《Guardian Angels》


 Prologue

    Twenty-two year old Samantha ¨C Sam ¨C Drake stared blankly out through the smears and stains adorning the coffee shop window, her mind idling quietly in neutral, and mused on the drudgery that was her life.


    Her day had started like any other day:


    Woken at dawn by her son, Joshua ¨C a four-year-old hyperactive black hole of irresistible coercion, capable of sucking in the time, energy and consideration of every living thing around him at the cost of their patience and sanity ¨C she discovered to her horror that he¡¯d been through her dresser, again. Bouncing with unceasing energy on the end of her bed, he¡¯d fired off a series of questions she daren¡¯t answer truthfully. ¡°Mommy, what are these for? Have you been naughty? I thought only policemen had handcuffs? Why do you¡­?¡±


    Precocious and endlessly inquisitive, Joshua would have continued the grilling until her nerves were fried or his curiosity was satisfied. Thus, she had been forced to respond quickly, with lies and the offering of an appropriate bribe that had placated his ravenous little mind and sent him scurrying to his room in search of new things to torment.


    But she was use to caving. It was either that, or listen to the ill-tempered diatribe of the useless lump beside her who seemed capable of sleeping through just about anything.


    Yes, he was Joshua¡¯s father, but no one would have known that from his total lack of interest, unless it was to show his son off in front of family and friends. Sam had learned very quickly never to hope that he would drag his sorry ass out of bed to help, preferring instead to let her do virtually everything ¡°messy and difficult,¡± especially if it was inconvenient for him to be a parent at those times.


    And that¡¯s all it ever was ¨C inconvenient ¨C for Joshua followed the same old routine, day after day. ¡°What¡¯s this? Oh, what¡¯s that? Can I have it? Not that one, fetch me the one over there. No, I don¡¯t want to get dressed, and I don¡¯t want to eat Choc¨® Pops for breakfast. I want a burger, a burger with jell-o and ice-cream¡­and a Mars bar.¡±


    At least today was turning out better.


    An unexpected call from her best friend, Sophie, had led to them meeting in Exeter for coffee later that morning, where of course, Sophie was as fresh as a daisy. And in her shoes, who wouldn¡¯t be?


    Sophie¡¯s four-year-old, Chloe, born only two days after Joshua, was the complete opposite of her own little dynamic demon. Quiet and contented, she was the perfect child. She had delighted her parents by sleeping through the night from about two-weeks old, much to the envy of Sam, who had forgotten what it was like to lose herself to the temporary escape slumber offered, and who, as a result, had contemplated strangulation on more than one occasion.


    But at least Sam could savor the delights of this brief respite.


    It had rained during the night, and Josh ¨C as she preferred to call him ¨C had worked himself into an exhausted frenzy, jumping in puddles and chasing the variant mobs of seagulls and pigeons that roamed the city¡¯s thoroughfares like pressgangs. At this moment, he lay in a sweaty heap, almost comatose in his stroller, and Sam had been able to unwind and catch up on the local gossip with Sophie, unhindered.


    If only I could get him to do that every night from eleven to seven, life would be so much better. She sniffed. Still, we each have our cross to bear.


    Sam was pulled from muted reverie by someone knocking her elbow. She turned to find Sophie edging through the gap in between the tightly packed tables. ¡°Watch Chloe for me, will you?¡± her friend whispered, ¡°I desperately need the toilet.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, sure, no problem,¡± replied Sam, knowing full well that where Chloe was concerned, there wouldn¡¯t be anything to do, especially since both children were fast asleep. ¡°Do you want more coffee before we go?¡±


    ¡°Just a small one, otherwise we''ll be going from bathroom to bathroom instead of blitzing the stores,¡± Sophie warned.


    Smirking at the truth of the remark, Sam checked the children in their strollers to make sure they were still napping before meandering over to the short queue to order fresh drinks.


    As Sam waited in line, the unforgettable chorus to a near turn of the century reggae fusion classic, ¡°Boombastic¡± announced to everyone in the caf¨¦ that her boyfriend was calling, causing quite a few to titter and shake their heads as she tried to answer her Tesla scroll phone as quickly as she could.


    ¡°Babe, where are you?¡± a sleepy voice slurred.


    Is he¡­? ¡°I¡¯m in town with Sophie. Richard, are you still in bed?¡±Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°Yuh, just getting up now, wondered where you were.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me.¡± Another voice buzzed at the edge of her perceptions.


    ¡°I said I¡¯m in town. Sophie and I should be another hour or two yet, why?¡±


    ¡°An hour or two? But I¡¯m out of beer and Dave¡¯s coming round soon to watch the sports channel with me on Globe-Sat. What are we gonna do?¡±


    ¡°Did you hear me?¡± The same voice repeated, louder this time.


    Her anger rising, Sam ignored the interloper and concentrated on making her point. ¡°Well, you could always die of thirst, or ¨C and this is just a suggestion ¨C you could get up off your backside and go and get it yourself.¡±


    ¡°Oh babe. C¡¯mon and help me out here. Can¡¯t you ¨C?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare!¡± Sam cut in, not giving the oaf time to even finish asking, ¡°This is the first time I¡¯ve managed to catch Sophie in ages and I¡¯m not going to rush . . . .¡±


    ¡°Excuse me, young lady.¡± Whoever the stranger was, they were most insistent.


    Oh for heaven¡¯s sake. ¡°Hang on a minute, Rich.¡± Sam turned to find an anxious looking middle-aged woman tugging on her arm. ¡°Yeah, what do you want?¡±


    Turning back toward where they had been sitting, Sam saw Sophie returning from the restroom and nearing the table. The older lady pointed and said, ¡°Is that your little boy who¡¯s just gone outside?¡±


    Sam¡¯s eyes zeroed in on Joshua¡¯s empty stroller, and a spark of alarm set her nerves ablaze. Peering toward the doors, which were wedged open for the fresh air, she caught sight of a mop of blond hair bobbing along outside the window, and a squeal of delight as a mixed cluster of birds began to flee from their latest tormenter.


    ¡°Josh!¡± shouted Sam, in the vain hope that for the first time in his short life, her son would actually take notice of his mother. ¡°Josh, wait!¡± she screamed, much louder this time, causing the whole coffee shop to fall silent.


    Everyone turned, searching for the cause of alarm.


    ¡°Oh no!¡± someone seated near the window gasped.


    Sam¡¯s feet felt like clay as she fought her way through crowded tables toward the door, but at last she made it. Gaining a clearer view, she saw Joshua momentarily stop, raising her hopes that he had actually listened for once. Then she spotted the object of his interest: the only small group of pigeons left in the near vicinity, happily strutting their stuff on the curb next to the busy road. Well used to a city environment, they didn¡¯t seem in the least bit bothered by the elderly lady who stood nearby.


    His face twisting in glee, Joshua sucked in air, and, shrieking at the top of his little lungs, charged at the intruders who had dared not to fly away with the others.


    Unaware for a moment that they were the focus of that charge, the pigeons continued in their own little world, hopping on and off the pavement and into the street, hoping to snatch a discarded crumb or two before the next vehicle got too close and caused them to temporarily abandon their endless quest for food.


    Sam¡¯s skin blanched cold ¡°Joshua, no!¡± she roared, desperate that the use of his full name might carry more weight.


    But of course it didn¡¯t and, with his full consideration on the birds, he jumped toward them, arms flapping wildly, totally oblivious to the fact he was nearing the edge of the curb, and totally unaware of the truck, now only fifty feet away.


    Hand in her mouth, Sam froze.


    <h6>*</h6>


    Absorbed in the stock manifest of his next delivery, Albert Finn, the driver of the van, didn¡¯t realize anything was amiss until he glanced up from his computer screen and looked at the road ahead.


    What in the¡­?


    And there he was. A little boy only yards away, right in front of him.


    But that can¡¯t¡­?


    As often happens to people in those final moments before unexpected calamity strikes, Albert refused to believe there was a child where there shouldn¡¯t be one. When he realized ¨C alas ¨C that the apparition was indeed real, it was too late to brake; too late to do anything except shut his eyes and wait for the inevitable, sickening, impact.


    Crump!


    Though softer than he would have expected, the sound of crushing metal dominated Albert¡¯s whole world. The front of the vehicle dipped sharply, lifting the rear completely off the ground, throwing parcels and equipment forward, and causing him to wince in pain as the seatbelt harness bit into his chest.


    None of that mattered to Albert, who had only recently become a grandfather. Oh my God, I can¡¯t believe this is happening. There¡¯s no way a toddler could survive a collision like that. I¡¯ve killed a little boy!


    Broken glass and loose items of stock rained down around his head. In the confines of the cab, the effect seemed overly prolonged in some way, for it felt as if the truck had been suspended up on its nose. When Albert dared to relax and tried to snatch a breath, the spell was broken.


    The groan of steel protesting against steel growled out as the vehicle crashed back down to earth with an almighty bang. As the windshield had already shattered, whatever glass was left in the frame tinkled lightly to the asphalt, accentuating the silence.


    Slowly, the aftermath of the accident began to register on Albert¡¯s conscience.


    Oh my Christ, poor little sod. Where is he? Do I even want to look?


    <h6>*</h6>


    ¡°Yah! Fly birdies, fly¡­¡±


    Completely unaware of what was about to happen, Joshua¡¯s attention was devoted to a playground of flapping wings, splashing puddles, and a sense of burgeoning triumph as he chased the last remaining pigeon toward the edge of the sidewalk.


    It took to the air.


    ¡°Oh no you don¡¯t!¡± Leaping high, he felt a brush of feathers and the downbeat of wind as his enemy rose into the heavens beyond his reach. ¡°Ha, that¡¯ll teach you¡­?¡±


    Only at that moment did Joshua recognize he was where he shouldn¡¯t be.


    Why am I in the road?


    He spun in a tight circle, searching for the security of a familiar face.


    Where¡¯s mommy?


    At the last moment, he realized something big, something hard, something travelling so very fast that blocked out the sunshine, was about to hit him.


    There was no time to react, no time to even scream as an irresistible force slammed into him, knocking the air from his lungs as it flung him backwards, turning the spinning kaleidoscope blur of his vision black.

 Conflicts of perspective

    Samantha remained welded in position as the nightmare unfolded about her.


    Yet it seemed so surreal. The van didn¡¯t swerve; there was no squeal of breaks; just an inevitable, sickening crunch as her child was thrown skyward like a discarded paper cup.


    The knot of gut-twisting helplessness that clenched at her stomach as her son¡¯s small body flew through the air to land in some manicured flowerbeds twenty yards away was a sensation she would never forget.


    But I¡¯m right here. I¡¯m ¨C right ¨C here. This can¡¯t¡­I can¡¯t¡­?


    Bile swirled against the back of Sam¡¯s teeth and she fell to her knees. She didn¡¯t register the vehicle after that. It might as well have never existed. She just wanted to get to her boy and see with her own eyes the unavoidable results of such an accident. But after the initial impact and momentary silence that followed, where everyone seemed frozen in place ¨C except for some cold hearted bastard on the other side of the road in a black fleece who was already walking rapidly away, as if dismissing the significance of her son¡¯s death ¨C Sam found she simply couldn¡¯t move.


    Her vision dimmed and a cold sweat erupted across her forehead. Then nausea, insidious and vile, took hold. I¡­I¡¯m gonna be sick.


    A huge clamor broke out as bystanders congregated around the truck. Far more swarmed toward Joshua, converging from all sides, pushing and shoving in their eagerness to help. The sight of them snapped Samantha back to the cruel reality of her predicament.


    Surging to her feet, Sam pressed forward and started elbowing her way through the living barrier separating her from her son. ¡°Joshua, Joshua,¡± she cried, over and over again. It made no difference. So great was the press and so loud were the people ¨C jostling and shouting and demanding contradictory things all at once ¨C that she made little headway.


    ¡°Call the police.¡±


    ¡°No, get an ambulance.¡±


    ¡°Does anyone know first aid?¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the point? Poor little guy won¡¯t have survived that.¡±


    As tears flowed uncontrollably down Sam¡¯s cheeks, those nearest her somehow realized who she must be. Respectfully, the milling throng began to give way and made space for her to get through.


    Sam had almost reached the inner cordon when a tangible bolt of alarm ran through the crowd like an electric shock. Someone hissed, ¡°No fucking way. Is he alive?¡±


    The outburst was followed by several other exclamations.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be stupid, he can¡¯t be.¡±


    ¡°Well, he is¡­see? He twitched.¡±


    ¡°Look, he¡¯s waking up.¡±


    ¡°But where¡¯s the blood?¡±


    ¡°Josh, Josh!¡± Samantha shouted as she fought her way through the last few people.


    From Sam¡¯s perspective, Joshua¡¯s inanimate corpse blinked and opened its eyes. It sat bolt upright, bewildered by the commotion about it. Then its countenance darkened and its bottom lip began to tremble. Resurrected, Joshua spotted her through a sea of faces.


    ¡°Mommy!¡± he screamed, hands outstretched in a desperate need for comfort.


    Released from the weight of grief, Sam¡¯s outlook blurred.


    ¡°Don¡¯t touch him,¡± someone pleaded as Samantha ran to scoop her son into her eager embrace.


    The warning didn¡¯t register. Sam was too busy marveling at the warmth of Josh¡¯s body and the strength of his fingers as he clung tightly to her; the shudders wracking his little shoulders as pent up emotions surged to the surface; the wonderful music issuing from his lungs as he buried his head against her shoulder and started bawling his eyes out; the smell of his tousled hair.


    He¡¯s alive, my little boy¡¯s alright, was all she could think. However, morbid curiosity soon got the better of her. But how?


    Peeling Josh away, she commenced looking him up and down, incredulously at first, then with mounting confusion. She checked him a second time. Then once more, refusing to believe what she saw.


    Sirens could be heard in the distance now, their multi-tone warbles announcing to the world that emergency services were at last responding.


    But Sam didn¡¯t care. She couldn¡¯t believe her son was in her arms again, and somehow, there wasn¡¯t the slightest scratch on him.


    No bruises, no swelling, no blood. How is that possible?


    Turning, she wandered back through the crowd until she reached the spot where the collision had occurred. An ashen-faced middle-aged man stood there, rooted to the spot like a tree, staring repeatedly between the truck and himself. His head shook from side to side and his jaw hung open. Obviously traumatized, he kept muttering under his breath, as if he was engaged in an argument with an unseen adversary and couldn¡¯t accept the truth of the answers he was hearing.


    As Sam drew closer and saw the extent of the damage, she began to appreciate why he was so shocked. Oh my God, the front of his van is wrecked! The engine has been crushed right back into the cab area. How did he manage to walk away from that?¡± She glanced at Josh. Come to that, how did either of them manage to walk away?


    The driver discerned her watching him. As his gaze came to rest on Joshua, his eyes flared in recognition. His mouth flapped uselessly for a second or two. Though he recovered quickly, he was only able to stammer, ¡°Ho¡­how did? But, but that¡¯s impossible.¡±


    He started panting, as if finding it hard to breathe.


    Overcome with concern, Samantha asked, ¡°Are you alright?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, I¡¯m so sorry, I . . . he just stepped out, I didn¡¯t have time to . . . .¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s okay. He¡¯s fine. See for yourself.¡± She held out her son, who had now turned his attention toward the source of the approaching sirens.


    ¡°Mommy, mommy, is it a fire engine? Is it a fire engine or a police car? Oooh, will there be an ambulance?¡±


    Bemused, both of them looked Joshua up and down, whereupon the driver shook his head more firmly. ¡°But he shouldn¡¯t be. You¡¯ve seen my truck. How could that much damage have been caused without putting a scratch on him¡­?


    ¡°¡­Or me?¡± he added quietly.


    For a final time, the driver¡¯s gaze wandered the wreck of his vehicle, the miracle that was Joshua, and the conundrum that was his own escape. Then his eyes rolled up into the back of his head and he folded slowly to the floor.


    <h6>*</h6>


    Police attending the scene that day were reportedly confused by accounts that conflicted in a number of minor, but extremely important ways.


    Of the numerous eyewitnesses interviewed, each and every single one had been able to verify the basics: a little boy ¨C now known as Joshua Drake ¨C had indeed run out in front of a delivery truck traveling at thirty miles an hour, giving the driver ¨C a Mr. Albert Finn of Westfields estate, Plymouth, Devon ¨C no time to take evasive action. There had been a collision, resulting in the youngster being thrown for many yards down the street, and the vehicle itself being wrecked. And yet, both Joshua and Mr. Finn had emerged from the incident unscathed.


    That didn¡¯t add up.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Therefore, authorities had put out multiple requests via the media, asking for anyone with the slightest information relating to the accident to come forward, and assuring such ones that the help they offered would be treated in the strictest confidence. Police, and a growing number of citizens, were keen to rationalize the events of that day, especially as there was a growing suspicion Joshua¡¯s miraculous survival might be in some way connected to other strange occurrences around the world.


    That request, and the accompanying assurance of confidentiality, is what eventually spurred eighty-six year old May Randle to come forward.


    <h6>*</h6>


    May was a fiercely practical and independent God-fearing lady, who had served people all her adult life. A nurse for more than four decades, she had also been happily married to a doctor for over sixty years before an unexpected heart attack took her beloved Stanley from her. That sad episode had left her as the matriarch to their three children, eight grandchildren, and four great-grandchildren. Born in an era when making a fuss was seen as a lack of moral fiber, time and circumstance had been unable to daunt May¡¯s resolve and everyone she knew was always amazed at how sharp she was for her age.


    Yes, her hearing wasn¡¯t what it used to be, but she was so proud of the fact that she¡¯d never had to use glasses that it was always one of the first things she announced to people when she met them.


    And providentially, it was her aural shortcomings that helped police piece together the real events of the day.


    May was supposed to wear a hearing aid, you see, but she often refused to use it unless family and friends were about, or she actually had to converse with someone. As such, she typically went about her business with the ear bud turned off. Obviously, this meant May needed to be wary and especially observant of what was going on around her.


    Therefore, on that day, now two weeks in the past, May saw exactly what had happened without the distraction of sound. She saw it clearly and precisely, from only seven feet away. The trouble was, no matter how many times she ran things through in her head, it still didn¡¯t make sense to her. So much so, that May was initially reticent to step forward for fear of neighbors thinking that she¡¯d lost her marbles to dementia at last, and needed locking away in a home for the mentally fragile.


    And can you blame me? Even I can¡¯t quite believe it.


    Just before the accident, May had left her favorite shop ¨C Marks & Spencer¡¯s ¨C with ingredients for her favorite meal tucked safely in her bag. As was her custom, she¡¯d paused at the curb, to ensure her change was in her purse, that the purse was at the bottom of her shopping bag, and that the personal alarm she habitually used was switched on, with the cord attached to her thumb¡­


    In moments, her mind drifted, and everything came flooding back:


    Hee, hee, I pity anyone who picks on me just because I¡¯m old. May looked up and down the road before stepping out, being careful not to upset a small flock of pigeons feeding right next to her.


    She registered the truck coming toward her from over thirty yards away to her right and decided to wait for it to pass before she commenced crossing. Killing time, she glanced across to the other side of the street and immediately obsessed on a young man with a shaven head, wearing a black fleece jacket, loitering on the sidewalk.


    May was drawn to him, because after forty years of working with people ¨C many of whom were employed within the emergency services ¨C she was an excellent judge of bearing and character. And the man opposite, although appearing to be in his late thirties, perhaps his forties, seemed to radiate the relaxed confidence and authority of someone much older.


    Not only that, but even at this distance, she could see he had the most magnetic grey eyes; eyes that seemed to skim the environment about him without missing the slightest detail; eyes that narrowed marginally the moment they alighted on those CCTV cameras clustered about adjacent buildings, before skipping off to focus more intently on someone or something on either side of her.


    Is he looking at me?


    Puzzled, May glanced to her right, noticing immediately that the truck was almost upon her. Then, somewhat startled by the same flock of pigeons that had been at her feet ¨C now flapping frenziedly every which way at once ¨C she spun left, and realized they were fleeing from the unwanted advances of a little boy. A little boy who was so focused on scaring them, he obviously wasn¡¯t watching where he was going.


    Pivoting as fast as her old hips would allow, May glanced at the truck, back at the child, and behind him to a young woman ¨C most likely his mother ¨C who not only appeared to be terrified, but was mouthing something as she frantically waved her arms.


    A dreadful certainty of what was about to happen clutched at May¡¯s heart. Oh dear.


    The last of the pigeons took to the air, just missing May¡¯s face, and causing her to duck and look away, back across the street to the striking young man in the black fleece.


    For a second time, May found herself entranced. In all her years of experience, she had never seen a countenance that seemed to flash so brightly. It¡¯s almost as if he has an inner furnace making his irises shine?


    The mystery man¡¯s gaze scoured the vicinity like a laser beam; once, twice, three times, before returning to the CCTV cameras. He grimaced, and May received the distinct impression he didn¡¯t like being forced to act in public.


    May thought that odd, but then he did something even stranger.


    Instead of reacting, or beginning to react like those few people around her who recognized an accident was about to happen, the man inhaled sharply and kept breathing in for the few seconds it took for the youngster came to a frozen halt in the road in front of her.


    By now, the truck was almost upon the boy ¨C a mere foot away at most ¨C and because May¡¯s nervous system was surging with adrenaline, she perceived everything becoming sluggish, as if each second now vied for dominance against resisting currents.


    Then it was May¡¯s turn to frown as the man stepped forward into a fighting stance, with both hands raised. What the dickens?


    Perplexed, she continued to watch as the man¡¯s left palm shot out abruptly, fingers splayed wide like a police officer denying access to traffic. Incredibly, the truck slammed to a direct stop, the invisible wall in front of it causing the engine block to crush in on itself, and the back end to spring up from the asphalt.


    With his other hand, the man made a sweeping motion, as if he were giving an imaginary opponent a back-handed slap to the face. At that exact same instant, the child was knocked away from the vehicle, with inches to spare.


    Glass and other fragment generated by the van¡¯s demise fountained down before her, raining through the unyielding firmament like frost-flecked diamonds. Moving as she was in ultrafine slow-motion, May was just about to throw an arm across her face to shield herself, when she felt the air trembling with unseen power. On the other side of the street, the man¡¯s hands created blurred streaks across her vision.


    How...how is he reacting so swiftly?


    Closer to home, the encroaching shower paused momentarily in midair before dropping vertically straight down onto the ground without having touched a single bystander.


    Staring through the glittering cascade, May could see the driver of the truck also seemed to be held in position by the same force. His van was now so far up on its nose that all manner of stock continued to spill forward. Even so, the driver himself remained seated, hands on the steering wheel, shoulders hunched, eyes screwed tightly shut, with a blanched expression of shock written all over his face. A loud metallic groan announced the moment gravity returned.


    As the cab tipped back out of the way, May was able to confirm the young man on the opposite corner was still gesticulating furiously. His right arm snapped out, the hand itself upturned, in the manner people adopt when twisting in a light bulb. Following the line of his gaze, May was astonished to see the boy¡¯s trajectory through the air altered, away from hard concrete, and toward the relative safety of a series of raised flowerbeds outside a bookstore more than sixty feet away.


    No sooner had the child and vehicle come to rest than the black-fleeced man relaxed. He stared intently in each respective direction for a few seconds, squinted ¨C as if reading the small print of a particular shady contract ¨C then rewarded himself with a slight nod and self-satisfied grin.


    People were understandably distracted, preoccupied by the mistaken assumption that a tragic accident had just taken place. Using the ensuing bedlam as cover, the mystery hero stared up at the CCTV cameras for a few moments longer ¨C his features alight with humor ¨C and then he began to turn and walk away.


    Free of his spell, May reacted instinctively. Hang on, she chided mentally, you clearly did something to help, something that saved at least one life, and now you¡¯re just going to leave as if nothing¡¯s happened?


    Amazingly, the man in black immediately checked his stride, turned around and looked back at her, smiling. His words echoed in the ether: One day the world will see how special that little boy is, May, what he¡¯ll become. We can¡¯t have him messing things up before he¡¯s had a chance to shine, now can we?


    Then he turned on his heel, and displayed the great finesse in fording the oncoming tide of latecomers rushing to help.


    Numbed by the whole incident, it took May a moment or two to recognize the mother of the little boy was now standing next to her. She, in turn, didn¡¯t seem to comprehend May¡¯s existence, for she was staring at the hero¡¯s receding form, her face twisted into an ugly mask of rage.


    May was about to turn her hearing aid on and offer what comfort she could, but the young lady jumped as if something had startled her. Before May could react, she was gone, battling her way toward the flowerbeds with a strength born of desperation.


    Of course, she doesn¡¯t know ¨C know ¨C know ¨C know¡­


    ¡°And that¡¯s exactly how it happened,¡± May asserted loudly, more to reassure herself than to add credence to the veracity of the statement she had provided to the police. For even though she knew she could recall the circumstances of that day with a clarity that would put folk half her age to shame, there were certain details of her account that had never been made public: for one, the exact manner by which Joshua Drake and Albert Finn had been saved from injury, for it was a series of events as extraordinary as it was hard to believe.


    Even so, that wasn¡¯t what had spooked May so much. No, for she had been more unnerved by the ease by which a total stranger ¨C benevolent or not ¨C had apparently been able to read her thoughts. He¡¯d also known her name and been able to speak to her across a crowded street without moving his lips.


    ¡°Impossible, especially when you consider my hearing difficulties.¡±


    And that was what had put May¡¯s whole world in a spin. For she was a God-fearing woman, and the only creatures she know of who might achieve such wonders were the creator himself, or one of his heavenly messengers.


    ¡°It¡¯s something I might never be able to share openly,¡± she admitted forlornly, ¡°for I don¡¯t think people will ever be ready to learn that guardian angels walk amongst us.¡±

 And So It Begins

    You might not believe it, but May Randle¡¯s testimony and the supplementary information she supplied, offered timely relief to investigators stymied by a seeming battery of contradictions. They wanted answers, not more questions, and May had ¨C unwittingly ¨C been able to provide such answers when no one else could.


    Answers such as, why it was that Joshua Drake not only survived, but how he was able to walk away without a scratch; how the truck had ended up so badly damaged; and why the driver escaped without a mark on him.


    Another reason May¡¯s statement was so welcome ¨C and why she was later thanked so profusely by those involved ¨C was that her account solved another confounding mystery that had been kept out of the public domain.


    Most cities are extensively riddled by CCTV. As well as those found in various department stores and boutiques, councils invariably site them all over the place: in car parks, on major junctions, along arterial streets and at strategic locations within shopping malls. When major incidents occur and clues need to be found, or assistance is required to discover the identity of witnesses or persons suspected of crime, it is invariably the CCTV logs that local authorities turn to.


    Fortunately, Exeter had excellent surveillance coverage. Just as well, for the ¨C Joshua Drake Miracle ¨C as it came to be known, understandably received a great deal of exposure from local and national press networks, as well as the smorgasbord of social media outlets swamping the internet. It was only natural police would request the CCTV records of those cameras and devices serving the locality of the coffee shop that morning, as a single image could make all the difference in a complex enquiry.


    And that was when another conundrum began to weave its web.


    A subsequent diagnostic check confirmed the system was working perfectly, before, during and after the accident. Regardless, for some unknown reason, all of the cameras at that location did not show anything of the incident itself. The footage was completely blank. No migraine-inducing wavy lines; no blurred snowdrift nativity scenes; no frozen, ghosted images. For thirteen seconds, they simply refused to record.


    In the end, it was these factors that went a long way to explaining why May Randle was viewed as a ray of light in an otherwise darkened cloud of confusion.


    Though initially skeptical, investigators nevertheless took the time to painstakingly cross-reference her account with the established timeline and additional aspects reported by other witnesses. As they did so, a clearer picture began to emerge, one that revealed a shocking truth: that the details contained within May¡¯s testimony ¨C though seemingly farfetched ¨C were completely reliable.


    Surveillance footage of the city environs confirmed the route taken by Albert Finn in the minutes leading up to the accident. Tapes recorded in the immediate vicinity showed Joshua Drake toddling from the coffee shop, and then breaking into a flat-out run in his efforts to scare a small group of pigeons feeding by the curb. May Randle could also be seen standing next to those pigeons, fiddling in her bag as described, presumably with the items she had purchased from Marks and Spencer¡¯s only moments before. More importantly, CCTV was also able to corroborate the approach of a baldheaded man wearing a black fleece jacket from a side street opposite May¡¯s position. Stopping on the adjacent corner, that man acted exactly as May said he had, and lo-and-behold, the instant he stared at the cameras, everything went dark.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Thirteen seconds later, that same man was seen striding back the way he had come. He paused and half turned ¨C his manner what you would expect from someone about to talk to a companion walking beside him ¨C before resuming his journey toward the library.


    Bingo!


    Needless to say, the authorities quickly cast a finer net, only to be rewarded for their efforts by an ever deepening mystery.


    CCTV archives incorporating a wider arc of the city center were examined in more detail. Those archives revealed the times and means by which all the major players ¨C May Randle, Samantha and Joshua Drake and Albert Finn ¨C arrived, and subsequently left Exeter that day. The same could be said for all those witnesses electing to come forward and offer their assistance.


    Even so, the man in black proved to be something of a phantom, because no matter how many discs were checked or how far back investigators delved, he could not be spotted arriving in the city or leaving. Nor were there any indicators as to his means of transport. So far as logs were concerned, it was as if he simply didn¡¯t exist until about one minute before the accident, whereupon he was noted exiting the men¡¯s public bathroom next to the library. Having done so, he strolled to the corner where the incident took place and, no sooner had Joshua made an appearance, than the cameras stopped working.


    When they started again, that same man smiled, momentarily, before turning to barrel his way through a growing crowd of pedestrians drawn to the ensuing commotion. Forty-six seconds later, the reluctant hero arrived back outside the rest room. However, instead of ducking inside, he was observed staring into the monitor recording his actions affixed to the exterior wall of the library itself. He then did the same thing to a further CCTV post situated above the rear doors of the Exeter branch of Lloyds Bank, twenty yards further along the same road, but on the opposite side of the street.


    The man continued to display this bizarre behavior as he removed something from within an inside pocket of his jacket, something that looked like a shiny gray baseball. Then, leaning back against the wall in a relaxed fashion, he commenced throwing that ball up and down in the air with one hand, all the time ensuring to visually scan passersby until a natural gap occurred in pedestrian traffic. Choosing his moment, he abruptly stood forward, held the orb aloft in his right hand, and flipped it over his shoulder and up onto the public convenience¡¯s roof, where it bounced twice before rolling to a stop against the far parapet.


    Incredibly, the man then turned to face each camera directly for a final time. On both occasions he pointed up toward the ball and kinked his head to one side. Job done, he reentered the restroom never to emerge.


    It goes without saying that as soon as police recognized the goldmine they were sitting on, they rushed to the scene and cordoned off the area.


    A thorough check of the facility established the walls, floors and ceiling were solid and sound. There were no hidden compartments, skylights or other windows that the mystery savior could have used. Neither was there another way in or out, except for the main door, which gave access to three stalls and two urinals.


    Sure enough, when search teams checked the rooftop, they found the orb. Feather light and warm to the touch, it was made of a transparent resinlike material without seams or flaw, and contained a single silver colored metallic looking wafer, upon which a simple message had been inscribed in capital letters:


    <h5>¡°AND SO IT BEGINS.¡±</h5>


    The communication caused quite a stir, as by the time it was retrieved, other startling events had begun occurring around the globe. Most ¨C but not all ¨C were very public, covered like a rash by the media, and put the authorities in one place after another on notice that the world of 2035 was suddenly much larger than it used to be.

 Revelations

    Sichuan¡ªChina.


    Fifty hours after the Joshua Drake incident, Cheung Xian, one of a ragged group of miners from the Neijiang drilling facility, Sichuan Provence, China, was wondering if he would ever see the light of day again.


    A veteran of over twenty years service in six different quarries, he¡¯d arrived at the surface compound of their colliery at 7:00 a.m. that morning, along with more than forty of his colleagues, to the hustle and bustle of one of the busiest shafts in the region. Xian was proud of the fact that their company helped produce the coal providing over ninety percent of their country¡¯s energy needs, and it showed in his work ethic.


    While his companions exaggerated stories of escapades from the night before, or boasted of times spent with new girlfriends or loved ones, Xian mentally prepared himself for the ordeal ahead. And like it or not, his fellow miners soon joined him, for the laughing and joking always faded the moment the service elevator taking them to the coalface started to descend. But that was to be expected. If the gut wrenching freefall into the bowels of the earth wasn¡¯t bad enough, then the fearsome racket produced with each jolt and scrape of their fragile cage served to remind them how tenuous their link to life was. Sentiment was a luxury, a distraction that would get you killed. Where they were going, only action drills and procedure mattered.


    Arriving at the bottom, Xian had trekked with the others through the gloom for nearly a thousand yards before arriving at the coalface. Once there, he had become an automaton, milling about like every other ant in cramped and claustrophobic conditions while millions of tons of rock pressed patiently down upon their heads.


    Those brief pauses taken while fresh charges were laid brought little respite. As everyone had come to learn, sweat soon cooled, bringing on an attack of uncontrollable shivering. Shivering that knotted muscles and only added to the tension preceding the blast that followed. Then, the earth would groan, the ground would shake and dust would fall as men waited for the all clear amid a hacking medley of coughing, muttering and sneezing.


    A meticulous practice, made all the more laborious by the long trudge back and the prospect of manhandling tons of intervening rubble to one side before the process of extracting coal from the shattered bed could begin again.


