“Are you a teenager?”
“The point is that I don’t need this aggravation. So, either cash or ass or I pass.”
“I don’t have any more money to pay you.”
“Then option two or three.”
Wynona glares at Gabe. He simply sits with a smug grin, then begins to stand up.
“Call me if your financial situation improves or your morals decrease. I’m cool with whatever. You’ve got my number.”
Gabe grabs his coffee and walks away. Wynona stares daggers at him with each step.
Nick sits at his desk in his army uniform and taps away at corrections on an operation order. His desk is in a cubicle farm, although many of the oversized wall dividers have been torn down to allow visual interactions between the various men in the Operational Detachment Bravo headquarters.
The company commander, Major Adrian Ryan, enters the office area and taps various soldiers on the shoulders, indicating he wants them to follow him to the conference room.
“Nick!” Adrian shouts.
“What’s up?” Nick responds.
“Conference room now.”
“You got it.”
Nick watches as a man in a business suit follows Adrian into the conference room with the other summoned leaders. Nick saves his work and locks his computer down. He then makes his way over to the conference room. The other men are already seated, with the businessman at the head of the table next to Adrian.
“Where’s the XO at?” Adrian asks.
“He’s on paternity leave, remember?” Nick answers.
Adrian nods knowingly. “Right, right. Have a seat, Nick.”
Nick obeys his commander’s orders and sits along the side of the large oak conference table.
“Alright, Killers, the man sitting next to me is Jeremy Ibbles. He’s from a new government agency, and I’ll let him tell you a little about it because it’s gonna concern all of us.”
“Thank you,” Ibbles says.
Ibbles is a short man with a round head. His muscles are tight, but not over excessive. He definitely takes ample time ensuring his suit is immaculate each day.
“I’m Ibbles and, if you don’t mind, would you go around the table and tell me who each of you are and what you do.”
The Special Forces soldiers laugh at the formality, then obey when they realize by the look in Adrian’s eyes that it wasn’t meant to be a joke.
“My fault, Mr. Ibbles, for not introducing them. We aren’t too formal around here. This large bit of sexual chocolate to my right is Sergeant Major Cole Parker.”
Adrian clearly realizes that Ibbles doesn’t appreciate the lackadaisical attitude of his culture, so he finishes introductions more professionally.
“Next to him is Warrant Officer Two Aaron Peele. He’s our company technician. On your left is Master Sergeant Nick Douglas, our operations sergeant.”
Nick nods at Ibbles when he’s introduced.
“And finally, the tall guy next to him is Sergeant First Class Blake Key. He’s our assistant operations sergeant.”
Ibbles politely nods as each is introduced.
“I’ll take you around to meet all the ODA commanders after this,” Adrian says.
“That would be great,” Ibbles admits. “Now that we’re all properly introduced, let me tell you why I’m here. I’m in charge of a new department in the federal government that was devised as an answer to the augment threat.”
“Excuse me?” Nick says.
“Yes?” Ibbles states with obvious annoyance.
“The augments are considered a threat now?”
“Have you paid attention to what’s happened in Colberton and other parts of the world?”
“My ex-wife and son live there, so yeah, I keep an open ear.”
“Nick,” Cole says.
“With all due respect,” Nick adds.
“Despite what you all may believe, the federal government isn’t here to start kidnapping US citizens and punishing them for something that aliens forced,” Ibbles states.
“Good to hear,” Aaron says.
Ibbles continues. “However, only a fool would bury his head and hope that the Templars, or any other group of augments, decide to play by the rules. We’re putting together a team as a just in case measure.”
“I’m all for doing my duty, but if TV has taught me one thing, it’s that machine guns aren’t good enough. What do you expect from us?” Blake asks.
“Your ODB and ODAs are only a part of the team. Your mission will be to form a perimeter around any battles. We have other operatives who will engage in direct conflict, if necessary, with RAs.”
“RAs?” Cole asks.
“Rogue Augments,” Ibbles answers.
“Sure,” Aaron says. “No problem. We’ll form a perimeter around the purple energy barrier. You know, the real perimeter.”
Nick stifles a laugh. He knows that Cole is going to have words with all of them once Adrian and Ibbles go on their tour.
“So, who exactly will take on the RAs?” Nick asks.
“My operatives,” Ibbles answers.
“Okay,” Nick says, barely hiding his annoyance. “What’s the name of your department?”
Ibbles straightens up a bit and answers with obvious pride. “We’re the Augmented Military Enforcement Node. I came up with that one.”
Despite their best efforts, none of the soldiers, including Adrian and Cole, are able to keep from laughing.
“The A-Men? Are you serious?” Nick asks. “Please tell me that’s just a coincidence.”
“It sounds like a comic team of Bible thumpers,” Blake adds.
Ibbles’ face turns red with embarrassment. He quickly loses his composure.
“Be professional!” he screams.
People outside of the conference room peek inside to see the problem and quickly walk away after a look from Cole.
“That’s enough!” Adrian shouts. “We’re better than this.”
