paint
balls, and fired three at the terrorist, hitting him squarely. The man studied his blue paint
marks, nodded and sat down, looking past Chad, snickering.

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Chad turned to see Leonard glaring back at Chad with annoyance and pointed out the
three blue paint marks on his back. Chad blinked as Leonard grit his teeth and sat on the ground
disgustedly.
Daniel glared at Chad.
Call your shots, call the targets, said Daniel, and warn your teammates.
Chad waved a nervous apology to Leonard.
Lets move on, snapped Daniel, and Chad snapped to attention. Beach, youre point.
Lets see if youve learned your lesson.
Yes, sir, said Chad.
Move out, ordered Daniel.
McCormack approached and with a look conveyed there was no point in continuing the
exercise.
Daniel, he said. Have you seen what you wanted to see?
Almost, replied Daniel, give him one more sweep, and then well do it your way.
Alright, replied McCormack, with a look of relieved comprehension.
Whenever youre ready, Chad, said Daniel.
Right, said Chad.
Chad proceeded down the hallway toward a bottleneck where two hallways converged
next to an exit and an apartment door and took a knee, raising his fist.
Daniel, McCormack and Overman instantly kneeled.
Chad made a gesture with his finger toward the exit door, and Daniel instantly proceeded
down the hall warily, his finger playing with the release action down the center of the trigger.
Just next to the exit door, Daniel looked down at the hallway convergence and peered
into the shadow warily.
Daniel then gestured to the others with his finger over the
headgear. Chad and the others nodded,

WinVid

switch on the

and studied their surroundings, seeing six armed

gunmen, three in the apartment, one behind the exit door and two in the hallway.
Daniel signaled Chad behind him, and with a hand gesture, told him to cover the
apartment door and prepare to advance on the hallway, tossing him a Gel-Grenade. Chad studied
it warily then nodded his complicity. Daniel then signaled McCormack and Bradley to brace for
clearing the room.
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Daniel then stood at the exit door, and with a commanding nod, kicked in the exit door,
knocking over the gunman, and quickly disarmed him, firing two paintballs into the backs of the
gunmans knees, and sending him down the steps, turning to cover the apartment door and the
hallway bottleneck simultaneously. Chad then threw the Gel-Grenade into the hallway and
charged around the bend:
Specials Investigations! Drop your weapons, now!
There were four shots and silence until finally Chads voice echoed through the hallway:
Clear!
Daniel then signaled McCormack and Bradley to the apartment door. The

WinVid

displays showed the three gunmen take positions toward the doorway. Daniel looked up at
McCormack, who returned an expression of impatience.
Daniel scoffed and with a grin, gestured McCormack and Bradley into the apartment.
The apartment door blew off its hinges, striking the first gunman, and McCormack grit
his teeth, and the other two gunmen stood straight up with their arms tight to their bodies, and
their rifles were stripped from them:
Clear! called McCormack.
Bradley then entered into the apartment and fired three rounds carelessly, before exiting
the unit.
Three confirmed kills, sir, said Bradley with a bored intonation.
Alright, breathed Daniel, Chad, hold up.
Chad stopped and crouched down in his position, his rifle pointing down the hallway.
Daniel turned to McCormack and Bradley and grinned.
Alright, said Daniel, lets see some shock and awe from you two.
Yes, sir, replied McCormack.
McCormack and Bradley strolled into the hallway, casually noting all the gunmen
stationed throughout the complex with their WinVid displays.
Ill lead, said McCormack to Bradley. You sweep up.
You got it, replied Bradley.
McCormack then grit his teeth and all the apartment doors blew open at once:

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Specials Investigations! Drop your weapons and come out with your hands on your
heads!
Several gunmen pointed their rifles out of the apartment doors and fired down the
hallway at McCormack in a physical reply to his command. The paintballs exploded ten yards in
front of McCormack who strolled up the hallway casually stripping the men of their weapons
and dragging them out of the units by unseen hands, their legs kicking.
Brad?
About time.
Bradley flew down the hallway, stripping the guns out of the gunmans hands and
throwing them into a corner. The gunmen fired on Bradley, their paintballs seemingly exploding
on him, covering him with blue. Overman kept fighting. The gunmen glared at Bradley with
disgust.
Foul! Foul! Sit down and wait for the exercise to be terminated!
Bradley looked back at Daniel awaiting his orders.
Alright, Ive seen enough. Im calling the exercise over at 13:53 hours. Lets wrap this
up and we can discuss strategies.
Bradley nodded, and all the paint fell to the ground, leaving not a drop on him. The
gunmen stared in disbelief.
Did you see that? said one of the Special Forces operatives.
Not a drop! gasped the other.
Outside the GhettoFab, Daniel approached Leonard who stood next to an incensed field
instructor.
What the Sam-Hell was that about? demanded Morgan, Which one of you kept
fighting after being hit?
No one was hit. placated Daniel, Sorry, I had to see what I was working with.
What do you mean no one was hit? railed Morgan. I have twenty men calling foul!
And I called the training exercise, replied Daniel shortly, Ive seen what I needed to
see. Then added dismissively, Thank you.
And Im saying, spat Morgan, jabbing his finger into Daniels chest, basic etiquette
has to be followed! Now who broke the rules?
I said thank you, replied Daniel, narrowing his eyes at Morgan.
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Morgan blinked at Daniel and stormed off in a Fume. McCormack sidestepped and let
Morgan Fume and stomp past him then turned to Daniel.
Alright, boss, began McCormack. Whats the situation?
I wanted to see the physically augmented Specials perform on a standard sweep,
concluded Daniel. As I suspected, Leonard performed above expectations, Chad needs work.
As far as ability, you two can perform adequately with your abilities. I just wanted to see
Giordano run the GhettoFab.
Thats for later, assured McCormack. Hes going to be busy in the
Explosives/Demolition Box for the rest of the day.
Whats he doing there? asked Daniel, curiously.
Trying to detonate a cinderblock from across the room without detonating, replied
McCormack.
Do you know how hes faring with that? asked Bradley at McCormacks shoulder.
Daniel looked out on the GhettoFab and breathed deeply. He had virtually put his career
on the line to prove that Stephen could perform as an energy projector on par with what they had
lost when burn walked out on the team in protest to his appointment. A fact that Boatman was
quick to remind him at every turn.
Daniel looked over his shoulder at Bradley and McCormack.
Well find out tonight.

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8:

Rebuilding the Team

he team shuffled into The Post with the weight of the day resting on their backs. Some
carried it better than others. Leonard was grim with annoyance and Chad was lifeless
as he walked into the flat and collapsed on the couch, immediately flipping through

channels on the television in the obvious hope that he could be passed by as nothing more than a
part of the couch. McCormack and Bradley nodded to Boatman in passing.
General, they murmured as they passed leaving him to the only man he could possibly
be seeking an audience with Daniel.
When Daniel came through the doorway into the flat he stopped dead in his tracks, not
altogether surprised to see Boatman, but wary of some possible fault he may have committed to
draw his presence in The Post so soon after their last, and what he hoped was their final, talk.
Daniel approached Boatman, standing at a comfortable distance from him and greeted
him.
How did it go at the GhettoFab? inquired Boatman with a scrutinizing expression.
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I saw what I wanted to see, assured Daniel, hoping that would be the end of the
discussion on the matter.
I heard you breached protocols with the Special Forces team, pressed Boatman,
showing his annoying tactic for asking questions he knew the answers to and waiting for people
to fall into his traps.
Daniel pursed his lips and studied Boatman for a moment before speaking.
Well, said Daniel, I had to see what my men could do. I figured the Special Forces
team could handle it.
So you used Bradley and McCormack to prove a point? pressed Boatman.
No, answered Daniel, flatly, To see what they could do.
And your findings? pressed Boatman.
They can pretty much take on a squad of hardnosed grunts, replied Daniel coolly, and
disprove the notion that you cant smoke a rock.
Boatman smiled despite himself.
Dont place too much on Overman and McCormacks abilities, counseled Boatman,
They make mistakes like the rest of them.
I know that, assured Daniel. Im not putting all my trust into one basket.
Thats good, replied Boatman. I need a team leader who can work with a rotating
roster and not get hooked on reusing the same players.
Its fine, assured Daniel. Bradley and Tobias are good. I just needed to see them
perform with my own eyes to see how they could be used. Im pleased with what I saw.
What are you not pleased with? inquired Boatman.
Daniel felt a surge of annoyance at the feeling he was being tested and took a deep
breath.
One, I didnt get the chance to see Stephen in action, said Daniel, then added, I would
have liked to have him running the GhettoFab with the rest of the team.
And two? pressed Boatman.
Chad needs to work with a team better, answered Daniel. Chad visibly cringed on the
couch, lowering himself as to disappear entirely into the couch and flipped through the channels
faster. Daniel ignored this, saying, He made a typical green mistake and Leonard was taken out
of the game as a result.
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You realize, said Boatman, in real life Leonard is bulletproof?

You realize, snapped Daniel, chances are we wont be encountering bullets on the
missions?
Boatman studied Daniels flare-up with curiosity, and a trace of amusement.
Just as long as youre aware, concluded Boatman.
Oh, Im fully aware, answered Daniel, Any word on Stephen? How are things going
at the Detonation Chamber?
Its about Stephen I wanted to talk to you about, replied Boatman as though they had
finished with the preliminaries and were now ready to discuss the reason for his presence in The
Post. Or at least, I have an answer to the gap left in the team with the absence of an energy
projector who can function on the team as I deem they should.
Go on, invited Daniel.
Boatman led Daniel down the hallway to the kitchen. There, he stepped to the side and
gestured to the door.
Sitting at the table was a slender Asian man wearing jeans and a t-shirt, with long hair
down to his shoulders.
Id like you to meet your newest team member, said Boatman with a keen smile,
Joshua Sung. Callsign: Aura.
He will be our new energy projector. I thought youd like some color on the team.
Daniel studied Sung for a moment, turned to pick up a coffee cup, fill it with coffee and
then turned away to face Boatman.
What can he do? inquired Daniel.
Sung sat there nervously, gesturing with his hand to get their attention.
Im right here, guys. said Sung, annoyed.
Daniel turned sideways and took a step back so he could look from Boatman to Sung
with ease.
Sorry, replied Daniel, though he did not particularly care how annoyed or frustrated
Sung was. Boatman seemed to sense this and stepped closer to Daniel, enforcing his presence
onto him, impressing upon him the necessity of smoothing things out between him and the
Specials as part of his job. Daniel looked right back at him, defiantly.

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Mr. Sung, began Boatman, harshly, has the ability to use his aura to create beams of
energy.
Whats his level? demanded Daniel.
Hes a Gamma level energy projector, said Boatman as though this should be enough.
Ive got a Beta, now, replied Daniel, taking a sip of his coffee.
And as Ive told you repeatedly, snapped Boatman, Giordano cannot use his ability in
the way that the team requires.
And I think he can, answered Daniel.
I will not have this discussion with you again, snapped Boatman. As it is, Giordano is
being trained to focus his ability in the way that the team requires.
And I think he can, answered Daniel.
I will not have this discussion with you again, snapped Boatman. As it is, Giordano is
being trained to focus his ability. Until he produces, I dont want to hear another word on the
matter.
Fine, answered Daniel, irritably, then turned to the young Asian man with the long hair
and studied his brooding eyes. Sung, is it?
Josh, answered Sung in a murmur.
Can I have a demonstration of your ability? said Daniel.
Is this a test? stammered Josh, exasperated. I thought I already had the job.
Humor me, said Daniel, and he leaned against the counter and took a sip of his coffee.
Josh pursed his lips and eyed them, visibly annoyed. He then turned his attention to
Daniels coffee mug. Materializing out of thin air around Joshs head, a beam struck the mug,
which exploded to marvelous effect.
Daniel jumped as he wiped the hot coffee off his face and hand and shot a look at Josh.
Josh merely smirked.
Do I pass the test? asked Josh, his eyes amused as Daniel shook the hot coffee off his
hands and turned to throw cold water on his face and hands. He then pulled a wet towel and
wiped his hands and face dry.
Can you explain how you manipulate your ability? pressed Daniel.
Josh blinked as though he were being asked to define something second nature and
therefore never put into conscious thought before.
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You want me to explain it now? repeated Josh, irritably.

No, replied Daniel. I think Id like you to work with Giordano and see if you could
help him with his own abilities.
Wherever you need me, man, replied Josh. Im here for the paycheck. Anythings
better than working at Costco.
Oh, Sung, added Daniel, Josh stopped in his tracks and studied Daniel warily.
Welcome to the S.I.T.F.
Cool, replied Josh with a grin.
Josh took a quick glance around the kitchenas though he were evaluating a new home
and found it to his likingand then walked out of it. Boatman could barely contain his irritation
as he leaned in close enough that a whisper would do, though he spoke plainly his voice only
quavering a little.
I thought I told you to let it go, growled Boatman.
Daniel grinned at seeing how much he could irritate Boatman. The time when he was
nervous of the mood swings of Lawrence Boatman was quickly diminishing in intensity,
replaced with amusement. He now understood he was too far in to be removed without a
replacement being found, and that replacement would have to start from scratch gaining the
teams trust and finding ways to implement them in a combat scenario. Daniel knew that
Boatmans hands were tied in his gamble to produce a superhuman team at a rapid pace, and for
better or worse, was for the moment stuck with him. Daniel smiled.
You told me to stop talking about it, replied Daniel. And I have. But if I can get
Giordano a mentor, so to speak, maybe he could figure out a different way to project.
I want Sung employed on the front lines, growled Boatman. Not teaching.
My team, Lawrence, replied Daniel, simply. Seeing Boatman flush of color, Daniel
waved his hand in a mollifying fashion. Hell get his training. This is above and beyond.
Dont mess about, boy, growled Boatman. You know how I am about results.
Youll have them, replied Daniel. But for now, the only people ready for collars are
Leonard, Tobias and Bradley.
Do you plan on making arrests with them? demanded Boatman.
As soon as possible, concluded Daniel.
So I can consider the task force ready to begin? pressed Boatman.
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Well, said Daniel cautiously, were near enough to begin.

Ill send down the dossier of your first assignment, then, concluded Boatman.
This caught Daniel off guard and he blinked in surprise.
You already have one? inquired Daniel.
One thats been operating with impunity for months, replied Boatman, scratching at his
white moustache.
So youve just been sitting on these? said Daniel, incredulously.
I have, answered Boatman.
Im surprised none of the other agencies wanted a crack at them, said Daniel, in a state
of disbelief.
You could say theyre investigating them, replied Boatman. For one reason or another
they are having little results. Not enough to attain a warrant, at least.
In this climate, Im surprised.
There are still laws in place that protect the average citizen from needless harassment.
Those same laws protect the Specials community as well, for the moment, last time I checked.
Ill be sure to let the team know.
Expecting a mutiny, are we?
Come on, Lawrence. I know youve got the flat bugged. You heard what McCormack
said.
Tobias is not about to abandon his responsibilities on a whim. You have him for a little
while longer.
Thats good to know, scoffed Daniel at the timetable implications of having
McCormack for only a while, depending on how things went and how he perceived the climate
toward Specials to be on any given day.
So I can assume the team active from now on?
Some of them. answered Daniel. Ill take Bradley and Tobias with me to start out.
Leonard can train Chad, Stephen and Sung until they get up to speed.
Its your call. answered Boatman. But I want my results.
Youll have them.
Then I think were done here.
A pleasure as always, Lawrence.
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Boatman fixed Daniel with a laser stare and silently reminded him who ran things and
who was in charge. Daniel understood his role was to run. Still, he couldnt resist smirking at
Boatmans irritation. With nothing more to say, Boatman walked past Daniel and out of The
Post.
Damn, thought Daniel. Youd better be right, now.
He scoffed and rubbed his forehead with a slight trepidation building at the thought that
he would finally be beginning his job as official leader of a team investigating in the field. The
butterflies began to whirl in his stomach and he felt his palms sweat.
Jitters, he thought to himself. Thats all it is. Snap out of it.
He turned and walked to what had just this morning been McCormacks office at the end
of the hall when his notebook chimed. He pulled it out and saw the file Boatman had warned
was coming had arrived. He ran his fingers across the notebook and the file opened. Daniel
studied the name at the header of the file: Terry Lyons. His first Special.
Daniel scrolled through the file with a brush of his finger reading it with a growing
scrutiny at the bizarre case he was watching unravel page by page.
Damn, thought Daniel, this looks more like fraud than Special activity. Boatman,
what are you playing at?

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9:

Princeton Park Place Kings

aniel could sense the mood of his team. Their brooding moodiness hung in the air
like a foul specter. Everywhere he looked another face as dour as the next and the
way they stalked about the room, pensive and fatigued it was as if they anticipated

some moment of surprise. Some drill sergeant disturbing their rest with more drills.
He was aware enough to see the writing on the wall. These endless training exercises
were wearing on the men. His need to get them battle ready was creating a divide between him
and the men. He would need to correct that, soon. Enough was enough.
With a heavy sigh he made his way out to the kitchen to find Leonard sitting with
Bradley and McCormack.

Bradley and McCormack were the only ones who appeared fresh.

Daniel knocked on the doorframe unnecessarily.

Leonard, said Daniel, I think its time we had a break from the training. Have the
team assemble in the flat.
Were two men short, Dan. replied Leonard.
Thats fine, concluded Daniel. Giordano and Sung are making progress. Thats
important. Well do this without them, this time. But Ill be sure to include them in the future.
Right, replied Leonard.
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Leonard rose heavily and stalked out of the kitchen to gather what men there were still in
the flat leaving Daniel alone with Bradley and McCormack.
Not even winded, you two. said Daniel, unsurprised.
Daniel, chided McCormack. the training exercise hasnt been invented that we havent
already aced. You forget. Were Anchors.
Right, said Daniel, nonplussed. You should file out too.
Right away, sir. said Bradley as he rose easily and walked past him.
McCormack patted Daniel affectionately on the shoulder as he passed and walked out
into the hallway.
Daniel watched as they sauntered down the hall to the open space filled with computer
terminals and an entertainment center. Daniel followed behind them out into the flat and found
the team assembled and ornery. Their eyes were wary, untrusting.
Daniel saw the same wariness in each set of eyes, from Leonard to Chad, to the bored
expressions of Bradley and McCormack. He stood before them a moment to fully appreciate
their trials before he spoke, measuring his words carefully. Finally he took a step forward and
folded his arms across his chest.
Ive put you through the paces the last few days. announced Daniel to the men.
Youve all done admirably. You really have. So I decided that Id take you guys out for a
meal.
Chad blinked and traded a glance with Leonard and Bradley. McCormack looked over at
Daniel skeptically.
Where is this meal going to take place? inquired McCormack.
Down the block. replied Daniel. Get into your street clothes, guys. Were going for a
walk.
Chad looked uncomfortable.
You mean were going out there? said Chad, a note of discomfort in his voice.
Its not so bad, replied Daniel, a trace of irritation in his voice for Chads uneasiness.
Chad Beach was a man who could fight through a front line and inflict heavy casualties
to the first wave of an assault making them think twice about advancing, yet he was nervous
about walking down the street in a black neighborhood.
I dont know, said Chad, thoughtfully. Some of those guys look pretty tough.
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Youre a Special, scoffed Daniel, as though intimidation was beyond the realm of
possibility.
I can still get intimidated by a look. wavered Chad. I know I can win, but I still have
to deal with that. Besides, I dont like conflict.
Just stick close by me. replied Daniel, Youll be fine.
Ill stick close to Bradley, replied Chad.
However you want it, scoffed Daniel irritably. Well meet down in the lobby in five
minutes. Bundle up. Itll be cold.

Five minutes later, the team was standing in front of Daniel with heavy coats, jeans and boots.
We ready? asked Daniel, unnecessarily. The others nodded and grunted. Alright,
lets go!
With that, Daniel turned and threw the lobby door open and stepped out into the ice-cold
wind, turning left and marching down Georgia Avenue, the others following behind him.
Instantly, they drew attention.

With Daniel in the lead, he nodded and greeted the

storeowners as he passed, while the normally cordial business owners now turned cold and
studied the new faces. Chad recoiled from the faces, and huddled closer to Bradley, until he
caught sight of Bradleys apprehension to the cold faces and quickly hurried up to keep step with
Daniel and Leonard.
McCormack walked like a priest, next to Bradley, seemingly carrying on a silent
conversation.

From Bradleys eyes, it was clear whatever they were saying to each other was

full of worry over the possibility of conflict.

As they pressed deeper into the neighborhood, the faces grew more pronounced
somewhere between apprehension and outright malice.
Daniel ignored the occasional question: You lost, white boy? and pressed on until
finally he stood in front of the corner restaurant with the marquee reading Charlies Soul Food.
What is this place? asked Chad warily.
Charlies, replied Daniel, as though the answer was obvious. The best soul food this
side of New Orleans. Then added, Or so Charlie tells me. I discovered this place my first
week here.
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So this is where you disappear to? said Leonard with a grin.

Its better than the fast food we get shipped out to us, replied Daniel, as he pushed open
the door and stepped in out of the cold.
Leonard and the others followed him into the warmth of the restaurant and they all
rubbed their hands together and stomped the slush from their feet on the welcome mat before
daring step into the restaurant proper.
Out of the darkest corner, a figure loomed in the shadow, and a Cheshire grin stretched
his face as he stepped out into the warm light of the restaurant.
Daniel, called Charlie, affectionately, I didnt think Id see your ass back here again.
What, said Daniel, grinning, and miss out on the ox tails and collard greens? Or
maybe catfish on wonder bread with hot sauce?
You know, chuckled Charlie, one of these days youre going to have to tell me how a
white boy got so down.
You cant live in Bed-Stuy without being intimate with soul food, Charlie. I though you
knew.
Right, right, chuckled Charlie. So you brought your friends, I see?
Yeah, hey Charlie, can we have a quiet spot to sit?
Funny, grinned Charlie, I have just the spot.
Charlie led Daniel and the others to a table at the far end of the room. There, sequestered
in the semidarkness of the blinds drawn over the windows, Daniel and the others took their seats
at a long table like a mafia family meeting for business with their backs to the wall and a
commanding view of the restaurant. Leonard surveyed the room and nodded with pursed lips.
This is a nice place, said Leonard, approvingly.
Wait until you try the food, replied Daniel.
That good? replied McCormack.
Youre just going to have to trust me, replied Daniel.
Fair enough, said McCormack.
McCormack and Bradley sat there curiously examining the restaurant, while Chad and
Leonard pored over the menu. Charlie came over and pulled up an extra chair. With a keen eye
he studied their faces until his eyes fell on Chads innocent expression.
You must be one of Daniels friends, inquired Charlie with a grin.
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Chad stammered for an instant unsure how to answer, until finally he said Yes, sir.
Well, replied Charlie, and he extended his hand across the table to Chad. Any friend
of Daniels a friend of mine. Im Charlie.
Chad Beach, answered Chad at once.
Well, teased Charlie, thats a white boys name if I ever heard one. And a flame in
his cornea began dancing. So, what do you do?
Im on a federally funded task force that polices-
Daniel jumped and slapped the side of Chad Beachs head.
Chad, interrupted Daniel.
Sir? replied Chad, jerking to attention in his seat.
You can shut up now, answered Daniel.
Chad blushed and his eyes fell to his menu.
Yes, sir, said Chad.
Charlie chuckled, and scanned the table, looking over at Leonard, now.

McCormack

leaned forward and smiled, though his eyes were critical.

You seem like someone who likes to talk, said McCormack, cagily.
Charlie rallied and focused on McCormack.
Oh, Im the guy to talk to about many things.
Ol Charlie here, said Daniel, hes a celebrity in the neighborhood.
Ill bet he is, whispered McCormack, not breaking eye contact with Charlie. Tell me,
Charlie, have you ever served in the military?
Me? chuckled Charlie with the small nostalgic pride of a much younger man lurking
just behind his eyes, Back in my day I was one of the Few and the Proud. But tell me, what
about you?
Me? Im a veteran of the Sol War. But that shouldnt mean anything to you, I guess.
Charlie appeared nonplussed and studied the faces at the table.
I take it all of you are Sol War veterans?
What makes you think that? replied McCormack, leaning forward, his eyes wide open.
No reason, no reason, backpedaled Charlie, rubbing his chin, But everybodys got a
history.
Thats true, replied McCormack, his eyes boring into Charlies, Everyone does.
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McCormacks eyes grew cold and his jaw set as the others looked back from one face to
the other like a tennis match.
At that moment, Charlie swayed in his seat looking dizzy and touched his ear. He held
his finger up to his eyes and examined a drop of blood on his fingertip, then looked up in shock
at McCormack. McCormack tapped his temple and shook his head.
Your friend, Ol Charlie, said McCormack. It turns out hes a Special.
Every eye at the table turned from McCormack to Charlie.
Telepath, concluded McCormack, Low-level from the looks of it.
Charlie rallied quickly, with a chuckle.
Okay, you got me. Im a Special. Just like everyone at this table.
I dont know what youre talking about, Charlie. replied Daniel with a wry grin.
How did you avoid the draft? inquired McCormack.
I didnt advertise my gift, replied Charlie. I kept it as a sort of private joke. Besides,
Im a little too old to be drafted and my gift aint that much use on the battlefield. Unless you
want to find out what the enemy had for breakfast.
Charlies eyes grew excited, and he turned in an effort to catch Chads eyes, though Chad
pretended to be engrossed by the menu, trying his best to avoid eye contact. Charlie then turned
and saw Leonard was glaring dead at him. He turned and smiled at Leonard.
So youre all Specials? rallied Charlie. What are your gifts?
Then his eyes became focused and the light danced in the cornea. McCormack turned to
Bradley.
Thatll be enough of that, concluded Bradley, his voice echoing in their minds.
Charlies head jerks back and his hands flew up to his temples as though he was trying to
keep his brain from exploding. A moment later he shot a malevolent glance at Bradley who
leaned back in his chair. McCormack patted Bradley on the back, as if to say down boy.
Its polite to wait for someone to decide to tell you a secret, said McCormack.
My bad, replied Charlie, rubbing his temples.
Charlie was put off by McCormack and sulked for a moment until he noticed the moods
of the Specials at the table were growing pensive. Charlie quickly rallied and with a winning
smile, and the room spun back into his favor.
So who wants collard greens and ox tails?
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Daniel raised his hand.

Oh, exclaimed Daniel, you know Ill have that.
Let me go get the order in, concluded Charlie.
With that, Charlie rose from the table on shaky legs for a moment, then straightened and
walked back toward the kitchen as the door opened and a group of five rough looking men
entered the establishment. The man leading them was a foot shorter than his peers and would
have been handsome if he had not worn a hateful stare and a perpetual snarl. He led the men into
the restaurant and approached Tamika, who stood with her back to the door.
Hey, sweet thing, said the man with the malevolent eyes.
Tamika ignored him, pressing her focus down on the pad she wrote down orders on.
Hey girl!
Tamika ignored him, seemingly praying they would give up and leave.
Finally the lead man seized Tamika by the arm and yanked her to him.
Hey, Im talkin to you!
Oh no you didnt! shouted Charlie, storming out of the kitchen. I wont have this
foolishness in my restaurant! Get out!
The lead man held onto Tamikas arm and grinned at Charlie, as though he were a prize.
With a gesture of his hands, the others surrounded Charlie. The lead man stared down Charlie
and stepped within inches of him.
So, I hear youve been talking shit, old man. The men gathered closer around Charlie.
Leave my grandpa alone, Chris, screamed Tamika, and tried to push the lead man away
from Charlie. Chris reacted instantly, seizing Tamika by the very roots of her long thick hair and
pulled her head toward him at an awkward angle, and shook it violently.
Oh, now you know me? demanded Chris. A second ago you didnt have time for me
until I put my hands on you, but now you know me?
Charlie grabbed Chris by the shirt and raised his fist.
Leave my granddaughter alone and get out! bellowed Charlie and was instantly seized
by the others and restrained, slapped by several men. Charlies eyes were wild as a froth built in
his mouth.

Chad looked over at Leonard, who waved him grimly down.

Specials were

forbidden from intervening in non-Special crimes. They could only document and call local law

153 | P a g e

enforcement.

Chad turned to watching in horror as Chriss men manhandled Charlie and

Tamika.
What the fuck are you going to do about it, old man? demanded Chris. You cant do
shit. Now get me some cat fish and collard greens and all the money in that old-assed register.
You old timers still deal in cash so I know you got money. And come to think of it, this bitch,
here is too fine to be working in a restaurant, so Im going to do you a solid and take her off your
hands. I can make money with that ass.
Finally, Daniel could take no more. He turned to the others and eyed them critically.
No one does anything, commanded Daniel.
McCormack pursed his lips and then acquiesced with a nod, and the others nodded
begrudgingly.
Daniel rose and walked up behind the tallest man, and tapped him on the shoulderhard.
The man jumped to see Daniel and instantly rounded on him. Daniel put him in an arm bar and
applied pressure. The man winced and crumpled under the twisting of joints and Chris pushed
through his own men to get to Daniel.
Oh, exclaimed Chris. I know this white boys done lost his mind!
Daniel twisted the mans arm harder.
No, were just talking. Daniel leaned down to the tall mans ear. Isnt that right?
Chris stood there nonplussed, taking in Daniel as a possible threat, and grew eerily
calmer.
Talking, huh? scoffed Chris. Do you know who the fuck I am?
Daniel pushed the tall man away, sending him sprawled on the floor, and wheeled around
on Chris.
No, rounded Daniel, Tell me. Who the fuck are you?
Chris, dont! begged Tamika.
In the back of Daniels mind, a memory of Charlie explaining the tragic story of the
neighborhoods history, and the source of his frustration being embodied by the elusive Chris.
Oh, youre the Chris Ive been hearing so much about?
PPK, baby, sang Chris with a malevolent grin, Princeton Park Kings. You dont know
who youre fucking with.
No, challenged Daniel, tell me, who am I fucking with?
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And to that, Chris laughed darkly, waving his hand as though dismissing an ignorant
person with life-saving knowledge.
You dont want none of me, white boy. threatened Chris, Im too much for you. I
suggest you get the fuck out of my neighborhood. Why dont you take your ass back to Capitol
Hill. Take some pictures, and mind your own fucking business. I got business with this old
assed man right here.
Charlies a friend. replied Daniel. You got beef with him, take it up with me.
Oh, Ill take up more than beef with you, boo. replied Chris, coolly. Ill have that
white ass turning tricks in a minute.
You want to sample me before you pass my ass around? challenged Daniel, Im right
here.
Chris waved his hand and raised his voice.
You got nothin! replied Chris, a decibel louder. You breathe because I let you, bitch.
And you eat solid foods because I let you, rounded Daniel.
Chris made an intricate gesture with his hands and the others nodded and began circling
Daniel.
No, wait! called out Charlie with fear for Daniel in his eyes. Why dont you tell me
what you want, Chris?
I want this white boys ass beat, replied Chris.
Come get some, challenged Daniel.
What? scoffed Chris, in disbelief.
See, you need your boys for me, replied Daniel. I can see it clear as day. One on one,
you dont stand a chance. Which is why you told your boys to attack me from behind. Bad
mistake.
What, you going to get all Jackie Chan with us? Is that it? You think you can roll?
I think I can drop you easy. concluded Daniel, then added And I will, if you dont
leave Charlie and his business, his customers, his family, his friends alone.
What you got? snarled Chris as he opened his jacket and showed the handle of his
handgun to Daniel, Nothing! Man, show this white boy what happens when a fool steps to
Kings.

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One of the men swung behind Daniel who heard the wind whip by the powerful swing.
Daniel sidestepped, ducked and kicked wildly out behind him, taking the man off his feet to
huddle on the ground. His next movement was into the man next to him, punching him in the
abdomen while his left leg snapped against the other mans shin. Just then, Chris came up the
middle and punched Daniel square in the jaw. Unphased, he hit Chris back even harder, and he
crumpled to the ground as Daniel loomed over him..
I told you, taunted Daniel. You cant take me without help.
Chris rose and pulled out the gun. Just then, the table next to him turned over and all of
S.I.T.F was standing, eyeing Chris.
Chris looked over and recognized them as a threat, quickly pointing the gun at them.
Oh, snarled Chris, you want some of this too? I got something for all yall!
Just then, the gun exploded and the gunpowder and flecks of metal peppered Chris hands
and face as the bullets spilled out onto the floor sending him to hobble against the wall in agony
as Leonard stepped forward with a grin.
Thats okay, said Leonard. Weve got something for you. Chad?
Chad rushed forward, grabbed two of the men, and threw them with such force they
broke through the drywall on the far wall and fell to a rain of plaster and shredded drywall.
Bradley punched one and the sound of the mans jaw breaking seemed to echo through the room.
McCormack swept his hand and it was as if a wind blew the remaining gang members into the
wall. Chris clutched his injured hand and rose up to rail at Daniel.
Oh, you think youre bad? railed Chris indignantly, his voice several decibels higher.
Dont you know who runs these streets? Its me! Jonas! I run this motherfucker! You aint
shit next to me!
Daniel grabbed Chris by the ear and yanked hard, backhanding Chris hard across the face
as he sent him spinning through the door and he sprawled out on the sidewalk outside. Leonard
and Chad began throwing the rest of his crew out the door as though they were taking out the
trash and left them in a pile outside the door. Daniel walked outside and knelt next to Chris.
Remember what I said, said Daniel, mere inches from Chris face. This place and its
people are protected. Anything happens to this place or anyone connected to itthats customer,
employee, owner, friend, family or business associatewhen I hear about it, I promise youIll
be running these streets by nightfall. Youve never met anyone like me.
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Man, youre a cop! spat Chris, knowingly. Ive seen you fools before. They either get
bent or get dealt!
Well I aint a cop. replied Daniel. Im the guy who does what he says and means what
he says. And Im telling you, I will dismantle your operation if anything happens to this place,
these people or customers.

I dont care if they buy a cup of coffee and walk out. Theyre

protected. Got it?

Fuck you! spat Chris.
Daniel backhanded Chris hard across the mouth a second time and shook his jacket.
Watch your mouth when you talk to me.
Chris jumped to his feet, still favoring his right hand.
You dont know what you done! railed Chris, even louder than before, a froth building
in his mouth. You dead, man! Im looking at a dead man!
Daniel rose and went nose to nose with Chris, eyeing him coldly.
Ive been dying for years! bellowed Daniel, You think you can speed my clock?
Come on up and try. But youll be needing way more boys than the ones you brought. And Im
not some old man you can push around. I push back.
You aint shit! railed Chris, walking backwards away from Daniel, his voice raising
even louder the farther he stepped, Ill be seeing you, white boy!
Ill be waiting, Chris. murmured Daniel.
Chris walked backwards down the sidewalk with his men shouting and flashing the gang
signs P-P-K with his good hand until he cleared the corner. Leonard walked up to Daniel.
Where do you think hes going? asked Leonard ominously.
The hospital, probably, replied McCormack. Thats a bad burn hes got.
Daniel turned to see Charlie standing in the doorway with a doomed expression.
You okay, Charlie? said Daniel, concerned.
Boy, began Charlie forebodingly, you shouldnt have done that.
Come on, Charlie. said Daniel. You looked like you needed the help.

Tamika

certainly needed it.

You dont understand, said Charlie dismissively. The Kings control the neighborhood.
Its more than drugs and skin. They control trash take out. They control the delivery trucks.
They control protection. Everybody pays. And everybody obeys. He doesnt have to touch me.
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He can just stop the delivery trucks and tell the grocery stores to not sell to me. If Im lucky,
hell just raise the protection fee.
Daniel studied Charlies defeated expression and instantly felt low.
Ill make this right, said Daniel, apologetically.
How? scoffed Charlie. You aint a cop. And you roll with Specials. No cop is going
to touch you.
I still have some connections, replied Daniel.
Theyll just turn the neighborhood upside down again, replied Charlie knowingly, We
just recovered from that. We dont need it again.
So what can I do? asked Daniel, uncomfortably.
Come back in and eat your food, said Charlie, somberly. Get in out of the cold.
When they entered the restaurant, they were taken aback seeing the damage they caused.
Broken drywall and burn marks on the wall and turned over tables. It looked like someone
tossed a grenade in the room. Daniel felt a surge of guilt that welled up in his throat and
threatened to close it off. He couldnt possibly think about eating, now.
Look, Charlie. began Daniel, We can pay for the damages, at least.
No, said Charlie, emphatically as if his pride was hurt by the mere suggestion, and then
cracked a smile to mask his dread filled expression. Ive been looking for an excuse to remodel
anyway. Go on. Sit. Eat. Its the least I can do for you protecting my granddaughter.
Daniel and the others took their seats and sat there uncomfortably.
Tamika came out with the plates of food. Her hands shook as she set the plates down and
she refused to make eye contact with any of them.
Dinner was a somber experience and they ate with their heads low over their plates. No
one spoke. All that was heard was the sound of forks scraping plates and the occasional sighs of
discomfort.
When they had finished, each of them pulled out whatever money they could spare and
left a pile on the table as an apology. As Daniel and the others exited Charlies, Charlie stepped
out behind them and pulled Daniel aside.
Watch your back, he said gravely, as though Daniel was already dying. Cause you
just painted a big ol target on it.

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Well be fine. No ones going to come calling for a while anyway. Besides, were too
busy with our work.
McCormack stopped and turned to Charlie.
We may come calling on you, before long.
Charlie swallowed hard. A cold wind rose up and sent a chill down his spine.

He

hugged his chest and watched McCormack walk down the street slowly behind Daniel and the
others.
Damn scoffed Charlie, as a lump rose in his throat.
He was not a man accustomed to fear, but the stare of Tobias McCormack unsettled him.

159 | P a g e

1 0:

C h a p t e r

The POST

he flat was dimly lit by waning sunlight as the Task Force broke off into disparate
groups and Daniel and the others shuffled in like the walking wounded. It had been a
successful day, for the most part, at the GhettoFab, and Daniel was looking forward to

giving the good news to Boatman. He had just sat at his desk when the phone rang. Daniel
knew out of hand it was Boatman, and he picked up the phone ready to give him the good news.
Daniel, said Boatman, not waiting for him to even say Hello. Ill need you to be
ready with the team in five minutes.
Where we going? said Daniel, cautiously.
Joint Base Andrews Naval Air Facility, he replied.
Whats at Andrews Air Base?
Lets just say some new appropriations have come in and I have diverted a portion
toward your transportation issue. replied Boatman cagily. His tone noted some annoyance. It
appears that the US Marshals dont want to transport your prisoners to the North Brother Island
facility. Youll need to transport them yourselves. Given that, I have a gift for you. One I think
youll personally like.
Youve gotten us a transport? blurted Daniel in disbelief.
Yes. said Boatman simply. Are you interested in seeing it?
Well be outside in five. responded Daniel, already rising and preparing to hang up the
phone.
Good. replied Boatman, and the line disconnected.
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With that, Daniel launched out of his office and down the hall catching Leonard in the
kitchen.
Leonard, Ill need the team up and ready in five minutes, down in the lobby.
Boatmans got us a transport.
Leonard looked up from his hoagie and a rare smile played on his lips.
Well, its about time!
Leonard rose to fetch the team.

Fifteen minutes later, the SUV raced through Maryland, to Prince Georges County, eight miles
east of Washington D.C. toward the Joint Base Andrews Naval Air Facility. The air base was a
virtual city on 4,320-acres of land, comprised of an airstrip, control tower, dozens of hangars and
a large housing community for its 20,000 active duty military personnel, high-clearance civilian
employees and family members as well as markets and assorted businesses for their convenience.
Driving through the streets, Daniel watched the children playing football in the street,
running to the sidewalk to watch the caravan of SUVs pass, before running back out and
reclaiming the street as their own.
Farther down the street, children stood in somber silence around a broken window with a
baseball size hole in itthe boy with the bat looked frightened and studied his friends faces as
if to gauge how much trouble he was in by the widening of their eyes.
Daniel smiled.
Seeing this bit of Americana in dire contrast to the tension of the neighborhood
surrounding The Post was a welcome sight.
Finally, the SUV passed the housing community, leaving it behind as they pressed into
the industrial section of Andrews. Cold postmodern buildings no larger than five stories dotted
the landscape like well placed board pieces with large parking lots joining them together. And
beyond that, hangars stood in a row next to the road leading to the airstrip. Security was tight,
here.
Everywhere Daniel looked, military police presence was found.

Daniel knew their job

function only too well: Protect the secret projects being worked on in the buildings and hangars.
Daniel turned to the driver.
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How long until we get there? demanded Daniel, anxiously.

Were just up here, sir. replied the driver.
Good. replied Daniel to no one in particular, I need to stretch my legs.
The SUV pulled in front of a hangar with a sign over it.

It read: ANDREWS

WIZARDS.
Daniel studied the sign for a moment and smirked.
What is Boatman up to? he thought.
Daniel stepped out of the SUV and took a few steps toward the hangar, admiring the
magical implications of the declaration the sign made and wondered what this new turn had in
store. McCormack and Bradley walked up to Daniel and gestured toward the hangar doors.
Shall we get on with it? said McCormack, trying to sound at ease, but he was just as
anxiously curious as he was.
Lets, replied Daniel, and walked through the hangar bay doors.
Inside, the working space yawned open to reveal a long concrete floor with a sheet metal
ceiling. Throughout the hangar, workers busied themselvesbehind tarp drops that subtly
billowed in the fan circulated airworking on large pieces of equipment that looked like science
projects. Engineering feats were being accomplished here. It was clean and polished, and the
engineers worked like car mechanics, unafraid to pick up a wrench and climb into their projects
for a quick job of spot-welding.
Out from behind one of the tarp hidden projects farther back in the Wizards Hangar
stepped a tall, well built man with a thin notebook in his hands.
You there! he shouted.
Daniel stopped where he was and waited for the man to jog over to him.
Wheres your ID? demanded the man, authoritatively, waving unseen to security
personnel to approach.
Daniel reached into his pocket and produced his government identification. The man
seized his wrist and pulled his hand closer to his face to study the credentials up close for a
second, and then blinked.
Oh, youre here early. said the well built man, Malcolm Reynolds. Ill be with you to
make sure you dont see anything you shouldnt.
Daniel looked around casually, before gesturing to Reynolds.
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Lead the way, replied Daniel.

With that, Reynolds turned and led them down the aisle between the projects down to the
back of the hangar. Daniel and the others couldnt help but look back and forth from one project
to another, out of overwhelming curiosity. They were met with the cold protective eyes of the
engineers and workers. A few of the workers stepped out and blocked the path of their sight
from the key components they worked on, offering challenging gestures and glares back at them
as they moved on.
Daniel scoffed.
Youll have to forgive them, said Reynolds with a grin, They take their jobs seriously.
The words Top Secret are big around here.
I understand. replied Daniel, casually. Im just ready to see the project pertaining to
us.
Well, its right here, replied Reynolds. Just beyond these curtains.
Reynolds held apart the draping tarps and stepped aside to make way for Daniel and the
others. Inside, the space was clean and functional. Steel platforms surrounded them like walls,
and in the space, scrapped star fighters sat depressingly stripped of their innards. Reynolds
looked straight ahead with a marveling gaze and gestured toward the chaos of the room.
What do you think? inquired Reynolds, proudly.
Daniel looked around the room and saw the stripped spacecraft and felt like an elephant
next to a collection of elephant bonessomber, reflective. Finally he looked at Reynolds.
Is this where star fighters go to die? scoffed Daniel.
Funny, replied Reynolds, without mirth. This is where they go to be reborn. Id like
to introduce you to the phoenix project.
Reynolds gestured to a ship in the center of the room, obscured by the metal frame
erected around it like a protective cube. Daniel stood shocked by what he saw, his mouth agape.
Is that what I think it is? said Daniel, at last.
Yes sir, chimed Reynolds, with a nostalgic reverence in his tone, third generation

Roman deep space fighter craft, modified to fly in atmospheric conditions.

The ship was both bulky and streamlined, all at once. The mad scientist mechanics had
stripped the deep space fighter craft of all components that were deemed impractical for the Task

163 | P a g e

Forces intents and purposes, and managed to reshape the oddly shaped craft into something
almost animalistic. Daniel walked up to stare up at the craft from underneath.
Where did you find it? gasped Daniel.

AFR-

Dont rightly know that, sir, Reynolds responded, We requested parts for the
xxvii

33s and we got half the order, plus this monster, and four other craft; a

Reeverxxviii,

Black Arrowxxix, a deep space Siouxxxx fighter, and a long range Harrierxxxi bomber, if you
can believe it.
Daniel blinked and turned his head so fast he felt a crick in his neck. He ignored it out of
excitement.
Youve got a Black

Arrow in the hangar? said Daniel, like a child at an air show.

Weve got some of the parts in there, sir. replied Reynolds with a grin. Along with the
console systems from an AB-4 for atmospheric flight.
You put an AB con in the helm? blinked Daniel, eyeing the console with disgust.
Reynolds chuckled and rubbed his chin.
Yeah, it seemed sacrilegious to us, too. replied Reynolds sympathetically. But the
Generals orders were very explicit. Make a craft that would do the job, and do it well. A

Roman would fall out of the sky like a stone in the atmosphere.
Yeah, I know, scoffed Daniel, still reeling in his amazement over what Reynolds team
had accomplished. Howd you get it to fly?
Thats where the Black

Arrow and Reever parts came into play.

Daniels eyes pored over the windowless craft, seeing what was obviously the

Sioux

frame laid down the center, occupying the role of the crafts spine, intermixed with the bulky
arrowhead-shaped Roman which had been split down the middle, giving the craft the look of a
jungle cat in sphinx-like repose. As Daniel stepped around the craft, the segments became quite
practicalwhere the hind legs was dedicated to engines and fuel, the forelegs were dedicated to
weapons. The dragonfly spine was the power relays, connecting the four parts to the brain
located at the helm.

164 | P a g e

Reynolds watched Daniels eyes grow wide and a smile stretched his face. He was a kid
at an air show. Reynolds leaned over to Daniel as though offering a little treat.
You want to see inside, sir? said Reynolds.
Can I? blinked Daniel, excitedly.
Reynolds pulled out his thin notebook and tapped his thumb on the gel screen face, which
instantly illuminated. The side panel of the beast slid away, revealing the hull of the craft, and
Daniel jumped at the sudden movement.
You like it? mused Reynolds knowingly, I took the idea from the Iroquois and
Blackhawk drone designs. You could say we had fun trying to bring about the features in our
girl, here.
Without a backward glance, Daniel climbed through the slide away door into the belly of
the beast and was awestruck by the lengths the mechanics had gone to, marveling at the ugly
beauty of the craft. Beneath the helm were panels, clearly marked with stick-em notes, to mark
which conduit connected to which relay; the blue to life support, the red to weapons, the gold to
the battery and green to engines.
A seasoned pilot familiar with the systems could, in effect, repair the ship in mid-flight.
And a seasoned fighter-pilot could reroute power at will to affect the outcome of a battle, limited
to either success or death solely by their ability to outthink the ace pitting against them.
As Daniel entered the cockpit, he was beside himself with the wonder and horror of
seeing a state of the art fighter craft fit to more practical purposesand at the same time being
used so cruelly. The AB helm clearly did not belong in the craft, and seemed almost comical at
how it jutted out as if it were a bus bright yellow tire rim bolted to the marble floor of a
luxurious palace for use as a coffee table.
For a moment, Daniel doubted Reynolds and his look told all. Reynolds merely smiled.
Not to worry, sir. said Reynolds reassuringly, We just installed the helm this morning.
By the morning, itll look right at home.
From behind them, a familiar voice echoed into the cockpit, bringing Daniel back to the
realization he was not alone.
What a piece of shit, spat Stephen disgustedly.

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All the engineers turned and glowered at Stephen, on the verge of attacking, Reynolds
chief among them. With a scoff, he waved off the mechanics, and they swallowed their ire,
turning back to their business of erecting the dead bird back to life.
You should have more respect for a bird, said Reynolds evenly. Especially when her
daddies are all around you, boy.
Stephen scoffed at the threat, which he found to be quite hollow. Then he caught sight of
Daniels reproachful glare and he pursed his lips, turning away to avoid having Leonard or
McCormack sicked on him. Seeing what he accurately interpreted to be the closest he would
ever get to an apology from Giordano, Daniel turned back to Reynolds.
Shes beautiful, said Daniel to Reynolds reassuringly.
Then Bradley turned to offer his own insight to Daniel, which was equally unwelcome by
Daniel, Reynolds and the engineers alike.
Seriously, said Bradley. This craft is far below the standards for our job description.
If were going to use a transport, could we at least get an AFR-16? If not an AB-5?
Now, thats a beautiful transport, replied Chad.
No, replied Daniel, more to himself than to the men. This is our baby.
Daniel ignored their protests, massaging the walls of the craft, with the affection of an
aficionado praising the craftsmanship of a finely tuned hot rod, feeling every curve, gingerly, and
he whispered to the walls, as though soothing a wild mustang.
Dont listen to the bad men, cooed Daniel, They just dont understand you. Its okay,
girl.
Since you and the inanimate object are now so close, chided McCormack, Daniel,
have you decided what youre going to name it?
Oh, grinned Daniel, she wont be inanimate for long. Besides, shes already got a
name.
Daniel walked past his dissenting team and out of the hold onto the concrete floor of the
hangar, where he turned and stepped to the front of the craft, approaching the section where the
grease had smearedobscuring the vibrant orange and yellow symbol and the warm red words
outlined in blackmarred by carbon scarring due to plasma and electromagnetic pulse blasts and
flack. Daniel took his hand and wiped across the grease and grime to reveal the design and

166 | P a g e

words underneath. The words were only hardly clear with the hand streak clearing most of the
grease out of the way. Only one word was marginally unhindered by the burns and damage.

CharioT.s
Chad stared at the writing, letting his eyes go out of focus to see if he could pick out what
Daniel was seeing. His reward was a migraine, and he quickly pinched his nose and shut his
eyes.
I got nothing, said Chad, rubbing his eyes.
Reynolds? said Daniel.
Sir, replied Reynolds.
Clean this up as best you can and make sure Chariot reads clearly.
Right away, sir. replied Reynolds with a grin.
And by the way, added Daniel, Shes beautiful.
Thank you, sir, chimed Reynolds with pride and shot a disgusted look at the Specials
for daring to impugn both the craft and his skill as a master engineer. He turned to Daniel and
nodded knowingly. Shell fly true. Rest assured.
No doubt in my mind, replied Daniel.
With that small bit of praise, Reynolds walked off at a quick step and flagged down some men to
fetch paint and prepare a laser writer to be brought down from Polishing to put the finishing
touches on what would be the Chariot.
Outside the hangar, Chad and Stephen rounded on Daniel.
You cant be serious! started Chad.
Did you even see that piece of shit? demanded Stephen.
Thats enough, snapped Daniel. Shes our transport. Get used to it.
Ive never seen a transport that ugly, blurted Josh. Were seriously going to be flying
in it? Itll fall apart on us! I didnt sign up on this team to die in flight.
Then go back to Costco, replied Daniel. Im sure theyll have work for you.
Daniel turned and walked back to the SUV leaving Joshua standing there stunned.
Finally Josh scoffed and followed Daniel to the SUV.
Im not going back to Costco, concluded Josh in a mutter, at last.

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Chad, Stephen and Josh followed behind Bradley, McCormack, and Daniel across the spans from
the SUVs to the lobby doors of The Post.
Daniel had this natural ability to part the onlooking crowd with a gesture and a wave of
his hand that would have made Moses proud.
Josh was still fuming from the Costco comment and his ears were burning, though he
admitted silently that could just be from the cold D.C. winter.
Inside the lobby, Daniel made a sharp turn away from the elevator and manned the stairs
taking the steps two at a time. The others followed in silence as they climbed the steps to the
third floor flat.
One of these days, thought Daniel, Im going to drown that elevator in Lemon Pledge and
bleach until the smell goes away.
Im way ahead of you, scoffed Bradley.
What, you reading my mind?
Youre projecting your thoughts. Its not hard. It just gives me a little headache.
Well one of these days you two are going to have to teach me how to block out my
thoughts.
Well, its easier when you let your mind go blank.
So when I have my own personal dialogue, Im open to be probed?
Not really. Like I dont know your exact words you say in your head. I just feel your
contempt for the smell in the elevator.
This whole building needs a bath.
Thats why I dont bring my dates back to The Post, replied Bradley.
Oh, chided Leonard. Is that the only reason?
Well come on, pressed Bradley, if I have a room and its my room, why cant I
entertain guests?
Define guests, said Leonard pointedly.
Bradley looked over his shoulder and rolled his eyes at Leonard.
Knock it off you two, said McCormack, warningly.

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Look, said Daniel, flatly, your rooms are your rooms. If you meet a pretty girl and
shes down, by all means, use the flat. As long as you separate the business from the personal,
you can use your rooms as you see fit. This isnt boot camp.
So you mean, said Josh, tentatively, we could bring dates up to The Post?
Hell, I dont care, replied Daniel, As long as it doesnt interfere with our job and
training, I say go for it!
Thats all well and good, Daniel, replied McCormack. But I think you should be
clearing that with Boatman.
Im not looking for warrior monks, said Daniel dismissively, I can deal with a team
that leads their lives off duty.
McCormack shook his head in disappointment. Bradley nodded his appreciation, but his
chin nudged just a little bit of a no warning Daniel to let the matter drop out of hand. Leonard
grit his teeth with frustration and Josh and Stephen high fived each other, with full expectancy to
test Daniels words at the first possible chance. Chad put his head down, his eyes heavy.
The thought of girls was something Chad had not had time to think about, and the
thought only depressed him. He knew he would have to remedy thatwith or without the
consent of his team leaderas soon as possible. The thought frustrated him, leaving him
isolated between his job and his heart. Both were important to define himself, but he suspected
between the two, one would have to give. McCormack seemed to look right at him. And soon,
Bradley looked warily after him.
Daniel was oblivious to all this as he entered The Post, and left his men in the flat as he
headed down the hallway, into his office and down at his desk. His computer terminal flashed
when he put his hand on it, scanning his fingerprints and then blinking to life.

//Good evening, Daniel\\

Daniel read through the emails scanning through them like so much clutter until he found
one from JJRTC. Curiously he clicked on the email and the contents caused his heart to leap in
his chest.

SPECIAL AGENT IN CHARGE DANIEL H. ROOKE, SPECIALS

INVESTIGATIONS TASK FORCETHIS EMAIL IS TO INFORM YOU A
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SLOT HAS BEEN FILED FOR USE OF THE GHETTOFAB TRAINING

CENTER BY LAWRENCE BOATMAN BETWEEN S.I.T.F AND SPECIAL
INVESTIGATIONS
EMERGENCY
SERVICES
UNIT
AT
10:30AM.SINCERELY, AGENT HENDRICK MORROW, US SECRET
SERVICE, JAMES J. RAWLEY TRAINING CENTER
Daniel leaned back from the email startled. Boatman was finally pitting his team against
a viable threat for assessment of battle readiness. This could either be the greatest favor he paid
or the greatest chance for public embarrassment he had been presented with.
Either way, he could not refuse this boon. There was too much he could learn from this
exercise. He couldnt give that experience up, and would not be deterred by the butterflies
churning and warring in his stomach. He would own this.
With a barely contained glee, he rose from his desk and left his office to tell his team the
good news.

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C h a p t e r

1 1:

Scrimmage with Black Ops

GHETTOFAB - JJRTC

aniel stepped out of the SUV and smelled the air fresh from the rain. The sun was
high in the sky, breaking free from the clouds and worked feverishly to evaporate the
water that clung to the tarmac and GhettoFab structure. He strolled through the

pavilion toward the GhettoFab, anxious to find what was in store for the days scrimmage. In the
distance, Lawrence Boatman stood huddled with a team that would take control of the GhettoFab
for the scrimmage.
Boatman turned at the sound of the SUVs brakes, grimaced as he recognized Daniel in
the distance and left the team standing there in their lazy huddle. He walked grimly, yet Daniel
sensed an anticipation in the old mans eyes. At last, Boatman reached Daniel and grimaced.
Rooke, Boatman began, I hope you know how difficult it was to put this little
scrimmage together.
I can appreciate the difficulties in uniting a visible team with a Black Ops team, of
course.
Not Black Ops, corrected Boatman, sternly. My Specials Emergency Service team is
not some group of black bagger thugs.
Whatever.
Youre trying my patience Rooke, growled Boatman.
It took a great deal of assurance to persuade my colleagues to allow these two teams to
so much as breathe the same air.
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Look, answered Daniel, youre just as curious about what happens as we are. And
dont tell me you arent going to record the scrimmage, either.
Boatmans eyes flashed cunningly.
Of course Im going to record it.
And Id like to see the results of the video feed, said Daniel.
No video.
Then how do you plan to record this?
Boatman beckoned Daniel to follow him and turned, making his way toward the tarp that
hung over the fold out tables. A Secret Service agent stood inside, apparently waiting for
Boatmans commands. Boatman turned with a grin and waved his hand over a case of metallic
balls sitting in neat rows. Boatman held one out for Daniel to observe up close.
Rooke, Id like to introduce you to the Joint Unmanned Combat Ordinance system. You
might have been familiar with it during the war?
Daniel studied the softball sized metal object with a sense of awe and skepticism.
I knew you had JUNCOs standing guard around the battleships during the war. But
thats a hell of a lot smaller than any JUNCO Im familiar with.
Its a new technology, replied Boatman, reverse engineered from Quill machinery. It
was in use by the middle of the war as assistance for the Specials teams fighting on the front.
That looks like a drone, to me.
A drone implies someone would be operating it via remote.

As I said, this is

unmannedas in mans got nothing to do with it. It is a marvelous piece of technology that
allows for a freethinking machine to dedicate itself to the purpose of protecting its master
through a proximity attack/defense protocol.
Boatman reached into the case and pulled out a harness.
During the war, Specials wore these bandoliers with four or five JUNCOs on them. The
bandoliers acted as a master marker. The JUNCOs would float close by, analyze enemy
movement and fire on their positions as they appeared. If the enemy got too close, the JUNCOs
would act as grenades and detonate. The bandoliers hindered their wanderings, keeping them
close to the master marker. Say, five feet. These JUNCOs will have a wider net than that.
And it also records?
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Precisely, Boatman replied. Video fed directly to my personal files on each Specials
performance for evaluation.
So these things will be flying around recording the movement of both teams?
Yes.
I want bandoliers for my team. said Daniel. I want the recordings up close and
personal. I need to see how they perform in this scenario.
I believe were thinking along the same lines.
Boatman looked over at a Secret Service agent and gave him a nod. The agent nodded
and turned, exiting the tarp out into the sun and disappeared around the side of the GhettoFab.
So I wouldnt have gotten this if I hadnt asked for it?
Youre responsible for your own team. I have to look after my own.
So that team is yours?
Your team is not my sole responsibility, Rooke, answered Boatman, rather coarsely. It
will rise or fall depending solely on your ability to evaluate and command.
Right, scoffed Daniel.
Dont pout. reprimanded Boatman. Your wish may not be my every command, but I
will provide. Have I failed in any respect to supply in answer to your requests?
Just then, the Secret Service agent appeared around the side of the GhettoFab carrying a
heavy looking suitcase. He seemed to lean into the case as he walked with a painful looking arch
of the spine. Within moments, he was beneath the tarp again, and placed the suitcase on the
foldout table with a clatter and a heavy sigh.
Daniel quickly walked up and threw open the case which folded open to reveal several
bandoliers and a series of JUNCOs resting in soft divots at the bottom of the case. He studied the
units closely, noticing eight lenses surrounding the devices with what looked like the
multifaceted eyes of bees. In between the eyes were ports, which Daniel surmised were the
weapons systems. He held one of the JUNCOs in his hand and tested the weight of it in his
palm, feeling the almost circular shape with his fingers like a blind man.
And these things float? said Daniel, skeptically.
They generate EM fields that allow them to move about at any altitude relative to their
master, answered Boatman. Yes.
How fast are these things?
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They can travel as fast as the master, in most cases. The JUNCOs dont work well with
speedsters, however. And theres a catch. If they float outside the proximity of the master, they
arm and detonate.
So whats to keep these from detonating?
Ive set up master towers around the GhettoFab to keep them from getting confused,
said Boatman. However, just in case, Ive had the weapons systems deactivated on the

JUNCOs. This is going to be a test of wills between two teams, not a pitting of technologies
against each other.
Good to know.
Yes, it is, answered Boatman, grimly. You should know how pivotal the introduction
of JUNCOs into the battlefield really was. Being a Special did not make them invulnerable, but
the army with the bandoliers becomes unstoppable. Its an edge sought by many.
I want it, said Daniel, quickly.
I thought you might, said Boatman, his eyes scrutinizing. For now, youll have to
settle for them acting as an impartial observer.
As long as I get them, answered Daniel.
Just then, two SUVs pulled up and came to a halt at the edge of the pavilion. The car
doors opened and out stepped Stephen Giordano, Joshua Sung, Leonard Stonebreaker, Chad
Beach, Bradley Overman and Tobias McCormack. Boatman patted Daniel on the shoulder.
Ill leave you to speak with your team, then.
Boatman walked away with a grim sense of purpose and his team of Specials turned to
face him as he approached. Daniel turned away and walked up the pavilion and met his S.I.T.F
team halfway.
Good morning, men, said Daniel, grinning with anticipation.
Good morning, Agent Rooke, replied McCormack. Is that the team were going up
against?
Thats a fact, replied Daniel. You recognize any of them?
You could say that, replied Leonard.
From the looks on your faces, concluded Daniel, I can see this wont be a walk in the
park.
No, answered Leonard.
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Daniel looked up and saw the clouds swallow the sun, and a light mist of rain fell.
Lets get some cover, said Daniel.
Daniel led them to the tarp and ducked his head underneath it walking directly to the
suitcase filled with bandoliers and JUNCOs. Leonard took one look and grimaced.
I havent seen those in a while, said Leonard, apprehensively.
Yeah, well I just got introduced to them just now. Since you know all about them, I
wont go through the trouble of telling you about them, just that you are to wear these during the
scrimmage and that they will be recording your every move inside the GhettoFab. Got it?
Yes, sir. answered the team.
McCormack merely nodded.
A chime alerted Daniel his notepad had just been updated and he pulled it out and began
running his finger down the page.
Alright, began Daniel, as he tapped on his notepad.
Our mission is to enter the premises and arrest and detain seven Specials. Assume they
wont go lightly, and prepare for close quarters combat. Dossiers are being uploaded to your
notepads as we speak.
Within an instant, the chiming of several notepads alerted the team and they pored over
the dossiers on their notebooks with looks of consternation.
John Simpson-call sign: DeathHe can create radiation and release it from his pores.
said Leonard, in a monotone. Laurence Kelson-call sign: WarheadHas the ability to
explode.
So does Kip Harris-call sign: Ground Zero, added Bradley. His explosions generate
fireThen theres Paul Hirano-call sign: Ground Shaker. Well have to take him and Simpson
out fast.
Leonard folded his arms and pursed his lips, his mustache twitching, as he scrutinized the
opposition like a football coach from across the field.
These others are fighters, he said to the group, matter-of-factly. Randal Simms,
Francis Tibbs and Gregory Meyer. They shouldnt be too much of a problem.
Daniel looked down at his notebook and read through their dossiers his frown becoming
more pronounced with each page he scrolled through. Not one of the men was under 64.
Randall Simms, callsign: Scrape was a borderline Abnormal Specialhis massive strength and
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speed comparable to a charging bulls. Francis Tibbs, callsign: Primal. His picture showed a
broad-chested man, with severe red eyes and a grin that showed his filed needlepoint teeth.
Lastly, Gregory Meyer, callsign: Uproar, whose massive frame could swell into even more
powerful musculature. These were to goons on the Specials Emergency Services team.
Daniel could have cared less what they were called, the whole team reeked of Black Ops.
Take nothing for granted, concluded Daniel, Your job is to arrest. Their job is to
evade you or wipe you out. Also, take into consideration theyve had all morning to study the
GhettoFabAnd knowing Boatman, theyve been studying the architectural schematics since on
it, at least, last night, so lets just assume they know it like the back of their hand, and theyre
going to use it to their advantage. Now heres what I want...I want Leonard to lead a standard
breach by sneaking along the wall to the entry gate. Use Josh and Stephen as back upand I
want Chad in the rear covering everyone. I want Tobias and Bradley taking the roof. Theyll
have snipers set up, its what Id do. I want to deprive them of their high ground superiority.
Any questions?
The team stared back at him, visibly gearing up for combat with deep breaths and stern
eyes, alerting Daniel that there were no questions, and even more, they were ready.
Everyone step forward and take one bandolier and one JUNCO each.
The team gathered around the case and began strapping on the bandoliers, palming the

JUNCOs and fitting them on their harnesses.

Across the quad, Boatman stood with the Black Ops team speaking to them in huddled
whispers.
What do you think, sir? asked Paul Hirano.
Theyre trained, concluded Boatman, but they dont work well as a team, yet. Exploit
that.
Yes, sir! replied Hirano.
Dont let them near the building, said Boatman, This is your territory. Protect it.
Yes, General, replied the men.
Take your positions, commanded Boatman. And give them hell.
Yes General! replied the men.
Boatman walked away from them and they turned and filed into the GhettoFab. Daniel
studied Boatman suspiciously.
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What was that all about? inquired Daniel.

Never you mind. answered Boatman. Worry about your own team.
I thought they were both your teams. replied Daniel cagily, adding You showing
favoritism?
As I said, grinned Boatman, Worry about your own team.
Daniel looked over at the paramedics leaning against their truck and looked back at the
GhettoFab suspiciously.
Boatman climbed into the trailer next to the tarp and beckoned
Daniel to follow him. Daniel climbed up the steps into the trailer and found Boatman
seating himself before a wall dedicated to perspectiveseach perspective moving into a different
area and stationing at key points. And Daniel understood. The black ops team had taken their
positions.
Daniel donned his headpiece and spoke into the com.
Activate JUNCOs.
Each of them depressed their thumbs into the touch screen on their bandoliers, and the

JUNCOs illuminated and rose off their harnesses hovering close by, moving like insects in the
air. In the trailer Daniel watched the screen dance and multiply in perspectives until every Task
Force member was accountable on the wall.
Alright Leonard. Lead your men around to the northeast corner now.
Outside, Leonard nodded and with a wave of his hand, jogged across the asphalt to the
northeast corner of the GhettoFab, the JUNCOs bobbing along behind them like little balloons
tethered to their masters by invisible string.
Just then, the earth shook with a tremendous jolt and the asphalt and topsoil broke
between Leonards feet, and the team fell into a trench. A second wave crashed down around
them, rattling their bones and sending spider-lined cracks up the wall of the GhettoFab.
Leonard rallied quickly, pulling everyone out of the newly formed trench, and pinning
them against the wall.
Above them, rifle fire cracked and the dirt around them exploded in fine puffs of powder.
Were pinned down, here, said Leonard. A little help would be nice.
Inside the trailer, Daniel ignored Boatmans comical expression and focused on the task
at hand.
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Tobias, Bradley, said Daniel, lazily, Anytime youre ready. Come out of the sun.
Outside, McCormack and Bradley launched into the air with blinding speed, soaring
higher until they were in position above the GhettoFab. Down below on the rooftops, two
Specials stood there with rifles and Gel-Grenades.
McCormack and Bradley came down hard and fast, swooping down to the rooftop and
engaged the two Specials. Bradley landed on Paul Hirano, who rolled and sent a shockwave at
Bradley, blasting him off the roof. McCormack squared off with Laurence Kelson.
Kelson tightened his hands into fists and an explosion emanated from his fists,
pummeling McCormacks telekinetic shield. McCormack stood on the other side of the shield,
unfazed.
Kelson then directed the blast at McCormacks feet, and the roof collapsed. McCormack
fell into the holeto the third floor and the JUNCO followed him through the floordown and
out of sight. All Daniel could see on the viewscreen window dedicated to McCormacks
perspective was white dust with sudden chunks of large debris hurtling into and out of view.
Paladin, report! barked Daniel over the radio.
Im okay, called McCormack over the radio, but weve lost control of the roof.
Leonard, move your men, now!
Outside the structure, Leonard turned his head and looked at his men pressed along the
wall to avoid being pelted with enemy fire.
Alright, concluded Leonard. If we cant make it to the main gate, well have to make a
new one.
Leonard stepped away from the wall and turned to face it. With a powerful punch, his
fist broke through the wall sending plaster and drywall everywhere. Leonard kicked the wall
hard and the rest of the wall caved in with an impressive shower of shattered cinderblocks,
making room for the team to enter the complex. Kelson and Paul Hirano watched as the S.I.T.F
team entered the GhettoFab and ran back toward the fire escape, bolting down to the third level
calling into their radios: Reposition to beta posts!
Hirano ran up to a support pillar and put his hands on it, sending a shockwave through the
pillar down to the basement level and jumped back just in time as the pillar shattered, sending the
northeast corner of the building collapsing inward on the S.I.T.F team on the first floor.

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Leonard and Chad dove through the debris, seeking stable ground, while Stephen and
Joshua blasted the falling debris with their abilities, sending sawdust and drywall powder
everywhere.
Move! bellowed Leonard.
Leonard and Chad jumped though a crumbling archway into a hallway and quickly
scanned the area through their WinVid visors seeing no movement. A cloud of dust and powder
flooded through the archway and filled the corridor as a chalky colored Stephen and Joshua
raced out in search of fresh air, finding only the cloud they had just escaped from and coughed
and choked on the toxic powder.
Leonard and Chad were also incapacitated by the cloud of drywall chalk and dust
particles, and wiped at their

WinVid visors to clear their vision. Their JUNCOs spun like tops

until their optics were cleared of dust and recorded chalky haze as it thinned in density to reveal
the still dark corridor.
Hallway clear. declared Leonard, Chad, take point.

Stephen, you support. Josh,

youre with me. Move!

With that, Chad charged down the corridor with Stephen hot on his heels, down to the
joining hallways from the two wings of the complex. There he halted, and scanned the area with
his WinVid. For an instant, he saw nothing. Then he caught the shadow of a JUNKO bobbing
in front of him and quickly judged the angle from which it was coming. Surmising the possibility
that the defending assault party was somehow blocked from the

WinVid technology and that

they were stationed down the left corridor, he signaled with his hand and pointed down the left
corridor and Leonard nodded, coming up on the left with Sung in tow.
Leonard signaled with his fingers, counting down from three, two, one and pointed with
his index finger. Chad nodded and charged to the corner aiming his rifle around the corner.
S.I.T.F, Freeze! he shouted, apparently feeling rather foolish about shouting freeze.
Chad blinked and noticed that a bandolier lay on the ground and the lost JUNCO floated
there in place, faithful to the bodiless master. Suspiciously, he turned to scan the hallway to see
an open window with the tip of the muzzle a rifle pointed out angling toward his heart. With a
quick jump, Chad threw himself into the stairwell where he gripped the stairs above him and

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flung himself high to the second level where Lionel Johnson stood with a rifle pointed down the
stairwell. Lionel jumped to see Chad seemingly materialize out of nowhere and fired wildly.
Instantly, Chad knelt down and fired two shots directly at Lionels head, hitting him once
in the face, the other shot clipping his ear. Lionel pursed his lips and sat down.
Down on the first level, Leonard crouched by the corner studying the bobbing shadow of
the JUNCO.
Leonard, theres a sniper in the apartment left of the JUNCO, called Chad over the
radio.
Got it, answered Leonard.
Leonard crept around the corner to see the hint of the muzzle of a rifle protruding from
the window. Leonard crept without a sound, reached into the apartment window and yanked the
rifle free. He then pointed his own rifle into the window and bellowed:
S.I.T.F! GET DOWN ON THE FLOOR NOW!
Inside, Gregory Meyer lunged through the window above the line of fire and gripped
Leonards face, clawing the WinVid glasses from his face. Leonard, propelled himself backward
to a lying position and fired upward toward the ceiling, pelting Meyer seven times in the chest
and abdomen. Leonard rolled back to a kneeling position, his rifle trained on an infuriated
Meyer, who examined his own riddled torso and scoffed, kicking at the floor before collapsing
into a sitting position with disgust. Leonard took his finger off the trigger and put his

WinVid

visor back on with a grin.

Next time you play sniper, Greg, chided Leonard, make sure the muzzle is inside the
room.
Ill keep that in mind spat Meyer, next time I see you, Stonebreaker.
Leonard chuckled to himself before calling: Hallway clear!
Come up to the second level, said Chad over the radio, Ive got activity.
Leonard turned to Stephen and Joshua and waved them on to the stairwell. With a quick
motion, Leonard picked up the discarded bandolier, claiming the free-floating JUNCO as his
own.
Boatman watched as the perspective window for Gregory Meyer began moving again,
leaving Meyer behind and entering the stairwell.
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What is he playing at? rattled Boatman.

I guess thats the thing about JUNCOs, chuckled Daniel. They must respond to the
one with the bandolier. Anyone can get one off a fallen man.
Boatman considered this as he watched Gregory Meyers perspective move up the
stairwell.
Up on the second level, Chad knelt in the doorway leading out onto the second floor
hallway, his rifle in his shoulder as he peered out. Leonard put his hand on Chads shoulder and
pulled him back in. He then tossed the free bandolier into the hallway and the JUNCO floated at
head height into the corridor, instantly painted blue. Leonard pursed his lips.
Theyve got the second floor corridor covered. He said. Any ideas?
Ive got a Gel-Grenade. said Chad.
Any other ideas? scoffed Leonard.
Leonard, called Daniel, over the radio, Im ordering the use of Grenades. Throw them
into the hall.
Yes, sir. called Leonard over the radio, not hiding his distaste for using them.
Chad braced with the Gel-Grenades at the doorway, waiting for Leonard to give the
order.
On three.
Leonard used his fingers to count down, and upon reaching one, leaned out into the
hallway and fired down the corridor, the shots painting the wall at the far end while Chad jumped
out and threw the Gel-Grenades with all his might at the far end of the hall where the corridor
teed out.
The Gel-Grenades collided with the wall explosively, filling it with blue from floor to
ceiling, painting the walls with a thick coat. Leonard then led the team down the hallway to the
joining hallway that crossed to yet another wing. At the corner, Leonard used his WinVid to see
a figure standing tensed five feet back from the corner.
S.I.T.F! bellowed Leonard. Down on your belly and dont move!
Lets see how you like return fire! shouted Kip Harris.
The ensuing explosion bent and contorted to the shape of the hallway and funneled out,
billowing into the corridor around the corner. Leonard leapt back away from the curling flames

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and the others shielded themselves from the shockwave by pressing themselves to the wall.
Leonard looked over at Josh.
Sung, said Leonard, Youre up!
No, said Stephen, puffing up his chest, his own aura crackling and burning. I got
this!
Stephen stormed down the hallway and jumped around the corner to square off with
Harris. Harris grinned.
You think you got the stones to step to me?
Stephen balled his hands into fists and his aura began to crackle and flare, like a building
chain reaction. With a powerful thrust of his arms, a shockwave launched down at Harris, who
launched another burst of flames down the hallway. The explosions met in the middle with
disastrous results, melting the paint of the walls, scorching the carpet and blowing the doors off
their hinges.
When the debris settled, Harris lay on his back, smoking. His ears bleeding.
Yep, replied Stephen, staring down at Harris.
A cocky grin spread across Stephens lips and he glared down at Harris unconscious
form. Stephen wasted no time in flipping Harris over and cuffing him.
Kip Harris is out. announced Stephen.
So are you, said a voice behind him.
Stephen looked up to see Randall Simms with a rifle pointed at his head. He fired once,
before Stephen could react, and sent him onto his back. Leonard cleared the corner and fired
once, striking Simms in the face.
Scrape is down, said Leonard.
Simms looked up with disgust at Leonard and charged him, punching him in the face,
sending them both tumbling through the hallway. Leonard quickly had Simms pinned to the wall
by the throat and Simms clawed at Leonard, kicking and punching him.
Back in the trailer, Daniel grit his teeth at the exhibition playing out on six perspectives.
Foul! shouted Daniel, Lawrence, control your man!
That will be enough of that, Randall, said Boatman, casually.
Up on the second level, Leonard had Simms pinned, some blood trickled from his mouth.
He instantly went slack and grinned cockily at Leonard.
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Whatever you say, General. said Simms arrogantly, and grew limp smiling into
Leonards face. Leonard held Simms there, pinned to the wall.
You heard the General, chided Simms.
Leonard released Simms throat.
Move on. said Daniel from the control room. I want this wing swept and cleared in
fifty seconds.
Sir! answered Chad.
Chad led Josh down the hallway and Leonard turned away from Simms with disgust
leaving him cackling in his wake.
Chad crept down the hallway, activating his WinVid and peered through the walls to see
a figure crouched down next to a fire escape around the corner. Chad held his hand up and Josh
came to a halt behind him, sucking in his breath as he did so. Down the hall Franklin Wang
crouched down, edging out into the hall with his rifle clearing the edge and taking aim. Chad
grabbed Josh and threw him down as the gel pellets whizzed by.
Thanks. said Josh.
Dont mention it. answered Chad.
You coming, or what? taunted Wang.
Chad rose to a kneeling position and fired several rounds at the corner. All that was heard
was the cackling laughter of Wang.
Oh look, youre painting the walls, crooned Wang.
And I didnt even have to pick you up from Home Depot, either.
Leonard caught up with Chad and Josh, tapping Chad on the shoulder. Chad pointed
down the hallway and Leonard activated his

WinVidthere, Wang stood crouched against the

wall, his rifle pointed around the corner.

If this was a live ammo scrimmage we could just shoot through the walls, griped
Leonard.
Leonard flipped a switch on his rifle setting it to fully automatic fire and riddled the wall
and corner. Through his

WinVid,

he saw Wang retreating to the fire escape and disappear

behind the shielding of the stairwell.

I want Chad on point, ordered Daniel over the radio.
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Lets see how he leads.

You heard the man, said Leonard. Up and at em.
Chad swallowed hard and set his jaw, crouched down and proceeded down to the corner
which he quickly swept and cleared. He then turned to the fire escape and kicked the door open.
A thin wire snapped free holding a pin on end. Chad quickly jumped back from the wire and pin
screaming Grenade! and fell backwards, away from the ensuing explosion of blue paint.
Leonard came around the corner and stared down at Chad, quickly pursing his lips.
Agent Rooke, Chads down. said Leonard.
Proceeding on.
Chad looked down at his legs and took in the sight of his legs covered in blue paint. With
a heavily exasperated sigh, Chad leaned his head back and shut his eyes fighting the wave of
embarrassment.
From the stairwell, Wang cackled maniacally.
Leonard looked up and grunted at the stairwell.
Grenade... Leonard demanded.
Josh walked over to Chad and took a Gel-Grenade off his belt, then turned leaving him
lying stupidly on the floor and handed the Gel-Grenade to Leonard. Leonard set the Gel-Grenade
for three seconds and then pulled the pin, counting as he stepped into the stairwell and threw the
Gel-Grenade up to the third level. Overhead, the sound of a gasp and hurried footsteps marked
Wangs recognition of the threat and his speed at retreating from the stairwell out onto the third
floor hallway as the Gel-Grenade detonated.
Blue paint rained down on the second floor landing and Leonard grit his teeth through the
blue mist knowing his target evaded the worst of the explosion.
Damn. scoffed Leonard. Alright team, follow me. We will avenge Beachs death,
alright?
Yes, sir. said Josh.
Chad watched in a sitting position as Leonard charged up the stairwell with Josh
following in support capacity until they were all out of sight.
Up on the third landing, Leonard took possession of the top step and peered out into the
hallway. Wang has paint covering his left arm. He smiled.
Im not dead yet!
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Wang fired at the doorway and Leonard threw out another Gel-Grenade. Wangs
footsteps could be heard retreating from the Gel-Grenade.
Leonard pointed his rifle out of the doorway and trailed after Wang, leading his
movement in his rifle sights just a little bit and fired. The shot exploded directly in front of
Wang who stopped, spun and fired back, as Leonard took cover in a doorway. Wang then turned
and sprinted down the hallway disappearing around the corner.
Come and get me, Stonebreaker! bellowed Wang across the open hallway.
Leonard held up his arm and Josh came to a halt next to him.
Were out of range hereHes drawing us into something. Leonard gripped the
microphone of the radio at his throat. Sung, double back the other way, take the bridge on the
far end of the complex and wait for instructions.
Josh nodded and turned on his heels, racing down the corridor. All that was heard was
his footsteps racing down the hall.
Furys coming your way, JoshHeads up!
On the far end of the complex, where the roof gave way to the walkway adjoining two
complexes, Josh received the warning over the radio. Roger that. I have the bridge.
Josh walked warily across the bridge staring down toward the darkness of the hallway on
the far end. Above him, Francis Tibbs fired down on their location pock marking the bridge with
blue paint. Josh turned and projected his energy blasts back up at the roofblasting a section of
rainwater gutter awayTibbs quickly retreated.
Sung, report! ordered Daniel over the radio.
Im okay.
Whats your situation? demanded Leonard over the radio. How many un-friendlies?
Bloodcry.
Thats all?
Thats all I saw.
Damn it! spat Leonard, They have the high ground! Get into the cover of the
hallway.
Josh nodded to himself and pressed across the bridge into corridor ahead and into
darkness.

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They took out the lights. said Josh into the radio. This feels like an ambush waiting to
happen.
Josh braced himself and his aura began to hum and grow luminescent when the thought
occurred to him that his aura could be used to track him.
diminished in intensity to a low glow. He activated his

With a cooling sigh, his aura

WinVid

and scanned the hallway.

Down the hall he saw a figure lurking around the corner.

Ive got Fury cornered. said Josh.
Roger that, said Leonard. Hold position and wait for orders.
Roger that.
Try to take Franklin Wang in for questioning, ordered Daniel over the radio. We need
intel to press further. I want to know why theyre not using their heavy hitters.
Yes sir, replied Leonard over the radio. The next instant, Josh heard Leonard
Stonebreaker bellow clear as a bell down in the darkness of the corridor.
Fury, shouted Leonard. Youre trapped. Throw down your weapon and lie flat down.
Fuck you! shouted Wang.
Wang fired down the hallway at Leonard. Leonard charged down the hallway and tackled
Wang. Wang dropped his rifle and began fighting Leonard in hand-to-hand combat. Josh saw the
scene unfold through his

WinVid visor and raced down the hall to intervene. The two quickly

escalated into a full-fledged brawl. Wang threw Leonard against a wall and Josh blasted Wang so
hard he bounced off the wall and lay on the ground unconscious.
Furys down, chimed Leonard dryly over the radio.
Good. replied Daniel over the radio. Find out where the rest of the Black Ops team
is.
Furys not going to be able to help us. Hes not conscious.
Well slap him around! I want intel.
Josh hit him a little hard. Hes out cold.
Alright, Daniel concluded. Cuff him and move on. I need eyes on the roof Paladin?
Im busy right now. said McCormack dryly over the radio.
His JUNCO monitor was obscured by dust and debris.
Busy with what? demanded Daniel.
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Just then a shockwave shook the entire complex, throwing everyone around sending a
cloud of debris wisping through the corridor.
Im engaging Paul Hirano. answered McCormack.
Brad, called Daniel, can I get some eyes on the roof?
Everyone waited in silence for Bradleys reply, only to be shaken when a dark drawling
voice clicked on the radio.
Maximus cant hear you, Agent Rooke, sang the voice in mock sympathy. Hes not
doing so well.
Daniel grit his teeth and barked into the radio:
Who is this?
This is John Simpson, said the voice, in a way that implied his name carried weight and
should mean something dreadful. Maximus is currently experiencing a wave of nausea. Its
hard to focus your telekinetic shield when youre suffering from radiation exposure.
Leonard and Josh looked at each other as a sense of dread crept up their spines, making
the hairs on the backs of their necks stand on end as the cruel voice mocked them over the radio.
Seriously, said Simpson, his jovial voice mocking them, if this is the best you can
throw against me, you might as well call it in now. I can keep this up all day.
Simpson, this is Leonard Stonebreaker. If Maximus is down, hell follow the protocols.
Thats nice, Lenny. But Im just having too much fun watching his hair fall out. But
youre welcome to come up here and try and stop me.
Simpson clicked off the radio and Leonard grit his teeth at the silence, staring at Joshs
wide eyes.
Alright, kids, growled Leonard. This just turned personal. Chad, Stephen get up
here.
Im on my way. chirped Stephen.
Coming! called Chad.
Paladin? said Leonard.
I hear you. answered McCormack. Ill be there in a minute.
Roger that. acknowledged Leonard.
Down in the trailer, Daniel stood shocked watching the perspective belonging to Simpson
stare down at a writhing Bradley, vomiting on the rooftop and collapsing in the puddle.
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Daniel cupped his microphone and glared at Boatman.

Tell your man to stand down, Lawrence, demanded Daniel.
If your team cant handle a Special threat in a training exercise, replied Boatman,
coldly, how do you expect them to deal with it in the field?
Daniel stared at Boatman in shock, as though seeing him for the first time and not liking
the view. With a scoff, he stripped off the headset and threw it at the viewscreen, making
Boatman jump.
I say- began Boatman as Daniel pulled out his sidearm and racked a round in the
chamber before re-holstering it and turning to walk out of the trailer. Where are you going?
My team needs me, replied Daniel over his shoulder.
Boatman followed Daniel out of the trailer.
May I remind you your job is to give commands at a safe distance?
You can shove that directive. spat Daniel with a scowl.
This is not a professional decision, Rooke. criticized
Boatman, though an approving grin seemed to haunt the corner of his mouth making his
mustache twitch.
Neither is letting your man kill my man. spat Daniel.
Daniel sprinted across the wet field and into the GhettoFab, hurtling debris and vanished
in the cloud of dust rising into the air.
On the third floor, Leonard broke out into the light of the bridge connecting the two
complexes together and pointed his rifle skyward at the edge of the rooftop.
Chad raced up and caught sight of Leonard.
Whats going on? called Chad, looking nervous.
Were going up there! replied Leonard.
What about the snipers? said Chad.
This scrimmage is over, replied Leonard. Now its a fight!
So it doesnt matter if we got shot?
I could care less.
Chad instantly flipped himself onto the rooftop like a bird, and Leonard led Stephen and
Joshua to the ledge.

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Leonard flung himself to the lip of the rooftop and swung himself over to join Chad
above while Stephen and Joshua had more trouble with scaling onto the roof. Chad had to turn
and help them both up.
Once up on the rooftop they saw Leonard surveying the rooftop with his rifle sights. The
rooftop was barren.
Clear! called Leonard.
Leonard raced off toward the ledge of the rooftop pointed to the higher rooftop in the
distance, which claimed the highest ground. Leonard and Chad raced off while Stephen and
Joshua trailed after them. Within fifty yards of the higher ground blue paint rained down around
them. Chad was pelted on the leg by a blotch of blue paint.
Someone thinks this is still a training exercise, scoffed Chad.
Francis Tibbs crouched down firing on their position, pelting Leonard and Chad in the
chest laughing maniacally. Leonard and Chad ignored this and launched themselves into the air
onto the rooftop in front of Tibbs.
Foul! called Tibbs with a look of disgust. He glanced at Chad and grimaced. Hey,
youre covered in paint!
This isnt a game anymore. replied Leonard. Get out of the way.
Not if youre going after my team, replied Tibbs, and he threw his rifle aside as he rose
and cracked his knuckles threateningly.
Fine by me, concluded Leonard, and without turning his head, Chad?
Chad launched himself at Tibbs and the two began rolling on the ground fighting each
otherkicking, punching and wrestling each other like wild cats.
Leonard led Stephen and Josh further through the obstacle course of rising loft spaces and
air conditioning units until they came across a figure standing over a fallen manSimpson stood
casually over Bradley, his open hand caressing Bradleys face with a giggle. Leonard fired one
shot at Simpsons head in the hopes that it would end the gamethe paintball melted before it
touched him. Simpson raised his finger and wagged it at them as though reprimanding a child.
Come on, Leonard, crooned Simpson. Youll have to do better than that.
At his feet, Bradley vomited and pulled out a clump of hair. Simpson looked back at
Leonard and grinned.
He doesnt have much time he crooned.
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Simpson laughed to himself, as the wave of radiation emanated out toward Leonard, who
realized he was sweating and feeling queasy.
Leonard stood stock still and watched in horrorknowing the only way to end this would
be to surrenderlowering his rifle, he took his finger off the trigger and raised his right palm up
in submission.
Say it, crooned Simpson, a Cheshire smile warping his face into a look of gloating
madness.
A loud crack echoed in the airSimpson spun and rolled across the rooftop propelled by
some unseen inertial force, his body coming to a halt against an air-venting pipe protruding from
the roofs surfaceEvery Special on the rooftop followed the sounds point of origin to face this
new threat, and found Daniel Rooke standing at the ledge, his sidearm pointed at Simpsons
collapsed form. Chad rose from Tibbswho spat blood on the groundhis mouth agape.
Daniel surveyed the faces of shock surrounding him and pursed his lips.
What? he demanded.
Simpson rolled onto his back slowly, breathing shallow as he stared at the sky and
assessed his injuries. Finally, he looked over at his left shoulder and saw blood trickling out of a
small hole just above his collarbone. He looked up and saw Daniel standing there bracedhis
gun pointing at his heart and a fury welled within Simpson as he sat up and braced himself to
clamber to his knees.
You shot me! spat Simpson as the ripple of radiation colored the air around him.
Power down, son. said Daniel.
You son of a bitch!
Simpson rolled to his feet and braced, as the ripple of radiation poured into the air and
ignited with a loud crack like a live wirehis skeleton glowed through his skin as his clothes
burned away. The radioactive fire burned and billowed forth seemingly responding to the cues
made by its conductor.
Leonard grabbed Chad and pulled him back toward the edge of the rooftop, while Josh
dragged Bradley to their side. Stephen stepped forward and cracked his knuckles.
The sight of his bravado brought a dark chuckle to rumble like fire in Simpsons throat.
Stephens aura crackled and hummed and he rocked his legs into a ninety-degree stance
as he braced his arms and balled his fists.
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Simpson raised his hands like a maestro commanding the flames and they swelled and
threatened to rush out only to hold and contort into a perfect sphere. Simpson studied the shape
his flames were making and a puzzled expression took his faceon the edge of the rooftop stood
McCormack, carrying Paul Hiranos limp frame over his shoulder while his free hand balled into
a fist.
Thats enough of that, John, said McCormack, a finality ringing clear in his voice.
Stay out of this, Paladin, spat Simpson.
This is my team, said McCormack, setting Hiranos limp body onto the graveled
rooftop. Im in this. You can end this now.
Or what? he challenged.
Or Ill end it, said McCormack, simply.
Get real, snapped Simpson with a dry laugh. Youre just a telekinetic.
No, answered McCormack. Im more than that.
Simpson braced his legs and summoned the flames like roiling waves and sent it out as an
explosionthe flames rushed out toward the telekinetic shield and stopped dead against the
perfect sphere, growing brighter within the rippling envelope McCormack had created around
him.
McCormack tightened his fist and the sphere shrankSimpson screamed within the
confines of the sphere as his fires rushed back over him. Finally, the flames died down to reveal
Simpson kneeling on the rooftop nursing his gunshot woundthe flames evaporated into
nothing.
McCormack walked over to Simpson and stared down at him. Simpson glowered back up
at him.
You know this would have gone differently if I wasnt shot, spat Simpson.
Still, replied McCormack. Ill take it.
Simpson glowered up at McCormack a moment longer, seemingly calculating his
chances of taking the man in a fight when his hand found his gunshot wound and pursed his lips
dejectedly as the flames died away.
Fine, he muttered and was about to rise when he was met by McCormacks hand
halting him.

191 | P a g e

Lets get you down to the emergency medical technicians and get that bullet wound
checked out.
The next thing Simpson knew, his knees lost purchase with the rooftop and he quickly
found himself floating next to the McCormack easilyand he considered he may have
underestimated McCormackand then his eyes fell on Daniel, who stood just behind him, and
ground his teeth.
I wont forget this, he spat at Daniel, eyes burning into him.
Neither will Maximus, replied McCormack.
Simpson seemed to consider this as McCormack lifted him off the rooftop and
disappeared from view descending down to the medical teams standing by at the edge of the
GhettoFabs perimeter.
Daniel turned to his team.
Are you guys okay? asked Daniel.
Present and accounted for, answered Leonard, briskly.
With that, all eyes fell to Bradley who was struggling to rise.
Im starting to feel a little better, answered Bradley.
Can you use your telekinetic ability? said Daniel.
Not right now, answered Bradley.
I got it, said McCormack, as he touched back down on the roof. I need to pick up
Hirano, anyway.
Bradley gave a wan smile and rose to his feet dizzily as he staggered over to McCormack
and collapsed in his arms. McCormack took the extra weight and adjusted his stance to keep
himself from falling over.
Whoa there, startled McCormack. I got you.
Thanks, sighed Bradley.
McCormack waved his hand and both Bradley and Hirano floated over to his side. With
that, he turned and hopped off the rooftop taking his burden with him. Daniel walked to the
roofs ledge and stared down after McCormack who touched down lazily next to the medical
crew, and gingerly passed Bradley and Hirano over to the waiting gurneys. Daniel grinned.
Ill never get over that, said Daniel.
Did you get what you wanted? inquired Leonard, coolly.
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Yeah, answered Daniel, noticing the cold edge in Leonards tone and returning it with
interest.
Good, concluded Leonard, Because this wont be happening again.
Actually, it will. snapped Daniel.
What? demanded Leonard, the edge in his voice marking that Daniels response was
unacceptable to him.
You dont seem to comprehend what happened here, continued Daniel, hotly. We got
our asses handed to us.
No, Leonard snapped back, What happened is you put us up against that psychopath
John Simpson. Theres a reason his call sign is Death.
Hey, I didnt get a choice in who youd be going up against. Dont bring this down on
me.
Leonard eyed Daniel for a moment, mulling over his words as the veins in his forehead
throbbed less and less fiercely until finally he seemed amicable.
Look, said Leonard flatly, Im sorry. Im just in a foul mood because of the way
things played out.
Hey, replied Daniel, I just had to shoot a man. Im not proud either.
No, I understand. And thank you for the backup. It was good of you to intervene.
What was I going to do? scoffed Daniel
Yeah, nodded Leonard, his eyes burning into the gravel of the rooftop.
Chad helped Tibbs to his feet, staring blankly at Daniel and Leonard.
So where to now? inquired Chad, his blue hands at his side. Tibbs wiped his mouth
and walked away toward the fire escape at the far end of the complex, shooting malevolent
glances at them as he walked away unhindered.
Now we go to check on Brad, replied Daniel.
Right, said Leonard. You heard the man, back the way we came. Well pick up Frank
on the way.Noting Wang was probably still unconscious in the hallway on the third floor.
Daniel turned to Leonard and gestured him to lead the way and with a commanding wave
of his hand, Stephen, Chad and Joshua turned and followed them to the ledge to the third floor
walkway and with a quick hop, they were down the corridor to collect Wang. Down in the

193 | P a g e

darkness, a figure struggled to his feet, and pulled his legs through the handcuffs until his hands
were in front of him.
Daniel entered into the darkest part of the hall and called out to Wang.
The exercise is over! shouted Daniel. You want those cuffs off?
Wang put up his hands and Daniel uncuffed him. Wang looked past him to Leonard.
Who won? said Wang.
Boatmanll probably declare victory, scoffed Daniel, but we subdued everyone.
Whats that supposed to mean? snapped Wang.
Agent Rooke shot Simpson for trying to kill Maximus, replied Leonard.
With a real gun? gaped Wang.
Sue me, snapped Daniel, I didnt have a paint gun.
Thats fucked up, said Wang, clearly judging Daniel harshly, but clearly merely halfcaring over Simpsons apparent injury. Wheres John now?
Hes being checked out by the medics, replied Leonard. Hell be fine.
How do you know? snapped Wang.
I didnt shoot him anyplace vital, replied Daniel.
Any place vital? parroted Wang, at a loss for words.
He shot him in his left trapezius, replied Leonard.
Its non-lethal, but itll hurt like hell.
Wang winced at the thought and rubbed his wrists, feeling where the cuffs had dug in and
chafed his skin.
So what happens now? said Wang.
Now, said Daniel as he led them down the corridor back to the stairwell at the far end
of the complex, you go back to your team and plan how best to take and hold territory for next
time.
You just shot one of my team members, replied Wang, and you want to set up another
scrimmage with us?
Well maybe next time, replied Daniel, Mr. Simpson will let my teammates tap out
instead of trying to kill them. He had it coming. Now he knows not to pull that with my men.
Youre talking a lot of shit for a norm-hume.

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Daniel stopped at the stairwell and turned to stare down Wangwho stared right back at
him, anticipating a fightLeonard and Chad closed ranks on Wang.
I roll just as hard as I talk, said Daniel, defiantly. Remember that about me.
Alright, said Wang, and noticing how close Leonard and Chad were to him, edged
away and walked past Daniel down the stairs to the first level.
So, said Leonard as Wangs footsteps faded in the distance. Youre really thinking
about pitting us against them again, after all this?
Who else do you have in mind? replied Daniel, walking into the stairwell and down the
stairs. Leonard and the others followed.
I dont like it, said Leonard, his frustrations clearly underlining his words.
Neither do I, said Daniel, But what choice do we have? We need the practice and so
do they. We might as well exploit it for training purposes.
Theyre a bunch of animals, spat Leonard, his gravelly voice almost a growl.
Theyre a bunch of animals who managed to slow down the entire team, corrected
Daniel, whittling at its numbers with booby traps and ambushes, all the while dividing the team
into individual assaults throughout the complex. Besides, before I called the exercise we were
already behind schedule. We need to be faster, better and prepared. I wont lose to these guys
twice.
What do you expect us to do? said Leonard, exasperated.
Daniel stopped short at the first level hallway and turned to face Leonard. His eyes were
clear and his tone was comforting.
Im not coming down on you, Leonard, said Daniel, Dont think that. You did a great
job leading the team, and you tested their strengths in there. That was good of you. But I think I
need to be going through the door with you guys, next time. Im not built for this sideline
bullshit.
So the next time youre taking part in the scrimmage?
Thats how I see it needs to be. replied Daniel. You all have been gaining proficiency
as a cohesive unit. This is something Im not gaining from our partnership. Its time that
changed.
So youre giving up being an Anchor.

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I can be an Anchor in the field. These arent all going to be arrests. This can be done in
a suit and tie. I just need us to be ready for the firefight, because Im sure well be going up
against some hard fights in the future. We need the Black Ops team, at the moment. And they
need us. Without a sparring partner theres no way to know if youre really ready.
Whatever you say.
Im sorry, Leonard. I know how this must be for you.
Hey, youre the boss, right?
Come on. Lets load up.
Daniel led the team through the wreckage of the first level. Plaster and rubble covered the
ground and clouds of chalk darkened the airall this destruction in just a training exercise.
Can you believe the amount of destruction two teams of Specials could cause? scoffed
Daniel. The GhettoFab was built to last.
Right, replied Leonard, not entirely sure how Daniel meant what he was saying.
Something tells me were going to get a bill from the JJRTC.
I wouldnt be surprised, grumbled Daniel as the future seemed to present itself in a
lecture from Boatman he prayed would not burden the waking world by becoming a reality.
Daniel held his breath and clambered over the rubble to the main gate. Leonard and the
others followed, walking easily through the debris, seemingly unaffected by the dust cloud that
hung in the air.
When Daniel broke through into the light of day again, he took a long draw of fresh air
and walked on, knowing Leonard and the others would follow him around the shambles of the
GhettoFab to the medical teams around the corner. As he neared the medic station, Boatman
appeared out of the trailer and walked briskly toward him.
Go on, guys, he said to the team. Ill meet up with you in a minute.
Leonard didnt say a word. He merely nodded and led Stephen and Joshua to the medic
station.
So, Rooke, began Boatman, did you get what you wanted? I know I did.
No, I didnt, replied Daniel. I dont think the teams ready yet.
Boatman did not appear surprised. His tone was matter of fact.
Why not?

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Two arrests out of eight targets? said Daniel, The rest are dead. I dont think thats a
very good ratio for success.
One arrest, reminded Boatman, Tibbs was attacked and restrained by a dead man, as
I recall.
Whatever, replied Daniel. The point is the team needs to work as a unit and have the
wherewithal to foresee the dangers inherent in the mission at hand, if Im not mistaken. Im not
satisfied my team is up to snuff yet.
What do you suppose you should do about it?
Weve been out of action and wearing ourselves thin on the GhettoFab. I think the team
should be divided. Beach, Giordano and Sung should have more time running the GhettoFab
while McCormack and Overman take part in small arrests until the team is ready to act as a team.
Leonard can run them through the hoops until they perform up to standard.
Is that your executive decision?
Thats my executive decision.
Very well, Ill have your first arrest file sent to you this afternoon. You can proceed
tomorrow.
So its not a priority?
Possible Fraud.
That sounds like FBI work.
The bureau wont touch it. Shes one of ours.
Fine, concluded Daniel. Now if youll excuse me, I need to check on my team.
By all means, replied Boatman. Ill have your notebooks updated.
Daniel gave Boatman a curt nod and walked away, resentful at the treatment of his team.
Whats Boatman playing at? thought Daniel as he walked to the medic station.
When Daniel arrived at the medic station, he found both teams of Specials hovering
around the medical technicians as they patched up Simpsons wound and treated Bradley for
radiation exposure.
The Black Ops team listened to Wangs retelling of everything that transpired since
Daniel removed his handcuffs and they all turned and glowered down at Daniel as though he
were an unwanted commodity. In fact, the mood was so hostile, Leonard signaled Chad, Stephen
and Joshua to stand at the ready, and they edged just so subtly closer to the Black Ops team in
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anticipation for the fight that seemed almost surely to come. Daniel waved them down casually,
and walked up to Simpson.
You okay? asked Daniel.
Get away from me, spat Simpson. Norm-hume.
Ill take that as a yes. scoffed Daniel.
Fuck you! bellowed Simpson indignantly, his aura flaring for an instant.
Next time, goaded Daniel.
There wont be a next time, said Hirano.
Actually, replied Daniel, there will be. You need this just as much as we do. You may
not like the school, but youre learning just as much as we are.
What am I learning? spat Simpson defiantly, Other than how to be shot!
To not be so cocky, for one. replied Daniel. You controlled that rooftop. But you were
careless.
You shot me. railed Simpson.
You tried to kill my team member. answered Daniel, calmly. Now, Brad, hes a
forgiving type. Im not. You
come up against me, you better be prepared. Because I will be.
Oh, Ill be prepared. scoffed Simpson.
Good, smiled Daniel, because once the GhettoFab is repaired, were going to have
another scrimmage.
Are you going to be there? demanded Simpson, liking nothing more than a chance at
Daniel.
Yes. answered Daniel.
All the Black Ops team stared up in shock. A normal human fighting against Specials?
Insane. Daniel proceeded as though they were not even there, and turned his attentions solely to
Bradley.
How you feeling?
Better. They just gave me a shot of something.
VX-32xxxii, chimed in the medic working on Bradley. Hell be fine in a few hours.
I feel great, said Bradley, and began to rise. The medic put his hands on Bradleys
shoulders.
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Dont get up so quick. Let it do its job.

Hey, hows my hair? asked Bradley self-consciously.
Do I have any bald spots?
Not really, said Daniel, I cant see anything, but then again, youve got a lot of hair. It
hides it well. Youre fine.
Youre a long way from having my condition, Brad, chimed in Leonard, jovially,
though his eyes still showed concern.
Thats good, sighed Brad, All I remember is pulling out a clump of hair and I freaked
out.
Simpson said nothing. He stared at the medic with annoyance when he handed him a
sling for his left arm.
Give it a rest, for a while and let the wound heal on its own.
What about that VX-32? scoffed Simpson. Or do you only give that to high-visible
Specials?
I gave you VX-32. But you still need time for the wound to knit. Ive patched the
wound with second skin, so it will heal rapidly. Still, youre looking at a few days with your arm
in a sling.
Simpson gave a murderous glare to Daniel who shrugged it off.
Its not my fault you decided to be an ass and got it handed right back to you, thought
Daniel.
Finally, Simpson snatched the sling out of the medics hand and stalked off. Kelson,
Harris, Simms, Meyer, Hirano, Wang and Tibbs followed.
Well, said Leonard sarcastically, that went well.
No kidding, scoffed Stephen.
So what now? asked Chad nervously.
Now we go home so you can get some rest, answered Daniel, exhausted.
But I feel great, begged Bradley. Besides, Ive got a date tonight.
A date, huh? said Leonard, his eyes wide.
Yeah, replied Bradley, as though it was perfectly normal.
Oh, okay, said Leonard, Im just sayingfrom the neighborhood?

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Yeah. answered Bradley, with a shrug and a grin. We kinda hit it off. Might as well
see where it goes, you know?
I didnt know you swung that way. said Leonard.
Daniel eyed Leonard with surprise.
Is he really bent out of shape about Bradley dating a black girl?
Leonard, said Daniel, I swing that way.
A wry, knowing smile stretched Leonards face.
You might want to rethink that statement, chided Leonard through a muffled chuckle
that puffed out his cheeks at some unseen joke.
Daniel ignored Leonard and turned his attention back to the medic working on Bradley.
Is he good to go? asked Daniel.
Id say as long as he doesnt overexert himself, surmised the medic, hell be fine.
You hear that, Bradley? said Daniel with a grin. Let her steer.
Leonard laughed to himself, but said nothing.
Just then, McCormack appeared around the side of the trailer.
I just had a talk with Boatman. said McCormack. Apparently were a go to start
making arrests in low profile cases.
Yeah, said Daniel, answering the surprised expressions of his teammates.
After the moment of shock wore off, Leonard grinned and patted Bradley on the shoulder
as he rose to his feet anxiously.
Good to know, said Leonard.
Not for you, Leonard. said Daniel. Youre responsible for training Chad, Stephen and
Josh in making arrests in an urban environment.
What? scoffed Leonard, as though the thought of babysitting was unacceptable.
Thats the word from the mountaintop, answered McCormack. They need you guys
humming when you move through the GhettoFab. Since the GhettoFab is in need of some repair,
youll be running the exercises at the urban warfare center for Metro Police. Understood?
Right, growled Leonard.
This is good practice, continued McCormack. You need a new environment to train
in. You guys know the GhettoFab like the back of your hands. I need you guys in new locations
running at top speeds.
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McCormack gave Daniel a knowing nod and Daniel nodded his thanks. He was not
looking forward to having to explain his executive decision to Leonard. McCormack saved him
the trouble of doing so, and made it seem as though unseen parties had made the decision for the
entire team. Daniel was grateful.
Alright, said Leonard, slapping his hands together, and pursed his lips with a wave of
accepting discomfort in his eyes directed at Bradley, Lets get Cinderella, over here, home in
time for his date.
Bradley rose to his feet and stretched like a cat. Leonard watched Bradley with a mixture
of protectiveness and discomfort, as though the thought of him dating was, in some way,
distasteful to him.
Daniel noticed this and shrugged. He never noticed Leonard to have any discriminatory
feelings before. This was enlightening to him.
On the drive back to The Post, Daniel busied himself with his notebook, which had
already downloaded their first case to investigate. A Special with dozens of aliases using the
same social security number and bank account. All follow ups found that someone was
working and filing taxes on time, but the entirety of the money withdrawals were taken out from
an account in Boston.
Were going to Boston. thought Daniel. Theres a lot of collateral damage in a big city
case. A lot that can go wrong.
Daniel began to second-guess himself.
Maybe he should have the entire team brought in

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C h a p t e r

1 2:

Joseph Little Bird

APACHE COUNTYARIZONA

eec Nos Pos was a small working clas community in the northeast corner of Arizona
located in the Navajo reservation near Four Corners. With a total population of 800
people, half of them single mothers, there was a large gossip mill rolling around

ranging in topics from cheating spouses to what actor was dating whom. Mostly, the community
avoided certain topics of conversation, deeming them too uncomfortable. At the top of the list of
subjects whispered nervously was Joseph Little Bird. Joseph was an oddity to the people of his
community.
There Joseph stood, a proud 230 lb. Navajo, standing at 67 with a body that seemed to
have been carved from wood to perfection. He lived in a beat up trailer parked out far from the
community, nestled near the foot of the Carrizo Mountains.
On hot days, people could just make out his powerful elbow jutting from his pick up
trucks window amid the dust cloud kicked up by his tires. On cool days, he walked. In the early
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morning, before the nighttime snow could melt, he could be found hiking in the mountains, or
scaling the walls of rocks that rose precariously at the base of the mountains.
People would ask him why was he always going somewhere. Or where did he think he
was getting to? Or why would he only rest when his legs gave out?
Joseph would always reply: Because I can get places on my own.
Joseph was an odd man. But that had become expected from men who had seen war.
Leave him alone, the elders would say. Hes got a road to walk. If hes got someplace
to be, let him get there. Most who have come back from war would have drunk themselves to
death or put a gun in their mouths long ago. If going places gets him to a place of peace, let him
work to get there.
His neighbors gave him a wide berth, and Joseph did not seem to mind. He
acknowledged most people he encountered with a nod, and a handful of words that quickly grew
repetitive, which seemed to annoy him. So before long, he stopped that altogether.
Occasionally you could find him sitting outside his trailer home on a bucket drivers seat
he had converted into a lawn chair and had placed on a carpet of Astroturf. There he would sit
with a cold beer and a cigarette, looking out past the desolation and the trailer houses with a
foreboding stare, as though something malignant merely loomed beyond the horizon, slowly
making progress on its march toward him and he was just waiting for it to reach him.
It was a chilly day, and most of the neighbors anticipated Josephs usual walk through the
neighborhood, or into the badlands. But on that day, he decided to drive off the reservation into
town for a beer.
His coarse, prematurely grey-streaked hair was pulled into a ponytail to keep his the wild
thick strands from being picked up by the wind, madly whipping at his face and eyes; and he
wore faded, form fitting Wrangler jeans, tan suede boots, a black military sweater, and over it, a
long and thick multicolored countryside coat with wool lapels. The coat was a divided landscape
of dominant red and blue fields surrounding a thin, tan-bordered white expanse made prominent
by subtly tracing Navajo geometric pinstripes of green and ashwending across the thick wool
like land laid siege by water and fireThe land seemed thin and fragile against the two
elemental forces, yet defiant against both flood and fire whispering:
Burn my green away, and I will plant anew
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Drown my fields, but the waters will recede

I am still here!
...I will remain!
If he had a poetic streak, he would have summoned such language. But, as often the case
with men of action, these words were lost to him, however, though his passion cried it loud when
he told his grandmother after he returned from the war, the kind of pattern scheme he had
dreamed of when she asked to make him a winter coat. Where he said blood, she knew fire.
When he said cold, she knew water. She knew his mind, and brought the poem to vivid
clarity. When he described himself, she knew the land, and what he could have been or could
not see, she saw the fruit of harvest. It had been near ten years since she gave him that coat in
the failing autumn after his return. She died shortly afterward, and he often felt the fabric or
looked at the design and was comforted at her parting gift to him.
He loved that coat.
He pulled his turquoise-studded silver medallion dressed tan suede gambler hat low over
his eyes. People watched him pass by in his beat up Ford F-150a hand-me-down truck from
his grandfather that seemed defiant against breaking downwith his powerful elbow jutting out
the window and wondered where he was going now.
Maybe hes leaving us, some of his neighbors whispered.
There was little emotion in the thoughtJoseph was an odd man.
Just across the highway, Joseph studied the invisible line dividing the reservation from
the world of the white people.
The highway had been a source of annoyance for the reservation since the land was
divided between Indian and whitethe whites occupying the highway strip malls that dotted the
asphalt roadand as a child he would sit on reservation land watching the cars roll by drinking a
beer. Sheriffs would pull up and watch the boys on the rez drinking, and in fits of irritation,
would signal for the kids to approach themand if they did, they were immediately arrested for
being drunk on a state highway.The smart ones just sat where they were and continued
drinking, to the rancor of the Sheriffs seething from the highway.
Joseph chuckled at the memory of running from the Sheriffs and marveled how long ago
it had been.

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On the other side of the highway, a strip mall stretched out and Joseph crossed the
invisible line, pulling in to the parking lot. It was not often he visited Billys Bar, but they were
nearby and the patrons usually left him alone, and he liked it that way.
He climbed out of his F-150 and it shuddered as the engine cut like a hot-tempered horse,
sighing as Josephs feet made purchase on the gravel parking lot. His feet crunched as he made
his way for the door to Billys Bar and entered like a lone gunman, standing tall in the doorway
and surveying the room. It was not long before every eye was on him, nervously watching his
progress to a stool at the bar.
The bartender, Billy, watched Joseph slide onto the stool and open his coatwith
some trepidation. After all, it was not every day an Indian came off the reservation for a beer.
Not when the reservation provided its own little world for them.
But then again, Teec Nos Pos was a small community.
Reservations typically had their own bars and community centersin fact, this one had
its own Navajo University on itand had everything it needed to exist separately from societyat-large. Only the unwanted came off the reservation to venture into town. This was a wellknown fact.
And the unwanted were unwanted universally.
Heineken and a shot of Jack, said Joseph, in his low commanding voice. He meant to
sound friendly, but that was the best he could ever muster. Something was missing.
Billy gave a curt nod and tried his best to appear amiable to the tall Indian. Not that
Joseph cared. He was quite used to being excluded. Behind him, a few patrons paid their bill and
hurried out of the bar as though anticipating trouble. Joseph watched them leave with a shrug and
turned to Billy.
Billy put the bottle of beer next to a shot glass and poured the whiskey into the glass
expertly. Only a drop or two betrayed his nervousness.
Joseph threw the shot back and let the warm liquid burn his throat and warm his stomach,
then chased it down with a sip of beer. He would nurse the beer in silence, as he always did when
he ventured into town. He was not particularly concerned with his environment. People usually
feared him and gave him a very wide berth. As it happened, that day was not one of those days.
As is often the case with bars so close to the reservation, the occasional problem child
will make a mess of things and the community had grown keenly aware of itwhich was why it
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was no surprise to Joseph when Deputy Owens appeared in the doorway. Owens was two inches
shy of Joseph, and was not built for power. His presence was commanding, standing with his feet
wide apart giving him a sense of gravity, and his right hand rested on his side arm grip like a
cowboy gunslinger.
Joseph gave him an appraising glance and returned to his drink. Owens walked into the
bar with a wry grin, as though dispatch had given him a treat. He walked over to where Joseph
sat and leaned against the bar next to him.
What are you doing so far from the reservation, friend? asked Owens, coolly.
Friend? scoffed Joseph, and eyed Deputy Owens as though he knew everything there
was to know about the redneck and bit back a chuckle.
Its amazing how many of you call people friend with such disgust, thought Joseph.
Im curious how they say momma
Owens glared at Joseph with a quickly rising rage toward the uppity Indian who did not
even attempt to kowtow or turn his eyes downward.
You going to be a problem, boy? demanded Owens, looming menacingly next to
Joseph.
Joseph tightened and glared back at Owens, who reached for his pistol grip, eying Joseph
as though his face was close enough to brandishing a firearm, as he needed.
Joseph tensed, ready for the fight when Billy lurched forward nervously.
Now, we dont want no trouble from you people, warned Billy, timidly, putting down
the check for the drink and chaser. We treat you good and nice when you boys want a drink.
And that Sally Two Trees is a nice, sweet Indianall the boys keep telling me. So we dont
need no situation, okay?
Joseph glanced over at Billy with a sudden boiling fume that made his eyes water. Sally
Two Trees was a problem Piute girl from the reservation, who had gone missing weeks ago. Her
mother, thinking he was something dark and malevolent in the community, called the reservation
police to search his trailer for heror what she assumed was left of her, if Joseph had anything
to do with itTwice.
Why dont you be on your way, then? soothed Billy, You can always come back
tonight when the bikers are here to keep you in line.
I wouldnt even bother, friend, chuckled Owens.
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Unless you come up here with some of your women. A mans got to pay to get into a
bar. Understand?
I understand perfectly, said Joseph, his eyes boring into Owens.
Joseph shook it off and rose to leave, only to find Owens hand attempting to force his
weight back down into his seat. The attempt was unsuccessful, but Joseph sat back down to
avoid being charged with assaulting an officer.
Now pay the man, gloated Owens.
Joseph turned on Billy.
Youre throwing me out of your bar and you expect me to pay?
Now, now, soothed Billy, as though he were talking to an unruly horse. We dont
want no trouble. You had your drink, now you can go. But this is a business.
Joseph stood up and faced Billy, picked up his beer, took a long deep swig, set the bottle
back down on the counter and pulled out his credit card, which he swiped over the reader,
debiting the money directly from his bank account.
Owens patted him hard on the back and squeezed his shoulder, attempting to inflict pain.
Josephs shoulder seemed made of wood, and Owens, taken aback, squeezed harder in his
attempt to intimidate him.
See? crooned Owens. That wasnt so hard now was it?
Joseph glared down at the hand on his shoulder with disgust and his eyes found Owens
daring him to act on the impulse. Joseph turned and tried to walk away, but Owens was right
there blocking his path.
You know, said Owens, eyeing Joseph with disgust. Youd be good to remember they
have bars on the reservation, and dont be mixing with no white people. We dont need your
money. Though we appreciate your contribution. Get along, now.
Joseph walked toward the door.
And you might want to rethink driving back to the reservation, friend. grinned Owens.
Youve just been drinking. Then Owens added with a chuckle, Id hate to have to arrest
you.
Joseph walked out of the bar to find the Sheriffs cruiser parked directly behind his Ford
F-150, blocking him in.

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Now dont you worry about a thing, mocked Owens, the laughter barely concealed in
his voice. Your truck will be nice and safe here until all that alcohol gets out of your system.
You know how you Indians are when you drink. Go on, now.
Owens gave a hard slap to the back of Joseph like sending a horse running away, and
Joseph grew rigid and turned to face Owens.
You know, began Joseph, hardly bothering to conceal his disgust for Owens. Ive
been nice. Ive paid my way and I let you see yourself as an authority figure-
Oh, spat Owens, youve let me?
Yeah, laughed Joseph sharp and cool, I have. But on the one, Im not drunk. On the
two, youre parked illegally.
Oh is that a fact?
And on the three, I aint leaving my truck with some white trash hicks.
Joseph turned from Owens, climbed into his truck and slammed the door shut leaving
Owens shifting stupidly on the walkway. He stepped down to the gravel and approached Joseph
in the truck.
You dont know who youre fooling with, boy, warned Owens.
No, you got that backwards, said Joseph, And Im telling you, Im not your problem.
Im the rez polices problem, when the Sheriff calls to complain about what I did to one of his
squad cars.
Joseph started the engine and the F-150 roared to life. Owens grabbed the handle of his
side arm threateningly, Joseph, with a grin, ignored it as he reversed full force into the patrol
car the cruiser rocked onto two wheels while Joseph spun out, and the tail of his pickup
truck spun around in a wild fishtail motion.
Owens jumped free and landed in an oil stain on the graveled parking lot. Joseph gunned
it and the truck launched for open parking lot and swung out on the highway, across the road,
and onto the reservation. Home free.
Owens rose from the asphalt and eyed his oil stained uniform.
Im gonna get that red nigger, seethed Owens.
Joseph Fumed as he drove up the dirt road and gunned the engine hard as he dared,
knowing children would be playing in the street ahead.

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That wasnt smart, thought Joseph. Thats asking for trouble, there. Joseph replayed the
events leading up to the reckless adventure he plunged into and sighed. Fuck im, thought
Joseph. He had it coming
Joseph caught himself and lifted his right foot off the gas and the F-150 slowed down to a
crawl.
Looks like I wont be going into town for a while. sighed Joseph to himself.
He returned to his trailer and set in on the porch, waiting for the reservation police to
come around and talk to him. He would probably have to pay for the damages and promise to
stay out of town for a while. It had happened before, when the locals informed him he was an
unwelcome commodity.
The sun had set and no one came calling. Joseph waited next to his propane heater a
while longer, and then gave up, going inside to make himself something to eat.

Later that evening, Owens drove slowly onto the reservation with his headlights cut, creeping
past the houses of Indians, looking for the beat up red F-150. In the backseat, off-duty deputies
Burns and Fox picked through the plastic rings of a six-pack of beer and downed their cans,
tossing them out of the window. Their logic being: it was not territory where they had to uphold
laws, so littering was a problem for the residents of the reservation. Burns leaned forward and
belched into the front seat, blowing the foul stench of beer into the enclosed space, looking glass
eyed at Owens.
Youre not going to find him, Earl. said Burns.
That Indians halfway to Mexico, right now, laughed Fox. Hell be in a mariachi band
by sun up.
No, hes still here. I can feel it. replied Owens, angrily.
That sumbitch is gonna pay for what he did.
The houses pulled away, and Owens drove down a dark road with the wilderness closing
on either side as coyotes eyes reflected through the trees and rocks in the night.
Did he really mess up your car? said Fox, a giggle in the back of his throat as loud as
he dared around Owens.
Shut up, warned Owens.
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Come on, said Fox, Its just an Indian.

I believe they want to be called Native Americans, corrected Burns with a laugh.
Shit, its a Navajo, replied Fox. You dont get no closer to rodents than that.
True, answered Burns, and then peered out at the dark road blindly. What are we
looking for, anyway?
There it is. answered Owens as the beat up F-150 came into sight next to a trailer
nestled close to the foot of the mountains.
They took in the sight collectivelya beat up bachelors trailer with the door tilted on its
hinges. Before it, Astroturf carpet rolled out over the dusty earth with a propane heater propped
next to a bucket car seat that had been haphazardly propped against the door, balancing on
cinderblocks and stabilized by rocksthe look of absolute squalor in the eyes of the off duty
deputies.
What a dump, gaped Burns.
What do you expect from an Indian? replied Fox.
Well, replied Burns, we passed some nice houses coming all the way out here.
Probably casino money. replied Fox.
Shut up, spat Owens, and opened his car door and climbed out. Lets go.
Owens led Fox and Burns to the trunk and flung it open revealing a shotgun, a crowbar
and a sledgehammer. Owens took the shotgun and Fox and Burns were left to fight over the
remnantsFox won the scuffle over the crowbar and Burns reluctantly took the sledgehammer.
Why dont we use our guns? asked Burns, not at all pleased to have a sledgehammer in
his hands.
And get them traced back to us? pointed out Owens
Right, said Burns with the realization Owens was right.
So whats the shotgun for? asked Fox.
I got this off a dead meth dealer, replied Owens, down in Cow Springs. Then added
in a whisper, Follow me. And he took off toward the trailer.
At the trailer door, Owens kicked it in and pointed his shotgun into the room to find it
empty.
Hes not here! spat Owens.
Come on, said Burns to Fox as he turned to head back to the car. Lets go home.
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Yeah, sighed Fox, and he shivered from the cold before shuffling off after Burns.
Just then, Joseph came around the corner of the trailer with a mangy coyote dogging his
heels like a loyal pet. In that instant, Joseph eyed the three men noting the crowbar, the
sledgehammer and the shotgun, and his eyes raised to meet Owens eyes.
What the fuck? said Joseph as his eyes pored over Owens.
The coyote growled at Owens who turned and pointed the shotgun at Josephs broad
chest and barked like a drill sergeant.
GET DOWN ON THE GROUND! railed Owens. GET DOWN ON THE GROUND,
NOW!
The sound spooked the coyote and it warily circled around Fox and Burns and trotted into
the night. Joseph grit his teeth and put his hands up as he knelt down on the ground.
Owens ran at Joseph and hit him with the butt of the shotgun across the jaw and Joseph
glared at him, spitting blood out of his mouth.
I said get down on the ground! spat Owens, pressing the muzzle of the shotgun into
Josephs temple.
Joseph glared back at Owens defiantly. His tone, however, was pragmatic.
You dont want to be doing this, boy.
No, grinned Owens, I really do.
Im telling you, said Joseph, this road Ive been down, and theres nothing but pain at
the other end. You dont want to do this. Itll fuck up your entire life.
Youre just some stupid Navajo, rationalized Owens, seemingly talking himself up to
something. No ones going to miss you. I bet not even the Navajos will miss you.
Im tellin you right now, son, warned Joseph, gravely. You dont want none of this.
Im tryin to reason with you. Theres things you only think you know-
Owens laughed loud and pressed the barrel of the shotgun deeper against Josephs
temple.
This red niggers been to college, scoffed Owens, leaned in close to Joseph, clenched a
clump of his grey streaked hair and yanked his head back, peeling Joseph back until he bent
backward over his heels. Alright, Im darin you, Joe, what do you think I dont know?
A lot of things, white man, said Joseph, severely. And Im tellin you, you dont want
me doin to you, what I know I can. An I dont want to do it, neither.
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A flame swirled in the back of Owens eyes, and the veins in his neck and scalp pulsed as
his face went red.
No, whispered Owens, menacingly. I think I want you to show me how youre smarter
than me. And he convulsed as he released Josephs hair and backhanded him hard across the
mouth and bellowed: You hear me you drunk assed Indian? Show me!
Owens slapped, punched, and kicked until Josephs right eye was shut; he brought his
boot heel down on Joseph until his teeth were cracked and Owens legs were sore from the
exertion.
Fox and Burns tried to pull Owens off Joseph, but Owens broke free of them, charged at
Joseph and grabbing at the back of his scalp yanked Josephs head back so hard there was an
audible pop in the back of his neck.
Owens darted his face at Joseph threateningly, holding the shotgun awkwardly against his
skull.
Show me! railed Owens.
Joseph merely smiled through the slit his vision had been reduced and looked back up at
Owenshis vision had been reduced to a red blur and seeing Owens in red seemed so comical to
Joseph, he chuckled.
Your skins redder than any Indian I ever saw. At first I just saw it on the back of your
neck, but now; I guess the only thing I dont know is: who raped whose ancestors, yours or
mine?
Owens stared down at Joseph absently released the clump of Josephs hair let him drop to
the dusty ground and stood there for a long moment, trying to process what Joseph had said to
him. He looked back at Burns and Fox for some bearing as the earth shifted beneath his feet. All
he saw were shocked expressions, turning to resigned sighs of complicity as though Joseph had
just signed his own death-warrant, and the last reason not to kill him had been stripped away.
Joseph lay on his back smiling with a queer expression back up at them; not one of
resignation, but defiance and something else they could not place. It was as if Joseph held a
doorknob with a terrible beast behind the door, and merely waited for them to come just a little
closer.
You boys going to help me with this or what? demanded Owens, darkly.
Im not digging no hole this time, muttered Burns.
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Sally Two Trees was enough.

What are you complaining about? scoffed Fox Sally was some nice piece of cunny.
Yeah, replied Burns Was a shame, though.
Yeah, agreed Fox with a dark chuckle.
We doing this or what? demanded Owens.
Sorry, Earl, said Burns as he made his way over to where Joseph was lying.
Hold his arms, said Owens. And get him up on his knees.
Burns and Fox scooped up Joseph while Owens emptied the cartridges from the shotgun
and let it fall to the ground; walked methodically around behind and applied a chokehold to
Joseph to keep him compliantthen produced a switchblade.
You know, whispered Owens in Josephs ear, I should really get this knife engraved.
And you know what it should say? It should be called the Indian killer, or something. This here
knife carved up Sally, Bill Garcia and Joe Pony Rider, and Im going to put this into you. You
heard me? First Im gonna cut off your pecker, since you mentioned a dirty Indian raping my
grandmother or someone. Then Im gonna scalp you, cause you Indians like that so much.
Whatche got to say about that?
Owens laid his hand on Josephs shoulder and moved the switchblade lower toward the
inseam of his pants. Joseph just smiled up at him, and spat in Owens face.
Buckle up, kids, sang Joseph, as if he were a carnie adjusting seatbelts on a
rollercoaster. Were going for a ride.
Owens stared down at Joseph perplexedly and nearly stabbed Joseph in the eye when a
crack rang out and a stiff wind hurled toward them. For the briefest of instants, Joseph, Owens
and the deputies grew long, and seemed to swirl like a twisting of ribbons toward a central point,
their heads touching, as they grew together into seemingly one mass screaming in agony. Their
bodies grew long and spaghettified as they swirled around a central point as if they were being
forced to fit through the eye of a needle.
The next instant, Owens, the deputies and Joseph vanished and the sound of rushing wind
collapsing in on a free space with a terrible crack was all the evidence of that there was ever
someone there.
All that was heard was the rushing of wind violently trying to process the sudden void in
space, and the jostling of air and dust to fill it back again. The wind then slowed and the dust
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dropped back toward the earth like a fine mist, sparkling in the moonlight like flakes of gold and
silver until the air was once again still, with only the slightest breeze.
Silence crept back into the night and the loss of four men was seemingly inconsequential
to the life of the barrens of the reservation when a point appeared, seemingly out of the horizon.
Out from it poured four streams of substance, where whirling particles rushed back into place
rapidlylike a film of statues that had been rendered into dust being run in reverse.
Owens, Burns and Fox seemed to reform into their full shapes, as their skin reformed
onto their bone and muscle frames, and Owens potbelly took the longest to form. They fell
away from the point in the horizon and Joseph appeared, gritting his teeth, caught between
unbearable agony and hysterical laughter as tears streamed down his face and he shook in the
chill winter night. Joseph glanced about him and saw Owens and the deputies convulsing,
weeping and railing on the ground.
Oh, groaned Joseph, beating his own head as he tried to escape from the wailing men,
stumbling and staggering away from them in a crippled form of flight. I hate that part.
Joseph tripped over his own feet, pawing at the ground in a fright and did not stop until
he found the security of a large boulder jutting from the Arizona earth at a safe distance from the
off duty Deputies. He made his way behind the stone and leaned on the far side against the slab,
trying to catch his breath. He pulled out a thin bottle of Southern Comfort from his back pocket
of his jeans and took a swig from it, then shakily lit a cigarette.
Behind him, the Sheriffs continued to scream as though devils sat on their chests, ripping
bits of flesh off them while Joseph shook and twitched, as beads of sweat dotted his face and
hands and he fought the urge to vomit.
Look at the moon. thought Joseph in shallow breaths growing deeper as he could dare.
Look at the stars. Youre in the world now. Youre not there. Youre here!
A moment later, the visions were dancing behind his shut eyes, and the screams of the
Deputies brought the visions back to him again until Joseph couldnt bear it any longer, and,
realizing his eyes were closed, opened them again and stared up at the white gibbous moon.
Hey, shut it! railed Joseph over his shoulder to the Deputies, who continued to scream
despite the cruelty in his voice. It goes away in a few minutes!
Whatever they suffered, it was infinitely worse than anything Joseph could offer by way
of cruelty in his voice. So potent were the cries of agony, Josephs mind washed with the
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suffering he had been victim to only three minutes earlier, and almost without his deciding to do
so, pushed off the rock and began walking away from the twisting and writhing bodies; seeking a
refuge where their cries could not penetrate.
Behind him, and fading to a mingled wail in the distance as the wind rose, the Deputies
shoveled the earth into their mouths, gasped, and railed even louder, with mouthfuls of dust
pouring back from their mouths in long streams of saliva to the dust again.
Christ almighty, grumbled Joseph. Its not that bad. I used to go there five times a day
on a slow day.
In the distance, a loud cracking sound echoed across the night, and a rock next to Joseph
launched into the sky and flipped back to the ground alerting Joseph instantly to the fact one of
the men fired his gun at him.
What in hellfire? Joseph exclaimed as he dropped his thin bottle in a start.
He then listened to their screams with immeasurably less pity that mounted to almost a
desire to go back and give the men a second ride when he realized his Southern Comfort was
now a muddy pool at his feet.
Serves em right, concluded Joseph, at long last as he threw the empty bottle at the
mountain before walking back to his trailer. Fucking assholes.

The POST
Daniel awoke, that morning, feeling excited knowing that within a few hours, he would be
making his first collar. And he had something to prove.
He threw off the covers, grabbed his travel kit and made his way down to the bathroom
for a quick shower and shave. In the shower he went over the case he had virtually memorized:
Terry Lyons, black female, standing 511 weighing 132 lbs. Telekinetic. Mastering in
something called the psi ball. Somehow this telekinetic had managed to have aliases across three
states holding down steady jobs by somehow convincing corporations she was on the payroll.
Possible telepathy?
This troubled Daniel, imagining himself approaching a woman who could just as easily
convince him to forget about her and he would be helpless to stop her.

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No, he thought, Bradley and McCormack will be there with me. Two telepaths
against one. No sweat.

Daniel took his time shaving, going against the grain, running his fingers across the path
of the blade, searching for missed stubble. His razor was new and sharp. He managed it with
very few cuts. With a slap of aftershave Daniel rubbed the burning liquid into his smoothed face
and let the pain wash over him and subside.
He threw water on his face and cleaned off the excess shaving cream with his towel and
loaded his travel kit back up, walking down the hallway to his room where he found a stick-it
note adhered to his door.
It read:
Daniel ,
Took Chad to the Metro urban warfare
center. Joshuas with Stephen working on
his control at the Explosives Detonation
Chamber at JJRTC. Good luck in Boston .
Leonard.
Daniel had to grin. Leonard could have just woken him up and told him. He hoped the
personal note indicated he had forgiven him for, effectively, sidelining him from the action to
play nursemaid.
Still, there was a conversation over his decision coming, that he knew all too clear.
Leonard didnt even need to communicate that much to let him knowIt was in the very air.
He took the note off the door, set it down on the desk in his room, and quickly changed
into a black suit.
He looked himself over in the mirror and frowned. He had always hated the way Feds
looked, and here he wasa carbon copy negative.
With a self-deprecating scoff, he turned from his reflection, and as an afterthought,
picked up his duffel bag and stalked out of the room and into the flat at large.

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There, he found Bradley and McCormack sitting watching the local D.C. news. Ted
Warner, the local station meteorologista generically warm man with all the depth of a plastic
smile painted on a blond haired, blue eyed, biological mannequin with an athletic buildwas
glorying his own ability to predict snow in the wintertime, and McCormack chuckled at the way
the breathing Ken-doll patted himself on the back. With the state of the art, HAARP owned,
Doppler systemenhanced by Quill weather prediction technologythe ability to forecast
weather patterns forming had become eerily omniscient in feel, and the weatherman never let
you forget it, praising the new technology as he predicted icy conditions on the winter highways.
Bradley looked up and paused surveying Daniel in a suit. He seemed torn between
something, but his eyes were bright as he quickly looked down to Daniels duffel bag.
Whats in the duffel bag? said Bradley.
Dont worry about it. deflected Daniel. Let me talk to you two about our agenda for
the day. Have you checked your notebooks, yet?
Were going to detain Terry Lyons for questioning, answered McCormack,
mechanically.
Right, said Daniel.
I dont like it, said Bradley, looking disgruntled. Terry wouldnt be part of any fraud.
Its not in her character.
With the treatment of Specials by the government, answered Daniel solemnly, we
cant put anything to chance.
So you think we could be walking into a hostile scenario? said McCormack, with a
critical stare. Is that what the duffel bag is for?
Im not taking anything to chance, answered Daniel, unconsciously swinging the duffel
bag out of sight behind the couch. We go in prepared. Then we talk. Are you with me on this?
Im not against you, replied McCormack.
Thats good enough for now. concluded Daniel and he checked his watch. Get
dressed. Well go in professionally. If we can reason with her therell be no cause for violence.
But youre ready for it, said Bradley, knowingly.
Yes. answered Daniel. Meet me in five minutes ready to go.
McCormack rose to leave. Bradley sat there studying Daniel.
You heard the man, Brad. called McCormack. Five minutes.
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Finally, Bradley rose and left the flat for his bedroom.
Daniel turned and walked down the hallway to his office and had just loaded his
notebook into the duffel bag when he noticed a small package sitting discreetly on his desk. It
was a simple, easily missed white box, roughly the size to package a wallet in.
He looked down at it and mused over its contents for a moment and finally shrugged,
feeling somewhat comfortable that if it was a bomb, McCormack would have warned
himmaybe
With a lazy gesture, he picked the lid between his index fingers and lifted it off the box
and experienced a small jolt as he realized what was inside.
There, before him, was a laser-cut, oval badge with a deep rose-gold finish with black
lettering, resting on a black leather back. Daniels eyes bulged as he took in the impressive
golden landscape, which was both complex and minimalist all at once: Thirteen stars arched the
very top edge of the oval badge, and hung over the design on the face below. Within a
dangerously sharp elegant-shield, which rose from the base of the oval and spanned near the
length of the badge, an odd shape that looked, to Daniel, like an inverted rendition of the Norse
hammer of Thor which rested beneath a menacing bald eagle at the halfway-mark of the shield,
its wings spread out menacingly and actually breaking free and wide from the confines of the
oval badge in a bold fanning of feathers, its face turned down menacingly. Two olive branches
rose from beneath the raptor, layering over its spread wings, and in its talons was clasped the
scales of justice that fell on either side of the central element, what Daniel now surmised was an
Anchor.

Superimposed above his offices design, the embossed Department of Homeland

Security crestthe numerals 2001 marking the date of its inceptionlaser-carved within, and
around the crest all other elements seemed to revolve. On either side of the anchor were two
bold large lettersto the left of the DHS seal, a proud bold U and to its right, an Sand
arched between the eagle and the canopy of stars at the topmost edge of the face, the words
Department of Specials Investigations declared boldly. Just beneath the Homeland Security
crest, across the hammers face, the words Special Agent, and at the base of the shield, the
numeral 2.
He immediately understood his role in the number. The General would undoubtedly have
his own badge, with the numeral 1.

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Shutting the thought form his mind, he plucked the badge out of the box and saw that
beneath it, lay a black wallet, and his heart raced as he flipped it open to see the new 2 5/8" x 3
7/8" resilient, yet thin, identification card equipped with the latest in thin, fiber-optic smartcircuitry, identifying him and his formidable rank in bold fashion:

DEPARTMENT OF SPECIALS INVESTIGATIONS

SITF

THIS CERTIFIES THAT THE SIGNATURE AND PHOTOGRAPH HEREIN ARE APPROVED
DEPUTY DIRECTORAGENT IN CHARGE: DANIEL HENRY ROOKE

Daniel H. Rooke
OF THE DEPARTMENT OF HOMELAND SECURITYSPECIALS INVESTIGATIONS TASK FORCE

His eyes trailed from the bold lettering and his new office seal, panning to the right, and
then pursed his lips as his eyes fell upon the picture on the ID card, as a scoff escaped him.
As he had expected, Boatman had just used his nearly five year old picture from the
NYPD file and switched it onto the new ID card. He had always hated that picture. He would
have preferred to actually pose for a picture, instead of Boatman merely lifting his picture from
his old NYPD identification card.
Still, he had not thought of credentials for his new position, and now, looking at the
badge, he could have kicked himself for not asking for one sooner. Badges, for government
agencies, were interchangeable with business cards, and went a great distance toward clearing up
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confusion giving severe clout and bearing to the wielder...especially to the non-federal law
enforcement branches.
Finally, he folded the new identification, tucking it into his coat pocket, and then turned
to his duffel bag, zipping it up, just as the phone rang.
Daniel looked at the phone and sighed.
This cant be good

Two minutes later, Daniel walked into the flat to find Bradley and McCormack dressed in similar
suitsBradleys suit was more stylish, with a black leather smoking jacket in lieu of a sports
coatthe look on his face was crystal clear: this was the closest Bradley would be getting to the
federal mold.
Daniel sighed and dragged his hand through his hair with frustration.
Whats up? said McCormack.
Boatman just got a call from the FBI field office in Arizona. said Daniel. Weve got a
rogue Special down there who attacked three cops and are now being treated at a local hospital.
Hes hiding out on a Navajo reservation and causing a big stir with the locals. The feds were
called in but the reservation police force isnt being very cooperative.
So whats the plan? said Bradley.
The plan is to go get him, answered Daniel. The Lyons case is on hold for now.
Lucky her, muttered McCormack.
What about the rest of the team? said Bradley.
I dont want to interrupt their training, replied Daniel.
And you dont know what youll be walking into, concluded McCormack. So you
decided to bring along some Alphas.
Can you blame me? answered Daniel with a grin.
How are we getting there? said Bradley, already knowing the answer and dreading it.
Well take the Chariot, answered Daniel. I just got the call that its ready for use, and we now
have a pilot we got on loan from the Bureau.
Whats the travel time? inquired McCormack, more for curiosity on the airworthiness
of their newly christened Chariot, than any expectancy of when they would actually arrive in
Arizona.
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As far as McCormack was concerned, the chances were likely that the transport would lose
power and fall out of the sky like a brick.
Forty minutes, replied Daniel. I dont want to break any records with her.
Not bad, breathed Bradley, nervously.
How do you want us? said McCormack, looking down at his suit and judging it to be
out of place for a hostile engagement.
Well go as is, answered Daniel.
Whos the target? said McCormack.
Joseph Little Bird, answered Daniel. You know him?
Heavy Gear? gasped Bradley, wide eyed.
McCormack rolled his eyes and clapped Bradley on the back, as though clearing his
airway of some blockage. Though rather rough, it was clearly an affectionate gesture.
Were familiar with him, replied McCormack. He was on our team. Hang on, Ill pull
up the file.
McCormack pulled his notebook out of his breast pocket. His fingers raced across the
notepad and data scrolled across the viewscreen:
//JOSEPH LITTLE BIRD CALLSIGN: HEAVY GEAR aka CRAZY JOE
[Rank: E/IGFOEEV-GAMMA STATUSBLACK ANCHOR]\\
Daniel pursed his lips. He did not like what he had just read.
Crazy Joe? picked up Daniel, critically.
His ability leaves a lot to be desired, answered McCormack.
Will he be a problem? asked Daniel.
That depends answered Bradley.
On what? demanded Daniel.
On how hard a time hes had since the end of the war, concluded McCormack.
Daniel studied Bradley and McCormack critically in silence.
No one broke the electric stillness between them, and they seemed to verge on a purely
psychic dialogue as Daniels mind raced over the possibility that a crazy Special was waiting
for them at the end of the road to their first collar.
And then a thought occurred to him.

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Oh, he exclaimed, I just got my badge and ID.. Im assuming you got similar
packages, today?
No worries, Dan, chuckled McCormack with an assuring grin. Weve had those since
we were recruited.
Daniel was not reassured. In fact, the thought he was a Task Force Anchor and had only
just received his own badge and identification card rubbed him a little raw, and he was on the
verge of exploding when his notebook chimed, interrupting his train of thought.
With a scoff, he pulled it from his duffel bag and studied it, reading he urgent message,
before putting it in his lower left breast pocket.
Lets get going, growled Daniel, picking up his duffel bag. Our ride is here.
Daniel, Bradley and McCormack walked in silence down the three flights of steps to the
lobby and walked out onto Georgia Avenue and he fumed with every step, promising to have a
moment with Boatman as soon as he saw him, again, as he marched on the SUV parked and
idling in the red zone directly in front of the lobby doors.
Daniel walked straight for the front passenger seat and climbed in, leaving Bradley and
McCormack to pile into the backseat.
Andrews Air Base. Daniel barked at the driver. Go!
The SUV lurched forward, cutting off a passing car and pulled out onto the avenue amid
a stream of blaring horns. Within a handful of seconds, the SUV was peeling around the corner
and was gone.
Twenty minutes later, the SUV pulled up to the tarmac outside Andrews Wizards Hangar.
There, the hulking transport sat hissing fume as the slow whine of the power conductors raised in
pitch.

Daniel climbed out of the SUV, took out his duffel bag and stood next to the Chariot.

McCormack and Bradley walked up and studied Daniel. His suit was thin and office efficient.
Itll be cold there, said Bradley, eyeing his wardrobe critically.
Im not worried about the weather, replied Daniel cautiously.
McCormack nodded knowingly and put his hand on Daniels shoulder.
Relax, said McCormack. Its a simple arrest. Youve done this a thousand times
before.

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Feels like my first time, admitted Daniel with a self-deprecating scoff as a slim built
man in a flight officers uniform walked past them and stepped into the transports cabin. He
turned around and glanced at them with a cocky smile.
Everyone on board, called the pilot, and he vanished from view into the belly of the
beast.
Daniel gave a nod to McCormack and followed him into the Chariot.
Bradley eyed the craft untrusting but boarded despite his better judgment. Inside the
cabin were rows of seats with harnesses along the walls, and a viewscreen for data updates and
news reports that might shed light on the situation they were en route to, whatever that may be.
The pop of the intercom alerted them that the pilot had finished with his preflight
checklist and all three of them sat up straight and craned their ears to hear the message from the
new face who held their lives in his hands.
Ladies and gentlemen, chimed the pilot as though he were addressing commercial
flight passengers. we will be travelling at an altitude of fifty-two thousand feet, reaching
supercruise speeds that will bring us to our destination in just under thirty minutes. Please feel
free to light em if you got em. Im turning off the no smoking light.
Funny guy, scoffed Bradley, looking miserable.
The Chariot lifted off the ground and quickly gained altitude with little jerks and tremors.
Hopefully we make it to your first time alive, chided McCormack, grimly.
Relax, said Daniel, Chariots a good ship.
There was another tremor and a jolt of speed that quickly slowed, sending them jerking in
fits. Daniel, Bradley and McCormack eyed the cockpit.
Bradley turned to Daniel nervously.
Has this guy ever flown this thing before?
The guys AB-4 certified, replied Daniel. He should be able to fly it.
Just then, another jolt of speed sent the cabin shuddering and the unmistakable sound of
metal whining as it bent sent chills down their spines.
Daniel glanced back at McCormack and Bradley and noticed their jaws were set. With a
sigh, Daniel undid his harness and kicked his duffel bag firmly under his seat.
I think Ill have a talk with the pilot, announced Daniel.
You do that, replied McCormack with a critical glance.

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Daniel walked up to the cockpit, leaving McCormack and Bradley alone staring at
Daniels duffel bag.
Any ideas whats in it? said Bradley curiously.
Knowing Daniel? said McCormack. Id say body armor, a high powered rifle and
grenades.
Neither Bradley nor McCormack made a gesture toward the duffel bag. They didnt want
to know. All they knew was Daniel was shouting at the pilot who continued to stress slowing
that sent the cabin rattling.
Thank God we can fly, said McCormack.
For real, though. sighed Bradley.

Teek Nos Pos, Arizona

The forty-minute flight felt much, much longer, and with a sigh of relief, they felt the Chariot
making its descent, slowing down all the while.
Daniels argument with the pilot seemed to have some effect on his piloting skills as the
ride was far less bumpy for the remainder of the flight. Bradley and McCormack could not hear
exactly what Daniel said to the pilot, but whatever it was left him shaken, as he kept glancing
over his shoulder, peering down to the cabin and gave a nervous thumbs up as if asking if
Daniel approved of his piloting skills. Daniel would curtly nod back and with a sigh of relief, the
pilot would turn to face the console and return to his duties. Daniel shook his head.
This assholes going to ruin my transport, thought Daniel.
Finally, the ship took a static position and slowly lowered to the highway 504 at the Teec Nos
Pos Trading Post. The transport touched down on the desert floor, kicking up dust as the engines
whined and dulled to a low roar that reduced to a purr.
Thank you for your patience, called the pilot over the intercom to the annoyance of
Daniel, who shot him a deathly look. The pilot shivered slightly and continued talking, as though
his braving the icy looks of the three passengers would make their collective grievances with him
go away. It is currently 9:30 am, and the temperature outside is 49 degrees. Good hunting.

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With that, the pilot released the cabin doors, which slid open to a gust of chilly wind
blowing through the cabin.
Daniel shivered for an instant and then shrugged it off, stepping out of the Chariot onto the dusty
ground and surveyed the surrounding area dotted with desert foliage and dry twisted trees. It was
an inhospitable environment. Just a little ways away, beat up SUVs squared off against late
model SUVs, lights flashing on both sides, like a law enforcement standoff.
Daniel could just make out the boundary dividing the reservation from federal jurisdiction just by
staring at the SUVs. Standing between the cars, a group of men huddled together, staring at the
Chariot warily.
Finally, one of the men from the non-reservation side of the territorial dispute walked
over toward Daniel, with his hand over his eyes, shielding himself from the swirling dust.
Im Special Agent Flannery, said the man, flashing his FBI credentials. Im assuming
youre my Specials liaison?
Agent Rooke, replied Daniel, shaking his hand. Specials Investigations Task Force.
These are agents McCormack and Overman. Well be handling the manhunt.
Not much of a manhunt, Agent Rooke, replied Flannery, rubbing his chin. Little
Birds got himself holed up at his trailer just on the other side of the reservation border. About a
ten minutes drive from here.
And you havent taken him into custody? blinked Daniel.
Were having problems with tribal authority right now, replied Flannery as though this
was nothing new to himmerely the business of the day. Its a minor problem that is usually
rectified by showing respect, but then again, theres the problem. Too many hicks with badges,
out in these parts.
Daniel looked over at the men squaring off with each other and noted how many times
the Sheriffs spat dip on the ground at the Reservation polices feet. The reservation police glared
back at the Deputies with disgust.
Got it, said Daniel. Well, why dont you give us a quick briefing then, and catch us
up.
Not much to it, said Flannery, rubbing his chin perplexedly.
Joseph Little Bird is a Navajo, standing at six-feet seven-inches, weighing two hundred
thirty pounds. Last seen wearing blue jeans, cowboy boots, a matching hat and a tribal print coat.
225 | P a g e

Hes big, hes ornery, and hes a Special. Flannery leaned in conspiratorially, We cant get a
handle on his ability, but from the stink hes made we figure hes a telepath.
Daniel did not want to know how or why Flannery came to that conclusion but his
curiosity was piqued.
Whats the story with the victims? demanded Daniel.
Well, thats the thing, said agent Flannery, rubbing his chin speculatively, we dont
know. Theyre perfectly healthy, theyre just insane. Whatever he did to them, its having a
lasting effect on them.
Okay, concluded Daniel, and his house is just over those hills?
Yeah, itll be the one at the foot of the mountains.
Got it. Put me in touch with the tribal police.
Ill get him. Good luck calming him down.
Flannery walked away warily and Daniel turned to look at Bradley and McCormack.
What do you think? said Daniel to McCormack.
Well, replied McCormack, first off, Joseph isnt a telepath. Hes a long distance
teleporter.
He was responsible for teleporting supplies to the front during the Sol War. His
designation was Heavy Gear. But by the end of the war we just called him Crazy Joe. His
teleportation leaves a lot to be desired if you follow.
What are the side effects of his teleports if hes taking other people with him?
Intense agony and insanity. You feel like your skins being ripped off and your blood
boils. You also lose your equilibrium and you lose track of everything. Up, Down, Sideways,
beginning and end. You feel like youre dying. On the other side, you feel it all over again as
your body reconstructs.
Reconstructs? repeated Daniel.
Joseph opens up wormholes, said Bradley.
Wormholes, repeated Daniel.
Dont get all bent out of shape, said McCormack, anticipating Daniels subsequent
head exploding, The wormholes arent that big. In fact, theyre pretty minute. Thats the
problem with them. Stable wormholes require a lot of energy depending on the size of them. So
his are like microscopic tears in space/time. Pulls whatever it can into them and makes them fit
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by ripping them apart and then reconstructing them on the other side. Wherever thats going to
be.
Usually its just him, said Bradley, and he doesnt handle the effects all that well
either.
Okay, said Daniel, grimly. Take no chances, then. If he looks like hes going to Jump
or take one of us with him, take him down hard.
-Done, answered Bradley.
-You read my mind, concluded McCormack.
Just then, the tribal police chief stepped up to Daniel. He was a sturdy man with hard
eyes lined with frustration but his jaw was set defiantly. Whatever grief the Deputies were giving
him was beginning to show in cracks on his face.
So, said the police chief, I hear youre the ones who are supposed to get me to play
ball?
Actually, said Daniel, thoughtfully. Im here to ask your permission to cross onto your
jurisdiction and make an arrest of one Joseph Little Bird.
And why should I be agreeable to you?
Because Im asking nicely, replied Daniel, a faint edge in his voice. I can ask nicely in
other ways, but you wouldnt appreciate that. Look, Im not here to ruffle feathers.
Ruffle feathers, repeated the reservation police chief, That wouldnt be a crack, would
it?
Look, I have a job to do and I need to do it quickly and quietly. Can you help me with
that?
The police chief studied Daniel for a long moment staring blankly for a moment and then
his face flooded with an amicable smile.
What do you need?
An escort and a perimeter set up, replied Daniel with a friendly smile. And then I need
you to let me handle my job.
Yeah, I can help with that.
I appreciate it, said Daniel, shaking the mans hand. Ill be along shortly and then
well head on up.
No problem.
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The tribal police chief stepped away. Daniel glanced at McCormack. McCormack smiled.
Just keeping things moving forward. said McCormack.
Daniel grinned.
Ive got no problems with that.
In the distance, the tribal police chief signaled Daniel to follow and then climbed into his
beat up SUV. Daniel signaled Flannery and he flung himself behind the wheel of his SUV with
purpose as Daniel, Bradley and McCormack piled in.
Within seconds, they were across the highway and on Indian Route 5028 heading
southeast.
Weve got company, said Bradley.
Behind them, five Sheriff cruisers followed them onto the reservation, like a legalized
lynch mob, waiting for their chance at their suspect.
This could turn ugly real quick. said Daniel. Can you keep an eye on them and tell me
if they decide to play cowboys and Indians?
Thats already on their minds, answered Bradley looking like he was battling with a
bad flavor being inside their heads, but Ill tell you if theyre gearing up to a mob mentality.
Good to know, replied Daniel.
With that, Daniel turned and looked out the window at the dusty view. The scenery was
barren and desolate, and yet there was a beauty to the place that Daniel could not put his finger
on. He would not want to live there, but to come and commune with nature in silent
contemplation for a few hoursthat could last him years, spiritually.
Its coming up on the left, said Flannery, pointing the direction the SUVs veered
toward the foot of the mountains.
Finally they came to a stop some fifty yards from a beat up trailer. The Deputies stopped
short about twenty yards behind them and climbed out of their cruisers with shotguns, gripping
them tightly but otherwise not moving or speaking.
Daniel climbed out of the SUV for a better look at the
residence of Joseph Little Bird.
Before him, the beat up trailer hitch sat propped on stones to keep the trailer level.
This is it? demanded Daniel to the Indian police chief.

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Yeah. said the police chief. Josephs an interesting guy. He lives like a spirit walker
out here on his own. Its the way he likes it.
Daniel looked back at the trailer and the surrounding area with some sense of what
bordered on pity. Here was a war hero, returning home to hard times. Living in a trailer no
bigger than a prison cell, his bare comforts being a television, he surmised, from the dish on the
roof of the trailer, a beat up pickup truck and a makeshift lawn.
Honestly, thought Daniel, he could pick up and move anywhere. And he lives out in
the cold alone like this.
Wait here. said Daniel. Ill go in alone.
You sure? said McCormack, eyeing him doubtfully.
Yeah, sighed Daniel, not at all sure.
Daniel stepped forward toward the beat up trailer and studied the surrounding debris
critically. Out in front was a drivers seat that had been converted into a lawn chair and had
placed on a carpet of Astroturf. He stood at the doorway and knocked. It seemed a stupid thing
to do. The bite of the gravel muffled by the Astroturf was enough to alert the trailers lone
inhabitant.
That was a nice touch, said the grizzly man in the trailer.
Daniel peered into the trailer and let his eyes adjust to the semidarkness highlighted by
streams of dust filled light that trickled in through the window and reflected off the grime
covered television screen. Daniel stared at the reflection through the screen blinking back at him
and was instantly aware of the presence of the man as he turned to face him. Joseph Little Bird
was a man who seemed to have been carved from stone to perfection yet warm as wood. Even in
sitting, he was formidable.
Joseph Little Bird? said Daniel.
Joseph peered up at him. He wore a raw steak over his right eye, obviously to bring down
a swelling.
You the guy who thinks hes got my number? challenged Joseph with a wry smile.
That depends, replied Daniel, Did you mean to attack those men?
Didnt attack, corrected Joseph. Returned fire.
You left those hicks in a bad way, Mr. Little Bird.

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Joseph swiveled around in his chair and let the steak drop from his eye revealing the
black and blue swelling.
Served em right, spat Joseph, with a dismissive wave of his hand. Theyll be fine in a
few days. And maybe they wont be stupid enough to come onto the rez lookin for a fight.
Or maybe theyll be more inclined to shoot you from a distance, mused Daniel.
Joseph considered this for a moment and then grit his cracked teeth.
They can try.
My point is, pressed Daniel, youre not thinking things through here.
Joseph studied Daniel for a moment, amazed he was having a rational conversation after
what had transpired the night before.
Who are you? demanded Joseph.
Agent Daniel Rooke, replied Daniel. with the Specials Investigations Task Force.
Never heard of you, replied Joseph with a shrug.
We get that a lot, grinned Daniel.
So, began Joseph, musing over Daniel, a super secret government organization
checking up on Specials who use their abilities without being asked to use them by the
government, even under the threat of death. Have I got your number right?
About, admitted Daniel.
And youre here to arrest me for defending myself, continued Joseph, with an air of
clarifying the situation. Still with you?
Still on the same page, said Daniel.
Joseph studied Daniel critically.
I dont know you from the war, said Joseph, carefully.
So you cant be a Special. At least not a Special worth a damn. Joseph threw the steak
on the floor and a mangy coyote trotted over from the corner and began devouring it. You cant
be here on your own. Whod you bring with you?
His eyes were curious, almost begging. Daniel smiled.
Agents Bradley Overman and Tobias McCormack.
Maximus and Paladin? replied Joseph, his eyes wide, and then a grin broke on his face.
Two Alphas just for me? Im flattered.
I would appreciate it if youd be inclined to settle this situation amicably.
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Joseph seemed to consider Daniel for a moment, and then clicked his tongue as he rose
and fetched his shirt and coat, donning his suede gamblers hat.
Just for the sake of seeing old friends, said Joseph, and then added with a wide grin,
why the hell not?
Joseph cozied past Daniel and walked out to face off with Bradley and McCormack. He
seemed to study them mutinously for a moment and then cracked the wide grin again.
Hellfire, grinned Joseph. You boys look like right lawyers in those outfits.
Hey Joseph, said Bradley with a grin.
So, whats the pitch? said Joseph, wild with anticipation.
Your boy didnt mention one. Well, began McCormack. Weve got a resort with
dorm rooms picked out for you on North Brother Island in New York.
Sounds like a nice little prison, scoffed Joseph.
Well, considering were Specials, replied McCormack, and most of us are hard to
cage, they made it nice for us.
Are the guards there good in a fight? inquired Joseph with a queer grin.
The guards will be in the water, replied McCormack.
Lot of good itd do em. chuckled Joseph.
Well, with your ability, replied McCormack, I think they just expect you to be back by
lights out.
Three squares and a cot and Im on the honor system?
Knowing you, chided Bradley, itd be the ornery system.
Brad, crowed Joseph, you wound me.
So, is it true? inquired Bradley.
Joseph paused for a moment and studied Bradley as though admitting to an unseemly
indiscretion.
Yeah, its true.
Did they have it coming? said McCormack, looming in his presence.
Joseph pursed his lips and studied the ground, his eyes reddening.
Probably even more than I know from what they were saying while they were working
me over. Like I told your boy over there. They had it coming.

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McCormacks eyes bored into Josephs for a long lingering moment. Joseph looked right
back. To Bradley and Daniels surprise, Joseph did not flinch under the x-raying eyes of the
telepath.
So, said McCormack, finally. You want to ride in the front seat?
Joseph grinned and looked over his shoulder at the perimeter of reservation police and the
Deputies in the distance.
No account going to the extra lengths with me, said Joseph with a wry grin. Ill go the
hard way for the news cameras.
No news, answered Daniel, emphatically.
An Indian beats down white Deputies on the Rez? Theres bound to be press.
Not yet, answered McCormack. No.
Still off the books?
For now, answered McCormack.
Gotcha.
Joseph pulled on his coat and adjusted his gambler hat.
So, wheres the transport?
On the other side of the reservation, answered Daniel.
So were going for a walk, then?
Unless youd rather jump there. replied McCormack.
Walkings nice, replied Joseph, coolly.
Bradley chuckled and escorted Joseph across the Astroturf carpet and onto the dusty road.
The coyote watched their progress pensively, and Joseph stopped in his tracks. He knelt down
and the mangy dog trotted up and licked Josephs palm, as he scratched behind the coyotes ears.
Good boy, cooed Joseph. Be seeing you. With that, Joseph stood up and eyed the
crowd of lookeyloos who had gathered to witness his arrest. Feed my dog while Im away. I
come back and find out one of you shot my dog, Im coming round for a talk.
The lookeyloos looked down at the wild coyote, then back up at Josephs stern glare, and
backed away up the path to their homes.
Damn, Joe, scoffed McCormack. Only you would take in a feral coyote.

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Hes a good dog, answered Joseph. Arent you, boy? The coyote woofed and trotted
away into the barren wilderness. They dont like him because he knocks over their trash cans
for the food, but we hunt and kill his game, so hes gotta eat something.
Right, said Bradley, without thinking.
Id take him with me, if I could, continued Joseph. But I dont think the ride would sit
well with him. Besides, hes meant to be in the wild.
What about you? inquired McCormack, fishingfor what Bradley had no idea
Daniel studied him carefully.
Well, replied Joseph, thats something me and that dog have in common. We dont do
well in society.
You want to give it a go? said McCormack
What do you mean? said Joseph.
I mean we dont have to go to North Brother Island, said McCormack, coming to the
point. Where else could we go?
Washington, answered McCormack.
State?
District of Columbia. corrected Daniel, now seeing where McCormack was leading. A
teleporter for the team might give an advantage on the next scrimmage against the Black Ops
team. Joseph studied the ground and kicked at the earth, mulling it over.
Thats a wilderness of another sort, breathed Joseph.
I need someone who can do a decent sweep of a room, said Daniel. And knows how
to take some initiative.
What sort of initiative? asked Joseph warily.
Like taking some courses on criminal investigation, said McCormack. And being able
to step up to the plate on a team.
Youre offering me a job? said Joseph with a slight trepidation in his demeanor. A job
in law enforcement?
You look capable, said Daniel. And you can obvious take a punch.
Joseph considered Daniel by looking to McCormack and Bradley for a moment, his eyes
gauging his decision by their mannerisms toward him.
What do I have to do? he finally asked.
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Ill settle for a suit and a haircut, said Daniel.