    As each excavation was exhausted, men would retreat along the side tunnel ¨C in a gradual leapfrogging procession ¨C toward the main artery, removing supporting timbers as they went. On most occasions, the lode roof would remain intact, and over time, sink slowly down to the floor. At others, it began collapsing as the pillars were removed, trapping workmates and crushing them to death in an instant.


    Xian had lost more than thirty close friends that way, and had sworn never to forget the looks on their faces or their stifled cries, though they might haunt him forever.


    Sometimes, he rued his lot. Although Sichuan was fully licensed by the State, it lacked much of the modern equipment other legally funded mines had been blessed with. Instead of a bank of diamond-toothed machines stripping rock and clinker away from the coal rich seams crisscrossing the district, miners here did things the old-fashioned way, by hand, in grueling twelve-hour shifts. Nobody needed any reminders that this was one of the filthiest, hardest jobs in existence, in one of the most dangerous places in the world.


    Yet fate, it seems, hadn¡¯t been content to leave things to chance.


    When catastrophe struck four hours into the shift, it took all forty-three hands by surprise. Instead of being safely huddled together in one of the ¡°blowback recesses¡± cut into the arterial walls ¨C the usual place of safety each team resorted to as a fresh vein was opened up ¨C most of the crew were still hard at work on the latest seam, and had only just finished reinforcing its walls and roof prior to extraction charges being wedged in place.


    The explosion had originated somewhere behind them, in the main gallery, close to where the dynamite was stored. All five demolitions experts working in that area had been incinerated instantly and the ensuing wall of compressed gas and flame had radiated out toward Xian and his colleagues in one direction, and back up the lift shaft in the other, where it vented its scorching breath against a pale morning sky more than a mile above their heads.


    The force of the detonation rocked topside buildings and blew away the jumble of mechanized vents and mobile rigs capping the shaft head. Thinking they were the victims of a particularly vicious earthquake, surface worker began to flee to designated safety zones, only realizing during a subsequent headcount ¨C in which all employees were confirmed as accounted for ¨C what had actually happened. In this way, precious minutes were lost before emergency rescue services had been called.


    Below ground, Xian and his colleagues hadn¡¯t fared so well.


    Restricted to the confines of the gallery and its network of side tunnels, the shockwave and pursuant fireball had flensed more than half of the miners from existence. Of the fifteen or so men who¡¯d survived that initial blast, most ¨C Xian included ¨C had been thrown into the icy embrace of an underground tributary uncovered during their last excavation. Viewed as a pain in the ass to work around at the time, the fast running stream had proved to be a godsend, for Xian and three of his nearest companions had been spared the worst of the ruptured eardrums, burst capillaries and torturous burns that eschewed.


    Even so, Xian knew that if he ever wanted to see his wife, Daiyu again, it would be down to a question of remaining calm, and positive leadership. Taking stock, he checked himself for injuries.


    Though he couldn¡¯t detect any serious cuts or contusions, that didn¡¯t mean to say they weren¡¯t there. He was sweating profusely, his respiration was rapid and shallow, and try as he might, he couldn¡¯t shake the feeling of nausea crawling its way up from his guts.


    Probably shock, he thought to himself. That¡¯s only to be expected, under the circumstances. But I¡¯d better get a grip. Trauma like this can be a killer if it isn¡¯t managed properly, and if the others see me falling apart, panic will spread like a plague.


    Easier said than done. All Xian wanted to do at that moment was curl up into a ball and go to sleep. But if he did that, he knew he¡¯d probably never wake up again and ruin his chances of a better life next time around.


    Ignoring the urge to rush, Xian closed his eyes and squatted down on his ankles. Several deep breaths helped calm his nerves and clear his head. In his twenty years in the mines, Xian had lived through a dozen different crises ¨C including a tunnel collapse, wherein he¡¯d been imprisoned below ground for over a week before rescuers could get to him. Unfortunately, he¡¯d never faced anything like this.


    And there¡¯s no way we¡¯ll last a week¡­not in these conditions.


    Temperatures were dropping rapidly, and in the absence of generators, the buildup of fumes would quickly become a problem. A thick choking miasma filled the tunnel, coating casualties from head to foot and creating a spectral environment of staggering, dust covered ghouls with black blinking eyes and gaping mouths.


    Death walks amongst us in the guise of life.


    So thick was that brume, that Xian¡¯s helmet lamp made little difference. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn¡¯t recognize any of those few survivors who stumbled past, encrusted and confused, lost to vagaries of their own personal hells.


    He decided to move further along the new tributary where he¡¯d noticed earlier, the flow of water created a light breeze.


    Who knows, it might be connected to a separate underground chamber, and we¡¯ll get to survive this after all?


    Crawling along on his hands and knees, Xian encountered a mass of scorched and twisted debris, eerily arranged around the scattered forms of other miners. Some lay in outlandish poses, unmarked except for bloodstained ears and noses. Others had been impaled by vicious looking shards of wood, stone and metal, fragments that had, at one time, served to protect them from harm.


    Of those he found breathing, most lay still, no doubt asphyxiating or bleeding out from the carnage wrought within their ruined bodies. A few were conscious. Writhing in agony, their moans were muffled, grumbling off into the darkness as bass accompaniments to the higher pitched creaks and occasional snaps echoing back.


    Those sounds clutched at Xian¡¯s spine. Damn! The blast took out too many support joists. It won¡¯t take long for countless tons of rock to weaken the integrity of those few remaining timbers. We¡¯re not¡­I don¡¯t see how we can possibly survive this.


    The picture of a familiar face with shining hair that hung in a curtain about rosy cheeks hovered before him. ¡°Oh Daiyu my darling, I¡¯m sorry. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll be coming home after all.¡±


    ¡°Xian, is that you?¡±


    Startled by the unexpected question, Xian jumped. Scrabbling to one side, he spotted Longwei, an eighteen year old trainee and the youngest of the crew lying on his stomach. Smothered in a thick layer of sooty grit, he had been almost indistinguishable from the rock about him. Now he¡¯d moved, however, a miniature landslide of ash had fallen away to reveal the splintered pickaxe handle protruding from his back.


    He¡¯s not going to make it. ¡°Yes, it¡¯s me. I think we¡¯re the only two still properly awake.¡±


    ¡°We are¡­then who were you talking to?¡±


    ¡°I was just saying goodbye to my wife, Daiyu. We won¡¯t last much longer, and I wanted to make my peace while there¡¯s still time. I suggest you do the same...?¡± Xian¡¯s voice trailed away as his spouse¡¯s image began to warp.


    I¡¯m obviously beginning to hallucinate. There must be less oxygen here than I thought. Xian resigned himself to the inevitable. Oh well, if I¡¯m going to go, I can¡¯t imagine a more peaceful way than gazing into the eyes of the one I love.


    Hang on, we¡¯re almost there, an ethereal pronouncement chimed within his mind.


    Daiyu¡¯s profile kept changing. Blossoming, elongating, and filling out into the image of a much younger woman. Her likeness took on a quasi-solidity that Xian imagined he might be able to reach out and touch.


    ¡°What? This can¡¯t be real?¡±


    A painfully bright light stabbed out from the darkness. Piercing the whirling mists with ease, it expanded into an all-pervading halo that washed across Xian and his fallen comrades, forcing him to avert his gaze.


    Steady footfalls echoed along the tunnel. Squinting around his fingers, Xian was relieved to see a number of shimmering silhouettes flickering toward him. The nearest one clarified into the spitting image of the oriental female he had just seen during his waking trance.


    But how¡­?


    As she drew closer, Xian discerned she was clothed in dark, military style protective coveralls, coveralls that seemed alive with static. What looked like bands of electricity flickered silently up and down her figure, creating a weird eclectic aura that reached out to probe its environment with inquisitive crackling fingers.


    Walking directly up to him, his rescuer extended her hand and said, ¡°Hello Xian, I think you¡¯d better come with me. It¡¯s quite a strain keeping the seams in place while we work, and I¡¯d hate for you to get caught after we¡¯ve gone to all this effort to save you.¡±


    Rendered mute, Xian didn¡¯t move at first. Neither did he attempt to communicate, for the young lady possessed a certain charisma that was rather compelling. It took him a moment to break the spell her presence had cast over him.


    Cursing himself for his lack of manners, he stammered, ¡°Er, I¡¯m sorry. I didn¡¯t mean to be rude. Thank you,¡± he turned to indicate all those who had fallen around him, ¡°is there anything you can do for my companions? Some of them might still be alive.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about them, they¡¯re our concern now.¡± She gestured casually behind her.


    It was only at that moment that Xian realized other, similarly dressed people were busying themselves at various points around the passage, a passage that only seconds ago had been nothing but a makeshift tomb filled with a maze of rubble and debris.


    With quiet efficiency, some of the newcomers bent to tend to the injured while others faded into the shadows, presumably to search for other survivors.


    They don¡¯t seem to be affected by the fumes or lack of ¨C?


    His redeemer gently ¨C but firmly ¨C took his hand, her manner calm and confident. Xian was quite happy to follow her lead, and allowed himself to be ushered toward the light.


    A twinge of suspicion sparked a fleeting fear. ¡°Am I dead?¡± he mumbled, suddenly horrified of never seeing his wife all over again, ¡°are you of the Divas, a living deity?¡±


    ¡°Far from it, my friend,¡± she gave his knuckles a squeeze, and smiled, ¡°I¡¯m¡­well. You¡¯ll find out soon enough.¡±


    They stepped up into all consuming radiance and a feminine voice expanded off into infinity, ¡°though there is something we¡¯d like for you to deliver for us ¨C us ¨C us¡­¡±


    Everything blazed bright.


    Xian gradually came awake, blinking his eyes open to dotted ceiling tiles, fluorescent strip lighting and silence. Scratch that, near silence. The amiable hum of machines stirred in the background, if anything, adding to the ambiance of peace and calm that now enfolded him in its caregiving embrace.


    At first, reality refused to register. He¡¯d been having the most wonderful dream about a stunning young woman with a magnetic personality who had personally assured him that all would be well, and then¡­and then¡­The disaster!


    Snapping upright, Xian found himself sitting on a thick comfy mattress, covered by a crisp white sheet. Next to him, a generously proportioned double glazed sliding window had been left open, through which sunlight and fresh air flowed in equal measure. A small cabinet had been placed beneath that window, upon which his work clothes had been left, neatly folded. Xian could tell at a glance they¡¯d been recently laundered.


    Am I still sleeping?


    Taking in his surroundings, Xian could see beds on either side, and opposite him. He counted ten in all ¨C five along each wall ¨C nine of which, including his own, were occupied.


    Is this our new sickbay or another clinic? I haven¡¯t needed to use the facilities up until now, so I wouldn¡¯t have a clue?


    Reluctantly, he swung his legs to the floor and was delighted to discover he wasn¡¯t sore in the least. Strange, I feel more refreshed and relaxed than I have for months? So, who are my fellow patients?


    The person in the bed to his left was lying on his side, facing away from him. Padding across to investigate, Xian recognized Longwei. Though still, and attached to several monitors by a plethora of leads, Longwei appeared hale and hearty, and his flesh was imbued with the healthy glow of someone used to living and working outside.


    But he was impaled on the end of¡­? With the greatest care, Xian inched the flap of Longwei¡¯s gown to one side. That looks like an old scar. Just how long have we been here? His head swiveled left and right, then behind him. And are all these people from the disaster?


    On tiptoes, Xian scuttled up and down the ward and swiftly established the remaining beds were indeed filled by fellow miners, men he¡¯d presumed lost to calamity. All bore marks and bruises, but in each case, the wounds looked as if they¡¯d been treated by first-class physicians and given the time they needed to heal. What¡¯s more, everyone had been attired, either in hospital robes or pajamas.


    Only then did Xian think to look himself up and down. I¡¯m in pajamas too, and¡­? Something hard in the chest pocket of his jacket pressed against his ribs. Puzzled, he felt inside and removed a small piece of metal with writing on it that had somehow been encased within a thin wafer made from an odd lightweight, transparent material.


    Reading it, Xian smiled. Ah, this must be the something they wanted me to deliver. He had a sudden thought. Though she never did say who they were? I really must make ¨C?


    A sharp intake of breath and the clatter of what sounded like plastic objects hitting the floor alerted Xian to the fact he wasn¡¯t alone. Spinning toward the exit, he espied a middle-aged woman dressed in a nurse¡¯s uniform standing in the doorway, a mixture of shock and consternation masking her expression. Her gaze skimmed the occupied beds, and then fixed on Xian, as if he was the one solely responsible for a heinous crime.


    ¡°Who are you,¡± she demanded, ¡°and what are you doing here?¡±


    Bowing, Xian replied, ¡°I am Cheung Xian, a supervisor from Neijiang Mine and ¨C¡±


    ¡°Neijiang Mine? Are you here to collect supplies to help in the disaster?¡±


    ¡°Help? No. I was¡­¡± Xian swept his arm wide, encompassing his colleagues, ¡°we were working within the main shaft when the accident occurred. All of us were trapped more than a mile underground.¡±


    The nurse didn¡¯t appear to understand properly and repeated the gist of Xian¡¯s statement. ¡°What? Are you alleging you were part of the crew caught in the explosion and subsequent cave-in?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Most were wiped out in the initial blast, but a few of us digging out a new seam avoided the worst of the firestorm. Even so, it didn¡¯t look like we were going to survive long; there was too much damage to the supporting structure, you see, and the fumes...¡±


    ¡°So you were actually underground?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid so.¡±


    ¡°All of you?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what I just¡­¡± Xian fell silent. She can¡¯t digest what I¡¯m saying. Perhaps I ought to try a different approach.


    Stepping closer, Xian knelt and began clearing the mess on the floor. ¡°Please, where are we?¡±


    His ruse worked. Stooping to join him, the nurse replied, ¡°You¡¯re in the new wing of the West China Hospital, Sichuan University, Chengdu. This section isn¡¯t even supposed to be operational yet.¡±


    ¡°Chengdu?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s correct. I¡¯m only here now because the infirmary is already fully stocked. I was collecting supplies for those doctors rushing to join the relief effort¡­¡± This time, it was the nurse¡¯s turn to edge closer. Searching Xian¡¯s face, she whispered, ¡°You can¡¯t possibly be from the accident? There¡¯s not a mark on you. And how did you get all the way here?¡±


    You wouldn¡¯t believe me if I told you. He shrugged. But what have I got to lose?


    Inviting the nurse to take a seat on the vacant bed, Xian took a deep breath and commenced explaining the phenomenal events of the day as clearly and concisely as his frayed nerves would allow. Little did he realize his actions were a portent of things to come, for he was required to repeat those details all over again: first, to those paramedics and doctors who came running, to see for themselves the miraculous appearance of nine survivors from the very disaster they were rushing to attend; secondly, to the university administrator responsible for the hospital itself. Next, to officers from the Works Safety Bureau who arrived later that afternoon; and finally, to government officials the following morning.


    Cynical disbelief swiftly turned to suspicion, and suspicion to gradual amazement, as one by one, Xian¡¯s coworkers awoke to confirm his extraordinary claims, pointing to their already healed injuries as further ¨C irrefutable ¨C proof of their assertions.


    Those few, fortunate enough to have remained conscious in one part of the cave system or another during the rescue itself, were also able to verify the incredible manner by which they¡¯d been plucked from certain death by creatures they alternatively described as, ¡°spirits, demons and angels.¡±


    Needless to say, party officials had been keen to examine the message Xian had been tasked to pass to investigators, a small sliver of metal sandwiched in resin, which read:


    <h5>¡°WE ARE HERE TO ASSIST ALL THOSE IN NEED.¡±</h5>


    The official Xinhug News Agency of China was uncharacteristically robust in reporting the events of the rescue worldwide, as they believed their mystery benefactors had acted solely for the advantage of the people of China.


    They were only partly right in that assumption, however, for in the weeks that followed, further interventions took place that ¨C time and again ¨C revealed these new benefactors as having access to incredible resources and the capability to respond to any kind of crises, no matter where or when they took place.


    <h6>*</h6>


    Gold Coast¡ªAustralia (Three days later)


    Although small, the Tallebudgera Gazette, Gold Coast, Queensland, Australia, got quite a scoop several days after the events in China. One of their reporters, Marie Chandler, happened to be on hand to witness what she described as a ¡°Death Defying Rescue¡± in Coolangatta, where a family of four was plucked from certain doom.


    The article, which later went on to appear in national and international editions of some the world¡¯s most widely circulated broadsheets, read as follows:


    ¡°Sunday started like any other activity day for the Stevens family from Brisbane. A morning enjoying the tranquility of Tallebudgera Creek Conservation, followed by a trip out in a small boat the Stevens¡¯ own and keep berthed off the point at Coolangatta, was just what these folks needed to prepare them for the new week ahead.


    However, what the Stevens¡¯ didn¡¯t know, was that their outing would have ended in tragedy, was it not for the prompt action of two mysterious passers-by who stepped in to save the day.


    Pete Stevens, the thirty-two year old father of Jamie, six, and Callum, four, and husband to Kristy, twenty-nine, had just steered their craft out into the bay, when they were struck head-on, by an eleven meter high performance power cruiser, stolen only minutes before from Jack Evans Boat Harbor Park, by two local men who are well known to the police.


    The collision instantly destroyed the Stevens¡¯ boat and threw the family into the water. As I phoned the emergency services to inform them of the tragedy, I must confess, I was shocked by what happened next!


    A young couple that had been strolling along Marine Parade only two yards in front of me stripped down to their underwear, vaulted onto the sand and dived into the water. They disappeared beneath the waves, only to reappear¨Cimpossibly¨Cmoments later fifty yards offshore in the middle of the floundering party. Then, in plain sight of those looking on, the Stevens¡¯ and their mystery rescuers simply vanished!


    Imagine my surprise when, not one minute later, I then received an unlisted call on my personal mobile phone from a woman who identified herself as one of the rescuers.


    She informed me the Stevens¡¯ could be found sleeping on the beach adjacent to Snapper Rocks road, (just off the end of Marine Parade), and that those responsible for the mishap would also be discovered at the scene along with a brief communication for the authorities.


    After passing these important updates on to the harbormaster and the fire and rescue control center, I immediately went to the aforementioned locale to confirm the Stevens family was indeed fit and well. They were completely dry, had just woken up and were unaware as to how they had got there.


    The thieves, Tom McAllister and Mike Thompson¨Cboth twenty-four from St George¨Cwere located just a few short yards away, still unconscious, and with their hands and feet in plastic restraints.


    As promised, the unknown heroes had left a message for me ¨C and for you, the readers ¨C inside a plastic prism among the Stevens¡¯ belongings.


    That message said:


    ¡°SOON, THOSE WHO DISREGARD THE LAW AND HARM OTHERS WILL HAVE NOWHERE TO HIDE.¡±


    Who they are, we may never know, but Pete and Kristy Stevens have asked me to pass on their deepest, heartfelt thanks to rescuers they are calling their ¡°Guardian Angels,¡± for saving their lives, the lives of their children, and for preventing further tragedy from befalling others.


    Anyone with further information regarding this incident should contact me:


    Marie Chandler ¨C 0455-735-383/Fax: 617- 554 - 73580


    Tallebudgera Gazette.¡±


    The report was published with a photo of the Stevens family ¨C taken by Marie Chandler on her mobile phone ¨C by the beach off Snapper Rocks road, smiling and in obvious good health. Jamie and Callum had been strategically positioned in pride of place, holding the mysterious token between them in their hands.


    Tom McAllister and Mike Thompson were comatose for almost two days before regaining consciousness. And when they did, both surprised detectives by acting out of character and confessing to a long list of crimes going back for more than five years, the majority of which, police were unaware they were connected to.


    As time and went on to show, the circumstances behind some of those crimes proved rather revealing.


    <h6>*</h6>


    The Skies Above Khartoum¡ªSudan (the next day)


    ¡°Two minutes until insertion,¡± the calm, measured voice of the co-pilot announced over the tannoy. A soothing red light kindled, illuminating the cramped interior of the BA-157A¡¯s rear hold in crimson menace, ¡°now descending to deployment altitude. Hang on to your hats, gentlemen, things may get a little rough.¡±


    Time to rock n¡¯ roll.


    Standing, Captain John O¡¯Neil, a ten year veteran with UK Special Forces, clung on tightly to the overhead strapping as the aircraft began to tip, and indicated that his men should commence their final equipment checks.


    No words were necessary. What needed to be said had been spoken long ago, back in the briefing room of their forward staging area at Akrotiri, Cyprus.


    Those fanatics responsible for the latest spate of bombings that had claimed the lives of over two thousand people in three of Europe¡¯s capitals ¨C London included ¨C had seriously fucked up.


    Acting on information received, police had raided an isolated farmhouse in the Woodstock area of Oxfordshire the night before, where it was believed a terrorist cell were actively engaged in the manufacture and distribution of explosive materials for use by other extremist factions operating throughout the south of England.


    The intelligence had proven sound, and in the ensuing combined agency assault, four police officers had been injured when suspects detonated a number of pre-placed incendiary devices, resulting in their own martyrdom, along with the destruction of the target address itself.


    Fortunately for the good guys, the terrorists hadn¡¯t prepared as thoroughly as they might have wished. A home computer, two laptops and a good half dozen flash drives had been recovered from the debris, from which, forensic examiners had been able to retrieve a wealth of incriminating evidence and, more importantly, a detailed list of payback revolving around a cluster of IP addresses specific to one location: a small industrial complex in the El Gezira district, situated on the outskirts of Khartoum.


    Security surrounding the raid had been airtight. That and the ensuing news blackout had ensured the entire operation had been kept isolated from public attention. As such, not forty-five minutes had passed before SBS X Squadron, Royal Marines, had been put on alert.


    An hour after that, two sixteen man troops ¨C Alpha and Bravo teams ¨C were on a jet, heading to Cyprus. En-route, black command, Joint UKSF Task Force, had been kept apprised of latest developments, and local assets already on the ground in the Sudan were able to pass last minute details that had helped determine the most effective strategy.


    A drone strike had been judged inappropriate, for while there was every intention to inflict heavy losses on those who would dare to impose their brand of foul bigotry on innocent members of the public, intelligence gathering remained an important objective. However, a straightforward ground assault would also be risky. When looked at from above, the area surrounding El Gezira was a geometrical spectacle of irrigated fields and manmade canals, extending for hundreds of square miles, between the Blue and White Nile Rivers.


    As such, an aerial insertion broken into four stages had been deemed the only viable option: In ¨C seek, kill and destroy ¨C retrieve intel ¨C and out. Special Forces were here to send a message to future would-be aggressors: Fuck with us, and we¡¯ll come-a-calling and send you straight to a place with a zip code beginning, 666.


    Alpha team had been designated as the strike squad, while bravo had been deployed to provide ground support and extraction.


    Thus it was that, less than a day after the farmhouse had burned to the ground, vengeance was winging its way toward some very bad people.


    The steady glow from the bulb dimmed abruptly, on and off, twice.


    Ah, the sixty second marker.


    ¡°One minute until doors open,¡± their co-pilot declared, as if eager to support the Special Forces commander¡¯s assumption, ¡°switching to internals. Activating covert emergency beacon. Prepping for decompression. Good luck gentlemen, you¡¯re on your own.¡±


    Fifteen visors turned toward O¡¯Neil, and went still, waiting. His chest swelled in a momentary surge of pride. Hot of blood and cold of heart¡­My men. My killers.


    Rapping his knuckles on the side of his helmet ¨C the signal to assemble on the ready line ¨C O¡¯Neil then stood back to allow them room to shuffle past. Some nodded, others gestured by hand, most were lost to the companionship of their own private thoughts.


    Dressed from head to toe in kelvex thermal coveralls capable of withstanding temperatures to - 80?F, hampered by a combined HUD, life-support and secure comms net, numerous weapons, extra ammunition, rations, first aid equipment, and their specialized High Altitude Precision Parachute System ¨C HAPPS ¨C each man was encumbered by more than one hundred and fifty pounds of additional kit. A necessary burden, as they would need to remain wholly self-sufficient until the job was done and they were safely on their way home.


    Piston¡¯s hissing, pneumatic latches on either side of the rear hatch retracted. The gantry started to lower, and gentle reverberations gave way to a building roar, a banshee serenade that brought with it the exhalation of a frost giant¡¯s breath.


    Immune to the freezing tendrils threatening to pluck him from his nest, O¡¯Neil¡¯s gaze remained firmly affixed on their beacon.


    The red flame extinguished, replaced an instant later by a harsher green radiance.


    As one, the miniature colony of grotesquely armored penguins waddled forward. Stood upon an ice cliff bathed in the majesty of countless stars and suspended more than forty thousand feet high, each waited their turn before stepping into the obsidian ocean below.


    The last one out, O¡¯Neil¡¯s heart leaped and every nerve awakened as he tasted the void once more. Above him, the bulk of the plane banked away, its silhouette nothing but a shadow leaving nubilous vortices in its wake. He just had time to register the purple-blue expanse surrounding him, and then he hit the hill, its gradient sheer and slick, an almost sentient entity propelling his form along at an incredulous rate until ¨C a mere eleven seconds later ¨C he¡¯d achieved terminal velocity.


    His earpiece buzzed. ¡°Thirty-nine thousand feet,¡± the automated tone of the altimeter affirmed.


    Still recovering from the initial adrenaline rush, O¡¯Neill¡¯s sense of exhilaration was indescribable. Inhaling deeply, he found himself fighting down the urge to express his elation verbally. We¡¯re not here on a jolly¡­


    Crushing his delight into a screaming nub of intent, he refocused those emotions on a more appropriate form of expression: cold, clinical aggression. That¡¯s better. Once we¡¯ve dealt with the scum who like to murder women and children in their beds, then I¡¯ll scream with delight.


    Gradually, all sensation of falling passed and his team came together to form a huge tactical iris in the night sky.


    The altimeter chirruped again, ¡°Twenty-nine thousand feet.¡±


    With nothing but a crescent moon to watch over their display, the commandos began their dance; macabre mannequins on a buffeting, spiraling merry-go-round of vapor crystals and isobars, intent on riding the heavens in style.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Peering down, O¡¯Neill could see the phosphorous glow of Khartoum in the distance. At this height, the city looked like a huge, glowing spider¡¯s lair stretching off forever in a northerly direction, a glittering cobweb of human habitation to avoid.


    Yes, he mused, if we play our part, they¡¯ll never know we existed, we phantoms of the night, we dispensers of death and justice. By the time they wake up, we¡¯ll be long gone, devils they¡¯ll get to read about in their morning papers.


    The minutes counted down, tumbling toward seconds all too quickly.


    ¡°Nine thousand feet.¡± His altimeter pinged, warning him to prepare.


    The iris flared as soldiers broke formation, fanning away to ensure they remained on target and giving themselves the space they needed to safely deploy their three hundred and fifty-foot canopies.


    Adjusting his thermal imaging scope, O¡¯Neill was amazed by how much the checkerboard fields of the El Gezira district had grown. He checked his instruments. Bloody hell, I¡¯d best be quick¡­


    Scanning his body one last time to ensure his equipment was still strapped securely in place, he counted himself in. Here we go. Three ¨C two ¨C one¡­?


    O¡¯Neill pulled on his toggle and felt a brief shudder as his HAPPS activated. Around him, fellow specialists were yanked away upward as their parachutes filled, arresting their one hundred and twenty mile per hour gravity-fuelled charge in the blink of an eye.


    An experienced operator, it still took O¡¯Neill a few moments to realize something was wrong. I¡¯m still falling? But that shouldn¡¯t...


    Spreading his arms and legs wide to increase drag and reduce velocity, the stricken soldier arched his head and spine up, and glanced back over his shoulder. A long streamer of twisted fabric trailed behind him, thrumming and oscillating into the night sky like the skin of a deflated, wildly flapping weather balloon.


    Fouled lines formed a deathly umbilical between him and the rigging, an ever tightening braid that would surely consign him to an early death if he didn¡¯t do something. And fast.


    With only seconds to live, instinct took over. Not on my watch.


    Tucking his chin in tight, O¡¯Neill looked down and to his left. Maintaining eye contact with the reserve handle, he allowed his fingers to trail along the straps arrayed along the opposite side of his harness until they snagged the breakaway handle for his main canopy. Grabbing the toggle in both fists, he tugged as hard as he could.


    A fluttering sensation notified him of the moment his principal webbing detached, torn from the HAPPS by wind resistance and momentum.


    Ignoring everything else, and especially the urge to check how close the ground was, O¡¯Neill then pulled at his reserve ripcord.


    Nothing happened.


    ¡°Captain?¡± The concern in the voice of his second-in-command, Lieutenant Barry ¨C Roy ¨C Rogers, was clearly evident, despite the muting effects of the comms system, ¡°did you just eject your primary chute?¡±


    ¡°Hang on, Roy,¡± O¡¯Neill grunted in reply, ¡°I¡¯m a little...tied up at...the moment.¡±


    He tried again. Then a third time.


    Still nothing? But this shouldn¡¯t be...?


    Reality, cold and harsh, bit home as the onset of groundrush began, the syndrome strangely warped out of proportion by the vagaries of his enhanced optics.


    Shit!


    Determined to the end, O¡¯Neill adjusted his vector in a last-ditch attempt to veer toward the mirrored shine of a cluster of well irrigated fields, now only five hundred feet below him.


    Too late, but I¡¯ve got to try...eh?


    A circular patch of something directly beneath him folded out of nowhere, shimmering as if the still glass surface of a pond had been brushed by turbulence. He threw up his arms to shield his face and splashed into a strangely aqueous environment, an environment that was as transitory as a bursting bubble, and yet which still managed to blow his mind and perceptions haywire.


    Before he could register what was happening, O¡¯Neill¡¯s murderous vertical momentum was somehow transposed into a near horizontal trajectory. He hit the ground hard, a glancing blow that knocked the air from his lungs and sent him flailing through a seemingly endless series of closely spaced, spindly bushes. Each scrubby thicket acted as a brake, and in moments, O¡¯Neil found himself on his back, thoroughly winded, and staring up into the vault of a star dusted sky where fifteen lozenge shaped shadows circled down toward a mutual objective only a hundred yards or so distant.


    How...?


    He caught his breath and froze. What the fuck just happened? Then he flexed his fingers and started prodding himself in the ribs, stomach and legs. Why am I still alive?


    Specks of an unknown pale fibrous material covered him like a second skin. The stuff was everywhere, ingrained in the fabric of his coveralls, wedged in clumps between his battle harness and belt, in the sound suppressor attachment of his 5.56 mm Diemaco assault rifle, and stuffed in disturbingly large quantities into the top of his collar and the cuffs of his sleeves. And what the fuck is this crap?


    ¡°That¡¯s cotton, the staple crop grown in this area. I¡¯d presumed you would have covered that aspect of the terrain in your briefing back at Akrotiri?¡±


    Reacting instantly, O¡¯Neill rolled away from the source of unexpected trivia and came up on one knee, rifle to the shoulder, his attention sighting along the barrel of his weapon.


    A shadowy figure stood to one side, its exact shape and height oddly resistant to the light enhancing qualities of the specialist¡¯s night vision scope. The shape gestured, minimally, and a curious tingling sensation fell like rain through O¡¯Neill¡¯s body.


    What the...? I can¡¯t move a muscle!


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± that same masculine voice said, its manner relaxed and reassuring, ¡°I¡¯ll restore your motor functions once you¡¯ve come to appreciate we¡¯re on the same side.¡±


    ¡°We are?¡±


    ¡°Well, I could have just let you take swan dive into the deck?¡± The inconspicuous outline visibly shrugged, ¡°but you¡¯re here to do a job, distasteful though it is, and things would be put in jeopardy had you met an untimely end.¡±


    O¡¯Neill received a momentary hit of an overhead view of a cotton field, its speckled cream and brown texture marred by the misshapen smudge in one corner. A smudge buried two feet into the soil in a crater that gradually stained the area around it red.


    He couldn¡¯t argue with the stranger¡¯s logic. Mentally relaxing, he acquiesced, ¡°So, we¡¯re on the same side then?¡±


    ¡°In its broadest sense, yes. The organization I represent is only now announcing itself to the public at large, so it¡¯s early days yet. You¡¯ll find we¡¯ll be functioning in a much broader arena than you, and in a somewhat more benevolent manner. Still, the protection of life and property, and the due process of law is paramount. We appreciate that society continues to be blighted by the presence of those individuals who, like a cancer, need to be excised. So, until we¡¯re up and running, it¡¯s good to know such people are in lethal hands.¡±


    Something about the mystery benefactor¡¯s demeanor prompted O¡¯Neill¡¯s next question. ¡°So, who is it you represent, exactly?¡±


    ¡°An interested party to whom the peace and prosperity on the planet as a whole is important.¡± The stranger leaned forward and extended his arm.


    Grasping it, O¡¯Neill was infused with an inordinate sense of acceptance, before being hauled to his feet as easily as if he weighed nothing more than a child. Hey, I can move of my own volition again?


    The cowled figure pointed off toward the nearby road. ¡°Ah, your guys are just landing and will be eager to ensure you¡¯re alright. Before I go, I¡¯d be grateful if you¡¯d hand this to your commanding officer on your return to Cyprus?¡± He pressed something into O¡¯Neill¡¯s gloved hand.


    O¡¯Neill lifted a small crystalline prism to his visor in which a faintly glowing passage had somehow been rendered: ¡°YOU ARE NOT ALONE.¡±


    ¡°Seriously? That¡¯s gonna raise a lot of quest...?¡± He looked up; only to find the gist of the message didn¡¯t seem to apply in his case now that his ass was safely ensconced on terra firma. ¡°You sneaky son of a ¨C?


