Silent Mobius Fan Fiction ❯ Red Destiny - Book 1: New York ❯ Under Scrutiny ( Chapter 1 )

Silent Mobius: Red Destiny

Book 1: New York

Chapter 1: Under Scrutiny

Authors: OSTOCOM

Email and Website: See our profile

Rating: PG for sci-fi violence

Disclaimer: We do not own Silent Mobius or its characters, but we do own our own characters. See Book 0 for complete disclaimer.

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"Behind you!"

Miakoda quickly raised her arms, and a golden-brown energy shield shimmered around her. The Category Two growled in frustration as its claws bounced off the shield. "Thanks!" Miakoda called.

"No problem," Calixta replied. She pushed some strands of tangled, sweaty hair off her forehead. This Category Two was a feisty one, all right. It had been running them ragged for nearly half an hour. She looked to the field commander for guidance. "Adara?"

"We're not giving up," Adara said, her gray eyes blazing.

"Of course not," Calixta said, although she had been secretly hoping they might. It wasn't as though the Hawk was threatening anyone besides them back here in this alley….

"Watch it!" Miakoda shouted. Calixta ducked as the Category 2 swung its arm at her head. She somersaulted out of the way and drew her gun from its holster. It needed to be recharged. Well, she would just have to make her last few shots count.

"Calixta, let's make sure we keep him in his place." Adara lowered her voice. "Whatever you do, don't let him out of this alley. He's getting away again over my dead body."

(Or mine,) Calixta thought a little resentfully, but she nodded. She knew what had to be done.

"Miakoda, we could use a little spiritual guidance right about now," Adara said.

Miakoda nodded. She cupped her hands and raised her arms. White light radiated from her hands as she began chanting quietly in Navajo.

Adara swung around behind the Category 2 and spread a thin line of fire on the ground behind it. There was only one way for it to go now-out.

(If only I had enough strength left to teleport,) it thought wearily. (Perhaps if I eat one of them, I will be strong enough again. Who knew these puny humans could be so tenacious?)

It swung its head around, scanning for the best exit. There was a taller human, very powerful, across from it. Though the Lucifer Hawk had no eyes, its demon senses recognized the magical aura surrounding her. She was growing stronger, and the Hawk knew from experience that she was getting ready to attack. It had to run, now.

There. There was its exit. The only thing blocking its way was a pathetically short human with no magical aura at all. She was barely even armed-the Hawk sensed that the gun was toward the end of its power reserves.

The Category Two charged recklessly toward her, ignoring the pain as three bullets penetrated its shoulders and neck. "You," it said. "Food."

"I don't think so," Calixta said. She pulled the trigger again, but nothing happened.

"Food," the Category 2 insisted, lunging toward her. Calixta swung her leg around in a crescent kick, knocking its arms out of the way. The Hawk angled its body slightly so that Calixta had to turn her back to the wall to defend herself. She turned and kicked off against the wall, executing a back flip and flying over its arm to the other side.

(I should have run away,) the Hawk thought. (I can still run.) It tried to hurry out the alleyway opening before the human could scramble back into a defensive position. But the fire-human had made the flames circle around him. It thought desperately, (But if I eat something, then I can teleport. I'm so hungry…)

The Hawk scooped Calixta up in its clawed hand. She reached out to punch the Hawk, but with a fluid movement it broke her elbow and dislocated her shoulder. "Food!" it screamed, opening its mouth over Calixta.

Before the Category Two could bite down, it was distracted by the screech of an eagle spirit. The spirit circled the Hawk two times and plunged its beak into the Hawk's chest. At the point of contact, the Hawk felt its body rip open. The pain and mortal fear of the hunted spread through every sinew of its body, poisoning its blood, freezing it in terror. The Hawk stood, helpless, as flames engulfed it. (So this is death,) it thought, dropping its prey in resignation.

As Calixta fell, she managed to twist her body so that she didn't hit her head. Unfortunately, she still landed hard on her injured shoulder. She blinked back tears of pain. (Well,) she thought as she watched the Hawk burn, (at least I didn't let him get out of the alley.) Then she fainted.

------

Mackenzie Jameson frowned as she looked over the latest reports from her officers. The three women had been dealing with more and more Lucifer Hawk cases lately, and they had let themselves become sloppy the last two times. The first time a Category Two had escaped, and the second battle had caused Calixta to have a brief stint in the hospital.

She thought about a few things she and Rally Cheyenne had discussed while the group from Tokyo had been in the city two weeks ago, and decided that some changes were in order. Nodding to herself, she pulled up a file on her computer and began to type.

Meanwhile, in the common room that served as part office and part break room for the ECC the phone was ringing. Miakoda picked up and said, "ECC headquarters." She paused as she listened to several clicks and a short beep. (What's going on?) she thought to herself. (Who could be calling us on a secure line?)

"Hello?" The voice on the other end replied, and a smile spread across Miakoda's face. "Everyone, it's AMP!" she cried excitedly. Adara and Calixta each looked up with identical smiles and grabbed their own phones off of their desks.

"Hello, Calixta!" Katsumi's voice came over the other end. "How are you guys doing?"

"Well, I can't speak for everyone else," Calixta replied, "but I was doing fine until some Category Two decided *I* was the menu du jour. I had to spend a day and a half in the hospital trying to recover from him attempting to turn me into some fine Lucifer Hawk cuisine."