Ill settle for a suit and a ponytail, countered Joseph.
This is a high profile team, pressed Daniel. Well be out in the public. I want a
professional look for the team.
And I got scars Id rather not show, answered Joseph plainly.
Daniel looked at him as an oddity. He looked fine. Was Joseph being literal or
metaphorical? Did he have some issue with people not from a reservation? And how important
was it to weigh his words at that moment? Daniel was not used to the whole negotiating process
as a whole and found it distasteful.
Im not asking you to strip and play Indian, snapped Daniel.
I recognize that, replied Joseph. But I have my vanity.
More to end the discussion and vacate the premises, he scoffed.
Fine, answered Daniel.
We have a deal? said McCormack.
For now, answered Daniel.
Well then, said McCormack. Lets get out of here.
Bradley sighed warily.
What about them? he asked, eyeing the Deputies who gripped their shotguns so tightly
their knuckles were white.
What about them? scoffed Daniel, and he pulled out an earpiece, placed it in his ear
and tapped it. Pilot, said Daniel in a clear voice. Pick us up at these coordinates.
Do I have authorization to fly onto reservation land? chimed the pilot over the radio.
Daniel rolled his eyes.
Youre already on reservation land, he growled, irritably.
Right, replied the pilot, sheepishly. Ill be there in a few minutes. Let me clear the
yokels out of the cabin.
What?! bellowed Daniel.
Theyve never seen a bird like this before and they were getting pretty riled that I
wouldnt let them take a look.
Daniel waved and signaled Flannery.
Get the car ready. ordered Daniel. Were coming fast.
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Flannery turned on his heels and climbed into his SUV.

Lets go. called Flannery from the drivers seat.
The Deputies stepped forward squeezing their shotguns so tight they chafed the skin on
their palms.
Hes not going anywhere with you, shouted a belligerent Deputy.
Daniel looked over his shoulder toward Bradley.
Brad
Bradley stepped forward and squared off with the Deputies.
You want to go home, now. said Bradley. Thank you for your assistance.
The Deputies stood there slack-jawed for a moment and then slowly turned and shuffled
toward their cruisers, climbed in and pulled away. Bradley stood there looking back at Daniel
with a leisurely smile. McCormack patted him on the back, and Joseph grinned.
Thanks for that, said Joseph. Those Deputies had me a mite nervous.
After you, Joe, said Bradley to Joseph.
With an appreciative nod to Agent Flannery, Joseph climbed into the back of the Federal
SUV and Bradley followed as Daniel made his way to the front passenger seat to find his way
blocked my McCormack.
Were walking into a delicate situation, Daniel, said McCormack.
I know, scoffed Daniel.
How you handle it, he pressed, is going to reflect on us.
I know, answered Daniel.
How are you going to handle it?
Ill be discrete, assured Daniel.
McCormack studied him for a moment and then stepped back, making way for Daniel to
enter the SUV. McCormack climbed in next to Bradley and Joseph.
The drive back to the Teek Nos Pos Trading The Post was quicker than the ride in. It
seemed Agent Flannery was in a hurry to be off reservation land and be shot of his cargo.
Daniel could not bring himself to blame him. Currying Specials around most assuredly
was not on the list at the beginning of the day. Still, he was amicable and did not fidget much.
Daniel would remember his professionalism at the end of this.

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When the SUV had pulled up to the trading post, Daniel was met with a most unpleasant site. A
mob surrounded the Chariot, lifting hatches and peering in as though it were some display
vehicle at an air show, or walking around the low ceilinged cabin, while the pilot waved
helplessly to get them out of the craft, to no avail.
Flannery pulled up hard, sending a wave of dust and small stones at them like shrapnel.
The mob of people turned and glared at him for pulling up so hard, interrupting their chatter as
they strolled in and around the transport, the pilot standing between the craft and the crowd,
waving his hands feebly impotently, as they thoroughly ignored him, continuing to go where
they pleased.
Daniel flew out of the passengers car seat and jumped onto the ground, marching like a
drill sergeant.
Can I have your attention please! he shouted authoritatively.
No one responded.
Hey! bellowed Daniel, and a small group turned to face him. Get away from the
federal transport, now!
The small group who held his attention moved sheepishly out of the way, while the
remainder ignored him.
Daniel caught one man walking away with his duffel bag.
Hey!
He snatched the bag out of his hands.
Give me that! barked Daniel, his jacket coming open to reveal his side arm. And get
the hell out of here!
The man backed away nervously.
Pilot! bellowed Daniel. Get on the com and make the following announcement: This
craft is preparing for takeoff. Please proceed to a safe distance.
The pilot stood there jerkily, his mouth agape, but he quickly rallied and ran into the
cabin, sending people out as he ran.
Daniel took to swatting people with his duffel bag as they ran and ordered people away
from the craft. He pulled at his tie, undid the top button, and shouted for attention.

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Ladies and gentlemen, echoed the pilots voice over the intercom. This craft is
preparing for takeoff. Please proceed to a safe distance! I repeat, please proceed to a safe
distance.
More of the mob poured away from the craft, however there were a few stragglers who
would not be distracted from their investigation of the craft, and they shot dirty looks at Daniel
as he approached. One of them, a ferret looking man, had a camcorder and videoed his approach.
Get the hell out of there! What the hell are you doing?!
Just then, he spotted the ferret man videoing the entire scene and he snatched the
camcorder out of his hand.
Im confiscating this.
The ferret man glared at him with disgust and made to snatch the camcorder back.
Daniel pulled his side arm and he now had the mobs full attention. Just then, their eyes
seemed to glaze over and they turned and walked away calmly to a safe distance where they
turned and faced him resigned looks on their faces. Daniel perplexed over this and looked
around for something to explain the odd behavior of the mob. Just then, McCormack patted him
on the shoulder.
Subtle. chided McCormack.
Shut up, sighed Daniel. Lets get on the bird before anything else happens.
My thoughts exactly, said Bradley.
Joseph said nothing. He smiled ear to ear, apparently pleased by the mayhem around him.
Joseph stepped onto the transport and took a seat, adjusting his hat as he sat down. Bradley and
McCormack climbed in after him and took their seats around him, instantly falling into banter
about the old days during the war.
Daniel traded a glance with McCormack, who sat silently staring at him.
In Daniels mind, the sentence was pushed with a seeming ease:
Well, youve got some color for the team. Happy?
Daniel grinned at McCormack and climbed into the cabin, sealing the sliding door and
climbed into the cockpit.
We ready to go? said the pilot nervously.
At your leisure. replied Daniel, a stern glare in his eye for the pilot.
Yes, sir. said the pilot with a sigh of relief that the debacle was now over.
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The pilots fingers rode the console and the Chariot roared to life, rising into the air and
angling Easterly toward the horizon, climbing in altitude higher and higher. With a short on pour
of speed, the Chariot hummed and cracked as it broke the sound barrier and, within a moment,
was gone.

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T e r r y

13:

L y o n s

CAMBRIDGE, MASSACHUSETTS

erry Lyons walked into the lobby of her apartment complex on Binney Street and 5th
with a shiver. She was an elegantly dressed black woman with a regal stride and a
youthful face and body that belied her true age of 47. Her hair was pulled back and

bound into an elegant bun with her scarf pulled tight across her mouth and nose, leaving only her
brown almond eyes showingher eyelashes tinted with snow.
Once inside the lobby, she tugged at her scarf, which yielded to her delicate fingertips as
she walked to the stairs. The elevator had been out for two days, and with the snow, it was
unlikely the elevator repairman would be making the journey to Cambridge this evening. With a
sigh, she climbed the steps to her apartment on the third floor.
On the third floor landing, Terry caught sight of Rebecca Goldberg, an elderly woman in
a weathered frock raincoat, pulling her grocery cart up the steps one by one, laboring with the
two wheeled contraption as she neared her destination.
Hi Rebecca, sang Terry, Here, let me help you with that.
Terry quickly took up the cart and pulled it onto the landing.
You are so sweet, sang Rebecca, Always helping out. Im always telling Sol that.
Oh, replied Terry with a wave of her hand, its nothing at all.

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Sol, called Rebecca toward the open door at the edge of the landing, Get down to the
car and help bring up the groceries. We cant infringe upon Terrys generosity any more than
necessary.
Alright, alright, answered Sol, Im coming.
Soon, an elderly man, bent by the weight of age appeared in the doorway.
Hello, Terry. smiled Sol and his eyes took in her business attire. I see youre dressed
in your winters best.
Terry smiled at her thin dress pants and dress boots underneath her coat wet from the
snow and clinging to her calves.
I try, said Terry, in a dry singsong. As best as work allows.
Sol rubbed his face as though checking for whiskers.
It must be tough weathering the elements in something so thin.
Oh, sang Terry, I get by.
I bet you do at that, smoothed Sol, like a younger man at a nightclub.
Rebecca rolled her eyes.
Well, Sol, reprimanded Rebecca, are you going to stand here chatting it up with every
pretty girl in the building or are you going to get down to the car?
Alright, alright, answered Sol, his subterfuge dashed to pieces. Im going.
Night Sol, sang Terry as Sol made his way down the stairs tightening his coat around
his waist.
Good night, Terry, replied Sol with a youthful smile for the young exotic woman with
the deep brown eyes.
Rebecca rolled her eyes again.
Honestly, scoffed Rebecca, That man. Hes too old to be acting like such a playboy.
Oh, sang Terry, I dont see anything wrong with being young at heart. Do you?
Well when you put it that way, replied Rebecca, in a communal whisper. It is nice
when he gets frisky like this.
There, you see? Hes definitely in the mood tonight. Light some candles for dinner and
see what happens.
Then, Rebecca blushed uncontrollably, and slapped her hands to her cheeks to cover the
telltale rosing of her cheeks.
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Oh Terry, sighed Rebecca, for her teasing. Youre terrible.

What? protested Terry, You deserve it. Youre a beautiful woman. Theres no reason
why you cant let yourself be desirable.
Rebecca studied her for a second, a thought on the tip of her tongue.
You really think- said Rebecca, stopping short and second guessing herself. Im too
old for such things
Youre never too old to be young, replied Terry, knowingly.
Down below, the lobby door banged open with a clatter, and Sol could be heard cursing
under his breath, intruding on their moment. Rebecca grew flustered and began to physically
steer Terry toward the hallway.
Youd better hurry along, dear, said Rebecca, Before the letch comes back and
monopolizes more of your time.
Just as long as you monopolize his tonight, replied Terry, over her shoulder, playfully
struggling against Rebeccas thrusts.
Well, said Rebecca, at last, well just have to see what happens, dear.
Good night, Rebecca.
Good night, dear.
Terry walked down the hallway toward her apartment and Rebecca watched after her, as
though she were something precious. Sol cursed on the stairwell and Rebecca glanced down
expectantly, comforted by the sound of Terrys keys jingling. Rebecca turned to grab a second
glance at Terry, but she had vanished.
Obviously inside her comfortable apartment, thought Rebecca, bless her.
Sol puffed as he made it to the third landing laden with grocery bags.
One more trip ought to do it, Rebecca.
That will be fine, dear. Hurry and Ill begin making dinner.
Fine, fine.
Sol passed the bags on to Rebecca, who took them with surprising strength and he turned
to head back down the stairs, and into the snow. On the second floor landing, he nearly collided
with a rushing Terry Lyons. She was dressed in a red sweater and jeans with thick socks
protruding from her tennis shoes and her hair was down.
Oh, sorry Sol. said Terry, recognizing the shock in his face. Are you alright?
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Im fine, replied Sol, Im fine. My hearts strong as a horse.

Well, thats good to know.
Did you forget something?
No, said Terry, curious. Why?
I- began Sol, then thought better of it. Nothing.
Forget it. Id better get the rest of the groceries out of the car before someone steals it.
You know how Rebecca gets.
Oh, said Terry, her eyes alight. Tell Rebecca I said hello. I do enjoy talking to her.
Sol looked at Terry for a long moment, and finally stammered
I will, said Sol at last.
Thanks Sol, sang Terry, kissing him on the cheek.
Youre a dear.
With that, Terry hurried up the stairs and disappeared at the third landing. Sol looked
after her, half expecting her to reappear. When she did not, he turned and walked down the steps,
a little worried for Terry.
That was odd, thought Sol. And wasnt she wearing a different coat and pants?
Sol shook it off as a lapse of old age setting in, as confusion transformed into the reality
that he was not a young man anymore. With a heavy sigh, Sol made his way down to the car to
fetch the rest of the groceries. Trudging out in the snow, he tightened his coats belt around him
and found the trunk of the car still open. He buried his head in the trunk and grasped at the bags,
hefting them up and struggled with his elbow to close the trunk. It was a juggling act he was
losing when a familiar gloved hand grasped the trunk and closed it. Sol blinked in the falling
snow to see the beautiful features of Terry Lyons dressed in warm winter clothes and snow
boots. The colorful clothing was matted with snow as if she had been walking for hours.
I hope you dont mind, said Terry looking thoughtful.
It looked like you could use a hand.
You wont hear me complaining, pretty lady.
Youre such a flirt, reprimanded Terry playfully. But dont let Rebecca hear you
talking like that. Shes such a sweet woman.
Im smart enough to keep such things to myself, thank you very much.
Rebeccas right about you. You are a playboy.
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She said that?

All the time.
Do you need help with these bags?
I think I got it, thank you, dear.
Just then, one of the bags tore and the milk fell out of the plastic bag onto the snowcovered asphalt. Terry quickly retrieved it and smiled.
Just a little help, then?
Oh, contemplated Sol for a moment, and then resigned himself to the company.
Alright.
Terry smiled warmly and took a bag from Sol and led him toward the building.
So, how are you?
Oh, said Sol, patting his chest, strong as an ox.
I have no doubt. replied Terry playfully.
So, I see you decided to enjoy the weather with some warm clothes like I told you.
I always wear this when I walk to work.
I thought you took the train.
Sol, I work down at Costco.
Sol blinked, slightly confused.
In management?
God, I wish. I fold clothes and do boxing in the evenings.
Sol looked pitiably on Terry, never realizing the hardship she lingered in.
I didnt know.
Well, we all do what we can.
How can you afford your apartment on a Costco salary?
Oh, sang Terry with a warm smile, as though it not really a problem, I get by.
Youd think youd live somewhere more in your means.
Sol, pouted Terry, I could take it to mean you dont want my company.
Walking alone with a beautiful woman, if youll excuse me saying, I dont have a
problem with you at all.
Thats sweet, said Terry, and she kissed Sol on the cheek.

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Inside she pulled off her knit cap to reveal cornrows pulled back into a ponytail. Sol was
amazed.
Isnt that a tricky hairstyle to have?
I dont follow you.
Doesnt something like that take a while to do?
Oh, the cornrows? Yeah, it takes a full evening to put together, but it keeps my hair out
of my eyes, and I think it looks pretty. What do you think?
I find you breathtaking however you wear your hair.
Sol, you keep talking like that, youre going to get into trouble.
I wouldnt see it as trouble, winked Sol.
When they reached the third landing, Terry passed the milk and bag back to Sol.
You have it from here, I take it?
I do. replied Sol, politely. And thank you for your help back there.
Its no problem, replied Terry, Oh, and do say hi to Rebecca, will you?
I will, stammered Sol, utterly perplexed by the notion of her repeating herself as
though each meeting was the first.
Terry waved and turned to walk down the hallway. Sol watched her make her way to her
doorstep and pull out her keys but was distracted by the sound of his wife banging pots in the
kitchen, a silent sign she was impatient for his return. He dared a second glance down the
hallway to see if Terry had inserted the key yet only to find she had vanished.
Apparently already in her cozy apartment.
Sol was just about to enter his apartment when the clatter of stiletto heels on the steps
alerted him to someones presence close behind him. He turned in time to see Terry
Lyons grunting up the steps. Her long coat had come open revealing black stockings,
thigh high black leather boots, a black miniskirt with a top that allowed her cleavage to show
prominently and her hair teased and permed. Sols jaw dropped at the sight of her, as he turned
between her apartment and the vision on the landing, with a double take expression.
Terry stopped dead and glared at Sol with disgust.
What the fuck are you looking at? challenged Terry.
Sol was astonished at her harsh voice and saw nothing but coldness in her eyes, like she
had seen and done everything before.
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Pervert. she spat.

Sol stood aghast as Terry walked past him, a swish of her hips as her backside butted him
out of the way and he watched her proceed down the hall to her apartment.
Sol turned to look for Rebecca, and when he turned back, Terry had vanished.
A cold sweat broke out all over his body, and he went lightheaded. He quickly turned and
entered his apartment, not daring to watch Terry make her way the rest of the way to her
apartment and closed the door as softly as he could for fear he would annoy her and she would
come back, perhaps looking completely different and sent him calling 911 for the men in white
coats to take him away.
Rebecca, said Sol, as he set the milk and bags down on the counter. Im not feeling
well. Im going to lie down.
Rebecca looked up at his frightened eyes and was filled with dread at the sight of him.
Are you alright? she said, nervously.
Im fine, Im fine. assured Sol. I just need a good rest. Thats all.
Ill call Doctor Lieberman, said Rebecca, and she quickly picked up the phone.
No, answered Sol, no doctors. I just need to shut my eyes a little while. Im fine
dear.
But Sol, begged Rebecca, if you tell me whats the matter-
I said Im fine, woman. snapped Sol, instantly regretting it as his tone took a kinder
tenor. I just need to lie down. I dont want to alarm you. Everythings fine.
If youre sure, replied Rebecca, hesitantly, clearly unsure in Sols self-assessment.
Im sure. reassured Sol.
Alright, then, said Rebecca, Ill make some matzo soup. How does that sound?
It sounds good, dear.
Alright, you lie down, and Ill make dinner for you in bed.
Sol turned to head to the bedroom when he stopped nervously and faced Rebecca.
Rebecca, said Sol, lingering at the kitchen archway,
I dont know what Id do without you.
And Sol took her hand gingerly, looking deep into her eyes with gratitude. Rebeccas
eyes welled up and she smiled, patting the back of his cold sweaty hand.
Lie down, dear, assured Rebecca, Im here.
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Ill just be a minute, said Sol.

Sol clambered into the bedroom and laid down on the firm mattress and shut his eyes.
Hoping that he was not going mad, and at the same time hoping that the visions of Terry were
just a hallucinationhe couldnt bear to think of his neighbor being that troubled. But more he
hoped he was not suffering a heart attack.
He laid in bed, his eyes shut, the cold sweat continuing to drench his shirt and it clung to
his body. He tried to remember being a young man, dealing with stress with deep long breaths.
Little by little, his heart slowed and his breathing grew regular, and he sighed as he drifted off to
sleep.

THE POST
Daniel sat at his desk poring over his notebook reading the dossier on Terry Lyons anticipating
his lack of understanding and striving to correct any problems digesting the text to greater
facilitate his formulation of a strategy.
Daniel was running in circles.
McCormack knocked on the door and stood in the open doorway.
Maybe we can help, offered McCormack.
Daniel looked over McCormacks broad shoulders to see Bradley standing easily behind
him. With a gesture toward the seats in front of his desk, McCormack and Bradley filed in and
took their seats, gesturing for him to speak.
Where are the others? inquired Daniel. It was McCormack who answered.
Leonard took Chad and Joseph out for a jog through the neighborhood and the SUV
already picked up Stephen and Josh for their training session in the Detonation Chamber.
Alright, said Daniel, satisfied he did not need to worry about the rest of the team in his
absence. Here we go again. We are looking into one Terry Lyons, callsign Avatar:
[Rank: Special
ANCHOR].

Operations

Covert

Operations-Beta

Status

BLUE

The bureau has calculated over twenty-seven aliases, all of them using the same social
security number and bank account. All of the checks are deposited into the bank account, and-

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Daniel glanced down at his notebook and scrolled through a few pages, his brow
furrowed. Bradley and McCormack sat in silence in wait for Daniel to continue.
When the acceptable amount of silence lapsed, McCormack leaned forward.
And?
And, continued Daniel, thats where things get weird. There are no withdrawals from
any of the cities in any of the states save from the Cambridge Massachusetts branch.
Bradley and McCormack traded a knowing glance and grimly stirred in their chairs. This
did not go unnoticed by Daniel.
Is there anything you can tell me about her? pressed Daniel.
McCormack leaned closer to the desk, pulling his chair closer. Daniel set down his
notebook and leaned into the confidence being offered.
What you have to understand, said McCormack, is Terry was a gifted telekinetic.
Not a bad telepath, either, added Bradley.
But she got pulled off the front line, continued McCormack, for a black box project
and never returned to the front. Her record reads like a ghost. Thats a telling thing. Whatever
she was doing, she was buried deep. Frankly, I dont see how the government let her go.
Perhaps they didnt, mused Bradley, Perhaps she escaped.
If she did, replied McCormack, shes been doing a piss poor job of hiding herself.
McCormack shook his head and leaned back, staring at the dust motes travelling through the air
in the beam of sunlight that broke through the clouds. The intensity of his stare was so total, it
was with a dark tone that he continued. No, something else is going on.
This could just be a dead end, said Daniel in frustration, where shes a victim of
identity theft. Thats what the bureau seems to be thinking, anyway.
But you dont think so, concluded McCormack.
No, replied Daniel, I think shes probably tapped a little deeper into her abilities.
Maybe brainwashing people into thinking shes working for them when shes not. Drawing
paychecks by using her telepathy illegally.
Seems like youve already made your mind up about her, said McCormack, critically.
Daniel met his eyes and shifted in his seat as a wave of shame swept over him.

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Sorry, said Daniel with a self-deprecating scoff, its a bad habit Ive picked up as a
detective. Im trying to see things without jumping to conclusions, but this case just doesnt
make any sense.
Do we have any background on her? said Bradley.
Shes divorced, replied Daniel, scrolling through his notebook. Husband took the kid
and disappeared. No ones seen him since. Wherever he is, hes hid himself well. Ms. Lyons
made several attempts to search for her child through the courts, claiming her daughter was
kidnapped. The courts havent been very accommodating.
Of course, said McCormack, darkly.
So weve got a woman whos a Special, mused Daniel, shes got a grudge. Shes not
going after anybody. All shes doing is making a truckload of money by somehow being at near
thirty places at once, and as far as I can tell, having residence in only the Cambridge area.
So were going to Massachusetts, then? said Bradley.
SUVs waiting outside, said Daniel, We leave in five minutes.
Youll be bringing your duffel bag, I take it? said McCormack snidely.
You have a problem with my wanting to be prepared? challenged Daniel.
Not at all, replied McCormack. Just wondering what it is youre bringing along with
you on these collars.
Daniel eyed McCormack for a moment and then pulled out his duffel bag and opened it,
revealing a flak jacket, two side arms with laser sightings, two tazer guns,

WinVid sunglasses

with targeting systems, an earpiece communications device and a first aid kit.
Happy? said Daniel, sarcastically.
You planning on invading the apartment? said McCormack.
If I have to, replied Daniel, darkly.
Lets just try knocking first, offered McCormack.
I think I can handle this, Tobias. snapped Daniel.
Fine, replied McCormack, coolly, Im just going on record, here.
Duly noted, replied Daniel.
McCormack turned and headed down the hall to his room to change. Five minutes later,
Bradley and McCormack appeared as different as two men in suits could be. McCormack wore a
classic black suit with a thin black tie, while Bradley went for the more stylish suit with a black
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on black fashion statement complemented by a red tie. Daniel clicked his teeth with irritation at
Bradleys choice of apparel.
We ready to walk down the runway, Brad?
Im ready, replied Bradley, coolly.
Good, said Daniel, shooting his cuffs out. Lets go.

ANDREWS WIZARDS HANGAR

The SUV pulled up alongside the Chariot and the doors flew open. Daniel slung his duffel bag
over his shoulder and led McCormack and Bradley toward the transport with determined strides,
as though he were already marching on Lyons front door. McCormack and Bradley traded
uncomfortable glances as they followed in silence. With a hop,
Daniel was inside the cabin of the Chariot and he quickly made his way to the cockpit, where the
same pilot as last time sat nervously at the helm, expecting Daniels disappointment.
You again? snapped Daniel.
Sorry, sir, said the pilot. Ive been assigned to pilot this craft. Im not happy about it
either.
Can you fly like a sane person this time?
The words stung the pilot, and he reddened, tucking his head down and nodding. Daniel
did not care if the pilot was angry or ashamed.
Ill do my best, muttered the pilot.
Good, sang Daniel with a clap of his hands. Ill be in the cabin if you decide to fly
stupid again.
I got a feel for her now, spoke up the pilot, the red in his cheeks spreading across his
forehead. There wont be any more problems with the flight.
Good. Then Ill leave you to it.
Yes sir.
Daniel threw down his duffel bag and sat down next to Bradley and McCormack with a
disgusted look on his face.
Same pilot? surmised McCormack.
Same pilot, replied Daniel, nonplussed.
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I expected as much, said McCormack. Were a Specials team. No one wants to work
with us. With a shrug he added, What can you do?
Daniel kicked the seat across from him for all the good it did, then sat back and locked
his harness. He then pulled his notebook out from his breast pocket and began scrolling through
the pages, quickly becoming engrossed in the files he had read a dozen times, and had all but
committed to memory. He grunted through his nose as he stared at the notebook with disgust.
You seem troubled, said Bradley.
Im just looking over my notes, replied Daniel, Its really unclear how she is
committing fraud because all the jobs report her as hardworking and reliable. Never late.
There are overlapping work schedules, which would make it impossible to be in two
places at once, but her records show she is in two places at once. Or rather, twenty-seven places
at once. At first I was thinking she was hacking human resources databases and inputting her
own personal data, then using her telepathy to convince key people she was working there, but I
dont know
Well have you found a trend in employment? said McCormack.
The jobs are all different, replied Daniel, Bank manager, waitress, DMV clerk, postal
employee, escort, personal assistant to a CEO, personal assistant to a congressman, etc. Each
with a winning letter from the employer.
McCormack nodded in thoughtful silence while Daniel pored through the file looking
helplessly for an explanation that was satisfactory. Finally, he reached over and put his hand on
Daniels shoulder.
There is a possible way she could be in two places at once, said McCormack, at last.
Id hate to think of the ramifications to her psyche in dividing it to micromanage each one but it
is possible, for her.
Daniel blinked.
Go on, he urged.
Bradley knew where McCormack was going with his reasoning and quickly chimed in.
Back in basic, said Bradley, we were put through a battery of tests to push our abilities
further than we had previously conceived. One test was the psi-ball.
A what? stammered Daniel.

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A psi-ball is a construct of pure psionic energy, McCormack explained. It can be

measured, weighed and tested. During basic, we used to try to bring one out into being. It was
hard, frustrating work. But Terry was a natural. While the rest of us could only make a glob, or a
sphere, she could make geometric shapes likenesses of statues she made the statue of David
once, perfectly. There was talk that she could make them take on even greater dimension than
what Ive just described to you. Depth of shape, consistency in form. Color. Its possible she
can create psi-balls that perfectly mimic people. Her ability would be very useful, if shes
developed it to such a degree. Seemingly independent entities.
A psi-ball, said Daniel, in disbelief. But that implies just a ball.
A ball is all the test subjects could ever muster. But Terry, she was different.
McCormack paused and shook his head darkly. Like I said, if shes micromanaging twenty plus
psi-balls and sending them out into the workforce, Id be wary about her state of mind in meeting
her.
Daniel met his gaze and with understanding nudged his duffel bag with his foot.
Thats why I bring the duffel bag, said Daniel.
We might need it, said McCormack, grimly.
Why do you say that? said Daniel, sensing a threat in the air.
Bradley watched them with a growing sense of severity.
As a telekinetic, said McCormack, she is very powerful. If shes mastered the psi-ball
and is able to keep the shape and form coherent enough to pass by unnoticed in the workforce,
with all the eyes watching for any subtle defect, and finding it flawless She would have
exceeded her potential that you have listed in her dossier. We would be walking into a situation
unlike anything any of us have witnessed. I hope Im wrong, on a few levels. But I have to
admit, Im curious to see her progress with the psi-ball.
Curious, parroted Daniel, staring at McCormack.
To see a perfect human construct, continued McCormack, his eyes showing a glint of
wonder. walking around, talking, breathing, thinking Like cloning.
Cloning? parroted Daniel.
If she thinks shes cornered, warned McCormack, she can just dissolve the psi-ball,
and it would be impossible to cover twenty-seven locations in the hopes that you had the right

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one. My suggestion, we take her when she gets home from work. Her psi-balls will be
predictable. They will all go home or fade out of existence.
Youre sure of this? asked Daniel, disbelievingly.
You dont know the strain of making something like a psi-ball, replied McCormack.
The less effort in making one, the better off your psyche. If you are going to make more than
one, then you would be wise to keep their constructs simple. The more you make, the less potent
they becomeunless you push yourself. We are talking about a psi-ball on an entirely different
playing field, though. Mastering one psi-ball is tricky. Twenty plus is a mental breakdown
waiting to happen.
Daniel sat back in his seat and let his notebook rest in his lap as his mind processed this
frightening phenomena To be able to summon a human being out of nothing and send it out to
do the masters bidding. This Terry Lyons could be the single greatest threat Daniel had ever
come across. Daniels mind filled with assassins evaporating into thin air after the commission of
their contracts. A chill travelled down his spine, and he shuddered at the thought of someone
who was truly a one-man army.

LOGAN INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT

The Chariot landed on the tarmac with a slight bounce, before leveling out and touching down in
a secluded section of the airport, far removed from the terminals.
Daniel grit his teeth at the bounce and shot a severe look toward the cockpit only to find
the pilot waving back weakly. Daniel traded glances with McCormack and Bradley and with a
shake of his head at the inadequacy of their pilot, picked up his duffel bag and hit the panel that
released the slideaway cabin door which pealed back to reveal three SUVs waiting for them.
McCormack stood looking at the cars and frowned.
You think they were expecting the whole team? asked McCormack.
No, its as I ordered, said Daniel. I wanted a perimeter and surveillance set up on
Lyons residence. Real low key. Just a tap on the phones and cameras on her apartment
window.
So youve thought ahead, said McCormack, with a nod.
This has been in place since yesterday, replied Daniel.
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Daniel stepped off the transport and strode across the tarmac, up to an aging agent from
the bureau.
Agent Rooke? said the agent.
Daniel extended his hand but the agent was not forthcoming.
Agent Rollins, announced the aging man, his jaw set. Im not happy about being here.
I got pulled off a joint task force with ICE to be here. Tell me youre not going to get me into a
long drawn out ordeal so I can get back to my job.
This should be fairly straightforward, replied Daniel, assuredly, then added, Your men
will be standing by in an assist capacity should things go awry.
By things go awry you mean what, exactly? pressed Rollins.
I mean the suspect manages to kill me and my men and attempt to make good her
escape.
Is that likely?
You never know, dealing with Specials.
Specials? snarled Rollins. His lips turned down and his eyes hardened. Tell me youre
not actually going to use my men to track down freaks.
Ill use your men as I see fit, snapped Daniel. And get used to it. Youre mine until I
make the arrest or clear the suspect. Understood?
And Im pointing out that Im a little old for this dance, spat Rollins with a wave of his
hand as though the thought of dealing with Specials were beneath him.
Daniel eyed Rollins with contempt.
But not too old to deal with smugglers and skin traffickers, challenged Daniel.
Thats a thinking game, replied Rollins. Youre talking about a game a little more
physical than my team is trained to handle.
Thats why youre on perimeter and surveillance. Youre not going through the door
with me. This is a Specials situation. My team is trained for it.
Two men? scoffed Rollins, his eyes wide as though McCormack and Bradley were a
joke, his eyes trailed over Bradleys choice of wardrobe and turned up his nose to him for
dressing unprofessionally.
Daniel sensed the problem and stepped forward until he was swimming in Rollins
vision.
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They have Special training, said Daniel, coolly.

More advanced than your Bureau leisure course. Theyre certified for the job at hand.
Youre not.
You wont hear any complaints from me there.
Daniel gestured toward the SUV and Rollins turned, walking around to the drivers side
and climbed into the lead SUV. Daniel led McCormack and Bradley to the SUV and climbed in.
So, said Rollins, what is this Special training you were talking about that you guys
receive that makes you such bad asses you can take on Specials?
We train against Specials in an urban warfare center.
So you guys get paid to fight Specials, huh? mused Rollins. Are these Specials youre
fighting against inmates?
Thats classified, concluded Daniel, hoping Rollins would drop the matter and stop
indirectly offending his teammates.
Sure, sure, said Rollins. But you must come up against some real nasty pieces of
work. What do they look like, anyway? All deformed and beastlike, Ill bet.
Youve never met a Special before have you? said McCormack, a wry smile on his
face.
Why would I be consorting with the likes of them? scoffed Rollins, though he eased up
a little as he looked into the rearview mirror at the professional cut of McCormacks manner.
My job is to track down and arrest criminals, not hang out with them.
I should advise you, said Daniel, warningly, that you have two Specials sitting right
behind you.
Rollins went rigid and cold, as his eyes slowly climbed to the rearview mirror and
scowled at Bradley and McCormack, who scowled right back at him.
We should be there inside fifteen minutes, said Rollins, an edge in his voice, and he
pressed his foot down on the accelerator as hard as the icy conditions would allow.
It was a quiet fifteen minutes. Rollins ground his teeth in annoyance at being a chauffeur
for Specials, and he let them know it with glares into the rearview mirror, as though he expected
to be attacked my McCormack and Bradley at any moment. Rollins took Interstate 90 to Exit 18,
and took Storrow Drive to Monsignor OBrien Highway and took it across the Charles River to
Cambridge. All in all, a quick drive, though the silence lingered and made the drive seem much,
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much longer. Rollins turned onto Binney Street and stopped at 5th Street at a dog park, parking
behind four SUVs and two black vans.
Here we are, Agent Rooke, said Rollins, a cool edge in his voice that clearly screamed
get out of the car!
Daniel chuckled, and grabbed his duffel bag. Daniel stepped out of the SUV and
surveyed the dog park and the street. Elm trees lined the sidewalks of Binney Street and the snow
had taken the consistency of slush in the warming sunlight breaking free from the clouds. Daniel
looked at the conditions favorably and turned serious as he rounded on Rollins, sitting
comfortably in the heated SUV.
Have your men hold the perimeter, commanded Daniel. Each point of escape I want
covered.
What if we got a Special breaking free, mused Rollins, a playful smile starting to twist
into a leer, what then?
Hold your fire until I give the kill order, replied Daniel. Rollins clicked his tongue and
gnawed on his cheek, displeased with his instructions. Thats all, concluded Daniel, and he
closed the door on Rollins.
Realizing he was dismissed, Rollins exited the SUV and walked over to the black vans
signaling the men to meet with him. They gathered in a huddle at a distance from Daniel and
traded moody looks which quickly turned to expressions of shock and trepidation. McCormack
walked up to Daniel, and stood next to him grimly.
You ready for this? inquired McCormack, steeling himself as much as Daniel.
Daniel pulled his duffel bag off, set it on the slush covered ground and opened ithe dug
in, pulling out a taser gun and a Sig 9mm. Bradley watched in horror as Daniel slid a magazine
into the Sig and locked and loaded the weapon. Daniel caught the look of anxiety on Bradleys
face and stowed the Sig into his holster, closing his jacket as he heaved the duffel bag back into
the SUVs passenger seat.
Lets go, said Daniel.
Yes, sir, muttered Bradley.
McCormack and Bradley followed Daniel across the street and into the main lobby for
the complex, shaking the cold off them as they penetrated deeper into the lobby. An elevator
repairman stood in the elevator. He smiled and waved.
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You gentlemen going up? said the repairman cheerily.

Yes, said Daniel.
Step right on, said the repairman with a smile. I just got her working again. What floor
you headed to?
Three, please, said Daniel.
The repairman hit the three button warily and looked up at the ceiling of the cab as
though he could see through it all the way to the third floor.
I hear theres a lot of weird happenings on third floor.
Really? said Daniel, suddenly alert. Like what?
Like tremors. Voices and the like.
Youve heard voices? pressed McCormack.
The repairman looked uncomfortably at Daniel and McCormack. Bradley stood with his
back pressed to the wall of the elevator cab looking forlorn.
No, replied the repairman, as though he wanted to divorce himself from the gossip as
much as possible. I take the people in the building at their word.
The elevator doors opened to the brass three dimly shining in the florescent lighting. The
repairman poked his head out and scanned the floor as though straining to hear a voice. He
turned and smiled at Daniel and the others.
Im just saying, you might want to be careful. Somethings not right on that floor.
Thank you, said Daniel with a smile.
Its probably just ghost stories, offered the repairman, but you never know.
True, said Daniel kindly. Thanks again.
The elevator repairman tapped the lobby button repeatedly, as though he could coax some
speed out of the door and the elevator to get as far away from the third floor as possible, just in
case. Finally the doors closed and Daniel heard the repairman audibly sigh through the doors. He
turned around to face McCormack and Bradley.
You may be right about her abilities increasing, said Daniel, darkly.
McCormack said nothing, he stood like granite. Bradley seemed to be listening to
something. Finally he said: Shes close.
Is she in her apartment? demanded Daniel, his hand slipping unconsciously to the catch
on his holster.
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Yes, replied Bradley. She seems divided. Part of her is aware were here, but the
dominant part of her consciousness is distracted by something.
What? demanded Daniel. What is distracting her?
Bradley focused on the static in the air and seemed to grow distant, removed from them.
Finally a tear fell and Bradley wiped his eyes.
Oh, Terry, stammered Bradley.
What is it?demanded Daniel.
Its what we feared, said Bradley. Shes divided her consciousness into
compartmentalized independent units. Each with a distinct function.
How is Terry? demanded McCormack.
Shes not good, said Bradley, his voice trailing off eerily as he stared off into
nothingness. She doesnt know how bad she is. I dont know how we can solve this. Shes too
unstable. Anything could set her off.
Daniel, said McCormack, Id like to go on record and suggest we come back with the
rest of the team.
Daniel shook his head.
We go, concluded Daniel. If it seems like she wont go quietly, I think we can contain
it between the three of us. If things go south, thats what the guns are for.
Neither Bradley or McCormack were pleased to hear his thoughts and studied him with
grit teeth. Daniel ignored it as he led them down the hallway, fighting the creeping sensation of
unease that seemed to infect him with every step. The closer he got to Lyons apartment door,
the stronger the sense grew as though she were willing people to leave her alone. Daniel
suppressed the shiver travelling down his spine and unbuttoned his jacket, an action that did not
go unnoticed by Bradley, who rushed forward and stopped Daniel.
What are you doing? demanded Bradley.
Stand down, Overman, commanded Daniel.
Thats it? scoffed Bradley. Youre going to go in there gun blazing? Is that how you
intend to lead us?
Brad, soothed McCormack, read him.
You know I cant read him, spat Bradley. You put the block on him yourself.

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Youre a much more talented telepath than me, coaxed McCormack. Go in there and
take a look.
Guys, said Daniel, uncomfortably. Im right here.
Bradley looked deep into Daniels eyes for a long hard momenthis eyes scrutinized
Daniel and the veins in his temples pulsed. Finally Bradley exhaled and pulled back away from
Daniel.
Fine. said Bradley, Sorry, Daniel. I just dont like guns.
My gun is my way of evening the playing field.
Bradley studied him another moment and then pursed his lips.
Fine.
Now if were done here, said Daniel. I believe Terrys door is right over there.
Daniel, McCormack and Bradley stood staring at the door near the turn in the hallway.
They stared at the room number and Daniel checked it with his notebook, seeing clearly the
apartment was indeed 317.
Here we go, said Daniel, taking a trepid step toward the door.
Daniel, offered McCormack, Perhaps if she saw a friendly face?
Daniel studied McCormack and Bradley for a moment, and then stepped back.
Go on, then.
McCormack knocked on the door and stood there in the silence of the hallway listening
to the activity on the other side of the door. The door to 317 embodied everything unknown to an
arresting officer. To Daniel, it was a series of fortifications and barricaded doors. To
McCormack it was a room filled with psi-balls. To Bradley, the door embodied a mere construct
barring a world from seeing pain unendurable.
No one was prepared for what was on the other side.
When the door latch clicked and the door opened, three chins dropped, their mouths
agape at the activity in the apartment.
Terry Lyons stood there in the doorway, an apron tied around her waist looking at
McCormack and Bradley with a pleasantly surprised smile.
Tobias? Brad? she let out a squeal of excitement as she launched herself forward and
hugged them. How are you? How did you find me? What are you doing here?
Hello, Terry, said Bradley, with sad eyes.
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Terry turned and noticed Daniel standing there, waiting patiently.

Im so sorry, said Terry, You must be on the outside looking in with me hogging Toby
and Brad like this. Im Terry.
Daniel Rooke.
Any friend of these guys is a friend of mine, said Terry with an unmistakable comrade
in arms edge in her voice, Come in, come in. You must think me so rude keeping you out in the
hallway.
McCormack and Bradley entered the apartment and Daniel followed politely into the
world of discrete luxury. There was a minimalist quality to the room decorated with Persian rugs
and African fertility idols and African warrior statues carved of dark wood. The leather couch
and chairs were inviting and elegant and with a quick gesture, they made their way toward the
couch. Inside the spacious and elegant apartment, a tall and muscular black man sat on the couch
watching ESPN Highlights while a little girl around three years old drew on papers set on the
floor with crayonsher face screwed up in concentration as she tried to stay in the lines of her
coloring book. The black man rose looking caught off guard, not knowing whether to smile or
fight. He merely stood there and waited for Terry to speak.
Everyone, sang Terry, this is my daughter Nailah, and over there is my beautiful black
husband Dion.
Daniel shook Dions hand, finding it a firm handshake with calloused hands. McCormack
and Bradley stood back looking grim, saying nothing to Dion. Dion did not seem to have an
opinion on the matter of respect and any potential for tension was broken by Terry.
Hes a construction worker, said Terry. There was a note of pride in her voice as if
announcing her husband was a successful architect.
Stop saying it like its something glamorous, said Dion, embarrassed, a note of
annoyance in his voice. I wear a hard hat for a living, and I work in the cold.
You have an important job, soothed Terry. You help bring buildings up. I can be
proud of you.
Dion grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck as if it was the only thing he could do to
keep the loving words from annoying him.
Im going to go wash up, said Dion. Nice meeting you.

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And with a pleasant smile, Dion turned and walked out of the room. Terry turned to
Bradley and McCormack and gave an irritated stare.
You remember Dion, right? asked Terry, wonderingly. From the Message From Home
feeds?
I remember Dion, muttered Bradley sadly.
Well you could have fooled me, scoffed Terry.
Sorry, replied McCormack. Its just odd seeing him here.
I know what you mean, sighed Terry, All those years seeing him on a monitor screen,
and now were together again. Its like a miracle.
A miracle parroted Bradley with a subdued tragic tone in his voice.
Honey, called Dion, is dinner ready?
Yes dear, called Terry, You wash up and Ill set the table.
Were sorry to catch you a dinner, said McCormack, shifting nervously as he surveyed
the room.
No, its alright, said Terry, Ive got plenty of time for old friendsand new ones.
She added, giving a friendly smile to Daniel.
Nailah walked up and tugged on Terrys apron.
Mommy? asked Nailah tentatively, Can I watch TV?
Were about to sit down for dinner, dear, warned Terry, staring dotingly on her little
girl. Are you finished with your ABCs and numbers?
I can count to ten! sang Nailah.
Well lets hear it then.
One, three, two, four, five, seven, nine, ten.
Terry laughed and hugged Nailah, burying her face in her stomach and squeezed
lovingly.
Oh, sang Terry, youre becoming such a big girl. We can work on your numbers later.
Now how about your ABCs?
Nailah began singing the

ABC song with a soft angelic voice, and she dazzled Terry as

she stumbled through the alphabet in a singsong. When Nailah finally stumbled her way to Z,
Terry hugged her again, the proud mother, and Nailah struggled to reach her arms around her tall
260 | P a g e

frame before finally giving up, and being satisfied with hugging her arms. Terry kissed Nailah on
the forehead, and then attacked her cheeks with a flurry of kisses that sent her into mad giggles.
Finally Terry released her and Nailah ran off past Daniel, plopped down and returned to her
drawings.
They grow up so fast, sighed Terry to Daniel.
Yeah, replied Daniel, they do.
Do you have any children of your own, Mr. Rooke?
No maam, replied Daniel, Im still a bachelor at heart.
I envy men, sighed Terry, They can wait forever and start a family in their fifties.
Women, they pass thirty-five, chances are theyve missed their chance to have a child. Im
blessed.
McCormack and Bradley appeared concerned and saddened.
Miss Lyons, began Daniel, if I could ask you a few questions?
Mrs. Greene. corrected Terry. Lyons is my maiden name.
Of course, said Daniel, trading cautious glances with Bradley and McCormack who
met his gaze with sadness.
Mrs. Greene, Ive come here calling because of a discrepancy file held by the
Department of Justice saying you are Currently holding over twenty-seven jobs in three different
states consecutively.
I beg your pardon? replied Terry, surprised, and then chuckled. Im a housewife and a
fulltime mom. I wouldnt know anything about twenty-something jobs.
I see, said Daniel, watching her movements carefully.
Terry wiped her hands on the apron walking along the couch where she stopped and
wheeled around to face him.
Do you suppose someones stolen my social security number?
Thats always possible, replied Daniel, as though considering it when he was really just
leading her to the next question. Sure. Someone must have your information.
Daniel looked around the living room, taking in every detail and decoration, lingering on
the large lithograph of The Kiss by Gustav Klimt.

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Tell me, continued Daniel, how does a construction worker and a stay at home mom
begin to afford a place like this? Youll forgive me, but it is impossible to live in a building like
this without pulling six figures.
Terrys smile left her face for the briefest of instants, only to return with a chill.
My husband provides, answered coolly, as she sat on a comfortable leather chair.
Thats all you need to know.
Tell me, pressed Daniel, how does he provide?
Terry glared at Daniel for a moment, and then looked to McCormack and Bradley for aid.
When she saw none was coming, she quickly returned her attention to Daniel, her eyes
scrutinizing.
Are you a cop? demanded Terry.
I work for the government, answered Daniel, somewhat cryptically.
Terry nodded, calculating her words.
Am I under arrest? she asked, finally.
Not at this time, replied Daniel, assuredly.
Terry crossed her legs and leaned back in her chair.
Then I think its time you left.
Out of the bedroom, Dion came and loomed close to Daniel. He spoke to Terry, but never
took his eyes off Daniel.
Is there a problem, honey? said Dion, coolly.
No problem, Dion, replied Terry, Mr. Rooke was just leaving. Terry then turned and
shot a disgusted look at Bradley. And Bradleys about a step away from leaving as well. Boy,
dont go poking around my head.
Bradley gave a worried glance to McCormack.
Forgive us, Terry, offered McCormack. Were just concerned about you.
Whats to be concerned about? scoffed Terry, Im perfectly fine. Ive got a beautiful
baby, a husband who provides, all I have to do is keep the house tidy. Whats wrong with me
being happy?
Nothing, replied McCormack, But Terryall this? And what about your husband and
daughter.

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What about them? retorted Terry. When McCormack hesitated Terry rose and stood
before them confrontationally.
No, I want to know what youre trying to say!
Terry, said Bradley, tentatively, your husband and daughter are-
What?! demanded Terry, What you got to say? Spit it out, already!
Terry, you must understand this from our perspective, said McCormack, A highly
talented Special with the ability to-
Oh, okay, cut in Terry with a dark chuckle, I see. You think Im using my telepathy
to con people out of money, is that it?
Its a popular notion, replied Daniel, One Ive exercised some thought over. Sure.
Well I dont use it often, admitted Terry with a shrug, Sure I used it to get past the
credit check to get the condo, but Im not using it willy-nilly. Terry then crossed her arms and
glowered at them. And Im no thief.
I never said you were, replied Daniel.
Well tell me what you think I am, Mr. Rooke, spat Terry.
Terry, begged McCormack, were getting off on the wrong foot here.
A long uncomfortable silence stretched out between them and Terry swallowed hard and
lowered her head in apparent shame.
Maybe youre right, replied Terry softly, Maybe Im just reading into things. Why
dont you speak plainly? What do you think is happening?
Well, began Daniel, to discuss that, Id like to ask you a specific question about your
time in the Sol War.
I have no secrets, replied Terry, Though Im sure the government wishes I did. Ask
away.
What is your proficiency with the psi-ball?
Terry blinked, astonished.
What did you say?
What is your aptitude in generating a three dimensional independent construct, said
Daniel, out of pure thought?
I dont know what youre talking about, answered Terry, nervously.

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Really? pressed Daniel, the interrogator inside him taking over. I have witnesses who
tell me youre quite advanced. Id like you to demonstrate your most sophisticated psi-ball for
me, if you please.
Terry wheeled around on McCormack and Bradley.
Is that what youve been telling him?
Terry, please, begged Bradley.
Miss Lyons, began Daniel.
Mrs. Greene, snapped Terry.
Miss Lyons, pressed Daniel, fully aware he was pushing her buttons.
Stop calling me that! demanded Terry.
A chair slid across the room and several idols fell from their positions on the shelves. A
wind seemed to blow from nowhere, sending Nailahs papers and crayons blowing about the
room. Nailah watched with a curious expression on her facelike a cat hunting. McCormack
leaned toward Terry and raised his hands.
Terry, please! demanded McCormack.
Terry turned and stared at McCormack in shock; the papers and crayons fell and rested
where they landed. Nailah continued to stare as though ready to pounce.
You too? said Terry of McCormack.
Were gravely concerned for your state of health, Terry, said McCormack. Please, let
us help you.
But Im perfectly fine, answered Terry, a note of worry in her voice.
No, answered Bradley, youre not.
Terry eyed Bradley as an unwelcome voice.
What do you think is wrong with me? demanded Terry.
McCormack pointed to Dion and Nailah.
That is whats wrong! said McCormack, his words harsh, as though he were describing
a great sacrilege. Terry followed his finger and found Dion and Nailah staring back at her.
My family? asked Terry, slowly.
Your husband, said Bradley as delicately as he could, kidnapped your daughter and
abandoned you over ten years ago.

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Terrys eyes welled up with tears for the briefest of instants before clearing and staring at
Bradley with disbelief.
Well thats just ridiculous, replied Terry, Theyre obviously right there.
Your husband, said McCormack, ran off with Nailah because you were a Special. It
happened during the War. You could do nothing about it. You were on deployment. You dont
remember his last transmission?
Terry stared at McCormack and Bradley as though she had never truly seen them before,
and was horrified by what she saw. For bearing, she turned to Daniel and saw only grave
understanding there. She shook her head and turned to McCormack.
Why are you saying these things to me?
You never heard from them again, answered McCormack.
Terry points to her husband and child.
What do you call that? demanded Terry, Some figment of my imagination? You see
them too. The checks my husband brings home are real enough!
Theyre not real, Miss Lyons, answered Daniel.
Terry welled up with fury in her eyes and the papers began to pick up off the ground and
dance around the room again. McCormack put his hand on Daniels shoulder.
Daniel, please, insisted McCormack. Youre not helping.
My job right now is to get to the truth of the matter, replied Daniel, shaking out of
McCormacks grip.
The truth? snapped Terry, You look more interested in making an arrest, Mr. Rooke.
Or is it Special Agent Rooke?
Agent Rooke is fine, he replied, not willing to give up his position over Terry for the
sake of his intelligence gathering.
Well, Agent Rooke, answered Terry with a cold smile, you should know I dont go
down easy.
Daniel sensed the room shifting as Terry made her position plain, and he couldnt find it
in him to blame her for her stance, since he had been intentionally pushing her buttons since he
had sat down in her apartment. Still, he was not going to let her turn the tables on him, and
decided anger was as good a tactic as any.
Whats that supposed to mean? asked Daniel.
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You really think you can stand up next to me? laughed Terry darkly, Youve sat here
for the past ten minutes looking down your nose on me and my family. You think Im about to
stand for that?
McCormack waved off Daniel and looked into Terrys eyes.
Terry, said McCormack, please.
So youre with him? challenged Terry. Its okay, baby, Im here! said Dion
soothingly, then turned on Bradley. What did you do to her?!
Im sorry, Terry, said Bradley, undeterred. But your daughter is not a baby anymore.
Shed be fourteen, now, wherever she is.
Daniel rose from the floor and joined McCormack and Bradley in watch over Terry.
Terry shook and her eyes grew clear and filled with tears. She looked up at Dion.
Dion, thats enough.
Dion knelt back and sat down next to Terry obediently, not saying a word. Finally, Terry
looked up at Dion and gave a wan smile.
Do you have any idea how much I love you? How much you hurt me?
Dion sat there crying.
I forgive you, said Terry, and she kissed Dion on the cheek.
Terry then turned to Nailah, who rushed into her arms. Terry held her tightly, kissing her
forehead, as though each last kiss could hardly be enough for her. Nailah squeezed her back and
Terry rocked her like an infant, as though she could stay there forever rocking her in her arms.
Finally she kissed her eyelids and bent down to Nailahs ear.
Goodbye, whispered Terry, sweetly as though she were wishing her a good nights
sleep in a crib.
Slowly, light crept in through the window, as the setting sun broke free of the clouds,
bathing the room in warm red hues. Dion and Nailah slowly grew transparent. Terry seemed to
fight the transparency for an instant, resiliently holding onto Nailah, fearing her leaving again.
Finally, with a heavy sigh, Terry looked down and watched as Nailah faded away and the room
grew still. Terry collapsed on the floor weeping.
Daniel, sensing a new calmer personality had risen to the surface, knelt down beside
Terry.
The other psi-balls? asked Daniel.
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Gone, replied Terry darkly.

Are you okay? asked Bradley, helplessly.
No, replied Terry, Im not. I lost my family all over again.
Well, said McCormack, you have something you didnt have before, Terry.
Whats that?
You got the chance to say good-bye.
Yeah, scoffed Terry, to a figment of my imagination.
Sometimes, said McCormack, thats all we have.
I miss them, you know. said Terry.
I know, sighed Bradley, hardly able to contain his grief.
Terry fixed him with a patronized stare.
No, you dont. snapped Terry.
Terry, replied Bradley, I was inside your mind. Believe me, I know.
Terry looked at Bradley and her eyes welled up.
Normally she would have resented the invasion of her privacy, but after watching her
husband and daughter disappear into thin air, all she felt was hollow.
Its funny, said Terry, All the things I wanted to say to them, and all the things I
wanted to do
You took your daughter to the fair. soothed Bradley, You took your husband to the
opera. You took your daughter to the museum. You did everything a mother could do. That was
real. What you felt was real.
Yeah sighed Terry.
Come on. said Daniel at last. Lets get you out of here.
He reached down and took Terrys hand, pulling her to her feet. She moved like an
automaton, rigid and jittery. Terry did not fight the tears. She didnt know if she even knew
how.
Daniel opened the door and Bradley escorted Terry into the hallway filled with
onlookers. For a moment their eyes lockedTerry and her fellow tenantsand her first impulse
was to turn and go back inside, seeking the safety of her apartment.
Bradley held her firm.
Its okay, said Bradley, Im here.
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Terry looked into his eyes and found only empathy. She nodded and took solace in his
arms as he led her through the crowd of lookeyloos and onto the elevator. McCormack turned to
Daniel.
I dont think I care for this run, said McCormack.
No, replied Daniel, Neither do I.
Outside in the dog park, the agents were on high alert, scattered across the park with
shotguns and assault rifles. Terry only half acknowledged them as she stumbled toward the SUV
Daniel directed her to. When Daniel opened the door the hot air from the heater blasted out of
the SUV and mingled with the frigid air outside. Terry clambered up into her seat and Daniel
helped her with the seatbelt.
Youre going to be okay, said Daniel.
Anythings better than this, replied Terry, on the verge of tears again.
The door on the far side opened and an agent climbed in with a shotgun, which he held at
the ready, eyeing Terry as though she were something dangerous. Terry cringed away from the
cold eyes of the agent.
Easy, said Daniel to the agent. Shes not under arrest.
The agent nodded, but did not relax or ease his grip on the shotgun. Instead, he signaled
the others to climb into the van.
Clear! said the agent to the others. I got her.
Terry wheeled around in her seat and peered into Daniels eyes.
Whats going on? demanded Terry, her eyes wide with fright.
Relax, said Daniel. Theyre just scared. Itll be okay once we get you to the
transport.
Thats not exactly so, Agent Rooke, called the voice behind him, belonging to Agent
Rollins. A cold leer on his upturned face.
Whats that supposed to mean? demanded Daniel, coldly.
Well, said Rollins, I didnt like how our last conversation went, so I made some
calls.
An agent walked up to Terry and stabbed her with a syringe in the arm causing Terry to
yelp with pain and alarm. Daniel lunged forward grabbing the agent.
What the hell are you doing?! bellowed Daniel.
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At this, several other agents found their way around the SUV and pointed their shotguns
and rifles at Daniel. Bradley clenched his hands into two fists and eyed the men threateningly.
McCormack put his hand on Bradleys arm, telling him silently to stand down. Bradley
looked helplessly at Terry who slipped out of consciousness, her head rolling back onto the
headrest. Rollins smiled a hideous grin.
Apparently this Specials got a warrant on her, so its a federal matter. said Rollins,
then added coldly, Shes mine. But thanks for doing the footwork for us. All that Special
training sure came in handy.
You havent heard the last of me, said Daniel coolly.
Thats fine, replied Rollins with the broken toothed smile. Im retiring soon anyway.
Lets see what you got.
Rollins slammed the door shut on Terry and slapped the door twice, indicating it was
secure. The SUV peeled out and raced away down Binney Street, turned the corner and vanished.
Daniel turned back to see Rollins climbing into an SUV.
If youll excuse me, said Rollins with a chuckle, I need to get my collar back to
headquarters. Rollins reached down and tossed Daniels duffel bag out the window at him
which Daniel caught. Dont worry. Ive left you a van to drive you back to your transport. Have
a safe flight home.
With that, the SUV pulled off, the sound of laughter echoing in the cold. Behind them, a
van loaded with scanning equipment and cables was all that was left.
Come on, said McCormack. Win some, lose some.
I ever tell you how I hate losing? said Daniel as he climbed into the passengers seat.
Ill make a note of it, said McCormack.
Bradley climbed into the back of the van and shut the doors, taking a seat on a pile of
cables. He looked like a terrible bird perched on a branch, so foul was his mood.
McCormack took a seat next to him at the terminal.
Itll be alright, Brad, said McCormack, soothingly.
No, fumed Bradley, Its not.

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C h a p t e r

1 4:

B r o w n s v i l l e

BROOKLYN, NEW YORK

aheim Washington darted through the Tilden House I building lobby, and burst out
into the winter night air in a daze. He had run down the stairs, hurtling entire flights at
a time, just in the hopes he could outrun her. He didnt know how she was doing it,

but he knew his friends were being murdered, listening to the distant screams emanating from the
elevator shaft.
He told them not to use the elevator. It was unreliable and slow, sometimes opening on
the same floor after a minutes wait. But he was sure of one thing. He was the sole survivor.
As long as he kept moving.
Thoughts raced through his head so fast he hardly had time to filter them: How was she
doing this?...What was that thing she was carrying?
The answers were not forthcoming.
She was a force of nature. Unstoppable. She entered the apartment with cold authority,
glaring at everyone with a fury that sat oddly on such a beautiful young face. She had been fun
the night they found her and invited her back to their apartment, and she was beautiful, even
when they forced her down and beat her unconscious.
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Raheim remembered how the lights in the apartment blew out with a shower of sparks
when the final blow fell. And how they laughed that ghosts were trying to protect her from their
carnal urges. It did not matter. She was claimed by them again and again in the dark. No impulse
of compassion or ethics interfered with their plans to climax inside her, or their plans to turn her
out and put her to work.
Christine was going through the process called Breaking the Bitchwhere the men who
would be her pimps beat and raped her for hours to teach her she cannot stand against them, and
the only safe place to be was firmly under them, working for them, bringing the money home at
the end of her tricks.
This was the Christine he met a month ago; the one who disappeared in a car and
vanished into the night leaving them furious that their money-ticket had vanished on them. But
the anger didnt last long. They would catch up to her eventually. And there were other younger
girls to train. Such was the world of pimping.
So why did they laugh at her when she appeared at their door that night carrying that
heavy metal rod? What was so funny about it?
Raheim did not think it was funny. He was angry with Christine for escaping them. But
he was not the first to his feet to discipline her. The others pounced on her. Eight able bodied
men charging this petite little girl of no more than sixteena frightening spectacle to behold as
they clenched their fists and prepared to rain blows down upon her. But Raheim was glad he had
not charged herbecause as they neared her, she lifted the rod, pointed it at them and smiled.
There was a flash of lightno, lightningand Marshawn and Darrell fell to the ground
and did not stir.
She wheeled the rod above her head and again the lightning flashed in the apartment, and
the lights went out. There in the blackness, and his friends screamed: Shes got a gat!
And then there was the running, bowling her over and escaping out into the hallway,
racing toward the elevator.
Raheim called to them to take the stairs, but they piled into the elevator, and Raheim
heard them pounding the lobby button repeatedly, as fast as his heartbeat, as he raced down the
steps, tripping, falling, rolling to his feet, racing again, faster. Their screams in the elevator shaft
echoed in the lobby, and Raheim was grateful that the icy winter wind in his ears cut out their
cries.
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Raheim darted toward Stone Avenue like a deer, and headed north in the direction of
Brownsville Baptist Church. After all, if you had just seen the devil, where would you go?
Tears stung Raheims eyes and he ran with a wild determination to stay alivespurring him on,
faster and faster.
He never looked back to see if she was following him. Of course she was following
himlike in those horror movies where the killer walked determinedly behind their victimit
was only a matter of time before she caught up to him, and he would see the lightning again. He
eventually reached his objective, and stormed the steps of the church, grasping for the door
handle only to find it was locked.
Raheim pulled on the door harder and harder with all his might trying to force the door
open. Finally he gave up and began pounding on the doors, screaming.
When the dark shadow of the archway illuminated he screamed even louder, wheeling
around expecting to see the girl with the lightning, and he fell to his knees prepared to grovel on
the steps of the church for mercy.
The police in the cruiser held the spotlight on him as they stepped out into the cold
staring at the oddity of a young black male dressed in jeans and a tank-top shirt sweating in the
cold. Automatically they assumed Raheim was under the influence of some heavy drug and
called for backup and a paramedic bus to fetch the young man up as they ordered him to walk
toward them slowly.
Raheim was so elated he ran to the police officers with his hands in the air and put his
hands on the hood of their patrol car.
Arrest me! he begged. Please! Dont leave me out here!
The police officers traded incredulous looks and, as a precaution, called for more backup.
The Chariot blazed across the nighttime sky leaving a white trail of vapor in its wake that
spiraled back for miles behind them like a comets tail. Inside the cabin the mood was grim.
Daniel sat in his seat gloomily, his harness locking him safely in place. McCormack finally
broke the silence offering a question that he already knew the answer to, but merely wanted to
get Daniel out of his silent funk.
You doing okay, there? asked McCormack, feelingly.
I just got outmaneuvered by a flatfoot Fed. Scoffed Daniel. No, Im not happy.

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Take it easy. soothed McCormack. Terry will be fine. Once Boatman hears about the
interference we received tonight, hell have the Deputy Director of the Bureau breaking out in a
rash.
Besides, said Bradley supportively, they cant hold her. They dont have the means to
hold a Special. We do.
They could just keep her drugged indefinitely, replied Daniel, bluntly.
McCormack and Bradley grew quiet and nodded. It was certainly an option for agents
who were terrified about what they were dealing with.
Daniel dwelled on the problem with the Bureau and felt the weight of office pressing
down on his shoulders.
Just then, the intercom cracked open and the pilots voice rang in the hold.
Agent Rooke, chimed the pilot, trying to be brave in light of the verbal reaming he had
received earlier from Daniel. Ive got a call for you from Director Boatman.
Daniel undid his harness and walked over to the terminal built into the hold.
Put him through. said Daniel and waited a moment until he heard the steady breathing
on the other end of the line and Boatmans face flooded into view on the screen. Daniels jaw set
as he opened communications to Boatman to meet the old mans grim expression.
Youve heard about what happened in Boston, I assume? surmised Daniel.
That can wait. answered Boatman as though trying to clean his palate of a bad taste.
Theres a situation brewing in New York. Ill need you to reroute and handle it. Its local
jurisdiction at the moment, so I think youll have an easier time than against a Special agent.
Warily, Daniels business mindset drifted into the forefront, taking over his thought
process that had only a moment ago been overwhelmed with his self-doubt and frustrations. All
that was gone in that instant when Boatman dismissed Terry Lyons as a distraction to some
greater crisis. He did not entirely know Boatman that well, but he knew him enough to know he
did not discard those who served under him so lightly.
Whats the situation?
Apparently there are two Specials tearing through Brooklyn. replied Boatman. There
is a body count. Four survivors have stated that a young black woman is electrocuting people at
random. I dont buy it, but thats the word from the NYPD in Brownsville District.
Brownsville? repeated Daniel, surprised.
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Boatman shot him a knowing smile.

Do you feel like going home? said Boatman, wryly.
Well reroute now, responded Daniel, Send us what youve got on our notebooks.
Already sent.
Just then, Daniels notebook pinged and illuminated as he pulled it from his breast pocket
and read the police report update feed pertaining to the murderous potential Special:

//73rd Precinct report: //SPECIALS ALERT\\ Two possible Specials have

been sighted chasing down men and attacking them with phenomenon
described as lightning. Victims are known gang members of Jonas
Pimps IN CUSTODY: Raheim Finesse Washington, 22, CRITICAL
CONDITION: Darrell Breaker Jones, 24, STABLE CONDITION:
Marshawn Popcorn Goodings, 19. DECEASED: Mike Bone Owens, 37,
DECEASED: David King David King, 33, DECEASED: Lorenzo Enzo
Thomas 39, DECEASED: Jaleel Godzilla Walker, 28. Attack occurred on
the 8th floor of Tilden House I at Stoner Avenue and Dumont Avenue
beginning in apartment 832 at approximately 8:18pm. Raheim Washington
was taken into custody at Brownsville Baptist Church on Stoner Avenue.
At 8:23 pm, Officer Cruise and Bolton found Raheim Finesse
Washington at Brownsville Baptist Church attempting to gain entry. Upon
questioning, Washington confessed to multiple counts of rape, solicitation
and human trafficking in order to facilitate being arrested for protection
against a possible rape victim with the ability to fire bolts of lightning.
Please Advise: Due to the fact that this is most likely a SPECIALS matter,
does local PD have the ability to investigate and make arrest? Be
Advised: This is a suspect in 73rd Precinct jurisdiction. Continue
investigation. Suspect description as follows: Black female approximately
16 years of age, 55, 115 lbs. Dressed in black pants and a black hoodie
carrying a metal rod/rifle. Possibly SYNKR-22...No other report at this
time\\
Daniel finished reading the report and looked up at the viewscreen. Boatman sat there
with his hands folded waiting patiently.
Lawrence, said Daniel, get in contact with the 73rd Precinct Senior Officer and
explain to him Federal assistance in en route.
Already done, replied Boatman, Dont waste time landing at La Guardia and driving
in. Just land at the Tilden Houses projects.
Understood.
Im uploading coordinates now.
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Incoming Coordinates, said the pilot, 403948North 735426West. Strap

yourselves in, we land in five minutes.
Just then, the hull shook and nearly unseated Daniel.
Just watch those bumps, scolded Daniel.
Yes, sir, muttered the pilot.

TILD EN H O U S ES B ro o k lyn , N .Y .
The public housing project was a federally subsidized district comprised of a typically lowincome community and stood as a series of eight separate sixteen-story buildings on a superblock
of land with a wide open tree dotted space between the structures, like an urban forest equipped
with concrete walkways cutting that zigzagged through the trees and grass covered expanses.
The area was well lit with security light towers illuminating the shadowed underbellies of
the trees and with the exception of the areas where the lights were shot out, seemed relatively
safe to walk without fear of being mugged in the dark. Unfortunately, the victims would be
mugged in the lightand therefore, worked over much harderor just plain killed, in an effort
to make it impossible for them to make a positive identification of their assailant, to police. The
public housing grounds had lost none of its dangers over the years. It remained the last ditch
between shelter and homelessness and the home of gangsters and dealers.
Still, many families dwelled here, and they stared out their windows to watch the patrol
cars drive onto the grounds, casting their lights to the trees and the buildings, waking the
sparrows I the trees that confusedly began to chirp as though it were daylight as the police
converged on Building I. Outside the lobby to Building I, a crowd had converged, filled with
lookeyloos and those suspicious of police activity in their neighborhood.
Their eyes were wary and cold, as the police pushed their way through the crowd, and on
into the building, grumbling at the police state presence in their home, daring themselves to open
hostility when the odd shaped transport interrupted the sky overhead, drawing their attention
from the patrol cars surrounding the lobby doors and the hovering drones that cast spotlights
down on the building and surrounding grounds, in silent watch for any movement. There was a
collective gasp as the transport hovered and angled above.
The Chariot veered hard in a circle above the tree line like a predatory raptor and hung in the air
imposingly before descending to the playground outside Building I.
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Inside the cockpit, the pilot cringed, expecting to be chastised for his aggressive flying.
Daniel said nothing, too tired to complain. Instead, he looked back at McCormack and Bradley
and shrugged.
You ready for this? said Daniel.
Backing up New Yorks finest? said Bradley, dryly. Should be a hoot.
Funny, scoffed Daniel.
Daniel hit the airlock button and the door slid away revealing the playground outside of
Tilden House I.
He hopped down and his shoes bit into the gravel of the playground.
Bradley and McCormack followed at his flanks like enforcers as they approached the
police that cut a swath through the residents to gain purchase in the lobby drawing many stares at
their entrance.
Daniel pulled out his credentials and raised the S.I.T.F badge high over his head like a
torch lighting the way as officers and lookeyloos alike craned their heads to read the credentials
high in the air to see what new intrusion had entered their homes and jurisdiction. He marched
past them all, without a second glance, and hopped onto the elevator with Bradley and
McCormack, squeezing in with the other investigators until it was tight.
The investigator closest to the buttons stood claustrophobically.
What floor? offered the investigator, warily.
Same as you, replied Daniel, and said nothing else.
The investigator nodded uncomfortably while Daniel and the others turned to face the
elevator doors. The elevator was relatively swift, considering the age of the building and the
condition of the elevator, which apparently had not been updated with the building since, at least,
the 1990s. It allowed time to realize how they were probably over the weight limit for the lift,
and every cough was an uncomfortable breeze that the others tried not to breathe in.
When the elevator doors parted again, it was to the relief of everyone inside, breathing
the stale air of the 8th floor as though it were pumped in from the mountain tops, fresh and clear.
Daniel followed the investigators to apartment 832 and found the place buzzing with
activity. Forensic detectives scanned the burn marks on the walls, ceiling and floor with their
notebooks, took samples of burnt carpet and drywall and dusted down every surface.

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Several forensic detectives stopped working to look at Daniel, Bradley and McCormack
and waited nervously to discern whether they were authorized to be on their crime scene.
Daniel stepped forward and produced his credentials.
Agent Daniel Rooke with Specials Investigations, said Daniel. Whos in charge
here?
I am, said a middle-aged man in a long coat. He approached Daniel, his eyes trailing
over the credentials methodically before looking up again. Inspector Lockhart.
Inspector Lockhart, repeated Daniel, committing the name to memory. Ive come to
offer my assistance in arresting and detaining the suspects, if they are indeed Specials.
Lockhart looked Daniel over grimly, and then shrugged, apparently having long-since
grown accustomedas most investigative police officers wereto multiple Federal agencies,
both recognized and obscure, stepping into his caseload and demanding debriefings or outright
commandeering his cases out from under him.
Well, weve got three eye witnesses that claim Special activity, but I dont have a clear
picture yet. It could just be a girl with a gun. burn marks suggest fire. It doesnt smell like
gunpowder, but well run it anyway.
The report said lightning.
Yeah, replied Lockhart, scratching his chin. Weird case. Weve got several shots
fired here, and down the hall on the elevator. We just finished our investigation and cleared the
bodies out of there and now were turning to the apartment with a fine toothed comb.
Yeah, replied Lockhart, scratching his chin. Weird case. Weve got several shots fired
here, and down the hall on the elevator. We just finished our investigation and cleared the bodies
out of there and now were turning to the apartment with a fine toothed comb.
What about the weapon? demanded Daniel. Was it a Shiotani-22?
No, that was left behind in the elevator, replied Lockhart. Weve got prints off the
metal rod, but theres nothing in the database. And judging from the size of the prints, this is
obviously a first offender.
Or someone young enough to evade the draft, offered Bradley.
How old is the suspect? said Daniel.

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We cant get a specific age off the fingerprints, said Lockhart, As I said, theyre not in
our system. But whoever it is, theyre very petite.
Behind them, a young investigator jumped up.
Sir! called the young investigator.
What have you got? said Lockhart.
Weve got fingerprints, said the investigator.
Lets see them, commanded Lockhart calmly.
The forensic detective ran the notebook over the fingerprints and lasers cascaded over the
surface of the door. The notebook blinked and an identification scrolled onto the viewscreen
with the word SPECIAL blaring across it like a threat:

//ROLLEY TYLER-Callsign: Roller [SODEM-Chi STATUS]\\

Bradley blinked.
Roller? gasped Bradley.
Inspector Lockhart looked up at Bradley critically.
You know this man? inquired Lockhart.
Rolley Tyler, McCormack clarified. Special operations and demolitionHe was in
the war with us.
We have a Rolley Tyler who pokes around the precinct from time to time, replied
Lockhart. The dicks all hate him. They say he has a real bad habit of appearing on their crime
scenes. This is the first Ive heard that he was a Special. Whats his ability? If you dont mind
my asking.
A little beyond Olympian strength, said McCormack. Low level invulnerability, and
senses like an animals. Good tracker. Last I heard he was a private investigator.
So he could be working for us? ventured Lockhart.
Or he could be assisting the suspect, countered McCormack. These types are right up
Tylers alley. Hes got a bit of a hero complex.
Do you know the places these Jonas Pimps congregate? demanded Daniel.
Theyve got another place over at the Van Dyke Houses, said Lockhart. Rumor is
thats where they break the girls in. We havent been able to get a warrant on the residence yet.
Daniel grinned as he took out his cell phone.
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You dont have my lawyers, said Daniel.

VAN DYKE HOUSESBROWNSVILLE, BROOKLYN

The project was comprised of 22 buildings occupying a 22 acre plot of land, and the buildings
varied from three to fourteen stories high with over 1,600 apartments housing some 4,300
residents. The public housing projectbuilt back to 1955, showed the utilitarian function of
low-income housing in cold steel, concrete and glasswarmed by the trees and grass the way
Tilden Houses were comforting. But here, there were no lights, save the stars overhead and the
full moon blanketing the dark trees in ethereal luminosity giving the project an eerie glow.
The police cruiserscontributed in force by the addition of officers from the 65th
Precinctentered the property off Livonia Avenue like two advancing fronts with an
unbelievable show of force, ducking under the trees and rolling over the grass. Behind them,
three Emergency Service Unit armored trucks followed them onto the property completing their
caravan as they glided toward a three story building in the distance, seemingly swallowed by the
larger properties surrounding it.
Like the Ark of the Covenant being carried into battle, the ESU armored trucks gave
comfort to the officers in the cruisers as they crossed an invisible line into what had become to
be known as the literal heart of darkness.
Coming around the edge of a fourteen-story building, the cruiser came to a halt facing a
three-story building.
Daniel stepped out of the cruiser and stared off to the buildings. Bradley and McCormack
stepped out and surveyed the area, prepared for anything.
As the other officers stepped out of their patrol cars, they studied Bradley and
McCormack who stood silently studying their surroundings as though listening to something
only they could hear.
Many of the officers shrugged it off and unsnapped their holsters, checking their side
arms to make sure a round was in the chamber.
Lockharts requisitioned vehicle pulled up onto the lawn just behind the first wave of
police units and he and Daniel climbed out onto the wet grass.
Do we know where were going? said Daniel, unsure what the next move was.
Lockhart circled to the back of the car and opened the trunk, slipping into his NYPD emblazoned
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bulletproof vest. Lockhart pointed directly ahead toward a low three-story building in the
darkness, out and away from the taller buildings on the grounds as he fussed with his Velcro
straps on his body armor.
Were heading right over there, said Lockhart. Top floor.
He then pulled out two pair of binoculars, tossing a battered, pair to Daniel, with a smirk
that told him all he needed to know: the pair he had given to Daniel were the requisitioned pair in
his stake-out kit, while the far more powerful one was his personal set. Lockhart slammed the
door shut and stood next to Daniel, pulling his radio free to begin orchestrating the raid.
Daniel took a look through the battered binoculars and studied the three-story property
for armed guards, sentries and snipers on the rooftop or higher windows, or the more likely pit
bulls or rottweilers roaming the grounds. He switched to night vision. The battery icon flashed,
indicating low charge, and he pursed his lips as he zoomed in on the buildingthe image
growing more pixilated as the view of the building tightenedslightly annoying him.
Daniel ignored his annoyance at the NYPD binoculars, focusing on the task before them.
How much of this building is controlled by the gang? inquired Daniel.
All of it, replied Lockhart as though the question was surprising to him coming from
Daniel. Theyll be running the girls out as we run in.
Daniel looked over at Lockhart and grinned.
Why dont we kill two birds with one stone? said Daniel and he and Lockhart turned to
look back at the armored trucks.
From the back and sides of the armored trucks, Emergency Service Unit personnel exited
in riot gearwith Special operations modified riflesdonning their helmets and lowering the
visors over their masked faces. Out of the trucks, trained attack dogs hopped down and barked
with anticipation of the chase, seemingly giddy to be a part of the operation. Their masters held
onto the leashes, and periodically gave sudden yanks, pulling the dogs back into focus for the job
at hand.
Thats why I brought ESU, said Lockhart with a grin.
Daniel chuckled and returned to the view from his battered binoculars.
Lets go get em, said Daniel.
ESU teams, said Lockhart over the radio, move out.

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The ESU teams moved across the lawn converging on the three-story apartment
buildingtheir assault rifles pointed ahead of them as they quickstepped in a crouched position.
Inside the building, a window flew open and a man appeared waving to the ESU officers.
Hurry up! he called frantically, Hes here!
The ESU came to a halt at once and the radio cracked to life.
Inspector, said the ESU commander over the radio, weve got a situation, here.
I see it, replied Lockhart.
Just then, a drone came low into a static position overhead and illuminated the building
with spotlights that dazzled the project as though the noonday sun had made its appearance in the
night, casting shadows at odd angles across the lawns. The man in the window was dazed and
hid his eyes in the glare of the drones spotlight.
Lockhart glanced over at Daniel, who nodded the go-ahead and he returned to his
radio.
Move in, said Lockhart, Proceed with caution.
The ESU unit converged at the exits, pressed in on all four emergency exits at once, like
a swarm of invading ants, and disappeared into the building. Daniel watched as window by
window, the flashlights attached to ESU teams rifles illuminated window after window to the
screams of the inhabitants.
We call this shaking the hornets nest, said Lockhart with a wry smile.
Been there, replied Daniel, done that.
Lockhart looked away from his binoculars and stared sideways at Daniel.
How do you get into your line of work, inquired Lockhart, the curiosity about Daniel
seeming too much for him to take any longer, If you dont mind my asking?
Daniel kept his eyes on the building before him, staring patiently through his binoculars
for signs of contact.

He was not ignoring Lockhart, merely weighing his words to best

encapsulate how he got here.

Honestly? Daniel finally said, You get tapped on the shoulder by the boogey man and
you dont flinch.
Lockhart gave him an appraising look and turned back to the building, looking through
his binoculars.
Weve got something, cracked the radio.
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Freeze! cracked the radio, as though it were necessary as they could plainly hear the
commands echoing across the lawn. Get down! Get down! Dont fucking move!
What have you got? demanded Lockhart into the radio.
Hold for verification, clicked the radio. Confirm: We have one of the
suspectsRolley Tyler.
And the girl? demanded Lockhart.
There are plenty of girls in the building who fit the description. Young black girls, all of
them. Well run them all through the database and see what falls out.
Understood. said Lockhart. Bring out Tyler. Then added to Daniel, Now maybe
well get some answers.
Rolley Tyler was led out of the building in handcuffs. He was a tall muscular man,
standing at six feet four inches, and weighing easily two hundred seventy pounds of muscle. His
arms were so massive, his hands had to be cuffed in front of him.
Three ESU team members followed Tyler with their weapons trained on his head.
Despite this, Tyler appeared to be untroubled by his predicament and strolled along toward
Daniel, verging ever closer to where he stood.
You must be the man to talk to, said Tyler. Wheres Paladin and Maximus? I can smell them
on you.
Bradley and McCormack stepped out of the shadows, Bradley walking up to Daniels
side, while McCormack lingered at the edge of the darkness, watching.
Hello, Roller, said Bradley.
Long time no see, replied Tyler with a grin.
What are you doing here? demanded McCormack.
Personal business, replied Tyler, dryly.
Does your business involve a girl who shoots bolts of lightning? inquired Daniel.
Maybe, replied Tyler, coolly.
I want her, said Daniel, coolly.
Theres a line around the block for that, replied Tyler. Mostly comprised of Jonas
Pimps and their associates in the project. I gotta say, he added with a grin, the lines been
getting shorter.
What do you know about the deaths at the Tilden Houses? demanded Daniel.
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Only that if Id gotten there first, theyd have suffered a lot more on the way out.
What do you know about the lightning girl? demanded Daniel.
Lightning Girl? scoffed Tyler with a Cheshire grin. Hold on, nowyou make her
sound like a superhero. And added with a chuckle. Lightning GirlI like that
Cut the crap, Rolley, warned McCormack.
Tyler shot a glare of warning at McCormack. He did not flinch from the powerfully built
man.
Daniel quickly stepped in and stepped toward Tyler.
I just got one question for you, said Daniel. Are we dealing with a Special?
Oh, shes a Special, alright, replied Tyler. She came to me for some guidance. I grilled
her for information about what gang branded her and the locations of their associates. Then I
told her Id handle it and left her at my office.
You got a name? pressed Daniel.
Tyler studied Daniel critically.
What do you want with her? asked Tyler evasively.
Shes murdered people, spat Lockhart.
They killed her first, snapped Tyler.
Whats that supposed to mean? demanded Daniel.
What do I mean? spat Tyler and he glowered at Daniel for being so ill informed. Gang
rape. Branding. Turning the girl out onto the street. Shes now HIV positive. Thats what Im
talking about. They killed that poor girl a month ago. Anything that happens tonight is divine
justice. What are you all concerned for? Youre getting the projects cleared of an entire gang of
pimps and drug dealers. The community will sleep a lot better tonight, believe me.
So this is about revenge? concluded Daniel.
This is more than revenge, said Tyler ominously. This is payback.
Whats your involvement in all this, Rolley? said McCormack, suddenly becoming the
principle interrogator.
Tyler considered him for a moment, and then shrugged.
I was hunting down Jonas Pimps, he replied simply. Theyve been running too hard,
and jumping too many girls. Drive down Rockaway or Stoner and you see ten new youngsters

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every week. These punks need to be dealt with, he glared at Lockhart smugly, adding, I dont
see the 73rd doing much.
So youre running around playing superhero, concluded McCormack. What about the
girl?
Im looking for her too, replied Tyler with a shrug, I keep catching the aftermath.
Whats your body count like, tonight, Rolley? pressed McCormack.
I may have roughed up a few, answered Tyler, slyly. Hung the occasional punk over
the balcony
You let anyone drop? pressed McCormack.
Occasionally, grinned Tyler.
Do you know where we can find her before she gets the needle? asked Daniel,
reasserting his position as interrogator.
Tyler looked back at Daniel and studied him.
You going to help her, clarified Tyler, or arrest her?
Both, answered Daniel.
Rolley scoffed as though he expected the answer.
Trust us, Rolley, added McCormack. Were all youve got.
Tyler looked up at McCormack for a moment, and then looked over to Bradley for
confirmation. Bradley nodded his agreement with McCormack and his eyes fell to Daniel with a
scoff.
Man, exclaimed Tyler mulishly. Ive got a community out there. They take care of
me. My meals are all comped everywhere I go in Brownsville, my rent is always free, and then
there are the jobs that pay real well. I make off like a minister round here. Im like the straight
one man A-Team. Lock me up. Ill make bail in an hour. Believe that!
Thats not technically how it works, warned Daniel.
Oh, really? spat Tyler, sensing Daniel was both threatening him and offering him a
line.
Not for Specials, no, continued Daniel, Youve been cushioned from the reality of
being a Special in the rest of the country, so let me fill you in: Youre looking at no bail, an
indeterminate amount of time before you ever see the inside of a courthouse and with your

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actions, today, and no constitutional protection. Words like aggravated assault, attempted
murder, terrorism and kidnapping will haunt you when you finally see a judge.
Tyler sensed Daniel was telling the truth and shifted in his stance.
What do you want? said Tyler at last.
I want her name, answered Daniel.
Tylers eyes grew bloodshot as he looked away at a far away tree broodingly, and grit his
teeth.
Christine, said Tyler at last. Christine Turf.
Lockhart wrote the name down on his notebook and ran through juvenile school records.
Got her. said Lockhart, a note of victory in his voice that faded quickly as he read the
file. Christine Turf: Went missing three months ago. Turned 16 this Sunday. The Posted
missing by her grandmother. Fathers dead. Mothers is Currently in the House of Detention for
drug abuse.
Daniel turned back to Tyler, and his eyes narrowed and bored into him.
I want to know where shes headed, pressed Daniel.
Tyler put his head down and nodded to himself in thought before finally answering.
Theres nowhere left to go, said Tyler at last. Shes headed to the street.
What? said Daniel as the thought of young Christine going public flashed through his
mind: Special Killer Executing Civilians In Cold Blood would run the headline on the eleven
oclock news. By morning, Turf would not be able to get a fair trial anywhere. Pimps would
turn into victims, with loving families mourning their loss, proselytizing to the news networks
audiences of their deceased loved ones good-naturedness, and damning the girl who robbed
them of their joy. Daniel cringed. Mr. Tyler, we are out of time.
Dumont. clarified Tyler. Thats all thats left of Jonas Pimps. The street enforcers.
Shes going after the thugs who kept her working and made sure she didnt run off. The ones
who beat her and strip searched her for money. The ones who kept her working when she was in
too much pain to keep going. The ones who choked her into unconsciousness. The ones who
either gave her AIDS or gave her to the men who did.
Inspector Lockhart, said Daniel, over his shoulder. Get me a bird over Powell Street
and Dumont Avenue. And move your cruisers into the street.

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My men wont engage a known Special, Agent Rooke, warned Lockhart. These are
family men and women. They wont risk their lives against a superhuman.
McCormack stepped forward and put his hand on Daniels shoulder.
Daniel, said McCormack, Put us in, coach. Well bring her home.
Yeah, said Bradley, stepping forward.
They stood resolute before Daniel, and Lockhart cringedat the thought of being
complicit in a battle between Specials in the streets with innocent bystanders everywherehe
considered alternatives, and then snapped to attention.
I can have ESU set up snipers at a quiet distance, though.
Bradley, McCormack and Tyler looked at Lockhart stymied.
Do it, replied Daniel, But give me the frequencies. I want to be in contact with them.
No one fires without my say so.
On it, answered Lockhart, and he turned and walked over to the ESU Commander
standing with his unit by the armored truck.
Daniel turned away from Lockhart and wheeled on Tyler.
Tyler, said Daniel, You want things to go easier for you in court?
Tyler pursed his lips ruefully.
What do you want? he asked, his reality crashing down around him.
You will be placed under the temporary federal standing as an acting law enforcement
agent working in tandem with my offices.
Tyler blinked as the words sunk in and then a wry grin stretched across his face.
So youre assembling a posse? clarified Tyler.
You are the posse, answered Daniel.
Cool, grinned Tyler.
You dont have carte blanche, here, clarified Daniel, You will move in to diffuse this
situation while Law Enforcement personnel move in to make arrests of the pimps on the street
level. You will walk her back to me and I will take her into custody.
Wait, you expect me to hand her over after what shes gone through? scoffed Tyler.
What shes doing is justified.
What shes doing is illegal, clarified Daniel, She will be arrested. But I can spare the
needle. Thats within my power.
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How? demanded Tyler, eyeing Daniel critically.

Daniel reached into his breast pocket and produced his cellular phone.
See this? Daniel held up the phone before Tylers critical eyes. This is my magic
wand. I press send and I can pull wondrous things out of my hat. On that, you can bank.
Really? scoffed Tyler in disbelief, and glared over at Bradley and McCormack for
verification. You got it like that?
Bradley nodded gravely.
He can do it, Rolley. said Bradley.
Tyler glanced at Bradley as if his words were of more weight and credibility than
Daniels was and mulled it over for a long moment, glancing back between him and Daniel.
Alright, haggled Tyler, My, and the girls, freedom for my time and assistance.
Your freedom, concluded Daniel, The girl has to be processed.
Tyler looked as though he had swallowed something foul, and eyed the ground for a
moment before looking back at Daniel. What happens to her? demanded Tyler.
Shell be tried, plead guilty and sentenced within a week, replied Daniel, Then shell
slip through the cracks and disappear into my hands. From there, well place her somewhere
where words like extradition are ridiculed.
By waving your magic phone scoffed Tyler, not entirely convinced.
Thats right, grinned Daniel.
Tyler looked over Daniels shoulder at McCormack.
He really got it like that? challenged Tyler.
He does, replied McCormack.
Tyler studied Daniel with a hard-eyed look of approval.
Looks like you guys are backing the right horse, concluded Tyler.
You have no idea, replied Bradley.
Better to do the devils bidding, said McCormack, than be in his path.
Tyler blinked in surprise and glanced at McCormack, taking in his words and weighing
them carefully.
Ill remember that, replied Tyler.
Do we have an accord? pressed Daniel.

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Yeah, we do. replied Tyler. Youre not expecting me to sign anything in blood, are
you?
Just bring her to me, answered Daniel and gestured to Tyler to step forward. Here, let
me take those cuffs off you.
Tyler gave a sly smile and twisted his wrists, coiling the chain on the cuffs together.
Dont worry about it, said Tyler with a grin. I got this.
With a powerful wrench, the chains shattered and Tyler had free movement and then
reached into his pocket and produced a handcuff key, unlocking the bracelets, letting them fall to
the ground.
McCormack and Bradley gave him disparaging glances as though the display of strength
was wasteful and unnecessary.
Daniel pursed his lips at the destruction of a perfectly good pair of handcuffs and was
impressed by the thought that if a Special did not want to be detained, there was very little that
could be done but fight.
Tyler grinned cockily as though he had made his point with the theatrics and rubbed his
palms together with anticipation.
What next? inquired Tyler.
Daniel turned away to Lockhart who stood in heated conversation with the ESU team
commander.
Lockhart, called Daniel. Well need to acquire undercover surveillance trucks.
Theyre on their way. replied Lockhart.
Daniel turned to face Tyler.
Now we hit the street, said Daniel.

DUMONT AVENUE
A beat up van parked across the street from the Van Dyke Houses, with a clear view of the foot
traffic parading down the avenue. Locked in the back of a beat up and heavily graffitied
undercover surveillance van, Daniel sat with Lockhart, McCormack and Bradley staring at the
viewscreen showing the image of the surrounding area in vivid clarity, documenting and
recording all movement around them, from the pimps standing on the sidewalk, to the prostitutes
walking up and down the street, to the cars creeping slowly down the avenue sorting through the
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flocks of scantily-clad girls fastidiously, as though they were perusing a buffet and were
suddenly picky over which girl they were interested in picking up.
Daniel had seen this many times before, but knowing the girls likely ages was
devastating to his psyche as he saw the same dead expression from face to face. The girls were
young. Far younger than Daniel felt comfortable with and he grit his teeth that he was not a cop
and could do nothing for them.
He was a federal agent working strictly on Specials assignment. He told himself over and
over again his job was Christine TurfThat these under-aged girls being pimped were collateral
damage. Still, it ate at him as he looked into the viewscreen at the scene outside. And still more
girls came out from the Van Dyke housing project to join them on the avenue, walking down the
cold icy street in their high heels and tight form fitting miniskirts with makeup smeared on their
faces like real seasoned painted ladies. The drivers would slow and stop, pick up one of the
girlsthat was what they weregirlsand drive off into the night, sometimes returning within
minutes, while others returned within an hour. The reliability in the turnover was disgusting to
him, and he despised the men, even though many of them had no idea as to these girls true ages,
assuming that these girls werelike some adult film starat least legal age, if not more, and
merely looked young...Still, it ate at him, but he held a far more visceral, vengeful mood for the
others on the street, removed from the girls and the johns...
His real resentment was for the pimps who congregated together along the tree line, just
off the sidewalk, dressed for the cold weather with thick insulated attire, while the girls wore
barely anything at all. The pimps stood there talking and laughing as though they were hanging
out at a nightclub. But business was clearly, always on their mindsOnce in a while one of the
pimps would break off from the group, approach a girl and slap her to get moving and get in a
car, or choke a girl for not giving him the money fast enough, or glancing at another pimp she
did not work for.
Daniel watched all this with a building rage for the pimps, and it took everything inside
him not to throw the back door open, run across the street and beat down the pimps where they
stood.
You have a job to do. You have a job to do. thought Daniel. Your job is the girl. Let
local PD handle these girls and those men
Tyler, said Daniel into the radio, you in position?
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Across the street, Tyler put his finger to his ear.

Im here, cracked the radio. I dont see her.
Stay cool, replied Daniel into the radio, Youre doing fine.
Detective Cummings, here, cracked the radio on ESUs frequency. Weve set up a
birds-eye post at Stone Avenue Branch Library. Got a clean run of the street. If shes coming
out, well see her.
No one shoots without my authorization, clarified Daniel. Confirm?
Confirmed. cracked the radio. Waiting on your authorization.
Outpost two, cracked the radio, set up on the rooftop of Temple Beth-El Church on
Powell Street. Theres a lot of traffic down there.
The girls are out, replied Daniel, needlessly. Keep a lookout for a petite girl dressed in
a black hoodie carrying a metal rod.
Roger that.
Most of the girls on the street were dressed in bright tight clothing with short jackets that
did little to block out the cold. The cars were welcome respites for the freezing girls, and they
literally jumped into the cars that stopped in front of them. It would have been almost comical if
the police detectives werent already keenly aware of their ages.
It was the worst form of heartbreak to watch the cars roll away unmolested by police, for
fear of ruining the sting arranged to capture a rogue Special.
The detectives grit their teeth and searched harder through the streets for the suspect, to
make a quick arrest and then to move on to getting the girls off the streets as quickly as possible.
But as the minutes stretched into an hour, and the streets quieted down as the last of the
girls was taken, the detectives sat helplessly watching the cars come back to drop off the
teenaged girls and raced off into the night. The pimps routinely stepped away from each other,
collected money, disciplined their girls and sent them back out into the street.
Finally, the local PD had a breaking point.
Request permission to photograph license plates and drivers for future investigations?
cracked the radio.
Go for it, sighed Daniel, and he looked away from the traffic to wipe his bleary eyes.
Thank you, groaned the radio.
Just keep your eyes peeled, said Daniel.
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Roger that, chirped the radio, grimly.

Just then, out of the tree line across the street from where the pimps stood, a diminutive
shadowed figure stepped out into the street carrying a steel rod. She was small and petite by
even the young working girls standards, and looked almost foolish as she half supported/half
dragged the metal rod as she crossed the street toward the enforcers.
She pointed the rod at the pimp choking the girl and with a flash of light and a loud crack,
the pimp flew backward smashing through the glass of a bus stop, the girl he chocked had been
caught in the flash as his hand was on her when the lighting struck him, and spasmed on the
sidewalk pathetically.
Instantly, the street came alive as cars peeled out at the sound of the crack and raced
away down Dumont and Powell, squealing around the corner and out of sight, while the girls in
the street began screaming and scattered like rats when the lights were thrown on.
The pimps turned to recognize the new threatinstinctively reaching for their guns
only to be scattered by the second bolt that struck a parked cars tire, bursting the tire at once.
An able-bodied pimp made eye contact with the shadowed figure and his chin dropped as
the figure stepped toward him. He raised his gun and fired aimlessly as he turned and ranas
though the bullets would find her heart by his will alonethe bullets smashed windows,
ricocheted off the asphalt and struck random girls as they raced across the street in a mad rush to
get out of the line of fire.
The figure, undaunted by the bullets flying past her, raced off in the direction of the ablebodied pimp, throwing the rod aside and tearing up Powell Street in hot pursuit of the man.
Thats her, move in! shouted Daniel, Tyler, where are you?!
Im on her! cracked the radio.
Daniel saw Tyler burst into the street and tore down the block after the girl.
The able-bodied pimp, farther down the street, ducked down an alley leading off of
Powell under the watchful eyes of the snipers hidden on the rooftop of Temple Beth-El Church
and Christine followed running full tilt in running shoes, while the pimp stumbled in his flat
bottomed high topsvanity slowing his strides as he slipped on the icy streettrying not to get
them dirty as he ran. He turned and fired again at Christine, who kept running toward him in a
madness.
Outpost two! We got her, cracked the radio. What are your orders?
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Hold your fire! shouted Daniel into the radio. I have an agent in pursuit!
Roger that, we got him. chirped the radio. Black male, roughly six foot five, two
hundred fifty pounds.
Confirmed, replied Daniel. Thats my guy.
Thats Rolley Tyler, chirped the radio in a tone of disbelief, Didnt he get arrested
earlier tonight?
Right now hes working with the Specials Investigations Task Force, replied Daniel
into the radio, Shadow him, nothing more!
Roger that, chirped the radio, Covering.
Daniel wheeled around to face Bradley and McCormack.
Bradley, Tobias, Ill need you down there. said Daniel. No theatrics. We got eyes on
us on this one.
Understood, said McCormack.
Bradley nodded and followed McCormack out of the van, racing across Dumont and
turned up Powell, following Tyler around the corner into the parking lot of Temple Beth-El
Church.
Up ahead, the pimp splashed through a two inch puddle of foul water that guttered the
length of the lot as he raced for a chain link fence separating the parking lot from an adjacent
property leading out to Junius Street. In hot pursuit, Christine pulled her hoodie off and scowled
at the able-bodied pimp, out of breath.
She put her hands on her knees to breathe against the stitch in her chest when she noticed
the pool of water that stretched out down the parking lot to the chain link fence that her quarry
was now scaling. He landed on the other side winded, and supported himself on the chain link
fence, laughing at her, thrilled to be alive.
A smile stretched her face and she took her shoe off and stepped into the puddle. The
cold water lit up and lightning travelled the length of the parking lot to the chain link fence
which found her targethis muscles froze and convulsed as his hands clenched the chain link
fence, his feet in the puddle on the far side. He seemed to bend backward against his will,
threatening to break his own spine in the exertion of muscles not regularly used until finally
Christine took her foot out of the puddle and the pimp collapsed in a heap of steam and a shower
of sparks.
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Tyler raced up to Christine who turned prepared for the fight, though not exactly sure
what she could do without her metal rod.
Damn, girl, said Tyler, Youre a regular live wire!
What are you doing here? said Christine.
You were supposed to wait in my office, reprimanded Tyler.
Yeah, well, I had things to do, scoffed Christine. Im not going to rely on any man.
Im going to get mine.
Yeah, well, you got yours, scoffed Tyler. Look, the cops have this place surrounded.
You killed that man under surveillance. I cant do anything for you.
Just then, McCormack and Bradley ran up and Christines eyes burned white with static.
Its cool! said Tyler. Theyre with me.
You set me up? scoffed Christine, not altogether surprised.
Theyre here to help you, replied Tyler. But you got to go in. They cant help you
unless youre in the books.
Yeah, right. scoffed Christine, disbelievingly.
Miss Turf, said McCormack, We can help you. But youve got to come with us.
Men, spat Christine. You think you can push me around because Im a girl. Turfs
eyes grew white with static and sparks played in her hairthe puddle she stood in bubbledas
she glared at McCormack, adding: But I got skills.
I know you do, said McCormack. Ive been seeing your handiwork all night.
Then you know what I can do, answered Christine defiantly, if you dont let me walk
out of here.
Your ability doesnt work that way and you know it, snapped McCormack. Bluffing
wont help you.
Bluffing? countered Christine. I just killed an entire gang.
Yes, answered McCormack bluntly, but you need to channel your ability. You cant
fire lightning. You need conductivity. Wires. Metal rods. Water. Without that conductivity,
youre powerless. Which is why you ended up getting put out on the street.
Christines jaw locked and she glared at McCormack.
You dont know nothing about me, spat Christine.

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I know you need a lifeline, answered Bradley, You need one badly. Youre
drowning.
Christine studied them nervously, her eyes welling up as she wavered between defiance
and breaking down.
Why should I trust you? asked Christine, her voice quavering.
Because were the best option youve got, answered Bradley.
I just wanna go home, whined Christine.
And in that moment, her age came through. She was not the hardened killer. She was
not the personification of vengeance. She was a child.
We can talk about that, eventually. said McCormack. For now, youre coming with
us.
Am I under arrest? asked Christine.
You have two snipers trained on you, answered McCormack. Local law enforcement
is a death sentence. Theyre afraid of you. Killing you is just easier for them. But if you come
with us, we can protect you. Youll be tried, convicted and sentenced. Then youll come to us.
Christine stood there shaking like a leaf, her eyes widened, dazed.
I cant go home again, can I?
Not now, dear. answered McCormack.
Christines eyes welled up with tears and she collapsed onto the asphalt.
I want my grandma, said Christine, I want my momma.
Trust us, Christine. said Bradley, his own tears welling to the surface as he bent down
and placed his hands on her shoulders.
For some strange reason, the feminist inside her did not object to the touch of this man,
and she held her arms and swayed as she wept. McCormack bent down and offered his hand to
her.
Come on. said McCormack. Itll all be over soon.
Slowly Christine rose from the ground supported by McCormacks hand, Bradleys hands
on her shoulders, squeezing them in support. Tyler watched as they walked away down the
parking lot toward the street.
At the parking lot exit to Powell, a van pulled up hard and the doors burst open as police
officers flooded out, guns drawn, shouting commands. Christine studied them in shock and saw
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the fear in their eyes. Christine pulled against McCormacks hand and retreated back into the
safety of Bradleys arms.
Dont make me go with them, she whispered like a child.
Itll be fine, replied Bradley, kindly. Were going with you.
A second van pulled up hard behind the first van and the back doors flew open as Daniel
hopped out.
Thatll be enough of that, men. said Daniel to the jittery police officers. Stand down.
The officers turned and glared at Daniel who approached Christine. Daniels smile was
sincere.
My name is Daniel Henry Rooke, said Daniel. Youll be coming with me.

C h a p t e r

1 5:
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R e c r u i t i n g

JOINT BASE ANDREWS

hen Daniel stepped out of the Chariot, it was with a wry grin that he pulled out a
long carrying case along with his duffel bag. The trip to Brownsville had been
productive, and far overshadowed the disastrous Cambridge affair, providing him

with a new candidate for the team and the chance to stop by his apartment in Cobble Hill.
Bradley and McCormack offered to stay behind with Christine Turf, to help smooth
things out with the judge, to ensure she was delivered swiftly into their custody.
A small matter, he thought. It should be taken care of in about a week.
The judge would see things their way. As much as he hated using that aspect of his
abilities, Bradley Overman would see to it. McCormack was just there to hold Christines hand
and talk to the judge. Bradley would do all the heavy lifting on this expedition.
Daniel walked across the tarmac and into the waiting SUV with a hop, pulling his gear in
and throwing it into the back seat.
Home, James. said Daniel with a grin.
The ride home was fairly quick, the SUV blaring its lights all the way as it weaved in and
out of traffic like a real emergency was pressing and the overall trip was completed in roughly
twelve minutes. Once the SUV took to traffic streets, the ride was slower. Pedestrians in the
neighborhood had the unpleasant and annoying habit of waiting for the light to turn red and then
walk into the street, defiantly and provokingly glaring at cars as they made their way across the
street.
The flashing lights on the SUV and the blaring of the horn only made them walk more
slowly, or stop entirely to stare down the driver. Once or twice, Daniel fought the impulse to
jump out of the car and pummel a pedestrian who stood there threateningly. There was nothing
to do. Pedestrians still had some rightseven when jaywalking.
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When the SUV finally pulled up to The Post, it was nearly one in the afternoon. Daniel
hopped out and pulled his bags out of the back, turned and walked through the usual crowd of
onlookers as if they werent even there. He had grown accustomed to the neighborhood. So
similar to Bedford-Stuyvesant, it was hard not to read the foot traffic and recognize their hard
looks as an aftereffect of hard lives. The need to check every new face and gauge their strengths
and weaknesses was just an unconscious twitch that everyone in the harder neighborhoods
suffered from.
Daniel made his way into the lobby where no one would follow, held his breath and
entered the elevator. The ride was slow and jerky, and he had to suffer a few inhalations of the
acrid urine scent but finally the elevator doors parted and he stepped out onto the third floor
landing. He walked into the flat to find Leonard at the table with Joshua and Stephen, looking
mutinous. Joseph sat there alone with a grin on his face. Leonard folded his arms and glared at
Daniel, not at all happy.
Did you get what you were looking for? said Leonard.
And then some, replied Daniel with a grin.
I heard we lost Terry, said Leonard.
Daniel paused. He knew he would eventually have to discuss the Cambridge affair, but
he was in good spirits up until now, and did not want to discuss it yet. It still sent a wave of bile
into his mouth.
Yeah, said Daniel, we were outmaneuvered in Boston.
Outmaneuvered. scoffed Leonard. Thats one way of putting it.
How would you like it entered into the record as? snapped Daniel.
Im not talking about a goddamn record, snapped Leonard, Im talking about Terry
Lyons in some Bureau experiment.
Theres nothing that can be done about it now, said Daniel, somberly. I have Boatman
on it, but thats as far as my hand can reach without losing a few fingers.
I can see that, replied Leonard, forgivingly. and Im not blaming you.
Daniel scoffed and gestured to the table full of Specials as if it said something far
different to him.
Then why the huddle? demanded Daniel.
Were feeling a little left out, replied Joshua.
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Three arrests, added Stephen, and were sitting here on our asses.
By the way, added Joseph grinning, thanks for the job.
Dont mention it, said Daniel.
Yeah, Joseph, growled Leonard, Stop mentioning it.
Joseph leaned back and chuckled at the way he annoyed Leonard.
Sure, sure. sang Joseph.
So thats it? pressed Leonard with a wave of his hand, bringing the point back to
Lyons.
Terrys beyond our reach, right now, concluded Daniel. Shell be back with us as soon
as possible.
I dont like it, replied Leonard, folding his arms and flexing his biceps unconsciously.
Your discontent is noted, said Daniel, Is that all?
Whats in the case? inquired Stephen, curiously.
Daniel looked down and grinned, not entirely wanting to reveal what was in the case, for
fear his team would not approve.
Just a little something I intend to implement in future arrests.
Leonard leaned back with a surly expression.
Why do I get the feeling I wont approve of whats in the case?
You might not approve, replied Daniel, I could care less. I need an edge. And since
we all know how you feel about grenades
Leonard studied Daniel critically but said nothing. Then his eyes took in the length of the
case in Daniels grip and his eyes went wide.
Thats not-
Is that all, gentlemen? interrupted Daniel.
No one said anything.
With that, Daniel turned and walked down the corridor to his dorm room and closed the
door. With a half-caring toss, his duffel bag landed on the bed. He set the long case down on the
floor and made to open it when there was a knock at his door. Daniel slid the case under his bed,
making sure it was out of sight.
Not an instant after, Stephen opened the door and peered at the case being slid under the
bed. Daniel pulled the sheets down and the case disappeared under the curtain of the comforter.
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What is it? demanded Daniel.

Phone, said Stephen, annoyed at his reception, and smartly turned and left the room.
Daniel hurried down the hallway to his office and found the door ajar, the phone off the
hook. Daniel pursed his lips. He would have to speak to his people about answering his line.
Agent Rooke, said Daniel.
This is Agent Morrow of the Secret Service, chimed the voice on the other end of the
line. JJRTC GhettoFab reconstruction is complete and ready for use by your agency.
Thats excellent news, replied Daniel, pleased to hear something good for a change.
You also have a bill of eighty-thousand, nine-hundred fifty-three dollars for repair and
redesign of the GhettoFab. continued Agent Morrow in the same friendly voice as though the
money was of no real consequence to Daniel. Then added, To whom should I contact about
payment?
What?! exclaimed Daniel, clutching the phone tightly.
The GhettoFab was partially destroyed with foundation damage occurring throughout
73% of the overall structures, continued Agent Morrow with a perfunctory politeness in his
tone, Very little of the original frame could be left standing and the foundation had to be ripped
up and re-laid.
We didnt do that to the structure, stammered Daniel.
We have video footage of one of your operatives punching through a wall, and moments
later three stories imploded due to structural damage to a support column.
Im telling you, youre billing the wrong team.
You do not have one Leonard Stonebreaker on your team? Hes clearly on the video
footage transmitted by your own probes. Should we turn this over to collections?
The team you should be billing is theIll need to talk to my superior.
Understood. Ill turn it over to collections and submit the bill in writing.
Fine.
Would you like to reserve your team for training at the GhettoFab?
Yes.
I can schedule you in for tomorrow at oh-eight-thirty.
Thatll be fine.
Have a nice day, Agent Rooke.
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Daniel hung up the phone and looked over at the wall. Someone had painted an arrow
pointing to a dot in the corner of the office. Daniel instantly recognized the dot as a surveillance
microphone/transmitter. He walked over to the corner and craned his head up to the dot and said
in a clear voice: Boatman, Id like a call from you.
Then its a good thing I came by, said Boatman from the doorway. I see your men
found the bug.
Yeah, I noticed.
So, why dont we get down to business?
By all means, said Daniel, sitting down behind his desk, gesturing toward the seat in
front of the desk. Boatman took the seat and sighed as he sat down facing Daniel. You might
want to start with Lyons.
Boatmans face was long and worn at the mention of Lyons.
She has fallen through the cracks into the Bureaus experimental Specials Unit. A group
of normal men and women, much like yourself, who deal with Specials solely.
That sounds like our team.
No. clarified Boatman. There is a great difference between the two units. For one, you
work with Specials. For them, all Specials are the enemy. And the greatest difference between
your teams is that the Bureaus Specials Unit continues the studies held by Base Camp Gamma
Science/Medical and the Science Medical Division 552nd.
Brutal experiments used to coax out the abilities of the more latent Specials into the
open, with often-disastrous results. Theyve been refining their practices on Specials. Their
agenda with Lyons will be to push her abilities to their limits and see what happens,
documenting everything. Pain means nothing to them. That is where Lyons is. That is where I
am focusing my attention at the moment.
Daniel eyed Boatman critically.
How come Specials Unit didnt make the arrest? probed Daniel. It was a Bureau file
we got handed.
The Specials Unit is not equipped to take down Specials, concluded Boatman. They
let you do the dirty work with every intention of stealing the collar once she was properly
subdued.
So we got used, concluded Daniel.
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Yes. agreed Boatman. And youre right. We need assurances this sort of thing wont
happen again. That is even more important than getting to Lyons.
What do we do?
Let me make a few calls. Loosen up a few doors. It will take some time, so the calls
will have to be enough. As it is, I have a date with Congress. These other agencies making off
with our collars has gone on long enough, dont you agree?
Yes.
Is there anything else on your mind?
Yeah, replied Daniel. We just got a call from the JJRTC. GhettoFabs up and
running.
Good news, said Boatman with a grin.
Followed by bad news. replied Daniel, his smile filled with displeasure. Theyre
billing my team for the destruction and reconstruction of the urban warfare set. Since it was your
team that caused the collapse, I dont want to see the money coming out of my teams funding.
Ah, said Boatman, rising to his feet and stretching his back out. Alright, Ill take care
of it. Have the bill sent to me.
Very good, said Daniel.
And with an uncharacteristic smile, considering their relationship, Boatman left. Daniel
sat back down in his chair and faced his computer terminal. He depressed his thumb on the
security lock and the screen illuminated. Daniel pulled his keyboard to him and began typing.
Open S.I.T.F file, he said to the computer.
The holographic screen blinked and a window blinked open in front of him.
Open new file in this location. Name: Christine Turf.
The screen blinked and filled with data, before Daniel could input anything:

Christine Turf-Designated Callsign: Current [Non-Military Special-Epsilon

Status] Female, 57, 135 lbs. African American. Ability to generate static
electric charges which can be projected through contact with conductive
material [proven examples of this are water and steel rods. PSYCH
REPORT//Turf suffers from posttraumatic stress disorder as a result of
gang rape and psychological conditioning to make her more pliable to
handlers [pimps]. Turfs PTSD has brought about a severe break from the
ability to follow social normsevidence of this is underscored in attached
file PEOPLE OF NEW YORK VS. CHRISTINE TURF public recordsand
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antisocial tendencies. All reports from New York City Psychological

Evaluations points to deep resentment and distrust of any [particularly
male] authority figures. Long-term therapy recommended. PHYSICAL
REPORT// Blood work run on Turfs DNA confirms she is an HIV carrier
further medical examination required to isolate strain and properly
manage. Estimated time since infection is three months. Evidence also
points to HPV infection, with precancerous cells in urine suggesting
advanced strain attacking cervix. Due to cause of PTSD, Turf is unwilling
to allow male OBGYN to examine her further than blood and urine testing.
Requesting female OBGYN. If not treated within the next year, she will
lose the ability to conceive.
He pursed his lips and leaned back from the monitor, wiping his now-reddened
eyes and sighed long and hard.
Poor girl, Daniel breathed.

HOTEL MONACO, WASHINGTON D.C.

The taxi pulled away from the corner of N 8th Street in the Penn Quarter of the District of
Columbia and John Simpson stood next to Paul Hirano, looking around the tree-lined street
feeling quite out of place.
Simpson was in a business suit with his arm in a sling and Paul Hirano, similarly dressed,
stood before the carriageway portal entrance on 8th, with their backs to elegant row houses and
apartments nestled in around their destination, and facedwhat they had been told wasthe
entrance to the Hotel Monaco.
Together, they looked at the almost hidden walkway, seemingly steeped in history, and
felt like they were on the verge of some elite private club entrance.
Were growing old with all this waiting, muttered Paul Hirano.
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I can smell the old money in there from here, muttered Simpson, Guys like me get
arrested just walking down the street around places like this.
Well, we better get inside, then, concluded Hirano, and mused at the clouds overhead.
Besides, it looks like rain.
With that, Hirano stepped into the street and crossed onto the far sidewalk, plunging into
the shadow of the arch overhead and Simpson followed nervously. When he stepped across the
archway and walked through an elegant courtyard and up a stone staircase, it was to fall
backward in time into a neoclassical design atrium, built of marble, patterned on the Roman
Temple of Jupiter, restored to the fullness of the age of Caesar. It was austere and beautiful with
marble, Corinthian columns rising proudly from the second floor to the roof. The richness of the
area seemed to cling to the air and it reminded themthat though they slept not seven miles
from Penn Quarterthey were, indeed, far from home. Hiranos jaw fell in utter awe of the
lavish opulence of the Hotel lobby and fell nervously silent. Looking around, Simpson caught
the questioning glares of the upper classes deciding he did not belong, and grit his teeth. In an
instant, all trepidation fell away, and Simpson stepped forward defiantly onto the marble floor
toward the restaurant, a moment later, followed closely by Hirano who now shuffled in
Simpsons wake.
Inside the restaurant, they stood frozen and took in the room with its sixteen-foot cast
iron ceilings and skylights. The dining room was a lounge area filled with elite Washingtonians
and hotel guests sipping wine and vodka at a modern bar and dramatic dining area set in raised
platforms with the highest tier giving a birds eye view of the kitchen below.

Both men

swallowed hard, looking at the room. There was no way they could afford to even breathe in this
room.
Slowly the two men approached a beautiful hostess who stood by a podium smiling at
them as they approached, Simpson stepped forward and leaned his good hand on the podium.
Were here to see Lesley Ayers, said Simpson, expecting to be told she had never heard
of him. Instead, she smiled warmly.
He is waiting for you. said the hostess. Right this way.
The hostess turned and led Simpson and Hirano through the dining room and up a
staircase. At the far corner of the empty platform, a single man sat sipping a cocktail casually
staring out on the vacant courtyard, which was closed during the winter months.
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He rose with a smile and gestured to Simpson and Paul to come forward. Simpson
recognized Lesley Ayerscallsign Fume at once, and a nervous smile played on his face.
Ayers stood, his warm smile infectious to the recipient.
Good of you to come! said Ayers, and gestured to the seats across from him. Please,
sit down.
Simpson and Paul took their seats across from Ayers, studying him cautiously. The
hostess, oblivious to their standoffishness handed out their menus which Paul and Simpson took
nervously.
Nonsense. My friends will be having the Lunch Special. And then added, And what
would you like to drink?
Simpson took a look around the room and knew he could not afford anything they had to
offer by way of amenities.
Thanks, scoffed Simpson, but I didnt bring my wallet.
A pout played on Ayers mouth as he looked out at Simpson and Paul.
Do you honestly think I would allow my guests to pay?
A silence yawned between them as Simpson studied Ayers coolly. Ayers was a
calculating man, gifted with setting elaborate traps. One could get a headache trying to keep up
with him.
What is he up to? thought Simpson.
Paul Hirano broke the silence with a slap of his thigh.
Well, in that case, said Hirano greedily, Id like a Johnnie Walker Blue Label.
Thats the spirit, exclaimed Ayers brightly.
Water, said Simpson, coolly.
Ayers stood stiffly as though he had been doused with some himself but his smile quickly
returned.
A chaser, Im sure. concluded Ayers, embarrassed. Lets add some Johnnie Walker to
that as well.
Whatever you say, Mr. Ayers. I will inform your waiter.
Ayers slipped her a hundred dollar bill and folded his hands over hers.
As always, my dear.

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The hostess looked down at the hundred in her palm and blinked in astonishment, then
quickly slipped it into her pocket and smiled at Ayers, leaving him with a slight shake of her
hips. Ayers hardly paid any attention as he sat back down and crossed his legs casually. Simpson
and Paul sat there for a moment and then Simpson, to appear respectful, leaned forward.
Thank you for the invite, said Simpson, and looked around the posh restaurant. It
seems youre doing well.
Company benefits, replied Ayers with a grin.
What company you working for? said Simpson, conversationally.
A little startup LLC with big plans. SE Services. You might have heard of us.
SE Services was hardly a startup. It was the biggest security company in the United
States with its own private army of ex-military looking for higher wages and a no-bid deal on
contractsthat freezes out bidding by competitorswith the United States and Mexican, Saudi
and Iraqi governments; along with whispers they could get contracts with Japan, South Korea, El
Salvador and Switzerland.
A little startup chuckled Hirano. I like that.
Well, said Simpson slyly, why dont you hook a brother up?
Well, said Ayers, leaning forward, thats what I called this little meeting for. You
could call me something of a head hunter for this little firm Ive fallen in with.
A head hunter, huh? replied Simpson, fishing, Tell me, what are you looking for?
Specials, of course. replied Ayers, Preferably Specials Ive worked with before.
I see. said Simpson, So, someone like us?
Ayers leaned forward conspiratorially.
Let me pose you with a question, said Ayers, Are you happy with your lot in life?
Simpson shrugged and winced, quickly rubbing his ruined shoulder.
Its a gig, said Simpson.
A fair paying one, Id wager. fished Ayers. One with time off with pay? Medical and
Dental?
Not particularly. said Simpson.
No? pressed Ayers.
We get checked out at a college by interns, said Paul, disgustedly.
And that sling youre wearing, pressed Ayers, youve gotten the best care possible?
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My arm is in a sling because I got shot a week ago. grumbled Simpson, bitterly. Its
stiff and it hurts. The interns tell me Ill always feel some pain and have lost some motor
control.
Its a bullet wound, scoffed Ayers with a chuckle. We were patched up from far worse
in the field.
Tell me about it, replied Simpson, his bile rising in his mouth. These arrogant interns
think its the best job in the world that they did because they did it to the best of their
knowledge.
True, replied Ayers. The interns will learn a lot about dressing and cleaning wounds
from experimenting on you.
I have a staph infection, grumbled Simpson. I gotta go back and get it cleaned again
after this meeting. Simpson looked out the window at the view of the courtyard and found it
ugly, as it came to personify the man who shot him. That asshole
How did you get shot, anyway? inquired Ayers, pointedly. In the course of your
duties?
A training exercise, spat Simpson. I was purposely shot during a training exercise.
Ayers leaned back in his chair, flexing his fingertips together.
Such is to be expected when working for the government, said Ayers. They dont trust
us. They dont like us. They just want us to follow orders and take the meager pittance they offer
us by means of salary. That is where you stand.
Were not standing, said Paul through grit teeth. Were kneeling.
Truer words were never spoken, replied Ayers.
And how would you remedy our situation? said Simpson, bringing Ayers to the point.
Id offer you jobs, replied Ayers.
Simpson and Paul traded glances for a moment, gauging the others surprise and finding
only intrigue at the notion of working in the private sector.
Doing what? said Simpson.
You would do a little of this, a little of that. said Ayers, with a grin. More to the point,
you would assist me in completing and keeping contracts, elevating the standard and status of my
firm through appearance, conduct and overall professionalism.

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So you want us to represent your firm and just look impressive? said Paul, not entirely
trusting Ayers by first impression.
I need people under me, clarified Ayers, who will be able to add that military spit and
polish touch to impress the clients, and that little extra ability to be the perfect protection to my
firms assets.
Youre being rather vague, scoffed Simpson with an irksome jerk of his head, his hand
rubbing his shoulder.
The job is fluid, corrected Ayers, One assignment you will be security, another youll
be the tip of the sword. He paused for a minute and smiled reassuringly at his guests. Think of
it as multiple job distinctions which you would be paid handsomely for taking on.
Handsomely? said Simpson, keenly. You got a price you want to fly by us?
The salary will put your current pay grade to shame, replied Ayers. Some of the
contracts are government, so you will have a pay grade higher than most agencies because you
will be privy to their secrets and non-disclosure agreements are, as you well know, not worth a
damn without incentive. And then there will be the private sector missions dealing far and wide
in the way of purpose for presence and execution of contracts. Youll just have to take it from me
that you will never be bored, and never have to worry about arrests as a result of your actions on
duty. Does that ease your concerns? Or am I still being too vague?
For the right amount of money, replied Paul, well be whatever you need.
I thought that might be the case, smiled Ayers.
So youre just looking for two Specials? said Simpson.
Good Lord, no. exclaimed Ayers, as though the thought was laughable. Im looking to
recruit your entire team. But I am very keen to keep this as close to our original lineup as
possible. However, some of the men on your current team can add the muscle we need to
impress the clients who lack imagination for their needs.
So, you need some thugs, concluded Simpson.
A few would be nice, admitted Ayers, with no shame betraying his smile. But as I
said, you two are what I envision my team to be built around.
Just then, the waiter arrived with their drinks. A silence set over their discussion and they
watched in stillness as the drinks were set down. Sensing he was interrupting, the waiter made a
hasty exit down the stairs. Simpson then leaned forward toward Ayers.
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What would be required of us, said Simpson, exactly?

Ayers mulled over his words and spent a moment formulating his response, flexing his
fingertips together calmly.
The specificity of your requirements would be made clear in the fine print of each
account you are assigned to, and it is uniformly different every time.
I dont offer specifics because, to date, there are none. Just please the assets by
performing your duty within the confines of the legal wording with exceptions to be made and
clarified through our offices. In other words, they cant boss you aroundWe boss you around.
But the pay is considerable, and I assure you, it will override any feeling of
mortification or need for retaliation against the assets, that may arise. You are paid to put up with
the eccentricities of the clients, and your ability to point out their need to read the fine print of
the contract.
Our contracts are very well written, and clearly state what your duties will be. Any
problem with following the stipulations can be remedied with a call to the account manager who
will quickly contact the asset and discuss modification of the contract with a raise of fee for
you.
Hirano and Simpson traded a hungry look at the words raise of fee and silently
communed for a long moment.
Finally, Hirano turned to Ayers.
What about medical?
It is within my means to give you a taste of our medical treatment for employees, said
Ayers shrewdly. I can arrange someone to look at that shoulder within the hour.
Sounds good to me, said Simpson, rubbing his sore shoulder, absentmindedly.
I thought that might, smiled Ayers.

The POST
Daniel sat in his office poring through emails filtered through Homeland Security fitting the
broad speculation of Special Involvement. He stared at the screen so long flipping from one
file to the next his eyes began to ache from the constant glare of the computer screen.
God, he thought, realizing that flipping through emails and X-File documents could
detail the majority of his duties as Specials Investigations Agent In Charge.
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A knock at the door startled him, and blearily he looked up at the ragged expression on
Lawrence Boatmans face.
You got a minute, Rooke?
Just give me a second, he answered.
Daniel fished in his drawer for eye drops, leaned his head back and let the drops burn the
skin of his eyes and bring him to watering. When he turned back to Boatman he was blinking
bloodshot and his tear ducts went on overdrive producing lubrication for his strained eyes.
How can I help you, Lawrence?
I have a problem that is soon to become your problem, and I saw it only fitting to have a
meeting with you to get a firm grip on the problem before it becomesexplosive.
Daniel cocked his head and stared at Boatman thinking okay, not too ominous
Well why dont you lay it out there so I can get a clear view of the battlefield.
Ive had a fewA.W.O.Ls, began Boatman, a trace of a growl in the back of his throat
at that last word, and I thought it best to bring it to your attention, as when these men resurface,
it will fall under your hat to apprehend them.
A.W.O.Ls? blinked Daniel, and then scoffed warily, Im assuming youre talking
about your personal team youve felt necessary to keep in the dark from me?
Boatmans jaw set and his eyes seemed to burn.
That would be the same.
How many? Daniel asked warily.
The entire team! snapped Boatman, irritably. Hirano, Simpson, Kelson, Harris,
Simms, Townsend! All gone.
Daniel felt a lump rise into his throat. A Black Ops team under the heel of Boatman was
a powerful tool.

But free to do as they pleased with military training and a Specials

disenfranchisement?
Daniel understood if they stepped out of line it would fall to him to make the arrest, he
did not need Boatman to remind him, and judging by how poorly they performed in fighting a
simple scrimmage against them, he dreaded the thought of seeing real blood in their eyes. The
only thought that occurred to him was to find out how much training and augmentation they went
through. How much they were holding back during the scrimmage?
So how much was invested in them? ventured Daniel cautiously, his words measured.
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Considerably more than your team in training and team cohesiveness. answered
Boatman shortly. They were the best of the best.
They were also missing a few screws, Daniel scoffed.
Boatmans eyes locked on Daniels.
They acted within their roles.
If you recall, rejoined Daniel, Simpson tried to kill Brad Overman.
That was nothing that could not be remedied with a word from me, replied Boatman
dismissively, adding: and would have been wholly unnecessary if Maximus was working on his
telekinetic shields and not slacking.
Slacking? blinked Daniel in astonishment.
Yes, slacking. snapped Boatman. Dont rely on your team being perfect, Daniel. They
are all taking it easy, with the exception of Giordano, who I will admit, is becoming more
effective in long distance attacks and suppressive firepower. He just might be able to replace
what was lost when you let Meng walk out the door, with enough time and training.
I didnt let anyone walk, snapped Daniel, indignantly.
You didnt go out of your way to keep them on the team, either, did you? replied
Boatman with vinegar.
Daniel stood where he was for an instant and then nodded.
No, admitted Daniel. I didnt.
This is not a reflection on your leadership since then, soothed Boatman, pinching the
ridge of his nose as though putting pressure on an annoying headache between his eyes.
Youve made the correct decisions on how to implement change and have experimented with
arrest methods in the field, learning lessons and seeing problems that would need to be addressed
if we were going to continue with the unit beyond the experimental.
But this team that I have invested in was a challenging fighting force with a military
background. They have successfully been in training and combat for over ten years before I
invested my time and funding in them. Boatman paused and took a breath before continuing.
As an asset they are a force to be reckoned with. As free agents, they can proveproblematic.
Daniel studied Boatman for a long moment drinking in every word and finding it not to
his liking.
Why are you telling me this? asked Daniel.
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Im afraid, said Boatman, they will be on the opposite end of the board before either
of us have reached a point where we are comfortable with an adversary of such magnitude.
You mean our most wanted list? said Daniel.
Your team will need to be prepared for this near inevitability, said Boatman smoothly.
Youve trained against them, and youve lost.
I didnt see it, necessarily, as a loss, replied Daniel, folding his arms indignantly.
Then you werent paying attention! snapped Boatman. Beach taken out by grenades,
Overman taken out by radiation exposure. And all the while, Paladin was absent. Get on your
team and see that they perform. I want you running the GhettoFab in less than five minutes.
None of this ten, twenty minute bullshit Im seeing from you. If you cant run it in five you cant
run it against Specials in the field.
Daniel swallowed hard and nodded his agreement.
Right.
Im not playing around, Daniel. snapped Boatman. These men are dangerous. I am
relying on you to have the Task Force prepared for the eventuality when you run up against
them.
Ill get the Black Ops team on it first thing in the morning, promised Daniel.
See that you do, said Boatman gravely, and he stormed out of the office leaving Daniel
there alone with new problems to occupy his mind.

Daniel sat in his office, breathing deeply for calm, while new nightmares of a new threat to
dominate his task force began to form in his consciousness. Hours ago he had informed Leonard
that the team would be running the GhettoFab in the morning, and they had now stopped their
griping, accepting the inevitable jumping through hoops, kicking in doors, clearing rooms and
floors, taking out targets using their powers or their weapons depending on who was an energy
projector and who was just powerfully built.
Joseph would be the real test in this exercise. He had never run the GhettoFab before. It
would be a test for him to act with a team again, after so long. Each of the men had fallen short
the first time through the GhettoFabthe closest thing to real urban warfare they would get

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before the real thing confronted them when the task force was up and runningand each of the
men had learned the hard way that without teamwork, they were as good as dead.
Now he was listening to the flat grow silent as one by one his team went to bed early
anticipating the early morning exercise. Five minutes for a cul-de-sac. They would be running,
dizzy from turning left and right at neck-breaking paces. And they would be in full gear. Daniel
did not envy the men. But this was something they had to do alone. He was forbidden to
participate by mandate of what a team leaders function was to bark orders and to keep those
orders coming. To watch and be helplessly underutilized.
This was frustrating to Daniel. He was made to move. He was built to be in the action,
not sidelined to a babysitters duty. But that was exactly what he was expected to be. An
Anchor. He sat back in his chair and reclined, shutting his eyes, when a knock interrupted his
brooding.
Daniel turned to the door to see McCormack leaning against the doorframe. The sight of
him standing so casually should not have surprised him in the least, but he was shaken just the
same. He was sure it would take a week before he saw him again. His presence could only
mean his work in New York was completed successfully, and far ahead of schedule.
You look like youre ready to explode, chuckled McCormack.
Wish you could read my thoughts? smiled Daniel.
Not particularly, replied McCormack.
When did you get back?
Just now. replied McCormack. Brads unpacking Turf into Mengs old room, giving
her the rundown before she meets you. McCormack fixed his eyes on Daniels and added, You
want to do this now or tomorrow?
Ill meet her now. said Daniel without a moments hesitation.
You sure? measured McCormack, thoughtfully. You dont look too well.
Yeah well, scoffed Daniel, Boatman just gave me a mouthful of his problems and left
me feeling like it was my fault.
McCormack gave a knowing nod.
Boatman must be on edge.
The edge of a razor blade, from what I gathered.

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Dont worry about him, soothed McCormack. There isnt a plot against him he hasnt
managed to turn against his enemies. Hes just good at it.
Yeah, answered Daniel, well this one might require us to get involved.
Do tell, said McCormack, curiously. Boatmans Black Ops team went rogue today.
Momentarily shell-shocked, McCormack looked as though he were on the verge of
swaying at the news, and then his face was pulled into a mask of determined preparation.
How many of them? he ventured.
The whole team, scoffed Daniel grimly.
McCormack pinched his nose and closed his eyes at the headache that threatened to erupt
at the thought of a rogue Black Ops team in their future.
Not good at all.
Nope.
McCormack released his nose and waved his hand in the air at the inevitable question
that he already knew the answer to: We running the GhettoFab, I take it?
First thing in the morning.
Maybe meeting Turf can wait, decided McCormack.
No better time than the present, shrugged Daniel.
Ill tell Brad. McCormack did not move, or even speak. He did not shout down the
quiet hall or gesture. He just closed his eyes and exhaled. When he opened them again he
smiled, his raised eyebrows and severe eyes seemingly mocking the smile on his lips clearly
demanded Daniel to smile and go easy with Turf. Theyre coming.
Bradley led Christine Turf into the room with a warm smile, encouraging her steps into
the office to face Daniel for the second time in nearly five days. The first time she encountered
him he was hard and cool, but he wrangled in the police officers who were keen on opening fire
on her if she so much as moved wrong. Seeing him standing at his desk, watching her intently,
made her nervous and she clenched her fists and released them alternately as a coping
mechanism with stressful moments. Daniel recognized how nervous she was and an encouraging
smile played at his lips as he gestured to the chair in front of his desk. Christine did not sit. She
stood there next to the chair studying Daniel carefully, as if every word would be measured and
weighed.

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Realizing this was the closest to comfort Christine would allow herself to get in his
presence; Daniel walked around his desk and sat on the edge of his desk, looking at her
unblinking eyes.
So, opened Daniel, unnecessarily for the sake of beginning. I take it youve gone
through quite an experience.
Turf had no idea how to respond to that, so she turned her face to the floor and muttered a
response just as empty as his words.
Yeah. said Christine.
Do you know why youre here? questioned Daniel.
Mr. Overman, began Christine, but corrected herself with a glance at Bradley,
Bradtold me it was for a job.
Well, not yet. corrected Daniel. Youre too young for the kind of work well be doing.
But I can train you and make sure you receive the proper education so you can carry out the
duties my team is mandated to perform. Does that sound interesting to you?
I guess, shrugged Christine, glancing nervously at Bradley. He nodded back to her
encouragingly. I mean, its not like I can go back home, right?
Daniel looked at the fragile girl and the smile slipped from his face as waves of tragic
desperation washed over him. He knew she was just holding on, but he felt that as bitter as the
pill was, it would be better all around if she just swallowed it quickly.
Not now, answered Daniel soberly, no.
Turf seemed to calculate her choices for a quiet, uninterrupted moment and finally
nodded, speaking cautiously.
Well, she muttered, I guess Id rather be here.
This isnt a prison sentence, Christine.
So I can go home?
Daniel watched her grimly.
If you want to go home I can make that happen, replied Daniel soberly, but youd be
facing the same problems you were facing before. Plus, youve been outed as an active Special.
It will follow you on your background check, and make it difficult to continue your education or
to find work, later on.

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Christine wiped tears away, flicking them off her fingertips trying to maintain her
composure.
Cant you make it go away?
Thats not in my power, he replied sadly feeling for the girl. But I can offer you
something better. I can offer you community. A family. I can offer you job security, which
may mean nothing to you now, but out there, youd find it very difficult to find that.
What do I have to do to get back to my family?
Daniel studied her for a long moment and he looked over at the painted arrow on his wall
pointing to the near microscopic bug in his office. A memory of Boatman dictating orders to
unseen technicians as he paced up and down the office made him grin:
Might as well put those lazy bastards to work, he thought, and walked over to the bug
leaning his mouth close to it.
Christines eyes were on him, skeptically watching him as he spoke to the metal dot.
Ill tell you what, he opened, I dont want to come between you and your family.
How about we enroll you in classes here in D.C. and start you out right, and I can write it up
where you take two weekends a month to be with your family.
You can do that? blinked Christine, suddenly hopeful.
Im not sure, replied Daniel honestly, but I can try.
She stared at him for a long hard moment, looking for any tell of a lie. Apparently she
found none. She found no real assurance, but she sensed Daniels words were honest and direct,
and she was grateful for it.
Thank you, she whispered, her eyes involuntarily swimming with tears.
This doesnt have to be a prison sentence, said Bradley nurturingly, It can be a new
start, if youll let it.
I believe you, answered Christine, looking at Brad. I just want my grandma.
Ill make the necessary arrangements to get you enrolled in classes, concluded Daniel,
nodding to Christine.
-And well get you clearance to visit your grandmother, added Bradley, determinedly.
Daniel blinked with annoyance at the promise he had been committed to.
Thank you, whispered Christine like a prayer.
And the promise was set.
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Well, said McCormack before Daniel could explode on Bradley, youve had a long
day. I wont keep you. Why dont you get some rest.
Okay. Christine turned to Bradley who smiled and with a gesture, she followed him out
of the office.
That was nice, said McCormack, smoothing the wrinkles of the conversation out.
You being sarcastic? demanded Daniel.
Just a subtle manipulation with the mention of the background report, but overall you
handled it fine.
Sarcasm muttered Daniel.
Relax, chided McCormack, You got what you wanted. You got a black girl on the
team to add some color to it.
Daniel winced at the way it sounded, the expression token-black springing to mind.
You dont have to put it like that.
Isnt that exactly what you wanted?
A traumatized sixteen year old with posttraumatic stress and HIV? scoffed Daniel and
he shook his head. Hardly.
But its a start, said McCormack, plainly.
Its a start, agreed Daniel.
Its late. said McCormack, lifting off the doorframe, I should go.
Yeah, sighed Daniel. Let me finish up in here and Ill turn in too. Weve got a busy
day tomorrow at the GhettoFab.
Then I will leave you to it. concluded McCormack. See you in the morning, Agent
Rooke.
Daniel listened to his footsteps on the wood floor down the hall and finally a door close
softly. Sitting in silence he heard Christine talking in hushed voices with Bradley. Stephen and
Joshua playing video games raucously. Leonard snoring. Only Chad and McCormack were
silent.
Damn, thought Daniel, Stephen was right. You can hear everything in this place

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C h a p t e r

1 6:

Breaking Mandate

aniel sat in his office glued to the computer, reading reports about suspected Special
activity and pursed his lips as he read the article before him. A house had burned to
the ground in the middle of the night plainly due to the fact that the owners, who had

not paid their heating bill had been warming themselves with a barbecue they kept in the living
room with wood and paper burning.
The locals suspected Special involvement.
What utter nonsense! he thought with an audible scoff.
Okay, he thought. I need a break.

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He rose and cracked his back with a long and thorough stretch, and with a twist for good
measure, squeezed out an extra crack in his hips.
With a long yawn, he turned away from the 150 unseen emails and made his way outside
into the flat. There he was greeted by the welcome sight of Leonard in sweats, stretching. He
was chipper this morning, in deference to his attitude yesterday.
Daniel waved his hand like a white flag, just to be sure. Leonard turned and grinned at
him and cocked his head back toward the remaining members of S.I.T.F, consisting of Chad
Beach, Josh Sung, Stephen Giordano and Joseph Little Bird, all in sweats.
Were going to run down to the reservoir, said Leonard. You coming?
Actually, said Daniel, I was thinking of going down to Charlies for something to
eat.
Sounds good, said Leonard. Maybe well swing by after we work up an appetite.
Sounds good, replied Daniel.
With that, Leonard turned to face the sweats clad file behind him.
Alright! barked Leonard, Come on you loafers, lets get out there!
Leonard led them out of the flat and down the stairsthe sound of their heavy footsteps
creaking on the wooden plank steps on the way down sounded like an army marchingDaniel
stood there until the sound of their footsteps faded into the street and left him alone in silence.
With a hop over the barricade, Daniel followed them down the steps at a leisurely pace,
taking his time down the steps and out into the street. The neighborhood hardly paid him a
second glance. He had become just a side attraction, a passing curiosity; as though the population
of Shepherd Park and Georgia Avenue were saying: Youre still here? He took it all in stride,
and turned south, crossing Quebec Street and making his way past the barbershops and pool
halls.
As Daniel turned the corner to see Charlies Soul Food, he stopped dead in his tracks at
the sight that greeted him. The front of the restaurant was graffitied with the words: Princeton
Place Kings, PPK, and random other tags naming the taggers and people who claim the
territory, including Chris street name, Jonas. A section of window was boarded up with
plywood, easily telling that someone had thrown a rock or brick through the window, or
something far more sinister.

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Daniel felt his blood run cold and then a wave of heat overtook him at the sheer
arrogance of the gangsters who desecrated his favorite restaurant.
Chris, he muttered.
Daniel pushed the door open and entered the dimly lit soul food restaurant feeling grim as
soon as he looked around seeing it empty.
This is all my fault, thought Daniel.
Daniel! came the familiar welcoming voice of Charlie from the darkest corner of the
restaurant. He appeared worn and beaten down though his resilient smile shone through and
almost put Daniel at ease. Almost.
Due to everything Daniel had just seen, the most he could offer Charlie was a wan smile.
Hey, Charlie. moaned Daniel.
Tamika, called Charlie to the kitchen, Daniels here! A cup of coffee, please!
Tamika poked her head out, rolled her eyes and disappeared into the kitchen again,
returning with a mug of coffee, which she set down on the table in front of Daniel with an odd
expression, as though she were torn between conflicting emotions.
Charlie noticed her expression and leaned toward Daniel conspiratorially.
My granddaughters a stubborn one. Wont give an inch even though she wants to.
I dont follow.
Well, considering how you two met shes got a bit of a grudge against you. Now on top
of that, you saved her, and her grand pappy, over hereit would be reasonable for her to express
gratitude, wouldnt you say?
No thanks are necessary, considering all the problems we must have caused by
interfering.
Oh, but thanks are necessary for your assistance. Shes smart enough to know it. And
lets not forget, you saved her from getting turned out, too. She owes you. Even though youll
never hear it from her. Like I saidstubborn.
How are things? said Daniel, anxious to change the subject from expressions of
gratitude for causing more harm than good.
Charlie instantly shifted in his seat, serious and wary, knowing his choosing of words
could affect the mood of the conversation and wanting to choose carefully.
Im surviving, he said at last.
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Daniel knew it must have been rough since he had last been down there, and he nervously
shifted in his seat.
Hey, he began, sorry about last time. I didnt think things would get out of hand like
that.
With that, the youthful spark twinkled in Charlies eyes.
And it doesnt help that you got some black in you. Charlie grinned.
Im sorry? stammered Daniel.
Man, exclaimed Charlie to the heavens, I never seen a white boy as down as you.
You straight old school, too. Stepping to these young turks like you the real deal. And you
deliver. You and your Special friends. Man, I never wouldve known you had so much juice
just by looking at you, but man, you deliver.
Well, Im sorry just the same for bringing it to your doorstep. Hows business?
Slow, he admitted, but quickly blew it off with a dismissive wave of his hand. But we
got cops coming in again. And for some reason the feds have been pouring in here like they
already know the menu, he turned and winked at Daniel, adding: I suppose I got you to thank
for that.
Just a little, he smirked.
Well, thanks. Some business is better than no business.
Itd be a shame if you lost your roots in the neighborhood, though.
Man, exclaimed Charlie, rolling his eyes and puffing up his chest. The neighborhood
aint leaving me. I told you, they call me pops for a reason. Im the one the neighborhood turns
to when they look for sage advice. Im like a big bad voodoo daddy reading fortunes and cards.
They cant get enough of me.
That is until they find out how you do it, chided Daniel.
Well, replied Charlie, smoothly, lets just keep that between us, okay?
Hey, chuckled Daniel, my lips are sealed.
I appreciate that, said Charlie, closing the messy chapter of his ability before Daniel
could make another sleight of hand comment. Charlie then looked around the room as though
looking for eavesdroppers, even though the restaurant was empty, and leaned in conspiratorially
toward Daniel. So, I hear you got yourself a big Indian in your corner, now.
Yeah, chuckled Daniel. Im not surprised youd know about that.
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Shit, replied Charlie with a wave of his hand, a big assed Indian jogging around the
neighborhood with a skinhead, an Asian and a little white boy? That tends to stand out a bit
given our color over here.
I hear you, laughed Daniel, Actually, they should be stopping by for lunch. You
should get to meet Joseph yourself when he comes in.
Joseph, huh? parroted Charlie, scrutinizingly. Not Dog-Barks-At-Morning-Sky or
something like that? But an actual name?
Daniel pursed his lips, somewhat surprised at Charlie.
Lets not get racist, now, he murmured surprisedly.
Youre right. Youre right. Joseph it is, then Charlie sat still nodding sagely for a
moment, until he couldnt take it anymore. Hes not Mormon, is he? Tell me hes not Mormon.
Why, what do you mean?
A man from the plains named Joseph? Nine times out of ten, hes a Mormon.
Fair enough, conceded Daniel. I dont think he has a religion. Hes kind of to himself
in a strange way.
You need any help cracking him? said Charlie with a wily glint in his eyes. Im
always up for some practice.
Hes on my team, said Daniel flatly, Hes off limits. Besides, hes pretty direct. I
dont think youll need your talent with him. Hed probably tell you straight out and then tell
you where you can stick it.
Oh, chuckled Charlie, a sweetheart.
Im just forewarning you.
I can dig it.
Behind them, the entrance door swung open and in walked Chris flanked by two large
thugs. Chris gripped his bandaged right hand and eyed the pair of them like a prize.
So I heard there was a white bitch up in my restaurant, taunted Chris with a cocky grin
in finding Charlie and Danielespecially Danielalone.
Get out of my restaurant, growled Charlie, balling his fists and rising from his chair.
Daniel leaned back in his chair and looked over his shoulder back at Chris, expecting anything.
Dont get it twisted, old man, mocked Chris, This place is mine. You just work here,
but the checks come to me. Starting today. You feel me?
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No, I dont feel you, snapped Charlie, standing firm and tall like a younger man. Get
out of my restaurant and crawl under your rock you little cockroach.
Sit your ass down, old man! retorted Chris, opening his winter coat to reveal the pistol,
the handle-grip now facing to his left, tucked into the elastic of his underwear and pants.
The two thugs laughed at the turn of events, eyeing Charlie cruelly.
Daniel turned even more in his seat, studying Chris as critically as the ten steps between
them, and the lengths to get to him before he could pull the gun from his pants and aim with
surety. Chris then turned to meet Daniels eyes, gloating over the sureness of his superiority to
Daniel without his team in tow.
What about you, white boy? goaded Chris. You got something to say?
Daniel locked eyes with Chris and grit his teeth, disgusted with the man before him, yet
unwilling to race the ten steps to take a life. He had known too many thugs to be rehabilitated by
a prison stretch to want to end a life when all he saw before him was unused potential. Unused,
not wasted. In the end, he merely played the game of words, offering Chris some of his own,
letting him know how dangerous he was and how explosive this conflict could become with a
simple push.
You dont want to see how I roll, son. said Daniel.
Again, the enforcers laughed cruelly, anticipating the eventual beat-down, and Chris
looked from one to the other with mock surprise before leaning closer to Daniel.
Now, see? replied Chris, taking a step closer to Daniel. Thats where youre wrong. I
want to see what you got without your boys backing you up.
Thats a hell of a thing to say, retorted Charlie, when you dont go anywhere without
your boys.
Shut up, old man, snapped Chris, reaching gimplypeople, more often than not, have
a difficult time handling anything with their non-dominant handfor his pistol, before I knock
the napp off you!
Charlie stopped dead in his tracks, and Daniel placed his hand on the old mans shoulder
soothingly, eyeing Chris as though he estimated him as nothing more than a weak man with a
gun to tip the odds in his favor, and with his weapon, lord over those who would otherwise be
superior to him.

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Chris continued to threaten them, the gun in his hand reassuring him and bolstering him
to even greater threats.
I got you, declared Chris, his hand clutching the pistol in his pants, You got nothing!
Your boys aint here to save you, this time. No ones going to help you!
Daniel was determinedly focused on the boy with the gun before him, but was finding
himself increasingly distracted by the nearing sounds through the boarded windows from the
sidewalkThe scuffle of several feet, the shadows that warped and the voices, out of breath and
heavy. One voice commanding the others that he then recognized, and Daniel chuckled.
But thats the thing, see? said Daniel with a grin, Im never alone.
Just then, the door opened and in the doorway appeared Leonard, Chad, Joseph, Stephen
and Josh in sweats just in from a run down to McMillan Reservoir and back. Leonard looked
down at Chris and the two thugs and grinned at the opportunity to beat up a skinhead.
Then Leonard spoke and the two thugs grew instantly wary.
We heard there was a party, said Leonard, eyeing Chris, and decided to come in and
check out the bitches.
Who you calling a bitch, demanded Chris, wheeling around, bitch?
Leonard blew a kiss to Chris, and Chris eyes went wide with rage and with his uninjured
hand, reached for the pistol tucked into the elastic of his underwear.
Daniel rushed up and kicked Chris with his right leg in the back of the knee, driving
Chris to the floor in agony, and with his left foot, he kicked the gun out of Chris belt, sending it
spinning across the floor, to lay impotently, under a table.
Leonard walked into the room with cold authority and glowered down at the two
enforcers who stood cowed under Leonard and Josephs collective shadows.
If I were you, said Leonard, Id be
He let the last word linger in the air unspoken until one of the thugs looked sheepishly up
at him.
Leaving? offered one of the enforcers, nervously.
See? said Joseph. And I thought these bitches were going to be dumb.
Off you go, said Leonard, and the two enforcers sidled against the wall, and edged their
way past the small army in the doorway until they reached Josh, Chad and Stephentheir size

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and wiry frames made them seem perfect targetsthe thugs pushed their way forcefully into
them.
Chad kicked one in the face and put the other in a stranglehold, tightening his grip all the
while.
Bad move, pal. said Chad.
The enforcer patted Chads arm as a universal sign for enough, youre choking me!
and Chad relaxed his grip and let the man go.
Stephen stepped forward and flicked his fingers at them; a loud pop sounded and the
force knocked the two enforcers back to the ground in utter disbelief, patting the flames out as
they struggled to get up and ran down the street, clearing the corner on Quincy Street and
disappearing from view, Stephen laughing uproariously at their exit.
Inside the restaurant, Chris knelt before Leonard and Joseph glowering up at them as
Leonard fetched Chris gun, flipped a switch on the side of the weapon and slid it into his own
waistband mockingly.
The safety wasnt on, chuckled Leonard harshly, Dumb assyou couldve shot your
own dick offI guess you owe me one, now.
Now that wouldve been funny, scoffed Joseph, mockingly.
Daniel walked oversilencing them with a wave his handand crouched down next to
Chris.
This could get real bad for you, Mr. Young, said Daniel, methodically. Or you can call
it quits and forget about this place, the staff and customers. Because Ive reached my limit with
you. Next time we meet, you had better have more than a nine millimeter between you and me.
Because Ill have at least a forty-five.
You aint got shit, spat Chris, defiantly.
Daniel opened his coat and revealed the forty-five in his shoulder holster.
Bluffing is for boys without the means to even the odds for themselves, said Daniel,
dispassionately. As you can plainly see, I dont have that problem.
Chris eyed Daniel with contempt and watched cruelly while Daniel stepped away and
returned to Leonards side.
Let him go, said Daniel, at last.
Leonard nearly choked on the words, and turned his wide eyes to Daniel.
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Are you sure about that, Daniel? said Leonard, unsurely.

Im sure, replied Daniel.
Sir, pressed Leonard, I dont advise we do that.
Lets just call the cops, said Joseph, as though the solution was obvious.
And have the gang clamp down on the area in his absence for revenge? replied Daniel
firmly. He shook his head. No. Theres not enough to make this worth our while, anyways.
Let the cops have this little bitch. We could get the jail to spread a rumor hes a child
molester! pressed Joseph inventively and smiled down at Chris expectantly. Oh, Id love to be
a fly on the wall of the gen-pop shower tonight.
Chris glowered back at Joseph contemptuously as his fate was decided in pragmatic
fashion.
What are we going to get him for, replied Daniel, coolly. Brandishing? If I get this
guy put away, itll be for something good. Not a three-month stint with good behavior, then
kicked back out to the street due to overpopulation. I want him a way for a long time.
Leonard and Joseph seemed to mull over Daniels words as though they had a bad taste in
their mouthsneither of them were happy with his bringing a cops logic into their fantasies of
having Chris arrested and the problem being solved. Daniel looked down at Chris as though
disappointed.
Get out of here, said Daniel, at last. And dont come back.
Chris rose slowly, as though sensing some trick.

His eyes trailed from Daniel, to

Leonard, to Joseph and finally on the remainder of their retinue who glared back at him with
disgust. When no one rushed him, he walked to the doorway, leaned against the door, and
paused. As though he could not help himself, he turned to face Charlie and shot him a dangerous
look.
Ill catch up with you and your daughter later, Charlie.
No you wont! interjected Daniel with a bark. If you do, Ill finish what you started
right here on this floor.
And well watch, smiled Joseph, with an excited anticipation.
Whatever, scoffed Chris.
Chris walked out of the restaurant, and glowered at them through the sections of window
unmarred by graffiti as he made his way down to Quincy Street and vanished around the corner.
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With that, Charlie sat down and sighed.

You know hes never going to stop, Daniel, said Charlie, exhaustedly. Right? Hes
going to keep coming back until someone puts two in him.
Dont think I wasnt tempted, sighed Daniel.
I know, said Charlie. I know.
So what, now? said Joseph, impatiently.
We let him think it over, replied Daniel. Maybe hell change his mind.
More likely his tactics, concluded Leonard.
Then well deal with him later, replied Daniel. For now, Ill settle for getting
surveillance on this location.
Surveillance? scoffed Leonard. We dont have the resources.
Installing cameras and linking it up to Metro and DOJ is no big problem, soothed
Daniel. Besides, they all eat here, now. They should be interested in keeping the place up and
running for the next time they have a craving for catfish on Wonder Bread.
So we document their activity on the block and at the restaurant, reasoned Leonard,
Then what? We sweep up after they roll through, and if were lucky, someone smiles for the
cameras so we can ID em?
This is a Metro problem, concluded Daniel. We are not authorized to engage the
general population. We have a mandate and well stick to it until we get authorization. Is that
clear?
Yes, sir, snapped Leonard, grimly.
Whatever you say, Agent Rooke, said Joseph.
Hey look, offered Charlie. I appreciate the help, again. But you dont know this cat.
Chris wont stop. Hell just keep coming. Hes hardheaded like that.
I didnt say we wouldnt help, clarified Daniel. Im just saying that my team cant
engage Princeton Park Kings. I said nothing about me.
What are you going to do? blinked Charlie.
I dont want to get into it with too much detail, mused Daniel. But Im seriously
considering burning a house down to make a point.
You want to go on record with that? warned Leonard, hinting the restaurant is in all
likelihood bugged by the S.I.T.F Surveillance Tech Teams.
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Ill settle for having a house seized and put up for auction, clarified Daniel.
Man, exclaimed Charlie, Chris dont care about nothing.
How about his mommas house? answered Daniel cagily.
You wouldnt, gasped Charlie.
Bet me, replied Daniel.
Damn, exclaimed Charlie, and gave Daniel an impressed look. You are hard.
Hards got nothing to do with it, said Daniel.
Charlie stared at Daniel unconvinced, but acquiesced.
Alright, concluded Charlie. Well play it your way.
My ways your best bet, said Daniel.
You stake my life on it? clarified Charlie, My daughters?
I only stake my own life on it, answered Daniel.
Our lives are together in this, answered Charlie. Come hell or high water.
Tamika walked out of the kitchen where she had been hiding and approached Charlie,
shaking.
Grandpa, warned Tamika, tell me youre not going up against Jonas...
Charlie stood there in silence, mulling over his reply until finally he sighed and looked at
Tamika.
I remember when Chris was a sweet boy, said Charlie. Loved his momma, always
polite. This Jonas foolI dont know him. Lets hit him where it hurts.
Let me make a phone call, said Daniel, pulling out his cellular phone.
While Daniel handles his business, said Charlie, why dont we take orders?
Chad, Joshua and Stephen entered the restaurant and sat down at the far table away from
the cold blast of wind from the door. Leonard and Joseph followed and sat down, and Charlie
pandered to them like a group of rambunctious kids.
Tamika took their orders while Daniel made a call to the District of Columbia
Metropolitan police and got Chris Youngs address. Then placed a call to the IRS and inquired
into the state of their tax paymentssuggesting it was due time for an audit. The voice on the
other end of the line jumped to attention when Daniel identified himself with Homeland Security
and made the proper emails, alerting the proper departments that Chris Young was now on the
investigative list.
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When Daniel got off the phone, he sat down with a grin on his face.
You know, said Daniel, I could get used to this job.
Everything went well, I take it? inquired Leonard.
I havent even begun to squeeze that little shit, replied Daniel. But all this falls under
my not using the team to handle non-Specials matters so I think Boatman will allow it.
Thats good to hear, said Joseph. But taxes? Honestly?
Youve never seen the IRS raid a house before? replied Daniel.
No, replied Leonard, a little nervous at the thought.
You wouldnt want to see it either, said Daniel grimly.
Especially if its my house, added Leonard.
There are ways to crack a nut without ever getting a nutcracker out of the drawer, said
Daniel. Its all about the proper application of leverage. And I intend to apply every possible
pressure until Mr. Young cracks. Maybe hell get so caught up in his troubles hell leave Charlie
alone.
You really think that could happen? said Charlie, disbelievingly.
Im giving Chris the benefit of the doubt, here, replied Daniel, grimly. He doesnt
want to see my dark side.
Joseph eyed Daniel quizzically and grinned.
This isnt your dark side? quipped Joseph.
This is me toying with him, corrected Daniel. This has nothing to do with what I could
do to him and his gang. And hopefully, none of them, or me, will find out just how dark I can
get.
Cheers, saluted Joseph, and took a swig from his mug.
When Daniel and the others returned from Charlies, The Post was dimming as the last rays of
light dipped below the buildings across the street. Daniel flipped on the fluorescent lights in the
flat and made his way down the hallway, flipping on lights as he went.
As he passed McCormacks cramped office, he saw the lights were on, and poked his
head in, rapping on the door.
Daniel, said McCormack with a smile. Come in.
Daniel settled down on a chair, pushing a box out of the way so his knee wouldnt bang
into it. McCormack waited for him to get settled before speaking.
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I heard you had an interesting day.

Daniel eyed McCormack suspiciously for a moment and then sighed rolling his eyes.
Boatman? asked Daniel, unnecessarily.
You know hes got feelers everywhere, replied McCormack.
I wonder if hes got the restaurant bugged, murmured Daniel suspiciously.
I wouldnt know, replied McCormack. But even if it was, it couldnt be used in court
anyway.
Yeah, replied Daniel somberly. Its a shame.
I hear youre making that kid really feel it, too.
Im doing what little I can do, just passing information along to people who can do
something about it.
Just the same, Im impressed you didnt use the team to handle the gang, by now.
Not our fight, on paper.
No. Its not.
Ill stick to the letter of the mandate. Dont worry about that.
Oh, I know, replied McCormack. Still, its a shame that your friend has to suffer
before Christopher Young feels the squeeze.
Thats what Metros for. They eat there too. I put them on alert.
And Boatman gave in to your little request and had the surveillance team set up cameras
there at the restaurant and down the street, with feeds to Metro and DHS.
Really? said Daniel with a note of surprise. They must have just shown up. We didnt
see them anywhere near the place.
Well, Boatmans made it very clear the surveillance teams are to be unseen, unheard and
unknown.
And how do you know so much about it, then?
Boatman cant shield his mind to me or Bradley. So, he doesnt waste his time. He just
out and says what hes planning.
I see.
Dont tell him I told you.
Dont you think he already knows you told me?

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McCormack reached for a jar of water and shook it. There was the dull clinking sound of
metal colliding with glass mixed in with the slosh of the water. McCormack smiled.
All the bugs in my office and the hallway just outside. I prefer my privacy.
How nice for you.
Im just finishing up my updates to the Turf file. It should be ready for you in about five
minutes.
Good deal.
With that, Daniel rapped his knuckles on the doorframe and left McCormack to his work,
walking down the hall to his office. Once he opened the door, he flicked the light on and took
his seat at the desk. The holographic display lit up at his presence at the desk. Instantly, Daniel
noticed the email notice was flashing.
With a few taps on the holographic viewscreen, the email window appeared and Daniel
scrolled through them with a wave of his hand. Most of the emails were benign chatter about
possible Special sightings that had been filtered through local law enforcement agencies and had
fallen through the rabbit hole to his Task Force to be scrutinized over.
Specials sightings were akin to UFO sightings, and most turned out to be the ravings of
lunatics. However, they would all have to be investigated in one way or another. A description of
a muscular furry man with wings had a tag on it which read:

//POSSIBLE GRIFFIN SIGHTING. GRIFFIN A.K.A. BRIAN OARSMAN

HAS BEEN AT LARGE FOR 21 MONTHS. //ABNORMAL-SPECIAL\\
APPROACH WITH EXTREME CAUTION\\.
Another email described a man who could turn luminous with the tag:

//POSSIBLE PHOTON SIGHTINGPHOTON A.K.A. TERANCE

COONTZ. [RANK: BOFO-DELTA/BETA STATUS]. APPROACH WITH
EXTREME CAUTION.\\
Daniel opened another email with an attachment to a sighting of the devil. Daniel
groaned and then out of curiosity followed the attachment:

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//POSSIBLE AZAZEL SIGHTINGAZAZEL A.K.A. ELROY MATHERS

BROKE OUT OF AB-SPEC FACILITY 33 MONTHS AGO. //ABNORMALSPECIAL\\ APPROACH WITH CAUTION.\\
Daniel leaned away from the screen and rubbed his weary eyes in frustration.
These emails are weird, scoffed Daniel.
Welcome to our world, chided Leonard from the doorway. We live on weird.
Take for example, said Daniel, and scrolled down on the list of emails. Blackout in
Nashville, Tennessee.

Possible Special involvement suspected. Are they serious? Theyre

blaming everything on Specials.

When you dont have an answer, see the scapegoat.
Something tells me the biggest part of this job is going to be persuading the public no
Specials were involved with the catastrophe-slash-accident-slash-incident.
Now youre starting to see things our way, said Leonard with a chuckle. A lot of these
calls are going to be shadows chasing ghosts. Some of them will be legit. But were going to be
investigating them all. But you know this. Thats why youve got us all training as a team and as
individuals. Were all going to be going up against a case on our own at one point or another,
calling in for backup or not as it pans out.
True, answered Daniel. But these arent even filtered. Its just a laundry list of XFiles with attachments suggesting possibilities by outing Specials who might not even be
involved.
Leonard walked around the desk, looked over Daniels shoulder and studied the first
email.
Okay, a word of advice, if Brian Oarsman is involved, itd be to defend someone else.
Hes one of those hero-typesGood manAnd hes smart enough to go for the Brazilian waxjob all over, to blend in.
What about the wings?
Ever heard of trench coats?
Okay, so we put one file away. What about the luminescent man?
If its Photon, well be in trouble.
Why?
When hes in his other form, hes not all there. Crazys more to the point.
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Okay.
Hes also not luminescent. Rather, pure energy. You could get burned trying to tackle
him, let alone youd fall right through him.
So how do we stop him?
Thats what Ab-Spec detainment centers are working on. Havent got anything for us
yet, otherwise hed be on our most wanted list, wouldnt he?
So we go for the easier ones.
Now youre catching on, agreed Leonard.
Just then, the phone rang. Daniel and Leonard both looked down at the phone and traded
ominous looks. Daniel eyed Leonard grimly, not expecting anything good from the call as he
pressed the icon activating the call.
Specials Investigations, said Daniel, Agent Rooke speaking...
Daniels notebook hummed as new data uploaded onto the driver. Daniel flipped over
the notebook and examined the viewscreen studiously.
I understand.
Daniel hung up the phone and looked at Leonard who grew agitated by Daniels silence.
Well? demanded Leonard.
Daniels face was a hard mask when he answered.
Gather the team, answered Daniel. Weve got a mission.
Where?
DHS Headquarters, replied Daniel. SUVs will be outside in three minutes.
Were driving?
No, answered Daniel. I prefer shock and awe. We take the CHARIOT.
Its just across town.
And I prefer not flashing credentials at every roadblock set up to contain the area,
answered Daniel. Wheels up in ten minutes.
Ill tell the men.

