Operation Blackout

by J. L. Middleton

  Summers nodded slowly as she absorbed his words, hopefully agreeing with them; Terrance knew that, if necessary, he could fall back on Connor’s decisiveness in the Chamberlain case. Evidently, he didn’t need to strengthen his justification, for she moved on, turning back to Sable. “Where are we on Echo?”

  Sable released a long, deliberate sigh that seemed to invalidate her as an alternative avenue via which to locate the missing Starr girl. “She’s not progressing,” he replied, clearly frustrated. “She’s refusing the training based on the fact that she’s not ‘one of them.’” He pulled a face as he mocked her delusional rationalization. “The visions that led her to Others were tools sent to aid her mission, not a mutation, and it’s an ironic attitude since those very senses told her that both Penumbra and Connor were others.” He shook his head. “She asked about them, about their status, when she was processed.”

  Terrance’s gut clenched. “I didn’t hear about this,” he said, worried. “Did she mention it to Connor?”

  Sable shook his head dismissively. “It was in the examination room after they’d left,” he explained. “If she mentioned anything to them at all, it would’ve been about Penumbra. She recognized immediately that he was an Other, but with Connor in a position of power, she needed reassurance that we weren’t all Others. Then she started doubting her senses and needed clarification of Connor’s status. He confused her, and we told her an appropriate fabrication to obfuscate his existence.” He sighed deeply. “But to my knowledge, she never mentioned it to Connor himself.”

  Terrance relaxed somewhat as Sable readdressed Summers. “I asked Angel to speak with her Other to Other, but she won’t accept any advice or comfort from him,” he continued. Angel’s assistance had been crucial to molding the guileless young Emma Braddock into Antithesis, helping her come to terms with the arrests of the adults in her life and her sudden transfer from her childhood compound. His words had eased the transition as she’d come to accept her new status as an Other and her transformation into a containment tool. Contrastingly, Echo had apparently rebuffed his efforts. “She avoids him and Antithesis, treating them with as much disdain as any of the agents would.”

  He paused, considering an idea that had just occurred to him. “Since she’s in such deep denial, maybe we could reassign her as an agent like Connor,” he suggested, but he immediately discarded the notion with a sharp shake of his head. If he hadn’t, Terrance would have directly denounced the proposal as ill-advised and desperate; Echo already knew that she was an Other, even if she hadn’t accepted this fact, and the knowledge itself might taint her actions as an agent.

  Summers’ severe expression tightened. “You’d better figure it out and come to an understanding with her, because if she doesn’t train, she’s not an asset—just a drain on our resources,” she warned him and continued into an ultimatum. “I don’t really want to capitulate to Jarvis, but this debacle with Supernova is going to make us take a hard hit, and if Echo doesn’t appear to be a good investment, then she’s the first on the chopping block. I don’t care what her ability is.” She jabbed her finger at Sable. “Get it sorted!” she barked and left the room without allowing further comment.

  - - -

  Cassie’s fire had gone out. She’d been terrified the night of the mugging, acting on instinct in the moment and then retreating into childhood behaviors for comfort after the fact. Her brother had tried to console her, but he’d provided only an unwelcome reminder of their inhuman nature. When Sone and the Vanguard had come to collect her, she’d maintained a level head and escaped the situation as soon as her “saviors” had been distracted; fear had never entered her mind—only confusion and concern. Even her father’s great sin against her brother and herself had only inspired feelings of rage rather than terror; Pierce had never respected his children, so he shouldn’t have dared threaten them in their own home, and she’d consequently taught him a lesson for his presumption.

  But this was not the case tonight with this familiar stranger. Every time she thought she might have a handle on the situation, the floor was ripped from beneath her feet, and her fearful mind was compressing everything to a single point—the present—as fear seeped deeper into her brain. While the sophisticated stranger was like them—and she’d been prepared for the existence of Others by the BSI—the dread she felt at the possibility of him reusing his ability was even more intimidating than any physical cage could have been.