"And you guys thought *I* couldn't cook!" Kiddy's voice came, indicating that Katsumi wasn't the only one on the phone. "Hopefully you guys kicked that Hawk's ass."

"We taught it a lesson," Adara added in quickly, and changed the subject. "How is Roy doing?"

Katsumi answered, "He's doing fine. He really likes being in the office with everyone here, and with Grosspoliner."

Adara sensed that Katsumi wasn't exactly thrilled with situation concerning her son, but she decided not to press the matter further. "Well, I'm glad to hear he's not gotten himself into too much trouble."

<Hey, who're you talking to?> a voice the ECC didn't recognize came on the line. With not one of them speaking anything that could be called passable Japanese, all of them looked confused.

<We're talking to the people from New York, moron,> Kiddy said. <Weren't you just listening?>

"I'm sorry, that was Lum Cheng," Katsumi added. "Lebia, Nami and Yuki also say hello."

"No hello from your commander to ours?" Miakoda joked.

"In spirit, of course…I'm not sure how happy she'd be that we're making this very-long-distance call without permission," Katsumi sighed.

"Well, we're certainly glad that you did," Adara said. "It's nice to be reminded we're not alone in this fight."

"Same here. The more people we have, the more those Hawks have-"

"That's all very interesting, Katsumi, but are we ever actually going to get to the point of this call?" Kiddy interrupted.

Calixta blinked. "Which is…?"

"I left my leather riding jacket in your guest house, Adara," Kiddy said sheepishly. "I need you to send it back."

Adara laughed. "Sure thing, Kiddy."

<Hey, Rally's coming,> Lum Cheng piped up again. <If she asks about the phone bill, I blame you guys entirely.>

"All right, I guess that's our cue to go…" Katsumi sighed. "We'll find an excuse to call you guys again soon."

"Same here," Miakoda said, figuring that Lum Cheng had warned them approaching superiors. "Tell Roy hi for me."

"Will do. He's already practicing his English for when we can meet again."

"You guys hang in there," Adara said.

"You too," Kiddy added. "And no more trips to the hospital, okay?"

"Hopefully not," Calixta said.

As they were saying their goodbyes, Mackenzie entered the room. Miakoda's eyes widened and she hurriedly ended the phone conversation for all three ECC members. Adara and Calixta peered out of their offices to see what had caused Miakoda's reaction, and promptly straightened themselves up and joined their teammate in the common room.

"I've been looking over the latest reports," Jameson said sternly as she eyed the three women. "And I've decided to implement a few new policies in order to shore up the holes I've discovered."

"Sir, I take full responsibility for the last two engagements," Adara said quickly. "I think I speak for all of us when I say we won't let those kinds of mistakes happen again."

"Good," Mackenzie smiled. "But that doesn't change the fact that you're three women trying to deal with a threat that can be overwhelming at times. Rally Cheyenne made a few suggestions while she was here, and I think it's time that I listened to some of them." She handed each woman a typed sheet of paper. "Here are the new policies I've decided on. Number one: Calixta, you will install and maintain a holomodule in the office. This will be used for training by all of you at least twice a week."

Calixta nodded absentmindedly, already trying to work out the details in her head.

"Number two: we will now send and receive bi-weekly reports to and from AMP. This will be in order to gauge the overall level of Lucifer Hawk activity as well as to share information about strategies and tactics that do and do not work against the enemy."

Once again everyone nodded, indicating that they had understood the order.

"And finally: Adara, you will report to the naval base at Groton, Connecticut in two days at precisely 0800. Once there, you will undergo a training regimen in order to shore up your tactical and situation analysis skills. In other words," she said, throwing a glance towards the auburn-haired woman, "you will learn when to retreat. You will also be allowed to take the test for promotion to Lieutenant Commander."

Adara's eyes lit up and she had to fight to keep the smile off of her face. "Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!"

Mackenzie's expression softened as she looked her subordinates over one more time. "You all have been doing a good job. Sometimes the Hawks can get to be too much even for a trained group such as yourselves. Just remember to be careful, and that it is okay if they get away once in a while. Even the AMP isn't one hundred percent effective, and they have six members to our three." She made sure to look each woman in the eye as she said this, and she could see most of the tension leave their bodies. "That's all for today, ladies. Dismissed."

Adara, Miakoda and Calixta saluted as one, and then each retired back to her own office to mull over the new policies.

------

The newsroom of the New York Sentinel hummed like a slightly angry hive of bees. Everywhere, a mixture of ringing phones, clicking keyboards, and urgent voices hung in the air. At a station precisely in the middle of the room, a young woman sat, oblivious to the noise around her. She was dressed professionally in a beige suit that contrasted nicely with her light brown skin, and her mass of curly black hair was held in place by a clip. She stared single-mindedly at her computer screen, typing with lightning speed. Every once in a while, she opened the notebook that sat at her right hand, pulled the pencil from behind her ear, and made a note in the margin. She didn't notice the well-dressed man come up to her desk. He watched her approvingly for a second before dropping a folder on her desk. She looked up, saw her editor watching her work, and turned hastily in her chair to face him. The pink crystal that hung from a silver chain around her neck swung a little with her sudden movement.

"Sir! Mr. Mortensen! I'm sorry, I didn't see you there. I'm almost done with the Long Island fire story…" She was about to offer more explanation, but he cut her off.

"You're doing good work, Ramirez. I just came to drop off your next assignment," her editor said. He held out the folder. "How much do you know about mem-sweep technology?"