    ¡°Captain?¡± Lieutenant Rogers¡¯ voice crackled over the secure line, ¡°are you there. Captain, please respond?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine, I¡¯m here,¡± O¡¯Neill replied, spinning on the spot, already knowing he was the proud sole occupant of a wide swath of arable real-estate.


    ¡°Thank God for that. When we saw your main canopy go past, we thought we¡¯d be holding a Pusser¡¯s auction over your remains.¡±


    You¡¯re not the only ones. ¡°Sorry about that, my reserve only just opened in time. I went in heavy and my helmet took a knock. I¡¯ve just this second got my comms working again. Tell me, did everybody else make the insertion point without incident?¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes. We¡¯re securing the LZ and are readying to deploy. Are you injured, or are there any last minute hitches we need to consider?¡±


    O¡¯Neill glanced at the message in his hand, its softly luminescent lettering tangible evidence that he wasn¡¯t delirious and lying in a hole somewhere, bleeding out. There¡¯s no way I can distract them with this shit. Not now when we¡¯ve still got a mission to fulfill. It¡¯ll have to wait until we get back, and then I¡¯ll see what the boss and his boffins make of it before they kick me out of the Corps for being a certifiable lunatic.


    That thought gave him an idea.


    Buuut, if I make sure my HAPPS harness is preserved intact, they¡¯ll have no choice to believe my story...wild as it is.


    ¡°Captain, did you copy my last? Are there any problems we need to consider?¡±


    Placing the fleck safely within one of the pockets of his battle smock, O¡¯Neill replied aloud, ¡°Thankfully no. I¡¯m a hundred and ten, maybe a hundred and twenty yards west of your current position. Wait for me there, I¡¯m on my way.¡±


    As he broke into a jog, O¡¯Neill refused to allow his mind to overanalyze things and did his best to make light of his escape. Hey, once they see I¡¯m telling the truth, perhaps they¡¯ll replace my parachute wings with angel wings? Who knows, I could start a trend.


    <h6>*</h6>


    Villingili, Addu Atoll¡ªMaldives (fifty-six hours later)


    The Maldives are an enchanting series of twelve hundred islands situated to the southwest of Sri Lanka in the Indian Ocean. Separated into a chain of twenty-six atolls, they smile all the way from Ihavandhippolhu in the north, to Addu City in the south, forming a beaming archipelago encompassing thirty-five thousand square miles. Averaging only five-foot above sea level, the Maldives is not only one of the most geologically dispersed countries in the world but is also one of the most sparsely populated, for only two hundred of those sand bejeweled havens are inhabited.


    Brian and Beth Cooper from Durbin, South Africa, were a happily married couple in their late forties. In celebration of their silver wedding anniversary, they¡¯d decided to return to the Villingili township, as it was the place they¡¯d first met on individual snorkeling holidays nearly thirty years before. A match made in heaven, as their passion ¨C for crystal white beaches, diving, and of course each other ¨C had never waned.


    Regrettably, a storm cloud loomed on the horizon of their scuba-tinted love.


    Brian and Beth had always kept themselves in the best of health. That changed, however, when Brian¡¯s import-export business ran into financial difficulties during the global recession of 2034, the year before. Not one to see everything he¡¯d worked so hard to achieve slip through his fingers, Brian had set-to during the past twelve months, making cuts here and adjustments there, in a determined effort to keep his company afloat.


    His focused and methodical approach had saved the day. Alas, not without consequences, for though he¡¯d managed to avoid bankruptcy, Brian had since been blighted with debilitating headaches and shortness of breath that rendered him bedridden for days at a time.


    As such, Beth had proposed they return to where it all began. A six-week holiday would give them a chance to truly unwind, and Brian the opportunity to recharge his batteries before the Christmas rush that formed the busiest ¨C and most financially rewarding ¨C time of the fiscal year.


    So far, she was pleased to see her idea was working like a charm. Having arrived four days ago, the Coopers had ditched their mobile scroll phones, cut themselves off from the cares of the world and made the effort to simply relax. Needless to say, Brian had soon rallied, bounding about with energy of old and taking to the sea with an enthusiasm that warmed her heart.


    Throwing himself into the spirit of what this vacation was designed to do; Brian had even suggested they try out the wreck of an old Japanese WWII submarine, lying in thirteen fathoms about a mile offshore.


    Beth had initially balked at such an idea. They hadn¡¯t dived for a while and she was concerned that Brian might be taking on too much for their initial foray back into deeper water.


    Brian wouldn¡¯t hear of it, assuring his wife that this was just the thing he needed to feel truly invigorated for the first time in an age. Relenting, she¡¯d given in to his proposal, and a little over an hour ago, they¡¯d anchored their locally hired Atlantic Rib inflatable speedboat above the submerged tomb, and prepared for their adventure into the unknown.


    And that¡¯s where Beth discovered just how rejuvenated her husband was feeling.


    Finding themselves all alone in the middle of a tranquil turquoise paradise, Brian had used the occasion to make the kind of advances that Beth had sorely missed in recent memory. Fifty minutes later than intended, they¡¯d managed to disentangle themselves from each other for long enough to kit up, and begin their slow descent toward the barnacle encrusted cathedral lying more than eighty feet below.


    At that depth, they were only guaranteed a measly fifteen minutes to look around. But it had been well worth it, as the huge hole blown into the side of the hull by the six hundred and forty-three pound warhead over ninety years before had created one of the most surreal sights Beth had ever witnessed; a seaweed and crustacean coated grotto full of gaily painted fish and bizarre coral sculptures that captured the imagination and made Beth think they¡¯d be attacked by marauding skeletal pirates at any moment.


    Now, more than sixty photographs later, it was time to leave, and truth be told, Beth was relieved. While Brian hadn¡¯t shown any signs of distress, she didn¡¯t want to push her luck.


    With Brian leading the way, they commenced retracing their route back from the flooded engine room, through brackish chambers and long caliginous corridors, toward their entry point on the far side of the bridge. A straightforward exercise, as they¡¯d always taken the precaution of laying down a line of twine when diving wrecks. Doing so allowed them the luxury of simply moving hand over hand while reviewing the memories of their latest quest, one they would soon treasure forever.


    Every few yard or so, Brian would look back, grinning around his mouthpiece or flashing a cheeky A-Okay sign. In turn, Beth would reward him with a quick flick to the fins or ¨C if she was close enough ¨C an occasional pinch to his still firm buttocks. Secretly, she still marveled at how physically impressive her man was, despite the trials and tribulations of the past year.


    Yes, she thought to herself, today has been a very good day. A sign, I think, of better things to come.


    A few minutes later found them approaching the midsection of the submarine. Brian slowed to negotiate a series of overhanging jagged metal splinters protruding like broken teeth from the ceiling. Easing his way through, he signaled for Beth to follow. Though smaller than her husband by a long way, her hair nevertheless proved problematic. Voluminous at the best of times, it seemed to possess a mind of its own when wet, and insisted on fanning out in defiance of headbands and hair socks to form an anemonelike frizz to which clownfish in search of Nemo were always drawn.


    Sure enough, as Beth neared the end of the ruptured portion of passageway, she felt herself become snagged and paused to cut herself free. Bloody tangles, she chided, softly, I¡¯ll have to remember to braid it fully before we come out next time, otherwise...?


    It was only at that moment that she discerned Brian was still wending his slow way forward into the gloom. Ah, not to worry, I¡¯ll be free in a few seconds and will soon catch up.


    A quick slice of the blade and Beth was free to examine her latest offering to the god of deep-sea divers, much to the enjoyment of an inquisitive bug-eyed porcupine fish that thought it was onto a free meal from a friendly stranger.


    Shooing it away, Beth scattered her locks through the water like keratin laden chaff, replaced her knife and set off after her husband in earnest.


    Ten seconds later, she entered the control room and was mystified to see Brian¡¯s wrist lamp jerking to and fro in the water near to the hatch leading into the conning tower.


    What¡¯s he doing up there? That¡¯s not the right direction?


    Aiming the beam of her own flashlight toward him, Beth caught her breath as she realized Brian was clutching at his head, obviously in throes of great pain.


    Brian! She screamed at the top of her mind, already moving, already assessing the obstacles standing in her way.


    We¡¯re near the hull breach, so it won¡¯t take me too long to get him out. But we¡¯re a mile offshore. Thank God I thought to bring my scroll phone and first aid pack. By the time I scoot him back to the jetty, a medical buggy will be waiting to ferry him across to the main island. Then it¡¯ll be a ten mile run up to Hithadoo. She did the math. Far too long. Shit, shit, shi...Brian?


    Brian¡¯s body had gone rigid, from Beth¡¯s viewpoint it looked as if her husband had just been impaled on a spike. Then a wave of queasiness gripped her as an argent cascade erupted from his lungs.


    He¡¯s bitten through his mouthpiece? No, no, no! Don¡¯t hold your breath. Don¡¯t hold your breath, honey, your lungs will over expand as I take you back...Right, he¡¯ll have to buddy up with me and...


    So intent was Beth on reaching her husband that she¡¯d failed to notice the unexpected arrival of something behind her within the confines of the bridge, something large and powerful. Something moving at an incredible rate of knots.


    It wasn¡¯t until she¡¯d been swept out of the way and dashed against the bulkhead by turbulent eddies ¨C sending her torch dancing erratically through the darkness and casting mad patterns every which way at once ¨C that she realized that whatever it was, it had seized her husband and exploded upward, taking him through the hull as if it were nothing but sodden paper.


    Was that a shark? Brian?


    Out of control, Beth was forced back, corkscrewing ever deeper into the substructure. She flailed helplessly, her mind tumbling in giddy spirals that made her want to vomit, until a vicelike grip fastened around her midriff, halting her descent in an instant.


    Winded, Beth sucked in air and blinked. What looked like a human arm had clamped itself around her waist. She couldn¡¯t be sure, for though her torso seemed held in place, her orientation refused to stop circling. Then another arm appeared, this one snaking across her shoulder to grasp her by the ribs. A heartbeat later, Beth was propelled sideways and then upward at an unbelievable velocity.


    Pressure kept her chin wedged firmly against her chest. Gawping back along the length of her body, Beth watched, uncomprehendingly as chunks of rusted steel, coral and goodness knows whatever other debris arced away from a new hole blasted into the side of the rapidly receding wreck.


    The experience was terrifying. Like a rag doll, Beth felt herself pulled along in an effervescent roaring rush of overwhelming contradictions.


    Then, as abruptly as her journey had begun, it ended. Her equilibrium reeled on an elastic band of sound and sensation, fighting to slow down to match the pace of her ruptured stability. Fortunately, a pair of strong hands anchored her in place.


    Jesus, I feel as if I¡¯ve just sprinted the length of the island.


    Gasping for breath, Beth discovered she was standing waist deep in pale topaz waters mere yards from the shoreline. Endlessly green eyes belonging to a well-muscled middle-aged man bored into her soul.


    Are you alright, Beth? I apologize for having to be so rough, it was important I get you away from there as fast as possible.


    ¡°Eh? Er...why ye...yes I am,¡± she stuttered in reply, all the time spinning about, trying to locate the only one that mattered. ¡°Have you seen my husband? Oh my God, Brian. Where is he...?¡±


    Calm down, don¡¯t worry, a soothing voice echoed in her mind: He was unfortunate enough to have suffered a stroke. Debilitating under the best of circumstances, and something you definitely want to avoid while so far underwater. Thankfully, we heard your scream and were able to get there in time...before our friends, in fact. It might take a few minutes, but Brian will be fine.


    Tearing her gaze from the guy in front of her, Beth peered across his shoulder to see her husband lying on his back higher up the beach. A slightly younger looking woman was kneeling over him. Ignoring the crowd gathering around her, she appeared transfixed on a vista impossible to see, for her eyes were glowing in tune to the luminescent tendrils seeping from her fingertips in verdant hues.


    Held six or seven inches above Brian¡¯s motionless form, her hands swept back and forth between the crown of his head and his sternum, weaving and folding, threading and kneading those strands into a matrix of vibrant power.


    Beth was appalled. ¡°What is she doing to him?¡± she wailed, forlornly, ¡°and who are you people?¡±


    The man beside her spoke again: We are here on holiday. Like you, we needed to get away from the pressures of our job for a while. Fortunately, we never relax fully. Just as well, as our skills came in handy...wouldn¡¯t you say?


    ¡°How are you...No?¡± Beth hissed, suddenly cognizant of the fact he was speaking without moving his lips.


    Her unknown savior wasn¡¯t listening properly. Instead, he was chuckling and staring off along the beach toward two other people ¨C both male ¨C dressed in what looked like dark coveralls with hooded capes thrown back, standing close to the jetty.


    One faced out to sea, his hand stretched toward a small inflatable speedboat bounding across the waves, empty, engine mute.


    An Atlantic Rib...Our Atlantic Rib?


    That is was responding to some unseen force being generated by the man in black was obvious and without question. Beth followed it in and watched, confounded, as the ropes moved as if by their own volition, securing the craft in place.


    How is he doing...Is he telekinetic? But that¡¯s not possible.


    The impromptu harbormaster¡¯s companion seemed resigned, looking alternatively up into the sky and back toward the growing crowd behind her. By his body language, Beth received the distinct impression he was explaining the circumstances of what had happened to someone else, someone as yet unseen. Eventually, he shrugged, turned to the guy standing next to her, pulled a face and then vanished. A second later, his colleague followed suit.


    Beth paid no attention to the gasps of astonishment from the growing throng, because it was obvious some form of communication had just passed between the hooded figures and her rescuer.


    Laughing aloud, he waved offhandedly and confirmed her suspicions: Don¡¯t pay them any heed, they¡¯re just ticked off we beat them to it... Beth frowned, confused by his allusion. Spotting her incertitude, he rushed to explain: They¡¯re on duty, you see, and should have responded first. But, as we were sunbathing on this very beach, we couldn¡¯t just lie there and ignore your cry for help.


    ¡°What are you talking about, and why can I hear you when you¡¯re not actually speaking out loud?¡±


    Do forgive me. This is all very new, for both of us. The man¡¯s voice began filtering through: You¡¯re still in shock and, well...¡°well, we¡¯re not used to doing things so openly yet. My name¡¯s Luke, by the way, and my...aha!¡±


    His attention snapped toward the woman ministering first aid. ¡°It seems Harper¡¯s just about finished with your husband now.¡±


    Following the line of Luke¡¯s gaze, Beth witnessed the moment the woman¡¯s ¨C Harper¡¯s ¨C eyes extinguished. With a satisfied look on her face, Harper then extended one of her arms and made a fist above Brian¡¯s still comatose form. She squeezed her fingers tightly, and a single bolt of lightning leaped from her hand, striking Brian in the chest. He convulsed, once, expressed a long, loud sigh, then curled up in a ball, snoring.


    The swelling assembly murmured among themselves, an escalating babble that became louder by the minute. Some jabbered incessantly into their scroll phones, others made recordings, two and three dimensional. Ignoring them all, Harper jumped to her feet and strode briskly across to join Beth and Luke by the water¡¯s edge.


    Sorry I was so long, she thought, by way of introduction: but you have to be careful repairing brain damage, it¡¯s easy to screw things up, permanently. I also had to ensure his lungs were free of residual fluids. We wouldn¡¯t want repercussions complicating things later, would we?


    Beth murmured, ¡°Are you trying to tell me he¡¯s...?¡±


    Oh, no, no, no! Don¡¯t worry, that¡¯s all sorted. He¡¯s fine now. What with the amount of water he¡¯d ingested, I had to be careful to take my time. Just let him rest for a day or two, keep the inevitable reporters away, and he¡¯ll make a full recovery,¡±


    ¡°I...I see.¡± Beth was too emotionally exhausted to say anything more.


    Luke nodded toward the crowd. With a hint of irony, he whispered, ¡°At least you¡¯ll get to finish your vacation. I think we¡¯d cause too much of a stir if we stayed, eh?¡±


    Giving Beth a quick tap on the shoulder, he handed her a clear, molded triangular paperweight. ¡°Here, my slothful friends gave me this to pass to you.¡±


    Beth found the item surprisingly light and warm to the touch. Before she could examine it closely, however, Harper stepped in to embrace her. ¡°I¡¯m so happy I could help today. We all are.¡±


    In a softer tone, she added, ¡°And I hope you don¡¯t mind my saying, but when I was in your husband¡¯s head earlier on, I could see into the depths of his psyche. You¡¯re a very lucky woman because he loves you more than you know.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I do know,¡± Beth replied, the conviction evident in her voice.


    Harper moved even closer, her gaze intensifying for the merest instant. Smiling, she stepped back, ¡°Yes, I believe you do.¡±


    Giving Beth one last squeeze, she went to join Luke who had moved away a few yards. It was only as Beth studied them together that the penny finally dropped. Oh, they¡¯re a couple too?


    Harper grabbed Luke by the waist and hugged him to her. Peeking back over her shoulder, she sent: Yup, and this one is all mine!


    Together, they strolled off along the beach, past the rubbernecking multitude, and off toward the nearby water villas.


    Hefting the item in her hand, Beth inspected the paperweight more intently and was intrigued to find it contained a silver colored wafer, upon which the following words had been engraved:


    <h5>¡°WE WILL ALWAYS DO OUR UTMOST TO HELP THOSE IN NEED.¡±</h5>


    Then she braced herself as several of the more daring holidaymakers in the crowd crept toward her, phones, cameras and cambots in hand.


    In moments the storm began, to a blinding fusillade of flashes and a never-ending deluge of questions.


    It went without saying that when the cabin allocated to a ¡°Mr. and Mrs. Black¡± from New Zealand was checked later that evening, their suite had already been vacated. And, as they¡¯d paid for their last minute break with cash, and the duty concierge had neglected to record their passport details, there seemed no way to confirm who the mystery Good Samaritans were.


    On the plus side, so many witnesses made for an interesting bout of press releases, with the kind of coverage that caused people in both ¡°high and low places¡± to take note.


    <h6>*</h6>


    Final Approach to Fairbanks International Airport¡ªAlaska (three days later)


    Delta Airlines Flight FAI57(H)


    At two hundred and forty-five feet long, and with a wingspan of two hundred and seventy-three feet, the Aircarrier A390 was a double-decked, wide-bodied four-engine jet airliner manufactured by EAC, the Euro Air Consortium. Possessing a flexible modular assembly configuration, it could seat up to nine hundred and fourteen passengers, and at cruising altitude, was capable of travelling at five hundred and eighty-eight miles per hour over nine thousand nautical miles.


    Chief Purser Connie Radcliffe had flown the transatlantic route with Delta for the last seven of her more than thirty years service. Now on her final run before retirement, she had prayed for a quiet, uneventful journey. And providence seemed to be listening.


    Although the flight from Gatwick, London, had been full, all five hundred and seventy-eight customers on board had behaved impeccably and her crew of twenty attendants had handled everything smoothly and efficiently. They had even managed to throw a surprise party for her halfway into the eight-hour flight, which delighted passengers had taken to with vigorous support.


    Yes, she¡¯d had to tolerate the embarrassment of mincing up and down the length of both decks to the approbation of just about everyone on board, but she suffered that temporary indignity with graceful patience, secure in the knowledge that her team was genuinely fond of her.


    Captain Chris Lye, one of the best pilots she had ever worked with and someone she had known personally for over fourteen years, had called her forward to the flight deck, where he¡¯d presented her with a pair of tastefully expensive diamond studded gold aviator¡¯s wings and a complimentary Jeroboam of champagne, which he jokingly reminded her, was not to be opened until they were groundside. Sauntering back to her post, Connie had endured yet more loud applause and congratulations, before interest had finally waned.


    It had been one of her most enjoyable flights ever, due in part to an unusually relaxed atmosphere, an atmosphere affecting all carriers over the past few days. News was spreading about a mysterious group, being dubbed ¡°Guardian Angels¡± ¨C or, as the younger element of the YouTube crowd had branded them, Jedi Knights ¨C who were turning out to be a real life Thunderbirds outfit. Materializing out of nowhere in all sorts of places around the world, they had proven quite adept at saving people in the nick of time from one calamity after the another. In the latest incident, they¡¯d managed to apprehend a gang of armed robbers who had opened fire on police and a roomful of seventeen hostages when their bank heist had gone seriously wrong.


    Miraculously, nobody had been hurt in the slightest during the ensuing shootout. And while some of the newspaper reports were hard to believe, she had to admit, video footage captured at this and other incidents globally seemed very convincing. There didn¡¯t appear to be any environment or situation the Guardian Angels couldn¡¯t handle. As such, the sense of safety and security people had begun to feel was clearly evident in the carefree attitudes of those travelling by air.


    A native of Alaska all her life, it felt good to be coming home knowing she could at last begin to live out of a closet instead of a suitcase. And anything that made her last day easier was fine in Connie¡¯s book.


    Now, just four hours later, they had begun their approach toward Fairbanks International Airport. Patrons were in their seats, stewards were squaring things away, and Connie was looking forward to the meal she had planned later that evening with her husband, Douglas, and that bumper bottle of bubbly.


    Even her newest team members were capable and well drilled. Nonetheless, they knew Connie preferred to complete a final check herself of all stations and personnel. She had just commenced those rounds when an unfamiliar tremble ran through the infrastructure, causing her to stumble slightly.


    Oops! She scolded herself, before smiling toward the nearest passengers and declaring, ¡°I assure you, I haven¡¯t started on my present yet.¡±


    That smile vanished as a stronger and more aggressive shudder caused overhead lockers to pop open, spilling items to the floor.


    She frowned. That didn¡¯t feel normal?


    All chatter abruptly ceased. Conversations interrupted, people began gripping their armrests. Wide-eyed, many stared out of the windows toward the engines and wings or at each other. Some looked toward her, assessing her demeanor, or scanning the rest of her staff as if the mere sight of them would help miracle an instant solution to the unknown problem.


    A moment later, a muffled bang caused everyone to flinch. Connie saw faces blanch and knuckles whiten. The tempo of her heart increased as that sound was followed by a prolonged grinding, a deep reverberating moan that rumbled through the bulkhead and caused the Aircarrier to roll violently. Fear saturated the atmosphere, prompting a number of individuals to activate their scroll phones and m-pads. Overhead, seatbelt signs illuminated.


    They obviously want to call their loved ones, Connie realized, just in case. I¡¯d better make an announcement to...?


    Captain Lye¡¯s voice cut in over the noise. ¡°Would all passengers who have not already done so please return to their seats now. We are experiencing a spot of extreme turbulence and request that, for your own safety, you strap yourselves in. Thankfully we have already commenced our descent, so let me remind you that all electronic devices are to remain switched off until we come to a standstill outside the terminal.¡±


    As Connie rushed to her place at the forward galley area of the main deck, a little boy seated with his family in the center aisle was putting on a show of being brave. Having turned to his mother, he was stroking her hand and doing his best to console her, ¡°Don¡¯t worry, mommy. The Jedi people won¡¯t let anything bad happen to us.¡±


    Mommy didn¡¯t appear all that convinced by her son¡¯s assurances, especially as another vicious tremor gripped the plane moments later. Oxygen masks fell from overhead compartments. Lights flickered on and off. The woman wailed, prompting further shouts of alarm that intensified all the more as the rear section dropped without warning, creating a tail end spin that accelerated by the second.


    Connie held on for dear life. Listening with dread, she noted how the engines labored, revving and roaring to compensate for the ever-changing conditions threatening to hurl them from the sky. Panic spread like a contagion, and Connie found herself fighting to calm her own mounting fears and dizziness to remain professionally detached.


    The rate of yaw increased. Struggling to maintain her footing, Connie staggered forward, intent on reaching the crew area from which she intended to use the phone to contact those members of her team who might have gained their seats.


    All I can do is bolster their...¡°Whoa!¡± She clutched at a backrest to steady herself as they hit an air pocket. Not that it will count for much if things keep getting worse.


    They did.


    Regardless of the captain¡¯s request, people were screaming and sobbing into their phones; clearly under the impression they were living their last moments; eager to send a last goodbye before it was too late.


    By now, the plane was plummeting and whirling so cruelly, that Connie felt lightheaded. She didn¡¯t see how they could possibly survive. Unbidden, an image of Douglas ¨C his rugged, weather-beaten face and enduring smile ¨C came to mind. Her vision blurred.


    Blinking away her tears, she glared at those passengers still babbling into their phones. Lucky bastards! I wish I had the opportunity to thank Douglas for all our years of happiness.


    Then she caught sight of the child again. Managing his own discomfort heroically, he was still patting his mother¡¯s hand and reassuring her in the face of overwhelming odds. Mom and dad still weren¡¯t paying much attention, and seemed more intent on getting him to pipe down than commend him for his courage.


    Determined, the youngster defied them both and started shouting over the top of their protestations, ¡°...what you say, they¡¯ll come, you¡¯ll see.¡±


    Sitting back abruptly, he raised his head into the air and shouted at the top of his lungs, ¡°Save us! We know you can. Please, my mommy is frightened. Don¡¯t let us die.¡±


    An ethereal voice out of nowhere cut through the clamor, ringing loudly in everyone¡¯s minds: Don¡¯t worry little man. We¡¯re here...Now!


    A blinding flash announced the arrival of five striking individuals. Dressed similarly in dark coveralls and hoods, they stood as if rooted to the carpet, immune to the g-forces wrought by radial and angular momentum.


    The man in the middle of the group appeared to be in charge as his was the only uniform distinguished by a silver band at the end of each sleeve. Despite the gravity of the situation, Connie had to laugh the moment she laid eyes on them. So that¡¯s why the internet is swamped with Jedi references?


    Though brief, her outburst resounded along the cabin, for the arrival of the mystery quintet had struck everyone mute.


    The leader nodded, fore and aft. The two men on his right started toward the cockpit ¨C one mounting the stairs to the Upper Elite Lounge three at a time ¨C while a younger man and women on his left ran in the direction of the rear bathrooms.


    Once those Connie could see were in position, they turned to face back along the aisle. Each adopted a prayerful inclination, with heads bowed and eyes shut. An unseen signal must have passed between them, for they raised their arms simultaneously ¨C those at either end of the plane pointing in toward their commander ¨C the commander himself adopting a crucifix position, his hands extended, palms upward, along the line of each wing.


    It was one of the most bizarre sights Connie had ever witnessed. The A390 was rotating about its central axis, falling like a misshapen one million five hundred thousand pound maple seed from the heavens. Even so, every one of their rescuers stood frozen in place, as if they had always been an integral part of the d¨¦cor.


    Then the chief Guardian¡¯s head snapped up. Waves of sizzling power commenced issuing from his fingertips, fanning outward in rippling halos so redolent with authority that the tremors afflicting the great craft began to fade.


    As the rate of spin decreased, Connie discerned her own sense of vertigo diminishing. Thank God for that, I thought I might pass out for a while there.


    Another pulse radiated away from the leader¡¯s form, this one pitched at a different frequency. Connie was momentarily taken aback, for she heard the distinctive whine of the Rolls-Royce T1000 engines shutting down. Her fear was short-lived, however, for the airliner regained an even greater degree of stability almost immediately.


    Are they holding the damned thing up? Connie risked a glance out of a nearby exit port. Sure enough, the sickening curlicue cycle was abating, slackening off completely until the plane had regained a more or less even keel. They...they must be.


    She pressed her nose to the plexiglass. Hmmm, our decent is now very similar to what you would expect from a normal landing on a windy day...Perhaps a little bit faster?


    It didn¡¯t take long for others to pick up on the difference. As they did so, all the accumulated tension drained away. Heads craned from side to side. Incredulous faces peered in equal measure at glimpses of the ground looming outside, and the sight of real life Guardian Angels stood within touching distance.


    Soon, an entirely different ambiance filled the cabin with noise as scroll phones and m-pads came back out and abandoned conversations resumed, this time, filling loved ones in on the details of their miraculous salvation.


    Connie could appreciate how they felt. To hear about these guys and girls on the news is one thing. But to experience them at work? She exhaled sharply, well; it¡¯s like floating through a waking dream.


    Strolling to the opposite side of the gangway, Connie looked out of one of the larger windows and was surprised to realize they were now so low, she could spot well-known landmarks with ease. She watched, numbly, as they passed the North Star Golf Club, Steese Highway and Creamers Field Waterfowl Refuge.


    As they crossed Johansen Expressway, the Aircarrier suddenly banked sharp left, bringing shouts of alarm from unsuspecting passengers.


    A comforting voice sounded out in response: My apologies, ladies and gentlemen, but we won¡¯t be landing at Fairbanks International Airport. As you can imagine, the A390 is a rather heavy brute to manhandle, so we¡¯re diverting to a nearby military base. The added bonus to this is the fact you won¡¯t be swamped by the massing media as you disembark.


    That¡¯ll be Ladd Army Airfield over at Fort Wainwright, Connie thought.


    She thought right.


    Of the countless landings Connie had experienced throughout her working life, this was the most memorable, for as the six hundred and eighty metric tons of the world¡¯s largest passenger jet curled in to land, it came to a full stop in midair.


    There, caught in the cross glare of more than a dozen, four thousand lumen searchlights; it hung, suspended a mere ten feet above the tarmac. As it started to descend ¨C like a feather ¨C the rest of the way, one of the beams cut through the window, blinding her and forcing her to look away.


    A gentle bump signified the moment they landed.


    The undercarriage isn¡¯t down, so why aren¡¯t we tipping? She glanced toward their rescuers and instinctively guessed the answer. Ah, I should have known.


    Then her training kicked in. Grabbing the nearest phone, Connie initiated a blanket in-house call and began issuing instructions for the deployment of emergency chutes and the safe evacuation of everyone on board.


    Easier said than done, for though her team worked quickly and proficiently, passengers seemed reticent to leave. Time and again, one person after another would stop on the way out to thank their saviors, by word and by touch, as if those simple acts helped prove to themselves the reality of what they¡¯d just lived through.


    The little boy, especially, wouldn¡¯t be denied. One of the last to leave, he gazed up in wonder at the personification of all his heroes rolled into one. Tugging at the commander¡¯s robe, he proudly declared, ¡°See? I knew you¡¯d come. Even when my mommy wouldn¡¯t believe me, I knew you wouldn¡¯t let us die.¡±


    The Guardian Angel looked down and ruffled the child¡¯s hair. Winking, he replied, ¡°That¡¯s no problem, little man. We couldn¡¯t have you being afraid to fly, now could we, especially as things like this are very rare. Now go on, your folks will want to get you home and there¡¯ll be lots to tell your friends about tomorrow.¡±


    White as sheets, the boy¡¯s parents led him toward the door.


    Outside, Connie could see distant headlights crowned in flickering blue and red beacons converging on their position. That¡¯ll be the cavalry, come to protect their turf.


    Captain Lye strolled confidently toward her.


    ¡°Just checking,¡± he announced, before Connie could ask why he hadn¡¯t used one of the forward exit points. ¡°It is your last day after all, and I don¡¯t think Douglas would ever forgive me if I didn¡¯t make sure you were alright and escorted you off myself.¡±


    She smiled. He has a point I suppose. Douglas can be rather ¨C?


    ¡°One moment please?¡±


    She turned to find the Guardian holding a small transparent plaque toward them.


    He said, ¡°We¡¯d appreciate it if you gave this to the appropriate authorities when they get here?¡± His eyes narrowed as the approaching MP¡¯s triggered their sirens. ¡°Not to put too fine a point on it, but we can do without the hassle.¡±


    Taking the tablet, Connie was fascinated to find written text had somehow been suffused within its resinous medium in glowing letters:


    ¡°WHILE WE RESPECT THE SOVEREIGN RIGHTS OF EVERY COUNTRY, PLEASE BE AWARE THAT OUR PRIORITY IS, AND ALWAYS WILL BE, THE PRESERVATION OF HUMAN LIFE.


    SUCH A TENET REQUIRES BOTH SACRIFICE AND DEDICATION. IT IS NOT A RESPONIBILITY WE TAKE LIGHTLY.


    AND WHILE WE WILL ENDEAVOUR TO UPHOLD THE SPIRIT OF YOUR RESPECTIVE CONSTITUTIONS, THERE MAY BE OCCASIONS WHEN EXTREME CIRCUMSTANCES REQUIRE OUR IMMEDIATE RESPONSE IN CONTRAVENTION OF YOUR LAWS, TO PREVENT A LOSS OF LIFE.


    YOUR PATIENCE AT THOSE TIMES WOULD BE MUCH APPRECIATED.


    WHEN WE FEEL A MEASURE OF MUTUAL COOPERATION HAS BEEN ESTABLISHED, WE WILL APPROACH YOUR LEADERS TO OPEN A DIALOGUE.¡±


    Connie thought that what the communiqu¨¦ said made a sad kind of sense. Yes, I can see there¡¯ll be some governments who will look upon their actions here today as an intrusion, rather than a blessing. Hopefully, ours won¡¯t be one of them.


    She glanced up to find their angelic benefactors had already departed.


    But I won¡¯t hold my breath.


    The plane groaned and tilted slowly onto its starboard wing. Wobbling up and down for a second or two, it eventually came to rest, an irrefutable monument that life ¨C for everyone, everywhere ¨C was about to change.


    Seconds later, the dawn of new beginnings clouded over as the cavalcade of freshly starched, flat-topped testosterone screeched to a halt. Men leaped from their vehicles, weapons were brandished and orders barked, as if the prevention of World War III depended upon their actions.


    Unfortunately for them, the people they were trying to impress were long gone.