DHS Headquarters, WASHINGON D.C.

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The Department of Homeland Security Headquarters officeshousing only the most senior
officers and staffrested on a four million, five hundred thousand square-foot facility on the
formerly titled St. Elizabeths Hospital grounds, in Anacostia.

Sitting high on the bluffs

overlooking the Potomac and Anacostia Rivers, the postmodernist building stood proudly on the
manicured lawn, surrounded by the forested area that hid it from view of the average onlooker
travelling down Martin Luther King Jr. Avenue.
To the average citizen, the only evidence that the Department of Homeland Security had
any presence there was in the form of the assault rifle armed security post at the driveway
entrance.
This entryway was in full use twenty-four hours a day, three hundred sixty-five days a
year, as the upper echelons of the DHS joked: The homeland never sleeps. Nor shall we.
A currently laughable sentiment, considering how many deputy directors were woken
with the news that someone had broken into the very heart of the facility and was downloading
terabytes of information as they spoke. Whats more, they could not find the suspect, and no
walls seemed able to hold them as the security routinely sealed blast doors in the corridors, only
to find the doors mysteriously open and close again.
Whoever had broken in, they were very good at overriding their commands and even
better at concealing their identity. And what was even more bizarre, the guards seemed to be
breaking protocol themselves, opening and shutting blast doors with no warning and no
explanation.
This was the state of affairs when Daniel received his first call from Boatman over an
hour ago. And as the Chariot slowed to a hover above the manicured lawns, several departments
from Bureau agents to Marines trained their weapons upon the transport angled overhead, as the
pilot labored, discerning a purchase to be had on the grass, itself.
The agents and Marines backed away, weapons trained on the transport as the pilot sent
out the codes verifying they were under the same command structure. As the word spread
among the myriad agencies and troops summoned to the Command Grounds, most lowered their
weapons, or returned them forward, to face the main lobby doors, again.
One man stepped forward as the Chariots hatch slid away, his Bureau credentials on his
Homeland Security windbreaker, scrutinized Daniel as he stepped down and stood on the
manicured lawn looking at the activity surrounding the facility.
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Fighting vehicles veered back around and faced St. Elizabeths, while Marines and agents
from over a dozen agencies stood behind their SUVs pointing their side arms at the main doors
of their own office building.
The agent set his jaw and made his way determinedly across the lawn to where their
transport had come to rest and after studying them for a moment, made a beeline for Daniel.
Before he had even reached him, Daniel understood the man instantly: He was a middle
management Bureau agent assigned to field the first responder teams for DHS Headquarters
security breaches. A very prestigious position, but it remained one of those jobs one takes for
the clearance and potential for advancement, performing weekend training drills, yet yielding
very little real ideas on how one would handle such an issue as a security breach to the DHS
Headquarters. After all, such an attempt would imply a boldness of movement and maximum
preparation to invade thesecond only to the White Housemost secure facility in the country.
This was a man of ambition and tenacity for advancement, but very little opportunity to
demonstrate his initiative. And as the agent reached him, Daniel realized that he was unsure how
to proceed with any facility sweep, primarily relying on pointing every weapon he could muster
at the bullet/RPG-proof glass lobby doors and office windows like every Federal agencys siege
on a property and its grounds, in American history. He instantly felt sorry for the man.
Agent-In-Charge, King, said the windbreaker wearing agent. FBI.
Daniel held up his badge, the eagle breaking free of the perimeter of the oval took on an
eerie 3-D quality in the night, illuminated by the sheer candlepower of so many vehicle
spotlights and perimeter tower lights.
Agent Rooke, greeted Daniel. Department of Specials Investigations.
Special Investigations? King blinked, uncomprehendingly. Whats your function
here? inquired King, cagily, instantly sensing Daniel might have some power to supersede his
own, and all potential of using his crisis team management as a means of distinction for his
superiors to consider and grant him advancement would be lost.
Daniel nodded and took a pragmatic persona in handling King, preying on the agents
fears of failure, by using the dreaded specter that the word Specials always seemed to elicit
from law enforcement.
There was an account about a ghostly woman appearing to your guards.
At that, King rolled his eyes.
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Yeah, scoffed King. I sent them off to the clinic to check for drug or alcohol useOf
all the days to make a slip
You usually monitor your guards for drug and alcohol use?
Every week.
Have these guards tested positive?
Never. But theres always the first. We have a zero tolerance for drug use and alcohol
consumption before or during shifts.
I think its safe to say they didnt break protocol now.
What makes you say that?
The ghostly figure described by the men It could be a Special. Thats why Im here.
A Special? blinked King, his eyes widening at the turn of events and the potential
ramifications raced through his mind. You really think so?
King shook his head as though it were impossible and laughed. Daniel leaned in close.
Someone is accessing your secrets. Someone is getting it all, and theres no sign of it on
your security feeds. But several of your men have accounted on a mysterious woman, and you
have video footage of a woman walking into restricted areas all night.
How would you know that?
I was briefed before I got here.
King studied Daniel, and took a step backward, narrowing his eyes on him skeptically.
What agency are you with again?
Im lead agent of the Specials Investigations Task Force, and I believe you have at least
one Special in your building stealing government information at its source. The question is what
are you going to do about it?
Kings face went long and then took a pained expression as the thought of demotion
became vividly real before him.
What do you suggest?
Let my team go in and hunt them down.
Not without my men, King scoffed, determined not to let the chip to be cashed in with
his superiors at the Bureau and DHS pass, entirely.
This is not a negotiation, Daniel spat back, letting Boatmans admonishing expression
demanding immediate and implicit compliance creep into his face as much as possible. Ive
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been ordered to go into that facility and restore order. I need your men not to shoot us in the back
when we advance.
And just what do you expect us to do while you play cowboy? King spat back at
Daniel. Stand here with our thumbs up our asses?
I expect you to not let anyone out of the facility until I give the all clear.
We have men and women in there.
And you may have a Special with the ability to change into different people. Anyone
who does come out is subject to detainment. Understood?
King did not look happy about the prospect of a Special in the facility. He looked back at
the agencies lined up outside the building as though he needed a lifeline, and all he met were
questioning glances, waiting for orders.
Sensing Kings inner turmoil, Daniels tone softened.
Look, youve been put in an impossible position here. My men know what theyre
doing. Let us do our job.
King nodded and Daniel signaled the team with a wink.
Instantly, Leonard passed out bulletproof vests and assault rifles and the others took them
and put them on, all except McCormack and Bradley, who stood there looking at the vests as
though they were ridiculous.
Daniel walked over.
Guys, put on the vests.
Why? scoffed Bradley; the thought of wearing the vest was a joke due to the fact he
was virtually indestructible with his telekinetic shields up.
Daniel glared at him for a moment until Bradley looked back at him swallowing his
defiance to hear him out.
These guys are freaked out at the thought of a Special in their precious building, said
Daniel. Just imagine how theyd feel if they knew they were letting at team of Specials in as
well.
McCormack turned to Bradley and nodded, and Bradley took the bulletproof vest and
pulled it over his head, while McCormack followed suit.
Daniel pulled on his vest and snapped the pieces in place, and pulled out his side arm,
more for effect, than an actual intent on using it. The others grinned at himknowing he was
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playing for the sake of the other agenciesand followed suit, choking up on their assault rifles
and pistols.
With a wave of his hand, Leonard took point with Chad following behind with Daniel at
his side and Joshua, Joseph, Stephen, Bradley and McCormack hunched over and filed into the
rear, entering the building and disappearing from view.
Inside the massive structure, Daniel was awed by the utilitarian look of the lobby; the
polished stone reflected the Department Seal high above, mirroring its proud eagle outstretched
beyond the borders of the enclosing circle, announcing the breaking of outmoded policies and
management.
Okay guys, Daniel growled, anticipating contact. Activate your WinVids and proceed
carefully. We have at least one suspect.
-And each interviewee described her differently, replied Leonard. How many people
are we looking for?
Well start with a ghostly woman description and work our way from there,
concluded Daniel. Ill take Giordano and Bradley with me. Leonard, youve got the assault
team. Head for that terminal in the basement.
You got it, said Leonard, and slid a round into the chamber of his assault rifle.
Leonard trotted down the hallway with the others hot on his heels. McCormack walked
casually, studying his surroundings, as though listening for something.
Daniel turned away and walked to the elevator. The Security Office was on the fifth
floor, and Daniel led Bradley and Stephen onto the elevator and they watched the doors close,
reflecting their expressions back at themBradley looked puzzled with Daniel, Stephen just
looked annoyed.
Daniel caught Stephens glare in the reflection of the door and turned to the mirror image.
Youve got a problem, Stephen?
Stephen kicked at the floor as though kicking up dust.
The strike team is headed toward the action. And Im headed away from it. Sounds like
youre really using my resources well, sir.
Cool it, Steve. scolded Bradley.
No, its fine, Brad, said Daniel with a wave of his hand, hushing him, instantly. I want
to hear what Giordano has to say about my leadership.
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Fine, snapped Stephen. Ill say it. Ive been trained to be a weapon with long range
capabilities at great expense to the government, and Im being shelved in a possible Specials
encounter to sit in a security booth. It seems to me that my abilities might achieve greater use if I
was a part of the strike team.
The elevator stopped and the doors slid open. Daniel led Stephen and Bradley off the
elevator and onto the fifth floor, then turned to face them.
That is a very thoughtful argument you just made, Stephen, replied Daniel, not
intending to sound condescending, But youre failing to remember, that twenty security
personnel remember encountering a woman ranging in description from ghostly, angelic,
beautiful, hot and sexy. Each agent and security personnel she encountered gave a completely
different description of her.
Why do you think theres only one? said Bradley.
Because the building monitors only show one breach in security, replied Daniel. Shes
in the building, shes a Special, and I believe shes in the one place that can control the blast
doors.
The Security Room, exclaimed Bradley.
The Security Room, replied Daniel with a grin. Stephen did not look pleased, in fact, it
looked like he had been doused with cold water. Lets move.
Daniel crept toward the Security Room at the far end of the hall, consulting his notebook
for directions, and then stowed it in his cargo pant pocket and slid a round into the chamber of
his pistol.
At the door to the Security Room, Daniel looked back at Bradley and Stephen to gauge
whether or not they were ready. Bradley nodded encouragingly. Stephen had a just get on with
it expression.
Daniel rolled his eyes and opened the door to the room, letting his vision narrow to the
sights of his pistol as he panned the room.
At the far end of the room, a span of over ten meters, an unattractiveeven by such a
distance as he stood at the doorway, he clearly had an opinion on the matterand skinny, to the
point of unhealthy, woman sat at the helm of a security station typing on the console.
Bradley was rigid at the site of the jaundiced woman and nodded with comprehension.
Athena, he breathed.
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Daniel looked at him for more information, but only received a slight shake of the head.
Silently, and without telepathy, Bradley informed him he would update Daniel on the woman
later, and encouragingly nodded him on to lead him and Stephen.
Daniel pursed his lips back at him. He did not like walking into a room without being
able to assess a threat more thoroughly, but understood time was a quantity they currently
lacked. Finally, he led Bradley and Stephen into the room, and pointed his sidearm at the
womans heart.
Step away from the terminal with your hands high! barked Daniel.
The pale woman seemed completely unsurprised by the shout and continued typing, not
even deigning to look up at them or even acknowledge the threat.
You cant see me, said the mysterious woman at the console mockingly as she typed.
You need to leave, nowBuh-bye...
Daniel felt the tugging at the corner of his brain that he had quickly begun to associate
with psychic violation and grit his teeth with annoyance. Before he could react to the threat the
woman posed, Stephen went slack jawed, looked around the room questioningly, and turned to
leave. Daniel and Bradley watched Stephens bizarre behavior with minor surprise and Bradley
stopped him with an arm barring his progress.
Theres nobody here, scoffed Stephen, defending his decision to leave the Security
Room.
Bradley steered Stephen back into the room and directed him directly toward the
mysterious woman at the far end of the room.
Daniel, said Bradley, if I may?
By all means. said Daniel.
Bradley entered the room and narrowed his vision on the woman who instantly cringed
and gripped her temples as though her brain were trying to explode free from her skull.
Hello, Samantha. said Bradley.
Hearing her name, the woman called Athena looked up at Bradley and for the first time
acknowledged they were there with a mock surprise and a playful widening of the eyes that made
her almost attractive.
Maximus? she said, with slight shock, and then a sexually aroused grin played
unattractively on her wire-thin lips. Its been a while.
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Yes, replied Bradley, somewhat sadly, Yes it has.

The woman leaned over the terminal and smiled into Bradleys face, her eyes rapt on
him.
I always wondered, she said playfully, how you see me?
Bradleys eyes were sad, his mouth taut into a grim expression.
Does it really matter?
Samantha took on the sexually playful role of an older woman assuming the mannerism
of a waifey schoolgirl, and pouted at him.
We dont have to begin like this, Brad.
Your tricks dont work on us, Sammy, Bradley said, matter-of-factly.
Samantha grit her teeth at the shortening of her name into something boyish, but quickly
recovered, smiling innocently back at Bradley.
What tricks? said Samantha.
Bradley looked into her face, not moving a step, but merely defining the parameters of
any fight and the ultimate outcome.
If you push me, Ill make you hurt, Bradley said warningly. You know I can.
Oh hon, youve gotten strong, I can tell, Samantha said, coolly. But so have I.
You really dont want to walk down this road, Sammy
Samantha kept typing on the terminal, but her eyes stayed on Bradley, her conversation
light.
So what happens now? said Samantha musingly.
We place you under arrest, said Daniel, as though any other scenario was laughable, at
best.
Oh well, said Samantha, completely unconcerned. Im done here, anyway. Take me
in, if you can.
Daniel stepped forward and threw her a pair of cuffs, then trained his pistol at her heart
again.
Put on the bracelets, honey.
Samantha eyed Daniel mockingly.
So chivalrous.

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Modern world, Daniel said with an uncaring shrug. Would you rather I pistol whip
you and cuff you myself?
Youre a brave one, arent you? chuckled Samantha.
Just the guy to get things done. replied Daniel.
Tell me, how do you see me?
Daniel looked at her thin long faceher over-pronounced nose and her rampant freckles
warring with her acne on her yellowed skin, obscured by her alopecia-thin red hairand nearly
chuckled derisively..
Honey, Ive seen better.
Samanthas features contorted in rage and glowered at Daniel and he again, felt the
invasion in his mind.
How about now?
Daniel raised his pistol to her face and grit his teeth.
You have two seconds to stop that, before I shoot said Daniel. Then said 2.
Instantly, the psychic assault stopped and Samantha raised her hands in mock surrender.
Alright, alright, handsome. chided Samantha. No need to get so macho with me.
Athena put on the handcuffs, snapping them in place, but cuffed herself in the front,
instead of the preferred behind-the-back. She smiled up at him as though she had won a small
victory.
Now, we can be nice, said Daniel, putting his sidearm back in its holster. What did
you do?
Youll have to figure that out on your own, honey. scoffed Samantha.
You realize this could go a lot easier for you if you come clean. said Daniel.
Come clean?
It shows contrition.
You want me to be contrite? said Samantha. Fine. I have been opening and closing
security doors all night.
For who?
Are we still being contrite?
Youre not going to tell me, are you?
No. smiled Samantha.
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Daniel tapped his earpiece.

Strike team, called Daniel over his radio. you in position?
Strike team, here, chimed Leonard over the radio.
Our overrides dont work on the security screens. I guess DHS doesnt trust us with the
keys to the kingdom. Were set up at the elevators. Securitys so tight over here theres no way
down. Hes got to take the elevator.
Hold your position.
Was that Leonard Stonebreakers voice I was listening to?
Theyve got your partner cornered, said Daniel with finality. Its all over. Now why
dont you tell me about your partner before we catch him? What is he, bulletproof? Stealth?
All that and more, you pathetic norm-hume.
Who is he?
Wouldnt you like to know?
Yeah, I would.
Just then, McCormack walked into the Security Room.
Leonards men have the elevator shaft under tight guard. Anyone steps out of that
elevators walking straight into a firefight. What have you got?
Daniel turned to glare at McCormack, annoyed he was not covering the elevators with the
strike team. His telekinetic abilities would be better served down there. He pointed toward the
unattractive woman and began his reply, but it was clear as he began that McCormack already
had all the facts he needed.
Samantha Kalinowski, callsign: Athena, McCormack finished their update. Well, that
explains a lot.
What does it explain? said Daniel, uncomprehendingly.
Yeah, Paladin, crooned Samantha, do tell.
The tingling in the back of my head as I made my way to the Security Room, chuckled
McCormack, and he shook his head as though he found Samantha a pathetic individual.
Sam here has the ability to invade peoples minds and make them do what she wants.
Shes also insecure about her appearance, so she makes each individual see her as their ideal
woman. What you get is a lot of sex hungry men chasing her, while others fall to her feet in

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worship. Either way, she likes the attention. Poor girlYoure still not comfortable in your own
skin?
That depends on how you see me, lover.
So, said Daniel, I get the need to get into the Security Room to control the cameras
and the doors to gain access to the central mainframe, but how did you plan on getting the data,
since your entry caused the security breach and sent the place on lockdown? You must know
that everyone leaving would be subject to detainment and search.
Wouldnt you like to know?
With that, Daniel narrowed his eyes and leaned in toward her.
I could just have Bradley dig it out of you.
Maximus isnt strong enough anymore, she scoffed. Hes been exercising his brain
muscles to make him bulletproof and super strong, not to invade peoples minds. Ive been
invading minds for years.
Yeah, but you never used it this way before, replied McCormack. You just used it for
the sake of vanity.
Samantha shrugged.
People grow. People change.
True, replied Daniel. Youre not going to tell us, are you?
Nope, she said with a cunning smile like she could not get enough of the torture she
was delivering to Daniel with mere words.
Fine, concluded Daniel. Take her away. Make her comfortable aboard the Chariot.
Shes not slipping through our fingers.
Bradley took Samantha by the arm and led her from the security helm down across the
room toward the elevators.
McCormack followed as Stephen followed along in Samanthas wake like a puppy dog,
his expression vacant and hopeful. It was clear McCormack was expecting Stephen to try to win
Athenas favor, if he could.
Daniel glanced at the security monitor on the strike team set up around the elevator. All
looked quiet. Then took up the rear.
At the elevator, Daniel joined them in the cable car and the doors closed mirroring their
faces back at them as Samantha stood there smiling triumphantly.
It annoyed Daniel how confident she was. As though their arrival was almost fortuitous.
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Stephen hopped from one foot to the next, stealing pained sideways glances at Samantha,
as though he were going to explodea cold feeling began to claw at him, at the thought that she
could affect the less shielded members of his team so strongly.
What are we going to do with her? asked Stephen.
His tone had a note of longinga fear for Samantha that could only be attributed to
Kalinowskis ability to bend the minds of men to her willstill, the question obviously needed
clarification.
They had never gotten this far into an arrest before, with the Task Force actually
processing and detaining a suspect, Daniels senses were on high alert, suspecting a possible outmaneuver.
Ive got new protocols in place for detainment of criminals through the Andrews
Specials Detention Facility being set up at the airbase.
Theres a detention facility at Andrews Air Base? chuckled Samantha. Thats a good
piece of information to know
Just a temporary one, Daniel replied, offering no warmth. Youre looking at a black
site facility in New York state. Until then, weve got a room for you at the Andrews Facility.
Well, mocked Bradley, at least itll be a short flight, Sammy.
Samantha scowled at Bradley.
Dont call me that! she spat, venomously.
Whatever, scoffed Bradley.
The elevator doors slid open and Daniel stepped off the elevator leading them into the
main hall of the lobby under the outstretched eagle seal and clicked on his radio.
Strike team, report. Daniel stood listening for a moment to static in his earpiece and
then clicked the radio again. Leonard report.
Just then, down the hall came the sounds of an explosion followed by the screams of the
strike team, then nothing. All that could be seen down the hallway was a wisp of smoke
billowing out and quickly thinning in the air.
Leonard, come in? he demanded.
Leonard here, chirped the radio. Were fine, but the explosion came out of nowhere.
If there was someone in the elevator, chances are they got past us.
Come meet up with us in the main hall. Double-time.
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Roger that.
Daniel turned to McCormack.
Somethings happening.
You bet your sweet ass, somethings happening, grinned Samantha.
The sound of her mocking tone infuriated Daniel and he wheeled around on her, pulling
his sidearm out and leveling it at her skull.
What do you know?
Samantha cringed away from Daniel but he held her fast so she couldnt more than
squirm under the muzzle of the sidearm.
I dont know what youre talking about! she whined in a fright.
Just then, McCormack stiffened as though he saw something.
Olsen? he blinked in surprise.
Daniel was instantly wary, at the sight of McCormacks sudden surprise and braced for
the worst.
Out of nowhere a grenade flew into their midst and detonated, sending a blinding flash
through the room, the explosion propelling them against the walls, their ears ringing.
Daniel looked up in time to see the woman called Athena rippling into a mirage-like state
and vanish before his eyes.
What the?
Instinctively, Daniel fired in the direction of the ripple effect, leading the target as he
fired, predicting where she would be standing if she were running toward the door. The door
opened and swung closed.
McCormack put his hand over the back of Daniels hands gripping the pistol.
What are you shooting for? Shes gone.
Where did she go? Daniel demanded.
She stepped inside Mirages sphere of influence.
Mirage? railed Daniel, demanding clarification.
Olsen Cadiff smoothed McCormack, a trace of irritation in his voice and expression.
Callsign: Mirage.

He has the ability to disappear without leaving a trail to follow. Not

footprints, not shadows, nothing. He was our Espionage, Black Ops Reconnaissance man.
He was very good, said Leonard, appearing through the smoke.
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Apparently, snapped Daniel, infuriated they had lost yet again. So he could just take
another person with him for the ride, then?
So to speak, said McCormack. Yes.
Great, spat Daniel. So we lost them.
Yes, said McCormack, simply. His tone reassuring there was nothing more that could
be done. Samantha and her cohort had escaped with the terabytes of information they had sought.
Whatever that was. Daniel grit his teeth, his skin burning in embarrassment and rage.
Just perfect, Daniel spat.
Leonard stood respectfully in the silence of Daniels mood swing, giving him a few
moments to vent. Then leaned forward.
What now, boss? asked Leonard, merely to get Daniel on a forward momentum from
his enraged stillness.
Finally, Daniel sighed.
Get back to the Chariot, he muttered defeatedly. Ive got to explain the egg on my face to
Agent King.
Daniel turned from Leonard trying to hide his disgust, but the team felt it. It was obvious
a part of him blamed his team for the escape of the two Specials.
A telepath and a stealth operative. This should have been easy: Go in, corner them and
make the arrest Done Instead, Daniel found himself trotting down the lawn toward the
waiting DHS teams, all with weapons trained on him.
He knelt to the ground and placed his hands behind his head, and waited for the AntiTerrorist Team to converge on him and secure him.
They led him under guard to Agent King who looked at him with wild eyes.
Whats going on in there? We heard explosions and shots fired.
My team was neutralized with grenades, spat Daniel with disgust at having to relive the
experience through explanationhanding over his mysterious credithe had hoped to gain as
the Agent In Charge of an elite Task Force making their first big arrestto King as a failure. He
could not even meet the Kings eyes. They got away.
Daniel explained to a bewildered King how they had cornered one Special in the Security
Room and identified her for the record, then explained how the second Special, Cadiff, had
scattered their forces and escaped with Kalinowski.
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Kings expression hardened as he listened to Daniels debriefing, his rage mounting with
his embarrassment at giving up control to an unknown man from an unknown task force at a
jump, all hanging on his fear of the word Special.

As he reached a boiling in his

embarrassment he tried to tower over Daniela weak feat, as he rose to his feet before him
instead craning his head up to him as he bellowed at him.
You let them escape?
We didnt let them do anything, spat Daniel, dejectedly, though halfhearted, at the
sound of his own defense. We were routed.
King began pacing before him like a Bengal tiger behind a cage, glowering at him in his
building contempt.
You mean to tell me while weve been sitting on our collective asses letting your men
do whatever you pleased inside, that two lone suspects managed to escape? he then steered onto
him and rose to full height, reaching no higher than Daniels eyebrows. How come we didnt
see them?
Cadiff, he replied, has the ability to be undetectable to camera, heat signature, scent,
hearing or vision. Hes a ghost. If he was in there, he could walk out the front doors and you
wouldnt know it.
We can still set up a road block, schemed King, grasping at straws, What are their
descriptions?
Cadiff is a classified black op Special, he replied gravely, I dont have access to his
picture at this time. He was more helpful in describing Athena, explaining her ability to enter a
persons mind and convince them of anything. A regular road block wouldnt work.
So we just let them go?
Theres no way to track them, sighed Daniel, exasperated. Unless they separate, you
wont find them. And if you found only one, either way, they would elude you.
You! cried King, jabbing his finger at Daniel. Im holding you personally responsible
for this breach! I want your superiors name and I want him on the line, now!
Theres something to be said about having a trump card on the tip of your tongue,
because as soon as Daniel uttered the name Lawrence Boatman, a chill spread over the
surrounding men and King himself shivered. But it was only a momentary defeat. The next
instant, King turned and glowered at Daniel.
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You havent heard the end of this, he promised.

Im sure. replied Daniel. Now if youll excuse me, I need to see to my men.
This isnt over, Rooke, King spat. Not by a long shot!
Gentlemen, said Daniel, with a grim nod, and turned from them; walking away, feeling
the collective eyes of the DHS teams boring into his back like laser targets flickering across his
torso and head.
Daniel shivered as he made his way back to the Chariot. Once onboard, he slammed the
door shut and collapsed against the wall, eyeing his men. He opened his mouth to speak but
Leonard beat him to it.
There was nothing you could have done, reassured Leonard. We were unprepared for
what we were going up against. Simple as that.
Simple as that concluded Daniel, his voice going hoarse. We were beaten by two
suspects. Soundly. Im not at all happy.
This is the real world, Daniel. said McCormack. We learn as we go. What weve just
been through? Well need an edge.
What kind of edge? said Daniel.
We should take a serious look at the JUNCOs, concluded McCormack. I think that
will even things up a bit.
We can discuss this in greater detail back at The Post, concluded Daniel, who then
turned and pressed the intercom icon on the touch screen next to him. Pilot. Take us to Andrews
Air Base.
Yes, sir.
The Chariot lurched into the air, climbing faster than any in the cabin would have
preferred, leaving their stomachs behind as it climbed to a higher altitude. Daniel muttered
something about finding a replacement pilot as soon as possible, and collapsed in his seat. The
estimated time for arrival to Andrews Air Base was three minutes at normal flying speeds.
With a deep exhale he shook out his annoyance and pursed his lips as his face and the
back of his neck felt hot. He shut his eyes and counted toward ninety on their way back to
Andrews Air Base.

And then a timid voice which Daniel recognized as belonging to his

incompetent pilot echoed over the cabin speakers.

Sir! chimed the pilot, unexpectedly.
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There was something urgent in his tone and Daniel hoped against hope that the nights
adventure was still alive, and not over. He depressed the intercom icon on the touch screen.
What is it?
Im getting a call on all police bands calling all nearby agencies in for assistance.
Daniel perked up, hopeful that maybe his two suspects had appeared and were being
cornered by Metro Police, and hoping for a second crack at Samantha and Cadiff, he surged
forward in excitement.
Where is it located?
Fort Lincoln Cemetery, said the pilot. Maryland.
A pit grew in Daniels stomach and rose to his throat as the thought he would not be
getting a second chance at redemption. He nearly gave the order to turn home and head for
Andrews, when the live feed of the chaos on the ground rattled in his ears from the radio of the
desperate calls on all law enforcement frequencies.
At that moment, the cop in him switched on.
Let me bring it up on the viewscreen.
The firefight was heading in a southeasterly direction through the woods toward New
York Avenue Northeast.
Daniel ran his fingers across the viewscreen pulling up satellite surveillance footage of
the park and scrolled down to the latest image of the areaa barren section of road next to a tree
line, which met the Paint Branch Stream to the east and New York Ave NE to the south.
The police and bureau bands were chilling. Reports of fallen officers and agents
broadcast along both bands independent of each other and overlapping each other through the
broadband feed. An image of dead and dying officers and agents painted a picture confirmed by
drone and satellite imagery on the scene and something snapped inside Daniel.
Not tonight, he thought. Theres been enough of this tonight.
His fingers brought up the latitude and longitude of the woods and with a flick of his
finger, transmitting the coordinates to the pilot.
Pilot, reroute to the following coordinates.
Yes, sir!
Daniel then activated the communications window and began speaking into the
microphone next to the viewscreen.
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This is Agent in Charge Daniel Rooke of S.I.T.F. Bureau agentscover the 50. Local
police advance with K-9 units into the woods to the river and flush the suspects south. Hold at
the tree line and wait for support.
The chaotic voices from different agencies took a collective breath and then began
chattering along their frequencies
following the new plan set out by Daniel. McCormack looked over at Daniel with a wary
expression.
Are you sure you know what youre doing?
Im saving a bad night.
Our mandate
People are dying down there. retorted Daniel.
Are you ordering us into a firefight against armed normal human combatants?
Yes, I am.
McCormack studied Daniel carefully for another moment, and then nodded.
Yes, sir.
McCormack traded a nod with Leonard, and Leonard quickly began re-strapping his
armor over his cargo pants and t-shirt.
Alright ladies, called Leonard down the cabin, you heard the man. Gear up and get
ready for contact.
The cabin moved with excitement as the Specials slapped their gear back into place and
took up their weapons, checking the sights and loading rounds into the chamber again. Within
the span of a minute, the Chariot slowed abruptly and became static.
Were at the coordinates, sir. said the pilot over the communications link with the
cockpit.
Bring us in. commanded Daniel.
The odd dimensioned transport touched down at Fort Lincoln Cemetery to a bustle of
controlled activity. The scene was less chaotic than before on the video feeds and Daniel was
grateful for that.
He jumped off the foot railing, crunching into the snow and mud followed by the entire
team. Before him, a burly Sheriffs Deputy studied Daniel, approaching him and his team, trying

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not to allow himself to be rattled by the strange aircraft that hovered and touched down light as a
feather in the snow.
Were you who spoke to us over the radio?
Agent Rooke, said Daniel, offering his hand. You are?
Deputy ONeil, answered the Deputy. What do you need?
I need you to close the door behind us when we enter the woods. At the first sign of
contact, get on the radio and give us the coordinates to meet you there. Were going to corral and
close in.
Right! said ONeil, and he clicked on his radio about to give orders. Daniel put his
hand on his shoulder.
Just watch our backs, okay? Daniel turned to Bradley and McCormack, who were
apprehensive about what was about to be said, as though they already knew Daniels strategy.
Bradley, you and Tobias I need in the air.
You sure about this? said McCormack critically.
I want some good press to come out of this, said Daniel. Just a bit to keep Boatman
off my back as hard as hell be looking to be.
And this is your plan? chided McCormack.
Hey, it just feels right.
Alright, said McCormack. I hope you know what youre doing.
And he and Bradley turned and marched off toward the tree line leaving Daniel where he
stood.
Me too. sighed Daniel.
Daniel turned to Leonard and with a nod, led the team into the tree line and walked to the
tundra brush of the waters edge. Daniel looked up and saw Bradley and McCormack fly
overhead. He couldnt shake the feeling that this would have spooked the Deputies and sent
them into a tizzy, but he couldnt concentrate on that right now.
Leonard brought him out of his thoughts.
Now what?
Daniel looked around to see they had entered a clearing.
Fan out. Keep each other in sight.
Right.
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They fanned out across the forest line and walked due south toward the distant lights on
the highway 50. As they neared the edge of the clearing, the glint of metal alerted them there
was something in the shadows at the base of a withered tree.
Daniel crouched down and trained his gun on the glint of metal and shouted at the
darkness.
Freeze! Dont move!
Daniel signaled Leonard to flank the position with Chad, and Leonard covered him as
Chad came up through the tree line behind the shadows. Finally Chad poked his head out and
waved to them.
Just two bodies. he said. Apparently shot and bled out.
Daniel sighed.
No time to check vitals. Mark the area for the medics.
Chad and Stephen broke and dropped glow sticks into the snow while Leonard and
Daniel surveyed the looming shadows of the forest coolly.
Josh looked nervous as he stared at the two bodies as though doused with cold water and
waking up in a world where he can be killed at any moment.
Joseph knelt and said a silent prayer before picking up and pressing on into the woods.
Daniel watched him enter the canopy without orders and gestured for him to return to standing
formation. Joseph paid no attention, and marched deeper into the shadows.
Joseph, called Daniel in a hoarse whisper.
Joseph didnt answer. Within a moment, the night had swallowed him up.
Daniel gave Leonard a look of annoyance and Leonard returned it in silent agreement that
they would be having a chat with Joseph after this jaunt was over and pressed on. With a flick of
his arm, the Task Force fanned out again, standing ten feet away from each other as they ducked
into the woods.
In the distance, the highway 50 glittered with the lights of Federal SUVs corralling the
area. Joseph was nowhere to be found.
Up ahead, out by an outcrop of trees and rocks, they saw movementlike shadows, dark
as the night with the speed of deermaking their way just out of reach of the lights of the SUVs
across the river, and darting in and out of the naked pines, skillfully avoiding the searching

352 | P a g e

drones spotlight. Daniel rushed forward, his feet crunching in the muddy snow, as he
maneuvered between the rocks for a better view of his target.
Freeze! bellowed Daniel and the shadow was still.
Get down! he commanded.
The shadow broke into a run and fired on his location.
Daniel, Leonard and Chad fired back instantly. The shadows ahead were dotted with
light like firecrackers popping off as several shooters began firing on the shadows positions, and
vice versa.
Chad crouched down next to a tree and took aim at the muzzle flashes of the gunmen and
fired calm and easily. Leonard charged their positions, sweeping along the right and swinging
east toward the stream.
Suddenly Daniel sensed movement and looked up to see Joseph take position behind a
tree, peering out to see into the distance where all the commotion was, his gun pointed down at
the snow. Stephen appeared out of nowhere next to Daniel and charged toward the gunmens
position and flanked right, travelling westerly, to meet Leonard in the middle. Daniel came up
behind Stephen and yanked him back.
Are you nuts? bellowed Daniel in Stephens ear. Youre not bulletproof, you know.
With a quick jerk of the shoulder, Stephen pulled free of Daniels hold and shot him a
disgusted glare.
Like you care! snapped Stephen.
Just then a shadow broke free of a tree and raised his arm outstretched at Daniel and
Stephen. As the figure stepped out into the light of the moonlit night, the figure froze and eyed
Daniel.
You! snarled a familiar voice.
Daniel froze too recognizing the dark face lit up by moonlight reflecting harshly off the
muddy snow as Chris Jonas Young.
Chris fired at Daniel and Stephen. Instinctively, Daniel pushed Stephen down and out of
the way, then experienced a familiar sense of violation and inertia as the bullet penetrated his
armor and sent him backwards, where he crashed down, hitting his head against a rock.
Daniel fought the blurry haze, shaking his head to clear his vision. Out of the corner of
his eye, he saw Joseph lunge forward and disappear with a loud crack.
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Next thing Daniel knew, he was in a long black tunnel, with two pinholes of light
marking the edge of his vision. He fought against the surrounding blackness and he felt his heart
rate accelerate with urgency as he told himself he would not black out.
When the pinholes of light zoomed back up, dispelling the darkness out of the corners of
his vision he saw the starlit sky overhead and the probing light of the drone sweeping the tips of
the trees searching for, in all likelihood, another escaped suspect.
Daniel was so disgusted he sat up hard and he instantly felt nauseous. Hands pushed him
back, but he continued to fight them in an effort to rise. They were speaking to him, but it
sounded far awayMuffled.
His vision and hearing came back to him only to find EMTs placing a brace on his neck
and attempting to strap him to a board. Daniel sat up and shooed the medics away.
Im fine, growled Daniel. You can stop now.
The medics protested.
Youve been shot. Are you aware of that?
Yeah, Im aware. Im even aware Im using a rock as a pillow. Tell me something I
dont know.
Well, your cognitive reasoning seems to be returning. How about this: Let us check
your head for signs of trauma and let my partner work on that nasty bullet wound. How about
that?
He unzipped a carrying case he had strapped over his shoulder and laid it on the ground,
opening it to reveal a touch-screen which illuminated with the logo for Emergency Medic/Triage
Systems, followed by the letters MTS-4xxxiii. The paramedic fastened devices to Daniels chest
and head, then produced a thin device like a pen.
Whats that?
Thats a wand. said the EMT, almost boastfully. It analyzes patients and gives us the
results right in the field. All the information gets transmitted directly to your medical file so
when you get to the hospital, they just check your name and boomthey got all your
information right there.
It saves them the time of doing it because, frankly, a lot of people who go to the
hospital die while waiting to get diagnosed. Thanks to this, we skip all the headache with
admitting and get right to the problem.
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What does that say? asked Daniel, mildly curious.

The paramedic glanced down at his MTS-4 and flicked his finger along the touch screen.
It instantly illuminated and an outline of a human form came into view with red blips appearing
on the screen over the forms head, neck and abdomen.
It says youre pretty lucky. The bullet passed between the intestines, not compromising
them. So, no colostomy bag for you. The neck and head appear to be up there with high school
football injuries. Youve got a concussion. Youre also in shock, so I need to take you to the
hospital for a doctors approval that youre free to leave.
So Im going into a hospital?
Afraid so.
Negative. Ive got a medical team that can treat me at Andrews Air Base.
Hang on, lay back. Were still dealing with that GSW.
One of the medics pulled out a hypodermic syringe filled with a nearly phosphorescent
green solution. Daniel blinked at the needle and raised his hand to the medic in protest.
Whats that?
Vitamin X-32, said the medic. A little saline solution, some multivitamin, a little pain
killer, nanite drone workers to help stitch the wound and fight off staph infection, its got
everything a growing boy needs.
Daniel lowered his arm and allowed the medic to tie a rubber strip around his bicep to
find a vein to inject the concoction into. He had had VX-32 a few times before, during the war.
I thought that was still just for military use.
Well, its still for use by the government to treat police in the field. Youll be fine.
The second EMT put a cold compress on the back of Daniels neck, and slapped his hand
over it. The cool sensation shook Daniel, and he drifted on the feeling of the coolness against his
flesh and almost passed out. He shook himself awake.
Is Giordano okay?
Right here, boss.
Stephen looked down at Daniel oddly, as though he were suffering some great inner
turmoilsomewhere between mistrust and appreciating for the fact Daniel saved his life.
What happened to the suspects? demanded Daniel.

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A powerfully built man stepped into Daniels frame of vision. Leonard looked down on
Daniel with worry lines on his brow, but a soothing smile the way men look when they are
concerned, but do not want to make others worry.
We got them, answered Leonard. Three were dead from loss of blood, but we
collected seven others. Including, and youre not going to believe this, but-
Chris.
I thought you might remember him.
So we just took down the head of Princeton Park Kings?
That we did.
Who got him?
That would be Joseph. said Leonard and nodded to Joseph Little Bird who sat a little
ways away looking grim and worn as he always did after wormhole travel.
He jumped right behind him and took him for one of his rides, then disarmed him. Chris
isnt doing well.
Leonard glanced over to his right and there was Chris being strapped to a gurney and
carted off over the rough snowy landscape toward a waiting drone. The drone was originally
meant for you. You feel up to taking a ride?
I can walk.
I thought you might feel that way. grinned Leonard.
Where is McCormack and Bradley?
Theyre explaining to the local police how they never saw two men jump into the air and
fly. Unless you feel like letting the cat out of the bag and revealing to the world our little team.
No, memory modification is fine with me.
The two medics gave sideways glances to each other as though they werent sure they
were hearing them right.
Daniel looked at them and waved it off. The medics paused for another second and then
continued with their work treating Daniel who continually tried to rise, but the EMT kept
pushing him back down.
Hang on, there. ordered the EMT. Give the nanite drones time to knit your wound
together.
I feel fine.
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Not yet, youre not.

Hurry up. Im cold, here.
The EMT unfolded a warm blanket and wrapped it around Daniel.
Hows that?
Fine, admitted Daniel, reluctantly. Can I sit up?
After a moments deliberation, the EMT assisted Daniel in leaning his back against the
rock he had cracked his skull on, propping him into a seated position. Daniel pulled the blanket
tighter across his midsection and shivered as he realized he was wet all over from the snow. Then
he realized he was actually feeling feverish. His skin was hot.
Hey, Im feeling a little hot, here. Is that normal?
The EMT pulled out his wand, and pulled a cable out with a plastic needle at the end of
it. He inserted the needle into the artery on Daniels right arm and waited for the screen to blink.
The data rushed across the touch screen of the MTS-4 until windows opened and gave up-to-date
reports on Daniels body condition.
It sounds like hypothermia, but your systems show youre fine. Id say this is a side
effect of being shot and the nanite drones working. Just the same, Id like to take you along to
the hospital for a checkup.
Weve got doctors on standby at Andrews Airbase. said Leonard, dismissively.
How do you plan on getting there? snapped the EMT.
Daniel touched his earpiece, which illuminated at the touch.
Chariot, come in.
Chariot, chirped the radio, standing by.
Lock onto my GPS and come in for a pick up.
Roger that. ETA is two minutes. Out.
Daniel pursed his lips together.
Two minutes? Hes right on the other side of the treeline! Daniel grit his teeth
together. If that guys giving the deputies tours on the Chariot, Ill flay him alive.
The EMT studied Daniel for a moment and then returned to dressing his head wound he
received from striking the rock he now rested against.

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A minute later, lights illuminated the forest and at the opening in the tree line, the
transport appeared, angling in and hovering over an open clearing, landing with a bounce, the
cabin door sliding open to reveal a cabin illuminated with red light.
The EMT and paramedic stared slack jawed at the spectacle of the Chariot and looked
back down at Daniel.
Who are you guys? exclaimed the paramedic.
Thats classified, replied Daniel, with a grin. Thanks for the patch up.
Daniel clambered to his feet and with a wave of his hand, Leonard, Stephen, Josh and
Chad marched off toward the transport.
Joseph rose slowly and walked over to Daniel.
You okay? said Joseph, coming out of his daze.
A look of shame crept over his face as he examined Daniels mending gunshot wound.
Yeah, replied Daniel, his eyes boring into Josephs, not forgetting his breach of
protocol. Ill be good as new once the doctors at Andrews give me a onceover. Then added as
an afterthought, Thanks for the save.
Hey, smiled Joseph, as though the whole mess of his transgression was forgotten,
Dont mention it. You did me a solid with this job. Id say were square.
Joseph and Daniel stepped into the cabin to see Bradley and McCormack sitting in their
seats.
Thought wed save you the trouble of having to pick us up, said McCormack with a
grin.
How sweet of you, scoffed Daniel with a weak grin.
You okay? asked McCormack, eyeing Daniel critically.
Id wish people would stop asking me that, muttered Daniel.
Daniel closed the cabin door on the snowy embankment and sat down in his seat with a
sigh.

Without even looking, he reached up behind him and tapped the intercom icon to

communicate with the cockpit.

Pilot, called Daniel, were all in.
Roger that, replied the pilot. Andrews Airbase ETA three minutes.

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Daniel leaned his head against the headrest of his chair and closed his eyes, listening to
the sound of his pulse pound and throb between his ears as a euphoric feeling took over. He felt
no pain. In fact, he couldnt feel his molars grinding together.
He was in an interesting place and he mused over the sensations of his body as he sat
perfectly still, interrupted by the jolts of speed from the transport and the buffeting of the wind
sending tremors through the cabin. Like being rocked gingerly into unconsciousness, Daniel was
asleep.
Leonard would, dutifully and gingerly, carry him from the Chariot to the SUV, from the
SUV to The Post, and in Daniels room, tuck him in. What had changed between them was there
would be no jokes at his expense, this time. He had stood with his team and led them, and the
world was changing toward him.
For Leonard, it had been that way since their first meeting.
Before Daniel woke to the horrific events of the morning, he dreamed. Not dreams that
you or I would have, but nightmares of the earth-shattering, mind-numbing sort.
In his dreams he walked on distant planets circling far distant suns, and cursed himself a
fool for ever enlisting in this damned campaign on the losing side of a war that seemingly could
not be won; for whatever estimation could the foot soldier makewith the blood on his hands
and armor as he trudged across countless worldsfighting alien soldiers with technology so
advanced it left the humans impotent, to stir on passion alone?
Each firefight brought countless lives to a cold conclusion as destiny grasped them and
shook their lives out of their bodies like corn from the husk. Each firefight Daniel had been
confronted with the stark reality of his own mortality and left all thought of invincibility behind.
He had been lucky thousands of inexplicable timesas though guardian angels had
redirected the trajectory of incoming fire to pass by him by the scope of mere millimetersand
yet, never did Daniel feel more unlucky or less thankful for his salvation at the unseen hands of
angels than he did on the battlefield as his comrades and allied forces fell around him while he
yet lived.
But there he was, in the throes of the night, wrestling with the bed sheets as a cold sweat
possessed his body, reliving the old nightmare that haunted him like a specter. And there it was
in crystal clarity before him, as though the past had swallowed him and spat him out into his not
so distant past. A past better left to memory, and better yet, forgotten entirelySuch was the
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grim recollection of the most tragic op of the Libra Campaign translated from French into
English as Revenge of the Wolves.

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The Trauma Nostalgia

It was nearly ten years ago to the day that he had lived this moment, and yet, he was there, again.
The cabin of the Chariot had vanished, and been replaced by the cold, Spartan functionality of
the AB-4 cabin.
The thick stench of many bodies sharing such close proximity should have been
nauseating but he was all too well accustomed to it to be concerned. And the tremors that shook
the craft fixed him to the moment, until all was vivid clarity.
Peppered by flack and rocked by the turbulent atmosphere that engulfed the super earth
planet, the cabin of the AB-4 he sat in shook and quaked as the hull and frame groaned under the
mounting atmospheric pressures lower to the quickly rising ground, and many of the soldiers
around himwhether from motion sickness or fear, it hardly mattered, considered the mortality
rate just in reaching the ground, let alone rallying pointquickly opened their visors to vomit
before sealing themselves in again.
The insane pilot at the helm of the craft, while banking hard in multiple directions in the
span of a scattering of seconds to avoid a direct strike from the anti-aircraft batteries, seemed to
speak over the intercom through grit teeth to keep them from chattering in his skull:
Ex-fil in 3 minutes!
Daniel chuckled grimly.
Thats an optimistic estimation he thought grimly. More likely, well die before
ever touching down
He placed his head back and closed his eyes, waiting for death. However, it was not
some tragic depression that gripped him, but cold logic. He had survived so much in the course
of the war, he honestly did not expect much more by way of longevity, but had surrendered
himself to the increments of time, accomplishing the task before him was his only priority, and
then, if he had no control, accepting fateif he had no control
At that moment, the harnesses flipped up automatically, anticipating exfil onto the planets
surface, and the hold rumbled as the troops rose to disembark, and gripped the handholda rail
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that ran the length of the cabin from the aft to the airlockto keep themselves upright in the
maelstrom of flack impacts and winds that shook the craft.
Daniel pulled his distinctively non-requisitioned riflean

SYNKR-22 xxxiv ,up

from

the overhead compartment and cracked his neck anticipating the oncoming fire that would no
doubt spray the opening in a matter of seconds, hearing the occasional peppering of the hull
around them as the fire on the AB-4 became more and more accurate.
There, Lieutenant Colonel Gerard Chord Forrester stood tall and proud, his once regalfeatured black face, now adorned with white scarring by a lifetime of combatfrom the streets
to the militaryvisible only for a moment until he sealed his visor and his voice, loud over the
radio at their ears, echoing in their skulls.
Seventh! the voice exploded over the speakers at every soldiers ear.
And Forresters helmet nodded as though he were enthusiastic with their state of battlereadiness as they waited pensively for the airlock to open and the scrum to commence.
Fucking Vikings! bellowed Forrester approvingly, with all the cold passion of a football
coach. Alright, ladies, he said as he raised his hand in anticipation of hitting the airlock
release. As far as this mission goes, those blessed men with stripes who planned this mission
and have never fought a clusterfuck like what were stepping into have already written us all off
as dead! So theres nothing to proveWere just showing up and making sure our killers die
with us!

Remember: Fire first!

Fire often! Fire for effect! And when you run out of

ammunition, thats when the fun starts!

His mantra was known intimately, and in answer to his demand, the entire cabin nodded
with the solemnity of a football team in the locker room seconds before taking the field. Though
nobody would really consider hand to hand combat with wave after wave of enemy surge fun,
it was accepted that it was not just an eventuality for those who survived long enough to reach
that point, but their only means of survival with the knowledge that there was no more backup,
as they were the last drop, they were the backup. Once they disembarked the AB, there was no
turning backAnd every muscle coiled in anticipation of that moment. And then Forrester
raised his hand and pointed at the airlock that throbbed and pulsed with weapons-fire impacts.
Those of us who prove those pussies-with-scrambled-eggs wrong and walk out of this
shit, over hereFirst drinks on me!

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Daniel laughed out loud, and gripped his oddly-shaped rifle he so cherished. Forrester
was an pragmatic-optimistAt least insofar as he planned on being around long enough to pay
for a round of beer.
And then he head the countdown to contact muttered by the pilot in a monotone drone as
though he had done this a thousand times, and at least fifty times that day in truth, he had:
321

This was followed by the heavy thud as the landing gear touched down and took the full
weight of the

AB, with a shuddered groan, for however long the duration of the disembarking

troops lasted.
Remember, children, Daddy didnt wipe yer noses and change all yall diapers for
nothing! Now, get out there and hit the dirt and kill me something!
With the casual slap of the Colonels hand, the airlock hatch slid open letting in the
atmosphere from the new planet they had touched down ona noxious brownish compound of
ether, looking similar to the smog back home, but tinged of something uglierwhich swirled
and intermixed with the air in the cabin as the hatch completed its circuit sliding away.
In that very same instant, a shell targeting the airlock flashed through the opening,
penetrating the inside of the cabin, and what remained whole of the Colonels lower torso hit the
floor as the flesh above, reduced to so much red mist, painted the far wall and ceiling of the
cabin around the airlock.
Daniel was unphased by the immediacy of the killhe knew the accuracy on the airlock
was improving by the secondbut the wave of emotion still crested and broke over him. Very
few men held Daniels respect anymore, let alone adoration. The Colonel was the closest they
had to a father, and he had known the Colonel from his first tour. After so long in his company
during the War, and watching him check out so abruptly was a horror to him, though dimmed by
thousands of deaths directly in front of him over his nearly four tours, but no less was the sting.
He felt his blood surge with a mixture of rage and dread warring equally within him and
grew rigid as the fear shook him. He would later realize it was stage fright at being made
adjunct mission leader in an instant, and the fear shamed him.

363 | P a g e

The only thing Daniel could do was assert himself as the newby benefit of rank and
being closest to the hatchcommander. He turned to the shell shocked troops with a courage in
his voice he did not really have and raised his rifle high.
Chord Rangers! You heard the Colonel! bellowed Daniel, Were only getting older,
here! Make daddy proud!
With that, he turned and charged the open hatch as energy and projectile ordinance
gained accuracy on the open airlock.
The only thing to do was duck under the incoming fire lined directly with the

ABs

airlock and jump out into the fray, firing, hoping against all hopenot in avoiding being killed
in the attempt at disembarking, but thatthe man at the door might kill an enemy firing upon
him before dying, saving the man behind him from meeting his fate...
Daniel jumped through the airlock hatch of the battered and scarred

AB-4

firing, and

instantly fell to his knees under the weight of his pack on the other side as he crossed between
his near-earthlike weightwhich was maintained by the grav-stripsxxxv along the floor, ceiling
and walls of the

ABs

cabinand crashed, fifty pounds heavier, onto the soil of the heavy-

gravity planet into a world dominated by a dark sky filled with smoke and visible fume while the
rest of the soldiers stumbled over him, charging down the hill and into the valley below.

The

other soldiers, assuming Daniel had, too, been killed, clambered over him, resigned to their
looming fates, and raced to the edge of the palisade, sliding down the steep slope toward the
valley below as the now empty AB-4 lifted off, sending out a wind that raised the dust from the
ground like a impenetrable reddish fog.
When Daniel lifted his head to see the cloud dissipating it was to the dawning battlefield
below in all its beauteous chaos. Like two distinct hives of ants, the ground below moved in
thick waves, disturbed at the front where the two armies met by brilliant feats of both brutality
and heroism as the weapons fire in the valley ignited little spurts of air as the troops below fired
on each other in that mortality zone between the meeting forces, surprising the newly committed
soldiers every time they fired to the effect of bright and brilliant muzzle flares caused by the
ignited fume.
Low hovering ships of odd sectioned, insect-like shapes strafed above the infantry
divisions in the valley, dropping jagged metal balls on the men.
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Many retreated fearing some sort of bomb, but quickly realized they had no incendiary
purpose, returned to march on Quill forces. The bombs no more than a meter in diameter, then
shifted in their impact craters and stretched out from the sharp edged spheres into long armored
mobile weapons, some two and a half meters tall from talon tip to visual display, which quickly
came to life and began firing on the men.
They strode on six spindly spider legs and seemed like the centaurs of Greek myth, being
more decidedly humanoid from the torso up, and they cut into the infantries with hot blade and
plasma fire. If one was incapacitated, the troops quickly learned, it would simply wait until
enough soldiers had ventured near and detonated with a great brilliant plume and a deafening
roar that even at a distance was awesome to behold.
Years later, he would learn the atmosphere of the planet was only just similar to earths,
consisting of primarily oxygen, intermixed with hydrogen-sulfide, nitrogen. The combination of
combustible gasses in the atmosphere was explosive, with the catalyst which their weapons fire
provided, made this latest engagement all the more perilous.
From high up, the battlefield seemed a rolling silver and khaki sea obscured by black
smoke under a smog colored sky and illumination to perceive troop movements below provided
by the periodic great explosion which heralded with the deaths of a great host.
Daniel dreaded taking even a step toward the chaotic mess of men and machines, and
sensed a hopeless endeavor in taking part in the engagement.
If I go down there, Im just going to die with them, thought Daniel, grimly.
Looking on, he saw men die in the scores and shuddered at the thought of his life
blinking out so far away from home, and for the briefest of instants, he despaired from the
precarious plateau as he stared down on the vision of hell from and swallowed hard, suppressing
his fear and the desire to pray for the passing of young men and women who sought only to serve
their families and countries.
He did not mind, much, dyingBut he had a nagging desire to accomplish something
meaningful, rather than merely add to the wall of cannon fodder, before he checked out and he
watched in hope of finding some agenda to run through to completion before that ultimate end
came upon him.
He looked out at the battlefieldwitnessing the dying meet their deaths, before his
studious glareas men fell mortally wounded, only to rise up and strike out again, before the
365 | P a g e

last of their blood left them and death finally robbed them of their opportunity to strike, just one
more time. Their deaths were heroic, stopping only because their bodies could no longer
breathe, their hearts could no longer pump and their brains could no longer send or receive a
command to their limbs.
He stared in marvel at the courage of the dying, these, the fellow children of Colonel
Forrester, in all ways but blood, acting on his final command with the determination of madmen.
Legends. thought Daniel. If there is a place such as Valhalla, I wish to see it with
men and women like theseMy kinthe wild children of Chord Forrester
The words echoed through his mind with a calming voice, removing not just fear, but
almost every passion that could bring resistance to his will to proceed. He was calmcleared of
the grey fog that sapped his will from himleaving his fears to burn away in that foul ether.
There was no swelling passion in him, only the determination of will within to fight
among these men and women regardless of these, his all too petty fears. And so, germinated
within himthis seed, from which passions on the battlefield flowered.
Daniel sighed away these manias with a shuddered breath that tremored through him and
he stepped out onto the slope, letting gravity pull him wearily forward, toward his impending
death. And each step offered something less than courage, but more than momentum.
Though momentum was enough.

Determination marked his destiny, and his footsteps quickened as he marched, slid and
then ran on switchback trails made by other soldiers on his path toward the valley below. He
soon found himself racing down the slope, and with each step, his feet dug less into the loose
gravel, until his toes hardly made an impact.
The only thought that intruded upon his wild sprint toward that mortal wall, where his
destiny reached out to seize him, was a small voice he seldom heeded, saying: If youre going
to die, die where you can have the biggest impactTake out the Quills greatest threat to our
movements before you take that bullet looking for you...
His eyes then scanned the region as he stumbled, slid and fell all at once down the long
slope to the valley below, seeking some artillery position or sniper or PCFs.xxxvi And suddenly,
a spider-legged machine in the valley below him caught his eye. He did not slow, but watched as
366 | P a g e

it marched into the MoT-MaSxxxvii at the bottom of the hill and cut through many of the beds
occupied by the wounded and dying, compromising the air pocket the flimsy ballooned tent
provided for the troops, exposing them to the hardly-breathable fume of the dismal third planet
spinning around the smudged star un-romantically called Gleise 581. If there was another name
for it, he did not know it.
Daniel adjusted his direction by merely an inch, and the new path stretched out to a
seventy-meter distance from his original landing point. Between him and the spider machine, a
large boulder held back the loose gravel and formed a cliff between it and the nearly liquid
terrain.
Daniel rushed down to the boulder top and raised his weapona long cleaving thing
formed of a sturdy stock and a long bayonet perfectly balanced for close quarters combat with
firing capabilitythe SYNKR-22 was, in all ways, a mutilation tool.
His footsteps, quick, as the planets gravity pulled him toward his target, his blood surged
as he left the boulder and fell onto the machine, with a powerful stroke that cleft a gaping hole
down the front of the spindly spider machine, severing some important looking device inside it
clear in half.
The ensuing explosion was quick, igniting before he had even reached the spiders long
deadly legs, and blowing him back hard against the tall rock he had only a mere second ago had
jumped from..and the dim light of the waking world acquiesced to blackness.
And when Daniel would at last open his eyes to the new horror of the present morning, he
would realize he need not have dreamt. His world would grow dark, indeed, in the coming
months.

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C h a p t e r

T e r r o r

1 7:
A l e r t

hen Daniel awoke, it was to the throbbing of his skull and his stomach violently
churning. It was such a contrast from his high the night before, he wondered if he
was suffering from a hangover. The ache in his skull and nausea could easily

have been side effects of sustaining a concussion.

He had had concussions beforeplaying high school football, as well as suffering trauma
from danger-close bombardment during the war, as well as the many blows to the head an
arresting cop had to expect coming to them in the line of dutybut this felt different. Too acute.
Too harsh. Maybe it was shock settling in. Whatever it was, it made him reassess himself as he
lay there in bed, preferring the comfort of his pillow to the violent change he felt when he rose.
He lay there for a few minutes breathing shallow and feeling his bandaged skull before
letting his fingers work their way down to his abdomen. The wound on his stomach was raw but
knitted. He ran his finger down the thick white line surrounded by raised raw skin marking
where the bullet had penetrated his abdomen and sighed as he looked down at the sore. It
seemed his body was at war with sepsis.
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Some pus had infected the wound, but the red rash seemed to surround it. The rash
tingled and throbbed and seemed to move like tide against the wound.
Whats happening to me? he thought.
Its the nanite drones, came the familiar voice of McCormack from the door.
What?
The rash. You were wondering what it was.
Youve been reading my mind? murmured Daniel, annoyed. I didnt think that was
possible since our little talk.
Youve been projecting your thoughts.
Ill have to watch that.
That would be wise.
In truth, Daniel already knew what the rash meant. He had felt the itching underneath his
varied models of the body armors he had requisitioned to him during the wara maddening
need to scratch that made him jog in place on many occasions, letting the armor rub against the
mending woundand was glad that this time he could scratch the affected area without
hindrance.
McCormack leaned against the doorframe as if there were more to their conversation than
his rash of nanite drones.
So, opened Daniel, is that the only reason why youve come?
No, not really.
Is Boatman here?
In the office.
Daniel pursed his lips and a silent groan tried to climb up his throat to make itself
audible.
Has he come to hand me my walking papers?
Surprisingly no, said McCormack with a grin.
Daniel stared at him for a long moment, and then his curiosity burst from him.
So whats he doing here?
Ill let him tell you.
You want to give me a heads up? scoffed Daniel, his annoyance clearly visible on his
cheeks. I want to know what Im walking into.
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Its part good, part bad, said McCormack, grinning. Youll have to sit through the bad
to get to the good.
Not too cryptic, Daniel muttered.
I dont like speaking for other people, snapped McCormack.
So I see, Daniel scoffed.
Come on, smoothed McCormack. Hes waiting. And Lawrence hates to wait.
Got it.
With that, McCormack turned and left Daniel sitting up in his bed. Daniel swung his legs
out of bed and tested his footing on the prickly carpet. The wound pulled as he stood up, pulling
tight like fresh stitching threatening to come undone.
He pulled on his shirt gingerly and buttoned it up over the wound, then dragged his pants
on, pulling a little when he felt the pinch in his abdomen. He slipped his shoes on and exited the
bedroom quickly, hoping to leave the pain and discomfort behind him, but it followed anyway.
When he entered his office, it was to find Boatman standing there, with his phone in
hand, talking with his back to the door.
I understand DHSs contribution to the Task ForceYes, and if you had allowed us
overriding clearance to the elevators, perhaps my team could have set up a tighter net, cordoning
off all possibility of escapeDont put this on me. You dont want to see me when Im put to
task Alright, thenHave your men dealt with. I want this to be the end of itThere are many
uses for the Task Force as they get their feet wetMy team will be ready.
With that, Boatman closed his phone and turned to face Daniel.
Ah, exclaimed Boatman, speak of the devil.
I take it that was about last night?
Apparently you made some enemies last night with DHSs Security and Special Tactics
Departments. No big loss. The chances of you running in their circles will be minimal. And I
surveyed the security footage. Grenades seem to be your teams weakness.
So it would seem, scoffed Daniel. Ive been meaning to talk to you about that-
Yes, JUNCOs, said Boatman as though he were reading Daniels thoughts. Easy
enough to supply. Ill see youre fitted with them, soon enough.
So whats the problem?

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Well, I believe you know the problem, answered Boatman. You broke protocol last
night. The failure to apprehend both suspects was a bit of dirt in the eye, but the breach last night
in arresting a normal human gangthat is something I believe we must discuss.
We did the right thing, defended Daniel.
No, answered Boatman. You did the cop thing. Something that no longer applies to
you.
They were taking fire, defended Daniel. There were casualties.
Yes, answered Boatman, as though coming to the point. You were one of them.
Daniel was silent. It was as if Boatman punched him in the gut, leaving him winded. Ive given
you a long leash. Apparently too long. You fail to abide by simple protocols like, say, not
directly entering into the fray. Thats a job for the Task Force. Not its leader.
What did you expect me to do? I wasnt going to sit there while my team went in there
blind.
So you all went in blind, concluded Boatman.
We had cover.
Yes, cut off Boatman.
Daniel sat there fighting the urge to scratch the rash on his stomach. If they were nanite
drones on his exposed skin, he would only be disrupting them from doing their job sealing the
wound and fighting infection.
Boatman continued as though Daniels discomfort was a minor issue.
K-9 units in the north woods, deputies to the west and Feds to the south with a river
running south and cutting between the Feds and the woods. I surveyed the footage. You
marched straight into them. They opened fire and everything nearly went to hell if it wasnt for
Little Bird. Are you still insistent that Giordano is capable of being employed by this Task Force
as a long distance energy projector? Because I dont see that in your actions or his.
Whats the problem?
Why did you push him out of the way of the bullet?
Instinct.
InstinctYour instinct was to protect your teammateI can see that. But Giordano is a
weapon that needs to be used. His expense in training states that he should be employed, would
you not agree?
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It wont happen again.

You wont save him again?
Daniel blinked at Boatman, exasperated.
What do you want me to say?
I want to hear what you have to say.
Stephen is a cocky hothead whose talent can be beneficial to the team when hes ready.
So hes not ready? implied Boatman.
Hes only just begun to taste combat with his new reaching ability, concluded Daniel.
Hes unsure of himself, and thats a liability to the team.
So you want to bench him.
So you want to bench him.
No. contradicted Daniel, I want him employed. But I want him wearing armor and
ready for long distance combat. Thats why he was trained. I dont want him getting killed
without having the chance to fire back. And I expected Stephen to recover and return fire. Joseph
just robbed him his chance to battle test himself.
So Joseph is the problem? concluded Boatman.
Daniel sat still for a long moment and then nodded.
Joseph needs a talk about working with a team and not going it alone. And listening to
superiors in the field.
Ive already spoken with Little Bird, rejoined Boatman, Joseph is a tracker. He was
probing the field to find the suspects and report back.
But he didnt report back. He-
Saved your life, Boatman concluded. And Giordanos.
Dont turn this around, snapped Daniel. He could have just as easily covered us by
entering the woods with the rest of us. He doesnt work well with the team yet. That will have
to be addressed.
And it will, concluded Boatman, then added, By you.
I didnt have any intention on passing this off, replied Daniel.
Good, chimed Boatman, as though the matter were resolved. Now, your little
Maryland escapade will be written up as a bit of good ink for our Department. Right now, we are

372 | P a g e

still in the men in black phase, so the press wont get much detail. Just enough to know that
somethings stirring in the government, but no specifics.
I understand.
Get your house in order. I want press I can capitalize off of.
Yes, sir.
Lets adjourn, then. I can see you have plenty of work to accomplish between Giordano
and Little Bird.
Right away.
With that, Boatman stalked out of the room and was gone. Daniel had no suspicion that
he would actually stay long enough to interact with the teamHe was a busy man, andtaking
the time to sit down and talk with the men was a matter for Daniel to attend to. In a way, Daniel
was grateful he was leaving the task to him. Too many chiefs meant confusion in the ranks, let
alone not enough Indians.
As it was, Boatman made his silent assurance that Daniels path would go unhindered,
despite his transgressions the night before. As far as Boatman was concerned, the bullet wound
was enough to keep him on courseHow wrong he was
Daniel walked down the hall and found the team congregating in the kitchen over
breakfast. Joseph, who seemed to sense something was wrong, looked apprehensively at Daniel
as he entered the kitchen. Daniels tone was not reassuring.
Joseph, a word.
Right, murmured Joseph with a nervous look in his eye.
The others at the table did little to reassure him, giving him reprimanding glares as he
rose to follow Daniel out of the kitchen.
Lets take a walk, said Daniel.
He led Joseph down the stairs where he stepped at a light brisk pace, while Joseph
plodded nervously behind him. Finally, he came to a dead stop at the final step in the lobby,
stopping Daniel with a nervous grip on his shoulder, before he could round on him to speak.
Look, stammered Joseph, if this is about last night, I just wanted to say I overreacted
by taking that guy on the trip.
This has nothing to do with Chris Young, assured Daniel, Or breaking mandate.
Thats all on me.
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Joseph looked perplexed.

Oh.
What it has everything to do with is your actions in the woods.
Joseph blinked.
My actions in the woods?
Look, said Daniel, I need people who can be a part of a team, and act accordingly. No
gung-ho, man-apart bullshit.
Joseph swallowed.
Okay.
You going off on your own is not how we do things. Its how someone can get hurt, or
worse.
But I was just scouting a bit-
You disappeared into the woods and didnt wait for the team.
Yeah, but-
You were so focused on what was in front of us you didnt take into consideration we
could have been walking into a trap and flanked.
But it wasnt a trap-
You didnt know that. You left the team high and dry without backup.
I didnt leave you without backup, retorted Joseph, but Daniel cut him off.
How can you back us up when youre in front of us?
Stymied, Joseph stood there like he got punched in the gut. Daniel tried not to feel too
much pity for himhe needed to hear itbut still, he was starting to feel as though he were
taking on Boatmans personality in this argument, with Joseph squirming with no real ground to
stand on.
Hey, he stammered. I saved your life!
You didnt save me, answered Daniel coldly. You nearly got Giordano killed. The
bullet was meant for him.
So youre blaming me for the actions of the suspect? clarified Joseph, infuriated.
Im telling you if you want to stay on the team youll treat the remainder of your stay
like an exemplary soldier. Going through the door with the team, covering their backs and not
breaking off from the group without a plan that the group has agreed upon.
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Joseph mulled it over blank faced.

I didnt know
And thats why Im telling you, now. replied Daniel. If this was a matter of you
disregarding the teams safety to play hero or to gain the glory you would have not made it past
breakfast, this morning. But I know your head was in the right place, so Im telling you how it
is. No more going it alone. Youre a tracker? Cool. Well have use for you. But you dont
disappear until I order you to. Is that understood?
Yes, sir.
Good. concluded Daniel, relieved. The last vestiges of Boatmans infuriating
personality draining out of him, he saw Joseph utterly defeated and knew he had just shaken his
confidence in himself. Daniel sighed. You need some time to think about things?
No.
Good, concluded Daniel. Get back upstairs and rejoin the team.
Thank you, sir.
Daniel nodded and Joseph pensively stepped away from him as though in fear Daniel
might summon him back to fire him at any moment.
The truth was, Joseph really liked his job and had a lot to contribute. He was strong and
tough, he was smart, he could teleport and he was a tracker. These were useful assets for the
team. All he needed to do was learn to fit into the team, and everything else would work itself
out, Daniel had no doubts.
Where Daniel did have doubts was in Stephen Giordanos ability to be a part of the team.
His instinct to push him out of the way of the bullet had told him he was not ready. Stephen
stood so still when Chris jumped out of the shadowlike a rod had been shoved straight up his
spineit was clear he would not react in time to protect himself from the gunfire. Still, it was
not entirely Stephens fault.
Daniel had pushed Stephen to be the perfect long-range weapon, and perhaps pushed too
hard to get him up to snuff, putting him in the field before he was ready. Stephen was a thirtysomething kid.

As mature as he looked, there was something off in his manner, like an

adolescent struggling against a parent. For better or worse, Daniel realized he had inherited the
role of parent to a rebellious kid.

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Slowly, Daniel made his way back up the stairs to the flat and found Stephen sitting in
front of the television flicking through channels. He still looked like he had been punched in the
stomach. Daniel could not blame him. Near death experiences were seldom easy to overcome.
Stephen. Id like a word.
Stephen rolled his eyes and turned to look at Daniel with all the defiance of an
adolescent.
Here we go.
What? demanded Daniel.
Youre going to cut me, said Stephen, arent you?
No.
Then what?
I think you need time to train in the GhettoFab.
Why, demanded Stephen, because of what happened last night?
Yeah.
What do you think happened out there?
Look, it happens to the best of us.
Stephen stood up, every muscle coiled as he glared at Daniel.
What happens to the best of you?
Look, said Daniel calmly. You froze. Its as simple as that.
Oh, I froze?
You need more training with your new ability. My fault was in letting you train in that
box for as long as I did. It took you out of the fight. Putting you into one last night was a
mistake.
So you think I cant handle myself? challenged Stephen, his tone harsh and cutting.
Can you? demanded Daniel.
I can do anything you can do. spat Stephen. And I didnt need your ass pushing me
out of the way. I had it under control.
Sure you did. Just go to the GhettoFab. Run the course and prepare yourself for long
distance combat.
Whatever. scoffed Stephen and then he went to his room to change into his workout
gear.
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Daniel was pleased that he was still sure enough about himself that he could run the
course. Behind him, Josh stirred nervously.
What about me? offered Josh.
You feel you need training? asked Daniel, somewhat pleased that Josh had spoken up.
To tell you the truth, began Josh, last night kinda freaked me out. I could use a run at
the course.
Gear up, nodded Daniel.
Josh nodded and raced to his room to change. Daniel stood there in the flat pleased with
the mornings talks and the fact that no one walked. McCormack rounded the corner from the
hallway and leaned against the wall.
Got everything in hand? asked McCormack.
Of course I do, said Daniel.
Glad to hear, responded McCormack, studying Daniel curiously.
You got anything to say? demanded Daniel.
Just that Boatman was right, replied McCormack.
You cant be going through the door with us. Its just not safe for a normal human.
Again, with the normal human. scoffed Daniel. Look, I can handle myself. But the
team, with the exception of Leonard and Chad is full of individuals.
McCormack pressed that point, glowering at Daniel, taking his words as an affront to his
professionalism.
So youre including me as an individual? challenged McCormack.
Your powers mark you and Bradley as individuals, answered Daniel. and you dont
follow the team plan when it counts.
Whats that supposed to mean? demanded McCormack.
It means, replied Daniel, why did you leave the strike team to meet up with us at the
security room?
Leonard had the strike team in position, answered McCormack with a wave of his
hand, and I trusted him not to fumble the ball.
Dont put this on him, snapped Daniel. You abandoned your position.
So now were looking at me? snapped McCormack.
Your ability is immune to grenades, snapped Daniel.
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You would have been the only person who could have contained Olsen Cadiff and
prevented him from escaping.
I sensed Athena and came to back you up. It was perfectly acceptable-
We had Kalinowski just fine.
So now were going to second guess every step we made, last night? demanded
McCormack.
Im not second guessing my decisions, retorted Daniel, Im calling you out on your
lack of team compatibility.
So what now, you going to bench me?
I should. But youre the teams most powerful member. I need you to follow orders,
and not float around like you know best. Its the GhettoFab all over again. You disappeared to
fight a Special on your own without communicating with the team. In the interim, Bradley was
nearly killed.
Youre putting that on me? blinked McCormack, his temper flaring. Daniel felt a chill
down his spine as McCormacks aura flared into a physical force between them. Ignoring this he
pressed his point.
Why shouldnt I? for the first time, Daniel was surprised to find McCormack
speechless. If Im going to lead this team I need my orders followed, and I need the
communications to keep coming. It was like groping in the dark at the GhettoFab.
And youre just telling me about this now?
This is my first time seeing us interact in the field. In practice, it doesnt work because
some of the members of the Task Force havent grasped the old concept of there not being an I
in team!
So Im not a team player? challenged McCormack, his aura flaring again.
Im sure you think you are, answered Daniel dismissively.
What do you want me to say? demanded McCormack.
That youll treat every mission like the Maryland mission, answered Daniel. You
follow orders and keep the communications line open.
I can do that, acquiesced McCormack, his eyes still boring into Daniels. Just make
the orders good ones.
You dont get to pick which orders are acceptable enough to follow. Just follow them.
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Fine, spat McCormack.

Fine, answered Daniel, insisting on having the last word.
McCormack turned and walked into his office, slamming the door behind him.
Daniel sighed and shook his head.
Well, that went well... he thought.
He turned and walked down the hallway to his office, slipping inside and immediately
collapsing into his seat absently rubbing the itch on his abdomen. His eyes wandered the office,
taking in the Spartan room with a lazy expression on his face when his the holographic computer
display blinked to life and scrolled with information:
//TERROR ALERT\\- FBI intel suggests imminent terrorist attack on
landmark under US sovereignty. Perceived attack to occur at high profile
target, suggesting White House, Pentagon or Hall of Congress situated
around President. Evacuation Order 7 has been issued. All agencies
should be on high alert, and contact DHS for orders.\\
Daniel sat upright in his seat, his heartbeat thumping in his throat. He reached over to
pick up his phoneto dial Boatmans cellular phonewhen the phone rang. Daniel opened the
line on the first ring with a grim chuckle.
I was just calling you, he said
Did you get the email? asked Boatman, lazily.
The terror alert? said Daniel, demanding Boatman to spell it out for him.
That would be the one. answered Boatman, his voice bored.
A surge of excitement went through Daniel at the thought of contributing on such a grand
scale.
You want to deploy us on a terror alert? clarified Daniel.
That would be the reason I was calling, replied Boatman, yes.
He suppressed a grin as his excitement mounted and attempted to modulate his voice to a
more even tone as he sought to clarify his Task Forces role in being employed in this potential
scenario.
What about the whole not getting involved in normal human scenarios?

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Since you breached protocol last night and made a spectacle, I could stand for a more
contained spectacle to employ the team in. Plus your savvy with other departments can be put to
use.
How contained? said Daniel, insisting on clarification.
Lets just say youll get none of the glory on this one. This is my olive branch to the
heads of DHS. Apparently they want to see you work for them.
Dont we work for DHS?
Not officially. Your team is more off the books than that. But considering the little flap
you hit last night, and I dont lay blame on you or your team, the powers that be have taken
notice and not in a favorable light. They wish to scrutinize you under their thumb for a while. I
can see no reason to not allow them their moment of examination of the team, so Im ordering
you in.
So basically were going to be gofers to the teams who got embarrassed by our failure to
make an arrest, last night.
Quite succinctly, yes.
If you order me in, I wont refuse. But I want to go on record as saying I really dont
want to do this.
So noted. And so ordered.
Yes sir. Wheels up within the hour.
Oh, that wont be necessary.
Why not?
Ive arranged for your arrival via SUV caravan. Since its a terror alert, the airspace has
been closed tightly. For the moment, I cannot override the protocols for flying through DC
airspace.
Lawrence, chided Daniel, are you getting old on me?
This is no laughing matter, snapped Boatman, the edge in his voice leaving little room
to argue or negotiate.
Get it together, son.
Yes, sir.
Have the team ready in five minutes.
Attire?
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Look official.
Suits it is.
Daniel walked down the hall to Leonards room.
Whats up? said Leonard grimly eyeing Daniels face.
Rally the men, ordered Daniel. Full suits and shouldered side arms.
Whats going on?
Terror alert, answered Daniel. Were going to be stationed around D.C. under DHS
oversight.
Leonards eyes widened and his lips pulled into a pout, sensing the coming interagency
conflict.
This should be interesting, said Leonard.
Tell me about it, muttered Daniel, and he turned and marched to his room to change
while Leonard darted down the hall pounding on doors, spreading the news.
Within five minutes, the team had gathered in the flat dressed in full suit and ties.
Stephen and Josh were the only ones absent.
Leonard turned and grew rigid in Daniels presence, his face a dark smirk.
Sir, said Leonard, team almost all accounted for.
Its okay, answered Daniel. Stephen and Josh will be redirected to the base of
operations and well meet up when we arrive. Boatman wants us all on the ground.
Are we really going to be put to task by the same people we dealt with last night?
I wouldnt be surprised to see Agent King, today. Lets put it that way.
This is going to suck, muttered Leonard.
Suck it up, demanded Daniel. I need you at your best today. Ive got a feeling its
going to be a long one.
The team looked at Daniel with a sense of dread growing and flashing across their
expressions.

After the previous nights mishap with the escape of two suspects at DHS

headquarters, they did not want to encounter agents from Homeland Security or the Bureau any
time soon.especially when they were still not fully trained and cohesive as a teamTheir
dread was shattered by the sound of a horn blaring and the chirp of a police siren.
Lets get downstairs and get this over with, said Daniel, quickly turning and heading
toward the stairs.
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The rest of the team followed silently behind him, taking the stairs down to the lobby to
greet the SUV caravan.

The SUVs pulled up in front of a line of SUVs and Metro PD S.W.A.T. vans on Independence
Avenue, outside the Air and Space Museum with uniformed Metro and Federal agents swarming
the plaza like ants securing a hive from some impending assault.
Daniel stepped out of the SUV into the chill wind and surveyed the ordered chaos of
mass mobilization without a clear target. Nothing had changed since Homeland Securitys
inception. It was still organized chaos with a confused chain of command. The frustrated Metro
Police officers and Mall security guards grit their teeth and mustered their best professional faces
as they did their best to implement the many differentoften conflictingcommands.
Hundreds of voices ordered and reordered procedure over the radios as Daniel led the team
through the mess of Metro PD until he found the calm of the storm.
A lone man, standing smugly in the center of the maelstrom of bodies, completely at ease
with himself turned and locked eyes with Daniel, and he recognized Agent King by the light of
day. A grin of vindication stretched Kings face at the sight of Daniel, and gestured him over.
Agent Rooke, sneered King, Glad you could make it.
Im under the understanding you requested our services?
That I did, lorded King, That I did. We have a terror alert, you might have heard, and
we need men evacuating public places of civilians. I think that is right up your alley.
Daniel sensed some menial task to humiliate his team and grit his teeth.
Actually, its nowhere close, growled Daniel. We were under the understanding our
role would be closer to Congress or the White House. That would be the best place for us. At
high-risk targets. The President is speaking at the world leaders dinner taking place on the
U.S.S. Olympus. That would be a good place for us.
You would think so, would you? No. sneered King, savoring the moment with Daniel
firmly beneath his heelreveling in the expression on his face. No, I need you here assisting
Metro PD in the evacuation process. You see, we need traffic officers to direct cars away from
the Mall and out of harms way. Thats what you are here for.

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Traffic duties? scoffed Daniel. Forgive me, but that would be underutilizing our
resources which should be going on good intelligence instead of puff rumors.
Be that as it may, snapped King, as if Daniel were under his employ. That is where
Im placing you. You have a problem with that, Rooke? Because after last nights cluster-fuck,
I sorely doubt your superiors can be very happy with you. And my understanding is you need a
gleaming report from me to keep your Department solvent. You would like to keep your little
Task Force working another few days, would you?
Daniel resisted the urge to strangle King on the spot and thought it through rationally. A
little goose-stepping could go a long way toward healing the rift between S.I.T.F and the other
agencies. He sighed and eyed King, who could barely contain his glee.
Traffic duty? Daniel scoffed, disgusted at being so underutilized and insulted, he began
to grind his teeth.
Thats why youre here, smiled King, reveling in every movement of Daniels clenched
jaw.
Finally, Daniel nodded. If this act of supplication offered the Bureau and DHS field
agents some satisfaction that his Task Force was a team player, then that was good enough for
him.
Fine, Daniel concluded. Ill mobilize my men to Independence Avenue, Madison
Drive and Jefferson Drive to oversee Metro and get our hands dirty.
King let out a malignant, lording chuckle.
Actually, youll be working for Metro. I have better things to do than oversee you.
Perform your duties to Metros satisfaction, and maybe youll have a job tomorrow.
With that, King turned and signaled a Metro officer with a lot of stars on his shoulders
and scrambled eggs filling his left breast and presented him with some flair.
Chief Swann, this is your traffic assistance you called for. I hear they are quite adept at
traffic control. Put them to work between 4th and 14th and between Constitution and
Independence.
Chief Swann walked up and glared at Daniel grimly.
You are?
Agent Rooke. said Daniel, and gestured over his right shoulder. This is my team.
Chief Swann studied Daniel and the S.I.T.F team grimly before turning back to Daniel.
383 | P a g e

I dont know who you pissed off to draw this card, but dont be a problem for me. I need
traffic moving and not stopping. Were already clogged, and evacuation of this magnitude is
going to stress the streets. Move like youve got a purpose and dont stop until I come get you.
Understood. replied Daniel. However we can assist you we will, but if we get called
in, were going to evac, quick.
Chief Swann shook his head and an amused chuckle escaped his lips.
There wont be any call, said Swann, grimly. From my understanding, youre in the
doghouse. Which means youre mine. There will be no rescue for you. Chief Swann snapped
his fingers and two uniformed officers brought a box over and set it on the ground next to the
Chief, then began rummaging through it, pulling out neon-green mesh vests with reflecting tape
on it, keeping the wearer visible to traffic. Swann handed one to Daniel and pulled a thick stack
out of the box. I need you to put on these vests and man the intersections. Thats the closest to
the glory as youre going to get. Do we understand each other?
Daniel felt the pulse on his temple throb and his face alternated between hot and cool.
I hear you fine, he answered at last.
Chief Swann pushed the stack of vests into Daniels arms who fumbled to keep hold of
them.
Then dont let me stop you.
With that, Chief Swann walked away leaving Daniel standing there with the vests in his
arms.
Alright men, announced Daniel. You heard the man. Each of you gets a vest. Put em
on and no complaining.
Each Task Force member took a vest and scowled as they slid it on over their suits. Each
face was set with contempt for the Federal Agents who grinned and chuckled not ten yards away.
Daniel felt sorry for his menTraffic Duty, at all levels was either the assignment of recent
academy graduates or a punishmentthose reflective sticker covered vests were the dunce caps
of the law enforcement community.
Daniel slid his own vest on and sighed. As he had expected, wearing the uniform vest
over a black suit looked hideous, and the embarrassment rose in him like he had been ordered to
appear in public naked, which for a split second, he preferred to this assignment.

Daniel

384 | P a g e

summoned all his character to remain professional, studied his menwho by the looks of them
felt as foolish as he did in the vestsand sighed.
Were splitting up. McCormack, I want you at Constitution and 4th, Bradley, I want you
at Constitution and 14th. Leonard, I want you at Independence and 4th, and I want Joseph at
Independence and 14th. Stephen, youll be at Madison and 14th and Josh will be at Madison and
4th. Chad, I want you at Jefferson and 14th and Ill be on Jefferson and 4th dealing with the mess
over there.
Yes sir, muttered the team.
Dont let me keep you, dismissed Daniel.
The Task Force mobilized to their assigned street corners and Daniel took the walk of
shame to his position at Jefferson and 4th.
Unlike the rest of his team, Daniel had pulled traffic duty before, and though he did not
care for it much, he quickly took the tone of a traffic cop, blowing his whistle and directing
traffic out of the district. It required a keen eye and a stern handling but traffic soon bowed to
his wishes and responded to his movements and gestures as he shoved the cars down side streets
and avenues until traffic was moving smoothly.

All in all, it took Daniel the better part of an hour before traffic lightened up enough for him to
notice the rest of the traffic cops standing on the street corners chatting with each other as though
the job was no longer their responsibility.
Daniel gestured to the men and women but was thoroughly ignored by them as they went
back to their conversations, leaving him standing there feeling foolish.
Before he had time to do more than scoff at his shaming and the ridiculousness of his
predicament, a limousine pulled up alongside him. Irritably, he rapped on the drivers window.
You cant stop here, shouted Daniel to the driver. Im going to need you to make a
right and proceed down 3rd Street out of the area.
The driver thumbed back toward the rear of the car and began to roll forward. As the rear
door came into view, the window rolled down. Daniel cautiously leaned toward the window, his
right hand sliding over his holster. What he did not expect to see was Lawrence Boatman
smiling up at him.
385 | P a g e

Daniel, my boy! chimed the blueblood voice Daniel knew full well. Are you having
fun out here in this damnable weather?
Give me a break, Lawrence.
Would you like a break?
What have you got?
Step inside my parlor.
Daniel did not need to be told twice. With a quick hop he disappeared into the limousine
and the door slammed shut behind him.
So, began Boatman, I see that Homeland Security is using you to the best of your
ability.
Funny, answered Daniel moodily, Honestly, I want to break my foot off in Agent
Kings ass.
There will be time for that, I assure you. As for now, would you like to know where
were going?
Not as much as Id like to know my team is pulled off this bullshit assignment.
That is up to you.
Up to me? blinked Daniel. I thought this was all about getting the agencies to see us as
amiable.
Oh, Boatman scoffed, I could give a damn how they see us. Once our official duties
start theyll be lining up to us with hat in hand to have us solve their problems for them. No.
This was a test to see how you handle your peers and representatives of other agencies.
A what?
A test, repeated Boatman, To see if you would stand firm, bend or break. And you,
my dear Daniel, bent.
Daniel shook his head like a dog trying to get water out of his ears and fumed at
Boatman.
Im here because you said it would be a good idea to work with them to smooth over the
start we had with them last night.
And it was, Boatman agreed. But honestly, the fact that you allowed yourself to fall
under Metro authority He clicked his tongue against his teeth in reproach. I honestly would
have thought Id find you back at The Post.
386 | P a g e

Well if theres a way to be of assistance in a national crisis, I thought it best to take

some small part in it.
And Boatman leaned in, his gaze wide and awed as though he were witnessing some
awesome, far off, celestial event from the bridge of a flagship.
But your part could be expansively larger, he pressed. You do see it, dont you?
Daniel was momentarily taken aback by the sheer intensity of the stare the General
leveled on him and sat reflectively for a moment. For the first time, he felt he neared the peak of
a long climbed mountain and saw not just the hidden objective, but the elusive means to get
there, forming distantly, abstractly.
I see it, he said at last. Its getting invited to the party thats the trick.
You werent invited last night. You made your way in and flashed your credentials and
the sea parted for you. That is what I wish to see.
Theyre not going to fold for the credentials twice, Lawrence.
Boatman sat back with a wild gleam in his eyes as a Cheshire grin stretched his face.
Oh, but they will. Youll see.
Ill want the team together for this.
Call them.
Daniel tapped his earpiece.
S.I.T.F., come in?
The radio cracked to life and Daniel was entertained to a menagerie of sounds and voices
over the din of traffic: McCormack, here. said McCormack, Bradley Overman, standing by.
said Bradley. Are we done here yet? demanded Stephen This is bullshit. Leonard clicked on
the line: Thats a negative on the language, Giordano. Finally Joshs voice clicked on the line
sounding desperately bored: I havent seen a car since I got here!
All units report to suddenly Daniel was aware he had no idea where they were going.
Where are we going?
I have SUVs driving to their location as we speak.
Team, stand ready for pick up. This partys over.
Are we heading back to The Post? said Stephen, hopefully.
Negative, replied Daniel. Were going to where the action is.

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Roger that. answered McCormack. Confirmed. said Bradley. Its about time!
exclaimed Stephen. Can the chatter, Giordano! barked Leonard. Ill go wake up Joseph. said
Josh. Daniel grimaced at the thought that Joseph decided to take a nap when he should have
been working, but decided to put a pin in that and wait for later to deal with him.
Alright, said Daniel. The teams ready for pick up.
Im sure the teams been ready for pick up since they were dropped off.
Im sure.
The limousine slowed and Boatmans eyes lit up.
Here we are.
Daniel looked outside the window and saw a big rig and trailer with the letters DHS
Mobile Station on the side. Boatman opened the door, turned back and grinned at him..
Are you ready, Daniel?
Daniel looked out at the DHS Mobile Station with some unease. The beat cop in him was
nervous. Back in New York, he would never think about approaching this truck.
It was for his superiors to enter, and even they did not do so without some trepidation.
But that was another life. In this one, he was the head of a government team indirectly funded
by Homeland Security. Whether they liked it or not, he had a place at their table. And it was
now clear Boatman was ensuring they knew him and knew he was untouchable.
Daniel swallowed his concerns and stepped out of the limousine following behind
Boatman as he parted the agents with his very presence. Not once did Boatman pull his
credentials. He just walked with the authority of a general.
Which he wasretired. Boatman took the steps of the trailer and the agents walking back
and forth on the steps made way for him. Daniel had to smilethe way Boatman could walk in
anywhere and command respectthis was a talent he would have to learn.
Inside the trailer, high ranking agents stood around a map of Washington D.C.
highlighting areas that have been evacuated and illuminating sections of the map that were
considered high profile for a terrorist attack.

Agent King was there, receiving orders and

explaining his accomplishments in the hours preceding this meeting.

Boatman stepped up

toward them and every eye trailed up to him, their conversations and orders silenced in his
presence. Boatman turned away facing the coffee dispenser, and filled his cup, helping himself
to the cream and sugar. Agent King turned to face him.
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Excuse me, demanded King.

Ill be done in a minute. said Boatman, not turning to acknowledge King. Im afraid
youll have to wait your turn.
This is a Homeland Security mobile command center, growled King, not a Starbucks.
Youll have to leave. And with a snap of his fingers, Agent!
Two agents stepped forward at Kings behest and approached Boatman. Daniel turned to
face them, reaching for his credentials, and resting his palm on his side arm. The two agents
stood perfectly rigid.

Boatman continued stirring his coffee as though nothing out of the

ordinary were taking place. Boatman turned and stood straight with a carefree smile and eyes
that dared King to challenge him.
And I am afraid you dont have the authority to remove me.
Who are you? demanded King, the others at the table studying Boatman as a credible
threat to their careers remained silent, letting King do all the talking. Boatman turned to King
and smiled.
My manners, said Boatman, almost forgetfully, and he produced his identification
holding it within inches of Kings face so King would have to go cross-eyed to read the ID
badge:

389 | P a g e

DEPARTMENT OF SPECIALS INVESTIGATIONS

SID
THIS CERTIFIES THAT THE SIGNATURE AND PHOTOGRAPH HEREIN ARE APPROVE D
SID CHIEF DIRECTORLAWRENCE BOATMAN

Lawrence Boatman
OF THE DEPARTMENT OF HOMELAND SECURITYDEPARTMENT of SPECIALS INVESTIGATIONS

King blinked at the credentials, knowing he should know the name and feel something
proportionate to the gravity of the name on the identification, but was unsure what force the old
man had and how to proceed.
Lawrence Boatman? murmured King, with a blink, uncomprehendingly.
King looked up at his superiors for some barometer on the room and his eyes went wide
at the effect the old man had wrought. A chill crept through the room and the silent agents
surrounding the desk instantly straightened and grew statue-like. The man in black, himself, had
entered into their midst.
All the senior staff were keenly aware their jobs really were in the palm of his hands.
King was the only one oblivious to the change in the room.
With a turn of his head, Boatman drew attention to Daniel for the first time, who stood
with his back to them facing the other two agents like a gunslinger with his identification in one
hand and the palm of his other hand on the grip of his pistol.

390 | P a g e

I believe youre familiar with my Agent Rooke? For the first time, King recognized
Daniel was there, and his jaw set. Boatman took this as an acknowledgement and smiled.
Excellent.
What is the meaning of this? demanded King.
The meaning of this is you are in a heap of trouble, Agent King. snapped Boatman,
eyeing King critically. I leased my Task Force to you to secure the capitol from terrorist
threatssomething they have familiarity with. Instead, you put them on traffic duty. Tell me it
is not so.
King turned to look for a helping hand from his superiors behind the desk and found only
dismissive glances and noncommittal expressions. Realizing he had no support, Kings face
turned beet red as he began to fathom the dangerous waters he found himself in and he
stammered his response to Boatman.
I placed your team where they were needed-
No, snapped Boatman. You placed them where you could embarrass them.
Sir, stammered King, vainly trying to grasp hold of the situation and turn it to his
advantage. This is not the place or time to discuss this matter.
Oh, youre quite right. It should have never become an issue to be brought up. But here
we are. Boatmans eyes bored into King who squirmed under the critical glare, as though the
eyes would glow red hot and burn into his skull. It was as if Boatman had condemned King to
his own personal hell through the mere intensity of his gaze and the others behind the desk
turned away, averting their eyes from the vampiric intensity of the stare. Finally, before King
could do more than shudder, Boatman looked away from him and bored into the men behind the
desk. Now, what is the situation? Brief me.
Instantly the men behind the desk jerked forward and rifled through their notebooks for
data to offer and appease the god of darkness. A quick-witted agent behind the desk quickly
stepped forward pointing to the locations on the map that had been highlighted red and blue.
We have security at the White House and the Pentagon, and we have just closed off the
Mall with a tight cordon.
As well as your security detail at St. Elizabeths, said Boatman. It seems youve closed
off the areas that would be juicy targets. Now, what about the Olympus?

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The agents blinked at each other nervously, but the agent in charge leaned forward and
placed his hand casually on the map with a show of security before the stare of Boatman.
We have complete operational control of the space station, and all in attendance have
passed through rigorous security check points to the point of cavity search.
I have no doubt youve been thorough in searching the guests. What about diplomatic
cases?
The agents traded blank expressions, as though some threat had eluded them.
Sir? stammered the agent in charge.
Boatman sighed.
Bombs can be hidden in cases that are not usually searched, am I not correct?
No, youre quite correct. conceded the agent in charge, looking down at the map for
something to stare at. With a sweep of his hand, the map slid away from the screen and he
flicked his finger at another icon, opening a window to the security feed from the U.S.S.
Olympus. He studied the screen for a long moment before looking up at Boatman. I can put you
in touch with our chief of security aboard the Olympus, if youd like.
That would be wonderful, answered Boatman, cheerily.
The agent in charge looked over at King who tried his best to fade into the wall.
See Mr. Boatman has everything he needs. said the agent in charge. No screw ups,
King.
Yes, sir, replied King, not at all enthusiastic about his new job.
So glad we can work together, Agent King, said Boatman, as though enjoying a good
meal. His smile was warm though his eyes were dead and bored into Kings. Mind you, how
you act in the next half hour will reflect on the remainder of your employment with the Federal
Bureau of Information. Boatman grinned at his little joke at the Bureaus expense and glowered
down at King coldly. Your DHS liaison status will not protect you from me. I hope youre up
to the task.
Yes sir, gasped King, his eyes wide with fear and a lingering streak of pride burning
the back of his neck.
Daniel, will work with you.
King stopped dead and turned questioning to Boatman, his voice fragile and distant.
Daniel?
392 | P a g e

Agent Rooke, clarified Boatman.

Ah, grimaced King with dismay. yes sir.
Carry on.
King shot Daniel a malevolent glance that faded quickly as he rushed to the front of the
trailer where the viewscreen illuminated with a man talking rapid fire with a starlit background.
The chief officer aboard the Olympus was hard pressed to keep orders flowing to the
security details working with the event staff and behind the scenes.
King handed Daniel an earpiece and then picked up the other and held it over his ear.
Daniel scoffed and flicked the speakers on and the chief officers dialogue was pumped into the
trailer:
Sensor sweep of the shuttle bay reports no detectable threatSending in
personnel for visual sweep Confirmed. You have twenty

ABs to search and I

need that sweep completed within twenty minutes. I want that bay cleared
ASAPRoger that. We should be complete with time to spareSecurity detail,
reportAll clear on the observation deck. All guests seated for the dinner
Snipers in position.Confirmed. Good huntingRoger thatAirlock Sentry
checking in. All Airlocks accounted for and covered on both sidesConfirmed.
Report any intrusions at your positions as they appearConfirmedSensor Com,
whats your status?...Nothing on Delta or LIDAR. The skies are clearWhat about
neighboring vessels?...Im reading clear on all autonomous vessels in the region,
and clear chatter from all manned craft in geosynch. No trajectories veering in our
direction. All static. Were in the eye of the stormConfirmed. Keep me posted on
the status of the neighboring craftWill doIm getting a heat reading on a vessel
within our security perimeterSay again?... Unknown heat signature emanating
from neighboring satellite Can you zero in on the vessel?...Stand by. Heat
signature coming off of U.S.S. ElysiumWhat is their status?... Patching through to
the Elysium, stand by
Daniel turned to see the Secret Service agents watching the dinner speeches on the
window reserved for the U.S.S. Olympus.

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The Olympus had a large clear nanocrystal xxxviii dome covering two football stadium
lengths where the congregation of whos who in politics, and world leaders as well as musicians
and Hollywood A-listers listened to the President speak.
Boatman floated over and stood behind Daniel and King, ignoring the Olympus window
completely as he listened to the chatter between the Olympus and the Elysium:
This is the Olympus, Elysium, replyThis is the Elysium. How can we be of service,
Olympus?...Elysium, were detecting a heat signature from within your ship. Whats
your status?....Checking. All looks clear on our onboard sensors, are you sure about
your readings?Elysium, our readings show a rapid increase in reactor output and heat
signatures register you have a fire onboard your vesselIll move our fire teams to
sweep the B levelIm showing fires spreading to the airlocksStand byOlympus,
we have reports of fires on B level. Status of Reactor unknown. Its weird, our boards
are green shipwide. Our firefighting detail is reporting casualties. Requesting
emergency assistanceConfirmed, Elysium. Putting Emergency Assistance teams on
alertFeeling slight tremors. Tremors building in intensity Confirmed, My resources
are spread thin, Im calling for additional teams from other ships in geosynch. Stand by
for emergency assistance teams to dockThe board is green! This shouldnt be
happening! Were blind up here! Im sending additional teams down to combat the fire
and stand ready at the airlocksIts alright, youre doing fine. Just keep your com
open and prepare to be boardedHurry! The tremors are getting worse!...Im sending
my first team in now and I have reports from five other vessels that they will change
course and send

ABs as well. Stay calm and keep the information comingYes, sir!

Were getting reports that the fires are melting the walls. Radiation sweeps show the
reactors are leaking...All intercepting vessels, weve got a radiation leak, dress
accordinglyThis is the Intrepid. Reactor leak confirmed. Well wear our hazmat gear
for this party. Keep us informed about that reactor Roger that, Intrepid. Rads are
climbing in the reactor but is still contained by the blast shieldsConfirmed. Docking
in three minutesElysium, you have a team docking ETA three minutes. Have your
teams ready to greet and direct as they arriveConfirmed, Olympus

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Boatman pursed his lips and studied the monitors facing the Elysium orbital platform
critically.
Monitor Elysiums internal chatter, commanded Boatman.
Sir? stammered King.
Just do it! snapped Boatman, impatiently.
King opened another window and broadcast the radio activity from inside the Elysium
into the trailer:
The blast doors are melting! We need coolant pumped into that room!...at those
temperatures the fire retardant will be broken down and consumed before it can be any
useNegative! Negative! The chemicals will break down into a flammable material!
Do not release the fire retardant!...What do you expect us to do?...Fall back to the next
blast door and seal it!...Negative! Ive got men on the floorThats an order! Fall back
and seal it!... All units fall back to the secondary blast door point, ASAP! Ive been
ordered to seal the doors!...Seal it now!...My men are still in there!...Theyre wearing
their RAD armor! Theyll survive! Seal the doors now!...Sealing doorsBlast Doors
sealed.

I just sealed seventeen men and women in thereStand by for further

ordersYes sirEngineering, come in?... [screaming cracked in on the open com line.
Horrible wails of agony] Engineering, please respondEngineering, here! Were
under attack- [cries of agony followed by silence]Engineering, say again! Come in,
Engineering!... [Static]Get me Tech! I want my ship back! Get me my shipwide
sensors online, now!...Working on it! Well be up in fifty seconds!...Whats wrong with
my shipwide?... Its a hack! Someones overridden eyes and ears shipwide and put
them in Engineering. Weve tracked the command overrides. Theyre moving toward
airlocks behind the blast shields. Theyre sealed in!...What are we dealing with?... We
have intruders onboard, sir. Its the only explanation Intruder alert! Security, armor
up and meet me at B deck! Set weapons to full auto. I want these intruders down
before they can do any more damage to my ship!...Security team mobilizing to B
deckWait for me at the blast doors!...Yes sir!...Ramirez! You have the
helmRelease blast doors Blast doors open!...The fire has melted through the blast
door at the far end of the hallMan down! Man down!... Weve got bodies all over the
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place! Seventeen total Theyre gone!...Security team, activate gravity boots!...

Gravity boots on!...Tech, do we have control?...Yes sir!

Control has been

restoredopen airlocks on B deck. Get these damned flames out of here! Security
teams, stand fast!...We lost Malcolm!...Malcolms wearing his armor, his armor will
activate its homing beacon as soon as he clears the Elysium. Stand ready!...Fires out!
Repeat, fires out! Open blast shield 32BBlast shield is wedged where its melted.
Its expanded and warped. Release coolant to Blast shield 32BCut off the coolant.
That should do it. Security team, move inActivate WinVidIve got movement up
aheadWere taking fire! Were taking fire!... Command, give me security
countermeasures

in

hallway

11

on

deckSecurity

countermeasures

deployedSecurity team, move forwardWeve got activity on the observation deck!

Repeat, observation deck is compromisedHow did they get behind us?...Theyre
using the emergency access ladders! Owens, open that EA hatch, take a team and
advance. Ill take the rest of the team to Engineering Security team to CaptainGo
ahead...We found the invaders. Theyre taking position. Request order to fireFire!
Take them down!Were taking casualties! Theyre working on something in the
center of the observation deck! I cant make out what it isTake them down, and
investigate!... Confirmed! Moving in!...Owens is down! Taking fireTake down those
intruders!...Cant get close! Theyre firing weapons weve never come across before!
They appear to be built into their suits!...I dont want to hear excuses, I want results!
Take them out!...Theyre gone! The shooting stopped! The observation decks
empty!...Get to whatever they were working on! Move!...Reaching target What do
you see?...Oh God! Sir, its a [explosion and scream followed by static]What was
that?! Security team, report! Com, what was that tremor?...Sir, Im getting energy
fluctuations from Engineering!...Whats that?... [explosion and static]

On the window display, The Olympus point of view cameras drank in the violently
bright flash and following the dying light, the Elysium was visibly erupting in flames which
danced eerily in the void, the observation deck shattered and venting atmosphere into space
while a secondary explosion flared out of the side of the ship.
The Elysium tilted and burned, sending debris out to in all directions.
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Daniel blinked at the screen as a feeling of dread climbed up his spine.

How many souls were on the Elysium? demanded Daniel.
When no one responded, he grabbed King around the collar and yanked him toward him.
How many people?! he bellowed into Kings shell-shocked face.
I dont know, replied King, still too shocked by what he had just seen to register more
than a little hostility toward Daniel.
Daniel quickly released King and turned to Boatman, who stood there watching him
expectantly. This however was only for a second, when all eyes steered toward the Olympus
window.
On the other window, the live feed of the Olympus Convention dinner was interrupted as
the cameras panned away from the President to view the plume of fire extending outward silently
in space. Debris hurled through spacelarge chunks of metal tumbling toward the observation
deckgrowing larger as it threatened the envoys.

Soon the sounds of hysteria filled the

observation deck as the approaching pieces of the Elysium spun closer toward the Olympus.
Tactical! Arm cannons and target that flack! Fire!
The cannons fired as beams of light superheated and melted the skin of the incoming
flack, which exploded into smaller debris, now the size of cars and basketballs that super cooled
in the void and pelted the clear crystal of the observation deck with thunderous, teeth-rattling
cracks.
The cannons continued to inundate the area with fire; yet, still some pieces crept through
the maelstrom of concentrated fire only to roll on unhindered as the cannons spun and swiveled
looking for the unimpeded shot. A larger chunk tumbled and rolled closer to the observation
deck, threatening to impact with it with disastrous results, inspiring the frenzy of the dinner
guests to stampede their way toward the exits leading down from the seemingly naked platform
they stood on. Over the din of the mob came the assertive voice of the deck commander calling
over the shipwide band furiously:
ALL HANDS, BRACE FOR IMPACT!
The patrons and dinner guests went wild as hundreds of people forced themselves into an
access hatch meant for no more than three bodies at a time. The result was the trampling of the
elderly and the less sure of foot as the mob stormed the access hatch into the belly of the ship
all the while, the crowd still on the deck pressed with all their might against the wall of flesh to
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fit them into the hole and make room for themcrushing the people who waited in terror for
their turn through the hatch.
The camera trailed back and forth from the carnage on the deck to the rolling space debris
approaching the clear crystal dome that encircled the observation deck. Finally, the camera
became stationary and slumped slightly up and to the side as the cameraman abandoned his post
to join the mob down below. The camera watched, going in and out of focus as it followed the
large chunk of the Elysium rolled closer and closer until finally it collided with the crystal dome
with a horrifying crash, shaking the observation deck, the vibrations extending throughout the
ship.
The last thing the agents in the Homeland Security Command Trailer, back in the Capitol
sawbefore the camera fell overwas the spider web fingering its way across the dome. And
not a sound was made as the Commander onboard the Olympus continued to call out condition
and commands in direct response to the cataclysm at hand:
Bad Strike!

Bad Strike!

The observation deck is compromised.

Evacuate the

observation deck and get them below!...We need to seal it!...We have half the leaders
from the free world on the deck without access to EVA armor! Get them below deck,
now!...Yes sir!

Daniel turned away from the video feed and made his way toward the door. Outside, his
S.I.T.F team stood anxious for orders. Boatman appeared at his side.
Where will you go, Daniel?
To the Olympus. Our first priority is the evacuation of the world leaders. Well catch a
ride from there to the Elysium.
Boatman simply nodded.
Proceed, said Boatman, quietly.
Thank you, sir. Daniel turned and exited the mobile command center.
Outside, grim and disgusted, the S.I.T.F team stood apart from the bustle of the agents
around them, clearly viewed a plague on the career of anyone who so much as talked to them.
Daniel stepped into the mid afternoon light and immediately demanded their attention
with the clear severity in his eyes.
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S.I.T.F team! commanded Daniel, his voice hard. Weve got a situation and weve
been called in to play.
McCormack and Bradley nodded their encouragement to Daniel and Leonard stood at
attention. Giordano high-fived Joseph who grinned hungrily, while Josh watched warily as
Daniel clicked on his cellular phone and dialed the Flight Office at Andrews Air Base.
Flight Deck, clicked the voice over the line.
This is S.I.T.F agent in charge Daniel Rooke. I need Chariot on emergency airlift
immediately. Meet me at the Constitution Gardens.
Inside D.C. airspace?
DHS has got bigger fish to fry. Get the pilot in the cockpit now! Drag that son of a
bitch if you have to! Touch down at Constitution Gardens in five minutes. And get me an AB-4
on the tarmac ready for rendezvous with the U.S.S. Olympus. Have it stocked for seven soldiers
with extra-environmental tactical armor and side arms. You have the specs we need on file, so I
want armors that fit. Get it done. I need to be on that space station ASAP.
Daniel approached Constitution Gardens and stood on the lawn with the rest of his team
looking off into the northeast.
Leonard came to his side, and Daniel looked to his right and left and saw the entire team
take equal footing next to him waiting impatiently studying the horizon. All the faces he met
were hard but there was a sense of peace in every face. Now they would be put to good use.
Now they would stand for a cause. Now they would prove themselves.
In the distance, the Reflecting Pool glittered with the light of the afternoon sun.
Thirteen minutes later, off on the horizon, the Chariot sped to the rendezvous point. Daniel was
too focused on the mission unfolding before him to be bothered with his inept pilots timeliness.
He had bigger concerns.
How was he going to get on board the Elysium? What would he find when he got there?
But most doggedly in his mind was the feeling of grim nostalgia as a hundred battlefields
replayed in his memory. This would be Daniels first time in space since the war.
As the Chariot touched down with a bounce in Constitution Gardens, Daniel swallowed
hard.

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And so it begins

C h a p t e r

U . S . S .

1 8:

E l y s i u m

Joint Base Andrews

he Chariot was a hulking tank of a flight craft with all the amenities of wartime gutted
from it. It was Spartan and beaten down looking with its pock marks and carbon
scarring, but it was streamlined to the appearance of a flying sphinx in repose and the

craft touched down with a slight hop at the Andrews Wizards Hangar deep in the heart of Joint
Base Andrews Naval Air Facility.
Daniel grit his teeth for the jerky landing he had come to expect from his inept Homeland
Security cleared pilot whose name he refused to even learn. He would not be here long enough
to bother committing it to memory. He would find a new pilot somewhere. He brushed his
brown hair out of his eyes and dragged his nails across his scalp through his thick hair and
scratched his head as he watched the slideaway hatch on the cabin wall.
The slideaway hatch opened with a hiss revealing an Alpha/Beta-Model 4a standard
military troop and cargo transport for extraplanetary travelwaiting for them on the tarmac.
The look of the bulky AB seemed to freeze Daniels blood for a moment as he gathered himself
at a quickstep.

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It had been nearly eight years since he had been on one and the feeling of dread that
always accompanied him when stepping onto one was something the average man would balk at.
But Daniel never put much stock in the average man. Not many veterans did. He had seen and
done extraordinary things for years during his servicesome he would come to regret years later
as he reflected on his choices and read about the war he fought inand the average man who
skirted by the planetwide push to enlist in the new military could have no idea as to the
trepidation the rank in file soldier would have for these transports. Still, they were the best and
the quickest means for in-fil/ex-fil onto or off of any planetary body, moon or asteroid anywhere.
What the ABs lacked in beauty they made up for in tricks and weaponry, if the pilot had
enough daring and orders allowing him to act as a pilot should. But this was not wartime.
At least not yet
The explosion of the near-earth orbiting space station christened the U.S.S. Elysiuma
floating military installation with a near-full stock of personnel onboardbrought the death toll
to staggering, though as of yet unconfirmed, numbers. And with the flack from the space station
that pelted the observation deck of its sister space station the U.S.S. Olympuscurrently holding
most of the world leaders and dignitaries, with a complement of politically conscious and
limelight-seeking celebrities in attendancethis was what was quickly becoming clear to be a
terror attackAt least thats what it looked like, and the adrenaline coursing through Daniels
body told him that this was most likely an accurate assumption.
Still, the detective in Daniel told him to keep emotion out of it. He had watched many
investigations venture into imagination and fabricated evidence to make an arrest of passion to
make that same mistake. And his dispassionate business demeanor warred with his heart in the
wake of the tragedy. He was walking into the devils maw. He and his hardened men. Looking
down at them he saw their steely stares at the open airlock, staring at the

AB-4, a handful of

meters from their vantage point, and knew instantly that they were all sizing up the situation with
the exact same dread for riding on one that he had.
Alright men, called Daniel into the cabin, follow me!
Daniel hopped out of the transport, walking briskly toward their transport and hopped
through the airlock. He did not look back, but prayed they would follow him into the awaiting
craft, perhaps bolstered by his determination or his illusion of a lack of fear.

401 | P a g e

Daniel chanced a backward glance at the airlock hatch of the

AB-4 and was pleased to see the

entire Task Force marching soberly toward the craft. Tall and lean Tobias McCormack, callsign
Paladin, with his close cropped salt and pepper hair walked like a priest who had seen too much
of the front line to be phased by anything, behind him fair Bradley Overman, the great Maximus,
walked like a soldier with his long dark brown hair swaying as it caught the wind. The others,
Josh Sung, callsign Aura, the only Asian on the team, sandy brown haired Chad Beach, callsign
Crimson, with his sad eyes, Stephen Giordano, callsign Kiloton, the hardnosed Italian on the
team with a temper to do a Sicilian proud, and bald Leonard Stonebreaker, the powerhouse on
the Task Force, with his hard stare followed Bradleys suit and marched toward the

AB

as

though they were marching on Hells Gates. Finally, queer Joseph Little Bird, callsign Heavy
Gearsometimes called as Crazy Joe behind his backstepped onto the craft. He was a tall
and muscular man, not near as muscular as Leonard, but outstripping him in height by nearly a
foot, appeared a warrior from another time. A man who one could vividly imagine charging his
enemies with nothing more than a battle axe, a war cry and a madmans grin.
Once inside the cabin of the

AB, they quickly found their gear hanging in a row across

from their harnessed seats. Prominent among their gear were the EVA battle armor piled neatly
in their away compartments.
Daniel ran his fingers across the nearest armor and smiledSpecial operations modified
body armor ADR-14xxxix. This was the armor Daniel dreamed about during the war. The one he
should have gone into combat in.
Alright, he said at last, Pick an armor and suit up. I dont want to leave anything to
chance.
Then, picking a pile, Daniel stripped down and began slipping on the armor, strapping
and snapping the seals into place. The rest of the men changed into the battle armor in silence
checking and securing their suits and checking each others to double check their seals.
Daniel was the first to secure his battle armor in place and then turned to strapping his
pistol, a standard SIG SAUER 9mm, in place at his side and slipping his identification into the
badge pocket fixed to the left breastplate of the armor. There the eagle and Anchor stood out
authoritatively on the badge on his chest, marking him as elite and untouchable. The other Task
Force members followed suit.
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Daniel then sat down, locked himself into his harness and stared into the faceplate of his
helmet, remembering the last time he had worn battle armorthe claustrophobic feeling of his
breath washing over his eyes with every exhalationit took a certain kind of courage just to don
the armor.
Most men went mad and struggled against the armor trying to take it off, even if there
was no breathable atmosphere to support them. Daniel was no fan of the armor. However, it had
saved his life on countless of occasions.
He glanced grimly down the row of harnesses and traded glances with his Task Force.
McCormack and Bradley sitting casually, Josh looked like he was going to be sick. Stephen,
with the air of a hardnosed Italian, eyed the airlock untrustingly and donned his helmet, securing
it in place. Josh followed suitif he was going to be sick, at least he wouldnt get anything on
the floor. Joseph, the tracker, sat with his legs out, his head slumped to the side of the harness,
as though anticipating catching a few winks of sleep before the mission began. Leonard sat at
the far end of the cabin, staring into the eyeholes of his helmet, deep in thought.
Daniel stifled a chuckle at the thought of Leonard reciting Hamlets lines as he cradled
the skull of his dead teacher in his hands. What he did not know, was Leonard was thinking of
Hamlet. However, his defining of the words which he then related to the armor was wholly
different from anything Shakespeare could have envisioned when he first coined them: what
a piece of work is [a] man

thought Leonard with a chuckle, marveling at the armor, to

invent such things that only yesterday were considered out of reach of technology
Leonard stared at the ADR helmet, which looked so sleek and sturdy in his hands. Yet he
also knew, if he so much as squeezed his hands together, the helmet would crack and fail in its
design. Body armor and EVA suit all in one. It was a sloppy mix. They leaked in the void, and
you could see mist spraying out of pinholes when the man in front of you craned his neck or
turned his head or bent his elbow. This armor was state of the art.
Leonard wondered how well it would protect the wearer. How it would fail him? He put
little stock in the smaller technologies. He had learned the hard way that his survival depended
on his hardiness, and not the craftsmanship of the weapon or armor.
Alright gentlemen, everyone secure? Were taking off now, announced the pilot over
the intercom and added with a sly chuckle. Please return your seats and trays to their upright
positions.
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The Task Force let out a collective groan at the possibility of being a captive audience for
the duration of the flight, and shook their heads despairingly.
Daniel waved them down before they could start complaining.
Simmer down, he said.
The cabin grew silent instantly, most returning to the view in the viewscreen on the wall,
while Joseph chuckled to himself and grinned at the sealed airlock.
The

AB

rose easily into the air and angled northwest then shuddered as it sped from

Andrews Air Base, sending pulsing tremors through the hull. It was a little over a fifteen minute
flight from Andrews Air Base to the U.S.S. Olympusaround eight minutes to safely exit earth
atmosphere without causing wildly threatening wind conditions for most inner-atmosphere
aircraft, and another five to knock on the door and another five in protocol for dockingand one
that was spent in uniform silence by the wary passengers.
Daniel, having not flown an

AB-4

since his service, sat there in his harness as old

feelings intermixed with the new revelations coming from his research of the Sol Warmore
specifically his reading about the faults in the Alpha/Beta-Model 4 design and the risk to the
passengers and cargowhich led to a steady rise in his wariness and excitement.

The

hammering heartbeat and the feeling of bile rising in the throat. All the sensations one feels as
they pass from the safety of the fleet into harms way, doubled by the knowledge he was riding a
substandard spacecraft built and designed by the lowest bidders who manufactured the machines,
not for longevity, but for the sake of mass production.
These thoughts brought Daniel back to the familiar emotion of the turbulent moment
when one realizes their lives might end before the battle began.
Daniel looked down the row of seats, glanced from eye to eye, and in an instant knew
that he was not the only one having a moment of dread. The Task Force sat grimfaced and hard,
as if anticipating the first wave of concussive bursts buffeting the air around the

AB, the sound

of flack peppering the hull. Every eye trailed away and trained on the viewscreen, as if
anticipating seeing the searing streaks of EM cannon fire, or the near miss explosions of missiles
and the detonation of free floating mines in the void. They braced themselves in their harnesses
for phantom shockwaves as they stared helplessly at the viewscreen as clouds flashed past and
the blue grew deeper, giving way to black as the stars winked into existence.
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Within minutes, they were weightless, and items not stowed in the away racks were now
floating through the cabin. Daniel eyed a pen that somersaulted over and over nervously. He
had seen soldiers impaled by items like that pen as a result of zero gravity and speed.
Just thought Id give you boys a taste of space, gentlemen. cracked the confident and
easy voice of the pilot over the intercom. Setting artificial gravity, now.
The pen dropped like a stone and bounced off the floor, then rolled harmlessly away.
Daniel watched its progress warily. He finally began to settle back against his headrest when the
pilots voice cracked again into the cabin.
Olympus up ahead. Stand by while we knock on the door.
Daniel scoffed.
Hed encountered the cockiness of pilots before, but he seldom met a pilot who could talk
it and perform at the same time. He was not impressed with the lazy voice.
Bus drivers in space he muttered aloud.
The cabin chuckled and nodded in agreement. Apparently they had the same estimation
of the pilot.
Alright, gentlemen, said the easy voice over the intercom. We are clear for docking.
Estimated time for docking, three minutes. We thank you for flying with us.
The team immediately began to chuckle and snicker at the bus driver in space, shaking
their heads and rolling their eyes. Daniel laughed with them, and their voices echoed down the
hall to the cockpit.
Thank you, thank you. said the lazy voice on the intercom as though he were a stand
up performer.
The laughter quickly picked up in intensity until it was barely controllable. Such was the
way with battle-hardened vets on the verge of committing to a scenario with unknown variables
dancing before their eyes, any of them possibly proving to be a threat to their livesit all
became comical after a while. Dry laughter bordering on the maniacalwhich to anyone else
hearing it would conceive it as untimely or even inappropriatewas all too common, especially
when soldiers, who had routinely fought most of their engagements, not on the front line, but
deep behind the enemys lines, were together.

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Stifling his laugh, Daniel raised his hand to calm his team but that only made the laughter
worse as he fought to keep the smile off his face, and eventually he joined in with the men
laughing at the ridiculousness of their pilot and their rotten luck with pilots in general.
Minutes later, the

AB straddled the side of the U.S.S. Olympus with a jolt and a snap as

the massive ships mag-lift caught and held the

AB and slowly dragged it along to the docking

port.
The laughter died away as the team listened to the sound of the electromagnetic field grip
the hull, slightly warping the frame with a yawning whine that echoed through the metal. The
entire ordeal played out on the viewscreen seeing the stars fall away as metal took its place in the
field of vision revealing a fluorescent lit field the length of a football field lined with ABs.
Inside the hold of the Olympus, the

AB

was carried by the EM grip to the awaiting

platform. A walkway extended to the airlock and pressed against the

AB

with a dull thud

followed by the sucking sound of air pressure against the door. There was a hiss at the airlock
and the red warning light flashed green.
You are now free to disembark. said the pilot over the intercom.
The atmospheric sensors on the cabin airlock registered positive for atmospheric seal and
with a hiss, the door slid open.
Daniel eyed the door with heavy eyes. Their time had finally come to do something big,
and the job was daunting. He had ignored it for the duration of the flight, but the open door
brought them closer to their objective and in the back of his mind, Daniel was not entirely sure
he wanted to see what was behind the curtain.
With a swallow, he steeled himself and looked out at the team.
Alright, he said, his voice commanding, We dont know what were walking into, so I
want you all on your toes.
Theres a lot of chaos out through that door, said Bradley, turning pale.
Everyone in the cabin turned to Bradley. His voice was high and brittle, like a child on
the verge of tears.
What is it? demanded McCormack.

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Weve got a lot of frightened people out there, explained Bradley, his voice frail and
slightly effeminate.
Daniel rolled his eyes.
No shit? he scoffed, and rose from his seat.
No one, not even Joseph followed, all eyes on Bradley, their expressions filled with wary
concern. McCormack turned to look at Daniel.
Frightened people can be unpredictable, explained McCormack seriously. I might
suggest we behave diplomatically.
Ive dealt with riot conditions before, snapped Daniel. Lets move out. Then added
On your toes.
The team disembarked and walked to the main doors to the admitting stationa
screening checkpoint where Marines would verify their credentials and question them before
allowing them to embark onto the Olympus. This was all very usual and within the course of
standard operating procedure for any vessel, and the Marines were always professional to the
point of cold as they checked credentials and paperwork. What Daniel did not expect was to see
the scene revealed by the opening of the main doors into the admitting station.
The main doors slid open to a scene of pandemonium. The large spacenearly fifty
yards of room dedicated solely to dividing the docked transports from the facility at largewas
filled with men in suits and women in flowing dresses torn at the hems from the feet of several
people stomping on the edge of their gowns.
Several women were being treated for sprained ankles, while others nursed black eyes,
cut lips and bruises synonymous with being trampled.

Still others were waiting anxiously for

their turn with the medics, some impatiently, and they snapped at the medics for not attending
them or someone in their group.
The medics demanded space to work and Marines stood by with their rifles at the ready
to keep the impatient patrons in check, allowing for a roughly bartered space against the wall, for
the sake of a small triage station.
The room was pulsing with the feeling of terror and barely controlled Riot as people
argued with the Marines about the whereabouts of their transports to get off the damaged ship.
When Daniel appeared at the checkpoint, the Marines uncharacteristically jumped and
held their hands up, halting the team in their tracks.
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Get back on your ship! shouted the Marine. Were evacuating all non-personnel from
the Olympus.
Special Agent Daniel Rooke with the S.I.T.F, said Daniel, as though what the Marine
were saying had nothing to do with him. Were investigating the possible attack on the Elysium.
I need to speak to your Admiral.
There is no Admiral aboard this vessel, replied the Marine defiantly, We have a
Commander. And I need you to turn around and proceed back to your transport.
McCormack stood next to Daniel and faced the Marine with a cold authority, though
saying nothing. He allowed Daniel to do all the talking, merely letting his cold presence speak
volumes to the young Marine.
Then Ill need to speak to your Commander, replied Daniel, with a little annoyance
lingering in his tone.
The young Marine turned to two others who stood with rifles and they quickly huddled
and talked to each other in harsh whispers that were swallowed by the noise from the restless
visitors as impatience and fear welled up to greater degrees. Within minutes, these people would
become a mob. Daniel had seen it before.
Excuse me, said awhat could presumably have once been an attractivewoman, she
now wore a torn gown and sported an ugly swollen eye. Did you just arrive on a transport?
How many can it hold? demanded a large man in a tuxedo, Daniel recognized as
Senator Darrel Lynchumson of former President Ted AJ Lynchumof Mississippi, who
darted next to the battered woman, and appeared to not have a blemish on him. No doubt he was
a trampler, and not a tramplee.
Get out of my way! demanded another, and charged the Marines separating Daniel
from the mob.
The crowd surged forward, seemingly as one, collapsing on the security door which only
allowed one at a time to enter or exit, crushing the people in the middle as the people on the sides
pushed in on the swell of terrified passengers. Deep within the heart of the mob, a cry for help
was muffled and a head dropped out of view followed by screams. Their eyes were wide with
fear and something morean unyielding madness that mobs experience when they feel
corneredIt spread like wildfire and took the hearts of nearly everyone in the vicinity and
spurred their actions like a rash.
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The young Marines stood helplessly shouting for calm and control to the dangerously
surging mob. Some Marines pointed their rifles at the mob threateningly, and the mob screamed
in terror and fought even harder to gain purchase through the security gate.
Daniel laid his hand on the grip of his pistol and raised his left hand to block the attempt
of the mob to surge, and took a step toward the man who threatened him, pushing him backward.
Daniel knew the only way to stop the surge was with a show of force.
STOP RIGHT THERE! Daniel commanded.
Get out of my way! shouted a wild-eyed man, knocking Lynchum aside and darting
evermore determinedly toward Daniel, his suit torn and his undershirt drenched in sweat. Ive
got to get out of here! I cant die here!
Several others nodded assent and joined the man to push against his back, forcing him
into a choice to either fall or fight Daniel.
Daniel pulled his pistol and pointed it at the crowd, which instantly fell back on itself in
start. He then tapped his earpiece and spoke in a commanding voice.
AB transport this is Agent Rooke.
AB transport. Go ahead, Agent Rooke.
Ive got a mob out here trying to storm your vessel. Seal the airlock and prepare for
departure.
Roger that, the pilots voice was no longer lazy and easy, there was a sense of alertness
and a thrill of fright in his voice. Sealing airlock.
Behind him, the

AB doors could be seen sliding shut as the airlock doors hissed closed

and the crowd watched in shock and drained of hope as the doors completed their cycles sliding
to a close with finality.
Brad! barked Daniel. I need you to work a little crowd control here. Can you do
that?
Yes sir! said Bradley, though his eyes were filled with dismay as he cradled his head as
though he were in the throes of a migraine.
Help supervise the disembarking and departure of non-personnel on the coming ABs.
ordered Daniel.

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Bradley turned to glance at McCormack, who nodded his approval of the order. Bradley
nodded, though looked as though he were on the verge of being sick and immediately planted his
feet and grit his teeth as his face flushed bright red from the strain.
Slowly, the crowd of riotous diplomats, world leaders and hangers on cooled in Bradley
Overmans presence, becoming more docile, calm, patient. They eased back from the security
checkpoint and some began assisting the fallen and trampled, pulling them to safety.
The bewildered expressions on their faces told it allthey were shocked and appalled by
their actions and thoughts a moment earlierthey stood to watch the injured being assisted by
medics in horror.
Bradley took a long sigh as the color rushed to his face and he breathed heavily at the
strain of affecting so many minds all at once.
Daniel nodded to him offering a silent good job, and then turned back to the Marines who
stood bewildered by the change in the mobs actions and sudden about face. One or two of them
studied Bradley, who leaned on Leonard for support to keep his legs under him, wondering if the
stranger had something to do with the change of events they had just witnessed.
As quickly as they considered this however, they quickly found themselves busy with
policing the people from the security gates back to where they were standing moments before the
arrival of the Task Force.
The Marines were now running high on adrenaline and dealt with the non-personnel
harshly, shoving some with the sides of their rifles like police batons before a Riotous mobthis
no longer applied to the men and women and they stood confused by their own harshness in
regard to the docile crowdsDaniel leaned over to the Marine before him with a commanding
presence.
Tell your men to stand down, ordered Daniel.
The Marine turned to the others and spoke in a clipped voice into his radio.
Fall back to the checkpoint.
The Marines nodded and trotted away from the crowd back to the security gate.
Marine, said Daniel. I need to get to the command center. Where is it?
Ill have one of my men lead you there to meet the commander, said the Marine.
Daniel looked back at the others pointing to each of them he required in turn starting with
McCormack.
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Tobias, Leonard, Joseph, youre with me. Daniel looked back at Bradley.

You

alright?
Yes sir, replied Bradley with a wan expression, just a little winded.
Im leaving you in charge of crowd control, said Daniel. Assist the Marines in
however they need.
Bradley nodded confidently and turned to Chad.
Crimson, said Bradley to Chad, help the injured prepare for departure. Aura,
indicating Josh, Kiloton, indicating Stephen, you go too.

Ill keep the mood calm and

orderly.
Chad stepped forward and mingled with the Marines, helping the injured to a seating area
near the airlocks, away from the massive crowd of onlookers. Josh and Stephen trickled away
from Bradley and assisted Chad with the non-personnel.
Some seemed to fight Bradleys affects on them and struggled to return to the now
comfortable state of panic, but he took his time, slowly and methodically, blanketing the area
with calming thoughts of cool flowing water, the sound of water trickling into a pool, the feel of
the water through the fingertips. Soon, even the more willful of the mob began sighing and
growing reflective, they drifted off into their own thoughts, far away from the madness of the
observation deck. Far removed from the ship. They lounged on beaches. They collected their
thoughts in silence.
Bradley sighed with relief and pulled back into himself.

Fighting a mob with pure

psychic will can be taxing for even the highest order telepaths. This proved to be the case for
Bradley, who nursed a slight headache as payment for his returning the world to peace.
A Marine appeared from the crowd and faced Daniel.
If youll follow me, sir.
Daniel nodded and turned back to signal his men to follow him as the Marine led them up
through the crowd toward the main platform taking them to the command center.
Soon the chatter of the non-personnel faded to a low murmur as the hallway veered away
from the checkpoint hall and into the more confined corridor with the close glow of warm
fluorescent light in the walls and ceiling.
Daniel followed the Marine in silence, listening to the sound of his boots clicking on the
metal floor leading to the lift. The Marine signaled the lift with a swipe of his card and stepped
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to the side allowing them to enter the lift.

Once inside, they turned to face the Marine

questioningly.
Youre heading to deck sixteen, said the Marine.
Thank you, said Daniel.
The Marine saluted, turned and jogged back down the way he came to assist with the
evacuation of nonessential personnel from the large waiting room.

Daniel watched him

disappear around the corner and then cleared his throat.

Deck sixteen. said Daniel to the shipwide computer.
There was chime and the doors immediately slid shut and shot up to the top level. When
the doors opened, the command center yawned out in front of them.

Wall to wall paneling

slightly cushioned in case the inertial gravity fail-safes failed at high speeds. Viewscreens
illuminating the various stations of the ship from engineering to weapons and tactical glowed in
the semi-dark room. Straight ahead was the largest viewscreen Daniel had ever seen. It showed
the stars, the earth and the wreckage of the U.S.S. Elysium. From Daniels point of view, the
damage did not look that bada little paint and a new dome over the observation deck and it
looked like it would be good as newthen again, Daniel was no engineer.
For all he knew, the ship was a total loss.
The view was so startling, from the void to the earth to the remains and floating debris of
the Elysium, each objects telemetry charted on the viewscreen, he hardly noticed the men
rushing about at action stations, or the Commander who sat at the helm.
Get off my bridge! shouted the Commander, coldly.
His eyes told Daniel this was a man who would fight bitterly if tested. Still, it was
Daniels intention to board the Elysium. He would need the commanders assistance.
Special Agent in charge Daniel Rooke of the Specials Investigation Task Force.
announced Daniel.
I have a situation to deal with, barked the Commander, unimpressed with Daniels
credentials. I dont have time to hold your hand.
Were not here to interfere with your action stations, Commander, replied Daniel.
Were first responders to a possible terrorist attack. We do expect your cooperation.
I dont have time for this, snapped the Commander, rising from his chair showing his
full height and frame. He was a powerfully built man with scars across the right side of his face,
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and a patch over his right eye. Daniel had seen worse in men who had survived the warafter
all, he had been shot seven times and survived three bombs at close quarters leaving scars across
his torso and legsand he himself was one of the lucky ones.
Then give us an officer with clearance to work with us, without a moments hesitation.
The Commander blinked at Daniel, apparently surprised that his gruesome face hadnt
given him so much as a pause. He stared at Daniel for a long moment and then his eyes trailed
over Leonard, McCormack and Joseph with a quick estimation of the men. Finally he nodded.
Jacobson! barked the Commander.
Yes, sir! shouted Jacobson at full attention.
Youre with them, ordered the Commander. Get them what they need then get them
off my ship!
Yes sir! Jacobson was an able-bodied soldier. Young and clean cut.
Daniel read the young mans eyes. He was too young to have experienced the Sol War,
but there was a smoothness about him, like a calculating youth who knew how to best get
promotions. With this Commander, it was through being impeccable in work and delivering the
undeliverable. Daniel grinned. This man would do anything to get the job done with the least
amount of hassle.
Jacobson, said Daniel. Ill need you to get me scans of the Elysium and report them
directly to me.

Ill also need a transport so we can investigate the scuttled remains of the

Elysium and halt its failing trajectory.

Understood, said Jacobson. Let me get a man to take you down to the flight deck and
well get you fitted with a pilot and a Reever.
Jacobson turned to a petty officer and instructed him to take them down to the flight deck
quickly and the petty officer jumped to attention, gestured to Daniel to follow and jogged onto
the lift. Daniel and the others followed.
Deck four, said the petty officer.
They took the lift down to the flight deck and stepped out into a functioning launching
bay equipped with EM launch tubes. The petty officer called out to a man standing at the far end
of the hangar talking to Jacobson on a viewscreen.
Captain Redwing! called the petty officer.

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A captain onboard with a Commander in charge of the ship? thought Daniel, and
wondered how that worked out.
The man turned away from the viewscreen as Jacobson signed off. He was a severe
looking pilot with pockmarks on his face, obviously from shrapnel in the cockpit.

The petty

officer gestured to Daniel and his men and then turned and raced back to the lift. The severe
looking man stepped forward and shook hands with Daniel.
John Redwing, greeted the man with the scarred cheeks and an easy grin that looked
downright evil on his ruined face. It looks like Im your ride. You want a pilot crazy enough to
fly into a dead hold, Im your man.
Good man, replied Daniel.
Redwing turned and led them down the platform to a large, imposing bird of prey. From
above, he could see some measure of hint to a

Reever

design, but the maintenance bay

overhang obstructed view of the bird left entire sections hidden as it came into view. Star
fighters during the war were sleek, but still had that windowless, contained submarine look
lurking somewhere in their disparate overall designs. This craft seemed to betray all prior
designs he had ever either seen or read up on.
Daniel and his men followed Redwing to the elevator platform that would descend to
their awaiting transport, and as the vessel came into clear, unobstructed view, he felt his blood
run cold at the sight of the sleek craft and his jaw dropped at the sheer splendor of the fighter. It
was a beautifully colored craft, the body, which seemed to be charcoal black at firstbut upon
closer examination, was somewhere between navy blue and purple, but Daniel was having
trouble distinguishing which color it actually waswith the edge of the strakes along the nose
and the wingtips subtly painted a vibrant crimson, like a recently gorged bird of prey, its wings
dipped in blood She was long and sleek and beautiful, like a hawk dipping her wings close to
her in a dive and Daniel let out an admiring whistle.
Redwing beamed.
Thank you, said Redwing, and then signaled Daniel to follow him down the steps to the
underbelly. You ever flown on a Gen-7 Reeverxl before?
Never, admitted Daniel.

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Not so hard, soothed Redwing as he led them down the stairs. Just a few things you
should know Beneath the craft was the cockpit control bay resting on the deck. Redwing
took them around the back of the control bay and revealed a row of about eight seats running in a
U-shape just behind the back of the cockpit. First off, youre in the shitty seats. If things get
rough, youll definitely feel it.
Okay, answered Daniel, somewhat trepidatiously.
Secondly, I fly a loose stick, but I fly by the book. No joyrides here, if I can help it.
Good to know. answered Daniel.
Thirdly, said Redwing, taking a severe tone. This is a very dangerous mission.
Theres flack out there. A lot of it. I may have to put on a few moves. Can your stomach handle
that?
Im zero-G combat decorated, Captain. answered Daniel, his lips pursed dourly. I
think I can handle it.
Good to know. said Redwing, a blustering appreciation turning his lips into a leering
grin. Put on your helmets. he said, adding as he turned away, Im on channel 3.
Daniel and the others donned their helmets, snapping them in place along the safety seals.
Redwing gestured toward the seats, and Daniel climbed onto the platform, while Leonard,
McCormack and Joseph followed suit and Redwing fastened them into seats, pulling down the
roll bars.

He then turned to the cockpit, hopped into the control seat and fastened himself in,

donning his flight helmet.

We good back there? chimed Redwing over the radio.
Good to go! replied Daniel crisply.
Daniel craned his head to see what Redwing was doing. He could just make out the
heads up display system blinking to life. The engines started to hum and with a flick of a finger
on the heads up display and the entire platform rose up into the belly of the craft as beneath
them, the belly of the beast closed and swallowed them in darkness.
The next instant, the world lit up as monitors on all sides blinked to life revealing a 360degree view of the launch bay. Daniels jaw dropped at the sightlike he was floating in
midair, suspended in the center of the hangarRedwing flicked a switch and the engines wined
louder.

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Just then, the craft shook. He instantly grimaced and glared at the pilot, but Redwing
chuckled at the eyes on him in the rearview monitor display of the passenger seats and returned
to his flight check with a shrug.
Not to worry, back there, soothed Redwing over his shoulder, his voice echoing in their
helmets over the frequency. Thats just the Mag-Lift grabbing us. From here on out, theyll
load us into the launch tube like a shotgun shell and fire us out into space. At this point, were
just a missile, for all intents and purposesThe G forces are kind of extreme from a side seated
position, but hey, this babys built for fighting, not transport.
I got you, murmured Daniel.
He traded as close to a reassuring glance with his men as he could muster, knowing next
to nothing about his assigned pilot. McCormack gave a shrug while Leonard grit his teeth.
Joseph grinned at the thought of the little adventure with surround picture.
Daniel sat there bolted into his seat listening to the humming intensifying to a highpitched whine.
Roger that, Command. Redwing said, then grew rigid and spoke in a clear voice,
declaring who he was, his callsignwhich was, apparently, also the name of his fighterand
with that authority, to Daniels amazement, actually ordered his own launch: Captain John
Redwing.

Durendal.

Launch!

There wasnt time to process all that happened. There was a low-pitched thrumming
sound and the

Reever launched to incredible speeds, causing Daniel and the others to bounce

around, as their battle armor plastics banged against the titanium harnesses and the air was
momentarily forced out of their collective lungs.
Within an instant, their world went black and alight with stars as the Reever banked to a
parallel trajectory alongside the Olympus, and Daniel looked out in wonder as a thrill of horror
brought the damage caused by the shrapnel and debris of the Elysium visited upon its near
orbiting sister ship to grim reality.
From the outside they saw the cracks extending down the nanocrystal dome, spidering
outward from the strike points where the Elysium debris had collided with the Olympus. At
sections, the spray of air could be seen hissing into the vacuum and maintenance team crewmen,
both inside and floating in the void, fitted in EVA suits, filled the holes with putty where they
416 | P a g e

saw them. On the interior, crewmen slapped patches into place to seal the leaks. The effect was
an ugly quilt-work pattern overtaking the spidering cracks.
Im going to bank over to the Elysium, said Redwing over the radio, and do a flyby to
see what kind of damage there is to the airlocks.
Were in your hands, Captain, replied Daniel.
There was nothing more to say, really. The Captain was in charge of his own craft,
apparently, given the way he ordered his own launch. Something that still amazed Daniel.
Craning his head, Daniel watched the debris-filled field laying out before them. Larger
pieces of the observation deck of the Elysium tumbling toward them like rolling glaciersslow
but deadlythere were a few hard banks and the debris rushed past them like meteors.
Redwing flew in low to the Elysium and he stared out at the damage, whistling under his
breath.
How bad is it? asked Daniel.
Well, said Redwing, you wont be getting in that thing without your helmets on.
I figured as much, murmured Daniel.
You sure you dont want to wait for the ESTATxli teams to shut down the reactor before
you board?
The thought of so many boots marching over the crime scene in an effort to salvage the
Elysium made the cop in Daniel cringe.
No, thought Daniel, this could not be allowed to happen.
Our suits can block out radiation, concluded Daniel, a note of finality in his tone.
Sure, sure. replied Redwing casually. What exactly are you looking for in there?
Evidence, answered Daniel.
Well, youre definitely going to be the first on the scene. said Redwing under his
breath. Hold on to your socks, girls. Were coming in. Redwing pulled the nose on the

Reever up and Daniel felt as though his stomach had risen up into his throat.
A moment later, Redwing angled the craft for a section of warped metal, beyond which
the landing bay could be clearly seen. The

Reever danced around the shards of metal with an

easy grace and dropped into the hold where it set down effortlessly on the landing platform.
Give me a second to talk to the Elysium and get the lay of the land.

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Redwing typed onto a keyboard and a window opened on the heads up display with data
flowing in response to his inquiries.
Daniel could feel McCormack and Leonard shift in their seats to crane around to face
Redwing, and he glanced back at them. Joseph sat there behind them kicking his legs out and his
head craned around the cockpit surround screen taking in the destruction of the landing bay.
This was interrupted when Redwing spoke again.
Okay, said Redwing, its as I suspected. Theres still air in certain sections, but
theres a lot of damage to the structure. You may find your way impeded by implosions and
shrapnel. Its not going to be pretty.
Thats fine, answered Daniel. Well go as far as we can.
Im just saying that might not be possible.
Can you get us inside? demanded Daniel.
Sure, answered Redwing. He typed on the keyboard and the response blinked on the
heads up display. A second later, the platform the

Reever was on began to descend into the

belly of the Elysium.

The lights in the hangar flickered on and off plunging the room into utter darkness before
dimly blinking back on and flickering brightly. The hangar was in shambles,

Roman class star-fighters lay tumbled about the hangar.

Sioux

and

It looked as if God had grabbed the

ship and shaken it in his hands, as a toddler would, just to hear the rattle of a broken toy. Bodies
could not be seen, but occasionally, a streak of blood ran to a pile of crates and vanished beneath
them.
Gentlemen, said Redwing grimly, welcome to the U.S.S. Elysium.
The cockpit lowered and touched down on the floor and Redwing unfastened his harness,
flipping it upward and with an agile leap came down on the floor to survey the hangar. Daniel
lifted his harness off and rose, cracking his back from the uncomfortable ride.
It looks more like Hell, said Joseph, as if he knew what hell really looked like.
Get out your notepads and get the scanners up and running, said Daniel to the others,
pulling out his own and activating the necessary apps. We could have survivors on board.
Well, I wouldnt put money on it in here. said Redwing. Whatever injuries they
received in the explosion was only made worse by the decompression.
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Do we have breathable air in here? demanded Daniel.

I wouldnt chance it, replied Redwing.
Leonard? said Daniel, silently commanding him to confirm Redwings suspicions.
Leonard pulled out his notebook from his backpack, scrolled through the windows until
he found the icon for taking readings of the areafrom oxygen levels to heat sensing, radiation
levels and life sign readingsand depressed his thumb to the icon, converting his notebook into
a handheld scanner. He then waved his scanner around the room taking his time at the piles of
crates with the blood running out from underneath.
Im getting a lot of DNA all over the place, butnothing, said Leonard, grimly.
Daniel looked over at the crates piled high and a moment of pause took him, taking
account of the body or bodies that most likely lay beneath.

After the moment had passed, he

turned to look at McCormack, Leonard and Joseph, who had all already come out of their
acknowledgement of a lifes passing and watched Daniel closely.
Okay, said Daniel, his voice shaky. We move slowly.
Leonard, Joseph and McCormack nodded and made their way into a three-point
formation, with their scanners out in front of them. They didnt need to look down at the
readings. The readings were fed directly into heads up displays on their visors.
Walking into the Elysium was like walking into a bad acid trip, or Lewis Carrolls worst
nightmare. Shards of metal penetrated the walls and floor like massive thorns, and holes in the
wall revealed the blown cables and leaking hydraulics and pneumatics. Miles of fiber optic cable
hung low and glowed blue in the dim light cast by the failing fluorescents and Daniel grit his
teeth at the thought that whatever happened here, the ship had been virtually disemboweled. All
around them, whirlwinds of steam and air vented into the corridor and dissipated in the vacuum.
Fifty yards from the hangar, they came to a sealed bulkhead.
We got anything? asked Daniel, hopefully.
Im only reading the environment, answered Leonard. Low radiation, signs of zero g
fire and leaking atmosphere.
Daniel tapped his helmet to channel 3.
Redwing, said Daniel.
Yeah, responded Redwing.
Can you seal the hangar?
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Already done.
Alright were going to open this bulkhead.
Daniel flipped open a control panel and activated the door, pounding his fist on a red
button. The bulkhead slid open and a hurricane of air rushed out to meet them, knocking them
off their feet and roaring into the corridor and hangar.
Is that air? demanded Daniel.
Hang on. McCormack studied his heads up display. Its weak, but its breathable.
Daniel slid his visor up and took a breath. Leonard and McCormack studied him for a
moment.
Its like breathing at seventeen thousand feet, he said, matter-of-factly.
Leonard lifted his visor and took a breath. McCormack was the last to remove his visor.
Its a little thin for me, said McCormack.
Okay, said Daniel, now we can do a proper sweep. Redwing!
What do you need? cracked the radio.
I need a layout of the Elysium.
Already uploaded to your notebooks.
Daniel checked his scanner and saw that indeed a schematic of the Elysium appeared.
Sections of the ship were illuminated in blue while other sections were shadowed out.
The darkened sections? said Redwing critically. Dont open those bulkheads. Stay on
the blue.
Daniel pursed his lips. The blue section took them on a crooked line through the ship
leading to several key points including the command center and the reactor room, albeit the long
way around. Okay.
As they made their way through the warped walled corridor, they unconsciously lifted
fiber optic cables out of their way and stepped over the cracks in the floors as though they were
fighting a techno organic jungle. Around the turn they encountered zero-G fire running out of
the walls where sparks met pure oxygen and oil and flared up in a pool of fire.
Okay, said Daniel. We got to contain this before we move on.
Leonard reached for his belt and pulled out a canister of glue used for breaches in the
armor, and sprayed the concoction on the oil line which instantly clogged and slowed to a small
drip of fire. McCormack took a fire extinguisher off the wall and doused the floor. Daniel
420 | P a g e

ripped the wires out of the wall at their connection boxes, and the sparks died. McCormack then
doused the oxygen pipe with fire retardant and the fire hissed out, leaving only the outpouring of
gas.
Daniel took his own glue gun off of his belt and filled the hole with it. The oxygen
hissed and sputtered as it fought to get out, but slowly the hole closed and the mist dissipated.
Alright, said Daniel. Get that bulkhead open.
Roger, said Leonard.
Whats behind it? demanded Daniel.
Readings show the lift to the Engineering room, said McCormack.
Redwing? said Daniel.
The lift is out, replied Redwing. Take the emergency ladder to the lower decks.
Youre going to deck 5.
Wheres that? inquired Daniel.
Theres a ladder, said Redwing, to your right from your position, through an
emergency hatch.
Youve got our position on your screen?
Im actually watching you via security feed.
Daniel turned around carefully examining the walls until he looked up and found the
camera hidden behind a small dome of reflective glass warped from the fire.
Hi, said Redwing.
Daniel waved back acknowledging Redwing and then turned his back to the camera.
Get me down through that emergency hatch, commanded Daniel.
Joseph grabbed the emergency hatch with both hands and with a pull, the hatch popped
out revealing a dimly lit shaft with a ladder. Daniel fit himself in the hole and crouching his
head down, reached out and took the ladder in his hands while his feet dangled to the lower
rungs.

He immediately climbed down and noted they were on level eight as he made his way

down, Joseph followed, then McCormack, and lastly, Leonard, who had trouble squeezing his
shoulders through the hole with his thick chest and powerful arms.
On level four, Daniel accessed the emergency hatch and kicked it out, climbing through
onto the floor and then standing up in the Engineering room.

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Engineering was a high walled room with ladders and crawlspaces leading in and out of
the room like a maze. Red lights flashed overhead, and strobe lights blinked as the overhead
sprinkler system dripped water onto the slick floor. In the center of the room, the reactor stood
leaking radioactive gasses. It was sealed by a clear nanocrystal wall, cutting them off from any
chance of examining the reactor up close.
Alright, said Daniel, Im in Engineering.
I got you on camera, said Redwing.
Through the mist Daniel could make out bodies laying in clumps on the floor around the
reactor. Blisters covered their exposed skin, and their bodies had begun to swell. Something in
that room was causing the bodies to break down at an accelerated rate.
Can we get the breach protocols online? inquired Daniel. Weve got gas all over the
place and the bodies are decomposing.
Redwing clipped onto the line.
I cant do that from here. Jacobson could override the system from the Olympus.
Behind Daniel, Joseph pulled himself out of the hole followed by McCormack.
How about it Jacobson? said Daniel, impatiently.
The next instant, Jacobsons voice clipped onto the line. One moment, he said,
followed by a long pause. Okay, Ive activated the pumps. Give it a minute.
Daniel watched as the vents in the floor and walls began sucking up mist and the
sprinkler system overhead began to pour down on the floor. Within seconds, the bodies could
be seen clearly. They looked even more horrifying with the mist removed. Some of them
appeared to have been ripped apart, or had exploded from the inside, their ribcages exposed,
jutting up in different directions, revealing their organs.
What the hell happened here? muttered Daniel, aloud.
Finally Leonard squeezed out of the emergency access hatch in the wall and stood to full
height, cracking his back.
I hate tight spaces. muttered Leonard.
I suggest you put your visors down, now. said Jacobson.
Why?
The reactor bulkhead is about to open.

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Daniel traded nervous glances with Leonard and McCormack and they quickly shut their
visors as their internal environment activated with a hiss. Joseph already had his visor down.
A second later, amber lights blinked and the heavy nanocrystal wall slid open giving
them access to the reactor room. Daniel stood pensively staring at the steam still issuing from
the reactor being sucked up by the vents. Finally, he stepped into the reactor room and surveyed
the corpses up close. They had frightened expressions on their faces as though they knew death
was coming for them.
Daniel felt his insides crawl at the thought of being trapped, knowing their only path of
escape was sealed. Daniels eyes trailed up to the crawlspaces wondering how many people tried
to escape through there. How many more bodies could be counted if they had the time and the
manpower to do a clean search.
His train of thought was halted abruptly by Leonard, who knelt next to one of the bodies.
Long blond hair obscuring her face, Leonard moved the body onto her back. He studied her for a
long moment and then ripped open her engineers jumpsuit. Daniel reached out to stop this
desecration, but was stopped by Leonards words.
It looks like theres more happening here than a reactor leak. Weve got bullet holes in
this one.
Daniel stepped closer and stared down at the woman, avoiding her death stare as best he
could. The bullet holes in her chest and abdomen had been what killed her. Not the reactor leak.
But the othersgrizzly and macabre wounds that defied explanationwere even more bizarre
than the idea that someone smuggled a gun onto a space station.

These people looked like

someone had taken a hatchet to them, or worse, that their bodies exploded outward for no
apparent reason.
What the hell happened to these people? muttered Daniel.
Leonard knelt down next to the body with his ribs bent back and his organs exposed.
His heart and lungs are crushed and his ribs are broken outward like he exploded, said
Leonard, then looked up at McCormack. Toby?
It looks like were dealing with a Special, said McCormack. Id say a psi-ball.
A psi-ball, repeated Daniel. Like Lyons?
Terry Lyons was a telekinetic with low level telepathy who had mastered the psi-ball, a
sophisticated talent of creating objects or even more defined tangible forms out of pure psychic
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energy. But Terry was in a detention center or lab somewhere being subjected to God knows
what all because Daniel, and apparently Boatman as well, was not powerful enough to free her
from the Department Of Justices secret Specials Investigation program.
Sensing he had broached a sore subject in mentioning Terry Lyons, Daniel waited out the
pause in McCormacks answer. Finally he spoke.
Not as sophisticated, no. replied McCormack. Its an outward manifestation of
psycho-kinesis. The psionic force is formed outside and away from the maker, usually in the
shape of a ball and then expanded into some sort of shape.
Can you track who did this? demanded Daniel.
McCormack studied Daniel for a long moment, mulling over his answer.
The number of psi talents who can project a psi-ball are counted on two hands. Were
talking seven surviving people on the planet that have been catalogued as having that ability.
And its clear theres been military applications from the effectiveness of the ball, so Id say for
certain the Special who did this is on file as a veteran.
I want to see that list, said Daniel.
So will Homeland Security, murmured McCormack.
Yeah, well, acceded Daniel, I want first crack.
First you want to ask is if this is even an Task Force case, clarified McCormack.
If its a Special in a terrorist attack, said Daniel, then, yeah, Id say this is an Task
Force case.
Then before we go any further, cautioned McCormack, I think we should call it in and
get some teams up here to handle the evidence.
I want the bodies, too, said Daniel.
The bodies are evidence of a Special attack, agreed McCormack. Youre well within
your rights to make that demand. But Boatman should be called.
Ill handle Boatman, said Daniel.
I think we should pull back, said McCormack.
And I think, replied Daniel, we need to protect the crime scene from the UNIAF
teams theyve got scrambling here as we speak.

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Rookes right, answered Redwing over the radio. Thats a hot reactor youve got
there. Weve got a ten minute window before youve got a pissing contest with the ESTAT
teams.
Then well have to move fast, said Daniel. Jacobson, are you online?
Affirmative, chimed Jacobson over the radio.
I need you to run a scan on the Elysium and all debris, said Daniel, marking their
position and trajectory from the Elysium and the Olympus. I need as much resolution and
inductive reasoning software as you can give me to find every piece of the Elysium and map out
the vessel as it was just before the detonation.
Yes sir, answered Jacobson, and then paused. Sir?
What is it? said Daniel.
Can you confirm Special involvement? said Jacobson, a slight quaver in his voice.
Thats classified information youre running with right now, answered Daniel over the
radio. Do your job and prepare to sign nondisclosure agreement forms by the end of your shift.
Yes sir. answered Jacobson, not liking what he was hearing.
Get to work, snapped Daniel, hearing the annoyance in Jacobsons voice grated him.
Yes sir, answered Jacobson.
Daniel looked up at McCormack, Joseph and Leonard and they traded steely stares.
They were standing on a powder keg for Special to normal human populations. The mere
implication of Specials being involved with terrorist activities would set off a race war with
thousands of both documented and undocumented Specials going underground. The last thing
they needed was a population like that growing even more disenfranchised and volatile.
Its time to call Boatman, concluded Daniel.

GEORGETOWN NW-WASHINGTON D.C.

At the exact moment Daniel accessed Boatmans phone number and hit send on the space
station, thousands of miles away, Boatman sat behind a beautifully crafted 18th century Cylinderdesign drop-front mahogany secretary-desk in the dim warm light emanating from within
restored antique smoked green-glass light covers, with gold pin-line strokes along the edges
fashioned in the early 1930s, strategically placed along luxuriously the warm wood paneled
425 | P a g e

room. Just in looking at the room, it was clear his office was built around this opulent piece
which, it was said had been crafted by either the famed craftsman Jean Henri Reisener or his
mentor, Jean-Francois Oebenwhich was the sister desk to the Bureau du Roi, once owned by
King Louis XV, himself. Long since defaced by the revolutionaries, who sought to wipe out the
French aristocracy and all evidence of its grandiose lifestyle, this lavish piece of furniture
managed to survive down through the centuries to fall into Boatmans handshis tie to his
family history, and his desire to improve upon his past.This desk, with its bourgeois, old world
accents...this hint at the world of privilege he had been borne into, and spent a lifetime denying
himself by way of his semi-Spartan existence, was one of the very few vanities Boatman allowed
himself.
The rounded cabinet was topped with a bust of the goddess Minervain actuality, the
Greek goddess Athena, diminished by the overbearing male leadership of Rome, after the fall of
Greece, and the supplanting of their pantheon to a more male-oriented Roman interpretation. In
Greece, the goddess was the master military strategist and counsel to

Zeus on all matters of

foreign relations, intrigue and matters of court. Ares was merely a god of battlefield heroes and
victory in war, in comparison.

And so the goddess of Greece, namesake of Athens, was

worshipped for her cunning, calculation and wisdom. The Romans would have none of that.
And so they took all Athenas glory and passed it on to Ares, bolstering his credentials under his
new title of Mars, making the god lord of all Romes legions and leaving the Roman Minerva,
stripped bare and diminished before the civilized world, and all the generations of the Western
World that followed.

AthenaThe Mary Magdalene of the ancient world.

This was the reason Boatman had purchased the desk. Not out of some Bluebloods petty
desire to link himself to the ideal lifestyle of a bourgeois courtesan profiting off the lower classes
in rents and taxes, but the adoration of a soldier and tactician for the great Athena, who though
fallen from grace, seemed to imbue the disciples of her teachings with a mental fortitude that
Mars could never hope to match.
He put little stock in the bold, hard footsteps of Mars, as many of his contemporaries
deigned to do; but, instead, he inclined toward the defeated Minerva, who still calculated through
426 | P a g e

the ages in the bust at the head of this desk and inspired him to fight when the world sought to
prevent even the room to breathe, let alone strike back.
Unbeknownst to all who knew of this desks survival, Boatman had modified the piece to
suit his needs, gutting it, for all intents and purposes, in greater order that this simple furniture
piece could be more than just a conversation piece, but an asset to him. To this end, he had
contracted famed craftsman, Francis Garvey, to restore and modify the priceless furniture piece
to allow for the integration of modern technology to run throughout the frame and reinforcing the
many hidden compartments, making the desk the command center for not merely his office, but
his entire global-reaching agenda, should he have chosen to have it so.
With a sigh he looked upon the face of the goddess, and all the money the desk had cost
meant nothing but the means of communion with the goddess of all battlefield and courtesan
tacticians. There, he sat in silence, content he would not be disturbed unless vital need for his
command was of consequence.
He was off the grid, here. His grand office was unmarked, and unknown to even his
personal detail. In fact, even Jamie, his personal secretary, a quite attractive twenty-two year old
girl, not that her beauty mattered in the slightest to him, knew nothing about his work or what it
entailed. No, Ramona Jamie Wieland was far too self-absorbed to peer behind the curtain, or
even seek it out to ponder the mystery of it.
For her, it was an easy job for a recent Yale graduate in Communications, fielding
occasional phone calls and roving the internet to update her social media pages on the varied
nouveau-classique populaire websites.
Boring though the job was, considering Jamie was almost always alone in the second
floor windowless room facing the stairs, surrounded by the same wood paneling and lighting that
accented Mr. Boatmans officeas though she had fallen through time into 18th century France
with modern amenities in placethe notion that such a boring job could yield not only an
impressive letter of recommendation for any Communications corporation human resources
representative to read, but that it was almost assured to be accompanied by a letter of referral
from at least one or two board members, was an appealing trade for a summer, or year, in what
she considered luxuriant stagnancy, which she used, unabashedly, to refine her personal brand,
herself, for the time when she was shot of this dreadfully boring secretarial job her father had
arranged for her only six months prior, at the Potomac waterfront adjacent, vine-covered stone
427 | P a g e

and mortar cobbled two-story home converted office on the tree-lined South Street NW just shy
of Wisconsin Ave NW, complete with a view of Theodore Roosevelt Island.
As usual, Jamie had left early to dine at one of the restaurants on K Street, to flirt with the
lawyers and politicians who haunted the river view windowed booths, for a free meal and drink
at the mans expense, as she searched for someone interesting enough to venture out into the
DC night with, and perhaps more. The girl mattered little to him. Her employment was a
bargain for greater means of extricating power from old unused coffers to implement in his
agendas. A luxuriant paycheck for virtually no work or responsibility and an eventual praising
letter of recommendation ending in his signature on his own letterhead bearing his personal seal
was of little consequence for alacrity in movement among the powerful who walked the
Washington landscape.
There, under the desk-lamplight, he sat staring at the holographic viewscreen projection
from hidden panels within the desk, itself, and read over the dossiers of dozens of Specials with
energy projection capabilities, each with more promise than the last. It seemed that each had
strong characteristics and abilities that would prove themselves to be assets to the Task Force,
and yet, with each turn of the page there were reasons for concern problems with authoritya
prison recordor leased out to a private security firm, outside American borders
Damned private agencies he almost muttered aloud.
Boatman exhaled long and hard and rubbed his eyes as the phone rang, and his bushy
eyebrows raised, musing over the fact that, through all the shunting his many callers are
misdirected throughto all the handlers who meet them, to weigh the merit of the callers reason
for hitting send on his phone in the first placethis call actually made it through to him.
Well, he thought, almost expecting to hear Daniels voice on the other end of the line,
this cant be good.
Boatman answered the phone curtly, preparing for the worst. As he listened to the frank
voice on the other end of the line the crease in Boatmans forehead grew deeper as his expression
grew ever dourer.
Youre where? demanded Boatman.
He listened to the voice critically.
And the findings? he demanded, warily.
Boatman groaned.
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Fine, he concluded. Tell them to carry on. Ill make a call to UNIAF Command.
Boatman hung up the phone and immediately picked up the line and dialed the number he
knew by heart.
This is Lawrence Boatman. Put me through to Admiral Pritchett, at once.
Boatman waited on the line.
Bill, its Lawrence. Ive got a situation on the Elysium and it requires kid glovesYou
heard me, the ElysiumWell, contrary to news reports, there are, apparently, still areas on that
tomb where my teams can move about without fear of floating or asphyxiationListen, theres
currently an investigation underway into the possibility of terrorist activity on board that
shipYes, Im aware that on the books this would appear to be a UN matterYes, appear! Off
the books it is United States territoryRegardless, my team is there and they handle these cases
all the time. Theyre professionals. Youll need them on the groundWell, forgive me, but the
President of the United States was onboard the Olympus at the time of the incident, endangering
the most powerful man in the free world, and this falls under our guards mission to protect the
free world from terrorist attacks, unless the UN would finally like to do more than pay lip service
to the public regarding that particular issue and actually get their hands dirty for a changeMy
team is currently investigating that. I suggest you work with them and give them whatever they
needIs this a Specials attack? I havent information to make that assertion one way or the
other... Yes, I am fully aware of my departments function and what our mandate entailsIs this
call being monitored?...Then Im required to say that the investigation is ongoing and no
judgment call is being made at this timeAre you going to give them the assistance they need to
complete their initial evidence gathering for investigative purposes quickly and discreetly or are
you going to hem them up?...Thank you. Let your people knowNo, I dont owe you one. If this
is what my boys thinks it is, Im saving you the embarrassment of having to explain how
possible terrorists got through your security and turned the Elysium into a fireballFuck you
too.
Boatman hung up the phone and reclined in his chair with a heavy sigh.
Hurry up, Rooke

Onboard the Elysium, Redwing watched his Heads Up Display, keeping a watchful eye on the
United Nations Solar System Defense Networks Unknown Moving Object/Confirmed Craft
429 | P a g e

Registry flight paths, scrutinizing over the movements as he listened to the chatter on the UNIAF
open communications frequency, studying the incoming fleet of blips moving toward the center
of his display.
With all the debris floating through the void, in the aftermath of the explosion, it was
difficult to discern what exactly the blips were, until the fast moving UNIAF crafts beacons
started talking with Redwings

Reever.