“Thank you,” Ibbles says as the laughter subsides.
“What do you need from us currently?” Adrian asks.
“Besides the tour of what I hope are soldiers who respect authority training diligently, I’ll need you and one other to come to my compound. You as a professional courtesy and the other will be stuck with me as a liaison. You may want to send your warrant officer for a few weeks, too. Our office will be in Colberton.”
“Why there?” Aaron asks.
“Because it seems to be ground zero. There’s a stronger concentration of augments there than any other place on the planet.”
“Why is that?” Nick asks.
“We don’t know yet,” Ibbles answers.
“Yes, you’re my guy, Nick,” Adrian answers the unspoken question.
“Thanks, Adrian. How long is the op?”
“We’re still figuring out the details. Pack like it’s a deployment,” Cole says, “but you’ll go back and forth.”
“Any other way to pack?” Nick asks.
“Not in this line of work,” Adrian answers.
“Good,” Ibbles states. “Now that that’s settled, I’d like to check out your A teams.”
“Not a problem. Follow me,” Adrian says.
He leads Ibbles out of the room, and the two go on their tour.
“You three jokers need to learn some goddamn tact,” Cole accuses.
“C’mon, Cole. That guy was a tool,” Aaron says.
“We all know that, but you don’t say it to his face. It’s the difference between calling someone shit and calling him excrement. When you call them shit, they tend to puff out their chests and want to fight. If you use a classy word, like excrement, they take the criticism a bit better.”
“That sounds like some urban fortune cookie bullshit,” Nick accu
ses.
“Get the hell out of here and do some work,” Cole shouts.
The other three soldiers stand and file out the door.
“You piles of excrement!” Cole good naturedly screams at them as they leave.
Kim places a tray of meatballs onto the table in her family’s dining room. Ketchup and cooked onions top the dish, and the smell makes the diners salivate. Around the table are Alex, Ava, Jackson, Kellen, Kim, and two special guests. The first is Donald. The second is Father Tom.
Father Tom polishes a smudge on his glasses with his napkin and places them back on his face.
“It smells delicious, Kim,” Father Tom compliments.
“Thank you. It’s one of Alex’s favorite meals,” Kim says.
“I can see why,” Father Tom states.
“Would you like to say grace, Father Tom?” Alex asks.
Father Tom looks reluctant.
“It’s just Tom for the time being, and I think that’s mildly inappropriate.”
“Giving the blessing at dinner isn’t a sacrament. Besides, nobody’s here. I won’t tell if you won’t,” Alex encourages.
Father Tom looks around the table and gets supportive eyes from his dining companions with the exception of the twins, who just stare at their cooked carrots with disdain.
“Thank you for the support. I hope you don’t mind if I go off script,” Father Tom says. “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”
The Williams family members make the sign of the cross. Donald clearly tries to make himself smaller. He appears unsure if he should sign, too, or just wait politely.
“Father, bless the Williams family and their friend Donald. They’ve shown me great kindness since I first joined this parish. Also, bless the food we’re about to consume. Let it nourish our bodies like your word nourishes our souls. Please help to temper the attitudes of those who are afraid of the drastic changes that you’ve willed. Let the angry fires in their hearts subside to embers and expire. Amen.”
“Amen,” the assembled recite.
They all make the sign of the cross again and begin to pile the meatballs, carrots, and fresh rolls onto their plates.
“Great prayer, Tom,” Donald says.
“Thank you, Donald. Did I notice your hands folded as well?” Father Tom asks.
Donald sighs. “Tom, I’m not going to pretend like the stuff that’s gone on over the past two years hasn’t made me re-evaluate my position on the afterlife. You go back two years and I could guarantee that shooting laser beams was impossible. Now, I’d look like a fool if I made that claim.”
“Don’t worry,” Alex says. “You look like a fool no matter what you do.”
There’s polite laughter as Donald pretends to be egregiously insulted.
“You see, Tom, what I have to put up with? I thought I was a guest tonight.”
“I like you, Mr. Donald,” Ava announces.
“Thanks, Ava. That’s why you get the nice presents on birthdays and Christmas.”
“We like you, too,” Jackson says.
“Yup,” adds Kellen.
“Don’t worry, little men, I’ve got you, too.”
“Yes!” the twins exclaim.
Donald becomes serious again.
“Do any of the changes in the world worry you, Tom?” he asks.
“Please, no politics,” Kim begs.
“Kim, I love you, but I’ve been holding this question in for months now,” Donald admits.
“Fine,” Kim relents.
With Kim’s permission, Father Tom answers. “I’m in the position I’m in now precisely because of these changes and my beliefs. I know in my heart that the Bible is only mostly right; it got some things wrong. Aliens and augments are the missing link.”
“That’s a pretty definitive statement,” Alex observes.
Father Tom nods. “It is, and I stand by it. I can’t really get into why, but I’m not wrong on this. Despite what some of my peers may say.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier to just play along with them?” Donald asks.