"Well, let's see," she said, and tried to call up everything she'd seen in the news on the subject in recent months. "It's been used overseas as a rehabilitation aid for people who have had traumatic experiences. The US military has done limited amounts of testing, and wants to expand, and there's been talk of making mem-sweeps available to the public."

"Impressive, Amber," Mr. Mortensen said. Her brown eyes sparkled at the praise. "The debate's really been heating up over the past few weeks. Some people are scared of the possibilities that mem-sweeps present…"

"Like their being used against a subject's will, false memory implantation, stuff like that," Amber suggested. She had taken her pencil out from behind her ear and was tapping it on her desk as if it would help her come up with more ideas.

"And those are the more tame conspiracy theories," her editor reminded her, sitting on a corner of her desk. She was suddenly very thankful that she'd cleaned her desk off just the day before. "Anyway, this folder has some preliminary reports that we were able to get a hold of, and a couple of phone numbers. This guy, Damien Marshall, was the military's top man on the mem-sweep project. Try and get a hold of him. I'd like to have this story out as a preliminary piece before the Technology and Enhancement Admin hearing two weeks from Tuesday. You know, give people some information on the issue."

"This is a big story, sir," Amber said. Her expression was somewhere between cautious happiness and nervousness.

"I'm sure you can do it, Amber. You seem to have a way of getting to the bottom of things, and I'm pretty sure that on this piece we aren't going to exactly have people jumping to give us information. So," he rose from her desk to leave, "how about a draft by next Friday?"

"Yes, sir!" Amber said. As soon as Mr. Mortensen was far enough away, she grinned to herself and spun around in her chair, laughing quietly. Then, she put her serious face back on and returned to the article she was writing. She didn't get to work on it long. A man with sandy blond hair who had just recently entered the newsroom made a beeline for her desk. She smiled more. Tad Daniels was just an all around nice guy, and one of her best friends she'd made since coming to work at the paper.

"Did I just see you talking to Mortensen?" he asked, situating himself in the exact same place the editor had been a few moments ago. Amber wondered what if the spot had a mystical 'sit here' sign that she was unaware of.

"Oh, hey Daniels," she said. "Yeah, Mortensen was here."

"And? Did you get a story?"

"Did I ever! I got the *mem-sweep* story, Daniels!" she told him. He stuck out his hand for her to shake.

"Congratulations, Amber Ramirez," he said with mock formality. "You have officially arrived. Seriously, Amber. That's great! I'm really happy for you."

"Liar," Amber said mischievously as he shook her hand. "You just wish *you'd* gotten the story."

"Ok, so I am a little jealous. It's a juicy assignment. But if I couldn't get it, I'm glad you did."

"That I believe," she said, and went back to making corrections on her computer screen.

"And if you ever need another pair of eyes and ears, I'd love to tag along," Daniels said hopefully. However, Amber wasn't listening. She didn't see the disappointed puppy dog look on his face when she didn't take him up on his offer, or the wistful glance he cast in her direction as he sat down to work on his own deadlines.

------

Amber looked around at her surroundings with a touch of nervousness. The polished marble floors lent the building an air of sophistication, and she felt slightly out of place. She fidgeted with the nametag she had been provided as she followed the young ensign towards Damien Marshall's office. She had been doing research for a week in preparation for the interview, but she still felt unsettled for some reason. (Come on, Ramirez. You've pulled through tougher assignments. Keep it together.)

Once inside, Marshall, who was currently on the phone, motioned for her to sit. She did, and waited politely for him to finish his conversation. As she waited, she studied him. He was fairly good looking, with tanned skin and jet black hair that was slick and styled. His eyes were brown and his teeth flashed when he opened his mouth. His entire look screamed 'too polished for his own good' to her.

"I want to see those req-forms on my desk by tomorrow morning, Kensworth." Pause. "Yes. And go ahead with the practice mobilization. You'll have those supplies by the end of next week. That is all. Good day, Commander." With that he hung up the phone and turned his full attention to her. "Good day, Ms. Ramirez," he said, flashing what was probably supposed to be a charming smile, but which seemed full of insincerity to Amber. It immediately set her on edge.

"Good afternoon, Captain Marshall. Thank you for seeing me on such short notice."

"It's no trouble at all," he insisted. "Now then, my aide tells me you're here about...mem-sweep technology, was it?"

Amber decided that she did *not* like this man. She plastered the sweetest smile she could muster on her face. "Yes. I understand that you were the top man on the military experiments."

"Well, I wouldn't go that far," he dissembled. "I did supervise some of our earliest testing of the technology, but really the entire matter was out of my control."

"Of course," Amber said, although she didn't believe a word of it. "And what were the results of the testing?"

"I'm sure you have all of the published technical data," Marshall said smoothly.

"Yes, what little there is of it."

"I'm sure you understand that most of the data had to be classified for security reasons."

"Actually, I'm sure people would feel more *secure* if they understood what this technology did and what it would be used for," Amber said pointedly. "We're talking about something that can erase entire sets of memories. That's very powerful, and potentially very dangerous."

"If it gets into the wrong hands, yes," Marshall agreed.

Amber raised a quizzical eyebrow. "And you don't think it would?"

"No, because I don't think it will ever be legalized," he said. "The mem-sweep technology was found to be non-viable mainly because we never found a way to control exactly which memories we could erase. People lost either more or fewer memories than the targeted amount."

Amber made notes in shorthand on her pad of paper. "I see. And if the military could find a way past this difficulty, would it continue developing and using mem-sweep technology?"