Then little windows began opening up marking the

blips as AB transports.
Redwing donned his helmet and flicked on the fleetwide transmission.
This is Durendal on board the Elysium, squawk your box and let it talk.
Roger, this is Lieutenant Dahmer with the 5th CRASHxlii Division. Were coming into
the hold in five minutes. Whats it look like in there?
Redwing looked around the hangar and pursed his lips irritably.
Like a bomb went off, he snapped. Be advised: Theres a lot of shrapnel blocking the
bay. Unless youve got a light touch I suggest you advise your personnel to enter through the
manual airlock at C section.
How did you get in?
Im flying a Gen-7 Reever. Its a small enough fighter to get in past the debris. And
even then, I had to waggle a bit.
Roger that. Wait, did you say Generation-7? Did I hear that right?
Confirmed.
You said Durendal?
Redwing grinned.
That, I did.
There was a brief silence on the line, and Redwing knew they were talking about the
mythical Gen-7 series that had seen action on the last dozen sorties at the end of the Sol
WarAnd the legend those few surviving pilots engendered among military circles who saw
those last days of the conflict.
He chuckled to himself and shook his head. He was very familiar with this reaction to his
craft, but he always was taken aback at how people sounded downright reverent over his birds
430 | P a g e

model number. Especially his own craft.

Durendal

had a legendary status second only to

Chariot of the Gods to the rank and file soldiers, be they pilot, Admiral or merely cadets.
DurendalZeus wingman.
Even The Quill knew him as something fearfulrecognizing him in all the various
starfighters he had piloted throughout the war by his piloting alonethey called him The
Machine, due to his precise and unerring mathematical maneuvering in battle. Redwing always
laughed at the name they had given him. His wingman
name: The Dancer.

Zeus had been given a far more poetic

Though the UNIAF translated it, far more poetic than even that,

stretching it into the realm of the comic-bookish, as Star Dancer.

The war was long over, but these whispered callsigns and labels still haunted the ether,
building the legend of the Sol War aces.
Redwing did not mind, all that muchFrom the reverence and awe of the deck crews,
the claps on the backs of the younger pilots and CAGs, to the invitations for a scotch with this
Admiral or that XOthe perks were really quite great.
Finally the line chirped back to life and the pilot fought to modulate his voice to the
perfunctory cool exterior of a non-emotional soldierHe failed to pull it off.
C section airlock in four minutes, he stammered with his voice cracking with all the
fragility of a preadolescent boy on the verge of his first erection.
Good flying, replied Redwing, and signed off.
The rest of the dialogue was not for him as the

ABs began

chattering to each other,

complaining over the time delays in having to manually dock against the outer hull and walk the
teams in one AB at a time.
Redwing felt sympathy for them. He flicked off the fleetwide transmission and activated
his relay with the DSI Task Force.
Rooke, youve got five minutes until you see the first sign of the Engineering teams.
Ive bought you some time by having them come in through the C section manual airlock.
Theyll need to keep sealing it for the next bird to unload so Id say youve got twenty minutes
before youre up to your necks in personnel.
Roger that. Were almost done on the engineering deck.
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Thats good to hear.

Inside the reactor room, Daniel, Joseph and Leonard set up a grid of scanners and began photo
mapping the room in three dimensions.

McCormack filmed the bodies up close, studying the

bullet entry and exit wounds and idling over the victims with signs of Special involvement.
They had catalogued five different phenomena. One victim, having what McCormack
could only surmise as a psi-ball manifested directly inside the ribcage, flattening and crushing
the lungs and heart while expanding to break the ribs. Three others with signs of radiation burns
on their skins, scorching their uniforms away in sections to reveal the burn holes through their
flesh. And another three who seem to have been crushed into each other; their ribs broken,
piercing their flesh and penetrating each other, bonding them together. Five others had been cut
deeply with rake-like tears in their flesh. Still others were lying with dislocated joints jutting out
at odd angles, their lifeless eyes staring with a mixture of horror and agony.
Leonard stood back and sighed. Daniel looked up at Leonard, a hard man who had seen
far worse on the battlefield. They all had. But Daniel understood. This was a time of peace.
Relatively speaking. The idea that something like this could happen in a supposedly heavily
secure fortress like the Elysium was unnerving. And, the severe carnage that had taken place
here, served as testament that times were changing.
Once again, the world was teetering toward war. The question was with whom. A
nation? A group of fanatics? A race? All the carnage told Daniel was they had work to do and
that the work would have to be impervious to passion.
It was clear that Specials were present and complicit in the destruction of the Elysium.
What was not clear was why. This was the question that Daniel needed answered. Was this a
terrorist attack? Or worse, were these Specials paid to provide services?
Daniel looked down at the grid and watched the scanners trace back and forth across the
open space, taking everything in. Finally, the scanners folded up and sealed with a chime,
notifying the investigators that the task was completed.

Daniel, Joseph, Leonard and

McCormack quickly retrieved the scanners, retracting the tripods they rested on and locking
them back into place in their cases into Leonards backpack.
Daniel pulled out his satellite phone, scrolled to Boatman and pressed send.
432 | P a g e

Lawrence, this is Daniel.

Whats the situation? demanded Boatman over the crackling line.
We can go over that later, replied Daniel. Right now I need an

AB

to take these

bodies back to Andrews.

Ive already got a team to you now, Boatman replied. Is the flight deck really as bad
as your pilot says it is? Or was that just to buy you time?
Its bad, but a good pilot can do it.
Well, theyre good, but theyre not the best.
Put them in touch with my guy. Hell be able to talk them through. Tell them weve
just got the lift back online.
And who is your guy?
Captain Redwing.
Captain John Redwing? Boatman demanded for clarification.
Daniel stared at the phone in surprisedly and then returned to his conversation via his
earpiece.
Yeah, you know him?
No, answered Boatman.
Daniel grit his teeth.

Once again, Lawrence Boatman was revealing cards and not

sharing the suits on them.

Okay, said Daniel, not caring enough to push the issue.
Lets just say there are nondisclosure agreements in place and Ill say that Redwing is a
good pilot. I believe youd call him an ace.
Ive seen him fly, answered Daniel. Then added, By the way. I want him.
I thought you might, answered Boatman, a smile in his voice. Then added seriously,
Your team will be in the hold in five minutes.
Ive got incoming engineering and damage teams to shut down the reactor, said Daniel.
Is your investigation complete?
Weve got everything we need. The rest is forensic.
Four minutes and counting. Call me when you have the bodies.
With that, the line went dead. Daniel looked at his men and grimaced.

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Now we wait for the cadaver teams and make sure no one interferes with our next
objective.
Whats that? said Leonard, curiously.
McCormack said nothing, his jaw set, knowing the answer already. Joseph stood in
queer silence from amid the field of bodies like he was gathering souls, his eyes on Daniels.
Keep the ESTAT teams at bay, answered Daniel, while we cart the bodies out for
forensic testing.
That doesnt sound too pleasant. muttered Leonard.
No, said Daniel already regretting his stance he would have to take with the ESTAT
teams. it wont be.

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C h a p t e r

T h e

1 9:

S t a n d o f f

he first signs of the Emergency Engineering Repair Crew and the Damage Control
CRASH teams that comprised ESTAT began showing up in Engineering with looks of
surprise on their facesvisible through their white and tan HAZMAT armorsto see

four men in combat armor standing against the walls guarding the room. For a moment there
was only silence as the newcomers struggled to voice the myriad questions they had for the four
battle armored men standing around a room littered with corpses.
Who are you? demanded the lead engineer. This is a hot reactor! What are you doing
here?
Daniel pointed to his badge on his left breastplate with cold authority.
Department of Specials Investigations, declared Daniel. Weve just closed a grid on
the engineering deck. The bodies are part of an ongoing investigation.
The lead engineer shifted into an authoritative stance and took a step forward, narrowing
his eyes at Daniel.
We have medic teams en route to collect the bodies and injured, said the lead engineer.
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Well you wont find any injured here. said Daniel, coolly. Still, Id check the
crawlspaces for those who died of radiation exposure.
The engineering teams traded looks of apprehension before returning to stare at Daniel
and the others. McCormack stood easy with his arms folded, while Joseph loomed in the
shadows near the bodies. Leonard stepped forward and took position next to Danielit was
meant to offer Daniel support, however it had the adverse effect of intimidating the engineers
who cowed under the eyes of the powerfully built man. Finally the lead engineer studied
Daniels armor.
Those suits dont combat these rads, he said finally. Youll need to be cleared by our
med stat teams.
But before he could call up his medical teams Daniel waved him off.
We have our own medical teams to check us out, replied Daniel. We wont be using
your services.
An engineer stepped forward and set down his tool boxes. Daniel stepped forward,
holding up his hand.
Careful about disturbing the bodies.
The lead engineer took another tentative step forward, obviously warring between
confrontation and timidity. He was an engineer, not a true soldierhe followed the command
structure, but before a Special ops or infantryman he folded easilyand it was clear that Daniel
and his men were more than capable in a fight just from the lazy way they stood around,
unconsciously taking up strategic positions, flanking the engineers on both sides.

The lead

engineer finally grit his teeth in bewilderment.

Are you telling us that youre not letting us have access to the reactor?
By all means, work on the reactor. said Daniel, magnanimously. We already shut it
down, but hey then Daniel added, But the bodies are our property. Step clear of them, if you
please.
Your property? repeated the lead engineer, a distaste rising in his tone.
Daniel narrowed his eyes at the engineer, boring through the plastic visor that protected
his face from the radiation, sealing a clean environment safely inside, protecting him from harm,
but not the haunting look in Daniels eyes.
Mine.
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The lead engineer shivered unconsciously and took a step back from Daniel.
Just then, the lift came to life and armored soldiers marched into the Engineering room
with rifles and body bags. Daniel turned to the lift as the soldiers filed out of the lift in two lines,
one carrying black bags, the other carrying rifles.
As you can see, said Daniel, with a grin, we got the lift working.
The lead engineer scoffed at the soldiers, and wheeled on Daniel irritably.
How do you intend to get out of here? The hangars a no fly zone.
Daniel only smiled.
To you its a no fly zone. My ABs are in the hangar as we speak.
The armed soldiers turned to face the emergency teams allowing the soldiers carrying the
black bags into the space, unfolding them and laying them out next to the bodies. To the horror
of the engineering team it was clear that the soldiers were carrying body bags.
What are they doing? demanded the engineer sheepishly.
Handling evidence. answered Daniel.
The soldiers busied themselves lifting the bodies and laying them roughly into the center
of the bags. Daniel heard the thud of a body and turned to glare at the soldiers.
Easy now, have some respect for the dead.
The soldiers grunted, but changed their manner of handling the bodies with gentler hands,
placing them in the body bags.
The Engineers stood there nervously as the body bags were zipped up and carried onto
the lift two at a time until all the bodies exposed on the floor were shipped up the lift to the
warped corridor leading to the hangar. The lead engineer watched the macabre scene, unable to
turn away with disgust.

He did not look at Daniel, but continued to watch in horror as the

deformed, mutilated and burned bodies were scooped and laid gently into the body bags and
zipped up. He chose his words carefully, his horror too real to have the angry bite he intended in
his words.
You mean to tell us, began the engineer, swallowing unconsciously as his eyes finally
found Daniels, you delayed our access to a hot reactor just so you could run an investigation?
Am I hearing you correctly?
Daniel looked into his eyes, a dead stare.
You are. said Daniel before adding But as you can see the reactors offline.
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The engineer balled his fists and swallowed.

This isnt the end of this.
The last of the body bags were carried onto the lift and the doors closed on the last of the
armed escorts, leaving the three teams alone staring at each other. Daniel stepped closer to the
engineer.
If you had any idea who I was, you would let us move unimpeded and leave it at that.
However, I fully expect you to document everything.
Youre right about that. answered the engineer, refusing to blink.
Then, grinned Daniel as the lift doors slid open revealing an empty lift. I look forward
to reading your report. My work here is done. With that, Daniel said over his shoulder to his
men: Gentlemen, we are leaving.
Daniel walked across Engineering to the lift, and was followed by his men. It was a tight
fit, but he and McCormack pressed themselves against the wall of the lift as Josephs and
Leonards powerful frames squeezed in. The lift doors slid shut leaving the engineering teams
standing staring at the empty room.
Alright, men, said the lead engineer. Shows over. Lets get to work on this reactor.

In the hangar, Daniel and his men filed in to find the soldiers sealing the airlocks on their bulky,
boxy

ABs and the hums of the engines filled the room with a low vibration.

Redwing stood

propped against his cockpit console watching the activity with a bored expression that slowly lit
up when Daniel and his men appeared in the bay.
All went well I take it? said Redwing with a grin.
You were listening to my little talk with the engineering teams? inquired Daniel.
You mean the pissing contest? confirmed Redwing with a grin. Id say you won by at
least three yards.
Thats good to know. said Daniel with a grin before saying: Are we ready to get back
to the Olympus?
All I need is the word.
The word is given.
Hop in and strap in, said Redwing, turning away. I believe you know the way.
438 | P a g e

Daniel and the men took their seats and pulled down their harnesses, locking themselves
in, while Redwing hopped into the cockpit. With a flick of the switch, the platform rose into the
belly of the fighter craft and they were enveloped in darkness.

439 | P a g e

C h a p t e r

2 0:

All the Presidents Men

he

Reever

launched out of the dead hold of the battered space station into the

freedom of the void and banked a few dozen times avoiding flack and larger floating
debris from the remains of the Elysium as it ventured ever nearer the U.S.S. Olympus.
If you dont mind, said Redwing in a monotone, Id like to check

something before we dock.

I got you. said Daniel as the view of the Olympus observation deck came into view
through the blackness of the void. I want to see this too.
As they approached the Olympus, Redwing did a flyover of the observation deck and
surveyed the repairs to the observation deck. It was a rough patchwork, but already there were
results. No longer did atmosphere vent into space and the spider web had stopped spreading
finger by finger. The observation deck was empty now, with the only activity occurring outside
as EVA workmen maneuvered their flight packs close to the surface of the great dome laying
6x6 patches against the nanocrystal structure.
The nanocrystals were supposed to have memories of their original shape and
configuration and worked to retain that form. Possibly the nanocrystals had been stretched to
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their limit with the function of being hard enough to keep the void at bay and the atmosphere
inside the space station.
Or possibly, mused Daniel, nanocrystals were not as technologically sound as they
were purported to be.
Daniel pursed his lips as the patch covered spider web fingers passed by and looked up
just in time to see the Reever angle on a landing approach toward a cavernous tunnel lit up with
overhead lights that shone down on the landing strip like the sunthe shadows pressed against
the walls and crevices of the three football fields length strip of runway.
The

Reever angled into an empty space and lightly touched down on the landing pad,

which then slowly descended into the belly of the ship, swallowing them into the hangar as the
blast door sealed overhead. The landing pad lowered below the scaffolding and halted. The hum
of the engines died away and Redwing flicked the switch that lowered the cockpit and passenger
seats down to the hangar floor.
Home again, home again, sang Redwing as he took off his helmet and powered down
the Reever. jiggedy-jog.
Instantly, the maintenance crews descended on the

Reever like a swarm of crows on

carrion and began their check of the craft, opening ports and attaching cables to the bird.
Within seconds, the Reever was rooted to the floor by power cables and fuel hoses until
it seemed almost impossible that the craft could be anything more than a work of art plugged into
the Olympus as a great display for a museum.
With a quick wrench of the harness, Daniel and the others stepped out onto the Olympus
and stretched.
Well, thought Daniel, that ordeal is over with.
Mr. Rooke. said Jacobson. You have everything you need?
Almost, said Daniel and with a flick of his finger on his notebook, opened a
Nondisclosure Agreement form. Sign here, please.
Jacobson stared at the form and read the highlights, a frown growing ever more present as
he read the nondisclosure agreement and finally signed the form with a scowl. He then marched
away back to the lift, as though there was nothing else left to say.

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Redwing chuckled as Jacobson stormed onto the lift and the door slid closed, then gave
Daniel a grin.
Daniel turned to Redwing and approached him tentatively.
Ill need your signature too.
NDAs are nothing new for me. replied Redwing as he signed it. Daniel watched as
Redwing dotted the i and finished off his g with flair and he smiled up at him, the pockmark
scars pulling tightly giving him a menacing quality. It was nice meeting you.
If I can get you for work inside atmosphere, said Daniel, an edge of hope in his voice.
Id like to keep you in mind.
Its been a while since Ive been planetside. said Redwing, his tone was strange
between marveling at the earth and uncomfortable of the thought of being there. Ive kind of
avoided it, to be straight.
Understood. said Daniel, knowingly. Getting back into general population after the
war is no mean feat.
Yeah. breathed Redwing, with a little annoyance over his own fears.
Daniel understood completely. It was no easy task to assimilate to civilian life. Some
men just could not handle it. He had known survivors of the Sol Wardecorated war heroes
who risked their lives on countless occasionswho killed themselves over the all-strangling fear
of returning to the civilian world broken and unable to assimilate back into culture. Such was the
way for many career soldiers.
Daniel appealed to him as a businessman with some understanding of Redwings main
apprehensions.
I can promise you better pay and a lot of time in the air. offered Daniel. You strike me
as the type who gets bored when he feels he isnt moving.
You know us pilots. grinned Redwing. We like to feel were going places quickly.
Get there, and bomb them.
Well, no bombing runs in this line of work. amended Daniel. I just need a good pilot I
can trust.
Having problems? interpreted Redwing.
You have no idea. sighed Daniel.
Im not looking to be a bus driver. warned Redwing.
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Im not looking for one. replied Daniel.

Tell you what, said Redwing. you make the right calls and dont disturb my career,
but get me transferred on a joint venture, and Ill handle the stick.
Ill make the calls. replied Daniel.
Redwing offered Daniel his hand and Daniel took it.
Then Ill be seeing you around, Agent Rooke.
Redwing gave Daniels hand a shake and looked deep into his eyes as a mans show of
respect and a coming to terms with a healthy negotiation ending in an understanding.
Captain. said Daniel, in farewell.
With that, Redwing turned away and marched off toward the lift and disappeared behind
the closing doors, probably to make his way to the commissary or to his room. Daniel watched
as the lift rose into the ceiling and grinned. He had found the pilot he wanted.
Near the steps to the lift, McCormack, Leonard and Joseph stood there watching Daniel
approach as he made his way to both join them and mount the stairs to the lift. McCormack,
who had pulled Leonard and Joseph out of the way to give Daniel time alone with Redwing,
studied him critically.
You get what you wanted? inquired McCormack.
I believe so. replied Daniel and he walked back to the lift and waited for it to return to
the flight deck for his return to embarking/disembarking.
By the time Daniel had led McCormack, Joseph and Leonard back to the atrium that
housed the embarking/disembarking terminal he noticed it had thinned out, and now there were a
handful of political figures and security milling around a mostly cleared room.
Up ahead, Daniel could make out the remainder of the Task Force standing around
looking exhausted from the ordeal of managing the departure of so many unpredictable people
standing on a knifes edge between being cowed and massing in panicthey looked ready to
collapse.
Stephen leaned against a wall looking defeated, while Josh rubbed his shoulder
sympathetically. None wore the expression of a man on the verge of collapse more than Bradley
didwho had controlled the mob by force of will alone, offering a calming voice only to distract
the mob from the fact that he was entering their minds and coaxing them to a more tranquil

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reaction to their uneasiness and fearsstill, he stood upright.

The weariness in his eyes

seemingly sympathetic next to his assuring smile and sturdy stance.

It was clear to Daniel that Bradley would prefer to collapse from exhaustion than police
the minds of the remaining men and women; however, he stood with a warm smile and spoke to
an impeccably dressed manwith warm brown skin, raven hair streaked with grey and piercing
black eyeswho looked familiar to Daniel even at a distance.
Chad stood next to Bradley, at full attention, which drew Daniels eye again to the
strength exuding well-dressed man with the prematurely graying dark hair in front of him.
As Daniel approached, the mans profile took stark relief and he swallowed his shock in
realizing that the man who spoke to Bradley was none other than Travis H. Tahmahkerathe
President of the United States.
You look strikingly familiar, said President Tahmahkera, holding Bradleys hand
between both of his, drawing him into his full view. I know you, dont I?
No Mr. President. replied Bradley with a monotone that suggested veiled
embarrassment. I just have one of those faces.
Tahmahkera seemed to take this at face value and shrugged it off.
Well, said Tahmahkera, you did a fine job with controlling the crowds. All of you
did. Bravo.
Tahmahkera shook Bradleys hand with a congratulatory stare and then turned and shook
Chads hand. Chads knees nearly buckled and it was clear that his only wish was that the skin
of his hand was not sealed beneath the battle armor.
Thank you, Mr. President. replied Bradley. Just doing our jobs.
Chad smiled from ear to ear, awestruck by the mild mannered way of the man in front of
him. His eyes shown the weight of his office and the prestige that came along with it with a
commanding stare that remained subdued with humility.

His smile was genuine and was

contagious.
Daniel walked up to the three men and stood, for the moment an outsider, listening to
their conversation, not waiting for an introduction.
Several Secret Service agents stepped toward Daniel, but he just tapped his left
breastplate, pointing to his credentials. The agents read through it twice and then blinked in
surprise at the eagle and Anchor on the badge before nodding and stepping aside.
444 | P a g e

Daniel took a step closer to listen in on their conversation and for a brief moment,
Tahmahkera turned to acknowledge his presence at his blindside flank before returning his
attention to Bradley, though keeping Daniel in the corner of his eye.
Well, smiled Tahmahkera, the UNIAF certainly knows how to train a soldier, Ill give
them that.
Were not with the Interstellar Armed Forces anymore, Mr. President. said Daniel,
causing Tahmahkera to look over his shoulder and take note of himhe stood with a less than
warm smile at being interrupted and contradictedhis lips taut. We loosely work alongside
DHS in Special matters.
Finally Daniel stepped around the President and joined Bradley and Chad. Tahmahkera
looked at Daniel with an annoyed surprise in being snuck up on, and watched him closely.
Well, Id say this counts as a Special matter. replied Tahmahkera, studying Daniel
carefully behind a skeptical smile. Whats the name of your agency?
Were D.S.I., replied Daniel, and pointed to his breastplate.
Ive never heard that acronym before. said Tahmahkera, his eyes poring over the
identification on Daniels breastplate. Who do you work for?
The United States government, sir. answered Daniel assuringly. Then added, Off the
books.
President Tahmahkeras eyes narrowed suspiciously.
How far off the books?
Well, amended Daniel. not on the public books, sir.
What is your mandate? demanded Tahmahkera his smile lessening, as his voice grew
commanding. Daniel knew this was a dangerous moment for the teammade all the more
threatening by the harsh stare of Tahmahkeraand quickly backpedaled.
Sir, began Daniel, might I recommend that all further requests for information about
our Task Force fall to General Lawrence Boatman? then added, With respect, sir.
Tahmahkeras eyes widened and his brow furrowed. His look was one of distaste.
Boatman, huh? said Tahmahkera. Him, I know. I dont like him. You work for
Boatman?
Boatman is the Deputy Director of the agency that heads our Task Force, nodded
Daniel. And all orders come through him.
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Tahmahkera rubbed his chin as if he were checking for signs of stubble and cocked his
head to the side.
This secret agency, began Tahmahkera tentatively. Do I want to know about it? Or
will this be a thorn in my administrations side?
Mr. President, replied Daniel at attention, our Task Force is set in place for the public
good. We assist the Department of Homeland Security in policing Specials.
Specials? blinked Tahmahkera, his eyes now boring into Daniel with such fierce
intensity it was obvious his mind was busy connecting dots. Are you saying the Elysium is a
terrorist attack carried out by Specials?
That is currently under investigation, answered Daniel, politically. I promise you, this
is not over. This investigation, should it prove to have Specials involvement, will be at the top of
our wanted list.
At that, Tahmahkeras eyes grew weary and he shook his head in frustration.
I confess, began Tahmahkera, Im unfamiliar with the plight of Specials. What would
be a reason for this kind of attack?
Daniel stared at Tahmahkera tentatively, then stepped forward in confidence.
Specials are persecuted in todays society, offered Daniel, carefully. This is
unarguable. They could be prone to break the law out of resentment or need if things dont
improve for their class.
What do you mean? demanded Tahmahkera.
Good paying jobs, for one, continued Daniel. And the removal of the word Special
from appearing on their background checks, to name but a few. A Special tries to get a job and
the HR rep interviewing them comes across that scarlet letter and they suddenly find a myriad of
politically correct reasons not to give them the job.
Thats unconstitutional, blurted Tahmahkera, his voice growing hard.
Mr. President, continued Daniel, there are agencies directed by key individuals, within
the government, who want the Specials working for them. By isolating them from society with
the draconian laws and practices Ive spoken of, working for government agencies as soldiers
becomes more appealing. You are familiar with the expression a weapon unused is worthless,
Im sure. By enacting these measures, they create a desperation among the Specials community,
and an agency can pick and choose from a list of Specials and come calling offering them job
446 | P a g e

security and a minimal salary, and the Special would jump at the chance to raise him or herself
out of the difficulty they find themselves in.
Taking all this in, Tahmahkera stood warily, rubbing his index finger and thumb together,
voicing his thoughts aloud.
I dont know what my administration could do about this. Coming on the side of
Specials is extremely unpopular, Im afraid.
Sir, offered Daniel, with all due respect, we cannot take the chance that this is a one
term administration, and lose the chance for positive change that could allow Specials to travel
freely and without fear of arrest.
Tahmahkeras eyes grew bright and a wry grin played on his face revealing in him an
elfish quality.
What youre also talking about, chided Tahmahkera, is the end of your job, if Im not
mistaken.
The Department of Specials Investigations Task Force can function in a number of ways
with changing policy, assured Daniel. Its not the end of my career I seek. Just the number of
cases of retaliation against society or desperation that Ive been seeing.
Tahmahkera nodded slowly, studying Daniel as an oddity.
You want to create a friendly face for the Specials, concluded Tahmahkera.
Thats already in the works, replied Daniel.
Really? demanded Tahmahkera, unaware how such a thing could be accomplished in
the present climate. How?
Sir, replied Daniel with a grin, you were just complementing Specials for their
professionalism and courtesy just a moment ago.
Tahmahkera turned and looked at Bradley and Chad, then over at Stephen and Josh. His
eyes trailed around, took in the sight of lean McCormack and the powerful frames of Leonard
and Joseph, and grinned.
Ill be damned. said Tahmahkera.
Out of nowhere, a staffer for the President appeared at Tahmahkeras side.
Sir, said the staffer tentatively, your transport is ready.

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The transport has been ready for over an hour, scoffed Tahmahkera, with a dismissive
wave as though shooing an annoying fly. It will wait for me until the remainder of this group
has been safely escorted to their shuttles and have left the docks. Is that clear?
Yes, Mr. President. said the staffer, then turned to an agent and began speaking in
hushed tones, pointing to the remaining world leaders Russian Federation President Zemsky
Minin, Chinese Prime Minister Ziao-Feng Hua, British Prime Minister Avery Roth, Japanese
Prime Minister Ryuu Nagao, Libyan Dictator Bello al-Sadr Ayman and one starlet who stood
apart texting her adventure onto her phone.
Roth, Minin and Nagao stood patiently waiting for President Tahmahkera, wanting to
leave together as a show of solidarity while Ayman did not want to appear weak, being videoed
fleeing to his shuttle in the aftermath of the observation deck incident. Hua had business with
the President in regard to the United States stand on keeping bases in the Japanese islands
pressured by his military staff that the time for a conflict with Japan was fast approachinghis
manner was stern.
All of them stood impatiently while the President spoke with the S.I.T.F team members,
congratulating them with handshakes and personal attention. An aide approached the actress and
directed her through the metal detector and out through disembarking to the shuttle bay. She
allowed herself to be led, typing all the while with her thumbs.
Finally the room emptied out and only the 6 leaders remained. Ayman walked off in a
huff at being held up and marched to his shuttle for departure, leaving the five remaining leaders
standing there watching him leave with wondering expressions. Ayman was a strong voice in
the Middle East, and offending him was not a good idea, but he was easily offended and it was
clear there would be some thinly veiled threat or grandstanding they would need to respond to in
their near future, most likely on the United Nations floor.
Aymans egress was not unnoticed by Tahmahkera, who grimly followed the storming of
the dictator out of the terminal toward the shuttle bay, and then looked over to see the British,
Chinese, Russian and Japanese prime ministers standing there growing impatient. Tahmahkera
sighed.
It seems the time has come for me to play the President. said Tahmahkera, at last. He
extended his hand to Daniel. Agent Rooke. Ill look forward to your report on your findings in
regard to this, ah, Special matter.
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Daniel shook his hand and was immediately aware of the sharp eyes boring into his
demanding complicity.
Yes, Mr. President.
Tahmahkera held Daniels gaze a moment longer, and then released his hand, turning to
the rest of S.I.T.F and waved to them.
Good job, everyone.
And with that, he turned and walked over to the remaining leaders and fell into slow step
with them huddling as they walked to talk to each other. They seemed jovial enough, yet it was
clear this was mainly for the cameras. They all had their own agendas, and each sought an
audience with Tahmahkera on some policy or obscure piece of business regarding relations
between their countries.
Daniel watched as they made their way through the metal detectors to salutes from the
Marines. Tahmahkera gave a returning salute and the Marines pushed out their chests with pride
in being saluted by the President of the United States. He watched in silence as some of the most
powerful men in the world strolled down the gangplank toward the shuttle bay and out of sight.
Alright, said Daniel to his men, lets get out of here.
Was that wise telling the President of our existence? suggested Bradley, who had
watched the entire discussion in nervous silence, only grateful that the Presidents eyes were no
longer on him studiously.
I think it was a great bit of luck, replied Daniel with a wry grin. Bending his ear for a
few minutes might have bought us some slack from the bosses of our enemies.
We have enemies? challenged McCormack.
After our treatment today by DHS, replied Daniel, I dont trust anybody. The sooner
were up and running and drawing press the better.
Were not up and running yet? scoffed Stephen.
Were not public, replied Daniel. Although I am enjoying the boogeyman element to
our meetings with different agencies, I want us out in the open. That way we can put a positive
spin on the whole Specials situation in this country.
Daniel drew out his cellular phone and clicked the radio on the side of the phone, turning
to his pilots channel.
Rooke to AB, barked Daniel. Come in.
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Read you loud and clear, Agent Rooke. chirped the phone.
We need a pick up.
Roger that, replied the pilot. Were at airlock 32. Take the gangplank down. Ill open
the airlock.
Daniel slid his cellular phone shut and turned to Leonard.
The sooner we get off this space station the better Ill feel.
Leonard nodded his agreement and with a wave of his hand called to the rest of the team.
Task Force, shouted Leonard over his shoulder, Fall in!
The rest of the Task Force filed in behind Leonard and they walked through the metal
detector to the sound of the claxon alerting the marines to the armor and weapons on their
persons.
The Marines watched them exit without a word. Their eyes followed the Task Force
carefully as they marched down the corridor toward airlock 32, muttering to themselves what
they heard, eavesdropping on their conversation with the President.
Words like Specials and Terrorist Attack were clearly audible in their quiet chatter,
echoing off the walls of the open and empty space.
Daniel marched on, his helmet cradled in his arm like a football.

450 | P a g e

2 1:

C h a p t e r

H a n g a r

hen the

AB

1 0 2

touched down at Joint Base Andrews Naval Air Facility, the

tarmac was virtually empty.

Daniel, now dressed in his suit and tie, looked

around and a sinking feeling crept up his spine.

Where are the bodies? demanded Daniel under his breath.

The rest of the team stood there looking out at the empty field suspecting the worst. That
they had been ripped off again.
Im calling Boatman, murmured Daniel, in a mounting fury.
Daniel reached for his cellular phone which immediately rang in his hand. Lawrence
Boatmans phone number appeared on the screen flashing at him.
I was just about to call- answered Daniel.
I see youve just touched down, said Boatman, casually.
Where are the bodies? demanded Daniel. The evidence?
I had them transferred to a hangar, out of the sun, replied Boatman, matter-of-factly.
Your security detail is waiting for you out in front. They will manage the hangar and perform
security sweeps around the perimeter. Rest assured, your ball has not been taken from you.
451 | P a g e

Good, sighed Daniel.

Then Boatman added with a dismissive air:
I have called in other agencies to do the legwork, however.
Daniel stared off into space, not liking the sound of that word.
Legwork?
Boatman seemed to catch Daniels sensing of a guillotine being positioned above him
and pressed on.
You are a Task Force, Rooke, replied Boatman, seemingly anticipating Daniels ire,
Not an investigative squad. Let the intelligence be gleaned by the professionals and the reports
will come to your desk.
So what am I supposed to do? Daniel pressed, not at all placated by Boatmans flippant
dismissal.
Your job will be, Boatman clarified, in the event it turns out there was indeed Special
involvement, to catch those sons of bitches.
Daniel chuckled darkly, knowing full well it would be nowhere near as simple a matter as
that, but he nodded his willingness to proceed as if it was just as simple and clear as Boatman
had stated.
I can handle that.
Ive sent you transportation to the hangar. It should be arriving now.
Just then, two SUVs cleared the corner on a hangar and sped toward them, lights flashing.
The SUVs were clearly FBI. A young agent in the drivers seat leaned across the passengers
seat and spoke out the open window.
Agent Rooke? said the agent.
Yeah.
Agent Farley. said the agent. Ill be your driver from here on out.
Were getting chauffeured by the FBI? Is that it?
Farley grit his teeth and winced at the notion of being a chauffeur but managed a
perfunctory smile.
Yes, sir.

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Get me to the hangar. commanded Daniel, an edge in his voice suggesting he wanted to
make certain there was no sleight of hand with the evidence he had collected aboard the U.S.S.
Elysium.
Farley swallowed under the severity of the glare and nodded acquiescently.
Yes, sir.
The ride took Daniel and his team to the far side of Andrews, past security check points
into the heart of the X Areaa cluster of hangars working on top secret projects in their infancy
and Special teams working with no oversight. As they passed open doors, security loomed on the
outside and inBradley Fighting Vehicles parked out front, weapons pointed out away from the
doors, seemingly across the way to the hangars across the way, as if they were wary of each
otherDaniel wondered if this was one of those places where people disappeared in, never to be
seen again.
Farley pulled his SUV up to a set of double doors to a flurry of activity. Soldiers stood at
attention outside, rifles at the ready, while agents rushed about in the semi-darkness of the
hangar, busy on some consuming project. Daniel stepped out of the SUV and his team followed
him up to the main doors. Above his head the numbers 102 were clearly painted on the hangar.
Daniel smiled at the thought of entering a hangar destined to be twice as infamous as Area 51. A
powerfully built soldier stepped forward and looked down at Daniel.
Papers, sir? requested the guard.
Daniel pulled out his identification and handed it over to the soldier, who studied it
closely. When the guard handed it back, Daniel gestured to his men.
Pull out your badges, gentlemen. said Daniel, a trace of annoyance in his voice.
The guard glanced over the other team members badges and noted they were all
members of S.I.T.F.
Whats S.I.T.F? asked the guard.
Need to know, Daniel replied.
The guard looked at Daniel then stood at attention and took a step away, making room for
the Task Force to enter their new offices.
The inside of Hangar 102 was surprisingnot just because of how massive it was, but
because it had already been set up for autopsy procedures, with refrigerated cadaver drawers
against the wall.
453 | P a g e

A terminal of high-powered computers loomed in the semidarkness of the hangar; and as

Daniel stepped close the overhead lights snapped on, illuminating the stage they stood on. He
circled around, minutely surveying the hangar. Data encrypters sat next to cables that fed into a
satellite relay box and from there.
Leonard, McCormack and Bradley stepped forward leading Chad, Stephen, Josh and
Joseph up to where he stood.
Impressive. said McCormack.
Yes, breathed Daniel, it is.
Boatman outdid himself, added Leonard, with an approving nod.
Looks more like he found that funding he mentioned, chuckled Daniel.
Chad stepped forward and turned a three-sixty taking in the hangar and all its toys.
So is this for us? asked Chad looking around in awe.
Until Boatman says otherwise, concluded Daniel, then added or we get better real
estate.
Sounds like youre scheming, said McCormack.
Lets just say Im ambitious, replied Daniel. If I can get this, I want to know what else
is on the table.
McCormack looked over Daniel from the corner of his eye and a wry smile played across
his face as he turned back to look at the room at large.
Spoken like a true team leader, said McCormack.
Daniel walked past a small cooling tower as he walked deeper into the shadows, but with
each step he took, the overhead lighting kicked on while the lights behind him dimmed so he was
always walking in the light no matter where he stepped. A closed off conference room had been
erected fifteen yards beyond the computer cubicles and as he approached, the room lit up with
soft lights as he entered it. The central office table had a glass top, micro thin, and beneath it,
windows lit up as though waiting for his fingers to direct them to open and display data.
So, thought Daniel, this is what a war room looks like
Daniel exited the War Room and walked deeper into the hangar, taking in the series of
offices set up in the back, rising to two floors, with a wide office overseeing the entire expanse of
the hangar. A smile stretched across his face as he realized Boatman had built them a temporary
command center to stage their missions from.
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Again, McCormack and Leonard appeared at his side looking to him for orders.
Im assuming these offices have name plaques on them, said Daniel. Tell the team to
locate their offices.
Yes, sir. said Leonard, Im sure theyll be glad to get off their feet. And he turned,
signaling the Task Force to follow him.
Bradley, Joseph, Chad, Stephen and Josh followed Leonard into the semidarkness with
surprise that the overhead lights turned on overhead tracing their footsteps across the hangar.
McCormack stood at Daniels side a moment longer, and then with a nod, made his way down
the long expanse strolling behind Leonard and the men.
Just then, Daniels cellular phone rang. He did not even bother looking at the number.
He knew it was Boatman.
Impressive, said Daniel, with a smile in his voice.
Youre so easily placated, chided Boatman.
Not hardly, replied Daniel, I think this is a nice temporary stage of operations.
Lets just say this is a fluid stage for the team. The hangar is equipped with all the
necessities, and will serve you well until I can come up with better accommodations.
Just what I wanted to hear.
I know.
Im assuming this place is bugged too?
Of course.
The line went dead. Daniel tucked the phone back into his clip on his hip and surveyed
the hangar. A laugh built up in the back of his throat, and he suppressed it to a soft chuckle.
Damn, he grinned.

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C h a p t e r

2 2:

The Investigation Begins

aniel sat in his new office, reclined in his chair, reading through the up to date reports
from the autopsy teams. The results were grotesque and not pleasing.
Words like animal attack, bludgeoning, and unknown phenomena crept

into the report screen by screen and the feeling of euphoria in having a new headquarters had
worn off, leaving the stale feeling that there was a job to do, and not a lot of information to go
on. The only information that was coming across his desk pointed to Specials involvement.
This was bad.
When Daniel looked up it was to see McCormack grinning at him from the doorway,
leaning against the frame.
Knock, knock. said McCormack as he entered the room, strolling over to the chair
before Daniels desk. You dont look happy.
Its not good, sighed Daniel.
The autopsy reports? inquired McCormack.
Specials involvement. replied Daniel.
Well, we knew that. said McCormack.
Yeah, said Daniel, irritably. But this is medically conclusive and on the record.
McCormack cocked his head and studied Daniel in silence.
So what do we do?
Daniel sighed and unconsciously checked his watch.
We have the Bureau in house yet?
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Theyve been here for a half hour.

Daniel blinked, coming to life instantly, smelling potential treachery afoot.
Where are they? he demanded.
At the computer terminals, replied McCormack, sensing Daniels building irritation.
He added, Doing data entry.
Daniel rose from his desk in a panic at the thought of unsupervised hands at his computer
terminals.
I need to speak with the agent in charge, he said.
McCormack cocked his head to the side and grinned.
Youll like this, said McCormack.
What? demanded Daniel.
Its King. replied McCormack with mirth in his voice.
Daniel met his eyes for a moment and sighed.
Well, this should be interesting.
Hows that? said McCormack with a laugh. You got him right where you want him.
Put a man to the wall and hes going to have agendas, concluded Daniel, thoughtfully.
The one at the top of the list will be making you regret boxing him in.
So this will be a hostile working environment? said McCormack, the smile still playing
around his lips.
If its hostile I can deal with it, replied Daniel. If hes smiling, watch out for the
knife.
Ill keep that in mind. said McCormack, nodding thoughtfully.
Why? demanded Daniel. Whats happening?
Theyre all smiling, said McCormack.
Great sighed Daniel and walked toward the door. Wed better go check on our
guests. Then turned and added aside to McCormack Get me every file theyve sent.
Will do. said McCormack, and wheeled away down the hall to his office. No doubt,
McCormack had already figured out how to hack the mainframe from his office. This did not
concern Daniel, muchhe trusted McCormack to act in the Task Forces best interestsbut he
was well aware that McCormack could easily become the greatest threat to him of anyone on the
team. He would bear watching, unfortunately.
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Out in the hallway, Leonard was talking to Joseph. They fell into a friendly conversation
with each other that at any other time Daniel would not intrude uponconsidering all the ill will
Leonard had for Joseph when he first arrived at The Postbut now was not the time for goose
stepping.
Leonard! called Daniel down the hall.
At the sound of his name, Leonard went rigid and turned from Joseph with an apologetic
gesture and jogged across the hallway to Daniel.
Whats up? said Leonard, quietly.
I need you, answered Daniel.
What do you need?
Youre going to be liaising with the Bureau agents. he replied. Then added, I need
you to do some micromanaging.
Micromanaging? repeated Leonard, Youll excuse me, but Im not really a liaisingkinda-guy.
Youll get used to it. Its like managing the team, except theyre not your friends.
Thats what I mean.
Daniel smirked and raised his eyebrow to Leonard, perplexedly.
Youre turning down a raise?
A raise? blinked Leonard, in surprise. As in pay raise?
With the job comes a higher paycheck.
Leonard pondered this for a moment before answering.
So you mean I get to kick around some Bureau peons who have a thing for Specials and
I get paid extra on top of that?
Sounds like a dream come true, smiled Daniel, doesnt it?
Leonard grew contemplative, a grin slowly stretching across his face as they approached
the cubicles. The cubicles were a flurry of activity, heads bobbing up and down looking from
one window to the next, pointing out bits of data to the lead agent who stood there bobbing from
cubicle to cubicle. The short, ferrety looking man had a frantic, harried expression that obscured
the sharp fox-like features of his face and showed the weathered black haired man for what he
was, a middle management drone.

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As they approached, he became distinguishable in the dim light of the hangar and Daniel
could easily see it was Agent Randall King, in all his glory.
King was hunched down low over the cubicles speaking grimly to an unseen agent when
the sounds of Daniel and Leonards soles clicking on the concrete floor caused him to look up
from the agent and crane his head to face them as if he were about to start sniffing the air.
Instantly, his face set into a scowl and he stormed toward them, waving his arms threateningly.
Its about time, Rooke! snapped King. My team has been waiting here for nearly an
hour!
Randall, began Daniel, indirectly informing King he had read his dossier as they had
never actually exchanged given names or showed such familiarity to each other before this
moment.
King was either the dupe who was taken in by Daniels authority of presence and
credential, or the man who lorded over Daniel after his failure to make two arrests at the
Department of Homeland Security Offices.
King set his jaw at the familiar acknowledgment from an adversary.
I just got word you were here and came down, replied Daniel, coolly. Then snapped
back, You got a problem with that?
I was told, replied King, looking around apparently for someone to blame, you would
be informed immediately that we had arrived! Whats his name? McCormack!
Daniel could sense McCormack having a nice chuckle in his office over Kings dark
thoughts and suppressed a smirk.
Weve been watching the autopsy reports come in, pacified Daniel, Its been
occupying our time. Then added menacingly, As Im sure its been occupying yours, what
with all the high security files with attachments your team has been sending to the Bureau.
King drew in closer, dangerously close to going nose to nose with Daniel.
You have a problem with me notifying my superiors on the updates to the terrorist
attack on the Elysium? Need I remind you that the Department of Homeland Security directives
for Justice agencies encourages all agencies to share their information with each other related to
cases under investigation and not hoard intelligence-
Daniel cut him off, sensing he was just getting started.
We dont know it was a terrorist attack yet, said Daniel matter-of-factly.
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He did not know why he said it, but his gut was burning with this police detectives
instinct all day. It was only too convenient to chalk it all up to terror attack by Specials, and
Daniel knew instinctively he should fight to curb the shaping image of the bombing to see clearly
what had happened and the reasons why.
What? blinked King, taking a step back in shock at what he had just heard. The idea
that the destruction of the Elysium which put all the guests at a world leaders dinner in danger
was not a terror attack sounded utterly ridiculous.
Daniels eyes narrowed.
You heard me, replied Daniel. There is no evidence this was a terrorist attack.
Youre jumping the gun.
King waved his hand in the air sarcastically in front of Daniels face, his tone
deprecatory.
Forgive me, scoffed King, A team of Specials blowing up a space station is not a
terrorist attack in your estimation?
We dont know why the Elysium was bombed, replied Daniel, and added, To proceed
with an understanding based on the little evidence we have at this point is foolish. If were
wrong well be looking in the wrong places.
Well what do you suggest? demanded King sarcastically. So we can look in the right
places?
We need the security feed from the Elysium embarking/disembarking security
checkpoint, and security camera feeds throughout the vessel, specifically Engineering and the
Observation Deck.
And how do we get that when the Elysium is so much scrap, floating dead in space?
King stood before Daniel with a look of vindication on his face, feeling he had trapped
Daniel in the argument without evidence to call upon to prove his logic. Daniel however was
smiling.
Ive studied ships from the war, said Daniel. Theres a little thing called a Manifest
Hard Drive Beaconxliii that ejects the minute a cataclysmic event occurs. Its got a Black Box
feature to it for UNIAF investigators to study, mainly for the sake of determining if the
catastrophe was caused by an attack, design fail, human error or Force Majeure. Everything the

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ship underwent or anything that occurred on the ship since its commissioning is now floating in
geosynchronous orbit, waiting pick up.
A glimmer sparked in Kings eyes and he leaned closer to Daniel.
And you have that black box? demanded King greedily.
No, admitted Daniel, then added, But UNIAF would.

Its standard operating

procedure to collect those beacons for investigative purposes.

The hopeful look left Kings eyes at the thought of UNIAF red tape sent a weight into his
stomach.
So how do you plan to get that black box then? demanded King wickedly.
By making a phone call, said Daniel, taking out his cellular phone.
Who are you going to call? demanded King.
Daniel ignored him and dialed Boatman.
Hey, said Daniel before Boatman had a chance to speakor maybe Boatman remained
silent waiting for Daniel to speak his mindBoatman was a hard man to read, I need someone
with some pull to get me access to the Elysiums Manifest Hard Drive Beacon. Has the UNIAF
picked it up yet?
Hardly, mused Boatman, as though he had spent some time trying to get his hands on
the beacon already. Theyre too busy to comb the area for such a small probe.

Theyre still

looking for some poor soul that got sucked out of the Elysium airlock before the explosion.
Daniels heart sank at the thought that he would have to wait for someone to get around
to retrieving that data. So we have to wait until they get around to it, is that it?
King grinned at the thought that Daniel would have difficulty and stood there smugly
listening to him, watching him shift in his stance.
Actually, replied Boatman, his sly tone of voice offering Daniel hope. You could just
do what theyre doing and just download the entire memory drive down onto your mainframe.
Daniel blinked with surprise.
We can do that?
Kings smugness faded at the growing grin on Daniels face and began to wonder just
how much pull this man had?
Its easy enough when you have the codes, said Boatman.
So who do we talk to about getting those codes? inquired Daniel.
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You talk to me, replied Boatman with a smile in his voice. My access code overrides
all sorts of password encryptions. And since I was a General during the war when that ship was
commissioned, I had access to whatever file I pleased. Youre looking for something more
specific?
Yeah.
Memorize this code.
Alright.
Loki, strike, strike, strike.
Thats it? demanded Daniel at the thought of it being that simple a code word. Thatll
get me my access to the files Im looking for?
Thats it. replied Boatman. And I would suggest not using the cubicles for this type of
data search. Use the mainframe. Thats what its there for.
Alright, replied Daniel. Thanks.
With that, the line went dead.
Daniel turned to find King studying him carefully, his ear craned in his direction, in an
attempt to eavesdrop on the conversation.

Daniel ignored him, turned and walked to the

mainframe.
The mainframe was a computer terminal attached to thick power cables that connected
the machine to the miniature cooling tower against the wall of the hangar. Daniel manned the
helm and typed into the United Nations Interstellar Armed Forces ship registry. There he found
the Elysium and pressed his finger on the icon, dragging it to a large window that dominated the
screen. Instantly security went up and the password window opened ominously. King watched
as the security window flashed and wondered what Daniel would do now. Daniel typed in:
Loki///
The screen blinked and began scrolling with data.
//U.S.S. ELYSIUM [SUBSIDIARY
HOLDINGS] ONLINE\\

HOLDING

OF

OZYMANDIAS

Daniel scrutinized the language of the sentence and frowned.

Ozymandias Holdings? said King and blinked in astonishment as he turned to look at
the side of Daniels head and added greedily, a threat hanging in his tone: I want that pass
code.
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Youll get your intelligence, assured Daniel, ignoring the odd feeling he had in his
stomach in regard to this holding company. Then added, But Im not compromising mine.
Whats that supposed to mean? demanded King.
It means no. replied Leonard, menacingly.
King turned on Leonard to challenge him, but his sheer size and mass made it clear he
stood no chance of bullying this man. Leonard dared King to say something, anything, with his
stare and smile. King shifted irritably but remained silent.
The window blinked open and a handsome young man, apparently in his early twenties
appeared on the screen with a doleful, somewhat embarrassed expression rolled his eyesas
though he thought this message was a pointless exercise, apparently convinced he would live at
least long enough for these Dear, Mom and Pop protocols to be dim distant memories of his
youthsitting intimately, in his crisply pressed UNIAF uniform, staring out of the window at
them with a wistful smile:
Hi mom. If youre getting this message, then, wellyou know what happened.
Anyway, I just wanted to say I love you, and that Im proud I could die for such a
cause as a united worldI know you had your reservations of me joining up, and
I hope-
Daniel hit the exit key and the window closed.
Sorry, guys. said Daniel, somberly. I felt like I was eavesdropping on something
private.
You made the right call. said Leonard, patting Daniel on the shoulder heavily. That
wasnt for our eyes.
King paced irritably.
Daniel opened another window and scrolled through the ships memory for the security
feeds at the embarking/disembarking checkpoint for the past forty-eight hours.
He scrolled through at high speed, watching the people milling in and exiting, their
security clearance appearing in small windows above the large feed of the security camera
overlooking the room.
Every face hit Daniel like a hammer to the stomach, adding a new face to the death toll.
But each face brought him closer to the faces he longed to seethe faces of the men responsible
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for the loss of so many soulshe wondered if he would recognize them or if they would just
fade into the background inexplicably.
Finally, a group of seven engineers filed into the queuehe could tell they were
engineers by the color of their uniformsengineers wore yellow and black. But there was
something odd about themThey seemed more like Marines, than engineers. The way they
stood, their size and their overall manner seemed off.
Hold it. commanded Daniel. Computer: trace flight number on spacecraft that this
group disembarked from.
No ship is on record. said Leonard, looking over his shoulder. That doesnt sound
good.
Its not. agreed Daniel, grimly.
Daniel pulled up the files on the seven engineers in the queue and studied them. Each
had a protruding forehead and a jutting chin with overlong noses and they smiled widely.
Ugly guys, said King, appearing over Daniels shoulder.
Theyre wearing makeup to alter their appearances and avoid detection on facial
recognition software. said Daniel, grimly. See how theyre smiling? Its so they wont get a
hit on matching software. Youre not supposed to smile in identification pictures. It contorts the
face and makes a match nearly impossible.
Chad eyed the screen critically.
What about DNA scans? he suggested.
Computer, said Daniel. Match the DNA and surveillance timestamps, focusing on
Engineering transfers.
Synching complete Lewis Trauley, Reynold black, ennis Williams,
Joaquin Jefferson, roger orley, earl tanner, Terrell Washingtoncomputer
systems and reactor Engineering team transferred from military contractor
Bryant-corps Toledo base located in Sylvania, Ohio.
Chad, said Daniel with a scoff, already expecting the answer before he made the
request. Confirm those identities.
Chad cross-referenced the identities and scowled.
These identities are legit.

Theyre all dead.

That gas station explosion took out

Trawley. Williams, Jefferson and Washington were killed at a nightclub two nights ago. Cops
wrote it up as a drug deal gone badBlack was killed in a hit and run Tanner was run off the
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road and was face planted into a tree All dead in 24 hours no time for Bryant-Corp to
update their files, apparently.
Or theyre involved.
Im not discounting anything, at this point. Daniel concluded matter-of-factly. Put
Bryant-Corp on the list, for now.
Chad did as he was ordered and looked back at Daniel awaiting orders.
Unfortunately, it was King who natteringly spoke, next.
So weve got nothing? scoffed King. Well, this was a waste of time.
Actually weve learned the engineers are using fake identities, and they didnt go
down with the ship. They had an out. concluded Daniel, adding: And, theyre ex-military.
You can tell that by their swagger.
Daniel brooded for a long moment while King shook his head, brimming with disgusted
contempt for playing second-fiddle to Rooke.
Besides, Daniel continued in a mutter, theres something familiar about them I cant
put my finger on it.
They are aboard a military vessel, Rooke. said King, critically. Of course theyre
military.
These guys dont move like engineers, said Leonard, at last. He focused on the
engineers long and hard, studying their movements, adding: These guys have seen combat.
And theyre comfortable in it.
King watched as Daniel and Leonard traded knowing glances and nod in synch with each
other.
So these are our unsubs? demanded King, referring to the unidentified subjects that
stood with such callous ease on the viewscreen.
Looks like it. concluded Daniel. The major attack occurred in Engineering. It makes
sense theyd be wearing engineer uniforms.
Thats still thin. replied King. Nowhere in the audio does anyone mention men in
engineer uniforms. They describe them as wearing armor.
Daniel pointed to the bags and overlarge toolboxes the engineers carried.
Thats what I believe is in that luggage theyre all carrying, he said to King.
How can you be sure? demanded King.
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Well, said Daniel, lets follow them, then. Daniel tapped the viewscreen and the
images came to a halt. Computer, track movements of these men. Daniel touched the screen
and the engineers blinked in green aura.
The Computer switched from one camera point of view to another, tracing the steps of
the engineers down the long corridors of the Elysium and Daniel was suddenly aware that he
was looking at the same corridor he had walked warily down in the dark, with warped metal
walls, buckled ceilings and molten stalagmites of super-cooled metal. Now the corridor was lit
up warm, with traffic walking down the corridor in both directions. All these lives making their
way about their day, not realizing the end was coming soon.
Daniel watched as the engineers came to the lift doors and divided, the slimmest man
boarding the lift with two larger men. The door slid closed and the remaining engineers waited
at the lift until the doors opened again, empty.
Where did those three go? demanded King.
Leonard reached past Daniel and accessed the lift record and pointed to the point where
the team exited the lift.
They went up to forward deck. said Leonard. The bridge.
They must be going in as a maintenance team and transferring command authority to
Engineering. surmised Daniel.
Thats a complicated hack. said Leonard, skeptically. One that wouldnt go
unnoticed.
Thats what the big guys are for. replied Daniel. No one noticed, though. If anyone
had, the bridge crew would be dead from the start.
The engineers are in Engineering, said Leonard.
Lets see what happens. said Daniel.
The engineers set down their luggage, and began opening their crates on the floor in
full view of the engineers.

One engineer stepped forward with cold authorityobviously the

commanderand began to speak to the engineers crouching down over their crates. When
they rose, the commander took a tentative step back and the screens went to static.
Every eye on the monitor bore the same shocked expression and they sat in utter silence
before the static screen. King blinked first.
What just happened? demanded King.
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Someone doesnt want us seeing this. said Daniel.

Someone? demanded King, Who?
I dont know. replied Daniel. But from here on out, lets be very careful who we let
handle this evidence.
I need to report to my superior, said King, and he turned and strode away, his cellular
phone in his hand.
I thought you might, sighed Daniel.
What do you want me to do? asked Leonard.
Let him, replied Daniel. Hes going to be providing us with information.
You think he will? said Leonard, skeptically.
Either that or Ill crucify him. answered Daniel grimly.
What do you want me to do? said Leonard.
Get them to produce some intel for me. replied Daniel.
On what?
On whatever data they have on known Specials with Special operations training.
answered Daniel.
You think they have black ops training? said Leonard, in passing.
The words lit up in Daniels mind and he nearly choked on his own spit sitting forward.
What was that? demanded Daniel.
Im saying do you think they have tactical operations badges? clarified Leonard.
No, replied Daniel. you said black ops.
Yeah.
Daniel leaned forward and studied the men standing in the security feed from
embarking/disembarking checkpoint, scrolling through their identifications. The lead weight in
his stomach rose to his throat as he examined the identification badges.
I thought they looked familiar, breathed Daniel.
What? demanded Leonard.
I think I know who our terrorists are, replied Daniel. And if Im rightGod help us...

467 | P a g e

Daniel sat rigidly, in his new office, poring over dossiers on his computer, his face grim and set
as his eyes ran back and forth, line by line, scrolling down the many documents and links,
sensing the worst, knowing he was right about the identities of his unsubs, but reminding himself
of old Detective Freemans admonishment to Keep Emotion Out Of It! What he was reading,
though, dogged him.
He knew he was dead on in his suspicions. He felt it in his bones. Still, he tried his best
to clear his mind and let the data lead him to his unsubs dispassionately.
The files were from Lawrence Boatmans former Emergency Services Unit that had
defected to the private sector without a word two, weeks prior.
He frowned as he ran the pictures next to the profiles and identification badges of the
engineers. He had run the facial recognition software three times and no hits. Still, looking at
the pictures, he was sure he could just make out their faces beneath the protruding foreheads and
chins and overlarge noses, and wide leering grins.
In short, his investigation was going nowhere. Without the matches he could not confirm
the identities of the suspects, and his gut twisted in knots shouting at him he was right on target.
The men in the Elysium video feeds had to be the Black Ops team. Who else could it be?
He compared a picture of Paul Hirano directly next to a slim man in an engineering
uniform and grit his teeththe protruding forehead, nose and chin made him look freakish, still
the eyes were the sameit had to be Hirano.
Daniel leaned back and pinched his nose in an effort to quell the headache that was
resting just between his eyes. He knew it could only be from staring at the luminescent glass
touch screen for so long.

Finally, he turned and printed out the grotesque photos and pinned

them to the wall. His first rogues gallery line up in his new job. He should have been pleased
that the job was starting and the Task Force was being employed, but all he felt was exhausted.
Finally Daniel logged off from his terminal, turned and exited the office, closing the door
behind him. In the light of the hallway he looked down to see the offices empty. He made his
way downstairs to the hangar floor and walked along the empty space alone in the intermittent
darkness before the overhead lights tracked his movement and flickered on.
Up ahead, he saw McCormack standing next to the computer terminal as Josh typed on
the keyboard, his eyes racing through a small windows data scroll showing signs of hacking.
Whats up? inquired Daniel.
468 | P a g e

Were running through the security feed downloaded from the Elysium. answered
McCormack. There was a hack on the ship and it infected the beacon when it downloaded.
Were just trying to see if we can filter out the virus to get a clear picture of those men.
Is there any coffee in this place? asked Josh, wearily, It looks like its going to take a
while.
Daniel looked around the dark hangar and pursed his lips. Boatman had thought of
everything they would need to do their jobs, but he suspected that was where the line drew. Not
even a water cooler materialized through the dim lit expanse.

Finally he turned back to

McCormack.
Keep at it, said Daniel, Im heading back to The Post.
Go on, replied McCormack, Get your beauty sleep.
Daniel turned and walked the span of the hangar, past the cubicles, past the autopsy
tables. He shuddered when he saw the pools of blood dripping from the gutters into buckets
placed at the opening and for a second flashbacked to a front line Mobile Armored Station
Hospital unit he had been a patient atthe screaming. The blood. Every time a section of armor
was peeled off a gush of blood poured out and the surgeons worked feverishly to arrest the
damage before peeling off the next section of armor.Daniel snapped his head back and forth
bringing his attention back to the here and now.
With a deep sigh he walked past the cadaver drawers and out into the night.
Next to the door, five soldiers stood smoking cigarettes. When they saw Daniel emerge
from the shadows, they grew rigid and stood at attention, some bothered to flick the cigarettes
away in an effort to appear more professional, most did not.
I need a driver, said Daniel.
The soldier spoke into his radio and on the far side of the hangar, an engine roared to life
and an SUV raced around the corner, coming to a halt in front of Daniel. He had been expecting
Farley, but apparently he was off duty.
This new face stared at Daniel waiting for a command. Daniel leaned in the passenger
window and eyed the driver.
You know where I stay?
No, sir, answered the driver.

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Well, youre about to find out, said Daniel as he climbed into the SUV. Youre taking
me to D.C.
Yes, sir.
Drive on.
The agent put the SUV in gear and the truck surged out past the hangars lining the alley
and out onto the tarmac toward the border to Maryland proper.
Back at The Post, Daniel staggered up the stairwell and into the flat. His long day etched on his
face as he made his way into the quiet flat.
As he entered, he noted the viewscreen on the fat wall played the news as close to mute
as possible.

Daniel made his way around to the front of the viewscreen to see Christine Turf

curled up on the couch.

She took a second to notice him standing there, half asleep and half watching President
Tahmahkera speaking about the tragedy in a rerun of a White House speech, probably written as
he travelled from the Olympus to the capitol. He was strong and composed as he spoke to the
home viewers and people abroad assuring patience and calm in his words and demeanor.
I want you to know, said Tahmahkera on the newsfeed, that every agency
will be put to use, and every bit of evidence will be examined before we make any
declarations.

Presidents, past, have declared war quickly and harshly, later

realizing they committed the country to the wrong war, with the wrong country,
long after the chance for diplomacy had been lost. I will not make that mistake.
Nor will I commit us to an enemy prematurely simply to give you an enemy to
hate. I will not cheapen your loss, your pain or rage with such parlor deceptions.
We will wait for the investigation to direct and correct our heading. We will
discover the true enemy and then deal with them. Wherever they hide, they will
be met with the might of this nations men and women in due course. Hold my
feet to the coals in your impatience if you choose. I will not commit our bravest
men and women to risking their greatest sacrifice on a suspicion and a whim. I
ask that you be patient and allow our investigating agencies on the ground to
perform their expeditious due diligence in the greatest example of thorough
evidence and intelligence gathering and know that they will not let me down,
because I refuse to let you down
470 | P a g e

Daniel grimaced at the President on the viewscreen. He was waiting for the evidence to
come to light. The country would be hounding for blood. And after such a cool and defiant
stance by their commander-in-chief against being forced to find an enemyany enemyit
would either the terrorists blood or his own.
He grit his teeth as he watched the bold savvy of the man he had met only hours ago and
scoffed, empathizing with Tahmahkeras future.
How a president handles crises marks whether that leader will have a second
administration or not. From what Daniel had just seen, he had about three years, tops, with this
one. Then some other asshole would take his place and he would have to court that president all
over againHe was beginning to see a cascading series of tensions attempting to break the ice
with new administrations and the delicacy of handling all politicians champing at the bit for the
nomination and vote to attain the Highest Office, and his politics would have to be if not neutral,
than plastic to remain in good graces with the present and future administrations. He began to
suspect he could not afford to make any enemies on Capitol Hill unless he was willing to
participate in decimating that particular politicians chances in attaining that ultimate
ascendency. There were too many people depending on him for a paycheck to do any less than
bend to the wills of all on the political landscape.
Jesus, thought Daniel. Im going to have to be a whore in this position
And then he saw he was not alone. A frail, diminutive figure swayed wearily. Her eyes
bloodshot.
Youre up late. said Daniel to Christine, not bothering to look away from the
viewscreen.
Im sorry, she said with wide eyes, a guilty tone hanging in her voice. Ill go to bed.
No, its okay. Im sure you had a trying day with all these news reports, and us, gone.
You were there, werent you?
The Elysium? Yeah.
A lot of people died?
Yeah.
What were you doing there? Were there Specials involved?

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Daniel wanted to answer honestly, but he recognized in her a fragility he suspected would
probably dip into depression if he gave her too straight an answerAt least he could spare her
until morning for the sake of a deeper sleep.
I was just doing my part.
But were people like me involved?
Daniel stood there for a moment, and finally nodded grimly to her.
It looks like.
Christine pulled her legs up from under her, tucked them to her chest and rested her chin
down on her knees in thought.
Grandma always told me not to tell anyone about what I can do. Its going to get harder
for Specials, isnt it?
Daniel looked down at the young girl and pursed his lips sadly as he foresaw her future.
Yeah, he murmured.
With that, Christine looked miserable.
I think Ill go to bed, Mr. Rooke.
And she rose exhausted and walked down the hall.
Daniel sighed at the thought of Christine lying in bed sleepless and stared at the
presidents impassioned characteristic, not even bothering to listen to what he said. He
understood enough. Do your job, do it fastDont make an enemy of me.
It was clear the president was a good man. But people get tired of good men in tense
situations. They want assholes when the chips are down.
With a sigh, he walked past the closed doors hearing the deep rhythmic breathing of his
teammates as they slept and a pang of guilt affected him at the thought that he had left
McCormack and Josh to pull what was likely to be an all-nighter. Up ahead, he saw his office
window blinking and proceeded past his room to investigate. He opened the office door to find
the flashing light was his computer and investigated it half-heartedly. He depressed his hand
against the screen and it blinked:
//Welcome, Daniel\\
He took a seat and scrolled through his emails and found one forwarded to him by
Boatman. The title was:
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RE: State of U.S.S. Elysium Investigation

This could clearly wait until morning, but a nagging urge seized him and he found
himself wanting to know. He clicked on the email and the window opened, downloading data.
Within a moment the window blinked and a password window appeared.
Daniel typed in Boatmans pass code, and the window blinked to life and scrolled down
the page taking in the intelligence gleaned by the scans made by the U.S.S. Olympus and their
tentative flyby patrols making sweeps of the hull and the structural soundness of the vessel.
What they found was surprising, but not entirely shocking.
The Elysium had survived the blasts with minimal cosmetic damages to its main areas,
including the bridge and engineering. The observation deck was a loss, but that section had
always been vulnerable to compromisewhich was why during the war soldiers never stepped
foot onto the observation deck without some type of armor or decompression safety suit to
protect the crewmen from the harshness of the voidstill, the platform had managed to survive.
It was an oddity to Daniel; if this was a terrorist attack, it was badly performed.
What went wrong? he mused as he replayed the events and aftermath in his minds eye.
The main damage was to the observation deck and the adjoining construction towers for
shipbuilding. Seven docking ports in all were wiped out in the explosion along with seven
vessels docked for repairs and upgrades. Most of the pelting debris was from these key areas
including the seven docked shipsbut the remainder of the vessel was sound.
If not for the flash fires that occurred on several decks, there might have been more
survivors. As it was, the bridge held only seven survivors. Seven, out of three hundred souls. If
he had not seen the carnage of the hangar he might have been more hopeful and conducted a
rescue search.
A pang of guilt squeezed his heart as he scrolled through the damage report. Still, he
made a mental note to attain transcripts from those soldiers debriefings on the events leading up
to the explosionspecifically their interactions with the engineers on forward deckit might
prove helpful.
Reports from the rescue teams reported that most had been protected from the explosion,
the fire and the decompression, but had died from the butterfly effecta rending of the heart and

473 | P a g e

lungs inside the body when hit by the shockwavewhen the blast wake made its way outward
past the hold, shaking the ship.
Daniel turned back to the damage reports, and studied the data closely. Apparently the
Elysium could be resurrected, but at a huge cost and a period loss of three years of productivity
before the vessel could resume its role as a sentry for the earth from attack or its secondary role
as shipbuilding and repair station.
There were other shipbuilding yards deeper in space, but the Elysium shipyard was a
place where the average engineer could get a job with hazard pay for EVA workwhich was
why most coveted the job or hoarded their positions by being as productive and indispensible as
possiblebringing the death toll to another two hundred.
The only consolation to be had was these men and women died doing something they
loved. Work surrounded by the stars with breathtaking views of the earth every day while
working on some of the most sophisticated technologies in human imaginingan engineers
dream. Still, it was not enough.
These people deserved better, thought Daniel, fuming.
Daniel closed the window, leaned back in his chair and sighed.
Finally, he shut down his computer, exited his office and found his room. He hung his
suit and loaded his side arm into his lock box then laid in bed for what he thought would be a
long period of deep thought. He did not have time to wonder or be surprised by how weak he
felt.

Just the closing of his eyes as the blackness took him and he was lost into nightmarish

dreams of the Elysium that shifted in his throes to memories of the war.
It was not a restful sleep.

474 | P a g e

C h a p t e r

2 3:
a

475 | P a g e

t was five minutes past seven as the sun began to near its goal of touching the earth and a
lone luxuriously gold plated

AB-5

navigated the traffic of similarly customized

AB-5s

making their ways back and forth from open-air markets and luxuriously decadent estates

and hotels to the extravagant nightlife to be had in the Opal of the Middle East that was Dubai.
The craft skitted above the blue salt waters along the edge between the Persian Gulf and
the Gulf of Oman and Lesley Ayers sat composedlyin his impeccably tailored, white
Egyptian-Cotton suitin the cabin as it skimmed over the islands and the skyscrapers. The ride
was somewhat turbulent, buffeted by sudden downdrafts that made his stomach climb into his
chest and sudden updrafts that had him feeling weightless as the ocean breeze warred with the
desert winds here, making for an exceptionally bumpy ride.
Lesley reminisced to his experiences during the war, riding in much less luxuriant AB-4s,
to the bump and rattle of cannon fire and flack pelting the hull in a descent into the atmosphere
of some planetary body thatno matter how many drops he went on, and it had been quite a
fewalways seemed to be in the midst of some horrid windstorm.
All in all, not much different from his present bumpy ride.
He stared out the window and appreciated the view of the islands from the sky, and even
smiled at the designs of the islands in the sea.
Over the intercom, the pilots voice low and intimate to his ear in the acoustically paneled
interior of the cabin:
Mr. Ayers, said the pilot, we are three minutes out, as Dubai air traffic laws permit.
Please help yourself to the ice water.
Lesley reached down for the ornately etched sterling silver bucket at his side and pulled
out a bottled water buried deep in the well of slushed ice, twisting the cap free.
Cheers, replied Lesley, and took a sip of his water while his eyes watched the
viewscreen along the wall and searched out as he narrowed in on what he had been looking for.
Nearing visual clarity, Lesley saw his destination at last.
Seemingly rising from the depths of the ocean spacious palacesthe private island of the
obscenely wealthyrested with scenic views from the sea to the new Mecca that Dubai
promised to the elite of the world. This vista in the waters of the Arabian Gulf, however, offered

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far more than mere luxury, it offered seclusion from the semi-rich, newly wealthy and, in all
cases, non-Muslim.
This was one of a handful of islands reserved for the old money of the Middle East. An
island built for the richest, most influential and honored of families, the eighty-five acre island
housed seventeen rolling estates with elaborate palaces on the grounds.
From the air, each estate warred with the others for opulence and decadence. Each
treasured estate barred from the views of their neighbors by high walls surrounding the palatial
grounds. Each estate had access to their own private port for their boats and yachts. And even
here, the owners warred with each other in their indulgences. Gold gleamed on the cigar boats
and yachts.
Each estate provided hidden housing for cheap foreign help and a full security detail of
well groomed, able-bodied men controlled the territories with a military efficiency. In short,
each estate was a contained world, as antiquated as a plantation in the old American South.
Lesley had been here before, and was familiar with the territory.
The

AB-5 slowed as it approached the island, and veered slightly, giving Lesley a view

of the polished estate in all its opulence and descended to the landing pad, touching down on the
palatial grounds smoothly.
Mr. Mahmood will be waiting for you in his private office, said the pilot.
Immediately, the cabin door depressurized and slid open with a soft hiss, letting the hot
wind the desert slap Lesley in the face, displacing his tie, sending it flying past him like a wind
gauge. He hopped out into the dimming sweltering heat brought in on the desert wind as the
coolness of the nearing nightfall began to war with it.
Taking a long deep measured breath, and took a brief sweeping look of the grounds,
admiring the green lawns and jungle flowersthe shades provided by a small orchard of trees
ranging from orange and apple to figblocking the view and pleading with the viewer to forget
they stood in a barren region populated with beautiful spires to draw the eye away from the ugly
brown of the desert beyond the nearby beaches which were dotted with the abandoned wreckages
of many oil harvesting facilities along the coast like so much junk of a passing age to be left to
be buried in the dust of the desert like the pyramids and sphinx to be reclaimed and hidden from
the world.

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Despite the tamed jungle immediately surrounding Lesley, he knew that even the island
was a desert, with the lush green gardens being pumped daily with mists of wasted water. And
beyond the well nourished flora that hid this reality, a security wall enclosed the paraditic world
around him, keeping each estate secure from the others. A fortress on an island, or, more to the
point, seventeen fortresses on an island, each with their own complement of a diligent security
team patrolling their boundaries constantly.
Security cameras surrounded the perimeter.

And then there were the attack dogs

patrolling on leashtheir masters following with plastic bags to prevent the dogs from marring
the perfectly manicured lawnsit seemed every possible threat had been neutralized by the
cunning of the architect and the staff on the grounds.
Lesley turned toward the palace to see four guards approach him.

They stopped just

outside the whirling blades of the drone and gestured for him to step forward with cold authority.
Apparently, this was one of their opportunities to feel superior to another individual, and they
relished it. Lesley approached them with a smile.
Turn around, said a muscular armed guard with a thick Malay accent.
I dont suppose you could take me at my word, smiled Lesley.
The guards eyed him coldly, and Lesley felt sure any sense of humor was lost on these
people. With a shrug, turned away and put his arms out.
Immediately, rough hands dug into his pockets, slamming into his armpits, running down
his legs and up into his groin and buttocks. A most thorough search, if Lesley had ever
experienced one.
Apparently, the guards had not forgotten his last trip to the island when to everyones
surprise, the unassuming man had pulled out of his coat an antique gold-plated Desert Eagle

Magnum, which he then presented to Mr. Mahmood as a gift.

Mr. Mahmood appeared pleased with the gift, but he gave a horrifyingly cool glance to
his guards as if to communicate that there would be repercussions for allowing an armed man so
close to him. Apparently, the security detail had been well versed on how to handle Lesley
Ayers the next time he came to the island, to ensure they would not receive the wrath of their
master.

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At last they released him and waited for Lesley to straighten his coat and pants.

Then

the guards turned and led him across the lawn toward the palace. Lesley followed, waiting for
the guards to open the doors to the lavish home.
Upon the parting of the doors, the cool breeze of the powerful air conditioning tower
washed over him with a pleasurable sensationLesley stood still for a moment, and closed his
eyes smilingletting the cool wind on his face war with the heat at his back.
When he finally opened his eyes it was to the annoyed glances of the security team
waiting for him to follow them.
Lesley smiled and the security officers turned and marched into the palace. They led him
across the open atrium past rows of statues and beautifully ornate weavings, up the central
staircase and down a hallway until at last they reached the office.
The guards opened the door and escorted him inside, gesturing toward the seats on the far
side of the office desk.
Lesley walked over to the leather chairs facing the desk, chose the farthest one from the
door and sat down. Two guards left the room and stood sentry outside, while the remaining two
glowered down on Lesley with a cold disgust.
Lesley smiled back up at them, his confidence unnerving and frustrating the two guards.
He could have waited for hours with the two guards watching them shift in their stances,
bemused by his ease with the armed and powerfully built men.
Ah, he thought, if they only knew who and what I was, they would not be so easy as
they are now.
Lesley mused at the thought of only two guards separating him from Mahmoods throat.
The fact that they were armed and no doubt lethal shots meant nothing at these ranges.
He could not help but smile wider.
Finally, a hidden panel on the far wall behind the desk slid away and the sort, slender
frame of Emir Mahmood entered the room dressed in a European cut suit, his short hair styled
back and he wore a trimmed mustache. Behind him, a Malaysian woman stood up shakily,
apparently pulling her clothes back on, slowly, as though she had just been through some horrific
ordeal she did not wish to rememberthe panel slid shut concealing her pitiable state from
Lesleys view and the impression that the seemingly all too young woman had just endured the
unendurable.
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He nodded the understanding his impression was very accurate and let the mask of
pleasantries alter his face to conceal his disgust for Mahmood, as all this was commonplace in
the backrooms of palaces, mansions and estates the world overthe poor were preyed upon by
the elite, and there was little to be done to offer condolence to their very real fears of joblessness
and far, far worseMahmood was far from original in this regard, and losing momentum in
business over such atrocities by even appearing indignant served no purpose in business, but the
termination of said business and any possibility of future contracts for some competitor, either
without moral compass or at least with wisdom enough to restrain themselves from appearing
appalled. After all, human rightsfor anyone beneath the status of the owners, their family and
their more honored guestsmeant nothing on these self-sustainable worlds.
Upon seeing Lesley, a sneer crossed Mahmoods face that quickly transformed into a
mask of a smile with cunning eyes. Lesley smiled back, equally calculating.
Ah, Lesley. said Mahmood, opening his arms to embrace. Lesley rose from his seat
smartly and performed the obligatory embrace of business partners, but not friends. There were
dozens of ways to embrace and greet in the Middle East, but there were few protocols for dealing
with foreign infidels.

The embrace offered no warmth or substance and conveyed only

recognition of business dealingsall this could be noted in the dead eyes of Mahmood
throughout the perfunctory greeting.
Mr. Mahmood, smiled Lesley, Again, I must remark on your lovely home.
We will need tea, ordered Mahmood sweetly.
Mr. Mahmood snapped his fingers with a disgusted look at the nearest guard who quickly
nodded and left the room.
Your trip, said Mahmood, referring to the rough ride aboard the drone being buffeted
by the hot winds of the desert with its sharp updrafts and stomach turning pitfalls. I hope it was
not too upsetting for you.
Not at all, replied Lesley. I found it quite exhilarating.
Exhilarating, repeated Mahmood, feeling out the response and finding it satisfactory.
This is good. But as I told you over the phone, this meeting could have been just as easily
accomplished via sat-link.
I believe in looking a man in the eye, Mr. Mahmood. replied Lesley. I feel less is
misinterpreted.
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Mahmood studied the cagey Lesley for a moment and then nodded.
This is so, agreed Mahmood.
Just then, the very same young Malaysian womanLesley had spied re-dressing, so
pathetically, in the hidden roomnow re-wrapped into her uniform that covered her from head
to foot, shakily entered the room with a silver tray laden with tea, cups and an assortment of
biscotti.
Mr. Mahmood shot her a disgusted look and snapped his fingers for her to hurry up. She
did not once glance upward, but shakily set the tea down, pouring Mr. Mahmood a small cup and
then pouring a second for Lesley, who received his with a slightly rigid posture, as though his
discomfort would offer some means of thanks to the woman, who quickly retreated from the
room.
With the Malaysian woman gone, the doors closed, leaving them in the relative privacy
provided by the two remaining armed bodyguards.
Lesley ignored them, smiling into Mahmoods eyes as he raised his tea in salute.
To your continued good health, toasted Lesley.
And yours, smiled Mahmood, though his eyes offered indifference in Lesleys regard.
Mahmood took a sip of his tea and pulled a face as though the mask of politeness hurt
him. He began to slip into his contempt and disgust. Lesley merely smiled.
Mr. Mahmood, said Lesley, politically, his voice lilting with feigned concern. I hope
you are well.
Mahmoods face grew long, with a hint of frustration that quickly melted into a pained
expression as he set his tea down.
To be honest, Mr. Ayers, replied Mahmood. I am distressed. Most distressed.
Oh so? inquired Lesley, taking another sip of his tea, peering over the edge of the
teacup at Mahmood, searchingly.
The men whom I represent, began Mahmood, appearing pained to put it delicately, are
most displeased with your lack of subtlety and inability to complete the assignment. They feel I
would have done better to get a young Palestinian and tell him he was striking at the heart of the
infidel with the sword of God in his hands.
Is that so? said Lesley, merely talking to keep the conversation going, patiently waiting
for Mahmood to reach his point.
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Believe me, said Mahmood, it would have been far cheaper. But the intelligence
needed for such a strike you see the predicament youve placed me in? I went with your
people at a much higher price and I ended up with an expensive fireworks show. Nothing more.
And with that, Mahmood glared at Lesley with the full contempt he shared with his staff
daily. The guards at the door shifted in their stances watching the two men sit there perfectly
still, Mahmood glowering as if he were dealing with so much trash, and Lesley, unphased by the
hard stare. Lesley set his teacup down on the saucer and laid it on the desk, folding his fingers
together as he leaned back in his leather chair, studying Mahmood over the tips of his manicured
fingers.
If you feel you can do better with someone else, next time, began Lesley, I wouldnt
prevent you from seeking out your options. However, as I told you before, we are the best there
is, for the jobs needed doing.
Mahmoods face grew cold.
This is your best?
Mr. Mahmood, began Lesley, leaning in toward Mahmood, if you please, you asked
for the destruction of the Elysiums dry docks in orbit with a reasonable finger pointing away
from you and your associates. Nowhere in the contract did you stipulate the obliteration of the
vessel in its entirety.
I told you to make it look like an accident, spat Mahmood. My intelligence tells me
the forensic teams surveying the wreckage are very good. Its only a matter of time before the
press call of a terrorist attack is confirmed by signs a bomb was detonated on that ship.
My people arranged for a cascading event that would take out the ship and look like an
accident. You wanted an accident, I have provided you one.
Yes, but the bodies on the Elysium do not look like accidents. They look like they were
hacked and burned.
A regrettable part on my side, which is why I reduced the price by five hundred
thousand. I used men who have a liking for mayhem. They wont be employed again. Standard
nondisclosure agreements and the fact that theyd be admitting to being party to terrorist activity,
which has a hefty penalty in this day and age, prevent them from the usual braggadocio.
Be that as it may, the world is already pointing to the suspicion that this was a terrorist
attack!
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And there are no shortage of little known underfunded terror networks who would stand
in line to take credit for the bomb. Terror attack was always a stand-by scenario. Thats why
we chose the date of the assault to coincide with the world leaders summit on board the
Olympus.
With that, Lesley reclined in his seat and rested his arms on the armrests, casually
crossing his legs.
I dont see the problem, Lesley asserted with a dark chuckle.
The problem, my friend, retorted Mahmood hotly, is that the job is incomplete!
Lesley eyed Mahmood for a moment critically, and when he again spoke, his words were
hushed and even.
Forgive me, Mr. Mahmood, for being blunt, said Lesley coolly. We performed the
function we were required to perform within the guidelines of the initial contract. We expect
payment.
With that, Mahmoods smile was wide and cold as he shook his headas if he were
speaking to a young man with no concept of business.
My friend, laughed Mahmood, you dont see clearly. There is no money. That has
been taken off the table by your own stupidity. We asked for the removal of the dry docks, not
its needing to be repaired.
Mahmood studied his cuticles on his hand and picked up his tea.
I am afraid there will be no money for this job. However, out of friendship, I would be
willing to use you for another job. One that requires expert hands. I am sure you are up for
this?
Ah, there we have a problem, sighed Lesley, and he tapped the touchpad on his watch,
illuminating itit was a casual gesture and went unnoticed. Although I would like to negotiate
this new contract with you, you seem to be suffering under this delusion that I am a particular
kind of man who lets the main point escape my attention. And that point is payment.
Outside, security personnel began running toward the walls around the complex, pulling
out their side arms and shouting to each other. The guards standing in the room immediately
cupped their hands over their ears and a third guard burst into the room. Mahmood shot a dark
glare in the direction of the guard as he approached.

The guard appeared nervous and

approached Mahmood leaning down and whispering into his ear.

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Mahmoods eyes went wide and he picked up a remote control and activated his security
feed monitor which illuminated on the windows behind thembreaking into several windows,
across the length of glassand displayed several men, meters apart from each other, surrounding
the perimeter of the palace, safely outside the walls.
Just then, a loud rumble shook the palace and a on the viewscreen, seemingly coming
from the section of wall on the southwest corner, and the firm structure slid in on itself and
crumbled as a cloud of dust rose up, swallowing the assailants up in obscurity. The guards
immediately opened fire through the dust and debris. Then a loud explosion shook the room as a
second section of wall on the northeast corner blew apart throwing mortar and clay like shrapnel.
Mahmood wheeled around on Lesley.
What are you doing? demanded Mahmood, wild eyed. Who are those men?
Lets just say they are associates of mine.
I thought you were alone! demanded Mahmood, looking more and more like a
moustache wearing child by the moment.
My dear Emir, smiled Lesley, reclined in his seat. I am never truly alone.
Another explosion rocked the estate and Mahmood cowered at his desk.
You cannot do this!
Ill say it again, replied Lesley, We do a job we get paid.
Another explosion rocked the estate, this one sounding far closer. Mahmood watched as
the glass windows shook from the shockwave.
This is not how I do business! shouted Mahmood, crouching down behind his desk.
Nor I, replied Lesley, quietly, but you will find me anything if not flexible.
On the monitor, the armed security personnel had lined up surrounding the two gaping
holes in the structurally compromised perimeter walls, firing into the openings. That was when
the first of the figures appeared in the thick dust from the shredded plaster and mortar floating in
the air.
The guards were beside themselves, retreating and firing as they backpedaled away from
the figure. Then another appeared in the dust. And another.
Mahmood watched the cracks spider along the window stretching through the view of the
security feeds for the perimeter of the property.

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I dont have your money! shouted Mahmood in a panic. It was never released to me! I
have been left without payment, as well, for all my work!
That is a shame, said Lesley, for you. Then added, but I still believe there is more
that can be accomplishedeven with just a middleman.
What do you mean?
The names of the men who hired you to hire us. I want them.
I cannot give you that information! It would ruin me! You would make me an outcast!
My dear Emir, Lesley crooned, there are far worse alternatives to this negotiation, I
assure you.
Mahmood glanced at the windows and saw the grounds liquefyhis guards being
swallowed by the earthand explosions shook the palace.
Lesley smiled, picked up his teacup and saucer and took a sip of his tea.
My associates are close, said Lesley, Destiny rushes to meet you, Im afraid...
There must be another way, pleaded Mahmood. Some business arrangement you and I
could bring to terms!
I understand. sympathized Lesley, You worry about your business as a middleman if
it became known that we were going after your clients and you had helped us. Lesley studied
the near defeated wretch before him and smiled. Ill tell you what. Ill settle for your contacts
information.
Mahmoods eyes went wide with indignant outrage.
Unacceptable! cried Mahmood. Whats to stop you from using my contacts without
me? You will be taking my business from me!
Not at all, soothed Lesley, We will become partners. You are about to become very
good friends with us. Isnt that preferable to the alternative?
What alternative?
Lets not speak of these matters, soothed Lesley, It would be needlessly distressing to
discuss your possible future should you push my hand any further.
Mahmood stared at the windows and saw his security force routed. Amid the destruction
of his gardens he saw men stepping out from the obscurity of the dust clouds and into focus,
walking casually toward the palace. The assault had ceased and the men who so casually routed

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his paramilitary trained security merely stared at the house, their expressions musing.
Apparently they were waiting.
Lesley walked over to the window and waved down to the men in the garden, and they
acknowledged him with a nod, then grew eerily still. Lesley turned and walked back over to the
table, standing over Mahmood, looking down on him with cold authority.
Your contacts, pressed Lesley. I want them.
Mahmoods eyes did not leave the window. The men outside were composed. Relaxed.
Their posture unnerved Mahmood even more.
You would leave me with nothing, whined Mahmood.
Hardly, scoffed Lesley. Unlike you, I did my homework. Your family has holdings,
in the trillions, around the world. This dealing with foreigners for a million here, a billion
thereits all ego, for you.
You do business with the sordid associates, you associate with so casually among,
because you like the thrill of it all.
Lesley sat on the edge of the desk and looked down upon Mahmoodthere was no more
disgust or silent threats in the defeated mans eyeswho looked up at Lesley with bald and
abject fear.
So the time has come where I must ask you, smiled Lesley, coolly. Have I thrilled
you?
Im not the only one in danger, trembled Mahmood. My guards are just outside the
door.
Your guards will fail you, my dear friend. replied Lesley coolly. As Ive said, you
havent done your homework very well.
Mahmood looked up at Lesley with a blistering glare that faded to hopelessness as he
glanced out the window at his routed forces and the casual demeanor of the infidel invaders in
the heart of his garden.

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C h a p t e r

2 4:

The Dubai Conflict

JOINT BASE ANDREWS-HANGAR 102

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he early morning sun had not yet dared to so much as suggest its intent to appear in the
East, beyond the deep penetrating shadow of the X-Hangar alley, when Daniel climbed
wearily out of the SUV. His eyes heavy and his mouth dry he walked dismally up to

security, flashed his credentials and submitted to a DNA scana new measure put in place by
Boatmanto control the traffic entering the hangar.
Once inside the dark hangar, the overhead lights tracked his movement, leading him
slightly as if anticipating his movements in the room, the lights cancelling behind him as he
stepped out of their wide beams.

Past the autopsy table and the refrigerated wall of cadaver

drawers, and deeper into the hangar, he sighed at the thought of walking past corpses every
morning. Eventually he was going to have to relinquish the bodies to their families for proper
burial, but today, they were still marked as evidence.
Deeper into the cavernous expanse, the overhead lights above the cubicles shown in clear
view and in the distance, the mainframe terminal illuminated the room in a blue light. Over the
cubicles, Leonard oversaw the Bureau agents, much to their chagrin while Joseph stood propped
against a cubicle observing Leonards drill sergeant manner in handling the agents.
As Daniel passed the mainframe terminal he saw Chad standing over Joshua, who
scrolled through long streams of data on the screen while Stephen stood facing a wall throwing
bursts of explosive energy at itnot enough to blow out the wall, but demonstrating amazingly
more control of his powercausing the wall to spark and tremble.
Giordano! reprimanded Daniel. Easy!
Sorry. Stephen replied. He then pointed to the dents in the wall and a form took shape.
He had been drilling bullet-sized blasts into the wall to make the shape of a smiley face. Pretty
good, though, huh?
Daniel rolled his eyes and continued toward the stairs to the offices in the back of the
hangar, taking the steps two at a time on his way up to the office level.

Passing by

McCormacks office, he saw he sat at his desk squinting his eyes at the computer in front of him,
his face dour.
What is it? inquired Daniel, warily.
Ah, Daniel. said McCormack, rubbing his eyes. I didnt see you there. Then realized
he hadnt answered Daniels question. Nothing. Just reading through these Specials Alerts
bounced to us from DHSapparently were in rare form, today.
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I try not to take it too seriously, muttered Daniel, wearily.

Specials have made it to Terror Alert status, rounded McCormack, waving his arm at
the heads up display on his computer. There is buzz all over the web about the Elysium, and
there are leaks from the Bureau to the press implicating Specials. It doesnt look good.
We have leaks? said Daniel jumping off the doorframe he had been leaning on, a sense
of dread creeping into his stomach, weighing him down.
See for yourself, offered McCormack, and swiveled his heads up display so Daniel
could get a better view.
Daniel walked over and leaned over McCormacks shoulder reading the article, scrolling
down with critical eyes, his jaw set.

Finally he found the line in the article McCormack had

focused on:
an anonymous agent from the Federal Bureau of Investigation, not
allowed to discuss the ongoing investigation, informs Specials may have
been involved in the terror attack that caused mass hysteria on board the
U.S.S. Olympus, suggesting that this could have been an effort to disrupt
the World Leaders Summit and Dinner [which were being held onboard]
by detonating the reactor aboard the U.S.S. Elysium, no more than a ten
miles from the dinner. Nearly three hundred lives were lost in the
catastrophic explosion on board the Elysium, with hundreds more working
on Dry Dock stations injured or lost in the blast
Daniel stepped back from the heads up display rubbing his forehead, sensing a headache
coming on.
This is not good, gasped Daniel, feeling a pit in his stomach rise into his throat.
No, its not. agreed McCormack. Ive already emailed Boatman about it. There isnt
much for you to do on the matter.
So this is just a heads up, then. concluded Daniel.
Its your investigation, reminded McCormack.
Daniel pinched his nose to ward off the headache that he felt sure was on the verge of
breaking.
Unfortunately, said Daniel, information is being disseminated wide through DHS. Its
virtually impossible to keep plugging the holes with so many potential leaks through forwarding
emails and ccs.
It is a problem, scoffed McCormack.
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One that needs to be vetted now, concluded Daniel.

Yes. agreed McCormack. You have your hands full.

Let Boatman exert some

pressure.
It seems all we do is rely on Boatman, scoffed Daniel, irritably.
Its his project, reminded McCormack. And his scheme stands to fail without putting
that pressure on the leak situation. Leave it to him. Hell put it right.
Were his arm, argued Daniel belligerently, not the other way around, though.
True, answered McCormack. But for now, we need him to plug the leaks. Let him do
his part. Thats why he makes the big bucks.
So you need nothing from me?
Has Boatman called you?
No.
If hes not pressuring you, theres no need for your involvement at the moment. Catch
up on your emails and wait for the follow up forensic reports from the First Responder Teams.
Right.
Daniel left McCormacks office and walked past Bradleys office. Christine Turf sat in
Bradleys chair reading a textbook for Special Agents in training from Quantico while Bradley
skimmed the pages over her shoulder pointing out in non-technical language what was expected
of her and how to think like an agent.
Daniel paused at the doorway for a moment watching the young Christine perplexing
over the language of the text, nodding as Bradley translated the trickier words for her.
It was a shame, to Daniel, having a girl with a tenth grade education expected to read
college graduate texts. She was going to have to grow up faster than he felt comfortable with. A
sixteen year old should be allowed to be a kid. And normally, that is what Daniel would see to,
but Christine was an interesting case. Gang raped and turned out to prostitution at such a tender
age, she would be denied a normal life in so many ways.
Children should not even know what HIV is, he thought grimly. much less have to
take advanced medication to combat the infection in their system.
He would have to do something for her. Something to let her be sixteen again. Even if
just for a minute or two.

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Daniel found his office door ajar and entered it with heavy steps, compared to the
tiptoeing he had done at Bradleys door.
He felt tired. Not from the task that the Elysium presented for him, or the silent pressure
he felt from the White HouseDaniel had virtually been commanded by President Tahmahkera
to update him as soon as possiblebut from the interagency dealings and all the problems
creeping up as a result of their good will.
Daniel sat at his desk and sighed, contemplating shutting his eyes for rest he did not
really need. Still, he toyed with the idea of just sleeping at his desk for a minute or two when the
phone rang. Daniel picked up the line and heard a flurry of activity and gasping voices on the
other end that put him on edge as he leaned forward listening to the sound of pandemonium in
the background. He also heard footsteps outside his door trotting down the hall and down the
stairs. Something was happening.
What is it? demanded Daniel.
Agent Rooke, said Chad over the phone, I think you better come down here and take a
look at this!
Daniel hung up the phone and rose from his desk. It was an easy matte to tap into
whatever feed they were watching down at the mainframe and watch from the confines of his
own office, but the need for momentum enveloped him and shook him into action. He threw
open the office door and surged out into the hallway, down the stairs and out into the yawning
expanse of the hangar toward the main terminal.
A huddle of Federal Bureau agents were crowding around Joshua and Chad watching the
news feed being funneled into a window on the display panel. Daniel reached them and leaned
in through the crowd gripping the back of Joshs chair.
Whats up? demanded Daniel, his voice commanding, causing the low level Bureau
agents to see him as a man of authority and they shied away from him as he took firm possession
of the back of Joshuas chair.
This just got shunted to us from Central Intelligence, replied Josh. Weve got late
breaking news out of the UAE. Any idea what Im looking at?
Daniel watched the carnage unfold on the Al-Jazeera News Network taken from security
feeds as the Specials marched on palace grounds with a cold, casual authority. All the more

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frightening still, was the fact that the figures registered in Daniels memory. He knew these
men.
Get that feed on the computer, commanded Daniel.
Thats a foreign network youre asking me to hack into, stammered Josh, nervously.
Do it! commanded Daniel. And get me the United Arab Emirate feed! I could give a
damn about Qatar!
Alright, muttered Josh, running his fingers along the computer screendragging
windows closed and opening new ones, no need to get snippy.
Josh typed in silence as he searched for the communications satellite in orbit for the
UAE, and finally opened a window typing in commands on the keyboard below.
Alright, chimed Josh, victoriously, Im in United Emirates satellite now.

The

activitys occurring on a place called al-Cordoba island.

Get me that security footage.
Hang on, said Josh, The hacking software will take a momentIve got the direct
feed from the security cameras on the island coming in now!
A series of windows blinked open and rough feed of a standoff between armed guards
and seemingly unarmed men came to life. Several shots were fired at the unarmed men, however
these shots were apparently deflected as one man stepped forward and thrust his hips and hands
outward. The man to his right, stepped forward and gesticulated in the guards direction.
Suddenly the earth liquefied beneath the guards feet and they were sucked under, where the dirt
covered them whole.
Daniels eyes went wide with shock at the display of power and his mind swept back to
the day he stood in a trailer watching video feeds of the Black Ops team decimating his team. A
cold shiver travelled up his spine and he rose to the tips of his toes as he hovered over the
terminal.
Close in on their faces, demanded Daniel. Get me facial recognition on these guys.
Specials files.
Just a moment, said Josh, typing in the commands and opening the facial recognition
software on the terminal, then touching the faces of the men, which blinked and froze in place
opening in larger windows with greater clarity on facial features.
Run it!
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Josh hit the icon for running the software and stared at the screen anxiously. Facial
recognition software raced through Specials identification cards and blinked no matches.
Give me military records, snapped Daniel.
Josh opened another window.
Online.
Run the match again.
The software raced through hundreds of faces and blinked negative.
No deal. scoffed Josh with frustration.
Run file BLACK_OPS, commanded Daniel.
Josh looked around at Daniel and then traded a nervous look at Chad before turning back
to the screen and typing in BLACK OPS. A file blinked open with the faces and identification
of the members of the ESU team. Daniels own personal file on the team that had routed his own
during scrimmage, nearly killing Bradley. Leonard took a step closer through the crowd and
peered over their heads down at the screen while Joseph sauntered up behind him to watch the
progress being made.
I got it open, said Josh nervously.
Run the software again, commanded Daniel.
Within seconds, the windows began blinking match after match after match through all
the men in the security feed. Daniels heart skipped a beat and he fought the lump in his throat
as he smiled at the window.
Gotcha! breathed Daniel, victoriously.
What can we do with this data, sir? inquired Josh nervously. We dont have anyone on
the ground in the United Arab Emirates.
Of course there are people on the ground. replied Daniel. But no one equipped to
handle this. Daniel stood still for a moment as his will and determination set into grim purpose.
Then said, Get me Redwing. I need the Chariot up and running in five minutes. Were going
to that island. And I want to be there before these guys get done.
Yes, sir. said Chad, and picked up the phone.

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Redwing arrived five minutes after the call, from the officers club on the base. He had been
eating an undercooked steak with some enjoyment when his cellular phone rang, alerting him to
the flight being scheduled ASAP. An SUV scooped him up within two minutes and it took three
minutes to race him to the X-Hangars and one minute to walk through Hangar 102.
At first Daniel wondered what he was doing there, when he should be at the Chariot, but
McCormack assured him all was well.
What do you mean all is well?
Lets just say that Hangar 102 is a self contained world, with all your needs at easy
access.
I dont follow.
Youll understand when you walk out the back door.
Daniel studied McCormack perplexedly, but McCormack smiled in his chiding you
should have explored the hangar more look that grated his nerves.
Daniel allowed himself to be led to the back of the hangar, past the stairs to the right hand
corner underneath the vaulted office space to find an access way leading to a corridor that
opened up with sunlight on the far end into a larger room of corrugated sheet metal with steel Ibeams set up like pillars around the space.
Daniel walked out of the back of Hangar 102 to find himself standing in an enclosed
space with no ceiling overhead. The Chariot was sitting in the middle of the quad that had
overgrown with wildflowers and high grass looking like a wild Roman garden with a large,
heavy, grotesque work of art in the center. As Daniel walked around the side of the transport, he
saw the work stations set up haphazardly around the crafttools, power cables and fuel hoses
locked in placea team of mechanics were busying themselves unfastening the fuel hose and
power cables, while inside the dark hulking vessel, Redwing could be heard bellowing orders to
the mechanics:
Weve got no time! No time! Hurry up and get me airworthy!
The mechanics responded by working at double-time their normal rate of physical
exertion. It reminded Daniel of a pit crew in a stock car race, checking and double checking that
the fuel and power ports were sealed and reading positive mixture.
Daniel wondered how the fuel got into the hangar, but thought Boatman and chuckled.
The man had thought of everything. However it was clear he had never set foot in the hangar or
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the quad out back, otherwise he would have hired a gardener to mow the lawn down to the dirt
and cracked concrete the transport now rested on.
Daniel led the team onto the Chariot and began locking himself into his harness, while
Redwing sat at the cockpit console running his fingers across the board.
Alright, chimed Redwing over the intercom, strap yourselves in. Were taking a
supersonic flight across half the planet. Were going to be setting some records.
Do what you have to do, John, said Daniel, just get me there.
Oh, Ill get you there alright.
The Chariot lifted off easily, rising past the brick walled enclosure and above the hangar,
angling sharply east and began a steep incline. The transport shook and rattled as Redwing
poured the speed on, raised the nose and the craft shot up into the stratosphere.
They ascended to the cloudsthat turned to thick fog as they entered the heart of them
which dissipated and fell away, and before Daniel knew it, the clouds looked like a rolling sea of
white beneath them.
The air howled outside the airlock, and Daniel studied it warily, expecting it to buckle
and tear away at any secondhe had never had a pilot push the tiny craft so hard before, and
was on the edge of his seatlistening to the groan of the hull as Redwing put her through her
paces.
Slowly, the speed poured away leaving a static feeling in the hold, as if the earth was
fighting to reclaim the craft as its own, denying them any higher range than what they had
already stolen.
As it bordered the Karman Line, celestial bodies took form in the dimming light where
the blue peeled back to reveal the illuminated blackness beyond. Redwing held it a second
longer and savored the loss of gravity as the African continent was just starting to crawl by when
he nosed out and angled the Chariot downward toward the Mediterranean and began their
descent.
Thought Id give you a thrill of weightlessness for a second there, said Redwing
casually, Hope your stomachs are okay.
Thats a real cowboy you got there, scoffed Leonard, holding his stomach.
I like him, said Joseph simply, a wry grin to Leonard saying he was only stating such to
irritate him.
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Hes a hell of a lot better than those other pilots weve had, concluded McCormack.
Yeah well, replied Daniel, Im of the opinion if youre going to talk it, you better walk
it. And this guys good at both. Ive got no problems with him.
Yet, corrected McCormack.
Daniel pulled a face and glowered at McCormack, who smiled back at him knowingly.
Lets get our game faces on, commanded Daniel. This is the Black Ops team were
dealing with here. You remember what happened at the GhettoFab? I dont want any repeat
blunders. We keep communication open at all times and watch our sixes. Got it?
Yes sir! echoed the team in unison.
Where will you be during all this? inquired McCormack, a reprimanding tone in his
voicedemanding Daniel adhere to the role of an Anchor and not to put himself in harms way.
Yeah. challenged Stephen, anxious to hear the answer to verify whether Daniel was
going soft or remained ready to take a bullet for a teammate.
Ill be where I need to be, answered Daniel, confidently.
Agent Rooke, cracked Redwings voice over the intercom.
What is it, John? answered Daniel.
Ive got an open com with UAE Air Force and its going nowhere. I need whatever
credentials and favors youve got to open a door before we get there. This ship isnt built for
dogfights with modern aircraft. And I dont see any weapons on my console, so youd better talk
to them.
Be right there, answered Daniel, and then undid his harness, clambered up the hold to
the cockpit where he climbed into the co-pilots chair and flipped open the com. This is Special
Agent Daniel Henry Rooke of the United States Specials Investigations Task Force. Who am I
speaking to?
This is Colonel Abdul-Aziz al-Faroud. Your request to enter United Arab Emirate
airspace has been denied. Please make whatever arrangements you wish to enter into another
nations airspace, but as I told your pilot, if you continue on your headed course, you will be
engaged by our military as a threat against our nation state.
Colonel, you currently have a firefight going on between security forces for one of your
citizens and American Specials who have illegally entered your country. It is our job to arrest

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them and bring them back to the States. Will you allow us into your airspace to make those
arrests?
Again, I say, if you enter our airspace you will be fired upon.
Let me speak to your superior.
My superior? scoffed al-Faroud. I am in charge of the Air Force. There is no one
higher than me.
There must be some area of compromise we can reach to operate without causing an
international incident.
I am telling you how to avoid this. Turn your craft around and proceed to any other
airspace but ours.

This is how you avoid an international incident with the United Arab

Emirates. We have our own forces on the way to intercept your fugitives as we speak. You can
apply to extradite the survivors through diplomatic channels.
Colonel, we have certain capabilities that would ensure our success in detaining the
fugitives.
And what would that be?
Daniel looked back down the hold at his team who sat with anxious faces watching
Daniel, efforting to gauge his progress in his negotiation by the expression on his face. Daniel
turned back to the viewscreen and looked at the hard faced al-Faroud.
I have a team of highly trained Specials onboard my craft. Theres no reason why you
should subject your forces to loss of life to attempt an arrest of these Specials. Let us inter your
airspace, with respect, and we will handle the fugitives ourselves.
al-Faroud blinked with surprise at the mention of Specials, and shook his head warily.
We do not need assistance in arresting Specials. Especially from other Specials. This
would be a security risk too high to be overlooked. If they will not comply with our orders they
will be killed, which I am sure is acceptable to your government. There will be no entry into
Dubai to make arrest or investigate.
Daniel put al-Faroud on hold and turned to Redwing.
Ive got to make a phone call. Slow down.
Roger that.
Redwings fingers slid across the console lazily, and the Chariot instantly responded,
slowing to a crawl but remaining on track toward UAE airspace.
Daniel called Boatman.
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Yes, Daniel?
Boatman! Ive got a political nightmare forming here. I need you to exercise some
political muscle for me.
This wouldnt have anything to do with you being on a flight path toward the UAE
would it?
Why am I not surprised you know?
Because you know me. But you should know this: I have no pull in the Middle East.
And we are quite unpopular there currently, if you havent noticed.
The Consulate bombings.
The Consulate bombings, and the reasons for it.
What are the reasons?
That would be above your pay grade. But believe me, we earned those bombings.
This wouldnt have anything to do with the assassinations of imams in the region
recently, would it?
As always there is collateral damage and then there is blowback. I believe you are
familiar with both.
Right, agreed Daniel, frustratedly.
So, concluded Boatman, My advice to you is: Turn around and head back to American
airspace as soon as possible.
And let them go? blinked Daniel incredulously.
Theyre already gone. replied Boatman, The palace grounds are in ruins, the palace
itself shows signs it was breached and my men on the ground in Dubai tell me that theres no
sign of your fugitives. You win some, you lose some. Its not worth an international incident
over. Well get them later.
The line went dead.
Daniel folded his cellular phone and put it back in his hip clip.
Shit.
Not good news?
Turn around, John. Were going home.
The transport veered hard and in a wide arch, banked its trajectory back toward US
airspace.
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The Chariot angled in above Hangar 102 and descended from a static position downward into
the courtyard of the hangarthe brick walls rose on all sides, shadows swallowing them from
the noonday lightand touched down in the field of wildflowers and tall grass next to the
maintenance crew, standing at the ready.
Daniel rose from his seat in a sour mood and slapped his hand on the airlock, which slid
open at the command.
Daniel stepped down onto sure land and instantly found is balance in deference to the
sea legs he used onboard the transport and stormed off into the hangar, up the stairs and into
his office. Once there, he collapsed into his chair and turned to his desk.
Feeling the abject failure of his attempt to enter Dubai and engage the Black Ops team
head on. He felt worn and beaten.
Absently, he scrolled through the emails he had waiting for him. Most were follow up
responses to the autopsy reports filed to DHSbounced back to him through security holes set
up to keep him in the loop of the investigationwith added commentary from a number of
agents loosely connected with the investigation who reacted to the original emails with the words
terrorist attack and Specials swimming from the emails with ccs to dozens of other agents
without clearance.
Each email showed how far information could trickle down and disseminate among the
masses with erroneous language sparking new passions and enforcing old stereotypes. Daniel
forwarded each email to Boatman with the same line copied and pasted on each one:
PLEASE TAKE APPROPRIATE MEASURES TO REMIND AGENTS
AGAINST DISSEMINATING FEELINGS AND PASSIONS IN REPORTS
TO COLLEAGUES, ESPECIALLY IF IT CONTAINS ERRONEOUS AND
LEADING KEY LANGUAGE THAT WAS NOT IN THE ORIGINAL
REPORT.
DHR
Daniel sent each email on to Boatman to deal withwhether to reprimand the guilty
agents, have them fired or ignore it as damage donehe left it to Boatmans judgment.
As he scrolled through the emails, new ones blinked above and he scrolled up to meet
them. The email addresses were missing from these. On some, only a series of numbers without
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ampersand or .net, .org or even .gov.

These emails had incomprehensibly long numbers

followed by strange names, like River God, or Rune, or Zazel.

Daniel focused on the biblical name and clicked on Zazel. Instantly, he knew he was
about to be rewarded with hopefor these files contained critical information about the battle at
al-Cordoba island.
He scrolled through the sensitive information quickly growing riveted by what was
rolling past him.

//CLANDESTINE REPORT: EYES ONLY---RE: TERROR ALERT

FOLLOW UP---SURVEILLANCE ON EMIR ADIB AL-ABBAS MAHMOOD
IN DUBAI REVEALS COMPLICITY IN EVENT PLANNING LEADING TO
TERROR ALERT AND SUBSEQUENT ATTACK OF U.S.S. ELYSIUM.
DUE TO HIS FAMILYS POSITION IN UAE AND SUBSQUENT
SECURITY ISSUES APPREHENSION OF MAHMOOD IS IMPOSSIBLE
WITHOUT FURTHER PRESSURE ON UAE OFFICIALS AND/OR
ESTABLISHING OPERATION FILE FOR INFIL/EXFIL.
PLEASE
ADVISE\\
//CLANDESTINE REPORT: EYES
NEGATIVE. END TRANSMISSION.\\

ONLY---RE:

INFIL/EXFIL OP---

//CENTRAL INTELLIGENCE PERSON OF INTEREST: EMIR ADIB ALABBAS MAHMOOD IS ALIGNED WITH SEVERAL WATCH LIST
NETWORKS
INCLUDING
HEZBOLLA,
HAMAS,
AL-QUAEDA,
MUJAHIDEEN FACTIONS ACROSS THE MIDDLE EAST MOST
PROMINENTLY WITH HUSAMALDIN AND THE NEWLY FORMED
ALLAHYAD FACTION WHICH HAS BEEN GROWING IN POPULARITY
IN SAUDI ARABIA. MAHMOOD IS ALSO ASSOCIATED WITH ABDUL
MUSI AL-HAKAM OF JORDAN, GALIB BIN HADI FADL ALLAH OF
YEMEN, AND KADAR JUNAYD MARZUQ AND JABBAR HAYTHAM
HILAL OF SAUDI ARABIA.
INTELLIGENCE GLEANED FROM
OPERATION ZEPHYR SUPPORTS ASSERTION THAT MAHMOOD IS
WORKING AS A MIDDLEMAN FOR TERROR GROUPS PROVIDING
INTEL, SUPPLIES AND FUNDING THROUGH THE ASSOCIATES,
NETWORKS AND CHARITY ORGANIZATIONS HE REPRESENTS.
FURTHER SURVEILLANCE OPS REQUIRED FOR NATIONAL
SECURITY. PLEASE ADVISE.\\

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Daniel read through the emails again and again searching for more intelligence hidden
between the lines, but the cold type of the email left little room to speculate beyond its given
information.
He scrolled back to the top and read through it again, staring at the cold language of the
emails and rested his chin on his propped up arm with a sigh. Just as he was about to close the
emails and transfer them to his saved files archive, a window blinked open on his terminal.
Binary code swirled past in front of him in a uniform line that caught his attention.
He was being hacked.
Daniel was just about to shut down his hard drive when the code blinked off and an
instant message box appeared within the window:
//EMIR ADIB AL-ABBAS MAHMOOD WAS NOT KIDNAPPED OR
HARMED. HIS PALACE AND PALACE GROUNDS WERE DESTROYED
BUT NOTHING MORE THAN COSMETIC IN MOST RESPECTS.
WHY DO YOU THINK THAT IS?\\
Daniel stared at the window, his finger hovering over the kill button on his hard drive.
Next to the cryptic sentence, in the left hand corner was the name Zazel. The opening of
dialogue with the unknown source held him transfixed. Part of him wanted to protect his own
intelligence from the hacker, while a much stronger part of him, the curious part of him, pressed
against his chest and pulled him closer into confidence with Zazel.

The assault was a hostile negotiation? typed Daniel.

//VERY GOOD. MAHMOOD IS SLIPPERY, AND NOT EASY TO NAIL

DOWN. ONE WOULD NEED TO BE FORCEFUL IN NEGOTIATING
WITH HIM. BUT HOW DID THIS ALL BEGIN? WE RECEIVED
INTELLIGENCE THAT MAHMOOD WAS MEETING WITH PEOPLE WHO
HAVE YET TO BE IDENTIFIED ABOUT PLANNING AN EXPLOSION AT
AN AMERICAN LANDMARK.\\
But, typed Daniel, it didnt happen at a national landmark. It happened on
UNIAF property.

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//OFF THE RECORD, U.S.S. ELYSIUM WAS SOLD TO A PRVATE

CONTRACTOR AT A HEALTHY SUM.
THAT CONTRACTOR IS
AMERICAN AND HIS BUSINESS IS KEY TO AMERICAN
REVITALIZATION BOTH IN JOBS AND MILITARY ADVANCEMENTS.
THEREFORE, IT IS AN AMERICAN INSTALLATION.\\
So, typed Daniel, posing his next query carefully, this was not a terrorist attack?
//NO.\\
He had suspected as much, and nearly campaigned against the desires of his colleagues
that it was so, but seeing the answer still surprised him. He had been right.

How does this relate to the attack on Mahmood? he typed.

He sat pensively waiting for the scroll of text that he hoped would offer more than insight
but evidence to put forward against his targeted suspects, the Black Ops team.
//MAHMOODS BUSINESS DEALS WITH THE WEALTHY. IT ALSO
DEALS WITH THE DESPERATE. IN THAT WAY, HE ALWAYS HAS
FODDER FOR THE FIRES OF THE ELITE. FOR CHEAPER CLIENTS
HE USES PALESTINIAN MARTYRS FOR THE CAUSE. THEY ARE
CHEAP AND WILLING. FOR THE MORE DISCERNING OF HIS
CLIENTS, HE HAS THE PICK OF ANY NUMBER OF SPECIALLY
TRAINED TEAMS.
TO ANSWER YOUR NEXT QUESTION: ALL
EVIDENCE FOUND AT THE SITE OF THE COMPOUND ON ALCORDOBA ISLAND POINTS TO A GROUP OF DISGRUNTLED
CONTRACTORSYOUR BLACK OPS TEAMPROBABLY WAITING
TO RECEIVE PAYMENT FOR SERVICES RENDERED. BUT WHAT
SERVICES COULD A BLACK OPS TEAM PERFORM FOR A MAN WITH
TIES TO TERROR NETWORKS AND FUNDING?\\
Youre saying theyre connected?
//I AM SAYING IT IS CURIOUS. THE INTEL ONLY GOES SO FAR.
FROM HERE WE WORK WITH SPECULATION, WHICH IS FROWNED
UPON IN THE INTELLIGENCE GATHERING WORLD. SPECULATION
IS FOR PEOPLE HIGHER UP. PEOPLE APPOINTED TO THEIR
POSITION AND NOT RECRUITED AND TRAINED IN THE
CLANDESTINE WORLD.\\

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So youre saying you need me to fill in the dots

//YOU HAVE ALL THE INTELLIGENCE IN FRONT OF YOU. FOR ANY
MORE YOU NEED TO GO TO THE SOURCE. WITHOUT MAHMOOD,
YOU HAVE NOTHING. I VE GONE WITH YOU AS FAR AS I CAN GO.
FROM HERE ON OUT, YOURE ON YOUR OWN. FIND MAHMOOD.\\
Can you put me in contact with men on the ground in Dubai? Men who can be
trusted?
//NO ONE IS LOYAL IN THE MIDDLE EAST WITHOUT SUBSTANTIAL
PAYMENT. GOOD BUSINESS BRINGS LOYALTY. YOU HAVE NONE.
THERES NO ONE YOU CAN TRUST TO BRING YOU MAHMOOD IN
THE MIDDLE EAST.\\
Could you do it?
//IM MORE WHAT YOU WOULD CALL A SURVEILLER. I SEE, I HEAR,
I DOCUMENT. THE FOOTWORK IS YOUR DEPARTMENT. AT LEAST
THATS WHAT OUR MUTUAL FRIEND TELLS ME.\\
Do you work for Boatman?
//LETS JUST SAY I OWED HIM ONE. GOOD LUCK, AGENT ROOKE.\\
And with that, the window closed itself.
Daniel sat back in his chair in thought. Mahmood was the man who owned the palace.
Mahmood was an intermediary for business dealings with jihadists and business associates
interested in playing corporate warfare for keeps.

Mahmood had previous dealings with the

Black Ops team that went sour. Daniel knew he needed Mahmood. Otherwise his investigation
was dead in the water.
Daniel typed his search for Emir Adib Al-Abbas Mahmood and instantly sensitive files
blinked to life in front of him from Central Intelligence, the Federal Bureau of Information and
the National Security Agency. A photo of Mahmood came up through Central Intelligence and
Daniel printed it out as soon as it came through. Daniel walked over to the board and tacked the
picture of Mahmood above the identification photos of the engineers who he strongly
suspected of being the Black Ops team.

All he had to go on was the information funneled

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through to him by an unknown entity and a gut reaction to the pictures of the engineers on the
board. But it was all he had. Mahmood had to be the key.
Daniel picked up his cellular phone and made a call to Boatman.
Daniel.
I spoke with Zazel.
Ah, is that what hes calling himself these days?
I need information on one Emir Adib Al-Abbas Mahmood.
You mean to tell me Zazel did not give you this information?
Its old. I need new intel. Up to the minute. Theres a surveillance program on him
right now. Operation Zephyr. I need access to it. No redaction. I need to know his unfiltered
movements and associates.
What are you thinking, Rooke?
I need to know when he resurfaces. Maybe we can get him. Do a proper interview.
You mean interrogation.
Whatever, replied Daniel, uncaringly.
Let me make some phone calls, concluded Boatman, and disconnected the line.
McCormack leaned against the doorframe.
What are you up to?
If you cant catch a fish, chase the bait. replied Daniel. I want to know what was so
Special about this victim that the entire team had to show up and virtually level his house to the
ground.
You think itll bear fruit? said McCormack.
A rabbit will go to ground, replied Daniel. But its got to come up for food and water.
So, when Mahmood pops his head up again, I want to know about it. Maybe theres a way to get
the information we seek without going into Dubai.
Thats a slim thread youve got the investigation dangling by. scoffed McCormack.
Its the only one Ive got, right now. admitted Daniel. Im going to hang on with
everything Ive got.
Youre a tenacious man, Daniel. chuckled McCormack.
Im a Detective. replied Daniel. My rank and position have changed substantially, but
this is an investigation and my gut is pointing straight at this Mahmood guy.

It cant be
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coincidence that weve got a terror attack one day and this going on the next. Something tells
me theyre connected.
Well, I hope youre right. said McCormack. Because youre pinning a lot of man
hours to your hunch. And idle handswell, you know the rest.
Yeah.
Im off. announced McCormack.You coming?
Not yet. replied Daniel. Im waiting on a call.
Then Ill see you back at The Post.
Right.
Daniel busied himself with emails, reading the slanderous comments made in attachments
to the document and tried not to fume about how far and how quickly the cold, clinical reports
and updates turned into something with an emotional charge directed against minorities.
Daniel brooded over the emails, becoming more irritated with each email he read. How
could it continually get worse? And he knew the leaks would be from the emails disseminated
far enough from the investigation to be completely compromised but still bearing the seal of the
Federal Bureau of Investigation on the document, giving it an official air to all who read it.
In short, Daniel was doomed to hear about it on MSN and Fox News soon. All partisan
filtration. No impartiality. Just raw emotion and yellow journalism.
He kept himself busy transferring file after file to Boatmans attention while he waited.
Two hours later Daniel received his phone call. He picked up the phone so fast he nearly
dropped it.
Rooke, here.
This is Agent Greg Miller with the Middle East and North Africa Analysis of the
Central Intelligence Agency. said Miller. I was told to contact you about ongoing intelligence
operations.
Good to hear, replied Daniel, opening up a document on his computer terminal and
preparing to take notes. Id like to talk to you about Operation Zephyr.
How do you know about that Op? demanded Miller.
Thats my business. answered Daniel. You have men on the ground?
Thats classified. replied Miller, apparently feeling snubbed by Daniels answer to his
questioning.
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Not to me. answered Daniel, coolly.

There is an op, answered Miller warily, focused on key people in Dubai.
And Emir Adib Al-Abbas Mahmood is one of the points of interest.
How do you know this? demanded Miller.
I did my research, replied Daniel, a trace of irritation in his voice at constantly being
questioned when he was so close to getting answers.
Miller was silent for a long moment before beginning again.
Yes, began Miller, Mahmood is one of the key subjects under surveillance.
I need every movement tracked on him sent to me immediately.
Ill need to clear this with my superiors.
I have carte blanche on this. Your superiors will confirm it.
You have Congressional complicity?
Im on my own.
This is highly irregular, backpedaled Miller.
Not for my agency, replied Daniel.
Yes, pressed Miller. What agency is that?
Specials Investigations Task Force.
What? gasped Miller. You mean Specials as in superhuman?
Get me that intelligence as soon as it comes in, commanded Daniel, No screening.
Straight off the wire and into my hands. I want to know the minute Mahmood resurfaces and
where and when. I need all communications out of Mahmoods residence, and a detailed write
up on his movements, contacts and known associates. Understood?
Ill put in a call to my superiors.
The minute he resurfaces.
Miller was silent for a long moment before finally sighing in resignation. Apparently he
already had his orders.
The minute he resurfaces
Daniel hung up the phone. A cool sense of purpose settled into his consciousness at the
weight that his entire investigation hung on what this man knew. Without Mahmood he had
nothing. Daniel looked at the picture of Mahmood, studying the sheer overconfidence of the
man. His haughty, arrogant expression he wore drilled into Daniel as though he were judging
506 | P a g e

him through the picture and found him wanting. Daniel stared back with equal measure and set
his jaw.
Im coming for you.

C h a p t e r

2 5:
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T e l e r o n

G l o b a l

FREEDOM TOWER-MANHATTAN

esley Ayers sat in a comfortable lobby nearing the top floor of Freedom Tower, waiting
patiently in a European cut suit, his blonde hair slicked back, wearing his wire-rimmed
glasses, giving him a sophisticated air of an elite Oxford graduate.

Sitting across from him was a beautiful receptionist with a figure that left little to

imagination, and wore a tight skirt that Lesley wondered how she could possibly move with
effectiveness in. But then again, women seldom dressed for convenience, but for effect. And
this receptionist was dressed impeccably wearing a tight cardigan.
There was something exotic about her, too. Possibly Latin
Mr. Vindicare, said the receptionist, smiling. Mr. Mitchell will see you, now.
Thank you. smiled Lesley.
Lesley followed behind the receptionist hardly noticing her tight office skirt or how it
seemed to dance and sway as she made short quick steps down the thick-carpeted floor to a glass
wall with another receptionist sitting behind a desk. The first receptionist nodded and she
pressed her finger to a thermal print register located under her desk.
The effect was instantaneous, as the glass wall slid aside revealing a spacious office
within. Oak panel walls warmed the cold mood set by the view of skyscrapers rising into the air
as Lesley stepped into the room, momentarily taken aback by the sheer comfort of the room.
Plush leather chairs surrounded a coffee table set to the corner of the room, with a wet bar
located steps away from the postmodern desk that sat up against the wall in between two
beautifully sculpted marble columns.
As his eyes took in the desk he saw Connor Mitchell for the first timein his mid forties,
this man, wearing an impeccable grey suit rose, adjusting his diamond encrusted gold
cufflinkshe was the air of regal sophistication and Lesley sized him up as a man of who
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surrounded himself with luxury and expensive playthings of all kinds. Mitchell ran his fingers
through his thinning grey/blond hair as he smiled to the receptionist.
Thank you Rocio, said Mitchell warmly. That will be all.
Call me if you need anything, replied Rocio with a casual smile that left a reservoir of
meaning and a far too warm familiarity that usually went unnoticed by those surrounding them.
Mitchell noticed Lesleys raised eyebrow, and suspecting he had caught her meaning
more perceptively than the rest of the office, choked a stammering response:
Thank you, Ms. De la Torre.
With that, the receptionist turned with a slight sway of her hips and exited the office.
Mitchell watched her walk away with a hunger in his eyes that he quickly suppressed, fiddling
with his elegant wedding band as if it were both a reminder and a nuisance until the glass panel
door slid to form the blue-glass wall, again. Then he turned and gave his full attention to Lesley
with a warm smile and a handshake that was firm and yet softhis manicured hand delicately
squeezing Lesleys, firm, yet welcoming.
Mr. Vindicare, he said, at last.
Mr. Mitchell- opened Lesley.
Connor, please, Mitchell instantly corrected.
Connor, self-corrected Lesley, It is so good to meet you, finally. And if you dont
mind my saying, said Lesley, turning away from the scenic view, with a smirk toward the
closing glass wall behind them, the view is spectacular.
Connor grinned embarrassedly as though being caught in an indecent act he was not
entirely ashamed to have committed and then gestured to the leather seats next to the wet bar.
I take it you would not mind if I poured us a drink?
You are most hospitable.
Connor walked over to the wet bar and poured two glasses of scotch, adding ice to both
glasses. Lesley cringed at the sight but made no comment.
Well, we do what we can for our interests.

Especially companies dealing in quark

processor manufacturing. No small feat.

Well, admitted Lesley, rather coyly, I knew we would need to have something
especially valuable to attract your attention.

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Well, smiled Connor, handing a glass to Lesley, youve succeeded admirably. Ultio
Development seems like a worthy addition to our group and I would be open to examining your
technology further.
With that Lesley grinned coyly and played with the ice cubes in his scotch, watching
them slosh about clinking against the crystal glass.
I must confess I have lured you into a meeting under false pretenses.
Connor, normally jovial by nature, sensed something in the air and immediately reverted
to a casual scrutiny.
How so? inquired Connor. You do do work with quark processorsxliv, right?
No.
You do represent the Ultio Technology Development firm, do you not?
I am afraid the company does not exist on anything but paper, replied Lesley,
mockingly shamefaced. There is no breakthrough in quark processor manufacturing being
developed there. In fact, the location of the facility is an abandoned sweatshop that we own.
The corporation is a shell, and set up solely for the purpose of setting up this meeting and further
business between our two groups.
Utterly nonplussed, Mitchell seemed on the verge of shaking his head like a dog draining
water from its ear.
Youll forgive me, said Mitchell, measuredly, if I do not follow you on this little joke
at my expense.
Oh, Lesley replied smiling through a cool stare, there is no joke. I am quite serious.
Deadly, so to speak. The charade had served its purpose. I am here with you, and we can now
speak plainly.
Mitchell looked as though he had been doused in water, and grit his teeth before
smoothing his expression to one of politeness. His curiosity was warring with his indignity.
What is your purpose here? inquired Mitchell.
Im here to offer protection from a serious threat to your conglomerate in the guise of a
disgruntled former employee, replied Lesley with a polite smile, then added Off the books, of
course.
Mitchells expression seemed to state it all for Lesley. He did not find him to be a threat,
but he did suspect him of attempting to entrap him into admitting some guilt. Mitchell spoke a
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little louder, clearly sounding his syllables as though some unseen recording device must be just
present, and only not detectable as something more obvious as a bulky microphone.
Youve been mistaken, answered Mitchell cautiously. I have no business off the
books.
Please, Mr. Mitchell. I have already made my first inference toward the men whom I
represent. Let us not proceed with these charades any longer.
Who do you represent?
I represent the team that was hired out to detonate a bomb aboard the U.S.S. Elysium for
the purposes of taking out their oh, so successful dry dock. They expected payment for their
workFunding that was pulled from the coffers of our dear intermediary who arranged this
discreet little pairing of conspirators and contractors. I will make this plain: The fact that there
had been some change of stipulation to the overall contract, after agreements were made, is
irrelevant. The addendum in question did not make its way into the final contractual fine-print,
and as such, is not an acceptable cause for pulling payment for the project you agreed to
contribute funding to. The money was pulled off the table, howeverAnd that, my dear friend,
is very relevant to our current meeting. The correction of, or refusal to, correct this small matter
will determine, greatly, our course of action regarding your interests in the immediate future.
Mitchell reached for his phone in the center of the coffee table grabbing it like a prize and
hit the voice activation feature on the side of the phone. The phone chirped with a womans
voice: Please say a command.
Spots drifted in front of Mitchells vision and his tongue grew heavy in his mouth. He
slurred his words into an unintelligible statement that sounded comical to him: Unrecognizable.
Please say a command.
He looked up at Lesley who sat there cool as can be and watched as his vision skewed
and the blackness swallowed him.

When Connor Mitchell regained consciousness, it was to see Lesley sitting in his chair as if he
had not moved. His legs were crossed and he was drinking a scotch, neat.
What happened? croaked Mitchell, his head swimming, his stomach turning as though
he had drank too much wine. What did you do to me? Drugged me?
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I simply made you more tractable for the sake of our meeting.
I dont understandWhat are you?
I am a Special with the ability to infect people with ailments ranging from dizzy spells
to heart attacks and incurable diseases.
I wont play this game! retched Mitchell; if he were capable, he would have bellowed.
I want you out of this office, now!
Calm yourself, soothed Lesley with mock sympathy, Or you will give yourself a heart
attack entirely outside of my making.
Security! bellowed Mitchell, desperately.
Did you forget this is a soundproofed room? reminded Lesley. Im sure Rocio is most
grateful for that.

Mitchell glowered with the full measure of his contempt at Lesleya

penetrating starewho was unphased by the glare. Lesley simply set down his glass of scotch
and leaned in close to Mitchells ear. If you contact security, law enforcement or anyone else
for that matter, other than your bankers to arrange payment, you will die before they can enter
the room. And they will die as well.
What do you want?

begged Mitchell, on the verge of tearsthe tears of the

humiliatedthough not yet defeated. In his mind he calculated how to turn the tables on this
upstart before him.
I want payment. said Lesley, simply. The job, as you well know, was for fifty million.
Because you have made us seek you out, the price has gone up to five hundred million.
We dont have that kind of money, scoffed Mitchell, Its all tied up in property and
equities. The rest is watched closely.
Please dont mistake me for a fool, said Lesley, harshly. You made a deal with money
easily transferred to Grand Cayman accounts through holes in your Research and Development
budget. The money is still there. I know it is.
Mitchell stammered, staring bewilderedly at Lesley. His strength was slowly returning to
his limbs, but he was still weak and his head throbbed, and stomach turned as a sour taste
intruded into his mouth. This unassuming man came with strength and knowledge. A most
dangerous adversary.
How do you know all this? demanded Mitchell, from the soft thick carpet as he tried to
push up to the leather seat for dignitys sake.
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Because, answered Lesley, you made us take notice of you and pay careful attention
to everything about your conglomerate. For instance, your holdings in Puerto Rico where you
develop the nanoprocessors.

You will find that I have men stationed there, waiting for the

word.
And what word is that? growled Mitchell, with impotent rage.
Lesley picked up his cell phone, scrolled through the list of names until he found the one
he sought and with a light flick of his index finger placed a call. He then held the phone to his
ear and waited, listening to the persistent ring. A second later the click of the open line brought a
smile to his face.
Go. Lesley slid the phone shut.
Mitchell looked at the phone and back at Lesley.
What are you doing? inquired Connor, suspiciously.
Destroying your nanoprocessor facility, answered Lesley, calmly. You can call to
confirm if youd like.
Mitchell steadied himself as he rose from his seat, staggered over to the desk and picked
up the phone.
Get me Nanopro on the line. ordered Mitchell shortly. A second later, the dull buzz of
an international call being processed was heard, then the line clicked on. This is CEO Connor
Mitchell. What is the state of things over there? On the line were explosions and screaming.
Mitchells face went long and a sweat broke out on his forehead. The cries of agony and fright
were overwhelming, and he looked out at Lesley pleadingly. Make them stop.
Make me stop, implored Lesley, coolly.
I cant get you the money, said Mitchell, at lasthis fear rising as he wiped the sweat
from his browpushing the hair hiding his receding hairline further back on his scalp.
Not all of it, answered Lesley, sympathetically, no. But you can part with three
hundred million.
Mitchell blinked and looked up at Lesley again, real fear travelling up his spine.
That is a two percent loss from your holdings, Lesley continued. A fair exchange for
the safety of your holdings worldwide.
Who are you? demanded Mitchell, in utter bemusement. Vindicare is not your real
name, is it?
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That is unimportant. answered Lesley, shortly. What is important is this: Are you the
kind of man who would risk the lives of your employees worldwide? And make no mistake, I
have men stationed at five more locations, waiting on my call. I will make you responsible for
the mass slaughter of your employees globally. I will dismantle your corporate dreams and
reduce you to bankruptcy if you push me.
I need to speak to the board of directors.
No you dont. You need to transfer the money to my control.
Mitchell stood there looking around the room as though for the first time he realized he
had built himselfnot a world of convenience from the world of the worker dronesbut a
prison. In complete isolation with an adversary he had no chance against he stood there
helplessly. Sheepishly.
Where do I send it?
Send it to the shell company. Thats what its there for. My attorney, Mr. Chapel, will
call you in ten minutes. Do your employees and board of directors a service and answer the
call.
With that, Lesley turned and made his way toward the glass wall where a laser beam
crossed the room. When tripped, Lesley assumed the wall would part for him to make his exit.
Where are you going? demanded Connor.
To collect from the rest of my debtors, replied Lesley, turning and smiling at him. Do
be good enough to ensure we never meet again.
Lesley turned and tripped the beam, and the glass wall magically parted for him. I could
get used to this, he thought. Having walls part like Moses before the sea
He pulled out his cellular phone as he strolled down the corridor, smiling at Rocio as he
boarded the elevator and hit the speed dial button.
Its done, said Lesley, casually. Fall back and regroup at coordinate 2.
Mitchell shivered alone in his office and wiped the sweat from his brow and upper lip.
Oh, Jesus. stammered Mitchell.
Mitchell sank into his chair and tried to control his breathing. Just then, the phone rang.
Mitchell studied the phone warily, knowing what his secretary was about to say.
A lawyer was on the line.

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C h a p t e r

2 6:
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P u e r t o

R i c o

aniel sat on the edge of his seat in the SUV, gripping the handle in the doorframe as
the driver wove in and out of traffic, taking a hairpin turn onto the offramp toward
the Joint Base Andrews Naval Air Facility, skidding before the checkpoint. He and

the driver flashed their credentials, and were quickly waved on by the guards, free to pass deeper
into the base toward their objective. Daniel had given permission to his driver to break whatever
law within reason to get him to Hangar 102 as quickly as possible and the driver obligingly
drove him lights flashing and claxon blaring.
Less than fifteen minutes ago he had received an urgent phone call from Josh informing
him of a Special situation taking place and encouraged him to make all haste to rouse himself
from sleep and get down there as soon as humanly possible.

Disheveled and grim, his hair

flyaway from a combination of his pillow and the open window blowing cold air into his face to
wake him up, he set his mind in motion preparing for the coming moment he both focused on
and at the same time dreaded; the confrontation with the Black Ops team.
Daniel fixed his tie in place as the driver swerved around kids playing in the street, the
sound of a football bouncing along the undercarriage of the SUV with a sickening sound that
made him turn around to confirm he had not just run over one of the boys playing in the street.
Seeing nothing but angry faces staring back at him, he turned to look down the road toward the
X-Hangars and sighed.
When the SUV pulled up at last to Hangar 102, Daniel had the door open before the
vehicle had fully stopped and hopped out quickly getting his legs under him and approached the
front doors flanked by security.

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He approached the guards and submitted himself to DNA scan, rubbing his finger against
the rough surface of the identification marker, scraping off a thin layer of dead skin and a second
later, the notepad flashed green.
Agent Rooke, greeted the guard, satisfied with the positive identification.
Gentlemen, said Daniel, and stalked past them consumed with purpose.
He jogged past the cadaver drawers, the autopsy tables, marched deeper into the belly of
the hangar up to the main terminal, and forced his way through the crowd of Bureau agent
lookeyloos. There, Josh sat at the terminal magnifying the window displaying footage from
CNN.
What have you got? demanded Daniel.
CNNs broadcasting a Specials attack through a local news station in Puerto Rico.
responded Josh, zooming in on the figures of men in the foreground gesticulating toward armed
guards with disastrous effect.
Where in Puerto Rico? asked Daniel, demanding clarification.
Some city called Mayaguez. replied Josh. The companys called Nanopro. They deal
in nanoprocessor manufacturing.
The grainy Specials, obscured by the loss of direct feed from the source were maddening
to Daniel, as he watched the rampant destruction of the facility.
This is happening now? pressed Daniel.
Just got bounced down to us by Central Intelligence, replied Josh, typing on the
keyboard below the window he had just opened.
Direct feed through satellite? demanded Daniel.
On it, replied Josh as the window he was working on began to blink a crystal-clear
picture of the battle. Its coming up now.
Get me coordinates and forward them to Redwings notebook, commanded Daniel.
Yes sir. responded Josh.
Also, said Daniel, get me security feeds.
Sending Cracker-Jack program now, answered Josh as he activated the encryption
cracking invasive software that would plug them into the security rooms broadband network at
the Nanopro grounds.

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I want facial recognition software running and transmitted to the Chariot terminal as
soon as you get it. commanded Daniel, before adding I want to know what were up against
and I want to know it fast.
Yes sir. replied Josh, running the facial recognition software, going straight to the
Black Ops file knowing that is what Daniel wanted to pinpoint first before all other queries were
addressed.
Task Force, shouted Daniel, Pick up gear and meet me in the garden! Were going to
Puerto Rico.

Daniel stepped out into the garden to find his team standing next to the Chariot. They seemed
ready for action. Leonard, Joseph and Chad carried heavy black duffel bags, Stephen strapped
on a bulletproof vest over his black T-shirt while McCormack, Bradley and Josh stood in black
suit and tie.
Alright, men. said Daniel, his eyes surveying the state of battle readiness of his team
and finding it sufficient for the task at hand. Were walking into an active firefight. Mount up.
The team filed into the hull of the Chariot with a grim sense of purpose, and took to
mentally preparing themselves for the firefight. Daniel sealed the airlock and took his seat,
studying the state of the men and finding them prepared. He gave a nod to the men and then
tapped the cockpit icon on the viewscreen to communicate directly with the pilot.
Were onboard and locked in, John. said Daniel.
Roger that. answered Redwing over the intercom. Hold on tight. This tripll be a little
bumpier than the last one.
Daniel looked up at Redwing sitting in the cockpit; his hands raced across the console
and the Chariot responded to his commands like a waking cat, purring and growling to a roar,
and then rose from the ground, above the corrugated sheet-metaled roof of Hangar 102 and
veered southeast over the Atlantic Ocean. Redwing input the coordinates to the island country
of Puerto Rico and the oddly shaped tugboat-sized transport roared to life, the wind howling
outside as it broke the sound barrier. And vanished in the distance.

518 | P a g e

MAYAGUEZ, PUERTO RICO

The overall flight took fifteen minutes from Joint Base Andrews, to the northern coast of Puerto
Ricoall the while the S.I.T.F team watched the security feed anxiouslyand the Chariot
slowed as it reached the edge of the city Mayaguez, following the homing icon to the coordinates
for the Nanopro facility at the junction of highways PR-104 and PR-102.
Weve reached the uploaded coordinates, said Redwing. Please advise.
Daniel stood up and approached the viewscreen to get a better view of the activity on the
ground watching as five fire trucks stationed themselves around the facility unrolling and turning
their hoses on the burning factory.
Scan the area for signs of the Black Ops team.
Daniel watched the viewscreen flash red and green, seemingly warring with each other as
the two colors overlapped scanning for facial identification among the scattered people, even
going so far as to scan the firemen and police officers. Daniel was unsurprised when the
viewscreen flashed negative, returning to its crystal-clear view of the ordered chaos below.
Damn, scoffed Daniel. Alright, Redwing, bring her down.
The Chariot descended and made purchase on the cracked asphalt, roaring as the coolant vented
to allow the doors to slide open. Daniel turned and studied his team with a grim stare.
Alright, men. It looks like were assisting the relief effort Currently underway out there.
Keep your side arms at the ready, but I doubt well need them. It looks like theyre long gone.
Tobias, indicating McCormack, Overman, indicating Bradley, I need you two to enter the
building and see if you cant find any survivors.
Yes, sir. answered McCormack and Bradley.
Im going to man the console, said Leonard and see if I can spot any survivors in that
wreckage.
Go to it. replied Daniel. The rest of you follow me.
Daniel exited the transportleaving Leonard at the viewscreen scanning the facilityfollowed
by Joseph, Josh, Chad and Stephen. He led the men out onto the asphalt of the parking lot and
scanned the area, seeing no sign of the assailants.
McCormack and Bradley raced up to the building and entered through the crumbled
lobby activating their Win/Vid sunglasses as they climbed over the wreckage deeper into the
shadow, dust and smoke until they were obscured and vanished from view.
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Daniel turned on his heels three hundred-sixty degrees taking in his surroundings.
Twenty paramedic busses treated battered and burned employees in a triage center set up in the
parking lot and a lone dust covered FBI agent standing in the midst of the chaos looking lost at
the sight of Daniel and his men.
Daniel showed his credentials to the man and introduced himself, establishing his
authority over the bemused agent.
Agent Rooke, announced Daniel, S.I.T.F.
The agent did not identify himself, but stared at Daniel and his men with weary eyes.
These were Specials, stammered the agent, apparently in shock. Werent they?
Daniel could see the fragile state of the agent, and felt for him. If there were time, he
would have offered words of encouragement to steel him, but there simply wasnt any. Daniel
leaned in and took command.
What are your protocols in place for fugitives in flight? demanded Daniel, forcing the
fragile man to think fast and, hopefully, return to a more businesslike demeanor.
Weve established road blocks within a five mile radius, responded the agent,
bewildered, but quickly regrouping under the hard stare Daniel focused on him.
Have you set up at the nearest airports and docks? demanded Daniel.
Eugenio Mara de Hostos Airport is the quickest bet out of Puerto Rico. said the agent,
more assuredly. Weve called in a terror alert and all flights have been delayed indefinitely.
What about the docks? demanded Daniel.
Port of Mayagez is being searched ship to ship, answered the agent, returning to
himself at last. Its the third busiest port in Puerto Rico, though. Its going to take some time to
clear all those ships.
Do what you have to do. commanded Daniel. These fugitives are dangerous and I
want them in custody by the end of the day.
Were surveiling the airport and the docks, but if these are Specials, I dont know what
good that will do.
Let me worry about dealing with them. answered Daniel, coolly. Your job is to corral
them and cut off means of escape.
They could just hole up until all this blows over. scoffed the agent, thinking all their
effort could prove for naught.
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No. answered Daniel, knowingly. Theyd be on the move. Sitting on their laurels is
not what this team does well.
You seem to know a lot about them, surmised the agent.
Lets just say weve met. answered Daniel, shortly. Now tell me about the attack.
Well, began the agent, reports weve got in point to explosions and earthquakes
shaking the plant and the walls caved in. The fires rushed in through the openings in the walls.
The fire marshal was baffled by it. He said he had no idea why the fire was acting the way it
was. Hed never seen a fire start that way before.
Lets go to the security station, said Daniel, impatiently.
Its right over here. said the agent, pointing toward the cinderblock house at the
entrance.
Daniel went over to the security feed and downloaded the feed directly onto his
notebook. Instantly, he began scrolling through the time meter back to just before a flash of light
illuminated the field. 10:32am, local time, security completed a leisurely patrol of the facility
within the confines of the parking lot when there are several flashes of light. Security cameras
went out of focus, then zoom in on men who seemed to appear out of nowhere on the grounds.
They instantly begin attacking the surprised guards with brutal efficiency.
Daniel flashed back to the day in the trailer watching the Black Ops team fighting his
team and the trauma they left on the team.
The video feed captured the familiar faces from Dubai, and an electric spark climbed
Daniels spine as he watched Paul Hirano, callsign: Ground Shaker, liquefy the earth beneath
guards feet, burying them alive. He watched Eugene Townsend, callsign: Uproar, attack the
guards viciously, using their powerful hands to pulp the guards with giddy laughter while
Gregory Meyer, callsign: Primal and Randall Simms, callsign: Scrape, used their claws and teeth
to cut deep into the flesh of the terrified guards, scattering them as Hirano and lithe John
Simpson, callsign death, strolled on the factory unleashing their abilities on the buildingthe
rumbling caused the building to partially cave in while the fire seeped in through the cracks in
the rubble and set the inside of the facility ablaze in a flash firewith cold military efficiency.
Daniel watched in horror as the building blazed, knowing people trapped in the rubble
were being burned to death. On the outside cameras, trained on the Black Ops team, he saw
Hirano pull something out of his pocket with urgency, holding up his hand for pause.
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The rest of the team grew still and watched Hirano attentively. Daniel quickly realized
he was talking on a cellular phone. Hirano put his phone away and nodded to the teammates,
and put his hand on his belt. The other men put their hands on their belts too.
Daniel closed in on the belts to see what they were doing. They depressed some kind of
trigger and there was a blinding flash of light and then the men were gone.
All that was left was the burning wreckage of the facility and Daniel watched the seconds
tick by on the clock with baffled amazement. The Black Ops team had simply disappeared.
There was no retreat, or attempt for a vehicle to transport them away from the burning facility.
They had simply vanished.
Daniel pursed his lips and studied the footage again, back to the flash of light and the
empty parking lot in shambles, cracked concrete stretching out like groping fingers across the lot.
How could this be? What had he just witnessed? Teleportation?
The thought was mind boggling to him. As far as he knew there was no such technology.
As far as he knew. He decided to check that box as something to bring up with Boatman at the
earliest possible moment and then rounded on the dust and ash covered agent.
I want to know the significance of this place. demanded Daniel. I want a list of
people who own it.
The FBI agent nodded so quick Daniel was sure he felt a crick in his neck and jogged off
to his dust covered team to give them the orders. Daniel pressed his earpiece.
Redwing.
Go ahead.
I need you to turn on the audio/video feed and document the entire facility.
Roger that. Audio/Video feed on.
Daniel stepped back onto the Chariot to find Leonard touching the viewscreen, pointing
out heat signatures and the outlines of bodies, some of them moving. Leonard found four people
on the fourth floor huddled together, low to the ground and cowering against a wall. The heat
signature was registering off the chart.
Paladin, Maximus, said Leonard into the microphone. Are you seeing this on the
fourth floor?
Got it. said Bradley. Were on our way.

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Daniel watched over Leonards shoulder as McCormack and Bradley threw themselves
up the stairwell at incredible speeds, pushing the flames away with their telekinetic fields and
touching down in front of the four people who barely moved.
Theyre badly burned, said McCormack, but theyve got a chance.
Just then, the wall on the fourth floor exploded and Bradley flew out of the hole like a
bulletcausing several people to turn and scream expecting to see the facility crumble in on
itselfBradley veered from the newly created hole and angled himself toward the triage area. A
moment later, McCormack followed through the opening in the wall with four soot-covered
employees shuddering and twitching from their burnsfloating within a sphere of pure
telekinesisand floated down to the triage area. The paramedics and infirmed all watched in
shock as McCormack and Bradley touched down to earth, carrying the survivors from the fire.
Standing in front of the paramedics, McCormack raised his voice to a drill sergeants bark.
I need immediate assistance over here! bellowed McCormack, commandingly. When
the shell-shocked expressions did not congeal into looks of certitude and their feet remained
rooted to the ground McCormack looked at them harshly and bellowed, Now!
One of the paramedics roused himself from his bemusement and rallied the other
paramedics to come forward and assist the survivors. They cowed around McCormack and
Bradley nervously and at a skip-step approached the survivors, treating their burns and loading
them onto their gurneys.
You have Specials on your team? stammered the dust-covered agent who had just
returned to Daniels side nervously.
You think Id come to fight Specials without proper firepower?
The agent blinked and stared at the Task Force nervously.

Chad and Josh stood

nervously, empathizing with the agents shock while Stephen glared at him coldly. Joseph stood
there smiling at the agent, which unnerved him most of all.
You have something for me? demanded Daniel of the shocked agent.
I did the background search you asked for and Im uploading it to your notebook now.
said the agent shakily. Nanopro is a part of a conglomerate, owned by Teleron Global. Does
that mean anything to you?
Not a thing, replied Daniel, downloading the data from the agents notebook onto his.
But its where Ill start.
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I have the CEO of Teleron Global on the phone, said the agent. Hes anxious to find
out the condition of his factory and the employees.
In that order, Ill reckon. said Joseph in an aside to Daniel.
Daniel shook his head as if to say not the right time. The death toll was climbing in the
triage area with each new burst of tears from beneath the tarp and they had lost the Black Ops
team again. Nothing was funny about it. Joseph seemed to take the hint and returned to the
others. Only Stephen shared his dark sense of humorwhich didnt count for much to Joseph
and he giggled to himself patting Joseph on the arm appreciatively. Joseph seemed to think it
was less funny when Stephen laughed and second guessed himself.
Daniel followed the agent away from the team over past the triage canopy and over to the
group of huddled agents around the satellite phone. Daniel picked it up and introduced himself.
To whom am I speaking? said Daniel, commandingly.
This is Connor Mitchell, responded the man on the other end of the phone. He seemed
shaken but rallied with forcefulness, what is your capacity?
Im here for the Specials who attacked your facility, replied Daniel.
I dont know anything about that, said Mitchell with a quivering voice.
I have questions for you, pressed Daniel. I can call you when I return to my office or I
can fly directly to you and meet with you.
You can call me, said Mitchell, nervously.
Daniel sensed there was something going on with Mitchellfrom the tone of his voice to
the quaver and pauseseverything pointed to an uncooperative witness. Maybe even a victim?
Whatever it was, he knew he wasnt getting any information out of Mitchell. He was too scared.
Im sorry for your loss, said Daniel, concluding the call.
Thank you whispered Mitchell, apparently thankful Daniel did not press the matter
further.
Daniel handed the phone back to the agent in charge, turned and walked back to his men.
Stephen stepped forward as he strode toward the Chariot looking worn and haggard.
Whats the deal, Rooke? demanded Stephen despite the warning glances and glares of
the others.
Weve got nothing and its going nowhere, replied Daniel. Weve wasted man hours
and fuel for this little adventure and have almost nothing to show for it.
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Five more people are alive because we came, reminded Bradley.

Thats all collateral, replied Daniel. Im talking about the investigation. Im glad we
came and that we could help in some small measure. But the payout is not to my liking.
What would be? demanded Bradley, sensing Daniels indifference.
Finding out more about Teleron Global, for starters. answered Daniel, more to himself
than to Bradley. Theyre hiding something. Something big. I can feel it.
Does it have to do with this case? inquired McCormack, critically.
Id bet my career on it. replied Daniel.
You just might be doing that, reminded McCormack, going up against a corporation.
Thanks for your support. scoffed Daniel.
So whats next? asked Stephen, a tone of frustration in being late for the fight setting
an edge in his voice.
We go home. answered Daniel. I need to talk with Boatman.
Daniel walked back toward the Chariot deep in thought leaving the Task Force to stand
and stare after him until finally Leonard roused and stood before them.
Alright, you heard the man. shouted Leonard. Mount up!
Onboard the Chariot, Daniel sat down, slid his notebook out, and began typing on the
touch screen one handed.
//TELERON GLOBAL SOMEHOW CONNECTED TO FUGITIVE ESU
TEAM. REQUEST USE OF FEDERAL BUREAU OF INFORMATION TO
GAIN INTELLIGENCE ON CONGLOMERATE INCLUDING PHONE AND
EMAIL TAPS AND MONEY TRANSFERS.\\
Knowing that Boatman would get the bulletin within seconds, he sat staring at his screen
waiting for any kind of response. For the remainder of the fifteen-minute flight back to Andrews
Air Base he sat in contemplative silence wondering what he could glean from watching Teleron
Global up close and personal. And wondering how personal would he have to get.

Fifteen minutes later, the Chariot touched down light as a feather on the landing pad in the
bowels of Hangar 102.

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Daniel looked down at the faces of his men and saw his own frustration mirrored in the
drawn grimacing expressions staring back at him. Only Joseph seemed oblivious to this. He
undid his harness and stretched like a cat, letting out several loud pops from his back before
looking back at him with questioning eyes that seemed to ask, can we disembark?
Daniel rolled his eyes and undid his harness. Slowly, the team unfastened their harnesses
and lumbered moodily toward the airlock hatch and it slid away revealing the overgrown garden
of weeds and wildflowers stretching up through the cracks in the concrete around the
maintenance equipment, tamed only by the heavy feet that trod paths through the overgrowth.
He stepped down from the hatch onto the broken concrete which gave way to wildflowers
and walked down the long corridor leading out into the yawning expanse of the hangar, turning
left and mounting the stairs he quickly retreated down the hall and found his way to his office,
where he collapsed behind his desk moodily.
On the viewscreen flashed the email icon and with a lazy flick of his finger at the icon the
email window opened. He scanned through the heavy load of emails in a fit of frustration over
his lack of ability to catch the Black Ops team when a header on one of the emails caught his
eye:
RE: Zephyr Op update
Daniels heartbeat picked up and he swallowed hard as anticipation mounted in his throat
and depressed his finger on the email file. Instantly the window opened up to cold bold type.
Daniel swallowed as he read.

//MAHMOOD HAS LEFT DUBAI AND IS CURRENTLY IN TRANSIT TO

ZURICH, SWITZERLAND. ITINERARY SHOWS HE IS TO BE STAYING
AT THE ZURICH PARK HAYATT. PLEASE NOTE THAT ALL FURTHER
REQUESTS FOR INFORMATION SHOULD BE MADE TO THE OFFICE
OF RUSSIAN AND EUROPEAN ANALYSIS. END TRANSMISSION.\\
Daniel checked the timestamp on the email and noted it was three hours old.
Within moments, he pulled up the international phone number for the Zurich Park Hayatt,
and by the second ring, the concierge desk picked up.
Guten Abend, Zurich Park Hayatt. Wie kann ich Ihnen helfen? answered the operator.
Yes, Id like to be transferred to Emir Adib Al-Abbas Mahmoods suite.
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One moment, please. said the operator, his British accent he adapted for the sake of
speaking English was almost imperceptibly crisp.
Daniel listened to the foreign paging ring and waited patiently, reclined at his desk, in his
element.
What is it? answered a cold heavily Middle Eastern accent.
Mr. Mahmood? ventured Daniel.
Yes? answered Mahmood.
This is Agent Daniel Rooke with the Specials Investigations Task Force.
This is not in regard to my masseuse?
No, Im afraid not.
What do you want?
Id like to talk to you about the attack on your property and other matters.
I am afraid there is nothing to tell, Mr. Ruk.
Id like to be the judge of that if you dont mind. Now, I can ask my questions over the
phone or I can meet with you in person should you prefer.
Do not contact me again. I have nothing to say.
The line disconnected. Daniel sat back with the phone still in his hand and mused at the
call.
Well, that was rude, Mr. Mahmood.
Daniel picked up his phone and dialed McCormacks extension, a rather lazy thing to do
in his estimation because he was right in the next office, but he wanted to speak to him
immediately.
Hello? answered McCormack.
You were listening, I take it? inquired Daniel.
To you? responded McCormack. All I get is excitement. I told you I shut your mind
tight.
Well, get Bradley and meet me down at the Chariot. Weve got another trip to make.
Where to?
Zurich.
Is this pertaining to the case at hand?
In a roundabout way, yeah.

527 | P a g e

Then Ill meet you downstairs.

Daniel hung up the phone and leaned back in his chair with a look of triumph on his face.
He had gotten under Mahmoods skin on the phone. And he smelled blood in the water. Now it
was time to hunt Mahmood down. He most assuredly was not going to stay at the Zurich Park
Hayatt, now that he realized how easy it was to find him.
He would make other arrangements. Quick ones. No doubt sloppily.
He opened an email to the director of the European Intelligence Office informing them
that Mahmood would be on the move, and that he should be notified the moment he ran to
ground. With that, he hopped up and walked briskly down the hallway, down the steps, out
through the long dark corridor with the light at the end of it, and when he stepped out into the
bright light of the landing pad, he smiled down at Bradley and McCormack.
You look pleased, called McCormack.
Excited, corrected Daniel, a wily look in his eyes. Were going hunting.

C h a p t e r

2 7:
c

528 | P a g e

SWITZERLAND

urich Airport was Switzerlands largest international airport and held the rank of four
stars in convenience and luxury beat out only by Dubai International Airport which
held the ridiculously obscene five star rating.

It stood a marvel in form and functionality and as Daniel looked at the viewscreen at the

sprawling airport that seemed to stretch on forever, he had the impression that he was observing
a well worked clock as the precision in architecture and the lanes of traffic made sense and
moved seamlessly.
The Chariot came in and touched down smoothly on the tarmac and an SUV with Kloten
Airport plates pulled up alongside them and parked, the driver seemingly waiting for them to exit
into the chill Zurich air.
Daniel had never been to Switzerland before and in the back of his mind, a nagging voice
said he would regret not looking around and to slow down for a bit and take in the sights. He
quickly mastered this impulse and walked directly to the SUV and opened the door.
I will be taking you to Skymetro. said the man in a clipped Swiss accent.
He then looked out at the tarmac through the windshield, and Daniel was acutely aware
that this would be the duration of his conversation with the man as he climbed into the SUV,
Bradley and McCormack entering the back seat and closing the door against the chill wind
outside.
The drive was quick as the driver sped down the tarmac between aircraft, mainly
Alpha/Beta transports of various models which had all but replaced jet aircraft to save on fossil
fuel consumption. There were still jets that ventured into Kloten Airfield, taking advantage of
the old long runways that had not been gobbled up by new facilities or the electromagnetic field
riding trains whose tracks were cheaply and easily laid, but these aircraft were considered
antiquated and quaint. Elitist understandings for poorer airlines that still dealt in the limited
fossil fuels market ranged from pitiable sighs to stark indignant judgment as poorer travelers
took the slower fossil fuel burning vehicles that were in their twilight of employment.
This was the dawn of the electromagnetic age they were witnessing, and the change to the
face of the tarmac was clear. No longer did you need long runways to taxi in, but landing pads
at the docking stationswith easy access to the luxurious amenities Switzerland had to offer
529 | P a g e

their commuters and pilotsand direct access to screening and visa approval for tourists and
weary business travelers returning home, intent on moving beyond the airport, into Zurich
proper.
With an abrupt stop, the driver then pointed down to an escalator leading underground
with the sign SKYMETRO in blue overhead.
Daniel thanked the driver and exited the vehicle, walking down to the escalator as
McCormack and Bradley followed behind, leaving the chill wind behind as they were swallowed
by warmer air in the insulated underground.
Daniel, McCormack and Bradley boarded the packed Skymetro car and seeing there was
no available seating on the car stood by the closing doors in indifferent silence.