  She again contemplated setting her surroundings alight simply to put an end to the entire affair. She knew she’d get only one chance; the filaments of the substandard industrial fixtures wouldn’t burn well enough to ignite anything more than a single target, so she’d have to merge the individual sources into a single kindling pile if she wanted a useful blaze. This, of course, presented the same conundrum as the car: Since she might be only superficially fire resistant, her escape plan might instead transform into a suicide mission. It might be worth it to destroy her dreadful captor if it worked, but she had no guarantee that it would; her limited knowledge of her kind handicapped her ability to plan, and she fleetingly regretted cutting off contact with Sone.

  She also had to consider the impact that her actions would have on her brother. If she survived the blaze, then she would have to pay the price for breaking established BSI guidelines, for which the punishment was permanent restriction to Plum Island. But she’d gleaned from the staff via avoided eye contact, awkward phrasing, and reading between the lines in various conversations that the penalty was likely far more severe. Her actions, whether or not she lived, would result in a lose–lose situation, and though she had been selfish as a teenager, she didn’t want to invalidate the sacrifices that Orion had made for her over the years. She cared deeply for her brother and for everything he’d ever done for her, and she knew that her death would devastate him and there would be no one left to comfort him when she was gone.

  - - -

  The ride back to Orion’s apartment served only to exacerbate his condition; the clock continued to tick while he was trapped in a long metal tube. He was like a druggie on a bad cocktail, crawling out of his skin with nervous energy one moment, only to sink into traumatic depression, and there was no way to delineate when either mood would peak and the pendulum would swing the other way. Connor could abide anger, and he could mold fear and even panic into a facsimile of it, but he didn’t know what to do with despair other than to drown it, and there was no alcohol in the apartment. He’d have to somehow redirect the younger man’s energy into something constructive—and soon.

  Connor forced Orion onto a barstool and corralled him, leaning on the bar and keeping his forearms within easy distance of the younger man in case he had to shake some sense back into him. “Right,” he said in a sufficiently somber tone of voice; he greatly wished that he could be facetious—it was his own way of coping—but it was not appropriate in this situation, so he kept focused. “So, start from the beginning.” Orion shuddered, catching his breath at the back of his throat, and Connor quickly snapped him back into the moment. “Take a deep breath,” he coached, exaggerating the motion of a large lungful of air.

  Connor painstakingly drew the story from the younger man, gently guiding his partner toward calm with his voice whenever Orion’s composure started to waver. Cassie had made the phone call at the behest of her kidnapper, reading the message under duress, and Orion’s responses had been relayed via speaker, as he had been able to hear the faint echo of his own voice but little else. It had been a short conversation, and no demands had been made. Too tangled up in fear for his sister, Orion hadn’t questioned the lack of ransom, assuming that negotiations would take place after he’d met with the culprit. However, the threat on her life had been explicit: Orion should inform no one, especially not the BSI—which had been mentioned by name. The kidnapper had graciously allowed him to set a time for them to meet, and he could not be l
ate to that appointment.

  “You can’t go,” Connor declared. The provision regarding the BSI had put him on edge; public knowledge of the agency was vague and vanilla to the point of inducing torpor, so for someone to know its personal connection to Orion proved that the person had insider knowledge. This meant that VSION or their ilk were involved. “It’s clearly a trap.”

  Orion clenched his fists. “Well, what else—?”

  “You can’t handle this on your own,” Connor insisted. He grabbed the younger man’s forearms and spoke calmly, ensuring their eyes met to confirm that his message was being received. “We’ve got to involve someone higher, if nothing more than for your protection.” His preference was to involve the BSI to avoid complications; if Cassie or Orion used their abilities, there would be no need for a cover-up. However, he was willing to deal with local authorities simply for expediency, and he’d take the inevitable hit from his boss with pride if it meant that the girl was safe.

  He scowled as his phone rang, interrupting the momentum he was building. He glanced at the screen just in case and then wished that he hadn’t; it was his boss, which meant that the call was important and he would have to salvage his argument after the fact. “What timing,” he groused before answering. “Special Agent Connor.”

