Chapter 18 - Beginning Of The End

 The thrumming on Jim's back was the most intense he'd felt. It was enough to snap him out of a deep sleep. He could feel Molly's head on his chest, her steady breathing implying the sharp intake of breath that he sucked in didn't wake her. He closed his eyes and groggily summoned up his Palace of the Mind, the office space incarnation. The massive 270-degree desk was covered in dozens of computer monitors, datapads and keyboards strewn across the surfaces, individual feeds piping into each screen. All of them had the same story and references to Jim and Vishnu, drowning the news media planet-wide.

“...impossible to tell what will happen next. It does not appear anyone was hurt after the incident but that, too, is impossible to tell until we can get someone on the scene.” Fancy news casters were all reporting the same story, the same loop of camera footage on repeat. Vishnu punching the edge of their Dome, his hand penetrating the blue film of energy, a shower of sparks raining down around him as he slipped through the window of space it created below him, and disappearing into the Wilds. “It raises many questions, as well. Are the Domes as safe as we think they are? Are the Cores? Were our assumptions about this Jim character correct?”

“No!” Molly screamed as she jolted awake. The knock at the door came again, this time more loud, almost pounding.

“Jim,” the muffled voice carried through, “open up now!”

Molly clung to Jim's chest for a second, her knee writhing along his leg as she stretched and woke up. She sat up, hugging the top sheet to her chest. Jim kicked off the side of the bed and pulled himself vertical, gripping the sturdy post of their king-sized bed. He hurriedly grabbed a pair of pants, quickly stuffing his foot through each leg as he hopped closer to the door, the self-adjusting fabric sliding along his skin and then settling tightly against his thick thighs and calves, leaving a modest amount of room in the crotch. No time to grab a shirt, once his second foot cleared the pant leg and the waist was comfortably at his hips, he jogged through his dark apartment, Auging to turn the lights on as he went.

He swung the door open as Blaize's fist pushed through the now-open door, mid-pound. “Jim!” he trailed off.

“I'm here, I'm here,” he replied exasperated. He kept his apartment colder at night to help him sleep and the chill just now hit his bare chest, sending a shiver up his spine.

“Thank god,” Tomah said from behind Blaize, his massive frame previously lost to Jim, now unmissable. “We thought you'd lost your mind.”

“I just got the flicker, I'm guessing you did, too?” Jim opened the door wide and extended a hand inviting them in.

“What's going on?” Molly emerged from the hall in her thick, grey, polka-dot robe, her slight-but-shapely figure indistinguishable in its fluffy folds. She threw Jim the thick white sweater she was carrying and met them around the kitchen island. “Can I get you guys anything?”

“Coffee for me,” Tomah implored, waving two fingers in the air next to his face. He leaned his huge shape against the kitchen island, both elbows resting on it's surface, his unkempt hair wild and poofy, the stiff black waves sticking straight out, forming a massive halo around him.

“Do you have Morning Drink? I'll take a mug of that, cold, if you can,” Blaize conferred, he, too, leaning on the island, his weight pushing his shoulders up to his ears.

“What's going on?” Jim questioned as he joined them, now braced against the balmy cold, the air exchanges kicking on as his white eyes flashed.

“Gonna ask you the same question,” Blaize replied first.

“I'm getting a feed now,” Tomah closed his flashing eyes.

“My, how convenient,” Jim stood back from the kitchen island and crossed his arms.

“Standish!” Tomah exclaimed loudly.

A knocking came at the door, again. This time, it swung open without waiting to be answered, Marion piling in, followed closely with Adrian in tow. “You better be fucking in here, Jim,” she said under her breath as she stopped abruptly, noticing them all around the kitchen island, Molly stopping mid-step, holding two mugs and a glass in the kitchen, face locked in surprise. “Good,” Marion recovered. “You're not working with him. If you weren't here...” she trailed off.

“What the fuck is going on,” Jim scowled indignantly.

“Standish hijacked Vishnu,” Tomah began. “He used his security clearance, conned the night crew techs into believing he had to go on a secret deployment and that they needed to get him jacked into Vishnu for it, and made a bee-line for the Dome once he got out.”