Marshall shrugged expansively. "I really couldn't say. To me, mem-sweep is nothing more than a failed experiment and a dead issue. I really don't know what else I can tell you."

"Actually," Amber said, "I was wondering if you could corroborate some evidence I've been given from other sources I spoke to." He nodded politely. "One of my associates came up with the name Mackenzie Jameson. Do you know anything about her?"

Marshall's look turned to one of apparent confusion. "Jameson? Well yes, I know her, but she doesn't have anything to do with mem-sweep. I'd check the reliability of your sources if I were you, Ms. Ramirez."

Amber's eyes narrowed briefly. "I always do, Captain."

Suddenly a phone behind Marshall's desk sprang to life. The stern expression on his face told the young journalist that her opportunity for questions was at an end. "Ms. Ramirez, I'm sorry, but I must take this call. Can we arrange for another time to complete your interview?" Amber nodded, gathered her things and forced a smile on her face.

"Thank you for your time, Captain Marshall," she said. "What you've told me has been very helpful."

She stood and was quickly shown out as he answered the phone. (And what you *didn't* tell me is even more helpful,) she thought to herself as the door shut. A young officer appeared before her and they scheduled her next appointment with Captain Marshall. She thanked him once they had finished and then headed outside. As soon as she reached her car, she pulled off the nametag and decided to head home for a quick shower. Somehow, just being in that man's presence had made her feel dirty.

------

Amber's bag full of books, files, and snacks hit the table in the Sentinel's archive and research room with a satisfying thud. Pulling up a chair to the nearest computer terminal, she opened the newspaper's network search engine and typed the name "Damien Marshall" into the proper field. The computer hummed for a moment, and Amber tapped her pencil on the table while she waited.

Though the Sentinel's database was one of the newest in the city, Amber sometimes wished she could have been around for the days the older staffers were always talking about, when you had to go use an ancient microfilm machine, or, better yet, actually go find hard copies of the articles you needed. The computer, while admittedly much faster, was also much less mysterious and exciting.

She tapped her pencil harder, trying to come up with a reason for the unease she'd been feeling since speaking with Marshall the day before. Something about her interview with the smooth-talking officer still didn't sit right with her. It *especially* didn't sit right with her after every other lead she had for the story had turned out to be a dead end. She had called three scientists supposedly connected to the project, one of whom had turned out to be deceased. The other two had flat-out refused to give her an interview when she called their offices, telling her that they weren't at liberty to speak about the subject. So, she was back where she had started, with the name 'Damien Marshall,' and very little other information.

The terminal beeped, and Amber stopped tapping her pencil and held it poised for action against her notebook as she scanned the list of references.

"Right... joined the Navy in 2008, promoted to captain in 2026 and took over the mem-sweep project the same year," Amber muttered to herself, scribbling in her notebook as she went. "All very nice, but not very useful." She scanned the list of articles looking for something that more closely pertained to her mem-sweep story. "Ah, here we go.'Mem-Sweep Research Called Off...For Now.'" A quick scan of the article confirmed Marshall's earlier statements about the government's reasons for discontinuing research into the uses of technology for memory erasure. (Or memory manipulation,) Amber thought to herself. (I know there's nothing specific about that here, but I'd bet money that kind of thing was going on too.)

The next reference on the list caught her eye. It was a quote Marshall had given the press about...what was that? An accident? Amber pulled the article up and began to read. A familiar name instantly jumped out at her. Mackenzie Jameson. The article had nothing to do with mem-sweep and everything to do with a vaguely described accident that Jameson had been involved in.

"Navy Investigates Horrible Accident at Sea," the headline read. Amber continued to scan the article. "Decorated Lieutenant Commander Mackenzie Jameson was involved in a serious accident last Thursday afternoon aboard the _USS Victorious_, according to Navy sources. While the commander's condition remains serious but stable, doctors are hopeful that she will make a full recovery. Meanwhile, the Judge Advocate General's office has issued a statement that it will be conducting a full investigation.

"'According to our sources,' Admiral Geraldine Hanson told reporters, 'this accident may have been the result of negligence by certain crewmen. If Commander Jameson had not been present and recognized the problem at the last critical instant, lives may have been lost.'

"Descriptions of the accident itself are confused. Witnesses reported hearing a small explosion in the boiler room, before a fire broke out that was quickly contained. So far, however, we have been unable to find anyone who witnessed the accident directly. There were initial rumors of sabotage, but the Navy has already issued a statement denying that any foul play was involved.

"The _Victorious_ was at sea testing the new mem-sweep devices that have been developed over the past several years by defense specialists in military intelligence. On board were several passengers who had volunteered for the procedure, most of them civilians. However, the project was recently discontinued, and the _Victorious_ was heading back into port when the accident occurred."

When Amber got to the last line of the story, she smiled and read aloud to herself. "When asked if the recent decision to discontinue mem-sweep testing had any bearing on this event, Captain Damien Marshall-who is both the commanding officer on record of the _Victorious_ and the Navy's head on the mem-sweep project-responded, 'These two events are totally unrelated.'" That, Amber knew, had to be a lie. The dates of the two occurrences were too close, and her finely honed innate lie detector was going off like a four-alarm fire bell.

"He's lying. I *know* it. That's the easy part, even though I can't prove it. Finding the truth...that's not going to be such a walk in the park." Amber stroked the pink crystal that hung at her neck as she spoke, and if she thought there was anything slightly strange about talking to an empty room full of computers, she didn't show it. Instead, she went back to her research and hoped that some kernel of truth would show itself amid all the lies and deception.