 Consequences

    Old District¡ªTokyo


    The person chairing this extraordinary meeting of the Council took a deep breath, pushed back his chair, and stood, commanding the instant respect of everyone present.


    At seventy-two years of age, Lei Yeung was still a strong and agile man, a man still able to display the formal bearing of one accustomed to a lifetime of hard work and focused discipline. Unfortunately for his enemies, he still possessed the intellect to match his physical prowess.


    Certain tragedies endured as a child meant that Yeung lacked a formal education. But that had never held him back. From an early age, his streetwise savvy had helped him see the way the world truly worked. That, together with his ¡°unusual¡± skill set, had more than made up for any schooling deficits.


    Yeung had the uncanny ability to know when people were lying to him; he was able to sense their emotions and the motivating factors behind their actions; and if that was not impressive enough, he also had the inherent capability to insert ideas or a particular line of reasoning into another person¡¯s consciousness, causing them to act on those impulses as if they were their own.


    Such gifts, together with a sharp analytical mind and finely honed business acumen, had guaranteed his meteoric rise within the White Tigers crime syndicate operating out of the Old District in Tokyo during the nineteen-eighties, despite his Chinese heritage.


    As a teenager, he was known to have been blessed by an old head on young shoulders. Nowhere was this more evident than by his sense of maturity in enhancing his reach through the shrewd selection of loyal friends and acquaintances. Realizing such a tight-knit coterie while still young put him in the enviable position of being able to grant favors to some very well placed rivals. Favors he always ensured were reciprocated by little tip-offs here, nods in the right direction there, or when necessary, advanced warning of those situations best avoided. Seemingly innocuous acts that ¨C over time ¨C built up into a veritable goldmine of information and good fortune for those he served.


    No surprise then, that Yeung came to the notice of those in authority.


    As he began to rise, Yeung was careful to build an impeccable reputation. His word was his bond. He went to great length to ensure his promises were always honored. More insidiously, he not only displayed an uncanny insight ¨C knowing who and who not to trust ¨C but he was unnervingly skillful at weeding out traitors and ruthlessly dealing with them.


    Little wonder then, when he soon became a firm favorite of those in high places.


    Poignantly, Yeung¡¯s success also provided the perfect platform for him to build a lethal powerbase of his own. So much so, that he celebrated his fortieth birthday by removing all opposition to his ambitions in one bloody twenty-four hour period that went on to become known in Tong circles as, ¡°The Night of a Thousand Talons.¡±


    It was only once the repercussions of that brutal coop had faded that Yeung¡¯s intentions began to manifest¡­or not, as the case may be. For he installed trusted puppets in all the positions of prestige and influence, while he himself melted into the background to become nothing more than an elusive shadow, a legend, mentioned only in whispers.


    Openly, the White Tigers thrived under their new chieftain and ruling clan. But nobody ever knew that success had not been achieved by their own kudos. The true mastermind was content to work behind the scenes, ensuring the White Tigers were always in the right place at the right time, always supporting the right venture, while avoiding those that led to calamity for others. In as little as a decade, Yeung had built a sophisticated international empire that encompassed prostitution, drugs, gambling, smuggling, counterfeit goods, laundered cash, and cyber crime. An incredible feat.


    Even so, nowhere was Yeung¡¯s prudence more apparent than in his relentless pursuit of those people like him ¨C those anomalies ¨C endowed with an extra edge. And that was what made Yeung especially dangerous; his ability, not just to see the bigger picture, but to reach out and grasp it with both hands.


    Yeung had realized as a child that it was highly unlikely he was unique. So, as the years passed and his dominion grew, he¡¯d kept a careful watch for other individuals like himself who might be blessed with unusual talents.


    And he¡¯d found them. Some directly, in his everyday dealings; others indirectly, through much more dubious means.


    Initially, such ones were invited into a clandestine world of plenty, an environment where they were encouraged to express their aptitudes in a way that brought great gain and consolidated Yeung¡¯s iron grip on the criminal fraternity. Needless to say, it wasn¡¯t long before his mastery had spread far beyond the borders of Japan.


    At any rate, he did experience rejection from time to time, and such ones had to be dealt with mercilessly to ensure anonymity was maintained. A scandalous waste of precious resources, from Yeung¡¯s perspective, where each corpse, each weighted or concrete covered body, represented a loss of potential future revenue. Therefore, as time passed, Yeung devised a better means to increase his profits:


    He separated the functioning of his assets.


    Those of a gentler, less aggressive disposition, he used extensively to steal thoughts and ideas, thus paving the way for a fledgling Yeung Technologies to forge ahead in the world of innovative discovery. So successful were those early endeavors that his company went on to become the pioneering pathfinder of a broad spectrum of scientific and medical breakthroughs. All of which were deemed totally legitimate.


    Such an approach was as simple as it was elegant, and totally risk free, allowing Yeung to maintain the front of one of society¡¯s most respected businessmen while gaining control of an enterprise that brought him increasing wealth and prestige with each passing year.


    Meanwhile, candidates whose temperaments were better suited to a darker, more hard-line way of thinking he used to head the Council itself as Apostles. A fellowship of exceptionally gifted mavericks who used their combined assets to form the largest united crime consortium on the planet, one that ¨C unbeknown to others ¨C focused much of its efforts on the acquiring of secrets. For as Yeung had been at pains to impress upon them, secrets were merely sensitive packets of personal, political or industrial information; information that could be stored away for later use, or exchanged for goodwill when doors needed to be opened or closed. Yes, knowledge brought power, and when that power was wielded in union with their arcane abilities, anything was possible.


    Indeed, it was thought that nothing of consequence could ever happen on a global scale without the Council knowing about it, for their agents had been seeded throughout all levels of the establishment in most major countries.


    Usually, that gave them a clear advantage, as they could adjust their strategy to capitalize on unexpected bounties in a way that no other organization could. However, it seemed that someone was daring to change the rules by which the game was being played. Not only that, it looked as if that same someone wanted to level that playing field and move the goalposts as well.


    So, it was with eager anticipation that the Apostles of the Council ¨C those members representing the twelve most gifted individuals of their alliance from both North and South America, Europe, Asia, Africa, Russia and Oceania ¨C had convened, keen to discuss the implications of recent events which had caused just about everyone in their line of business to panic and wonder if this was the end of criminal life as they knew it.


    The past two weeks had hit them hard. Guardian Angels ¨C as the media were labeling these new and elusive saviors ¨C had not only busied themselves playing God at the scenes of numerous accidents and larger disasters, but not ten hours previously had also made their unwelcome presence felt at Sochi International Seaport, Russia, one of the Council¡¯s main operating bases. There, they had managed to rescue over two-hundred females recently procured by the Council¡¯s own minions at great cost, who were destined for brothels in Poland, Romania, and Japan.


    Somehow ¨C and Yeung fully intended to find out how ¨C the Guardian Angels had discovered which of the thousands of containers stacked about the dockside were being used to transport the Council¡¯s merchandise. Arriving only minutes ahead of local law enforcement officers, they had divided into small teams, incapacitated the women¡¯s handlers and accompanying guards, cracked open the doors of all six units, and rendered aid to those most sorely affected by the drugs used to subdue them. Following that, they had made a neat pile out of the passports and other documentation seized from the victims at the time they were kidnapped.


    By the time state ministry led agencies arrived, the interfering busybodies had gone, and all police had to do was swarm the site, confiscate the evidence, arrest those responsible and act as chaperones for anyone requiring further medical treatment.


    Residual fallout from that fiasco had led to the capture of a total of thirty-nine of the Council¡¯s employees, the confiscation of nearly five-hundred kilograms of heroin, and the precautionary abandonment of several skin factories.


    The loss in profits and potential income hadn¡¯t been properly calculated yet and the meeting that had been scheduled to end around midnight was still grinding on, as the Apostles vacillated over a suitable response.


    A few demanded vengeance, swift and sweet; some called for parlay, to see if these newcomers might be brought onside; older, wiser souls urged caution.


    Yeung leaned forward to rest his weight on his knuckles, skimming the faces around the table, pausing for just long enough to meet the gaze of each person present and ensure them he acknowledged their concerns.


    Clearing his throat, he began, ¡°Ladies and Gentlemen, I must confess, I feel happenstance may have overwhelmed us a little and caused us to lose focus. If we do not address this problem calmly and with open minds, it may metamorphose into the tip of an iceberg capable of sinking us all.¡±


    ¡°So what do you propose we calmly do?¡± interrupted a bull-necked younger man. Visibly aggravated, smoke rose from in front of him where his hands touched the desk, a stark indicator of the fiery elemental gift he possessed. A gift he was fighting a losing battle to contain.


    Turning to him, Yeung acknowledged the newest member of the Council ¨C Luigi Espasito ¨C the son of an old friend who had stepped down due to declining health in his old age. Luigi¡¯s inability to manage his anger made it plainly obvious that he hadn¡¯t been ready to take his father¡¯s place.


    Ignoring the damage to the table Yeung commanded, ¡°Member Espasito, do you have something constructive to say?¡±


    ¡°Damned right I do!¡± Espasito spat back, refusing to be intimidated, ¡°I want to know when are we going to answer this insult, and how quickly?¡±


    ¡°You appear to be taking this rather personally. Why?¡±


    ¡°Because those assholes hit me in more ways than one, you know.¡± Referring to the heroin within the manifests in front of them, Espasito blustered, ¡°Half of that shipment was due for my market in the United States. Those bastards have caused me to lose face on a number of occasions, lately. Replacing this batch will cost me in more than just dollars.¡±


    ¡°So, you¡¯re concerned about what people might think of you?¡±


    ¡°Of course I am! I thought that¡¯d be something you¡¯d understand. I recently promised three of our most influential business associates in Romania, Georgia, and the Ukraine a consignment of luxury yachts and speed boats for their Black Sea resorts as a sweetener for future projects I want them to sponsor in that area. They only accepted after I promised delivery of some new toys for their VIP harems over the next two weeks. One of my regular sources for such merchandise was squeezed by these interfering morons only seven days ago in Australia. Not only did these¡­these Guardian Angels knock my nose out of joint, they lost me revenue on the new smuggling contacts I¡¯d planned for my counterfeit designer labels. Can you imagine how hard it will be to restore confidence in my credibility now, especially when everyone gets wind of this latest fiasco? I might as well be blowing crap out my ass.¡±


    Meeting his gaze squarely, Yeung whispered, ¡°You are not the only one who has lost face on this occasion, young man. What affects one of us, affects us all. We have a reputation to maintain ¨C both public and¡­not so public ¨C and the reason the Council exists is to ensure that reputation is upheld when things like this impact us. We are here, presenting a united front, to ensure any setbacks to you are minimized by the rest of us.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s all well and good in theory, but how are we going to actually make them pay?¡± Espasito protested, slamming his fist onto the table. Sparks flew from his hand.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    Espasito¡¯s outburst caused a number of Apostles to bristle with indignation. Intimate thoughts began to fly between those associates blessed with that capability. Zeroing in on such emanations, Yeung discerned some were aimed at him, insisting he discipline the upstart before things went too far.


    They¡¯re right. Time to remind this delinquent how things are done.


    Taking a deep breath to maintain his composure, Yeung replied, ¡°I don¡¯t know how we will make them pay¡ªyet! But what I can say is the matter is in hand, and it will not be rushed. It is vital we do not act rashly.


    ¡°Remember, it has only been a matter of a few weeks, so we do not know our enemy well enough to respond. Can they be recruited? Time will tell. Are they easy to kill? I would imagine not. Can we embarrass them publicly? Possibly. To do anything effectively, we must first gather intelligence. Only then can we decide on a safe course of action¡­¡±


    As he spoke, Yeung had continued to lower his voice. His tone now as flat and unyielding as an anvil, he concluded, ¡°Personal affront takes second place to the welfare of the Council¡¯s standing, understood?¡±


    To reinforce his point, Yeung maintained eye contact until the younger man was forced to agree with an almost imperceptible nod of his head.


    ¡°Good.¡± Turning to an older, pockmarked-faced brute further along the table, Yeung changed tack slightly, ¡°Member Belikov, I understand the men we lost at Sochi were part of your syndicate, is that correct?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Sir, that¡¯s right,¡± replied Belikov, a thug in his late fifties who had made his name in the Russian Mafia, firstly as an enforcer and later, as someone who was very hard to kill, due mainly to his amazing proficiency to recover quickly from the most appalling injuries. ¡°They were responsible for sorting and assessing the women from our latest trawl through Europe¡¯s capitals before their onward transportation to the flesh farms.¡±


    ¡°And how many of those men were in a privileged position?¡±


    ¡°Just two of them, Sir, Dorogi and Koslov from the pleasure hubs serving Poland and Romania. Both have received conditioning, and can be trusted to remain silent and serve time rather than open their mouths. They know the consequences only too well.¡±


    Yeung nodded. ¡°Excellent, excellent, at least there¡¯s that. Please make sure their families are looked after while they are away from home. And make haste to alert our contacts within the police and prison services. We must set an example of support in this matter, and I want those who remain loyal to experience the reality that we are with them every step of the way until we¡¯ve managed to arrange for their early release.¡±


    Belikov inclined his head respectfully, and acknowledged it would be done.


    Yeung then commenced walking slowly around the room, studying each of his closest associates in turn. ¡°These Guardian Angels or whatever they are, represent a danger to our current operations. In hindsight, our gifts have caused us to become complacent over the years, caused us to think we are untouchable and beyond reproach. That is plainly no longer the case.


    ¡°We must be cautious, assess their capabilities and weaknesses, see if we can indeed make inroads into their organization and turn what we find to our advantage. We will survive this difficult period, of that I am sure. Alas, I¡¯m also sure of the fact that we will have to adapt in order to do that.¡±


    He lingered opposite Espasito, staring him down. ¡°What we must not do is take matters into our own hands. We have only glimpsed a fraction of what these Guardian Angels can achieve. There¡¯s no doubt they¡¯ll be capable of more, much more. Note too how the world seems to be reacting to them. Is it any wonder they would work in a way that curries favorable public opinion? What they do requires a degree of largesse and understanding. Who knows, perhaps it is by this avenue we might strike back in the future?¡±


    Everyone nodded in agreement. Everyone that is, except for Espasito, who appeared furious at being singled out.


    Seeing this, Yeung decided a short break might be appropriate before continuing. Retaking his place at the head of the table, he declared, ¡°Ladies and Gentlemen, much can be accomplished by hindsight¡¯s grace. Please, let¡¯s enjoy a short recess and collect our thoughts before resuming in say, thirty minutes, when we will be in a better position to determine the wisest course to follow as we attempt to navigate safely around the iceberg that threatens us.¡±


    That announcement was met by unanimous eager compliance. An organized mob, the delegates stampeded for the door. Yeung concentrated on the newest Apostle as he stomped from the room, easily discerning the defiance and deceit that tinged the younger man¡¯s naturally ruddy aura with deeper tendrils of scarlet and black¡­And something else that aroused suspicion.


    He¡¯s going to be a problem if I don¡¯t keep him in check.


    ¡°Madam Papadakos, a moment?¡± called Yeung as the final group approached the exit.


    A voluptuous Greek woman in her mid thirties checked her stride and walked quietly back to her seat, dark eyes flashing with every step.


    An Apostle of the Council¡¯s European drug smuggling operations, Angelika Papadakos¡¯ inviting looks were cunningly misleading. For one thing, she was aggressively telepathic and enjoyed the added bonus of being able to remote-view an area for up to a mile from her own location. Even worse, she was capable of draining the very life essence from a person just by touching them.


    Smiling, she waited for the others to leave before asking, ¡°Sir?¡±


    ¡°Angelika, I feel I may have need of your particular talents in the very near future. How are you with small aircraft, high rise buildings, and flammable substances?¡±


    ¡°It depends. Why, what do you have in mind?¡±


    Yeung reached behind his desk and produced a small leather-bound document. ¡°The gist of what you need is in there,¡± he said, handing it to her. ¡°Destroy it once you have the details and let me know the results as soon as you¡¯ve completed your appraisal. Use as many troops as you need to get this done, understood?¡±


    Placing the document in her purse, the siren nodded once and walked slowly from the room, her seductive swagger only enhancing the sway of the shimmering tresses that paved a silken path toward her hips.


    If only I were twenty or thirty years younger, the old man mused.


    Pulling himself free of the unattainable joy such a daydream offered, he called after her, ¡°Oh Angelika, ask Harry to come in for a moment, would you?¡±


    She waved in acknowledgement, and as the scent of her perfume receded, Yeung¡¯s head of security, Harry Bing, made his silent way into the office.


    Powerfully built and in his late forties, Harry originated from Johannesburg, where he¡¯d been carving out a career for himself as head of the private police force used by ¡°De Beers Consolidated Diamond Company¡± at Premier Mine, Gauteng, South Africa.


    Harry had attained that prestigious position due to his unprecedented skill at picking out those fools intent on smuggling precious gems and equipment through the complex¡¯s extensive range of checkpoints. Yes, the company employed state of the art ¡°Scannex¡± technology. Even so, items still seemed to go missing. But not when Harry was on duty. He could spot a crook from a hundred yards away, and over twenty-five years, had personally apprehended more than three-hundred and fifty thieves.


    He had been quite happy at De Beers, until a chance meeting with Lei Yeung himself just four years previously highlighted how his talents could be put to better use. Not only was Harry one of the most powerful telepaths Yeung had ever met, he was also a gifted teleporter. It went without saying that making the right decision changed Harry¡¯s life dramatically.


    Harry sat without invitation at the end of the conference table, waiting for his boss to amble over to him.


    They shook hands and Yeung said, ¡°Harry, I¡¯d like you to do something for me.¡±


    <h6>*</h6>


    Fort Wainwright in Fairbanks, Alaska, is home to over ten thousand soldiers and family members, comprising units of 1st Brigade, 6th Light Infantry Division, the Arctic Support Brigade, the 4th and 123rd Aviation Regiment, along with the 23rd Aviation Intermediate Maintenance Unit, and the 283rd Medical Detachment.


    Its commanding officer, Brigadier General Alan Pascoe, was a career minded veteran with more than forty years unblemished service in numerous theaters around the globe under his belt. He was also an insightful man, who could read the underlying current governing most situations to deliver a frank and honest appraisal of what was really going on. As such, he¡¯d insisted he be allowed to examine the results of an enquiry that had taken place in light of the incredible rescue of all six hundred and two souls from the Delta Airlines flight into Fairbanks just two weeks previously, before they were sent to the US Department of Defense at Arlington, Virginia.


    Scrutinizing the completed report emblazoned across his screen, triggered a mild repetitive twitch in the corner of his left eye


    Understatement of the year? Top Brass at the Pentagon are gonna spit up a shitstorm from hell¡­and to be fair, I can see why.


    To discover that a previously unknown, technologically advanced and equipped, highly trained and motivated group of people are running around out there is a shock. And a big one at that. Yes, they appear to be benevolent, as indicated by the commendable way they¡¯ve striven to render aid to anyone who urgently needs it. However, their gifts ¨C or superhuman abilities ¨C whatever you want to call them, simply can¡¯t be ignored. Neither can the way they seem able to circumvent just about every known security protocol in existence. Such power, such ease of movement, will be a source of great concern, especially to the more gung-ho of my contemporaries within the Defense Intelligence Agency.


    Pascoe smiled as the scene of a tiny rolling snowball precipitating an avalanche unfurled within his mind. As I¡¯m sure it will to the black widows and bureaucrats hidden away in the web of intelligence agencies around the world. No matter how much good these Guardian Angels do, they¡¯ll always be viewed as a threat.


    Tilting back in his chair, the general laced his fingers behind his head, stared up at the slowly revolving ceiling fan, and recounted the fallout he¡¯d had to endure since the airliner had dared to land, unannounced, smack bang in the middle of his command.


    Let¡¯s see, what have I had? NSA, CIA, Homeland Security, Army Intelligence and fuck-knows who else snooping around like they owned the place. And don¡¯t forget the endless badgering from HUMINT and the National Threat Assessment Center¡­All of them wanting a piece of the pie; everyone falling over themselves in the hunt for imaginary foes. Idiots! As if we could ever begin to anticipate the ¡°clear and obvious danger¡± such an outfit might represent if they ever did become hostile.


    His gaze came to rest on the distant lights from those vans and cameras still circling like sharks outside the base¡¯s perimeter fence.


    And the press? When are they gonna get it through their thick skulls that we don¡¯t have any of the Guardian Angels tucked away in one of our cells being subjected to God knows what kinds of invasive interrogation.


    Snorting loudly, he shook his head in disbelief. They¡¯d all disappeared long before my first soldiers got there. And anyway, do they seriously think we¡¯d have anything that would hold them?


    The eye tic got worse. Deciding he couldn¡¯t put the inevitable off any longer, the general leaned forward, reached for the mouse, closed the document and moved the cursor so that it hovered above the ¡°send¡± icon. As he did so, he imagined himself standing at the very top of an ice-capped mountain. Bathed in moonlight, a glittering slope of pristine silver radiance yawned away before him. He clutched something cold, something that made his fingers burn in his hand.


    At least they allowed me this courtesy¡­though I can only imagine what the autocrats of the administration will make of its contents. Still, I¡¯ve done my bit. And I don¡¯t think we¡¯ll be the only ones to display such paranoia.


    Click!


    And with that, a fresh snowball was set on it way.


    <h6>*</h6>


    That figurative snowball gathered size and momentum the further down the slope it traveled, for one of the developments to emerge from this era of new concerns was the spontaneous resurrection of obsolete paranormal study programs in one country after another.


    People are not aware of how seriously some administrations conduct research into psychic phenomena, especially in relation to ESP, telepathy, remote viewing, and telekinesis; as such abilities would prove invaluable tools in counter espionage.


    It went without saying that the international scientific community had been set on fire by recent events. Enthusiasm seemed particularly focused on the scope of the extrasensory abilities the Guardian Angels possessed. Because of this, many old programs were brought down from the shelf, dusted off and given shiny new names. They also found themselves on the receiving end of generous budgets with remits granting them access to some of the finest military and civilian scientific staff and resources available.


    In the USA, the Angel Project was rekindled from the ashes of a defunct World War Two program into psychic conditioning. Moved from Nevada to Virginia, its director was given a golden egg laying goose, incorporating a brand new underground self-contained testing facility, hand-picked staff and carte blanche authority over the acquisition of aspirants with a ¡°measurable paranormal quotient.¡±


    What¡¯s more, the project manager received a written promise of unlimited future funding if he could isolate such aspirants quickly.


    In Russia, The Directorate of Special Activities suddenly found itself with a lot more power and influence within bureaucratic circles. By order of the president himself, the colonel in charge of the team was extended the opportunity to choose whatever manpower and resources she saw fit, no matter what the cost. And pick them she did.


    Outwardly, nothing appeared to change within the Peoples Republic of China. Infants ¨C both pre-school, and in their first years of education ¨C were regularly assessed for psi abilities anyway. The only difference was that such assessments were now much more rigorous, and widespread.


    In fact, within weeks of the startling happenings around the world, it became part of the educational curriculum for all children within China to submit to a thorough ¡°intuitive evaluation,¡± with a new proviso stating that, in future, such examinations would take place twice a year. Anyone scoring above a certain percentile was whisked away to isolated State sponsored schools where all contact with their families was heavily restricted.


    Additionally, the selection process for employment in sensitive positions went on to include a higher tiered comprehensive ¡°psi-test¡±, with an even tougher process for those attempting to secure governmental positions of oversight.


    From the outside looking in, it appeared a common thread was developing: I want one, and I¡¯m going to get one before you do.


    And in these early days, the powers that be seemed happy to wait and see what the coming months would bring within their own borders. After all ¨C they reasoned ¨C if the Guardian Angels had sufficient numbers to respond to major disasters anywhere in the world, then there must be some similarly blessed individuals who weren¡¯t attracted to the limelight of their calling?


    On the face of it, a logical an innocent assumption.


    However, those aspirations hid darker motives, especially within the more cloak-and-dagger agencies of those regimes who would never be satisfied serving the needs of society as a whole. For the true undercurrent revealed a more aggressive focus on finding candidates, stronger and more talented than those on the other side; more willing to serve the goals and aspirations of their particular government¡¯s foreign and domestic policies.


    Basically, they wanted super spies ¨C possessing the skills of Jason Bourne meets Obi-wan Kenobi ¨C and they wouldn¡¯t be content until they found them.


    From the amount of traffic now bouncing back and forth over the Ethernet and in secret communiqu¨¦s, there seemed to be an almost fervid determination to achieve this goal by any means necessary. The perceived race had started, and there were no prizes for coming second.


    Some even had aspirations of boosting their chances, by persuading or even coercing members of the Guardian Angels to assist in their research programs.


    That line of thought could only end in tears.


    <h6>*</h6>


    As it transpired, General Pascoe¡¯s assessment was unerringly accurate in more way than one, for the Guardian Angels were also the topic of conversation among a startling number of some of the world¡¯s most notorious crime bosses.


    These characters did not have the advantage of an intelligence network like the Council, nor did they boast the resources of established entities like the CIA, FBI, NSA, or their Australian and British counterparts, ASIS or MI5 and MI6. Nonetheless, they did have their own way of getting things done.


    And they wanted something done, fast!

 Unwanted Developments

    Chapter 5: Unwanted Developments


    From: Anil Suresh. Lord Evaluator, Guardian Operations


    To: Lord Marshal Earl Foster


    Date: November 10th 2035


    Subject: Findings of Sector Overseers: High Grand Master Samuel Thaleton¡ªAmericas & High Grand Master Park Leung¡ªAsia


    Sir,


    Following my investigation into the suspicions raised by High Grand Masters Thaleton and Park, I report as follows:


    At 11:00 a.m. EST USA¡ªOctober 30th 2035, duty Farscanners aboard Guardian Observation Station 2, (GOS-2) detected an emergency distress call from a Diamond DA20 trainer light aircraft experiencing difficulties above Chicago, IL, USA.


    The May-Day was allegedly made by a panicking student, stating her instructor had passed out and that she was unable to control the craft as it was only her second lesson.


    Observations confirmed a DA20 containing two individuals was indeed flying erratically over Soldier Field, Boston, apparently heading towards Merrill C Meigs Airport. As scans continued, the plane went into a steep dive.


    In view of the potential severity of the situation, Guardian Master Lindsey Buckingham (TK) and Guardian Peter Smith (HeaL) were dispatched to assist.


    Neither member is endowed with natural teleport abilities, and as such, inserted the craft via T-ring function.


    Upon arrival they discovered two unknown occupants, one male and one female, who appeared in the best of health. (Descriptions as per appendix A)


    The occupants apologized for the deception and stated they represented ¡°interested persons¡± who were keen to acquire the services of exceptional and gifted individuals to undertake ¡°employment¡± that would be mutually beneficial to all parties concerned.


    Guardian Master Buckingham moved to apprehend the individuals, and discovered they were psychically gifted. The suspects were able to anticipate her reactions and teleported from that locale before she was able to place them in custody.


    Not being blessed with natural teleporting sensitivities, neither Guardian was able to follow the hyperspatial wake to its manifestation point.


    Once the trainer was safely on the ground at Merrill C Meigs Airport, enquiries discovered the British registered plane had been stolen the previous day from Bristol Airport, in the UK.


    Checks are still underway to discover how it managed to arrive in the USA so quickly, but, as the distance involved is far beyond the natural range for a craft that size, it is thought temporal translocation is the most probable cause.


    Forensic investigations by our own Inquisitors have revealed no clues as to the identity of either individual, suggesting a psi-sweep was employed to remove DNA evidence. (Forensic analysis as per appendix B)


    A meta-crystal containing the mental records of the incident by attending Guardians is enclosed. (AS/1)


    At 03:00 a.m. Hong Kong local time¡ªNovember 2nd 2035, duty Farscanners aboard Guardian Observation Station 4, (GOS-4) monitored a call to emergency services from the reception of the Ritz-Carlton hotel ¨C atop the International Commerce Centre, West Kowloon, Hong Kong ¨C stating there had been an explosion on the roof of the building a few minutes previously, and that a fire was now raging.


    At over 1688 feet tall, this structure is the tallest building in Hong Kong, and the fourth tallest in the world. Both life and property were in immediate danger. As such, circumstances fitted our Rapid Reaction protocols.


    Sensors had captured the exact coordinates of the detonation and a full ¨C two stick ¨C Alpha Response Team was scrambled, commanded by Guardian Master Edward Clegg, (Elm-F/E & TP), with insertion to target being made two floors below the explosion.


    One stick under the direction of Guardian Kerry Yip, (Tel/HeaL), was tasked to the reception of the hotel and arrivals lobby to the building itself to assist ingress by local emergency response units, while the other stick headed by Guardian Carlos Abano, (Sh/Tel/TK), was tasked to assist Master Clegg on site.


    Master Clegg found the roof area deserted, and a saloon bar and adjacent store heavily damaged by percussive force and fire. Within the remains of that bar were three casualties: two male; one female who, due to Master Clegg¡¯s enhanced capabilities, were easily reached.


    The team was surprised to find that the casualties were in fact free of injury, and that at least one of them was possessed of some degree of elemental competency, as none showed any distress from the effects of blast, heat or burns.


    The woman apologized to Guardian Master Clegg for any damage caused to the building, and stated sufficient funds to cover the cost of repairs would be discovered within the hotel¡¯s safe to the rear of the main reception, inside a black leather briefcase. She then went on to make a similar offer as was extended to our officers in Chicago, stressing that all Guardians present should seriously consider her proposal, as it was unlikely such a courtesy would be afforded again so freely.


    That individual ¨C or one of the two males accompanying her ¨C was powerfully telepathic, as evidenced by the manner in which they were able to eavesdrop on Master Clegg¡¯s instructions to his squad to arrest them. No sooner had the order been issued, than the female indicated to her companions that they should leave.


    They departed by way of teleportation, but not before one of the men dropped a metal cylinder that exploded only a few seconds later, saturating the surrounding area in a corrosive, flammable jelly.


    Two Protectors were seriously injured in that blast, as neither had the telekinetic, shielding or elemental capability needed to protect themselves sufficiently. Fortunately, the more experienced team members recovered from their surprise swiftly enough to render assistance.


    By the time the safety of his people was beyond question, Guardian Master Clegg ¨C the onsite teleport specialist ¨C discovered the dematerialization nexus had degraded to the point where the hyperspatial wake was too diffuse to follow.


    (Descriptions of suspects are listed at appendix C)


    The IED was all but consumed. Nevertheless, forensic teams have been able to analyze microscopic fragments recovered from the scene and a full breakdown is expected soon. (Preliminary Results as per appendix D) ¡ª Of note is that initial findings confirm the substance used to pack the bomb is an advanced compound that should ¨C in view of current global technological understanding ¨C be beyond their capability to manufacture.


    Also of interest is the fact that an open briefcase was indeed discovered within the hotel¡¯s main safe, containing five million dollars, US.


    A study of the briefcase and its contents has been inconclusive so far.


    The meta-crystal containing the mental records of those Guardians involved in the confrontation is enclosed. (AS/2)


    Conclusion:


    It is evident that maturation of the human mind is in advance of what we anticipated.


    Gifted individuals capable of tangible and adroit expression are already present in greater numbers than previously estimated. Some would appear to have united in what can best be described as, an ¡°organized collective¡± whose formation and development eluded us. Their aspirations are currently unknown.


    Whatever this group is, they are unclear as to our motivation and tenets, which would explain the na?ve approaches and offer of employment. In spite of this, it is obvious they are well-funded and equipped, have access to technology superior to that currently available to world markets. Neither are they backward in coming forward.


    On that point, it is plain that the anomalies encountered thus far do not have the strength and range of abilities to present a serious threat to those of Guardian rank. The same cannot be said for Protector level adepts if caught unawares.


    Recommendations:


    A heightened alert status is to be initiated immediately, effective across all command centers. Station sensors are to be adjusted and reprogrammed to incorporate automatic aura micro-scans for the next three months, especially when responding to those emergencies reported by remote means.


    Standard operating procedures will be tightened, to ensure the encryption of all telepathic interchange and the generation of personal shields while Guardians are onsite. The new SOPs will remain in effect at every incident until the threat assessment has been completed.


    Re-rostered duty lists are to be implemented to ensure a broader spread of abilities are on call, especially where a predominance of Protectors are tasked to deal.


    All response teams are to implement forensic protocols immediately, and initiate regular extrasensory and aura based interrogations to identify those with psi ability.


    I would also consider the temporary allocation of Inquisitor cells to each orbital station so we have suitably qualified staff on hand should the need arise.


    This concludes my report.


    Lord Evaluator Anil Suresh


    <h6>*</h6>


    For anyone interested in statistics, the five weeks following the Fairbanks incident proved to be a somewhat bewildering time. Governments began issuing new directives, resulting in the implementation of widespread, well advertized ¨C and sometimes, not so well advertized ¨C information trawling campaigns.


    The more overt methods included ¡°fun and personal discovery¡± challenges within national and local newspapers along with the streaming of a battery of online quizzes, tests, and games. Those interested were offered a chance to find out the answer to two intriguing questions: ¡°Are you telepathic? Are you the next Guardian Angel? ¨C Find Out Now.¡±


    Countless schools had visits from groups purporting to represent inclusive educational or charitable establishments ¨C all with authentic looking credentials ¨C who ushered children through ¡°psychic evaluation courses.¡± Some even made family weekends of them, where the assessors got to meet the relatives of all their students, and duplicitously gained a vast reservoir of intimate details that would have otherwise remained well off the radar.