“Then he did the stupid little punch thing that's all over the news,” the anger in Marion's voice was palpable. “Fucker.”

“What? Why?” Molly said as she put the cups down in front of them.

“Is that Morning Drink? Can I get in on that?” Adrian waved at Molly from behind Marion as they approached the island.

“No idea, I got a call from mission command just now asking me if I knew what Standish's mission was.” Marion eyed Jim's mug. “Coffee?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Molly walked back to the beverage dispenser on the counter and entered in the sequences for her desired drinks, taking the cue to let them talk.

“What is he up to?” Jim inquired. “What's the point?”

“Dude, you're the conspiracy theorist. Isn't it obvious?” Adrian settled into his position around the kitchen island next to Blaize and Tomah. “The dude flipped.”

“Seriously, even I can see this one,” Molly put the cups of coffee and Morning Drink in front of Marion and Adrian. “Nuke base on the moon, Dyman taking the fall, you all getting kicked out of the service and turned into international mercenaries-for-hire, moving all the snooty NRI execs into the nuke-proof bomb shelter...”

“Didn't your dad receive a workstay in the Base?” Jim held up a finger to cut her off, curled his lips into a straight line, pulled his cheeks back, and pushed his eyebrows down.

“Yeah, and he's snooty,” she pushed her own eyebrows down, jutting her neck forward and pursing her lips, holding up her hand, open palm to the ceiling. “AND in our old dorm. Awkward. And on the NRI Board of Execs. So, it fits.”

“So, Standish in cahoots with Dyman and Tim to do what, hold the planet hostage with the Lunar missile base?” Marion gave a skeptical smirk.

“Exactly that,” Adrian tagged. “The dude has recently become obsessed with ancient spy dramas. Seriously.”

“I don't buy it,” Marion shook her head as she crossed her arms. “I think he's siding up with the Outsiders.”

“Wait, really?” Tomah, pulled back and put both hands up flat-palmed in front of him. “That makes absolutely no sense. We've been wiping them out for years.”

“Yeah, and now he's wracked with guilt,” she began. “You all just did that huge drop on the stronghold. We'd been hunting that village forever. Sixth has been hunkered down there for the last few weeks since our mission. We've all been prepping for the DPRC job Tony insisted we take. This is the perfect time to grab Vishnu and crack some retributive skulls.”

“Definitely not,” Tomah began, “This is him, Carol, and the DPRC. No questions asked.”

“No. Just no,” Jim's face pulled a skeptical look so dramatic he actually felt his cheeks and eyebrows flex.

“Hey, you all get your theories, hear mine out,” Tomah raised both of his own hands open-palmed toward the ceiling to his side. “I think that's how Tony got in here. She's a mole. Carol and Standish have become completely disenfranchised with the IA and are siding up with the DPRC.”

“That's a bit bigoted, isn't it?” Molly interjected, a bit disgusted.

“Look, we're all the same people,” Tomah shook his hands in front of him back and forth, “we all came out of the bunkers or the caves. Aside from the Nexuses, we're all so deeply interbred, 'race' is a hilarious concept of the past. We've hashed out all the gender shit our ancestors were obsessed with and the last time we had any tension over economic issues there were things like 'physical currency' and 'financial collapses,' and, honestly, 'money' that actually meant something other than voting power. But you can't deny that nationalism is still a thing. We all like a certain way of living and we have free travel treaties. Everyone's trying to attract their 'kind' and the DPRC attracts ambitious people. Their fight-for-life philosophy fits perfectly with Standish and Carol. They obviously brought in Tony to get all of our data on the Cores and now they're smuggling it out of here, taking our biggest gun with them. Now they have TWO Deity-classes.”

“He's not wrong,” Adrian confirmed. “It fits, too.”

“I know, I know,” Jim shook his head into place. “This is just coming out of nowhere. I've been on this team for a few years now,” Jim paused and pulled a confused face. “Shit, has it seriously been a few years?”

“Jim,” Marion raised her eyebrows, “It's been almost three, man.”

“Seriously? I feel like I recruited, like, last month,” Jim shook his head again. “But that's just it. I feel like I've settled in. Even the missions have become de rigeur.”