------

As Adara stepped off the plane that had taken her to Connecticut, she pulled her coat a little closer. It was getting dark and the wind was blowing, ruffling a few stray auburn hairs that had escaped from the normally impeccable bun during the flight. She looked around as her fellow passengers disembarked, all looking like they knew exactly where to go. Adara herself hadn't been told anything beyond reporting to the airport, so she wasn't quite sure what to do next. She knew she would be training with Mackenzie's former commanding officer, Damien Marshall, but that one link to familiarity didn't help her in this strange labyrinth.

"You must be Adara Davis," a voice from her right said. She looked over and saw a man in his mid-forties with slick black hair and brown eyes. He offered her a charming smile.

She smiled back. "I am. Captain Marshall?"

"That's me. Your commanding officer told me to expect a beautiful woman, but I wasn't expecting one as gorgeous as you," he told her as he led her towards baggage claim.

(You have *got* to be kidding me,) Adara thought to herself. However, she flashed a charming smile at him and replied, "You flatter me, Captain."

As they gathered her baggage and left the airport he kept up a steady stream of inconsequential banter. Adara, used to such treatment from the socialites her stepmother insisted she mix with, simply smiled and nodded at the appropriate times. They arrived at the base within ten minutes and he led her to the quarters she would be using for her stay, allowing her to drop off her bags before taking her to an empty office in another building.

"We'll be spending most of our time here," he told her as he opened a folder he had brought with him, and settled himself behind the desk. Adara took the seat across from him and opened up her own folder.

"Commander Jameson told me you have a problem with analyzing tactical situations and deciding when retreat is a better option than staying and fighting. So we'll do a standard survey of military history for the past 400 years, followed by some training exercises with the cadets in residence. After that you will be given the opportunity to take the promotions test for the rank of Lieutenant Commander. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," she replied, momentarily taken aback. He seemed like an entirely different man than he had been a few minutes ago as they were walking towards the office. She frowned slightly. Anyone who could make such a radical change in personality always set her nerves on edge. It reminded her too much of another person she had known...

She shook herself of such thoughts as she noticed Captain Marshall studying her. "I'm ready, sir."

"I have no doubt you are."

------

Adara sighed as she collapsed in the room the Navy had provided for her. The bed was atrocious-she had no idea how anyone was expected to get a decent night's sleep on it-but right now she was almost too tired to care. Marshall had picked her brain for nine hours straight with only a small break to grab a sandwich to eat. She now had more facts about strategy and tactics than she thought she would ever be able to use.

But something still seemed off to her. She had watched Marshall for the past two days and had seen him change his attitude in a heartbeat no less than fifteen times. He could be charming one minute and then a complete hard-ass the next. He could go from being on the verge of losing his temper to being an absolute golden boy before she could blink. And he wasn't just chameleon-like in his demeanor; he was also evasive about his past. When Adara had tried to strike up a conversation about Mackenzie Jameson, Marshall had either changed the subject or told her to focus on her training instead of on irrelevant discussions. Mackenzie had implied that the two of them were still fairly close, so why wouldn't he talk about her?

The sound of her cellular phone ringing interrupted her internal monologue. "Hello?" she said as she picked up.

"Adara, darling!" the voice of her stepmother answered her. "It's been so long! How are you doing?"

Adara stifled the sigh that threatened to escape. The *last* thing she wanted to deal with now was her stepmother. "Hello, Judith. I'm doing fine. I'm in Connecticut now, doing some job-training."

"Connecticut, oh my!" Judith sounded horrified at the thought. "Why would you need to go to such a small state like that for job-training? Couldn't they teach you here in New York? Did you hear that, dear? They sent her to some dreadful place in Connecticut."

"I heard. And I'm sure she's perfectly fine. Hello, sunshine."

"Hi Dad!" His voice brought a smile to the young woman's face.

"So, job-training in Connecticut. Is there anything special going on?"

"Well if by 'special' you mean 'am I up for promotion,' then the answer is yes. I have to take a test in a few days, but if I pass, then I will be promoted to Lieutenant Commander."

"That's wonderful!" "How wonderful." Both of her parents echoed the same sentiment, although with drastically different undertones. Her father sounded truly happy for her, while Judith sounded anything but.

"Yes, I'm very excited. The commander likes my work, so she suggested I take the extra training and then apply for promotion." Almost the whole truth.

"I still don't understand what possessed you to leave your singing career for military work. Weren't you enjoying stardom, Adara dear?"

"It does get old after a while, Judith."

"Oh Mark, can't you do something? I mean, working a government job cleaning up after horses! Is that any kind of life for your girl?"

"We've been over this, Judith," her father explained patiently. "If this is what Adara wants to do, then I support her."

"Well, of course I do too! You know that right, Adara dear? I support you, it's just…"

"I'm fine, Judith." Adara was glad that she didn't have to conceal the smile she was wearing like she did when they had these conversations in person. "I like my job and it's doing something that helps people."

"If you insist…" Her stepmother sounded defeated. "Anyway, dear, I do hope you'll come visit as soon as you're back in New York. Fifi misses you terribly."

The lieutenant highly doubted that Judith's pet poodle even cared that she was still alive, but promised several times to come and visit when she returned.

"We all miss you, Sunshine. We'll see you when you get back," her dad promised.

"Okay. Goodnight dad, goodnight Judith."