    Businesses, especially those whose role was deemed essential to national and economic security, found their employees were required to undergo additional vetting and teambuilding exercises. This caused a good many people to express their concerns as to how far paranoia would encourage things to get out of hand.


    On a more worrying note, certain agencies representing a minority of countries had been authorized to screen the private e-mails, social networking accounts, texts and telephone conversations of literally anyone they wanted.


    An extremely sophisticated set of algorithms were unleashed, all designed to monitor the wash of electronic white noise filling the ether, all waiting to be activated by a special set of keywords or phrases that would stand out from the rest of the chatter like a clarion call to arms.


    Such monitoring was run parallel to global hunter-seeker programs, premeditated aggressive packets of rapacious malware with nothing to do except collect data as they endlessly interrogated the core of whatever systems they had been set loose upon.


    Similar Trojans were also spliced into the countless CCTV control centers around the world, where movements and actions were scrutinized closely for what came to be known as, behavioral marker patterns. Though silent and seemingly innocuous, those little subroutines afforded snoopers virtual live-time surveillance of potential targets of interest whenever they used their credit cards, drove their vehicles, or simply went about the mundane chore of everyday life.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    The result? Personal details relating to millions of people were thoroughly researched. If the aforementioned keywords or patterns were identified and came in clusters, then the particulars of the individual generating them was added to an ever-growing directory of potentials.


    Where such clusters cropped up repeatedly, a shorter list was compiled which invariably found its way to a select cadre of investigators. Those investigators would begin comprehensive background and lifestyle checks to see if they could distinguish a predetermined common thread. If such a thread was verified, that potential was issued a case file number and black flagged for a home visit within forty-eight hours.


    What happened next was entirely dependent upon several factors: who the person was; their age and standing in the community; the number of existing and available next of kin; and most insidiously, their country of residence.


    Not surprisingly, more nations than you would care to imagine experienced an alarming rise in missing person¡¯s reports during this unsettled period.


    The only ray of light to hold back the gloom was the fact that the Guardian Angels had continued to offer invaluable assistance at times of great need. Hundreds of thousands of lives were saved around the world in situations as varied as major earthquakes in China, Greece, Turkey, and the Eastern United States; flash flooding in India and New Zealand; a freeway collapse in Brazil during Rush Hour; the meltdown of a nuclear reactor in Japan; and the recovery of a stranded climber, dying from exposure in the French Alps following a fall of more than eighty feet.


    Amazingly, they were also on hand to support authorities on two separate occasions off the coast of Somalia, where pirates had forcibly taken control of several cargo vessels. They had also assisted in the mid-air release of hostages during a hijacking over the Indian Ocean. And recently, they had even rescued a five-year old girl in Thailand, who had been abducted from outside her home by a pedophile as she played in the street.


    That particular outrage had attracted broad coverage, for the Guardian Angels had not been content to pluck the child to safety. In an unprecedented move, they had also teleported the terrified miscreant directly into the notorious Klong Prem Penitentiary, a jail full of hardened criminals with a known hatred of sex offenders. The threat that they would leave him there unless he agreed to willingly cooperate with police did the trick. He squealed like the proverbial stuffed pig, admitting to a list of offences going back more than fifteen years.


    Sadly, an outrageous incident occurred on the very same day the little girl was rescued in Thailand that caused an international uproar: someone tried to initiate a murderous attack against the Guardian Angels themselves.


    Luis Plazas, a Costa Rican crime lord from Jaco, was an unstable individual who, for all intent and purposes, represented the very epitome of a drug abusing homicidal maniac. Not the kind of person, therefore, you would ever want to upset.


    He had literally shot, stabbed, hacked, drugged, drowned and tortured his way to the top in a gory two year take-over that had not only eliminated his rivals, but left countless men, women and children, and dozens of police officers and magistrates, dead.


    In the decade since his rise, the country had existed in a state of fear so oppressive, no one dared cross him. Residents often said that living there felt as if they were permanently holding their breaths, waiting for a bloodstained axe to fall.


    All those years of committing atrocities without the slightest concern of reprisals or prosecution, had left Plazas with an over-inflated opinion of how untouchable he was, and like many of his cohorts, he was incensed that the Guardian Angels were now daring to interfere in the way he had chosen to make his living.


    Always out to make a show of himself, Plazas had struck on an idea he hoped would bolster his Teflon reputation. He had his men round up nearly a hundred people from one of the local villages and strapped them all into suicide vests, each one of which contained five pounds of semtex, armed by employing an old-style mobile phone. Following that, he herded everyone into the cramped hold of a seventy-five foot long, semi-submersible drugs boat, which ¨C for good measure ¨C had also been primed with an even bigger bomb.


    Once loaded, he picked two lackeys who had recently fallen from favor, and tasked them with a special mission. Lucky not to have been executed already and anxious to make amends, the desperate duo were only too willing to sail the over laden craft eight miles out into the Pacific Ocean, where ¨C they were told ¨C the villagers would be blown to pieces to send a statement of Plaza¡¯s dominance, but only after a support vessel had arrived that would transport the now redeemed pair away.


    The two men were given specific instructions. Firstly, that they notify Plazas of their arrival at the prearranged coordinates and secondly, that he was to be alerted immediately of any attempt to prevent the mass execution from taking place.


    Knowing only too well the tyrannical leanings and instability of their boss, and believing they were clawing their way back into his good books, the dupes did exactly as Plazas had ordered, not realizing they were signing their own death warrants.


    No sooner had he been advised that his mules were on site, than Plazas calmly made an anonymous call to police headquarters at San Jose, notifying them of a major cocaine haul, believed to be in excess of five hundred tons, that was about to go to the bottom of the sea five to ten miles out from Tambor, due to an unfortunate explosion and fire on board.


    His tip-off had the desired effect. The authorities ¨C recognizing who had made the call, and fearful of disappointing him ¨C began simulcasting via radio, TV, satellite, and anything else they could get their hands on, pleading for the Guardian Angels to aid them in effecting the arrest of dangerous criminals.


    Sure enough, less than three minutes later, a Guardian Angel response team attended the stricken vessel, only to discover that circumstances were drastically different to what had been reported.


    Notice of the Guardian Angels arrival was immediately passed to Plazas by one of his faithful lapdogs, who, trying to think on his feet, threw his scroll phone into the ocean in an attempt to prevent any evidence linking him to his boss from falling into the wrong hands.


    Spotting what had happened, one of the Guardian Angels rendered that man unconscious before subjecting him to an invasive mind ream. Needless to say, the truth of the matter was quickly uncovered, and the rest of the response team rushed to assist those villagers still trapped in the hold. Finding them padlocked to explosives, a full-scale emergency Bio-Port was initiated, whereby the powerful sensors of one of the Guardian observations stations locked onto the life-signs generated by the captives and whisked them away, leaving all inorganic materials such as clothes, jewelry, drugs and volatile compounds, behind.


    Thankfully, this was accomplished within thirty seconds. And just as well, for Plazas had been spending the time following the notification of his enemy¡¯s arrival, calling a series of numbers listed within his m-pad. Once connected, he¡¯d then had to send a succession of validation codes to ensure the correct signal was generated to detonate all of the vests ¨C and the rigged surprise at the bottom of the hold ¨C simultaneously.


    And that¡¯s where his plan fell apart, for using the old cell phones as triggers had brought the Guardian Angels those few extra seconds they needed to get everyone away safely.


    When the two lackeys comprehend they were as good as dead to their boss, and had been offered up as sacrificial lambs, they were more than willing to help identify Plazas, his top captains and their most likely whereabouts, to the authorities.


    Guardian Inquisitors made a point of calling on Plazas themselves. When they materialized inside his bedroom only thirty minutes later, they found him totally absorbed in a movie on TV, and stuffing his face with an extra large anchovy and pepperoni pizza.


    He was so shocked to discover he wasn¡¯t as invincible as he thought, that he cried like a baby when arrested, and was still bawling his eyes out when locked in police cells under their strict supervision.


    Fortunately, this was the only openly aggressive move against the Guardian Angels to make the headlines. There were some who watched the live newsfeed of later parts of that debacle, and who gained further intelligence of the complete event, via an extensive network of contacts in the days following the attack. What they uncovered was viewed with a mixture of interest, alarm and grudging respect, for it meant a hasty revision of their plans.


    <h6>*</h6>


    Undeterred by such instability, the Guardian Angels continued going about their business, leaving several additional resin encased messages in the care of survivors of some of the more serious disasters.


    Then, just when the public seemed to be getting used to the presence of these godlike saviors, things changed. Following the evacuation of a chemical plant in Bamako, Mali ¨C where a containment breach had threatened to poison a seven-mile stretch of the Niger River ¨C something else was left for the authorities to consider: a startling invitation.


    The invitation set the world buzzing as to its meaning and implications:


    ¡°GLOBAL EVENTS INDICATE IT IS APPROPRIATE FOR US TO INITIATE THE NEXT PHASE OF OUR INTIGRATION INTO YOUR SOCIETY. AN ESSENTIAL STEP, WE ARE SURE YOU WILL AGREE, FOR THE CONTINUED WELFARE OF ALL THOSE IN NEED.


    HOWEVER, BEFORE THIS STAGE CAN BE IMPLIMENTED, IT WILL BE NECESSARY TO INSTITUTE A FRAMEWORK IN WHICH THE SUPPORT OF YOUR LAW ENFORCEMENT AND EMERGENCY SERVICES MAY BE PERMANENTLY ESTABLISHED TO EVERYONE¡¯S MUTUAL BENEFIT.


    AS SUCH, WE SEEK TO INITIATE FORMAL RELATIONS WITH YOUR LEADERS, AND WILL EXTEND THE OPPORTUNITY TO OPEN A DIALOGUE IN THE NEAR FUTURE.


    AN APPOINTED REPRESENTATIVE WILL CONTACT YOU SHORTLY.¡±


    If this declaration didn¡¯t cause enough of a sensation in itself, the furor that followed in its wake certainly did, for each and every TV, cable, satellite and radio broadcasting station around the world had their services interrupted for a period of thirty seconds, twice a day; once at 12:00 noon, the second at 9:00 p.m. GMT, with a simple worded announcement, which said:


    ¡°December 1st 2035 ¨C 12:00 noon GMT ¨C BBC World News¡±


    That date was just one short week away. Understandably, the many-tentacled entity that was the media was reduced into an uncontrollable frenzy, and nowhere more so than at the BBC, whose Director and board members were in absolute raptures at being selected for whatever had been planned.


    As most people were quite unaware of the clandestine methods currently being employed by their governments to procure an edge in the new Psychic Race, they were eagerly looking forward to whatever revelations December would bring.


    Expectations of something wonderful, something amazing, were running high.


    Those covert directorates tasked to give their respective regimes an edge were not so enthusiastic, however. Concern that their plans to get a head start might have been uncovered by the Guardian Angels, prompted a spate of furious activity to erase any and all links back to those departments responsible.


    While several of the more amenable administrations took heed and reigned in their agents ¨C these being the ones who had only stretched their human rights laws minimally ¨C many carried on regardless, and in some cases, even intensified their efforts while preparing intricate cover stories for the inevitable day the brown stuff hit the fan.


    To an outsider looking in, such agencies could be accused of suffering from a severe case of Ostrich Syndrome for thinking there wouldn¡¯t be consequences. But as time went on to tell, they weren¡¯t the only ones infected.

 Ostrich Syndrome

    November 25th¡ªSicily


    Luigi Espasito, Boss of the family whose name he proudly bore, sat quietly on the south facing terrace of his parents estate, sipping a chilled glass of the finest Lagavulin whiskey and relishing his rare moment of respite from the daily pressures of life.


    D¡¯oro Villa, situated in the rolling hills of Brolo, Messina, Sicily, eighty-one miles east of Palermo, was a rambling thirty-acre affair of old stone buildings and outhouses, open fields filled with wild flowers, olive groves and orchards.


    A resident of Paris for more than a quarter of a century, Luigi tried to visit as often as he could, for it was the place he¡¯d been born some fifty-seven summers ago. On those occasions, he¡¯d do nothing except unwind while watching his mother and father ¨C Nazarino and Maria, both in their early eighties ¨C communicating silently with simple smiles and gestures as they pottered about in their tranquil, fragrance-filled gardens under the watchful eye of their locally recommended and equally ancient handyman, Gianni, who had been their faithful companion for fifteen years.


    Nazarino, the former Boss, was an astute man who still wielded an astounding arsenal of supernatural gifts. Even so, he¡¯d recognized the early signs that indicated his advancing age was beginning to take its toll and had been more than willing to give up his position six months previously, to make way for his son to come to power.


    Luigi appreciated the legacy he had inherited, for it had been one long in the making. Leaving the American side of their extensive holdings to cousins in Chicago and Boston, Nazarino had ensured his eldest son had attended the finest schools in Europe and attained the highest qualifications possible in business law. As Luigi¡¯s reputation grew, Nazarino encouraged his son to concentrate his efforts on expanding the Council¡¯s growing influence within the legitimate side of the many commercial and industrial corporations coming under their umbrella, as well as promoting partnerships they might want established at a later date.


    His father¡¯s good judgment had paid off handsomely.


    Under Espasito guidance, the Council was flourishing, and their family had personally secured assets in over seventeen countries worth over two hundred and thirteen billion Euros. They also had a controlling influence in other syndicates throughout Europe, Australia, the Middle and Far East, as well as America and Japan. Little wonder then, they commanded the respect of crime lords around the globe.


    To Luigi¡¯s relief, Nazarino had taken to the simple life with surprising ease, and he was sure his father had been quietly satisfied with the way his son now conducted Council affairs.


    Until recently, that is.


    Like his father, Luigi was sharp-witted, with an analytical mind that could plan decades ahead at a time. He had the foresight to set things in motion that would bear fruit, weeks, months, sometimes many, many years later. Unlike his father, however, Luigi did not exercise the same forbearance if those plans didn¡¯t work out as foreseen. Neither did he possess the self-control or wisdom to ignore perceived sleights, preferring to make a quick example of those unwise enough to cross him.


    Luigi¡¯s unique ability involved the manifestation and manipulation of perhaps, the most unstable of elements: fire. A gift that had no doubt burgeoned from his innately volatile temperament. He had a short fuse, and it showed, as many had discovered to their cost. And lately, he¡¯d been particularly irritated by a series of unfortunate events.


    In the first one, a few months ago, two of Luigi¡¯s erstwhile facilitators had been apprehended by Guardian Angels, all the way down in Australia. Those men hadn¡¯t known they were working for him, of course ¨C as the Espasito family always ensured such dealings were handled through proxies ¨C and this helped explain why the sudden conversion of those men to the straight and narrow had not brought the authorities, screaming to his door.


    Small blessings aside, Luigi still chafed at the loss of the regular supply of motor boats and launches they provided. Those items had been useful commodities, quantifiers easily redistributed to acquaintances seeking status, like the Black Sea Consortium, who would risk anything if it made them look unassailable to their competitors.


    He felt he had lost face there, and although alternate arrangements procured suitable replacement craft within four days, Luigi still bridled at the aggravation and extra cost involved, and of course, the tarnish it had left upon his otherwise dependable reputation.


    If that hadn¡¯t been upsetting enough, then the sudden disappearance of retained arms dealers in the Sudan and the recent loss of two-hundred and fifty kilograms of heroin destined for his USA market had been additional slaps in the face he could have done without.


    To top it all off, he¡¯d been faced down and humiliated in front of the other Apostles, an insult that had nearly led to him losing control and setting fire to Yeung¡¯s damned precious table.


    Asshole! He thought.


    Still, he felt better now than he had for weeks. And despite what their pathetic excuse for a leader had said, Luigi¡¯s preparations for revenge were coming along nicely.


    The disgrace they caused me will soon be answered, and there¡¯s nothing the old fart will be able to do about it.


    Of course, his plan was dependent on a number of complex factors coming together in harmony. Even so, it possessed an elegance so refined, so compelling, Luigi felt it was sure to work.


    I¡¯m going to humble them! Rub their stinking, interfering noses in it so the world will see them for what they truly are. Impotent incompetents. Who cares if its cost me over fifty-million dollars so far by calling in favors from associates in China, Hong Kong, and the United States. It¡¯ll be worth every cent, and every compromise.


    He¡¯d gotten the idea from, of all people, his eleven year old niece, Amelia, after a chance encounter on this very patio nine days earlier, where ¨C much to his distaste ¨C she¡¯d been playing a game of ¡°Guardian Angels.¡±


    Lost to the weave of her imagination, Amelia¡¯s heroes had been busily engaged, rescuing her from a nuclear power plant that had been struck by a death-dealing asteroid harboring fire-breathing dinosaurs come to plague mankind. When questioned further on what she was doing, Amelia had been too caught up in the drama to explain herself fully, stressing ¨C in a most adult fashion ¨C that she couldn¡¯t stop, because her make-believe land might be destroyed at any moment and she needed to rally her people.


    Put in his place, Luigi wondered where on earth she had come up with such a scenario, until reminded by the housekeeper, Gianni, that there had been repeated newscasts on the TV lately about the safety of such reactors, following the recent Japanese meltdown scare. Japan was still trying to nurse its crippled infrastructure through stringent international controls in the wake of the earthquakes and tsunamis of 2011 and 2031, disasters that had devastated their nuclear energy capability, especially around the Fukushima area.


    Mulling those episodes over in his mind led to an unexpected epiphany.


    Luigi had contacts in both China and Hong Kong who would be in the perfect position to procure certain guidance chips from like-minded associates in the United States. The chips were state-of-the-art tech, destined for the latest generation of Hard Target Penetrating, Ground Burrowing, Tactical Nuclear Missiles ¨C the B91-11 1KT Land Buster ¨C currently undergoing tests in the (supposedly) secret military research area at Oak Ridge, Tennessee.


    Those same contacts had experts to hand who would be able to doctor the chips and replace them without fear of discovery. Such subterfuge would ensure that a corresponding number of Land Busters would be susceptible to interference at a time and place of his choosing.


    Family cousins in America had access to nerve agents capable of incapacitating large crowds by non-lethal means, thanks to one of the latest innovations to come from the Law Enforcement Division of Yeung Technologies Urban Pacification Program. He was sure they would also possess sufficient resources to guarantee said nerve agents somehow found their way into the missile center, mid-test, thereby negating all obstacles and allowing his people access to do what needed to be done with little chance of intervention.


    Of course, a suitable diversion would need to be fabricated.


    Just two days ago, Luigi had the notion of widening the nuclear theme, by focusing his thoughts on the Waste Isolation Plant in Carlsbad, New Mexico. He knew of at least two technicians there who were in debt to the Espasito family, putting them in an ideal position to engineer a suitable distraction that would draw the attention of the authorities. If they did their job well ¨C and he would see to it that they did ¨C that distraction would be critical enough to force the attention of the world¡¯s greatest busybodies.


    Working via a chain of surrogates to ensure he was distanced from any fallout, he had given the go-ahead, and so far, things were progressing smoothly.


    Yes, it¡¯ll be well worth cost.


    Finishing his drink to the tinkle of ice on glass, Luigi savored the burn of neat spirits on his tongue for a moment before swallowing. Then, leaning back into his chair, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Late autumn sunlight and warmth played across his face, lulling him toward sleep and a relaxed, growing confidence that nothing could possibly go wrong.


    <h6>*</h6>


    November 28th¡ª8:30pm¡ªWashington DC, USA.


    Gregory Harris, Unit Director of Section 6, the CIA¡¯s Parapsychology Investigations Response & Research Unit, could not believe his recent run of good luck.


    In the preceding couple of years, he had been marooned in a quagmire with its own tiny ramshackle office, deep in the sphincter of Langley¡¯s sprawling grounds. During that time, his department was referred to as, Mulder¡¯s Mystics, the laughingstock of everyone else and the Bermuda Triangle of dead-end leads and careers going nowhere. A token effort in the farce to prove the actual existence of extrasensory capabilities like clairvoyance, remote viewing, and telepathy, especially as his team of diehards had the unenviable task of trying to locate individuals capable of demonstrating such abilities in a controlled environment, which the company then hoped might be put to use in a ¡°productive¡± manner.


    Developments over the past few months had turned heads and changed attitudes. Harris had been promoted, the size of his staff increased to include those specialists drafted in from Nevada, and the scope of his kingdom relocated to a freshly constructed compound beneath the new wing of CIA headquarters at Langley. Even better, the faceless entities along the top floor had given him a long leash and limitless funds to get results.


    And results are exactly what had fallen into his lap.


    The current Angel Project initiative had netted him six viable contenders out of a possible fifty-eight in recent weeks. Three were in their mid-twenties, one in their thirties, while the most recent pair was an elderly couple from Nebraska who looked like they could win national competitions for being everyone¡¯s favorite grandma and grandpa hands down.


    Harris had a sneaking suspicion that all but one of them were attempting to sabotage test results by a sustained bout of passive resistance. Even so, initial reports showed the subjects to possess ESP aptitudes way beyond anything ever encountered before.


    Resorting to drugs had made little difference, and two characters in particular had proven resistant to a whole host of hallucinatory and suppressive combinations, including hypnotics ¨C an intriguing development in itself and ripe with possibilities.


    The only one keen to be there was a twenty-two year guy from New York. Mentally unbalanced, he had been accustomed to living on the streets and fending for himself since his talents had flowered during puberty. From what therapists had been able to ascertain, the young man saw no harm in using his telepathic and telekinetic dexterity to help him find shelter in derelict buildings, hunt for food, clothing and graphic novels, and of course, ward off would-be aggressors.


    His complete cooperation had been guaranteed by three square meals a day, his own comfy room, a separate locker to stash his extensive reading collection, and an introduction to all the delights that ¡°Holo X Box¡± and ¡°Play Station Platinum 9¡± had to offer.


    And then there was tonight¡¯s gem!


    Not thirty minutes ago, one of his team leaders had called him at home stressing how urgently he needed to get back into work. Harris had been at his desk since 7:00 a.m. that morning, and had only walked through his front door less than an hour before. When he had pressed as to why he need disturb his evening further, the answer had prompted his panicked response, and each minute of the drive in from DC since then had turned into an ice age.


    His new office complex, situated three floors underground, was kept isolated from other subdivisions due to the nature of the studies being conducted there.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    Besides the usual security measures, the ¡°public¡± entrance to his department could only be accessed via a swipe card operated stand alone elevator, fitted with standard integrated CCTV monitoring. This connected to a four-hundred-foot long approach tunnel, leading directly to the main doors of the Angel Project itself. Even so, listed officers would still have to subject themselves to three further hurdles: handprint, iris and voice phrase recognition ports, incorporating a rotating sequence of nine digit codes for each checkpoint. Encased in reinforced concrete more than twenty feet thick, the corridor also sported a series of neural gas dispensers and sonic disruptors set at regular, strategic intervals. Provided courtesy of Yeung Technologies, they were there to cater to anyone foolish enough to try and enter uninvited. Or in the case of the rear customer passageway, those attempting to leave.


    Quite excessive really, when you considered the new guest the now had staying with them in the interview cell on the far side of a two-way mirror.


    Having entered the center at a rush, Harris barely had his coat off before being met in the observation wing reception area by the team leader for that evening.


    ¡°Hi Greg,¡± Ryan Lee, a ten year veteran of black ops called in greeting, ¡°sorry to be a pain in the ass, but I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll forgive me once I¡¯ve brought you up to speed.¡±


    ¡°I sincerely hope so?¡± Harris responded, growing more excited by the second.


    Ryan handed over a slim dossier opened to a page containing a covering report and several photographs. ¡°Turns out our catch ¨C Becky Selleck ¨C was in class yesterday at Holly Meadows Elementary School, in Alexandria, when she suddenly started freaking out for no apparent reason. We¡¯re talking a full-on bout of screaming and bawling where she evidently kept crying, ¡®No mommy no,¡¯ over and over again, poor little thing. The teachers were so concerned they tried to contact her mother, but when they did, Becky went all quiet, looked the teacher straight in the eye, and whispered, ¡®My mommy won¡¯t be coming now, she¡¯s gone. Gone forever.¡¯¡±


    ¡°And?¡± asked Harris, still confused.


    Ryan indicated several stills taken from the school¡¯s CCTV system, ¡°The thing is, when Becky was freaking out, they say her hair was standing on end, as if she¡¯d been electrified, see? And the furniture in the classroom was flying all over the place too, like the room was stuck in the middle of a localized tornado. You can see that in the last photo.


    ¡°Her mother, Karen, was the victim of a hit-and-run auto accident at Landmark Mall. Witnesses say she appeared to be suffering from a real heavy head cold or something like that, and had just finished loading shopping into the back of her car, when she had some sort of sneezing fit. You know the way it is when you sneeze, reflex takes over and you have no control. Anyway, it looks as if Karen staggered into the path of some old guy in an antique Buick. He¡¯s registered blind but that hasn¡¯t stopped him from driving¡­unfortunately. He didn¡¯t see her. She didn¡¯t see him, and it was over before Karen knew anything about it. Those old cars are built like tanks, and he took her down and went right over her without realizing it, or so he says. Witnesses state Karen was alive for about a minute before she died. The old guy¡¯s still in custody over at Alexandria Police Department while they work out exactly what to do to him that won¡¯t bring on a heart attack.¡±


    ¡°Does the girl ¨C Becky ¨C have other family?¡± queried Harris.


    ¡°None we know of, it was just her and the mother. Preliminary checks reveal that Karen Selleck was orphaned when she was nine, coincidentally when her own parents brought it in an automobile crash. We¡¯re trying to look into the possibility Karen had a sister or an aunt who was also adopted, but at the moment, we can¡¯t find any records to support it.


    ¡°The parents were Canadians living and working in the US, you see, but Karen was born here. Birth name, Karen Renoeuff. She survived the crash, and because no other living relatives could be found at the time, she was brought up by the state. Karen kept very much to herself and didn¡¯t have a lot of friends. She was married briefly to an Edward Sellick, an only child and ex-Army Ranger who died on active service a year after his daughter¡¯s birth¡­his details are included on the last page of the file.¡±


    ¡°What about his mom and dad?¡±


    ¡°They both passed on last year; the father from colon cancer, and from what we can see, the mother just pined away. It seems Karen supplemented her late husband¡¯s army pension by taking part-time work here and there, anything really, to give herself an edge in bringing up her daughter.¡±


    ¡°So, what¡¯s with the daughter?¡±


    ¡°Aaah, this is where it gets even more interesting,¡± Ryan replied. ¡°Recovered footage from the mall¡¯s cameras and several witnesses put the time of the accident at two-thirty or thereabouts. Guess when Becky started freaking out at school?¡±


    ¡°Two-thirty or thereabouts, by any chance?¡± posed Harris with mounting eagerness.


    ¡°On the nose. We¡¯re can be sure about this as it was just before recess by a few minutes. That little girl knew something had happened to her mother and that she wouldn¡¯t be coming home. It fits the profile we¡¯ve been tasked to look out for, perfectly. When the report was initially filed by Alexandria Police, we were on it like a rash.¡±


    Harris was jubilant. ¡°Great work, Ryan. We need to act on this quickly to see what kind of fish we¡¯ve landed. Do you know if the headmistress or police contacted the Department of Human Services or the Child Protection Agency?¡±


    Ryan didn¡¯t have to look at the report. ¡°That¡¯s a definite yes. Because of Becky¡¯s circumstances, there¡¯s already an application pending with the Family Fostering Department. All the schools here are very strict in their young person¡¯s welfare protocols, so we¡¯ve got an extremely narrow window.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll see about that,¡± Harris muttered. ¡°We¡¯ve waited too long for an opening like this, someone young, someone we can mold to our own criteria, and we¡¯re not going to let it slip through our fingers. By the way, who knows she¡¯s here?¡±


    Ryan thought for a moment. ¡°No one, boss. Maggie Creegan was on call at the time, and was there in sixteen minutes. She gained access by posing as Veronica McMahon, one of the Child Welfare Department councilors. Maggie got them to call into the office on the chameleon line to verify her credentials, and after checking with us, they were quite happy they were speaking to Mother Teresa herself. She was in and out so quickly, she had to turn down coffee¡­¡± He smirked, ¡°After all, we had to get the poor little pet settled.¡±


    Harris slapped his colleague on the back. ¡°Good job all round, then. Where do we stand with her now?¡±


    ¡°Well, Maggie stayed with Becky to reassure her everything¡¯s going to be alright. The usual stuff; we¡¯re her friends; she can trust us, blah, blah, blah. Now we¡¯ve got her here, we were going to let her try and relax for the rest of the week, and then start the ball rolling on Saturday morning when the team gets back from the latest bag and tag op. They¡¯ve already been notified and will be here, bright and early, December first, to set up.¡±


    Fit to burst, Harris enthused, ¡°Excellent. Ensure we have the DNA profilers in, too. I want to rule out or verify what commonalities might exist between our subjects. Oh, and make sure we measure her resistance to drugs, a-sap. We need to establish if that¡¯s going to be a problem we¡¯ll keep running into in future.¡±


    ¡°Okay, sure. But how far do you want us to go, she¡¯s just a kid?¡±


    How far¡­? Harris cast his dice. ¡°Take it to the max. I know some might find that distasteful, but we still need to know what were dealing with, even in a child. If we can¡¯t control these people passively, we¡¯ll have to resort to more aggressive methods...Talking of which, how are those new AC stun guns working out?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re getting there¡­.¡± Ryan shrugged his shoulders, ¡°Several of our guests seem to be able to withstand the usual charge ¨C there¡¯s a shock, pun intended ¨C so we¡¯re playing with the voltage to see what will effectively incapacitate them first time.¡±


    Harris was thoughtful for a moment. He turned to watch the little girl as she played inside the reinforced cell. ¡°Make sure we find out what our newest addition can handle. Do it early on so we can get any unpleasantness out the way quickly. After all, we wouldn¡¯t want our Becky thinking she can keep us waiting for results, eh?¡±


    Ryan nodded, his face devoid of emotion. ¡°Are you going home again once you¡¯ve signed the permission forms?¡±


    The newly promoted unit director glanced back at his prize catch one last time. ¡°You know, I think I will. Things are going to get busy from Saturday when this BBC world exclusive airs, so I want to make sure I¡¯m fresh for the day when all the fun starts. I can¡¯t wait to see what these Guardian Angels come up with next.¡±


    And with that, he ambled off toward the office suite, his overcoat slung across his shoulder, whistling a jolly tune and feeling invincible.


    <h6>*</h6>


    Five-year old Becky Selleck, a slightly built mousey-haired girl with large blue eyes and a smile that could brighten a whole room, stared vacantly at the dolls and selection of books and comics in front of her. A barely touched tuna pizza and half-drunk soda lay discarded on the table along with the toys and various other items that had been provided to keep her entertained.


    Such things were irrelevant, for at this moment little Becky was somewhere else entirely, reliving the terrible episode that had changed her life so drastically, a mere day ¨C and a whole different lifetime ¨C away.


    She had been blissfully happy, coloring the beach scene the class had been asked to draw by their teacher, Mrs. Cooper. That all changed, however, as her mother¡¯s mind-shout suddenly flooded the ether, blotting everything out.


    Becky? (Pain!) Becky, darling, is that you? Aaaaaagh, Jesus. (Intense overwhelming nausea!) Becky my love, are you there?


    Frozen in fright by the conjoined sensation of torment, Becky saw a wide open expanse like the sky, only it was strangely overcast in hues of pink and red. Without warning her perspective changed, and Becky found herself gazing across an asphalt vista where the horizon seemed cramped and occluded by tires, car license plates and running feet.


    Bemused, she wondered, I¡¯m lying down? Why am I on the floor?


    Her head felt heavy, and it was with the greatest difficulty that she struggled to lift her neck to view the bloody clouds once more. Only then did she realize what she was actually seeing.


    Alarm clutched at her throat. Aghast, she hissed, ¡°Mommy?¡± Mentally, she called: Mommy, where are you? What¡¯s happening?


    More quietly now, her mother¡¯s thoughts came to her: Oh, my darling. I¡¯m so sorry, I don¡¯t¡­I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll be able to come and get you.


    With rising panic, Becky responded: What do you mean, Mommy? Why can¡¯t I see you properly? Why are you hurting so much?


    Her mother¡¯s anima flared, gaining strength and purpose: Becky darling, you¡¯ve got to listen. Please, I don¡¯t have much time. I¡¯ve¡­I¡¯ve been hurt ¨C (An agonizing impression of crushed rib bones and limited breath imposes itself) ¨C Remember what I said you must do if I ever had to go away? Do you remember? Tell me!


    Yes, I remember, Mommy. But why are you going? Don¡¯t leave me! Becky replied telepathically and then aloud, heedless of the cost, ¡°No Mommy! What¡¯s happening?¡±


    The authority driving her mother¡¯s fervor waned, but the urgency to fulfill one last task still burned like the sun: I love you so much, my darling. My big strong girl, but . . . but I¡¯ve been hurt really bad.


    ¡°No, Mommy!¡± Becky screamed.


    Becky, I love you, but you must do what I said . . . .


    ¡°No, no, no!¡± Becky shrieked; terror, stark and sheer consuming her every heartbeat as the familiarity of her mother¡¯s presence turned elastic and started to slip from her grasp. ¡°NO. MOMMY, DON¡¯T DO IT, DON¡¯T MOMMY, NOOOOO!¡±


    The infant psyche reached out with all its precocious strength, refusing to sever a bond that had nurtured it from the womb, sustained it through every waking day. Power surged like a holocaust through Becky¡¯s veins. The sky blazed bright¡­then just as quickly, everything went dark as a wraithlike outline of a smiling face she knew so well turned to stardust and dissipated into a glittering fog.