“I mean,” Marion began, her voice taking on a more philosophical cadence, “that's kinda how life works, right? You don't remember all of the crazy shit that goes down day-to-day, you remember the stuff that's important to you. That makes you, 'you.' That's why you feel every hour of every day, but you don't remember every hour of your life, just the stuff that is important to your personal narrative.”

“Yeah,” Blaize picked up. “You forget the stuff that didn't really mean much, no matter how interesting it was at the time. Only the relevant stuff sticks. That's why we get blindsided like this. That's why none of us can agree on why Standish would do something like this.”

“Well, I don't have anything from Mission Command or NRI, yet,” Marion picked up. “I don't think we'll have much until Intel can get us a case file. If you're safe here, Jim, then I think there's not much we can do. Let's reconvene in the briefing room in the morning, 0700, and go over whatever dossier they can piece together for us. The IA isn't going to sit on this, so we'll have more by then.”

“Sounds good to me,” Molly smirked. “I'm still tired.”

“Well,” Adrian began, “I'm full of stimulants and calories.” He held up his cup of Morning Drink. “Anyone wanna do something?”

“I found a nice breakfast joint on the corner of 8th a few blocks away,” Blaize began.

Jim looked down at his mostly-untouched cup of coffee. “I think I'll stay here with the missus,” he grabbed Molly by the waist and pulled her against his hip.

“I'm down for breakfast,” Marion began, “I don't think I'll be getting any sleep for now.”

“Meet anyone interested there, then,” Tomah conferred.

***********************************************************************************

The first thing Jim noticed when he walked into the briefing room was the Commander's presence. The second thing he noticed was the slender, bespectacled man in a black button-down sitting in the far corner, switching his focus between two data pads, occasionally tapping his left ear and muttering something indistinguishably quiet to himself.

“What are you doing here,” Jim asked the Commander as he took his seat next to the others.

“I'll get to that,” she replied. “ Let's get started. You'll notice an extra guest here today. Mr. Kuiriston has decided to sit in on today's briefing.” She made an open-palmed gesture presenting him to everyone. He replied with a nod and a finger wave, never looking up from his data pads. “Due to the nature of the, uh, 'circumstance,'” she made brief eye contact with Tim as he looked up at her impassively. “I've been enlisted to consult on this particular mission. Marion will still have final authority over you all, but I will be providing, uh, 'character advisement,'” again, another flash of eye contact, “to help ensure that everything, uh, 'goes smoothly.'” Carol darted her eyes between the team and Tim nervously.

“So, this is the fifth time we've met up about Standish,” Tomah began indignantly. “Do we know anything this time or is this another, 'sit and wait' update?” He crossed his arms in front of his body and shifted his eyes toward Tim without moving his head.

“Well, obviously not, the head hancho is...” Blaize was cut off by an elbow jab to the ribs from Marion.

“What Blaize is trying to say,” Marion gesticulated as Blaize rubbed his rib and gave her a disdainful face, “is that, with the Commander...I mean, with Carol and Mr. Kuiriston here, there must be some new development.”

“That,” Tim began from the corner of the room as he set his data pads down on the empty chair next to him, “would be an understatement. I've got a lot to explain, so, buckle up.” He gestured to the Commander to have a seat as he took to the center of the room, dominating its space like the keynote speaker at a business convention. “You guys aren't particularly familiar with me, and as far as NRI is concerned, you guys might as well not even be a part of us. Your group is run nothing like any of our other divisions. Until recently, your base had been given special leeway by Dyman to sort of operate on your own wavelength. But, now that the IA has stepped out of our 'public-private partnership,'” he used airquotes, as everyone seemed to, “with you guys, I've been attempting to bring you back into the fold. Taller organization charts, more defined job titles, increased reporting, more comprehensive mission debriefs, clearer strategic plans, everything you all have been struggling to catch up with over the last few months.” He paused a rehearsed pause, closed his eyes and turned his head away from them all, a whimsical smile briefly creasing his calm face, his body wracking in a quick chuckle as he folded his hands in front of his belly before opening his eyes and turning to face them again, his eyebrows knitting into a concerned scowl.