“Now what kind of priest would I be if I agreed to that? Especially with young children in ear range.”
“Thank you,” Kim says.
“Yeah, but you’d actually still be a priest,” Donald says before adding, “sorry.”
“No apology necessary,” Father Tom says. “I understand your point. I wrestled with that temptation, but there is a Heaven, there is a God. I don’t want to have to justify my weakness before Him when I pass.”
“Not to beat a dead horse,” Donald starts as he finishes his bite of meatball, “but how do you know?”
“God speaks to me. It’s the simplest way to answer.”
“Well, put a good word in for me,” Donald jokes.
“For all of us,” Alex adds, trying to bring the conversation to a close.
“I will indeed,” Father Tom agrees.
Abel watches as Smith runs the rookies through a series of circuit training stations. The recruits moan and mope as they try to keep up with the former SEAL’s stamina. Smith realizes Abel’s presence.
“Take a break,” Smith tells his trainees. “I have to speak with Abel about something.”
Smith jogs over to Abel while the rest slump to the floor.
“You have a question, Bill?” Abel asks.
“I do,” Smith admits. “I was hoping you could tell me what exactly I should be training these guys for?”
“For the unavoidable battle with the Malignant.”
“Yeah, I get that, but what exactly does that mean? I mean, with your power, you could just erase them all from existence, right?”
“Technically, yes, but I won’t.”
“Why not? It’ll save a lot of death and suffering.”
“No, it wouldn’t. It would invite more actually.”
“How so?”
“That’s a question for another time.”
Abel turns to walk away, but Smith, to his own surprise, reaches up and grabs Abel by his hoodie’s sleeve. He immediately regrets the action and lets go. Abel doesn’t seem to care.
“I’m sorry,” Smith says.
“What for? I respect passion. I understand it, too.”
“I just feel like I’m wasting everyone’s time. I’m making this up as I go, and it feels like it’s all in vain. I know Votary won’t share anything with me. They know it, too, and they’re all too nervous to speak to you without one of us original guys there. That means they all come to me and ask about how to find their Gudz relic, or what space is like, or a million other questions that I have absolutely no idea on how to answer.”
Abel looks into Smith’s eyes. He must sense his desperation because he sighs and relents.
“Who’s here right now?” Abel asks.
Smith doesn’t quite understand the question. His scrunched face must tell Abel as much.
“Who is physically in The Lair?” Abel asks.
“Oh,” Smith says. “About half of us. Votary and Jake are on patrol. So are DJ and Kimmy, although his permanent clones are floating around. Akio is home in Japan, and Karen is driving her police patrol. Everyone else is here.”
“Okay,” Abel says, “gather up the others, including Saager, Sahil, or Ajit, and have them meet in the war room. I’ll give you a bit more clarity on what to expect. You may then share it with the others when they ask you.”
“Just like that?”
“I try not to horde information. It’s just that what I’m about to say may demoralize the team.”
“I have faith in them.”
“And I have faith in you. I trust your judgment.”
Ten minutes later the Templars sit around an apple-shaped table with Abel at the stem position. The Templars present include Smith,
Saager, Jayden, Amine, and Port.
“Saager, your brothers didn’t want to come?” Abel asks.
The Darsh clone answers in his host’s voice. “No, Abel, we’re all one mind. They’ll monitor disturbances around the globe while I learn here. It’s the most efficient this way.”
“Gabriella, you may take off your helmet. I can understand you. So would everyone else if you just practiced your English a little more.”
Gabriella takes off her helmet and sets it on the table.
“Bill asked me to address all of you on what exactly you’ll face in the near future. I want to emphasize that you will face it. I won’t interfere.”
“Why not?” Saager asks.
“Because the Malignant are very focused on order. Their mother literally is order. They have a set way of doing things and won’t deviate if we don’t deviate.”
“What does that mean exactly?” Smith asks.
“If Malignant are order, then Gudz are chaos. Don’t confuse these terms with how you use them. They could just as easily mean structure versus freedom. Our races have been at war for eons. We formally call it the War of Perpetuity.”
“Why so long? So much more could be accomplished if you just worked together,” Amine says.
“This is us working together. Prior to the war, which even precedes me, Gudz, Malignant, and all humanoid species were at peace. We soon realized that life couldn’t sustain it.”
“Why not?” Saager asks.
“Because we had already cured disease. Serious injuries were easily repaired.”
“That sounds like paradise,” Saager says.
“Only on the surface,” Abel says. “Think about it. If nobody is dying young, and everyone is happy, what does that mean?”
“Innovation and discovery?” Saager offers.
“You were all starving, weren’t you,” Jayden says.
The other Templars seem to realize the implication.
“Very astute,” Abel admits. “We were starving. The War of Perpetuity was the agreed upon solution. It would bring about death and make people thankful for what they have.”
“That’s barbaric!” Amine shouts. “I’ve seen enough hungry people in my life to know there has to be a better way.”
Sleepers and Scouts Page 5