    Becky heard one last faint whisper: Never forget, my precious, beautiful daughter. I love you. Do what I said to stay safe and you¡¯ll know who you can trust when you ¨C you ¨C you ¨C you ¨C you . . . .


    And she was gone.


    A huge black web of numbed sensibilities rendered Becky immobile as she realized she would never feel her mother¡¯s psychic embrace again, never hear her voice, and never savor the scent of her hair or skin.


    Reality shifted for a second time, and Becky gradually became aware of her classroom once more. Murmurs percolated in the background. The smell of scorched fabric lingered. She made an effort to focus and was rewarded by a sea of wide-eyed faces. Mrs. Cooper walked slowly toward her, arms outstretched in reluctant invitation. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Becky, we¡¯re calling your mommy to come and get you.¡±


    Becky turned slowly on the spot. The classroom was a shambles, every table, chair and shelf having been tipped on its side, and in some cases, smashed. She glanced at the floor where a smoky white residue covered a darker scorch mark in spiraling patterns about her feet. When she glanced back up, Mrs. Cooper was still edging forward, clearly frightened. But why? ¡°Don¡¯t worry, honey, your mommy will be here soon.¡±


    Meeting the teachers advance squarely, Becky couldn¡¯t prevent what followed. ¡°My mommy won¡¯t be coming now, she¡¯s gone. Gone forever.¡±


    And with that, the devastated child collapsed to the floor, grief-stricken beyond belief.


    <h6>*</h6>


    November 28th ¨C11:45 p.m.¡ªLangley, Virginia.


    The lady called Maggie had been very nice to her, Becky recalled as she finally started to drift toward sleep, although she told far too many lies.


    She could see that Maggie was tired. Even so, she had stayed with Becky for a long time, reading to her, given her cuddles, and trying to make her as happy as she could under the circumstances.


    Mommy had always told her how important it was to be polite, and so Becky had done her best to listen, and smile when she could, and show she was grateful. But Maggie kept telling her that everyone here was Becky¡¯s friend, and that they were all going to look after her, because she was so very special. And that was what frightened Becky the most, because they were trying to get her to break her promise to mommy.


    Becky already knew she was unusual. She was like her mommy in that way. They could communicate telepathically when they were in different rooms, or when Becky was sleeping over at her friend Megan¡¯s house, or even at school. They used to play games when visiting neighbors, to see how much they could say while not getting distracted. It was difficult to begin with, because normal people didn¡¯t realize they were thinking out loud so often and they would imagine the weirdest things. Becky soon learned to cut out those distractions, and chat with two people at once ¨C one inside her head, the other, outside ¨C and her mommy was pleased how skilled she was at doing that without anyone knowing.


    Mommy had told her it was something only the best, only the most gifted people could do, and, because they were different, she had to be vigilant because others might be frightened of them¡­even her best friend, Megan.


    Mommy had always been right when it came to their secret. When the Guardian Angels had started to save others, many of the girls and boys in class said lots of complimentary things about them. That they were good, they were kind and brave, and they used their powers to help just about everyone they could.


    That¡¯s when her classmates had begun playing Guardian Angel games during recess, taking it in turns to rescue one another from monsters and fires and all sorts of imaginary disasters.


    It was good fun. But Becky soon learned that what people said, and what some of them thought, was very different, especially the grown-ups.


    Different groups of grown-ups had visited the school pretending to be well-meaning. They¡¯d set up all sorts of games and quizzes and invited everyone to play. But they weren¡¯t playing. They were scientists, there to find people like Becky and take them away to make them do things she didn¡¯t understand. Some were even secretly scared of who or what they might find, and had nasty ideas about what they would like to do to any ¡°freaks¡± they managed to uncover.


    And there were a lot of adults who thought like that.


    Mommy had told her to be careful while they were there, and had helped her get plenty of wrong answers on the tests so they¡¯d think she was like anyone else. But it was exhausting. The scientists used cameras and other machines to watch the children closely and always stared at them like cats waiting for birds to fall from a tree. If it wasn¡¯t for mommy, Becky might have made a mistake and she was sure they would have pounced on her. It had been dreadfully scary.


    Becky had to be especially wary that week, because she had recently discovered she could move things without touching them. And although it didn¡¯t always work when and how she wanted, it was still a delightful surprise. Mommy had said not to worry. It was like riding a bike, and once she had practiced, she would be able to do it all the time whenever she wanted. But until then, she had to be cautious, because when she got upset, things started jumping about without her wanting them to, like yesterday at school.


    Of course, just thinking about the incident brought it all flooding back, and the tears returned again until she¡¯d cried herself to sleep.


    But Becky was a strong little girl.


    She had promised her mommy she would stay safe, and she would do just that. All she had to do now was keep waiting for someone to come and find her, to tell her everything would be alright, someone who would take her away from those who wanted to hurt her and use her because she was different. Someone she could trust.


    When the right person came, she would know who they were.

 Retrospect

    November 28th¡ª09:00 a.m. ¡ª (local time)¡ªOld District, Tokyo


    Completing his appraisal of Angelika Papadakos¡¯ report submitted the previous week; Lei Yeung couldn¡¯t help but express his vexation by mulling over recent global headlines in his head. As was usual when feeling aggravated, he verbalized his thoughts aloud.


    ¡°It¡¯s to be expected, I suppose, but we had to try.


    ¡°There¡¯s no conceivable way they could achieve that level of technology and reach that degree of professional erudition without some kind of indoctrination or other conditioning within their training regimen. How else would their demigod overseers ensure the hive of worker bees behaved like good little drones? The thing is, they can¡¯t all be that committed, that devoted. It¡¯s not natural!


    ¡°I mean, look at my beloved Council. While most of them are dark-hearted through and through, many are still quite straight-laced in comparison to the stone cold killers like Angelika and Sebastian¡­or Alexander come to that. They follow a code. And for all our idiosyncrasies, none of us could be said to be automatons, incapable of expressing our own preferences and opinions. Luigi Espasito¡¯s tantrum during the last board meeting aside, that¡¯s what helps us thrive¡­most of the time.


    ¡°No, the fault is mine. I should have anticipated such obstacles and formulated a better strategy for our initial approach. They won¡¯t be caught off guard like that again,¡± he sighed, glumly, ¡°still, at least we know where they stand.¡±


    Savoring his favorite Daiginjo-shu sake, Yeung spent a few minutes reviewing his options. The elegantly light and complex blend of herbs and spices were quite aromatic and always managed to soothe him when he needed to chew things over.


    As he sipped his drink, Yeung¡¯s attention was drawn to the banners of several of the newspapers in the pile on his desk, some of which highlighted the dismal failure of the Costa Rican crime boss Luis Plazas, and his ill-conceived attack on the Guardian Angels.


    Plazas was due to appear in court the following day for an initial listing of a trial date, and his attendance had been vouchsafed by superhuman escorts. Escorts, Yeung was sure, who would guarantee proceedings were conducted with a minimum of fuss.


    Skimming the article, Yeung couldn¡¯t help but stifle a morbid laugh. What have you done, you na?ve fool? How short sighted, to imagine they would be that easily slain. All you¡¯ve managed is to speed the day our lifestyle and all its extravagances are brought crashing down around us¡­hang on?


    Wheels within wheels commenced turning within the deepest recesses of his intellect. Smiling to himself, he thought, why are the most obvious, simple things hidden under our noses? That¡¯s the path we need to follow. It will mean change, but we¡¯ll still maintain our power base, our influence, and we¡¯ll be in the perfect position to take advantage of those changes when they come.


    Feeling pleased with himself, Yeung turned his attention back to Angelika¡¯s report. Perusing it pages, he had to admit, there were positives in there if you looked.


    For example, he now knew the Guardian Angels were not invulnerable. They could be hurt, killed even. And while it would be difficult to catch them with their guard down, time might make them complacent. Additionally, it was clear that the easier targets would be those less experienced individuals among their ranks who were still undergoing some degree of training.


    Cogs, intricate and complex joined the wheels, spinning over and over in their own unique fashion.


    ¡°So, if we can¡¯t entice them, we can at least be alert for opportunities to ensnare those who aspire to such dizzying heights of magnanimity.¡±


    The gears whirred faster.


    ¡°That¡¯s a point! How do they select their new members? It¡¯s not as if they can hold recruitment drives at local colleges and universities. So, how do they discover those with gifts? They have better resources than we do, that¡¯s for sure. But how are such ones singled out and traced? And once they¡¯ve got them, where do they go? They clearly don¡¯t reside in some hippy style commune?¡±


    Yeung realized he stood on the cusp of learning something invaluable.


    Ruminating internally, he continued, And thinking of locations, where do they operate from? They obviously don¡¯t pop into the office on a nine-to-five basis, so how do they report in? Simple logistics would suggest it would be some place exclusive. Somewhere huge and spread out to cater to the many resources at their disposal.


    Is it land based or underground? Something orbital, perhaps? Or, more likely, a combination of all three? They do seem to pop up everywhere?


    An alarm chimed in the back of his mind that gave him pause.


    What was that I read, oh, about a month ago now in one of those Sunday magazine supplements from Britain? Something about the very first public contact being made in a small English town where a boy¡¯s life was saved?


    The more he thought about it, the more Yeung realized that was a pivotal event.


    Yes¡­it was their opening gambit. But why there? And why that child?


    Tossing down the rest of his sake, Yeung put in a direct call to one of his people in London without giving a thought to the time difference.


    The phone began to ring.


    Retrospect can bring a refreshingly new way of approaching obstacles that you don¡¯t fully appreciate until you¡¯d tasted defeat.


    A voice answered.


    ¡°Aah, David,¡± Yeung began, warmly, ¡°I do hope I¡¯m not disturbing you? There¡¯s a little task I¡¯d like you to perform for me. This one¡¯s easy. Think of it as a spot of intelligence gathering, if you will . . . .¡±


    <h6>*</h6>


    November 29th¡ª2:00 p.m. (GMT + 12 hours)¡ªsomewhere in the Pacific Ocean


    The extraordinary group of people gathered within the main conference room of the heavily cloaked and shielded Guardian Training Academy was something of an enigma, for although they represented a broad spectrum of humanity, all appeared equally youthful. Even the most attentive individual would have been hard-pressed to guess their real ages.


    That they were united by a common cause and the grandest of undertakings was clearly evident, albeit the atmosphere within the spacious chamber seemed rather tense.


    Tramping up and down in front of the panoramic floor to ceiling window overlooking the rolling expanse of the Pacific Ocean, the athletically built blond-haired woman especially, did little to hide her agitation.


    Not five minutes previously, she had been enjoying a particularly vigorous aerobics session before receiving the telepathic flare summoning her to attend this, a meeting of divisional heads ¨C or as they were commonly addressed in Guardian circles ¨C Lords.


    Those same circles referred to her, Corrine Jackson, with deep affection as the Lord Healer, head and chief physician of perhaps the most respected department they had.


    Fiercely loyal and devoted to her calling and its ideals, she possessed the strongest therapeutic faculty ever encountered in one person. Such a gift, together with her driving passion for excellence, made her the ideal motivating force behind one of their busiest wings.


    And at this moment, it was evident Corrine was feeling exceedingly motivated.


    Static charges snapped along the length of her ponytail as she paced. Still dressed in the spandex sweatsuit she preferred to wear during heavy workouts, Corrine clutched a good half dozen copies of the latest tabloids from around the world in her fists. Devouring the headlines, she threw each snippet into a crumpled pile on the floor as she finished with them.


    All except the last one, that is.


    Brandishing it like an accusation, she turned to her superior, fixed him with her electric blue eyes, and in an accusatory tone, declared, ¡°So, are you still confident we¡¯ve done the right thing, Earl? I said this would happen, didn¡¯t I? People will start relying on us every time there¡¯s a minor accident or every time they encounter the slightest problem. They¡¯ll turn to us, and they¡¯ll keep turning to us without bothering to consider whether it¡¯s an actual crisis or not.¡±


    She gestured to a bank of flat screen televisions lining the inner wall of the conference room itself, each depicting breaking news scoops from over a dozen countries around the planet. ¡°See, it¡¯s getting out of hand.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that the objective we set out to achieve, Corrine?¡± Earl Foster replied. Otherwise known as the Lord Marshal ¨C though it had never been explained why his rank was spelt that way ¨C Earl was second-in-command of the Guardians and chairman of the hastily convened meeting. At well over six feet tall, this muscular powerhouse of a man, with his dark skin and close-cropped black hair, was one of the most imposing persons you would ever meet. ¡°They needed to know we exist, at last, and what it is we do. Of course they¡¯re going to react this way¡­initially.¡±


    Meeting the Lord Healer¡¯s gaze, he waited patiently for her to fight down her ire and motioned for her to take a seat with the others.


    Corrine countered by slapping the article down onto the table in front of him. Standing tall, she pointed to it and snapped, ¡°That¡¯s all well and good, but are we really ready to do this? Look what they¡¯re saying.¡±


    The title proclaimed: Is there nothing the Guardian Angels cannot do?


    She threw her arms in the air, and bewailed, ¡°We¡®re talking about global cover, for goodness sake, and it¡¯s my healers who will bear the brunt in any disaster where lives are lost or people are hurt because we weren¡¯t quite quick enough to respond. In fact, it¡¯s already started happening because we¡¯re playing nanny instead of doing what we¡¯re meant to do. Ask Anil¡ªwe¡¯ve only just got enough manpower to cope with the real disasters as it is, let alone all this¡­this other stuff.¡±


    Composing herself, Corrine projected a psychic overview of some of the more mundane incidents duty crews had been inundated with in recent weeks during the Guardians drive to introduce themselves to humankind. Next, she reminded her colleagues of the well publicized attempt by a South American crime lord to wipe out a full Alpha Response Team off the coast of Costa Rica earlier that month. Then, she went on to stress pertinent details from the Lord Evaluator¡¯s memorandum relating to the ineffective attempts by an unknown faction of gifted individuals to recruit some of their number.


    The Lord Evaluator ¨C Anil Suresh ¨C head of Active Operations and third in the Guardian chain of command sat quietly nearby. Turning to him, Corrine mentally invited Anil to express his opinion and back her up, before finally emphasizing her growing frustration by throwing herself down on the couch next to him.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    Anil Suresh could best described as a coiled spring of a man. A man always serene, but who held himself like a cobra, ready to strike at a moment¡¯s notice. And no matter how relaxed he appeared, he always seemed able to drink in the details of everything taking place around him.


    Lean almost to the point of being anorexic, his snakelike reflexes were matched by a lightning-slick mind. He had been listening to the exchange and sipping tea from a bone china cup, the saucer balanced on his crossed legs, until his fellow Lord had flung herself down next to him. Erupting into a frenzied burst of movement, the Lord Evaluator recovered both saucer and spoon from midair and returned to his former posture within the blink of an eye, without having spilt a single drop of his beverage.


    Placing them onto the table well out of harm¡¯s way, Anil glanced at his fellow Lord to find her contritely mouthing the word, ¡°sorry¡± his way. Then she grimaced. He smiled briefly, his white teeth lighting up his Indian features, before turning to set his sights on their commander.


    ¡°Corrine is right about one thing,¡± he said flatly.


    ¡°And that is?¡± asked the Lord Marshal.


    ¡°Earl, launching ahead of schedule as we did means we¡¯re going to have to be blunt with some of the larger world news agencies regarding what we do, what we¡¯re here for. While we have managed so far, it¡¯s been an effort, especially with the law enforcement issues we¡¯ve already become embroiled in. We all knew there was going to be a period of adjustment by going public ¨C even partially ¨C but we have cut things too close on several occasions now, and I am concerned we may have jumped the gun a little. God forbid we get too much on our plate at once¡­public opinion can be a fickle thing.¡±


    The Lord Marshal spoke quickly. ¡°We will be addressing one of those points later today, Anil, but why is it you think we¡¯ve jumped the gun?¡±


    ¡°One, we need more Guardians to provide the right kind of cover, and two, we have to take advantage of the teams we already have, by making better use of the full gamut of their abilities. I touched on this aspect in my recent report. Just because we have an exceptional healer, for example, doesn¡¯t mean we need ignore their slightly less impressive telekinetic or teleportation skills. No matter how tasking it might be, we need to seriously start considering extending each phase of the training package to ensure our people have the broadest range of skills available once they graduate.¡±


    ¡°Won¡¯t that prolong the overall course by well over a year, though? Our undergraduates already have a tough enough time of it as it is.¡±


    ¡°Not necessarily, if the latest data is correct,¡± a striking woman cut in. ¡°But even if it does extend their time here, it¡¯ll be worth it in the long run.¡±


    The Lord Procurator, Jade Heung, was the youngest of all those present, but she had been responsible for the teaching, discipline, and nurture of her students for over eighty-five years. She knew her division intimately, and when it came to assessing the productivity and impact of variant training packages, she was the acknowledged expert. Everyone listened.


    Looking at her now, the Lord Marshal urged, ¡°What¡¯s on your mind Jade?¡±


    Jade leaped straight in. ¡°Until recently, I would have agreed with Anil, hands down. We just don¡¯t have the resources. But over the past twelve months I¡¯ve compiled the results of a remarkable program first shared with me by the Overlord, oh, several years ago now. It¡¯s a system that accelerates both the learning and iteration curve, along with the psycho-energetic potential of the aspirants by compartmentalizing different areas of their psyches. The upshot of this is that it allows them to utilize autonomous extrasensory functioning twenty-four hours a day, actively promoting and complimenting mental synergy, even when the subject is sleeping.¡±


    ¡°You haven¡¯t made reference to this before Jade, why?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t think to mention it, Earl, sorry. You know what I¡¯m like when it comes to running my own ship. If I spot the potential of something, I take the time to set it up and watch it properly run its course ¨C no matter how long that takes. That way I get to weigh all the pros and cons before making a final decision. Once I reach a decision, then I¡¯ll make an announcement. This case was a little more complex, especially as it included the implementation of the preceptor module for expectant mothers. I liked what I saw and was going to include my findings in this New Year¡¯s command meeting. It¡¯s proved quite revealing, hang on a second...¡±


    The Lord Procurator raised a finger, begging their forbearance for just a little while longer and manifested two items ¨C side by side ¨C in the air before them: a summary of the previous ten year¡¯s statistics, and the startling foundation produced by the new training techniques. Between them, she superimposed a copy the current rank system:


    Guardian Class Structure


    C1   ¨C Weak


    C2   ¨C Moderate


    C3   ¨C Adept


    C4   ¨C Protector


    C5   ¨C Guardian


    C6   ¨C Master Class 2nd Tier


    C7   ¨C Master Class 1st Tier


    C8   ¨C Grand Master Class 2nd Tier


    C9   ¨C Grand Master Class 1st Tier


    C10 ¨C High Grand Master Class


    C11 ¨C Nexus Threshold to Ultra Class


    Beginning with the previous year¡¯s figures, Jade resumed her explanation, ¡°As you are aware, the latest version of the psychic assay device¡ªthe Compilator¡ªprovides us with an accurate measurement of a trainee¡¯s current and future potential. Standard practice has been to allow those displaying the right aptitude and scoring higher than C4 or C5 to enroll at the Academy to commence the intensive five year syllabus.¡±


    Jade paused to emphasize specific points from the record. ¡°You can see that, formerly, applicants didn¡¯t really experience that much of a boost in strength or range during basic training. No, it wasn¡¯t until they underwent enhancement during the Continuation Course at the end of their probationary period that any marked gain was noted. Even then, it seems our methods were lacking in some way, as the majority of graduates leveled out somewhere between C6 and C9. Obviously, we¡¯ve always been blessed by those especially gifted few who managed to rate C10 ¨C or, like us ¨C much higher. Alas, that was exceedingly rare¡­until now. Take a look at this.¡±


    She switched diagrams to emphasize what all the fuss was about, causing her audience to gasp out loud.


    Corrine, who knew the brain and its capabilities better than anyone else in the room muttered, ¡°Am I seeing that right, Jade? Our candidates have started leaving the Academy at C7 Master or C8 Grand Master level, sometimes stronger? Before they¡¯ve even undergone the augmentation phase?¡±


    Jade was delighted at her friend¡¯s response. ¡°Oh yes, something about the accelerated techniques amplify the latencies bound within the crux of each individual¡¯s psi-well, causing them to bloom exponentially. The sooner we introduce the catalyst, the more profound the results, as you can plainly see. If twelve months on the program proves this invaluable, just imagine what we¡¯ll get from full term graduates in the future.¡±


    ¡°So that¡¯s why we included the expectant mothers!¡± Corrine gasped, intuitively.


    ¡°Exactly, the earlier we catch the fetus, the greater the potential and the wider the range of abilities. How the boss knew this would work is beyond me. Do you know, at the last Guardianship Inauguration we had the whole fourth year re-assayed. Two of the Protectors registered at Ultra level. True, they only exhibited that prospectus in their primary abilities. But goodness knows what we¡¯ll see as they mature.¡±


    ¡°What are they Ultras in?¡± Corrine couldn¡¯t help asking.


    ¡°The young man is an Ultra Class healer, which will please you no end I¡¯m sure, and the young woman appears to have Ultra level teleport capabilities.¡±


    Anil¡¯s face suddenly became serious. ¡°Are they future transcension hopefuls, Jade?¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t know yet, Anil, but if they continue developing as they are, they may achieve the minimum threshold required to undergo and survive the change.¡±She winked, ¡°Who knows, inside a few years we may witness the first new contenders to survive transcension from High Grand Master to Ultra since the last century.¡±


    The feeling of euphoria was palpable among the entire group, and despite their initial spat, they couldn¡¯t resist grinning at each other like children in a secret candy store.


    It remained that way for a good few minutes until the Lord Marshal raised a sobering consideration. ¡°So basically, we thought we¡¯d jumped the gun a little, only to find we went public at the ideal time, for our own legacy is jumping right along with it. Coincidence?¡±


    Anil smirked. ¡°I suppose you could say it was fate, my friends. Or the astounding out-workings of our omnipotent Overlord¡­again! He certainly knows how to put pegs in holes.¡±


    The mere mention of the unimaginable capabilities of the founding father of the Guardians sobered everyone instantly. A moment ¨C pregnant with private reflection ¨C passed before the company could pull itself together.


    The Lord Marshal murmured, ¡°That reminds me. There¡¯s another reason I called you all here today. I do apologize. Jade¡¯s surprise caught me on the back foot, somewhat. Adam has completed his final assessment of the candidates for the new post of Lord Conciliator and has asked me to convey the results to you.¡±


    ¡°So who got it?¡± Jade was the first to respond, ¡°Vladimir, Victoria, or Andrew?¡± ¨C These being the only Guardians beside themselves with psychic abilities rated above the nexus threshold who had survived the transcension process.


    ¡°Vladimir,¡± Earl announced, matter-of-factly. ¡°Adam feels he¡¯ll be perfect for dealing with all the PR hurdles we¡¯re bound to run into as we take the next step on Saturday. I can see his point; Vladimir¡¯s character will go a long way in facilitating our integration into everyday life.¡±


    Vladimir Arihkin was an old Muscovite, who looked like a distinguished cross between Albert Einstein and Colonel Saunders. He was an unusual case in Guardian circles, having fully matured, and completed twenty-two years service in the Imperial Russian Army the previous century before his vast latencies broke through following his treatment for a severe head wound.


    He was a potent telekinetic and self healer, which is why so many were surprised when he insisted on retaining the look of a bespectacled graying patriarch when he could so easily have appeared much younger, as his colleagues preferred to do. Not that his demeanor would be an issue here, as his grandfatherly image was sure to be a hit with the public.


    ¡°I hope Victoria and Andrew aren¡¯t too disappointed.¡± Corrine sighed.


    ¡°Don¡¯t ever think that,¡± Earl growled. ¡°You know our dynamic duo as well as I do. They¡¯re hanging on for the Shadow Operations and Inquisitor vacancies, or I¡¯ll eat my hat. Why else do you think they¡¯ve turned down promotion so often before?¡± The Lord Marshal snorted, ¡°Hell, I only got this job because they point blank refused it.¡±


    ¡°Speaking of your role, when do you think Adam will fill the Deputy Marshal post, Earl? You¡¯ll need a hand as things get busy,¡± Jade chipped back in.


    ¡°Beats me,¡± he replied, shrugging his shoulders, ¡°I¡¯ve given up trying to work out how his mind works.¡±


    ¡°Funny that, isn¡¯t it?¡± The Lord Evaluator suddenly announced.


    ¡°What¡¯s funny, Anil?¡± Earl probed.


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯ve been letting all sorts of events spin round in my head ¨C as I do ¨C and one or two things amused me.¡±


    ¡°And why¡¯s that?¡±


    The Lord Evaluator hunched forward on his chair and got a faraway look in his eyes. ¡°Well, it¡¯s just that we¡¯ve all been here for some considerable time now, haven¡¯t we? In retrospect, we always seem to have ended up at the right place at the right time in history ¨C and with just enough resources ¨C to successfully navigate the transition through into the next stage of our endeavors. So, here we are, after all these years, on the verge of going public; public on a truly modern-day global scale. And once again we experience a fortuitous upwelling of potential that all but guarantees we¡¯ll maintain pace with our ever-expanding responsibilities. I mean, a more circumspect observer might say there was more than a little manipulation going on here, eh?¡±


    All remained silent, staring at their colleague as the weight of what he said sunk in. Cogitating, each found themselves pondering the mystery that was their leader, and the full extent of his remarkable precognitive ability.


    None of them knew much about his personal life. Not his last name, his age or anything about his family or lineage. Nobody had the faintest inkling from where he¡¯d come, only that he had been among the very first of them, countless millennia ago. Having laid the foundations of their fraternity, he¡¯d guided and protected that loose knit, often fragmented band of trailblazers. Always seeming to know where to be and when; what to do and how, he¡¯d ensured those initial precious few were safeguarded, and allowed to thrive, away from the fear and prejudice of those who wouldn¡¯t understand. And slowly, gradually, as the ages had passed, they grew to become a force to be reckoned with. A force for good.


    The thing was, they had no way of telling how strong Adam might be, for even his so-called weaker abilities ranged beyond the capacity of the Compilator to calibrate.


    All they knew for certain was that the Overlord liked to hover in the background, content to let his people take all the credit. Every now and then, however, he might request the Guardians concentrate their efforts in certain areas or in certain ways.


    Earl would see to it that they did just that, and inexorably, the yield of an incredible harvest would eventually be gathered. A humbling experience and one that never lost the sheer scope of its dignity, no matter how many times they¡¯d witnessed it.


    Snapping out of their third collective daydream in as many minutes, Corrine changed the subject onto a completely different tack. ¡°Hey, there was something I wanted to mention too, my earlier rant about all the hurdles we¡¯re getting threw me off a bit...Has anyone been tasked to do anything regarding the abduction of people suspected of having hyper senses? Reports about missing persons are cropping up all over the place.¡±


    Everyone looked toward the Lord Marshal, who nodded his head slowly. ¡°That¡¯s a definite yes. The sad fact is, no matter how much we show we¡¯re here to help everyone, there will be a twisted minority of those in power who fear what we represent. They want what we¡¯ve got or close to it. And if they can¡¯t get it fast enough, it would appear they are ready and willing to go to any lengths to procure it before someone else does.¡±


    ¡°Makes you wonder how Adam will choose to solve the problem before it gets out of hand, eh?¡± said Jade, clearly fishing.


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sure our illustrious leader has an excellent solution in mind,¡± replied the Lord Marshal, promptly. ¡°Just wait and see.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m more concerned by what he¡¯s already got in place,¡± the Lord Evaluator interjected, a huge grin on his face. ¡°Knowing him, I bet you it involves something very public, and most spectacular.¡±


    The Lord Marshal mirrored his friend¡¯s expression. Standing to dismiss them all from the meeting, he added, ¡°I¡¯ve learnt never to bet against you, Anil. But don¡¯t be shocked if this time his solution takes even you by surprise. Saturday should be an interesting day, and I think our new Lord Conciliator is going to find his job getting busier a lot faster than he anticipated.¡±


    And with that, they filed out of the conference room, eager to see what would be revealed in the days ahead.

 Good Cop

    December 1st¡ª10:30 a.m. Exeter¡ªEngland


    David Collins, an I.T. technician employed by the Ministry of Defence at Whitehall, London, chafed at the way his fortunes had changed over the last few days.


    This coming weekend was supposed to have been a game changer, as he had originally intended to travel to Kent with his ¨C getting serious ¨C girlfriend, Lindsey, to meet her parents. Of course, such well laid plans invariably guaranteed his brief respite from work would be remembered for all the wrong reasons.


    Little did he know at the time¡­?


    Forced to work late on Friday, David had been threading his way through the rear-end of rush-hour traffic to pick Lindsey up from her South Kensington apartment, when his scroll phone intercepted a message directed to his home number.


    The caller had been none other than the Council¡¯s founder, Lei Yeung, who proceeded to crush David¡¯s romantic aspirations outright. Forced into cancelling the weekend away entirely, David had immediately diverted to Paddington Station, and less than an hour later, found himself crammed aboard one of the last commuter expresses out of London, sweating its jam-packed way toward rolling hills of Devon, and Exeter in particular.


    He had been tasked to find one Joshua Drake, a little boy who by all accounts, was the very first person to receive the open attention of the Guardian Angels. Yeung wanted to know why that was the case ahead of Saturday¡¯s planned extravaganza, and David had no one but himself to blame for being handpicked for the job.


    David was blessed with a psychic shielding capability you see, that allowed him to approach people totally undetected. While his ability didn¡¯t render him invisible to electronic devices, it did mean he could interact with whoever he wanted before choosing to simply cancel his existence from their minds.


    A useful tool, especially when employed in tandem with his other talent, for David was also a reader: he could chronicle a person¡¯s life from their memories just by touching them. And such was his dexterity that he could identify and quantify whatever extrasensory capability his target possessed ¨C whether that individual realized they were psychic or not.


    He was cunning and he was evasive, and just the edge at times like this when the Council wanted to learn something that might give them an advantage.


    Of course, none of this mattered to the aforementioned Lindsey, who persisted in demonstrating her utter contempt for her beleaguered beau by refusing all his calls in the meantime. So, far from enjoying the comfortable weekend he¡¯d had planned in the sumptuous home belonging to Lindsey¡¯s parents ¨C who were reportedly very affluent ¨C David had been forced to endure the charms of one of Exeter¡¯s seedier hotels.


    Not that he¡¯d had much time to test for woodworm or bedbugs. Instead, David found himself camped in the environs of Exeter¡¯s main police station, brushing past officers entering and leaving via the main doors, and striving to follow up on the original reports of the Joshua Drake incident on his scroll phone. Anything really that would help him narrow down an address, snatch the information Yeung required, and speed the moment he could rush back home and try and salvage whatever was left of his ruined love life.


    Then, at 2:00 a.m. Saturday morning, he¡¯d struck gold after bumping into one of the original investigators of the case who also had occasion to conduct a number of home visits on the Drakes themselves.


    Armed with what he¡¯d learned ¨C and a military grade Taser ¨C David had made directly to the Beacon Heath area of the city in a hired car, where he began his preparations.


    Initially, he¡¯d parked near the end of the small cul-de-sac in which the Drakes¡¯ home was situated. Extending his shield to encompass the vehicle, David then turned the heater full on and sat back to wait, unobserved by neighbors or late night passers-by.


    Listening to music and basking in seventy degrees of toasty warmth helped pass the time. Regardless, bad luck continued to plague David from on high. The Drakes had been away all week visiting the boy¡¯s grandparents, and when they returned at 4:00 a.m. later that morning, not only did they catch David by surprise, but they managed to get indoors before he could reach them.


    Deciding that nothing would be gained by a direct confrontation, David had determined to return at a time when neighbors would be less inclined to pay attention to strangers making odd calls.


    His judgment had proven sound, and for once, things seemed to be going his way. The Drakes were located at the very end of the road itself. Driving to the terminus, David rounded the circle and scoured the windows of adjacent properties like a priest searching for signs of demonic possession on the faces of wayward Goths.


    Finding nothing that troubled him, he pulled slowly to the curb, and donned the finishing touches that would render him invisible to onlookers: a band aid over his nose to divert attention away from his facial features; a trilby hat to conceal his hair; thick-rimmed glasses to trigger an old ¡°Harry Potter recollection¡± instead of useful facts, and an extra coat to make him appear heavier than he actually was.


    Suitably attired, he took a final glance at the clock and alighted from the vehicle, running through his plan one last time in his head.


    Right, its ten thirty-two. This is an in and out job, so there¡¯s no need to complicate things. I¡¯ll walk up to the door, introduce myself, show my ID for Danny Hollings of Social Services, and simply ask to carry out a quick visual check on Joshua¡¯s current state of health. That¡¯ll be my cue to smile and apologize, reassure them that I don¡¯t want to be there, then reluctantly remind them his experience is bound to have created some degree of trauma we need to monitor from time to time. Apologize again. Keep smiling. And when Josh comes to the door¡­¡°Shit!¡± he cursed under his breath.


    As he¡¯d been walking, David had continued to scan the foreground for last minute hitches. He¡¯d just found one. A hide-a-way covert surveillance camera, tucked up beneath the guttering of the main aspect of the house, inside an opaque shell.


    So much for getting in and out undetected.


    Looks like Joshua¡¯s mother got fed up with the army of press camping outside their door for weeks on end after the boy¡¯s salvation. What was it the papers said¡­? Oh yeah, she had to take out a series of court orders to prevent further unwarranted intrusions into their lives by the mainstream media and a number of private investigators¡­and it looks like she added security too. Peachy.