The

underground shuttleconnecting Airside Center with Dock E running beneath the antiquated
runwaystrundled along its rail as they stood in the packed car holding handrails as the train
sped along underground. The passing lights flashing inside the windows like a strobe light effect
kept Daniel in a near hypnotic state that went unbroken by the low thrum of the wheels rubbing
of the central rail.
The trip was relatively short as the car pulled out into the terminal and the doors slid open
welcoming them to the wide and spacious expanse like a postmodernist rendering of what felt
like New Yorks Grand Central Station with an almost Gheri-esque style. It was as if Daniel was
transported inside the clock to marvel at the precision and elegant beauty of it all.
He noted all this at a glance and then hunkered down to pass through security with a flash
of his credentials and was flagged through with minimal interrogationjust a wish that he would
abide by all laws of Switzerland and the United States during his visit and that he would sign a
form stating he was aware of his limitations in function inside another nation that would allow
him to proceed about his business as long as it did not impact the lives of Swiss nationals.
Considering the man he was coming to see was not Swiss, Daniel had no problems with
the clarification of his rights and limitations and was cleared for entry along with McCormack
and Bradley.
Daniel, Bradley and McCormack stepped out of the main terminal of Zurich International
Airport to find a lone SUV waiting for them.
Mr. Rooke! shouted the driver in front of the SUV holding up a hand sign misspelling
his name RUK.
530 | P a g e

Daniel shook his head with annoyance at having such a simple name misspelled and
approached the driver.
Im Agent Rooke.
This way, sir, said the driver with a thick German accent and he opened the doors for
them, waiting for them to board the vehicle. Once inside, the driver shut the doors behind them
and hustled around the SUV until he was in the drivers seat. With a slight shiver he turned on
the heater and looked over his shoulder at them. Where you want to go?
Hotel Zum Strochen, answered Daniel clearly as not to be misunderstood.
He had just gotten the brief from his contact in Operation Zephyr. Apparently Mahmood
informed his secretary in Dubai he was changing hotels and demanded a sizeable lump of money
to be transferred to the new hotel to buy out all the rooms on the top floor.
The driver looked at Daniel and nodded.
Expensive, mused the driver thickly, looking in the rearview window sizing Daniel up.
Just take us there, snapped Daniel.
The driver raised his hands in surrender and pulled the automatic gear into Drive, with a
healthy onpour of speed he merged intoperhaps merge is too mild a word as cut offtraffic to
a succession of blowing horns and high beams in his wake as he fishtailed out ahead of the cars
he had caused to screech to a halt.
The SUV headed south toward Vorfahrtsstrasse past Butzenbuelring and onto the A51.
Interchanging onto the A1/A4 and then to the 64 toward Zurich finally merging onto the A1l,
which took them through the forested Irchelpark.
Bradley swayed in the backseat and looked nervously out the windshield as cars darted
left and right out of their way as the driver barreled down the expressway.
Maybe we should have just had the CHARIOT land in front of the hotel? offered Bradley.
Thats starting to sound like a good idea, scoffed Daniel. A little late to do us any
good, but one to consider next time were in Zurich.
The driver raced southwest through light traffic and words like Schwamendingen,
Ueberlandstrasse and Winterthurerstrasse whipped by. As they dipped into Zurich proper, Lake
Zurich lay to the south with the Alps looming in the distance. Wooded hills flanked them to the
west and east like an encroaching army, threatening to reclaim the territory carved out by the
population for its own again.

531 | P a g e

Daniel watched natures siege of the city with a mild impression of its beauty and then
pulled out his notebook, reading over his reports on Mahmood being funneled in from his email
directly onto his notebook. The mad turns of the driver however made reading the material
impossible as he jerked left and right, propelled backward, or jerked forward until finally he gave
up and stowed his notebook back into his jacket.
At Universitatstrasse, the driver turned right on Route 17 and wove seamlessly through
the streets of Rapperswil and Seefeld. Then they veered northward onto Limmat-Quai and the
driver finally slowed his breakneck speeding and began to point to the sights offered by the view
of the River Limmat as boats meandered up and down the waters. The churches and houses of
the old town were clustered on the street around them as they were swallowed by Zurich proper
and they found themselves surrounded by high-end shops along the famous Bahnhofstrasse.
This however did not interest Daniel in the slightest. He had not come as a sightseer. He
had come to interrogateinterview a man.
At last they pulled up to the Hotel Zum Strochen. The only hotel directly on the Limat
River boasted a dcor of a blend of the traditional and the modern leaving the building timeless
and yet revealed its rich 650-year history as a guesthouse. The Hotel Zum Strochen had survived
years of change and the threat of war countless times, but remained humble and serene. It was
like stepping back in time. But Daniel had no time for it.
Wait here, said Daniel to McCormack and Bradley, staying them with his hand. No
sense ruffling his feathers.
You brought us along on this little trip, Daniel, said McCormack with a critical glare.
Employ us.
I want to handle this on my own, said Daniel, contemplatively.

He looked at

McCormack and Bradley with a steady gaze. If things dont work my way, Ill call you. But I
want to see if this is something that can be settled with just a meeting of minds.
McCormack leaned back in the back seat and stretched out.
Were here if you need us, said McCormack.
Daniel stepped out of the SUV and crossed into the lobby immediately walking up to the
concierges desk. In front of him was a haggard looking couple in their sixties barking at the
conciergemost obviously Americanwith growing agitation.

532 | P a g e

What do you mean you cant get us the suite?! bellowed the old man dressed a little too
wealthily for the cold winter. We booked months in advance for the penthouse suite and we
paid a pretty penny to get it, now we expect results! So bump someone or whatever, but get us
our penthouse suite!
I am sorry, sir, said the concierge with a politeness in his voice that barely masked his
worn state. But the penthouse suites are all occupied. We do have a lovely corner suite on the
second floor above the restaurant with a lovely view of the Limmat river.
I dont want a second floor room! I want my penthouse suite! I want what I paid for in
advance!
I am sorry sir, but there is nothing I can do. The suites are booked. I can refund you the
difference on the room and offer you free service at the lounge.
Free service? blinked the American traveler. I expect this suite to thrill me.
Sir, all the rooms in the hotel are lavishly decorated and designed to be restful respites,
however I can assure you the room I have for you is equipped with many of the amenities of the
penthouse suites.
Ill be the judge of that.
Of course, sir.
Gimme the key.
The concierge tapped his finger on the viewscreen and a keycard slid out of the card
dispenser into his fingertips. With a ceremonial procedure he slipped the keycard into an
envelope the size and dimensions of the card and presented it to the American couple.
Your room is suite 214. If you take the elevator to the second floor and turn left, you
will find the room at the end of the hall to your left.
If it doesnt impress me, Ill be back.
Of course, sir, answered the concierge courteously.
Alright, then, answered the American. And with a turn of his head, signaled the
woman, obviously his wife to follow him toward the elevator, which she followed at a hop-step.
When the couple was safely on the elevator, Daniel took a step forward and smiled to the
concierge.
Im here to see Emir Adib al-Abbas Mahmood, said Daniel, courteously.

533 | P a g e

Instantly the concierge cringed, but made a show of clicking on the computer terminal in
front of him and glancing down at the viewscreen.
We have no one by that name here, sir, said the concierge.
Knowing full well he was being lied to, Daniel leaned forward discreetly.
Youre sure you dont have a high profile guest, began Daniel with a cunning smile,
who maybe paid to have all the penthouse suites booked, clearing the floor of unwanted
neighbors?
The concierges eyes darted across the room nervously, and a bead of sweat broke out on
his forehead. Daniel looked into the grand mirror behind the concierge and watched as a
powerfully built man in a business suit peered out from behind his newspaper and watched the
concierge closely.
Daniels eyes panned up to the security camera above him and watched it train in on him.
He then looked back at the concierge whose evasiveness more than anything told him that
Mahmood was indeed at the hotel. With a smile he leaned back to a comfortable distance.
Thank you, said Daniel, and he turned and made his way toward the elevator where he
was instantly confronted by the large suited man with a bulge in his right hip.
Turn around and walk away, said the man towering above Daniel pointing toward the
entrance behind him.
Judging by the severe weight of the man, it was clear he was private security for
Mahmood, of that Daniel had no doubt. He ignored the guards toughness and stepped forward.
Ive come to meet with Mr. Mahmood, said Daniel, discretely meeting the guards
eyes.
Hes not seeing guests, replied the guard, confirming Mahmood was indeed holed up in
a penthouse suite above them.
Maybe you didnt hear me- said Daniel coolly.
No, snarled the guard, maybe you didnt hear me!
The guard opened his jacket showing the pistol in a holster at his hip.
Daniel smiled and produced his badge. He looked up at the guard, holding it higher for
the guard to read and stood there waiting to see what the guard did next. The guard looked down
at the credentials reading it measuringly before turning a snide air and glaring down at him.

534 | P a g e

Youre out of your jurisdiction, Danny. said the guard snidely. Whatever Specials
Investigations means. Then after a moment of thought added, Anyway, Im untouchable here.
My jurisdiction is wherever I say it is, replied Daniel as if anywhere he was present
was where his jurisdiction was.
Im asking nice, said the guard, stepping forward and flexing the powerful muscles in
his arms and chest before Daniel. His finger jabbed out hard and found the soft of Daniels
chest. Kindly take your ass outside before I kick it there.
Daniel took the finger and twisted it violently. There was a popping sound and the guard
wailed in agony. Daniel leaned close to the mans ear and his words rushed out in a whisper as
he twisted his arm behind his back, his fingers gripped firmly around the mans dislocated finger.
You are going to let me in to speak with Mr. Mahmood, whispered Daniel into the
powerful guards ear, squeezing the finger.
You broke my finger, you asshole! wailed the guard.
With a powerful wrench of the finger, the arm moved dangerously into position behind
the guard as he yelped.
Ill break the arm next, said Daniel in a quiet voice next to the guards ear.
Bullshit! snarled the guard, struggling to right himself, but Daniel kept a firm grip on
the mans finger, and with every attempt to free himself, Daniel squeezed harder, twisting the
finger ever so slightly in one direction or the other.
You may be a Special but youre not too bright, said Daniel knowingly into the guards
ear, almost whispering a secret to him. You see, I learned a lot about the human body during the
war. Muscles, bones, tendons, pressure pointsAnd Ive done a lot of research on Specials over
the last few monthsNow let me tell you what I know about you just by looking at you: Your
physicality is similar to a Neanderthal. You see, their bones were put under so much stress from
the powerful musculature that the bones actually bowed, and easily broke under the stress of the
muscles. Beads of sweat formed on the guards brow as he ceased his struggling and lay limply
beneath Daniel. With the relaxing of the guards tensed back, Daniel smiled in his ear and
whispered, Now, youre going to give me access to Mr. Mahmood immediately, or Im going to
start breaking bones. Do we understand each other?
The guard nodded frantically, as though communicating that he was tapping out of the
hold Daniel had placed him in. He ran his fingers of his free hand desperately searching out the
535 | P a g e

keycard that would open the elevator. With a depression of his thumb on the card, the elevator
doors parted revealing a luxurious lift equipped with an inviting leather couch against the far
wall elegantly resting beneath a Klimt lithograph.
Daniel led the guard over to the elevator and squeezed his fingers lightly as the elevator
doors closed, the guard pressed the penthouse button repeatedlyas though the elevator would
move faster as a resultand the doors slowly shut, taking them speedily up to the top floor.
The doors opened to a long empty hallway with several doors open.
He thrust the guard out into the hallway and walked into it facing a desk with a second
guard stationed behind it facing the elevators.
Hey! shouted the other guard. What do you think youre doing?!
I believe I have an appointment with your boss, said Daniel, coolly.
Who are you? asked the guard, his lips pulled into a thin line of calculation.
Agent Daniel Rooke, said Daniel, once again holding his credentials out to be
examined. Specials Investigations Task Force.
Mr. Mahmood isnt seeing anybody, answered the new guard.
Hell see me, answered Daniel. We talked on the phone.
I have orders not to let anyone out of the elevators onto the floor, said the guard as he
let his fingers splay in an odd contortion an arch of electricity played between the fingertips and
Daniel recognized he was dealing with another Special. And I aim to keep it that way.
Im afraid youre going to be disappointed, then, answered Daniel, coolly. Because
Ive come too far to turn away.
What is this? called a voice down the hall, a thick Middle Eastern accent hanging in the
air. Daniel turned around to see a contemptuous stare he knew all too well from the picture he
had on file of Mahmood and turning from the guards, faced him with a courteous smile. The
energy projecting guard bowed slightly to Mahmood and turned to face Daniel again.
Mr. Mahmood, please go back to your business. Ill handle this.
Handle it then, spat Mahmood as though he found it distasteful to do so much as speak
to the guard.
The second guard, aware that his job was on the line, raised his hand toward Daniel and
the arch of electricity intensified and grew in luminosity. Daniel, however, was faster and

536 | P a g e

leveled his side arm at the guards head, who froze where he stood as though his feet were
cemented to the floor.
You dont want to play this game with me, said Daniel determinedly. Ive got nothing
to lose.
The guard shivered where he stood as he eyed Daniel cautiously. Mahmood, apparently
bored by the exchange waved his hand in the air as though it had magical power and said
Enough.
The guards instantly froze and turned slowlythe second guard moved only his eyesto
look at the disgusted look on Mahmoods face.
Thank you, said Mahmood coldly with a dismissive flick of his hand. He might as well
have been firing himwhich he probably wasfor all the contempt in his upturned face. That
will be all.
Unsure what to do, the guard with the broken finger stood there helplessly, finally
nodded, and cradling his injured arm, replied Yes, sir. Then turned, shuffled back toward the
elevator cursing himself as the doors closed, and the silent hum signaled the lift descending to
the lobby. The second guard, who stood facing Daniel with a gun in his face, did not even blink
until Daniel raised the gun away from his face, and with a warning look holstered his sidearm.
You wont need that, said Mahmood, coldly.
Daniel removed his sidearm, holster and all, and set it down on the desk.
There, said Daniel. Now we can all play nice.
The energy projector looked up at Mahmood who raised his hand as if to say, Youve
caused enough trouble, stand down. The guard complied with the meaningful hand gesture,
stepped back from Daniel, and stood at the side of his desk watching him ferociously. This
meant nothing to Daniel who was keenly aware that he had an opportunity at a peaceful audience
with Mahmood. He stood still like a fisherman, waiting for the fish to take the hook. Finally,
after a long pause, Mahmood gave him an appraising purse of the lips.
You, said Mahmood, standing to the side, to make room for Daniel. have come a long
way.
Daniel approached Mahmood and extended his hand to shake hiswhich was apparently
the wrong thing to do asMahmood just glared at it until, self-consciously, Daniel removed his
hand to the snickering of the guard behind him.
537 | P a g e

I believe that interviewing you might be helpful to my case, said Daniel, discretely.
Mahmood smiled indulgently and turned from Daniel leading him farther into the
hallway, before turning into a lavish suite that struck Daniel as more like a villa in Las Vegas.
The suite was sheer opulence from wall to wall, with lithographs of tasteful artists around the
room and decorated with restored Victorian furniture.
Mahmood took a seat at the far end with his back to the view and faced Daniel, not
bothering to invite him to sit down. Daniel, still feeling the sting of his earlier attempt to shake
his hand took the seat facing Mahmood without being asked and settled into the polished chair
with soft cushions like a poor mans throne and feigned a smile for the man for the sake of
getting the intelligence he craved. Mahmood seemed to smile when Daniel sat rather like the
spider beckoning the fly onward and with a wave of his hand began the interview.
Now, opened Mahmood. What case is this?
It was obvious to him Mahmood was playing a game. Daniel decided the best way to
maneuver this minefield Mahmood had apparently concocted was to change it to a fishing
expedition. He imagined himself with a fly fishing rod casting out for a hungry fish to jump out
at the bait.
I believe you know why Im here, said Daniel
The attack on my home? offered Mahmood, cagily.
The attack on your home, confirmed Daniel.
A small matter, answered Mahmood carelessly. Already the damage is being repaired.
The problem is replacing my security and staff. They were underpaid, so you get what you pay
for. Thats what they say in America, yes?
Yes.
Do you find it true?
I hope not.
You are underpaid?
I do alright.
Perhaps you should come work for me, ah?
Would I get to work with people like the men who attacked your house? Mahmood
did not answer, his eyes bored into Daniel. How did you avoid getting killed? asked Daniel,

538 | P a g e

flatly. Then returned to the courteous demeanor he had displayed at their meeting. Forgive me,
but that crowd moved with precision, and I know for a fact they always get what they want.
Just lucky, answered Mahmood cagily.
Just lucky. repeated Daniel.
All praise be to Allah, smiled Mahmood.
Hm, grunted Daniel, to fill the gap, letting Mahmood lead a little bit longer.
This however brought about a different result than he intended. Usually his fly fishing
exercise had been conducted in an interrogation room, not a lavish suite.

Mahmood was

convinced of his superiority in every way, and when Daniel let the bait fly once too often above
him, Mahmood shook his head as though he were wasting his precious time and rose to his feet.
Sorry to waste your time, Mr. Ruk, said Mahmood, as he gestured toward the door to
terminate the meeting.
But youre not wasting my time, smiled Daniel, knowing full well that the smile would
unnerve Mahmood.
No? said Mahmood warily, and unconsciously, fell back to his seat.
No, answered Daniel, Youre delaying me. And to be frank, making it easier to
extract information my way.
I do not understand, scoffed Mahmood.
Daniel reached into his coat. Mahmood jumped back in alarm raising his hand out
protectively, his eyes wild with fear.
What are you doing?! stammered Mahmood, visibly startled by Daniels calm gloating
smile.
Daniel pulled out an earpiece and fit it in his ear, tapping it with his index finger.
Could you come up here please? said Daniel casually. Thank you.
Who have you brought with you? stammered Mahmood.
Just some associates of mine, said Daniel, with a casual air. They are very good at
extracting information from unwilling subjects.
Mahmood rose glowering down on Daniel, who sat impassively. With a snap of his
finger, and a jerk of his hand he alerted the guard to remove Daniel with speedy efficiency.
Take care of this, commanded Mahmood.

539 | P a g e

Yes sir. said the energy projecting guard with a relieved grin on his face. Alright, you.
Time to leave.
Actually, said Daniel, its time to get to the bottom of things.
The guard stretched out his hand and electricity jumped between his fingertips as his
hands began to glow.
I wont ask again, said the guard as the electricity popped and hummed in his hand like
a livewire.
Daniel could not help but wonder if the guard would be a good match for mentoring
Christine Turf as he surveyed the energy control he displayed with the ability he possessed. This
moment passed as he reached out for Daniel. Daniels hand instinctively went for his pistol only
to realize to his dismay he had turned it in to the very guard who now threatened him. Just then,
a voice echoed from the hallway.
I wouldnt do that if I were you, said the voice from the hall.
The bodyguard blinked at the Adonic figure before him and took a breath.
Maximus! gasped the guard. This has nothing to do with you.
Actually it does, said Bradley, matter-of-factly.
Its just a job, begged the guard, eying Bradley with a wary glance, his hand still
outstretched toward Daniel, threatening to touch him.
Youre on the wrong side, my friend. the words pushed effortlessly into their minds.
McCormack rounded the corner. The guard seemed to curse his rotten luck, stepping backward
awkwardly.
Paladin gasped the guard.
Its been a while, Curry, said McCormack.
What are you doing here? demanded the guard, looking nervously back from Bradley
to McCormack.
Were working for the US government, now, answered McCormack, casually.
Doing what? scoffed the guard, Arresting Specials?
Only the ones who break local and federal laws, answered McCormack, an accusation
hanging in the air as he said, You wouldnt be breaking any laws, now, would you, Curry?
Its just a gig, pleaded the guard.
It looks like the end of your gig, said McCormack, matter-of-factly.
540 | P a g e

Come on, man, pleaded the guard. Dont do me like this.

I can tell by looking at your boss youre being fired, said McCormack, his stare
penetrating. I dont even need my abilities to fathom that.
The guard turned to Mahmood questioningly and read only disgust in his face.
Mr. Mahmood? asked the guard.
Do your job, spat Mahmood with disgust. Make them leave.
Youre outnumbered and outclassed and you know it, Curry, said McCormack, with a
tone that bordered on boredom. Dont make this come down to a fight. You know you wont
win.
Mr. Mahmood, said Daniel, there is still a chance for this meeting to happen without
bloodshed or harm.
What do you mean? demanded Mahmood.
I mean, clarified Daniel, I did not bring Specials into your room to accost you.
Why did you bring them? challenged Mahmood suspiciously.
To interview you, said Daniel, simply.
What do you mean? said Mahmood, again, his accent getting thicker in his fear.
My men, said Daniel, have a unique ability to see things directly in your mind. They
will get the answers I need and then well leave. Unless you feel inclined to talk to me.
I will not stand for this! shouted Mahmood as though the tone of his voice would shake
them. After all, it terrified his staff. And Curry cringed at the shouting, but McCormack and
Bradley merely stood there looking at him as Daniel leaned forward in his chair and pondered
Mahmood over his fingertips.
Then, said Daniel, resigned, this should only tickle a bit.
Mahmood took a step back and retreated behind a desk farther into the room, his back to
the view of the river.
What are you going to do? said Mahmood.
My friend here is going to read your mind, said Daniel. I suggest you relax.
Mahmood looked at Curry for support and found only impotent defeat. He looked up as
Bradley stepped forward and looked down at the nervous Mahmood. Their eyes met, Bradleys
were sure, Mahmoods were wary and fearful. Then Bradleys look changed. As the seconds
passed, a visible change took over himat first he looked disconcerted, then horrified, then
541 | P a g e

contemptuous and for a flashing second, angry. Mahmood crumpled to the floor, clutching his
skull in agony and wailed. Something was going very wrong. Daniel looked over at Bradley and
saw only rage there.
What are you doing?! shouted Daniel at Bradley who ignored him as he towered over
the wretched heap that was Mahmood.
Daniel and McCormack restrained Bradley who fought for footing as they struggled to
break the connection between Bradley and Mahmood.
Shut it down! shouted McCormack.
Get off! cried Bradley, and with an almost explosive quality, his telekinetic shields rose
up throwing McCormack and Daniel back, toppling over furniture in the ornate suite. You dont
know what hes been doing to his staff! Especially the women and their children!
Youre supposed to be getting intelligence! railed McCormack. Not prying into the
dark corners of his mind!
You try it, spat back Bradley, and see how much control you have!
Overman, shouted Daniel, get out of here!
But Daniel, pleaded Bradley.
Out!
Bradley gave one last murderous look at Mahmood and then turned on his heel and
stalked out of the suite.
Well, sighed McCormack, trying to inject levity into the fragile state of affairs, that
could have gone better.
Weve got to salvage this quick, said Daniel. Can you get me the answers I need?
I dont have Brads finesse, admitted McCormack, as he cracked his knuckles for
effect. but I can muddle through.
As McCormack rounded the desk toward the collapsed form of the man on the floor,
Mahmood jumped back, his hands raised in surrender.
Please, no more! wailed Mahmood. Ill tell you anything!
Anything? clarified Daniel.
Yes, answered Mahmood, still clutching his skull, whatever you want. Please, no
more!
Daniel came round the desk and crouched next to Mahmood, looking into his eyes.
542 | P a g e

Tell me about the Specials that attacked your compound on al-Cordoba, said Daniel
almost greedily.
I cant tell you that! Theyll kill me!
Why did they attack you? pressed Daniel, leaning forward.
The people I was middling for backed out of paying, said Mahmood shakily, There
was no money. Then he sent the Specials to get the information on my contacts.
I want that information.
Yes, nodded Mahmood, yes, whatever you want just please no more!
Tell me about the companies.
I dont know the companies. I know the middlemen.
Thats a start.
Paul Owens he is in New York. James Dupree, he is in New Orleans. Kadar Marzuq,
he is Saudi but his business offices are in Dubai.
What can these people tell me that you cant?
What do you mean?
I want to know who they represent.
I dont know who they work for! I tell you, Ive told you everything! Any more and my
life is over!
So you lose some business, scoffed Daniel, uncomprehendingly, So what?
You do not understand, said Mahmood, shaking his head. They will kill me. No.
I can offer you protection, said Daniel.
From them? scoffed Mahmood as if the mere suggestion was laughable and he even
chuckled weakly. No. No. I have told you everything, Mr. Ruk. There is no more to tell. No
more to tell.
Daniel studied the defeated form of Mahmood a moment longer then rose to his feet,
towering over him.
If I find out youve held back, warned Daniel. Ill come looking for you.
Mahmood rose to his feet and brushed the wrinkles out of his suit with irritation.
You wont find me again, said Mahmood, matter-of-factly.
Daniel returned to McCormacks side and patted him on the arm.
No, said Daniel, I expect I wont. But Paladin over herehe will.
543 | P a g e

McCormacks hand began to flex as if gripping an invisible ball. The elegant antique
desk separating them from Mahmood began to quiver and groan and as McCormacks fingertips
came together, touching his palm, the desk imploded and collapsed into a pile of splintered wood
and nails.
Mahmood cowered under the display of power and stood on the balls of his feet
paralyzed with fear of the Specials raw power before him.
Daniel set down a business card on top of the rubbled desk and looked into Mahmoods
eyes.
In case you think of anything more we can use, said Daniel, meaningfully.
Mahmood stared at him blankly and then nodded nervously. Curry eyed the business
card warily and nodded to McCormack respectfully. Without another word, Daniel turned to
leave, McCormack followed on his heels out into the hallway.
You believe the line that camel jockey was pulling on us? said McCormack, as they
stood in front of the elevator waiting for the doors to open.
I believe hes scared, answered Daniel thoughtfully as he retrieved his side arm and
holster from the desk. Hes scared of international law and hes scared of them. Hes hiding
out in a non-extraditable country with hired Specials as bodyguards. Hes telling us all he can.
Youre being very generous with this man, said McCormack with a scoff. A man who
holds you with contemptare you sure youre seeing things clearly?
Im seeing things clearly alright, said Daniel, a trace of irritation in his voice at being
questioned for his tactics. Hes got no options and no friends to turn to. He has my business
card. Hell call when he changes his mind.
Youre sure? pressed McCormack. I can just as easily go up there and force him to
talk.
The elevator doors parted and they stepped onto the lift. A few seconds later the doors
closed. Daniel seemed to be waiting for the privacy of the closed doors to speak.
Im playing a fine game here, said Daniel calculatingly. Using you against normal
humans is something Boatman would frown upon. Then Daniel added with a sigh, As it is, I
have to talk to Brad about his little outburst back there.
No you dont, soothed McCormack. Hes beating himself up pretty nicely. Believe
me, he regrets his behavior, even though he felt he had a right.
544 | P a g e

Do you feel he had a right? asked Daniel, eyeing McCormack out of the corner of his
eye.
McCormack shrugged as the elevator doors opened and they exited the lift and crossed
the lobby at a quick pace, continuing their dialogue quietly, their heads inclined toward each
others as they made their way across the plush carpeted floor.
If he saw what I think he saw in that mans head? said McCormack thoughtfully. I
dont know how Id react. All I know is sometimes youve got to do Gods work for Him.
I heard that, answered Daniel.
Once free of the lobby they quickly found their SUV waiting for them outside. Bradley,
as McCormack had assured him, was brooding in the darkness of the tinted interior of the cab.
McCormack threw the door open as Daniel crossed over and entered the passengers front seat.
So youre really going to let him go? said McCormack as Daniel closed his door and
affixed his seatbelt in place.
Are you kidding me? scoffed Daniel, as though the thought was ludicrous. Operation
Zephyr is still a go. Theyre transferring Mahmoods file to a listening op in the European
theater, but theyll be up and running soon. And when they do, the intelligence will come
straight to me. What he hasnt said will still come out in the transcripts from the op, of that I
have no doubt.
Just as long as you got your bases covered, answered McCormack.
We got him scared, said Daniel. We just need to let what we said marinate a bit and
hell come to us.
We dont have much time, said McCormack, critically. The terrorist attack is still all
over the news. President Tahmahkera is going to want information soon.
Im having memos sent to Boatman daily, said Daniel. Boatmans briefing the
President.
He doesnt like him, very much, said McCormack with a Cheshire grin.
What a better source of information to have, mused Daniel, than have someone you
dont like give you the facts.
Youre starting to sound like Boatman, mused McCormack.
God I hope not, sighed Daniel.
So what now? said McCormack, bringing Daniel out of his reverie.
545 | P a g e

We pull up information on Paul Owens in New York, answered Daniel with a

businesslike efficiency as he pulled out his notebook and began typing on the touchscreen.
James Dupree in New Orleans and Kadar Marzuq in Dubai.
Then? said McCormack.
We investigate them, said Daniel, as though it were obvious.
This is getting convoluted, said McCormack. Dont you think?
I want the Black Ops team, said Daniel, firmly. Ill investigate these men, but just in
case, Im going to need the targets too.
Targets? said Bradley, coming out of his self-deprecatory stupor.
This isnt over, concluded Daniel. The Black Ops team is circling their prey right
now. Picking them off one at a time. Puerto Rico was no job. That was payback. And Nanopro
is so small that it couldnt be tied to the terror attack. Then added But the conglomerate that
owns Nanoprothis is big.
The Feds can deal with that, said McCormack, as though he felt Daniel was reaching
into areas beyond their Task Forces mandate and scope. Just focus on the Specials.
I plan to, answered Daniel, shortly. But I need to get to the conspirators to get to the
Black Ops team. Theyre key. So we need to track down Owens, Dupree and Marzuq and
question them with everything weve got. Whatever theyre tied up in will take us to the Black
Ops team, Im sure of it.
Okay, answered McCormack, feeling the rebuff. We play it your way. You know
about investigation. Then added with a bitter tone, What do I know? Im just a sword.
Whatever, scoffed Daniel.
The drive back to Zurich Airport was quick and silent with Daniel tapping on his
notebook uploading names for searches through FBI and CIA databases. Daniel knew this
would not be a quick hit and so was unsurprised when red tape alerts came up on his notebook.
He frowned anyway, knowing someone would call him shortly to find out why he was
accessing these files. Owens, Dupree and Marzuq were apparently hot topics of concern for
parties within the Bureau and Central Intelligence, and were kept close to the vest.
Just as they boarded the Chariot, Daniels cellular phone rang.
Rooke, announced Daniel.

546 | P a g e

The voice that greeted him was wary and on edge. It was King and from his tone it was
clear he was speaking through clenched teeth.
I just got a call from my superiors, growled King. Is there a reason youre looking up
files on a Mr. Paul Owens, Mr. James Dupree and a Kadar Junayd Marzuq?
As a matter of a fact there is, answered Daniel, flippantly.
Do you mind sharing this with me? snarled King.
As a matter of fact I do, answered Daniel, with a snarl of his own.
Is it pertaining to the Black Ops team? inquired King deliberately putting the necessity
on having it spelled aloud, Or the terror attack? Because if its the terror attack, thats my
responsibility.
Id rather not discuss it now, said Daniel shortly.
You do get it, snapped King, that were on the same side, right?
Then youll have no problem getting me cleared to access those files, snapped Daniel
back at him. Daniel disconnected the call.
Who was that? inquired McCormack, looking warily at Daniel as he locked himself in
his harness next to Bradley.
King, answered Daniel, dismissively. Apparently he just got a call from his superiors
telling him to back me off Owens, Dupree and Marzuq.
Interesting, said McCormack, thoughtfully.
Isnt it though?
You think theyre under investigation? mused McCormack, or they have government
backing?
Often the greediest hands have government backing, answered Daniel, sensing this was
not the last he would hear from King warding him away from Owens, Dupree and Marzuq.
True enough, said McCormack, and leaned back in his seat deep in thought.
Daniel watched the viewscreen as the Chariot lifted off like a bird and soared above the
valley of Zurich below. It was a beautiful city. It was a shame he had not more time to spare on
the beauty of the region, its culture and people. But he had fish to fry and this was not a vacation
trip.
He began to wonder would this be his view of the worldvisiting but never taking the
time to look around and actually see the place he was inwould his scope of the world be
547 | P a g e

altered by flying in, touching down, investigating, then taking off again with only the knowledge
that he had been to a foreign country or island? Was this enough for him to have traveled and
not seen?
He stared at the viewscreen out onto Zurich, and watched it pull back and out of view as
the sky became dominant, clouds rushing past as the transport picked up speed. Daniel nestled
back in his seat and with a heavy sigh slowly closed his eyes.

C h a p t e r

S E

2 8:

S e r v i c e s

aniel stepped off the Chariot grimly, walking across the overgrown weeds stretching
up from the cracked concrete ground, and made his way down the dark corridor lined
with steel beams and corrugated steel through which streams of sunlight shone, and

out into the yawning expanse of the hangar.

548 | P a g e

Reaching the staircase leading to the offices along the second floor he paused at the
sound of heated shouting reverberating across the concrete and steel toward him. With a sigh, he
took his foot off the lowest step and turned toward the din, marching across the open space, the
light overhead marking his progress from the steps to the computer terminal and cubicles.
As he neared he saw several agents standing edgily around Agent King shouting at
Leonard, who gave them back equal measure by way of volume.
I dont care what your orders are, shouted Leonard, his arms folded across his powerful
chest menacingly, this is a Task Force investigation and it will be fielded by our team! Youre
here in a helping capacity not a circumventing capacity.
King launched himself into Leonards face and railed.
Im not taking orders from-
From what? challenged Leonard, his face turning purple, A Special?
King blinked and flushed.
I was going to say you.
Daniel reached them just as Leonard readied his reply.
Yeah, right, scoffed Leonard. Ill believe that-
Whats going on here? demanded Daniel.
Ive got this handled, Agent Rooke, cut off King.
You havent got shit handled! spat Leonard.
Enough! shouted Daniel, louder than both Leonard and King put together.
Leonard acquiesced, while Kings face burned.
You cant order me! snapped King.
Watch me! said Daniel, folding his arms and stepping dangerously close to King.
Stand down!
King flushed and took a step back warily unsure how to proceed. Apparently, Daniels
arrival was not an expected event, which Daniel found odd because he had just traveled from
Switzerland to Andrews with everyone fully aware he was coming home.
Seeing Kings lips quiver in silent indignation, Daniel turned to Leonard and in a softer
tone.
Now whats all this about?

549 | P a g e

Your agent friend here, said Leonard, is trying to take over the investigation, and see
us to the door.
King held up his notebook and hung the viewscreen in front of Daniels face,
uncomfortably close as if trying to insert it up his nose. The notebook blazed with a command
issued by FBI Headquarters, clearly signed off by Homeland Security, issuing a cease and desists
of all operations by S.I.T.F in the investigation of the terror attack.
Daniel glossed over it as Kings voice rang out dominant in the hangar.
I have orders to commandeer the investigation, said King with authority, then added
with a dark glee solely for the sake of raising Daniels ire, which, as a direct result of
leadership, is clearly going nowhere.
Ill decide when its going nowhere, replied Daniel coldly.
Then you have new evidence to bring to light? demanded King sarcastically, Or are
you just going to hang up on me again?
So your feathers got ruffled because I didnt want to communicate over a microwave
line, scoffed Daniel, Thats not my problem.
Oh, but Im making it your problem, rebutted King. Why dont you try to explain it to
your superiors that you lost the biggest case of your career? See what happens!
What, you think theyll punish me by making me play step-an-fetch-it to you?
King looked as though he had been smacked in the face and raised his finger to Daniel
accusingly.
So youve been enjoying yourself this past week, havent you? spat King. Having a
little payback?
I havent given you much thought, really, replied Daniel, honestly. Ive been in the
middle of an in-ves-ti-ga-tion, in case you havent noticed.
Really? said King in mock surprise, And hows that going? Because last time I
checked you needed my help!
So youre going to stall this investigation until you get something you want, is that it?
I want to be more than your intelligence gatherer. I want credit. I want-
You want promotion.
Why shouldnt I? demanded King. Im working on the biggest case of my career!

550 | P a g e

Thats not for me to decide, replied Daniel. Your standing should be reflected by your
work. So far, youre not producing. Youre a hindrance. Now get back to work and get me that
intel we spoke of over the phone. Im back now. Youve had more than enough time to compile
data on the three men we spoke about, all of whom were involved in the terror attacks in the
form of middlemen, and Ill prove it when I get to interview them.
This is an FBI matter. Well do the interviewing.
Really? How hard will you try?
Whats that supposed to mean?
Youve been dragging your feet since you got here. You havent been running for shit
unless you count when your cell phone rings with demands from your superiors in the Bureau.
Thats right, theyre my bosses. Not you.
Then get out!
What? blinked King.
You heard me! retorted Daniel, If you wont give me the intelligence I require to
move forward with this investigation, I want you out of this building.

At gunpoint, if

necessary!
You dont have the power to eject me, stammered King.
Oh, grinned Daniel, not just you.
Youre going to throw out the whole team? gasped King.
The team takes orders from you, said Daniel. You are the thorn in my side. This
conversation has gone on too long. Then added, Goodbye.
And, with that, Daniel turned away, giving King his back.
You cant do this! protested King, a wild tremulous tone in his voice.
Oh, said Daniel, wheeling around on King, and why not?
Because you need us! stammered King.
I can muscle your superiors to get the information I require, said Daniel with a
dismissing wave of his hand. They can do the footwork for me. Unless theres another reason
you want to stay?
My orders are to take control of the terror investigation, reasserted King, his voice
raised.

551 | P a g e

You can do that from Quantico. retorted Daniel, coolly. As you said, you dont need
me.
You cant remove my team, gambled King wildly. We are valuable to you and you
know it. And I have orders to man this post the duration of the investigation, if not longer.
So you also have a job to watch me and my team? surmised Danielhe had guessed as
much already, but was surprised to see the determination King had to staying. Then I suggest
you get to work and get me those names. Because I dont slow down for shit. You got me? I
want that intelligence. And in return, Ill let you stay and gather intelligence on our team. Does
that sound like a proper compromise?
King leered at Daniel coldly, but remained silent, fully aware that his next words could
have his team ejected from the hangar at gunpoint. Or worse, with the Specials advancing on his
men.
Good, concluded Daniel and he turned and strode away, patting Leonard on the
shoulder. You got it from here, I take it?
Most definitely, replied Leonard, smirking at King and the agents with glowing look of
satisfaction.
Daniel stormed away from them.
Now thats what you call a cockfight, said Joseph in an aside to Stephen.
How do you figure? chuckled Stephen.
Because that rooster theres not even crowing, replied Joseph, adding, Hes been
pecked to death.
King glowered at Joseph and Stephen as they crowed with laughter at his expense,
remaining perfectly silent as he stormed away toward his agents.
Daniel ignored this and marched to the stairs leading to his office. He found Bradley
standing at the foot of the staircase gesturing with his chin.
You need some crowd control over there?
Nah, itll work itself out, replied Daniel without a trace of worry in his tone. But
thanks, though.
Look, said Bradley, serious lines crossed his brow beneath his perfect hair. Im sorry
about Zurich. I lost my head.
Dont beat yourself up about it, replied Daniel. It wasnt entirely your fault.
552 | P a g e

Though he could not read Daniels mind, thanks to McCormack, Bradley sensed some
reproach in his tone.
Whose fault was it then? demanded Bradley.
Mine, replied Daniel. I should have known it was a bad idea employing you like that.
I take full responsibility for it.
Bradley did not look altogether pleased by this and hung his head low, following Daniel
as he stalked up the steps two at a time back to the second floor corridor leading to his office.
As he passed Bradleys office he found Christine sitting on the floor surrounded by
teetering piles of textbooks which lay haphazardly across the floor as Christine shook
uncontrollably in a state of hysteric tears.
Kicking a copy of Crime Scene Forensics away from her, she toppled the stack of books
next to her sending Defending the Homeland: Domestic Intelligence, Law Enforcement and
Security, Crisis Negotiations: Managing Critical Incidents in Law Enforcement and Corrections
and Management and Supervision of Law Enforcement Personnel across the floor. Bradley trod
over a copy of Basic Agents Training Book/ Edition 4 and kicked a copy of Homeland Security:
An Introduction to Principles and Practice out of the way as he knelt before the overwhelmed
child and massaged her shoulders.
Christine looked up at Bradley with a puffy eyed stare and fell into his shoulder,
weeping.
Its too hard, she sobbed.
Bradley knelt next to her, and she instinctively tucked her face into his chest.
Its hard for me, too, soothed Bradley. Normally you shouldnt be near books like this
until youre in your twenties. You just need help with the language, thats all.
I dont want to be here, she cried, transforming into a child before their eyes. I want
my grandma.
Itll be alright, crooned Bradley, stroking her hair. Im here, baby girl.
Christine cried inconsolably at the thought she might never see her grandmother again,
and balled her fists as she hugged Bradley for support.
Daniel watched Christine with a lump in his throat. He could hardly bear to watch her
crying, but could think of nothing to assure her. Finally, he stepped forward.
Christine, called Daniel, clearing his throat with a note of authority.
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Bradley pulled back from her corn rowed hair and glared at Daniel.
Give her a moment, Daniel, growled Bradley with incredulous eyes. For Petes sake!
Christine looked up at Daniel blinking tears away as she steadied herself in Bradleys
arms, trying to regain composure.
I promised you youd see your grandmother again, said Daniel. Do you think Im a
liar?
No, hiccoughed Christine.
Then control yourself, commanded Daniel in a whisper. Master the work. Learn.
You can be running this operation some day. Im offering you a future. Do you believe me?
Yes, breathed Christine more steadily.
Then theres no reason to cry, replied Daniel. Bradley will help you. Isnt that right?
Yeah, said Bradley, and rubbed his hand on her thigh in a soothing gesture that
Christine did not recoil from. Im here for you.
She tremored a moment longer and studied Daniel and Bradleys eyes alternatively for a
momentary consideration, and acquiesced in a somber nod.
Okay, said Christine.
Christine smiled gratefully to Daniel and he nodded curtly back to her and she took a
deep breath, gathering herself back to take a second stab at her daunting lessons.
Seeing Bradley had the situation in hand, he set off for his office again. Within a handful
of steps, he opened the thin door to his dim lit sanctum and found it as he expected to find it. His
computer flashing his email alerts. He blinked at the screen reading the scroll of 112 emails and
frowned.
So much for taking my hands off the wheel for a minute thought Daniel as he stared
at the viewscreen.
Daniel sat down at his desk and pulled his chair closer to his terminal flipping through his
emails with a careless flick of his finger at the opening windows on his viewscreen.

The hours blinked by in a glacial procession and Daniel pressed through the mountain of emails
which he had begun to think of as junk mail.

554 | P a g e

How many possible sightings of missing Specials could there be? he thought,
maddeningly. And they were all over the map! If these people could be in so many places at
once, they must have the ability to teleport.
But this was laughable. This was technology that simply did not exist on Earth.

He

leaned back from his desk and rubbed his eyes as the glare of the viewscreen brought dots of
color before his eyes.
Just then, there was a knock at the door.
Come in, said Daniel, wearily. The door opened and Christine stood leaning against
the frame.
Hi. said Christine self-consciously.
Hey, said Daniel, half rising from his seat, come in.
Thanks, said Christine, and she stepped across the threshold into the office proper but
did not approach the chair facing Daniels desk, but stood there twisting her hands around
themselves, apparently mulling over her words. Im sorry about before.
Dont be, said Daniel with a wave of his hand. Reading these books and preparing for
tests can be stressful.
Christine blinked.
I need to take tests? said Christine, on the verge of a whine.
Daniel frowned at her.
Youre in school, Christine, replied Daniel. Did you think I was just making you
read?
I dont do tests good at all, sighed Christine, on the verge of new tears at just the
thought of taking a test.
You dont do that well on tests, corrected Daniel. And neither do I. But I dont give
up. Do you want to quit?
No, murmured Christine, a sour note in her tone.
Good girl, said Daniel, not detecting her dejected tone. Make me proud.
Thank you, said Christine, and there were layers upon layers of meaning in her words
and tone. More than Daniel was ready for or even sensitive enough to be aware of. He merely
smiled at her as she turned, visibly embarrassed, and she walked quickly out of the office.
Daniel listened to her soft footsteps down the hall and sighed.
555 | P a g e

Its going to be tough on her, he thought.

At the same time he took heart because he knew Bradley would be by her side.
Daniel closed the last email and rose to stretch his legs then his spine, which let out a
series of audible pops and groaned in appreciation of the sensation of his spine aligning when the
phone rang.
Rooke, answered Daniel.
Rooke, said the familiar voice on the line, its John Redwing.
Daniel was instantly on the edge of his seat. He did not need another problem.
Is everything alright with the Chariot?
Shes fine, assured Redwing. But its funny you should mention her. I was calling to
find out a little more about your magic hat and find out how deep it goes.
Go on, urged Daniel, a pit growing in his stomach, anticipating something, anything
that would kill his mood.
Im not happy with the transport in its current condition, said Redwing, oblivious to Daniels
stressed tone.
Apparently this was all Daniel needed to hear.
If this is because of the AB console-
Cool your jets, soothed Redwing. I was just going to ask if I could get some people to
work on it and get it more to my liking.
Whats more to your liking? pressed Daniel.
Shes keen to fly, assured Redwing. But I want to make some additions to her design.
I wanted to know how to go about that.
Modifications? clarified Daniel.
Ive been thinking about it ever since Dubai, said Redwing. I want armament. And
Im not comfortable in a craft that cant perform to my requirements.
I see, said Daniel.
You think you can get her up to snuff? asked Redwing.
I know someone who can help you out with your needs, said Daniel. If it can be done,
my guys the one to do it.
Can I meet him now? pressed Redwing.
Now? blinked Daniel. Like right now?
Unless youre busy, replied Redwing, regretting the call.
556 | P a g e

Just then another email appeared on Daniels screen. He flicked it open with his finger
and read through the basic outline of a car accident where a bike messenger was walking around
with his shredded bicycle afterward, and the local police were worried the messenger was a
Special. Daniel rolled his eyes and logged out of his computer.
Meet me in the hangar in two minutes, said Daniel.
Actually, admitted Redwing. Im already in the hangar checking through the Chariots check
list. Systems are nominal.
Good, replied Daniel. Lets take it for a spin.
Sounds good to me.

Minutes later, the Chariot touched down in front of the Wizards Hangar. Malcolm Reynolds
stood out front, his loose clothes billowing like a sail in the jet spray from the craft as it touched
down. He stood there watching the slideaway door open and Daniel hopped out with Redwing
following a moment later.
Daniel walked up to Reynolds and they shook hands.
Got to say, said Reynolds. I was surprised you called. We got the bird to your liking,
right?
Almost, answered Daniel. We ran into some problems in midflight that were outside
of our ability to adjust to.
Problems repeated Reynolds, his voice trailing away as he took Redwing into view.
Captain? said Daniel, urging Redwing to make his introduction.
John Redwing, he said, and extended his hand to Reynolds.
Reynolds shook it, a little dazed, but recovered fast.
I know who you are, said Reynolds. You flew the Durendal during the Sol War.
That I did, answered Redwing with a grin.
Its an honor, sir.
Thank you. I just have a few requirements I wanted to have for the Chariots arsenal.
Arsenal? blinked Reynolds.
I need weapons capability and something for the speed.
What do you mean?

557 | P a g e

I need

WINGGUNxlvs installed, said Redwing, Some Vulcan rails for the front and

sides of the craft, oh, and I need a jump drive power source and AG strips throughout the hold.
Reynolds blinked.
You want us to put the space-flight gear back inside?
That I do, replied Redwing with a winning grin, pleased Reynolds was so quick on the
uptake, making his prepared explanations unnecessary.
Thatll take up a lot of space, sir, said Reynolds, measuredly. I had been authorized to
gut it and hollow it out for a task force and prisoners to be shuttled. Putting that equipment, plus
all the necessary secondaries, would fill that space up pretty quick.
Not if you use the jump drive from a Gen-6 or 7

Reever.

I dont need much, I just

want the capability, since were dealing with space stations and who knows what or where else.
Ill also need the seams shored up so there wont be breaches in a vacuum.
Reynolds held his chin thoughtfully, nodding along, not wanting to turn down a legend
like Redwing.
If you want us to put the gear back in, itll take some time.
How long?
Give me two weeks and Ill have her humming you a tune.
Ill be supervising the install.
I can live with that, said Reynolds with a smile, So can my team.
Good, concluded Redwing with a grin. Daniel, I think were good.
Okay, replied Daniel. Ill just leave you here with Malcolm then.
And Agent Rooke, said Reynolds, stepping forward. Since Im taking the Chariot, Ill
have an AB-4 parked in your hangar if you need it.
I appreciate that.
No problem.
With that, Malcolm put his arm around Redwing and escorted him into the hangar,
apparently anxious to introduce their new celebrity to the crew that would redesign and retrofit
the Chariot.
When Daniel returned to the Hangar he was surprised to see Boatman standing at the
main doors as though expecting him to pull up any second.
558 | P a g e

Daniel swallowed as he opened the door and climbed out finding purchase on the asphalt.
He walked around the SUV to face Boatman expecting anything. A reprimand.

A smile. A

termination.
Boatman stood there with a casual ease about him and he turned to the side as Daniel
approached falling in step alongside him as they walked into Hangar 102.
Lawrence, I didnt expect to see you here today.
Ive been busy with the White House for the last few days, explained Boatman
conversationally. I wanted to get back to the business at hand. He looked sidelong at Daniel.
Youve been semi-productive since Ive been out of the picture. How was your trip? inquired
Boatman, Did you get the intelligence you sought from your new friend in Switzerland?
Hes too scared to talk and I didnt think muscling him into a car and transporting him to
the airport was advisable.
Boatman nodded grimly, but said nothing.
Im not worried, continued Daniel with a wave of his hand. He feels the heat. Ive
left him a business card.
Boatman nodded and tapped his fingertip against his top row of teeth in thought.
Now the question is who has that business card?
What do you mean? inquired Daniel, suspiciously.
My men in Zurich just made contact with me, said Boatman, almost empathetically.
Mahmood was apparently murdered in his hotel room and one of his bodyguards is dead. The
other is missing. The police are scouring the streets for the second guard, thinking he killed his
employer. He continued his stride grimly. Not that it matters.
Daniels face went pale and then flushed red in rage and embarrassment, his eyes turned
downward resentful in his newfound impotence.
No, agreed Daniel just as grim. It doesnt mean a damn thing...
I feel with the death of your friend, it seems the loop of information you have pried
open, as well as the credit you had garnered for the DHS overseers, delaying their seizure of the
case from you, is now closed, said Boatman. Mores the pityI am sorry, Daniel. It seems
you are back to square one.
Damn, he scoffed. Then Daniel looked over at him skeptically. You could have told
me this over the phone. Whats your other reason for this visit?
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Ive come to address your situation with the Bureau.

Ive spoken to that middle-

management peon, Agent King, who is now the Agent In Charge of this investigation. The FBI
has pulled out all the stops to prevent us from continuing as lead investigators.
Youre not seriously giving this to them!
I already have, replied Boatman, surprised Daniel actually still had hope in leading.
Until you have more information, Im afraid the terror attack investigation cannot be halted
because the lead investigator has exhausted his resources.

You should have kidnapped

Mahmood and been done with it.

The only way I could have done that is by using Specials to help me do it. Thats
against mandates for my office.
Which is why youre not being reprimanded.
Im just being demoted, growled Daniel.
No, corrected Boatman. The Bureau agrees that if intelligence falls into your lap
again, the investigation would be your lead again. But considering our best efforts to date, that is
a weak olive branch the Bureau knows we cannot capitalize off of. Which is why they felt so
free to offer it.
You seem to be taking this in stride, he said, studying Boatman suspiciously. What
else have you got up your sleeve?
Nothing, replied Boatman, surprising Daniel. Im here to commiserate with my men.
Its the least I can do considering how much effort you all have put into this investigation.
What about me?
Youre free to do as you like, answered Boatman, somewhat dismissively, Join me
with the mensulk. There will be other Specials to track down. These ones are beyond us for
the moment. Put it out of your mind unless something puts you back in the game. This Hangar
is yours. Ill have files of Specials uploaded to your terminal within the hour. Get some rest.
Daniel stood there in a daze as Boatman walked off to call the team to huddle around
him, away from the agents. It was clear by their faces that they were not happy with whatever it
was Boatman was telling them, and he felt like a teenager again, losing a football game by only a
handful of points.
Daniel took a breath, then turned away and headed to his office. His feet found their way
there before he was aware of it, and he closed the door behind him losing himself in the
560 | P a g e

semidarkness of the room as he collapsed in his chair and leaned back, looking out the window
on the Hangar floor. The agents were working feverishly under Kings direction, in direct
contrast to how sluggish they worked under Leonards commands.
Bile crept into his mouth at the thought that King had hemmed up their operations out of
spite; and now, obviously confident he was in control had his men racing.
Behind him, the phone rang. Broodingly, he considered ignoring it for a moment and
ruefully dwelling over his losses. But this did not suit his character, no matter how much he lost.
He was not a man to sulkOr allow his staff and associates to bemoan the injustices of the
world when there was work to be done. When one case failed to yield results and leads dried up,
he was bound by his job to put aside his frustration and pick up the next case and run the fresher
leads, there. With a sigh, he finally gave up, more to rid himself of the incessant ringing than
any particular interest in hearing whatever was on the other line. And, clinging to this dignity
saving thought that a new case and a new focus would help shed the frustrations of the failure he
had just been slapped with, he picked up the phone.
Rooke, answered Daniel.
Agent Daniel H. Rooke? said a familiar voice he could not place on the static crackling
line.
You have me, said Daniel, curiously, Who is this?
That can wait, replied the familiar voice hushed and lined with worry. Do you have
the power to grant immunity?
For what? demanded Daniel.
The line was silent. Daniel looked at the caller ID and frowned at the long international
number.
Youre calling from Switzerland?
Ive gone underground, said the voice. Ive been on the move ever since my boss got
taken out. And Daniel recognized the voice of Mahmoods energy projecting bodyguard,
though his name escaped him. I need immunity and a ticket out of here.
Whats in it for me? demanded Daniel, almost flippantly.
Information, replied the voice.
On what? inquired Daniel, unconsciously leaning forward in his seat and resting his
arms on the desk.
561 | P a g e

On the terror attacks, replied the voice, and Daniel could tell his lips were not moving
when he said itpossibly grinding his teeth.
And what could a bodyguard possibly have to tell in regard to the inner workings of
Emir Mahmoods mind?
I didnt need intelligence, said the voice. I was placed here to watch him.
By who? demanded Daniel.
Get me out of here, replied the voice, and Ill tell you.
Daniel activated the record setting for his phone and a window on his computer opened
up documenting the recording in text. Next he activated a conference call connecting them to the
Tech Crew that listened in on all the calls and conversations in Hangar 102 and texted them a
message:
Get me this man.
before local PD...

Call teams in Zurich, Switzerland to apprehend

Lets start out with a name, said Daniel. Youve got one, right?
Yeah, said the voice. Randall, he said, inventing wildly. Call me Randall.
Alright, Randall, said Daniel. Youre in a pretty sticky situation from the sound of
it.
What, said Randall. are you trying to get a trace?
I already got the trace, answered Daniel. The rest is just giving my agents time to get
to you. You want to come in with us, right? Or would you prefer the Swiss Police?
Ill come in, said Randall. As long as Im coming to you.
Good, answered Daniel.
My immunity and protection, said Randall, in exchange for information on the
Elysium bombing.
I already have intelligence on the Elysium bombing, replied Daniel, seemingly
unimpressed. It was a dangerous maneuverwaiting out the tension on the other end of the line
that could just as easily blow up in his face if Randall hung up the phone. Finally Daniel
added: unless you have something more
I can tell you about the men who carried out the plot, replied Randall.

562 | P a g e

Daniel was silent for a long moment, counting his heartbeats as his heart raced up into his
throat. He leaned forward and rested his hand on the viewscreen, pulling up the Elysium file and
opening it.
Ill want names, demanded Daniel, coolly.
I cant get you names, blurted Randall exasperated. Then added almost pleadingly,
But I can paint the rest in for you. Just get me out of here.
Just wait, assured Daniel. My men are coming.
Are they on the line? asked Randall, nervously.
I can put them on the line, replied Daniel, and with a flick of his finger on the
conference line he connected the two calls.
Tell them to ask for Randall, he said, his voice a harsh whisper.
Confirmed, cracked a military voice over the line.
For a long moment all Daniel heard was the heavy breathing of Randall as they waited
together for the European Theater operatives to arrive and take him into custody.
Finally he gasped, and Daniel could feel his fear through the phone.
Someones coming whispered Randall.
Are you Randall? Daniel heard a military voice say away from the phone receiver.
Get me out of here, demanded Randall, no longer talking into the phone.
The line went dead.
Daniel sat back in his chair and felt a surge of energy in his legs. He felt like he had been
running as the energy washed over him.
Im not out of this race yet, he thought to himself.
With that, he picked up the phone and dialed a number he knew by heart.
Hey, its Daniel RookeListen, I need a few hours of your time, are you down?...Ill
send an SUV to pick you up.
Daniel hung up the phone and leaned back confidently. Just in case Randall gets
squirrelly, he thought as he rose from his chair in anticipation. Gotta cover all the bases.

WAR ROOM

563 | P a g e

It was nearly three in the afternoon when word reached Daniel that the transatlantic voyage had
finished and the AB had touched down at Andrews Air Base. An SUV was ordered to meet the

AB

at its landing pad and a wiry disheveled man had been directed to the waiting vehicle,

gruffly pushed into the car and whisked away toward Hangar 102.
Daniel stationed himself in the conference room/command center located beneath the
second floor offices, nicknamed the War Rooma spacious room dominated by a long table and
chiropractic looking office chairs, at the center of which was a terminal which would display the
computers windows on the glass walls and could act as a conference callerwith soundproof
glass surrounding the room giving it all the appearance of an aquarium. There he sat, facing the
distant opening at the front of the hangar.
There was no need to meet the man at the front door and walk him through, providing a
highlight of everything he was seeing. He wanted the man wary, beaten and exhausted. The best
interrogations really began when the suspect had reached this point, and although Randall was
not a suspect, his debriefing would be the same.
Bradley poked his head into the War Room with an inquiring look on his face.
Any word on the delivery? asked Daniel before Bradley could say anything.
Bradley shook his head in the negative.
Are you sure about bringing him into this? asked Bradley.
Hes going to come in the same way this Randall is coming in, replied Daniel.
Theres no foreseeable breach of security as far as I can tell.
How can you be so sure? demanded Bradley. You know how he gets around people.
Thats why I had Tobias pick him up, concluded Daniel. Hes scared spitless of him.
Trust me, he wont be asking any questions to agents that he cant field for us.
Bradley grunted his approval.
You seem to have thought of everything, muttered Bradley.
As much as I can foresee, said Daniel. Then added with a grin, And I have a vivid
imagination.
You want me in on this interview?
No, answered Daniel, narrowing his eyes. It was clear he had little faith in Bradley
after how badly he behaved in Zurich and Bradley sensed the rebuff. First shots mine. Maybe

564 | P a g e

it wont be necessary for us to even use him. And if thats the case, well just shake his hand,
wish him well and have the SUV take him straight back.
Bradley grew rigid and closed his eyes, seeing without seeing.
Theyre here.
Daniel looked up and around at the great steel double doors and watched as the slim
figure was shuffled through the hangar by a pack of grim looking agents. Past the coroner tables
covered in plastic, past the cadaver drawers, past the workstations and on into the darkness
deeper into the belly of the hangar until the War Room could be seen illuminated in the
blackness of the seeming voidthe only light of comfort came from the seams in the corrugated
steel sheets that made up the hangar. Not that he could see anything. The black bag over his
head prevented him, and his feet shuffled in front of him, feeling the floor for any hint of a
precipice or crack to trip on.
Onward the agents pushed and shoved Randallwho Daniel could now see was
wearing a black bag over his head, which darted back and forth from left to right with panic
until the agents wrenched open the door to the War Room and roughly placed him in a seat
across from him. With a dramatic tug of the black bag Randall winced at the bright lights in
the War Room. Daniel stared at the energy projector he met back in Zurich and grit his teeth.
Eventually the spots stopped dancing in front of Randalls vision and he heard Daniels voice
swimming somewhere behind the lights.
Do you know where you are? asked Daniel, a trace of menace in his voice.
Randall?
No, replied Randall. Out of Switzerland, thats all I care about.
No, answered Daniel. Youre someplace far worse.
Randall looked directly at Daniel, eyes adjusted to the light and bored into him.
What do you want?
Everything, answered Daniel.
Randall grinned.
Everythings worth a lot.
Sometimes.
And now?

565 | P a g e

Im a man of my word, answered Daniel. If the intelligence is solid and I dont

already have access to it, then youre scot free on the murder charge.
So they are pinning it on me? spat Randall.
You were the only one left alive and you fled the scene. You know how that looks to
any brand of law enforcement.
Randall looked around the War Room studiously, comparing the furniture and
architecture to rooms he had seen in Europe. Finally he looked at Daniel nervously.
Am I out of Switzerland? asked Randall. Really?
Youre closer to the United States than you were an hour ago, answered Daniel cagily.
What you have for me will weigh heavily on your return and protection.
Do I need protection? asked Randall, though he already knew the answer to it before
he said it. He merely asked it to have Daniel clarify his knowledge of how deep the plot went.
Ive been investigating this case from its beginning, replied Daniel. You tell me.
I want protection, demanded Randall.
And I want reliable intelligence, demanded Daniel.
Randall leaned back in his chair and folded his arms.
I want papers verifying my ability to walk away from this scot free before I tell you
anything.
Youll give me the information, replied Daniel, the edge in his voice growing hard,
with no guarantees other than my word and youll give it to me now. And lets begin by doing
away with your alias, shall we, Randall?
You want my real name? scoffed Randall. What would that serve?
I could wait for the Zurich police to post your wanted post on the web, but why wait?
Hold still.
Daniel pressed an icon on the viewscreen embedded in the conference table. There was a
flash of light in the room and Randall was blinded for an instant.
What was that?
I needed a picture for the facial recognition software to work on, explained Daniel as
he scrutinized Randall. Now, you look to be of the age to be a veteran. So lets just go
through the Specials watch list. Im sure youve been out of contact from your Veteran Affairs
Officer for a while.
566 | P a g e

Randalls eyes went wide at the betrayal of his security in anonymity.

You cant do that!
Already done, replied Daniel, his eyes resting on the viewscreen and he threw the
window up on the glass wall. Lets seeMarshawn Curry. Static Energy Projector arrested
two years ago for drunken disorderly conduct and destruction of a police vehicleSkipped out
on bailIs that when you joined up with this group that put you in touch with such valuable
information?
Look, stammered Marshawn, I can explain about the police car
Daniels eyes held Marshawn with contempt.
If you could you would have done that in court instead of skipping bail and hooking up
with mercenaries.
How do you know Im a mercenary? blinked Marshawn.
You were personal security for Emir Mahmood who travelled in very dark circles,
replied Daniel as though the answer was obvious. It doesnt take a genius to figure out how he
acquired you. But that you would have so much information to offer would mark you as
someone close enough to eaves drop on his most private meetings and calls. He struck me as the
type that didnt acknowledge servants and staff as human, so you must have been a, well not
loved, but tolerated watch dog.
Marshawns eyes burned at the comparison to him as a dog, but he nodded.
I was never more than a few steps away from him.
So you were there for the rapes, pressed Daniel. The abuse. The dark meetings
I was never far from him, agreed Marshawn.
Within eyesight and earshot, pressed Daniel.
Marshawn studied Daniel for a long moment, mulling over how best to answer the
question, then simply pressed the point.
What do you want to know?
Tell me about the Elysium.
Marshawns neck and ears burned.
What you have to understand is, began Marshawn, I could get killed for even talking
to you.

567 | P a g e

What you have to understand, said Daniel, is my protection is the best money can
buy. Then added A Special protected by Specials.
-Being hunted by Specials! blurted Marshawn, his eyes wide. I cant give you that.
Then why are we here? demanded Daniel. Do you think my door will just open and let
you walk away from me?
Marshawn held up his hand and static electricity crackled between his fingers, pooling
into a ball of energy in his palm. He seemed to be drawing energy from the room and the lights
flickered as the ball of energy took prominence as a source of light in the dimming room.
I can fight my way out of here, said Marshawn with a cocky grin.
Youll lose, replied Daniel. And then youd be dragged back to whats left of this
room and well begin again. Maybe then youll be more receptive.
You think you can stop me? scoffed Marshawn.
Without lethal force? clarified Daniel, and he placed his pistol on the table, the barrel
facing Marshawn. No.
Marshawn studied Daniel for a moment seeming to see the man clearly for the first time.
You would shoot me? demanded Marshawn, his electricity display vanishing in his
closed palm.
If you make me, clarified Daniel. But then Id have to wait for you to be treated
before we could begin again. And I dont think I have that kind of time. Im on a schedule,
here.
Time running out? said Marshawn, with mock concern.
Lets just say my timetable is truncated, replied Daniel, his hand resting on top of the
gun.
And youd shoot me to get the information I have? challenged Marshawn coldly.
Id give you a nice flesh wound, replied Daniel, if I thought itd improve your
forthrightness.
And Id kill you to get out of this room, spat Marshawn.
And yet theres an easier way, said Daniel.
Whats that? challenged Marshawn.
By giving me the information you promised me in Zurich, answered Daniel.

568 | P a g e

I could tell you things, said Marshawn, leaning back in his chair confidently. Sure. I
could tell you about a group of Specials who infiltrated a space station to plant a bomb on the
observation deck. I could tell you a lot of things.
Daniels eyes registered the truth in his words and leaned in.
Its funny you should mention the observation deck. That bit of information hasnt
made its way to the public yet. What else have you got for me?
What you want? offered Marshawn, still more confident as he played the game.
Names? I havent got them. Ive got other things.
Like? pressed Daniel, contemplating shooting Marshawn just to wipe the smirk off his
face.
Like the name of the company they work for, said Marshawn.
Company? blinked Daniel with surprise. Theyre licensed?
Theyre supposed to be, replied Marshawn, pleased he had found something he could
dangle in front of Daniel. Theyve gone rogue. But theyve kept the name. Even printed up
business cards with their Ops crest, from back in the war, on it.
Describe it.
A sun with three arrowheads pointing down in chevron formation, and in the middle, a
planet. Theres supposed to be a dragon in it, somewhere, but Ive never been able to find it.
Whats this company called?
Its called SE Services.
SE Services said Daniel, to the desk.

A voice recognition icon blinked and

information scrolled the viewscreen and across the glass wall behind Marshawn.

//SE Services L.L.C. is a security S-corporation. 90% of all company

business comes from US government contracts related to security for
American interests and businesses abroad. The company holds contracts
with the United States Department of Defense, Saudi Arabian Government
officials and oil refineries, Iraqi oil refineries and has top secret clearance
to participate in clandestine campaigns abroad. CEOTerence Knight.\\
You know this Terence Knight? inquired Daniel
Never met him, replied Marshawn dismissively, but hes the owner of the company.
Is he involved in this? demanded Daniel.

569 | P a g e

I dont know, replied Marshawn thoughtfully. Its his company.

What do you know? demanded Daniel.
I know that SE means something to the elite Specials who work for the company,
replied Marshawn, Ive heard them refer to it as Scorched Earth.
Scorched Earth repeated Daniel, sensing he was close to something, though he was
not sure what.
They just dont pick any Specials neither, continued Marshawn, You got to have
something they want. Energy projectors mostly. Thats how I got brought in. But they also take
bruisers. Big guys, borderline Ab-Spec. Theyre recruiting the most amoral cats Ive ever seen.
Like amoral enough to blow up a space station?
Randall leaned back in his chair and scoffed.
They dont give a fuck.
What does SE Services have to do with the bombing?
Everythingnothing, shrugged Marshawn, I dont know. All I know is the men who
did the bombing are still dropping the name. Theyre dropping those business cards with that
bad-ass company logo on em and theyre working. Marshawn sighed hard, adding: Thats all
I know.
No its not.
Man I told you, spat Marshawn, I can get killed for this!
You can get killed for not cooperating with a federal investigation.
Man, what do you want from me?
Everything.
Just then, the there was a knock at the door.
Daniel smiled at Marshawn.
Times up, said Daniel and he rose from his seat and made his way around the
conference table.
Whats that supposed to mean? demanded Marshawn, nervously.
Daniel did not respond and Marshawn had to crane his head around to follow Daniel
make his way toward the door, which he eyed suspiciouslynot sure what to expect.
Daniel opened the door and a dark, wiry figure stepped into the room dressed in khaki
pants and a Hawaiian print button down shirt.
570 | P a g e

Whats up, brotherman, said the voice in the shadows.

Just got a little problem with extracting information, said Daniel, then added
assuringly, Shouldnt take you long to get to the matter at hand. Daniel paused for a second as
though undergoing a necessity that briefly infringed on the politeness of their conversation. You
sign the non-disclosure agreement I take it?
For sure, replied the voice in the shadows. May I?
By all means, answered Daniel.
As he walked around the conference table, Marshawn got a glimpse of an elderly black
man as he took Daniels seat and made himself comfortable.

Daniel sat down next to him,

eyeing Marshawn with newfound anticipation that set Marshawn on edge.

Charlie leaned across the table, and sparks circled in his irises as he smiled at Marshawn.
Now, said Charlie, What shall we talk about?
And the interrogation began again.
An hour later, Daniel left the War Room leaving a haggard looking Marshawn crumpled onto the
conference table looking like a man who had given up all his leverage for nothing. Daniel was
energized as he shook Charlies hand.
Thanks again, Charlie, said Daniel warmly. Dont know what I could have done
without you.
Aint no thing, Daniel, replied Charlie with a chuckle. All you gotta do is ask a
brother.
You were perfect.
It was fun, chuckled Charlie. Then added seriously, Have you got enough to work
on?
Ive got plenty, assured Daniel. Youve done your nation a great service.
Shit, sang Charlie, then tell them to stop by the restaurant. I could use the business.
Will do, said Daniel with a chuckle. Ill stop by later.
Daniel gestured to the awaiting agents and they stepped forward holding out a strip of
black cloth toward Charlie. Charlie sighed and allowed them to don the black bag over his head
again, and lead him out of the hangar to the waiting SUV that would take him back to his
restaurant.

571 | P a g e

As Daniel walked up to the offices, he found McCormack and Bradley standing in the
hallway communing without audible words. Their eerie form of communication could pass in
public for an odd staring contest, but he knew better, and it sent chills up his spine to see the
casual display of power the two men possessed.
With a forced cough and a clearing of his throat, both of them broke off from their private
conversation and looked down at Daniel.
Is something wrong? asked McCormack.
I think the three of us need to have a little chat, said Daniel.
About what? inquired McCormack.
Things above my pay grade, answered Daniel, and with that, he walked past them,
down the hall toward his office.
McCormack and Bradley followed Daniel down the hall and into his office, where they
took seats facing his desk, their expressions were wary.
What can we offer you, Daniel? began McCormack.
How about everything you know about Scorched Earth? said Daniel, his eyes boring
into them.
Bradley and McCormack traded a knowing glance and looked back at Daniel as though
their worst fears were realized.
Unexpectedly, it was Bradley who began.
What you have to understand is, began Bradley, there were a lot of protocols in place
for Specials during the war depending on their abilities. Each had their own little community
that was ready to be activated at a command.
Id lost nearly half my men when that particular protocol went into effect, added
McCormack grimly. They just turned and left the front line, falling back under another Anchor
and charged under his command without so much as a word. After that I made as much an
investigation as I could into SETOP.
So what is it? pressed Daniel.
Scorched Earth Tactics Operations was a self-explanatory protocol, continued
McCormack. The most powerful players went on a Shock and Awe campaign.
Consisting of what? pressed Daniel.

572 | P a g e

Total devastation, breathed Bradley, Intimidation on a grand scale rivaling that of

Pandora.
Daniel blinked. Hed heard the name before.
The guy in the box? clarified Daniel.
As you put it, said McCormack with a finality that told Daniel not to pursue Pandora
as a subject.
So these guys were bad, assumed Daniel.
These were, said Bradley, under the right circumstances, the toughest most lethal of
the Specials program.
Are any of the SETOP on the Black Ops team? asked Daniel, already fearing he knew
the answer.
Daniel, said McCormack, it seems that all of the ESU was incorporated from SETOP,
with few exceptions.
What are the exceptions? demanded Daniel.
For one, said Bradley, Stephen Giordano. He was one of the most powerful in the
SETOP program, and the most brave.
Really? blinked Daniel, he had never questioned Stephens power, but he had never
given him a chance to see if he was particularly brave, constantly running to him when the fight
started to protect someone he took to be more of a liability in a fight until his training was
complete.
McCormack leaned back in his chair and his face was swallowed in shadow until only his
mouth was visible.
Imagine a man, began McCormack, who would run into a swarming mass of troops all
of whom are trying their hardest to kill you, pushing deep into their ranks and then deploying his
payload.
You mean detonating? clarified Daniel.
The power of Stephen is nearly off the charts, continued McCormack. The problems
in deploying him as you well know are that he is not invulnerable, and if hes not far enough
away from our lines, he could cause devastation to both sides when he detonates.
And a vision grew in Daniels mind of a lone figure darting between powerful alien
soldiers and machines, plunging deep into the maw of the alien combatants firing conventional
573 | P a g e

weapons to offer a few feet of space to maneuver himself deeper into the pit of the enemy.
Then, a blinding flash of light and mayhem ensued.
Back in the present, Daniel looked at McCormack, ignoring Bradley.
So Stephen knows these guys? demanded Daniel. When McCormack and Bradley
nodded, Daniels options opened before him. If he could get a man into their circle, he could
locate the Black Ops team with greater ease. Daniel pressed, adding, Can he help us track
them?
McCormack studied Daniel for a long moment before answering.
No. answered McCormack.
No? strangled Daniel, frustrated.
Specials dont stay long together, said McCormack. One Special is tolerated in a
community. A gathering is unacceptable to society at large. What we and the Black Ops team
are doing, aside from this company, is unique.
But maybe he knows their families, pressed Daniel wildly. A forwarding address?
Youre grasping at straws, Daniel. said McCormack. Daniel knew it to be true but he
did not like hearing it all the same. McCormack continued, You saw how they treated Stephen
at the scrimmage. They were surprised to see him, and even more put out he was not on their
team. No, Stephens not holding anything back. I can assure you of that.
Daniel sat back in his chair deflated.
So were back to square one, spat Daniel. More information, and no room to
maneuver in.
Actually, said Bradley helpfully, the fact that we know were facing a gathering of
SETOP is quite helpful. This means that SE Securities is hiring directly from Specials with
Special Op training. We might be able to get ahead of the curve here and plant a sleeper in their
ranks. Get intelligence from the inside.
That wouldnt help us with our current case, said McCormack.
It might, muttered Bradley bull-headedly.
Can you put it into effect quickly? demanded Daniel.
McCormack studied Daniel for a moment before answering.
We know who hasnt been picked up for work with SE for whatever reasons.

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We do? blinked Daniel, and the roads and options flared open again before him as his
mind traced the ways a man on the inside could benefit the investigation if moved on fast
enough.
Reggie Estrin, said McCormack, Natalie Ellis and Laurence Kelson. For one reason
or another they are not yet working for SE.
Is Knight a Special? asked Daniel.
What? both McCormack and Bradley said at once.
He named the security company SE, spun Daniel, Could it mean Scorched Earth?
Could he be rubbing it in our faces that hes a Special running unchecked?
No, said McCormack. Knight is not a Special.
How do you know? demanded Daniel.
Daniel, said McCormack sympathetically. I was Blue Anchor for the duration of the
Sol War. Bradley here was Red Anchor. We were the top brass under General Boatman. We
had many responsibilities but our most cherished was in knowing the men and women who
placed their lives in our hands. To truly know them. To honor them. I remember every name
of every Special that served and died or survived under me, and never had I heard the name
Knight before this little insight into SE Securities. Its more likely he had inside knowledge in
the inner workings of the Specials Battalion during the war and chose the name and recruits
methodically. Is he a dangerous man? Im sure Knight is. Is he a Special in hiding? I doubt it
very much.
How so? demanded Daniel bull-headedly.
Daniel, chided McCormack, youve gone through the emails from countless law
enforcement and security groups across the United States and territories. Can you imagine how
hard it is to hide every little flare up or demonstration of superhuman skill in this society?
Daniel opened his mouth to speak but closed it again under the scrutinizing glare of McCormack.
I thought not.
Still, pressed Daniel. this man bears close watching.
Give it to Stephen, said Bradley. Hes been cleared from his training and his
performance as an EP is improving. Im sure hes aching for a chance to contribute to this
investigation.

And he might prove useful in tracking down other SETOP members more

discretely than if you had done it.

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Fine, said Daniel, unsatisfied. But I want results and I want them fast.
Bradley rose and nodded to Daniel.
Ill go inform Stephen, said Bradley, and he turned and exited the office leaving
McCormack and Daniel sitting across from each other.
Theres something more, surmised McCormack. Youve spent an hour with Charlie
and Curry and youve learned something.
I have, answered Daniel, a grin stretching his face.
What is it? demanded McCormack.
A name, answered Daniel. Lesley Ayers. Mean anything to you?
Fume, muttered McCormack with contempt in his eyes as he grit his teeth.
Hes a member of SETOP, is he not?
He is, answered McCormack. Bradley looked at McCormack and he eyes grew distant
as he communicated without words. McCormack waved his hand and Bradley returned to the
present meeting, acknowledging both him and Daniel.
Apparently hes the recruiter for SE Services, said Daniel, not sure what was said
between them. He picked up the Black Ops team and hes been collecting high potential
Specials until recently.
Until recently? demanded McCormack.
Word from Curry, replied Daniel, is Ayers has been A.W.O.L from his duties at SE
since just after the attacks.
So weve got another name that might be tied to the conspiracy, surmised McCormack,
or a Special who sees the writing on the wall and has gone to ground to wait out the Specials
smear campaign.
Possibly, conceded Daniel. I, for one, want to talk to this Ayers gentleman.
I thought you might, said McCormack, a knowing glint in his eyes.
I have a feeling that this Ayers gentleman has something to do with this whole mess,
mused Daniel. A: he recruited them all, and B: now hes missing.
So you want to put him up on the board? said McCormack his eyebrows raised.
Hes the only straw Ive got at the moment, replied Daniel.
McCormack and Bradley rose and turned toward the door.

576 | P a g e

Ill have Josh and Chad look into it, said McCormack, pointing his left foot toward the
door. Theyve proven to be good with hacking. Maybe they can get you some more intelligence
on him through this SE Services.
Cast the net wide, said Daniel. I want as much intelligence as I can get. Family,
friends, business records, bank accounts. I want it all.
Ill let them know, said McCormack, and he and Bradley rose to exit the office when
Daniel raised his hand.
One more thing, he said to them, and they paused instantly. Curry mentioned
something about a logo. As sun with three arrowheads on it and a planet. You know anything
about that?
You think it has something to do with the case?
I dont know. At least its something I could use to get inside their heads with. What is
it?
The sun and planet are ours. A dragon is clawing the Earth, either protecting or
conquering it, I dont know, but I think I know how theyd be viewing it the three arrowheads
pointing downward hid three Vs in them. It stood for Veni, Vidi, Vinci.
McCormack ground his molars.
Its latin for
I know what it meansI came, I saw, I conquered scoffed Daniel, irritably., and
seeing McCormack and Bradleys surprised expressions assumed they though him uneducated.
Yeah, I read on Julius Caesar. I may not have graduated college, but I do read, Toby.
He sat there in a subsiding ire, as the back of his neck grew hot and his cheeks followed.
An embarrassment set in at his outburst, and he swallowed.
McCormack and Bradley said nothing, but stared incredulously at him.
Finally Daniel swallowed and let out a sigh.
Let me know what you find, guys, he said at last. It was the closest to an apology he
felt comfortable with at the moment.
Understanding Daniels frustration, McCormack and Bradley left Daniel sitting at his
desk and disappeared into the hallway..

577 | P a g e

Daniel listened to their footsteps in the carpeted hallway as they moved in silence, no
doubt communicating in their own eerie way and he grunted his disapproval of their apparent
secret keeping.
Im going to have to talk to them about that thought Daniel, and he turned and faced
his computer, logged in and opened the Terror Attack file used by all agencies to piece together
intelligence for the bombing.
Opening the file was like an explosion on the viewscreendozens of windows
materialized in a seemingly random way but there was structure to itthe windows painting a
picture of tragedy and clinical evidence intermingled with rumor and misinformation. Daniel
blew a hard sigh out his nose and went about analyzing the intelligence gathered from over a
dozen agencies all collaborating on the tragedy leading to as yet unidentified Specials as the
culprits.
Daniels job was to catch the Specials he knew, and the other agencies were relying on
his information to paint the parts of the picture that were left blank, but all he could offer was
silence. There was nothing to give, only more questions. But the questions needed to be
answered to satisfactorily track down the Specials responsible for the tragedy. Daniel did the
only thing he could. He made a copy of the file and began adding his own attachments to them.
The Black Ops team. Mahmood. Teleron Global. And now, SE Services LLC.

He then

opened up a query file for all agencies regarding SE and began digging through their systems for
intelligence on the company.
The information on SE Services was minimal. Just a highlight of their overall portfolio
he had seen earlier listing that 90% of the companys business came from US government
contracts related to security for American interests and businesses abroad.
When Daniel probed into Terence Knight, he saw a man of society using congressional
lobbyists and other methods to keep and renew contracts with the US Department of Defense.
Knight also had a company called the Knight Group. He also learns that the Knight Group
owned an intelligence company for Fortune 500 companies and governmentsFocus
Intelligence Consultancy. FIC owned another company called Ragnarok that delivered training
and research support relating to counterterrorism and asymmetric warfare/conflict to the private
sector, and U.S. and foreign government customers.

578 | P a g e

Reading the file made Daniels insides turn at the thought of a man like Terence Knight
with a team of Specials working for him and with a grim set of purpose, opened another query on
Terence Knight himself. The biography was brief. A staunch supporter of the Republican Party,
donating hundreds of thousands of dollars to Republican groups related to Christian Family
Values, he has surrounded himself with the blueblood class, making his reputation seem
essentially bulletproof.
Terence Knight is probably the most dangerous man alive, thought Daniel in the eerie
stillness of his office. He leaned back from the computer and examined the intelligence pouring
into windows on his viewscreen and scrutinized the data.
Intelligence at his fingertips, a standing army and the ability to move with impunity
across the board. I dont want to play chess with this man.
Then the small windows began flashing red and the data began to erase before his eyes as
the FBI and Central Intelligence Agency logos took prominence on the windows with login and
password queries in each window.
Daniel quickly removed his USB drive from the computer before the system crashed
around him and frowned.
How was he supposed to run an investigation when everyone was protected by the
government?
His concern for the information was scattered by the ringing of the telephone.
Daniel looked down at the ringing phone and knew what was waiting for him on the other
end of the line. Some shadow figure high up the food chainperhaps with even more power
than Boatman, though he doubted it.
Boatman was a man of his word. He had proven all things were possible to those who
stood with him, and had earned his respect with the myriad wonders he had pulled out of his hat
in the past. He had no doubt that Boatman had nothing to fear from these shadow figures, and
so he should not fear them.
With that in mind, he picked up the phone.
Rooke, answered Daniel.
You kept me waiting, said the unfamiliar voice on the other end of the line. There was
a trace of malice in his tone.
Whats this about? demanded Daniel.
579 | P a g e

You were accessing files you shouldnt be looking into, said the voice. Its my job to
shut the door on your fingers.
Daniel held up his hand and examined his cuticles with a piqued curiosity.
Well, my fingers are still intact, replied Daniel coolly.
Maybe they are, mused the voice. Or maybe you cant feel me yet.
Again, said Daniel, his voice growing hard. Whats this about?
This is the third time I have had to intervene in your investigation, played the voice on
the other end of the line. To keep you focused.
Oh, Im focused, replied Daniel coldly. Maybe you just dont like how I run an
investigation.
Maybe, mused the voice. But you shouldnt be looking into government protected
entities.
Daniel leaned forward and tapped the trace icon on his phone.
Each one of those entities Ive looked into has some knowledge into the conspiracy or
connection to it in some shape or form. Im investigating all aspects.
SE Services has nothing to do with the plot. The Specials you seek are rogue.
If you know who the Specials are we should be collaborating and not at odds.
Maybe so. But that is not my function.
What is your function?
To keep the government safe from you and yours.
Daniel blinked.
Me and mine? Whats that supposed to mean?
An agent in charge of a team of Specials who have demonstrated frustration with the
workings of the government in the past having carte blanche to unlimited information through
the Department of Homeland Security? Someone needs to shut that door.
And thats your job?
Believe me, Id rather be sunning at the Palms.
Daniel blinked when the trace program finished its cycle and the words: TRACE
TERMINATED crossed his screen. No results followed. Daniel began to wonder how far up
this man on the other end of the line was. The trace was overridden, that much was clear. But
by who? And how?
580 | P a g e

Daniel sighed and resigned himself to speaking with a man who was clearly untouchable.
So youre a creature of your function, then?
As you say.
Well then tell me, while I got you on the line, why are you blocking access to my
investigation of Teleron Global and Mr. Paul Owens, Mr. James Dupree and a Kadar Junayd
Marzuq?
I dont personally care about Marzuq. Owens and Dupree are protected and Teleron
Global is a government contractor. Thats all you need to know.
Owens and Dupree were pointed out by my source as being involved with the terror
plot.
By Emir Mahmood, I take it?
The point is youre treading on my toes.
There was a long silence that followed as Daniel listened to the static on the normally
clear phone line and he hunched over his desk listening intently until he could hear the trace of
breathing on the other end of the line.
Owens and Dupree are easily enough examined, said the voice at last. If theres any
information that can be gleaned from their movements it is easy enough to track and the
information can be made available to you, since youre so keen on them.
Really? blinked Daniel with surprise. All I had to do was ask?
Daniel Henry Rooke, you are a thorn in my side on nearly a daily basis lately. If I can
shut you up or shut you down I will. But if information is all you seek, and not warrants, I am
sure I can glean the data you seek.
Youll have to notify DHS offices when you get the intelligence I seek.
I dont have to do anything, replied the voice with a chuckle. Consider this a gift.
When can I expect it?
I have already activated agents to make the necessary acquisitions.
Acquisitions?
The least you know about how I get my intelligence the better.
Something about the mans voice sent a chill down Daniels back. So this is what its like
to speak to a spook?
Dont give me a reason to speak to you again, Agent Rooke.
581 | P a g e

With that, the line went dead.

Daniel hung up his phone and stared at the viewscreen flashing red.

One by one, like

Christmas lights, the windows closed leaving only the original terror file but with three new files
opened. One was for Mr. Paul Owens, another for Mr. James Dupree, and finally Connor
Mitchell.
Daniel let his fingers scroll through the files in the windows and saw that they were filled
with simple bios on the lives and interests of the men in question followed by their criminal
records and lastly their contacts with email and phone exchanges going back months. Daniel
pounded the desk in triumph and began scrolling through the data with one hand while picking
up the phone with his free hand, dialing Leonards extension.
Leonard, get the team assembled in the War Room. Bring in King on thisYes Im
sure. Everybody.
Daniel hung up the phone and climbed to his feet as he logged out of the computer and
made his way quickly to the door. Everybody in the hall was already running downstairs.

By the time Daniel entered the War Room it was filled.

Around the table, McCormack,

Bradley, Josh, Stephen, Joseph, Chad and Leonard sat on one side while King and a retinue of
agents flanked him on both sides. Along the walls, the rest of the agents stood poised to take
notes for the first time since their arrival to Hangar 102, three weeks ago. Christine had slipped
into the room and tried to blend in with the wall, watching Daniel and Bradley intently.
Daniel did not notice the new interest in Christine. He was too focused on the task at
hand.
Thank you for coming, said Daniel. Its been a hard month for us, with an
investigation going nowhere, but I have new intelligence coming in over the next twenty-four
hours that will put us back on track. What we will be doing is combing over files newly come to
light that will, Im confident, implicate three men in the terror plot.
There was a rumble of whispers around the room at the thought that the investigation was
no longer floundering. Even King was in a state of rapt attention, for the moment.
Daniel logged into the terminal at the conference table and the glass walls illuminated
with windows that caused the agents standing idly to jump and move around the table to Daniels
582 | P a g e

side to get a better view of what he was talking about. On the screen were three files each with a
photo. One was for Paul Owens a handsome man with a cocky smile seen climbing into a
limousine, another for James Dupree a tall dark skinned man with dark eyes wearing as much
gold as he could fashionably get away with, looking furtively over his shoulder, and finally
Connor Mitchell.
Ladies and Gentlemen, we have our leads in the case. I need everything you can dig up
on these three men. And I do mean everything. As you can see from the files we already have
their contacts and communications going back months.
How did you get audio? blurted a wiry agent behind Daniel as he noted the audio files.
Thats unconstitutional!
Im not worried about that right now, answered Daniel dismissively. The point is we
have it, and I aim to exploit it. I want you to pour over these records and emails to trace down
their sources, and pick through until we have clear communication between coconspirators in the
plot to plant a bomb aboard the U.S.S. Elysium. King, since these files fall under Bureau control
theyre yours. I need the information from your findings to figure out how many coconspirators
are involved.
What for? challenged King, Whats the purpose of this little exercise?
A murmur of agreement from his retinue followed until Leonard leaned across the
conference table toward them.
If you opened your ears youd understand, blurted Leonard, then added, jackass.
Thats enough, said Daniel, commanding, then added in deference to King, Both of
you!
Need I remind you, retorted King, Im not yours to order like some-
You want to leave? Theres the door! snapped Daniel. When King did not move he
pressed on adding, I thought not. Daniel then addressed the room at large. Now, as I was
saying, the intelligence gathering is Bureau responsibility. I have been ordered to confine my
search for the Specials.
So there is Special involvement? ejaculated the same wiry agent who had interrupted
Daniel earlier.
Daniel turned slowly to face him, his face a scowl.

583 | P a g e

Youre working with the head of the Specials Investigations Task Force, began Daniel,
coolly, and you thought there was no Special involvement?
The wiry agent flushed and his cheeks burned a brilliant red.
Do you know who they are? demanded King, leaning forward, his retinue eyeing
Daniel coldly.
I have a list of men of interest, admitted Daniel. Then added, Youre going to help me
find them.
And how are we going to do that? said King smugly.
By investigating these three men here, replied Daniel with a smile as they returned to
the reason for the conference in the War Room. Paul Owens and James Dupree are suspected of
having aided in facilitating Specials for the attack through their connection in the Middle East.
A man named Emir Adib al-Abbas Mahmood. He was the middleman between the Specials and
these men who were to funnel money to the bombing suspects through Mahmood once the job
was completed.
I need to know everything about these two men, from what we have already on our
comprehensive files to interviewing the men themselves if you can. Daniel then directed the
rooms attention to the sandy blond haired picture. Connor Mitchell is the CEO of Teleron
Global. He is suspected of involvement with the Specials due to the fact that they attacked one
of his subordinate companies in Puerto Rico early last week. Hes made a show of being
uncooperative, so Im advising you to divide into two groups, research and investigative agents.
I want that man interviewed and I want to know about the Specials who attacked his facility. I
also want to know what other companies, corporations or conglomerates are involved in this. It
could give us insight into where next the Special team will attack.
The wiry agent blinked. You make it sound like a conspiracy, he breathed.
Daniel and the rest of the room turned to look at him as if he were an idiot.
Every terror attack in history has been a conspiracy, said Daniel. There are the
martyrs, the weapons, and there are the middlemen and then there are the funders. We are
looking for the weapons by interviewing or interrogating the middlemen and funders.
You think Teleron Global funded terrorism? demanded King.
Yes, I do. concluded Daniel.
King rested back in his chair and smirked at him.
584 | P a g e

Thats a pretty big leap youre taking.

Is it, now? said Daniel and leaned his hands on the conference table, craning toward
King in a cold confidence. Ive dealt with people with something to hide, and Connor Mitchell
is not being truthful. Hes scared. I just want to know if hes scared more of the Specials or
being brought up on charges for conspiring to commit to a bombing. Lean on him, and get me
those coconspirators. Thats it. Good hunting.
With that, the agents shuffled out of the room. Christine followed them with furtive
glances over his shoulder toward Daniel and Bradley until she was swallowed by the egress of
agents. Finally, only the S.I.T.F and King and his tight knit retinue remained.
Something you wish to add? said Daniel coldly.
This is still a Bureau investigation, replied King coolly. You may be barking orders,
but we get the credit if this is as big as you say it is.
Actually, replied Daniel, I felt I was understating it.
Well, then, well handle the investigation from here.
As long as the intelligence comes to me, you can gnaw on that bone I threw you to your
hearts content.
Oh, I will.
With that, King turned and his retinue followed him out of the War Room. Daniel leaned
over to Leonard.
Howd I do?
You got them running, said Leonard, standing up and walking around the conference
table, patting Daniel on the back as he passed. Ill keep it that way.
Leonard followed King and his men out of the War Room leaving Daniel with the rest of
the team. McCormack leaned in toward Daniel, his eyes scrutinizing.
Youre really going to let them do the footwork?
Thats what theyre there for, said Daniel with a shrug. Boatmans been on me for
weeks to let them run with the ball and Ive recently had a run in with a spook who has given me
something to think about.
And that is? said Bradley.
Daniel looked at the three windows on the glass wall and bored into them with his
intensity.
585 | P a g e

Were under a microscope here, and there are people aside from Boatman watching us
and trying to keep us in the maze.
The maze? blinked Bradley.
I have a feeling that this case could have already been in the win column if it wasnt for
Special interests being protected by the devils we dont know.
Who is the devil we dont know?
Thats the thing. I dont know. And thats got to change.

N e w

te r

2 9:

O r l e a n s

he dock off Lakeshore Drive was eerily quiet in the mist rolling in from the Gulf of
Mexico as the busy traffic from Lakefront Airport in the background whispered its
presence to the lone figures on the dock.

Lesley Ayers stood on the dock as an impeccably dressed man with straw colored short

hair and manicured nailsbetraying not a day of hard workstepped from a limousine some
twenty yards back, flanked on either side by black tinted SUVs. He was a fair-skinned man with
a regal air. Behind him stood no less than five formidable looking bodyguards. He stood there

586 | P a g e

nervously, swallowing hard as he faced off with Lesley who stood with his back to Lake
Pontchartraine.
And who might you be? said Lesley, his voice lilting in his relaxed British accent.
Jordan Pritchett, said the lawyer, of Flowers, burns, Marks and Stein,.
Flowers, burns, Marks and Stein, repeated Lesley with a chuckle. Thats quite a
mouthful.
I am here representing Rumming International, continued Pritchett, obviously feeling
that if he plowed on the business would be over quickly, and not knowing what to expect from
Lesleythough he had been warned he was dangerousdecided that speed and a brave tone
would weather him through this uncomfortable moment in his evening, leaving him free to return
to his wife and child quickly after the necessary points were recited and made clear.
Lesley, hearing the shaking voice interrupted Pritchetts attempt to power through his
little speech with a wave of his hand and an empathetic tone.
Theres no need to be nervous, interrupted Lesley.

This is only a business

negotiation.
My client, stammered Pritchett, has advised me to inform you that you are in breach
of contract and that no payment will be made for your work. Having said that, Pritchett seemed
to draw some strength as though the ugly part of his participation was soon to be over and
snapped his fingers to the five bodyguards behind him. He added, with a braver tone, These
men here are to escort you to your vehicle and see you off until you reach city limits.
I see, said Lesley, an amused smirk on his face as he gestured to the approaching
bodyguards. These men here?
Yes, sir, said Pritchett, slightly nervous for the smile on Lesleys face.
I see youve brought a healthy supply of bodies, mused Lesley with a gesture toward
the men as though impressed by their size and bulk but not altogether daunted. He returned his
attention to Pritchett, and I recognize you as some little prat attorney, but my business is with
Randall Delacroix.
My client is a busy man, said Pritchett, a little uneasy with Lesleys flippant response
to the most intimidating guards he could find to accompany him. His voice shook with a note of
fear as his voice rang clearly, obviously in an effort to appear composed, and doesnt have the
time or interest in a meeting with you.
587 | P a g e

I see, said Lesley, looking malevolently at Pritchett. Even if I said I Currently had him
by the bollocks?
Pritchett blinked, having been sure he had a firm command of the English language up
until tonight, he was slightly taken aback by having a word he never heard before thrown back at
him with such impunity.
I dont understand, stammered Pritchett, Bollox?
I have men stationed throughout these parts, said Lesley commandingly, at several of
his offices and refineries up the delta. I really just have to make a call.
Lesley reached into his jacket and all five guards drew their weapons and trained them on
Lesley. Lesley pulled out the cellular phone and held it up high so all the guards could see it
plainly in his palm.
Youre going to shoot me over a phone call? sang Lesley with a smirk on his face.
Pritchett, who was standing in the line of fire, held up his hands to the guards, not
altogether trusting their aim to be true solely to Lesleys detriment. He turned to Lesley almost
pleadingly.
Sir, said Pritchett tentatively, I advise you to go with these men to your vehicle and to
leave New Orleans as soon as humanly possible. With that Pritchett shuddered as he said, For
your sake.
For my sake, repeated Lesley with a smirk, still holding the cellular phone aloft.
Thats a lovely sentiment. But you see, were still in a meeting. And I want to speak with
Randall Delacroix right now, or things jump off.
What do you mean? demanded Pritchett, nervously.
I mean the destruction of Monsieur Delacroix assets, said Lesley plainly, I mean his
bankruptcy over something as trivial as a payment heoh, how shall we put itforgot to place.
His eyes bored into Pritchetts and a smirk played on his face as he said, Its hard to get paid
when a man has nothing, wouldnt you agree Mr. Pritchett? Lesley stood there and let the words
sink into Pritchetts mind and the threat reach out to him through the roundabout means. Think
of all the business you stand to lose if I am forced to place a callSay, from my caras I am
driving with this entourage to the city limits.
Pritchett stood stock still, surveying Lesley with a note of trepidation in his voice as it
dawned on him what Lesley might be implying.
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Are you saying, stammered Lesley, youre a terrorist?

Not in these emotionally charged times, no, answered Lesley, simply. The word
terrorist implies some religious tendency in this climate. He added as an afterthought, and then
returned to the reason for the meeting by saying, Im in the business of getting a client whatever
he needstoday what he needs is security.Right now, Im reminding my client he needs my
assistance in securing his properties. Lesleys tone grew courteous as he said, Could you help a
man out and give your boss a call and convey to him the dangerous position his holdings are in
right now?
Mr. Delacroix cant be reached, right now, said Pritchett, then added stupidly, Hes
golfing.
Hes golfing, repeated Lesley with the first sign of displeasure creeping into his smirk.
Thats nice for him. Perhaps we could continue this discussion at the ninth hole over a drink,
what do you say?
These men will take you, now, said Pritchett, glancing at his watch and realizing he had
been delayed far longer than he had originally intended all due to the cool nature of Lesley. He
then looked up at him and his eyes showed some concern, not much, but some. I suggest you
not give them reason to shoot you.
Alright, sighed Lesley, with a tone of surrender, though the look on his face was not
one of resignation, but satisfactionas though he saw an opportunity to stretch or flex a muscle
he had been itching to flex.
Lesleys eyes drained of color and filled with blackness. Just then, a westerly wind blew
and wafted a foul odor to the approaching guards. They instantly covered their noses and
mouths and began coughing so hard they dropped their guns. On hands and knees, they retched
on the ground, and puddles of sick dripped from their mouths onto the dock.
Lesley seemed completely at ease. He smiled down at Pritchett who was now retching
too and quickly buckled under the strain of trying to keep his composure. On his hands and
knees, Pritchett vomited and heaved in a dizziness. His eyes trailed upward to see the polished
shoes of Lesley Ayers gleaming at him.
It will pass in a moment, said Lesley down to Pritchett.
What did you do to me? Pritchetts strangled voice begged.
Lesley smiled as he hit speed dial on his phone and held it to his ear.
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It appears they need convincing, said Lesley to whoever was on the other end of the
line. Hit the refinery and the delta corridor offices.
Lesley disconnected the line and returned his gaze to Pritchett.
Who was that? gasped Pritchett, still on his hands and knees, bending his neck around
to crane up at Lesley sideways. Lesley crouched down, careful not to let his knees near the
puddles of sick forming on the ground, as he bent next to Pritchetts ear.
My associates, answered Lesley, with a knowing look. You could have saved lives. I
just needed a meeting with Monsieur Delacroix. Now, well have to wait for him to call me.
Just then, to the south, there was a flash of light on the horizon, like a bolt of lightning,
followed by another and another.
Pritchett looked up at Lesley who smiled down at him.
Come along, said Lesley, offering Pritchett a hand and helping him rise from the
sodden ground, You wouldnt want to miss this.

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C h a p t e r

3 0:

S.I.T.F Mobilizes

he last few hours had been a fountain of information.

King grudgingly refused to

answer Daniels calls, which went to voicemail to his annoyance, but his team was
poring over the data from the files he had given to them and the insights were flowing

back to his terminal with surprising speed, making Kings verbal participation unnecessary.
Owens and Duprees voice records had proven to be Godsends to the stifled
investigation and the agents headway was lightning-fast, much to Daniels surprise.
Maybe I should learn to let go a little more often, he thought to himself. These guys
are good!
There was something to be said for Boatmans technique of putting others to the task and
sitting back collecting the information as it flowed in. And now it was pouring in so fast Daniel
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spent most of his time reading so many transcriptsof documented phone calls and voicemails
and seized emails under various accountsit made him feel a little dizzy in an excited kind of
way.
What especially piqued his interest was the data on money transfers placed in Grand
Cayman accounts. The money had been moved into the accounts just days before the attack on
the U.S.S. Elysium and not so much as touched since. With a simple email, Daniel set up agents
to watch the money and see where it would be shunted to.
The files on the interviews with Owens and Dupree were dull in every way. Apparently
the agents assigned to interview the men sat down at Owens office and Duprees home and ran
through a list of questions that anyone would deny and at the end of the conversation shook
hands and left them to their business. Daniel could not fault the agents for this. They had no
authorization to take the men into custody, thanks to their high-ranking government officials
which as of yet remained nameless.
Daniel sent off an email to the investigative agents ordering that Owens and Duprees
movements from then on out be watched closely and authorized taps on their phones and emails.
The idea behind this was to cause them to feel the heat and see if they acted recklessly.
They did not place any calls or emails to anyone even remotely connected with Teleron
Global or any other powerful company, corporation or conglomerate however, instead they
called their lawyers and government contacts. The walls came up quickly afterward and Daniel
watched the investigation stall again. Owens and Dupree were now untouchable again. But not
unwatchable. Daniel ordered the agents surveiling them to up their presence around their homes
and places of business, and leaned back in his chair.
Time to call in Boatman.
Daniel was just about to pick up the phone when it rang in his hand.
Across his viewscreen the words SPECIALS ALERT blared and Daniel knew this was
not going to be a phone call about either Owens or Dupree.
Daniel picked up the handset and grit his teeth, anticipating the worst.
Rooke, declared Daniel.
His eyes burned and he gripped the handset so hard the plastic protested at the seams as
he listened to the frantic voice on the other end of the line. His finger flicked the SPECIALS

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ALERT icon and the GPS coordinates downloaded onto the viewscreen as well as pictures of the
assailants.
Daniel grit his teeth as he recognized the masked men by their signature moves and the
devastating aftereffects.
It was the Black Ops team. It had to be.
Well be there in thirty minutes.
Daniel hung up the phone and pressed his index finger to the intercom icon on his
viewscreen. There was a thump and squeal of hidden speakers throughout the hangar and Daniel
knew that he was facing a live microphone embedded in the computer.
Task Force to the War Room, commanded Daniel. Repeat, Task Force to the War
Room, on the double.
Daniel rose and turned around to glance out the window onto the hangar floor. Agents
rose up from their terminals and cubicles and followed the rushing Specials as they made their
way toward Daniel. Footsteps fled their offices and raced down the hallway clanking down the
metal staircase as Daniel rose and followed them out of his office and down the hall at a
quickstep.
Over his shoulder, he could make out Chad and Josh racing at a frantic run before he
turned his head away and committed himself deeper into the hall, mounting the steps and upon
reaching ground level, wheeling around and marching toward the War Room. The door was ajar
and he could hear the Task Force surge with energetic chatter inquiring of McCormack and
Leonard what was happening, of which they had no answer.
When Daniel entered the room it was to see all eyes on him. He noted even Christine
was in the War Room, watching him with excited eyes. Daniel wasted no time in bringing the
meeting to order.
Alright! said Daniel with the full authority of his office in his voice, Weve got a call
online and were taking the

AB out to confront a Specials team in open hostility with security

forces and law enforcement! Were in the air in five, people!

Where we heading? inquired Bradley, gravely.
New Orleans, answered Daniel. Suspects have taken over a government-sponsored
facility and are leveling the place. Oh, and the team fits the description of the Black Ops team,
so look sharp!
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Bradley looked grim. McCormack patted him on the shoulder supportively as they
communicated with each other without words, or at least, not words they could hear. Leonard
squeezed Bradleys shoulder and gave him a comradic push that seemed to break the tension a
little, as Bradley smiled.
Daniel watched as the Task Force filed out of the War Room led by Leonard.
Alright, girls! he bellowed. You heard the man, lets go earn our paychecks!
There was a thunderous agreement in the room and Daniel grinned as Leonard exited the
War Room followed in file by McCormack and Bradley, Chad and Stephen with Josh and Joseph
in the rear. Christine stood still in the room watching everyone leave.
Mr. Rooke?
What is it? said Daniel distractedly as he prepared to follow the Task Force out of the
room.
I was wondering, said Christine tentatively, could I come?
What? blinked Daniel, his eyes wide in shock.
All I do is read and study and file papers.
And right now thats all you can do is study and perform clerical duties. Youre fifteen
for Christs sake!
Sixteen, corrected Christine, apparently insulted Daniel would not see her growth or
acknowledge her as a peer.
All this was missed by Daniel, who pressed his point.
You havent got the training for making arrests.
I can handle myself.
Thats my final word on the matter.
I want to help! pleaded Christine her eyes sparkling with fresh tears of frustration.
No! barked Daniel, and Christine recoiled and put her head down miserably. Daniel
softened under her sad brown eyes and put his hand on her shoulder, squeezing it tenderly.
Youve got what it takes to make a great asset to the team in a few years, when you graduate.
Youll be the face of the modern Special. But that will come in time. Right now, hit the books
and do me proud. Thats the most you can do for now. Thats all. Go back to your books.
Thats an order.

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Daniel turned away from the downcast eyes as though it were something indecent to
behold.

He had never mastered the art of talking to children.

In fact, the only teens he had

spoken to in years were always runaways, prostitutes, dealers or drug addicts.

That he could

deal with. He did not break their spirits. Someone else had. All he could do was pass them
along into the system to get help through family services and hope for the best. But to be
responsible for a troubled teen, and witness her disappointment and tears was almost too much to
bear.
When he got back from this mission, he was going to have to do something to make that
little girl smile
Daniel wrenched open the door to the War Room and marched out after the team
following them down the thin corrugated metal walled corridor to the landing pad. The area had
been recently mowed and raked, and it shone the broken concrete to greater detail. Daniel was
slightly disappointed at the naked sight of the landing pad the AB-4 sat onthere was something
wild and bright about the wild flowers, weeds, and shoots of grass reaching up through the
cracks now it was just a rippled and warped tarmac with cracks running through it and the
occasional stubborn weed struggling to pierce the asphalt.
Within a few strides and a hop, he was on board the

AB and in the heart of the cabin.

McCormack and Bradley sat there in their suits, while the rest of the men changed into black
cargo pants and black steel-toed military boots.
Joseph, who was easily the tallest man in the cabin frowned as he pulled on his cargo
pants and his ankles showed at the bottom.

Chad tossed him a pair of tall cargo pants from

another drawer and Joseph undressed and tried again to a more satisfactory cut of the length,
pulling on his wide, size-thirteen boots and lacing them up.
Chad and Josh both looked worried for different reasons. Chad because of his abysmal
teamwork, Josh because he had not nearly the training the others had since the War. Joseph
seemed unaffected by the problem of going up against the Black Ops team and he rose with the
rest of the men with his usual queer expression of dry humor at the wrong moments.
They all donned black T-shirts which pulled tight as they pulled them on over their heads,
and slid their body armor in place over themthe letters S.I.T.F shone proudly in white across
their backs, while there were pockets on their left breasts to slide their credentials in place. Each

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of them did so until they looked like a fighting team ready for action. All except McCormack
and Bradley in their suits. Daniel frowned at them.
I want us dressed as a team, stressed Daniel.
We dont need body armor, replied McCormack with a wave of his hand.
Just put on the pants, shirts and boots, growled Daniel.
McCormack and Bradley turned to look at each other exchanging grimaces of
dissatisfaction and finally rose and undressed in the cabin. It was the first time Daniel had seen
either men without shirts on.

Their chiseled muscular frames gave them the look of college

athletes, though the scars on their bodies told otherwise. He then noticed the other Task Force
members had also dressed in a hurry to quickly cover up their own scars. Within seconds,
McCormack and Bradley had pulled on their cargo pants and laced up their boots.
They paused at the black T-shirts. Their eyes scanned the overhead carriages where they found
the names of the Task Force members in order across the length of the cabin, and ran their
fingers across the names: KILOTON, HEAVY GEAR, AURA, CRIMSON, STONEBREAKER,
MAXIMUS, PALADIN. McCormack opened the PALADIN compartment and pulled out a black
T-shirt with a blue insignia on the left breast and back that Daniel couldnt make out while
Bradley opened the MAXIMUS compartment and pulled out the black T-shirt with a red insignia
over the left breast and prominent across the back of the shirt. When they had donned their
shirts, Daniel saw that they were thick Anchors, the same as the Anchor on his badge.
Bradley and McCormack reached back into their compartments and began pulling out
utility belts and harnesses with bandoliers across them, locking them into place across their
waists and chests and donning WinVid sunglasses before sitting down.
The rest of the Task Force watched in fascination as McCormack and Bradley came to
rest in their seats and then looked at each other before rising and looking up their callsigns on the
overhead compartments and fetching their gear. Each had their own personal collection of utility
belts, harnesses, riot body armor and assault weapons.
Chad pulled out retractable nightsticks and knives, which he played with, pulling them in
and out of their sheaths on the bandoliers. He also had two automatic handguns with a series of
extra long twenty round carrying clipsfilled with ammunition ranging from rubber bullet to
hollow pointwhich he tucked into his holsters like a Special Ops gunslinger, sliding the clips
into pockets on his harness.
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Josh and Stephen pulled out Kevlar helmets that adhered to the contours of their skulls
with gel interiors to protect against concussions and they stared at the helmets, which bore fierce
expressions around the eyes.
Leonard pulled out a polo shirt that bore a stitch-work S.I.T.F badge over the left
breastbeing a man who was bulletproof it was safe to say he wouldnt need body armorand
a utility belt and harness which he quickly lashed to him, snapping it in place across his broad
chest. Then he retrieved a heavy assault rifle from the rack and admired it.
Rackenfield AR-57, breathed Leonard, admiringly, When you absolutely need crowd
control, this little babyd be the way to go.
Finally Joseph peered into the compartment labeled HEAVY GEAR. From it he pulled
body armor that he slid into and snapped in place, donned a Corinthian-style Kevlar helmet in
place fitting over his nose and eyes and protecting his skull down to the base of his neck. He fit
the utility belt around his waist, loaded a rubber gripped .357 Desert Eagle in the holster strapped
to his right thigh, a bowie knife which he slid into the case on his harness, then pulled out a more
modest Special Operations modified assault rifle with a targeting grid that lit up when he craned
his head to bear down his vision through the sights.
Thisll do. muttered Joseph.
He left the WinVid sunglasses where they were. They did not suit him, and he returned
to his seat, locking the harness in place as a queer expression drifted across his lips contorting to
a madmans grin.
Daniel shook his head and placed his index finger on the cockpit icon on the viewscreen.
Rooke to Redwing, were ready to go.
Strap yourselves in, cracked the intercom, and Daniel knew better than to walk casually
to his seat. With a leap and a bound, he found his place and locked the harness around him just
as his stomach lurched and the AB lifted off from the hangar, angled itself west and shot off like
a bullet.

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C h a p t e r

X e r o

3 1:

R e f i n e r y

NEW ORLEANS

ero hydrocarbon refinery and offices was a secured facility on the northeast tip of
Lake Pontchartrain. Nestled against the 10 Interstate Highway on Valley Island next
to Howze Beach, the offices and refinery encircled a miniature lake of freshwater, or

as close as freshwater could get in the delta of the Mississippi.

The offices on the east side were stark white with tinted windows, concealing all activity
in the buildings with security fences travelling around the very small island protecting the
parking lots, the buildings and the refinery itself which rested at the west end of the island facing
Lake Pontchartrain.

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On a normal quiet day, the traffic of employees cruised into the lot and made their way
into the offices, while trams waited to take the refinery staff across the island to be checked in
through security checkpoints. Xero was a highly contained facility with security hired directly
by SE Services.
At night, the island was almost serene, with the nearly empty parking lot, save for the
skeleton staff that worked nights and the refinery staff that changed over every eight hours
twenty-four hours a day.

On a normal night, all that would be heard was the sound of the

generators and ventilation machines roaring constantly, a low drone across the island.
But this was not a normal night. The stark white office buildings were pockmarked with
burn holes and shattered glass. In the parking lot, guards lay twitching on the asphalt or
perfectly still. Screams and murmured prayers echoed through the hallways as powerfully built
men with bloody hands stalked the corridors, sometimes zeroing in on a muttered voice or cry of
terror to add mayhem to the night. The refinery fared no better. Explosions rent the night in
billowing plumes and the earth trembled, sending cracks along the pavement.
Across the bridge to Valley Island, fire trucks and police cars lined Valley Island Drive
illuminating the night in red and blue flashes of light. Spotlights trained on the refinery and
offices, illuminating shattered windows to reveal the offices within and spectral shadows loomed
in the darkness lunging out and tackling bodies in the night as the overhead fluorescents
flickered feebly and the cries and wails of the skeleton crew echoed across the water to the chill
of the listener on the safe side of the bridge.
Overhead, a drone circled the sceneits powerful beam of light sweeping over the
havocilluminating it for the police and firefighters to witness.

Officer Cowlings, the first

officer on scene stood stark still at his cruiser at the far end of the bridge acutely aware that there
were killings taking place on the other end of the bridge.
What the hell is happening over there? breathed a firefighter.
Its like a hostage crisis, stammered Cowlings, but theyre just killing them!
This is taking too long, snapped Patrick, a powerfully built Sheriff with the Emergency
Task Force, and he turned to his men. Were moving in!
Were to wait for Emergency Services to arrive, cautioned Cowlings.
We are Emergency Services! spat Patrick. Who could we possibly be waiting for?

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I dont know, replied Cowlings. But I was told from on high that a Special Task Force
was coming in to make the arrest.
A Special Task Force? repeated Patrick. What are we then?
Not tonight, Patrick, begged the first responder.
Then when? Patrick demanded. Theyre dying over there!
Just then, a womans scream of terror and agony rent the night, echoing across the
yawning expanse of water separating the island from the growing crowd of police officers,
firefighters and paramedics.
Damn it, snapped Patrick, were going in.
The Task Force is five minutes out, Patrick! called Cowlings to Patricks back. Youre
just going to get in their way!
This Task Force can watch how its done in New Orleans! spat Patrick as he locked his
Kevlar helmet in place and lowered the protective plastic visor. Men! Follow my lead!
With that, the Emergency Task Force team gave a grunt of satisfaction, formed two lines
on either side of the bridge, and began to make their way down the bridge at a crouched
quickstep, their fingers on their triggers.
Damn it, Patrick!
What do we do? asked another officer, so young he had not grown out of the pimple
blemish phase of his youth.
Cowlings sighed.
Someones got to get this Task Force up to speed.
So youre staying? demanded the young officer.
All I know is, explained Cowlings, theres a report out from a 9-1-1 call made inside
the refinery that they were being attacked by at least three Specials, and you can see the damage
plain as day. If this Task Force can stand up to Specials, Ill make time for them over getting my
men killed any day.
Or you, said the young officer disgustedly.
Or me, confirmed Cowlings.
Cowlings was old enough to know running into a contained area with men stationed on
higher ground was near suicide and he was not going in there unless he had serious back up.
Patrick knew the risks were great, and so did his men, being decorated veterans all, but they were
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also prone to arrogance and moments of belief in their own immortality stoked by their own
legend among the men of the district.
Cowlings did not suffer from delusions of grandeur, nor did he charge in blindly. If there
was a risk, he called for backup. He was a decorated officer, not a glory hound.
The young officer looked at Cowlings with loathing for not being brave like Patrick and
his men.
Fine, spat the young officer, you wait here for the Task Force. Im getting my riot
gear and going in.
Would it help if I threatened to have you fired to keep you here? inquired Cowlings,
mildly.
Not tonight, retorted the young officer.
No, said Cowlings, turning away to face the devastation growing incrementally by the
minute with plumes of flame rising every few minutes and screams echoing across the space
between the security checkpoint and the edge of the bridge where his car was parked. Cowlings
murmured to himself. I didnt think so.
Just then, an

AB

jumped into position directly over the 10 Interstate Highway, and

angled southerly over the fire trucks and police vehicles as a stream of black SUVs maneuvered
the traffic down Valley Island Drive toward the refinery and offices. Cowlings looked up at the
sight and whistled to himself instinctively knowing this must be the Task Force he was waiting
on.
Onboard the AB, Redwing angled overhead crawling toward the head of the long line of
fire trucks and police cruisers that trailed the road up to the bridge connecting mainland from
island. From his seat, McCormack craned his head around to look at the viewscreen showing the
organized chaos below them as the SUVs raced ever closer.
Those would be Bureau cars, said McCormack.
Looks like the dick measuring contest is about to begin, chuckled Joseph with his queer
grin.
Daniel rose from his seat and pressed the icon on the viewscreen that connected him with
the cockpit.

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Redwing, said Daniel, get us down on terra firma and prepare to drop men on the
ground.
Where you want me to park? called Redwing.
How about that beachhead next to the first responder patrol cars?
Got it.
The

AB

maneuvered to the beachheadwith all eyes on either side of Valley Island

Drive watching the craft in astonishmentand touched down lightly next to the patrol cars.
Instantly the airlock hissed and parted revealing Daniel, flanked by his Task Force.
Daniel stepped down from the craft onto sand and grass and marched across the open
field to the patrol car at the head of the long line of cars marking him clearly as the first
responder.
Agent Rooke, said Daniel, showing his credentials, the eagle and Anchor displayed
proudly next to it.
Officer Cowlings, said Cowlings, offering his hand.
Youd be the first responder?
Yeah, I am.
Before Daniel could say another word, the mass of black SUVs that could be seen from
the air maneuvering through the mass of fire trucks, paramedic vans and police cruisers arrived
and all doors flew open as Bureau agents filed out and marched toward Daniel.
Daniel looked around over Cowlings shoulder and then looked back at him.
Whos in charge here? demanded Daniel, Ill need to coordinate with him.
That would be me. said the lead Bureau agent. Special Agent Walton with the Federal
Bureau of Investigation. You have a hostage situation. Im here to end it.
Daniel turned to Cowlings.
You going to let your collar slip away to some Feds?
No sir, replied Cowlings, eyeing Agent Walton with a growing antagonism.
Then whos in charge? insisted Daniel.
Thats a tough question at the moment, said Cowlings, scratching his head. Weve
divided into two groups. The ones who wanted to wait for the Task Force and-
-The ones who couldnt stand waiting while lives are on the line, finished Daniel,
grimly.
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Yes sir, agreed Cowlings.

Agent Walton watched in growing contempt at this circumvention of his assumed
authority and he stepped in between Cowlings and Daniel, glowering at the latter.
Who are you? demanded Walton, his eyes burrowing into Daniels.
Daniel, not one to be out-glared, returned the stare with vigor and took a step toward him
that left not a trace of intimacy in the gesture.
Agent Daniel Rooke of the Specials Investigations Task Force, said Daniel with cold
authority.
Walton blinked and took a step back away from Daniel, then surveyed the Task Force
who also eyed him with contempt. Cowlings blinked as he watched the change in the air and
realized Daniel was a man with the power to cow a Special Agent.
Are you a fed too? inquired Cowlings, in an effort to get a better handle on the situation
brewing.
I supersede them, replied Daniel.
Cowlings watched Agent Walton flush red in impotence, and then turned to Daniel.
Then what can I do to offer assistance, sir?
Get your men on the line, ordered Daniel. Impress upon them the need to fall back and
regroup with my men in the lead. Then added, Then meet me at my ride.
Yes sir. said Cowlings.
Cowlings turned away and got on his radio informing the Emergency Services team
marching across the bridge on the offices about the change in command and was met with groans
and coarse rebuttal. Cowlings weathered it all and continued to pressure his men into retreat for
the Task Force to take the lead.
Within a minute, twenty men raced back up the bridge toward their position, while the
remaining thirty officers moved deftly into the compound taking position at the security
checkpoint, checking the vitals of a security guard before moving on.

Each body they

encountered stirred them into a greater frenzy and they moved faster and deeper into the parking
lot converging on the office buildings.
Thats the most I can do, sighed Cowlings We got us some real hotheads tonight.
Then added as his eyes trailed the sky suspiciously, Must be the full moon.

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No, answered Daniel. Weve been waiting for this attack for a month. Its been
calculated.
You knew this was going to happen?! demanded Cowlings, a growing apprehension
and indignant rage building within him at the thought that they could have had warning of a
potential attack by way of a Terror Alert.
Somewhere, answered Daniel, sometime. We came as soon as word got out. But this
is different.
How? demanded Cowlings.
Theyre still here, replied Daniel. Somethings not going well.
Thats all well and good, Rooke, interrupted Agent Walton, but Ive heard of you and
your Special Task Force, and Im not impressed.
What impresses you, said Daniel, Agent Walton couldnt concern me less.
We have it from here, reasserted Walton, glowering down at Daniel. Stand down.
Just then, McCormack stepped forward.
Maybe I can be of assistance? offered McCormack.
Agent Waltons reaction was instantaneous, pulling his side arm and pointing it directly
at McCormacks heart.
Keep him away from me! shrilled Walton.
McCormack raised his hands in mock surrender and took a tentative step forward.
Easy now, continued McCormack, I just came to see if I could offer my services. I
come with real high credentials.
Get your men away from me! railed Walton, pointing the gun at Leonard, who seemed
prepared to take a walk right up to Walton and disarm him.
Stand down, Tobias. said Daniel, then as an afterthought added, You too Leonard.
I just wanted to talk, said McCormack.
This is not a man who can be talked down, apparently, said Daniel, then pulled
McCormack away and led him away from Walton. How about this: Take the men down to the
bridge and lead them into the compound. Look for survivors and if you come across a threat,
take them out.
What about Walton? said McCormack, a grin on his face.
Whats Walton going to do? scoffed Daniel, Hes just a mouth. Let him talk.
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Alright, smiled McCormack, and he turned toward the Task Force.

And get Joseph to put on his WinVid glasses, said Daniel as an afterthought. Ill need
to see whats up from his perspective.
On it, said McCormack, giving Daniel the thumbs up as he signaled the men and they
gathered around him and followed him toward the bridge.
What are your men doing? called Walton, Tell them to fall back!
Why dont you tell them? called back Daniel. When Waltons face burned red and his
shoulders tensed Daniel nodded and added, Thats what I thought. Daniel then turned back to
Cowlings. Officer! When you get a minute, I want you aboard my transport to follow the infil
and provide whatever intel you have for me on the ground.
Yes sir!
Cowlings shot a furtive look at the red-faced Walton and quickly followed Daniel onto
the AB.
Wont Walton follow us? said Cowlings, alongside Daniel.
Daniel chuckled.
Hes too scared to follow.
Whys that I wonder? murmured Cowlings.
Hes probably afraid my pilots a Special as well, surmised Daniel.
On board the

AB,

Daniel stood in front of the viewscreen, which opened into seven

separate windows showing the point of view of each Task Force member as they made their way
across the bridge. They moved in two teams. McCormack and Bradley took an aerial recon of
the perimeter while Leonard led Chad, Josh, Stephen and Joseph on foot across the bridge into
the compound.
Are those men flying? breathed Cowlings. I mean actually flying?!
Theyre just running a recon.
Cowlings eyes went wide in amazement.
So theyre Specials? Real Specials?
That they are.
Cowlings let out a low whistle, and wiped the sweat off his brow, running his fingers
through his peppering hair to hide the motion.
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It looks a real mess from up here, cracked McCormacks line.

Concentrate on the refinery, said Daniel to the viewscreen. There are thirty plus
trigger happy cops in the office buildings sweeping for Specials. I dont want you in the way.
Roger that, replied McCormack.
Redwing stepped into the cabin, his demeanor casual.
What are your orders, Dan? said Redwing.
John, answered Daniel. Get me closer to the action.
How much closer? queried Redwing, his eyes severe.
I want that parking lot, said Daniel.
With that, Redwing nodded and turned to climb the steps to the cockpit and began his
preparations for flight.
What about the hostage negotiators? said Cowlings. Dont you think thatll throw a
monkey wrench in their negotiations?
These men arent here to negotiate, replied Daniel, At least not with them.
You seem to know them, muttered Cowlings.
I think this is about money, replied Daniel.
What makes you think that? blinked Cowlings.
Just a hunch, replied Daniel. All I know is revenge is a waste.

Money is a greater

motivator for this level of calculation.

Perhaps its a little of both?
Maybe he replied, his look was one of puzzled curiosity. His words were directed to
the viewscreen showing the destruction at the refinery and offices on the island across the bridge.
Whats taking you guys so long? Why havent you left?
Daniel stood there staring at the viewscreen watching the point of view of each member
of his team, from McCormack and Bradleys amazing aerial perspectives to the ground teams
hunkered down perspectives. He did not bother to sit down and brace himself for the flight
such was the trust he placed in Redwings abilities to maneuver the craft two hundred yards
without disturbing his balance.
The

AB hummed and the hull lights dimmed as power redirected to the EM generators

and with a slight bob, the craft lifted effortlessly into the air and made its way closer toward the

606 | P a g e

carnage waiting on the other side of the security fence line. Daniel eyed his duffel bag and
pursed his lips, then turned back to the viewscreen.
What are they doing?! shouted Walton as the AB-4 rose into the air and angled toward
the island. Stop them! he shouted impotently, as if bullets could pierce the hull of an

AB.

Get them out of there!

Powerless, they watched as the

AB-4 passed over the security fence, penetrating deeper

into the compound, passing over the heads of the Task Force as they craned their necks to follow
its progress deeper into the island. The

AB

touched down in the center of the parking lot

adjacent to the office buildings.

Within seconds, there was a pound on the airlock.
Were popular, muttered Cowlings quizzically as his hand slipped over his pistol
handle. Daniel put his hand on his shoulder reassuringly.
Its just the team, answered Daniel and he hit the airlock safety icon on the viewscreen
then turned to greet the men.
He knew from the

WinVid

perspective window feeds to the cabins viewscreen that

Leonard was in the lead and was therefore unsurprised to see his menacing face when the airlock
hatch slid open.
Are you out of your mind? demanded Leonard, his eyes boring into Daniels
I want a better vantage point to examine the infil, explained Daniel, assuringly. And I
want to be on the ground for survivors. We have the room.
Youve also exposed yourself to the fight.
Hes right, agreed Cowlings. Maybe this wasnt such a good idea.
Its my call, replied Daniel. You have men in the building. I thought youd want to
be here for their retreat with casualties.
Will it really come to that? asked Cowlings, on unsure footing because of the fact that
Specials were involved.
When they engage the Specials, concluded Daniel, there will be no quarter. The
survivors will need a quick exfil to the paramedics standing by. Thats what were here for.
Daniel then looked at Cowlings, estimatingly adding, You cool with that?

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Im good, nodded Cowlings, swallowing hard.

In truth, Cowlings was not at all pleased to be in the thick of the front between two
separate forces of Specials with no compunction of killing. his real emotions showed on his
face, though he did his best to cover it with false bravado. Cowlings had gone his entire career
without being involved in so much as a No Knock Warrant, and had weathered the jeers of his
braver officers with coolness. This was the first time he had ever been in a hostage crisis or a
terrorist attacktake your pick.
Well I dont like it, said Leonard, at last. Youre supposed to be our commander. I
dont see how you can function this close to the front.
Ive always made my orders on the frontline, retorted Daniel. I see no reason why I
should be at a safe distance while my men are in harms way.
Well I appreciate the sentiment, answered Leonard, but this is highly unorthodox.
Well, admitted Daniel, Im also getting distance from the Bureau back there. It was
only a matter of time before they got the balls to attempt to board the AB and cramp my style.
What makes you think they wont follow you? pressed Leonard, scrutinizing Daniels
decision.
You saw them, chuckled Daniel.
Leonard looked back at the SUVs in the distance and pursed his lips. Then nodded.
Right, agreed Leonard at last. But your being here changes everything.
No it doesnt.
So your orders still stand?
Weve got Sheriff Task Force in the office building, and its only a matter of time before
the firefights kick off there.

Move in on the refinery. Shut down the Specials there. Thats

where the real fight will be.

But there are hostages in the offices, replied Leonard incredulously.
And the Sheriffs will be working to free them, answered Daniel.
Theyll fail, snapped Leonard severely.
But theyll delay the Specials from indiscriminate slaughter, answered Daniel. And if
things kick off at the refinery, maybe theyll pull out and reposition with the rest of the team to
contain the Task Force.
Leonard studied Daniel for a long moment and then nodded.
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Alright, well do it your way.

The offices can be rebuilt. That refinery is vital, declared Daniel. Make it happen.
Yes sir, said Leonard, and he looked over his shoulder at the rest of the men surveying
their readiness by their eyes.
Chad and Josh were nervous, but coiled for action. Stephens eyes were determined
bordering on a resigned suicidal glare while Joseph racked a round in the chamber of his Desert
Eagle, placed it back in the holster and slipped his rifle off his shoulder, again racking a round in
the chamber and nodded purposefully.
Leonard nodded to them all.
Move out!
At a low crouch, the Task Force hiked across the parking lot toward the secondary
security post separating them from the refinery and into shadow.
Moments later, they were in the glow of the security post. They paused to check the vital
signs of several guards lying still and moved on.
No survivors, so far, clicked Leonards voice over the radio. Were pressing deeper.
Keep your eyes peeled, ordered Daniel.
Roger that, clicked Leonards voice.
Daniel looked over at Cowlings.
Put up the frequency for your Emergency Task Force, Cowlings.
Cowlings accessed the viewscreen and opened the scanner setting typing in the
frequency. They were instantly met with chatter:
Where are these Specials?...I cant see a thing.Up ahead, theres movement.[a loud
crash echoed through the speaker in the cabin]Safeties offSheriffs Department!
Freeze!...[without warning, the sound of heavy gunfire rent the air as Daniel stood
transfixed on the scanner radio waves jostling to life, and a picture formed in his
mind]Weve got heavy fire!...[Then the gunfire ceased and the sound of mocking,
gloating laughter chilled the air around Daniel and Cowlings]Weve got incoming!
Multiple targets!...[there was a guttural roar that penetrated the cabin and Daniel knew
the fighters had been unleashed upon the Sheriffs Task Force who returned gunfire
sporadically]These guys are fast!...Did I hit one? I think I hit one!... [a scream rent the
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airwave]Louis is down! Get those paramedics in here!...Negative! Weve got to put

this threat down and then we can move him!...[more gunfire echoed over the open
line]Task Force advance!...
Theyre certainly brave, said Daniel, impressed by the fact they had not went into full
retreat.
They believe their own legend, scoffed Cowlings, Theyve never been trained for this
kind of scenario.
I didnt say they were particularly smart, answered Daniel. But brave? Id definitely
say that.
Just then a series of screams echoed into the cabin and both he and Cowlings stared at the
frequency wavelength warbling in new wild patterns to match the chaos in the office building:

Marcus!... Ned!... Let him go, you son of a bitch!...Ned!...He killed Ned!...Fuck this! Go
full auto on them!...Kill em all! Let God sort em out!...[again the sound of gunfire
filtered through the speakers, wild and uncontained as the Sheriffs experienced what had
come to be known as contagious fire, wild sweeping unloading of clips, reloading of
rifles and pistols and continuous fire until the last few shots were fired with the cries of
Im out! quickly repeating among the Sheriffs and supporting NOPD]Nightsticks!
Theyre not really intending on staying with no ammunition, are they? stammered
Daniel in disbelief.
Daniel looked back at his duffel bag and frowned as the urge to enter the fray pulsed in
his neck and pounded in his ears...the eagerness to throw himself into harms way rather than
stand still a second longer took long deep breaths to cleanse himself of. In his heart, he knew it
was too late. They were out of ammunition and undertrained. The Specials had shown aptitude
in conventional weaponry and hand-to-hand combat apparently without suffering casualties.
Now the Specials would sweep through them and teach them how a military unit functions in a
war zone.

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At once the screams echoed through the speakers and echoed off the walls of the cabin.
Redwing came running into the cabin with his gun drawn sweeping left to right until he realized
the cries were coming from the viewscreen speakers.
What the hells going on? demanded Redwing, and then looked at the viewscreen to
check the WinVid windows on the viewscreen. Is that the Task Force?
Not ours, replied Daniel. Hang on a second. Daniel depressed the icon on the
frequency band opening communication between himself and the Sheriffs and NOPD in the
building. Executive order, fall back! All surviving officers and deputies retreat to the parking
lot! Thats an order!
Who is this? cracked the frequency band.
Agent in charge Daniel Rooke of the Specials Investigations Task Force and Im
ordering you to fall into retreat immediately!
The cries continued to filter through the cabin as the battle raged on in the office
building.
Theyre not going to listen, said Cowlings matter-of-factly. Theyre too amped up.
Theyre out of ammunition and theyre being routed. snapped Daniel. Believe me, this
fight is over. Daniel depressed the communications icon again and barked into it. Repeat, fall
back!
Just then, a new voice entered the police broadband, his voice was stern and arrogant, and
one that made Daniel cringe with annoyance at his timing:
This is Special Agent in charge John Walton of the Federal Bureau of Investigation.
This is now a hostage negotiation, declared Walton, his voice commanding. Fall back
to containment positions in the stairwells and surrounding the building. Do not engage!
Fall back! cracked the frequency, Repeat, fall back!
Well, that simplified things, said Daniel. Now the negotiations will start.
They wont go anywhere, murmured Cowlings then turned to look at Daniels grim
profile. Will they?
No, answered Daniel. No they wont.
Daniel pressed an icon at the bottom of the viewscreen and opened up a window entitled
Cracker-Jack.
He began typing on the viewscreen into the Cracker-Jack window and pursed his lips.
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Thisd be a lot easier if Chad or Josh were here muttered Daniel, regretting sending
the full team in if only for his comfort in having to perform the hacks himself.
Finally data began scrolling and windows began blinking open in succession giving him
eyes into the office building security feeds. Daniel quickly dragged the opening windows to the
left side of the viewscreen to keep the windows from blinking directly over the WinVid feeds of
the Task Force, moving them into numerical succession until the left side was dominated by
security feeds. He then accessed Cracker-Jack again and patched into the office buildings
phone lines, though how exactly he did it, he had no idea. All he knew was that was exactly
what he wanted.
Finally, he muttered.
This is Special Agent John Walton with the Federal Bureau of Information, cracked the
phone line. To whom am I speaking?
Call me, said a deep voiced man, Ishmael.
Oh, cute, muttered Daniel.
Whats cute?
Moby Dick, replied Daniel, then saw the blank expression on Cowlings face. Forget
it.
Alright, Ishmael, said Walton, without missing a beatwhether he recognized the
famous sentence was unclearand did his best to control the conversation. Call me John. Ill
be speaking to you for a little while.
A little while? said Ishmael playfully, his deep voice sending the hairs on Daniels
neck on end. You must be familiar with my timeframe.
Im here to help you get what you want and get you out of this mess youve found
yourself in. If theres anything you need, Im the man to come to.
Oh really? said Ishmael, and you could hear the wide smile stretch across his face.
Like say I want a woman?
Id be the man to talk to, answered Walton.
How about a burger and fries?
You must be hungry, said Walton, attempting to empathize with Ishmael. What about
the hostages? They must be famished.

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Idiot, muttered Daniel listening intently to the tone of the hostage taker. Theyre
dead already.
Oh, I think the hostages can stand to do without a meal, replied Ishmael with a
chuckle.
Well, tell me Ishmael, said Walton. How many hostages are there?
Oh, I havent bothered to count, replied Ishmael with an air of indifference. Then his
tone turned dark and a shiver travelled down Daniels spine. But theyre real tasty.
I didnt catch that? said Walton, perplexed by the statement.
Never mind, said Ishmael. Well John, since I have you on the line, I do have a list of
demands. You do want to hear them, is that correct?
Yes, began Walton, excitedly, I can take your demands.
Good, replied Ishmael coolly. Then lets start with the police officers and deputies
who attempted to infiltrate the building. I want that sorted out to my liking.
What would you like?
Them out of the building and off the island. I see you have an
parking lot. I want it gone.

AB-4 parked in my

Its presence disturbs me. I just might have to kill a hostage or

two.
Rooke, said Walton impatiently, Are you monitoring this frequency?
Daniel depressed his finger on the speak icon and the speakers chirped.
You know I am, answered Daniel.
Move your AB out of my scene, growled Walton in a display of power, and prepare to
surrender yourself to my authority when you touch down.
When the wounded and dead are loaded up, my pilot will exfil them to safety,
stipulated Daniel, But not by your orders.
Well, sang Ishmael chuckling over the phone line. it seems that theres a pissing
contest in the works. It makes me wonder who I should be talking to.
That would be me, Ishmael, said Walton, quickly.
By all means, talk to Walton, said Daniel dismissively. I have nothing to say to you.
Really? sang Ishmael. Even if it meant the lives of my hostages?

613 | P a g e

Daniel grit his teeth and stared at the window for Camera 37. There a powerfully built
man leaned against a desk with a phone in his hand, his expression was mocking. Facial
recognition software activated automatically and began filtering through databases with
thousands of identification pictures running for a match. Daniel opened the Specials Veteran
files to speed up the search. Within seconds there was a hit in the Black Ops file under the name
Eugene Townsend, callsign Uproar.
Daniel hit the speak button a little too hard, and the glass on the viewscreen moaned in
protest.
I want proof of life, Eugene, challenged Daniel, a grin stretching his face as he said
Ishmaels true name over the line.
He was pleased to see the mocking sneer on the hulking mans face disappear from his
face as he looked about the scene of carnage for a fraction of an instant, looking for signs of
movement. There was none.
Rooke, barked Walton, stand down!
If Im going to waste my time talking to this guy, responded Daniel, I want proof of
life. Daniel scoffed over the line, his eyes boring into the image of Ishmael. I can already tell
by the look on your face that everyones dead or hiding.
Finally the hulking man looked up to see the camera in the corner of the room. Daniel
waved to the viewscreen.
Hi. he taunted.
The hulking man made a final gesture with his hand and reached up and covered the
whole viewscape of the camera. With a powerful yank, the window was reduced to static.
I dont want to talk to this man after all, said Ishmael, a note of anger in his voice. If I
hear from him again, Im going to start killing hostages. Is that understood, John?
Yes, Ishmael, kowtowed Walton. Rooke, get off the frequency and report back to me,
now.
Not until I get the dead and wounded, stipulated Daniel.
There was a pause over the line in which Daniel, Cowlings and no doubt Walton held
their collective breaths.
They may go, said Ishmael dismissively.

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Within a matter of seconds, bloodied Sheriffs and New Orleans Police officers staggered
out of the building in a daze with no general direction planned to run in. They just fled on
instinct.
Open the hatch! ordered Daniel to Cowlings. Get those men in here! As an
afterthought he wheeled around on Redwing. John, turn on the outboard lights and get their
attention.
Redwing holstered his side arm and ran up the steps into the cockpit, and flicked an icon
on the heads up display. The outside immediately was awash with light.
Get over here! shouted Daniel into the microphone embedded into the cabin wall
beneath the viewscreen. Move! Move! Move!
Daniel rushed through the cabin and hit the airlock seal, which hissed and slid open
revealing the brightly lit parking lot outside. The walking wounded staggered, some carrying,
some dragging fellow officers and deputies out toward the bright lights of the AB.
Daniel and Cowlings stood on opposite sides of the hatch, and half seized/half dragged
the men into the cabin.
Redwing was not so trusting of the men and kept his sidearm at his side in case one of
them turned out to be a Special wearing a dead officers uniform. There was honestly no way to
tell, and Daniel shared his nervous suspicions, eyeing Cowlings to give the occasional call of an
officers name or a recognizing nod to a deputy as they hauled them into the cabin.
Before long the cabin was full and men were laying in the aisle perfectly still. It was all
starting to affect Daniel who flashed back to a time in the war where an

AB-4 just like this was

loaded for bear with wounded bleeding through their armors onto the carpeted walkway beneath
them.
With a firm shake of his head, the cabin returned to present day and he surveyed the
parking lot for signs of surviving officers and deputies.
What do you want to do? asked Cowlings, glancing between Daniel and the crowded
floor.
We wait for the slower ones and then we move the

AB back to the triage unit in the

back.

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You sound like youve done this before. said Cowlings, scrutinizing Daniel and finding
the mystery of the man intriguing.
Daniel stood there staring around at the wounded men staggering into the cabin and
falling into seats or collapsing onto the cabin floor which quickly grew slick and sticky with
blood.
A long time ago. muttered Daniel.
Just then, the communications line with the Task Force cracked to life in the cabin though
the connection was filled with static.
Weve reached the refinery, said Leonard. No contact. Proceeding inside the facility.
Daniel looked up at the

WinVid windows and saw them grow more and more grainy the

closer they approached to the refinery. He reached out and pressed the microphone icon.
Hold your position, Leonard, Im losing contact with you. All Im getting is static.
S.I.T.F reached the refinery and the windows on the viewscreen went to static haze as
Leonards commands and requests for orders grew faint and static dominated the line.
Leonard, come in? requested Daniel, finally he scoffed and pressed the icon again.
Tobias, Bradley, give me something.
There appears to be shielding around the refinery preventing transmissions from Wi-Fi
frequencies, said McCormack. Its probably to prevent industrial espionage. I dont think its
anything in the suspects inventory.
That doesnt do me much good, responded Daniel. What can you do to get my team
back online?
Ill go in as cover, announced Bradley and static began affecting his

WinVid window

and com line as he dove down to the toppled blast doors at the entrance to the refinery.
Tobias, said Daniel, Ill need you to do a sweep of the office building and round up
any Specials you come across.
What about local PD? said McCormack.
Theyve been routed, responded Daniel. I need a man on the ground there to provide
cover while their people drag out the dead and wounded.
Roger that, responded McCormack. Im heading to the offices.

616 | P a g e

Entering refinery Bradleys voice crackled over the open communications line. And
then the static dominated every other sound.
Brad do you read? demanded Daniel, Brad? Daniel leaned back and scoffed. And
Ive lost him.
Ive arrived at the office building, said McCormack, crystal clear. Entering now. Will
report any findings once Ive made contact with hostage takers.
Roger that, said Daniel, relieved he still had contact with at least one of his men. Out.
Daniel turned to his duffel bag and ripped it open revealing his body armor and arsenal.
Lawrence will not be pleased with me.
Without hesitation, Daniel stripped down and began slipping on his sectional body armor
then pulled his black cargo pants on and laced up his boots. From the depths of his duffel bag he
produced a long barreled

SKV-6,a Special operations modified, Israeli made, black-chrome

finished variable-carbine handgunaffectionately christened

SHEOL

by Mossad Agents,

equipped with an elongated clip extending ten inches below the base of the grip to accommodate
the fifteen .500 Magnum rounds. The gunSHEOL , meaning the grave or abyss in
Hebrew was the chosen name for the modeldue to the types of rounds it incorporated in firing
and the reduced degree of survivability of the intended target if hit by a single round, was
probably one of the most dangerous guns on the market, requiring many hours of training to
master the firing range with one.
It was a beautiful weapon to look at, and Daniel took his time examining it, preparing
himself for the ugly work he was committing the tool to. This was the weapon he would employ
against the Specials should they move his hand.
Daniel slid it into the holster lashed to his thigh and secured it in place by the thick
leather snap guard, and, as an afterthought, picked up a bandolier with grenades on it and threw it
over his head to rest on his shoulder.
What are you doing? inquired Cowlings skeptically.
Im going in, replied Daniel, coolly.
What about your mandate to stay out of the action and give commands? reminded
Redwing from the steps leading to the cockpit.

617 | P a g e

Im cut off from the team at the moment, in case you havent noticed. I need to get to
them and get them moving.
Thats all? said Redwing disbelievingly.
I make no promises, said Daniel grimly.
Just to remind you, Redwing said bracingly. Im not on your team, nor am I affiliated
with Homeland Security. Im on loan solely to you and Boatman.
Daniel sensed some threat or reprimand and glared at his pilot expectantly.
Your point?
Dont go getting yourself killed, Redwing said at last. I was just starting to get used
to earth gravity and air that isnt processed and recycled.
Ill keep that in mind, replied Daniel with a grim nod to the wounded officers and
deputies. Get the men on board the AB and when youve got a full load transport them back to
the emergency medical teams setting up triage units at the rear. As an afterthought, he added:
Dont come back without my express ordersor, failing mine, McCormacks.
Roger that, replied Redwing. Good luck.
Seal the doors, said Daniel. Unless you see retreating Law Enforcement personnel or
Tobias, dont open em.
Will do, replied Redwing.
With that, Daniel hopped out of the

AB and sprinted off toward the security checkpoint

leading to the refinery. Within a matter of footsteps, the blaring light of the

AB died away and

the dim flickering lights of the parking lot light posts offered less light to guide by as he raced
into the blackness where the lights could not follow.

618 | P a g e

C h a p t e r

3 2:

The High Ground, And The Kill Box

tanding in the darkness of the dead end road of Lakeshore Drive, an abysmal desolate
tract of land to be on in the best of times, illuminated by moon, stars and distant lights of
the adjacent wharf overlooking Lake Pontchartrain, stood Jordan Pritchetta lanky

lawyer whose main efforts up until that moment in his life had been spent, since law school, just
trying to make partnerwho had, only a handful of hours ago, found himself fortunate to be
representing Rummings International in any capacity, grateful at the opportunity to prove
himself as indispensible, and hoping this role would please the partners to promoting him if he
619 | P a g e

could just win the notice of Randall Delacroix, Rummings CEOthat he would smile down on
him and make a favorable appeal to his bosses at Flowers, Burns, Marks and Stein to make him
partner.
But, now, all that was gone.
Now, he stood trembling, with his ear to his cellular phone listening to it ring until it
transferred to voicemail.
He instantly disconnected the call and pressed send again, dialing Mr. Delacroix.
Put it on speaker phone, said Lesley.
Pritchetts nervous expression let him know that he had heard it as a command, and
softened his tone for the sake of his nervous lawyer associate.
If you please, added Lesley, endeavoring to calm the unwitting middleman in his
negotiation with Delacroix.
What is it? demanded Delacroix over the grainy connection.
Mr. Delacroix, breathed Pritchett, theres a problem with the matter you had me attend
to.
What problem is that? said Delacroix, menacingly at being disturbed over a matter that
should have been put to bed, already.
The man you sent me to meet? he stammered, glancing over at Lesley, His associates
are currently attacking your holdings in New Orleans and from what Im being told, are moving
up the Mississippi River.
Lesley gestures for the phone to speak to Delacroix personally.
Pritchett studied him for a long moment and then, wisely, handed the phone over to
Lesleys outstretched hand.
Lesley held the phone up to his ear and let out a stellar smile, as though he were before
Delacroix, his tone was charming and disarming.
Monsieur Delacroix, said Lesley, gregariously. How are you this evening?
Who is this? demanded Delacroix coldly.
My name is unimportant, sidestepped Lesley with a grin. What is important is whom I
represent.
What do you want? demanded Delacroix.

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I have just had a long and uneventful conversation with your attorney Mr. Pritchett who
informs me you have an aversion to paying us for services rendered on your behalf. Lesley
continued in a singsong voice. Say it isnt so, because I would hate it if I had to pick at your
assets one by one, leaving you bankrupt.
Youre attacking my home offices, clarified Delacroix. You couldnt begin to know
where all my assets are.
Well how about I start with the installation you have at the delta for starts? offered
Lesley coolly. And the other two in Durango, Colorado and Billings, Montana within the hour if
my fee is not transferred. Plus an additional fifty million for forcing us to take action.
What is this, scoffed Delacroix, a shakedown?
Call it what you like, Monsieur Delacroix, said Lesley, The point is we dont make a
move without payment. Youve forced us to go to work. We will be paid for it. And next time,
just pay the agreed upon fee.
Alright, snapped Delacroix angrily. Ill pay!
Excellent, replied Lesley, his British lilt accentuating the word into a singsong.
Where do I send the money? murmured Delacroix.
Ill email you the account information, replied Lesley, and he pulled out his cellular
phone and began typing in Delacroix personal email address, typing feverishly with his thumbs
until at last he hit send. There was a pause and then a chime echoed on Delacroix end of the
line.
Alright, said Delacroix, a mounting pressure in his tone through his grit teeth. I have
it.
Good, sang Lesley, Once the money wire is confirmed on our end, my men will pull
back, not until. The line went dead. Well, that was just rude.
Lesley handed the phone back to Pritchett and pulled out his notebook, opening a
window to the Grand Caymans and began humming to himself as he typed in a complex series of
numbers for the password.

Pritchett shifted his weight from one foot to the other nervously,

unsure whether or not he was allowed to leave. Finally he could not take it anymore.
What now? begged Pritchett, anxiously.
Now we wait, replied Lesley, as he opened his account and stared at the zero marking
the balance.
621 | P a g e

For what? begged Pritchett, apprehensively.

For Monsieur Delacroix to follow through on his end, answered Lesley matter-offactly. Then added ominously, and not try to play games with us.
Games? asked Pritchett in a clarifying tone.
False accounts transferring phantom money into accounts, said Lesley, or worms to
embed themselves in our account to recall the money when were not looking. He looked at
Pritchett carefully and seeing no signs or knowledge of duplicity in the man, smiled and closed
his notebook. Just a typical day in the life of a mercenary. What a world we live in, eh
Pritchett?
Lesley stood stock still as he accessed his offshore account and waited for the zero to
change to the nice round figure of $550,000,000.00.

Neither Lesley nor Pritchett broke the

silence as Lesley stared intently at the account on his notebooks viewscreen.

Xero Refinery
With his SHEOL raised to a safety position, Daniel stepped through the torn down gates at the
security checkpoint and looked around for any sign of lifedespite the fact that his own team
had been through here and found nonehe could not help pausing and checking vital signs on
the bodies as he passed.
He rose and stepped lightly over and around the bodies as he made his way deeper into
the island.

The lights behind him dimmed and faded as he made his way out of its reach and

was consumed in darkness.

He pulled out his

WinVid glasses and slid them oninstantly casting the world around

him in a greenish hue as bright as dayas he walked on without fear of stumbling and darted
across the secured parking lot deeper into the darkness hopping over rent earth and toppled light
posts as he moved closer toward his objectivethe burning refinery.
On the rooftops he saw shadows moving and shapes darted about the faade as he raced
to the edge of the building and put his back to the wall. There, Daniel counted his heartbeats and

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controlled his breathing as he wondered whether or not he had been seen by the figures on the
rooftop or if they even cared about the lone gunman advancing on their position.
After all, to a Special, what could one normal human with a handgun, even a

SHEOL,

do to intimidate them?
But Daniel was not carrying the weapon for fashion. He had trained with the handgun
and his fingers and wrists had strengthened as a result of the hard trigger and powerful recoil of
the weapon.

He was a marksman with itand though rounds were expensivehe put in the

time to perfect his aim with the miniature cannon. If he could, hed strike a headshot. A miss
in a firefight was unacceptable, and though he had a long clip, he could not afford to waste
rounds.
Daniel craned his head upward and in the stillness, listened for the sounds of footfalls or
scuffling feet on the rooftop above him.
He heard nothing.
Slowly Daniel edged along the side of the building toward the toppled entrance to the
refinery and his men.
When he reached the door he heard the shouting inside, while above him, the footsteps
raced and the thin murmur of a radio was clearly audible in the silence of the parking lot.
How can they be communicating by radio? Daniel wondered in amazement, and he
frowned at his own useless equipment.
Tapping on his earpiece he was greeted by static. The insulation of the refinerys walls at
least shielded his electronics. Apparently the suspects gear was more sophisticated. More
powerful.
Daniel scoffed at the predicament that they could communicate freely and coordinate
assaults and defense while he and his men were blind and deaf for all intents and purposes.
Weve got company! Daniel clearly heard one of the men say as they raced across the
rooftops past him.
Finally, with a deep breath, Daniel stepped to the edge of the large doorway and peered
inside to the sight that would chill any Special Operations operative to the bone. His men stood
on ground level, while the suspects held the high ground surrounding thema sniper perched in
the rafters, or along the steel walkways overlooking the length of the burning refinery while

623 | P a g e

others were taking position on cranes and in the overlooking officeit was a most untenable
position to be in.
But his men did not shy away. They stood their ground in a circle facing each new threat
with an almost lazy professionalism. Leonard pointed his AR-57 at the two suspects standing on
the steel walkway who looked greedily down at him while Joseph knelt with his sniper rifle
pointed directly at the head of the sniper in the rafters who no doubt had Joseph in a headshot as
well. Stephen and Josh stood nearly back to back, Stephen pointing his fists at the office at the
far end of the refinerycould his ability project that far? Had he truly mastered it?while
Josh stood with his hands at his side, his aura growing bright with momentary flares. Chad had
his automatic handgun pointed up at the crane while Bradley stood still, his chest swelled up, his
arms tightened and his jaw clenched as he braced for the impending firefight.
S.I.T.F! shouted Bradley with a cold authority, Cease and desist!
Youre kidding, right? said the broad-chested Francis Tibbs through severe red eyes
and a grin that could barely contain his mocking laughter.
Im afraid not, Francis. said Bradley.
Tibbs glowered down at Bradley upon hearing his name aloud and bared his jagged teeth
in his stretching maw as he braced to jump from the walkway and take Bradley head on.
We have the high ground! bellowed Francis, Admit it!
Francis Tibbs was stopped by the firm hand of the Asian man who stood next to him.
The Asian man scrutinized the Task Force, his eyes falling on Stephen. Daniel recognized him
as Franklin Wang, callsign Fury, and approached from the shadows, cataloguing all he could
on his

WinVid glasses hoping the shielding in the walls would not affect the glasses internal

processor which he could download data from later.

Franklin stood stock still at the railing.
Kiloton? said Franklin, scrutinizing Stephen. Is that you?
Yeah, Frank, said Stephen, coolly. Its me.
This is why you turned us down? scoffed Francis, To be a government bitch?
Hey, replied Stephen with a shrug. It pays the bills.
You picked the wrong side, bro, answered Paul Hirano from the steel walkway as he
walked into view and lazily rested his hand on the railing with contempt.

624 | P a g e

John Simpson stepped out into the light next to Hirano, tittering in a mounting excitement
as he eyed Bradley and waved. Bradley said nothing.
Give it up, Paul, said Stephen, not blinking. You know me. Youre not going to get a
better offer from me.
Yeah right, scoffed Hirano. And kill your own team too, right?
Ive been working on my ability, warned Stephen. I can use it differently, now.
Really? replied Hirano scathingly. I miss the old exploding you. But if what youre
saying is straight up and you dont explode anymore
Hirano raised his hands and aimed at Stephen who fired a blast directly back at him,
knocking Hirano back, crashing into the wall behind him and beginning a firefight that spanned
the facility.
Task Force! bellowed Leonard, Engage targets as they come!
Leonard fired his AR-57 at the office window and the office exploded throwing the
Specials standing insideraining fire down on themout the window to crash to the ground
level smoking and charred but resilient as they bounced into crouched positions behind cover and
firing at the Task Force.
Joseph fired his rifle at the rafters just an instant before the snipers bullet struck him in
the helmet sending him on his back.
He rose quickly, shaking off the concussion, stripped off the helmet letting his long hair
hang free and proud and then Jumped to the rafters, grabbing the sniper and Jumping back down
to the refinery floor leaving the sniper twitching and convulsing where he lay.
Daniel reached Joseph and looked down at Randall Simms, callsign Scrape. He was
another borderline Ab-Spec mutated into a powerhouse of muscle and speed that belied his build.
Daniel grinned triumphantly knowing that he had recorded yet another Black Ops team member,
confirming their rogue activities for his records.
Joseph looked up in shock to see Daniel standing over him, his

SHEOL trained on the

room at large cherry picking targets to take.

What are you doing here? gasped Joseph.
Getting communication back up with my team, answered Daniel, not even
acknowledging his shock with a look down to Simms. Cuff him and get me some covering fire
on that man.
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Which one? requested Joseph, picking up his rifle.

Simpson, ordered Daniel.
Right, replied Joseph, and he took aim at John Simpsons head and fired. The bullet
burned away before it reached him, but the slag pelted his face and Simpson wiped his face with
shock and rage.
You! he bellowed locking eyes on Daniel.
Daniel leveled his

SHEOL at Simpson, gripping the trigger firmly as he braced for the

explosive recoil when Hirano caught Simpson by the arm and swung him around. It was clear
Hirano was in charge of the operation by the indignant way Simpson reacted to the distraction,
and finally stormed out of sight his energy signature flaring up in a tower of flames as he
disappeared deeper into the refinery leaving havoc in his wake.
Daniel lost his chance. Foolishly, he had not fired because he was neither attacked nor
could he bring himself to shoot a man in the back.
He turned and spotted Stephen and Josh fighting ten feet away, being drawn into the fight
with snipers high in the rafters.
Stephen, Josh! called Daniel, and they turned to recognize his presence with shocked
expressions on the verge of forming untimely questions. Daniel cut them off.
Take down that man over there! he bellowed over the gunfire and explosions. Francis
Tibbs!
Stephen and Josh flared up and fired on the Special who took cover, maneuvering around
the hydrocarbon processing machines, along the conveyer belts and fired from behind the
autonomous machines working through the firefight as if it were any other day. Tibbshis
musculature counting for nothing against energy emitting opponentsretreated behind the
slagged conveyer belt on the far side of the refinery under the burning office and fired from the
darkness back at Stephen and Josh.
From the crane overhead, another sniper fired on full automatic raining bullets down on
Chad who jumped between the bullets like a dancer with unerring grace meanwhile firing rounds
from his handgun with deadly accuracy causing the men on the steel walkway to duck and retreat
from the onslaught of bullets was in a world of his own.

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He was graceful, agile and free from his usually overpowering sense of dread of
conflictnow that the time had come, he found he was prepared to deal with whatever presented
itself before him and he did not shirk from it.
Daniel spun in a circle and caught sight of Bradley as he launched into the air and plowed
into John Simpsonsending him crashing headfirst into a wall behind him where he bounced off
and lay motionlessretreating as quickly as he could before Simpson recovered and flared up
with some form of radioactivity again.
Looking up at the overseers walkway he saw Leonard storm the steps with his AR-57
seeking out new targets to fire uponhe handcuffed Franklin to the railing before proceeding
onward into the midst of the Black Ops team where he was quickly joined by Chad and Bradley
launching themselves at Paul Hirano and Gregory Meyer with vigor.
Just then, Hiranos cellular phone began ringing and with a flick of his wrist he threw out
a shockwave that rattled the overseers walkway and sent Bradley and Chad struggling to
maintain their footing as Leonard went over the railing and fell to the floor below. He rose
quickly and ran around to mount the steps again at a sprint.
Cover me! said Hirano to Meyer, and turned away from the fight to speak into his
cellular phone. Say again? Hirano smiled as he disconnected the phone and tapped his
earpiece. Mission Complete! Bring the kids home!
Simpson grinned to Hirano.
The call could only mean one thing: that the transfers have been completed and the virus
programs have moved the money and erased the footprints. They were scot free and clean. Yet
Paul Hirano stood at the edge of the walkway with longing looking down at Stephen Giordano
fighting down below. Simpson grabbed Hiranos arm and jerked him away reaching for his belt.
You get all that? said Simpson, still grinning. Moneys in the bank! Pack it in!
One more thing I gotta do, said Hirano and he lashed out at Bradley and Chad,
knocking them on their backs as Leonard raced up the steps to cover them.
Meyer fired his assault rifle at Leonard to minimize his ability to capitalize off his AR57s Special capabilities while Hirano strode to the railing of the steel walkway and looked down
on Stephen, who stood side to side with Josh aiming at the Specials firing down on them from
the cranes.

627 | P a g e

Hirano grinned as a shockwave trembled in his hands and he took aim at Stephens spine.
In an instant it registered in Daniels brain that Stephen might not walk away from the blastan
instant was all the time he needed to decide what to do.
Daniel raced up and tackled Stephen and Josh, knocking them to the ground just as Paul
sent out the shockwavethe full force struck him square in the chestit was an odd sensation,
the sound of his bones shattering as he was propelled backward threw him into a state of vertigo.
It was agony. Daniel collided with the wall behind him and bounced off, rolling onto the floor as
the spots circled his vision and the blackness closed in.
So, thought Daniel, This is what dying feels like
The pain spiked as it travelled through his chest and down his spine and then faded as his
eyes closed and the abyss swallowed him whole.

628 | P a g e

The Trauma Revisited

Daniel awoke to the almost comforting sound of dim and distant gunfire accented by the nearby
detonations of both grenades and shell bombardment and struggled against the pain in his skull
and the desire to spit the taste of blood from his mouth.
His vision, maddeningly, was blurred and it troubled him as the world slowly crept back
to clarity as he began to realize he was trapped in a requisitioned armor. By rights, an adrenaline
surge should have seized him and brought him to his feet, gathering his faculties in an instant,
but the feeling that all that had as of yet coalesced, and the events to come, were all to be
collected together into the realm of destiny, unchangeable and writ. It was an odd interpretation
of events in battle, but he could not shake this dim, ungraspable notion from the back of his
mind. All he knew was his obstructed eyesight was the result of his visor being carbon charred
from a near-direct strike occurring when he sliced into the armor of a spider-robot only a
handful of moments ago. His mind raced out to gather the facts of his surroundings. It was
obviously he was on Gliese 581d, as the small red sun poking through the darkening fume
seemed to hauntingly welcome him back to the closest to Hell he had ever come. This meant
that, if his memory was accurate, this was the Op with the bad French nameRevenge of the
Wolves
He laid his head back against the stone wall he had leapt from, only a scattering of
minutes earlier, and sighed through his nausea as he attempted to raise his visor when two rather
large boots stepped in front of him.