  Orion’s eyes widened. “Don’t—” Connor silenced him with a look and shook his head sharply, causing the younger man to back down. He also flashed Orion a reassuring grin; while he might inform the agency of the situation, there was no need to let Orion suspect that he would.

  “Is Penumbra there with you?” He recognized Terrance’s deep bass.

  “Yeah,” he responded, holding his smile.

  “The whole evening?”

  “Yeah,” he repeated, his brow furrowing slightly despite his efforts to the contrary. “We just got back from an interview.”

  “Good. Don’t let him out of your sight,” Terrance said. There was a hush—the way a crowd quiets when a stunt goes wrong and everyone is waiting to see if the stuntman has survived—and then he spoke with the confidence of a man who’d recused himself from a situation. “There’s been an incident involving his sister. She’s gone missing.”

  Connor had difficulty maintaining his unconcerned veneer and disguised its lapse by sustaining eye contact with Orion. Maintaining a separate and duplicitous narrative for his partner was not a part of the job he enjoyed. “What do you mean?” he replied in a neutral voice.

  “It’s not important,” Terrance assured him in an attempt to forestall the inevitable line of conversation. “We need you to watch out for any strange behavior and let us know about it immediately.”

  Connor chuffed, unsatisfied. “I kinda need to know what I’m looking for.” He was fishing for information, and there was no guarantee Terrance would take the bait, but surprisingly, his boss caved easily. Connor wondered if this meant that the agency was desperate for information or whether another factor was in play.

  “Someone made a major move against us,” Terrance replied, speaking more carefully than the curt, no-nonsense manner to which Connor was accustomed. “The sister’s surveillance team was assassinated, and we’re not yet sure if she had a hand in it. We’re chasing down a few leads, but if Penumbra’s been with you, it probably means he wasn’t involved.”

  As soon as Connor recognized that Orion might overhear something he shouldn’t, he casually strolled out of earshot toward the foyer, keeping his eye on Orion. He kept his attention divided between the conversation and his monitoring of the younger man to prevent him from absconding to meet the kidnapper. “VSION?” he surmised quietly.

  “We don’t know,” Terrance admitted gruffly. “There’s not enough evidence either way.”

  Connor grunted unhappily. As far as he could tell, Terrance wasn’t lying or withholding information—no purpose would be served by keeping the Vanguard’s involvement under wraps—and Connor was unsettled by the reminder that the agency was still constrained by human limitations; it was easy to forget this fact when the BSI so often dealt with preternatural latitudes. If they were dealing with Others, then it would be advantageous to let Connor know so that he could better deal with any threat. “So, what do I tell him?”

  “Nothing.”

  He scowled. “He has a right to know.”

  “Not for the purpose of his continued containment.” Terrance’s tone was cold, and Connor knew that his supervisor had made more difficult decisions in the past than he had, but this knowledge didn’t make his rationale any easier to hear. “She’s our primary control for him, and with her missing, he loses all incentive to cooperate. He might even try to reacquire her on his own.” It was ironic that Terrance didn’t know how right he was, though Connor believed that his boss was overestimating Orion’s capabilities; Orion was an overprotective older brother, not a commando, and Connor was in no danger of losing custody of him to an ill-advised rescue mission. “No, you’re not telling him a thing until I give you further instructions.”

  “When’s that gonna be?” he asked acerbically. Just because a sound decision had been made didn’t mean he had to agree with it.

  “Most likely when the situation is resolved,” Terrance replied icily. His deep voice became critical and almost dangerous as he addressed Connor’s perceived insubordination. “Connor, do we have a problem?”

  “No, sir,” he replied, infusing the words with enough sarcasm that he almost sounded sincere. “I’m just a little concerned he’ll figure it out on his own. That won’t jibe well with the friendly image we’re trying to project here.”

  “I have the confidence you’ll figure it out,” Terrance told him; his tone didn’t leave room for argument. “Lie to him if you have to.”