    It was too late to turn back now.


    Let¡¯s hope my official approach cuts me some slack. I didn¡¯t think I¡¯d need to make a bloody appointment for a surprise welfare visit. Oh well, here it goes.


    David lingered on the step to wave up at the CCTV bubble and grin in what he hoped was a winning fashion. Then he pressed a gloved finger to the bell and stepped back to present a nonthreatening attitude.


    At first, everything remained quiet.


    After waiting a few minutes, David tried again, this time, maintaining the shrill assault until it was answered by muffled nondescript sounds of activity from inside.


    Finally, the bolts snapped back and the door cracked open to the jingling rush of a tightening security chain. A tired face peeped out.


    Bingo! Samantha Drake.


    ¡°What do you want?¡± Joshua¡¯s mother demanded.


    Showing the ID, David smiled as he went into his routine, remembering to turn his back to the camera as much as possible. ¡°Oh, hi, Miss Drake, or may I call you Samantha? I¡¯m here to see Joshua. Don¡¯t worry, it¡¯s just to check how he is and make sure he¡¯s settled down after all the drama.¡±


    ¡°Who are you again?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m Danny Hollings with Social Services, Child Welfare. Please don¡¯t be worried, it¡¯s a quick visit. We¡¯re filing the concluding report on the incident and I¡¯ve been asked to drop by to ensure he¡¯s fully back to normal.¡±


    Narrowing her eyes, the suspicion obvious on her face, Samantha replied, ¡°They told me the case was already closed, so why are you here?¡±


    ¡°Like I said, it¡¯s so we can actually finalize the dossier. It ended up becoming quite extensive, you see. But not anymore. You won¡¯t see me again after this, I promise.¡±


    ¡°Where¡¯s Sandra and why didn¡¯t you call before to let me know you were coming?¡±


    ¡°Sorry, that¡¯s my fault. I just transferred here from Plymouth last week and forgot to bring your number with me. Sandra got tied up with another case. Look, I can see this is obviously annoying you, so I¡¯ll tell you what. Why don¡¯t I just wait here while you bring Joshua to the door? I¡¯ll give him the onceover, and then be out of your way, okay?¡±


    Samantha Drake still wasn¡¯t convinced. ¡°You can wait there alright. I¡¯ve got Sandra¡¯s number so I¡¯m going to go and run things by her before we do anything else.¡±


    ¡°Okay, but please don¡¯t be long, it¡¯s freezing out here.¡± For good effect, David stamped his feet and blew into his cupped hands.


    No sooner had the door closed, however, than David was gone, striding briskly from the house and into the street where he employed his chameleon shield over a wider arc to ensure no one witnessed his departure.


    So much for trying to be nice! I guess I¡¯m going to have to play things harder. I¡¯ll come back later when they¡¯re not expecting it and just take what I need.


    <h6>*</h6>


    December 1st¡ª11:55 a.m. London¡ªEngland


    Expectations mounted at the BBC News Centre in London as 12:00 noon approached. Preparations over the past week meant that every BBC news correspondent across the planet was on standby, just in case. Favors, both robust and restrained, had been called in and all modes of transport ¨C ranging from private jets and helicopters, down to bobcats and motorbikes ¨C made available, should news teams, anywhere, need to go mobile at a moment¡¯s notice.


    The newsroom itself had also been rearranged. While the main desk dominated the center as usual, it was now positioned toward the rear of the set, leaving space for both formal and informal interview areas left and right. The BBC was keen to send their hoped for visitors a message: ¡°We have lots of room, don¡¯t be shy.¡±


    Since 9:00 a.m. that morning, a special report had been aired, synchronizing with other major telecasts in different countries around the globe, highlighting the exploits of the Guardian Angels over the past several months. Various experts were on hand, providing advice and offering opinions on a wide assortment of related topics, such as the possible agenda motivating mankind¡¯s new benefactors. Speculation was rife as to the range of the Guardian Angels¡¯ psychic powers, and what impact their technology might have on the world¡¯s economy.


    The overall impression created by those messages left by the Guardian Angels was also the topic of much debate, especially as the latter ones hinted on matters of law and order. A lively discussion had just ended via satellite link, with one of Australia¡¯s top public figures, Commissioner Gordon McMenamin of the Queensland Police Service. The Commissioner had been citing the now infamous rescue at Coolangatta, on the Gold coast, Australia, several months previously, whereby a family had not only been rescued by the Guardian Angels, but the perpetrators of a related crime had been apprehended and left for local authorities to deal with.


    Many of the law enforcement agencies in Australia were still trying to decipher the Guardian Angels¡¯ intentions pertaining to the matter. A hot potato in view of the fact that the two criminals responsible for the theft of a motor boat which caused the Coolangatta incident ¨C Tom McAllister and Michael Thompson ¨C had been the bane of both the Queensland and New South Wales Police for some years. So notorious were they that they had even made their unwelcome presence felt in Victoria from time to time.


    Both were compulsive thieves specializing in the acquisition of boats and marine equipment, and already well on the road to a lifetime spent leapfrogging successive jail sentences with bouts of protracted skullduggery. Commissioner McMenamin had gone into great detail describing the overwhelming compulsion both men felt to tell the truth and confess to previously unreported crime, an act totally out of character for them. Inspired, the Commissioner stated that if this was a taste of what was to come, he would be giving his wholehearted support to their newfound friends and encouraged everyone else to do the same.


    Now, with just over two minutes to go, the overseeing floor manager drew everyone¡¯s attention to the time and directed teams, everywhere, to stand by. Floor crews around the world rushed to conclude last minute tests, while technicians completed their final sound and signal checks.


    Screens focused on the digital countdown, while the two anchors chosen for the occasion, Robert King and Sophia Davies, received the finishing touches to their make-up.


    As the clock hit the one minute mark, the intro music commenced its rhythmic overture, and the ¡°Special BBC World News Broadcast¡± along with its presenters, was announced to more than two billion expectant people.


    Robert King¡¯s face remained impassive as he was counted in, animating only at the last instant to say, ¡°Good day, you¡¯re joining us live here at the BBC, where we await the final few seconds to a deadline the human race has been anticipating with bated breath.¡±


    Sophia Davies then made her own opening statement. ¡°Yes, the waiting is almost over, and we¡¯re about to discover if we¡¯re going to receive another statement from the Guardian Angels, or perhaps something better, something even more astounding¡­¡±


    She paused, and the wall panel behind them flipped to the red and white BBC Logo, showing the timer still descending. When it hit, 00:00:20, she added, ¡°We¡¯re not sure what we¡¯re letting ourselves in for, but rest assured, our teams around the globe are on standby, to provide as full as coverage as possible.¡±


    Robert glanced slightly off screen. Clearing his throat, he stressed, ¡°We have just ten seconds to go; now five seconds until our audience discovers the reason why all the¡­?¡±


    His voice faded as everything dimmed abruptly. Power wasn¡¯t lost entirely, but it was obvious electrical circuits within the studio itself had been affected.


    ¡°One moment please, we appear to be having some difficulties,¡± he murmured.


    In the background, the operations manager, Katy Greene, was frantically shouting into her microphone for her assistant, Amy Smith, seated up in the director¡¯s booth. ¡°Amy, what¡¯s the problem, why aren¡¯t the backups kicking in? Are we still transmitting?¡±


    Amy¡¯s Scottish brogue sounded over the earpiece. ¡°Och, we¡¯re transmitting alright. Whatever this glitch is, it only seems to be screwing with the lights.¡±


    ¡°Well, get it sorted, I¡¯ve got the world watching here and I can¡¯t have us¡­?¡± Shaken roughly by her shoulder, Katy was unable to keep her line of thought. Spinning round, she confronted the culprit ¨C a cameraman ¨C and almost leaped down his throat, ¡°What!¡±


    Her posturing seemed a wasted effort, for the cameraman was staring over Katy¡¯s shoulder and gesticulating wildly toward the informal interview area, where three large couches had been arranged in a box shape surrounding a large coffee table. ¡°Look, look at that!¡± he squeaked, loud enough to draw the female anchor¡¯s attention.


    Spotting the ruckus, Sophia Davies chimed up. ¡°We appear to have a development unfolding right here in front of us, ladies and gentlemen. Can we get the cameras on it, please, so everyone can see?¡±


    Veiled threats stitched the air as Katy Greene ensured her team reacted promptly, ¡°You heard her. Do it. Do it now, don¡¯t worry about capturing any floor crew.¡±


    By the scant illumination left within the studio, a small ball of plasma ¨C no larger than a tea saucer ¨C could be seen, hovering over the coffee table like a wraith. Glowering and sizzling through a multicolored borealis, it spun on its axis, casting eerie shadows throughout the rest of the set.


    Ribbons of pulsing light washed into it, condensing in concentric waves. As they did so, the orb glowed more brilliantly, swelling in size and changing color, first to silver blue then scintillant white. Both presenters were struck dumb and watched in silence as the eerie display unfurled in front of them amid a blinding exhibition of flickering contrasts.


    The disc started to ripple, sending out an efflux of potent gravity waves. After a few seconds it floated down to a position in front of the table where it continued to grow until large enough to envelop a person.


    A dark stain appeared in the exact center of the animated mass. Acting in the manner of an inkblot on paper, it distended, swallowing the streamers whole and leaving nothing behind except for a well of utter blackness surrounded by a crackling corona of energy.


    Without warning, a person stepped down out of the space in-between, causing the void to collapse in on itself. As it did so, power levels returned to normal.


    The abrupt return of glaring arc lights only added to the shock. Nonetheless, everyone ¨C those in the studio and those glued to their screens around the world ¨C knew instantly what stood before them.


    Dressed from head to toe in black, the figure wore a cloak with its hood drawn so far forward so as to make his or her features indistinguishable. The stranger¡¯s hands were cross-linked in the posture of a monk at ease. But this was no monk; it was a Guardian Angel in the flesh.


    The first to regain his composure, Robert broke the silence with a timely jibe to the camera, at his co-presenter¡¯s expense. ¡°Well, everyone, it looks like Sophia got her wish and something much more astounding did happen. It¡¯s taken us a little by surprise, but hopefully we can make our guest feel much more welcome now¡­?¡± Turning to the special envoy, he said, ¡°Hello, welcome to the BBC, and of course to the rest of the viewing public.¡±


    The robed figure slowly lifted its arms and tugged back the hood to reveal the smiling bespectacled face of a quite unremarkable middle-aged man.


    That he was sturdily built was beyond question. Apart from that, his neatly trimmed gray hair, mustache and beard, and silver wireframe glasses perched on the end of a rudderlike nose made him look more like a university professor than one of humanity¡¯s legendary benefactors.


    He must have sensed the anticlimax. Shrugging, he opened his hands wide and in an almost apologetic manner, chuckled. ¡°I¡¯m not what you expected, am I?¡±


    His rich, deep, accented voice contained a hint of self-mockery and was clearly audible without the need of a microphone. He gestured to one of the couches. ¡°May I sit down? Perhaps we¡¯d all feel more comfortable if we relaxed and chatted over here.¡±


    Both Robert and Sophia almost fell over themselves in their haste to reach the informal interview area. As they tried not to make too much of an exhibition of themselves, Katy Greene stepped forward, hesitantly, and offered the Guardian Angel a button mic. ¡°Do you even need one of these?¡±


    The emissary smiled amiably. ¡°If it makes you more comfortable, my dear, I shall gladly wear it, although you will have to help me put it on. I¡¯ve never had to use one before, and it looks a bit fiddly.¡±


    Trying to maintain her deportment, Katy¡¯s fingers trembled like the legs of a newborn fawn, and it wasn¡¯t until her third attempt that she managed to affix the pin.


    ¡°Fiddly for you, too, eh?¡± The older man¡¯s humor seemed to put her at ease. As she began to step back, he asked, ¡°May I be so bold as to ask for a cup of tea? I feel I may be doing a lot of talking in a minute, and will need a little pick-me-up to help.¡±Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    ¡°Of...of course, do you like biscuits?¡± Katy stammered.


    The Guardian Angel¡¯s face lit up. ¡°Why, thank you very much, I must confess I¡¯m more than fond of custard creams if you have them?¡± He patted his stomach. ¡°Perhaps too fond¡ªI have to be careful now. I can¡¯t burn off the calories like I could in my younger days.¡±


    Katy couldn¡¯t help but grin and before she had even reached the edge of the set, she heard good old reliable Amy yelling, ¡°Leave it to me, I¡¯m on it.¡±


    Both Robert and Sophia had finally taken their seats, having originally opted for the sofa positioned directly opposite the Guardian Angel. Thankfully, his disarming manner and repeated assurances that he wouldn¡¯t bite had vouchsafed a more intimate arrangement, and they had scooted around to sit much closer to him. And a good thing too, for despite the uniqueness of the occasion, people couldn¡¯t help but relax in the presence of this ordinary, extremely chatty, approachable man. Soon, everyone had settled down, ready for the interview to commence.


    Sophia began. ¡°First of all, on behalf of the BBC and indeed the rest of the world, can we say, thank you so much for coming. We weren¡¯t sure what was going to happen today, but it¡¯s lovely to get to meet one of you at last outside of a disaster or emergency. Do excuse me, but we¡¯ve been calling you Guardian Angels¡ªwhat do you prefer?¡±


    The Guardian Angel removed his spectacles with one hand and raised his opposite arm free of his cloak to reveal a wide scarlet band with a thin central golden stripe near to the end of his sleeve. ¡°Officially, I¡¯m the Lord Conciliator Vladimir Arihkin, chief go-between and spokesman for the Guardians, but that¡¯s quite a morsel to get your mouth around, isn¡¯t it? I prefer Vladimir. It¡¯s my name, after all, and sounds much less formal, eh?¡±


    Robert laughed out loud. ¡°Vladimir it is, then!¡± He introduced himself, and then indicated his co-presenter. ¡°Robert, Sophia. If you don¡¯t mind my saying, your name and accent sound Russian?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s because they are,¡± Vladimir replied. ¡°I was born and raised in Moscow, ooh, some years ago now. I¡¯ve not been back for a while, though, and don¡¯t miss the cold at all.¡±


    ¡°Do you still have family there?¡± Sophia asked, taking back the conversation.


    ¡°Yes, certainly. But as I say, I haven¡¯t been home in a long time.¡±


    ¡°So, the world has dubbed you Guardian Angels, but what is it you call yourselves?¡±


    ¡°We prefer to use the term Guardians. It sums up what we do, nicely, while reminding us of our limitations. Believe me; we are under no illusions about being angels. We just thought it time to properly introduce ourselves and hopefully open some doors to facilitate a closer relationship with you all in the future.¡±


    ¡°So that¡¯s why you¡¯re here today?¡± Sophia stressed, ¡°In the interests of friendship?¡±


    ¡°Yes, to say ¡®hello¡¯ and to reassure people that we¡¯re here to help. We also ask for your patience and understanding as we plan our initial approach to your leaders and prepare a framework for future co-operation. I suppose you could say we¡¯re especially eager to lay out some ground rules that will allow us to do our job properly as we try to implement the changes this will bring.¡±


    ¡°Changes?¡± interjected Robert.


    ¡°How else will society adapt to the introduction of ¨C in the words of some in your media ¨C Super beings who defy the laws of time, physics and nature? One minute, you¡¯re going about your business, dealing with the stresses and challenges of everyday life on your own, and then, all of a sudden, ¡®tah-dah¡¯, we turn up doing all sorts of things that seem extraordinary.¡±


    ¡°And you think this will mean a period of transition?¡± Robert persisted.


    ¡°Of course it will, Robert. The world is, like it or not, a very different place now we¡¯re actively involved with it. That¡¯s why we deliberated so long before making ourselves known to you.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯ve planned this for some time, then?¡± Sophia sounded surprised.


    ¡°For quite a while now, Sophia, yes. But as I hope you can appreciate. With an occasion this big, one that would have such huge ramifications across the whole continuum of humanity, the timing of it took a great deal of forethought and, quite frankly, involved a high degree of risk.¡±


    ¡°Risk? What do you mean by that, Vladimir?¡±


    The Guardian sucked on the inside of his cheek. ¡°Let me put it this way. It¡¯s like trying to decide when to rescue people from a sinking ship. If you go in too quickly, you¡¯ll be unprepared. While you might end up managing to rescue some of the passengers, all the good you¡¯ve done comes crashing down when you realize too late that you don¡¯t have enough lifeboats available for everyone. Many end up dying because you jumped in too soon. But, if you show restraint from the outset, if you make sure you have sufficient lifeboats and enough properly trained crew to operate them first, then, although you may lose a few passengers initially, you end up saving virtually everyone once you do chip in.¡±


    Robert added, ¡°So you¡¯re saying that although you wanted to help sooner, you were forced to wait until your resources matched your desire?¡±


    ¡°Precisely. There have always been tragedies and natural disasters. History is full of incidents where good people have been lost to catastrophe. We¡¯ve had to watch that terrible loss of life, knowing that if only we¡¯d been ready, we could have done a lot to alleviate so much suffering. But we couldn¡¯t. If we¡¯d tried sooner, we¡¯d have unwittingly created a storm of contention, having neither the infrastructure in place, nor indeed the range of abilities we now have.¡±


    ¡°That must have been difficult,¡± Robert commented dryly.


    The Lord Conciliator grimaced, his reply laced with sadness. ¡°You¡¯ll never know, my friend, you¡¯ll never know. In his wisdom, the one who leads and directs us made sure everything was in place before we introduced ourselves to a world in desperate need. He saw to it that all of us were fully trained, properly equipped, and correctly motivated. He ensured that proper infrastructure I mentioned was up and running. And thank goodness for that, for it enables us to respond, very quickly, at any time to any place in the world¡­You see, to him, every soul is precious and deserving of the best quality care we can give.¡±


    ¡°And you can guarantee that level of commitment?¡± Sophia gasped.


    The Guardian twitched his eyebrows. ¡°It is a stretch, I admit, especially in these early days, but part of the reason I am here today is to assure the world of our confidence in being able to offer a full global response to severe natural disasters or dire emergencies, as and when they arise. Obviously, we will only do so for as long as we are welcome and are free to operate as required to maintain proper levels of safety. And on that point I must stress, we¡¯re not here to help little Maksyuta down out of a tree or babushka into her flat. Neither can we be everywhere at once. But we¡¯ll do our best to be there when you really need us. And soon, we hope to offer much more than¡­aha, what¡¯s this?¡±


    They were interrupted briefly by Amy bringing tea and an assortment of biscuits and cookies for everyone. After placing the tray in the middle of the table and pointing out the custard creams, she raced off toward the safety of the control booth.


    Vladimir Arihkin¡¯s face beamed with pleasure at the prospect of indulging himself. Indicating that his hosts should follow suit, he scooped up a handful of the sugary delights on offer and began dunking them unceremoniously into his steaming hot drink.


    What people thought of that particular practice was revealed an instant later by the volume of snickering and tittering echoing back and forth across the studio floor. Ignoring them all, the chief spokesperson for the Guardians continued to munch his way through his triple-layered treats until he noticed Robert King was chewing over something distinctly less flavorsome.


    ¡°What¡¯s on your mind, Robert?¡± he mumbled, around a mouthful of biscuit.


    ¡°I noticed that little hint you gave us just before Amy brought out the refreshments,¡± Robert began, ¡°you said the Guardians were hoping to offer a wider range of services than they do at present?¡±


    ¡°You are quite correct. As I mentioned, we had to wait before revealing ourselves to ensure that our strategic assets were sufficient to meet the demands that would be expected of them. Now we¡¯ve done so, we look forward to improving our functionality. To do that, we need to secure your cooperation in extending our capacity beyond mere emergency cover. Such a mutual dependency will integrate us more fully into your society, you see.¡±


    ¡°How so?¡±


    ¡°By helping us bring our human resources up to speed.¡±


    ¡°Human resources up to¡­?¡± Robert was caught flatfooted for only a second. ¡°Oh, I see. You¡¯re saying you need more people?¡±


    ¡°We certainly do. And that¡¯s where you come in. Our studies have revealed a dramatic increase of those being born in recent years with the genetic potential for higher extrasensory mental function, or psi-function. That¡¯s our term for folks who have the capability of utilizing genuine, measurable psychic aptitude. Thankfully we have the means to distinguish the potential for such phenomenon, and can accurately measure the strength and range of those abilities when they externalize. We don¡¯t catch everyone, but we do our best to locate as many as possible so their talents can be fully enhanced by our specialized training methods.¡±


    Sophia asked the question on everyone¡¯s lips. ¡°So how do we actually help?¡±


    ¡°The more people let us know of gifted ones in their families, the more opportunities we will have to prepare future Protectors and Guardians, using the specialized facilities within our academy where ¨C?¡±


    Sophia¡¯s face couldn¡¯t hide her surprise. ¡°Sorry to interrupt you, Vladimir, but you have a what? An academy? And what are Protectors?¡±


    ¡°Yes, we have an academy, Sophia, a very special one,¡± the Lord Conciliator replied, ¡°and Protector is the title bestowed upon our candidates when they graduate after five long years of training. Think of it as an active, but probationary rank, where the newly qualified Guardian-to-be is given further on-the-job training and experience. After a few years ¨C if they continue to mature ¨C they are entitled to wear the black uniforms that have become quite infamous recently and subject of all the ¡®Jedi¡¯ references that seem to have stuck like glue.¡±


    ¡°So where is this university of the mind? What kind of students do you look for? Just how many of you are there out there?¡±


    Raising his hands in a placating gesture, the Guardian shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m very sorry, Sophia, but that information is still quite sensitive. One day we will reveal more about ourselves, but for the moment we still have to remain somewhat off the radar.¡±


    Robert studied his guest thoughtfully. ¡°It must have been very difficult to keep such a thing hidden all this time.¡±


    ¡°More than you know, Robert. Not only has it placed our candidates and their families under a great deal of pressure, but it put a good few off too, I can tell you. Hopefully, such hurdles will become a thing of the past as we move more freely among you and citizens get to discover how they can join us. I really do look forward to the time when we have a hybridized unilateral structure in place to keep society safe.¡±


    ¡°Hybridized unilateral structure?¡±


    Vladimir nodded. ¡°Yes, it¡¯s our vision of the way forward. How can I explain it briefly? Let me see...


    ¡°Our technology is far in advance of what¡¯s currently available on your markets or under development in China, the USA and Japan, I think you¡¯d agree. Well, we anticipate being able to steer your brightest and best toward some revolutionary leaps in clean energy solutions, or using construction and transport methods that compliment and harmonize with the environment instead of harming it. Healthcare is another area we can help you to make great strides. How about improving your screening techniques for certain diseases or genetic abnormalities and enhancing your treatment regimens for such things? Then there¡¯s a definite case for unifying your emergency services and tightening the way you handle crises or manage trauma victims.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯re going to solve or eradicate many of the problems we now face?¡±


    ¡°No, I didn¡¯t say that, Robert. What we¡¯re going to do is point you in the right direction so that your scientists discover the most advantageous way of doing things for themselves. There¡¯s that old saying about the starving man that rings true in this instance: ¡®Give a man a fish, and he will feed himself for a day, teach a man how to fish, and he will feed both his family and himself indefinitely!¡¯ That¡¯s what we intend to do. Help you progress at your own accelerated pace so you fully understand the groundbreaking strides you¡¯ll be taking. Each step forward will act as a springboard for even greater innovation.¡±


    ¡°Ah, so you¡¯ll speed up the means, by which we gradually learn to target, reduce and ¨C in due time ¨C eliminate problems for ourselves?¡±


    The Guardian nodded again, more vigorously this time and leaned back in his chair. ¡°That¡¯s the hope. And by working along with us, you¡¯ll be laying the foundations for the hybridized unilateral structure I mentioned. For example, think of your emergency responders being better equipped and trained to deal with a wider range of disasters. What about manufacturing itself? If you were capable of building aircraft that rarely succumb to faults, or structures that could withstand earthquakes or tornados, it would reduce the potential for calamity arising in the first place, right?¡±


    ¡°Right¡­with prevention being better than cure?¡±


    ¡°Exactly. And with you in a superior position to look after yourselves, it leaves us free to handle the really serious stuff and grants a greater leeway for the Guardians to expand in other, more critical areas¡­so long as we get the blessing of your governments of course. Hopefully once they¡¯ve grasped the greater implications, I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll come on board without too much fuss.¡±


    Sophia seemed eager to interpose. ¡°This all sounds very nice, Vladimir, but we¡¯re talking about having to deal with politicians. There are bound to be problems¡­it¡¯s in their blood. They explode if they¡¯re not arguing with someone.¡±


    The Lord Conciliator couldn¡¯t prevent the bark of mirth that escaped his lips. Replacing his spectacles on the tip of his nose, he replied, ¡°An accurate observation, Sophia, and well deserved¡­¡± then he paused to tap each of his lenses with one finger, ¡°You¡¯ll note these are not rose tinted? Good, let¡¯s be realistic about this, shall we?


    ¡°You know as well as I do the world is full of all sorts of characters, from all sorts of different backgrounds, yes? By and large, most people can be described as good, while a minority is labeled bad. However, whether good or bad, what unites most citizens is their tendency to be fiercely protective of their own individual little bits of the planet. When you look at this hunk of rock from above, you see an absolute jewel in space. Despite what mankind has done to it, the earth is still breathtaking, and has the potential to be even more beautiful as the centuries go by. It¡¯s not until you start looking in books that you see all those dotted lines appearing everywhere. Humanity has been intent on carving out chunks of it for himself for thousands of years now, and then jealously guarding his bit of soil against all sorts of danger, some of it real, most of it imaginary. Do you seriously think such a possessive mindset will disappear overnight just because we¡¯ve turned up?¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯re already expecting some to dig their heels in at the offer of change because they won¡¯t be able to view you as anything but a threat?¡±


    ¡°Intuitively put, Sophia, and poignantly accurate. It¡¯s a sad fact that, despite our best assertions to the contrary, there will always be those who question what we do. That¡¯s why we chose to reveal our presence in so many places at once. Accidents and disasters happen, irrespective of who you are or where you might live. By demonstrating we¡¯re here to support everyone, we hope we¡¯ve sent a clear message emphasizing that lives matter. Lives, not dotted lines on a map.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s reassuring to know, Vladimir, and the viewing public is bound to have noted the truth of your statement. After all, your actions over the past several months have spoken loudly in support of your words. Even so, suspicions are bound to linger, especially in those regimes noted for their ¨C how can I say ¨C tighter borders?¡±


    ¡°Yes, they are, Sophia, which is why I, as Lord Conciliator of the Guardians, have been assigned to act as a mediator.


    ¡°I appreciate the transition phase will present difficulties, so I won¡¯t be working alone. Over the coming months, I will introduce you to my team. We are the ones who will strive to allay any fears you might have and answer the questions your appointed representatives will no doubt fire our way. Of course, once we¡¯ve liaised with your world leaders, a proper means of bringing those queries to the table will have to be formulated to ensure the most pressing matters are dealt with first.


    ¡°It¡¯s bound to be lively, but we look forward to enlightening even the most obstinate dictatorships; look¡­we¡¯re here, and we¡¯re here to stay. All we honestly want to do is help and we extend an open invitation to the newly emerging ones out there to join us on an epic campaign for mankind¡¯s betterment, a¡­?¡±


    Sophia was like a terrier with a bone. ¡°And if people won¡¯t buy what you¡¯re selling?¡±


    ¡°If certain individuals or groups persist in being paranoid, refusing our offer and denying our full integration into their little clubs, then we will accept their wishes. Nothing is forced, except the consequences of their actions, for while others forge ahead, they will be left behind.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯re here for the long haul, then?¡±


    The Guardian leaned forward and braced his hands on his knees. ¡°Of course we are. We¡¯re not about to offer you the world, save a few lives and then disappear, leaving you high and dry. But neither will we impose ourselves unduly. The support we offer is extended to all. Everyone deserves the same standard and quality of care. Our people are all volunteers, from every country you can think of. They have a vested interest in you. That¡¯s why we offer our services unilaterally, we¡¯re all involved. Regardless, if your leaders refuse our help, you¡¯re the ones who will have to take it up with them, because we won¡¯t labor the issue.¡±


    ¡°You won¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    This time, it was Sophia¡¯s turn to hunch forward in her seat. ¡°And you¡¯re categorically stating, here and now, that you have no hidden agenda, no hidden master plan or grand reveal to get one over on us?¡±


    Looking over the top of his glasses, the Lord Conciliator smiled. His eyes, however, conveyed nothing but steel. ¡°An excellent question, Sophia, expressing what some might consider a legitimate concern. We thought such an issue may arise, and as such I have been authorized to answer it directly.¡±


    ¡°Oh really?¡±


    ¡°Really. Let me put this as succinctly ¨C and as gently ¨C as I can¡­


    ¡°We are a very special, very powerful group of people. Serving others is what drives us; motivates us to improve ourselves. We want to guide you, to share our wisdom with you so that we ¨C you and us as a collective ¨C can achieve our full potential. There¡¯s a magnificent prize waiting to be claimed out there, but to get a hold of it, you have to make a choice.¡±


    Though low, Sophia¡¯s tone was as keen as a razor¡¯s edge. ¡°What choice?¡±


    ¡°You have to stand up and be counted. Remember, more people are breaking through into psychic operancy than ever before¡­¡± As he spoke, Vladimir laced his fingers together and clasped his hands tight. ¡°Your future is our future. We need to unite to achieve it. Prospective Guardians are being born all around the planet at this very moment. Have you ever stopped to consider who it is that¡¯s been saving you lately? It¡¯s not Martians.¡±


    Both presenters appeared too stunned to respond, so Vladimir continued.


    ¡°And here are another few gems to help you appreciate why there¡¯s no hidden agenda. Though your choice will determine our immediate course, we don¡¯t need your technology, your weapons, or your earthly resources. We are so far ahead of you that ¨C not to be rude ¨C it would be like asking the Starship Enterprise to infiltrate enemy space to steal the secret of fire from cavemen. Why would we need to? The very idea would so preposterous it would never ever happen.


    ¡°Also, if any politicians watching this are apprehensive about the military and industrial integrity of their respective nations, rest assured, you have no secrets from us. When we make contact with your leaders, we intend to demonstrate the veracity of my declaration here today by presenting documentation to each head of state regarding those practices, operations and policies within their own countries that might prove embarrassing if they ever got out. Obviously, we don¡¯t wish to cause unnecessary alarm, so rest assured. What we divulge will be for their eyes only and relating solely to their own skeletons.


    ¡°However, this little exercise carries with it a much more serious objective than showing we mean business. It will confirm once and for all that there are no clandestine activates that we can¡¯t uncover, no dossiers we can¡¯t find, no plan to invade a neighboring country we won¡¯t expose. In fact, if one realm ever considered such a course ¨C especially against someone under our protection ¨C then they would find their capacity to cause harm to others drastically curtailed.¡±


    ¡°Seriously?¡± Roberts jaw almost hit the table, ¡°that¡¯s going to knock a few noses out of joint.¡±


    ¡°Robert, extrasensory talents do not discriminate between skin color, language, or race. They are neutral to a person¡¯s standing in society. They are here, now, and you are not prepared or equipped to deal with those people or help them reach their true potential. We are. To do that effectively, we need to work in earnest to remove the barriers that divide humankind. Many of those barriers exist because of suspicion and prejudice. We need to tear such things down ¨C and quickly ¨C so that the hybridized unilateral structure can give you an early taste of the golden age to be ushered in.¡±


    ¡°A golden age?¡±


    ¡°Some might call it that. Imagine a global society ¨C ooh, say, a hundred years from now ¨C where no one ever need fear war or poverty, major disasters or freak acts of nature again. Think of a planet free of pollution or industrial scarring. A place where disease no longer exists and organized crime is a thing of the past.¡±


    ¡°Crime too?¡± Robert spluttered, his disbelief evident.


    The Lord Conciliator gestured into the air, ¡°It¡¯s a way off yet and everyone needs to be behind the initiative driving for change, but yes. One day we hope to turn the dream into a reality.¡±


    Robert whistled, ¡°That will be an awfully difficult thing to do, Vladimir.¡±


    ¡°Your reservations are entirely warranted. Think of all the different kinds of judicial systems we have around the world. It¡¯s the twenty-first century. We think of ourselves as modern and enlightened. And yet, some of those systems are plainly barbaric, while others are far too lenient to serve any real good. In a few extremes, gangs and corruption run rampant.