“You all,” he resumed, “operate like a group of damned cowboys.” He stopped at what once again felt like a predefined place. “I'm going to level with you guys,” his face softened and he parted his hands and pointed them forward, “I voted against the CORE Project when Dyman first introduced it. I was against reinstating you guys. It doesn't fit with our 'brand.' NRI is not in the business of selling weapons. New Roman Industries is a lifestyle brand. We commission excavation teams and manufacture consumer products. The International Alliance, in turn, buys our products and stocks their commissaries and outposts. Dyman was a known abuser of that power, often using his influence to hold the IA over the barrel, so to speak. When we dug the first Cores up, instead of turning them over to the IA like we usually do with any military find we unearth, Dyman used the promise of the Augmentation technology discovered with it to keep them in our possession. He squirreled you away into our top secret bunker and started the CORE project under the guise of further developing the Augs into something we could bring to the public at large.” He stopped his practiced pacing and turned full to face them, again, feeling almost like he was reading off of cue cards. “He convinced the IA to turn over highly promising military individuals,” he gestured to Marion and Tomah, “and promising prospects from the athletic world,” he gestured to Jim, “by ensuring access to the Cores for national defense. When the Cores first debuted, participating only in extremely covert diplomatic operations, other nations took notice and began their mad hunt for their own. And, frankly, that's where you should have stayed.”

“But,” he paused a second to plant his feet square with his shoulders, angling his elbows out and punching his fists onto his hips. “The IA decided to tip their hand after the increase in terrorist activity.” He resumed his pacing and scanning. “This upset the delicate balance of power, the NRI at the center of it. The IA scapegoated NRI and washed their hands of any culpability, so we were forced to take the hit. We've been receiving international sanction after international sanction because of you guys. I have tried to convince the other world powers that our organizational reformations would be adequate enough in an effort to get those sanctions lifted. But,” He paused again, pushing his eyebrows down, “with this Standish thing, the Great Union has completely locked my company down. The transport vehicles that carry in goods from our industrial printing partners in the Southern Union, the People's Island Republic, and the various constituents we use in the Conglomerated Colonies, are blocked. My employees are not able to use the hyperline tubes to commute to our international offices. Our company assets have been completely frozen in the international banking system. We are, for lack of a better analogy, dead in the water. And that,” he paused again, landing exactly center-stage, “is why we are cutting the Core project loose. Effective immediately.” He snapped his fingers and several goons, private security company-looking types, entered into the debrief room, flanking the door.

“Wait, what?” Carol stood, a shocked expression riveting her normally-emotionless face.

“I am terribly sorry to surprise you all,” he carried on, “but this is the only way I could get the Great Union to allow my business to resume. These gentlemen will show you all off of the premises and to your apartments. A severance representative will meet you there to discuss what happens going forward.” With that, he exited the stage, picked up his data pads, and rushed out of the door without saying a word or acknowledging anyone as he left.

“Alright,” one of the lead security guys, a burly, clean-shaven man in a false military outfit and black floppy beret said as he stepped forward, “you heard the guy. We'll take you to your flats.”

Everyone rose from their seats in stunned silence, exchanging sidelong glances and worried faces amongst each other. Jim noticed Carol lean in and whisper something to Marion. She, in turn whispered it to Adrian, who whispered it to Blaize. He watched Blaize's eyes flash and a moment later received a message in his Augs. “After you talk to the corporate shill, meet at the diner.”

***********************************************************************************

“And this,” Carol pushed the heavy double-doors open to reveal the inside of the dilapidated warehouse, “is our new home.”

“I thought we were fired,” Blaize began as he followed Carol into the huge expanse, “not in military exile.” The warehouse was a gigantic empty space. The Cores lined the walls, easily fitting beneath the large curved ceilings, spare Core parts and other random junk laying in unsorted piles around each.