"Goodnight," they replied.

She rubbed her forehead as she clicked off the cell phone and put it back in its charger. Talking to her parents could be an ordeal sometimes. She frowned. That thought had brought some unwanted memories. She knew Marshall had reminded her of someone the day they had met, and now she realized who. "Mother," she whispered to the empty room.

Adara had too many memories, for her taste, of her real mother, whom her father had divorced when she was seven. She remembered her mother being able to wear different personalities depending on who she was interacting with. It had been almost frightening to Adara's young mind to watch. And her mother's emotional state could change in the blink of an eye… (Of course the alcohol probably helped with that,) Adara thought bitterly. Briefly, she entertained the thought that Marshall might be an alcoholic, but waved it away. He didn't seem the type.

"No, he's definitely in control of everything. In fact, almost too much in control. I wonder if he lets anything slip past him," she mused aloud.

Exhaustion swept over her again and she sighed. (I'll figure it out later,) she thought. (For now I could use a good…) She looked at the bed and winced. (…a decent night's sleep.)

------

Calixta was at the front desk when the door opened and Adara stepped in. She looked up and smiled when she saw her friend. "Well?" she demanded as she stood up.

Adara flashed her a grin and pulled up the collar of her jacket to show Calixta the lieutenant commander's bar that now sat there.

"Congratulations!" Calixta said as she hugged the taller woman. "We knew you could do it!"

"Do what?" Miakoda asked as she wandered in. "Oh Adara, you're back! So...did you make it?"

"I made it," the auburn-haired woman replied with a grin. "Barely. You are now looking at Lieutenant Commander Davis."

"Congratulations! Or should I say congratulations, sir! Seeing as how you outrank us now..."

"This doesn't change anything," Adara assured the willowy Navajo. "Except that now I have to do more paperwork."

"Well, better you than me," Calixta said somewhat unsympathetically.

Adara just shook her head and gave a mock sigh. "I'd better go check in with the commander. I'll fill you two in on the details later!"

She walked down the polished marble hall slowly, in no real rush to report in. She had actually enjoyed getting out of the city for the week, and she knew now that she had returned it would be back to fighting the seemingly endless stream of Lucifer Hawks. As she reached the commander's office, she straightened her jacket and then knocked once.

"Come in," she heard Mackenzie's voice float through the door.

"Lieutenant Commander Davis reporting in," she said as she entered.

"Congratulations," Mackenzie offered with a smile. "How was your trip?"

"Very...interesting actually," Adara said as she sat down. "Captain Marshall was most informative. He's a very knowledgeable man when it comes to military tactics."

"Yes he is," the older woman agreed. "Marshall was my commanding officer up until I took command of the ECC. He's a good man."

"So you've known him a while then?" Adara asked, her interest piqued.

"He was there after my accident," Mackenzie informed her. "I wouldn't be here today without his help."

"I see," the younger woman replied, her mouth falling into a small frown.

"Is there something wrong?"

"It's probably nothing..."

"But?"

"But well, I don't know. It's just the impression I got when I was around him. That there was something...wrong."

Mackenzie waved her protests aside. "He can be a hard man to get along with on a personal level, I understand. Don't worry Adara, I've known Damien Marshall for a long time and I know we can trust him."

(Right,) she thought to herself. (If the commander says we can trust him, who am I to go against it?) She nodded at her commanding officer and then asked to be excused so she could catch up on paperwork.

"Dismissed, Lieutenant Commander," Jameson replied as she stressed the last word with a smile.

Adara smiled back. "Thank you, sir. Have a good afternoon," she added as she headed out.

------

"Hey, Amber, how's it coming?" Tad asked as he poked his head into the Sentinel research room. It was almost five o'clock, and most of the day staff had already gone home. For a moment, he thought that the room was empty, though he hadn't seen Amber leave. And he'd been watching for her. He put the two cups of coffee he carried down on one of the tables.

"It's not," the tired looking lump that was Amber said, her voice slightly muffled because her head was buried in her arms.

"You mean you haven't found anything?" Tad asked. "That's odd in itself…"

"Oh, I've found things." Amber stood up and stretched. "It's just that none of it makes any sense when you put it all together. I've got this Marshall guy, and this Jameson woman that are connected somehow, but all of the clippings are so vague, and so much of the information that I need is classified, and no one who knows anything is about to tell me about it."

"That's journalism for you," Tad said, pointedly reminding himself *not* to notice how well Amber's breasts stood out when she stretched. "We want to know things that certain people don't want us to know. We look, they hide. That's how it goes."

"Thanks for the pep talk, Daniels," Amber said sarcastically. "You could do something useful, you know, instead of standing there telling me about 'how it is.'"

"The great Amber Ramirez? Asking for *my* humble help? I'm flattered. What do you want me to do first?"

"Well, you could go get me…" Amber started to say.

Tad set one of the cardboard coffee cups in front of her. "Already did it. I passed a vending machine in the hall and thought I should bring you something to drink, too. Thought you might need it." Amber lifted the cup to her lips and took a sip.

"Extra sweet with just a little bit of cream. Just the way I like it," she said, nodding in approval. "Thanks, Daniels. You're a lifesaver."

Tad pulled up a chair next to her and looked over her shoulder at the notes she'd already written.

"So is this Jameson woman still alive? Still in the Navy?" Tad asked.

Amber tapped a few buttons on the computer keyboard and pulled up a screen with a picture of Mackenzie in the right-hand corner.