629 | P a g e

He could make out black boots and black cargo pants, but nothing more. Still, on a thin
atmosphere planet like Gliese 561d, it was almost funny to him. Like a movie taking place in
medieval times, where the audience is distracted by a distant late-model vehicle winding on a
highway across the background as the knights perform some feat of valor in the foreground that
is lost as their acts go out of focus to take in the offending thing that so removed them from the
reality the movie sought to bring to the viewer.
The figure in black military boots and cargo pants loomed over Daniel and a liquid mist
sprayed and drilled against his visor to the sound spurts of heavy rain. He stared up at the liquid,
watching it bubble and foam on the plastic surface eliciting an instant desire to look away and
shield his eyes.
Still, Daniel remained transfixed on the liquid introduced to his only field of vision where
it foamed and combat the carbon scarring on the visor. So unnatural, the site seemed, his brain
tried to make sense of it by translating the image into a searing pain in his retina that echoed in
his temples, as if the bubbling foam was on the very skin of his eyes.
Then a white cloth squeaked as it pulled over his eyes and he shuddered in his suit as
clean paths were burned into his vision. Smeared streaks of half-visible figures were introduced
to him amid the dominant black charring, and soon, even the resin was gone and the light
reflected brightly off the now bright, shining surface of his heads up display. The now filthy rag
came away at last, to reveal a muscular man with a clean shaven head who stood before him,
without any form extra-environmental armor, justa re-breather, hanging loose about his
muscle-swelled neck.
So this must be how the goldfish feels, thought Daniel, with a scoff to himself.
He would have rubbed his eyes if his visor had been up.
He stared up at the man in astonishment, noting how the man wore no armor or helmet
and sighed.
I must be back at the rear, thought Daniel, and quickly began going about unsealing
his visor.
The powerful hand was quick and emphatic in his taking hold of Daniels hands and he
shook his head firmly. He grabbed his re-breather on his neck, and holding it over his mouth, his
deep, calm voice echoed over the radio head set in Daniels armor.
Sorry, kid, said the man over him, You dont want to be doing that, out here.
630 | P a g e

Why? inquired Daniel, perplexedly. Were back at the ex-fil point, right?
No. said the voice with a chuckle. Were in the shit.
Daniel looked out and focused on what was now clearly the battlefield mere yards behind
the man, as war machines and Quill soldiers cut into his fellow infantrymen only fifty yards
away from them. He looked up and saw the tattered tent of the Triage Site and the full stream of
events came rushing back to him as he looked wildly at the man before him.
Wheres your suit? he demanded.
Dont need one. said the man. ...Yet.
He put the small breathing mask to his mouth and took one breath, then pulled it away
without a care and smiled.
Specials Battalion was ordered in to take out The Quill staging grounds, continued the
man with the re-breather. Which in turn, flushed the rest of the enemy out onto the battlefield.
Daniel did not like the sound of that and swallowed hard, asking the question the back of
his mind answered before the man could say anything.
How many?
Id say all of em. said the man with a smile.
Help me up.
The man took Daniel by the forearm and pulled him to his feet gingerly with a great ease.
Can you fight? asked the man.
Watch me! Daniel spat defiantly.
He looked down at something that seemed oddly cumbersome to him as he raised the odd
weighted object up toward Daniel.
Something tells me youll need this, son. said the man, and handed Daniel his oddshaped rifle with the wicked bayonet. .
Thanks. said Daniel appreciatively. Hey, whats your name?
Leonard. Pronouncing it Len-nard.
Thanks, Leonard.
Leonard grinned and with a nod replied:
No problem. Ive been fighting for a few hours and I needed a break.
How long have I been out?

631 | P a g e

I saw you take out that spider before you hit the ground. said Leonard with a scoff and
made a stabbing gesture toward the ground between himself and Daniel with a chuckle. Maybe
five minutes.
How long since youve started fighting?
About a day. said Leonard with a shrug. You ready to go back in?
Life and limb... said Daniel, after a moment of probing, sensing his bodys injuries as
minor through a series of tensing and relaxing muscles and judging his degrees of pain. I have
both. Im fighting until I lose one or both, depending on the one.
Leonard smiled and nodded his appreciation for Daniels statement of conviction and
patted him on the back, reverting his grip to pull him along at a quick pace.
Ill take the ten on the left! said Leonard, with an unsettling ease at combat, You can
have that one over there.
Leonard raced off into a pack of enemy forces and with powerful blows, shattered the
cartilage skull plate around a creatures brain while the remaining nine launched at Leonard, who
dispatched them with a series of uncaring throws, leaving them still on the ground where they
fell.
Daniel depressed the trigger on the rifle and let the bayonet heat up until it glowed white
hot, and sliced through a Quill soldier as easily as if he were taking a bit of warm butter from a
tray with a dull knife.
He turned quickly and noted the two spindle legged spider war machines racing toward
him, and fired repeated rounds at them, backpedaling all the while.
I will not go back to sleep because of one of these! thought Daniel with disgust for his
own prior stupidity.
Finally, the machines slumped as if the right spot had been hit and the two spiders
collapsed on their own spindly legs as if balancing their own weight had grown to a cumbersome
exercise.
Leonard turned and noted Daniels martial prowess, his handling of the rifle as both a
firearm and a martial arts weapon and the power yield of the weapon itself.
He took his re-breather in his index fingers and nodded to Daniel.
I gotta get me one o them!
Daniel smiled at his new friend and returned to the fight.
632 | P a g e

He moved away from Leonard, but every time he turned to look around the battlefield,
Leonard remained within ten or twenty yards of him. He felt comforted by this, and fought hard
without concern for his wellbeing.
As a result of Leonards apparent concern over him, he often found himself worrying he
would be killed by a marksman who grew cultured to his movements and figured how far he had
to lead the target to strike home.
He worried mainly that Leonard would need support and that none would come, because
the man next to him had fallen, and fought harder to prevent Leonards likelihood he would find
himself fighting alone.
This concern for the man next to you was all too common on the battlefield, and often a
key component in the victory or loss. Here, it was essentialand it breathed life into the
soldiers who recognized there was no hope and fought on regardless.
No man fought alone. Even former enemies were steadfast in their resolve, and French
soldiers saved German, and Taiwanese soldiers rescued Japanese soldiers, and American soldiers
rescued Russian, North Korean, Chinese and Arab League soldiers.
The greatest example of a world at peace, visible only in the frustrated eyes of God, was
in the united front of war against a new race that threatened all the globe.

For twenty-eight hours Daniel had fought relentlessly, verging on a madness of having fought so
long and so hard. Within the first twenty minutes of entering the engagement, he had grown
exhausted, and prayed only for the pillowed comfort of the boulder he had woken upon. After
two hours, his mind had ceased to function in a human way, releasing the primal rage of a
cornered animal with every attack he countered.
Within four hours, he ceased crying out, or railing in madness, and merely drifted into a
blank, numbing space where killing was a mechanical function, having little to do with anything
other than simple mathematics. Subtraction, really. For every enemy killed, there was one less
to kill him.
Soon, even this bloody arithmetic faded to complex variables related to the position of a
Quill soldier or some Machine that marched on his position. If a Quill soldier stood before
himincapacitate him: Cut off a tentacle, or disable its breathing apparatus and let it flounder.
633 | P a g e

The other soldiers who sought Daniels life would then be forced to move around the fallen and
struggling alien creature, allowing a few moments respite to disable another enemy combatant
and kill the ones who were forced to charging the bottlenecks he had created around him
between the piling dead and wounded.
Daniel did this for hours with the cold detachment of a machine. Hope or despair did not
exist. Neither did benevolence or pleas for peace. These were human elements, that, though
they are demanded from people participating in all stages of war, a soldier could ill afford to
keep, in battle.
After so long slicing and hacking, long since spent of all ammunition, he realized he had
lost sight of Leonardand he had not even the instant to look or mourn his obvious demise
Every instant is a fretful one, where the time to look about is a costly one and he was
outnumbered by countless odds.
His death was already assured. But he refused to kneel and make it an easy kill.
He would kill until he died
His resolution was total.
His calories burning at such a high and costly rate, he began to realize conscious thought
was a luxury he could no longer afford. He let his mind shut down to pure instinct, and the light
dimmed around him. His only fear was that his attempt at energy conservation would slip into
unconsciousness and immediately afterwards, death.
But oblivion called him. Lovingly caressing his face with the notion of nothingness, and
almost against his will, he succumbed to it, leaning into its kiss in a swoon.

634 | P a g e

3 3:

C h a p t e r

he abyss was a quiet respite. No sound. No sight. No sensation. Just the blackness.
But Daniel recognized he was not dead. He was conscious of his lack of sensation and
marveled at it. It was odd to have the awareness of no sensation and it puzzled him as

he stirred.
Soon he started to notice little things. Minute details. A finger movement on sheets. An
itching sensation in his chest. Oblivion was letting him go. His body was returning to him. His
breathing was slow and regularnot the hard heaving he felt in the instants before his
collapseand his heart pounded a slow healthy rhythm in his chest. And soon he marveled at
these things.

635 | P a g e

Soon, sounds came to himthe pulse in his ears, the muffled dialoguesomewhere
through the lightening veil that separated him from full consciousness. He could smell the cold
sterile room and feel the starch linen sheets abrasively rubbing against his flesh and he knew he
was wearing a hospital gownthe twill tape ties undone behind him leaving him exposed.
When Daniel opened his eyes, it was to the harsh fluorescent lights of the ward and the
sun rise over the rooftops through the window. He looked over to his left toward the sound of
the long loud snores and, to his surprise, saw Stephen sitting next to his bed like a sentry.
How long had Stephen been sitting there he did not know, but he did not look at all
comfortable, with his legs wound around in a crossed pose and his head lolling back and forth.
He then noticed McCormack and Bradley standing at the foot of his bed talking to each
other over the condition of the room and thanked Chad for opening the blinds to the view of New
Orleans. His eyes found Josephs and he rose from his perch on a chair in the corner but said
nothing. Only the queer smile that unsettled him so took prominence on his face.
Daniel took a deep breath and felt a stitch and a pull that made him wince. He looked
down; he had bandages over his chest and abdomen.
Welcome back to the land of the living, Leonard called out to Daniel from the
doorway.
Daniel flinched at the loud sound and waved him off, cupping his head and eyes.
Stephen stirred from his sleep and instantly cracked his neck, sitting up straight next to Daniel,
his eyes on him warily as if there were something to say that was hard to put into words.
He finally realized Leonard looked older than he had in his dream, and studied him
critically, noting every scar and his trimmed mustache and goatee which he, for the first time,
realized covered scars he was attempting to conceal. It was nearly ten years later, and the two
faces seemed familiar yet the distinction between the two separated them as though they were
not the same man, but merely brothers.
But the thought seemed to make his brain throb and he groaned as he laid back on the not
so comfortable pillow.
It feels like I was hit by a truck, muttered Daniel.
You look like you were hit by a truck, replied Leonard, almost savagely.
That will pass, said what Daniel assumed to be a doctor fiddling with his IV bag,
pulling out syringes and injecting them into the line connecting to his forearm.
636 | P a g e

Whats my recuperative time looking like, doc? inquired Daniel, grimly.

The nurse smiled but did not correct him.
Id say twelve hours before you can walk out of here on your own steam, replied the
nurse. And forty-eight hours before the nanite drones have finished their work on your ribs.
Nanite drones? repeated Daniel, vaguely remembering the itch in his abdomen and
realizing his chest was prickling like it was covered with ants.
Im giving you another dose of VX-32, said the nurse serenely as she squeezed the bag
forcing the saline solution to chase the nanite drones down the line and into the vein. It should
be hitting your system now.
Daniel felt the rush of euphoria followed by the tension of his muscles and looked up at
the nurse with wide eyes.

His monitors beat out a strong heartbeat and Daniel felt an arousal

toward the nurse as he looked at her covetously. In that briefest of instants he would have fought
the entire team to get to her and claim her. It was a fleeting impulse. He looked at McCormack
and Bradley and they both grinned boyishly.
Looks like youre back to full functioning. said Bradley.
Daniel looked down and realized his erection showed in the sheets like the raising of a
circus tent and without any trace of embarrassment as the nurse quickly noticed and walked
away smiling he turned to the men.
He pulled off the sheets and threw his leg over the side of the bed attempting to sit up.
McCormack and Bradley rushed forward and delicately directed him back to a prone position.
This however annoyed him, he felt like he could take on the world, he had no interest in being
coddled. He eyed McCormack and Bradley each with equal measure.
Let me go.
You heard the nurse, said Bradley. Twelve hours.
Dont be ridiculous, protested Daniel. I feel fine. Better than fine, actually.
We may want to watch your intake of the Vitamin, while were at it, said McCormack,
Thats the third dose youve had in a month.
So? demanded Daniel.
He had begun to think of the Vitamin as an edge, increasing his strength and speed,
giving him clarity of vision.

He suspected that with a steady regimen of the Vitamin and the

nanite drones working to repair any damage inflicted to him at a given time, he could stand on
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his own alongside the team like he had during the Sol War so long ago, and it occurred to him
that he had been taking the VX-32 cocktail back then, as well.
So, concluded McCormack, its not something to take lightly.
Bradley propped pillows behind Daniel and used the controls on the side of the bed to
raise the bed to a seated position. Daniel sat back against his pillow and contented himself to
being partially upright.
So what happened after I got knocked out? demanded Daniel, his annoyance
pronounced in his tone. It was clearly a command.
Well, said Stephen, and Daniels eyes latched to him in both shock and satisfaction that
possibly the old attitude of Stephens might have died when he saved him for the second time.
Josh was tending to you, so I took the initiative and went after Paul Hirano and his boys. They
disappeared in a flash of light.
Daniel blinked.
They disappeared? repeated Daniel.
Teleported, said Chad, and Daniels eyes locked on his.
How do we know they teleported? demanded Daniel. Do we know where they
teleported to?
No, answered Bradley, a grim finality in his voice.
Bradley shared an understanding glance with McCormack that Daniel found so annoying
a quality in them but did not push. Leonard stood against the doorframe blocking all access to
the room by passing nurses who were intimidated by his size and presence. Joseph sat in the
corner, his eyes seemingly wary of Daniel as he watched the drip deliver the VX-32 into his
system while Chad and Josh stood nearby looking on as though unsure what to offerby means
of a blow-by-blow account of the firefight, after his falling unconsciousand traded nervous
looks with McCormack for assurance on what to say and how to say it.
McCormack just shook his head.
Stephen sat in a daze looking at Daniel who had just saved his life twice. He was torn
with his hatred for superiors and his debt, which worked its way through his consciousness that
he owed Daniel.
Daniel adjusted his sitting position fighting the urge to tear off the bandages that bound
his torso and scratch at his chest.
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Well, said Daniel finally, at least we got Simms.

The Task Force shifted uncomfortably for a moment and Daniel pursed his lips.
He teleported, said Leonard from the doorway.
He teleported? scoffed Daniel, exasperated.
They all teleported, clarified Bradley.
Well, said McCormack, all except for Townsend.
At the mention of Townsend, Daniel blinked and studied McCormack.
Weve got a suspect in custody? demanded Daniel for clarification.
Hes not too happy about it, said McCormack with a sly grin, but yeah. Eugene
Townsend is now in our custody.
Howd you get him?
Eugene tried to get his hands on some device when he saw me, said McCormack,
matter-of-factly. I didnt know what it was at the time, but I wasnt going to take any chances.
McCormack produced a plastic bag out of his jacket pocket and handed it to Daniel who
took it and examined it up close.
Its a teleportation device, said Bradley, unnecessarily. The whole Black Ops team
teleported out of the refinery with them.
That still doesnt sound possible, said McCormack. The refinerys shielded.
To us, muttered Daniel, Their tech is better than ours. Daniel sighed then added,
Looks like well need to press Boatman for better spec next time we meet them.
And we will meet them again, assured Leonard.
Im betting on it, said Daniel stonily.
But the trail has gone cold again, said Stephen, suddenly, unable to contain his
frustration any longer.
No, answered Daniel. I dont think so.
What do you mean? demanded Stephen.
We have our interrogation methods in place, answered Daniel, And this is the first
time we had a hostile Special to employ them on. Id say were about to come across that yellow
brick road after we finish with Townsend.
You seem pretty confident for a man on your back, muttered Stephen.

639 | P a g e

Not for long, replied Daniel as a feeling of invigoration took him over and he tested his
muscles, flexing them with a cocky drunken smile as he threw off his bed sheets and threw a leg
over the edge of the bed. I feel like I can take on ten men.
McCormack lifted Daniels leg back onto the bed and gestured for Daniel to lie back as
Bradley pushed the sheets back into place.
Lets not find out, shall we? said McCormack.
Its all the same, shrugged Daniel, confidently.
Again, Joseph watched him with a queer stare as though seeing something no one else
registered.
What? demanded Daniel, his annoyance building too quickly to contain.
I think you should take it easy with that stuff, said Joseph pointing to the IV drip and
tapping Daniels arm at the venipuncture where the plastic butterflyed-cannula broke the skin.
Whos asking you? chided Daniel
Easy Joseph, said Leonard, soothingly. His ribs are all broken.
You see him, retorted Joseph. Hes prone to reckless decisions like back at the
refinery. Imagine what hed be like hopped up on the Vitamin?
Thats enough, Joseph! snapped McCormack.
Fine, said Joseph, and he turned and walked past Leonard, out of the room.
What was all that about? said Daniel, a little winded by the outburst.
Nothing, assured McCormack. Just feel better.
What, stammered Daniel in disbelief, youre leaving?
We have an interrogation to get to, said McCormack.
Not without me being there, reinforced Daniel.
I told you hed take it like this, said Bradley.
Youve been talking behind my back? snapped Daniel. Is that it?
Actually talking over your unconscious body is more like it, corrected McCormack.
And what have you been talking about? demanded Daniel.
Getting on with business, concluded McCormack.
Stephens set up to have his people from SETOP that are not Currently working for SE
Services to accept positions. said Bradley.
Is this true?
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Ive made contact with three. Natalie Ellis, Reggie Estrin and Laurence Kelson, said
Stephen. Natalie ran the moment I told her what I was proposing. Shell be deep in hiding by
now. Reggie and Laurence are in. Theyll be ready to move at a moments notice.
Good. said Daniel. I take it you took care of this while I was out?
Ive kept in contact with some SETOP members since the end of the War. said
Stephen, his voice subdued, even a little humiliated. It was suggested by our Veteran Affairs
Officer to have a support group in place in case one of us had trouble adjusting to life back on
Earth. Calling them up was a simple enough matter. Getting them on board has been difficult.
But you got two out of three, said Daniel nodding. Not bad.
Two out of eight, actually, corrected Stephen. You gotta understand, they dont trust
the government. Working for the Feds sounds like a quick way to get set up on some bullshit
charges. Reggie and Laurence trust me. Tell me were not going to screw them.
Well get them on the back end payment wise as the intelligence comes in. assured
Daniel. I want them in place by the end of the week.
This is about the terror attack, clarified Stephen, his eyes critical, right?
This is just in case we got a government contractor who blew up a space station,
replied Daniel, yeah.
Then my boys are down, said Stephen with a sigh of relief. Theyre patriots. They
dont go for this shit.
Any particular reason they didnt up before? inquired Daniel musingly. Estrin
generates plasma, right? That would be a crowning jewel for an organization like SE Services.
I see youve been reading up on SETOP, surmised McCormack, shrewdly.
It pays to keep your head in the game, replied Daniel, and then looked back to Stephen
for his answer.
Reggie and Laurence want to stay away from getting sucked back into government
work, confided Stephen, and since SE Services wants mercenaries, its just too much bad
memories to handle.
I can respect that, said Daniel. I can arrange for private therapy for them while
undercover.
Stephen said nothing, but he sighed deeply as though a burden that was weighing him
down were being lifted off his shoulders.
641 | P a g e

Get some rest.

Ive rested enough, snapped Daniel and he swung the sheets off again. Help me up,
he said, and raised an arm up toward McCormack profferingly. McCormack seemed on the
verge of refusing only to meet Daniels cold eyes. Thats an order.
Fine, muttered McCormack. If your ribs heal crooked its all on you.
From what I heard, said Daniel, Ive been healing through the night, and nanite drones
work very fast. As long as I take it easy, I should be fine.
How will you handle the ride?
Ill just order Redwing to take it easy back to the hangar. said Daniel as though it were
a simple matter. Then challenged, You think he wont listen to me?
McCormack pursed his lips and shook his head at Daniel.
Youre slowing us down from getting to the interrogation.
Youre not interrogating anyone without me there, said Daniel stiffly. Get me my
clothes and lets get out of here.
Fine, said McCormack, throwing him a bag containing all his clothes. At least use a
walker.
Daniel pulled on his pants and tore off the hospital gown as he buttoned up his shirt, and
scanned the room while he slid his feet into his shoes. There was a walker propped up against
the wall in the corner of the room. Daniel took one look at the walker and knew he would never
hear the end of it if he showed up back at Hangar 102 with that ridiculous contraption.
Ill take a cane, he replied.

642 | P a g e

C h a p t e r

Chris

3 4:

Youngs

Plot

he Central Detention Facility is located in Southeast DC at 1901 D Street. It was a tan

six-story building, opened in 1976, and retained a lot of the character of the original
design despite several attempts at facelifts on the structure to give it a more

postmodernist, progressive feel. It remained hindered by the architecture of the original design,
which peeked out from behind facades as an ugly reminder of the fact that this building was built
back in the 1970sin other words, not a time one would recognize a structure twenty years
later as revolutionary in designan ugly building.
Lorenzo stepped into the lobby with a shiver and an upturned nose at the thought that he
would be venturing deeper into the building that had been his main place of residence not seven
months prior. He plugged his nose at the sticky smell of the place.
Jails were renowned for having the same odor the world over; urine, vomit and sweat
caked on the floor and walls. The prisoners maintained the upkeep of the prison with dirty
water, merely spreading the problem around than actually fixing it. This was because you could
not trust the inventive mind of the prisoner with cleaning chemicals that could be made into all
643 | P a g e

manner of things, ranging from fumes to get you high to something you mix into someones food
to give them a rough ride to the emergency room. As a result, the inmates sloshed the foul water
onto the floor setting up signs reading piso mojado though ironically, nobody spoke Spanish.
Pisso mo-ja-do, read Lorenzo, with a chuckle. Yeah, it smells like piss in here.
The inmates laughed despite themselves, but with a glance to the guards quickly turned
their heads back down to the floor watching their wet mops slosh the foul sticky floor, swirling
new patterns of dark water across the floor. Lorenzo traded looks at the guards, knowing they
obviously recognized him. Lorenzo could not help himself. He beat his chest and glared at
them.
Im a free man! he declared defiantly.
The guards chuckled nastily.
For now, they said.
Lorenzo blinked in astonishment at the guards mocking laughter and turned, deflated, to
walking down the hall to the Visitor Services Deska mockery of term considering the
services offered were pat downs and image screenings to see if you were carrying anything on
your person or beneath your skin. Drugs, weapons and all manners of items had been smuggled
into the prison for years. And continued to find their way in through various ways. Though how
he was to hand off anything through Plexiglas he had no idea. Still, he was subjected to the
breach in his personal dignity and weathered the pat down and the scanners that detected no sign
of weapon or drug filled balloons on him. In fact, the only thing that could be detected was the
strong smell of cannabis smoke on his clothes and in his cornrow braided hair. He even had to
take out his glass eye to prove it was not hollow, containing some form of contraband.
Finally he was given a pass and allowed down the hall to the visiting station which was a
row of bench seats across from a row of private booths with phones in the wall and Plexiglas
between them and the men they had all come to see.

The guards stood at the corners of the

room surveying the milling crowd queuing at the benches for their turn at the booths.
Lorenzo sat waiting impatiently. Being back in this jail, even as a guest, was highly
disconcerting to his equilibrium and he was not taking it in stride. He smoked two blunts in his
car just to get himself into a frame of mind to enter the lobby. Now he was at the benches
waiting for his turn and he could not help but glance at the confined space at the other side of the

644 | P a g e

Plexiglas and remember being in that booth trying to drink in all he could from the outside world
as the clock ticked his time away.
He remembered having to talk fast and being irritated by the slow responses of his
visitors who had all the time in the world while his view of the outside world closed by the
second. The impertinent questions from his homeys like: How are things? NIGGA IM IN
HERE! HOW YOU THINK IM DOING? Have you been raped yet? BOY, YOU LUCKY
WE GOT GLASS BETWEEN US! On and on it went being barraged by stupid questions from
the younger homeys who came to meet with him, usually high out of their minds and giggling
with glassy eyed stares. He smacked the hell out of quite a few young gangsters when he got out
for wasting his time with stupid questions. He vowed he would not waste a homeys time with
questions like that when he visited them.
Washington! commanded the guard, using Lorenzos sir name. Youre up!
Lorenzo rose from his bench and took a seat at the only empty booth and waited for Chris
to saunter into view, as the guard at his left gestured unnecessarily to the only available seat and
waited for Chris to sit down before returning to the wall to watch all the prisoners talking to their
visitors. Occasionally they were interrupted with shouts like Slept with who?! Bitch when I
get out of here- this was cut off by the guards seizing him and yanking him out of the room
before he could make a terrorist threat and have time tacked on.
Finally Chris turned to Lorenzo and picked up the phone.
Sup? said Chris bravely.
Sup, Chris, said Lorenzo and then his mind went blank as the marijuana affected his
thought process. How are things? You been raped yet?
Man, if another nigger asks me silly questions, scoffed Chris with daggers in his eyes.
Sorry, man, said Lorenzo, defensively. Just been toking.
Well that makes one of us, spat Chris. Im jonesing in here!
I feel you, said Lorenzo apologetically, sensing that his mentioning of smoking
marijuana, albeit in passing, was tactless considering his homeys needs.
Oh, you feel me? said Chris antagonistically. Well feel this. I got game running in
here and Im trying to make things happen, so spit!
So youre cool? surmised Lorenzo.

645 | P a g e

Hell naw, I aint cool, spat Chris, I was going to come up like the Mighty Quinn with
all the pigeons running to me, bringing business to the neighborhood when I got caught on
stuck.
Damn, scoffed Lorenzo. So they got you for trafficking?
Allegedly, smirked Chris.
Howd you get caught on stuck, anyhow? asked Lorenzo in amazement.
Chris scowled.
That white bitch from the neighborhood, spat Chris coldly. You know the one. Up in
that cop house.
I heard about him and you up at Charlies, said Lorenzo, conversationally. That white
motherfucker got you in here?
Shit, spat Chris. He was there when I got caught. Motherfuckers a cop.
Word? asked Lorenzo, his eyebrows raised.
Man, snapped Chris. Didnt I just say so?
Lorenzo stared at Chris, and began using complicated hand gesturesa crude sign
language which was difficult with the phone resting between his shoulder and his cheek
Chris understood instantly what was being asked: What do you want me to do?
Chris replied with the same complicated hand gestures, a feat for him since his right hand
had bad burns that affected his nerves and left him in chronic pain and needing strong pain
killers to diminish the throbbing agony in his fingers.
Lorenzo understood perfectly. He wanted a hit orchestrated against the white cop and his
friends at the cop house. He smiled malevolently at Lorenzo, and let out a curse that betrayed his
familys Louisiana roots.
Straight Hoodoo, bruh
Right, right, said Lorenzo.
Can you make it happen? challenged Chris, in the ugly signing, his eyes dark..
For sure, said Lorenzo with a grin.
Dont let me keep you, my brother, said Chris and he rose to hang up the phone.
Yeah, hey man, said Lorenzo. stay up.
Oh, said Chris, Im always up.
Word, replied Lorenzo.
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With that Chris hung up the phone and put his fist to the glass. Lorenzo put his fist up on
the other end of the glass and held it there for a moment looking into Chris eyes. Chris were
determined. Even a little threatening. The meaning could not have been plainer:
Get it done. Kill them all.
Lorenzo nodded and Chris took his fist from the glass and strutted down the lane back to
the door and disappeared from view.
After a moment taken just to appear casual, Lorenzo stalked down the hallway with a
brooding sense of purpose. Through the security checkpoint, past the piso mojado and out the
lobby toward his car. He slid his sunglasses back on as the sunlight glared down on him, pulling
his coat tighter around him as the chill wind cut through him. In the parking lot he climbed into
his car and pulled out his half finished blunt, lighting it. He pulled out his cellular phone,
scrolled down the list of names until he found the one he was looking for and pressed send.
Ghost, this is LorenzoWhat up?...Well I just got out from visiting Chris over at the
jailIt doesnt look good for himWell listen, I got some work to do and I want to know if
youre downmeet me over at Brandys house. We got some business to discuss.Late.
Lorenzo disconnected the call and took a long drag off his blunt holding it in as he started
up his car, pulled out of the parking lot, merged into traffic and was gone.

647 | P a g e

C h a p t e r

Word

on

the

3 5:
Street

HANGAR 102
he AB-4 angled onto the landing pad touching down with a light touch and settled on

its landing gear as the airlock hatch slid open allowing the Task Force to lead their
prisoner out into the sunlight. Eugene Townsend was led from the shuttle in head to
foot shackles and he stumbled lazily alongdrooling at the mouth and mumbling

incoherentlya side effect of the powerful drugs they had injected him with that made his
muscles soft and his mind clouded. It was a dangerous enterprise bringing Townsend into the
Hangar, and the Task Force filed out in full gear, armed with the safeties off. They took no
chance with Townsend that he might be shamming to lull their defenses with a false sense of
security.
Last off the AB was Daniel.
Resting on his cane, he stumbled down the steps gritting his teeth at the pain in his chest
and back. The euphoria of the Vitamin had worn off and the only sign of its presence in his
system was the annoying itching sensation along his torso and down his spine.
He walked across the cracked asphalt into the corrugated steel corridor and out into the
belly of the Hangar following the Task Force as they escorted Townsend to the War Room. All
eyes from the agents followed them to the room with a heightened fear recognizing the Task
648 | P a g e

Force had captured a Special, wondering if this was one of the Specials involved in the terror
plot the murmur started instantly as the Task Force seated Townsend securely to the desk.
Joseph held his Desert Eagle at the ready, his rifle slung to his back while Chad and
Leonard kept their weapons trained on Townsend as Josh secured the chains to the table and
chair. It was not altogether secure, but they worked with what they had.
How are you going to handle this? asked McCormack, in a low voice.
The last thing I want is a recap of Zurich, answered Daniel warily. Then added
Bradley can help Christine with her homework. Shes got a test to prepare for.
Alright, said McCormack, so you want me to do it?
Ive been giving it some thought, said Daniel and then shook his head. No. Testimony
by telepaths wont work in a court of law. Judges just dont trust it yet.
So what do you have in mind? demanded McCormack. You planning on taking this
one on your own?
No, said Daniel carefully. I was thinking about hiring Charlie on as a contractor to
interrogate in his own way and get Townsend to incriminate himself on video and transcript.
I know hes your friend, Daniel, began McCormack, a note of frustration in his voice,
but I dont like the idea of using Charlie.
Hes the best weve got to get the most out of a subject and on the record.
So are you going to call him?
Already done, answered Daniel. He should be here any minute.
Just then, an agent approached Daniel rigid and nervous.
The package is here! he declared tremulously.
Well, smiled Daniel to McCormack, that didnt take long.
Daniel began walking toward the bay doors at the far end of the hangar, when he stopped
dead in his tracks, his lips pursed as Charlie stepped out of the SUV. It was to Daniels shock
that Charlie had no black bag over his head and his beaming face looked around at the rows of
hangars, lingering at the long 102 painted on the doors of the hangar in front of him. Daniel and
McCormack walked at a quickstep toward the bay doors and reached the entrance to see
Charlies amused grin.
Damn, chuckled Charlie.

649 | P a g e

Daniel stepped out through the bay doors as Charlie was being verified through DNA
scan as the same Charles Washington who had previously paid a visit to Hangar 102.

The

guards were taking no chances, especially because they could now see each other clearlyand it
was clear to all the guards that Charlie had a long memorythat they were unnecessarily
intimidating to him.
Charlie waved his hand to them.
No need for that, boys, grinned Charlie. Just an old man, over here.
The guards looked at each other and blinked and then stood aside.

Daniel was not

pleased at all.
Youre entering here a little differently today, said Daniel, without a trace of
amusement in his tone.
Well I wanted to enjoy the ride, said Charlie. Damn, Daniel! Whats with the cane?
McCormack looked over at the agents, all of them with bemused expressions on their
faces. McCormack took a step toward the one nearest Charlie.
Why isnt this man blindfolded? said McCormack to the agent standing sheepishly next
to Charlie.
Dont go hard on them, said Charlie, a note of apology in his voice. I didnt really
give them a choice.
Meaning? demanded Daniel.
Well, began Charlie, a little apologetically, Ive been thinking about it lately, if I
could get people to tell me anything I wanted to, with a few exceptions, he nodded to Daniel
and McCormack, what else could I make them do? So I asked if they wouldnt put that bag
over my head and they let me look out the window while we drove here.
You know where you are? demanded Daniel.
Never been to an Air Base before, said Charlie then frowned and nodded to Daniel
adding, Knowingly.
Well you shouldnt be knowing some things, said McCormack, sternly. Its for your
protection as much as ours.
Charlie ignored this and turned his attention to Daniel.
In all my years I never tried to use my gift like that, said Charlie. But I gotta say Im
pretty pleased with the results. I like your hangar. Daniel said nothing, he was now lost
650 | P a g e

somewhere between annoyance and amusement and did not risk speaking for fear of chuckling
while reprimanding Charlie, and thus losing the message he meant to convey to him. Charlie
looked around the hangar. It explains why I felt like I was walking into a deep cave, mused
Charlie to the expressions of annoyance on Daniel and McCormacks faces. Oh, and I enjoyed
looking at the countryside on the way over. I never really get out of the city that much. It was
nice to see the trees and greenery on the way over. Much better than the last time I rode with
your agents.
Glad you enjoyed yourself, growled Daniel. Now, if you dont mind?
By all means, said Charlie with a grin.
Follow me, said Daniel.
Daniel turned on his cane and walked into shadow and Charlie followed him into the
Hangar. Charlies eyes went everywhere to the autopsy tables and the cadaver drawers nearby,
to the cubicles and the mainframe and deeper into the hangar toward the War Room. As they
walked, Daniel leaned close to Charlie trying to keep him on the same page and update him for
what he needed him to do.
Charlie, you with me?
Yeah, said Charlie, Damn, Daniel, you got some setup.
Look, said Daniel bringing Charlie back to the reason he was there in the first place,
what I need from you is very simple. I need intelligence from a subdued suspect we collared
last night. Hes big, hes mean and hes not to be underestimated. Now, what I need is for the
record to document through the recording devices set up in the War Room.
Wheres the War Room? asked Charlie excitedly.
You were there last time, answered Daniel.
The glass room with the comfortable chairs? clarified Charlie.
Thats the one, answered Daniel.
I gotta tell you, mused Charlie as his eyes danced from terminal to cubicles to the War
Room in the distance, when you set about building something it looks rough on the outside but
the rest you do in style.
Stay with me, demanded Daniel.
Right, said Charlie reverting to a businesslike tone. You want the guy talking and
everything he admits to is going to be recorded.
651 | P a g e

And what you say too, reminded Daniel.

So you want me to be professional?
I want you to get me answers to questions Ive long had.
Like what? inquired Charlie.
Thats what this earpiece is for, said Daniel handing an earpiece to Charlie. Put this on
and wait for instructions. Begin with the basics. Well direct you in your line of questioning
from outside.
How should I begin? asked Charlie.
Start with his full name and job, said Daniel. Get names of coworkers and a list of
criminal activities.
Right, right.
Other than that, youre the lead interrogator. Roll with it.
Okay said Charlie, a trace of nervousness in his tone. His eyes were filled with
concern and as he looked through the glass of the War Room he gasped.
Is there a problem? demanded Daniel.
That guys big, said Charlie, rather unnecessarily.
Hes shackled, said Daniel. Doped up and hes wearing ability inhibitors.
Ability inhibitors? blinked Charlie.
His shackles have tazers built in, answered Daniel. He struggles to get out of those
shackles; the shock will knock him to the floor.
Right, said Charlie, not altogether reassured.
Youll be fine, assured Daniel, not altogether reassuring Charlie. Well be right on the
other side of the glass.
Right, said Charlie, steadying himself. Daniel patted him on the back and Charlie
muttered, Going to give me a heart attack With a deep cleansing breath, he closed his eyes
and counted to ten. Then he opened the door to the War Room, walked around the table and sat
opposite the hulking figure before him. Charlie noted his heavy shackles, most of which were
not chains but long bars which he could see the tazer ports glowing as the charge held steady at
the ready. Hey there. Im Charlie, began Charlie, his voice shaking.

Townsend did not

respond. Charlie snapped his fingers in front of Townsends face and his eyes sluggishly
followed the fingers until he looked up to notice Charlie with some mild surprise before his
652 | P a g e

eyelids drooped again. His eyes stayed on Charlie. Charlie grinned and the sparks began pinwheeling around his cornea. Lets start at the basics.
Okay, muttered Townsend in a state of oblivious bemusement.
Charlie looked up at Daniel through the glass and Daniel nodded to him. Charlie nodded
back and noticed that there was a window on the glass that held a quavering line that he quickly
realized was linked to the heavy breathing of the massive shackled man in front of him. They
were being recorded. Charlie studied the waving lines for an instant and then returned his eyes
to Townsends.
Whats your full name? inquired Charlie, his eyes dancing with sparks.
Eugene Jeremiah Townsend, muttered Townsend.
And what do you do for a living? asked Charlie.
Im unemployed at the moment, muttered Townsend slowly.
What were you doing before you were fired? asked Charlie.
Not fired, muttered Townsend.
What were you doing before you quit? asked Charlie.
I was a service provider for high income clients, replied Townsend, a little stronger.
There was a roll in the back of his throat somewhere between a growl and a snore.
It unsettled Charlie who looked up at Daniel nervously. Daniel nodded him to continue.
And what kind of services did you provide? asked Charlie, his steady voice growing
slightly higher.
We killed people, said Townsend, and he giggled a little as spittle escaped his mouth
rolled down and hung off of his chin.
Charlie grew wary of the man in front of him and looked up at Daniel for a sign it was
okay to leave. Daniel gave an encouraging nod. Charlie sighed at the thought of being alone
with a killer Special; he did not like his chances against such a powerful man. Nor did he like
his chances of surviving before back up could turn the knob and enter the room. Charlie took a
deep breath and pressed on.
We?
Me and my coworkers.
What were their names?

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Randall Simms, Francis Tibbs, John Simpson, Paul Hirano, Gregory Meyer, Lionel
Johnson, Kip Harris, Franklin Wang, Laurence Kelson.
Charlie looked up to see Daniels expression of vindication as the other members of the
Task Force celebrated silently behind the sound proof glass. Daniel nodded for Charlie to
continue.
Are you still working with them? asked Charlie nervously.
Yes, answered Townsend in a muttered drowsy voice.
Do you still kill people for business? asked Charlie, sickened by the man in front of
him.
Yes, answered Townsend, a twitch in his facial muscles made Charlie flinch.
Who was your last target? pressed Charlie unsure he wanted to hear the answer.
Not who, answered Townsend. What.
What was your last target? asked Charlie curiously.
We were going after the assets of a deadbeat CEO in New Orleans, answered
Townsend unfailingly. New World Assets.
Thats the name of a corporation?
Yes.
Who didnt pay you?
Some deadbeat called Delacroix. Our associate is handling it.
Who is your associate?
Lesley.
Charlie looked up, Daniel was leaning against the glass hungrily. He gestured for Charlie
to probe further. Over the earpiece he heard Daniels voice in his ear: We need a full name.
His full name? said Charlie.
Townsend growled.
Lesley Ayers, he answered.
Charlie looked up at the glass to see Daniel leaning on his cane grimly: We need to find
out what he does for them.
What does he do? asked Charlie, oddly comforted by Daniels voice in his ear.
He talks, growled Townsend, his muscles in his arms twitching subtly. We work.
And youre still working? pressed Charlie.
654 | P a g e

Were off the books now, answered Townsend, his eyes locked with Charlie in an
unbroken linkthe pinwheels mirrored in his eyes. Were collecting money for the job we
werent paid for.
What was this job you werent paid for? asked Charlie, sensing he was close to
something but not sure he really wanted to hear it.
We were hired to set a bomb off on a space station. Elysium.
Charlie leaned back from the table his eyes wide with shock and he looked up at Daniel
whose eyes burrowed into the back of Townsends head: I got you!
Charlie looked back at Townsend and reasserted eye contact with him.
You blew up the Elysium? demanded Charlie.
Yes, answered Townsend mulishly.
Charlies earpiece cracked to life as Daniels voice gave instructions: We need to know
everything he can tell us about what and how it all went down.
How did you do it? demanded Charlie.
We came in dressed as engineers, began Townsend, his muscles working
unconsciously. We had fake IDs. We boarded the Elysium, split up at the elevators, three men
going up to the command station to reroute controls to engineering, and we went down to
engineering.
What did you do in engineering? demanded Charlie.
To which he was greeted with a horrible grin flashing his filed teeth to Charlie, a hideous
maw of sharp jagged rows.
We had some fun, said Townsend at last, dribbling down his front as he chuckled to
himself.
What kind of fun? squeaked Charlie, wiping his brow not wanting to know the answer.
We ripped them apart, chuckled Townsend. A lot of running. A lot of screaming. A
lot of blood. It was a good ole time. We all were psyched. And they just kept begging and
screaming. Best time I had in a long time.
Charlie looked up with pleading eyes for Daniel, silently begging him to let him leave.
Daniel tapped his own ear and said over the earpiece: We need to know everything. Charlie
took a deep breath and then nodded, making eye contact back with Townsend.
What did you do next? demanded Charlie.
655 | P a g e

Security was coming, said Townsend. We set the reactors to overload and we took the
lifts to the observation deck. Good spot to set the bomb to affect the docks. Which was what our
contractors wanted. And no shielding to block our transmissions.
Transmissions? puzzled Charlie quizzically.
To teleport away, scoffed Townsend, as though it were a throwaway answer. And
something stirred in his eyes, like a snake awakening from sleep to find a humans foot in his
den.
Teleport? puzzled Charlie, unfamiliar with the term. So engrossed in his efforts to
extract information he failed to notice the sudden change in Townsend or realize the moment he
dreaded had already passed. Finally Charlie noticed the expression on Townsends face. It was
dark and cruel, mocking and cold. And then it happened.
Townsend rose with such speed and ferocity that the shackles snapped apart so quickly
the charges did little more than anger him as the tazers fired. Charlie backed up in fright as the
clawed hand came toward his jugular.
No more questions, old man! bellowed Townsend as his claws found the edges of
Charlies throat and threatened to close around it when Townsend was propelled sideways across
the War Room and he swung up to the ceiling where he was pinned spread-eagle. He glowered
down at the room at large as the Task Force came in and took position around the roomJoseph,
Chad and Leonard pointing their weapons at Townsend, Stephen and Josh standing with their
powers flaring close to Townsend, and Bradley and McCormack standing close by where Charlie
had collapsed. Charlie watched as the footsteps and the cane came down to where he lay and he
looked up to see Daniel pulling him back to a standing position.
You okay? said Daniel, helping Charlie to his feet.
Charlie felt the spot on his throat where the claws scratched his skin and shuddered.
That was too close, muttered Charlie, drenched in sweat.
You were in no real danger, waved Daniel dismissively.
No real danger?! cried Charlie in a surge of adrenaline.
I had him the entire time, Charlie, said McCormack. He wasnt going to get close
enough to draw blood.
What do you call this? railed Charlie, showing the clawmarks on his neck.
A scratch. replied McCormack with a wave of his free hand.
656 | P a g e

We all knew the drug wasnt going to stay in his system forever. said Daniel in a
conversational tone in spite of Charlies murderous indignation. And his veins were proving
resistant to needles. We had to cut open the artery and pour the drug in to incapacitate him for as
long as we had him out.
So you walked me into a room with a homicidal maniac Special? spat Charlie, livid.
I told you we needed your help. replied Daniel.
And what am I going to get out of this, Daniel? demanded Charlie. Because I dont
know if my heart can take this shit!
Stephen turned around and looked at Charlie then left the War Room. No one bothered
to ask where he was going to. Daniel looked up at Bradley who gave him a reassuring nod.
With that silent communication of comfort Daniel returned his attention to Charlie.
Didnt I tell you? said Daniel with a grin, Youre an independent contractor working
for my office now. Your paycheck is going to be mailed to your restaurant. Look for it. I think
youll be satisfied.
This is bullshit, Daniel! railed Charlie. I thought we were boys.
We are, soothed Daniel. Now calm down. Youre fine. Youre just going through an
adrenaline rush right now. Itll pass.
Oh, itll pass, scoffed Charlie. Ill remember that motherfucker every night for the rest
of my life!
Itll get easier, said Daniel.
Man dont talk to me like I just got raped or something! railed Charlie, his eyes wild.
Just then, Stephen reentered the War Room with a can of soda in his hand.
Here, said Stephen, take this.
What is it? demanded Charlie. He had never really liked Stephen and having him bring
him a can was not something he could process at the moment.
Soda, said Stephen. The sugar will take the edge off.
Charlie popped the tab on the soda and took a healthy drink.
Dont think this solves anything between us, Daniel, said Charlie and he took another
drink. You used me and I want whats mine coming to me! Charlie took another long sip.
And this bullshit you running about how its all going to go away, Charlie took a long draught
and hiccoughed.
657 | P a g e

Daniel smirked at Charlie.

Feeling better?
A little, admitted Charlie. He then looked over and nodded agreeably to Stephen, who
shrugged indifferently and walked back over to the Task Force.
What do you think did it for you? chided Daniel. The screaming or the soda?
Probably a little bit of both, admitted Charlie.
We good? asked Daniel, extending his hand. Charlie studied him for a moment,
wanting to be mad, but found he could not be.
Yeah, said Charlie, shaking Daniels hand. We good.
Good, said Daniel. Because were celebrating right now.
Celebrating? blinked Charlie.
We just got the intelligence to prosecute ten Specials for the Elysium bombing and one
for conspiracy straight from the horses mouth. We couldnt have done it without you.
So now what? inquired Charlie.
I dont know about the rest of the team, said Daniel, rubbing his chin, but Im down
for some ox tails and greens.
Sounds good to us, said McCormack. Lets just put Townsend on the

AB and ship

him to North Brother Island.

North Brother Island? inquired Charlie, blankly.
Thats where were keeping Special criminals awaiting trial and serving sentences,
answered Daniel.
Wheres that? inquired Charlie, curiously.
Its on the East River, answered Daniel. In New York State. Daniel studied Charlie
for a moment and then continued in greater depth. Its small, cold and barren with views of the
Bronx and Rikers Island.
Sounds like some place I dont want to see up close, muttered Charlie, nervously.
No, answered McCormack, almost warningly, you dont.
So am I done here? asked Charlie.
Sign the nondisclosure agreement and were good, answered Daniel.
Charlie pursed his lips at the thought of signing it again. It rankled him that his word was
not good enough and that it needed to be documented in triplicate.
658 | P a g e

Right, sighed Charlie.

McCormack flicked his fingers, and Townsend was sent to the floor. He launched into
the air again and froze in mid air, McCormack holding out his hand with ease. Townsend was
trapped.
I take it you dont want to walk on your own power? mused McCormack. Fine by me.
Come on, Eugene.
McCormack turned away and walked out of the War Room, Townsend bobbing along
grotesquely behind him out of sight.
So how do you get him restrained again? asked Charlie.
We have a device Ive been hoping not to use, answered Daniel. It should put a stop to
his attacks.
Whats that? pressed Charlie, needing to know just how prepared and just how far
Daniel was willing to go to subdue a Special.
Daniel opened his notebook and flicked his finger on an icon opening a window on the
page. The window read Specials Investigations Transport Services.

Daniel typed with his

thumbs on the viewscreen and then pressed send.

We have an AB-4 redesigned for transporting AbSpecs to holding facilities. They come
with crews of Marines.
Have you ever used it before? asked Charlie.
Thisll be the maiden flight, answered Daniel. The Marines will be a little jumpy this
time out.
Damn, scoffed Charlie, not wanting to be the Special onboard the transport with ten
itchy trigger fingers on him.
We like to think of everything, concluded Daniel, more to himself than anyone else.
Have you? inquired Charlie.
I like to think I have, answered Daniel, honestly.
So Im like a part of the team? inquired Charlie.
No, said Daniel emphatically, and his tone shocked Charlie. Youre an independent
contractor who is subject to nondisclosure agreements of a massive scale with penalties ranging
from loss of property to imprisonment. We take our secrets seriously.

659 | P a g e

Youd break me for talking about this? stammered Charlie in shock that a friend would
put such pressure on him.
Yes, answered Daniel, no trace of humor in his eyes, I would.
The public has a right to know about this, reasserted Charlie.
And they will, answered Daniel. But the last thing I need is any more leaks in this
investigation. Most of the leaks have been filled with theories and conjecture all slanted against
the Specials community. Id like to put a stop to that if I can. The last thing we need right now
is for this list to go public until weve apprehended them.
So theyre free to run about doing God knows what? scoffed Charlie, unable to believe
his own ears.
Theyre wanted by multiple federal agencies, reasserted Daniel. They wont know a
wink of sleep without fear of waking to being surrounded by masked agents with automatic
assault rifles trained down on them. They are most assuredly not free to run around. They just
dont feel me yet. Daniel nodded confidently as he turned to look at Charlie in the eye as he
assured him, Their world is closing in around them incrementally. Daniel flicked the window
away and opened another with his index finger. A Nondisclosure Agreement appeared on the
viewscreen. Read it through thoroughly and then submit a handprint and DNA.
Daniel then handed the notebook to Charlie who took it tentatively. Finally he placed his
palm on the screen and Scraped his thumb against a raised edge on the notebook. The notebook
flashed green and Charlies file opened up scrolling through his lifes history. Charlie blinked
that his dossier was so comprehensive, including his rap sheet from before he was eighteen.
Charlie looked up at Daniel.
Is that legal? gasped Charlie.
What? inquired Daniel.
Youve got shit in there I did when I was a kid, answered Charlie, a little shaken by
what he read.
Local Law Enforcement doesnt have access to the files, answered Daniel. but Federal
is forever.
Thats messed up, muttered Charlie.
Remember that when you commit a federal crime, answered Daniel.
I dont plan on it, muttered Charlie.
660 | P a g e

Then youve got nothing to worry about, answered Daniel.

Charlie looked up from the nondisclosure agreement and eyed Daniel critically.
Do you always have to have the last word? demanded Charlie.
Daniel eyed him for a moment and then nodded apologetically.
Sorry.
Hey, its okay, replied Charlie. Were still cool. I was just getting a little annoyed is
all.
So you wouldnt mind us celebrating at your spot? asked Daniel delicately.
Shit, answered Charlie camaradically, I could use the business.
Alright then, let me supervise the loading of the suspect and well meet you there.
concluded Daniel. Then scrolled through frequencies until he found the Federal Bureau line and
rang up the agents outside in waiting SUVs. Mr. Washington is ready for pick up. The Bureau
agents in charge of chauffeuring the Task Force around grumbled on the other end of the line,
but Daniel distinctly heard the sound of an engine turning over and smiled. I believe you can
reach the door on your own steam.
Naw, scoffed Charlie. I dont need Tobias floating me to the door.
Good, replied Daniel. See you in a bit then.
Right, right. muttered Charlie.
With that, Charlie turned away and walked across the hangar toward the bay doors where
the SUV could be seen pulling up, blue and red lights flashing.

Charlie chuckled at the sight

and thought that he had his own personal federal chauffer waiting on him and a spring took his
step as he walked past the bureau agents who watched him with wary eyes out the door and into
the SUV, which pulled away from the bay doors instantly.
Daniel turned around and walked his way back past the stairwell leading to the offices on
the second floor and into the corridor out into the landing bay.

There he was greeted by the

Task Force standing around Townsend who struggled feebly under the telekinetic field holding
him back by force of McCormacks will alone.
In front of them, an AB-4 hovered overhead and angled down to touch down next to their
own AB and were almost indiscernible between each other in any real regard. When the AB-4s

661 | P a g e

landing gear took the weight of the craft the bay doors slid open and out filed ten Marines all
armed with assault rifles. They stopped just short of Daniel, eyeing him warily.
We were ordered here for a pick up of a Special? said the lead Marine bearing
lieutenants bars on his shoulders.
That you are, answered Daniel. Hes right over there. Daniel gestured to the floating
Townsend and then eyed the lieutenant. You have the Letheumxlvi injection?
Medic! called the lieutenant.
A Marine in the back sighed with resignation and shouldered his assault rifle, opening a
pack around his waist and pulling out a cartridge injection syringe as he approached the floating
Townsend loading a cartridge of Letheum into the chamber.

The Marine reached out for

Townsends arm but the telekinetic barrier prevented him from reaching skin.
How do I get to the vein? demanded the medic.
Sorry, said McCormack, and with an easing expression on his stern face looked at the
medic. Try it now. Right arm.
The medic made a second attempt and found the arm immobilized and the vein exposed
as he tested it with his finger.
Okay, got it.
The medic pressed the injection gun to the artery and with a snapping sound Townsend
groaned and his eyelids grew heavy as his eyes fluttered upward exposing the whites.
You should know, said Daniel to the lieutenant confidingly, that when the drug wears
off hell snap the restraints youve brought like kindling. Hes already broken out before.
The lieutenants face hardened and he looked at Townsends limp form floating in front
of him.
How long after injecting him do we have? asked the lieutenant.
Id say seven hours, answered Daniel. Fortunately youre less than 30 minutes out
from the detention facility. I would suggest maximum security lock up for this one, though.
Hes pretty tough.
Aye aye, said the lieutenant, and he saluted Daniel who returned the salute, then
pivoted on his heels and ordered the restraints be brought out. They were thicker than the tazershackles they had used, and Daniel only hoped that they would hold Townsend on his journey to
North Brother Island.
662 | P a g e

Once Townsend was shackled, the Marines stepped back and allowed McCormack to
escort Townsend into the belly of the AB-4 showing him where to place the limp form, and then,
slinging their rifles around their backs, they went to work loading him into the harness against
the wall, sealing Townsend into the Teflon steel chamber that barely accommodated his massive
growth.
Once the Marines were sure Townsend was secured, they turned on McCormack with a
coldness and gestured toward the hatch silently beckoning him to leave.
need to be told.

McCormack did not

It was clear by their body language they were reluctant to be alone with a

Special and were not too keen on being in a situation where they were not armed and at the ready
in the presence of said Special.

McCormack turned and exited the craft quickly, stepping out

onto the landing pad and rejoined Daniel at the Lieutenants side who had been watching the
interaction between the Task Force and the Marines with grim looks of dissatisfaction.
If theres nothing else, Agent Rooke, said the lieutenant.
Actually there is. said Daniel. Our teams are going to be working together in the near
future. I suggest you have your men bear that in mind and not try to threaten my men.
Aye aye, sir, said the lieutenant. Ill have a word with them.
That is all, concluded Daniel.
Sir, said the lieutenant with a salute.
Daniel returned the salute lazily and the lieutenant, satisfied, turned and entered the AB-4
and shut the hatch. Within a matter of seconds, the AB-4 lifted into the air with a lurch and spun
about northerly before launching off with a crack of the wind its wake made.
Well, scoffed Joseph, were just making friends all over.
Theyre young, replied McCormack.
Younger than they ought to be for this line of work, criticized Leonard.
Theyve got the training, concluded Daniel. And the will to do the job.
So what now? offered McCormack.
Now we catch a ride to Charlies, answered Daniel, as if the answer was obvious.
Sounds good to me, said Stephen.
Men! called Leonard. Get out of your gear and back into your normal attire. Were
going out for lunch!
663 | P a g e

The Task ForceJosh, Stephen, Chad and Josephcheered and they turned back to the
hangar corridor, disappearing into shadow. Bradley and McCormack hung back and waited for
Daniel.
Something wrong? asked Daniel.
Just thinking about this North Brother Island, said Bradley. McCormack remained
silent.
What about it? pressed Daniel.
The Marines stationed there have just about as much training as those guys have, said
Bradley.
Your point? pressed Daniel.
Makes you wonder how theyd feel about the Task Force showing up to drop off
prisoners, said Bradley.

And make no mistake, we will have to escort prisoners there

eventually.
Yeah well, sighed Daniel, acknowledging Bradleys worries. Well cross that river
when we come to it.
Right, sighed Bradley grimly.
McCormack patted Bradley on the back and pulled him along into the corrugated steel
walkway. Daniel stood still and flexed his muscles in his chest and back, adjusting his footing
and felt no stabbing pain. He tested his feet on the concrete ground and realized the nanite
drones had done their work ahead of schedule. He cracked his back with a satisfying pop and
grabbed his cane as he walked without aid behind McCormack and Bradley into the corridor,
into shadow.

Charlies Soul Food , Washington D.C.

When the SUVs pulled up to Charlies Soul Food Restaurant it was to a pleasant surprise that
Daniel noticed the new panes of reinforced glass in place gleaming and untouched by paint
graffiti or otherwise. They were crystal-clear windows into the warm eatery and the clean fresh
plastered walls gave the place a modern look for the old faces, welcoming the new ones. Gone
were the signs of Chris Youngs attempt to intimidate management, and the Princeton Park
Kings street gang seemed to follow suit in leaving the business alone.

664 | P a g e

Daniel took some pride in his silent efforts to clean up the block and put pressure on
the gang, in effect, bullying them into loosening their grip on the neighborhood. Then again, this
may have had something more to do with the increase in law enforcement dining at the old
restaurant than any tricks Daniel may have pulled.
Daniel stepped out of the SUV and the Task Force followed suit, filing in behind him as
he opened the door and crossed the threshold into the bright interior. Gone were the deep
shadowed nooks. It was warm and inviting and Daniel could not help but let out a whistled sigh
of amazement at how much the shop had changes since he had last saw it. Several customers
looked up at them and recognized them nervously before returning to their meals with anxious
expressions. Some paid their bill and walked past the Task Force nervously nearly breaking into
a run once they reached the chill winds outside.
Before they could so much as register their flight on what was apparently their account,
the kitchen door swung opened and out came Charlie with his usual broad smile and dancing
eyes as though the morning had not taken place.
Daniel! called Charlie.
I like what youve done with the place. said Daniel.
Insurance covered most of the repairs, said Charlie with a wave of his hand. But it was
the Special side-business that really paid for the new look.
Im glad we could help, said Daniel.
Yeah, said Charlie, his eyes were hard for a moment as though he took offense to the
notion of help being nearly killed only hours ago. He quickly rallied, though and smiled. Let
me get you your table.
Charlie beckoned them in out of the chill winter air and flagged them down to their
regular table which had a reserved sign on top of white linen sheets.
Nice touch, the sheets, said Daniel.
I decided to go with a bistro look to brighten up the place, said Charlie brightly. It
gives some color and culture to the neighborhood, dont you think?
Well I could hardly miss it passing by, said Daniel and then pointed at the new
windows, The glass?
Its the new kind that cant get Scraped up by the neighborhood kids. And since I was
at it, I went bullet proof.
665 | P a g e

Nice.
Just thinking of the little eventualities, said Charlie, considering the amount of cops
that come through here for their discount.
Smart thinking.
I like to stay ahead of the curve.
Daniel caught a couple looking at him warily, glancing out the window and down the
street and then back at him until they realized Daniel was looking right back at them, and then
they became increasingly absorbed in their food. Daniel leaned on his cane and scowled.
Whats with the other customers? asked Daniel.
Dont you go worrying about them, answered Charlie. PPK has been in a state since
Chris went up on a dope charge. Theyre just talking some shit. Now sit. Tamikas out so Ill
be taking your orders.
Being around Daniel for as long as they had the team had acquired a taste for ox tails and
collard greens, but some veered off the conventional fare and asked for suggestions from Charlie,
who smiled delightedly at the notion of introducing the Task Force to new cuisine.
Within ten minutes, the table was full of platters of ox tails, collard greens, fried catfish,
cornbread, macaroni and cheese, and sweet potato pie and every plate was loaded to capacity as
they dug in healthily to their meals as only veterans couldhunched over their plates, their eyes
working on what to eat next as they chewed what was already in their mouths. In their collective
silence they grunted approvingly with each new mouthful and the only conversation to be had
was when they finished a plate and argued among each other over who got the rest of the ox tails
or the macaroni and cheese or the last slice of sweet potato pie.
Soon their stomachs began to protest with their arteries clogged, as their brains grew
foggy and their eyes drooped. Charlie checked on them in a doting fashion and noted their
impact to the platters. Apparently the Task Force enjoyed the meal thoroughly.
Well, Ill be. chuckled Charlie. We got us a bunch of black folk in here! You sure
you dont have any of my blood in you?
Charlie, proclaimed Daniel, that was the best!
Im glad you liked it! smiled Charlie.
Just then, the door flung open and Tamika stood there her arms laden with groceries for
the restaurant. Daniel smiled and waved to her. He had taken a liking for the girl, almost like a
666 | P a g e

niece. What was unsettling was the look in her eyes as she took in the view of the Task Force
sitting sluggishly and comfortably at their reserved table.
Oh my God, what are they doing here? demanded Tamika wildly. Grandpa, make
them leave, now!
Whats going on? asked Daniel, a little uncomfortable at his reception from a girl
whose honor he had safeguarded no less.
I cant be seen talking to you! said Tamika, shortly and wheeled around on her
grandfather pleadingly.
Tamika, soothed Charlie, taking her arms in his hands, calm down. Now, whats all
this about?
Tamika locked eyes with Charlie. She had never been able to tell her grandfather a lie in
all her life. But there was something about his stare Before she knew it she was unburdening
herself in front of the entire restaurant. To the wide eyed and knowing stares of the patrons.
I was down at the market and I ran into some 3PK thugs, she began, They told me to
stay away from the white boys. she shot a nervous look to the Task Force, Said that they were
going to get dealt tonight up at their place down the street. She turned to look her grandfather in
the eye and the words tumbled out before she could stop them. Ghost is coming for them.
How deeps he coming? demanded Charlie, shaking Tamika roughly, his eyes boring
into hers. Whos coming with him? Ill call their grandmas and make them set them straight.
Everyone, she whispered. Hes bringing everyone!
All of Princeton Park Kings? stammered Charlie, looking over at the Task Force.
Against my friends?
Tamika could not believe what she was hearing.
Grandpa, she scolded, these people are not your friends. Look what they caused with
Jonas!
Chris was a punk! spat Charlie, And you owe them too. You know what Chris was
trying to do to you. You owe Daniel.
I dont owe anyone my life! said Tamika, her tone frantic and yet authoritative. Her
eyes filled with real tears as she pleaded with Charlie. Grandpa, make them leave! Please!
Theyll go wherever they are!

667 | P a g e

Charlie had never encountered tears in his granddaughter, even when she hurt herself or
lost a fight. These tears gave Charlie pause and he searched her face, the premature lines around
her eyes, the quivering lower lip and found himself speechless. Daniel rose from his chair and
swiped his credit card across the reader in the table and typed in the tip which registered with a
flashing Have a nice day!
Its alright, Charlie, said Daniel. Were done. We wont be a bother.
Damn, Daniel. said Charlie. No trouble at all.
Apparently theres something going down tonight, said Daniel grimly. Wed better
leave. If anyone tries messing with you, give me a call.
You think itll come to that? blinked Charlie.
I made one thug uncomfortable and assisted in his arrest, answered Daniel, then
clarified the situation for Charlie. This isnt one thug. This is an army. These are soldiers. And
thats how Ill treat them.
Well treat them. said Leonard, rising to his feet next to him.
Daniel had expected this. He shook his head to Leonard.
No, said Daniel emphatically. I cant ask you guys to get involved.
Where do we go, boss? said Joseph, rising from the table and cracking his knuckles.
One by one each member of the Task Force rose to his feet. The first after Joseph was
Stephen. Then slowly, Chad, Josh and Bradley followed suit until McCormack rapped his
fingers on the table and rose. Daniel was moved by the display of solidarity. He could offer
them nothing but silent gratitude for their willingness to stand next to him against such odds.
We go back to The Post, said Daniel. We wait it out. If theyre stupid enough to go
there, then, well, well handle it. The Task Force looked grim and hard back at him and nodded
their acceptance and understanding.

With that, Daniel turned to Charlie. Thanks for

everything, said Daniel. Dinner was excellent. Then added Ill put in a call to local PD to
make sure your place doesnt get swept up in the middle of all this.
Thanks. said Charlie as though he were talking to a dead man. What about you?
Were going to prepare a welcoming committee, answered Daniel. Maybe we can
contain this from spilling out onto the streets.
What are you going to do? blinked Charlie. Go house to house?

668 | P a g e

No. said Daniel. Im going home. He looked into Charlies eyes and almost dared
him to use his ability on him. I live in this neighborhood. No ones chasing me away.
Theyll kill you, said Tamika, as though they were dead already.
You dont know me. answered Daniel. Trust me, if they run up against us itll be the
worse for them.
Youre crazy! stammered Tamika, almost pleading for Daniel to take his men and run.
Only a little. smiled Daniel and rose up from his cane a little, the pain had lessened in
the rush of the moment. He then turned to Charlie and shook his hand. Charlie, thanks again.
With that Daniel walked out of the restaurant into the chill afternoon air and walked up
the boulevard like a soldier, his cane barely touching the ground, his men following suit. A wide
berth was given them as they marched up the street, silent and almost reverent for the dead men
passing them. The street was alert to the eventual killing, and held its breath in wait for the
coming slaughter. They would not call the police. They would not talk to the press. They
would wait for the gunshots. And know how it ended before they saw the bodies carried out of
the brownstone.
What now? asked McCormack, mildly curious as to how they were to be employed.
We fortify The Post. said Daniel. And then we wait. Then added hopefully, Maybe
theyll second guess coming up against us and call it a night.
McCormack raised an eyebrow and looked sidelong at him.
You really think it could all turn up to be smoke and ash?
I can hope. answered Daniel. I really dont want to go up against these guys. Most of
themll be just kids.
Kids with guns, clarified Joseph.
Soldiers, said Leonard.
Kids trying to make a name for themselves by killing men twice their age, said
Stephen.
Kids, answered Daniel. Ill do what I have to do to live and make sure the rest of my
team is safe. But I wont kill a kid.
Then the kid will kill you, said Joseph.
Theres got to be another way, said Daniel, almost desperately.
There isnt, said Joseph grimly.
669 | P a g e

Daniel reached the top step leading out into the flat of The Post and he turned to face his
Task Force with cold authority in his voice.
Alright men, said Daniel. There will be time for this later. We need to set the alarms
and prepare for combat.
How do we do that? said Stephen.
For those of us without energy projecting abilities or telekinesis, answered Daniel,
grab a gun and keep it close.
Right, said Joseph.
Aye aye, said Chad.
Leonard looked up at him and nodded determinedly.
The rest of you, continued Daniel, its business as usual until they come. I want to
start the leads on the case before the Bureau brats tread all over it and leave nothing behind for
us to work with. And Stephen, check with your boys and see if theyre ready to play with SE
Services.
On it, said Stephen, and he walked past Daniel into the flat and to his room to access
his files on the computer at his desk.
Daniel looked down at the men remaining.
Dont let me hold you up.
With that the remaining Task Force filed past him and disabled the elevator and set the
alarm and security system.
Within moments, there was silence as the precautions had been taken care of leaving only
the waiting. Daniel would have to keep them busy now, as idle hands lead to idle minds. And
idle minds dwell on the dark

670 | P a g e

C h a p t e r

3 6:

North Brother Island

QUEENS, NEW YORK

he North Brother Island Special Detention Facility was located near the Bronx section
of the East River, just one hundred yards from the burrows it sat surrounded by
forested land and brush holding a healthy population of black crowned night herons

and rodents that grew wild along the shoreline overlooking both the Bronx and Rikers Island.
The island had a spotted history as a Smallpox colony, the living tomb of Mary Mallon,
the fiery beaching of the side-wheeled steamship General Slocumthat killed one thousand
people before it collided with the islandand later a drug rehabilitation center for adolescents
who were tortured by the islands wards. Locked in their cells during their detoxification from
heroin, it was a place of madness. Of darkness and depression. Since the closing of the detox
facility in later corruption scandals and the fact that the patients returned to their drug use despite
the exemplary methods of the facility, the island remained without use. Until now.
The Special Detention Facility was the governments answer to the potential criminal
element in the Specials community. It was built to withstand bombardment by heavy artillery,
including bunker busters, and house the most powerful Specials in its depths below the soft wet
earth.
It was cold, austere and foreboding, built not far from the remnants of Riverside Hospital,
which had been slightly rebuilt to house a detachment of Marines in case there was a need for
Riot control on the island.

But they were only one stage of the security of the prison. They
671 | P a g e

were not to enter the facility during such a scenario without backup. Which was located both on
Rikers Island in the form of Riot control guards and a stronger platoon operating as sentries on
the island to the south.
South Brother Island loomed just short of fifty yards away from the detention facility on
North Island. With sophisticated automated artillery guns aimed at the buildings and land
tracing the minute movements of birds and animals in the underbrush with a fluid motion of
millimeters rising and falling, swiveling and spinning to capture each sudden action, analyze the
threat and disregard the target all in an instant. The guns maintained silent sentry of the island,
ever vigilant in case of a breakout. Deeper in the interior of the island, a series of anti-aircraft
guns trailed the horizon for errant aircraft with sophisticated protocols for identifying craft as
hostile before firing, the system seemed all but foolproof.
There the sentry detachment shared the seven-acre island with a host of indigenous
birdsthe black-crowned night herons, great egrets, snowy egrets, and double-crested
cormorants. Some Marines took a fascination with bird watching. Most trained their sights on
The Bronx or Queens with powerful binoculars and watched the women jog along the waterline.
All avoided watching Rikers Island. It was just depressing to watch another prison, though
sometimes an attractive curvy girl walking toward the gates caught their attention and they knew
she was going in for her conjugal visit with some lucky convict. But this just frustrated the
isolated soldiers all the more
On both islands their jobs were tedious and boring. The prison didnt even have any
inmates in it.

It stood cold and lonely like the mouth of the Morlocks home in H.G. Wells

Time Machine. But if the Specials were Morlocks, then who were the Eloi? This was an
unsettling notion to Lieutenant Mills, who managed the detachment on North Brother Island.
And with a feeling of dread, he heard the claxon that could only mean an errant flight path of
some aircraft.
This is the United States Marines, said Mills into the radio. Alter your flight course or
be fired upon!
And with a quick look through the binoculars he could see on South Brother Island, the
anti-aircraft guns raising to firing position and prayed the craft altered course. Then he turned
back to the fast moving aircraft and saw it was flashing its lights in an almost Morse code

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blinking that was mirrored by the lighthouse at the waters edge and he frowned as the
viewscreen in front of him lit up with a code transmission.
Marines, said the confident pilots voice, hold your fire. This is a drop off run.
The flight codes were confirmed and Mills heart sank at the notion that North Brother
Island might finally be open for business.
Within a second, he could see the distinguishing features of the

AB-4 as it slowed and

angled for a landing on the landing pad outside the fully automated prisons main doors. Mills
looked to the south and saw through his binoculars that the anti-aircraft guns had received the
override commands and were lowering back into the brush of South Brother Island. The prisons
main doors slid open in response to the landing codes, preparing for the arrival of its first
prisoner.
When he trailed his binoculars back on the

AB, it was to see the airlock hiss and slide

open as the steps descended to the ground and Marines hopped the distance down to the ground,
checking their surroundings through the sights of their rifles before turning their weapons back
toward the AB itself.
My God, muttered Mills ruefully, its really happening.
Mills tapped his binoculars and they zoomed in on the hatchwhere the Marines had just
hopped out from and now trained their rifles onwith a morbid fascination to see the first
Special to enter North Brother Island. Then his binoculars filled with the sheer mass of the man.
No, not a man. He was clearly three feet taller than the tallest Marine out there, and his muscles
were massive, his broad chest heaving as he struggled with his restraints. He seemed to convulse
as though shocked by a powerful burst of electricity had run through him and his knees buckled
and he tumbled through the hatch face first onto the tarmac.
A blink on the screen behind him alerted him to the download from the
tarmac.

AB

on the

Reluctantly he turned away and surveyed the file that had just been sent to his

viewscreen. Apparently this was a Special that was to be treated as an Abnormal Special due to
his mass and depth for cruelty toward the normal human population.

Eugene Jeremiah

Townsend was a hulk of a man with filed teeth sharpened to a needlepoint in his mug-shot
picture. Standing at 78 and weighing 379 lbs of solid muscle, he was formidable in every way
and Mills swallowed hard hoping never to have to see this man again.

The facility was

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automated, and the only people who ever entered it were staff for maintenance and food delivery,
which the machinery processed into meals for the inmates and shipped them to their cells in the
depths of the facility via sturdy military androids.
Above ground, the facility looked like an apartment complex complete with balconies.
Mills wondered where would they be taking Townsend? To sun on a poolside? Or into the
depths of the facility where no light reached?
His question was answered fairly quickly as the screen flashed:
USE EXTREME CAUTION.
They would take him to the cells in solitary confinement. They had to.
When Mills took up his binoculars again, the Marines had dragged the struggling,
drooling Townsend into the facility and were boarding the lift that descended deep beneath the
surface of the island, down below the river and into the earth beneath its depths.
Mills sighed.
He took a look at his journal he had been told to keep to help with his depression as a
result of the isolation of his post and thought about opening it and writing what he had just
witnessed, but thought better of it in case his journal was turned in to his superiors. He often
second-guessed his entries into his journal as he had seen better men than him removed suddenly
from command positions and discharged so the military could avoid having to pay for therapy
and medication. Having a psychological disorder was still frowned upon in the military and
treated half-heartedly, and that was if they could not find a sound reason for Discharge.
Finally the Marines returned, their rifles slung over their shoulders, rubbing their necks as
though they had had quite an ordeal in placing the prisoner in his cell.
Mills did not want to know. In fact, he would never ask anyone about the wellbeing of
any prisoner. He was too frightened of the Specials community to do more than shoot on sight.
The Marines on the ground did not look up at the tower. Instead they marched back to
their AB, climbed the steps wearily and sealed the hatch. Then the AB-4 tilted up and was away
leaving the sentries alone with their solitary prisoner.
And Mills world grew a little darker with the solitary prisoner on his watch.

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C h a p t e r

3 7:
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Retribution of Princeton Park Kings

THE POST

aniel sat in the dark of his office, the light of the monitor illuminating the room as he
scrolled through the intelligence gleaned by the Bureau agents as a way of distracting
himself from the annoying state of alert they were under in regards to Charlies dire

warnings of an imminent confrontation with the local street gang Princeton Park Kings. He had
better things to do that worry about petty gangs seeking revenge, but there it was, in the back of
his mind, ever looming. In some ways this waiting was worse than an actual drive by or hit. At
least with that there was the surprise and the subsequent reaction. But this waiting drove Daniel
up the wall. And he had bigger fish to fry.
He had walked the flat every evening for a week, even peering out the window to see if
there was any sign of activity out on the street below but the street yielded no secrets to him. It
remained at its constant state of hard stares and defiance to outsiders but no sign of a validly
hostile element that he could discern beyond the usual blustering and bravado that usually failed
when put to test. This night, he remained in his office focusing on the intelligence the Bureau
had gleaned on the characters Dupree, Owens and Teleron Globals CEO Mitchell, which
admittedly, wasnt much. He stared at the viewscreen a little longer poring over the data until
his eyes throbbed in their sockets and recoiled from the only source of light in the office, finally
conceding defeat.
There would be time to search the data for connections when his eyes stopped aching and
his head stopped throbbing. Until then, he would arm the security system Boatman had installed
last week for the night and bar the sliding steel door at the entrance to The Post.

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Daniel rose and cracked his back, stretching as he logged off of the terminal and made his
way out of the office to make his nightly routine in light of the threat against them laid by the
local street gang.
Out in the street, a crowd in black sweaters, jackets and hoodies gathered beneath the tree
line watching the lights from the third floor of The Post.

Lorenzo stepped out of the shadow

into the weak light cast by the decrepit lamppost overhead, which had been shot out so many
times the city stopped investing in powerful light bulbs. His glass eye glowed eerily in the dim
light as he studied the building across the street. Within a moment, a second man stepped out
next to him and pulled off his hood. He was a bald man with two-tone skin because of Vitiligo
that gave him an eerie look of a Ghost.
This is the place, spat Lorenzo, pointing up toward the third floor window looking
down on the street. That rat motherfuckers right up there.
Lets go, said Ghost.
Lorenzo pulled out his MAC-17 and flipped the safety off as the crowd surged forward
into the street. The black clad figures wove around the cars and lampposts, gripping assault
rifles, pistols, shotguns, baseball bats, knives and the leashes of pit bulls and rottweilers. All of
them were silent as they crept toward the lobby doors.
Slowly, they forced their way into the lobby, holding their noses and cursing under their
breaths as their eyes watered and their stomachs turned. A large handful of men wheeled about
on their heels, and retreated out of the lobby to wheeze and vomit, as silently as they could while
the brave few remaining felt their way in the dark space, feeling their way along walls.
Periodically recoiling in disgust as their hands brushed against some oily, yet sticky and furry
substancebringing to them images of dead, eviscerated rats stapled to the walls.
A few more slipped out of the foul humid air of the lobby for the sweeter smell of rotted
sewer manes beneath the concrete outside. There they gasped and gulped at the air, their eyes
burning like soldiers escaping a tear gas roomall pretense of bravado gone. All trace of
hardness erased.
They stood outside shivering, wide eyes, shaking their head in a panic, as Lorenzo
flagged them on, with greater ire for their reluctance. A small handful were guilted back into
file, and returned to the black void of the lobby, pulling their shirts over their mouths and noses
as they followed, wide eyed with an unconscious fear, wholly removed from the knowledge they
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had gathered together to commit murder. Their fears were not for their souls, or the lives of the
men they had sworn to take, but of an unknown element that became tangible through their sense
of smelland robbed of light, any movement was a realization that a foul monster was there.
Cautiously they crept along the steps, like gelded bulls, wincing in seeming agony over
every sound, shamed by their own nonsensical fear as they made their way climbing slowly up
the flight of stairs. Carefully they stepped up the stairs, lightly letting their toes seek out the nails
on the steps and easing their weight over the nail heads to minimize the creaking of the wood
beneath their feet. They jumped at every sound as they crept the staircase and held onto each
other for support against the depraved and foul smelling beast that no doubt lived in the dark
stairwell.
Their monster they feared was in the form of a small security beam that crossed the steps
out onto the second floor. Unbeknownst to them, their presence was now catalogued by a dozen
audio visual scanners recording their movements through the lobby and up the stairwell as they
continued to climb oblivious to the fact that surprise was no longer their ally.
In the flat, Joseph and Chad watched the news with keen interest in what was happening
in the outside world removed from their investigation, waiting impatiently for the shoe to drop
the sudden burst of excitement and immortal energy that would take themthat they must fight
to see clearly and remember they are mortal.
Their breathing caught in their throats as they struggled to calm their expectant hearts
racing.

This had been the state of things for the past few days since they were alerted to the

threat against them by Princeton Park Kings.

Every time they entered their flat, it was expecting to find it filled with assassins. Every
time they walked to and from the SUVs it was to the drumbeat of their hearts as they scanned the
passing crowds for sign of gunmen gathering.
Daniel had ordered a ban on going down to Charlies for fear of involving him in their
coming doom. But they were not ordinary people who could be rattled by the state of waiting.
They were veterans of the bloodiest war ever fought by man and they were used to waiting while
explosions rained all around them, waiting for the order. Waiting for the clear threat to reveal
itself.
Joseph and Chad stared at the television and let the smiling Anchorman and woman
charm them with the reports of the day. The news ran over the days events, rounding now and
678 | P a g e

again back to the terrorist attack that had still yielded no suspects and no money trail.
Conspiracy ran rampant on the news, taking any gem they could find to stream together a thinly
coherent angle or update from an unidentified source claiming to have new shocking information
on the case. As always, it was far from the mark.
The only thing that was clear to the news agencies was that Special involvement had been
confirmed by multiple sources, and the following stories ran trying to define the state of affairs
with Specials treatment in America to divine why certain individuals in that community would
try to assassinate world leaders. What agenda did they have? Why were they silent when the
world waited for them to take center stage and make their ultimatums? Would it be civil rights?
Why were the culprits silent?
Aw, come on already! whined Chad in frustration as he flipped through the channels to
other news outlets to see the word Special in the left hand corner of every newscast. Every
damn day its the same thing! It wasnt like the President was on that space station!
Relax, grasshopper, said Joseph with a smile as he took a handful of popcorn from a
large bowl propped between them and took turns between the popcorn and the beer he sipped.
Its the way of the world to focus on fear. An right now? Were it.
Yeah well, grumbled Chad, I dont have to like it.
Chad nuzzled his back into the couch and lowered himself down as he and Joseph waited
through the infuriating dialogue for the news to return to the news and step away from the realm
of speculation and news invention.
Just then, a claxon sounded in The Post and the flash of the strobe-like warning lights
illuminated the flat for snatches of seconds before plunging the room back into shadow. Joseph
and Chad glanced up at the flashing light and blaring claxon with mild surprise and registered
some threat was near as their mouths went dry and their stomachs dropped.

They sat

motionless, letting their senses stretch out past the earsplitting claxon for the sound they had
been waiting for for days. The sound of rushing footsteps. The sound of gunfire. The sound of
battle.
Daniel sat bolt upright in his office.
Its time
He stalked down the hallway at a quickstep.
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Christine poked her head out of her door and looked to Daniel, her eyes were wide with
fright.
Go back inside, said Daniel. And lock the door.
Christine nodded quickly and shut the door, snapping the lock in place.
Daniel saw the shadow retreat from the gap under the door and was thankful he could
spare her the crisis of conscience and fear that was to come for the others. He had no illusions
about what was coming. He had pictured it for days, now: A wall of men armed to the teeth
storming the flat.
The only question was: how to handle it?
Daniel stepped out onto the flat to see the near empty room. Joseph and Chad sat on the
couch watching the entrance to The Post cautiously. Joseph looked up at the ceiling at the
flashing light warily, and traded a nervous glance at Chad who sat next to him on the couch
listening to the sound of movement just beyond the doorway leading out to the stairwell. Their
instinct was the same: throw the couch over on its side and hit the floor.
Leonard charged past Daniel into the flat stark naked, his mustache pulled into long
handlebars, as he held a heavy SOPMOD rifle in his hands, shouting into the flat.
At the ready! cried Leonard, his rallying cry brought Joseph and Chad out from their
hiding place to face whatever was coming.
Stephen and Josh rushed out of their rooms in boxers and t-shirts ready for the fight.
They took position behind two pillars and traded looks with the others silently assuring them
they had backup. Daniel stood staring at the main doors to the flat suspiciously.
In the stillness, illuminated in flashes by the blaring strobe effect, Joseph steadied himself
next to Leonard as Chad, unarmed, tensed every muscle in his body waiting for the fight. All the
days of waiting with their weapons at the ready, and the long days had lulled them into a lax state
of security. Now it was upon them and their guns were in their rooms.
Out of annoyance, Daniel barked to the room, knowing the smart-alarm would respond.
Daniel Rooke, Anchor, he said to the alarm terminal, across the room, over the din of
the claxon. Kill alarm!

680 | P a g e

The blare of the claxon cut instantly, leaving the flashing strobe light, and the throbbing
sound of the pulse in their collective earsas adrenaline set intook prominence. They stood at
the ready watching the shut door waiting for signs of movement.
Finally, the doorknob moved, ever so subtly clockwise and counterclockwise.

The

shadow at the gap beneath the door moved away quickly as the doorknob and lock riddled with
holes, pock marking the metal door, the sound of the gunfire echoing in the stairwell and
reverberating through the door, which slowly slid open to reveal the fog of gun smoke curling
into the flat.
Through the doorway, dozens of men flowed into the flatall armed with semi, to fully
automatic weaponsand began opening fire, riddling the walls with a spray of bullets.
All lights were the first to go. The television and computer terminal shuddered with the
impacts of the bullets and blinked off while the fluorescent lights overhead rained powdered
glass and sparks down on their headsthere in the darkness, the moonlight outside illuminated
the room with the alarm lights flashing out their strobe rhythmin the spreading cloud of gun
smoke that began to fill the flat. Some of the bullets found the windows, making spider-webbed
holes in the glass and gusts of fresh air sucked in through the holes and warred with the gun
smoke in cyclonic patterns.
Joshs aura flared up and beams of light burned into the gunmen who fell away as though
scalded, slapping the flames out on their clothesit was obviously a low powered strike.
Stephen pointed his finger and fired bullet sized balls of energy that illuminated eerily in
the smoke filled room through the moons rays that spilled across the flat, exploding deafeningly
among the brazen front line, seeking dominance of the landing and scattering them in painful
states of disorientation.
The gunmen continued to fire as though their fallen comrades were of little concern, only
their need to empty their magazines of bullets at the walls, the pillars and the men who took
cover behind them.
Seconds later, McCormack and Bradley ran into the fight, but took only defensive
positions out in the open, their telekinetic shields easily protecting them, while Josh and Stephen
peeked out behind the pillars in the room firing from the safety of their positions.
The gunmen fired indiscriminately into the room, riddling the pillars with fire in the
hopes that their bullets would wear through the support columns and find flesh.
681 | P a g e

Knowing they had seconds before their safe positions gave way, Stephen, Josh, Chad and
Joseph traded looks of resignation, steadied their breathing and launched themselves from behind
the pillars into the fray, dancing among the smoke and firing fiercely, determined to make the
gangsters work for their kill or pay dearly in the attempt.
Stephen and Josh fired brilliant bursts of energy at the hooded gangsters, while Chad
danced around the spray of bullets instinctively knowing where each bullet was and maneuvering
out of its way, dancing ever closer to the gunmen, straining himself trying to get close enough to
use his hands and feet against them. However, the wall of bullets was too condensed and Chad
eventually danced away to a safer distance.
Joseph grit his teeth, then with a loud crack, Jumped into their midst, grabbed three of the
gunmen and with another loud crack reappeared behind the pillar looking worse for wear, while
the three men he had grabbed writhed on the floor in agony. The long haired wild man then took
their automatic weapons away and tossed one to Chad, tossing the other across the overturned
couch, out of sight. Then he took position behind the pillar and fired back at the gang members,
aiming for their kneecaps and shoulders in an effort not to kill. Still there was the very real
chance an artery might be clipped by the rounds fired. It was all he could do. Grimly he
accepted that some of these men would die at his hands over the alternative of dying at theirs.
Daniel noticed Chad drop his gun to the floor and peek out from behind the pillar, tensed
for his next jump back into the fray, weaponless.
McCormack stood his ground looking around the battlefield at his men while the bullets
bounced harmlessly off his large aura, falling to the wood paneled floor collecting in pools of
flattened pellets.
Bradley also stood there the bullets ricocheting off his own tighter aura, though they
appeared to annoy him more than McCormackhe punched several gunmen who collapsed
under his blows.
Still more gunmen made their way into the flat firing at point blank range at the Specials
who thwarted them with the combination of their abilities to a stalemate. The strategy they had
developed was simple enough: Stand their ground until the gangsters ran out of ammunition and
then sweep up those too proud to run away.
The gunmen continued firing on them.

682 | P a g e

Leonard called out orders from his standing position in the middle of the room, but the
bullets still stung him, and he retreated with his hands held high over his eyes and forehead, as
though fearing the bullets might give him a concussion. He did not even have time to return fire
as he backed up toward the pillars and ducked behind one, feeling his bruised flesh with a
growing sense of mortification at being routed into retreat by mere thugs.
Daniel had seen enough.
He stormed out of the lobby and marched into his quarters, reaching beneath his bed,
pulled the long lacquered case out and flipped it onto the bed. His fingers found the latches and
with a snap, the case was open revealing the long slender gleaming contents. A long metal staff
with a long bayonet at the end, and an ammunition stock for a rifle.
Snatching up both, he turned and marched out of his quarters into the dark hall,
illuminated in strobe effect by gunfire.
He walked among his team members without so much as a glance for them as they fired
and danced or merely held the barrage of bullets back with powerful telekinesis as he busied
himself with the sliding of the magazine clip into the oddly shaped spear at the hilt, just beneath
the blade.
Daniel walked up through the fighting men, with the long metal staff at his back, his head
low, his face grim. The sound of rounds piercing the sound barrier next to his ear hardly phased
him as he strode up into their midst, an anger burning brighter with every stride. His manner and
stride was so off putting, that the Kings ceased fire and stared defiantly at him, ready to fight, but
uncommonly nervous. With a depression of his thumb on a redundant security access point on
the nearest pillar, the strobe light effect of the now silent alarm blinked off and the room went
dark as the moonlight took dominance, filtering in through the bullet strike spider-webbed
window and warred with the gun smoke, which choked the air.
Daniel produced the long stick and several of the gang members, interpreting his action
as a challenge to fight, stepped forward with disgust, determined to beat Daniel within an inch of
his life.
Daniel ignored them.
With a quick motion, he fired five shots from the rifle into the ceiling above the
gangsters heads, leaving pinholes in the plaster overhead and the disconcerting sound of eggs on
the frying pan in the room.
683 | P a g e

Daniel stood relaxed, leaning against the staff like a proud old man with a cane.
The gangsters traded uncomfortable looks, unsure how to deal with the change of events.
Should they shoot him? Should they beat him down for his arrogance? Leaving the flat without
their pound of flesh seemed ridiculous as they worked themselves back from disconcert to
indignant rage.
But the blistering sound seemed to grow louder. Above the gangsters, the pinholes had
expanded, turning from the sickly-yellowed dusty white to a wet, decayed brown. Each pinhole
now a perfect sphere, the diameter of four feet, and the acrid smell of burning and digested raw
material seemed to fill the room. The gangsters sniffed at the air and looked about in vain to
place the smell to no avail.
Finally a wet brown drop broke free of the ceilings hold and fell onto one of the
gunmens arm, causing the man to jump at the contact and stare at the drop bewilderedly. The
others looked up to see the perfect circles of wet decay and grew perplexed as the brown rain
droplets began to fall in their hair, on their faces, and their arms and shoulders. They stared at
the droplets perplexedly, listening to the sizzling sounds, and then realized that the liquid was
cooking whatever it came into contact with.
Instantly, they wailed in pain and jerked their arms wildly, racing around the room in
agony, until finally Daniel could take no more.
He grabbed one, punched another, sending him to the ground, and pushed yet another
into the rest, and they writhed on the floor, begging for help from Daniel.
He held onto the one in front of him, eyeing him closely, yet his words were raised in
volume for all to hear as he spoke.
If you want to stop the burning, announced Daniel, theres a fire hydrant outside.
Water stops the burning. After you wash the wounds completely, get to a hospital and tell the
doctors youve been exposed to a corrosive compound and ask for HAZMAT to check you out.
Do you understand?
The man in front of him nodded in a terror and Daniel let him go. He ran out of the flat,
leaving his friends writhing on the floor. Daniel was not surprised to see the man run away. His
team on the other hand was shocked that he would not have stayed to help his friends down the
stairs to the lobby.
He just left them, stammered Chad in disbelief.
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No honor among thieves, muttered Daniel, then turned to his men. Come on, guys.
Daniel took one, and the others began carrying gang members down the steps to the
lobby where they were greeted with the sight of a dozen men in black with guns, baseball bats,
knives and pit bulls and rottweilers on chains standing impishly watching the progress down to
where they stood.
The dogs whined and pulled at their leashes toward the lobby doors, anxious to be away
from this place.
Daniel looked at the collection of hardened men and snapped at them.
A little help here? demanded Daniel.
The gangsters blinked at each other stupidly, and then slowly stepped forward and began
taking the injured by the arm and carrying or dragging them out to the sidewalk.
Just lay them down on the sidewalk, ordered Daniel. They need to get water on their
wounds.
The gangsters did as they were instructed; still awed by the fact that the men from the flat
were unharmed by the onslaught they had heard from the lobby. The gunfire, shouts and
screams, and the dead silence that shook them to the core and the wails of agony that followed
the silence.
It was enough to shake any man.
And they stood in a group mindset urging, begging them to not upset these dangerous
men. After all, what would you think when men faced certain death and walked away without so
much as a scratch? The Princeton Park Kings were not impressedthey were in utter awe of
these men.
Daniel barked orders at them like he controlled the gang,
Get that cap off that fire hydrant! he ordered irritably.
The gang was in such a state they kowtowed to his wishes and helped him unscrew the
fire hydrant as Leonards powerful hands wrenched the valve open with a slight grunt.
The water quickly became a bubbling geyser directed at the wall by Leonards powerful
hands, and the rest of them dragged the moaning and screaming gangsters into the stream of
water, rubbing their festering wounds until all that was left of the pain was the traumatic burning
of exposed and abused flesh. The gangsters breathed great sighs as the blistering pain receded to
the dull burn that was infinitely preferable to the sensation of acid on flesh. They smiled stupidly
685 | P a g e

as the water washed over them, and laid there breathing deeply in the cold night ignoring the
shuddering waves of shivers that overtook them, fearing the pain that would undoubtedly return
when they moved away from the frigid water. They were so enrapt in the sensation of coolness
on their wounds that they did not notice the flashing lights, the sirens or the police cars pulling
up to the sidewalk, inundating the area in light.
A drone came in low overhead and washed them in beams of light so bright it was as if
the day had come suddenly. The onlooking gangsters turned and ran, leaving their injured
brethren behind to deal with the police as self-preservation took over in the mob mentality. It
was as if God had flicked on the light of an apartment and the roaches lunged for the shadows.
Joseph stepped out into the night pushing the last three gunmen out into the street where
they collapsed and shuddered, still recovering from their experience of Joseph Jumping them
across the room.
Homeland Security teams began to move into the neighborhood cordoning off the street
and approached the remaining men who stood their ground or writhed in the water with
incredulous expressions.
Daniel stepped forward and faced off with the DHS and Metro seniors and spoke to them
in hushed tones gesturing to the news crews unpacking their cameras and raising their
microwave towers for live broadcasts. The consensus was as unanimous as it was silent: they
would back the news teams off and contain the area without interference with questions.
Now, said the lead DHS agent. What happened?
Daniel had been expecting to deliver this particular speech for days, but now that the
moment was upon him, he did not really feel any particular interest in appeasing his audience,
but he ran over the highlights.
We were up in our flat turning in one by one, when our security alarms were activated.
Wed heard rumors that there was going to be some kind of attack against us, and we informed
the Metro police, but we were told to move. Were not moving anywhere. So anyway, these
guys came up the stairs ran into the flat and began shooting up the place. We returned fire, of
course.
Of course, muttered the Metro Sergeant, as though it was a natural response that made
perfect sense, though he shifted in his stance in uneasiness.
What kind of round produces these kinds of wounds? sniffed the DHS agent.
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An Inazu-Kotzuxlvii round, replied Daniel, a challenging smile on his face.

A what? stammered the DHS agent, who had heard of the round, but had never actually
seen one before, only heard of its devastating results on the battlefield.
Daniel held up his hand curling his index finger into his thumb to make a small pea sized
hole.
Small bullet, explained Daniel. Contains a condensed corrosive compound underneath
the shell. Just for the record, I didnt fire it directly at them. I fired it into the ceiling over their
heads.
So these wounds are from acid? stammered the Metro Sergeant, growing resolute in the
action he must take.
That would be the aftereffect, replied Daniel, coolly. Yeah.
Im going to call my superiors, concluded the Metro Sergeant.
You do that, answered Daniel with a scoff.
You could go to jail over this, you know, said the Metro Sergeant over his shoulder.
I doubt it, shrugged Daniel, stopping the Metro Sergeant in his tracks.
Why is that? demanded the Metro Sergeant.
Because we have just cause, replied Daniel, casually, his arms folded across his chest
to keep his hands warm, but the physical effect was a look of intimidation.
How do you figure that? demanded the Metro Sergeant, coldly. The DHS agent also
turned to face Daniel, wanting to hear the answer to that himself.
Daniel studied them coolly for a moment, and then with a gesture of his head toward the
lobby called, Follow me.
Daniel led the agent and the Metro sergeant up the stairs to the third flight and out onto
the landing. He pointed at the far end of The Post.
Feel free, said Daniel dismissively, to examine the walls, the tech and the pillars.
Then added pointing to the far wall over the stairwell, Oh, and note how few times we fired
back by observing the rounds lodged in the wall on the far side of the staircase.
The Metro Sergeant and DHS agent studied the sheer scope of the contagious fire that
had been wrought in the flat, riddling the walls, pillars, windows and tech with holes. Not even
on shooting ranges had walls received this kind of punishment. It looked like swarms of bullets
had been fired in wide arching sprays, and as they stepped into the flat their feet found uneven
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purchase as they slipped on the shell casings on the landing and once inside, on the bullets that
had bounced off McCormack, Bradley and Leonard.
Both the agent and the Sergeant crept deeper into the heart of The Post in utter awe at the
sheer amount of firepower obviously used against Daniel and his men. They stood before the
pillars and felt the holes with their fingertips and then walked through the floor dappled with
moonlight and occasionally illuminated by the drone wheeling in wide arches outside as they
found themselves before the far wall. They studied the different size holesguessing at the
calibers of the weapons by the size of the bullets restingin the wall.
Just then there was a gasp and Daniel, the DHS agent and the Metro Sergeant turned
around to see Christine standing in the hallway at the edge of the flat staring out at the
devastation of the flat at large. Her eyes were tear filled and her hands were covering her gaping
mouth as though begging a question of Daniel.
What happened? stammered Christine. Is everyone alright? Bradley?
Get back to your room, Christine. said Daniel.
Christine looked over at the DHS agent and the Metro Sergeant then back at Daniel,
nodding shakily and shuffled down the hallway. Daniel listened to the footsteps of the corridor
until he heard the distinct sound of a lock latching.
Sorry, said Daniel to the DHS agent and the Metro Sergeant. Kids.
She witnessed this? demanded the Metro Sergeant.
No, answered Daniel, I told her to stay in her room.
Thats child endangerment, there! said the Metro Sergeant. You were up against a
gang! A bullet could have easily gone through the wall and killed her!
Please, chided Daniel. shes tougher than the three of us put together. Besides, no one
was getting past my men. Theyre too well trained. The only reason why the firefight lasted as
long as it did is we have a mandate not to interfere with normal human populations.
The ears of the DHS agent and the Metro Sergeant picked up at the mention of normal
humans.
Normal humans? asked the Metro Sergeant.
The DHS agent studied Daniel with a growing disconcert.
Youre talking about Specials, said the DHS agent, arent you?

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Daniel met his eyes and did not blink. He looked bored by the trade of information with
the two men and he sighed through his nostrils with annoyance.
You got enough to go by? asked Daniel, dismissively.
The DHS agent swallowed at the unspoken admission and looked around the wrecked
flat.
Yeah. said the DHS agent warily. I think were about done.
Like hell, scoffed the Metro Sergeant as he pulled out his cellular phone. I want a
team up here. This is a crime scene. Then added as he dialed, And Im calling child protective
services.
Christine is my ward, said Daniel emphatically. Shes going nowhere.
Well see about that, scoffed the Metro Sergeant.
By all means, said Daniel. waste your own time.
Daniel went to the window and looked down on the developing crime scene. His eyes
then trailed up to where the news agencies were pressing against the police line, though not
breaking it. Instead, the microphones came out and probed the police line for officers to make
comment or speculation as to what had taken place in the building behind them.
Professionalism and the acute awareness that their jobs were on the line kept the conversations
brief: Please step back. When theyre ready there will be an announcement. Please step back.
The fire trucks and paramedic busses pulled up to the barricade and the police and DHS
agents flagged them through as they pulled up on the sidewalk. Daniel left the agent and the
metro sergeant behind to join his men down on the street. The firefighters, paramedics and
emergency medical technicians disembarked with utter incredulity at the scene unfolding before
them: Gang members falling over each other to angle their wounds into the steady blast of water
from the fire hydrant while a close knit of men stood with bored expressions watching the men
flounder like fish out of water.
The whole scene seemed rather silly if there were not such dire expressions on the
gangsters faces as though the blast of water was a lifeline free from pain. The firefighters were
beside themselves watching the use of the fire hydrant, almost taking it personally that it had
been opened and activated without their consent.
The EMTs watched the slippery men slip sliding in front of the stream of water with bit
back amusement while the Paramedics remained serious.
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What are they doing? asked a paramedic.

Theyre washing their wounds, answered Joseph, matter-of-factly.
What kind of wounds? pressed the paramedic just as Daniel walked out of the lobby
doors.
They were exposed to condensed acid, explained Daniel, The waters diluting the
corrosive compound and cleaning their wounds.
How were they introduced to the compound? demanded the paramedic, quickly
drawing the attention and interest of everyone within earshot.
Daniel, not interested in repeating himself, eyed the paramedic.
Listen, said Daniel, can we skip the questioning for now and focus on treating their
wounds?
The paramedic shot Daniel a critical look, and then turned to the others with a nod and
they descended on the sea of writhing slippery men. Their attempts to free the gangsters from
the water flow was more difficult than they had anticipated as they were shoved back while the
gangsters returned to the water flow feeling the burn rise on their skin the instant they were
pulled away from the water.
Finally, after a brief deliberation, the firefighters cranked the fire hydrant off and sealed
the cap to the indignant pleading of the gangsters.
The paramedics and EMTs descended on them at once, examining their wounds and
began their work of treating the burns that had ranged from rash to vivid deep festering wounds.
The triage took several minutes counting burns and assessing severity and possibility of lifetime
scarring by the depth and breadth of the gashes and applied packs of Second Skin on the wounds.
The wounded gangsters were bound and anesthetized, and ready for shipping to the hospital as
the paramedics and EMTs strapped them onto gurneys and wheeled them to the paramedic
busses.
Daniel noted the neighborhood had woken up and gathered on the outside of the police
line peering around the officers for a better view of the quickly taming scene before them. Now
they only saw bandaged gangsters on gurneys over wet sidewalk and asphalt complaining that
the paramedics and EMTs were not moving fast enough. Several police officers followed the
paramedic busses out of the crime scene to formally Mirandize the gangsters for attempted
murder at the hospital.
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You, barked a young DHS agentwho clearly was taking control of the
investigationat Joseph. Come here.
Im not speaking without my superior present, replied Joseph, coolly.
Alright, growled the DHS agent, eyeing Joseph like hed like nothing better than to put
cuffs on him. whos your superior?
I am, said Daniel, not liking the young agents tone at all. Agent Daniel Rooke. What
seems to be the problem?
The problem? repeated the DHS agent antagonistically, The problem is Ive got close
to a dozen men with all manner of burns to their skin, and Ive got known gangsters turning up at
hospitals all over the area to have bullet wounds treated. Most of them under investigation by
my offices. Does that sound like a good enough problem for you?
I feel for you, replied Daniel, wearily. I really do. But Ive spoken about this ad
nausium, Im getting tired of repeating myself.
Well, scoffed the agent, maybe your men can answer the questions for you, if youre
so tired?
Whats your name? demanded Daniel.
Agent Ross. snapped the agent. You want my business card?
By all means, replied Daniel with a hard stare at the man.
You want my foot up your ass too? barked the agent.
Daniel smiled. This only enraged Ross further and had to be pulled back from a laughing
Daniel. An older agent stepped forward and studied Daniel more closely. This one, Daniel
recognized as a man of gravity. He had the air of a grandparent who did not really want to
discipline a grandchild. Daniel took to him at once.
Youll have to forgive my associate, said the old agent. He has a problem with people
exercising their rights.
I would have presented my business card had he asked.
The old agent studied Daniel for a moment, and finding him to be a man of his word,
Do you mind? asked the old agent.
Daniel reached into his pocket and pulled out his credentials.

The agent studied the

credentials upside down with raised eyebrows as Daniel fished out a business card for the
seasoned agent.
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Daniel H. Rooke? asked the old agent.

Yes, sir, replied Daniel.
And youre a government agency?
That we are.
And why havent I heard of you?
Were on the books, but not in the public eye, yet.
Until now, said the old agent.
Until now, agreed Daniel.
Daniel looked over the old mans shoulder and noted the neighborhood was out in full
force, now, watching the activity with contempt in their eyes. And it was obvious that the
neighbors had jumped to the conclusion that they were a part of some government/police team
spying on the neighborhood. After all, why would the Metro police be so wary of them? Why
would the Homeland Security agents be so congenial?

And why would there be no

repercussions against the collection of white men and their token brown, who clearly injured at
least a dozen black men?
Camera crews began to set up in the neighborhood and fought to get quotes from the
police and government teams present. They were quickly blown off, leaving them no option but
to begin interviewing locals.
Within minutes, it was clear the reporters had hit gold.

The neighbors hissed and

gesticulated for the cameras and grew so animated, it was as if they had watched the entire
firefight first hand, and from the way they pointed at Daniels team, it was clear they were
accusing him and his men of gross crimes.
Daniel rolled his eyes as the reporters turned to look directly at him and then angled their
cameras and lights to flood the spot where he stood. He had been prepared for this eventuality.
After all, it was one of the reasons he was hired. He just didnt like it very much.
Just then Daniels cellular phone rang and he answered it, turning away from the harsh
lights of the news crews who kept them trained on his back.
Is it you, Lawrence?
It seems youve stirred up a hornets nest out there, cracked Boatmans voice over the
cellular phone.
Yeah, well, replied Daniel, We knew it was coming, didnt we?
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Yes, replied Boatman, not altogether pleased. We did.

Look, said Daniel, changing the subject from the use of Specials against normal
humans, we got news crews all over the place and the neighbors arent doing us any favors,
here.
I wouldnt worry. We have ultimate spin control.
Right. Im thinking that this time the stories could run away from you into the realm of
reported rumor if we dont get ahead of this one.
What do you have in mind?
We set up some microphones at a podium or table, make a statement and take a few
questions from the gallery. We stay on top of things and we get some of this negative light
thrown off of us.
Daniel, said Boatman, warningly. Are you planning on taking the team public
tonight?
Only a little, replied Daniel, a plan forming in his mind. Get our name out there and
clear up the misconceptions about us quick and we can have the formal unveiling of the team on
a more truncated schedule.
Ill go so far as to admit there is some necessity to clear this matter up and drum up
some good press for us, and from the chatter Ive been apprised of, some of the news stations
coming in are as of yet not under my sphere of influence. Can you sing and dance?
With the best of em.
Then Ill place the calls while you organize the press to a more controlled level of
invasiveness.
Black vans pulled into the neighborhood, flashing credentials and DHS personnel flagged
them through. When the vans came to a stop the back doors opened and out poured the
youngest, pimply-faced agents Daniel had ever seen in his life. It was always true that techies
were a young department, with breakthroughs happening at a college and even high school level
instead of the lab, using equipment that had been cobbled together from existing technologies
and improved upon through ingenuity that far exceeded the technologys scope and the
designers ability to follow, thus antiquating the older tech officers and leaving them only with
promotion to less hands-on fields.

The dinosaurs of the tech department were always

management.
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The young techies bustled about approaching the news crews individually, frowning at
their archaic technologies and spoke to them in hushed tones which were quickly answered with
approving nods. The techies then rushed back to the lobby and ran power cables the length of
the floor, taping them down and set up portable microwave towers the size of trashcans. A
platform was set up taping several microphones together from those news outlets under
Boatmans influence while the remaining reporters flanked the lead cameras with their
microphones held in outstretched hands toward the fold out table set up in the center of the
lobby.
You sure about this? inquired McCormack.
Not really, replied Daniel, no.
Youll do fine, said McCormack.
Butterflies, muttered Daniel as he took a deep breath to clear his mind and focus on the
task at hand. The task was simple: take control of the spin on what happened in The Post and
subtly introduce the Task Force to the public without getting into too much detail.

It was a

tightrope he was walking, to be sure, but he knew he could handle itas long as he did not have
to deal with overly aggressive reporters with an agenda to paint the story a particular way. Given
Boatmans control over the media, he could rest a little easier knowing that his road would be
less choppy. Still the butterflies warred in his stomach, and he fought the surge of dread as he
took a step forward, walked around the fold out table and took the seat behind the microphones.
The area was awash with light, and the heat of the lights warmed him in the chilly lobby. Daniel
coughed once and with a nod to the news agencies representatives, he began.
Thank you for coming. My name is Agent Daniel Rooke, and I will be fielding
questions, today.
What agency are you with? shouted a reporter out of turn. She was a statuesque beauty
with ebon skin and clearly working her way up the ladder by putting in her time as the travelling
reporter, on the hunt for the big story. Daniel eyed her for a moment, not liking being
interrupted very much, and letting her know by the length of his glare.
I work for a department under the acronym S.I.T.F which stands for Specials
Investigations Task Force. Our job is to police the Specials community. I would like to begin by
stating that our function is not to investigate Specials who are not committing crimes, but to
enforce laws of the land in that community and develop factual cases against those in that
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community who choose to break the law. I would also like to state that the firefight here,
tonight, was not against Specials, nor were Specials contributing factors in the incident here
tonight.
We have reports, shouted the same reporter, again, out of turn, that your agency is
developing intelligence in the neighborhood; this is the Metropolitan Police and FBIs job. Does
your agency have mandate to police this neighborhood?
No, answered Daniel, slightly annoyed.
Then why has this government sanctioned team been attacking people in the black
community?
We havent, snapped Daniel, his annoyance already wearing his calm demeanor. They
broke into our office and living quarters, and shot up the place. I would like it on the record that
despite this, we merely incapacitated them and they are Currently being treated for minor burns
and abrasions with a handful receiving treatment for minor gunshot wounds.
How did they get these burns and abrasions? probed the reporter. The rest of the news
agencies watched the increasingly hostile verbal sparring match like a game of tennis, following
the ball from one end of the court to the other.
They received minor injuries as a result of returning fire and some of my men engaged
them with nothing more than fists.
Is it standard operating procedure for your team to not use weapons in incapacitating a
victim?
Firstly, snapped Daniel, these were not victims. Lets just get that straight. Secondly,
to be completely honest, we were not thinking that people in the neighborhood would attack us
just for being here. This was an oversight we wont make again. We will secure our home and
office from future attacks against us, make no mistake.
And youre stating on the record that this attack by the neighborhood was completely
unwarranted?
Yes, replied Daniel, straining the truth a bit. He was fully aware that his bouts with
Chris Young had brought the ire of the Princeton Park Kings down on him and his team but he
was not about to announce that on national television. Bear in mind, this is a very homogenous
neighborhood. They dont take kindly to new faces. And given the history of this building and
its previous uses, I cant say I entirely blame the community for reacting suspiciously toward our
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presence. That being said, we are not involved with local law enforcement in any way. Our goal
in this community is simply to exist in it, and we bear no ill will toward the community. Id also
like to point out that the community had nothing to do with this assault. This was a local street
gang called Princeton Park Kings, and their interest in us was solely to display their power.
Unfortunately, they learned that the government trained us better than they could ever train
themselves, and they lost, badly.
So youre claiming this as a victory? chided the reporter.
No, said Daniel, flatly. But its not a loss, either. A victory is when we have a case,
we make an arrest and we prove the suspects culpability in court. They lost, but we dont have
a victory, here.
What is the foreseeable result of tonights slaughter, Agent Rooke?

pressed the

reporter, cagily.
The only slaughter that took place tonight, rounded Daniel, is the feeble attempts at
character assassination you keep making. I would appreciate it if this would stop, quick.
Are you threatening me? blinked the reporter. A member of the press?
I dont threaten people, maam, replied Daniel. I just go over their heads and get them
fired. The reporter blinked in surprise at this and her mouth fell open in shock at the thought
that Daniel might have the power to affect her career and ambitions. Seeing how his point was
sinking in, Daniel returned with a smile to the rest of the news agencies, as though apologizing
for an errant child. Now, to answer your question, the foreseeable results of tonights incident
will be our handing over all information to Metro Police and the FBI and first thing in the
morning, and Im going to have some security installed into this place to ensure this never
happens again.
There was a light chuckle from the news crews standing behind their cameras, and Daniel
was pleased that he had not done irreparable damage sparring with that reporter who looked
vengeful, but remained silent.
Daniel gave a look to one of the techies, and he nodded, turned away and began ordering
the others into action. The vans doors opened and techies pulled out boxes of equipment,
walking it into the lobby and into the elevator, covering their mouths and noses from the smell as
the lift shook to life and climbed to the third floor. The reporters watched the techies rise up

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with their crates up the elevator shaft for a moment and then returned to Daniel who stat there his
hands folded in front of him.
Are there any other questions? offered Daniel with a congenial smile.

C h a p t e r

T h e

3 8:

S Y N K R - 2 2

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fter the near fiasco of the press release, Daniel took his leisure time supervising the
techies replacing the computer terminals and large screen touch sensitive television in
the flat. If anything he was pleased because apparently the new equipment was even

more advanced than what they started out with.

Stephen muttered in the corner that The Post should be shot up more often and was met
with wary eyes, all except for Joseph, who crowed and slapped Stephen on the back. The others
shook their heads and returned to watching the techies work on installing the gear.
Daniel was so engrossed in the new technologies being installed that he failed to notice
the suspicious expressions on his teammates faces as though he had committed some crime in
their eyes. Even Joseph had a queer expression for him though it was not fear but a wary
understanding of things. Josephs gaze was the most unsettling to Daniel.
What? demanded Daniel.
Nothing, replied Joseph, thoughtfully.
Its most obviously something, demanded Daniel.
Perhaps this conversation can wait for another time? came the voice of Lawrence
Boatman from the entryway. He was flanked by five large masked men in black body armor
with automatic rifles strapped to their sides.
General, murmured the Specials, and they peeled away, leaving him and Daniel to their
conversation.
Lawrence, greeted Daniel.
The neighborhood looks peaceful again, said Boatman, rubbing his forehead. My
security it seems was unnecessary.
Your security would be unnecessary in Yemen, scoffed Daniel.
Well, said Boatman as if to express there was no crying over spilt milk, lets cut
through the pleasantries and get down to the reasons Im here. The broadcasts are out and the
polls are largely on our side of the incident earlier tonight.
Thats good, answered Daniel, though he hung on the air waiting for Boatman to
continue. When he did not, he pressed by saying You said reasonsas in more than one?

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Yes, sighed Boatman. Id like to talk to you about a report being filed by a Metro
Sergeant and a DHS agent claiming you used illegal ammunition to quell the raid.
Ah, that, replied Daniel, as though it was an unavoidable discussion that he regarded
with little worth. I wouldnt have if they hadnt been routing my men. I saw the state of affairs
and decided that some quick action was needed.
Inazu-Kotzu rounds are up there with phosphor grenades in international law.
Luckily, I was using the round in the States. They cant touch me unless I use them
abroad.
I want your word this is the last time you use them against a normal human population.
I dont think theyll be back anytime soon.
Your word, demanded Boatman, coolly.
Daniel studied Boatman for a moment, and then with a sigh looked him in the eye.
My word, replied Daniel, solemnly.
I believe that is all there is to say, then, said Boatman, with a friendly smile of
dismissal as he turned to his security and headed for the door. Daniel, in spite of himself, took a
tentative step forward and Boatman turned back to face him, his eyebrows high on his forehead
in surprise there was more to say as he waited for Daniel to approach him.
You didnt say anything about Specials? said Daniel, half-kicking himself for taking
his one weapon off the table in the eventuality he is called upon to pull an ace out of his sleeve in
a firefight against Specials.
Boatman studied him for a second and then scoffed and smiled.
Who knows what youll be going up against in the future, said Boatman. I dont want
to hedge your options.
And with that, Boatman was gone.
Chad sat at the now up-righted couch flipping through channels nervously, as he glanced
periodically to the door to the stairwell.
Daniel watched the progress of Chads eyes flitting from the television to the door
without mirth.
How could he hold anyone accountable for being on edge after a firefight?
When he was a New York cop, he had been on desk leave before, and he knew exactly
why. Being in a firefight was a stressful thing.
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He remembered being amped up for hours afterward, and there had been mandatory
psych counseling after the firefight to clear him for duties again each time.
Daniel felt for Chad. Here, there was no oversightYet.
He was running on fumes, and wired from the fighthis senses reeling from the
experiencehis heart racing. His muscles coiled and he could not sit comfortably on the couch.
It looked like he was anticipating how many bounds it would take him to reach the front door
and what he would do when he got there.
Finally, Daniel approached the couch, catching Chad by surprise.
Theyre not coming back, Chad, said Daniel.
I know, replied Chad, half-believing. Its just thats the first time I was in combat
against humans.
I know, sympathized Daniel as he rounded the couch, his arms folded as he looked
down at Chad. The first time I was in a firefight as a cop I nearly froze up. Its not as easy as
you think to shoot someone. They tell you to point aim and shoot but its not really like that, is
it?
No, muttered Chad.
I noticed you didnt go for your weapon, said Daniel, a reprimand in his tone.
Chad looked up at him sheepishly.
No, replied Chad. I didnt.
That could have been defined as suicidal, chided Daniel, your abilities
notwithstanding.
Sorry, muttered Chad.
Dont apologize, snapped Daniel. Just get it through your head that the future is not
as clear as you think it is. You may have to draw your weapon. Not everyone is as slow as a
normal human in our line of work. You cant rely on just your wits and Olympian strength.
Youre right, muttered Chad.
Well do something about it, then! snapped Daniel.
Like what? demanded Chad.
Try meditating on the possibility of shooting someone.
Chad blinked in astonishment, and then his eyes warily found Daniels.
Is that what you did? pressed Chad.
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It took a lot of practice, but, yeah. answered Daniel. Thats what I did.
Chad sat there mulling over Daniels words for a long moment until he finally nodded.
Okay, said Chad with a slow mulish nod. Ill try it.
Good, concluded Daniel, and he left Chad alone on the couch, not at all pleased with
the way the conversation went.
He decided it was time to straighten up his room, and made his way down the hall and
entered his room.
Chad appeared in the doorway and knocked on the doorframe.
What can I do for you? said Daniel as he pulled the short halberd out of its midnight
blue silk bed in the long lacquer finished wooden carrying case and laid it out, pulling out a kit,
and unraveling it alongside the weapon as he prepared to disassemble the six-inch long tsuba, or
hilt, beneath the blade.
It was an odd-looking weapon; like a dumbbell stripped of weights, modified into a spear.
The shaft was 141 centimeters long with a tear-drop shape to it for better gripping. Mounted on a
long tang to better absorb the shock of a blow, the blade had a strong distal taper for balance and
quickness. The 28-centimeter long blade was straight with a triangulated double-edge and a
deep fuller. On the blade, the words Do not go gentle were emblazoned, faintly visible on
the cool metal surface. All thought of what Chad had come to say drained out of his mind as he
took in the beautiful weapon.
That thing is wicked, breathed Chad, in wonderment.
Yeah, it suits my purposes, replied Daniel, absently as he began to unscrew the tsuba
compartment under the blade.
What is it? said Chad, staring at the weapon warily.
Its a naginata, replied Daniel as he slid the two barrels out of the way and squirted
concentrated air into the space, blowing dust motes out the top of the tsuba.
A what? stammered Chad, innocently ignorant.
Daniel looked up at Chad, and then studied the weapon and scoffed.
Yeah, it doesnt really look like one anymore, agreed Daniel, looking down at the
weapon. A naginata normally has a curved blade about 16 inches long at the end, but it threw
the balance off wildly; and, frankly, the curve was impractical for modern warfare, so a blade of
the yari design was substituted to the overall weapons design, adding more strikingly bayonet
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characteristics by incorporating the blood reservoir you see on the belly of the blade into the
design.
Isnt a naginata a martial arts weapon? inquired Chad thoughtfully.
Thats right, replied Daniel, now studying Chad curiously.
He had assumed Chad was on the same page, and was now grimacing at wasting time
stating useless bits of information.
You normally dont see a martial arts weapon fire a round, though, puzzled Chad.
Oh, youre talking about the rifle capabilities? chimed Daniel with a pleased smile.
Yeah, replied Chad, not really sure what he was talking about.
Yeah, it fires. Its got a great deal of accuracy to it, too, once you know how to handle
it.
It looks like a work of art, said Chad in amazement at the beauty of the weapon.
Yeah, replied Daniel, appreciatively. This rifles got a history to it.
How so? breathed Chad.
From conception, to development, to production, right down to its fate, to be honest,
replied Daniel. This babys been with me a while. I wouldnt trade her for anything.
Chad looked puzzled.
A weapon with a history?
All weapons have a history to it, replied Daniel, studying Chad closely. To its design
and manufacture, and the revisions to its look and performance. Its unavoidable. Its going to
change over time.

To fully appreciate a weapon is to understand how it came to be; to

understand the craftsmanship and the function of the thing going from conception to research and
development, to design, to production.
And this things got all that? said Chad with a note of wonder in his voice.
Daniel grinned and rose, taking the naginata respectfully into his hands and holding it out
for Chad to admire.
Okay, let me introduce you to the most state of the art man made weapon in the world
today, began Daniel, with an almost drill sergeant perfunctory tone accented by tones of praise
as he studied the weapon, turning it over in his hands to admire every part of the weapon
respectively. This is the Shiotani Yawata No Kami assault rifle, better known to the enlisted
men as the

SYNKR-22.

It was the preferred weapon of choice for the Japanese branch of the
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United Nations Interstellar Armed Forces, as a result of the fact it served so damned many
purposes in the field, from suppressing firepower, to opening an emergency drop box of Medical
Supplies and Meals Ready to Eat, to extra-environmental flight without a pack, and, my favorite
use, Ive found, making some really cool light displays.
It is a sturdy rifle, designed and manufactured in Nishinomiya, Japan by the Shiotani
Corporation, and was heralded as the weapon of the modern age, due to the needs of the modern
military to have a weapon that could be used in any environ, no matter how harsh, in deference
to the desires planet-side, to just have a gun that fires.
The

SYNKR-22s most important element is that its design marked a departure from

the gas propelled projectile method requiring well oiled mechanically sliding pieces to fire
rounds pressed into cartridges with payload delivery systems packed into the bottom of each
individual casing. For decades, weapons designers were reinventing the same weapon over and
over again: the AK-47, in variant forms, making it lighter, more durable, more accurate, reducing
recoil and so on. But thats all just presentation, anyways. Then there were the problems from
muzzle flares marking the users firing position, or the puffs of smoke before the round
manufacturers began using the newer compounds of gunpowder employing non-visible smoke
when fired and slide actions that ejected the bullet without all the visible discharge. In addition
to this, there was the need to implement guerilla strategies in design, like say, for instance, an
American rifle capable of firing the round from an AK-47. You kill your enemy; you take his
rounds and use them against the enemy. This increased the market for universally usable rounds,
which defeated the purposes of the American militarys guerilla superiority, because now an
American soldier could be killed, and his rounds used against other American soldiers; basically,
it just expanded the marketability of the rifle rounds, but thats about it. And the world swirled
around a great innovation in a stagnant state of merely redesigning the housing. No real
innovations in weapons design were coming until the needs of the modern soldier were
reevaluated for the Sol War.
Every military arming up to participate in the UNs call were singular in their desire to
build a precise and efficient weapon; one that would not jam or break down as easily as the
mechanical slide weapons of the 20th and 21st Centuries, but one heralding a new era of military
dominance with a weapon that could be stripped and reassembled quickly on the battlefield; that
could be built cheaply; that could fire in a vacuum. One that could have multi-use. One that
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could be used in a desert environment without the problems faced in desert warfare over the last
century. And considering our preliminary intelligence about the near solar system habitable
planets indicated that we would most likely be landing on barren desert planets, it was pretty
much a necessity to overcome the problems that had faced soldiers in the desert theatres of the
last hundred years. He added due to the incredulous look on Chads face, Sand and gun oil
dont get along, see?
So the question put to the weapons manufacturers of the world was how do we solve the
problem? Well, the world scratched their head and tried to make laser weapons. Plasma and
EM weapons small enough for the average grunt, and all had moderate successes, as could be
seen in the deep space dog fight scenarios, but nothing smaller than those massive hunks that
were strapped to the sides of AB transports until nearly halfway through the war.
The first and most impressive design came from a very young and untested astrophysics
and aerospace firm owned by the Shiotani Corporation, and they had a great idea; they
incorporated the Gauss design and made it ultra small scale relatively cheaply. They pulled in
some designers who had recently been fired from Honda, and came up with the brilliant idea of
designing the weapon in assembling stages and the innovations were impressive to say the least.
Every failure became not just a lesson, but a blessing in disguise. For instance, the Gauss design
meant that the weapon would heat up and begin to melt down, so composite hydrocarbon alloys
were implemented in the design, with plastics, keeping the housing cool, and eventually came up
with the brilliant idea of making the bayonet a part of the overall design, to act as a bleeding rod,
and creating a handy secondary weapon. Theres nothing like a white hot diamond dense polyalloy blade in your hands when the bell tolls. But it was clear at this point the Gauss was out. So
they went with the energy efficient Quench design, which is what I have, here. The coils fire in
stages in the Quench design; see? Which affords the other coils to take a little break, while each
coil is firing.
The bayonet design was kept, and as a result of the design change, the blade heats up
more slowly, but then again, it would take a hell of a lot more to make the blade melt. In fact,
because of the Quench design, its virtually impossible. But even in the modern world, having a
proven weapon that fits all the requirements is not enough. You need to make it desirable to the
market. This was a little hurtle, because the company couldnt figure out how to get the rifle

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small enough to make as compact as they wanted it. So, the designers sat down and worked out
a plan to sell it to the Imperial Army by designing the housing in a very specific and artful form.
They based it on the original Japanese weapon of warfare; the naginata; which was the
weapon of choice for a group of warrior monks in feudal Japan called the Sohei. They prayed to
Buddha and killed demons. Real badass dudes. They were like a monastery filled with Achilles
clones, proud, strong and revered. Actually, it was because of this design in weapon, that the
Japanese soldiers had their EVA suits so heavily reflecting the feudal Japan samurai armors, and
that the two main divisions, the infantry and the Special operations divisions took their names.
Infantry was Hieitamha Gunjin or the Cold Mountain Soldiers, and Special Ops was the Sohei
Damashi Shinsengunjin or the Chosen Ones with the Spirit of the Sohei. Dont write it down.
Im not even sure Im saying it right.
Chad, who had no intention of writing it downor even rememberinganything Daniel
was saying blinked and nodded his understanding and Daniel returned to the rifle. With a
perfunctory military slap to the butt of the rifle, the naginata spun round until the blade was
pointing directly at Chads chest. Chad jumped back, his eyes wide with fright until he noticed
Daniels nonplussed expression as if to say What is with you, Chad?
Chad nodded apologetically, and Daniel pointed down to the two holes in the tsuba, on
either side of the bayonet.
If you look to the hilt of the blade, youll find two holes. Those are the exit points of the
payload delivery tubes that make this simple looking thing such a beautiful threat. These
payload delivery tubes are hugged by metal coils, which launch the payload through a series of
electromagnetic links firing, one after the other, in succession, acting a lot like the catapult
systems on the decks of carriers that launch the fighters into the sky going from zero to a few
hundred miles an hour in about a second. Try that in a Ferrari.
Chad studied the tsuba and the two fine holes on either side of the blade and nodded, not
fully understanding, but appreciative that he had some idea.
So, its a rail gun?
Effectively, replied Daniel, with a pleased nod. But a rail gun implies a cannon
mounted on the bow of a carrier or destroyer with a really big battery. See, when a rail gun fires,
the energy source on a carrier or destroyer equals pretty much the power of an entire city. So,
basically, the payload has enough force behind it to give it a velocity so strong, it will actually
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pull away from the curve of the earth and keep increasing in altitude as it crossed horizon after
horizon and will eventually, break orbit. So, its a highly impractical weapon in that form of
usage. Thats why ships dont usually have rail guns anymore. And the ones that do, dont use a
whole lot of power with it.

So anyway, in regard to the

SYNKR-22,

because of size

limitations, the battery is considerably smaller, so a smaller power source equals less velocity.
Wheres the battery?
Daniel flipped the weapon, pointing the blade downward, as he twisted the back end of
the naginata until a small cap flipped sideways. Daniel then tugged on the cap, and pulled a long
plastic device out of the shaft until he had successfully pulled the battery free. As soon as the
battery left the housing in the shaft, the naginata flopped downward, top-heavy. The battery
pack was a long and segmented series of triangular battery packs as long as the shaft up to the
hilt and was held together in a plastic frame. As soon as Daniel placed it in Chads hand, it was
clear to Beach that the balancing element to the weapon, and the majority of its weight lied in the
batteries that were housed in the hollow shaft.
In effect, its like a giant Mag-Lite, continued Daniel, with batteries, you have a
flashlight and a heavy club that hurts like hell when you swing it over the back of someones
skull; take the batteries out, and its cumbersome and useless.
Daniel took the battery pack back and reinserted it into the shaft, snapping it back into
place with a satisfying click as he took up a magazine stock and held it up to Chad to examine.
The clip is a standard design long stock magazine holding up to one hundred eleven
rounds maximum of ammunition in an airtight sealed container. The rounds are fed into the rifle
via these two ports, indicating the two ammunition ports at the top of the magazine, which feed
the rounds into the rifle through compressed CO2 ports at the base of the stock. The rounds are
fed into the firing chamber, one at a time like a Pez dispenser, and the electromagnetic field
made by the coils seize the round up, and suspend it in the center of the coil. The round itself
touches nothing. It floats in the center, being pulled and pressed on all sides. Then the coils pull
the round along and toss it to the next coil, which pushes a little harder to the next coil, and so
on, until you have a round traveling at supersonic speeds out of the barrel. But the most
impressive part of the rifle is the round it fires.
Daniel set the naginata down and with a hard slap to the magazine clip, dislodged a small
red pellet into his palm, about the size of a pill, looking completely unworthy of attention to the
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naked eye. The only thing that hinted to its danger was the grin on Daniels face, and Chad
instinctively leaned back, half expecting the pellet to attack him.
See this little bad boy? whispered Daniel, admiringly. It may be about the size of a
dried up pea, but these little buggers are a bitch-and-a-half when theyre coming at you. These
are inazu-kotzu rounds.
Inozu-kutsu?
Inazu-Kotzu. Corrected Daniel indicating the small red bullet. It means Ironclad
thunderbolt.

Japanese Special Forces jokingly referred to them as their spicy little red

edamame, and these guys are hell personified if they get you. Its a thick plastic and metal
layered over a compressed corrosive material that reacts violently when it comes into contact
with atmosphere. The whole thing is freaky. They get the chemical compound into a small
sphere and somehow inject it into the round. I still cant figure out how they get that shit in
there. I took one of these things to a spectroscope. Theres no seam, and no detectable point of
entry. Its harmless like this. But when it gets into the chamber and the EM field starts stressing
it, the round heats up. Then air friction does the rest, and when it finally melts away, exposing
the core, do yourself a favor and be somewhere else; because the area of maximum yield is
within two yards if theres housing compromise.
This bad boy is uglier than a hydroshock jacket or a phosphor grenade at close range. If
the round perforates human flesh, the damage area will only cover around three inches of flesh,
due to the high consistency of water in a body, and if it hits metal, it could react violently and
expand the damage region up to three feet in diameter. Just do yourself a favor, if you see an

SYNKR-22 in the hands of anyone youre up against, back off.

And if youve got any metal on

you, or any prosthetics incorporating alloys, just leave the battlefield completely. Ive never
seen the metal reaction on human flesh before tonight, and quite frankly, Id rather have
remained ignorant.
Chad stared at the small little red pill with a mixture of awe and horror that such a thing
could be designed, but the pragmatic eyes of Daniel reminded him that much worse had been
invented, and upheld as legal and necessary by the United Nations, and in consideration of the
larger issues, apparently the inazu-kotzu round must have seemed rather trivial. Daniel pressed
on with his instruction into the uniqueness and beauty of his weapon with all the knowledge of a
science teacher:
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The Special Operations Modifications were a longer magazine stock holding as much as
a third more rounds and a lighter battery that could hold a charge for a longer period of time;
which added the extra bonus of making the weapon act more like the martial arts weapon the
design was taken from, with a greater balance in the weapons handling. Plus, with the shaft
weighing less grams, I find my shots are more precise, and my grouping more consistent.
Chad stared at Daniel for a long moment, waiting for another long monologue on the
workings of a weapon he was only interested in finding out where to get one, and realizing
Daniel had given him all his knowledge on the weapon, grew contemplative. Something would
have to be said; some little bit of insight, more out of respect for Daniel than any particular
interest hearing the answer. In truth, there were many questions about battery wattage and range
of the weapon, however the only thing Chad was now interested in was the name.
Okay, chimed Chad, forcefully, just in case Daniel was not finished, and merely taking
a breather from his extensive instruction of the weapon and its capabilities. Shiotani
Corporation built the rifle. I get that. What does the rest mean?
Daniel was so busy polishing his rifle, he had quite forgotten he had been answering a
question about it, and looked up at Chad in surprise.
What? strangled Daniel, unsure what Chad meant.
SYNKR? demanded Chad, What does the YNK stand for?
Yawata-no-kami? asked Daniel in order to clarify he and Chad were still on the same
subject. Chad nodded nervously, and DANIEL smiled as though he were letting Chad in on a
secret prized beyond all other things. The thunder god.
Daniel stared down at the SYNKR-22 with pride and smiled sweetly down on the rifle.
Damn, stammered Chad.
I call her Giselle, cooed Daniel down to the rifle.
You named it? chuckled Chad nervously.
Of course, scoffed Daniel, as though it would be a sin not to and he eyed Chad until he
raised his hands apologetically. Daniel shrugged, acknowledging he would accept the gesture as
apology enough and returned to admire his weapon. Chad shifted nervously until he finally
gathered the strength to press further.
But why? stammered Chad.

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Daniel studied him for a moment before gesturing to the rifle.

Because there are many like it, but this one is mine.
Chad had heard soldiers make this declaration before, and took a step back from Daniel,
allowing him some measure comfortable distance. Daniel returned to admiring the weapon,
unaware of the disconcert Chad was suffering from.
I named her after my ex.
Why?
Because I wanted a constant reminder of the most important element of any weapon and
Giselle serves that reminder best.
Whats that?
Shes great to look at, and feels good in your hands, but if she ever turned on you, it
meant your ass.
Can I get one?
Daniel pursed his lips and sighed with some exasperation.
These arent exactly on the requisition list, Chad. There arent many left, actually.
Why not?
Shiotani got bought out and all its assets liquidated and sold off to the lowest bidders
just for spite.
I dont get it.
Shiotani got a contract that shouldve gone to one of the older more powerful Japanese
corporations. But here comes this new blood little shit company and it sneaks off a UN
sanctioned government contract, rising to greatness, overnight. The older companies didnt like
that.
I dont get it, said Chad, shaking his head. They didnt try to go into partnership or
something? I mean, the SYNKRs a great idea.
Yeah, replied Daniel in agreement. But you got to understand. The corporations in
Japan are like the corporations here. Back there, youve got the old families who used to be
nobility before Japan went and ended feudalism; old families with lots of money and political
clout owning powerful conglomerates. Their political positioning and finances pretty much
ensures they get whatever they want. And they dont like being disappointed. Especially by
some young punks without any real power.
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Whats that got to do with America? questioned Chad, not seeing the connection.
Same thing with the blue bloods, replied Daniel, matter-of-factly. They got the money
and the power and theyve positioned themselves to get the contracts and make the money.
When you get that big, youre kind of like a tough toddler in the sandbox playing with a toy.
Another smaller kid comes into the sandbox with a better toy and gets to be more popular
because everyone wants to play with it, the toddler can either take it from the kid, or destroy the
toy and humiliate the kid to remind all the other kids he runs the sandbox.

The bigger

corporations decided theyd rather humiliate Shiotani and break its toys.
All I remember was there was a massive recall, and we had to hide our weapons to keep
them.

But finding rounds and parts for them was getting more and more difficult as we went

along. Halfway through the war I had to buy my own gear myself. I became intimately aware of
red tape, and trying to find parts was becoming unbearably difficult. I almost gave up and traded
down for the American rifle until I finally tracked down a parts and rounds supplier.
Howd you do that?
It wasnt easy, scoffed Daniel. I finally got lucky with some Japanese Special Ops
boys who liked me, and they turned me onto this salvage corporation called Nanban Jintsu
Fukugen, or the Southern Barbarian Godly Works Restorations. Its a Japanese corporation on
one of the smaller southern islands Specializing in the restoration and detail customizing of black
market weapons, and vehicles for the highest bidder. They also act as a go-between for parts and
ammunition manufacturers that are still producing parts for the overall banned machines, and
redesigned them for hobbyists. They got all their parts and molds from salvage yards that were
responsible for melting them down and they redesigned them to make them different enough not
to be considered a part for the decommissioned weapon. This actually turned out to be a stroke
of luck, because the parts they were making were actually Special Operations Modifications spec
and they were works of art. I actually got this new yari bayonet attachment laser etched. And on
top of that, I found that the ammunition for Giselle was still being manufactured by the Yahagi
Corporation, even though the weapon that used it was no longer in production anymore. I guess
they were relying on us being that stubborn to hold onto these babies. And then I had to wait for
it through the mail system, and I had to sign for everything and slip some contraband to the
transport crew, because they knew we were using illegal weapons. Im telling you, those guys
made bank when our SOPMOD parts came in the mail.
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That rifles illegal?

Only when you fire it, replied Daniel, with a dismissive cavalier tone.
So youre breaking the law?
Not American law, replied Daniel. But if I shoot this in another country Ive got to
look over my shoulder.
Oh, replied Chad. But here were cool?
Until they change the law, said Daniel with a shrug. Ive already discussed this with
the National Rifle Association. Im cool.
Oh, in that case, I dont care, replied Chad then said, So where can I find one?
Well, said Daniel, skeptically. There are some floating around. A couple hundred
worldwide; but to be perfectly honest, youd find most lying around on battlefields across a
couple dozen worlds, and a great deal more floating somewhere in space waiting to be picked up.
Its kind of difficult though. Most of them were lacquered black for some stupid reason. Its not
like The Quill saw the same way we did, anyway.
They didnt? blinked Chad.
Dude, scoffed Daniel, did you see their fighter craft?
No, replied Chad, a questioning expression haunting his features.
Most of them were pink, said Daniel, as if that was explanation enough.
Why? said Chad, his look one of incredulity.
Pinks the best color for stealth, for some reason.
If thats the case, why dont we have pink stealth fighters?
Daniel laughed a harsh smug laugh.
You try to get a young cocky pilot to fly a pink fighter. I dare you. No self respecting
fighter pilot I know would fly anything painted pink.
Point taken, said Chad then added, Okay, so there arent many of the rifles left. Fine.
Where can I get one, then?
These are mainly in the hands of veterans and private collectors who managed to sneak
it past the supply sergeant. Fucking mutts. Do you realize what I had to do to keep Giselle from
those assholes? I had to hook the lieutenant in charge of the base stock command up with a girl I
met at a bar in town just to get him pliable enough to consider a bribe.

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Chad studied Daniel for a long time before saying, So theres no

SYNKR-22s for the

Task Force?
Tonight was probably the first time one was fired since the end of the Sol War.
Chads eyes trailed the weapon in Daniels hands for a long moment drinking it in and
considering what Daniel had said about the weapon, its history and its use tonight. It had
become such a larger event than it had seemed in the midst of the firefightthe reintroduction of
a weapon of war into combat after nearly eight years of silence. Chad felt lonely, though he
could not process why.
Well, anyway, said Daniel, at last. Some things are best put away.
Daniel sealed the lacquered box and slid it underneath his bed, out of sight. And the spell
of the weapon was broken, and Chad felt freed of his wonder and education.
Why did you use the weapon? inquired Chad, perplexedly. Surely the use of such a
weapon based on its ability to maim and kill was illegal in any society.
I was keeping you free from injuring or killing normal humans. replied Daniel, soberly.
Thats the mandate, right? Not using Specials against normal humans? Eventually you would
have overpowered them and taken the fight to the stairs. I could already see the odds tilting
toward that eventuality.

I just did my part to keep you guys from having a death on your

consciences. If anyone was going to kill, better the guy without powers beyond mortal men.
Chad nodded his understanding and felt a rush of gratitude for Daniel. He did not want
to hurt the gangsters, or kill any man. He had seen too much wanton death on the battlefield, and
though he felt like he was on one mere hours ago, he still did not want to take a life.
Thanks. said Chad, appreciatively.
Hey, smiled Daniel. Ive already come to terms with my soul and where Im heading.
No sense putting you guys through that thought process before its time.
Yeah, I guess. said Chad uncomfortably.
Get some sleep. said Daniel. It was not a command, but a forceful suggestion. Its
back to work in a few hours.
Right. muttered Chad, feeling the weight of sleep deprivation crashing down around
him. Hey, we got any leads?
Always. answered Daniel with a grin.
Good. said Chad at last, Right. Okay. Gnight.
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Good night, said Daniel, and he watched as Chad left the room and rushed to his own
room leaving Daniel alone in thought.
He hoped he had helped Chad with some of his issues with their little chat. Somehow he
doubted it. But he felt heartened that he had spared his team of having to suffer the pains of
taking a human life. And was reasonably pleased that that message might trickle down to the
team through Chad.
He undressed in silence, turned out the lights and climbed into bed being lulled to sleep
by the sounds of the techies installing the new Kevlar reinforced metal door at the entrance to
The Post.
The morning would be different in so many ways

C h a p t e r

3 9:

Courting A Congressman
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aniels dreams were fitful. Through it tumbled angry faces holding assault rifles,
firing at himfilling the room with bulletsfilling him with fear that kept his feet
planted firmly to the ground. His mind drained of conscious thought as the fear rose

in him leaving just the knowledge that running availed nothing but a bullet in the back.
There he stood, facing the angry faces and the rapid fire from the handguns and rifles
without any bravery. Just dread.
Finally the dream reached it fevered pitch and he jerked awake drenched in sweat. He
had had this dream before, but never with human faces. He knew the reason why, though. It had
only been a week since the assault on the post. His mind was still reliving the scene with grim
detail and pitting him against the foes at their most vicious, though they proved to be so tame
after he fired a few shots in the ceiling.
Daniel pondered this for some time, lying in bed staring at the ceiling before swinging his
legs off the bed and sitting upright, his head low, he ran his fingers through his hair and sighed.
A knock at the door alerted Daniel he was not alone and he looked up to see Bradley
open the door and lean in.
You okay?
Yeah. Bad dreams.
Weve all had them.
Ive forgotten what its like to be in combat. But I remember the reason why I was put
on desk leave after a shooting.
Yeah.
So are you here to check on me because I had a bad dream? You using your telepathy?
No, Boatmans on the line. replied Bradley. You can take the call in your office.
Thanks.

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Daniel climbed to his feet and slid on some pants, pulling on a T-shirt and he walked
barefoot out into the hallway feeling the worn carpet beneath his feet as he made his way into his
office and picked up the phone.
Rooke.
There you are. said Boatman, a trace of irritation in having to wait lingered in his tone.
I trust you slept well?
Hardly. scoffed Daniel.
Well it happens to the best of us.
Whats up?
Well its about that truncated schedule youve set me on. Id like to take steps to clear
that off the books. And for that, I need you to help me with a cagy congressional representative
who insists on being difficult and plaguing my office with red tape that I have to take needless
time in undoing before taking the measures I seek on a day to day basis.
You talking about ending our status as boogeymen?
Effectively, yes.
Cant say I wont miss it. said Daniel. Its only been a week though. Whats the
rush?
I like to strike while the irons hot.
Fair enough. replied Daniel. What do you need from me?
I need you to put on a suit and meet me downstairs. My car is pulling up now.
Alright, give me five.
Daniel had to chuckle as he heard the line disconnect just as he finished his sentence.
Boatman could never be hung up on. He hung up on people, not the other way around.
Daniel gently set the phone back in the cradle and walked down to his bedroom and
pulled out a black suit and black tie. After all, he was still the man in black for a day. He
slipped on his mirror shine black shoes and fastened his tie, adjusting it in the mirror and pulled
on his coat.

Then he proceeded with the necessitieshis wallet, his S.I.T.F credentials and

sidearm all in placehe looked out the window and saw not a cloud in the sky. He grabbed his

WinVid

sunglasses as an afterthought and proceeded out of his room into the flat.

There,

Leonard and Joseph sat at the new television watching the DC morning news. It was light and
cool, and they mentioned the S.I.T.F in passing as they discussed bigger local news of Congress
715 | P a g e

and commentary on President Tahmahkeras speech from earlier in the week, quickly sweeping
the nights adventure under the rug as mentioned and unimportant.

Leonard craned his head

around and studied Daniels choice of dress with pursed lips that cracked at the corners into a
grin. Joseph looked up and studied him as well.
Where are you off to so dressed up? said Leonard.
Sunday already? joked Joseph.
I got a hot date with Boatman. answered Daniel.
Good luck. said Leonard.
Thanks. muttered Daniel.
Daniel slid the new metal door out of the way and stepped out onto the landing. He
ignored the pockmarked drywall across the stairwell in the far wall and walked down the steps at
a quickstep.
Out of the lobby, Daniel stepped onto the sidewalk and stopped facing the SUV. An
alarm sounded in the back of his mind alerting him to the subtle change of the street.
The neighborhood seemed to bend around him, offering him plenty of space to walk in.
No longer did they crowd him and offer him hard stares, or looks of disgust. This was different.
There was fear and respect mingled in their expressions and a wariness in their stances as they
walked around him or continued their business propped up against the walls or lamp posts.
Daniel wondered how harassed he would be if he walked to Charlies later.
Finally, Daniel walked across the sidewalk and reached out for the door handle of the
black SUV parked in front of the lobby. Boatman sat in the SUV reading the daily news on his
notebook, glancing up at Daniel.
I see youre keeping the men in black look? said Boatman.
I can change if you like. murmured Daniel.
No, no. said Boatman, waving the thought away like an annoying fly. I like a little
edge to the team.
Daniel looked down at Boatmans lap to see the news feed plugged into his notebook.
I see youre catching up on the daily news.
Yes, last nights headline has made quite a splash today. said Boatman, with a chuckle.
Especially the part about a Task Force of Specials operating in the District of Columbia.

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Im sure. said Daniel. He looked down at the notebook again and for the briefest of
moments was transported into the past as memories rolled through his mind. He had to chuckle
as he pointed to the notebook news feed. Man, I remember when I was a kid and these things
were printed on paper.
It wasnt so long ago. replied Boatman, almost taking it personally as if the yawning
gap of age between them was being implied. He then returned to his newsfeed, speaking to
Daniel without looking at him. Personally, I appreciated the unfolding and turning of pages.
These notebooks took me a while to get used to. What with the broadband feed and moving
pictures, it reminds me of Harry Potter.
Daniel stared at Boatman, nonplussed.
What?
Boatman merely smiled as though he were speaking to a child without the benefit of
years to understand him.
Before your time, I take it. mused Boatman. No matter. Anyway its not like the
industry lost anything. They just had to transfer format from paper to webpage display. And it
makes the whole reading of the paper more convenient, dont you think?
Still costs the same as when I was a kid. Thats all I know.
Like I said, said Boatman. They didnt lose a thing except jobs for the printing press
and paper mills.
Daniel watched the pictures moving in and out of frame on the notebook and smirked.
He remembered newspapers as a kid before the war. The industrialization the world underwent
to fight the war forced all industries to change to the times and with the amount of pollution the
industrialization produced the need for trees to remain in the ground and growing became a
necessity to the governments who slowly caught on that the world was in a downward spiral due
to their efforts to industrialize.
So, said Daniel. where are we going?
Capitol Hill. answered Boatman. In fact, we should be pulling up any minute.
The SUV pulled up to the Capitol Building and they exited the car, at the base of the long
marble stairwell taking the steps at an expeditious pace. Being experienced with marching on
courthouses in New York, climbing these steps was a simple matter until the gravity of the
location began to seep into him and his pace slowed as he craned his neck to look up at the
717 | P a g e

building he marched on. Daniel was impressed by the architecture of the Capitol Building and
took it all in. Its

Romanesque design was proud and dominant on the surrounding landscape.

Far and above loomed the massive dome that stood proudly over the backdrop of Washington
and Daniel craned his neck to look at it as he and Boatman walked up the steps toward the East
Entrance. Boatman glanced over at Daniel and indulged him for a moment before reminding
him of their present needs.
I assume you have an idea of the importance of this meeting? inquired Boatman.
You need me to help you win over a Congressman. answered Daniel.
And only you can do it. added Boatman.
Why me?
Well get to that later. said Boatman, shortly. But its crucial we do win him over.
Boatman took Daniel across the threshold into the East Entrance and marched deeper
inside until he realized he was alone. Daniels eyes were wide with awe. As comely as the
architecture of the outside had been, the interior was even more uplifting. As they came to the
center of the room, his eyes flew up to the Rotunda high above them staring at a fresco
unmistakably of George Washington. Boatman came to a halt right next to him, looking up at the
fresco admiringly.
Beautiful, is it not? he said. The Apotheosis of Washington by Constantino Brumidi.
One of the wonders of the Capitol that everyone should see, at least once in their lives.
There, George Washington ascended into godhood before Daniels eyes, marking the first
president as unassailable and proud. Daniel met Boatmans eyes for an instant and found only a
waning patience for his indulging in the role of a tourist. But how could he help himself? He
had been living in the city for all this time and been nowhere near Capitol Hill.
Daniels eyes trailed downward. At their feet a star inlaid in the floor marked the point at
which the District of Columbia was divided into quadrants. Daniel looked down at the floor and
studied the star and the lines darting off in every direction and realized he was in the center of
the citythe heart of Washington D.C.
While Daniel pondered the notion of lying flat to be in all four quadrants at once, an aide
rushed up through the crowd, walking at a haggard pace until he came to a stop just outside the
star both he and Boatman stood in and studied them.
Are you Lawrence Boatman?
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I am. answered Boatman. You are the aide I met with last week.
The aide shifted in his stance nervously.
Forgive me, I see so many people they run together.
What can you do for me, Mr. Carmichael?
The aide blushed at hearing his own name remembered so clearly by a man he met in
passing and looked doubly embarrassed by his lack of memory.
Mr. Boatman, Mr. Wieland has just left Capitol Hill for a meeting at his office.
Boatmans face held the formation of a scowl that quickly turned into a congenial smile.
He will not return, I take it?
The vote he was on the hill to make is over. He left as soon as he was sure it had
passed. said Carmichael. Then the aide said, Im very sorry, sir.
But he will be at his office, correct?
He is very busy. I dont know if he can make time for you.
Oh, said Boatman, and his eyes were dark, but you see, we have an appointment. I
have made myself available. He will see me. The look in Boatmans eye was not altogether
unfriendly, but the thousand yard stare emanating from the old man made Mr. Carmichael wince
and retreat a step. Excuse us, said Boatman, serenely. Carmichael did not need telling twice.
With a spin of his heel he wheeled about and quickstepped away, glancing over his shoulder
periodically until he was swallowed by the crowd of tourists and congressional representatives.
So were going to his office now? said Daniel, not altogether wanting to leave the
building.
A slight detour. assured Boatman.
Where to?
Hart Senate Office Building. I need to track that son of a bitch down before he ruins
carefully laid plans.
Its no big loss if we dont go public today. Im sure he has his reasons.
Daniel, there are always reasons. But plans are plans. I want Wieland.
But why?
Because he is the head of the Specials Watch Committee and hes been a thorn in my
side since the Task Force was in its infancy. His committee has been blocking funding from the
start. That is to say until you came into the picture.
719 | P a g e

Theres a Specials Watch Committee?

Boatman turned and glared at Daniel as if he were an ignorant schoolchild.
Come now, Daniel, chided Boatman. Dont be nave.
Boatman pursed his lips and sighed his exasperation through his nostrils as he retrieved
his cellular phone from his jacket pocket and scrolled through the numbers until he found the one
he was looking for and hit send. Daniel watched the progress uncomfortably, wondering what
card he had up his sleeve to be played. Finally the line connected.
Tobias. Gather the team and have them dressed in Sundays best. Ill have cars to pick
you up in five minutes. Boatman disconnected the line without another word and then scrolled
to another number and hit send. Lawrence Boatman, here. Ill need five SUVs to The Post in
no more than five minutes. Make it happen. HSOB. 141 Constitution. With that, Boatman
disconnected the line again and looked up at Daniels curious expression and smiled. When
doors close on you, always remember to bring an entourage.

C h a p t e r

T h e

4 0:

U n v e i l i n g

720 | P a g e

art Senate Office Building was located on 141 Constitution Avenue NE. Adjoined to
the Dirksen Senate Office Building, HSOB held a contemporary appearance, in
contrast to the other Senate Office buildings in Washington, although retaining a

marble faade in keeping with its esteemed company.

Daniel thought there was not much about the building to mark it as spectacular, but he
had been surprised by interiors that put his technologies to shame before and he wondered what
the inside of the building held as he sat next to Boatman waiting for the Task Force to arrive.
So, said Daniel, fishing for a topic. Specials Watch Committee?
Boatman frowned and rubbed his forehead as though a headache were not far away and
Daniel feared he would not be privy to the information he sought on this shadowed threat of a
committee. Finally, Boatman turned to him and began to speak.
The SWC operates as a state backed problem solving think tank, in their case, dedicated
to detecting problems within the Specials community and discerning whether or not they are a
threat to our Democracy.
So, they want to lock all the Specials away on the possibility of what they might do?
I did not say it was palatable, but Congressman Wieland is the founder and head of the
committee into the investigation of Specials cases against the good of society.
Sounds almost like what were doing.
No. answered Boatman, his tone grave. We go about things in very different ways.
We act. We police the community. They are too afraid of the community to do more than watch
and make fiery speeches now and then.
And you want this guy? scoffed Daniel. What for?
I want him in my pocket. This man can be dangerous to our cause if not kept in check.
So youre going to bribe him?
Certainly not. replied Boatman. Im going to give him his dream and let him watch it
unfold.
Whats that supposed to mean?

721 | P a g e

Oh, it wont unfold the way he particularly likes it to unfold. Such is the way of dreams
in the real world.

We curse the flower for not blooming to our liking, but can appreciate its

color and perFume.

Thats a little too flowery for me. Remember, Im a working stiff.
You follow my meaning. said Boatman, a note of exasperation in his tone.
Yeah.
Then stop breaking my balls.
Sorry.
Outside, a series of black SUVs pulled up in front of them and the doors flew open.
Ah, theyre here. announced Boatman.
Boatman opened his door and stepped out into the chill Atlantic wind and breathed deep,
invigorated by what he planned to do. Daniel followed close behind, curious to see how his plan
unfolded as Leonard fell into step with him and the Task Force flanked them in a pack. There
was something cool and intimidating about just walking with them into a building, and Daniel
could not help but grin as he trailed behind Boatman who walked apart yet leading them into the
building.
Inside the building, Boatman marched through the crowd of onlooking interns sneaking out
to the front of the building for cigarette breaks to the elevator bay. There he turned and faced the
atrium and frowned. Daniel followed Boatmans gaze and took in the wide-open white marble
space. In the center of the atrium rose an ugly sculpture dominating its surroundings in several
tons of black matte. It looked to be a series of peaks, and above that, suspended from the ceiling
was a mobile of what looked like black clouds, slowly turning in random patterns.
The elevator door opened and the mystique of the monstrosity was shattered with a chime.
They all turned and filed into the spacious elevator filling it, yet they crept back and leaned on
each other to make room for Boatman so he could be comfortable in his three feet of breathing
room. Boatman hit the number seven and the lift glided quickly to the floor, where they exited
the car into the white walled wood paneled corridor. Within mere steps, it was clear Boatman
had been here before as he turned right and walked at a brisk pace down to 710. There, he turned
and entered the lobby vanishing momentarily. Daniel sped up and cleared the corner, nearly
colliding with Boatman, and the others trotted into the lobby behind him.

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The office had an energy-efficient design accommodating both staff and technology needs of
the modern government and was the envy of everyone on Capitol Hill concerning office space
and needs.

In the older buildings housing congress people, the electrical and broadband

capabilities were decades behind due to shady contractors and backroom deals with low bidders
on tons of fiberoptic cable imported from China.

HSOB stood supreme in form and function

compared to the grander offices in the older buildings who only held grandeur as their crowning
claim. On the seventh floor, they found the office of Congressman Jackson Wieland. His staff
was mainly young men and women, no older than twenty-five. Interning was a young persons
profession and a desire of the Congressman to be surrounded by youth for whatever reason.
At the main reception desk, an attractive young male sat answering calls with a warding hand
and the repeated question Can you please hold? which really was not a question but a polite
way of telling you Im about to put you on hold. At last the young male looked up at Boatman
and smiled pleasantly, though a haggard tone took his words as he glossed over Boatmans ID
badge hanging from the left breast pocket of his coat.
Yes, may I help you?
We have an appointment with Reginald, said Boatman with a fatherly smile for the
intern.

The intern blushed under the stare and glanced back at the ID badge, focusing on the

word Celestial across it which flashed in the light off the laminate.
Mr. Wieland is in a meeting with key staff members, right now.
In other words, hes getting blown, muttered Joseph in Stephens ear.
Boatman continued to smile as if this was a small matter.
Our appointment takes precedence to whatever meeting he is Currently having. Please
notify him we are on premises, now.
The young male intern flicked his finger against the viewscreen in front of him and his
tenor changed to sweetness. Mr. Wieland, I have a Mr. Boatman and staff here to meet
youYes, sir. The intern flicked his finger against the viewscreen again and looked up
brightly. Hell be with you in a moment, sir. Is there anything I can do for you? Coffee?
Tea?
Joseph muttered Handjob? and Stephen went red trying to contain his laughter.
Daniel turned and frowned at Joseph and Stephen and Leonard, Boatman and the rest of
them turned to offer looks of disquiet and contempt for the running dialogue of Joseph and the
723 | P a g e

redfaced Stephen. They both put their heads down in mock shame and swallowed back their
laughter. Bradley held his stare the longest before turning away in disgust.
Just then, the male intern cupped his ear and nodded unnecessarily, Yes, sir. Ill inform
them now. He then flicked the viewscreen again and looked up at them. Mr. Boatman? Mr.
Wieland will be coming out to meet you now.
Boatmans eyebrows raised.
I take it this meeting will not be happening in his office, then?
Im afraid I dont have that information, sir. said the male intern apologetically. Hell
be right out. Im terribly sorry. Is there anything you need?
No, thank you. replied Boatman.
If you change your mind, said the male intern. just let me know.
I will, assured Boatman with a stiff smile for the intern.
Just then, the office door opened and a salt and pepper haired man in his late-forties
sauntered out of his office with a cagy smile as if he was not altogether keen on holding court
with Boatman. He wore a tailored suit with a smart tie and a Bluetooth in his ear as he
approached them, his wingtip shoes padded on the plush carpet of the office space. His eyes
took in them all and rested on Daniel for a brief moment before returning to Boatmans.
Lawrence!
Jackson.
You found your way to my office alright?
Yes, I assume you forgot you were supposed to meet us on the Hill for this little talk I
take it?
Too many eyes and ears on the Hill for our little meeting. said Wieland. Walk with
me.
Wieland led Boatman out of the office and down the hallway toward the elevators
I thought it might be something to that effect. said Boatman as he led the team back to
the elevator bay. You realize it will all come out when you introduce the Task Force to the
world, of course.
The elevator doors parted and they entered, turned to face Daniel and the Task Force, and
Boatman gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head informing them to take the next

724 | P a g e

elevator. The doors closed on them, and Daniel could barely make out a word they said as the
elevator dropped to the lobby.
Daniel hit the elevator call button.
What do we do now? said Chad, slightly put out. Go back to the office and wait?
I didnt get dressed up for nothing. said Daniel. Boatman probably just didnt want us
crowding the man. We take the next lift down and meet them in the lobby.
There was a grunt of agreement and the elevator doors opened. Within seconds, they
were whisked to the lobby and when Daniel stepped out it was to the gawking looks of interns
intimidated by their numbers, their level of fitness and how their suits seemed to strain at the
bicep of Leonard and Joseph. But mainly they were just in awe of the group as a whole. They
parted to make way for Daniel who looked over their heads for sign of Boatman and the
Congressman.
Do you see them? said Leonard.
No. said Daniel. Bradley, can you point me in the right direction?
Bradley grew still and his stare seemed far away and unfocused. He pointed toward the
atrium without looking up.
Theyre over there. his voice slightly effeminate.
Thanks. said Daniel.
Stepping out into the atrium was like walking into a stately form of purgatory. On each
floor, walkways bridged the atrium and at its heart was a sculpture. It was a simple sculpture in
design and form. Due to the fact the walls of the atrium were white marble, the artist obviously
chose matte black on the entire structure and the overhead mobile representing both mountains
and clouds. Due to the absence of wind in the atrium, the aluminum plate clouds were turned by
a motor, set to generate seemingly random patterns of movement.
When Daniel found Boatman it was under the ugly black matte sculpture in the center of
the atrium.

By the time Daniel reached Boatmans side under the sculpture, it was clear they

had missed a large amount of dialogue and were coming up on the end of a verbal sparring
match.
Actually, your Task Force is of little concern to me. said Wieland. Its being seen with
you that Ive been apprehensive about.
Whatever for? chided Boatman. Im just an old man.
725 | P a g e

An old man with powerful connections and allies and a reputation on and off the
battlefield. replied Wieland. A very dangerous combination.
And wouldnt you like to be on the right side of that combination?
Your threats mean nothing to me.