“Once I got in contact with the IA, they set up this for us,” She turned to face them, arms spread wide, face in an uncharacteristically upbeat smirk. “They acquired everything, including Ehecatl and the other scrapped Core that we hadn't even begun repairing,” she turned around and pointed to the Cores. “We also got the entire machine warehouse as well, so we can complete the refurbs. Back there,” she pointed far into the distance, the floor big enough that whatever she was point at was barely discernible, “is where the sims are. We got the entire bank of eight. We were also able to get all of the accessories and weaponry.”

“A home away from home,” Marion pushed her lower lip into her upper, forming an approving frown. “So what didn't we get?”

“The Valiant, obviously,” Carol stopped and turned to face them again, arms across her body, feet in a T-stance in front of Ehecatl, the blue sparks of the repair worker's plasma weld-alls raining down behind her. “Deployment authority is another thing.”

“So, what's the point of all of this, then?” Jim furrowed his brow and put his own arms across his torso.

“Standish is still out there,” She began, pulling a hand away from her elbow and holding it palm-up in front of her. “And Tony says that the DPRC could have their 'Mechs' operational at any time, not to mention that there are several other Cores in known circulation, and potentially several dozen we're unaware of, in God-knows what state. And,” she turned around and began walking again, “the IA wants to preserve their advantage. We have operational Cores with highly trained pilots, mechanics, and support staff. They can't afford to lose that.”

“So what do we do now?” Tomah stepped forward through the group.

“We keep training. Standish is likey to rear his head soon, you can't hide a thing like that forever. You know that the Cores actually quite delicate. They need regular maintenance. He'll make a move on someone and the IA intelligence apparatus will get wind of it. Then we mobilize.” Carol continued down the aisle toward a wall jutting out ahead. “Until then, we just need to cool our heels and keep training.”

“What about housing?” Adrian added his contribution. “We've only got a few weeks left on our grace periods before NRI throws us out.”

“Already thought of that,” Carol responded without breaking stride. “Just up here,” she lead them to a single door off the side of the hangar, that connected to a staircase.

At the top of the staircase was the relocated control center, a dozen technicians diligently repositioning and connecting the banks of computer terminals. “Hey!” a recognizable voice came from behind a wall of computer screens. “Over here, guys!” the voice of Molly's father spoke as he appeared around the side, his gem-studded smile and trademark stylish one-piece unmistakable.

“Mr. O'Callaghan?” Jim started, staring in disbelief.

“My boy!” He sauntered forward and embraced Jim. “When Molly told me about what that fink Kuiriston did to you guys, I couldn't believe it, myself! That's not the NRI I know. I never liked that little weasel Tim, anyway. Too ambitious,” he sweeped his fist in front of his body, elbow at a ninety-degree angle, and pulled an angry face.

“Terry has decided to let us stay in one of his private housing complexes back in the city,” Carol turned to address the others. “He's also the main financial backer for the whole revival of the project here. So, we should be thankful. It's a bit of a commute, but the hyperline will dump you off at the base and they said you all can drive the transports to get here.”

“Drive?” Marion pulled a face.

“Drive. There's no automation network out here, so yes, you will have to physically drive the vehicles,” Carol rolled her eyes slightly. “You're all pilots, you'll pick it up quickly. Didn't you notice the driver in the personnel carrier that brought you out here?”

“I just thought he was sitting there, I didn't realize he was actually controlling it,” Tomah scratched his head and smiled nervously.

“Well, this hanger is out in the jungle, if you hadn't noticed,” Carol replied with a dramatic sigh. “This is actually where NRI first discovered Heimdall. Sorry, Terry,” she turned to address Molly's father as she extended a hand, “I'll let you get out of here. Thanks again for your generosity.”

Mr. O'Callaghan took it, shaking vigorously. “Wonderful, thanks. I need to go talk to Mr. Rothgur down in the slips anyway, I'll leave you to your briefings. Oh, and Jim! Tell my dearest that she doesn't have to worry about moving anything over, I'll have my team come by and move you two out by the week's end.”

“Sure thing, Mr. O'Callaghan,” Jim saluted him casually as he descended the stairs.

“So, Jim,” Marion checked him in the ribs with an elbow, causing him to snap out of his salute and double over, “how's it feel to be sleeping with the boss's daughter, now?” Everyone broke into laughter as Jim's face went red.