"This was what I was able to find. She's apparently been transferred to the ECC…can't remember what that stands for at the moment, but it looks like she got pushed into a desk job. Anyway, her organization is under Navy oversight, but it doesn't seem to have any connection to the mem-sweep business."

"It might be worth it to find out what she had to say," Tad suggested.

"And she might refuse to talk to me because it would bring up painful memories of this 'accident,' or whatever it was. She might be more helpful than Marshall was, though."

"You talked to him?" Tad asked.

"Earlier this week. The man…gave me the creeps. I just know that there were things he wasn't telling me. I could feel it."

"You usually have a pretty good sense of these things," Tad said, and smiled at her. Amber preened at the praise.

"I don't think there's much more I'm going to find out here," Amber said. "So I guess I'd better get going if I'm going to look her up tonight." She grabbed her coffee, her notebook, and her purse off of the back of her chair.

"You're going over there tonight?" Tad asked, surprised. (There go my dinner plans… And just when I had the perfectly opportunity to ask her, too.) Tad sighed. As usual, fate was just not smiling on him.

"Sure!" Amber replied. "The sooner I get to this Jameson woman, the sooner I get the story done. Thanks for the drink, Daniels! I'll see you later!" The automatic doors of the research room barely had time to sense her presence before she was through them.

"That's…a great attitude you've got there, Ramirez," Tad said to an empty room. "Just great."

------

As she sat in her office, chewing on the end of a pen and idly tapping a foot, Adara felt herself still troubled by the conversation she had had earlier that day with Mackenzie. She wondered what it was about Damien Marshall that had caused the hairs on the back of her neck to rise. She was so deeply involved in her introspection that she failed to notice a certain tall, willowy Navajo who had been trying to get her attention for nearly a minute.

"Earth to Adara," Miakoda said as she waved a hand in front of Adara's grey eyes.

"Oh, Miakoda!" Adara started. "I'm sorry, I didn't see you there."

"So I noticed. Is everything okay? You've seemed...withdrawn lately since you returned from Connecticut. Did something happen?"

"Not exactly..." she frowned. She thought back over the conversation with Mackenzie, trying to decide whether or not she should worry the others with it. (It was probably nothing,) she reminded herself firmly. (Nothing to bother Miakoda and Calixta with.)

She looked up and noticed the worried look on the taller woman's face. "Sorry, Miakoda," she apologized with half a grin. "It really is nothing you need to worry about. Just a little personality conflict, I think."

"Well if you ever need to talk, my office is always open."

"I appreciate it, really. But I'll be all right."

Miakoda sensed the cue to leave and did just that after once again offering to listen. Now she was the one frowning as she made her way back to her office. It wasn't like Adara to get too introspective, at least not while they were at work. Now for the first time since the lieutenant commander had returned, she wondered what had happened in Connecticut.

As she walked back to her office, she noticed Calixta sitting at the front desk, deeply involved in a project of her own. She started to read over the younger woman's shoulder, wondering what could be so fascinating. "Building plans?" she asked out loud once she realized what the other woman was studying.

Calixta started and threw a mock glare at her companion. "Don't do that," she said sourly. "And yes, they're building plans. Specifically, plans to redesign some of the storage space we have in the back so that it can be used as a holomodule."

"Ah." She stood in silence for a moment, wondering if she should bring up her concerns about Adara. "Calixta, have you noticed anything odd about Adara these last few days?"

"Adara?" she asked as she looked up from the plans in surprise. "I don't think so..."

"She just seems a bit more introspective than normal." Miakoda let out a small sigh as she noticed that Calixta had already gone back to looking at the plans.

"I'm sure it's nothing," the younger woman said without looking up. "She's probably just busy with more paperwork or something. Hmm...looks like we'll have to hire contractors for some of this." She made a few notes on her laptop.

Suddenly Calixta's concentration was broken as her laptop and the main computer both started flashing alarms. She immediately swung her chair around so she was facing the nearest computer.

"Give me a report," Adara shouted as she entered the main room.

"We've got a 324-LH at East 40th past Lexington," replied Calixta.

Adara looked to Mackenzie, who had entered the room and then nodded. "Take this one out as soon as you can. We're not holding back anymore."

All three of her subordinates shared identical grins. "Let's go," said Adara as she grabbed her gun and led the way to their STAV, named 'The Aurora'. Calixta and Miakoda followed, each grabbing a gun and various other armaments before heading to the roof.

They arrived at the scene minutes too late. The only remnant of the Lucifer Hawk's victim was a bit of blood on bone staining the dark pavement. "Damn," Adara cursed under her breath. She sighed. "At least we got here before NYPD showed up."

"It's still here," Miakoda whispered. "I can still sense its evil."

"Stay on your guard."

"Calixta, behind you!"

The red-head whirled at the Navajo's warning just in time to avoid being the Hawk's next victim. The three of them turned to face the Hawk as it materialized out of the wall. It was one of the largest ones the ECC had seen in a long time. Calixta looked down at her scanner and swallowed hard…all her readings indicated a Category One. "You guys be careful," she warned. "This isn't a pushover Hawk."

The Lucifer Hawk looked at them with something resembling a sneer, as though it knew that it had the advantage over these three women. "So this is the fabled ECC…three puny humans. It's amazing that you've survived long enough to face me."

"We're not your average 'three puny humans,'" Adara said as a ball of flame formed in her hand.