I have reservations about this team youve

assembled.
And this meeting was to hear you voice them.
I want assurances only you can give me.
I thought you might.
This Task Force will be policing the Specials community and not the normal human
population. I heard about your skirmish with a mob from the community you placed them in.
You mean the street gang that charged their flat and shot up the place? Yes, they were
normal humans. But the team behaved exemplary. The only real injury was from small arms
fire.
Wieland rounded on Boatman, his eyes cold.
You think thats reassuring? Or was that joke?
Reginald, you have an agenda. You need a platform. I need a reputable man in place on
Capitol Hill who is looking into the Specials debacle to introduce the Task Force to the world.
Id say we were a match made in heaven.
Wieland looked over at Daniel and the Task Force distastefully.
I see youve brought a retinue with you. What is this about?
You wanted to see the Task Force. I have made them available to you.
Wieland blinked and his eyes went wide as his cheeks flushed.
This is the Task Force?
I thought you wanted to meet them?
Of course, of course. stammered Wieland.
Boatman turned to face Daniel and beckoned him closer.
This is Congressman Reginald Jackson Wieland, and he will be introducing the team to
the world, today.
This must be Henry Daniels. said Wieland, his eyes were like chips of ice as he studied
Daniel.
Daniel Rooke, Congressman Wieland. corrected Daniel, cordially. Pleasure.
726 | P a g e

Its a pleasure to meet you, Rooke. said the Congressman. Ive heard so much about
you, and I admit, I wasnt all too keen on you, but after last nights fiasco, and the way you
handled the press, I cant tell you how pleased we have the right kind of man in charge.
The right kinds not a Special, apparently, scoffed Stephen under his breath, though
loud enough for everyone to turn around.
Put a sock in it, snapped Leonard, and keep it there, Giordano.
Sir- pleaded Stephen, demanding his point be heard.
Get used to the flavor, replied Leonard, in closing.
Stephen stared red eyed at Leonard, glaring at the proud chiseled profile, and turned away
in frustration.
If youre going to shut me down, at least-
Oh, Im sorry, growled Leonard, You wanted to move from the metaphor to me
actually finding someone to give me a sock for you to chew on? Because Ill gladly make time if
you utter another syllable.
Stephen studied the hard eyes and set jaw and winced at the thought of actually chewing
on a previously worn sock and slunk away before the roomful of eyes and grit his teeth as he
glowered at the sculpture.
Leonard turned to see the most impressed were the eyes of Wieland who took Leonards
display of power and Stephens kowtowing as a sign of normal human intimidation of a Special.
His sneer was quickly masked with a look of awed appreciation.
I didnt know we had two on the team, Lawrence. said Wieland with an approving grin.
We dont, Congressman Wieland, replied Leonard with a grin as he extended his hand
to the congressman. Im as Special as they come.
Wieland seemed disconcerted by Leonards hand, and shook it perfunctorily with the
eyes of a cornered animal, seeking any possible exit. Leonards eyes seemed to laugh at the
Congressman who squirmed under the pleasant smile and mocking eyes, and when the
Congressmans hand was returned to him, Leonards fingers were outlined on his hand and wrist
in white lines that faded to deep red. Wieland wringed his hands together, rubbing the finger
marks to regain feeling, unsure how to proceed.
Leonard turned to Daniel, straight as a rod, with a Drill Sergeants salute.
Sir, reported Leonard, we are ready when you are, sir.
727 | P a g e

Daniel stood frustrated, torn between amusement for the Congressmans humiliation and
annoyance for the added aggravation of having to coddle the man, or reprimand his team.
Thanks, Leonard.
Leonard then pivoted on his heel and turned away, walking at a slow stiff cadence for
four steps, before returning to his casual strut, next to Stephen, where he pulled on his shoulder,
bringing their heads together and muttering a whisper to him. Stephen nodded his acceptance,
and the occasional mocking laugh escaped him.
The only thing Daniel could make out in the whispers of Leonards stone grinding voice
was: Trust me, I got him good for you and Im telling you, he wont be able to play with himself
for a week. That honor, Im sure, will have to fall to his aide. Hopefully its a girl, but
heyRepublican congressmen.
Stephen snickered and he and Leonard patted each others backs conspiratorially while
Boatman distracted Congressman Wieland.
As you can plainly see, we have a Task Force and a command structure within the team,
you have met Agent Rooke who will be in command of the teams on missions and making
arrests in the field.
I have nothing against Agent Rooke. said Wieland, rubbing his injured hand. In fact
Im encouraged you found someone so highly qualified to lead this team.
But? added Boatman.
I would need to have assurances, clarified Wieland, that this Task Force would be
acting as the committee sees fit.
They will not fall under your authority, said Boatman, flatly.
Then I dont know what to tell you. concluded Wieland.
Thats fine. smiled Boatman. I can always go across to the Cannon House Office
Building and hold my business there.
Who do you know that works there?
I know a number of representatives. But I was considering speaking to Dewey Russell
of the Specials Rights Committee.
You would go over to Russell? stammered Wieland. What can the Democrats provide
that we cant?

728 | P a g e

Well, said Boatman, he is a bit of a tree hugger for my tastes, but I believe he will find
my Task Force a marketable resource for his reelection.
You would give a gift like that to that, that
Well if you dont want it, Ill have to secure other means. It would be a loss to the
Republican base who supports restrictions and right of arrest on Specials
With that, Wieland rubbed his chin and scowled at Boatman.
I see youre not leaving me any room to negotiate.
The time for negotiation is done. said Boatman flatly. Are you in or out?
I want to be able to set the platform to my liking.
Im not planning on providing you a script. Spin it how you like. Just make the point
that the Task Force is a police force for the Specials community empowered by the Department
of Homeland Security to make arrests where those offices under that overlarge umbrella have
failed to make them.
I can work that in.
Now dont go overboard with trying to define the Task Force to the public. A little
mystery is a desirable element in todays climate.
I think that I can spin the definition of function and powers quite acceptably thank you
very much. said Wieland, self-satisfactorily. Then added, Will you be there?
Certainly not.
Then it looks like its up to me to present the team as favorably as possible to my
constituents. said Wieland, puffing up his chest like some profligate bird. Boatman merely
grinned and eyed Wieland like a prized meal to be savored slowly.
Yes it is.
I believe youll be favorably impressed by how I usher your Task Force into the light of
the world media.
I have no doubts it will be quite remarkable. replied Boatman with a wave of his hand
in the air.
What time will the press conference be?
Two oclock.
You trying to make the five oclock news?

729 | P a g e

I plan on this being on Ryan Dennings at six for the days review. answered Boatman
calculatingly. Then he looked up at Wieland and extended his hand to him. If theres nothing
else?
Nothing. replied Boatman, shaking his hand as though they had come to accord. Oh, is
it still at the same location?
Same as last we spoke. The media outlets all have the address and time, as do metro PD
for your security.
You plan ahead, said Wieland, eyeing Boatman warily.
Something you should remember about me. said Boatman with a wink.
I will.
At that moment, an aide walked tentatively up to them stopping just a few yards out of
earshot and gestured to Wieland. With that, Boatman nodded to Wieland and excused himself.
Congressman.
Lawrence.
Boatman turned and gave a gesture of finality to Daniel. Daniel nodded.
Congressman, said Daniel in farewell.
Daniel, answered Wieland in dismissal.
Daniel grit his teeth at having his name butchered but said nothing.
He turned and followed Boatman out of the atrium, the Task Force falling in behind him
as they exited the building onto Constitution Avenue.
Outside of HSOB, the train of SUVs waited for them in a line, the passenger doors
opening with the chirp of an alarm, smooth and efficient.
The Task Force entered the rear SUVs and the doors slid shut behind them as they took
their seats inside.
Daniel traded one last glance with Leonard who nodded his frustration for Wieland and
Daniel returned the nod.
Wieland was a problem for the team, that much was clear. How he presented them would
set a tone. That tone would haunt them for a long time.
Back in the SUV, Boatman took his seat and set aside his notebook. He was grim with
purpose, eyeing Daniel as he climbed in next to him. As Daniel closed the door Boatman leaned
toward him.
730 | P a g e

You gather how important it is Wieland be placated by these treats, I take it?
Yes. answered Daniel. But why Wieland?
That is for a later discussion. For now I want to talk to you about your team. You
cannot let the Task Force be presented in such a light as that cast by Stephen and Leonard
again.
I have no control over what they are going to say. Only the aftermath.
You have more power than you think.
Like what?
Like the power to censor and censure.
How does that help me control the words from escaping in the first place?
Daniel, you have done an admirable job with the team. Youve drawn them into your
world and they are thriving under your influence.

I see it. But you have made them your

friends. They are not your friends. They are an elite fighting team with powers to detain and
make arrest.
So I shouldnt be so close, is that it? blurted Daniel, exasperated.
You cannot lead unless you are detached. answered Boatman, a tone of finality and an
edge brought on by sympathy for Daniel. Men will die under your command. Dont lose
focus.
Daniel looked at Boatman for a long moment.
What do you require of me, Lawrence?
Boatman sat back and sighed.
This upcoming press conference is vital toward the teams survival and its stepping out
into the world stage. I need you there to keep the men from speaking out of turn and putting all
my hard work to waste.
Wait, I thought you had spin control.
Not on this scale. said Boatman, as if the thought were laughable. Were talking
national and international press corps, Associated Press, Viral Press, Aljazeera, CNN, Fox News,
every political news agency from both parties.

We are talking about dozens of news crews

looking for their own spin on events. The last thing I need is your team making sound bytes that
are outside of the set script.
Alright, I got it. You want me to muzzle them.
731 | P a g e

No, I want them quiet unless the eventuality someone shoves a camera in their face.
Then I want them on the script.
Ill talk to them.
See that you do. This is not my responsibility anymore. This is yours.
So where will we be holding this press conference? asked Daniel, anxious to change
the subject from one that added extra weight to his shoulders. The White House? Hoover
Building? DHS grounds?
Library of Congress.
Daniel stared at Boatman as though a third eye had opened on his forehead and winked at
him.
Library of Congress?
The Jefferson Building, to be precise.
Is that a joke?
No joke. said Boatman, with a tone of finality. That is where well be holding this
press conference.

On the top of the steps overlooking the District. Daniel just stared at

Boatman in silence. His question showing on the critical wrinkle at the corner of his eye,
Boatman continued as though to answer it. Apparently the Bureau has an aversion to letting us
use the J Edger Hoover Building, and the White House is still waiting to see if we produce, not
wanting to commit to us publically until we do or fall.
So we get shunted to the side, is that it?
Everything is proceeding according to plan, Daniel. assured Boatman. Within a
month, theyll be lining up hat in hand for our attention to their cases theyve been hoarding.
I dont like hat in hand. To me its just a clever way of hiding the gun.
Youre such a pessimist.
Im along for the ride. Ive been with you this far, havent I?
Yes, you have. And dont think Ill forget it, either.
So, we hold the press conference in the Jefferson Building-
On the steps. Apparently they dont want us in the building.
Great
At ease, Rooke. All is well.
And this Wieland character?
732 | P a g e

Lets just say that he will be on board with us soon. He just needs a push.
And hes going to introduce us to the world?
Its his ball. I believe hes had his best speechwriters working on his presentation to the
world stage.
I still dont like it.
What would you prefer?
The White House or the Capitol Building.
You are ambitious.
I just call them like I see them. And we should be making our debut there.
Well, I have a good feeling about this locale. concluded Boatman with a playful tone.
Then added, And it was either this or George Washington University.
I cant see a slight at being presented at a university.
No. Its quite a prestigious place, too. If we had, though, either Wieland or myself
would probably receive an honorary doctorate just for stepping foot on the campus.
Whys that?
Well, Wieland is a congressman, after all.
And youre a hero of the Sol War.
Yes, theres that, too.
So the steps of the Jefferson Building?
I was thinking with the bronze doors right behind us. It is a brave new world after all.
How long will we have?
Fifteen minutes, should do it. But we have forty-five minutes to hold it in.
Does that include set up time?
Set up time is minimal. My men are already there.
Do you think Wieland will show? He doesnt seem too keen on being around Specials.
But he is keen on you. replied Boatman with a knowing smile. Make no mistake, you
hold the allure of power to him even more than I.
Whys that?
Because the Specials follow your commands.
And thats enough?

733 | P a g e

Daniel, you fail to realize the power you hold. chided Boatman. A team of Specials at
your beck and call. They demonstrated that kind of fidelity when they stood by you against
those thugs last night. A very big deal, if you took the time to think about it.
Im honored by their standing by me in that hour. It wasnt altogether necessary. I
ended it simply enough.
Yes, by using what could be viewed as cruel means. Acid raining down on your
attackers? You scarred those young men for life. But the Task Force still stands by you. You
are singularly gifted in building bonds of trust and fidelity.
Trust me, I dont intend to abuse it.
Which makes you all the more valuable. Men with problems too common, who run to
their friends for help, eventually these calls wear the bonds of friendship and make the friends
wonder why he cant handle these problems without aid. You have assets you do not employ
carelessly or for the erection of your own station. They see this and they stand by you.
What is this, a pep talk?
I want you to see clearly your position and what it will inspire in common men. It will
inspire awe, unbridled respect and fear. You are a dangerous man, Daniel.
Hey, Im only doing as Im told.
And what would happen when you stopped doing as youre told?
Exasperated, Daniel flailed in his seat and stammered.
You put me in this position.
Because I knew you could handle it. Can you?
Yeah.
Then accept what comes with it. You will be a man of gravity. You will be a man
whose friendship people will covet. All for what you could bring to them if they had you on
their side. Remember that from this day forward, for once we go public, the world will know
your name. And all that I have stated previously will follow. The respect, the fear, the
sycophantic following, the need to emulate or even mirror your achievements and movements.
There will come a time when you will face scores of men who sought to become as
great as Daniel Henry Rooke, to varying degrees of success. And you will be there to confront
them with their own mortality.

734 | P a g e

You mean, stammered Daniel uncomfortably, people will try to make teams of
Specials to become what Im becoming and Ill have to fight them?
It is already happening. They just havent revealed themselves to the public yet.
Youre talking about SE Security, arent you? Knight?
Knight is a business owner with government contracts. And easily defeated. Threaten
his business contracts and he will fold. I am talking about men with baser pursuitsfrom
survival to dreams of magnitudethese men you will meet soon, and you will deal with them.
They will be the Most Wanted of tomorrow. Just then, the SUV slowed to a crawl and the
vehicle squeaked to a halt in the harsh winter cold. Boatman turned from Daniel and looked out
the window. Were here.
Daniel looked out the window onto 101 Independence Avenue SE and saw the muscular
form of Neptune seated on the rocks above churning water. On either side of Neptune were two
Tritons blowing conch shells with sea nymphs, sea horses, monsters, frogs, and turtles that were
artfully rendered out of bronze. Beyond were the marble steps leading up to the bronze doors
and their destination. Daniel stared at the daunting steps and began to feel an overwhelming
sense of the purpose in having this venue.
Impressed? inquired Boatman knowingly.
Im not complaining. said Daniel with a nod.
Good. concluded Boatman, taking off his spectacles and cleaning them with a
handkerchief. The press is arriving. Then added, If youll just wait off to the side, youll be
introduced and then walk into camera frame.
Youre not coming?
Id better serve in anonymity, I think. The public role is yours. This is why I selected
you.
I thought it was because Leonard vouched for me.
If I was going to listen to every suggestion made to me I would be surrounded by fools
and penniless. I chose you because you are on the verge of becoming like me.
With that, Boatman opened the door and slid aside to allow Daniel room to exit the SUV.
Daniel did not know how he felt about that last statement as he stepped out of the SUV and
looked up at the Jefferson Building at the top of the steps. The Library of Congress was divided
into two buildings, the Thomas Jefferson and the Madison buildingsthe Thomas Jefferson
735 | P a g e

building being the most grandit stood proud and luxurious as a jewel on the face of the District
of Columbia.
As Daniel mounted the steps and climbed he took in the building as awe filled as he had
been at the Capitol Building.

Its classical Italian renaissance faade mirrored the grand

structures in European capitols and a copper dome rose high above the faade like the temple of
Jerusalem and was capped by the gold leafed Torch of Learning. At the top of the marble stairs
three double bronze doors, each weighing over a ton, dominated the entrances to the building.
Daniel looked on this sight with wonder and quickly realized there was no place he
would rather introduce his team to the world in front of than this place. With a widening grin he
led his team up the steps to the platform erected in front of the left bronze double doors entitled
Traditiondepicting a Native American, a Norse figure, an antediluvian man, and a shepherd
and standing there, thought how eerie it would look to have his men standing with their backs to
that work of art. It was as if Boatman had thought of everything. At the top of the steps the
techies have finished setting up the podium before the brass doors. The press were setting up a
few steps lower with their cameras angled upward at them.
Daniel stepped aside and walked a comfortable distance away and the Task Force
converged on him on the top step ten yards from the unpacking media crews and the unattended
podium set up before them. Daniel watched the podium uncomfortably. In just a few minutes,
he would be standing there addressing the concerns of the public through the filtration of the
media crews each looking for the best sound bytes and story spins to make the unspectacular
magical. He knew the pressure was on him even more than it was at The Post when he covered
the spin control on the gang attack.
McCormack, sensing his nerves rested his hand on his shoulder and whispered in his ear
Youll do fine, Daniel.
Daniel had no words for this. He was all nerves. They shook him to the point he thought
about shaking the nerves out but he knew that would draw attention from the media crews and he
did not want to come off as jittery or tweakish in their presence. The last thing he needed was
the media agencies showing news feeds of him stamping his feet and shaking the nerves out of
his hands and arms.
Leonard leaned over and squeezed his shoulder in support and Daniel took a deep breath
and exhaled his nerves away. Its just another battlefront he thought. Just another conflict to
736 | P a g e

wage. Youve done it before. This seemed to calm him and he was grateful when he saw the
motorcade pull up at the steps of the Jefferson Building. From the back of the limousine,
Reginald Jackson Wieland stepped out and waved to the cameramen and newscasters as he
mounted the steps and made his way up to the zenith.
approached Daniel, his hand extended.

Once he reached the topmost step, he

Daniel shook it firmly, perhaps a little too firmly, as

Wieland winced, though this could have been because Leonard had nearly crushed the
Congressmans hand only an hour ago.
Nerves alright? inquired Wieland.
Im fine, Congressman. answered Daniel, a little too hard in tone to make up for the
anxiety.
Wieland chuckled.
Its alright to be nervous. These little forays into the public eye are nothing to sneeze
at.
Ill be fine, Reginald. assured Daniel.
See that you do. commanded Wieland as though Daniel were on his staff. A lot is
riding on how you handle yourself once I introduce you to the world. Wieland flashed his
winning smile and added confidently, Now watch how its done.
And with that, Wieland walked away from them and stood in front of the podium.
Daniel, McCormack, Bradley, Leonard, Chad, Stephen, Josh and Joseph all watched as Wieland
began his address with a cough and a smile to the news crews, all of which trained their cameras
and microphones on him in anticipation of the show to begin.
Daniel remembered Boatmans command to censor the team and turned to find
McCormacks reassuring eyes.
Dont worry, Daniel. Ive already talked to the men. Nothing will go wrong.
Right. said Daniel, not entirely reassured.
But Wieland had started speaking and all else left his mind to pay attention to the
congressman and wait for his introduction to the world stage.
Thank you for coming, said Wieland, and he flashed a broad smile to the cameras and
journalists, quickly glancing at his watch and then gripped the podium with both hands. This
has been a long day coming. Since the end of the Sol War, our nation has been in a state of crisis
of unprecedented proportions. We have watched from the sidelines helplessly as the Specials
737 | P a g e

community within our borders run rampant in the streets, while law enforcement is
underprepared to meet the demands of the civilian population begging for assistance as Specials
break local, state and federal laws, hiding behind their citizenship and residency status justifying
their right to exist in the same society as God fearing law abiding citizens. We have seen their
abilities and we have shuddered in dismay knowing if they chose to rise against us, we would be
powerless to resist them.
Those days are about to come to an end. It has been my lifes work to combat the threat
of the hidden Special in the community with very little support in Congress based largely on the
fact that it is Currently unconstitutional to imprison without due process. The press seemed to
both recoil from the language and lean in, hanging on every word as though spellbound by the
politician as he bordered on a tirade that seemed to subside with every pause and smile. Ladies
and Gentlemen of the press, I am pleased to announce that those days are done. It is my
privilege to introduce you to a new arm in law enforcement commissioned with working within
the Specials community and empowered to make arrests and detainment of those Specials who
choose to break the laws of our communities under Federal penalties. The mission of this office
will be to develop and coordinate the implementation of a strategy to secure the United States
from Specials disruptions in our Democracy. This office will coordinate with the Department of
Homeland Security and various agencies under its umbrella to detect, prepare for, prevent,
protect against and respond to Specials law breaking within the United States and its territories.
Congressman Wieland waved his hand to Daniel and his men and the cameras turned to follow
the gesture until it rested on Daniel and his men.
Come on, guys, said Daniel grimly. Lets get this over with.
And with Daniels first step, they walked in file into frame of the cameras, who panned to
take them in, in all their glory. Grim, uncomfortable and put upon by the slanted words of
Wieland and fearing these words would haunt them in their efforts to work with the Special
community more than assure the normal human population, Daniel came to a stop just behind
and next to Wieland who turned and gestured him to step forward. The butterflies warred in his
stomach and he stepped forward now knowing how it would feel to be knighted in front of an
entire court. Wieland put his hand on Daniels shoulder in a comradic display for the press and
the lights of the cameras seared Daniels eyes as they panned to take him in, in all his starkness,
next to Wieland who wore makeup that complemented his features in the harsh light. Daniel was
738 | P a g e

unprepared and clearly a novice to the ways of interaction with the media. Wieland, however
was a professional, and he steered Daniel around next to him, presenting him to the world stage
with a charismatic swagger.
Before you is the face of the new Specials Investigations Task Force, said Wieland, and
he turned and smiled at Daniel. Mr. Daniel Rooke. He and his team of Specials will be policing
the Special community at large. Mr. Rooke?
And with a gesture toward the podium, Wieland stepped away and checked his watch
again, as if he had an appointment he did not want to miss. Daniel stepped forward and took the
podium.
Good afternoon, said Daniel into the microphones taped to the podium. Are there any
questions?
Tamiko MacDonald, Associated Press. said the news woman. What makes your team
any more credible than the dozens of other task forces assigned to the threat that Specials make
for the community?
Well, said Daniel, firstly, many Specials wont see us. Many are hard working and
God fearing and just want to coexist with the communities they live in. These remarks and
critical dialogues against the Special community only undermines what we seek to accomplish.
And what is that? asked MacDonald.
To arrest the law breakers, answered Daniel. Nothing more.
David Oldman, Viral Press Association. said another journalist. Specials are feared by
the communities. Dont you think they have a right to decide who lives next door to them?
No, I dont, said Daniel. I believe if they are not breaking laws, and are living quiet
existences then so be it. The door should not be shut on someone due to the alteration to their
DNA that occurred decades ago or the accident of birth. snapped Daniel. Next question.
You did not answer my question, said MacDonald. What makes your team more
credible than the other Specials task forces out there?
We are the only Task Force employing Specials to police the Specials community, said
Daniel with a grin.
The news crews held their collective breaths and stared at Daniel in shock.
Are you saying youre a Special? demanded MacDonald.

739 | P a g e

No, answered Daniel. Im the agent in charge. My Task Force is comprised of

Specials.
Those men behind you are Specials? asked another man with a microphone bearing the
letters CNN on them.
Yes. answered Daniel with a winning smile. Then said Next question.
Brian Wolf, Hearst News. said another journalist. Dont you think using Specials on
your team is a conflict of interest when it comes to policing a Specials community?
No I dont, answered Daniel, assuredly. My men are dedicated to the task at hand, and
that is the policing of the Specials community at large. My men will perform that task without
conflict. A lawbreaker is a lawbreaker, not a fellow Special. That is the only distinction we
see.
Will Hansen, CBS News, said a young blond journalist with a knowing look, obviously
breaking news for the rest of the news crews to follow. Will you be investigating the allegations
that Specials were involved in the terror attack on January 19th?
We are involved with a joint task force aimed at arresting the alleged terrorists involved
in the near destruction of the U.S.S. Elysium. said Daniel with a nod.
Your involvement would seem to imply that Specials were involved in the commission
of the terror attack, prodded Hansen. What do you have to say to that?
There was Special involvement, answered Daniel to the shock of everyone present at
having their first non-secret informant give information about the Elysium. Our job is to find
and arrest them for the near destruction of the Elysium and the loss of nearly five hundred souls.
You seem to have a hard time calling it a terror attack, said Wolf, almost aggressively.
Is there some reason for that?
Our job is to arrest the men who committed to planting a bomb on the Elysium,
answered Daniel calmly, and with the aid of the Federal Bureau of Investigation and other
hands of the Department of Homeland Security, to go after those who funded their operation and
make those arrests as well.
Are you implying a conspiracy? gasped MacDonald whipping her microphone closer to
the podium, the avid news reporter jumping into action demanding more information for the live
broadcast.

740 | P a g e

Daniel felt he had dangled enough carrots for one day and decided it was best to remain
silent from there on out.
Thank you, said Daniel. No further questions at this time.
Daniel stepped away from the podium and joined Wieland, shaking his hand. Wieland
redirected Daniel with a broad smile as he repositioned him for the best photo opportunitiesall
favoring his good sidethe cameras allowed. Daniel was aware of this subtle shifting and
turned to smile to the cameras on them.
You put a lot of pressure on several agencies with that last statement, said Wieland
through his perfect white teeth. A gutsy move. Im not altogether sure how wise it was, but
then again, Im just a politician. Only time will tell, Im sure.
Just then, just atop Wielands head, an object appeared abruptly, as though it had
materialized out of the ether and oddly danced seemingly on the edge of a pin. The metallic top
spun, and quivered, as though it were the bit of a drill being forced downward by tremendous
pressure, yet it remained in perfect stasis, spinning almost gaily mere inches above the
congressmans scalp.
McCormacks hand had raised itself laxed and lazily at his side, as the bullet continued to
revolve on the singular invisible point, like a top spun on a glass surface. Realizing what was
happening, Daniel yanked Wieland back from the spinning top. Wieland yelped at being seized
by such powerful hands and squeaked his protest as Daniel forced him back under the protection
of the building against the bronze double doors, and within an instant, the audience transformed
into a sea of strobes blinking off, like sunlight on the water.
Have you lost your mind? railed Wieland. Youve ruined everything!
Look! commanded Daniel, and pointed to the silver bullet spinning its dance like a
dreidel in midair.
What is that? asked Wieland, quizzically.
Thats a bullet, Congressman. answered Daniel.
A bullet? stammered the Congressman his eyes growing steadily wider as he realized
the bullet was meant for him.
Daniel looked down at Wieland, pinning him to the recesses of the wall, as sure cover
from snipers bullets as he could find and rose to his feet.
Stay down! commanded Daniel.
741 | P a g e

He was in his element as he emerged from underneath the protection of the building, and
he stormed out among the Task Force, nodding them authoritatively. The quickly nodded and
returned to their scouring the area for signs of a gunman.
And a sea of questions erupted, billowing forth and swelling onto the stage, while other
wiser members of the press, looked away from the fine object spinning and the madness that had
overtaken Daniel, and erupted into panic, recognizing the bullet for what it was; the herald of the
sniper. And fearing more spinning tops, they sent out a panic that rocked the press, and turned
the sea of onlookers into a disorganized mob, thrashing about in startled cries and screams of
terror, amid the few who remained cool headedthough whether they were cool of head because
of their professional resolve, or a lack of understanding of the spinning top, that remained
debatable.
Those closest to the podium, were pushed even closer by cameramen anxious to capture
the scene in its entirety, while those in the back, quickly retreated, trampling those who stumbled
as they made their way down the steps toward the street, or toward the podium, seeking cover.
The bullet exploded into shrapnel, leaving a cloud of debris and fine metal particles,
which quickly slowed, and spun, until they dropped to the ground like seeds discarded to the soil,
leaving only a mist, carrying the trace scents of gas and charred metal to assail the press.
All that the press was aware of was the explosion, and scattered in a mad Fury, falling
over cameramen, seeking to avoid the catastrophe around them. Yet on the highest steps, the
Specials did not move. They stood perfectly still, scanning the horizon for sign of threat, and
seemed wholly unaffected by the madness around them as behind the lenses of their seemingly
ordinary UV resistant glassesfaint red lights blinked as targeting screens appeared,
overlapping the chaotic world on the other side of their lenses, and illumined the horizon with a
perfect map of the surrounding area. Daniel called out to them.
Anything? demanded Daniel.
Just a moment, Daniel. said McCormack.
The occasional gaps in the field were the result of newer construction and buildings
deemed vital to national security, and so, they remained distinct, without blue or green pin
frames to confirm their existence. Small windows blinked open for flashes of instants, detecting
erratic movement in the distance for sign of snipers, while quantifying tables scrolled complex
numeric systems madly, calculating line of sight, wind speed, temperature, humidity, to pinpoint
742 | P a g e

the location of the shooter at a harried pace and set the eyes behind the lenses blinking madly.
Willing themselves to ignore the information, the Specials studied the horizon, employing the
magnifying capabilities of their glasses which opened windows pointing out sniper locations that
they would have themselves employed, knowing the gaps in their protocols, they ignored all the
locations that had been secured, and focused solely on the areas not controlled by the Department
of Treasury, FBI, Marshalls, Treasury or Metro Police. Depending on where they stood, each of
them turned to a different area and studied the prime locations for sniper positions.
Chad and Stephen studied the areas to the left, finding many locations, but none that had
been previously overlooked when securing the area. Bradley studied the buildings across the
street to the right, and finding nothing, grew frustrated.
Ive got nothing, cursed Bradley, frustratedly.
Me neither, concluded Chad.
Clear, snapped Stephen.
McCormack smirked and tapped Bradley on the shoulder and pointed toward a building
in the distance. Some cameras followed McCormacks finger toward a building in the distance.
Look East by Northeast, ten oclock high.
Bradley turned and saw the roof of a new building in the distance and stared at it
curiously, his face growing long as the window blinked open, revealing a magnified view of the
rooftop some five hundred yards away. Again, the window blinked, and far and away, the
building was alive with movement, in the form of heat signatures showing human forms busying
about their various office tasks, congregating around the lobby, climbing and descending in the
stairwells or riding elevators. Above them all, in an air conditioning unit atop the building, a
figure was moving quickly, dismantling what appeared to be a high powered rifle, picking up
what appeared to be a shell casing, and packing everything into a slender briefcase, as he
gathered up his belongings, and prepared to exit the air conditioning tower and out into the open
field on the roof.
The human figure produced a container from the briefcase and began to spray some
compound on his arms, face and hair. Whatever the material was, it cooled the treated areas, and
the heat signature became an oddity, revealing a headless man with holes in his chest, reaching
the stubs of his arms at doorknobs, which appeared to turn by themselves, as the man stepped out
onto the exposed rooftop.
743 | P a g e

The window blinked again, and color rushed back into the scene, revealing a tall slender
white man in a business suit, carrying a briefcase in his hand. The man adjusted his hair, as he
turned to walk casually toward the roof access stairwell, as though he had just stepped outside
for a smoking break, before returning to the business of work.
Bradley Overmans response was instantaneous. His jacket slipped from his shoulders
and dropped to the marble floor and with a quick wrenching motion, ripped his white cotton
dress shirt openthe tie running askew of his chestrevealing the red Anchor silk-screened to
his black T-shirt. His hair blew back as he threw himself into the air, propelled by force of will
toward the fine businessman walking briskly along the distant rooftop, so far away.
The wind swirled and surged around him, agitated and seemingly invigorated by his
presence and parting among them. Bradley narrowed his vision on the figure outlined in on his
viewscreen and in his mind until nothing else existed but him and his goal. He grit his teeth and
streamlined his form, preparing himself for the sudden on pour of speed that would bring him
face to face with his target. And he watched the figure stroll along, completely oblivious to his
coming.
Bradley felt almost electric as he verged on jumping to incredible speed, readying himself
for the crushing weight it would bring to bear on him, and augmenting his telekinetic shielding to
counteract the severe G-forces by his impending on pour of speed when; the figure stopped in its
tracks, dropped its belongings and jerked back and forth, more like a marionette than a man, and
so perplexed Bradley, that he paused in midair and considered his target curiously.
What the hell just happened? thought Bradley, and looked about curiously for some sign
of an answer, when finally, he looked back, to see McCormack holding his hand lazily out in
front of him, making a loose gripped fist.
Bradley looked back at the marionette, utterly nonplussed at having made the effort,
when McCormack had already handled the situation with such eminent expedience and an
almost lazy ease.
Bradley sighed, and turned to return to the stage when he caught sight of Daniels face,
and the utter frustration constricting the muscles on his cheeks and neck, and the skin alternating
between burning red and flushed. Bradley then noted Chads expression of nervousness, and
trailed the rest of his teammates, growing sicker at each expression of dread, frustration or
outright annoyance; from Leonards scoff, to Stephens vindicated smirk, to McCormacks
744 | P a g e

indifferent smirk and mortified shake of the head, as if to say: I had it already, Brad. Daniel
grimaced. This is not the kind of press he wanted.
Below Bradley, the strobe effect began to reach him, as if he were soaring above a
battlefield, and with a mortified downward glance saw the dozens of press and onlookers
mingling in amazement beneath him, muttering to themselves with awe and admiration,
whispering about him in recognition, over and over again.
Thats Maximus, gasped some faceless observer out of the throng of press, and soon,
other voices agreed and voiced the same, confirming the assessment with tremulous whispers
and awestruck exclamations as though Bradley were something more than them. Greater. A
prayerful, thankful whisper that surely had not been heard in over two thousand years, since the
days of twelve disillusioned sycophants and a handful of great women who stared into the face of
a friend, a love, and a leader returning to them alive and whole, mere days after his death.
Bradley was static above them, looking down at their faces, noting the fearful
expressions, next to the thankful awestruck, and was instantly frustrated, not knowing which
expression made him feel worse.
Slowly, he floated downward, back to the stage, until he had landed among the fold of
Specials, looking back at the flashing strobes and hot lights of the cameras scalding him, moving
closer, like flames chasing the moth.
Again, the press surged toward the stage, their cameras muscling for the perfect iconic
shot, and hundreds of microphones jutted out toward the men on the stage.
Daniel, Boatman and Wieland stood there in disbelief as the press built into a furor,
screaming questions, demanding answers, pleading for advice from the Specials. And then,
within a moment, it was clear, they were all clamoring for only one man. His call-sign uttered
by them all, over and over againtheir sentences indecipherable amid the shouts of question
above question, until all that could be heard was:
MAXIMUS! MAXIMUS! MAXIMUS!
Bradley stood there helpless, unsure what to do. Trapped by the cameras and pleading
questions as if it were an oncoming car materializing out of the night, and he, a mere doe in the
road. The photographers and live cameramen pressed further on him, encroaching closer toward
the stage to the degree the police officerswho had previously stood casually, warding the press
back with mere waves of their palms that were instantly obeyedwere now frantically climbing
745 | P a g e

up the steps toward them, kicking off the paparazzi frenzied cameramen to lift themselves bodily
to the high ground.
Stephen and Chad reached down and lifted officers onto the top step to keep them from
being trampled by the mob mentality that seized the once docile herd of press, and Bradley
followed suit, taking the hand of another officer, in an effort to pull him to safety. The officer
stared thankfully into Bradleys eyes as he lifted the man up effortlessly and he kept those eyes
in his; drawing strength and security that he was doing the right thing by helping him and
studied the man curiously, as the grateful relief turned to disconcert and later, sheer terror as
hundreds of hands pawed at the officers feet and legs, pulling from the sanctum of Bradleys
eyes, trying to rip him free of his grasp, in order to better seize his hand themselves.
Bradley pulled the terrified officers arm hard to free him, but the press pulled the
officers legs, yanking him hard from Bradley, until a wrenching pop was heard and the officer
wailed in pain as his arm jerked harshly and unnaturally away from his body, held solely by
muscle, tendons, skin and cloth. The officer wailed long and loud, like a battlefield triage patient
in a delirious madness, though no one seemed to hear above the din of the mob. Bradley
instantly released the officers hand in fright, and the officer vanished beneath a hundred hands,
swallowed by the press, and was not seen again, as cameramen seemed to grow a foot taller on
the space where the officer had fallen.
The press now grabbed at Bradleys boots, seemingly trying to pull him closer to them in
some mindless effort to force him into their control, each seeking their piece of the man whom
they had chosen to worship, but whether they sought an interview, an autograph, a picture or a
relic, it made no difference. They all wanted a piece. That was enough to send a chill down
everyones spine on the stage.
Chad pulled Bradley from the edge and eyed him.
What are you doing? demanded Chad in a harsh whisper, Youre going to get sucked
in right along with him.
Stephen pulled Chads hand from Bradleys shoulder and pushed his chest, making
Bradley take several backward steps.
Back off, growled Stephen grimly. We got this.
Bradley staggered back nervously, looking down on the press with a timorous sense
dread. The press continued to thrust their cameras at Bradley, who looked down on them, and
746 | P a g e

the images captured by the press, from their perspective looking up at Maximus were the images
of a tragic hero, seemingly weeping for humanity, with all the iconic impact of Christ on the
cross. The press salivated at the imagery, and continued to snap shot after shot, or angle their
live feed cameras to achieve the most miraculous Pulitzer winning shot.
Chad looked back at Stephen, and gave a nod with a nervous gesture as if to say:
Are you sure you have enough control to do this?
Stephen nodded with a grim annoyance as if to say:
Just get down there.
With that, Chad nodded, and hopped off the top step down to the spot where the
cameramen stood a foot taller, and began shoving cameramen to the left and right, while the
jostling press pushed the cameramen back into position, to ensure that they too could get a better
angle to photograph Bradley, and now, to capture the Riot and the blood.
Chad glanced back up at Stephen, who nodded, and making his hands contort into claws,
created two controlled burst explosions, that began a stampede away from the podium, revealing
the police officers mangled body twitching on the ground.
Is he dead? gasped Bradley.
He will be, said Chad. if we dont get him to the hospital, quick.
Whats the nearest one? demanded Daniel.
Carter General, on East Capitol and 13th. said Bradley, frustratedly.
Bradley bent down to gather the police officer up, when a hand laid firmly and gently on
his shoulder, demanding him to halt, but offering friendship.

Bradley looked up into

McCormacks eyes.
Your TK doesnt work that way, Brad. concluded McCormack. hed die en-route.
The police officer lifted into the air, in the exact same position he lay on the ground in,
and McCormack shook his head. I got im, assured McCormack. Besides; Obama Generals
a quarter mile closer, said McCormack, forgivingly. Report to Boatman for debriefing, and Ill
be along shortly. Got it?
Yes, sir, stammered Bradley, his throat raw, as his chest swelled and fell. McCormack
nodded to him regrettably.
Good man, concluded McCormack.

747 | P a g e

McCormack lifted into the air next to the critically injured police officer, angled
southwest as he sped over the building behind them, and vanishing out of sight.
Alright, men. said Daniel. Weve done all we can. Lets back up and regroup with
Wieland. The Task Force nodded and fell back against the bronze double doors to find Wieland
on his cellular phone.
Did that just happen? stammered Wieland. Someone actually tried to kill me?
Youve made a lot of controversial statements over the years, answered Daniel. You
mean to tell me you dont have death threats handed to you every week?
Every day. But its usually left wing Democrats. scoffed Wieland as though there were
no real threats there. I want to find out if that guys a Special or not.
Daniel escorted Wieland down the steps toward the street and the waiting limousine.
Youll have that information within the hour. said Daniel. The man is already in
custody.
And I also want to find out how this guy found out where I was going to be. demanded
Wieland.
That could prove problematic. said Daniel.
How? demanded Wieland.
Well, said Daniel. there could be leaks in your office.
Or leaks in yours. said Wieland accusingly.
Doubtful. assured Daniel. There is also the press who all knew you were going to be
giving this speech for over a week. And the location was no secret. An industrious individual
could scope, plan and execute on such a timetable with the proper motivation.
But what could be his motivation?
Maybe hes a Democrat, said Daniel with a shrug. Maybe hes insane. Maybe he took
issue with any number of stands youve taken over the course of your career. We may never
know. But I will check my end if it puts you at ease. assured Daniel as they reached the
limousine. Wieland opened the door and nearly entered the limousine when he suddenly paused
and looked up at Daniel with an uncomfortable pause.
Thank you. sighed Wieland, originally grateful as real emotion welled within him at
nearly being killed only a handful of moments ago.

748 | P a g e

With that, Wieland ducked into his limousine and the motorcade pulled away leaving
Daniel and the Task Force standing grimly on the curbside with the braver press members
standing close by broadcasting the whole event.

Daniel looked out at the sea of press and

frowned.
Ill never get used to this

Obama General was a hospital with an advanced medical team standing by for cases ranging
from ailing VIPs to knife and gunshot wounds from mugged tourists visiting the capitol. From
the outside it was sleek and postmodernist in design standing as a testament to a prospering
nationthe irony being Obama never saw this prospering nation materialize due to the mounting
debt and recession of the previous administration that crippled the country and its economy for
years.

All that could be said about the namesake was he had finally achieved bipartisan

agreement, because whenever a congressional representative or senator was in need of medical

attention they all insisted on being cared for at Obama General.
All this meant nothing to Daniel as the SUV pulled up to the ER driveway to be met by a
swarm of press being held back by Metro Police while they erected a barricade. Daniel flashed
his credentials through the window to a severe looking Metro officer who read the credentials
thoroughly before flagging the SUVs through. Once the caravan had parked along the paramedic
parking lane, taking up the red zone in front of the double doors, Daniel climbed out of the SUV
and stormed in through the ER doors into the admitting ward, the remaining members of the
Task Force following in his wake.
The hospitals interior was state of the art in form and function with chromed Doric
columns leading into the building and viewscreens flashing areas of need to the new patrons
flashing words like Trauma, Emergency Room, Admitting, Information, Intensive Care Unit, etc.
all at the fingertips of the entering patron. Daniel ignored this viewscreen. He had seen what he
was looking for. A security guard rose from his desk and Daniel flashed his credentials which
only meant something to the average person now that the press conference was over and they had
all become instant celebrities. The guard read his credentials and pointed to the corner of the
waiting area where McCormack and Bradley sat together communing in their odd way
McCormack looking at Bradleys broken profile, while Bradley stared at the ground nodding
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moroselyas the Task Force gathered around them both. Daniel walked up to where Bradley
sat and the crowd parted to let him stand directly in front of him.
What the hell were you thinking? hissed Daniel.
Bradley sunk lower in his chair and buried his face in his hands, tussling his hair about.
Not now, Daniel. said McCormack, calmly. Later.
What do you mean, later? demanded Daniel. That was a simple press conference until
Bradley stripped down and started flying!
Calm down, Daniel. said Leonard, as though he were being obscene.
And why should I calm down? demanded Daniel.
Just then, Boatman entered through the lobby entrance.
Well, I see the gangs all here. said Boatman. Come now. Theres no sense in
dawdling. The SUVs are here and the police are holding back the forming mob but they cant
hold them back forever.
Mob? said Daniel, latching onto the word.
You didnt think the sudden reappearance of Maximus wouldnt have the city breaking
out in a rash?
You knew this would happen said Daniel.
Knew there would be a Riot? said Boatman. Certainly not.
Youre holding back something. said Daniel, his detectives instincts taking over.
I honestly dont know what you mean. said Boatman, his eyes hard demanding Daniel
not push the issue. Get your men together. Were leaving back to The Post. At least there we
have security systems in place to keep unwanted guests from making a mess of things.
Im staying. said Bradley, his voice frail and nearly unnoticed if not for the conviction
in his tone.
Bradley, said Boatman, thats an order.
Im not leaving until I know the condition of that police officer. said Bradley.
Maybe you did not hear the part about the mob forming outside. said Boatman. Let
me put this to you bluntly. Theyre here for you. Some to praise and some to slaughter the
lamb.
You make him sound like a god. said Daniel, skeptically.

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He will be constantly in a position between worship and hatred. said Boatman, tiredly.
This he knows too well. Why do you think hes let his hair go into that mop you see? Hes
hiding behind a different look.

Im surprised he hasnt donned fake glasses. Now, get up.

Were leaving.
Not until I know the officers okay. said Bradley, more fiercely.
Chad watched them stare at each other like a tennis match and then finally cleared his
throat.
General, said Chad. Maybe itd be okay if he stayed with back up? I could hang here
and protect him if the crowd outside comes in and tries to make a mess of things.
Mr. Beach, said Boatman, with a tone of exasperation. I know youre doing only what
you feel is honorable, but if you decide to stay, you will be subject to a greater scrutiny by the
media than you have previously experienced. Your actions and words will be weighed and
measured to a cold interpretation. Are you prepared for that?
Yes General.
Fine. Stay and babysit Overman.

Ill keep a security detail on the hospital grounds.

Not that youd need it but itd make me feel better to know you had added protection.
Thank you, General. said Chad, and then rose and approached the nurses station,
clearing his throat. Excuse me, I was wondering if we could maybe sit in the ICU until the
injured police officer comes around?
Absolutely not. replied the nurse as though Chad had suggested something scandalous.
From what I overheard that crowd forming outside is related to you people. I am not going to
have disruption in the Intensive Care Unit.
Come on, smoothed Chad, whats the harm of us just sitting up there?
Behind the nurses station, a doctor appeared scrutinizing the scene apparently drawn by
the scandalized tone of the nurse.
Is there a problem over here? said the doctor.
Me and my friend want to get away from the crowd forming outside and wait by the
injured officers bedside until he shows signs of improving.
Are you going to question him when he wakes up? asked the doctor, his eyes critical.
No. said Chad. We just want to know hes okay.
Doctor Eisenberg, said the nurse, You know hospital protocol.
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Im going to allow it. said the doctor, then turned to Chad and pointed his finger down
the hall. Take the elevator up to the fifth floor and ask about the patient at the nurses station.
Thank you. sighed Chad with gratitude.
Bradley and Chad left the waiting room to the elevator leaving Daniel, Boatman and the
remaining Task Force standing by the entrance.
Well, said Boatman. Now that thats all worked out, what about that ride out of here?
Boatman brushed his mustache with his fingertip and turned walking out through the lobby
entrance out to the waiting line of SUVs. The Task Force followed him out of the hospital and
then into the waiting SUVs. Daniel walked up to Boatman and stopped. Boatman adjusted his
tie in the reflection of the passenger window and spoke over his shoulder. You have something
to say, Daniel?
Lawrence, said Daniel. What the hell happened back there?
You were there. There was a press conference and an assassination attempt. Fairly
simple, dont you think?
You know what I mean.
Youre referring to the stampede on the steps of the Jefferson Building, I take it?
I want answers.
And you think I have them?
Why did they act like they were possessed when Bradley went into Superman mode?
Why Daniel, you act like you never saw the serials of the Specials during the war.
I didnt. Not much of them. I heard about them, sure. There was a lot of talk about it.
At this point its hard to discern fiction from reality as far as those serials go.
Come with me.
Boatman opened the back door to the SUV and with an inviting gesture, Daniel climbed
into the back. Boatman followed him and closed the door behind them. With a flick of a button
overhead, a divider slid upward until they were cut off from the driver, soundproofed in the back
of the SUV.

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C h a p t e r

4 1:

The Legend of Maximus

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oatman sat comfortably in the SUV, his hands folded over his stomach in an inviting
way as he leaned his head back against the headrest.
What would you like to know, Daniel?

I just dont understand the whole deal with Bradley. said Daniel. It was like he was a

superstar or something.
Boatman studied him over his spectacles skeptically.
Boatman studied Daniel with a slight bemusement.
You really dont know? he gathered moderately surprised.
Know what?
Boatman pulled on his bushy white moustache and studied him carefully.
Tell me, Daniel, he began, What exactly did you do during the war?
You read my jacket. I was a grunt. If I wasnt on the front I was travelling to it, or I was in
some M.A.S.H. unit or the infirmary.
And in all that time, did you ever, say, access the news feeds?
Yeah.
Ever watch the glory feeds of soldiers on the front?
Never had much interest in it, to tell you the truth. I mean, I caught little video feeds of
battles fought when I was being patched up or on leave mainly during patch ups, just to see if
any of my friends from basic were killed while I was on an op, but thats about it.
Never seen footage of Bradley? inquired Boatman, coming to the point.
Daniel shook his head in the negative and Boatman sighed a chuckle.
Maximus is kind of a legend to the regular soldier, he explained, and a superhero to
the world population in general. Youd be hard pressed to find a region where no one has heard
of the great Maximus.
Ive heard of him, here and there, over the course of the war, Daniel amended, but
how does the world at large know him?
He could understand acknowledgement of a man or womans contribution to the war
effort, but the thought of Bradley being worshipped was a bit ridiculous.

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Jesus, chided Boatman, dont you remember those cameras that followed you around
all the time during the war?
Daniel never had a camera follow him anywhere with the exception of the mini-cams
strapped to their helmets.
Ive surveyed some footage of the Specials Battalion employment during the war so I
could get a better handle on their abilities, answered Daniel. The cameras only followed
Maximus around for about three days out of a month of interviews and battlefield photography
from what I could gather. I thought that was it.
Thats not exactly true.
What do you mean thats not exactly true? demanded Daniel. I think Id remember
seeing a frontline cameraman in tow on the footage you gave me.
Well, actually, you wouldnt.
Why not? challenged Daniel. You telling me Ive had my memory wiped?
This question was followed by a long silence in which Daniel wondered if he had
actually had his memory wiped. After all, the world was full of strange and wondrous things and
beings.
Why not a program to wipe unwanted memories from combat veterans?
Boatman pressed on, ignoring the question out of hand.
Im saying there were cameras following us all around, but no cameramen.
I dont get it.
We were using the JUNKO technology to follow them into battle and record their
performance in the field. said Boatman, at last. It was actually the best way for Military
Intelligence and the Wartime News Correspondence Network to get their shots without
interfering with our movements on the battlefield.

No one knew the little buggers were

videotaping them. Every time the men made a charge or defended fallen soldiers, theyd swoop
right in and record. The powers that be got a lot of glory footage, as a result. Boatman leaned
forward and Daniel fell in with him in the middle of the cabin. As you know, there was a lot of
play about the 13th Specials Operations Division during the middle of the war. And a little there
at the end of it. Boatman made a gesture as if that clarified everything and added, There was a
lot of hero worship, as a result. I see, now, there was more than I thought.
Daniel leaned back and mused over the thought.
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So Bradleys a big shot. I can deal with that.

Thats the interesting thing. said Boatman. Im sure you can. Then added what was
obviously a worrisome thought to him, I dont think he can.
What do you mean?
Bradley was sought by a great many for a number of years before I tapped him on the
shoulder for our little Task Force. continued Boatman. I think he signed up only to stop the
hunt for his services and he trusted me not to put him in positions overly-compromising to his
ethics.
And hows that going for you? scoffed Daniel.
Boatman shot Daniel a warning look.
Overman is a delicate entity. said Boatman pressing on, his look assuring Daniel would
proceed with more respect in the future. Oh, hes tough as nails. Thats all due to his training
and experience on the battlefield. But there is something untouched in him. The psych reports
showed his telepathy offered him the ability to truly feel for others and caused a mounting
depression that needed to be arrested with medication. I would have thought that this had
passed, but when I tracked him down, it was not at his familys home in San Francisco, but in
Yosemite Wilderness, just north of the South Sierra Nevadas. He lived in isolation. I think he
came with me just to put aside all the other people who were coming to him looking for his
services.
I cant even fathom his kind of ability or its ramifications. admitted Daniel.
They run deeper than you know. concluded Boatman, knowingly. Ask Tobias some
time.
I will, he replied, sensing the General had more pressing matters to address, and waited
for him to bring them to light.
Now that I have you here, said Boatman, effectively terminating the discussion of Bradley
and broaching the new subject, I want to talk to you about how to present your team to the
public.
Daniel leaned in and Boatman looked into his face as he continued.
They must be impeccable in every way. From dress to presentation. They have to be
able to perform the job and say nothing at all to countermand your decisions in the field and do
nothing without instruction.
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Daniel looked down at his knees and took this in.

Thats going to be a tough pill for this lot to swallow.
Well theyre going to have to.
Im telling you, Lawrence, he continued, its going to get harder and harder just to
keep morale together, let alone meet these ridiculous rules of behavior. You want them to appear
normal and accomplish titanic feats. Daniel shook his head and scoffed, adding: Thats a hell
of a juggling act.
You took the job, Daniel. reminded Boatman.
Yeah, replied Daniel. and thanks for giving me the choice. Get me fired and then
offer me a job. What kind of spook-shit is that?
If you feel its too much for you, answered Boatman. we could always give the job to
someone else.
What, scoffed Daniel. And leave my men hanging? You obviously didnt do much
research on me past my jacket, did you?
Ive vetted you to a far greater degree, and over a far longer span, than most of my
recruits, Rooke.
I can appreciate that, Daniel replied, adding observantly, Especially since you know
so much about me that apparently is not privy to the rank and file of the FSOs Specialization &
Rank of Personnel Branch adjutants.
What are you trying to say then? the General demanded.
And it all bubbled up to the surface in that moment, at that question. Daniels cool
reserve cracking to let his hostility out on the one man one should court tactfully.
Im saying: that was a hell of a window this team of yours left open, blurted Daniel,
chidingly. When we say lock down that building, I want the building locked down. A sniper?
Are you kidding me?
Daniel saw Boatmans bushy white eyebrows raise and scoffed at the danger signs as he
pressed on.
All Im saying is, if youre going to leave these big assed windows open for everyone
and their mother to jump through, youd better start moving the budget around and float more
money my way; because I want more than just hazard pay for the team, I want bonuses to cover
my stress and aggravation.
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That is open for negotiation, Daniel. said Boatman with a grin.

It is? blinked Daniel. How?
Lets just say that I have some extra funding to play with. said Boatman wryly.
What happened to budget? demanded Daniel.
Oh, there is a budget. said Boatman. A tight one. One that was a lot tighter until
Maximus stepped out into the spotlight.
The SUV pulled in front of The Post and idled there as the Task Force filed out toward
the lobby. Leonard and McCormack turned and waited for Daniel to step out of the vehicle but
as the moments stretched on they turned to the role of silent sentry over the SUV caravan,
patiently waiting. Finally McCormack grabbed Leonards arm and pulled him along and they
followed Josh, Joseph and Stephen inside. And in that moment, it became crystal clear to Daniel
what the day was all about. It was about forcing the key players to the front and making some
shine while casting others in the mud. It had to be planned.
You knew about the sniper, didnt you? said Daniel, a note of shock in his voice.
Boatmans eyes were hard and calculating as though deciding what to say. When he
finally began speaking again, Daniel was stunned.
Wallace Trebedeau was a Special Operations Ranger in the Sol War, Boatman said
matter-of-factly. He spent the duration of the war on a not-so-hospitable rock called the
Witchs Cauldron. A dwarf planet located in the Trepan System composed of primarily
irradiated iron and uranium with the most vicious storms imaginable in the upper atmosphere
most of the year. If you didnt die of the radiation, you died as a result of supply drops not
making it to the surface.
descentand that included

Ninety-three percent of all packages were ripped to shreds in

ABs delivering reinforcements to surface.

If you made it through

the war on that planet, you were a little off kilter, if every Trepan System survivor is like
TrebedeauAnd the future is pretty bleak.
I dont understand.
Trebedeau has terminal cancer, Boatman continued casually. He was not meant to
survive his fight with the team. He had a number of brilliant countermeasures in place to make
the job difficult on the team. Quite brilliant strategies, too. Boatman added as an afterthought,
We gave him your notes on the men.
You gave him my notes? blinked Daniel.
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Not personally, said Boatman, But yes. I did.

You used a dying man? said Daniel as steadily as he could. Why?
Who else would you send? demanded Boatman. The man who fears death? The
immortal; or the man resigned to eternity?
Daniels eyes went wide at the realization Boatman was culpable in a conspiracy to
assassinate a congressman.
Youre insane. sputtered Daniel.
Insane, nothing! scoffed Boatman, with a wave of his hand. We needed a more
practical budget. Congressman Wieland was our greatest source of resistance, despite some
minor favors I doled out for him, the most annoying of which was employing his young, obtuse,
over-sex-driven daughter. Now, after the attempt on his life, he is supporting us to a fuller
measure than I could have ever anticipated.
He was supporting us, back there. said Daniel, though he knew Wieland had his own
agenda. Why would he be against us?
Daniel, said Boatman, sympathetically. In politics, youll find the role of being a
source of encouragement, trusted enough to pat you on the back, means he is well positioned to
thrust the knife. Then he added, He wanted us small and lean, and I have grander plans.
So you threw a human life on the altar of your ambition, is that it?
Boatman chuckled dryly and gave a patient/grimly-pragmatic glance to Daniel.
Daniel, he chided, you make it seem I threw an infant in the campfire.
Daniels head swam like he had sudden been induced with the flu, as his stomach leapt
and a bile rose up to settle in his throat.
This is how you justify it?
Boatman waved Daniels concern aside.
His family will be paid off quite handsomely, I assure you, assured Boatman
dismissively. Their federal, state and credit debts brought out of the red, and there will be very
little press on the assassination attempt. One or two mentions of how the mans name will be
brought to public awareness during trial. Hell be shipped off to an offshore prison, where he
will be treated for the pain, and an execution will be arranged within sight of two years time.
Meanwhile, his family will receive the honors of a soldiers funeral and Congressman Wieland
will, later, be informed Trebedeau was the man who subdued the sniper, who sought his life,
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today, and the actual sniper was recently tracked down and killed, quietly, in some unnamed
Black Site he is not privy to, by an off-the-books funded federal agency he is wise enough to
remain silent about. He will mourn the death of his would-be killer, and receive high marks for
his affection toward a patriot who saved his life. Boatman then looked directly into Daniels
eyes, adding: In short, everyone will receive exactly what they seek.
Daniels head was swimming.
I cant believe this.
Get used to it, son. said Boatman, a hard edge in his voice. One day youll have my
job, and youll need to know how its done.
The world had spun away, and Daniel was floating in the void in utter darkness. For the
first time in his life, he did not feel the warm hand of an Archangel on him, but felt a colder grip
of something malevolent grip him. When he looked up at Boatman, he would not have been
surprised to see small horns pushing through the shock of close cropped white hair that adorned
his scalp, and when he found his voice, it nearly shook with a mixture of rage, contempt and
pleading all at once.
Why me?
What, demanded, Boatman, his voice chiding, you thought you were going to be a
grunt forever? Your ability to rise in rank proves youre no slouch, but if you were only some
bull with the illusion of immortality, you would have remained a cop in New York, made
Sergeant, and retired no higher than that. Its your strategic mind, your cunning, your ambition
that I wish to encourage. You can do great things, Daniel, if you but try. But to try, you must be
more than the guardian angel to the Specials community, you seek to be. You must also be the
Devil to those who will seek to isolate and decimate that selfsame community.
What youre telling me is that you are offering me your job, ventured Daniel, but to
take it, I would have to find enemies for the Task Force to fight, and make it appealing to the
media to fight them.
Boatman leaned back against his headrest and nodded.
Rather succinctly put.
And if I couldnt find an enemy to fight, pressed Daniel, to make one; or if there is no
threat to respond to, to stage one?
Boatman sighed, pleased that Daniel had cottoned on at long last.
760 | P a g e

In essence, yes.
You realize, said Daniel, there are some who have assigned this level of duplicity to
George W. Bush on 9/11 in 2001, and the Walker Pierce Administration in the Saudi Wars of
2036?
Yes, and they may be right. replied Boatman, conversationally. But we wont know
that until, at least, thirty years after the last Bush descendent with political clout dies. Just
imagine how long it will be before people ask questions about the things we do?
Ive got a headache. said Daniel, his head swaying.
Daniel, cautioned Boatman. I will need an answer.
Not now.
Whats wrong with now?
If the answers now, then its no. You want me to think on it or what?
Boatman surveyed Daniel grimly for a long moment. At long last, he dismissed him with
a somber nod.
By all means, take your time.
Right, concluded Daniel and he reached across his seat and opened the door out into
the evening air of the neighborhood. good night, Lawrence.
Good night, Daniel.
With that, Daniel stepped down and shut the door. He stood there staring at his horrified
reflection in the reflective glass as the SUV caravan pulled away and out of sight around the
corner. And he shook his head, hoping all the revelations of the last hour would pour from his
ears, as a heavy sigh tremored through him long and hard.
Damn he thought.

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C h a p t e r

4 2:

New Orleans Meeting

umming International was located in the heart of New Orleans. A skyscraper towered
above the city, casting its shadow like a massive sundial that crawled across the
rooftops, touching the French Quarter and receding toward the Mississippi.

The

762 | P a g e

headquarter offices of Rumming occupied the topmost floors while below them were city works,
local magazines and on the bottom floor a security station checking all who entered the lobby.
Lesley Ayers walked into the lobby with a smile for the security guards.
I have an appointment at Rumming International. said Lesley to the guards behind the
desk.
Who are you here to see? said the lead guard rising from behind his desk.
Monsieur Randall Delacroix. said Lesley, a touch of French lilting his British accent.
Your name? inquired the lead guard, coolly.
I represent SE Services. smirked Lesley.
The security guard, not liking the fact Lesley had neglected to provide his name to him,
typed on the viewscreen with a frown.

Within a moment, he verified the appointment had no

name posted and glanced sideways at Lesley as he handed him a pass card and instructed him to
proceed up to the penthouse suite.
Lesley was led to the elevator and the penthouse button was pressed for him by an
irritated guard. As the doors closed, Lesley gave the guard a smile and a wink and the last thing
he saw was the guard blink in surprise. Lesley chuckled to himself as the elevator quickly rose
to the penthouse suite.
When the elevator doors parted, two large men with bulges under their jackets greeted
him. They had the air of ex-military.
Step forward. said the large man on the right. Lesley stepped toward him smiling.
Then the man said, Turn around. Lesley turned around. The powerful guard on the left
stepped in and searched him thoroughly from his hair to his shoes with rough hands.
Clear! announced the second guard, and stepped away, returning to the other guards
side.
The two guards scowled down on Lesley, apparently wondering what made this small
unassuming Englishman such a threat and worry.
If youll follow me. said the guard at last, and he turned with a pivot of the heel and
stalked off down the hallway toward the offices at the far end of the penthouse; the guard that
patted Lesley down followed behind.

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The office was quiet and efficient as they passed cubicle after cubicle penetrating deeper
into the workplace until they found themselves before a glass encased room with a conference
phone in the center of the table and Lesley surmised that the meeting would be held there.
When the large man in front of him stopped at the glass door and slid his cardkey across
the strip embedded in the Plexiglas Lesley was unsurprised.

The glass door slid open with a

whisper and he looked in. On the table were a coffee pot, delicate teacups, a bowl of fruit and
iced bottled water.
Lesley smiled as he took a seat just to the side of the head of the table. Within moments,
he was joined by Delacroix. Delacroix was a tall wiry man, with olive skin and a propensity for
wearing gold. His Rolex and pinky ring stood out and completed a picture of a poor boy who
made good. The guards turned away and stood on opposite sides of the glass door, watching the
proceedings through the mirror across the hall and watched observantly.
Ah, said Delacroix, I trust you havent been waiting long.
Not at all Monsieur Delacroix. replied Lesley, half rising.
Delacroix took his seat at the head of the table.
Randall, please. said Delacroix. Now, how might I be of assistance to you?
Forgive me, said Lesley, but, considering your choosing to meet with me and the
conditions you have placed on this meeting, I would believe this would be obvious.
I did speak with Mr. Mitchell, yes. said Delacroix, almost conversationally. And I
understand you to be a man ofgravity.
Considering the fact that you have chosen to even see me, played Lesley, I can
assume youve taken better precautions than just these two guards.
That would be safe to assume. answered Delacroix.
So you are holding cards from my view, mused Lesley.
Would you begrudge me this? asked Delacroix.
Not at all, said Lesley. I am assuming because you chose the conference room that we
are not speaking alone.
I have arranged for a few extra ears to take careful note of this little meeting, answered
Delacroix, yes.
And you would have a proposal of some sort, I presume? ventured Lesley.

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You seek payment for a job. began Delacroix. A job that all parties, save you,
consider poorly executed.
The contract was vague about the degree of destruction desired by you and your
associates, clarified Lesley, That is hardly my problem. The mission was carried out with
considerable damage done to the dry docks.
Yes, and for that, payment is acceptable. All parties are in agreement.
Then there must be something else you seek from me? probed Lesley.
We would like to establish a new contract with you, answered Delacroix. One that
would pay double the amount you seek.
Lesley leaned back in his seat and folded his hands across his chest.
You have my attention
There is another satellite that we wish to have removed from the board, said Delacroix,
in his most businesslike tone. The contract will stipulate its complete destruction.
Im listening.
There is a new dry dock in operation, continued Delacroix, of much grander scale than
the one we originally contracted you for.
And the dry dock I am familiar with?
We have decided it is an acceptable competitor. We can do business even with the
station at full capacity. Its state of repair will provide us with a means to springboard into the
industry with little cost overhead.
Just one question, offered Lesley, his eyes boring into Delacroix as he leaned across
the table toward him. Why should I trust you a second time?
Because you are a greater threat than we are, answered Delacroix. We have seen how
far you are willing to go, and are impressed with your planning and execution. You know
exactly where to strike and how to proceed to achieve your desired result. We are not willing to
see this bad business go any further. So we have agreed to payment and a second contract with a
healthy bonus.
Lesley returned to his reclined position, his eyes alight with the possibility of a contract.
Tell me about this proposal.
A new dry dock has moved into geosynchronous orbit, continued Delacroix. It is
massive. Six miles long, with a much larger capacity for ship repair and restock. It Currently
765 | P a g e

has a skeleton crew operating the entire station with minimal staff performing day-to-day
functions.
Lesley sat up straight.
How many souls? asked Lesley, a severity in his tone.
Eight hundred fifteen. answered Delacroix as though it were merely a number to him.
Lesley reclined in his chair.
Go on.
We will provide you with start up costs to get the security credentials necessary to
penetrate the new security protocols and the devices we wish to have planted on the station.
What kind of devices?
Two EM bombs and one Star bomb.
Lesley blinked, for the first time shocked by what he had heard.
A Star bomb? Thats Quill technology, breathed Lesley. How did you come to have
access to it?
Its a new frontier, Mr. Ayers. said Delacroix with a grin at seeing Lesleys stone-like
demeanor shattered. Anything is attainable for the right price.
Lesley sat perfectly still and let the words wash over him, and then sat up and leaned his
head over the conference phone he knew was open and spoke in a ringing clear voice.
Ill want payment made in stocks and bearer bonds as an added incentive.
Delacroix eyebrows raised at this.
Are you accepting the job?
Lesley reclined again.
I have no problem with working with you again.
And your associates? pressed Delacroix.
They will be interested in getting back to the business of making money, answered
Lesley as though the matter of killing hundreds of people were nothing to consider at all. These
last few months have been at a loss. Research and demolition works without pay to force your
hand has been a bitter pill to swallow.
Quite understandable. replied Delacroix. I have made it my business to get what I can,
when I can throughout my career. I would expect nothing less from a businessman.
Thats all it is. Business.
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So we have a deal?
Send me the intel. Ill look it over and tell you what well need.
Just get the job done. We dont need to know the details.
Cheers, said Lesley as he rose to exit the conference room and then halted as the door
slid open. Oh, one more thing. We have bad blood between us. The payment will erase it from
the books and it will be business as usual. But I would be remiss if I did not inform you on one
point.
What is that? inquired Delacroix, with dread climbing into his voice for the first time.
This is not American baseball were playing at, said Lesley. There will be no third
strike. One strike can be forgiven with the proper application of funds. Dont give us a reason to
come back here in a mood.
Delacroix and Lesley stood there in silence for a moment until Lesley was satisfied his
point had been made. With that, he turned and left leaving Delacroix to collapse back in his
chair and sigh his nerves away.

C h a p t e r

4 3:

Celestial Clearance

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aniel sat in the back of the SUV looking out the window watching the trees fly past.
The blur of vibrant green was comforting to him when removed from the slick roads
and thick grey sheet of sky that he had grown accustomed to. For the first time since

he arrived in Washington, the threat of rain did not seem to intrude on the morning drive. Spring
had come, not that the cold morning air was any indicator of progress. The chill he felt,
however, had nothing to do with the cold, though he restlessly toyed with the notion, if only to
distract himself from his discussion with Boatman only a handful of days earlier.
He did not like the information imparted to him so coarse and matter-of-factly. Nor did
he like the implied complicity and legal ramifications of his newfound knowledge.
What burned him was his need for departmental transparency and clean practice. What
Boatman had told him, however, threw all that onto the rush hour Metro tracks. And all notion
of propriety in administration had been tainted in the sweeping away of his blatant naivet.
He knew instinctively, he could not so much as turn on the General and report the
practice he intended of the Task Force. Even if he played the part of the whistle blower, he
would be lined up right next to Boatman, and when the axe fell, it never fell up, but down. He
would slit his own throat in the snitching, and after successfully burning that particular bridge,
Boatman would simply walk away unscathed to rebuild a new agency and simply proceed
without him.
He was now a trapped man, yoked with the responsibility of finding targets for his Task
Force and running them down. If they did not exist, he would have to be creative in selecting
targets while Boatman worked to bring public opinion in synch with his arrests. In reality, it
would be too easy to make it happen. Given that the Specials community was slightly beneath
the high status pedophiles enjoyed in the understanding of the normal human community, the
majority of society was only too happy to have a Special arrested, on any charge. The problem
that kept running through his mind was how easily the witch hunt could start with any case, if
not framed with the most absolute of care. An entire group of society painted with the same
brush as the worst of them if the wording of the rationale for investigation and arrest were not
carefully crafted. And this tightrope walk would repeat with every case. It gave him the chill to
nearly spasmic twitches when he dwelled to deeply.

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Boatmans words did more than dispel his illusion of fair and correctness in cases he had
previously been handed as well as unsubs he would eventually target. They shaped his role as
Task Force Anchor and DSI Deputy Director all too clearly.
The Generals words that day haunted him, coming back to him at odd moments and
thoroughly depressing him.
With a long hard exhale to he cleared his mind and absently scrolled through his
notebook examining his morning itinerary he had planned out and looked up periodically to see
the gates to Andrews Air Base, the silent streetstoo early and cold for kickballof the housing
development for Air Force personnel, contractors and their families and finally the tarmac.
Crossing the tarmac was like crossing into another country where the laws of the land
seemed to fall away.
abuse.

Daniel was keenly aware of this and knew its uses and possibility for

It still made Daniel wary to think how much accountability could be misplaced in this

section of the Air Base, only selectively employed against individuals or task forces that have
fallen out of favor with the current regime. How many other hangars were dedicated to Special
programs like Hangar 102? And how have they abused their mandate, and the law in general?
He honestly did not want to know.
He was glad the other hangars were so private about their goings on and did not want
guests himself for fear they would blow the whistle on him, or worse, find his set up laughable in
comparison to their own.
NoDistance was good.
The SUV pulled up in front of Hangar 102 in what seemed like twilight, considering the
sun had not yet capped the rooftops into the secluded alley way.
Here we go thought Daniel as he grabbed his notebook, opened the door and stepped
out of the SUV onto the asphalt.
The cool air was fresh and clean from the rain the previous night and it invigorated him
as he stepped to be confronted by security where he submitted to a DNA test and then, leaving
them behind, entered the Hangar.
The walk began as it always had, past the coroner tables and the now empty cadaver
drawers, on to the long expanse of silent footsteps until the cubicles in the distance came into
view. Upon arriving at the cubicles, he was confronted by the odd looks and stares from the
Bureau agents as he passed. This took him by surprise. He was used to their ignoring him as
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they proceeded with their work for King, but these new looks were unsettling. Something had
changed.
Obviously something had changed. The Specials had used their abilities on the nightly
news.

S.I.T.F was the talk of D.C., if not the world.

And, Bradleys aerial display

notwithstanding, they appeared even more freakish than they had as men in black.
Daniel could not blame them for being wary of them. He only hoped it would not affect
their work output, which had been exemplary, even with Kings constant holding intelligence
back for the sake of staying a step ahead.
Ah, King. said Daniel, anticipating confrontation, his tone was harsh. Just the man I
wanted to see.
What can I do for you, sir? said King, warily.
Daniel had not expected this level of treatment from King, as it went against every other
meeting he had had with the man and his suspicion fed his ire as he squared off with King.
Are you being funny? demanded Daniel.
Not at all, blinked King nervously, I mean what do you need from me, today?
Im having a meeting in the War Room within the half hour, said Daniel. Make sure
your staff is in attendance, please.
Yes, sir. answered King resolutely.
Daniel still did not know if King was being sarcastic and eyed him a moment longer. In
truth, once his ire got the better of him he could have faced off with King all day, but he had
matters to attend to.
Alright then. said Daniel and he turned and began to walk away.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Joseph watched King with amusement.
Leonard looked over agents shoulders examining their productivity as the agents wilted
away from him nervously. Away from the cubicles, Stephen talked on the phone with his people
who had just accepted jobs at SE Serviceshe mainly had to wait for them to call him from
payphones because their entire lives were being monitored by SE Services and they were
growing paranoid.
Daniel approached the main terminal to find Chad and Josh typing away on the
viewscreen, dragging windows into prominence and discarding them quickly.
What have you got? said Daniel when he reached them.
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Were tracking down information on the suspects. answered Josh, rather curtly. It was
obvious he was focused on the task at hand. Still, Daniel was impatient.
Hows that?
Were looking into the whereabouts of relatives and friends to interview. said Chad
quickly. We might get lucky.
His look was hopeful and apologetic for Joshs less than warm greeting. Daniel eyed him
a moment longer.
Dont let me hold you up. said Daniel.
Yes sir. said Chad.
With that, Daniel walked away toward the stairwell that led up to the offices above him.
The War Room was empty, but soon it would be hot with the body heat of many bodies
crammed together. He was looking forward to it.
Daniel climbed the steps and reached the corridor on the second level and heard voices in
the hallway. As he came to Bradleys office he looked in and saw Christine Turf studying at the
desk with a dictionary open in front of her and Bradley looking over her shoulder.
Oh, you should know this one. Its easy.
Shush.
Hostage Negotiation 101. What are the five steps to successful negotiation?
I can read, Brad.
Well?
Christine was irritated by his hovering and shooed him off with a glare. Bradley, sensing
the rebuff psychically before it ever materialized on her face, chuckled and looked up to see
Daniel standing there. Bradley came out of his office into the fluorescent light of the hallway.
Hey. said Bradley with a smile on his face.
Whats going on? said Daniel, curiously.
Oh, you didnt hear? said Bradley. Christine passed her first test.
Thats good news.
I spoke with the test givers and found she was in the 83rd percentile. said Bradley with
pride. Not bad for a young teenage dropout from Brownsville.
From what I recall, those tests are like three hours long and its the stress that breaks you
during the examinations.
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Shes doing good. As long as we keep a support system in place for her, shell excel.
Of that I have no doubt.
Keep at it. I want to see her succeed in this world.
My pleasure.
Daniel entered his office and organized his files on his notebook. He checked his watch
and sighed. He logged into his computer and opened the intercom program and the microphone
popped and crackled at minute sounds of his fingers on the viewscreen, tapping the glass.
Behind him, in the bowels of the Hangar, he heard the speakers pop to life and he knew he was
live.
Your attention please, he said to the microphone embedded in the hardware of his
computer. Theres a meeting in the War Room in ten minutes. Repeat. War Room. Ten
minutes.
Daniel looked out his window onto the floor and saw the response was instantaneous.
Agents started working faster, rushing about like drones in an active hive. He watched the
activity with a question forming in his mind. Why is everyone working like a slave drivers
Theyre responding to the chain of authority, said McCormack from the doorway.
And youre at the top of the food chain right now.
Daniel leaned back from his desk and pursed his lips sarcastically.
I was wondering where you were.
Just stretching out in the office.
How nice for you. muttered Daniel at the thought of McCormack napping in his office.
Hey, Ill take my breaks when I can catch them. replied McCormack. Ive been here
all night.
Daniel blinked.
All night? repeated Daniel.
All night. answered McCormack.
Now I kinda feel like a heel for getting a good nights sleep.
Youve earned your rest. Let the drones work.
Anyway, said Daniel, glancing over his shoulder. Ive got bigger fish to fry. The
Bureau agents and King for that matter, are getting a bit twitchy. Can you read anything?

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That questions better put to Bradley. But its unnecessary. Theyre nervous because
youve got so much clout.
What clout? blinked Daniel.
Didnt you hear?
Come on, Tobias. snapped Daniel, impatiently.
Word is out, chuckled McCormack. Youve been granted a new clearance level.
Daniel blinked again.
I have? stammered Daniel.
Apparently your meeting with Wieland produced some good results. replied
McCormack. Hes insisted you have Celestial Clearance to better perform your job. You now
have access to all the files of the Sol War and every Special who fought in it.
Celestial Clearance? Never heard of it.
Its not something to balk at. Even presidents dont have it.
Youre telling me I have more intelligence at my fingertips than the President of the
United States? stammered Daniel in disbelief.
Thats right. grinned McCormack.
Daniel turned and looked through his window down on the cubicles in the distance.
And they all know it?
Rumor spreads like wildfire. You are now the top Spook on campus.
Damn, scoffed Daniel.
So what have you got for us?
Just something thats way overdue.
And that is?
A face to target.
Well, Ill leave you to your notes. See you in five.
Right.
Daniel returned to his notebook, flicking windows aside looking for his notes. He found
them and scrolled down reading through his bullet points in preparation for the coming meeting.

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When Daniel entered the War Room, it was fullso full people pressed against each other and
leaned forward in their chairs to make room for him to passas he made his way to his position
at the head of the conference table.
Thank you for coming, said Daniel as he uploaded his notebook onto the computer
terminal on the conference table and the glass walls lit up with pictures with the words
TARGET NUMBER ONE emblazoned across the faces.

Download this data to your

notebooks, please.
TARGET NUMBER ONE listed identified team members of the SE Services and
known aliases: Lionel Johnson, Gregory Meyers, Laurence Kelson, John Simpson, Paul Hirano,
Franklin Wang, Randall Simms, Kip Harris. Daniel continued:
What you see before you is the culmination of our investigation into the bombing of the
U.S.S. Elysium. The men involved are shown here. Take careful note of their background
information that I have made public to you for the sake of knowing your enemy and better
investigating them. This information is to be used and then forgotten.
Our list begins with John Simpson callsign death, hes a radiation energy projector.
Next we have Kip Harris callsign Ground Zero, his name is self-explanatory. Energy projector
with powerful waves of energy. Paul Hirano callsign Ground Shaker, he has the ability to reduce
bone to powderof that I can personally attest to. Laurence Kelson callsign Warhead. Hes an
energy projector. Franklin Wang callsign Fury, hes fast and has Olympian strength. Hes also a
tracker and sniper and pilot certified. And now the bruisers: Randall Simms callsign Scrape, also
has rudimentary proficiency with the phenomenon known as a psi-ball. We believe hes been
using his ability to generate the phenomenon in the ribcage of his targets causing them to
explode outward. Gregory Meyer callsign Uproar, Lionel Johnson callsign Tusk, and Francis
Tibbs callsign Bloodcry. They are borderline Ab-Specs brought onto the team for muscle and
mayhem. You do not want to be fighting them. If you do encounter them during the course of
your investigation, shoot first, shoot often and shoot for effect.
The agents filling the room let their jaws fall and did not bother hiding their trepidation.
Daniel proceeded on as though there were no problem to address hoping they would steel
themselves as long as he did not focus on their concerns for their own safety in the course of
their investigation.

774 | P a g e

All are believed to have taken part in the bombing. To what degree each individual has
been involved, that will depend on what you can prove in testimony and evidence.

These are

not subtle individuals. They move with severity and act with impunity.
Daniel flicked his finger across the viewscreen embedded in the boardroom table and a
new picture came to proficiency. The rough, yet elegant features of an aging man with a
calculating stare masked by a smile.
Next up is our person of interest: Lesley Ayer callsign Fume.

He is also highly

dangerous, but it is currently unclear what part he played in the bombing.

Daniel looked out at the agents who stared back wide eyed with shock. He narrowed his
eyes at them and his voice grew to a tremor with all the authority of a Master Sergeant.
I want these men found, he growled. I dont care how you do it, these men are the
bombers weve been looking for. All arrests will be made by my Task Force, but the legwork
will be under the Bureaus methods. I want intelligence on the hour every hour, because these
men are walking around free and they have an agenda. Theyve struck four times, now in a
matter of weeks. Theyre not going to go away unless we put them away.
One more thing. These men are driven and they are powerful. Under no circumstances
are they to be approached. The Task Force will be notified and we will sweep up. I want Local
Law Enforcement to be made aware of who these men are and I want at the most, a cordoning
off of the area they are spotted in and an evacuation of civilians from the area. Understood?
Again, Daniel eyed the agents who quickly returned to scrolling through their notebooks
looking at the pictures of the dangerous Specials, each mind turning, each agent trying to figure
out how to do the impossibleto find them. And just like that, Daniel released them.
Thats it. Dont let me keep you.
Everyone hustled out of the hot humidity of the War Room into the chill of the hangar to
get to work. Daniel watched the agents leave with interest, watching their look of intensity and
how they rushed to their cubicles and began work immediately.
The Task Force watched the agents file out until they were alone in the War Room and
Daniel turned around and looked at the remaining Task Force.
Well? inquired Daniel, wondering if he had missed anything.
Good speech, said Joseph.
Everyone turned to glare at Joseph, for being a smart ass.
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Thank you. scoffed Daniel. No, I mean what have you got for me?
Leonard rose from his seat and walked up to Daniel who was between him and the door.
Ill stay on top of the Bureau agents and see what they produce.
When Leonard had left, the room turned blank and Daniel frowned at them collectively.
What about the rest of you? pressed Daniel, his eyes finding Chads.
Me and Josh have passed over all the intelligence we gathered over to the agents ten
minutes ago. said Chad. We can run with it if you like.
Run with it, answered Daniel. Maybe theyll talk to a Special where an agent would
get the door shut on their faces.
Right. said Chad, and he and Josh traded a look of trepidation in being made to cold
call family members who would most likely be hostile to the notion of investigating them solely
based on the fact they had a Special in the family. Daniel pressed on.
Stephen? said Daniel.
Nothing to report on my end. said Stephen. Estrin and Kelson are being followed.
Their phones are tapped. They are effectively in a bubble. Whatevers going on at SE Services,
managements spooked and theyre not trusting anybody.
Have them keep at it. ordered Daniel. If it gets too much for them, let them know
were set to pull them out and put them and their families into hiding at the drop of a hat.
Thanks. sighed Stephen and he collapsed back in his chair as though a weight were
lifted from him.
Joseph rose and stretched.
Ill see what Leonards got for me.
The Task Force watched Joseph exit the War Room and stroll toward the cubicles as
though he were an oddity.
Is everything okay with him? demanded Daniel.
He feels useless, said Bradley. Hes made suggestions that hes a good tracker and
feels we should be putting him to use as one.
Yeah well, said Daniel, we know, now, these guys are teleporting. Tracking is kind of
a wasted exercise.
Right. answered Bradley.
Bradley shrugged, rose from his chair and exited the War Room.
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Hows Josephs clerical abilities? inquired Daniel.

Josephs not an office-kinda-guy, said McCormack.
Yeah, I figured. frowned Daniel. Well have Leonard give him a crash course.
Daniel looked over at Chad and Josh. Put him on the phones and have him cold call the family
members with you two.
Aye-aye sir. said Chad and he rose to leave.
Josh followed suit, and with another look of trepidation at the task before them they both
seemed to steel themselves as they exited the War Room.
Tobias? said Daniel, turning his attention to him to see if he had anything to offer.
Ive got as much as you. said McCormack. You started us off right.

Handle your

business and well man the front.

Okay, said Daniel. Youre sure?
Get out of the War Room, sir. said McCormack.
Right. said Daniel.
Daniel left the War Room almost as though he did not know what to do next. If he
thought about it, that was exactly the case.
He decided to go back to his office and see if he could use his new clearance level for
anything pertaining to the case.
Maybe I can take a closer look at SE Services he thought.
This thought was scattered as he reached the second level landing and he heard Christine
groaning with frustration in Bradleys office.
Stop floating around, Brad. groaned Christine in a whine.
You need any help? asked Bradley.
Ive got a dictionary, Brad. reassured Christine.
Okay, okay. chuckled Bradley. Im here to help.
Shoo, fly, said Christine, dont bother me.
Alright, alright. chuckled Bradley.
Daniel chuckled to himself and walked on down the hall, into his office and mounted his
desk. He now knew what he could do for the morning until more pressing matters arose.
Daniel pulled up Christine Turfs dossier and scrolled through the window until he found
what he was looking for.
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He then picked up the phone and dialed the number in the file and listened to dial-tone as
he waited for the line to connect.
Finally a quavering voice answered the line.
Hello?
Geraldine Hutchins? inquired Daniel.
Yes? answered the quavering voice.
My name is Agent Daniel Rooke. said Daniel. Id like to speak to you about your
granddaughter.

C h a p t e r

SE

4 4:

Preparation s

SILICON VALLEY, CALIFORNIA

ranklin Wang and Paul Hirano sat at a Starbucks cafa once popular chain that had
dwindled in the twilight of the twenty-first centuryon the verge of impatience. The
sparsely populated room was a mixture of postmodern interior design and hipster
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flamboyance that hurt the eyes of the uninitiated coffee drinker and left Wang and Hirano
frustrated on furniture that was made for whimsy of the artist and not for comfort.
Both regretted taking the task of fetching their package and Fumed in the silence of the
cafe as the typing of keyboards mingled with bad Jazz that crept from the hidden speakers
throughout the acoustic wood paneled room.
Considering they were both relatively young and Asian, it had been decided by the others
they would fit in well with the hipsters of the programming community, a feat that the others
could not accomplish. They had taken the roles of young investors in case there were any
random questions from the passersby or the occasional police officerthe occasional police
officer being the more likelyas they had all the air of ex-military and that was enough to
disturb any officers confidence in his own personal security.
As a direct result of their recent brush with the Specials Investigations Task Force, out of
makeup, they knew the days of making appearances in public with their current faces was to
be considered as, at best, borrowed time and they kept a low profile at the caf.
There was no need for flashy behavior anyway. There was no real part to play. Just a
casual conversation while the minutes ticked by. Their contact was late.
How long are we going to sit here? scoffed Wang.
Until he arrives. said Hirano. Ill give him five more minutes and Ill try calling him.
Maybe its just how people operate in this community? suggested Wang. Pushing
deadlines back and the like?
Well I prefer things done the old military way. scoffed Hirano. On time. Yes sir, no
sir,here you go.
No fuss, no muss.
Exactly.
Wang took a sip of his coffee, more out of a need to do something than an actual need for
stimulants.
Man, exclaimed Wang, this is good coffee. Why did this chain die out?
Hirano rolled his eyes, and pulled his cellular phone from his coat pocket.
Im going to call him. said Hirano with a roll of his eyes.
As Hirano dialed on his cellular phone, a very young white man with blue and green hair,
and more piercings than they could care to count, entered the caf. The backpack he wore made
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him look like a hiker, but they knew he was a techie and what was probably in the depths of the
bag was a next generation notebook and the package they sought.
Deep in his pockets he fished out his cellular phone and laughed as he looked around the
room, and finally over to their table, grinning as he made his way over to them.
Hirano disconnected the call and the mans phone stopped ringing.
With a casual swing of his hips he swung into the empty seat at their table and smiled up
at them.
Been here long? said the techie with a smirk.
Youre a half hour late. growled Hirano.
So youve been here a while chuckled the techie.
A waitress approached the new face and smiled blandly at him as if there was neither
anything out of the ordinary nor Special about him. She had, apparently, seen far more extreme
techies, before.
Can I get you anything? asked the waitress.
Half caf soy with foam. said the man with the blue/green hair.
Right away.
The blue/green haired mans eyes followed to waitress back over to the counter and
whistled, saying just loud enough for the waitress, and everyone within earshot, to hear:
Did you see her ass?!
This did not sit well with Hirano and Wang who scowled at him with distaste for his
loudness and calling attention to them.
Enough of this shit, rasped Hirano. You got the package?
You got the credits? challenged the blue/green haired man with all the air of
indifference, as though he could walk out the door and out of their lives without a second thought
about it. Wang leaned forward and scowled as he pulled out his briefcase and slid it over to the
blue/green haired man.
Cash, said Wang. You can put it in your bank as you see fit.
Cool. he smiled, as if the matter were resolved and he would like nothing better than to
have a cup of coffee with his new friends.
He reached into his backpack and pulled out a thick parcel and laid it on the table before
Paul and Franklin.
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I got the latest in nano-ident chipping with aliases in place. Ive used the pictures of the
associates you gave me for the download. Ugly guys...Anyway, heres your itinerary for the Sky
Bridge. He leaned back from them and smiled. DamnI wish I could go. Ive always wanted
to see it.
Wang and Hirano stared at him for a long moment, both thinking the same thing. This
man was a huge security leak waiting to happen.
The waitress came up to their table and set down the coffee and the bill for all of them,
apparently displeased with the young mans comment and wanting the entire party gone as a
result. Hirano leaned forward and the blue/green haired man followed suit, sipping his coffee,
tilting his head toward them.
Who else knows about this? inquired Hirano, critically.
The blue/green haired man shrugged indifferently, oblivious to the fact his life was on the
line in his answering.
My team provided the blank IDs and downloaded the script to it. Your work history is
solid and will get you in anywhere. Its a work of art, man.
Hirano nodded and slid a second briefcase over toward him.
Heres some more cash for your team. Make sure they get it.
Giddily, the blue/green haired man greedily eyed the casehe was indifferent to his
teams profiting from the transactionclearly wanting it all.
Why? he scoffed.
Because if anyone talks, said Hirano and with a flick of his finger a shockwave
shattered the blue/green haired techies coffee mug in mid sip causing the contents to spill down
his front, and he jumped in shock eyeing Hirano for the first time warily, well be back for
you.
The techie swallowed hard.
Hey, trying to sound brave and failing miserably, you dont have to be like that. I
could use the business.
Hirano and Wang rose from their chairs and loomed over him looking down at his stained
shirt and pants and then into his eyes.
Remember that, said Wang coolly.

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Hirano set down a fifty-dollar bill for the waitress, and he shot a warning look to the
techie that clearly said the bill must remain where it was. The techie swallowed hard and ran his
fingers through his blue/green hair and found his hands were shaking.
Their message delivered, Hirano and Wang left with the package and exited the caf.
Should we leave him alive? ventured Wang.
Whats he going to say? scoffed Hirano. That he provided the false documents that led
to the deaths of thousands?
Well, when you put it that way
They walked the extent of the parking lot, ran their fingers along their belts and found
their teleportation devices.
With a flash of light, they were gone.

C h a p t e r

4 5:

Daniels Frustration

aniel sat at his desk drumming his fingers on the desktop staring at his computer,
flicking his fingertip against the viewscreen, discarding window after window of
email from the Bureau agents as so much rubbish.

They had come up empty on every count.

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The phone and email taps on family members turned up nothing. The surveillance
vehicles found no unexpected movements from any of the family members of the Black Ops
team.
Even newsletters from advocacy groups for Specials would have been somethingit was
as though there were no connections between the family members and the Specials community
as though these sons and brothers, nephews, uncles and grandsons did not exist. And with the
trail going cold Daniel fumed at the catastrophic failure of the agencies he had decided to use to
gather intelligence.
In truth, he could not blame them. They were hindered by their own charter as to how far
they could proceed within the laws of the United States. And a dim memory of the controversial
Patriot Act, which had been overturned as unconstitutional only three decades ago, swam to
the surface from his childhood. How he could have abused such an open ended series of laws for
law enforcement and government to abuse
He had read about the series of abuses to the legal system the Act had opened and knew
full well it was a good thing that it was no longer in effect, but he still fantasized over the
accessibility of such a legal skeleton key to sort out what needed be, at his discretion, with very
little to no oversight.
It was an Agents wet dream, he knew. But it thrilled him to think such a thing could
have helped him, now. And the abuses that the civilian population would have suffered if such a
series of laws and liberties of government were still at large swam before him like old
documentaries of government/civilian strifeand a small part of him, the corruptible aspect of
himself cried out let them be damnedhe swallowed his savage pleasure at the thought of
such a door being swung open and sighed his frustrations at the legal wall the investigation had
collided with, knowing it should rightly be present, always, but cursing at its delineating his
progress toward the Black Ops mercenaries he sensed were out there, plotting..
He knew the Black Ops team had to be moving onto something big. He just couldnt
decipher a pattern to their movements with the limited intelligence he had gleaned before the
wall rose. And with the scraps of intelligence he was being fed by the Bureau agentswho
worked tirelessly to glean whatever bit of information they could from the little information they
hadmade his jaw ache from the grinding of his teeth.

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He Fumed over what looked like odd puzzle pieces from a dozen different jigsaws and
wondered how he could possibly be expected to come up with a coherent view of his target from
all these scraps.
Maybe if I used my new clearance to get that information on the conglomerates that
were attacked? he mused as he flicked yet another window closed.
But he knew that chapter had been closed. Even if he went back to the CEOs he would
only find frustration as they had all lawyered up and released sworn statements disavowing all
knowledge of any Black Ops team working for SE Services, LLC.
Finally he swept his hand across the viewscreen, a dismissive wave that sent windows
closing and piling neatly in his email window. He flicked the email window closed and stared at
the empty viewscreen.
What am I missing?
And he was confronted by the words of the one detective back in his NYPD days to take
any interest in mentoring him:
When in doubt, go back to the beginning. he said.
Daniel frownedWhere was the beginning?
The case began with the Elysium and a handful of pictures that were altered to make
facial recognition software turn up negative matches. And they had clearly done away with the
need for such disguises in the refinery in New Orleans. Did that make it personal? What would
happen if they went back to business as usual?
It was a long shot, but it was all he could think of: flood the network with the grotesque
faces from the Elysium and hope for a match. But he had done that before, and turned up
nothing. But before, he did not have the reach he has nowbefore he relied on the half-assed
work of other agencies less committed to aiding him than they were to helping themselvesnow
he had the ability to move across the board with authority. But how could he move the pieces?
After a moments deliberation he had made his decision. He pressed the microphone icon
on his viewscreen and, as the pop of the speakers indicated he was live throughout the hangar,
spoke clearly.
Beach, Sung, to my office, on the double.

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Down on ground level, he saw the heads around the cubicles jerk to life and crane to
follow Chad and Josh as they jogged across the hangar toward the offices in the back where
Daniel resided.
Within a minute, Chad and Joshs footsteps padded along the thick carpet of the second
floor hallway and their heads poked tentatively into his office.
Have a seat. said Daniel with a gesture of his hand toward the two seats before his
desk.
Josh and Chad followed suit, looking rather apprehensive.
This was the first time they had ever been summoned to his office, and they were keenly
aware this was outside of his usual treatment of the Specials, usually going to McCormack or
Leonard and letting the information or orders trickle down. They waited in their seats anxiously
while Daniel mused over the pictures of the Black Ops file and the grotesque photos of the
engineers from the Elysium. How different they looked and yet how alike if you looked past
the protruding foreheads and chins.
Finally, Daniel looked up at the wary expressions on Josh and Chads faces and nodded
to them, assuring them everything was fine with their work ethic.
I need your assistance, gentlemen. said Daniel. You have proven to be quite adept
when it comes to technology. Far superior than my own experiences with tech. he added
begrudgingly.
As a Sol War veteran he had been well versed in hacking both remotely and directly, but
he had to admit what he was about to propose was beyond him.
I want you to take the faces of the Black Ops team and superimpose them on the
Elysium photos of the engineers, and I want you to do a search for any matching images or
images that come close to the engineers or the Black Ops team.

And I want threads through

every agency and office in Law Enforcement both government and local agencies. I dont care if
its the Department of Agriculture or an ATM camera. Someones going to see these faces soon.
Cast a wide net.
Chad sat there slack jawed at the daunting project, but Josh could not keep the grin from
threatening to creep across his face. There was a long silence in where the three of them stared
at each other. Finally, Josh cleared his throat.
Sir, said Josh, are you asking us to hack government and local agencies?
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I want a sustained hack, replied Daniel, with ongoing feed plugged directly into
Hangar 102 and The Post. If they turn up, I want to know about it any time day or night. Can
you do it?
Chad and Josh looked at each other for a long silent moment and then, almost
imperceptibly, Chad nodded. Josh turned to Daniel and smiled.
Sure, said Josh. Were talking a complex string of queries in the hopes of getting
another alias out of some government or private security database, right?
Wherever and Whatever, replied Daniel. I want them found.

Something big is

coming. I can feel it. He then flicked his finger across the image files and dragged them to the
transmit window adding, Ill send you the files to your notebooks.
There was a chime and Josh pulled out his notebook and looked down to see the images
of the Black Ops team and their disguises from the Elysium.
Got it. said Josh. Chad nodded he had also received the files but said nothing.
This irked Daniel, who had always considered Chad to be a little weak when it came to
conversation and decided to press the issue.
You can perform this kind of hack, right Chad?
Chad flushed at having the question put to him, and then reddened.
Of course I can run the hack, said Chad, hotly. Most of the software is stored in the
main terminal. Both Josh and I have Special worms of our own design weve contemplated
merging with the software. This sounds like the perfect excuse to give it a try.
Dont try it, clarified Daniel. Make it happen.
Yes sir. said Chad, still annoyed at being challenged.
Dont let me keep you. concluded Daniel, and he returned to his emails.
Josh and Chad looked at each other and realized they had been dismissed and they
silently rose and crept out of the office, talking animatedly once they were sure they were out of
earshot.

Unfortunately their words carried in the corridor, and Daniel heard them clearly at a

whisper. Apparently Chad was more irritated than he had originally thought.
Daniel chuckled at the disparaging remarks. He would have to remember that Chad was
fit both physically and mentally and not to let his moping demeanor cloud his true capabilities.
He had been underestimating Chad in every way but physically since they had met. He would
have to correct that.
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Daniel sat in his office poring over the latest emails with a growing boredom. He had been
cooped up in the office so long, and he longed to be out there chasing suspects again, perhaps
thumbing his nose to a few agencies as he made his arrests. Still the phone did not ring alerting
him to any emergency, and for that, he should be grateful for it meant he was still on top of the
Elysium investigation.
With a heavy sigh he flicked through the emails each more depressing than the last in the
amount of intelligence they had to offer.

Distracting him from the mundanity of his current

existence was McCormack rapping his knuckles on the doorframe.

I heard you got something cooking, said McCormack, casually. Want to share?
Its nothing, yet, replied Daniel. I just want to cover my bases.
By putting two hackers together, questioned McCormack. with access to multiple
government and private agencies?
I want to be thorough. he replied. Why, you doubt their ability to take this seriously?
Will they wander off the reservation on this if I give them too much slack?
Theyll perform their function. And theyll do it well. But you should know, Chad has
other agendas.
Like what?
When you get a chance, look up Gorgon. Just a little light reading that could give you
some clarity on what Chads breaking point would be.
And that is?
Finding out where Gorgon is.
Daniel leaned back in his chair and eyed McCormack.
Something tells me this is messy. said Daniel, grimly.
That would be an understatement. replied McCormack.
Ill look it up. said Daniel. Then added, And keep it in mind.
Good. concluded McCormack. Theyre almost ready.
Daniels eyebrows raised in surprise.
Its only been two hours! blurted Daniel in shock.

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I told you they were good. said McCormack. And besides, theyve had these worms
since the War. They brought entire columns of mechanized divisions to a standstill with their
remote hacks during the war. The worms will work well for you.
Will it compromise the systems they invade?
Do you want them to? inquired McCormack.
I want this undetectable. replied Daniel. I want it to be us and Boatman with the
information and no one the wiser. We can always transmit our findings should the Black Ops
team turn up.
Still calling them the Black Ops team, huh? said McCormack, his eyebrow raised
musingly. Daniel shot him a look of disgust.
You expect me to give them a grand title like Scorched Earth?
So its not just a slip?
Im not going to have people call them that in the press. Itd just feed their egos.
And Black Ops wouldnt?
Black Ops means theyre second to the Specials Investigations Task Force. I dont want
them to forget that we are always on top.
But we lost the scrimmage against them.
They cheated, said Daniel, waving McCormack off.
Theyll fight just as dirty in the real world. Youve seen it. Youve felt it.
Daniel rubbed his ribs and remembered Paul Hiranos shockwave that shattered his ribs
and sent him crashing into the wall in New Orleans. If it was not for his body armor in place, the
shockwave would have killed him.
He remembered only too well.
Well have equalizers next time we meet.
What are you planning?
Im issuing Spartan Armors and JUNCOs for the Task Force from here on out. I dont
want the collars to have so much as the chance to breathe when we arrive on scene.
Spartan Armors and JUNCOs are fine, but we need to act as a team.
Well, going through the door you guys were fine. mused Daniel. The only reason the
team became fractured was because they had the high ground on all points. They were waiting
for us.
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No, they were waiting for someonePolice..FBIThey werent expecting us. If they
had, things would have been dramatically different.
Well, theyll be ready this time. We need to be too.
You thinking about another run at GhettoFab?
I honestly dont think well have time.
You think things are moving that fast?
Daniel looked out the window onto the floor of the hangar and furrowed his brows.
Im betting on it.
The phone rang, dispelling the gloom he found himself in, and he picked up the line
anxious for a bit of good news.
Daniel, rang Chads voice, were up and running.
Good, answered Daniel. Run the facial recognition software on all strings.
Yes, sir.
Daniel sat back and looked at the window blink open. The faces ran so fast they were a
blur, like flicking a deck of cards and trying to read the face cards, only a thousand times faster.
He knew this could take hoursDays. But he was patient.
He trusted Chad and Joshs abilities for this sort of job and was impressed it only took
them a handful of hours to put together.
Remember to look up Gorgons file. said McCormack as he slid away from the
doorframe.
Ill do it now.
With that, McCormack turned and left.
Daniel flicked his fingers across the viewscreen and opened up a window typing in the
query window callsign Gorgon.
Within a second the window blinked open with password clearance.
Daniel typed in his new personal pass cod: ALPHA-ONE-STRIKE and the window
opened and information scrolled faster than he could react to. All he saw was the image of a
grotesque beast and files divided into PERSONAL, SCIENCE/MEDICAL, and DETENTION.
Daniel opened the PERSONAL file and began skimming through the comprehensive
file seeing earlier pictures of what was a beautiful young Latin girl, in her late teens, with sad
eyes and a wary expression. Then a digital stream of the sad eyed girl, now.
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Daniel recoiled in horror as the grotesque beast thrashed about in visible pain as she was
prodded with shock sticks and sprayed with gas that she fought not to inhale, contorting into
more painful positions wailing all the while.
A single tear betrayed Daniels objectivity as he realized the beast was the same sad eyed
girl mutated into this savage drooling beast.
Jesus breathed Daniel.

C h a p t e r

4 6:

A Hit on the Profiles

aniel sat stock still in a rigid state as his eyes darted back and forth through the long
report on Gorgon. The shock and horror had worn off, leaving him numb to the
images of Sophia Alonzos before and after images and video feeds.

All that

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mattered to Daniel was the recently updated side notes to the Gorgon file dedicated to
government blocking of contact from family and known involvement individuals.
Only one name appeared on that list: Chad Beach.
So this is the reason, he thought grimly, for all the lack of attention to his immediate
obstacles
Chads head was not in the game. It was hundreds of miles away at some ultra-secret
science medical facility for Abnormal Specials. A place he knew existed but no more than that.
A place where hisDaniel strained as the word formed in his mindgirlfriend was
locked up.
All it took was a flick of his finger to find the location for the facilityhe had that level
of clearance now. But what would he do with the information once he had it? Would he give
that information to Chad? Would he risk his going A.W.O.L to seek out Sophia?
Chad was only just starting to act like he was part of a team. Only just beginning to
function as a part of a cohesive unit. Would his assistance provide anything but more frustration
and lack of attention to the present dilemma?
Daniel knew the answer. He also knew why McCormack had set him this little task. It
was less to do with Chad than it was to include him in the secret. A secret he now knew
McCormack and possibly Bradley were complicit in.
McCormack had given Daniel a burden to carry and yet another reason to distrust the
government that had so wronged and vilified an entire community just to ensure they would
serve the government and no one else.
That their abilities could be exploited by the government just as assuredly as they were
employed in the Sol War.
He brooded over this new burden and closed the file. He did not need to see anymore or
learn anymore to know it was wrong.
That veterans were being tortured and experimented on for the sake of experimentation
because they were deemed less than human turned his stomach. This was not America. Not his
America.
Something would have to be done. Something big.
But what?

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And then his world turned, yet again.

Something began to happen on Daniels

viewscreen. A windowhe had earlier pushed to the side as he delved into the GORGON
Filetook prominence and opened and he blinked with surprise when he recognized the window
marked: BLACK_OPS/HACK_WORLDWIDE.
Instantly his palms were sweaty and his heart pounded in his throat as he reached to
scroll through the data being downloaded onto his desktop.
The thread led him to Transportation Security Administration.
Through the rabbit hole, he found himself looking at a series of identification cards and
passports for interplanetary travel. His eyes trailed across the names and date of births on the
IDs all proven to be authentic and actual identities.
A team of Silicon Valley techies were cleared for a work visa on a nondescript space
station he had never heard of. Everything seemed ordinaryThen his eyes trailed to the photos.
These were photos of ugly men with protruding foreheads, noses and chins.
Daniels heart hammered as he pulled up the Black Ops/Scorched Earth file and ran a
cross reference facial match between the two files. The screen blinked each time there was a
match. Daniel held his breath and counted as the screen blinked eight times.
Damn, he gasped, Theyve all come out to play. He hit his finger to the intercom
icon on his viewscreen and ignored the pop of the hidden speakers overhead coming to life.
Task Force to the War Room. On the double!
With a flick of his finger, he dragged the two files across the desktop to the War Room
icon and dumped the files in the ready box.
Daniel, said the voice from the doorwayit was Bradley, whats going on?
Weve got them! declared Daniel. But weve got to move!
Right on! he said.
Bradley pivoted on his heels and raced down the hallway. Daniel jumped up and raced
after Bradley down the hallway, down the stairs toward the War Room. He sprinted up to the
glass door and threw it open as the Task Force filed in and turned to face the glass wall that
flashed with the ugly faces next to a compare of the engineers from the Elysium bombing.
Chad and Josh were already at the terminal embedded in the conference table tracing the thread
of the hack back to its origin. When they came to it they read it out silently, frowning.
Baker Island TSA checkpoint, read Chad, shaking his head. Never heard of it.
792 | P a g e

Not many people have, answered Daniel.

But you have? surmised Chad.
Yes. answered Daniel.
Whats out on Baker Island? asked Josh.
Sky Bridge, answered McCormack, just entering the room.
The Task Force blinked at McCormack.
Sky Bridge is on Baker Island? said Chad. I thought it was on the equator in the
Pacific?
20 some odd kilometers south of Bakers Island, said McCormack. Yggdrasil. Its a
big sea port.
Small island, though. continued Daniel. Theyre just passing through. We have to
move.
Theyre trying to get back into space? gasped Chad incredulously.
Daniel nodded, his jaw set.
Asgard Space Station said Daniel. Its the jump point to any of a hundred different
satellite mining colonies and space stations. If we dont act well lose them.
So where are we going? asked Chad, a swell of restlessness taking him. Baker
Island?
Its too late for that, said Daniel. Theyll be on the move by the time we get there.
So where? demanded Leonard.
Yggdrasil Port, concluded Daniel.
How long is flight time?
Now that weve got the Chariot back? calculated Daniel. Id say just under an hour.
Then lets get moving. concluded Leonard.
The Task Force rose as one and filed out through the door to the War Room not bothering
to shut down the display. There simply was not time to waste with something as little as shutting
down files.
Daniel led the team down the corridor to the landing bay and was pleased to see the
Chariot sitting proudly in its sphinx-like posture with what looked like folded wings on its back
and full armaments rising out of the starboard and port sides like talons on the paws of the beast.

793 | P a g e

This all passed through Daniels mind in a matter of seconds as he raced to the airlock hatch and
clambered into the belly of the beast followed shortly by the rest of the Task Force.
They all took seats uniformly under their callsigns and strapped in, as Redwing stepped
onto the craft.
You werent planning on leaving without me, were you, Dan? chided Redwing.
Were in kind of a rush, replied Daniel. Then looked up at him and said, You got the
coordinates?
Redwing held up his notebook.
Downloaded onto my notebook. he replied. Yggdrasil Port, huh? Gonna intercept
them before they make it to Sky Bridge?
Thats the plan.
Well, lets get going then!

chimed Redwing, and he hopped up the stairs and

clambered into the cockpit pilots seat. There he flicked the controls and ran through flight
check. Finally, he flipped on the intercom. Hold on tight to your stomachs, boys. Im going to
put some Gs on you.
With that, Redwings fingers raced the console like a master pianist and the Chariot rose
into the air like a shot. Daniel lurched and felt his stomach protest the sudden onpour of Gforces as the aircraft rose straight up like a rocket. When the transport went static, everyone in
the cabin groaned and cracked their necks, holding their noses and blowing hard to adjust to the
air pressure. You guys ready for the forward momentum part? Redwing chuckled when his
words were met with protest. Land lovers.
The transport launched off into the horizon building up incredible speeds while Redwing
raced the controls and spoke with flight control towers every few seconds giving them a heads up
that a supersonic craft was travelling through their airspace.

This eased after a few seconds

when the viewscreen showed the long expanse of water, ahead.

Where are we?
Over the Gulf of Mexico, replied Redwing, coolly. Well reach land again in about
three minutes.
The hull pounded and the sound of warped metal frightened the Task Force as the speed
persisted continuously.
After a moment, Redwings voice chimed again:
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Were now over Mexico. Im going to bank left and get us as straight a shot as possible
to the coordinates, but Ill have to slow down a few hundred miles out. Technically, Yggdrasil
Port is a no fly zone. Only with Special clearance can a craft get close to it.
I can override that, said Daniel.
Well get up here and man the co-pilots chair. responded Redwing.
Daniel felt the G-forces against him in the harness and called out to Redwing, a little
annoyed at having to remind him.
Turn on the gravity strips, will you? chided Daniel.
He usually wouldnt need to tell him, he was so in command of his environment. But this
was the endgame, and everyone knew it. If they failed to catch the SE team, it was over. They
would have to start from scratch on a new case they popped up in the middle of down the road.
This was unacceptable, and everyone felt the weight of need to end it. Even Redwing.
Roger, said Redwing, apologetically. activating inertial strips now.
Instantly the ride was smoother as gravity strips in the forward walls began to pull their
stomachs toward the front of the craft, cancelling out the G-forces pulling them toward the aft of
the craft. Everyone shifted in their seats and let out groans of gratitude for the slight adjustment
in the cabin.
Daniel threw his harness up, clambered up the steps to the cockpit, and climbed into the
co-pilots chair. He pulled up a console and began typing the words Yggdrasil Port Tower onto
the Heads Up Display. The computer did the rest, opening up a frequency to the tower and the
cockpit filled with the tumble of requests and commands for landing and departures.
Port Tower. declared a mans voice over the radio.
This is Agent Daniel Rooke of the Specials Investigations Task Force. he said with
authority in his every word. I need authorization for a quick flight into airspace taking
precedence over all other flights and a landing pad opened as soon as possible.
Is your craft damaged? asked the tower operator.
My craft is fine. assured Daniel. I have intelligence informing me you have fugitives,
at the top of my most wanted list, at your station, cleared by TSA for Sky Bridge.
Please hold. requested the tower operator. Im going to put TSA and the FBI on the
line.

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Who is this? cracked a commanding voice over the frequency, obviously a highranking agent or TSA official.
Agent Daniel Henry Rooke of the Specials Investigations Task Force. repeated Daniel.
Im calling to report terror suspects at your port attempting to board Sky Bridge.
All travelers are screened by the Transportation Security Administration. replied the
TSA official, a note of insult in his voice. There are no red flags in our database.
Actually there is. replied Daniel. And they sailed right through with forged
documents, he added to impress upon the TSA official how dire the situation was. Now were
coming in for a landing in
Daniel paused and looked over at Redwing who shrugged and said Eighteen minutes
with these winds.
Eighteen minutes. finished Daniel. I need you to delay Sky Bridge departure until
we arrive to apprehend fugitives.
Ill need identification at the ready for processing and no firearms are allowed in
Yggdrasil Port.
Im a government agent.

Youre not taking my gun.

Im making an arrest, not

suggesting they come quietly.

What branch do you fall under? DOJ? CIA?
I work with all agencies under Homeland Security. My Task Force has been in the press
all week. Read an E-News source and look up Specials Investigations Task Force. Itll tell you
all you need to know. Now were coming in for a landing in sixteen minutes. I suggest you
clear a landing platform for us.
Roger that, Task Force flight. Well put you on the flight plan.
Daniel grit his teeth in irritation.
No flight plan. I will not wait my turn in a landing pattern. We get there, we land. I
dont care how long your line is.
Roger that, Task Force flight. Well open a platform for you.
Daniel looked over at Redwing.
You got it from here?
Im golden. chuckled Redwing.

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Good, replied Daniel, and he climbed out of the co-pilots chair. Let me know if they
start getting antsy, again.
Will do.
Daniel started down the steps when Redwing grabbed his arm.
They want to know what to look for. FBI on the ground is trying to take over.
Damn it, scoffed Daniel and he climbed back into the co-pilots chair and opened a
direct feed with the Yggdrasil Port FBI Field Station. To whom am I speaking?
This is Special Agent Cutter. said the man on the line.
His face was smooth and unreadable. Daniel met his plastic expression and hardened.
You know who I am?
Youre Agent Rooke of the S.I.T.F.
Do you know what that acronym stands for?
I do.
Then please tell me why you are organizing anything more than an evacuation of the
Port?
This is Bureau territory, said the Special agent coolly. We have jurisdiction here.
Your Task Force is unwelcome here.
You have terrorist Specials in your Port, Daniel clarified, just as coolly, waiting to
board or blow up Sky Bridge. Are you seriously telling me youve got this?
Weve got this.
Ive personally gone up against this team. You dont stand a chance without-
-Youve gone up against this team in New Orleans, spat Cutter, matter-of-factly, and
you failed to make arrests. The agent reasserted himself coolly, adding: I think we can handle
your Specials. Last I checked they were still human, and susceptible to headshots.
Youre going to get people killed, Agent Cutter. Just close Sky Bridge and wait until I
land.
Sky Bridge will proceed as scheduled.
Didnt you hear me? I said you have
-I heard you, spat Cutter, his face contorting to a hateful sneer he had grown all-tooaccustomed to from the faces of Federal agents, Perhaps you didnt hear me? This is Bureau

797 | P a g e

territory. We have our own security to handle situations just like this and weve activated our
protocols.
Without a list of the people to search for? spat Daniel, his ire raised by the stonewall
tactics of the bureau agents at the Yggdrasil Station being but one more slap in his face pushing
him to his limit.
Why do you think Im still talking to you? Agent Cutter replied, chuckling darkly.
Kindly upload any files you have regarding these terrorists to our database so we can transmit to
security forces in the field.
Daniel took out his notebook and typed FBI_Station-Yggdrasil_Port in the address
field. Then dragged the TSA identification images to the email under applications and hit send.
Uploaded, said Daniel.
Thank you. snarled Cutter, and disconnected the line.
What now? said Redwing.
Hold your course. answered Daniel.
Roger that, chimed Redwing, but he was still rigid in his seat, fully aware there was a
Navy fleet resting in the waters guarding Sky Bridge with anti-aircraft artillery on standby.
Daniel sighed.
This could turn bad if the agents on the ground wished to make it so

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C h a p t e r

4 7:

The Skybridge Debacle

EQUATOR-PACIFIC OCEAN

wenty-one kilometers south of Baker Island, Yggdrasil Port rose from the horizon like
a grand central station floating on the surface of the Pacific Ocean.
In truth, it was visible for some time, a spire rising from the sea into the sky like
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a black line dividing the horizon into two halves. As they approached, the size of Yggdrasil was
quickly apparent. It was massive. An Anchor for the space station miles above, it weighed the
equivalent of Manhattan and took up as much space, resting on the surface of the ocean like a
colossal ship. In the heart of it rose a carbon nanotube cableone hundred yards in diameter
into the sky. At its base was a circular platform wreathed around the cable with the belly of the
elevator dedicated to cargo while the top was encased in nanocrystal for panoramic views as the
Sky Bridge rose on electromagnetic lifts into the sky.
Sky Bridge was a high priced ticket for travel, allowing the thrill seekers unparalleled
views of the earth and stars as it made its way up to Asgard Space Station.
Yggdrasil Port was originally going to be christened the Tsiolkovsky Port after
Konstantin Tsiolkovskythe creator of the concept of Space Elevatorsbut when the space
station it was tethered to was christened Asgard, the name was promptly changed in honor of the
Norse mythology. And one could see the allure. The port rested on the water like the roots of a
great world tree with its branch reaching up to the heavens.
Much harder to pronounce.

It was easy to change the name.

Someone had suggested spelling it Igdrasil to make it easier on

Americans, but the word got out and there was a furor in Norwaya normally peaceful nation
until you mispronounce or misspell their wordsand the notion was quickly abandoned for the
sake of not appearing the ugly American.
The port was surrounded on all sides by cargo ships, cruise lines, yachts and super yachts
all docked to board the Sky Bridge for business, pleasure or delivery.
Finally Redwing smiled.
Weve just been cleared to land.
Well its about time, muttered Daniel at having to wait for five ABs to land at docking
stations despite his orders demanding to cut in line and land at speed.
The Chariot angled down and landed on the waiting landing pad and the hatch slid open
as Daniel, in full Spartan armor, led the Task Force, likewise dressed, off onto the pad to be met
by a row of Bureau Agents, all armed, and none looked thrilled to see them.
Identification, please. said the lead Agent as if they had all the time in the world.
Daniel held up his badge and the team produced their badges, pinning them to their left
breastplates. Youre dressed for EVA combat for a reason? he mused, eyeing Daniel with
contempt. Do you think the sky is going to come falling down on you?
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Im prepared to follow these men anywhere, replied Daniel. Even aboard the Sky
Bridge.
You have no authority here rounded the Agent in charge.
I have every authority, bellowed Daniel. From the President on down! Then took a
step forward and narrowed his eyes on the Agent who did not budge. Step aside!
Im here to make sure you dont leave this pad and hinder our security details efforts to
track down the terror suspects.
What about Sky Bridge? demanded Daniel.
We have security on board Sky Bridge as we speak. If theyre there, they wont be alive
for long I believe the issued order on the handling of these suspects was Dead or Alive?
Youre going to get people unnecessarily killed, snapped Daniel. Now, let us do our
jobs!
Like at Department of Homeland Security Offices in D.C.? chided the Agent. Yeah, I
heard about that. Two Specials, and you let them walk.
Behind the Agent, Sky Bridge lifted slowly into the air with a hum, towering over
Yggdrasil Port like a luminous UFO riding the massive cable up into the sky, and then, as the
EM generators facing the cable powered up the, doughnut shaped structure picked up speed,
climbing fast into the sky, its speed doubling every ten seconds. Daniels mouth fell open and
then locked in rage.
Youve been delaying us to allow Sky Bridge to lift off?
Yes, sir. smiled the Agent.
Daniel fumed, his mind racing ahead of him. He had lost the Black Ops team again,
thanks to the FBIs meddling.
Im going to remember this.
You do that, sir.
Daniel turned to his men and looked them in the eye.
Everyone board the transport. Our role is done here.
The Task Force blinked at him and then turned and climbed back onto Chariot, the
airlock hatch sliding shut behind them.

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Fuming, Daniel made his way to the cockpit and gripped the co-pilots seat, enraged.
Redwing frowned, and a knowing chuckle escaped him, shaking his head in an dark empathizing
amusement.
Back so soon? said Redwing. Did you miss them?
Im assuming that Asgard has docks for transports?
In and out like clockwork.
Secure the craft for extra-atmospheric travel, Daniel commanded, still stung by the
stonewalling by the TSA and Bureau agents stationed at Yggdrasil. Were going to Asgard.
Aye-aye. said Redwing, a devilish look in his eyes.
What is it?
Ive got more contacts up there than I do down here, said Redwing, casually. On the
ground, Im just another pilot. Up there, Im damn near royalty. Ill get us onboard. Redwing
looked Daniel over and nodded to the gaps between the armor showing it had not been sealed
properly. You secure that armor and put your helmet on.
Daniel grinned.
Yes, sir. said Daniel.
Daniel climbed in the co-pilots chair and lowered the harness as Redwings fingers rode
the console and Chariot responded, rising into the sky, angling toward a trajectory parallel to the
anchoring cable and took off at a speed comparable to Sky Bridge. He made no attempt to
overtake the rising platform, but kept it just within a mile above them. Daniel trusted Redwing,
and did not press him to accelerate to their destination at any greater haste than his pilot decided
was prudent. Still, he was impatient, and turned his attention to the Heads Up Display, watching
the blue.
Soon the clouds fell away and below them and the only thing in sight was the Sky Bridge
ascending higher as the cable it rode continued upward into the far blue above.
Redwing flicked on his transmission to the universal orbital facilities frequency and
began speaking fast, using jargon that Daniel assumed was pilot slang and interstellar military
coding for flight and docking requests, and he sat patiently waiting for Redwing to explain
whether or not Asgard would allow their entry to their station, when he finally signed off.
Yes sir. said Redwing a minute later to the viewscreen on the heads up display in front
of him. It was obscured to Daniel who sat in the copilots chair and he only caught the thin line
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of light that seemed to contort as he stared harder at it angling to see who Redwing was talking
to. Thats the extent of itWell be docking in seven minutesRoger that.
We good? said Daniel, wanting to be in the loop.
Were golden. grinned Redwing. Well beat Sky Bridge to port by ten minutes.
Enough time to get the Marines on station to the embarking/disembarking station to reexamine
IDs and force your men out into the open.
I dont want them panicked. Theres a lot of collateral damage to be had with all those
innocent bystanders in the way. And bear in mind this is a space station. The last thing we need
is for one of them to perforate a wall or compromise an observation deck.
No one said it was going to be easy. shrugged Redwing.
Yeah. sighed Daniel, not wanting a confrontation with Scorched Earth in front of
civilians. Soon, the blue fell away and the stars winked into existence. Get me the frequency of
the security detail aboard Sky Bridge. I want to hear the chatter.
Frequency open.
Daniel sat there listening to the security officers and Federal agents break onto the line at
regular intervals as they swept the Sky Bridge:
Worked here for twelve years and this is the first time Ive been on Sky
BridgeLook at that view!...Enough of that chatter.
cleared.

Continue sweepSection C

No sign of the suspectsWhat are we looking for?... According to the file I

got, a group of real ugly men Thats if theyre stupid enough to sit together. Pictures
show protruding foreheads, noses and chins. Look for thatWhats the deal with the
facial features?...Its so they can get past facial recognition software for the Specials
watch listWhoa, these are Specials?...No one said a thing about SpecialsA suspect is
a suspect. Move in and sweep the areaDo not approach. Just identify and trackHow
are we going to locate them before we dock at Asgard?...[No shit, thought Daniel seeing
the gaping holes in their strategy for the sake of not delaying the shipment of cargo and
wealthy sightseers]Can the chatterSection F clearedWhos got Sections D and
E?...Simmons and Stanleys teamsSimmons, come in?...[no response]Simmons?
Stanley, come in?...[no response]Send back up teams to Sections D and E and search
for Gene and Pauls teams. Whos close to Sections D and E?...Roth here. Me and Eddie
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can pull our teams down to run the sweepMove in.

Well come in in a support

capacityRoger thatWoah, what was that?... Report!...It felt like an earthquake!...I got
people screaming up ahead!...What do you see?...Pauls down! Genes against the wall
with some big fucker on him!...Take him down!...Taking the shot. Oh, Jesus! I think I
just pissed him off!...Hes coming!...Get out of there!...Eddies down!...Roth, hold
position, were on the way!...Conductor Station! Send Sky Bridge back down! Repeat,
get us groundside!...[no response]How do we get to the Conductor Station?...Section
E!...We got signs of breach to the elevator to the Conductor Station!...Override the
elevator!...Were shut out!...Get me to the Conductor Station. Thats an order!...Theres
no way I can do it before we dock with Asgard!...Send emergency protocol to Asgard, we
have hostile Specials aboard Sky Bridge!...Wait, the elevators coming back
downWeapons free! Repeat, every gun on that door!...[Daniel could not see what the
security officers and agents were looking at, but he imagined an elevator door
opening]Fire!...[Daniel listened to the pops of gunfire fading in and out as individual
officers microphones came on line and stopped transmitting, his eyes narrow, his brow
furrowed. It was becoming a mess.]Cease fire! Cease fire!...Where are they?...The
other elevators openingFire!...[This time the pops of gunfire were different. Erratic.
Wild. Contagious fire.]We got multiple targets, repeat, multiple Specials on the deck!
Send back up! Everyone!...What about the civilians?...Theyve already evacuated to
Section C and are pressing into B and A Ive got passengers evacuating into F and G
and word is spreading of a terror attack!...Get me a lockdown on Sections D and E. No
one in no one out!... Well vent the atmo from the whole SectionsNegative! Weve
got people still in those Sections!...

Daniel had heard enough. He glanced over to the ascending Sky Bridge about a quarter
mile ahead of them as he muted the frequency and then turned to Redwing.
Get me to that space station! ordered Daniel.
Will do! responded Redwing. Now that weve hit the tropopause, I can crank up the
speed a bit and once were clear of the Stratosphere, we can really pick up the pace.
Just visible in as a speck above, the faint dot slowly took form and grew larger and
Daniel knew he was seeing the first signs of Asgard, nearly half the distance to the moon, ahead
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of them. On the magnified Heads Up Display, Asgard flowered out like the branches of a great
tree, dedicating each branch to several deep space cruisers while other branches held observation
decks and holds for AB transports.
Were going for one of the AB docking stations? inquired Daniel.
Redwing shook his head.
Too far from the embarking/disembarking station youre heading to. Im opening an
airlock just under there.
And Redwing pointed to the magnified window focusing on a naked region underneath
the space station.
Daniel swallowed hard at the thought of using the as of yet untested airlock seal on the
Chariot for such a mission scenario, let alone such a small cross-section of a hatch invisible even
under such great magnifications.
Youre sure about this? said Daniel. I cant see a thing.
Oh, its there. said Redwing. The trick is getting up under there and holding speed to
match that space station.
What do you mean?
Well, the earth rotates at about 1,038 miles per hour give or take. So that space station
is travelling at that speed anchored to the earth by Yggdrasil.
So basically its like a big tether on a spinning gyro.
Essentially, Redwing replied with a shrug. In other words, one wrong move and the
space station will launch away from us or straight into us. Either way, Im wouldnt be too
thrilled. But weve got that sunroof airlock installed in the cabin overhead. Might as well use
it. Dont you think?
How dangerous is this?
He stared at the viewscreen feeling his heart rise up into his throat, forcing him to
swallow as Asgard Space Station loomed ever closer. From behind them, McCormacks voice
echoed as he climbed the stairs.
Is everything alright up there? he called.
Obviously, he and Bradley sensed his rising fear.
Damn psychics, he thought savagely.

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Redwing grinned.
I take it you forgot you had two psychics on the team?
Daniel shook his head in annoyance at being read as McCormack climbed up the steps
and looked from casual Redwing to rigid Daniel and then looked up to the viewscreen.
Whats going on?
Daniel scoffed and then pointed up toward the belly of Asgard Space Station.
Well attempt a dock with an airlock on the belly of the space station that would give us
the quickest route to the embarking/disembarking station and time to organize the Marines.
And its dangerous? surmised McCormack.
You could say that. said Redwing. Basically, if Im off by a few centimeters in
locking that hold to the airlock, and-
I get it. replied McCormack, frowning. Ill inform the men.
For what? scoffed Daniel.
To pray. answered McCormack. No atheists in foxholes. You know
McCormack turned and headed down the steps into the cabin to break the news to the
Task Force.
Great scoffed Daniel.
Redwing looked over to Daniel out of the corner of his eye and smiled.
Youre not one for prayer I take it?
To what? scoffed Daniel. Then looked over at Redwing curiously, Why, do you?
Im a Catholic, replied Redwing. I pray all the time. Then after a moment he
admitted, Im praying now.
Daniel felt his heart pound in his chest and swallowed hard, not at all reassured in the
thought of the divine influencing the outcome of Redwings flying capabilities which he had
always assumed came from strong mathematics and cunning.
God, muttered Daniel.
Thats the spirit, replied Redwing, chuckling. Alright, were out of atmo. Im tired of
the view. Lets get the show on the road, shall we?
Redwing began to increase the speed on the transport, and the Sky Bridge began to grow
larger as they neared overtake speeds.
Well be ahead of them in twenty seconds. Then well be docking in about a minute.
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The indicators on the heads up display showed an electromagnetic burst aboard the Sky
Bridge and a moment later a secondary EM burst aboard Asgard.
What was that? demanded Daniel.
Redwing pursed his lips and set his jaw.
I think the suspects just teleported to Asgard, he growled, a note of self-condemnation
in his tone.
The next instant, the field of blue went white with light and the viewscreens popped to
static and darknessto reboot in the sudden brightness that overtaxed the microscopic cameras
dotted along the hullleaving Redwing and Daniel in dim cabin light, followed by a shockwave
that rattled the ship like God had taken the Chariot in His hands and shook it, violently, just to
hear the rattle.
What the hell was that? exclaimed Daniel, though he already knew.
As the viewscreen rebooted and picture blinked back on his heart sank to his stomach at
the sight of the Sky Bridge burning and tumbling away from the thick cable like so much
shrapnel. Redwing immediately ducked under the plume and debris, turning into the blast to
meet the shockwave and avoid the larger pieces of what had only a handful of seconds ago been
Sky Bridge.
Daniel felt a dread travel up his spine and barked at Redwing in fright.
Magnify the cable! Daniel commanded, grimly expecting his worst fears to materialize,
there.
Redwing opened a magnified window of the cable just where the blast had occurred and
his mouth fell open watching the cable melt away and begin to snap and fall to the earth, coiling
as it fell.
My God stammered Redwing.
The pilot instinct took over and immediately, he took evasive action, responding to some
threat Daniel had not yet perceived.
Looking up at the Heads Up Display magnifying the space station, he saw Asgard hurtle
away from the earth, caught in a slingshot effect that sent it tumbling, like a baseball from the
pitchers mound, at incredible velocities.
Then the claxon sounded in the cockpit. Up ahead, the last coils of the cable swung
down toward the Chariot like a supersonic bullwhip.
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Redwings fingers glided across the board, his fingers a blur, and instantly, the transport
swooped under the coils, dodging and weaving through the ever changing web as the cable fell to
earth, pulled at incredible speeds by the earths gravity, its whip-like spinning and the cables
sheer weight.
When the Chariot broke free of the last remnants of the cable the claxon faded and
silence filled the cockpit and cabin and in at span of seconds devoid of sound, as their heartbeats
slowed only marginally, they held their collective breaths, at the realization that, though they had
nearly skirted death, the same could not be said for Yggdrasil, or even worse, the Earth itself.
The viewscreens in the cockpit, and the cabin where the Task Force sat pensively, told
the whole sad tale. Daniel watched in horror as the thick cable which,just a handful of
seconds before, had been held tout by the forces applied by the equatorial pull between both
Asgard Space Station and Yggdrasil Portnow severed, slashed and slithered with blinding
speed in the recoil, from the tension of both Norse named facilities that had once held it straight,
and the Twilight of the Gods seemed to be made manifest, as this great serpent writhed and
whipped, hurtling toward the sea and landmasses below.
All were silent as they, only now, as their collective adrenaline rush abated, could process
the magnitude of the destruction the nearly eight-mile long section of the stadium-thick cable
falling to earth would soon wreaklike a meteor crashing into the Pacific Ocean over and over
againsending up billowing mountains of water outward across the North and South Pacific,
and the only solace to be found was the realization that the bomb detonated so low on the length
of cabling, that the remaining one hundred-forty thousand miles of cable were whipping along
with the Asgard away from the earth. And all he could latch onto, the thinnest of silver linings,
that the cataclysm below could have been far greater, if the Sky Bridge had been destroyed
further from the earth. Given the destruction that was already revealing itself on his Heads Up
Display of the scene belowthe billowing shockwave of the water of the Pacific, surrounding
the now wreckage of what had only just been Yggdrasil Port seconds ago, rippling outward
towards the islands and continental shores on all sidesthe greatest cataclysm of the age had
just begunAnd no Quill warship or soldier was involved
Redwing and Daniels stomachs clenched, knowing when the waves reached the
continents and islands there would be widespread destruction for miles inland. Entire nations
wiped clean by the spreading cataclysmand then the earthquakes would shake the earth, like
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slamming a fist on a porcelain plate, the cracks would spread, until they reached the
imperfections inherent within, and finger out from there. All that had been, would be forever
changed.
It had already begun.
Daniel was ashamed in the knowledge there was nothing they could have done, but
survive.
Again, Scorched Earth had shown their keenness to avoid capture and their uncaring at
how many people suffered and died.
Daniel swallowed hard, his eyes bloodshot and wet as a wave of hollow despair gripped
at his chest and rose like acid into his throat, filling his now dry mouth with the acrid flavor.
And with a shuddered exhale, a rage welled within him.

He would make sure that the

destruction of the Sky Bridge, and the ensuing havoc caused by the resulting titanic tsunamis and
earthquakes, were added to Scorched Earths bill.
For what felt like hours, the only sound was the shuddering of the hull, and even that was
eerily muted. No one in the cabin behind Daniel so much as breathed, and he did not find the
stillness inappropriate. He was both overwhelmed and drained all at once.
It was Redwing who snapped him out of his despair, his voice ever so soft, to hide the
catch in his throat.
What now? said Redwing grimly. RTB?
For nearly a minute, Daniel was still. He stared bloodshot at the Heads Up Display, until
finally, mulishly, he shook his head.
No. growled Daniel. This is not over. This ends tonight.
It has ended. answered Redwing disgustedly, his hands balled into fists on the console.
The destruction of Sky Bridge and the Asgard sling-shotting off into deeper orbit like a bullet.
And most definitely, Yggdrasil is gone.
Daniel sat still for a long moment, as the wheelhouse in his mind began to turn. Each
operation the Scorched Earth team had performed had other advantages he could not directly see.
They were real and ever present, but elusive. And the destruction of Space Bridge was too easy.
There had to be something elusive in plain sight if he only had the clarity of thought to
perceive it.

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No, said Daniel, at last. Not with these men. There was an escape plan. There must
be a way to track them.
We dont have the technology to track them. answered Redwing, Thats teleportation
technology. Thats Quill tech.
Then lets think this through, his mind pushing aside the loss of life and the
catastrophes occurring worldwide beneath them.
With a deep breath he let his mind flow with the slow deliberate calculation of a
detective.

Again, he heard his mentors voice in his head: Clear your mind, Detective

Freeman had always drummed into him. Dont get caught up in the story. Look to the events
and leave emotion behind.
With a deep, cleansing breath, Daniel shook his head and typed in his clearance code on
the heads up display and depressed the microphone icon. When the chime echoed, he spoke
clearly, to keep the catch in his throat at bay.
Who owned Sky Bridge?
The screen blinked and data instantly scrolled across the heads up display:
//Sky Bridge, Yggdrasil and Asgard facilities are licensed proprietary
assets of Ozymandias Holdings leased to United States Government\\
Daniel sat there brooding over this name and cleared his head to look back at all the
pieces of the puzzle.
Now, who owns the Olympus?
The Olympus is an American facility purchased from United Nations Interstellar Armed
Forces ten years ago, said Redwing. Its proprietary control is held by the US government.
Daniel depressed the microphone icon on the heads up display.
List insurance collecting entity of U.S.S. Elysium? said Daniel.
The screen blinked:
//Ozymandias Holdings is listed as sole recipient of insurance payment for
U.S.S. Elysium\\
Redwing frowned.
I thought the Elysium was US Government.

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On lease to the US Government for R&D. answered Daniel as he scrolled through the
extensive ownership background on the heads up display. Are there any other holdings in near
orbit for Ozymandias Holdings?
Checking, said Redwing, puzzled, but anxious to distract himself from the catastrophe
occurring across the Pacific. His screen blinked a positive response and Redwing dragged the
window up to a place of prominence on the viewscreen. Theres the shipyard in the Lagrangian
point

2, beyond the moon, nearly one AC from here. He then read the schematics for the

structure scrolling on his Heads Up Display and exhaled sharply, Jesus!

What?
The shipyard holds the same coordinates for an asteroid that got towed just beyond the
moons orbital path. The satellite is on an orbital circuit, circling the Earth, a few hundred
thousand kilometers beyond the moon, holding course and speed keeping it directly hidden by
the moon from direct view.
Daniel called up the window Redwing had on his own Heads Up Display and read along.
The data brought up by the onboard computer and his eyes widened like saucers.
What? Daniel demanded.
433 Eros, gaped Redwing. The asteroid theyve towed near earth and built their space
station inside is one of the big ones...Thirty-four kilometers, by eleven kilometers, by eleven
kilometers, with the space station construction currently ongoingthe dimensions of the facility
are ten kilometers for the overall build on the rock
Daniel looked at the viewscreen as the Chariot approached the lunar orbit and an image
of the long, peanut-shaped Eros Shipyard blinked up on the Heads Up Display. The asteroid
seemed to have been merged with the space station, with twenty-percent of the mean surface a
dingy metallic grey, like some grisly cyborg-asteroid.
Get the coordinates, growled Daniel, and forward a call that we will be landing
shortly. Have them prepare to receive us with full security complement to assist us in a full
facility sweep.
Yes, sir. answered Redwing, and typed in his request and clearance codes to the
Shipyard.
While they waited for the request confirmation Redwing looked over at Daniel warily.

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What do you think? he probed.

Daniel sat stock still, his face pale as the pieces fell into place in his mind.
Im starting to think, he ventured, daring himself to say it out loud, these terrorist
attacks are really a smokescreen to go after Ozymandias Holdings.
Redwing blinked with surprise and spun around to face Daniel with newfound rage at the
thought that the slaughter of thousands, perhaps millions could be over something as petty as
money.
Corporate warfare?
Weve got five corporations stonewalling us, answered Daniel, the more he thought
about it the more sure he was he was on the right track. Each moving large sums of money with
investments in extraterrestrial technology and interstellar vessel constructionI think were
witnessing a cleaning out of the competition.
Jesus. scoffed Redwing through grit teeth. That would mean that all those
corporations are backing these mercenaries.
Daniel nodded grimly and Redwing merely ventured the obvious to fill the time for the
shipyard to respond to his request.
So you think theyre not dead or teleported back to earth?
Would you teleport to earth during a world civilization threatening earthquake and
tsunami? said Daniel, knowing the thought was ridiculous. I think theyre on this
shipyard/space station.
Redwing grit his teeth, growling:
Thats where the new, advanced long-range assault warships, of the UNIAFs 7th Strike
Group expeditionary fleet is docked.
Fortunately for the UNIAF, Daniel scoffed, one of the corporations involved in this is
into building starships and space elevators.
Redwing stifled a response to this bit of information, far too angry to respond in his
normal casual style.
Daniel took the silence to place a call to Hangar 102. A window opened on the Heads Up
Display, and he saw the last face he expected to see answering an emergency call in progress.
Hello? said Christine.

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Christine? said Daniel, in shock at seeing her so fragile and nervous answering the
communications line.
Yes, sir. said Christine, looking around her surroundings as though she expected ghosts
and monsters to pounce upon her.
What are you doing answering the phone? demanded Daniel. You should be
studying!
No ones here, sir. replied Christine, timidly. Its a little spooky in here all alone
The Bureaus gone? gaped Daniel.
They packed up and left just now. replied Christine. Its all over the news, the
earthquakes, and the tsunamis in CaliforniaThe Sky Bridge?
Yeah. said Daniel, not entirely sure how to comfort her with another terror attack
taking place and her all alone in the dark hangar. Listen, I need you to contact the Marine
detachment on the airbase and inform them were going to be making arrests aboard the space
station 433 Eros Shipyard in deep orbit. Well need everyone, on this one.
I got it, answered Christine, a little jittery but grateful for the opportunity to participate.
Ill call them now.
And Christine said Daniel.
Yes sir?
Get back to your homework.
Daniel disconnected the line and pursed his lips. The Bureau just left without so much as
a word. He knew they were only in a supporting capacity for as long as it took to make the
arrest, but abandoning their posts set his teeth on edge. Kings head would roll for thishe
would see to it personally.
Shipyard, dead ahead, growled Redwing.
Daniel looked up to see what looked like a hollowed out asteroid merged with a massive
space station. The asteroid was massive and oblong, and titanium and hydrocarbon structures
rose another five kilometers from the heart of it like a great eye.
Daniel grit his teeth at the thought of the SE team wreaking all kinds of havoc on such a
Frankenstein-vessel, and his mind played with unknown scenarios up to and including
dropping of 433 Eros on the moon, decimating the Black Site Lunar Base on the dark side of the
moon, or even more terrifying, the earth itself.
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The mining and ship works done on the space station was reason enough for the team to
seek its destruction, but the collateral damage to a similar attack as the posited intent on the
Elysium was apparent and he visibly trembled at the thought and fueled his anger toward the men
all the more. This line of thought was mercifully distracted from growing darker by Redwings
interruption:
Were cleared for landing.
At the center of the metallic eye, a thick, rectangular doorway opened like the maw of a
great beast and the Chariot entered through the docking bay lined with AB transports, landing on
a docking pad which quickly dragged the Chariot into position inside a landing station and
sealed the airlock on the shipisolating it from the other

AB transports as air was pumped into

the room through overhead and below deck pumpscreating a whirlwind effect in the hangar
that was visible for the passing seconds it took the room to reach a comfortable low altitude
Earth-atmosphere pressure.
Daniel undid his harness and climbed out down the steps from the cockpit, into the cabin
where his Task Force sat in full armor with their helmets on. Apparently, though religion was
prominent among the men, they didnt trust God against suddenly decompressing the Chariot.
Daniel picked up his helmet and stood over the men, his face set in a war mask.
Alright, men, said Daniel gravely. Up and at em.
The Task Force rose and fetched their weaponry from their overhead compartments and
checked their ammunition and new JUNCO bandoliers before turning toward the airlock.
Daniel fetched his JUNCO bandolier and SYNKR-22, then checked the magazine in his

SHEOL.

What he wanted more than anything was to be right. What he wanted was to meet

up with Scorched Earth on board this no named space station. What he wanted was blood.
He walked up and hit the airlock icon on the viewscreen and the hatch slid away
revealing the inner workings of the Shipyard.
Lets move out!

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C h a p t e r

S hi p y a r d

4 8:

Assault

ommander David Martinez stood with a contingent of forty armed security personnel
in front of the airlock hatch leading to the flight deck at embark/disembark processing
station C. Their rows were staggered in teams of ten men lined up four men across

with the second row standing neatly behind them and a captain and lieutenant standing at the
head, all with broad chests with small arms rifles slung over their shouldersand all of them
confused as to the need for them. They had walked past the firearms locker for months and had
always wondered why it was onboard a space station. Now they were armed and awaiting
instructions.
Martinez stood a few yards ahead of them facing the airlock.
He had explicit instructions to wait for a US Federal task force to embark, and then take
orders from them. He was not happy about it.
Martinez had been called from a sound sleep that he rarely gotconsidering there was
only a skeleton crew aboard the as of yet unchristened deep orbit Shipyardand was meeting a
team that had no jurisdiction that he was aware of aboard a space station without any government
815 | P a g e

ties or flags and expected to take orders from them. Beyond that, he had just learned of the
tsunami that had wiped out areas of Los Angeles, where he grew up. And though he was an only
child, his father left when he was but an infant, and his mother had died five years earlier, he had
friends in Venice whom he had hoped to meet up with in three months time, and most likely,
they were now dead. And he was here waiting to hold some Homeland Security agents hand,
when he and his men should be on the phones making sure their families were aliveAt best, his
mood was surly.
After several minutes of waiting, he got the call he had been waiting for; a strange ship
had just docked at Station C and was unloading several well-armed men with military bearing in
full armor.
The gate in front of him slid open and out stepped eight men fitting the description he had
been given by the security officers watching their progress via security feeds throughout the
station. The man in lead stepped forward, his helmet tucked under his shoulder like a football
with what was obviously a

SHEOL pistol in his right holster and an SYNKR-22 strapped to

his back. His federal identification was tucked into the left breastplate of his armor.
Agent Daniel Rooke, Department of Specials Investigations Task Force.
Commander Martinez, said Martinez, in an effort to assert himself as someone of
deserved rank who would not kowtow to any demand made of him.
Daniel seemed to understand and nodded.
I believe youve been brought up to speed on the situation?
Ive been informed there might have been a breach in our embarking protocols letting a
team of Specials onboard. said Martinez. Your team is trained in making arrests of Specials,
and I am to assist you in this endeavor.
The situation is graver than you know. said Daniel, grimly. We have thirteen men on
board your station with smuggled explosives and I believe they are planning on destroying the
Shipyard.
Martinez ground his teeth.
These thirteen men, inquired Martinez. They blew up Sky Bridge?
Yes.
You have evidence to support this understanding they are here?

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Just a hunch based on the fact that this is the third place theyve come to that is owned
by Ozymandias Holdings. The last two were destroyed. I believe they are planning to plant
bombs powerful enough to at least cripple operations aboard this space station and teleport
away.
Teleport? blinked Martinez. Surely technology had not advanced so quickly to allow
for that, he thought.
Daniel narrowed his eyes and looked directly into Martinez eyes.
Were dealing with dangerous men. They are well armed and will have planned their
exit strategy weeks in advance.
For a moment there was silence, while Martinez digested what Daniel had said.
What do you need?
Daniel pulled out his notebook and typed on the screen, pulling up the file on the Black
Ops team and downloading it to the notebooks in the immediate area.
I need every available Security Officer with a side arm and armor to be sweeping the
ship for these men. They may have ditched their disguises, in which case, they will look most
likely like this.
Martinez notebook chimed and he pulled it out and examined the downloaded file.
Theyve altered their appearance, surmised Martinez, quick on the uptake, for the
sake of avoiding detection by facial recognition software.
Its worked for them in the past. said Daniel. What I need is for you to enact this
protocol immediately.
Martinez handed the notebook back to Daniel frowning.
What will your men be doing?
Ill have my men leading teams of your security personnel to sensitive points in the
Space Stations design. Engineering, EM Reactor, Weapons Depot and whatever else this place
has that is sensitive to explosives.
Ill have my men break up into squads of ten, answered Martinez, Your men can lead
them to these points. But its spread out across the station.
Well have help in narrowing down our search.
What help? said Martinez, his glare scrutinizing Daniels passive face.

817 | P a g e

For one, disseminate these pictures to every checkpoint youve got notifying the security
officers to observe and report their position and numbers but not to attempt apprehension without
backup.
Are you going to be leading the men?
I can do that from the command station. said Daniel with a quick glance to
McCormack, who nodded his approval. I want to follow the security feeds and track their
movements.
If youll follow me? said Martinez, and he turned and began walking toward a
convertible car parked at the edge of the embark/disembark checkpoint.
Daniel turned to the Task Force and found Bradleys eyes. He already knew what Daniel
wanted, and was not pleased with the idea.
Bradley, Ill need you to push your ability and track down the men reporting all
movement you can filter through down to the men on the ground.
Ill do my best, but there are a lot of people on board this station, and Ive never pushed
myself that hard before.
Tobias will be there to assist you.
McCormack patted Bradley on the back assuringly.
I got your back, Brad. said McCormack.
Thanks. grimaced Bradley.
We done here? snapped Martinez, impatiently next to the car.
Lead on. said Daniel, then turned to McCormack. Ill be on channel 3.
Roger that. answered McCormack.
With that, Daniel turned and followed Martinez to the car, climbed in and with a
backward glancenoting Leonard, Joseph, Chad and Josh, and Stephen taking teams of ten to
armored trucks parked a short distance awaywas reassured that this might work and let
Martinez pull away.
Martinez looked in the rearview image on the heads up display of the car and studied
Bradley as he sat on the floor Indian style while McCormack stood silently next to him.
Whats with those two? asked Martinez skeptically.
Theyre telepaths. said Daniel matter-of-factly. Theyre going to see if they can track
down the terrorists before we can and save some time.
818 | P a g e

Martinez shot a furtive look of disbelief at Daniel but did not question him openly.
The last view Daniel had of the embarking/disembarking station was of Bradley and
McCormack kneeling like meditative priests while the trucks carrying the remaining members of
the Task Force pulled away down the expanse of the hall into a large tunnel that appeared to
have been carved out of solid rock by a massive drill. And all was lost in the darkness of the
tunnel with periodic flares of fluorescent overhead lights.
Daniel watched as one by one the trucks carrying the members of the Task Force ducked
into offshoot tunnels until the only vehicle remaining was the one he rode in speeding down the
dark tunnel.
Are you for real? said Martinez.
What do you mean? asked Daniel.
Back there, said Martinez. You said those two were psychics.
Oh, theyre much more than that.
Specials. surmised Martinez.
How else do you catch a Special?
Martinez shrugged and grunted.
I dont trust em.
Its not your place to trust them. answered Daniel, a little coolly. Just have your men
follow their orders in the field and enact my protocols and we have a chance.
And if we dont? challenged Martinez, wanting to gauge Daniel by his answer.
Daniel merely shrugged.
Then there wont be time to evacuate to a safe enough distance before the bomb goes
off.
Martinez did not find this answer to his liking and swallowed hard. He hoped Daniel was
wrong.
You think its a bomb?
Thats their modus operandi.
Martinez put his foot down on the accelerator and coaxed a few more miles out of the car
as they entered a wider tunnelmore massive than anything Daniel could have imagined
where big rigs pulled heavy loads from one end of the Shipyard to the other through the network
of tunnels.
819 | P a g e

Daniel watched as one big rig roared by with the blaring of headlights and the loud long
horn demanding the right of way and he felt a second tick off his life at how close they came and
how fast they travelled. Up ahead a flying car darted through traffic with impossible grace,
bending and weaving through the caravan of big-wheeled big rigs roaring down the expressway.
I just saw a flying car, gasped Daniel.
Yeah, scoffed Martinez. We got a few of them, hereUnfortunately, no one sees fit
to requisition me one.
Daniel looked back in the direction the car flew by and chuckled.
Flying cars
Were up here. said Martinez.
The car pulled out of the massive tunnel into a smaller tunnel leading to an incline that
took them another fifty yards before coming to a parking lot which Martinez sped through up to
the far wall where a security operated valet port rested.
He slammed on the brakes and came up neatly next to the valets in a cloud of burnt
rubber and undid his harness, clambered out of the car and turned back to Daniel.
This way. called Martinez and turned and walked smartly toward the lobby.
Daniel followed Martinez into the building carved out of the very rock of the asteroid and
onto an elevator. The elevator sped so fast Daniel felt as though Redwing were piloting and
when it came to a stop he skipped a step to catch his footing from the pressing Gs to lightness.
When the doors parted Daniel was, to put it mildly, impressed.

The room was wall to

wall viewscreen with dozens of security officers combing their sectors with finger touches to
magnify, observe, document and disregard as they searched for the suspects. Already, their
pictures were blown up on the viewscreen, and facial recognition software ran at every
checkpoint and hallway within the Shipyard searching for the apparently phantom terrorists.
Put me on channel 3. commanded Daniel to the officer sitting at the communications
station.

The officer, not recognizing Daniels authority looked over at Martinez for

confirmation.
Martinez nodded to the officer and said: Hes going after the guys who blew up Sky
BridgeDo it!
The officers eyes grew red and he nodded, turning the radio frequency to channel 3.

820 | P a g e

This is Rooke, to Task Force personnel said Daniel. Im at the Security Center.
Whats your twenty?
Joseph, here, chimed Little Bird over the radio. Just got dropped off at the EM
Reactor. So far, no joy.
Have the sweep team do their job and report anything they report out of the ordinary.
Leonard reporting in. Engineering is operating on a skeleton crew. But its massive.
Its going to take a lot to spot our guys through all this space
Keep at it. answered Daniel. Im ordering a lockdown of engineering. No one in or
out, until we locate them.
Got it. affirmed Leonard.
Tobias, said Daniel. Any word from Brad?
There are a lot of people on this station. reminded McCormack. Were catching
glimpses of them from time to time, but only glimpses.
So they are here thought Daniel, as a look of vindication played at the corners of his
eyes.
Chad here. Were moving to Checkpoint Bravo at E Wing.
Thats the observation deck by the EM Reactor. said Martinez.
Chad, hold your team there and keep your eyes open.
Roger, said Chad. Me and Josh are holding position.
Stephen, whats your status?
Im a little busy right now! shouted Stephen over the radio, the sound of full out
bedlam echoed in the background.
Whats happening? demanded Daniel. Where are you?
Im at checkpoint Whiskey! shouted Stephen over the noise. Ive got two suspects on
foot!
Daniel turned to Martinez.
Get me Checkpoint Whiskey up on the viewscreen! commanded Daniel, and he
returned to the microphone. Stephen, do they have a case of some kind with them?
Negative! shouted Stephen. Theyre just using abilities!
Who are they? demanded Daniel.

821 | P a g e

Laurence Kelson and Kip Harris! shouted Stephen and an explosion echoed over the
speakers accompanied by screams of agony.
Ground Zero and Warhead spat Daniel, gravely. This is not the combination I
wanted to see up against Stephen.
Why? demanded Martinez.
They all have the ability to cause major destruction through generating explosions.
Martinez eyes bulged at the thought.
On the space station?
See the problem? said Daniel.
So these could be the bombs youve been talking about! These two men?
No. said Daniel, simply.
He just knew there was a bomb. He couldnt explain how he knew. It just seemed to fit.
He turned to the microphone and opened the frequency again.
Stephen, use long range capability only! Have your men fire on Kelson and Harris.
Deadly force is authorized!
Got it! shouted Stephen.
Whos close by? demanded Daniel.
This is Joseph, answered Little Bird. Were converging on Whiskey. Its just a
quarter mile jog away, from what my men are telling me.
Negative! shouted Daniel. Hold position at the EM Reactor!
Bradley here!
Brad, exclaimed Daniel with relief. At last he was going to get results in locating the
bomb. whatve you got?
Theyve broken off into three teams. One is in Engineering, and the others converging
on Chad and Sungs position. They have no idea were here. There is a firefight in a corridor
about two miles from here. Stephen is handling it. Its a distraction. Ignore them.
What are they planning? demanded Daniel.
Theyre planning to blow up the Shipyard! said Bradley breathlessly.
I gathered that, said Daniel impatiently. How? Engineering?

822 | P a g e

Only two are going to Engineering. responded Bradley, there was a whistling noise of
wind like he was travelling at great speeds. You need to get a sweep team down there. The
bomb is going to be in Engineering. But theres a secondary device at the EM Reactor.
Which one has the highest yield? demanded Daniel.
If they blow the EM Reactor, theyll be able to teleport out of here. said Bradley. The
electromagnetic shielding prevents teleports. To ground them, we need to find the bomb in the
Reactor facility.
But the bomb in Engineering is the one that will cause catastrophic fail. surmised
Daniel.
Yes! said Bradley, breathlessly.
If we confront them with the shields up, said Daniel, then we can force them to track
down the bomb in engineering and disarm it. They arent zealots. Theyre businessmen. They
have no intention of getting killed to accomplish their mission. Daniel then, turned his attention
to Joseph. Joseph, come in!
Joseph here. Just arrived at Whiskey checkpoint and converging with Stephens team.
I need you at the EM Reactor!
We cleared it. assured Joseph. Its empty.
And this is a distraction! snapped Daniel. Joseph, the EM Reactor is vital! With it out
of commission, they can teleport from any observation deck, anywhere on the station!
So whats your call? said Joseph.
Stephen has his orders, said Daniel. Yours is to find that bomb.
Roger that. replied Joseph, halfheartedly, On my way back to the EM Reactor.
Martinez looked over at Daniel and pursed his lips.
Your team seems pretty divided. said Martinez.
Only by distance at the moment. replied Daniel shortly. Together they are cohesive.
Just then, Daniel noticed two beefy men wearing engineering uniforms entering a
massive room with rows of cylindrical machines casting an eerie glow across the room. One of
the men carried a thick briefcase.
Daniel touched the viewscreen window and the image of the strange room magnified and
took dominance on the viewscreen.
Wheres that?
823 | P a g e

Martinez looked over his shoulder and pointed to the number at the top of the window.
Thats Engineering, sir. said Martinez, and he looked sidelong at Daniel.
Do you have any men down there? demanded Daniel.
Theres a checkpoint there. said Martinez as he accessed the computer terminal pulling
up the transmissions from that checkpoint within the past twenty minutes. Odd, Ive got no
response from them for the past five minutes. The last one is confirming your man leading my
men into Engineering.
Its them. said Daniel grimly. Leonard, do you read me? he said into the microphone.
All that responded was static. Leonard, stop screwing around!
Theres shielding in Engineering, said Martinez. Itll prevent transmissions deeper
you go into the facility.
So I have a man and a sweep team down there with no idea that two Specials have
entered Engineering.
What are your orders, then? asked Martinez.
Daniel stood stock still watching the engineers carrying the briefcase deeper into the
Engineering Facility and a grim madness seized him.
Tobias wont like this at all he thought.
Get me a sweep team, commanded Daniel as he checked his pistol and repositioned his
bandolier and rifle. Im going to look for that bomb in engineering myself. Keep the com lines
open and distribute orders to the men in the field. Ill follow along via radio and countermand
where I see fit.
Yes, sir. said Martinez, and with a wave of his hand three officers approached.
Captain, gather your men downstairs, and prepare to move out to Engineering, in full kit.
The three officers nodded grimly and turned to Daniel.
Daniel scooped up his helmet and stalked out of the Command Center, boarding the
elevator with the three security officers who immediately began calling their teams to meet at the
lobby for orders.
Daniel, cracked the radio in his ear. Tobias here. The bomb in the EM Reactor
facility is going to blow first. Im en route there as we speak.
Roger that. responded Daniel. Good luck.

824 | P a g e

The elevator doors opened to the din of rushing officers assembling around the lobby in
file. Daniel marched out among them.
You have your orders, Captain. said Daniel. Get me transports to the Engineering
Facility.
Yes sir. said the security officer.
Just then, Daniel felt the familiar pressure against his temples synonymous with
telepathic invasion. This did not concern himhe had learned how to block it from McCormack
himselfalthough he was slightly annoyed that he would attempt to read him.
Why arent you in Command? cracked McCormacks voice over the radio, an edge in
his voice.
Im taking a sweep team down to Engineering to locate that bomb, said Daniel simply.
Negative, sir. cracked McCormack, his voice steely, We need your eyes up at
Command. Leonard has a sweep team down there.
And Leonard hasnt checked in since he arrived at Engineering. Martinez has the ball,
assured Daniel, slightly annoyed at being second-guessed. Im not going to wait around for that
thing to detonate.
Do you at least know what youre looking for?
Right now, Im looking for two Black Ops fugitives with a briefcase.
How do you know its a briefcase?
I saw it on a security monitor. Two beefy guys with their back to the security feed
walking with a briefcase. Theyve got to be our guys.
Roger that, changing route to meet you in Engineering.
Negative. That EM facility is vital. If I fail well need something to squeeze them with.
You heard Bradley.
What do you want me to do?
Continue to the EM Reactor Facility.
Roger, said McCormack. Will notify when the bombs diffused. Im sending Bradley
to E Wing to back up Chad and Sung. Brad seems to think that its an ideal point for exfil for the
fugitives.
Good luck. said Daniel.
You too. said McCormack, and he heard nothing else from him.
825 | P a g e

With that, Daniel clambered into the back of the armored security truck with mild
surprise at seeing how functional it was. The truck could easily be used as a mobile command
center with viewscreens and a terminal set up along the walls just above the seats. Most of the
men stood holding the overhead handrails, and Daniel stood perplexed until he realized there
were no seatbelts in the vehicle.
Daniel turned to the Captain.
Captain, said Daniel. How long until we reach our destination?
If we cut through E Wing and enter the tunnels along the side of the space station, well
catch a quicker route through the main transport tunnels running across the station.
Do it. ordered Daniel. We cant afford to waste a minute.
Yes, sir, said the Captain, and he left his seat and clambered up to the driver to pass
along the change of route.
As the caravan breached the tunnel out into E Wing Observation Deck, Daniels head
whipped around at the sight before him.
Two men he now recognized as Laurence Kelson and Kip Harris raced out of a side
tunnel into the observation deckwhile Stephen raced after themthe two retreated into the
cornered Scorched Earth team.
The Task Force had the high ground, and dozens of security officers in key positions
trained their rifles down on the Scorched Earth fugitives.
Freeze! bellowed Chad, S.I.T.F!

Kelson stepped forward and fired a wave of

explosive energy at Chad, who ducked and called his men at the ready. Fire!
The observation deck became alight with small arms fire and Specials abilities.
Hirano fired waves of seismic energy, which upended security officers from their secure
positions up into the air while Harris picked them off with shockwaves of pure kinetic energy.
Simpson stepped forward, and began to burn with radioactive fire and proceeded to lob balls of
fire at the sweepers who convulsed and vomited as the fires passed them or burned when they
struck them.
The caravan slowed as the tide began to turn against the security forces and the Captain
bellowed at the driver to halt and turned to his men preparing to deploy them into the fight that
was quickly turning against them.
What are you doing?! demanded Daniel.
826 | P a g e

Those are my friends out there! bellowed the Captain.

Theres a bomb in Engineering you idiot! retorted Daniel. We need to get there
immediately! Get this caravan moving and tell the driver to put the foot down! Theyll have to
manage on their own!
The Captain stood stock straight and still, processing what Daniel had just said. Finally,
begrudgingly, he turned to the driver.
Get going. And floor it.
Youre sure? second-guessed the driver, turning around and eyeing Daniel as an
outsider.
Get moving! railed Daniel.
The driver eyed Danielwho was ready to kick the driver out of the truck and take
control of the vehicle himselfwhen he looked away at the road and put his foot down. The
Captain only managed to grab a handle above him in time to not be thrown to the back of the
cabin.
All the security officers traded looks between the carnage outside and Daniels hard set
starehe expected mutinyonly to be distracted himself as Bradley flew into the yawning
space of the observation deck and attacked from above, dodging blasts of kinetic energy and
concussive blasts with a musical grace as he swooped down into the heart of the Scorched Earth
team and sent them scattering from his powerful telekinetically enhanced punches.
The last thing he saw before the caravan ducked into the adjoining tunnel leading away
from E Wing was the security forces rallying around Chad as he regrouped with Bradley.
Bradley had long since been a symbol of perseverance and succor for those without hopehe
saw that nowit would be so for them now.
The tunnel swallowed them whole and Daniel felt the sway of the heavy truck he was on
as it veered with the winding tunnel out of the space station to an incredible and frightening view
of the stars, Earth and moon.
For three minutes they wended along the side of the space station riding on gravity strips
through the nanocrystal tube until it at last plummeted into the depths of rock and steel of the
hollowed out asteroid.