“It was his idea that we first move in together back at the bunker,” Jim recovered, raising his eyebrows and smirked deviously.

“That's, like, creepy,” Adrian pulled his chin into his neck.

“It'd be creepier if he knew half the shit we did together,” Jim jiggled his eyebrows up and down, the corner of his mouth still pulled up cockily.

“Alright!” Carol waved her hands in front of everyone to get their attention. “That's enough, Jim. I don't need the mental image,” she paused and shuddered, her ponytail a blur behind her head. “Too late.” She closed her eyes and shook her head, opening them with considerable effort. “Seriously, though. We need you all to keep sharp. Standish is out there, and something big is going to go down.”

“Speak of the devil,” Blaize said, his eyes flashing brightly. Jim felt a corresponding buzz in his back. “Loverboy was just spotted in the Desert Wilds, near Gotoma.”

“Wait, more Gotoma stuff?” Adrian interjected.

“I thought Gotoma was a DPRC vassal,” Jim and all turned to Tony.

“No,” she began cautiously, breaking her silence, brow knitted deeply. “The DPRC is much like the IA. They deal primarily in weapons. We often sell to the states that the IA will not. Gotoma has been on the IA blacklist for a while, so they often bought from us...I mean them.” She gripped the front of her shirt and rocked back and forth nervously.

“How long until we're set up here, Commander,” Marion snapped her head to Carol.

“At least a week before we're fully operational” she said after a long pause. “I might be able to get something basic set up in a few days.”

“Then we'd better help,” Tony replied.

“Hey!” the Commander turned and grabbed the nearest technician she could. “Go get Tim, the head tech. Tell him to meet us in the briefing room.”

“Aye, ma'am,” the cadet saluted before bolting down the stairs.

Carol led them all past the banks of terminals and into a small office in the back. There was a large digital chalkboard taking up the entire rear wall and rows of folding chairs set up in front of it and an old-looking lectern. Everyone took a chair as she strode past them to the podium. “What more do you all have? I don't see nearly enough eyes flashing.” She pulled some data pads out from the shelf under the angled part of the lectern and passed them to the un-Auged. “We don't have the luxury of a team right now, so you're all on intel duty.”

Jim closed his eyes and pulled up his work desk Palace. He accessed as many data streams as he could relating to Gotoma. Recent news, their encyclopedic entry, history. “I think I might have something,” he said aloud as feeds of data streamed across his monitors. He used some of the “code” Standish had taught him to write to piece some algorithms together in his head and instruct one of the server clusters he had access to. “One of my servers just fed me something pretty interesting. It looks like IA and NRI had been in negotiations with Gotoma for a while,” he opened his eyes, the flashing phenomenon fading away as reality slowly supplanted his imagination. “After the cave incident, it looks like Gotoma has been working on a Lunar ferry and offered extremely cheap usage of their impulsor in exchange...”

“Wait,” Tomah interrupted, opening his eyes, the flash fading as he made eye contact, “you have 'servers,' as in not only having a server but multiple servers?”

“Yeah, I used some of my salary to buy a couple low-grade clusters. I pieced together a little data center in my office,” Jim acknowledged. “I have a database, some number-crunchers, an imaging and rendering outfit, and some infrastructure boxes. NRI insisted I have Grade-one containment and a Classified:Black-qualifying secure channel between the boxes and my Augs. Standish taught me how to invent a brain-code language that I've taught one of my infra boxes.”
“So you're essentially a one-man research team,” the Commander replied with a nod. “I'm impressed Jim.”

“Well, it's pretty stone-age compared to the stuff those guys have access to,” Jim threw a thumb over his shoulder, “but it does what I need when I'm choreographing missions.”

“You needed me,” Tim announced as the metal door swung open following the distinctive heavy thud of the push-bar engaging. “What's going on? I was talking to Terry about my team, so it better be important.” He stood at the back of the room, just in front of the door, arms crossed across his body, his tight, manicured beard and long curly pony tail, like Tomah's, held tightly to the back of his head.

“Vishnu was seen around Gotoma,” the Commander replied. “We need to deploy as soon as possible. What's a time-line looking like?”