  “Yeah,” Connor agreed resentfully. He ended the call hastily, no longer willing to be reminded of his unfortunate responsibility, especially in the midst of trying to handle the unfolding crisis. He turned his full attention back to Orion, who must have overheard at least a part of the conversation despite Connor’s best efforts, as the younger man had wrapped his arms around himself and was kicking the barstool footrest semi-aggressively. Connor tried to force a blithe smile as he placed his phone in his pocket and sauntered back to the bar, but he found that it wouldn’t stick on his face. Instead, he leaned heavily against the island, folded his hands, and pulled a long face as Orion watched him expectantly.

  He couldn’t do it; he had to be honest. “This is a lot more serious than you realize,” he said slowly, bowing his head; he found that using his fingernail to fiddle with the grout in the island tile made it easier for him to continue. “When your sister graduated from Plum Island, a surveillance team was tasked to keep track of her. They were killed when your sister was taken.” Involuntarily, he twitched into a taut smirk. “‘Assassinated’ was the term they used.” He returned his full attention to his partner, his eyes full of concern. “Whoever took your sister meant serious business, which is why you can’t go meet them alone. We need backup of some kind.”

  Orion’s eyes went wide at first, and then the nervous energy drained from his limbs as he decisively tightened his jaw. “You’ve got a gun,” he asserted as he stood, nodding toward Connor holster. “You can watch over me.”

  Orion’s suggestion was naively resolute, and Connor felt ashamed that the younger man had so much confidence in him, especially since the agent had to bitterly acknowledge to himself that his firearm never did much to aid him: A human had once shot him with his own weapon, and an Other had rendered it useless during his last confrontation. “I mean someone with better expertise.”

  Orion suddenly drew himself up. “Notifying the police takes time,” he stated, speaking with an assertiveness that was fueled by the dire nature of the situation. “I’ve listened to you because you’re my friend, and you might know what to do, but all you’ve done is waste
my time. If this is what it takes to protect my sister, then I’m going to do it, and I’m leaving whether or not you’re going to help me.” He displayed the same confidence that Connor had briefly glimpsed at Hank Lester’s apartment when he’d collapsed; it was that of a man who’d identified a situation, knew what to do, and was taking decisive ownership of it. Orion strode to the foyer, where he retrieved a heavy jacket for the colder weather, and he began donning it with little regard for the older man’s reaction.

  Although Connor was impressed by the historic transformation of his partner’s demeanor, it didn’t change the fact that Orion was making a stupid decision, and he was going to stop him. “Orion Starr, you are not going out that door,” he growled authoritatively, banking on his tacit dominance in their relationship to arrest his partner’s building momentum.

  To his great surprise, Orion did not yield to his commanding influence. “Yes, I am,” he replied with finality and left.

  - - -

  The hour grew late, and the evening seemed to stretch on forever. It had all started so simply with a teenager missing her curfew—an event that happens daily to parents all over the world—and had deteriorated into an abstract composite of a military operation and the painful memory of the night Charlene’s son had died becoming a new construct of stress, anxiety, and mixed emotions.

  It had been difficult to isolate Timothy when he’d been conducting a search and leading the team through the trailer park in which the Buchanans lived, and even more so to get him to keep his voice down when Charlene had finally been able to reveal the existence of Others to him. But he had taken the news well, considering the child he’d taken into his home had been classified as a living hazard, and after he’d recovered from the initial shock, he’d asked probing questions about the BSI, its mission, and Others whom she had met. Her work at headquarters had been primarily administrative, dealing with the bureaucracy of the government, as well as navigating the complex political climate of D.C., so she had been unable to provide him with many solid answers, but she had still been able to impart the importance of Operation Blackout, including its significance to international relations. Even though Timothy had signed the bureau’s nondisclosure agreement and had consented to suppressing evidence in the name of national security with no resistance, she’d felt that she may have failed to convince him to adopt a BSI-sanctioned viewpoint.