They passed heavy bulldozers, earthmovers and tractors through this

uncharted plain wending between the stalactites and stalagmites on the rough-hewn road for

827 | P a g e

several minutes until at last they breached the main tunnel of the space station, filled with traffic
to and from the various ports of the vast Shipyard.
The Captain turned around and shouted across the cabin Were almost there! ETA:
three minutes!
Daniel gave a thumbs up and donned his helmet, locking it in place. He would take any
edge he could get in the fight to come, and full battle armor seemed as good as any.
The other security officers blinked at him when he donned his helmet and began to
wonder exactly what they had signed up for; and would it not have been safer to have
disembarked and fought beside their friends on E Wing Observation Deck. All they could see
were Daniels unsettlingly hard eyes through the mask he wore and they grimaced at each other
with a growing sense of dread.
When the caravan pulled up to Checkpoint Easy, it was to a sight of horror. The officers
thereto some, friends, to others a grim reminder of what they were facingwere eviscerated
where they lay. There would be no checking of pulses. There was no need. All their blood was
on the floor and walls. They never got a shot off.
Daniel turned to the pale security officers and stood with all the authority he could
muster.
Alright men, said Daniel. Were going up against two Special Ops trained Specials,
likely carrying SOPMOD firearms. Do not take them lightly. This is nothing compared to what
I have seen them do in the past. If these are friends, put it out of your mind. If you go in there
looking for revenge, you will not be coming home again. Is that understood? The security
officers shifted in their stances like the greenest new recruits. None of them wanted to enter the
Engineering Facility. Its likely well see more of this inside. Get used to it. Learn from your
comrades mistakesdo not underestimate these men!
Alright men, barked the Captain. Youve trained for this. Your job is simple. Track
down the bomb. Then added, Leave the fighting to Agent Rooke.
Daniel looked over at the Captain with surprise at this bit of news and set his jaw, raising
his mask to glower at him. The Captain was unphased by this and glared right back.
No offense, but my men arent trained to fight Specials. Im assuming you are.

828 | P a g e

Daniel had arrived with forty men, and now he realized he would receive no help from
them. He was going to have to fight this fight alone. He should not have been surprised. He
should not have been offended. But he was.
Daniel lowered the facemask back in place and growled,
Just stay out of my way.
With that, Daniel trotted into the Engineering Facility, fetching his

SYNKR-22 from its

holster on his back and slapped the bandolier releasing the JUNCOs to bob about, ever vigilant
for the assault.
He was oddly comforted by the company of these intelligent orbs hovering in midair,
spinning to and fro calculating all possible threats in the environment and remained silent.

In

truth, he dreaded the moment one of the JUNCOs fired or armed for detonation, because that
would mean he was too late to defend himself. And the eerie silence that followed as he
penetrated deeper into the weak lighting of Engineering brought him closer to fear.
The overhead emergency lighting blared in flashes alerting him to some unseen threat,
and he knew that some of the reactors had already been tampered with. But where would they
be? Where was the bomb?
He passed the rows of cylindrical chambers, which cast an eerie green glow over the
reactor room while the security officers fanned out behind him sweeping the area he had
disregarded as safe. Where was the skeleton crew? Where were the bodies?
He looked about for the faintest trace of blood on the floors and walls and found none.
No evidence they were even here. Perhaps they knew they only needed to get past the security
checkpoint and that no one else would be the wiser in the heart of the facility?
Daniel was out of his element. He had expected mayhem. He had expected chaos. This
was too methodical. Too clean. Perhaps the Black Ops team had refined their habits? Perhaps
the one responsible for the mayhem now resided at North Brother Island? That made it even
worse.

People who sought to feed their bloodlust often got careless and were easily spotted.

The methodical ones held to the shadow and moved with a purpose.
Finally Daniel had made enough distance that the sound of the security officers faded to
nothing as the hum of the reactors vibrated through his suit and made his ears feel pressure he
could not relieve.

829 | P a g e

He picked up the pace to leave the vibrations behind him and looked feverishly to the left
and right looking for any sign of the fugitives until at last he saw what he expected to see. A
corridor filled with bodies contorted, their bones jutting out at strange angles.
Up ahead the corridor was pitch black. The silent JUNCOs spun and hovered in a threefoot perimeter around him as he entered the corridor. Instantly his heads up display lit up and
the corridor was awash with yellow color, illuminating the hallway without actually projecting
lightin the distance, a hulking figure worked on a device on the floor, his back to himas long
as he stepped gingerly around the fallen engineers and security officers and did not trip he held
surprise on his side.
As he stepped on the balls of his toes closer, he saw wild shadows at the far end of the
corridor.
Two powerfully built figures fought hand to hand, the smaller one, slightly familiar to
Daniel was losing to the sheer mass of the man before him. His rough rhinoceros-like hide made
it impossible to strike a blow with any devastating effect, and the brute bludgeoned the smaller
man viciously with what appeared to be a pipe until the smaller man collapsed.
Daniel neared and saw the man on the floor was Leonard Stonebreaker, surrounded by
wounded and dead security officers thrown about the room like ragdollsthey lay still where
they were thrownand judging from the amount of blood on the floor and walls it was safe to
assume at least five of the officers were dead.
Daniel clicked his radio and set it to the security officers frequency.
I have sight of the bomb and the suspects. Multiple wounded or dead. Hone in on my
signal and set up firing positions on the corridor just past the reactor room.
The radio clicked and the Captains voice uttered two words before cutting off the radio:
Moving in.
Daniel took another careful step and the hulking man turned slowly around and pointed
his finger at him.
I can hear you, you know. said the rasping voice gleeful in its malice.
Then you know theres no escape. said Daniel.
Right, chuckled the hulking man and he flexed his muscles as he rose leaving his
associate crouched on the ground typing on the viewscreen of the bomb.

830 | P a g e

Daniel pulled out his

SHEOL and fired at the hulking figure and the man spun and hit

the wall. He looked down at his chest and heaved a sigh, then turned back to face Daniel.
That hurt! growled the man and he charged Daniel leaping out of the way of Daniels
fire with surprising ease for a man of his sheer bulk and size. It was like shooting at Chad while
he charged at you except Daniel was more frightened of this man.
His heads up display closed in on the mans face and queried a guessconsidering the
protruding forehead, chin and noseidentifying him in an instant:
// Gregory Meyer, callsign: Uproar\\
Daniel backpedaled firing until his clip was empty and he tripped over one of the bodies
in the corridor and fell hard on them to the sickening crunches of exposed ribcages. He wriggled
back frantically as Meyer hurtled himself into the air with a trajectory landing him somewhere
on Daniels chest region.
Daniel closed his eyes. It was over.
Overhead, an explosion rocked the corridor and Daniel opened his eyes to see Meyer
splayed out on his back.
Two of the JUNCOs had detonated as they collided with Meyer, cancelling his forward
momentum and sending him crashing down to the floor.
Daniel looked up at the incomplete circle of JUNCOs making revolutions overhead and
he rose to his feet using his SYNKR-22 as leverage and powered it up with a high hum.
Ahead of him, the hallway was filled by the second man and his heads up display queried
a guess again, using the files on the Black Ops team and came up with:
//Randall Simms, callsign: Scrape\\
Simms was smaller than Meyer, and only about four inches shy of Daniel, but there was
something strange about him.
He smiled when he saw the rifle in Daniels hands.
SYNKR-22. said Simms appreciatively. Havent seen one of those since the war.
He pursed his lips in mocking approval, adding: What you got in there, rubber bullets, agentman?
831 | P a g e

Inazu Kotzu. said Daniel, with a shrug. Im kind of a traditionalist. Then added
severely: Believe me, its going to hurt.
Im sure. chuckled Simms.
Just then, Simms touched his belt and vanished.
Daniel, unsure what to do began firing into the field hoping to hit something. He had not
known Simms to be a teleporter or to have the ability to turn invisible. It was not in his file.
Just then, Simms reappeared with a kick to Daniels arm that caused him to wince
reflexively and lowered his guard.
Before he could react with his rifleit had been stripped away from him and he was put
in a strangling chokeholdDaniel heard the sound of the plastic armor protesting the strain of
Simms powerful arm lock.

JUNCOs exploded directly in Simms face one after the other until the last of the
JUNCOs was little more than shrapnel. A thrill of horror traveled through Daniel at the
realization that Simms, though momentarily dazed, was still standing. It was then, Daniel
realized Simms was wearing a device on his belt that he had never seen before.
Simms seemed to notice his intended victims eyes on the strange object clipped to his
belt and grinned.
Yeah, bragged Simms. Force field.
Just then, the corridor exploded in fire.
Simms looked up and saw the security officers gathering around the edge of the corridor
firing into the confined space.
Daniel ducked as bullets ricocheted off his armor and hit the force field that surrounded
Simms.
Behind him, Meyer rose to his feet and Daniel jumped past Simms, rolled across the
floor, and with the tips of his extended right hand, retrieved his SYNKR-22 aiming it at Meyer,
and with a silent prayer the larger threat did not have a force field generating device on his
person, began firing pointblank at his chest.
Meyer wailed and stomped on Daniels helmet and he felt the sudden pressure followed
by the loud crack and Daniel was instantly confused, not knowing whether or not the sound was
his helmet cracking or it was a concussion.

832 | P a g e

The world turned as he tried to right himself but the blackness climbed up the corners of
his vision and entombed him in nothingness.

4 9:

C h a p t e r

hen Daniel awoke, it was to the slapping of his head by a strong hard hand.
Slowly, he opened his eyes and focused on the bald headed face looking down
at him.

He was swollen, black and blue around his face and throat, but

otherwise, Leonard Stonebreaker was no worse for wear.

He smiled down at him, a tooth broken in half, haunting his blood-soaked grin.
Welcome back to the land of the living, he chided wryly.
Daniel found himself swimming in a pile of bodies. From the faint sounds of screams
and shots fired, he knew that Simms and Meyer were making their escape straight through the
security officers and were well on their way to the checkpoint.
Daniel did not follow. He knew there was something pressing he should be attending to
but could not remember what it was.
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He sat up cradling his head in his hands, breathing deeply to clear his head and when the
world righted itself, his moment of clarity hit him at the realization that he was alone in a room
filled with bodies and a glowing light at the end of the corridor.
He staggered to his feet cradled by Leonard and stumbled through the corridor until he
reached the glowing light and looked down at it perplexed.
He knew this was the reason he was here, but, in his battered state, he was not sure what
it was.
Then he noticed the slender briefcase was counting down from twenty minutes and
slowly a word was introduced to his limited vocabulary:
Bomb
With that one word reintroduced to him, a flood of memories and thoughts hit him like a
wave and made his head ache as he clutched his skull for a moment and fought a wave of nausea.
On the verge of a delirium he fought back the churning of his stomach with a swallow and
tapped the radio link on his armor.
Task Force, do you read me?
The facilitys shielded, said Leonard. No transmissions in or out. Only hard-line
connections. Leonard then jerked his head toward the end of the corridor into Engineering
proper. Theres a terminal over there.
With that Leonard walked over to the briefcase and picked it up. Daniels heart skipped a
beat as he lunged toward Leonard.
No! shouted Daniel.
Leonard nearly dropped the bomb and eyed Daniel in annoyance.
What? demanded Leonard.
It could be sensitive to motion! said Daniel, exasperated.
Leonard weighed the bomb in his hands and looked it over as though he were holding a
not-so-delicate antique. I dont think so. I think its just a standard bomb.
Leonard held it out for Daniel to examine.
See?
Daniel grunted his annoyance and then examined the bomb casing. There was print on
the casing that gave some information, but not enough to figure out what kind of bomb or yield it
was. All it said was DOD: SO-DCYxlviii
834 | P a g e

Daniel turned from Leonard and clambered over the bodies in the corridor to the
terminal. There, he accessed the communications window, accessing frequency 3.
Task Force, said Daniel. This is Rooke.
Tobias here, said McCormack, Task Force is occupied trying to arrest the Scorched
Earth fugitives. Then added, Have you found the bomb?
We got it right here. Shes counting down.
How much time do we got?
Eighteen minutes.
Thats not a lot of time. Can you get to the embarking/disembarking terminal and hook
up with Redwing?
I dont see any other options groaned Daniel, his head spinning.
McCormack seemed to sense Daniels state of mind and changed tone to a Drill
Sergeants cadence.
Get moving, and keep me posted commanded McCormack. Out.
Daniel picked up the briefcase and thought about closing it but then thought better about
it. He carried it gingerly through the dark corridor into the humming reactor room, stepping
around the injured and dead as he made his way toward the exit to the checkpoint.
Outside, he saw more bodies and a truck peeling out and pulling away. Instinctively, he
knew it was Meyer and Simms making as much distance from the bomb as possible, as he
stepped up to the Captain, who fired on the truck as it pulled away.
Captain! shouted Daniel, breaking his concentration from firing upon the fleeing
armored vehicle. We got bigger problems!
The Captains eyes went wide with disbelief and fright.
Is that the bomb?
If youll excuse me, said Leonard through cracked grit teeth, Im going after Meyers
and Simms.
With that, he climbed into one of the armored trucks, spun the heavy machine around,
and followed after the fugitives through the winding construction zone they had come through
toward the observation deck beyond the long tunnel with the void for a view.
Daniel knew this was personal for Leonard. He had lost his entire team to the fugitives,
and was soundly beaten. He did not try to call him back. Or offer reason to hinder his crusade.
835 | P a g e

Within a moment, the truck was gone and Daniel wheeled back around on the Captain.
Weve got to get this to the embarking/disembarking terminal. Do you know a straight
shot to get us there?
The Captain looked down at the bomb nervously for a moment, and then clambered up
the drivers side of the remaining armored truck.
Once inside he kicked the passengers door open and bellowed out to Daniel.
Get in. ordered the Captain, and he flipped his frequency to Command. I need a bomb
squad to meet me at embarking/disembarking terminal in eight minutes. Bring everyone!
Are you insane? Weve got to get this off the Shipyard! said Daniel. I dont recognize
this technology. I think its Quill. Do you have anyone who can disarm Quill tech?
My teams well trained. snapped the Captain. Then added, Unless youve got a better
suggestion?
Get a fast transport, thought Daniel. And jump away with the bomb, and eject it into
space.
The drive was a silent one. The Captain, his jaw set, did not speak to Daniel and he was
glad for it. His head was pounding.
Five minutes later, they pulled into the tunnel that climbed to embarking/disembarking
terminal and spat them out onto the asphalt leading to the checkpoint. The field was full of
activity.
The bomb squad was a team of young wild eyed men and women, as though they were
chomping at the bit for a chance to disarm an actual bomb. They all had the air of people with
training and no experience. All knowledge, and no practical application for it.
The Captain eyed Daniel as though he were holding them up and self-consciously, he set
the bomb on the ground and stepped back to let the technicians get a better look.
Sir, said the lead bomb technician asking the obvious question as he eyed the small
slender device without any real weight to assume where the payload would be located. Is that
the bomb?
This question did little for Daniels confidence in any of them, and he rolled his eyes and
looked at the Captain.
Weve got twelve minutes to disarm. said the Captain ignoring Daniels glare.

836 | P a g e

Alright, let me examine it, said the technician, and his eyes found the code across the
face of it and whistled, looking up nervously. DOD: SO-DCY
What kind of device is it
This code is simply a DARPA reference code for cataloguing. Its ours.
Whats the yield?
It says it right on the coding. Department of Defense: Star Ordinance-D Class Yield
D-Class?
White Dwarf star size/yield. Roughly one-hundredth of one percent the radius of the
sunEven at the thirty second lifespan these things are designed to maintain before total
collapse, were talking a major flare up
Daniel felt his blood run cold.
Can you disarm it?
This is Quill Tech, hereWere not trained in Quill tech. said the lead bomb
technician with a nervous chuckle. I wouldnt even know where to begin, with it.
Then were wasting time, here. scoffed Daniel.
He picked up the bomb and ran to the hangar bay where a row of AB-4s were launching
away filled with skeleton crew workers.
He turned around and looked at the Captain.
Evacuation protocols?
They began the moment you said bomb on the space station. explained the Captain.
Daniel turned away from the Captain, and did not regret his parting as he entered the
hangar bay doors and located a deck officer standing twenty yards away from him ordering deck
crews to cut the fuel hoses from the AB-4s and scramble them.
Deck Officer! shouted Daniel.
The Deck Officer turned with surprise and looked Daniel up and down surprised to see a
man in full Spartan EVA battle armor with Federal identification pinned to his chest and carrying
for what with all intents and purposes looked like an open briefcase.
He made his way over to Daniel, determined to cow him one way or the other:
I need you to either board a shuttle or to evacuate the hangar. Is that clear?

837 | P a g e

We dont have time for this! Daniel snarled. I need an empty bird with a crew
prepared to jump away with a live bomb on board to detonate at a safe distance from the
Shipyard and Earth.
With that, the Deck Officers eyes went wide with fear.
Is that the bomb?
One of them. answered Daniel.
All my birds are tied up in evacuation. explained the Deck Officer. I havent got one
to spare.
I need any bird that has jump capability.
I only got one free bird, and thats the one you came in on.
Daniel was dreading that would be the Deck Officers response.
He looked at the Chariot and pursed his lips.
Gingerly he set the bomb down on the floor and set his radio to Channel 2.
Redwing, come in?
Daniel! called Redwing over the radio, Whats going on?
Does the Chariot have jump capabilities?
Ive never tested it, but yeah, its got the jump drive in the cabin.
Daniel picked up the bomb and began walking rigidly over toward the Chariot.
I need the Chariot ready to go now! Im coming with a bomb on board.
For the first time since he met Redwing he heard trepidation in his voice.
Okay, whats the plan?
Were going to jump away someplace uninhabited and ditch it.
Daniel pushed past the Deck Officer just as the hatch to the Chariot slid open. Redwing
was onboard, looking antsy. Daniel said nothing; his mind on the bomb in his hands.
Redwing took the bomb in his hands with a grimace while Daniel strapped himself into
his seat, locking the harness in place. The bomb was gingerly passed back into his clumsy fingers
and their eyes locked.

Between them was a silent communication of trepidation and

determination as if each would rather be somewhere else, and each would give the job to no one
else to trust to complete.
Redwing nodded to Daniel, and then climbed up to the cockpit and mounted the console,
firing up the Chariot.
838 | P a g e

Whats the blast radius on this thing? said Redwing over the communications line.
No idea! responded Daniel. But they were planning on taking out the entire
installation!
Thats pretty far muttered Redwing. If Im going to jump this bird, I dont know if
she can take it. You might want to put your helmet on.
Daniel sealed the visor on his helmet.

Instantly the heads up display lit up and

atmosphere hissed into the empty space between his face and the visor, cooling his cheeks.
The Chariot rose from the platform on the magnetic lift, away from the fuel hoses and
diagnostic equipment and angled toward the landing pad it had rested on when they had first
landed.
The deck wall slid in place and vented the atmosphere out of the chamber the transport
now rested in.
Redwing checked the atmospheric pressure in the cabin and gave Daniel a thumbs up.
Within seconds, the landing pad elevated back into the vacuum of the launching bay and with a
lurch of his stomach, Daniel was aware of the movement free of the gravity strips on the landing
pad as the gravity strips on board the Chariot took over, independent of 433 Eros Shipyard.
Within seconds, the viewscreen was black and starlit. There was an on pour of speed and
the viewscreen showed the Shipyard growing steadily smaller in the window.
Daniel glanced nervously down at the bomb and swallowed his heartwhich threatened
to climb up into his throat againthe countdown had reached six minutes. His life began to
proceed past his eyes in fast forward at the thought he might have only six minutes left in it and
his heartbeat hammered until Redwing broke his concentration on the countdown:
Jumping in three, two, one!
The Chariot gave a lurch and sputtered then jumped away.
Now the craft shook and tremored as it hurtled through the void, the hull warping as the
gravity strips fought the effect of the gravitational forces created by such incredible speeds
causing ominous moaning sounds of metal contorting. A dazzling rush of light and sound as
dust and pebbles pelted the hull like rain indicating the shields had failed and the claxon blared
as proof of it.
And just as quickly as it began, it ended with an ominous silence that left Daniel
shuddering, gripping the bomb like a lifeline.
839 | P a g e

The terror of surviving the trip on a ship made of second hand parts was over. Now they
were static, in the void.
Daniel stared at the viewscreen and saw a distant blue planet, smaller than the moon from
earth, on the viewscreen.
Where are we? asked Daniel, with childlike wonder.
Were past Venus, about a little over 1.5 acs from Mercury. Given the jump drive we
got, I cant really risk going any further. This is as good as were going to get said Redwing,
matter-of-factly.
We went closer to the sun?
We dont have the thrust to carry us beyond the Oort cloud, replied Redwing gravely.
With this flareup, we run the risk of the earths revolution getting moved in the flareup. If I
went out toward Mars, we run the risk of the gravity wake sending rocks from the asteroid belt
into the inner system and pushing Earths orbit closer to the sun. Quite frankly, Id rather be
cooler than too warm
Daniel could think of nothing to respond to the pilots logic. The direction had been
decided in an instant, but with cold mathematical calculation on causal events from the
detonation he had not even considered. He was pale and numb as Redwing continued.
Im going to open the airlock and depressurize the cabin. Then we can chuck that thing
out, and jump away.
Im with you. answered Daniel, clutching the bomb close to his chest.
Hold tight to that bomb. said Redwing, nervously. Cabin depressurization in three,
two, one, mark.
The cabin bay doors slid open and there was a violent surge as the atmosphere was forced
out of the craft with a great sucking gasp that left Daniel clinging to the case, afraid it would
detonate if it hit anything. Finally, the last of the air was sucked out into the void and the cabin
was filled with an eerie deathlike silence.
Redwing clicked onto the line:
Okay, now unlock yourself and walk to the cabin door and get rid of that thing.
Daniel unlatched the harness and rose, carrying the bomb like a precious artifact as he
made his way to the airlock, where he paused to look at the countdown meter on the bomb. They
had three minutes.
840 | P a g e

Daniel pushed it out of the cabin doors and it tumbled away slowly into the void, its
countdown meter flashing as it spun into darkness illuminating its path. Without ceremony, he
sealed the airlock and climbed up the steps to the cockpit.
Okay, its out. declared Daniel with a sigh as he climbed into the copilots chair. Well,
lets not sit around and wait for it to go off.
Fine by me. Redwing programmed the coordinates to earth orbit into the computer and
powered up the engines. Youd better lock your harness, Dan.
Daniel strapped himself in with a quick, shaky chuckle.
Alright, lets get out of here, then.
Redwing hit the engage light on the console and a shudder tremored through the ship
along the hull.
Then the tremor grew violent and with a violent tug of speed the Chariot jumped.
When they came out of the jump an explosion ripped through the midsection and the
artificial gravity deactivated.
Jesus, exclaimed Redwing. Come on, baby, dont be so mean to me.
Daniel jumped up and grabbed a fire extinguisher, activating his gravity boots and
blowing fire retardant at the fire which seemed to swirl and dance like liquid in the zero gravity.
When the fire was finally out Daniel crashed down into the copilots chair.
Man, sighed Daniel with a nervous chuckle. That was intense.
Yeah, about that bomb, how long does it have left?
A little over two minutes. Why?
I got some news for you, said Redwing darkly. Youd better fasten your harness.
Why?
We didnt make it back to Earth.
How far did we get?
Off the top of my head? About one hundred-thousand miles from Venus...
Daniels eyes went wide as saucers as he gaped at Redwing, praying it was a joke. The
pilots uncharacteristically grave expression of untimely acceptance said far more than Daniel
cared to interpret.
But that puts us still in the blast wake.

841 | P a g e

I didnt say it was good news. Redwing tested the controls and powered up the
engines. Weve got some minor EM thrust. Im putting what we got to full.
How fast is that? asked Daniel, a growing dread creeping through his chest.
Maybe five times supercruise, said Redwing flatly. Considering we just lost gravity
plating, its the best Ive got without killing us from severe Gs.
So we may not make it? asked Daniel weakly, a sigh heaving his chest.
Ive seen a Star Bomb flare up before during the warThe star will be unstableAbout
three to five minutes life, topsIve skated through worse than this, Agent Rooke. Have a little
faith. And if youre a praying man, get to it.
Daniel sank back into his chair and checked his harness, waiting. He had never been a
praying man, even in the darkest of hours he felt that his prayer didnt count for much. But now,
he sat there staring at the stars through the viewscreens on the wall in front of them and the sides
and he began to feel a need to say something, anything, in the hopes that there would be an
answer.
All he could think of was: Im not ready.
Finally a bright light flashed and illuminated the void, burning and struggling to sustain
itself. It flickered on the viewscreens. Redwing coaxed a little more speed out of the Chariot,
which seemed to be struggling to give its last lifes spark to save them.
Daniel grit his teeth as the light grew brighter and finally the Chariot began to tremble.
Here we go! called Redwing over the growing din.
Daniel bit down harder anticipating the shockwave but when it finally came he was
completely unprepared for the force of it.
The blast wave seemed to seize the Chariot in a powerful grip and shake it, squeezing
and pulling at the hull of the craft like taffy.
Daniel looked at the viewscreen and saw the ice on the Chariots hull being melted away
in a flash, and welded plates popped off and clattered along the hull.
Redwing throttled harder to regain his directional heading even.
The next one should be coming any second, now!
Daniels heart was hammering in his chest and his mouth went dry.
The next one?! he croaked.

842 | P a g e

Just then, there was a thunderous sound and the airlock buckled. The viewscreens
overhead blinked to static and even the comfort of seeing the nightmare unfold was removed
from him.
Daniel and Redwing were plunged into darkness, the overhead glow of the red light in the
cockpit illuminating the console and Daniel watched in awe as Redwings hands raced across the
controls as though the loss of visuals was of little to no consequence.
He piloted by feel.
Hope began to fight back the dread and the fear that weighed down on him in just seeing
this mans determination to survive. And it was then, in that flickering moment of hope that the
last shudders of thunder faded away and the turbulence faded to a rickety sputter of the Chariot,
pushed past all walls of endurance.
Finally, Redwing eased off the throttle and the shuddering hull quieted down as the
monitors blinked back to life revealing only stars. He flicked a switch overhead and the distress
beacon blinked to life, then flicked the controls into autopilot and stretched his back out with a
satisfying crack.
With a groan he shook his head of the cloud of adrenaline that sought to capture him and
ran his fingers along the console.
We have hull integrity. We have artificial gravity again, and now, we have atmo. Itll
be thin, but itll be sweet.
Daniel watched as wisps of dust were blown around the cabin and knew the atmosphere
was being pumped back in from the reserve tanks.
Redwing slid up his visor and took a deep breath and exhaled the air like smoke.
Daniel slid up his visor. It was cold in the cabin, his breath coming out visibly. But like
always, Redwing was right.
It was sweet.

843 | P a g e

C h a p t e r

5 0:

A Tale to be Told

hree hours later, a warship jumped into position parallel to the Chariot. She was small
by comparison to some of the larger warships in the fleet, but it was well armed, with
dozens of cannon banks across the front of the ship it was obvious this was not the type

of spacecraft that was built for retreat. This was a slugger. Short and proud.
Daniel looked up at the belly of the craft and saw a docking port open up to reveal an EM
Cannon and he knew the ship was about to attempt a tractor beam to dock the Chariot in its
belly.
This is the U.S.S. Mjollnir. cracked the radio. If you can hear me, flash your lights.
Redwing reached up and flicked on the outboard lights.

844 | P a g e

Mjollnir, said Redwing into the microphone in his ear. this is UNIAF Captain John
Redwing, Currently on loan to the Specials Investigations Task Force. Weve got two cold
bodies onboard waiting for a warm blanket and a hot cup of coffee, sir.
Captain Redwing, cracked the radio. Its good to hear your voice, sir. Hows your
craft?
Shes salvageable. said Redwing. The Chariots a good little ship. Arent you, girl?
The Mjollnirs bay doors opened to greet the scuttled transport and a drag from the EM
cannon shook it from its trajectory, lightly tugging it toward the welcoming hangar.
Inside, the EM cannon swiveled with the Chariots path, directing it to a cleared landing
pad and gently set it down, sealing the bay doors. The landing platform raised into the Mjollnirs
maintenance bay.
Redwing shut down the Chariot, stroking the console.
Good girl.

said Redwing patting the controls, then turned and smiled at Daniel.

Agent Rooke, you ready?

John, Id be glad just to stand on the tarmac.
Well lets go. said Redwing.
Daniel undid his harness and climbed out into the cabin, followed by Redwing.
The cabin doors hissed and rumbled, opening only halfway before grinding to a halt
showing the maintenance bay beyond. It was grey and dim with fluorescent lighting but it might
as well have been paradise to Daniel.
He clambered through the opening between the slideaway airlock and the locking
mechanism and stepped down onto the maintenance floor to be confronted by the rows and rows
of deck crew and Marines all standing staring at the odd little craft and the two men who
stumbled out.
Daniel noticed their faces and turned back to look at the Chariot, stepping backward to
get a better scope of the damage.
The wings had been sheered off, melted at the hull. In several places, hull plating was
missing and something was leaking onto the maintenance bay floor. At the front of the Chariot,
the weapons were melted to slag and he walked to the rear to see the crushed and slagged pattern
warped into the craft by the incredible heat and forces slamming into the little shuttle.

845 | P a g e

Daniel swallowed hard, not out of loss, but out of gratitude. The little Chariot took a
huge sound beating for them, and kept them safe in the cockpit.
Redwing read Daniels face and patted his shoulder.
She did her job, said Redwing. Nothing a few days with the Wizards at Andrews cant
cure. Shell fly again.
Daniel turned sideways to glance at Redwing and over his shoulder, was met with a
startling sight. The entire maintenance floor was filled with soldiers at attention, the Admiral
standing in front of them also at attention.
Daniel tapped Redwings arm and gestured with his chin.
I think this ones for you.
Redwing turned around, not altogether surprised by the welcomehe had had similar
shows of respect and honor on other warships during the warand stepped forward.
Admiral, said Redwing to the man with the bars and the egg salad on his left breast.
Captain John Redwing and Special Agent Daniel Rooke request permission to come aboard.
Granted. smiled the Admiral. They saluted each other and then the Admiral began to
clap and Daniel was surrounded by the thunder of applause. The Admiral stepped forward and
leaned close to Redwing and Daniel. That was a hell of a gutsy thing you just pulled off.
You dont know the half of it. replied Redwing with a grin. I wasnt even sure the old
girl could still jump.
The Admiral gave an appraising look at the Chariot and patted her hull, running his
fingers along the warped slagged metal cooled by the void in weird and wild patterns and
grinned.
Well she did just fine. said the Admiral. What kind of craft is it anyway? Ive never
seen anything like it.
Shes a cross between a

Reever

Roman

and a

Sioux.

answered Redwing

appreciatively.
She looks like shes a chop job. chuckled the Admiral.
Yeah, but shes got heart in spades. said Redwing and patted the hull of the Chariot
affectionately, as though she were a horse. My little mustang

846 | P a g e

The Admiral just grinned. He had seen this kind of affection between a pilot and his craft
beforein fact, he felt a kinship toward the Mjollnirhe could not fault a pilot for such stroking
behavior.
Ill bet she does. said the Admiral. My maintenance crew will treat her right.
Thank you, Admiral.
Redwing saluted the Admiral and he returned the salute casually, easily among kindred
spirits then turned his attention to Daniel.
Special Agent Rooke, I presume. said the Admiral. We have a contingent of Specials
at the Shipyard that insist on knowing your status. Should I report your condition as well?
Thank you, Admiral, but if its just the same, Id like to inform them myself.
I thought you might. I have a deck officer with a channel open for you and your men.
Thank you, again, Admiral.
Swanson, called the Admiral over his shoulder. He did not look back, but a young
woman grew rigid and stepped forward. Escort Agent Rooke to the bridge.
She stepped in front of Daniel and nodded. Being so close to death and then seeing a
beautiful woman was almost like a reward in his eyes and he feasted on her, his eyes studying
her plain perfection. A woman without make up and still a knock out, he thought. Daniel would
have fought half the Marines on the deck for the chance to walk beside her for a little while.
Swanson was oblivious to this. Or at least, she did not acknowledge Daniels interest.
If youll just follow me, sir. said Swanson.
Slightly snubbed, he reddened and kowtowed a little under her piercing stare. She
marched off at a quick step, and Daniel left Redwing with the Admiral, following behind the
soldier all the way to the lift that took them to the bridge.
When Daniel stepped onto the bridge he was immediately impressed by how far
technology had progressed. The bridge was a functional space dotted by command centers for
navigation, security, weapons and shields, communications, engineering commanding the most
sophisticated equipment and farther down from the platform, two stations down in front for
course and headings and sweeps.
Daniel took in his surroundings with in awed sigh. Swanson, blas about the state of the
ship stepped forward and addressed the Commander at the Admirals chair.
Commander, I have Special Agent Rooke for a secured channel link to the docks.
847 | P a g e

Thank you, Swanson. said the Commander, and he wheeled around in the Admirals
chair to face Daniel. Agent Rooke, Im sure youre aware that this technology is advanced, so I
will ask you to avert your eyes to all but the communications station.
Yes, Commander. replied Daniel, who could not help but temporarily revert to his
military roots in growing rigid before the Commander.
Ill leave you to it then, concluded the Commander, and he swiveled away and
consulted his notebook with a bored expression as Swanson directed Daniel down the platform to
the communications station at the far end of the bridge.
Swanson then opened a window to the Shipyard and spoke briefly with the
communications officer there. Within a few moments, a friendly face appeared in the form of
Leonard Stonebreaker. His face was badly swollen and he dabbed a red rag at his mouth as he
smiled up at Daniel through chipped teeth.
I see you made it, said Leonard grinning. Its all a buzz over here. Talk of a new
small star forming and fading on the outskirts of Venus, disrupting communications and
disintegrating three satellites at high orbit.
How are you? said Daniel, taking in all of Leonards visible injuries. You look like
hell.
Hey, you should see the other guy. chuckled Leonard. But therell be time to fill you
in when you get back. Boatmans on his way up and the medias been trying to gain access to
the Shipyard for the past hour.
What about Boatman? demanded Daniel.
He wants a full debriefing on everything, said Leonard. Hes coming up with the
forensics team.
Okay, said Daniel. Ill see if I can catch a ride back.
What about the Chariot? asked Leonard, with a hint of surprise that made his face contort into
a wince at the involuntary muscles spasm that took his face.
I dont think shell be flying any time soon. replied Daniel, grimly.
Leonard seemed to sense how close Daniel had come to death and his eyes were wide
while his smile faded to a tight line. Then he nodded somberly.
Too bad. Shes a good little transport.

848 | P a g e

Daniel eyed Leonard skeptically. He was hiding something, he could feel it. And then it
hit him that the last time he saw the Task Force was to see a standoff between them and the
Black Ops teamScorched Earth, he amended in his mind.
Hows the rest of the team? demanded Daniel.
Take it easy. said Leonard. Everyones fine.
Everyones fine? blinked Daniel. And he eyed Leonard critically. Fine to him was
a word to be taken loosely.
Well, he amended, a little banged up, but everyones going to be fine. Chads in the
infirmary getting bandaged up for third degree burns, but the trauma doctors assured me he
wont even have a scar after surgery. Stephens got a broken femur but the doctors already got
him mending. He should be able to walk on it within the hour.
Anything else?
Brads got a broken nose and Tobias is resting up in ICU with a migraine. He stretched
himself too far today, what with that third bomb.
The third bomb? said Daniel, his eyes wide. What happened? Tell me everything!
Leonard turned away for a moment then nodded. Oh okay, said Leonard, then turned
back to Daniel. Im getting kicked off the bridge. Boatmans just docked with the station. You
better get here quick. Meet us in the infirmary.
Leonard!
Daniel stared at the screen in utter bemusement as the window read:
//END OF TRANSMISSION\\
The teams all in the infirmary, thought Daniel, and grimaced. He then looked over
his shoulder.
Commander, said Daniel.
Yes, Agent Rooke.
Is this ship on its way back to the Shipyard?
We should be there in five minutes.
Are you docking?
Well taxi in and dock as soon as we arrive.
And my transport?
The Commander looked at Daniel sympathetically.
849 | P a g e

Well unload it onto the docks and let the scuttle retrieval teams take it back to their
repair terminal.
Thank you. sighed Daniel.
Have a good day, Agent Rooke. said the Commander. Then turned and gestured to
Swanson, who stood up and stepped forward. Take Agent Rooke down to the hangar.
Swanson nodded and stepped up to Daniel and with her in the lead, the two of them
stepped on the lift and took it down to A deck.
Now that he had already been to the bridge, finding his way back to the hangar was no
problem. Still, the presence of Swanson as he walked in silence was like a gift. He breathed in
the scent of her shampoo and memorized it for later, if there ever was a later with her.
Down in the bay, Swanson half turned toward him and excused herself with a perfunctory
nod and walked away at a casual stride toward the lift. He watched her the entire way to the lift
and turned before she could find him staring after her. Though he was sure she knew. Women
always knew.
When Daniel turned to the bay it was to find Redwing crowding the maintenance teams,
pointing out systems to them and jumping in the way when they were approaching something
vital. One of the problems with the Chariot was it was anything but standard. A maintenance
team might think theyre looking at an engine interface and set off the weapons. Redwing
dogged them like a mother hen until the team finally gave up and let the EM lift move the
Chariot back onto the landing pad and sent it back up to the launch/landing platform.
Redwing looked over and saw Daniels drawn expression and was instantly wary.
Howd it go? asked Redwing warily.
Well be docking with the dockyard in under five minutes. assured Daniel.
Good to hear, breathed Redwing. But I was wondering what happened with the
others.
Oh, theyre waiting for us in the infirmary.
Us?
I want you getting credit.
Well thanks, but if its all the same to you, Id rather pass.
Yeah, so would I.
Can it wait?
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Cant. Boatmans at the Shipyard now.

Well, thatll be pleasant.
Daniel nodded with a chuckle and flexed his fingers on his right hand as he tested his
right arm with a wincing pain. He grimaced at the realization it probably was broken and sighed.

The Mjollnir slid into port at the Shipyard slowly edging into position as powerful EM lifts
directed and nudged her into position.
Daniel stood by the main airlock on C deck waiting for the positive connection.
Personnel hurried back and forth preparing for the days activity at port. Finally, the green light
overhead illuminated the dim hallway and the sound of the docking clamps and the hissing of
atmosphere alerted him that the doors were about to open.
The airlock slid open leading into the white hallway leading to the arrival/departure
section of the dockyard.
Daniel stepped quickly through the airlock and jogged down the hallway fifteen meters
until it opened up into a great pavilion with a tube running straight down the middle.
At the opening was an EM car humming silently. Inside, a soldier with a wild expression
on his face stepped out and called across the pavilion.
Agent Rooke? said the young soldier.
Daniel did not answer until he was within five feet of the man, and was struck by how
young he was.
Im Agent Rooke.
Im your ride, sir. The soldier took a sidestep to let Daniel have a view of the EM car
and he studied the beauty of the car. It was sleek and artistically pleasing to the eye. It looked
like a silver painted Ferrari with no wheels hovering two feet above the ground. On an impulse
of pure curiosity, Daniel put his hand under the car and felt the forces of gravity warring with
each other, pushing and pulling his hand this way and that, until at last it forced his hand out
from underneath the car. The driver smiled. Cool, huh?
Very.

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I cant wait for these to be released to the public. Climb in. Daniel threw his leg over
the side and slid into the comfortable seat, with his legs perfectly stretched out in front of him.
Daniel smiled. The soldier grinned back. Now Ill show you how she handles.
The next thing he knew, they were rocketing into the crystal-clear tube, racing past the
people in the pavilion until they came to the tunnel ahead, a sterile concrete and steel tube that
lasted one hundred yards before opening into a larger tunnel, easily the size of a football stadium
in height and width. Trucks and load lifters raced along through the massive tunnel carrying all
manner of cargo from one destination to another, racing off to Daniel did not know where.
Overhead, the ceiling curved as though a drill a mile wide had plunged through the space
station to hollow out this perfect road.

The EM car darted in and out of traffic at neck break

speeds, and veered from the massive tunnel into another tube marked E-WING. This tunnel was
decidedly smaller with enough room for two massive trucks in either direction.

Daniel was

reminded of Redwings piloting skills with the daring of this soldier, weaving in and out of
traffic, passing the slower trucks. Finally, just as he often did with Redwing, Daniel decided it
was better not to look and merely sit patiently waiting for either his death or his destination and
resign himself to fate.
The infirmary is just ahead. shouted the soldier over the wind and pointed with his free
hand toward an opening growing steadily larger in the distance. The EM car made the distance
up quickly and it shot out of the tunnel like a round from a cannon. With a wild pitch that put
the vehicle almost on its side, the soldier veered and let the EM field pillow their halt against a
wall. With a recoil like a spring, the EM car righted itself and crawled toward the entrance of the
infirmary in an open field surrounded by five miles of nanocrystal dome, revealing the stars
overhead and the rising earth. Here you are, sir. Safe and sound.
Daniel climbed out of the car and found his legs wobbly from the pitch and yaw of the
ride. He stood there for a moment staring at his legs, waiting for them to heed his commands
and finally he flexed his muscles and his legs appeared fine. The EM car raced off leaving
Daniel to watch its fast departure down to the tunnel and into darkness.
Damn, he thought, a flying car
Behind Daniel, the infirmary doors hissed open and a young, fit male nurse appeared.
Excuse me, Agent Rooke? said the nurse.
Im Agent Rooke. answered Daniel.
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I was told to bring you up to the trauma center. If youll follow me.
The nurse turned and walked into the infirmary.
Daniel followed.
The words trauma center gave him a disconcerting feeling, and as he walked he grew
apprehensive as he combed through the words Leonard had said to him only a half hour earlier.
He described the injuries as nothing serious and downplayed his own injuries. What was he
walking into?
The sound of his footsteps on the tiled floor sounded ominous in the quiet corridor.
Doctors and nurses combed through paperwork, looking exhausted, like the worst had passed.
The nurse led Daniel to an elevator and he stepped on nervously, the nurse said nothing
to dispel his fears. He merely pressed the I4 button and the elevator shook to life, swiftly
climbing the flights until the chime signaled their arrival to the fourth floor.
The nurse quickly led Daniel down the corridor to a security glass marked Trauma &
burns Center, slid his passkey over the security scanner and the door chirped and slid open.
Ive been told to leave you here, said the nurse, and he quickly turned and walked away
toward the elevator.
Thank you. said Daniel.
Daniel stepped into the Trauma Center and smelled the sterile environment. Up ahead, a
screen was drawn.
Daniel made his way to the screen, and finding the seam, was startled as Boatman
stepped through it.
Daniel, said Boatman. You seem to be in good shape, for the shape youre in.
Is that a joke? scoffed Daniel.
Hardly, said Boatman. Youve had quite the ordeal.
Daniel looked around the Trauma Center and saw no signs of any security personnel.
I take it the security personnel made it through okay?
No, theyre one floor below, some of them are in critical condition.

Only seven

fatalities. Considering they were going up against SETOP members, Id say thats very lucky.
Lucky breathed Daniel.
He was stunned by how casually the number was rattled off for him by Boatman though
he should not have been surprised. Boatman had seen slaughters on a mass scale nearly every
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week during the war. To him, seven must have sounded like a nice small number. Seven men
died Could that be quantified as lucky?
You know their names? Daniel asked somberly.
Ive already spoken with their families and the Shipyard is issuing bonuses to the
families on top of their hazard pay and paying the families for a full ten years of work. A small
fortune. Whoever owns this Ozymandias Holdings obviously has very deep pockets to throw
that kind of coin around. Boatman looked at Daniel for a long moment and decided he had
heard enough about the money issue to be satisfied that the families would receive reparations.
As you can see, your Task Force is all accounted for.
Daniel scanned the room and took in the environment.
Chad Beach lay on a clear plastic bed with UV light shining on his healing wounds that
looked like third degree burns and worse. He surmised Simpsons involvement in these horrid
welts and scars. The mere thought of healing from radiation with radiation sent a chill down
Daniels spine and yet he couldnt look away.
Visibly, the skin was knitting into scabs across his chest, face and arms.
Obviously, from the look of Chads face and chest and withered arms, which apparently
received the brunt of the assault, he did not retreat. A bit of pride swelled in his chest at the
thought that Chad proved to be an effective team member and brave combatant. He would have
to make time to speak to Chad more often.
At the next station, Stephen Giordano sat in a bed with a device attached to his hip and
thigh, a viewscreen showing the shattered hip and femur inside knitting together.
Daniel winced at the image on the viewscreen wondering how it would be possible for
Stephen to make it out with at the least a severe limp. Athletes called these injuries career
enders.
Joshua Sung lay on his back with an IV in place, his head rested against the pillow; he
looked like he had been hit by a truck the way his eyes and jaw were swollen.
McCormack lay on the next bed with a wet towel folded and laid over his eyes and
forehead, his soft breathing indicating he was asleep.
Joseph was the only one who appeared little worse for wear, resting on a fold out chair in
the corner, he looked up and grinned at Daniel but said nothing.

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Next to him, the drawn curtain separated him from Leonards low reassuring voice
speaking to what sounded like a child. The screen parted and Bradley Overman stepped through
with two cups of coffee. He handed one to Boatman.
Hey, said Bradley to Daniel.
Daniel hardly noticed the plastic taped to the ridge of his nose or the red cotton balls
stuffed up Bradleys nostrils. Nor did he detect the pinched nasal sound of his speech.
I heard about your trip, continued Bradley, somberly, adding quietly as though
anticipating taking a mournful tone: Is the Chariot really scuttled?
For now. replied Daniel. I wont know how bad it is until the Wizards take a crack at
it. They seem to thrive on challenges, so Im hopeful.
It actually jumped? breathed Bradley in awe.
Yeah, she did. replied Daniel.
All the way to Venus?
That, she did.
I wouldnt have thought it was possible. said Bradley. I didnt even know it still had
jump capacity.
Well, Redwing wanted to have all the parts to make him feel at home.
I can tell.
So now its your turn. said Daniel. What happened to my men? The last thing I saw
was you guys squaring off with Scorched Earth.
The JUNCOs saved us. said Chad from his prone position, his voice was clear and
strong, though he winced a little from the effort of speaking loud enough for his voice to carry.
He looked over at Daniel from the corner of his eye as Josh stirred from his own reclined
position, swinging his legs off the bed and listened in as Chad continued. They kept the
Scorched Earth team from forming a solid attack on us.
Thats all well and good, but what happened? demanded Daniel.
Well, began Josh looking over at Daniel and Bradley. We were taking up positions
around the observation deck when out came nearly the entire team right into us.
Who? demanded Daniel.
Hirano, Simpson, Wang, Tibbs, Goldstein and Metcalf. said Bradley.
Goldstein and Metcalf? pressed Daniel, who had no records on either name.
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They mustve been new recruits to make up for losing Townsend. said Bradley. We
knew them from the war. Goldstein has the ability to create poisonous compounds through his
pores and Metcalf can control air molecules creating anything from gale force winds to
vacuums.
Anyway, said Josh, after the initial shit talking, Chad finally had enough of it and
ordered the men to engage.
Daniel looked over to where Chad laid and was surprised to see him stir.
At first, said Chad from his prone position on the plastic bed as he propped himself up
on his elbows to look out over to where Daniel and Bradley huddled together. we were just
getting pummeled by Hiranos shockwaves, and Simpson was just heating up. Thats when Brad
showed up.
I saw that much. said Daniel.
Bradleys being there really helped us out. continued Chad. He took out Simpson first
and then starting to make for Hirano. Chad mused over the memory of Bradley fighting Hirano,
gaining traction and momentum against the onslaught of shockwaves, one after the other. It
looked like he was wading through water fighting those shockwaves of Hiranos. But he was
making his way to him and the rest of Scorched Earth didnt know what to do. Thats when
Kelson and Harris ran in and reinforced SEs line and turned the tide against us.
Stephen was fighting them, remembered Daniel, What happened?
Well, said Bradley. at first we thought that Kelson and Harris were just down for their
team and we were getting nervous with the way the team welcomed them and reformed on us.
But they kept looking over their shoulder and so we started following the direction they were
looking and then Stephen came running up with five security officers and just pounced on both
of them. He blew a chunk out of the floor right beneath the SE team, scattered them. From there
we just picked our targets.

They all flared up their energy signatures and started their

transformations, so we knew pretty quick what we were dealing with.

So Stephen pulled things back to us on top, right?
Well, thats debatable, said Chad, SE still was rallying, and Simpson was waking back
up and he was pissed at being knocked out. We still had a hard fight ahead of us.

Simpson

started routing the men and I couldnt shoot him because he was melting the bullets before they

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reached him and he slagged my guns. I had to engage him pointblank. As you can see, I got
burned a bit. Thats when Joseph turned up with a full force of security officers.
Daniel looked over at Joseph still sitting in the corner. He looked embarrassed at being
mentioned and looked away.
You should have seen him. said Josh, growing animated in his bed. The first thing he
did was tackle Simpson and took him for one of his rides.
The problem was, said Bradley soberly, afterwards he wasnt much good for anything,
and we were rallying around him trying to keep SE from taking potshots on him. But the good
news was Simpson was down for the count, and with him out of commission the rest of SE
started to buckle under the strength of a joining Task Force, dozens of armed security officers
and those JUNCOswe had them right where we wanted them, and they were backing up away
from us.
So they started surrendering? said Daniel, a little surprised at how easy it sounded and
instantly grew red-faced at the thought that he had given in to hope. Experience had taught him
better.
No, said Chad. thats when this armored truck pulled up and out jumped Simms and
Meyers into the fight. Im telling you, those two bruisers were not a welcome sight to see.
They ran in shooting and then dropped their guns and went straight at our lines. We had to back
up.
And then SE rallied around Simms and Meyers. surmised Daniel.
Yeah, said Chad, ruefully. And with Simms and Meyers charging us it was hard to
concentrate. Those JUNCOs really saved us. They were shooting in every direction when the
lines collided.
So how did you get out of it? demanded Daniel.
Well, said Chad, then the second armored vehicle came up and plowed right into SEs
line. We all scattered as the truck crashed into the nanocrystal wall.

And both sides were

waiting to see who was coming to join the fight. And then Leonard hopped out of the drivers
side and started firing on SE.
So you had the upper hand now.
Well, not really. said Bradley. Just after Leonard arrived, the EM bomb went off and
it wiped out the Shipyards shields. The blast was so great he damaged the nanocrystal dome.
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We were all blown off our feet. We found out later they had stashed the EM bomb at an
engineering hub for A-Wing.
Never mind the bomb, blurted Daniel. What about the collars?
At that point, the curtain next to Daniel parted again and Leonard put his hand on
Daniels shoulder, entering their commune.
When I got there it didnt look good. said Leonard, closing the curtain behind him as
though concealing something that Daniel would not like to see. Meyers is a powerhouse. You
remember him from Engineering. Hes one of the

AB-Specs.

His hide is like a rhinos and he

hits like a concrete slab. Bradley took him on. They squared off in the center of the fight and
slugged it out like the main event. Some of the SE were curious and stopped fighting just to
watch, like the winner would decide the outcome. And without the SE team engaging, the
security officers stopped firing and turned to watch too.
So what happened? demanded Daniel, yet again, getting more and more bogged down
with the blow-by-blow of the story, and more and more frustrated that they had not reached the
part he wanted to hear: the arrests.
I squared off with Simms, said Leonard. Hes just a scrapper with the annoying ability
of creating those psi balls, not much Special there. But that little shit had a force field on him
and I couldnt get any shots off. He got off a couple of clean shots on me. Gave me a scar from
my lip to my chin and tried to gut me.
So what happened to Simms? asked Daniel.
When that EM Bomb detonated, began Leonard, it didnt just affect the Shipyards
shields, I saw sparks popping all over Simms and I guessed his force field went out. So I
clocked him. From then on, he was mine. Meyers was still busy though fighting with Bradley.
So? demanded Daniel.
Well, the audience didnt last long. said Stephen from his seated position. Hirano
wanted the fight over and he sent a shockwave at Bradleys back. But Bradleys shields blocked
the shockwave. Then added, It also left him vulnerable to a frontal attack.
Daniel looked over at Bradley, who brushed the hair out of his face to reveal his swollen
nose with the cotton stuffed up each nostril.
Meyers broke my nose. said Bradley, nonplussed.
So Brad went down said Daniel. What happened to Meyers?
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I broke his jaw and knocked his punk ass out. said Leonard with a tone of vindication.
Daniel blinked and stared at Leonard incredulously.
Hey, they dont call me Stonebreaker for nothing.
Thats when things started up again. said Chad. The SE team reared up and charged,
and most of our security officers were injured or unconscious, and it was just us and them with a
handful of officers. And we all knew this was it. One of our teams were going to be wiped out.
We all braced for it.
Then everyone was silent, and they turned and looked at the sheet curtain separating them
from Boatman and the other who stirred behind the curtain.
And then? demanded Daniel.
Lightning struck. said Bradley.
What? scoffed Daniel incredulously.
Lightning. repeated Chad. Everyone turned around to see the source of the lightning,
because it travelled horizontally, and not downward.
Leonard then pulled open the curtain next to Daniel revealing Christine Turf nodding
obediently to Boatmans muttered reprimands.
Thats when we saw little Christine running up, said Leonard. with a metal rod in her
hands leading a team of twelve Marines and forty fresh armed security officers into the fight.
There was small arms fire everywhere, said Chad, and now that the SE team didnt
have those damned force fields to protect them, they started teleporting from the station.
They got away again?! railed Daniel in frustration. At long last they reached the
critical point he had sought. Had they made the arrests? And now in his minds eye he saw the
ten men blink away in flashes of light.
Slow your roll, Daniel. said Leonard. Hirano, Simpson, Kelson and Wang got away,
leaving Simms, Meyer, Metcalf, Tibbs, Harris and Goldstein on their own against us.
I thought Joseph had Simpson taken care of.
He did. said Leonard. But after Joseph put him out of commission, Stephen thought
that was it, and went to cuff him. Hirano sent a seismic event right inside Stephen. Shattered
his hip and femur.
You should have heard him scream. shivered Bradley at the thought.
Hirano then attended to Simpson and got him cognizant enough to teleport away.
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Anyway, said Leonard, we watched them teleporting and then realized that their
wristwatches were some new form of teleportation devices.
Just then, McCormack slowly rose to a sitting position.
So me and Leonard went about confiscating watches. said McCormack, as he removed
his wet towel from his eyes and forehead and reached for a plastic evidence bag on the bedside
table. I got a bag of them over here. I figured we could use their energy signature to locate
where they jumped to.
Daniel blinked in astonishment.
Thats not a bad idea. he said. So their tech can teleport from anywhere? Even a
shielded station?
The EM bomb planted at the engineering hub for A-Wing opened the doorway. It took
out the shields for the entire wing. We figure they had planned to teleport directly from the AWing gardens. They ran right into us by chance.
I can stand for being lucky like that. said Daniel.
All in all, said Leonard, we made six arrests.
Yeah, said Bradley, ruffling his hair until it looked casually flyaway. It was pretty
hairy.
And what happened to Josh?
Ah, Sung. said Leonard. He took out three energy projectors at once. Meyers didnt
like that at all. He jumped up and cold cocked Josh, sending him down pretty hard.
So what happened to you? said Daniel, turning toward McCormack.
McCormack waved Daniel off, as if he was speaking too loudly for him and took a deep
breath. He traded a look with Bradley, and he nodded and turned to Daniel.
McCormack wasnt able to disarm the bomb, said Bradley. Instead, he contained the
explosion by encasing the bomb in a psi ball. The strain of the explosion knocked him out, but he
saved the EM Reactor.
Well thats when we found out about the third bomb. said Chad. Since the SE team
couldnt teleport, they were stuck. They didnt want to die, so they told us about all the bombs,
figuring wed look for them and they might be able to make an escape on a transport.
So you left them? chided Daniel.
Chad looked right back at Daniel as though the thought were ridiculous.
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We had just received the report that you had left the station with Redwing and a bomb.
said Chad. There was no need to look for any bomb. Three bombs. One detonated taking out
the shields, the second was trapped in a psi ball, and the third was on its way to orbit around
Venus. So we put restraining bolts on the prisoners, loaded them onto the transports for the
security reinforcements to shuttle back to embarking/disembarking and Marines loaded them
onto an AB-5 and wrapped up.
And then Boatman turned up and ordered us all to the infirmary. said Bradley.
So, summed up Daniel. No ones seriously injured, for the most part, and weve made
six arrests?
Thats about the gist of it. said Leonard.
But the real dangerous ones got away. concluded Daniel.
Yes. said Bradley.
Theyll turn up. said Leonard, reassuringly.
Im not the waiting type. scoffed Daniel.
It was then that a tall slender man dressed in a tailored power business suit entered the
infirmary drawing every eye as they fell silent. His blond hair was long and pulled back into an
elegant ponytail and he reached into his breast pocket and pulled out the latest in transition
spectacles, letting it rest on the edge of his tall nose. Reflected in his blue eyes, green text
climbed and it was clear the glasses also held scrolling stock updates that flashed across the
lenses for the wearer to peruse. He approached like a coiled snake; his smile warm, yet his eyes
were calculating over the tops of his glasses.
At his heels, a young beautiful woman followed with a notebook and laser pen at the
ready to take notes. He never turned nor acknowledged her as he walked up toward the Task
Force and he stretched his arms wide in welcome.
So, said the elegant man, as he neared Daniel. This must be the Task Force that saved
my Shipyard from a terror attack.
He extended his well-manicured hand to Daniel.
Solomon breathed Bradley and McCormack in both shock and revulsion.
Daniel ignored it.
Daniel Rooke. said Daniel, shaking the hand firmly.

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Solomon. said the tall elegant man with calm blue eyes over his spectacles. Solomon
Marinell.
Youre the owner of Ozymandias Holdings?
Solomons eyes lit up as though he had been expecting less from Daniel and was
pleasantly surprised.
It is as you say. said Solomon. I see that Celestial Clearance has served you well.
Daniel looked around the Trauma Center and nodded approvingly.
You have some advanced tech at your disposal, said Daniel.
You think so? smiled Solomon.
The Elysium, Sky Bridge, this Shipyard summed Daniel. All with state of the art
technology.
I try to stay up on the latest technologies trends, yes. said Solomon, and looked Daniel
over and noticing the Spartan Armor, the JUNCO bandolier across his chest, the SHEOL pistol
and the

SYNKR-22

strapped to his back. You seem like the type of man who tries to be

prepared for every contingency. he said. I like to think of myself ascapable.

What are your capabilities? pressed Daniel, cagily.
Im not sure what you mean? said Solomon, seemingly innocently.
What kind of technologies do you have access to? demanded Daniel.
The very best that money can buy said Solomon, and then with a wave of his hand.
And then theres the technology bought by cheaper means if you have the right resources.
Do you have the ability to track teleportations? said Daniel, coming to the point.
Solomon eyed Daniel with a playful grin.
What an interesting question. he mused. Yes, I do believe I have that capability.
Id like access to your technology. said Daniel.
I can arrange, said Solomon, for you to have the technology at your disposal within a
matter of hours.
At what cost? demanded Daniel.
My dear man, replied Solomon. You just saved my holdings considerable money by
ensuring that my shipyard remained open and running. Having the necessary equipment sent to
you, wherever you wish it to be sent is a small price to pay as a gesture of gratitude.

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Whats the catch? demanded Daniel.

No catch, assured Solomon. A Task Force policing Specials needs every advantage
they can get, dont you think?
With that, Solomon Marinell snapped his fingers and his assistant stepped forward with
her notebook at the ready and began making transfers directly to Daniel for D.S.I. use.
Consider this a gift.
Thats very gracious of you. said Daniel, not entirely trusting Solomons motives.
Think nothing of it. replied Solomon. And finally added, I trust you will be providing
assistance to me again, sometime in the near future.
Marinell looked up at Boatman and smiled.
General. said Solomon, with a slight nod of his head toward Boatman and grinned.
Marinell turned to leave, then paused, and turned around, his eyes only on Daniels.
Oh, he said, as though the thought had just occurred to him. I have a property thats
not being used in Maryland. A little thing. You might be able to find a use for it.
With that, Solomon turned and left the Trauma Center.
The assistant ran her pen across her notebook and a one thousand acre property with a
postmodern five-story building erected on the grounds blinked across the page.

It was a

sprawling property with every amenity he could imagine, from the massive generators procuring
energy from an underground river to the landing pads and maintenance hangar, and the seven
levels below ground that were only visible through the schematics.
Mr. Marinell can arrange for the equipment to be set up here, said the assistant. If
youd like.
Daniel eyed the property and was instantly covetous of it. It was everything he could
have hoped for, for his Task Force and office. Already he imagined himself inside this building,
in an office with a view of the grounds.
Whats rent on a property like this? inquired Daniel.
No rent, replied the assistant. I have specific instructions that the property, the
technology and the water and power to the property are to be a gift.
Daniel studied the notebook and then glanced at Boatman.
It seems you made a friend of a devil, Mr. Rooke. said Boatman, grimly. May God
have mercy on your soul.
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You say this like its a bad thing, chided Daniel.

With Marinell, said Boatman, warningly. its never all that good.
Well I think its the perfect way to open up funding for other priorities. said Daniel.
That it is. replied Boatman, though his eyes were skeptical.
So shall I set it up, Mr. Rooke? asked the assistant.
Immediately. said Daniel. I want full use of the technology as soon as possible.
I have access to the teleportation tracking software now. said the assistant.
Daniel picked up the bag of wristwatches and produced one of the teleportation
devices.
How can you access it through this?
The assistant pointed her notepad at the device and flicked her finger on the pad. A red
light shone on the device and the device illuminated.
It should be reasonably simple. said the assistant. Tracing the energy signature and
using satellite telemetry to pinpoint where on Earth this technology last fired and we come up
with here.
The notebook blinked and showed an overhead look at a large yacht in the South Pacific
heading toward the China Sea.
We got them! declared Daniel triumphantly. Get me everything on that ship.
I can cross reference with the UN Maritime Ship Entries to find out which ships are
Currently travelling toward the China Sea. said the assistant.
Do it, commanded Daniel. Come with me.
Daniel. said Boatman, Need I remind you your team is being treated for injuries
fighting Scorched Earth, and that the Chariot is scuttled.
Then well take an AB into the fight. said Daniel defiantly.
The ships named the Veni, Vidi, Vinci. said the assistant. It has a complement of fifty
personnel and there is a transport on the bow of the ship.
We dont have time for this! said Daniel, heatedly and he turned and looked at his Task
Force defiantly. Im going!
Youre not going alone. said Chad, and he climbed out of his plastic bed and limped
over to Daniel, his skin still charred from the radiation exposure, but healing before his eyes.
Leonard approached and patted him on the shoulder.
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Round three.
McCormack rose and stretched as Stephen and Josh rose from their beds. Finally Joseph
stood up and cracked his neck.
Lets go get them. said Joseph with a wry grin.
Daniel set his earpiece to channel 2 and opened the communications line.
Redwing, said Daniel, get me an AB and get her fired up. Were going into battle.
Roger that. chirped the line, Ill talk to the deck officer.
Daniel looked up at the assistant.
Can you get me a transport back to the embarking/disembarking station?
Ive already summoned your transport. replied the assistant. It will be here in
approximately two minutes. Thats eight minutes to get to the embarking/disembarking station,
and eleven minutes to reach the South China Sea.
Thats cutting it close.
Ill call in naval support to the South China Sea to the coordinates of the Veni, Vidi,
Vinci.
Ill take Turf back to Hangar 102. said Boatman.
Christines eyes went wide with shock and contempt. Daniel ignored it.
Thank you. said Daniel.
Why cant I go? demanded Christine bordering on a whine. I just saved the Task
Force! Ive earned the right!
What youve done is step into a dangerous situation before your time. replied Daniel,
Christine instantly put her head down upon receiving the reprimand, though from her sullen
expression it was clear she had already heard it from Boatman and Leonard. First you study,
then you graduate, then you train for the Task Force, and only then do you come out on missions.
Is that clear?
But Agent Rooke, protested Christine.
Is that clear? demanded Daniel.
Yes, sir. muttered Christine.
Get going. said Daniel, pointing to Boatman. Lawrence, Ill report to you when we
have the remaining members of the Black Ops team in custody.

865 | P a g e

See that you do. Ill be waiting on your call. said Boatman. Then Ill brief you on
Marinelle.
Right. said Daniel. I want to know who Im climbing into bed with.
Your transport is here, Agent Rooke. said the assistant.
Gentlemen, said Daniel, looking at each member of the Task Force in turn. Lets go
clean house.
With that, the Task Force followed Daniel out of the Trauma Center down the corridor to
the elevator which slid open at their arrival, they boarded and turned for one last look on the
Trauma Center, where Boatman, Christine Turf and the assistant stood silently watching as the
doors hissed closed and the elevator plunged to the lobby and their awaiting transport.

C h a p t e r

V e n i ,

5 1:

V i d i

ohn Simpson sat with an ice pack on his head and leaned back in his leather chair
broodingly. Paul Hirano sat with his hands in his hair wondering how it had all gone so
wrong. Kelson fell down onto a leather chair and sighed rubbing his knee. Franklin Wang

866 | P a g e

fixed himself a drink at the fully stocked wet bar and loaded his glass with ice and scotch.
Lesley Ayers took note of this and frowned at the thought of adding ice to scotch and tisked a
little too loudly. Wang ignored him and poured water into his scotch and took a long sip.
Well, said Wang at last, that could have gone better.
Do you think theyll betray the bombs locations? asked Hirano.
I would. brooded Simpson. What good is money you cant spend?
Ah well, said Lesley optimistically. There will be other jobs.
Im not so sure. said Kelson thoughtfully. A reputation for failure can be a hard thing
to dodge. We might be at the end of our rope.
How did they know where we were going? demanded Hirano.
I dont know. said Simpson. What I do know is this: Our identities are blown. Our
credibility is shot. And its all because of that Task Force that norm-hume runs.
Agent Rooke. said Wang.
Im going to kill that man. said Simpson. You feel me?
I feel you. said Hirano.
Why dont we have a drink? offered Lesley, attempting to lift the mood.
What are you celebrating for? demanded Simpson.
Survival. answered Lesley. And a job half completed. I can always remind our
benefactors of that and get half the money.
I want it all. spat Simpson.
That would be bad business. answered Lesley.
I dont care. shouted Simpson. I want full payment.
Lesleys right. said Wang. Half pay for half a job.
Theyll be pulling their money out of accounts right now. spat Hirano, mournfully.
I dont think so. said Lesley. The last thing they want is us knocking on their door
again.
So what do you think theyll do? asked Kelson, a bit of hope building in him as he
stopped rubbing his left knee.
I think theyll leave a portion untouched and not use us again. said Lesley with a shrug.
Bad business. said Wang.

867 | P a g e

Just then, the viewscreen on the wall lit up and the Captain of the yacht appeared in an
open window showing blue sky and seas behind him.
Gentlemen, said the Captain. Weve just crossed into the South China Sea and we
have clear skies and smooth seas.

At current speeds we should be reaching Thailand by

nightfall.
Well, said Lesley, thats good news.
Wang raised his glass to toast.
To those who couldnt make the trip.
Fuck em. said Simpson, Hirano and Kelson.
Wang did not react to their lack of loyalty but seemed to take a moment to allow them to
down their drinks and pour themselves fresh glasses.
Shall we adjourn to the poolside? said Lesley, efforting to ease the tension.
With that, Simpson, Hirano, Kelson and Wang filed out of the recreation room to the pool
and quickly found plush leather chairs to fall into. They were comfortable as pillows, and the
remaining mercenaries melted into them with groans for their many ailments from the battle that
took place only an hour prior like aging professional athletes after a near crippling game.
Simpson sank into his seat and felt his lower back trauma subside in the leather cushions
with a long contented groan.
You know, said Simpson. I could really get used to this.
Lesley grinned.
Corporate funds, my friends. said Lesley. This ship belongs to all of you.
And you too. said Hirano.
Am I to take it I will receive more than the finders fee? posed Lesley delicately.
With the money going around and all the jobs you keep finding us? said Simpson, with
a begrudging nod. I think we can fit you in.
Cheers. Lesley poured himself a scotch neat at the fully stocked bar and joined the
others who had taken seats on plush cushioned lounge chairs at the poolside, took up a Havana
cigar from the cigar box on the deck and lit it as he looked around at his partners raising his glass
to toast. To future business ventures.
You think therell be any? asked Simpson, grimly.
Lesley smiled.
868 | P a g e

Theres a wide market outside the reach of Specials Investigations Task Force
jurisdictions. All we need to do is go to those markets.
Future business ventures, then. toasted Wang.
Sounds good to me. replied Hirano.
Yeah. murmured Simpson.
Kelson sipped his whiskey and rested the glass at the side of his head, letting out a low
sigh. They had made it. Not all of them, but the thought of splitting the money five ways
instead of eleven quickly elevated their moods.
The thought that they would have to undergo plastic surgery and DNA manipulation to
effectively disappear dawning on them with the knowledge that they would quickly be betrayed
by the members of their little band who failed to teleport away for lighter sentences in court
becoming clearer and clearer as their ship moved deeper into the China Sea. Fortunately, they
were headed to Bangkok where such operations were all the rave.
They sat in silence at the poolside feeling the humid air penetrate their clothes and soon
they were sweating.

The thought of a shower and some nice Egyptian cotton clothes and

perhaps a dip in the pool to combat the humidity soon overtook them and the remnants of
SETOP sat in their leather chairs toying with the notion of rising but remained rooted.
They were exhausted.
The

AB-4

darted from the Shipyard like a missile, angling its trajectory subtly at first, then

harder as the speed poured on as it came closer to the curve of the Earth. Descending over the
Atlantic, it angled into a descent into the gravitational forces of the Earth.
Shields up! said Redwing as he depressed an icon for shields on the heads up display.
Were going to enter hard and fast!
Are you going to drop the nose? inquired Daniel, more to have something to say to
distract him from the tremors pulsing through the hull of the

AB-4 as gravity grabbed the craft

and shook it. Redwing shook his head and smiled assuringly.
Im trying to save as many of the nano-cameras as I can. Were going in hot. This is
called the Meteor Maneuver.
Daniel pursed his lips.
Why is it called that? he demanded, fearing he already knew the answer.

869 | P a g e

Because were coming in so fast were going to be burning up in reentry and well look
like a shooting star to people on the ground. replied Redwing. Dont worry, it sounds worse
than it is. Its a simple procedure for when youre doing a drop run under battle conditions.
Have you done this before? asked Daniel, nervously.
Of course. said Redwing, a tone of annoyance in his voice.

He then shrugged.

Never in an AB
Daniel locked his harness around him and grit his teeth.
Should I get my helmet?
Nah. replied Redwing. Im sure the shuttle can take it. Besides, Im not going to die
in an NGC.
Whats that? scoffed Daniel.
No Glory Coffin. replied Redwing with a grin. Thats what pilots called these things
during the war, anyway.
Daniel looked over at Redwings profile and saw him grit his teeth as his fingers rode the
console on the helm. Whatever was happening, Redwing was having a difficult time.
Reluctantly, Daniel looked up at the viewscreen and saw Europe fall away and the
Atlantic rush past as the East Coast of North America took prominence.
Coming up on the continent. said Daniel in an effort to distract himself from the term
NGC and its implications on the battlefield.
Well be past that inside three minutes at this rate. said Redwing. And then another
seven until we hit the China Sea.
So were making good time? said Daniel, his voice trembling with the vibrations and
the wild ride.
If I was piloting my Reever, corrected Redwing, wed be making good time.
Then the hull started to moan.
Sounds like youre pushing her. said Daniel through chattering teeth.
Nah. assured Redwing. Its just the gravitational field pulling us down, and me
nudging her into a slower descent. Itll be like this for a while.
Daniel watched the viewscreen flicker as little bits of picture blinked out leaving black
holes that pulsed with static.

870 | P a g e

Are the nano-cameras actually melting?

They tend to do that on reentry. assured Redwing. Not to worry. They self-replicate.
Well have clear resolution picture soon enough.
Daniel looked back down the steps into the cabin where the Task Force was sitting in two
rows braced for anything. The overhead compartments rattled with their weapons and armor and
they gave a disconcerting rubbing sound as though they were about to break free of the walls and
crash down on their heads at any second.
Daniel thought about notifying Redwing but knew he would receive only reassurances
that everything was proceeding normally for this kind of maneuver. All he knew was Meteor
Maneuver sounded like a bad name for the process of reentry into Earths atmosphere as all he
could do was imagine burning up or crashing as the end result of the plan.
Within moments, there was a dull roar outside the hull followed by a loud crack.
What was that? demanded Daniel.
That was us breaking the sound barrier. answered Redwing. You usually wouldnt
hear that with the way ships are designed nowadays, but we are entering the atmosphere in a very
old fashioned way.
Hows that? demanded Daniel.
Falling. clarified Redwing with a shrug.
Daniels eyes went wide with shock.
Youre not riding the EM waves?
Oh, Im on that. assured Redwing, slightly annoyed that in addition to his piloting a
tricky maneuver he also had to hold Daniels hand. But I had to get us out of that furnace fast so
the ship can cool down in the upper atmosphere.
So were good now? demanded Daniel.
Relax, Daniel. soothed Redwing, an edge in his voice. Its like you dont trust me.
Ive just never seen you maneuver an AB before, is all. said Daniel.
Ive piloted

ABs before. said Redwing. All pilots who fought in the Sol Engagement

at the outset of the war were subjected to flying ABs after that fiasco. In fact, the Chariot has an

AB helm built into it.

I knew that. murmured Daniel.
871 | P a g e

A bit sacrilegious to a pilot. But hey, what can you do? Redwing looked up at the
viewscreen and studied the Pacific coast. As expected, there was flooding from the tsunamis
travelling for miles inland. Redwing grit his teeth at the thought of the possible tallies for loss of
life that would pour in through the news for days to come and looked over at Daniel. Were
over the Pacific now.
How much longer? demanded Daniel.
So impatient. snapped Redwing.
They have a transport on that yacht. said Daniel. They could launch at any time.
They arent going to launch. said Redwing.
What makes you think that? demanded Daniel, wanting some of Redwings
reassurance for himself.
They dont even know were coming. reminded Redwing.
Dont be so sure. muttered Daniel. Ive seen some pretty advanced tech from these
guys. Theyll spot us before we spot them.
Which is why Im using the curve of the earth to cover our approach. replied Redwing.
By the time they see us, well be on top of them.
I hope youre right. said Daniel.
Redwing then returned to the controls and began a swooping descent that left Daniels
stomach behind them.
Dropping to fifty thousand feet. said Redwing. Then he turned to look at Daniels
profile. Youll have your surprise attack. Itll be beautiful. And theyll have nowhere to run.
You made contact with the South Pacific Fleet?
Theyre not going to commit to the China Sea. replied Daniel. They dont have the
tech to compete with Chinas navy if they decide its an aggressive act. I had Boatman call the
President, and hes talking to China to get their navy to blockade the Veni, Vidi, Vinci.
Thats a funny name for a ship. said Redwing to himself.
It means I came, I saw, I conquered. answered Daniel almost automatically. Julius
Caesar was quoted saying it.
I know what it means, Daniel. scoffed Redwing with a scathing look at Daniels profile.
Despite being born on a Reservation, I have all my book-learning, thank you...

872 | P a g e

Redwing glanced over and noticed Daniel flush and burn red, offended at the implication
his pilot was making about him, and noted the agents jaw set and lips pursed, and realized he
may have rubbed Daniel too hard. Suspecting he had taken offense where none was directed at
him, or even a negative racial thought against him was present, as he had never had a moment
suspecting the worst in Daniels opinion of him before, he shrugged it off with an apologetic
wave of his hand and clarified his earlier point, saying: I just think its a funny name for a ship.
Daniel was still fuming over the assault, and was considering punching his pilot, counting the
yawning divide between his breathing and the number of heartbeats-per-minute with alarming
breadthnearing his fill of people suspecting the worst of him, for no other reason than he
looked different than them or he was not a Specialwhen an alert rang in the cockpit and he and
Redwing both looked up, as the pilot then brought the loaned

AB to a crawling five-hundred

knots and descended quickly to one-thousand feet.

South Pacific up ahead. He then looked over at Daniel who was rubbing his stomach as
though he were fighting being sick and said, Well reach China Sea in two minutes.
Lets hope President Tahmahkera motivated the Chinese Navy, said Daniel, anxiously.
or this could get complicated.
How so? inquired Redwing.
If we corner them, answered Daniel, theyll turn and fight.
So? demanded Redwing. Your team can handle them. He then added: China Sea
up ahead.
Redwing, slowed down to one hundred knots and lowering to just twenty feet above the
relatively smooth waters surface. A burst of water flew up in their wake like a sharks fin as the

AB sped along.
Thats a lot of sea to cover. said Daniel, looking at the sheer vastness of it.
Accessing satellite GPS to target our fugitives. said Redwing as his fingers accessed
windows on the heads up display. Ive got a lock. Now we just follow the coordinates to the
ship. Redwing then turned and smiled at Daniel. Dropping speed to fifty knots. Targets
approximately three minutes out.
Overhead, a window blinked open and Boatman sat staring down at them from the cabin
of the AB transport en-route to Hangar 102.
873 | P a g e

General, said Daniel, a growing concern wending its way through the thicket of
adrenaline that was mounting in him as he anticipated the close quarters combat on the bow of a
ship within a minutes time. Were a little over two minutes from contact with the vessel, and
were preparing for combat-
I just received word that the Chinese are mobilizing an armada to intercept the fugitives
in the South China Sea, said Boatman, plainly. You are to coordinate with them on taking the
ship. Im uploading the frequencies to speak directly with the nearest thing to an Admiral the
Chinese have. His name is Zhou Long Tou.
The frequencies downloaded directly onto the heads up display.
Got it! declared Daniel.
Daniel pulled up the frequency for the South China Sea armada and input the data into
the frequency field on the satellite radio.
A window blinked open and a slender, yet strong appearing young man sat at a thronelike chairobviously aboard a craft of some sort, though whether he was aboard one of the ships
in the Chinese navy or was aboard some other craft remained to be seen. The mans eyes bored
into Daniels with obvious contempt and yet a musing smile played on his face.
This is Agent Daniel Rooke with the Specials Investigations Task Force. said Daniel.
Mr. Tou, Ive been told you were expecting my call?
The man on the throne seemed to wince, but quickly reverted to a sneer or a smile.
Mr. Rooke. said Mr. Tou. We have an armada en route to the coordinates your
Agent Boatman made available to us. They will not be able to break through without our
escort.
I dont want them escorted. clarified Daniel. I want them halted in the China Sea and
not allowed further into your territory. These are United States fugitives who are very near to be
announced as United Nations fugitives, due to their role in the destruction of Sky Bridge and the
subsequent direct and indirect causes of a need for repair on four space stations. They will be
halted and turned back into international waters for the purpose of my Task Force making
arrests. Do I make myself clear?
You make yourself very clear. responded Mr Tou, coolly. But we will investigate
the matter ourselves and should we find that the occupants of this ship are dangerous and a threat

874 | P a g e

to Chinese security and the safety of the general public, we will take action then. You are not in
charge of Chinese Security. You are not to assume we will bend to your demands.
Maybe I chose the wrong words. backpedaled Daniel. Im not trying to disrespect you,
or China, for that matter. Im just impressing upon you the seriousness of the situation and the
severity of these mens crimes against humanity.
Crimes against humanity is a term Americans love to throw around at people who
handle their affairs differently from the policies set in place by their own constitution but they
fail to recognize crimes against humanity when it is their hand that acts. answered Mr. Tou,
coldly. Do not speak to me about crimes against humanity.
I was assured you would be helpful in my mission to make these arrests. said Daniel
bluntly.
You will receive the blockade and the halting of the ship. said the admiral,
calculatingly. We will decide what to do with the ship at that point. Stand by for further
instructions on this frequency.
The window closed.
We should have a visual in the next twenty seconds, said Redwing. Slowing down.
We should become static right on top of the ship.
Dont jump too hard on them. warned Daniel. I dont want to upset the Chinese any
more than necessary. If that little conversation is any indication of Chinese foreign diplomacy, I
think it wise to tread lightly.
Coming to static, said Redwing bracingly, in three, two, one!
And there before Daniels eyes was the most intimidating scene he had seen since the
war. Twenty state of the art Chinese Naval vessels swallowed the Veni, Vidi, Vinci in their midst
and raced forward toward their

AB-4

aggressively, the Heads Up Display flashed the words:

Target Lock.
Um, Daniel? blinked Redwing. Theyre painting on us!
And then a rough accented English clearly spoke over the Chinese military frequency.
American Flight! Turn around and exit our waters or be fired upon!
Drones launched and hovered above the decks of the warships dotting the sky and sea.
Surrounded on all sides, the Veni, Vidi, Vinci came to a full stop.

875 | P a g e

Daniel grit his teeth and raised his fingers to the window on the Heads Up Display,
zooming in on the men standing around the pool on the deck of the Veni, Vidi, Vinci.
There, John Simpson, Paul Hirano, Franklin Wang, Laurence Kelson and the long since
missing Lesley Ayers sat by the poolside with their drinks at hand watching as Chinese soldiers
boarded and charged the pool deck surrounding them. From the looks on their faces, the
remnants of SE were perplexed by the show of force and the halting of the AB-4. They stared at
the

AB hovering in place facing off with the most technologically advanced navy in the world

and it was clear they were in a state of bemusement at the turn of events.
Redwing reached over and nudged Daniel as a window opened up showing a fast
approaching flight craft.
Daniel, said Redwing, have a look ahead.
Daniel looked up and saw a sleek, modified

AB-5 race up to the armada, and once at its

heart, circled over the Veni, Vidi, Vinci and landed on a landing pad next to their own transport.
The airlock hatch opened and a Chinese representative stepped off, instantly visible on
close up shots as the Chinese admiral Tou Daniel had spoken to over the viewscreen
transmission, and was met by a contingent of the Chinese soldiers who led him to the poolside.
Somethings happening breathed Daniel. Can we get sound from all the way over
here?
Itll be faint and distorted, answered Redwing, but I have software that can scrub it
and feed it in.
Do it.
Redwings fingers raced across the console opening a window and there the dialogue
from the Veni, Vidi, Vinci appeared in text across the page while the faint words rustled in static
over the speakers.
You are the SE Services representatives, are you not? said Tou.
Were free agents, now. clarified Simpson.
That is good. said the man. Less complicated.
To whom do we have the pleasure of speaking to? ventured Lesley Ayers.
I am Colonel Zhou Longtou. said the representative with a hard stare as though his
name carried weight and deep meaning.
876 | P a g e

The soldiers cowed at the hearing of the name and Lesley detected a note of fear of the
man, marking him as a man of gravity.
It is an honor to make your acquaintance, honorable Mr. Zhou.
Daniel cringed and glanced at Redwing who shrugged back at him. How were they to
know his name was backwards?
Zhou then smiled to Lesley for being respectful enough to understand his family name
was to be honored above all, and nodded slightly.
I have been waiting for this moment for some time. It is a pleasure to meet you.
It is likewise for us. To what do we owe this pleasure? inquired Lesley.
I have a team. began Zhou, A small matter. I wish them to be trained. I need Chaoren
to train them into a fighting force of extraordinary magnitude.
Children? scoffed Kelson.
Chaoren. clarified Zhou with a smile. What you would call Specials.
So you need Sol War veteran Specials, summed up Hirano with a small measure of
hostility toward the confident Chinese man before them, to train your team of SpecialsWhy
us?
Let us say your aptitude for destruction is something we have not overlooked. replied
Zhou. And there would be comparable pay to your previous assignments.
How do you know what we were paid? gaped Wang.
The Peoples Republic of China have a high aptitude for espionage and infiltrating
complex-encrypted systems. answered Zhou, a little cockily. There is nowhere we cannot go to
gain the intelligence we seek. And without the, ah, how do you call itred tapeto hinder our
progress.
You do appear well informed. said Lesley, courtingly.
I hope I appear so. answered Zhou, and with a grand sweeping gesture acknowledged
the static

AB-4 in the distance. As you can see, you are in a precarious place right now.

To

your front you meet the might of the Zhongguo Navy. To your back you have Meiguo Law
Enforcement seeking your arrest.
Between the devil and the deep blue sea mused Lesley.
My thoughts exactly. concluded Zhou.
We cannot really refuse you. said Lesley.
877 | P a g e

My friends, said Zhou, his eyes growing hard and cold as ice, you are either my guests
or my enemies.
How can we say no? said Lesley with a courteous bow.
Do we have an agreement? insisted Zhou, his stare was piercing demanding words he
could understand.
We will train your Specials Team. clarified Lesley.
With that, Colonel Zhou stood stock straight and bellowed to the soldiers surrounding
him.
Wo-men zou ba!
The reaction was instantaneous. Soldiers filed out toward their transports in single-file
lines while Zhou led the remaining members of Scorched Earth down the middle toward the AB5 resting on the secondary landing pad. From the cockpit of the

AB-4 Daniel grit his teeth and

slammed his fist down hard.

Damn it! cursed Daniel.
We either attack or retreat. summed up Redwing as he scanned the arsenal of the AB-4
and found it not to his comfort level. But with these weapons systems the way they are an
EM cannon is not really meant for inner-atmospheric use. We risk bringing down lightning on
our craft, and if that AB-5 is shielded, it may affect us more than that other guy.
I want those men! snarled Daniel. Bring her in close to that AB and take the air away
from them! Daniel then pressed the intercom icon on the heads up display so his voice echoed
through the cabin of the

AB. Gentlemen!

We have an entire armada preparing hostilities with

us. Strap yourselves in and prepare yourselves for my command.

What will your command be? asked McCormack from the cabin, his voice echoing
over the speakers in the cockpit.
To open the bay doors and engage if it comes to a fight. answered Daniel.
Are you insane?! gaped Redwing.
A little, murmured Daniel. Just prepare for retreat if it comes to that.
The ABs view swept the length of the Veni, Vidi, Vinci as they approached the AB-5 on
the landing pad, and swung in low, rising just over the two craft on the landing pad.
878 | P a g e

Daniel opened the radio to the frequency of the Chinese Navy.

Naval fleet! This is Agent Daniel Henry Rooke of the Specials Investigation Task
Force. You are detaining and preparing to transport fugitives of the United States of America.
Cease and desist! This is your only warning! Daniel took his finger from the microphone icon
and sat back looking at Redwing. What do you think?
We only have the EM cannon. said Redwing, grimly. They all have EM cannons...full
missile complement, Vulcan automatic weapons and drones.
Colonel Zhou stood outside the

AB-5 gesturing to his manned aircraft floating static no

more than fifty yards from the bow and made hacking motion toward the AB-4.
Instantly the world turned upside down as the drones in the air began swarming close to
Daniels transport and fired warning shots across their bow. The small shuttle shook from the
concussive force made by the blasts pushing the air out of the way and the sound of the guns was
deafening as it echoed through the hull.
Damn, exclaimed Redwing, wide eyed. That was close!
That was a warning shot? stammered Daniel in disbelief.
It had felt like a strike in the cabin.
I think were only getting one, too. said Redwing. Were outmanned and outgunned.
Retreat is our only option. Even in my Reever I wouldnt like these odds!
Just then, a window opened on the viewscreen and Colonel Zhou appeared calm and
collected as he peered out at Daniel and Redwing.
Agent Rooke, you are very brave. said Zhou, with a slight British lilt to his Chinese
accent. As is your pilot. I honor your courage. However, this ship and its crew and passengers
are now under the protection of the Peoples Republic of China, and you are in violation of our
maritime laws, invading our waters and airspace and unjustly preventing a consulate ship from
launching. Turn back and retreat from our waters and airspace or be fired upon.
Daniel could not believe his ears. Minutes ago, he had the remnants of the Scorched
Earth team cornered and was merely waiting for them to fall into his hands. Now he was on the
verge of an international incident against the Chinese military.

879 | P a g e

He stared at the ship and magnified on the group of men who walked from the pool
toward the

AB-5.

They all raised their scotch snifters, toasting farewell, toward the

AB-4 and

with smirks on their faces, and waved goodbye to Daniel and the Task Force.
The drones approached the AB-4 and armed their weapons.
Were lit up like a Christmas tree! called out Redwing, bringing Daniel out of his dark
reverie. What do you want me to do?
Daniel felt his pulse throbbing along his temples, and grit his teeth, seething. If he had
been alone, he would have rammed the

AB-5 and fired the EM cannon, hoping lightning would

strike both his ship and Zhous. But he was not alone. And he had other peoples lives than just
his own to consider. He felt like he was falling.
Red faced with embarrassment, like being caught pants down in public, he watched the
SE team raise their glasses and cigars in mock salute as they boarded the transports on the
landing pad of the Veni, Vidi, Vince. It was a fleeting impulse, but he was ashamed it occurred
to him, all the same. With a cleansing sigh, he shook his head and leaned back in the co-pilots
chair, his voice hollowdefeated.
Retreat. said Daniel at last. Take us back to U.S. airspace.
Roger that, said Redwing with an air that he did not need telling twice. retreating from
the China Sea.
With that, the

AB-4 pulled up and away from the AB-5 and the other craft, angled east

by northeast and launched to supercruise speeds away from the Chinese fleet leaving a churn and
rush of air in its wake.
Its not over said Daniel, broodingly. Theyll be back.

880 | P a g e

C h a p t e r

T h e

5 2:

B e t r a y a l

HANGAR 102-JOINT BASE ANDREWS

881 | P a g e

he on loan

AB-5 landed on the landing pad without so much as a bump and glided

into position, touching down with a slow, even depression of the landing gear on the
clean pad. With a hiss the airlock opened and the steps descended to the asphalt as
the passengers slowly collected themselves inside.

Daniel undid his harness, scooped up his helmet and

SYNKR-22 and slumped toward

the rear of the cabin where the airlock was. The Task Force sat in silence watching him passing,
slow and morose.
Ive failed he thought to himself. They won, we lose.
He found the steps, plodded down them to the asphalt, and made his way into the Hangar.
Soon the Task Force followed, but only at a distance, sensing Daniel needed time to himself.
He made his way up the stairs and down the hallway passing Bradleys office, where
Christine looked up at him warily. Daniel did not even notice her and walked on to his office at
the end of the corridor, stripped off his holster and identification from his breastplate and
collapsed at his desk in full armor. There he sat miserably flicking through his emails to see
what he had missed in his long absence. His viewscreen showing the faces of the Black Ops
team had been updated, with the arrested mens pictures x-ed off with the word CAPTURED
printed boldly across their chests and faces.
A sigh escaped Daniel as he noted the four that remained at large, plus one Lesley Ayers,
were now in the care of the Peoples Republic of China. For what purposes, he could only
guesssomething about training a team of Chinese Specials at Special operations levelshe
only was assured that these five captured men were out of Zhous grasp.
Daniel. said the familiar blueblood voice from the doorway.
Daniel looked up to see Boatman standing there against the doorframe with somber eyes.
Hey. said Daniel, wiping his face with a handkerchief and sitting up straight in his
chair.
Brooding over your loss, I see? ventured Boatman.
Wouldnt you? scoffed Daniel.
No. answered Boatman, simply. I would brood over how to get them.
Thats the same thing. muttered Daniel.

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Well, said Boatman, as he made his way into the office space and sat down at the desk
facing Daniel, At least were on the same page, then.
You notified the President, I take it? asked Daniel, matter-of-factly.
President Tahmahkera knows you did everything you could. replied Boatman, his tone
sympathetic and touched on a growing respect as his eyes began to twinkle in that wily way.
Satellite footage showed that very reckless maneuver you made blocking the AB-5 from takeoff
and the ensuing warning shots and drones. You did everything you could. More than I could
have expected of you.
Thats hardly heartwarming. muttered Daniel.
But it should put things into perspective. offered Boatman. You were outmanned and
outgunned to a dizzying degree. Yet you went in. Things like this build your mythos. Feats like
the bomb run on the Chariot will be whispered among the superiors of your enemies with awe
and form your legend to trickle down to the ears of the men who wronged you and mark you as
one whose reach far extends their own. They wont be sniping at your heels after this.
They got away. spat Daniel grimly. With a lot of help from the Chinese Navy, but
they still got away on my watch. Right under my nose.
That is one way of looking at things. Surely not comforting.
How should I look at it? scoffed Daniel.
Look at it for what it is offered Boatman. A temporary setback. One you will
hardly feel.
Oh, scoffed Daniel. Im feeling it, alright.
For now. agreed Boatman. Get some rest, Daniel. Tomorrow will put things into
perspective far better than I ever could.
Hows that?
New case files to chase down. And lets not forget, your new headquarters.
Solomon remembered Daniel.
Yes, I told you I would tell you about him after this was over.
And?
I can tell by your eyes youre not ready for the length of our talk. said Boatman, and he
rose to leave. Go. An SUV will be waiting for you at the hangar entrance inside ten minutes.
Okay. sighed Daniel, feeling the weight of the world press down on him.
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Oh, and take off that bloody armor. said Boatman from the doorway. You look like
youre going into battle.
Yeah, chuckled Daniel looking down at his armor musingly. I guess I wont need this
anymore.
Your clothes are in the closet. said Boatman. I had them transferred from the Chariot
to the AB I took home.
Thanks. was all Daniel could muster.
Think nothing of it. And I will leave you with this I apologize.
For what? blinked Daniel in astonishment.
If I had paid the ESU what they were worth, we might have kept them from private
contractors and this unfortunate business in the first place. I promise you, I will not make this
mistake with the Task Force. They will all receive generous increases in wage and time off.
Ill tell the men.
You neednt bother. Im telling you last. said Boatman with a wry smile. Now, it is
time for you to get some much needed rest. Return to The Post. Thats an order.
Daniel watched Boatman disappear around the corner of the doorframe and his wingtipped shoes whisked on the carpet as he left, silently.
Daniel rose and reached over his shoulder, unfastening the first in a series of clasps he
would have to release in order to strip the breastplate alone from his chest.
When he finally reached the last clasp he peeled the armor from him. Sweat had caked to
his skin, and as the armor came off, his skin held firm to the contours of the armor causing the
odd sensation of the armor being a second layer of skin being separated from him.
With an audible sigh he slipped his arms out of the armor and undid his hip/crotch plate
which had been uncomfortably tight on him throughout the day. Releasing that section of armor
caused him to groan loudly, almost ecstatically as the deep cuts in the skin of his waistline tasted
fresh air. After that, he undid his grieves and thighs and slipped the armor off his legs until he
stood in his briefs and socks with black and blue marks all across his chest and back, with cuts
across his hips from the tight fit of the armor.
His body seemed to sigh with relief at being free from the tomb of the armor and he stood
motionless before his office closet staring at the door which blurred in and out of focus.

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He knew then that the SUV ride would be one he would enjoy in a state of
unconsciousness.
With a minor effort, he forced himself to move forward, to open the closet and remove
his suit from the hangers, slipping the pants on with a satisfying clasp of the hook.
He slipped his shirt on gingerly feeling each black and blue mark throb as he moved in
the complicated fashion of putting on a button down shirt while avoiding any agony. His joints
popped and cracked as he slid the shirt in place and began buttoning up the front.
The tie would have to wait until tomorrow. He stowed it in his pocket.
He had been in pain before, but never, since the Sol War, accompanied by this level of
exhaustion.
He stared at his face in the mirror and saw the bags under his bloodshot eyes and
grimaced. It was time to go back to The Post and get some sleep.
He slid on his coat, flicked off the lights and walked down the hallway irritated by a
slight limp in his right leg he had only just begun to notice.
The Spartan armor had kept him upright and nimble in the face of combat, but it merely
held the pieces together long enough for the battles outcome to be known. As with all armor, it
often hides the injuries instead of preventing them, and cuts off circulation to the affected areas
to keep the soldier from crying out in agony.
Daniel tested his weight on the right leg and winced at the shoot of pain that travelled up
his spine. It seemed he would have to be content with a limp for the time being. At least until he
could procure another shot of VX-32.
Funny, he thought, Ill have to look into the ingredients to that cocktail soon and find
out what all the fuss is about
As he clambered down the stairs, he heard commotion from the terminal past the War
Room. He took his time in getting there not altogether sure he wanted to find out what had the
entire Task Force so infuriated as they faced the massive viewscreen, the Evening News lead
anchor, Walker Jenkins, sat staring at them, stone faced, yet with the gestures of his chin and
lips, conveyed a very thin journalistic demeanor that barely held back his apparent pride in
bringing this segment to the public.
Hey, turn that up! shouted Leonard, his voice on edge.
Josh adjusted the volume and the echo of the voice of the newscaster reached him.
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For those of you just joining us, we have just heard from President Tahmahkera,
speaking on the White House lawn, on the state of the long wrapped investigation on the
Elysium Terror Attack, where he spoke of the involvement of Specials in the series of
terror attacks ranging globally, affecting several American cities, territories and military
installations on and off planet, up to, and including, the Sky Bridge Attack, and the
resulting earthquake and tsunami tragedies, which caused such a staggering loss of life
and property to dozens of nations and island territories across and at both sides of the
Pacific Ocean, from Japan and to Polynesia and Micronesia, and the American Samoan
and Guam territories and Hawaii, to the east coast of China and the entire western coasts
of both North and South America, that we have been covering over the past two days.
We have just received word that Deputy Director Justin Snowden is live at the Federal
Bureau of Investigation facility at Quantico is coming to the platform to brief the public,
and is now preparing to speak, said Jenkins. Lets go to him live

The scene melted away to the live feed of the grounds of the Quantico facility, where
Deputy Director Snowdena man of former military fitness, long marred by desk riding, while
maintaining the diet of someone younger, with a higher metabolism, still seemed handsome
enough for the weight of office he held to seem strong and likeable to a national audience
manned the podium before the assembled world media.
Daniel pursed his lips as his stomach turned over, preparing for the worst, noticing the
unmistakable Special Agent Reginald King, standing behind the Deputy Director, at the place of
honor, on his right hand side. Deputy Director Snowden looked deep into the camera directly in
front of him with a barely concealed pleasure in imparting his news to the world as he began to
speak:
Today is a proud day for America and the worldAs of 15:00 hours, today, the Federal
Bureau of Investigation, with the assistance of the world law enforcement community,
made arrests on three continents in connection with a worldwide conspiracy to bomb the
U.S.S. Elysium, who also funded acts of terrorism up to and including, the attack on Sky
Bridge, which left such wide destruction across so many of our neighbors in the world
community...Today the FBI, with the assistance of local law enforcement across the
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nation under the direction of Homeland Security, and working in tandem with
international agencies across the free world, made the following arrests of CEOs, here
and abroad, with ties to terrorism related to the U.S.S. Elysium bombing: Fredrick
Manning of the Manning Group, Calvin Chen of SHN Global, Olson Davis of Trans Tech
Enterprises, Eric Chung of New World Assets and Johan Bricklayer of Geo Shipbuilding.
The following: Paul Owens and James Dupree have been arrested for facilitating the
finance of attacks on US controlled territories in orbit. Dupree faces several other
charges in regard to supplying weapons and illegal bomb technologies which were used
in the attack We would like to offer our thanks to the United Nations for signing
warrants against individuals abroad for crimes against humanity and Scotland Yard for
making arrests of CEOs and high-powered executives abroad, such as Muriel Chambers
of Elite Services from the United Kingdom and Kris Kollar of The Herrmann
Conglomerate in Germany. Wed also like to recognize the Dubai Municipality for their
efforts in making the arrest of Kadar Junayd Marzuq, of Saudi Arabia who has been tied
to helping with funding for the terror attack and we would also like to acknowledge the
Japanese Public Security Bureau for the arrest of Matsutoshi Hiraki of the Sekaitekini
Toitsu Conglomerate. This collection of high ranking officials from corporations and
conglomerates the world over can be proven to have conspired and planned to hire a team
of Specials to infiltrate the space station and detonate a bomb on board killing hundreds
of personnel. Each death will be weighed against them in their individual cases, as has
been assured by the District Attorneys office of New York, who will be filing for the
extradition of many of these suspects to the New York jurisdiction, and we have similar
assurances from the Hague that these many thousands of souls, which have departed
before their time, will not fade into anonymity in a judicial settingNow for the
summary of arrests by the lead investigator on these myriad cases, which will be briefly
highlighted by Special Agent Reginald King. Snowden looked over his right shoulder
and beckoned to Agent King, almost comradically. Reggie?
Turn it off. said McCormack, grimly.
Why? demanded Chad, who was riveted by the long list of support for the
investigation. I want to hear about the Task Force!
Theyre not going to mention us. said Leonard, knowingly.
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What makes you so sure? challenged Josh, but Leonard ignored him, his eyes boring
into the viewscreen.
It was Joseph who responded dryly.
Theyre going to name everyone and their mother, said Joseph, but theyre not going
to say a word about the Task Force.
Josephs right. piped up Stephen, broodingly. Who cares about a team of Specials
when they got normal humans like the FBI?
Alright, thats enough. said McCormack. Daniels here.
Everyone turned around, noticed Daniel and instantly grew silent. They had been waiting
patiently for Daniel to rouse from his mood and speak to them, offering some kind of inspiring
words or condemnation.
His silence was worse than his condemnation.
Forget about whats on the newsfeed. said Daniel, looking them all in the eye in turn.
You all did a hell of a job today. And Ive got to say, Im proud to be your team commander.
Boatman just gave me the kick in the pants I needed to get out of myself. Im sorry for letting
you all down today. I cant help but think we could have cleaned house on the Black Ops
teamScorched Earth team if I had stayed in command and kept the orders coming. You
acted admirably without my help. For that, Im grateful.
Dont beat yourself up, Daniel. said McCormack. You got the Star Bomb. You got it
off the station. You did that. We would probably all be dead if you hadnt entered the fray.
Thats kind of you to say. muttered Daniel. I appreciate that.
You did great. said Bradley.
There aint no normal human I would rather have lead us. said Stephen, pounding his
fist on Daniels shoulder comradically.
And the rest of the Task Force nodded their agreement with wide grins. Daniel felt a rush
of gratitude for the men, more than he was capable of expressing, so he said nothing. He merely
nodded his thanks.
Boatman ordered us back to The Post to get some shut eye. said Daniel. I expect you
all to get some.
Sounds like a plan. said Stephen with a wry grin.
Gentlemen, said Daniel. Dont let me keep you.
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And with that, Daniel limped past the men and proceeded the rest of the length of Hangar
102 for what he expected to be the last time.
Tomorrow, he would see the new Maryland facility and see if it lived up to his
expectations.
When Daniel breached the cold night air of the alley outside the hangar, he took a deep
breath and held it in his lungs, reminding himself of the pounding heart in his chest that he had
survived, yet again, despite the odds against him and attained more than he had dreamed in the
span of a day.
He then climbed into the front passengers seat of the waiting SUV and turned to the
driver.
The Post. said Daniel.
Yes, sir. said the driver.
The drive was not altogether long. They crossed the tarmac into Andrews Naval Air
Facility proper and then ventured into the community housing lit up as the children played in the
dusk. Daniel watched the children rush out of the SUVs way and waved to them as he passed
them by.
Beyond the main gates security checked them out and they drove on into the night
passing the forested section of road down toward the highway that would take them into the
District of Columbia. Soon the SUV began rocking on the grooves in the road, swaying gently
like a lullaby, and Daniel nodded off to sleep.

Before he knew it he was back at The Post. It was quiet outside, and there was very little foot
traffic down the block.
Daniel stepped out of the SUV and walked into the lobby as his head craned the steps
knowing he would be unable to manage the climb in his condition.
He made for the elevator instead.

Stepping on, he unconsciously pulled out a

handkerchief and placed it over his nose and mouth as he hit the 3 button. It was then that he
noticed the elevator smelled like lemons.
He examined the floor of the elevator and noticed fresh carpet under his feet and smiled.
Boatman, muttered Daniel with a chuckle. Youre spoiling me
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When the lift reached the third floor the doors parted and the fresh carpet continued up to
The Posts new steel doors which he slid open to a slight stitch in his side.
Inside, the wood floors were varnished, the furniture was new and looked inviting in his
weary state but Daniel had other ideas in mind. He wanted to collapse on his comfortable stiff
bed and sleep for a day.
When he came to his room he pushed the door open and quickly realized as he flicked on
the lights that it had not escaped the renovation.
A new bed sat on top of thick new carpet, and Daniel wasted no time in taking his shoes
off and feeling the fibers of the carpet underneath his toes. It sent a sensation of calm through
him, and he knew then, that the fibers would not feel like fiberglass on his exposed skin.
Daniel stripped off his coat, leaving it folded against his desk chair and unbuttoned his
shirt, pulling it open and let it fall off of him onto the floor.
With a flick of his index fingers, the clasp of his dress pants were undone and fell away
until he was standing in his briefs and socks. Not wanting to go through the effort of taking his
socks off, he pulled back the comforter and slid into bed, so anxious for sleep, he did not mind
that the light was still on.
He drifted back into the unconsciousness he experienced in the SUV only minutes ago,
but this was different. This was a luxurious sleep, on the best bed he had slept on for quite some
time.

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C h a p t e r

T h e

N e w

5 3:
D a y

891 | P a g e

hen Daniel awoke it was to the sound of the neighborhood pulsing through his
window and the sun on his face. It drew him to consciousness immediately, the
shafts of light pouring into the room as the dust motes floated down through them

giving rays the illusion of movement.

Slowly he stirred, feeling the bruises on his body that had swollen during the night, the
cut into his hips circling his waistline where the armor had proven too tight and left him with a
raised rash. And yet it felt good that the wounds breathed, no longer trapped beneath the Spartan
armor. What troubled him were the aching joints that annoyed him, especially the old injury to
his right shoulder, which felt as though it threatened to dislocate yet again.
He rose slowly to a sitting position and threw his legs off the bed, dangling them to the
floor with a heavy sigh that caught in a stitch in his chest. He felt not unlike that second day at
The Post when he had been recovering from being tested the day before.
He looked at his feet and smirked that the only things that did not ache were dangling
beneath him. Just then, the door opened and Leonard leaned against the doorframe with an
amused smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.
Ah, I see youre awake. he mused from the doorway.
What time is it? asked Daniel.
Nearly ten. replied Leonard. Dont beat yourself up about it. We all needed the rest.
Not like well be seeing much of that from now on. mused Daniel, more to himself than
to Leonard.
No, answered Leonard. I dont expect we will.
Daniel looked at Leonard and felt a sudden pang of anxiety as though there might be
some important reason for his idling in his doorway.
Any calls waiting for me?
Nope. replied Leonard. Just checking on you. Brad and Tobias told me you were
awake.
You know, scoffed Daniel, for people who claim Im shielded from them, they know
quite a bit about me.
Psychics. replied Leonard. What are you going to do?
Not much, I guess. murmured Daniel.
Attaboy! chuckled Leonard.
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So what brings you into my room then?

The teams getting anxious. They want to see Solomons gift.
Solomons gift thought Daniel as he remembered the last words Mr. Marinell had
said to him about providing assistance for him sometime in the near future. Thats one way
of putting it.
So, we heading off to Maryland to see it or what? egged Leonard. Then added with a
chuckle, Mind you, we can always stay at Hangar 102
No, answered Daniel emphatically. I think we need more space than that. Give me a
few minutes to get dressed and Ill be along shortly.
Leonard mused over Daniels bruised body and pursed his lips.
Take your time. he said, and he rolled away from the doorframe, disappearing into the
shadows of the hall.
Daniel heaved himself off the soft mattress and rose to his feet, feeling the annoying
surge of pain racking through him as soon as his feet found purchase on the soft carpeting. He
then walked up to his closet, pulled out a pair of slacks and began pulling them on gingerly in an
effort to avoid the shooting pains. Soon he was pulling his arms through his pressed dress shirt
and buttoning it up ever so carefully. Lastly he fixed his tie which aggravated his shoulder as he
made the revolutions to form the noose he would lock in place smartly against his Adams apple.
With that in place, he viewed himself neat and tucked in, and then fit his side arm in place at his
right hip and scooped up his identification and his coat and left the room.
He stepped out into the hallway and was instantly bombarded by the sound of activity.
Within a few steps, he had cleared the corner of the hallway into the flat proper and was met with
a touch of nostalgia.
The Task Force congregated around the flat very much like they had when he first arrived
at The Post. Leonard sat on a soft leather love seat, taking up the entirety of it and smiled up at
Daniel, while Bradley sat with McCormack very much the way they always had, in silent
communion. Christine sat a few feet away from Bradley reading a book. Josh and Chad were on
the computer terminal working on a better hacking program for the teams uses. Stephen and
Joseph sat in front of the wall-mounted viewscreen watching the news. Joseph sat comfortably
in his jeans, boots and Navajo pattern coat and gamblers hat, very much as he had when Daniel
first saw him, his hair pulled back in a ponytail.
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Daniel! went the cry around the room as they noticed him smirking down at them.
Gentlemen, said Daniel. I take it you all had a good nights rest?
Slept like stones. answered Bradley with a wry smile. You?
Like a beat up stone. chuckled Daniel.
Fortunately, complemented Bradley with a teasing expression. the suit hides the battle
scars.
Yeah, scoffed Daniel. I think thats why they invented the tie.
So what are your orders today, sir? asked Bradley.
I was thinking wed go out and see this new property Mr. Marinell gave us.
Gave being a loose interpretation. said McCormack.
Well cross that road when we come to it. replied Daniel knowing full well there must
be a price to pay for such a gift. Then added, For right now, I want to see my property.
We have a fleet of SUVs downstairs as we speak. responded McCormack, silently
informing him they were prepared to leave at any time.
How long have they been there? inquired Daniel.
About an hour. said McCormack, a wry grin stretching across his face. We better
hurry up and fetch them. Theyre getting nervous with all our neighbors eyeing them.
Daniel turned to the room at large and let his voice carry gregariously.
Who wants to go to Maryland? said Daniel.
There was a sudden Uproar of cheering voices but it was Christine who stood up and
gestured nervously.
Mr. Rooke? said Christine, tentatively.
Yes, Miss Turf? said Daniel.
I was wondering, said Christine, twisting her arms like coils around each other in a
fidgety manner. could I come too?
Daniel understood at once. Christine had been expecting some form of grounding for
her actions on the Shipyard and had been waiting for the boot to drop all last night, and
throughout the morning. Her eyes told it all. She wanted to see the facility. She wanted to be
included in the fanfare.
Daniel smiled at her and scratched his chin.

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As I understand it, said Daniel, the reason we have six men in custody is because of
you. I see no reason to not bring you along for the outing.
The last thing Christine expected was praise, and her eyes grew wide as saucers at the
words of Daniel leaving her, for the moment, speechless. At last, she squawked out Thank
you.
Well, if thats all, said Daniel, a playful smile taking his face, why dont we rescue
those drivers from our neighbors?
There was general laughter at the thought of the nervous drivers downstairs in front of the
lobby and everyone rose to join Daniel in exiting The Post and walking down the stairs to the
lobby.
The waiting drivers were as suspected, looking nervously at every hard stare that passed
by. Daniel and the others laughed at their discomfort and smiled at the neighbors, greeting them
with many good mornings as they made their way across the small expanse from the lobby
double doors to the waiting SUVs.
Once inside, Daniel turned to the driver and smiled.
You know where were going?
Its already loaded onto my itinerary.
Then lets get moving.
Yes sir.

The drive through Maryland was quiet and scenic. Just three miles away from their old home at
Joint Base Andrews Naval Air Facility, was Prince Georges Countya small community
blossomed there in quaint houses quite surprised by the sudden influx of Federal vehicles driving
down their thoroughfareheads turned to take in the sight of the five SUVs followed by ten
black vans driving closely together in a caravan through the streets of the quiet town toward the
sprawling expanse of what was once Rosaryville State Park.
Years ago it had been bought by Jedidiah Assets with the promise of keeping it as a wild
preserve. What they saw instead was a series of excavation equipment and trucks hauling dirt
away for near two years before the contractors came in and started building something deep
within the preserve. The town had long turned a negative view toward Jedidiah Assets,
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whatever that was, and equally, its partner, Chevalier Delamer Corporation. If they had only
known that these were subsidiary holdings for Ozymandias Holdings, they would have had a
new name to be baffled by and find it just as legally outside their reach as they had found the
slippery partner corporations to be.
Daniel saw the faces look up tentatively, some outright glaring at the caravan, following
their progress with their eyes informing those in the SUVs they would not be good neighbors.
Before the land was bought out by Ozymandias Holdings, it was a place visited
frequently by the locals who profited off the tourists who came into town for the hiking, biking
and equestrian activities the Park held. A mansion rested on the state park that was viewed as
the premier event facility catered by a local company. That business had dried up when the
park was sold. As did most of the tourist shops in the town.
Since the sale of the state park, the town had turned inward and suspicious of outsiders.
So seeing the fleet of SUVs flashing red and blue lights caught their attention as the caravan
made its way up the road toward the new south entrance to what once was the park.
Next to the security station in bronze letters bore the words Hortus Conclusus.
Daniel watched as the security station came to life.
Identification, please. chimed the guard inside the booth. He looked pleased to finally
have a person to ask this of.
Daniel Henry Rooke. said Daniel, and passed over his identification card to the guard.
Yes sir. said the guard, suddenly erect in his seat. Weve been expecting you, sir.
The gates parted and the caravan surged forward onto the property.
Rosaryville Property was a 982-acre expanse of trees and indigenous wildlife and the
forest creaked in the wind as they made their way deeper into the property. For several minutes,
they saw nothing but trees as they held to the asphalt road that tracked through the wilderness,
and Daniel was transported back in time to a world without technology as he fancied himself an
explorer of some wild frontier until at last the tree line broke and the sprawling tall grass
dominated the heart of the forest. On the crest of the slope sat the postmodernist facility Daniel
had seen schematics of back on the Shipyard.
The road wound through the waving slopes that hid the asphalt from view and they wove
their way to the crest where a figure stood patiently outside the lobby doors.

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As they pulled up the figure came into definition and was revealed to be not Solomon
Marinell as Daniel would have liked, but his assistantthe curvy blonde woman who assisted
them in tracking down the yacht named the Veni, Vidi, Vinci. She was seductively beautiful,
resembling the features of Venus, herself, under the delicate warmth of Michelangelos chisel
and hammer, offering a universal unattainable beauty to all men who looked upon her.

Her

clothes were timeless and businesslike, giving her a demurring business appeal that hid her
strengths, the better to use them.
Daniel was impressed by her.
She looks so young thought Daniel as he stepped from the SUV.
Hello again. said Daniel, extending his hand to her.
She took it delicately, hugging the notebook to her breasts coyly and yet her smile was
warm and welcoming in a businesslike manner. The unintentional sex appeal was apparent to all
the Task Force with the exception of Bradley and Christine who merely waited in silence, though
Christine brooded as she watched Daniel with her.
Alma Von Braun, said the assistant, shaking Daniels hand. We did not get the chance
to speak properly before.
Yeah, chuckled Daniel, red in the face, we were kinda busy. My apologies.
Oh no. sang the assistant. I was not offended. Then gestured to the rolling grass
surrounded by the fortification of trees. I trust you like the grounds?
I do, answered Daniel at once, very much.
You will find the Mount Airy Mansion is to the north of this facility just past those
trees. said Alma, gesturing to the north. A service road runs from the back of the property out
to it. You will find it to your liking as a home if you so desire.
Id like to take a look at it, if you dont mind.
We can. answered Alma. It would be my pleasure to introduce you to the mansion. It
is a beautiful estate. But would you not like to examine the facility first?
By all means. answered Daniel, it was difficult to keep the tone of excitement out of his
voice.
With that, Alma smiled and took a step to the side, inviting Daniel into the lobby with the
notebook still clutched to her breasts, almost as though unconsciously guarding them.

897 | P a g e

Daniel noticed, and smiled as he walked past her. She quickly turned and followed him
inside with the air of a schoolgirl carrying her books to her chest.
Soon Daniel was lost to Almas alluring charms, seduced by the space before him.

utilitarian design for the interior met by marble floors. The ceiling was vaulted and the puzzling
name and numbers: Isaiah 53:3 were etched in the ceiling above.
Daniel stared at the odd inscription in a state of bemusement. He turned to Alma who too
was looking up at the inscription, though she smiled at it as if knowing a secret.
She turned her head ever so slightly toward Daniel inviting him in, though her eyes
remained above, smiling on the inscription:
We are despised and rejected of men, quoted Alma, And as such we have grown
acquainted with grief. Once we hid from the eyes of men, despised, and in turn we grew cold
toward men. Now we gather and stand unblinking and study as they hide their eyes in shame
and fear. And we see their fragility and hold them of no account...
Alma smiled at Daniel.
Mr. Marinells little joke.
Daniel looked at Alma in wonder. He had read the Bible many times as a child and as a
young man, but never committed anything to memory. He suspected Alma of having a keen
memory for everything she had ever read.
Eventually the words sunk into Daniels consciousness and he realized how off putting
they would be to normal humans who would come to see it.
Mr. Marinell sees great things for this Task Force. said Alma, breaking his chain of
thought on such a dark topic.
Ill try not to let him down. Daniel could not help himself from saying it in Almas
presence. It was as if she infected him with a need to please her.
Oh, said Alma with a knowing smile, You wont. And with a gesture toward the
open space she invited him further. Shall we?
Daniel let himself be pulled by Almas gravity onward into the depths of the facility.
Alma pointing this way and that, pointing out the locations of the secretarial pool, the
Information Technology Department, the Tracking/Telemetry Room, the elevator where she
finally slid her ID card across the flat pad and smiled as the doors opened.

898 | P a g e

You will find, said Alma, that we can change these panels to DNA scan within 24
hours if it is to your liking.
It is. answered Daniel.
Alma Von Braun tapped her notebook pad with her pen and the screen blinked.
The tech crews will be here within the hour to start the swap out.
Thank you.
The Task Force stood watching the idle flirtation between Daniel and Alma nonplussed,
and Daniel, sensing their irritation, scattered them with a wave of his hand indicating they should
explore to their hearts content and leave him to his pointless flirting.
Chad and Josh, oblivious to Daniels mood stepped onto the elevator, and he reluctantly
made room for them, casting them dark looks as the elevator plummeted into the underground of
the facility. Daniel saw it all, with Chad and Josh following behind pointing out the wonders in
the depths of the facility. There was a Database Cracker system that Chad and Josh fell in love
with and squealed with delight as they separated from Daniel and Alma, to Daniels relief.
Alma seemed to smile at the awkward silence as much as the conversation and Daniel
was maddened by the idle tranquility of this girl.
The next three levels, said Alma, are dedicated to detention and interrogation for the
Abnormal Specials or those of exceptional strengths in their areas of proficiency.
Daniel chuckled to himself and shook his head at the phrase exceptional strengths in
their areas of proficiency.
Ive never heard it described quite that way before. admitted Daniel.
I work for a Special. said Alma, frankly. But not just any Special. A Special whom I
suspect to be an Alpha class.
Boatman suggested as much. replied Daniel, then looked at Almas profile. What else
can you show me?
Everything? she sang.
For the next three hours, Daniel was led by Alma Von Braun through the complex in its
entirety. He saw the underground river and the turbines that turned in the speedy waters as they
rushed past to God knows where. He saw the Global Tracking Systema miniature scale of the
Earth with red dots indicating where Specials were known to livethe lights blinked when there
were public signs of use of ability. And yes, he saw the cells below and the interrogation rooms.
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Finally, after exploring the underground facility in its entirety, Alma led him to the
elevator and took him straight to the fifth floor and led him out down the long corridor, past what
Daniel knew he would want to use as his War Room, to a secretarial station where she paused.
Daniel turned around.
Through these doors, said Alma. You will find your office. I chose the floor plan and
interior design myself. I hope you find it to your liking.
Alma smiled at Daniel and beckoned him forward to explore the office space. He walked
around the corner to see a pane of swirling bluish green glass blocking his path and stared at it
nonplussed. It was obviously beautiful even to an old soldier and cop like him, but he felt
foolish, feeling he had made a wrong turn and missed the office completely. He looked up to see
Alma tapping her notebook and an instant later, the beautiful glass slid away revealing a
spacious, comfortable room beyond.
The room was more like a luxurious apartment than an office, decorated with leather
chairs set in a recess in the floor around a coffee table with a vase of orchids in the center, giving
the area an almost Zen-like warmth. In the corner of the room was a glass table set on two oval
platforms.

At closer look the platforms were hollowed functional desk cabinets with shelves

and secret compartments that Daniel accidentally stumbled across. He instantly knew there were
more secrets to the desk and was anxious to find them.
He sat at the desk and instantly the desktop lit up and the windows that overlooked the
lawns lit up with newsfeeds and Specials bulletins. The desk itself lit up to reveal a touch
sensitive keyboard and viewscreen composed of lightit was a trick of the eyelasers entered
the eyes of whoever manned the desk and seemingly projected outward to reveal a series of
windows that he could access, drag and manipulate by touch, just as easily as he could on a hard
desktop. A thin panel rose from the desk to allow him to manipulate the environment more
comfortably in his chair.
Daniel was impressed and rocked back in the office chair as he looked past the newsfeeds
out the window onto the sprawling grass of the property and the trees beyond that separated him
from the outside world.
It is to your liking I take it? inquired Alma, alerting him he was no longer alone.
She stood smiling from the doorway as if waiting to be invited in and her eyes were
alight with need for comments on the dcor.
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Even more than I had expected. answered Daniel. And knowing Mr. Marinell, I
confess my expectations were high.
I am pleased to hear you say so.
Daniel felt he should complement the room in some fashion, since she designed it, but he
felt stupid mentioning dcor and decided to remain silent.
Alma did not seem offended, she smiled and looked out the window at the rolling wild
grassed lawns and the trees in the distance.

It was a world hollowed out of the forest just for

Danielor more to the point, someone like Danielhe had no illusions that this space would
have been used by someone Mr. Marinell felt he could use. He just wondered how he was to be
used. For the life of him, he could not figure out a way to talk to Alma where he could get the
information he sought without appearing rude at the least, and hostile at the extreme. And he
preferred an Alma who was smiling, so again, he said nothing.
Instead, Daniel scrolled onto the computer and accessed his Scorched Earth file for
updates on them. As expected, the six captured men were now stationed at North Brother Island
and awaiting their upcoming criminal court cases, which were expected to be quick, and the
sentences long. This was to be expected considering they were being tried in New York, which
had taken the hardest line in the nation against terrorists for nearly a century.
Daniel closed the file and sat back in the chair comfortably. He would probe no further
with his level of clearance until the entire system had been cleared by his techies who were even
as he and Alma spoke, down at the mainframe and the cooling tower scouring the place for
surveillance devices and cutting off connections to the outside until they could clear that the
mainframe was clean.
Alma was no fool. She was fully aware of the intrusions into the main computer terminal
and the rows of mainframes in the cooling tower, as her notebook kept beeping in alarm. She
merely tapped the pad with her pen and the notebook went silent until the next intrusion into a
sensitive area or file would set off the alert all over again. Still she smiled almost as if this was
fully expected and she assured with her eyes that she took no offense.
Would you like me to show your Task Force their personal spaces? inquired Alma.
Daniel grimaced. He had completely forgotten about the Task Force, preferring to hoard
his time with Alma as much as possible.

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Ill call them up. said Daniel with a touch of embarrassment he could not keep out of
his voice.
That wont be necessary. said Alma. And with a tap on her notebook, unseen speakers
popped to life. Task Force the fifth floor please.
Daniel had to admit, Alma was an exceptional woman.
Within a minute, he could hear the men and Christine out in the corridor and he rose to
fetch them but Alma smiled and he halted in midrise.
Please turn right and walk down the corridor until it comes to an end. Daniel and I will
be waiting for you on the left.
The footsteps could be heard on the soft carpet treading toward them, ever more distinct
until finally they shuffled into view. Leonard was typically in the lead, with McCormack just
behind. The rest of the team followed and Bradley and Christine took up the rear.
Each person who entered the office had the same expression of utter awe of the space and
design, even noting what Daniel had not.
Youve got a wet bar? scoffed Leonard.
Daniel looked over to his right.
Indeed he did have a wet bar, fully stocked with expensive liquor and equally expensive
glasses shaped for their heightened aromatic qualities for certain liquors.
I guess I do, said Daniel, surprised at the revelation.
If you will all follow me, I will lead you to your offices. said Alma. Mr. Rooke, please
feel free to enjoy the bar while I am gone. I will return soon.
Daniel said nothing.
He merely sat back and glanced over at the bar. He had never been much of a drinker
as many of the Sol War veterans had turned intosomething that had saved him from
unemployment lines as far as he was concerned.

He eyed the luxuriously colored and shaped

bottles as almost a reminder of what he abstained from to achieve what he now had.
He had no regrets, and little interest in the wet bar.
Instead, he followed the sound of the awed voices as each man was assigned to their own
office, which was in its own way luxurious and comfortable, though nowhere near as grand as
Daniels. Soon he found them being led down the hallway, Leonard already comfortably in his

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office, which had a weight machine in the corner, McCormack standing in his Zen-like office,
taking it in, in slow circles, as he studied his environment skeptically.
Chad and Josh had just stepped off the elevator to join them and were quickly allotted
offices for themselves, their offices filled with advanced software hooked up to their desktops,
and they whooped and shouted out to each other calling out what their own personal computers
capabilities were in rapid-fire procession.
Daniels ears hurt just listening to them and he quickly retreated from their respective
offices further down the hallway to see Stephen and Joseph assigned their own personal offices,
and lastly Bradley and Christine were deposited into adjoining suites, which struck Daniel as
something of a touch outside Mr. Marinelles sphere of intelligence.
How could he possibly have known of the bond between these two? he thought in a
state of utter bemusement.
He turned to see Alma watching him closely. When he opened his mouth to remark on
the pairing, she merely held up her hand and smiled.
There is little Mr. Marinell is not privy to, Mr. Rooke.
So I see. said Daniel, beside himself. And the words of Boatman came back to haunt
him It seems you made a friend of the devilMay God have mercy on your soul
Alma stood there smiling at him almost beatifically, and Daniel was slowly growing
unnerved by the Zen-like mask she wore. Before he could do more than adjust to conceal his
disquiet, his cellular phone rang and he turned away to answer it.
Rooke.
Agent Rooke, said a mans voice in military cadence. I have been ordered to call you
on this number and inform you the package is to be delivered within three minutes via landing
pad. Confirm?
Confirmed.
Daniel knew of only one package to be delivered and he turned away to look down the
hall toward Christines office.
With a rap of his knuckles on the door he saw that the office was more of a library filled
with books from law enforcement and hostage negotiation to Special tactics in crisis situations.
Daniel ran his finger down the shelf skimming the texts Christine would be reading to prepare

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herself for her eventual role on the Task Force when he was interrupted by the timid voice of
Christine.
Is everything alright, Mr. Rooke?
Daniel turned to see Christine studying him with a wary stare.
Everythings fine. assured Daniel.
Am I still in trouble? asked Christine.
Youre not in trouble. assured Daniel. In fact, I have a little gift for you. If youll
follow me?
Just then Bradley appeared through the adjoining doorway and frowned at Daniel and
Christine.
Whats going on? demanded Bradley.
Christine held out her hands in what could only be an attempt at a pleading shrug and
Bradley was instantly on guard for her.
Whats going on, Daniel? he pressed.
Daniel pursed his lips. For some reason, Bradley suspected the worst from him, and
though he was unconsciously surprised that the telepath could not so much as interpret his intent,
he was far more insulted at being viewed so untrustworthy by him.
Gather the men. said Daniel a little roughly at having his attempt at a gift being
received so coarsely. Theyll want to see this.
Daniel turned away and walked past Alma who stood perfectly, eerily still, like the Venus
statue she so resembled, while Christine trotted after him, Bradley in pursuit, rapping on
doorways as they walked toward the elevator until the entire team was assembled and boarding
the spacious elevator.
Daniel did not look at Christine, but pressed the lobby button and waited for the elevator
to plunge to the lobby.
I promised you once that I would make sure you had what you wanted most. said
Daniel. I aim to keep that promise.
Christine did not know what to say. She stood there nervously fidgeting as the elevator
doors flew open and she stepped off timidly, more cowed by the Task Force behind her than out
of actual interest in reaching her destination, but a hope was growing in her mind as they set at a
brisk pace out the doors, past the caravan of vans and SUVs and around the back of the property.
904 | P a g e

It was a long walk, taking in the perimeter of the building, but the air was fresh and clean
and that made the trip seem a morning activity in the countryside and not a walk toward an
uncertain outcome. The view of the building to the left dominated their vision until it finally
broke away to reveal a landing pad and a hangar nestled in the hillside some fifty yards away.
Daniel looked back and pursed his lips in realizing there was a doorway there for direct
access from the building to the landing pad. In retrospect, he should have invited Alma along.
An instant later, Alma opened the door and stepped out into the back property, smiling at them.
Daniel ignored her and walked on toward the edge of the landing pad and stopped. The
Task Force stood in a line on either side of him, with Christine standing directly to his right and
Bradley hovering over behind her watching expectantly. It was then that Daniel consciously
realized Bradley could not fully read him, because he was just as on edge as Christine.
He sighed with relief at finally having found some privacy from the psychic and turned
back to the view before him.
Over the tree line, low and fast moving, a sleek

AB-5 angled overhead above the landing

pad and touched down skillfully.

Christine was instantly on edge.
Are you getting rid of me? she blurted with tears in her eyes.
No. said Daniel simply.
Then what are we doing here? she demanded.
Look. said Daniel, and pointed toward the opening hatch.
Christine watched the steps extend down to the asphalt and saw the familiar John
Redwing step off the AB. He gave a quick wave and then turned away, offering his hand to the
passenger who hobbled in the darkened cabin out toward the light and the steps.
She peered up at the sun from underneath the visor of her S.I.T.F baseball cap as though
it were a welcome sight, looked about at the countryside with wide-eyed wonder, and then took
Redwings hand gratefully, as she stepped precariously on the steps leading down to the flat
landing pad.

Redwing then took her hand and placed it on his shoulder, slouching slightly to

keep his shoulder firmly under her hand, and she used his body to remain upright. Shadowed by
Redwing, Christine watched their progress toward them, growing more distinct with every step.

905 | P a g e

Christine stood there nonplussed staring at the aged figure wearing the S.I.T.F baseball
cap and then her jaw fell open in shock.
Christine Turf, said Daniel, May I present Miss Geraldine Hutchins.
Christines eyes welled with tears, as the years of age fell off and she was a child again.
Her scream was long and choked raw with a release of dread and delight all at once:
Grandma! she cried as she raced up to the hobbling Miss Hutchins and flung her arms
around her, burying her face in her shoulder and shuddering there like a small child in a
thunderstorm, the waves of emotion tremoring out of her as the old woman stroked her beautiful
woolen hair.
My baby, Ms. Hutchins crooned, and wept into Christines hair.
The men stood there watching as Redwing untangled himself from the mass of arms until
it was only Christine holding her grandmother upright. Bradleys eyes welled up as wellhis
telepathy taking in the emotions felt by both Christine and Ms. Hutchinsand feeling it himself
firsthand he turned to Daniel with a look of gratitude and smiled approvingly.
Joseph smiled and nodded.
Now thats what we should take away from all this
Leonard nodded and looked on, apparently even a man as hard as Stonebreaker could not
avoid being affected by the reunion.
Chad and Josh stood close to each other, Josh offering his aid to Chad who seemed
unable to deal with the show of affection and muttered words barely audible to him. But Daniel
could have sworn Josh had said, Dont worry. Well get her back.
Whatever that meant, Daniel did not know, but for an instant he had a flash of memory of
a hideous monster roaring and writhing on a filthy floor in a dark cell. He only hoped they were
not talking about the monster called Gorgon.
Even Stephen was moved by the display and he nodded appreciatively to Daniel.
McCormack watched in silence, wiping tears away as he attempted to dull the psychic
connection to Christine and her grandmother, preferring to let them experience their emotions
without the prying of psychics.
After a long ten minutes of holding each other and consoling each other, they broke apart,
and Christine moved her grandmothers hand in hers, entwining the their fingers around each
others and then she led her to the men who had become her de facto family.
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When she reached them she said in a childs voice, Grandma, this is Mr. Rooke.
Geraldine, said Daniel warmly. We spoke over the phone.
Thank you for this. said Miss Hutchins wetly, her voice tremulous with as much
emotion as age. Then chuckled. I thought Id lost her for good.
Youre welcome here any time. replied Daniel, warmly.
And this is Leonard, Chad, Josh, Stephen, and Joseph and Tobias said Christine, and
Miss Hutchins dim eyes bounced on every face, sensing where each man stood and smiled at
each of them as though they were the most precious gems. And lastly Christine turned to face
Bradley.
And this is Brad.
At the mention of Bradley, an air of authority overtook Miss Hutchins, and she stood
straight staring Bradley in the eye, as though the cataracts that haunted those orbs did nothing to
remove him from her seemingly acute vision.
Youve been looking after my granddaughter. said Ms. Hutchins. It was not a question.
That has been my honor and pleasure. said Bradley courteously.
Youre right, chuckled Miss Hutchins to Christine. he does have a sweet tongue.
Bradley blushed at the complement and ran his fingers through his hair giving it that
flyaway look he usually got after a fight and smiled at the old woman, taking her hand in his.
Its a pleasure to meet you.
Come on, Grandma, said Christine brightly, let me show you around.
And Christine pulled her grandmother along toward the direction of the facility, anxious
to show her every secret, every mystery she had discovered.
The Task Force watched them progress toward the facility, and Alma smiled as she
stepped aside and allowed the two to enter the building without a word. Apparently she had seen
and heard enough to be moved by what she had witnessed, and she seemed to put forth an effort
to retain her mask of beatific serenity.
This comforted Daniel, as it was maddening to think of someone as perfect. These little
betrayals of emotion made Alma more human to him, and he was thankful as the allure and spell
of Alma Von Braun was broken.

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Daniel sat in his office hosting the rest of the Task Force who congregated around the coffee
table recessed into the floor, lounging on the white leather chairs. Even Redwing sat among
them, talking jovially over the days transformation from merely a moving day to a virtually
sanctified event, reuniting Christine with her grandmother, and he was proud of his role in
making it happen.
Daniel was at peace as he glanced at the wanted list on his window and though he glared
at the five men who, for the moment, had escaped justice, he had been party to the arrest of seven
by his team, and nearly twenty men and women worldwide, though he would never receive
credit for it.
Out the window, beyond the images of the sneering men who escaped him walked
Christine with her grandmother, arm-in-arm across the lawn near the edge of the woods in the
tall grass. Geraldine Hutchins looked fit and alert and it seemed she merely allowed people to
help her as to not hurt their feelings rather than an actual need for their support. This he
surmised because he knew from experience wading through tall grass on sloping plains could be
a tasking experience for young infantrymen. Ms. Hutchins looked like she could have walked
like this with Christine all day, talking animatedly as they went.
Bradley leaned up against the glass and pressed his arm against it for support as he
watched their progress into the distance.
Youve done good, Daniel. said Bradley, a mixture of surprise and contentment in his
approval that left him rather patronized.
Thanks. replied Daniel, though he did not need the praise from Bradley to make this
day complete.
Not that you did it for recognition of any kind said Bradley, obviously reading his
mind again.
No, chuckled Daniel. I didnt.
Just the same. said Bradley. Its good to see her happy.
Daniel looked down from the window onto the animated young girl and smirked at her
simple jubilations, a sigh choking his response.
Yes, it is.
Then the window blinked and the transitioning glass dimmed to make it easier to read the
bulletin blinking in its own window on the screen.
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Daniel pursed his lips as he squinted to read the bulletin on the dimming glass. It was a
warrant for arrest. Behind them, McCormack stirred, reading Daniel and Bradleys reactions to
the bulletin.
What have we got? demanded McCormack.
Apparently theres a Special in Alaska wanted for attempted murder. said Daniel a little
bleakly at having to ruin this perfect moment with something as trivial as an arrest when
everyone soared at Christines newfound happiness.
But such moments in this line of work were all too fleeting and Daniel sighed as he
steeled himself for what was to come.
Whats the word, boss? said Leonard, rising from his soft leather seat.
Daniel took one last glance through the window at the child and her grandmother and let
out a sigh that these moments were all too fleeting to drink in.
Suit up. said Daniel at last. Were mobilizing.
Redwings notebook blinked and he looked down at the screen, opening the window with
a flick of his finger.
Ive got coordinates. chimed Redwing.
What about Christine? asked Bradley, obviously torn between this latest mission and
his role as a surrogate brother to the girl smiling gaily in the tall grass.
Weve got nearly fifty people, here, working, assured Daniel. And she has her
grandmother. Theyll be fine. But just to be sure, Ill have another

AB on the landing pad in

case Miss Hutchins isnt as hardy as she looks right now, in the tall grass.
Thank you. sighed Bradley with relief.
Im sure it will all be for nothing, said Daniel, and well find them in the cafeteria
when we get back. Until then, lets move like weve got a purpose!
Yes, sir! said Bradley.
With that, the Task Force rose, adjusted their suits and marched out of the office toward
the elevator. As they walked, Daniel came in stride with Redwing.
I take it that AB is stocked with our gear? inquired Daniel.
Boatmans orders, sir. replied Redwing with a wink.
Good. said Daniel. God knows what were walking into.

909 | P a g e

Minutes later, they were all locked into place aboard the

AB-5, and Redwing was at the helm

lifting off.
Daniel watched through the viewscreen as the facility grew smaller and the grass pulled
away from them, being swallowed by the forest as they rose into the air.
The AB angled toward the northwest and hurtled at incredible speeds as Daniel grinned.
He had his Task Force with him. They had followed him through hell and back. And
they had emerged united.
Though he knew where the flaws were, he knew how to steer them away from the
problems that might arise to divide them.
He knew too how to keep them together: By standing with them as they stood with him.
By not betraying them or their trusts.
Most of all he knew where their hearts were: It was with him. As long as he stayed true
to himself and to them, they would never falter.

The problem was following the laws

What if the laws changed?
What if the pressure of arresting their own kind became too much to bear by new laws
on the books?

McCormack had warned him of that time: Warned him of the result of a change in policy
toward the negative.
But that was something to worry about later. Right now they had a mission. A common
goal. And an arrest to make. Right now, they were united.

And the rest could wait.

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ENDNOTES
i

The Year of our Ascension or YA was the new human history term for the dawn of the electromagnetic/anti-gravity
technology age that had begun in the late 2050s and had only recently been made available for public consumption.
It was formulated for scholastic use in the 2040s to help define the ages of the human civilization from nomadic to
agrarian and the bronze, iron and industrial ages that followedridding the scholastic community of the annoying
habit of counting backwards for BC and then correctly, for ADlining the human age back to the first communal
signs around 25,000 years ago, and acknowledging the 40,000 years of human existence, before that. Now, human
civilization stretched back over 20,000 years, broken into forward counting ages from the first cave paintings to
modern times. Ideally, for the scholastic community would have put year 1 for the new age at 2078, because that
was the first Wave Event that shook the earth, bringing about the need for world leaders to come together with all
minds across the globe to develop theoretical technologies to counteract the threat to the Earth. However, the
world community despised the reduction of the years of human evolution, in their estimation, to 1. And so the
timeline remained according to the Anno Domini timeline. [In order, SH-Surge Hominis, AS-Agrarias Societate,
SU-Surge et Urbes, SA-Saeculum Aeris, FA-Ferrum Aetas, IA-Industrialis Aetate and finally YA]. FA, IA and YA
are now clumsily merged into one classification of Year of our Ascension. The world was reduced to year 1 five
times, in this new numeric system, now differentiated by the letter classifications.
ii

Wave Events: Electromagnetic pulses pushing solar flares which carried riding agents comprised of cosmic
radiation and waste particles from The Quill spacecraft exhaust, which bombarded the host stars planets and
lesser-designated bodies. The Wave effects caused minor polar shifts usually no more than two kilometers,
which exasperated climate change, causing higher sea levels on a truncated timetable, deteriorating the Earths
already greatly depleted ozone layer and exposing all life to the radiation. The death toll was nearly as catastrophic
as the Yucatan Asteroid Collision that wiped out the dinosaurs. With the exposure to radiation among the survivors
of the earthquakes, volcanic eruptions and tsunamis as well as the globally increasing storm intensities prone to the
widespread cancer as well as the genetic mutation among small pockets of the surviving populations.
iii

Quill: A term coined by former-President Theodore Ted Andrew Jackson Lynchem to negate his stumbling over
a ten syllable name comprised of all consonants, broken by clicks and whistles in place of vowels, which had been
assumed to be the species designation of a highly technologically advanced alien race that threatened the survival of

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the Earth populations in their destabilization of the sun for the purposes of fuel and employing the gravity well
around the central star for creating wormholes for faster than light travel. It would be years before it was learned
that the butchered title was not a name of the alien species, or even their governments imperial title, but the label of
an alien corporation using the sun to avoid the taxed jump routes for the purpose of preserving their bottom line. As
of 2085, there had been an opening for delegations with government officials of that empire, and several
corporations seeking to secure sole rights to trade with the Earth.
iv

UNIAF: The United Nations Interstellar Armed Forces was the combined military arm of the world community
invented solely for extraterrestrial and extra-solar campaigns and peacekeeping operations. Created August 3 rd, in
The Year of Our Ascension 2072, the UNIAF began mustering technology and innovative sciences to develop
weaponry and space faring capability to greater meet the alien threat, with the agenda of either deterring them
through threat of force or opening diplomacy with the aliens, directly. The Sol War was their first test in both
implementation of a united planet and solvency of disparate language and cultures into a united culture of Earth
patriots.
v

S/WP: [Sentry/Weapons Platform] A grid of satellites with the capability of self-replicating for the purpose of
increasing the field of reach for observing potential threats to the Earth and solar system, which then communicated
with a mirror satellite approximately one AU further out, which then communicated with other satellites that were
stationed in the much wider grid beyond that, and so on and so forth to its farthest point of the home network which
encompassed the far edge of the Oort Cloud. The satellite system had since been expanded to a standard system for
all satellites in design and capability, giving each satellite the mission to locate all potential Earth threats in space,
communicate that threat to the Earth and be supplied with the weaponry to meet that threat through a growing
operating system of protocols to prevent downing UNIAF hardware or otherwise validated human spacecraft.
Together, the satellites formed a series of dodecahedrons of such immense scope as to revolve far enough to see the
nearest dwarf star approximately two light years out.

vi

UNSSDN: [United Nations Solar System Defense Network] controlling body for the Sentry/Weapons Platform,
creating a fluid and symbiotic relationship between the human and technological operations called the
Watchtower.
vii

TRA: [Threat Rating Agent] Satellites that were the original Sentry/Weapons Platforms before the self-replicating
S/WPs were employed.
viii

UNSSDN: [United Nations Solar System Defense Network] controlling body for the Sentry/Weapons Platform,
creating a fluid and symbiotic relationship between the human and technological operations called the
Watchtower.
ix

PAAG [Port Authority Anti-Gravity Services]: provided a stable culture within Manhattan and cities across the
east coast of the United States by raising the bedrock above the rising tides caused by climate change, allowing a
safeguard should the tide blocks and levees suffer breach in the increasingly intense hurricane fronts in the Atlantic
Theater.
x

LSOT: [Light Spread Object Tracking] Pinpoint System (pronounced El-Sot): was, in effect, the superior threat
locating/tracking method, outstripping RADAR with its speed, accuracy and reliability while providing precise
dimension and scale of rogue bodies or unidentified craft.
xi

xii

FIFO: Friendly Identified Flying Object

Zumwalt-class and Littoral-class vessels: 21st Century United States Navy Destroyer and Combat Ship

classes had a sword-like stealth design and yet stability in hurricane and deep ocean scenario operations. The design
allowed for a cross-section providing as little chance as possible of direct hit from direct forward or aft strikes.

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xiii

FIO: Fleetwide Interstellar Operations

Alpha/Beta Model transports were standard insertion/extraction spacecraft transporting personnel and cargo from
ship to planetary bodies in nearly all manner of environments. The ships were fast and efficient, though, for the sake
of loading requirements, almost all weaponry was stripped off the craft. Pilots assigned to pilot the craft referred to
them as NGCs: No Glory Coffins, due to the high casualty rate of the vessels and the lack of capability in striking
xiv

AB

back effectively. Infantry personnel mockingly referenced the

s for the majority of pilots dismissive nature
toward the ground forces in the cargo hold with the saying: From A to B, and C-ya later. As a result of the
seemingly mutual dismissal between

AB pilots and infantrymen, there was an undertow of resentment for the pilots

AB

and they openly referred to any

pilot they encountered as a Bus Driver in Space. The longest duration craft
was the Model-4, with the Model-5 only seeing action the final four months of the war, and mainly employed for
transporting high ranking staff to seize control of armada flagships or ferrying from one vessel to another for the
more clandestine conferences with other Battle Group Admirals.
xv

REMA: [Requisitioned Extra-environmental Mobile Armor] The standard harsh-environ exoskeleton [HEX] for
the American branch of the UNIAF infantry divisions for the Multi-Environmental Ground Combat Operations
Theatre. The armor was appetizingly described to the world population, and more specifically, the recruits as: an
impervious, standard earth environ contained suit increasing strength and durability in deployment. However, in
practice, it incrementally leaked its environment into the void at every joint movement, and when the helmets visor
was in the down/locked position, it was claustrophobic for the wearer to a dangerously maddening degree.
xvi

Adjutant: Interviewers/Advisors and adjunct Investigators in fielding reports or claims for the S/RP
[Specialization & Rank of Personnel] Branch of the FSO [Fleetwide Staff Office]. They were commonly referred
to as the No-ses, due to the number of times they uttered the word No, and their proficiency of siding with senior
staff on any matter of inconvenience.

Roman starfighters were the dominant extra-atmospheric craft in the UNIAF repertoire.

xvii

Original models 1-4

were designed to mimic the Quill command fighter in design [Icosahedron-shaped] and performance, and as reverse
engineering of downed craft was made available to the war effort, the design began to change to more Earthen
specifications. The 5th-Generation craft was the first to be designed for multi-theatre application, allowing
atmospheric and extra-atmospheric combat and maneuvering capabilities. Only three were made for this, since it
was still a prototype. Two were flown by Captain Thomas

Zeus Harris, both christened Chariot of the

Gods.

The final fighter was redesigned with a gold coating as an answer for Quill particle beam weaponry
deflection and absorption, while the craft itself was equipped with awesome weapons capabilities and a full
complement of drone-slave fighters, and one of three craft fleetwide to be fitted with the

WingGun prototypes.

xviii

Specials were a minority among the Wave Events survivors who suffered genetic mutations to one degree or
another. They were a marginalized subgroup of the human population. A few had patriotically enlisted in the war,
in the outset, to serve on the front lines. Later, the draft conscripted them, wholesale, as cannon fodder. They were
both the angels on the wings of the ground forces, and the bane of the military all at once. They were widely known
and celebrated, among the ground troops on leave in the fleet and the populations back home as cheap heroes, due
to a serial campaign on front line events in an effort to rally those who avoided detection to willingly step forward
for conscription, and cheap because there was no need for special effects to add a dramatic element to their
frontline activities. They were just filmed and broadcast in action. Still, within the rank and file, bad publicity was
spread throughout, confusing the masses into a state of distant apathy, as long as the Special populations remained
off planet.
xix

Direct Feed Entertainment System

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xx

Panasonic was one of the cheapest notebook manufacturers, and a favorite of government agencies, especially
law enforcement. It was purchased as a brand name from a Detroit business developer from a German corporation
in the 2060s which bought the rights for the use of the name for brand recognition as an American technology
development company from Japan only three years earlier. To many, it signaled the return of Americans to the
forefront of cutting edge technology development, but instead, it was riding the wave of technological leaps that
were coming public after the end of the Sol War ten years earlier. As a result of the surfaces susceptibility to
scratching and its extreme flexibility that made the device unwieldy, Panasonic created a rubber edged titanium
backing and thin plastic coveringbased on the brands prior research in the development of the antiquated
Toughbook designthat protected the thin sheet from compromise. The housing was by far more lucrative a
business than the actual Notebook device, itself, and many purchased more advanced notebooks elsewhere, while
buying the Toughnote pad directly from Panasonic.
xxi

A Notebook was a catchall name for a millimeter-thick multiuse technological device made consisting of a fiberoptic sheet [the data processing and battery were interwoven into the sheet surrounding the laser etched vacuum
pockets within the slender sheet that held the microscopic chipping and hard drive and it could charge simply by
absorbing sunlight in a absorption method similar to plant life. The notebook was able to process terabytes of data
at a timeemploying the God-Head method of storing all data elsewhere without unduly clogging its
considerable memory capacityand was only limited in use by the applications supplied to the individual device.
At its widest application, it was a data processor, a communications feed, an environmental scannerable to
perceive its environment by detecting all light and radiation spectrums and atmospheric density and differentiation
in parts-per-millionas well as photographic and video recording capability. It was simple and elegant, but
scratched easily. As a result, toughnote cases were a growing accessory business for the new technology.
xxii

RAMMW: [RUNE Advanced Organic Material Microscopic Weave-8th Generation] urban flak-jacket was the
latest in the RUNE Industries line of fashionable body armor for Federal agencies and personal security.
xxiii

MAY-EYE: [Actually MAI-I Division] Mechanized All-Environ Infantry Division

xxiv

Valley 862 was situated on an earth-sized planet in the Gliese 876 system designated with the letter d, indicating
it was the third planet out from the systems star. The region was designated a battlefield where tens of thousands of
soldiers were dropped onto the planets surface to take control of the valley away from alien forces in an assault
codenamed Operation Revanche Des Loups, [Operation Revenge of the Wolves], giving a nod to their previous
operation that was entirely routed, Operation De Meute De Loups [Operation Wolf Pack], which nearly cost the
human race the war with spectacular death tolls, only eleven months prior, resulting in such a low supply of soldiers
that a policy of forced conscription was enacted across the Earth to meet the demand of bodies. Most of the soldiers
did not walk out of Valley 862. The battlefield became known by survivors as the Valley of the Wolves, due to
the ferocity of the fighting the divisions committedfighting and dyingin that dismal, barren landscape.
xxv

C-47:

An old cargo/troop transport aircraft originally the

C-17

Globemaster that the US Military

C-47

reclassified as the
and continued retrofitting to the newer waves of technologies due to the aircrafts
hardiness and ease in employing for multipurpose use. Its facilitation with the new Electromagnetic manipulation
for Anti Gravity purposes removed its high oil consumption costs in practice, though the taxpayers still paid as
though the fossil fuel was still in high use. Its old jet housings on the wings had been modified to hold EM fields
that attracted air and particles that rode it into the housing, and the electromagnetic field thrust it out behind the
craft, employing a pneumatic force of propulsion to add to the already imposing force of the AG bubble the craft
traveled in. It was fast, efficient, and kept in service solely to keep the costs of fuel and repair seemingly
practical, on paper.
xxvi

WinVid

: Night vision capable application of the U.S. military HUD [Heads Up Display] technology
implemented to eyewear for military and law enforcement insertion/extraction, anti-terrorist and otherwise arresting
forces, allowing them to see through walls and other obstructions, identifying threats hidden to the naked eye. City
and Architectural schematics and other environmental factors can be uploaded to provide the most articulate
breakdown of the immediate and upcoming threat variables. The design for the unit is practical with fiber optics

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running through the frame, allowing a relation with notebook technology, updating and uploading whatever
environment is required for the present scenario.

AFR:

AB

starfighter models were the starfighter application of the AB transport. It was half the size of the
s
and were mainly employed for Special Forces and small operations or science teams into and out of Hot Zones
throughout its tour of service during the campaign.
xxvii

xxviii

Reever:

starfighters were the most flexible design and the most largely mass produced fighters in the War.
They were prized for their multiuse designs and their capability, particularly in transitioning from the void to intense
atmospheric conditions as well as their maneuverability and payload array. They were only slightly bulkier than the

Black Arrow

slim
s, mainly due to weapons and emergency use faster-than-light travel capabilities that the later
models were equipped with. Later generation models would be heralded for their design, the smaller Jump-Drives
and pilot-to-craft response-time or symbiotic relationship which increased maneuverability and reaction times,
saving hundreds of pilots lives.
xxix

Black Arrow:

starfighters were the original delta shaped craft taken from the later designs of the triangular
stealth fighter/bomber aircraft of the 21st Century air force, and chosen for production, almost nostalgically based on
their design alone. Their true claim to fame was the implementation of more advanced designs based on their
original frame specifications for the implementation in the housings of later generation Roman and Reever
starfighters.

Sioux: starfighters were wingless dragonfly-shaped craft employed as orbital-dogfight capable craft built for
the first four years of the war until more advanced Reevers took their place in the transition from
xxx

geosynchronous to atmospheric combat scenarios.

xxxi

Harrier:

starfighters were the first battle spacecraft designed to confront the Quill at the edge of the suns
corona for the Sol Engagement that heralded the beginning of the Sol War. Large long range fighters with powerful
engines and weaponry, they were designed with the cockpits from Space Shuttles and the remainder of the length
were the housings of the weapons, communications, the nuclear reactor that powered the vessels and created the ion
thrust. However, the shielding was faulty, causing pilots to suffer from the EM radiation that affected brain
chemistry in flight. The craft were often referred to (both reverently and derisively at once) as Divine Winds due
to the fact Harriers had the highest death toll of all the pilots over the course of the Sol War. Often, on the long
range runs, the pilots arrived to the battlefield and plowed into the Quill fighter craft and destroyers with the selfsacrificing devotion of a World War II Kamikazi pilot. It was hard for a pilot to look upon one for more than a
handful of seconds without turning away.
xxxii

VX-32: [Vitamin X-32] drug invented by the Science Medical Division of the UNIAF for military use during the
Sol War and used as a catchall drug for healing, invigoration and returning soldiers to the front lines. It
counteracted most forms of radiation poisoning by speeding up healing in the body through a cocktail of curatives,
steroids, opiates and nanotech drones in a saline solution, increasing the durability of the afflicted soldier, and
offering the user a feeling of invincibility through stimulation of dopamine production and a strong sexual
arousal, to steady them for the redeployment back into combat. It has since been wending its way into production
for pharmaceutical distribution in a lesser dosage for law enforcement with prospect of wider distribution through
prescription dissemination. All harmful side effects of the drugfrom prolonged use and withdrawalare still
closely guarded military secrets.
xxxiii

MTS-4: [Medical Triage System Series 4:] Battlefront kit developed by Emergency Medic/Triage Systems for
the soldier in the field, providing all the technology of an Emergency Room and Intensive Care Unit

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xxxiv

SYNKR-22: [Shiotani Yawata No Kami Model-22] rifle. A Japanese made short range/close-in weapons

systemusing Quench technology in a departure from the long employed chambered chemical reaction firing
system of the past few hundred yearsbased on the Naginata design and produced for the Japanese Battalion of the
UNIAF by the Shiotani Corporation during the beginning of the war, before its dissolution by more powerful
Japanese weapons manufacturing giants for the sake of securing the lucrative contract it held with the UNIAF.
Almost all units were seized and destroyed.
xxxvxxxv

Grav-Strips: A term for the inertial control elements laid throughout faster than light traveling vessels
providing artificial gravity as an after product, with the main function of preventing the injury and death of
personnel and other organic material onboard said craft traveling at speed, by counteracting the effects of the titanic
G-Forces through intense gravitational fields that pulled in the opposite direction of travel, providing a comfortable
environment for the pilots and passengers. The carpeting was laid out along walkways, crawl spaces and
gathering areas throughout the vessel and plugged into Piloting [the piloting/navigation computer] to regulate GForce differentials virtually instantaneously, thereby minimizing the threat of bodies being physically launched
toward the aft of the craft and dying in the collision with whatever object or barrier they encountered. Without the
grav-strip carpeting, the transporting personnel would instantly be reduced to nothing more complex than so much
genetic paste coating the Aft of the cockpit and cabin.
xxxvi

PCF: [Portable Cloning Facilities] The Quills answer to the UNIAF infantry deployed at every vital planetary
body or occupied satellite. They cranked out a new specialized adult clone every five minutes, and usually
assembled the most devastatingly vicious and powerful monsters, all tactically possessed of a keen understanding of
movement disruption and no sense self-preservation beyond defeating the enemy. They were essentially drones of a
great ant hive, with no understanding of continuation beyond the battle. In fact, they usually dissolved at either
victory, capture or death.
xxxvii

MoT-Mas: [Mobile Triage Medical Station] was effectively an Earth environment trapped in a ribbed QuickErect Biosphereaffectionately called the Tentthat could be erect with-inside ten minutes, in optimal
conditions, and open for triage in another twenty minutes. It never worked out that way for the front line troops, and
it quickly degenerated into American Civil War conditions, with blood-slick floors commonplace. The greatest fear
for a soldier on the table was laying with his armor lifted when a breach in the tent occurred, venting all earth
atmosphere in exchange for whatever atmosphere, if any, was outside the barrier of the Kevlar/Mylar composite
micro-weave. In such events, all medical procedures were halted, and all soldiers merely received injections of VX32 and sent back out to kill as many of the enemy they could before they died.
xxxviii

Nanocrystal: The densest material used for later model star destroyers and starfighters toward the middle of
the war to save manufacture time on much needed new technologies and ship building, comprised of the most basic
nanotech machines which assembled themselves into patterns like ants joining together to form structures for the
hive to capitalize on. The nanodrones form dense materials and then duplicate until the frame of the structure is
filled in to precise dimensions. The nanocrystal was the frame that the nanodrones would then fill in to capitalize
on, drawing out the shape required. Nanocrystal could be just microscopic framing or could be used to form an
entire structure, like the nanocrystal domes protecting observation decks at the rear of the deep space supply line.
The nanocrystal could be clear or opaque, depending on the requirement of their function. Like the ants that use
their bodies for the hives use, the nanodrones will cease replication and die upon completion of the overall shape
they are tasked with, and the assembled design will remain extremely durable, and yet flexible, protecting the
overall structure from compromise under great stresses like faster-than-light travel or gravitational stresses.
xxxix

ADR-14: [Advanced Durability Requisition Armor Model-14 Series], used most effectively in extraterrestrial
campaigns, had been updated based on the noted flaws of the prior thirteen models of the armor series based heavily
on the complaints of surviving soldiersspecifically the joints and sealsand concerns of the modern soldier
(usually the claustrophobic feeling resulting in wearing the armor and lowering the visor).
The Gen-7 Reever: 22.8 meters in length with a beam section just over 5.3 meters wide, and a wingspan of
16.9 meters. The main fuselage was akin to the streamlined design of the classic Bugatti Veyron Sang Bleu
cigarette boat, whichafter an undisclosed settlement to a ten-year long series of arduous legal maneuvering over a
xl

916 | P a g e

contentiously written will, presently resided in the remodeled artistic design vehicle section of the structurally
retrofitted and newly reopened Louvre, in Parishad somehow been merged with the sleek and airworthy design of
the Lockheed F-44 Manta, which had been warped to nightmared-imaginings and put to wicked purpose. The bird
was straked along the entirety of the craft and, what had begun as trapezoidal wings, had risen into forward-swept
points ascending from near the aft, to their ultimate fanned points mid-ship.
xli

ESTAT: [Emergency Stations Teams] was the United Nations Interstellar Armed Forces First Responder Corps.
with the catch-all duties of Hazardous Materials/Emergency Critical Reactor Arrest/Scuttled Vessels and Space
Stations/Medical First-Responder teams.
xlii

CRASH: [CRITICAL REACTOR ARREST SERVICE/HAZMAT] is the US Military Division of the UNIAF
ESTAT Practical Application Engineering Corps.
xliii

Manifest Hard Drive Beacon: An autonomous probe that would launch under fail protocols in the event of
catastrophic conditions. The beacon would launch to a safe distance and send out a signal that would alert the rest
of the fleet with a standard S.O.S. and coordinates. At the outset of the Sol War, the Beacon merely carried letters
of the dead for their families, but the updated version for the newer model destroyers, space stations and cruisers
carries the entire history of the ship including a Black Box file that details events leading up to the cataclysm
including camera feeds and chatter from the crew.
xliv

Quark Processing is a chatchall term for smaller than nanotech computer processor design. It can be the
development of technology design that can only be revealed in all its intricacy under an electron microscope, or the
term can be defined as work in the field of using actual Quarks as a method of keeping and archiving vast quantities
of data without using a computers memory.
xlv

WINGGUNS:

Reever

Roman

Mounted on later
and
model starfighters, they were the weapon of
choice to augment the already ambitious arsenals of the stand apart fighters at the twilight of the Sol War. They
were long rectangular devices [8x2 meters when weaponry was inactive] strapped over the wings of the late model
fighters through magnetic grips. When entering sortie, the weaponry would arm and deploy JUNCOs [housing fifty
per unit] that were programmed to swarm as support fighters, augmenting strike and defense capabilities, with the
additional feature of fanning into strike positions [the rectangular housing would rise to deploy five EM cannons
per unit spanning the wings at a lengthat full extensionof 12 meters. Most fighters entered into battle with two
units, one per wing.]
xlvi

Letheum was a powerful depressant [its intensity far outstripping comparable drugs used to sedate horses and
caused a deep lethargic, near catatonic, state for greater control over subjects. It had psychotropic elements to it that
allowed the subject to be more easily pliable and was commonly used, under the correct parameters to coax
intelligence out of difficult subjects during interrogations in lieu of the antiquated torture techniques. In larger
dosages, it has the effect of memory blockage. Hence, naming it after the mythical River Lethe.
xlvii

Inazu-Kotzu: [Ironclad-Thunderbolt] A round of ammunition designed for the Gauss and Quench [rail gun]

SYNKR-22

designed rifles of the Sol War, particularly the

rifle/close quarters combat system. These were
seamless, spherical, pea-sized hollow pellets containing special chemicals for a wide array of effect on the
battlefield. The red pellets were made with a metallic plastic composite that contained a compressed corrosive
compound that reacts violently when introduced to atmosphere. When in the magazine or held in the palm of the
hand, the round is inert. It becomes volatile when stressed by the electromagnetic field within the rifles firing
chamber, where it heats up and is both compressed and stretched under the stress of the field and will begin to melt.
Once fired, the friction of the round against the atmosphere will melt the pellets shell away, exposing the core to the
immediate environment and it will react explosively upon breach [exposure of the corrosive compound] which will
have a maximum yield of two yards in diameter. Within flesh, the rounds yieldgiven the amount of water in an
organic bodywill be approximately ten inches in diameter. Upon the Sol Wars end, United Nations declared the
round equal to Phosphorous and Napalm derivative artillery and gave it a Class A Felony classification for UN
Courts.

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xlviii

[DOD:SO-DCY] Department of Defense: Star Ordinance-D Class YieldDARPA reference coding for
cataloguing ordinance describing the yield of explosion comparable to the size of a small White Dwarf star, or
.001% the radius of the sun. The ordinance would create a temporary self-sustaining body with a heat flare
comparable to the sun, and a gravity well that could disrupt the orbits of nearby bodies.

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