“It will be at least three days before we can get to a place where we can launch,” Tim replied as he squared his stance and put his hands on his hips. “And that's the old way, laying them flat and fork-lifting the plug in. It'll take at least a month before the boom is up.”

“You have thirty-six hours,” the Commander replied as she shifted into a T-stance and folded her arms across her body.

“Then you won't deploy.” Tim kept his feet square and folded his own arms across his body, leaning forward slightly. “I'm not low-balling you. That is the soonest I can get anything set up. You can't just say 'you have a day and a half' and magically I'll have it finished. 'Three days' is my boys running 'round-the-clock overtime shifts and me pushing the hell out of them to find creative solutions. We're not just sitting on our asses down there. Three days.” Tim turned, depressed the thumb-trigger for the lock mechanism on the handle, pulled the door open, and left without saying another word.

“Well,” Jim continued. “I think I know exactly where we're going in three days, so I can start working on strategy now.”

“Oh, and where do you think he'll be, Mr. I-have-servers-plural?” Blaize rocked his chair on two legs and kicked his feet onto the seat back in front of him.

“Because, as I was saying,” Jim stood up to address everyone, “Gotoma has a working Lunar ferry, and Standish is in Vishnu.”

“Oh god...” Marion began as she dropped the data pad into her lap.

“You don't mean...” Adrian trailed off as he caught on right after.

“The base,” the Commander declared.

“Molly was right,” Jim confirmed. “I said 'had been,' past tense, for a reason. Negotiations fell through after the alleged 'terrorist' incident. Their economy was really banking on its success, so I'd hazard a guess they'd throw anyone upward for the right price, regardless of what the news is saying.”

“We have to alert the IA,” Marion stood up and locked eyes with Jim.

“And what will they do?” Jim gesticulated as he engaged Marion directly. “Send up the Third Legion? Lock the base down? He's in Vishnu, not some bullshit mobile platform. He could use the speed trick and decimate the entire legion after hacking his way into the base without a single shot being fired. No go. We've gotta wait and see what he's doing. He's got all the cards right now.”

“So what do we do?” Adrian interceded.

“Wait it out,” the Commander snapped their attention back to her. “Wait for him to tip his hand a bit. See what he's playing at. I'm willing to bet ransom is involved. A hostage situation would be his style. Typical good-turned-bad villain trope from his movies. Rogue, borderline-psychopathic, ace agent experiences something that 'tips him over the edge' and decides to use what he perceives as his immense personal power to try and affect some sweeping social change. Now who does that remind you of?”

“Blaize, honestly,” Tomah made a thumb gesture and smiled wide.

“He's got a point,” Adrian raised an eyebrow and nodded sidelong in agreeance.

“Oh, you guys, I'm touched,” Blaize put his hands over his heart without breaking his recline. “You think I'm an ace agent. How sweet.”

“Seriously though,” Jim continued, “That really does sound like Standish. However, don't those guys always get thwarted by the 'good guys' at the last second when they stop the missile from launching with 10 seconds to spare by blowing up the base with him inside it?”

“Well yeah, in stories and movies,” Blaize cut in. “This is real life. Nine times out of ten, that dude either gets what he wants or blows the planet up.”

“Then,” Tony again broke her silence, “we must prepare. Am I going to be deployed on this mission even though I am still mostly untrained?”

“You're still a couple hundred hours shy of passing your competencies, aren't you?” Marion turned, as did everyone, to face her.

“I have sync ratios in the 80's on the sims,” She replied sheepishly, hanging her head slightly, “and I have not taken my competency test, but I am willing to bet I could move around and fire a weapon.”

“Jim,” the Commander pivoted at the hip, as did Jim, to make eye contact with him. “Let's get you started on some of that fancy-pants choreographing. I want so many strategies that we have a hard time choosing exactly how we want to take Standish out, not just if we can. Tony,” she pivoted her torso slightly to address her directly, “I want you in the sims ASAP. We'll put you in Annie Oakley if you can not fail your competencies. Not even pass, just not fail. Get in contact with your loved ones, guys. We're gonna be here for a while.”