------

Amber Ramirez knew that no one appreciated interviews at this late hour, but she didn't care. She was tired of running into dead ends on this story, especially when the first draft was only a day from being due. She had expected to be met with resistance on this story, but nothing this severe. Amber was not a conspiracy theorist, but she was very uncomfortable with exactly how many people weren't telling her the truth.

The last option she now had was to interview this supposed Mackenzie Jameson. And if she was turned down now…she didn't know what she would do. (There's no way I'm walking away from this empty-handed,) she thought with determination. (I'm going to get the truth out of these people if I have to stay there all night.)

Her thoughts were interrupted by what sounded like loud sounds coming from her left. She couldn't see what it was, but she saw an alleyway that led off behind the building complex. Other passersby were looking down the alley warily, but were wise enough to stay away from it. Amber, on the other hand, knew it was better for a reporter to listen to curiosity than reason.

------

As Adara readied to throw her fireball at the Hawk, she expected it to react in some way, but it didn't move. She briefly wondered exactly what it was waiting for, but she decided to take her chance while she had it. She threw the fireball at the Hawk - which suddenly disappeared.

"Watch out!!"

Miakoda yelled out a warning and threw up her hands in front of them. An image of an eagle appeared, just barely shielding them from the column of flame that was thrown back at them. The shield didn't last long before it disintegrated, leaving them scrambling for cover. The Hawk reappeared behind them.

Adara instinctively shot more flames at the enemy, but it just deflected it back at Adara with nearly twice the force. Miakoda and Calixta watched in horror as their teammate was engulfed in flames. The fire elemental emerged…alive, but somewhat scorched.

The Hawk laughed. "Useless tricks…if I had known fighting you would be this easy, I would have asked Jerel to kill you all long ago."

The name Jerel jumped out at Calixta…she remembered Mackenzie saying that was the name of the Lucifer Hawk that talked with Roy. She didn't have much time to ponder it, however, as the Hawk prepared to charge again. Calixta raised her NX-5150 and fired, but the bullet circled back towards her. She barely managed to dodge.

"Adara, Miakoda, don't attack this one directly!" she called out to her companions. "It's just reflecting our attacks back at us!"

"Little good such knowledge will do you," the Hawk responded. "There is still no way for you to defeat me."

"Apparently there's no way to shut you up, either," Calixta muttered, although she still didn't know how they were going to prove him wrong.

------

Amber turned as she saw flashes of light and heard large crashes coming from close by. (What the hell was that?) she thought, heading toward the commotion. Her heart was pounding with anxiety…something that didn't happen often.

All of that came to a screeching halt when she finally saw what it was.

Barely visible in the fading sunlight were three women, all in uniform, and all armed to the hilt. They were facing down what appeared to be some enormous monster, complete with claws, scales, fangs, and eyes in strange places. And upon her arrival, the creature immediately turned and looked at her.

"There are *four* of you?" The creature bellowed in a deep, echoing voice. "You think you can trick me?!"

The monster charged in her direction, eyes glaring straight into her. Amber's instincts told her to run, but she couldn't get her body to respond. She thought of weapons, distractions, turning invisible, anything except running away.

Just as the hideous thing was about to descend upon her, a blast of fire seemingly from out of nowhere hit it in the side, knocking it off its feet. Amber suddenly came to her senses and ran…she didn't care where, just as long as it was as far away from the monster as possible. She tried to go back the way she had come, but the alleys all blurred into each other, and she didn't stop until she could see the main street ahead.

Amber stumbled onto the sidewalk, trying to catch her breath. She looked behind her for the pursuing monster, but she saw nothing. There were no flashes of light or loud sounds…just the normal sights and sounds of the city.

(What on earth did I just see?)

Amber mentally kicked herself. (Well, you wouldn't know because you ran away! What kind of journalist flees the scene of a story? It's your job to be put in the line of fire.)

She picked herself up and brushed herself off before heading back into the maze of alleys. Monster or no monster, she would kill herself before getting chased away from the truth. She knew that this wasn't going to help with her mem-sweep story, and yet… There was something very wrong about this, for more reasons than just the monster. She felt as if something even bigger was being kept from her…and she was determined to find out what.

It took Amber a lot of time to find her way back, because she wasn't sure what direction she had run. However, after about 20 minutes of searching, she recognized the spot where she had first seen the monsters and the women in uniform. (I'm almost certain this is the same corner.) She stepped around the wall quietly…

…and was met with an empty alleyway.

There was no monster and no women anywhere. There was a pool of darkish blood staining the ground, and the walls were scorched. She kicked a piece of trash in frustration. (If only I hadn't run away earlier…)

A fierce gust of wind whipped against her face and caused her to look up. Skimming just about the rooftops was an unmarked, expensive-looking surface-to-air vehicle. Amber knew that STAVs were hard to come by without special government permits and licenses. This one was sleek and black, just right for getting into and out of places unnoticed. The aircraft lingered over the alleyway for a minute before disappearing over the horizon as quickly as it had appeared.

Amber glared at the departing vehicle, feeling as if it were challenging her. She accepted the challenge. "Just you wait…I'll get to the bottom of this."

-----------------------------------

Next Episode Preview:

Miakoda: "What is reality? Sometimes it seems like nothing more than a grand illusion-a magician's trick. What appears most substantial disappears before our eyes like a flickering candle, or like the morning mist. As we awaken into the dream of our lives, we begin to wonder whether we can trust our senses, our knowledge, our friends…or even ourselves." Episode 2: 'Smoke and Mirrors.'