    ¡°People need stability, common ground and universal guidelines. All those conflicting laws and regulations need to be standardized and amalgamated into one pure codex, a unified standard for all. We hope the hybridized unilateral structure will provide the framework for such a reality to manifest.¡±


    ¡°That sounds ¡­incredible. To think that type of accord would even be possible.¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s a long way off yet, as I say, and we still have to consider the practicalities involved.¡±


    ¡°Practicalities?¡±


    ¡°The law and order model would be a vast entity, Robert, so things like logistics and manpower are bound to be an issue. Once agreements were in place, however, I¡¯d imagine already existing organizations like the FBI, DGSI, FSB or National Crime Squads would be complimented by contingents of Guardian Inquisitors. Then, once the impact of our methods had been accurately measured, it wouldn¡¯t take long for the inauguration of brand new paranormal departments to strengthen and enhance the overall structure of the scheme.¡±


    ¡°That sounds fascinating, Vladimir. But tell me. What are Inquisitors?¡±


    ¡°They are our version of policemen, highly trained operatives who can use their specialized psychic powers to examine crime scenes and a whole variety of incidents. As you can imagine, their skills quickly help them determine the factual truth of events, not only by extracting information from people¡¯s minds, but from the supportive forensic evidence provided by our superior technology.¡±


    Robert shook his head, emphatically. ¡°Absolutely incredible, Vladimir! People wouldn¡¯t be able to lie. It¡¯s like that example earlier today from Commissioner McMenamin in Australia, where those criminals were what¡­compelled to tell the truth?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right, Robert, although that incident does highlight the way in which laws would need to change if we do go on to become fully involved in such issues.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Well, the statute books would need to include clauses or specific Acts covering the legality of obtaining statements by telepathic means, and of witness and prisoner cross-examination under oath.¡±


    ¡°Ah, I see¡ªbecause it would be easy for your Inquisitors to allege someone was guilty, but we wouldn¡¯t know for sure unless there was some way to verify it.¡±


    ¡°You see the dilemma? That¡¯s why we¡¯re currently developing a mechanical form of thought verification. Once it¡¯s ready, it¡¯ll be able to confirm the validity of those extrasensory findings submitted as evidence.¡±


    ¡°Sounds like a mind-field to me,¡± Robert quipped.


    ¡°An apt expression, though.¡± The Guardian chuckled. ¡°It¡¯s going to be a long haul, I think, but one that will be worth it in the end, especially when you consider the other side of the coin.¡±


    ¡°What other side?¡± Sophia asked.


    ¡°Not everyone who develops an extra sensory capacity is a member of the Guardians, Sophia. There are an unknown number of people out there who decided to go their own way or simply slipped through the net.¡±


    ¡°And do you think they¡¯re a threat?¡±


    Vladimir blew out through his cheeks. ¡°How can I possibly answer that? We¡¯re talking about normal everyday folks who just so happen to be gifted with abilities that set them apart. Sometimes that can make them wary and withdrawn, at others, scared and unsure. And just as you make personal decisions every day to abide by the law or be a fine upstanding member of the community, so do they.


    ¡°The big difference for them is that they live a very difficult life at the moment, in fear of discovery by a society that won¡¯t understand what they can do, or those who might try and exploit them.¡±


    ¡°Exploit them?¡± Sophia repeated, sitting straighter in her seat.


    ¡°Of course. I imagine you¡¯re both aware of the almost universal initiatives still running in schools, colleges and selected workplaces, supposedly to see if anyone out there is a potential Guardian Angel?¡±


    ¡°Yes, they¡¯re quite widespread, especially online and in the media¡±.


    ¡°You¡¯re a reporter, Sophia. You know what some of these governments and their nonexistent departments are like. What do you honestly think would happen to anyone they discovered with psi abilities? It¡¯s a matter we Guardians have had our eye on for a couple of months now, and I have to admit, we don¡¯t like what we¡¯re seeing.¡±


    Following the inference behind their guest¡¯s statement perfectly, Sophia¡¯s intuition kicked in. ¡°Do you have something you need to tell us, Vladimir?¡±


    The world held its breath. And as billions of people waited for the Lord Conciliator of the Guardians to reply, a totally different atmosphere shrouded the studio.

 Bad Cop

    12:15 p.m. Exeter¡ªEngland.


    Trudging his way through sodden, frost-stiffened grass and half hidden iced-over cowpats, David Collins smirked with satisfaction, for he was now only yards from the low wire mesh fence separating him from his target. A dirty plastic swing and ¨C oddly out of place ¨C a half deflated paddling pool, confirmed he was in the right place.


    ¡°What the hell is one of those still doing out in December?¡± He mumbled to himself, ¡°Jeez, is the kid a budding Arctic explorer or something?¡±


    While the Drake family had beefed up security at the front of the property, he had been correct in the assumption that they wouldn¡¯t bother with the rear. And why would they? The cul-de-sac opened out onto several miles of pristine British moorland, and at this time of year, nobody in their right frame of mind would willingly subject themselves to the misery of muddy fields in winter.


    David amused himself by how well he fitted his own dire estimation.


    Farting around in the cold when I could be tucked up in front of a roaring fire? I¡¯m the one who needs his head examined¡­Mind you; the people I represent aren¡¯t exactly nobodies to be trifled with.


    That sentiment only reinforced why he couldn¡¯t delay for much longer. Yeung would want results, and David was here to get them. Heavily shielded, a Taser tucked snugly in one pocket and a dart gun in the other; he was determined to come away with answers.


    No more Mr. Nice Guy.


    Wading knee-deep in the tangle of thorns and thistles bordering the edge of the heath, David reached out for the railing and hauled himself up, all the time casting about to ensure nobody was watching, or close enough to hear the links creaking under his weight.


    He dropped to the ground. Staying low, he ignored the fog of his breath and surveyed the scene once more.


    Other toys lay strewn like shrapnel around a poorly kept garden¡ªa bike, a ball, a cowboy hat replete with belt and empty holsters, some cars, and a full troop of ¡°Action Man¡± figures dressed in jungle fatigues. Abandoned to the elements, the soldiers lay like rime coated casualties along either side of an overgrown concrete path leading up to the back door, which David noticed had been conveniently left ajar to vent steam from the kitchen.


    Outstanding!


    Removing both the dart gun and Taser from his pockets, he started along the pathway, quickening his pace as he drew nearer. Burst in, stun them, read the shit out of their memories and then out through the front door with my face covered until I¡¯m out of camera shot. Then I¡¯ll be home free.


    A rear window hung open. David could hear Samantha Drake shouting to Joshua, telling him to shut up so she could hear what the Guardian Angel man was saying on the TV.


    Guardian Angel? So they actually turned up then? He thought, genuinely surprised.


    Surprised he may have been. That was nowhere near as shocking as what came next.


    One second, David was creeping surreptitiously along, his excitement mounting at the thought of the imminent success of his mission, and the next, he came up short as a distinctive thrumming noise barely gave him the time he needed to prevent walking his throat onto the end of a vicious looking shaft of concentrated golden light.


    He froze, staring along and over the length of that shaft into the magnetic gray eyes of the woman who held it, rock steady. Searching the depths of her visage, David found no sign of compromise that might give him an opening to salvage this unexpected wreck of a situation. Unless lethal competence could be in any way construed as the perfect first date?


    At six feet tall, and with a physique that looked as if a goddess had somehow been molded into liquid marble and poured into her black uniform, David knew instantly what kind of creature had figured him out. I¡¯m screwed!


    An invisible pressure held him still and rich honeyed tones bloomed within his mind: Hello, David, my name is Victoria. Do I have your attention now?


    The reality of David¡¯s situation hadn¡¯t fully dawned on him. His attention darted about, flicking from the tip of the glittering blade to the living deity, then to the house before returning to the blade again. Goddam it, they¡¯ll hear the commotion and everyone will start screaming blue murder and ¨C?


    Don¡¯t worry about the people in the house, the same voice spoke again: they¡¯re blissfully unaware of our presence and we¡¯re nice and safe within your chameleon shield. She sniggered, the action seeming cold and predatory under the circumstances: I asked you a question, David. Do I have your attention?


    ¡°Are you kidding!¡± he hissed, too numb to express himself politely.


    He peered more intently into the face of his adversary. Her dark flowing hair was tied back but still cascaded over one shoulder, accentuating her features and highlighting just how beautiful she was. But those eyes. It was like radioactive isotopes had been bound in smoke and set on fire. They petrified him, especially as they visibly smoldered with a barely restrained dominion that caused his teeth to ache.


    Daaavid?


    ¡°Huh?¡±Taking a deep breath, David answered more fully, ¡°I¡¯m sorry, yes, you have my full and undivided attention¡­Victoria?¡±


    Better. Victoria sheathed her plasma baton, and David found he could move again. She carried on speaking telepathically as if they were discussing nothing more pressing than the time of the next bus into town: We believe you may represent a group of predatory spiderlings who have made several uninvited propositions to fellow Guardians recently in the vain attempt to offer them employment?


    While every one of our members is free to do as they wish, you should be aware that we are extremely dedicated to the cause we serve, and none of us appreciate the manner of your intrusions. Neither do we understand the reasons behind such overtures. Still, we feel they must be of a somewhat shadier nature than we would normally prefer, otherwise, there would have been no need of subterfuge.


    I represent the hierarchy of the Guardians, so I¡¯d like you to pass on a little message for me. Will you do that?


    ¡°Like I have any choice?¡±


    Ah, we understand each other. Let your masters know that it would be foolish to confuse our restraint for weakness. Just because we choose to act with patience does not mean that patience is limitless. Do you understand?


    ¡°Yes, I understand.¡±


    I hope so, because we do not expect to have to suffer any more of your charades. Not under any circumstances. Is that also understood?


    ¡°It is.¡±


    Oh, David, not to labor the point, but that includes circumstances like this where we have to step in to pluck innocent flies from the machinations of your web.


    ¡°I¡¯ll make sure that point is reiterated, word for word.¡±


    I¡¯m glad to hear it. When you do, you might also emphasize to those you serve that Joshua Drake is off limits. I can¡¯t underline enough how highly we regard this little boy. He¡¯s too important to become a pawn in some imaginary power struggle that might prevent him from fulfilling his destiny. If your people are shortsighted enough to make another ill-advised move against him, not only will those who issue the edict rue the day they crossed us, but those attempting to carry out the order will find themselves on the receiving end of a visit from someone like me who can ensure they live out the rest of their days trapped in a waking nightmare. Am I making myself crystal clear?


    For a fleeting instant, the Guardian¡¯s presence seemed to permeate David¡¯s soul as if it were nothing more tangible than wet mist. ¡°Ye¡­yes, Ma¡¯am¡±


    Be advised, I am fully capable of mind-reaming you where you stand and leaving your skull empty of information or coherence. I won¡¯t. Instead I will extend you and your organization something you have failed to extend to us¡­the simple courtesy to make a choice.


    It is clear you must be gifted in some way. The world needs people like you ¨C like us ¨C now more than ever. Seriously think about the path you are on and the example you are setting. If you don¡¯t, the price it incurs might be something you are unwilling to pay. Have I made my point, David Collins?


    ¡°Without a doubt, yes you have.¡±


    And with that, David experienced a moment¡¯s disorientation and found himself standing on the sidewalk more than a mile away, right next to his hired car.


    What the f¡­?


    Shaking like a leaf, and glad to be free of one of the most terrifying people he had ever met, David took out his scroll phone and steeled himself for the ordeal ahead.


    Christ, is this asshole-from-hell weekend ever going to stop spiraling? The boss is not going to like this one bit. But what could I do, she cut through my shields like they were nonexistent. I was like an insect in the presence of a titan¡­And they have light sabers?


    Swallowing down a different kind of trepidation, he placed the call.


    Well, I can only report things as they happened. Yeung is going to have to appreciate we¡¯re dealing with an entirely different magnitude of authority here. If we don¡¯t watch what we¡¯re doing, they could be the end of us.


    An afterimage of a hauntingly spectral beauty sent a shiver down his spine.


    At least I met one and lived without having my brains scrambled¡­just. That only reminded him of the televised event taking place less than two hundred miles from where he currently stood. Hey, I wonder how that thing in London is going?


    <h6>*</h6>


    BBC World News Headquarters¡ªLondon¡ªEngland


    Vladimir Arihkin¡¯s eyes had glazed over as he deliberated his reply. An age seemed to pass before he blinked and refocused once more on the environs within the studio.


    ¡°Sorry about that,¡± he conceded. ¡°I was just checking to make sure it¡¯s okay for me to explain a few things in more depth.¡±


    ¡°So do you have something to tell us?¡± repeated Sophia.


    A wan smile crossed Vladimir¡¯s thin lips. ¡°Let¡¯s be honest. We¡¯ve asked you to take an awful lot on faith, haven¡¯t we?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Well, we turn up out of the blue, leaping about all over the place, saving people and leaving all sorts of mysterious messages in our wake. Then, when we say our very first public hello, we make all sorts of predictions of a brighter future, if you do what we say, yes?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m with you so far,¡± stressed Sophia, ¡°but what are you getting at?¡±Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    The Guardian cocked his head, as if reflecting on how best to answer. ¡°Let me put it this way. What do you imagine would happen if we were able to demonstrate the truth of the matters I¡¯ve raised this afternoon?¡±


    ¡°That would go a long way in boosting public confidence, of course.¡± Sophia responded, her manner revealing a spark of excitement as she recognized something bigger-than-big might be brewing.


    Robert was equally captivated, ¡°In fact, it would do a whole lot more than just boost public confidence, Vladimir. It would show we could trust you, as well as lend weight to your assertions regarding an improved long-term global outlook. That¡¯s something politicians have promised for years and failed quite spectacularly to deliver. If you can claim to do better and actually prove it, well, bring it on, please!¡±


    The Lord Conciliator inhaled deeply. ¡°Very well. As a matter of fact I do have something to say, and without being rude to you both, I need to address the viewers if I¡¯m going to do this properly. Robert, am I right in saying your mobile teams are already in place, and ready to respond, internationally, to anything that might develop?¡±


    ¡°Yes¡ªwhy?¡±


    ¡°Because I¡¯d like to make use of them, if I may, to help expedite what¡¯s going to happen in the next few minutes.¡±


    Without further comment, the Guardian ambassador picked out a video camera and turned to face it squarely.


    At that precise moment, agents within an unspecified number of covert facilities around the world found themselves contending with a collectively unique cold shiver. Irrepressible, it wriggled and it wormed and refused to go away, causing quite a few of the more astute individuals to sit up and take notice.


    Likewise, a similar icicle of doom was worrying another group of talented people, though for very different reasons, as their particular faction was using the occasion to gather intelligence on those they now thought of as their opposition.


    So deep-rooted did that communal feeling of unease become, that it spawned an impulsive burst of e-mails, phone calls, and video m-links, generating energy emissions sufficient to run a small city.


    Back at the studio, the lights dimmed again as the chosen camera zoomed in for a full profile close-up. One bright beam isolated Vladimir Arihkin within a cone of luminescence, adding an ominous undercurrent to the increasingly tense atmosphere. His once friendly demeanor now showed the steely resolve of someone in control, someone about to deliver a stern ultimatum.


    ¡°Citizens of the earth,¡± he began, ¡°we came to you today as friends, ready to open a dialogue, and prepared to work with you toward goals that will have far reaching implications for the good of this planet and for future generations to come. We can only achieve those objectives if we work together. To do that, you need to have confidence in our integrity.


    ¡°You will have followed this discussion closely so far, I¡¯m sure, and I have no doubt you will listen to it again and dissect it in minute detail once it has ended. While that is commendable, we Guardians feel that the only way to establish trust from the outset is to give you an opportunity to observe the truth of our concerns firsthand.


    ¡°As you will be aware, since the revelation of our existence, certain initiatives have been implemented by a range of governments to uncover people who might possess paranormal aptitudes like ours. Some of those schemes, as referred to earlier, have been conducted in plain sight within your educational establishments, your places of work, and even in the privacy of your own homes when you voluntarily took part in those fun, fact-finding quizzes appearing in the newspapers or on your most popular websites.


    ¡°What the majority of you won¡¯t know is that those tests incorporated an incredible amount of underhand ¨C and quite frankly ¨C illegal snooping. Literally millions of you had your movements, conversations, texts, and e-mails monitored in a focused drive to identify people who have measurable psi abilities¡­¡±


    A subdued murmur permeated the set in response to the Lord Conciliator¡¯s disclosure. Addressing the change in mood, Vladimir continued, ¡°Now, that¡¯s quite an allegation to make isn¡¯t it?¡±


    He paused, and for the second time that evening, removed his glasses so the audience had the opportunity to study his expressions and read the sincerity so evident on his face. ¡°To verify the accuracy of my statement ¨C and prove our veracity in this matter ¨C a selection of classified documents will shortly be delivered to the heads of state of those nations who we discovered stepping beyond the line of reason. You will be relieved to know that in most instances, your leaders were totally unaware of the practices promoted in secret by their intelligence services. Others had the foresight to take note of the final prism-message delivered by us, and discreetly extended open invitations to our officers to visit their establishments in order to promote an atmosphere of mutual collaboration. Sadly, this wasn¡¯t the case with everybody.


    ¡°Therefore, sanitized copies of those dossiers will be delivered to all mainstream media companies globally. We ask you to scrutinize those files closely. Although certain details will have been omitted to protect the privacy of those victims subjected to illegal activity, you will nevertheless find them most informative.


    ¡°Now, as for those who continue to ignore our intimations¡­?¡±


    The Lord Conciliator¡¯s eyes ignited, as if the embers of a hearth had just been stoked to life. ¡°Be advised, there are certain groups, particularly those in Russia, China, North Korea, Japan, Switzerland, France, Argentina, Israel, and the United States who continue to function, with little or no regard being given to simple decency or human rights. Some of you may wonder, who are we to interfere on matters pertaining to citizens within sovereign borders? A fair and valid point. So consider this¡­


    ¡°At some of the disasters we prevented over the past several months, you witnessed a mere glimpse of our potential, a fraction of what we can do, and nothing more.


    ¡°I referred to a straightforward fact earlier this evening in that we appear to have reached a pivotal time in the human narrative. A startling percentage of the populace is being born with the capacity for higher mind function. Indeed, the Guardians serving among you today are only in a position to help you now because they were discovered by others with capabilities like theirs, and invited into a wonderful family of likeminded soul-mariners who ¨C instead of living a life of self-centered luxury, financed by abusing their powers ¨C were motivated by a superior vision to put their talents to use, serving others.


    ¡°Tell me, who would you prefer to guide potential candidates? Experts like the teachers within the Guardian Academy, who have demonstrated their reliability for many, many years, or those within your own lands who seem hell-bent on riding roughshod over your basic rights? Who would you rather be in a position to influence such fledgling super minds? Someone with a genuine desire to serve the greater good or close-minded puppets who are really nothing more than representatives of the state?


    ¡°Would you feel comfy knowing that people with psi abilities were being manipulated in such a way? Intimidated, and forced by threat of violence to be good little soldiers? How secure would you feel knowing there were entities out there who were capable of taking advantage of you in all sorts of ways that you were powerless to prevent or resist?


    ¡°You see, gifted human beings can be a great blessing to society, or a deadly cancer. How they turn out is largely down to the individual themselves. Some will have immense moral fiber and personal discipline, as you can appreciate. But as those wiser among you know, environment and conditioning can also be a determining factor. To help you understand exactly what we mean, we ¨C the Guardians ¨C intend to take direct action, shortly, against those who have been acting against your best interests¡­¡±


    Vladimir sat back slightly, and as the studio returned to a natural level of illumination, a collective gasp resounded round the set.


    Standing directly behind him, on the far side of the couch, six figures dressed entirely in black waited; hoods forward, their heads bowed. Responding to an unheard command, each removed a silver-gray cylindrical object from within the folds of their cloaks. Moving in perfect unison, they swept their arms up and over, causing twin beams of coherent green light to sprout from openings at either end of the tubes like spring blades.


    As one, they slammed the butt-end of those glimmering shafts into the floor then fell still, motionless sentinels sent to guard against the darkness. The set, on the other hand, shook and everyone listened as a deep resonating boom reverberated off along the corridors.


    Without blinking, Vladimir Arihkin gestured to his colleagues. ¡°Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce you to a cadre of Grand Master Guardians, the team leaders of today¡¯s operation. You will have noticed they were able to teleport into the studio completely undetected, unlike me, who created a bit of a show in keeping with the spirit of the event. This should indicate that if we have to, we can execute an instantaneous tactical insertion into any venue we desire without drawing the slightest attention. Heed the demonstration for what it is. No one who breaks the law, no one who commits crimes against humanity will remain beyond our reach for long.¡±


    He turned to the operations manager. ¡°Katy, as well as helping me stuff my face, I understand you¡¯re coordinating the network for us today and keeping the various newsrooms around the world up to speed?¡±


    ¡°Er, ye-yes that¡¯s right.¡± Katy stammered in reply.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be nervous, my dear. I was wondering if you would be so kind as to ensure your mobile reporters in the places I¡¯m about to list are listening carefully. If you don¡¯t have anyone available in any specific location, let me know, and we can improvise with someone else, okay?¡±


    ¡°Certainly.¡±


    Standing, the Guardian Lord walked around to where his colleagues paraded in silence. After a brief pause, he commenced speaking slowly: ¡°Russia; China; Japan; Switzerland; Israel, and the United States of America.¡±


    As he said the name of each respective country, one of the Grand Masters stepped forward and swept back their hood, revealing the fact that they all seemed to be in their early thirties and in excellent shape. Every one of them exuded an aura of quiet competence, strength and ability.


    Catching Katy¡¯s attention again, Vladimir checked, ¡°Can you confirm your news crews are ready?¡±


    ¡°Yes, they heard and are all on standby, but you should be aware we couldn¡¯t get permission for an independent team in China. They have to have a representative of the People¡¯s Party with them at all times. And we don¡¯t have anyone in Russia. They completely shut us out.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s no problem, the People¡¯s Party representative will be most welcome to go along, and...¡± He lingered, midsentence and his eyes lost focus. ¡°Do you have any correspondents in Norway or Sweden, or anywhere like that who are watching, who might be prepared to assist us at short notice?¡±


    ¡°Yes, we do...in Norway I think.¡±


    ¡°Excellent. Please advise them to expect this Grand Master and her team in a few minutes.¡± Vladimir indicated an exceptionally athletic pale woman with smoldering hazel eyes, and a blonde bobbed haircut. Stepping forward, she made a point of looking directly into the camera and waved to ensure she would be identified. As she raised her hand, two silver bands on her sleeve became clearly visible.


    ¡°Will do,¡± Katy replied. ¡°Jon, Nils, did you see that? Make sure you¡¯re...¡± Her voice faded as she wandered off toward the back of the set, issuing instructions as she went.


    The Lord Conciliator waited until everything had settled then addressed the public once more. In a deliberate voice, he said, ¡°People of the world, I am talking at a measured pace now, to ensure that my words are fully understood. As I speak, Guardian technicians are implementing a voiceover sub routine into the signal to ensure my exact words are accurately translated into the tongues and dialects of the people manning each of the target facilities.


    ¡°In a few moments, the Grand Masters will rejoin their Guardian compatriots, at which point they will journey to those cities containing the waiting BBC news crews. After they have introduced themselves and briefed their civilian counterparts, the combined Guardian-BBC contingent will teleport directly to their respective locales where people are being held against their will. While there, they will effect the release of all those wanting to leave. Should any express a desire to remain with their captors, their wishes will be respected. But, be under no illusions; we will know without a shadow of a doubt if anyone is being coerced, directly or indirectly, through family or friends.¡±


    Vladimir¡¯s eyes shone brighter, their radiance becoming almost painfully intense before he made an effort to reduce their luminosity to a gentle glow.


    ¡°To the people currently manning those facilities, I wish to emphasize that we will extend the courtesy of arriving outside your respective workplaces. Once on site, we will approach any representative you may have on hand and request your co-operation to enter peaceably. If you exercise good judgment, matters will progress smoothly, and your governments will no doubt be viewed more favorably by the world. Note ¨C every effort will be made to give you the option of a nonaggressive response. I suggest you take it. Know that if you are unwise enough to attempt a show of force, the plasma batons my friends carry are capable of harnessing energies you are unfamiliar with. Together with the Grand Masters¡¯ powers, they are more than capable of incapacitating any resistance you might offer.¡±


    The image panned out again to show the Lord Conciliator standing next to his colleagues. Spinning crisply on the spot, he saluted them, whereupon they sheathed their staffs and vanished.


    Smiling to his hosts, Vladimir extinguished the fire of his gaze, strolled back round to his seat and sat down. ¡°More tea, anyone, it should still be quite hot?¡±


    ¡°Er, no thank you,¡± Robert mumbled.


    Sophia declined with a wave of her hand. ¡°What happens now?¡±


    ¡°Well, now we wait a few minutes so that appropriate introductions can be made, then we¡¯ll join in and see if commonsense prevails¡­or not, as the case may be.¡±


    ¡°So we¡¯ll definitely be in on the action?¡± Sophia still seemed surprised.


    ¡°Yes, of course, that¡¯s why we joined up with your colleagues on the ground. Guardian Command wants an independent third party to capture what takes place live on air, so the truth can¡¯t be denied. We can follow along with what takes place here in the comfort of the studio. Any preferences?¡±


    ¡°May I make a suggestion?¡± Robert asked.


    ¡°Please do,¡± Vladimir replied.


    ¡°A lot is bound to happen if we try to go to six different venues at once. If it¡¯s all being recorded anyway, why not stick to just one location now ¨C so it doesn¡¯t overwhelm the viewers ¨C then we can show the highlights after, or perhaps serialize each location in turn throughout the coming week.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s an excellent idea, Robert. So where would you like see?¡±


    Robert turned to his co-host. ¡°Lady¡¯s choice, Sophia?¡±


    Sophia considered her options. ¡°Well, I know you said the feed will be translated, but I think it would be the safest bet to go to an English speaking location. I guess that restricts us to America.¡±


    The Guardian Lord cocked his head slightly to one side, obviously communicating with someone mentally. It didn¡¯t take long. A few seconds later, he looked back to his hosts. ¡°Ready when you are, then. Would you like to make the announcement, or shall I?¡±


    Both presenters reeled backward in their seats, their hands held high in surrender.


    ¡°Chickens!¡± Vladimir grinned and turned to the cameras. ¡°Ladies and gentlemen, we are about to join the combined Guardian-BBC task force as they begin their operation to free a number of people held against their will in the USA. Please, try not to be upset at what you might witness. These events will be happening live, and staff currently on duty at the establishment you will see are bound to find themselves experiencing a certain amount of stress from the instant we arrive. Don¡¯t be surprised if they act out of character.¡±


    Vladimir¡¯s gaze fell to the tray of refreshments and his eyebrows flared in delight. Helping himself to more tea and biscuits, he sat back without a care in the world, while events unfolded that would forever go down in history.

 What a Difference a Day Makes

    BBC Studio¡ªWashington DC


    In the few minutes that had passed since the Grand Masters had departed BBC headquarters in London, all six of the preselected mobile response crews had been experiencing a strange sense of numbed, elated panic. And no one was more out of sorts than Cathy West, a twenty-six year old Languages graduate from Birmingham, England.


    Cathy had only been with the BBC for four years, before landing what she thought was a plum assignment in the USA just twelve months previously. Fluent in French, Italian, Spanish, and a number of South American sub dialects; her linguistic adroitness had earmarked her as a prime candidate for the America¡¯s Desk position when it eventually became vacant on the retirement of her boss, Henry Gould.


    A thirty year veteran of reporting the news from numerous places around the globe, Henry looked on Cathy as his prot¨¦g¨¦, and pushed her every chance he got. Not that he could do a lot of pushing at the moment ¨C or so Cathy had wrongly assumed ¨C for Henry had been laid up for the best part of two weeks with pneumonia.


    Thus, when the Guardian Angels had announced their intention to make a grand gesture on December 1st, Cathy hadn¡¯t batted an eyelid. She was new, she was still learning the ropes in many respects, and rising star or not, there was no way BBC executives would consider letting her anywhere near such a potentially important assignment.


    Her hypothesis had proven correct. Against Henry¡¯s wishes, the Overseas Director, Rupert Manning, had made arrangements for a more senior journalist from New York to travel down and oversee things on the day.


    But Cathy hadn¡¯t reckoned on Henry¡¯s tenacity.


    Woken at 3:00 a.m. Saturday morning by Rupert Manning himself, Cathy had bluntly been informed that she would now be heading the Washington team. Though still far from well, Henry Gould had evidently been haranguing the powers-that-be ¨C night and day ¨C loudly declaring that Cathy wouldn¡¯t let them down; she was just the man for the job; this arena was made for her, and they¡¯d be fools not to let her show them what she could do when thrown in at the deep end...


    Whatever else Henry said had moved mountains. And once the implications of responsibility came crashing down, Cathy didn¡¯t know whether to sing from the rooftops or hide in the corner, blubbering.


    Fortunately, Cathy¡¯s assigned cameraman, Mike Turner, had wide-ranging experience, having recorded news coverage in warzones as diverse as South Africa to Palestine, Beirut to Mongolia, and more recently, the Sangre Cartel uprising in Columbia. A calm and levelheaded guy, he had been able to spend the hours in between, helping keep her exuberance in check and reminding her that the odds of them actually being chosen for anything meaningful today were next to nothing.


    Then the special bulletin had started and Cathy realized odds didn¡¯t come into it any more. The USA was on a short list announced by the charming Guardian Representative, Vladimir Arihkin, which meant Cathy and Mike had spent the scant minutes since then in frenzied preparations ¨C and in Cathy¡¯s case ¨C a renewed state of heightened anxiety.


    The Lord Evaluator had gone on to clarify that a contingent of Guardians would be stopping off at their studio, before taking them on to some unknown location in the United States. Where, exactly, remained to be seen.


    What a difference a day makes, she thought, as four black-clad urban legends materialized out of thin air in front of her.


    <h6>*</h6>


    Yeung Technologies¡ªCEO¡¯s Private Suite¡ªOld District¡ªTokyo


    Phone in hand, Lei Yeung sat alone in his office, immotile upon the bank of TV screens before him, each tuned to a news channel from more than a dozen different lands.


    My God! He thought, thunderstruck by the direct action the Guardians were proposing. I¡¯m definitely going to have to revise my initial ideas on how we¡¯ll meet this peril¡­and after the call I¡¯ve just received from David Collins in the UK, all the more so.


    His brain in a whirl, Yeung made haste to sort through the implications of the pointed message delivered verbatim by one of his most reliable agents.


    I can appreciate David¡¯s unease. He¡¯s not one given to sensationalism, but this Victoria woman sounds like a force of nature. I know of only a handful of souls who can negate his skills so easily. Even armed as he was, he would have been no match for her. And that thinly veiled threat? I¡¯ll take it for what it was, a declaration of¡­?


    Yeung was disturbed by a light rapping on his door. A familiar telepathic hail caught his attention:


    It¡¯s me, Sir, may I come in?


    Putting this latest thorn in the flesh to the back of his mind, Yeung extended a verbal and mental invitation to his head of security. ¡°Come in, Harry. Glad to see you back. What have you got for me?¡±


    As Harry entered, Yeung could see his aura was tinged neon red¡ªa sure sign his trusted aide was highly emotional, angry, or excited.


    He launched straight into his report. ¡°I followed Espasito to his hotel, and then the airport the next day as you requested, and managed to stay in close proximity without being seen. Over that period, I was able to observe his thoughts clearly up until the time he was called through to the executive lounge.¡±


    ¡°And?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s as you suspected, Boss. He thinks you weak, and a fool for not taking a more insistent line. From what I can fathom, he intends to do something about it himself; first, to exact payback in a manner he thinks befits his station; secondly, as a means to elevate his status in the eyes of the other Apostles.¡±


    ¡°Oh, really? What is he planning, do you know?¡±


    ¡°No, Sir, he went beyond my range before I could ascertain those details. The only thing that¡¯s certain is his desire to act. But, I did find something else you might be interested in, if only to have it addressed.¡±


    ¡°Go on.¡±


    ¡°When I scanned him, I saw definite signs of a coercive matrix within the sub layers of his psyche. It was faint ¨C as it¡¯s designed to fade as time passes ¨C but someone has been fucking with his head and ensuring his naturally bluff and aggressive tendencies are hard for him to resist at the moment. I only spotted it because he¡¯s been under that impulse for a few months now and it¡¯s left a form of mental bruising that¡¯s slow to heal.¡±


    Intrigued, Yeung asked, ¡°And do you know who it is that¡¯s been tinkering with our brash newest addition?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sad to say that I do. Although she tried to hide the evidence of her tampering, the after-impression of her mental signature revealed the culprit as one of our own, Member Geraldine Connor. That¡¯s why I was so long getting back. I¡¯ve been checking things out, her end and delving into any unaccounted discrepancies.¡±


    Hailing from Los Angles, Geraldine Connor was thirty-two years old and your stereotypical blonde bombshell, an in-your-face, all-you-can-eat buffet of highly charged sensuality and pheromones. Highly empathic and compulsive, she had been an influential member of the board for the past two years following the death of her similarly talented mother, Janet.


    An astute businesswoman, Connor specialized in blackmail and the bartering of secrets, as vouchsafed by the endless stream of unwary and well-connected customers to her extensive Escort and Pornography Empire. A business that was ¨C in itself ¨C all perfectly legal, and which kept the Council¡¯s coffers well filled in more ways than one.


    Yeung was nevertheless genuinely surprised by this revelation. Only yesterday, Geraldine had been attempting to badger Yeung into visiting her in America to sample all the delights her home town could offer. ¡°Are you sure about this, Harry?¡±


    Harry opened his mind fully, displaying the irrefutable evidence of betrayal he had painstakingly uncovered and collated during the past few weeks.


    After double checking the information before him, Yeung was forced to agree, the facts seemed indisputable. Young, headstrong fools. Aloud, he said, ¡°Thank you, Harry. That will be all.¡±


    Once his head of security had left, Yeung spent time applying his considerable intellect to the complex dilemma facing him, before swiftly arriving at an acceptable way forward for each separate component.


    My suspicions would seem to be well founded. The Guardians are choosing candidates from among the general populace, and have been for some while now. I¡¯ve just got to determine how they do that? Is it purely a resources issue or down to superior technology? Whatever the method, they¡¯re well practiced, so it behooves me to tread carefully; perhaps by patient observation to begin with until we can determine the line of least resistance?


    In the meantime, this training academy of theirs may present us with possibilities we haven¡¯t yet considered, particularly if we can discover where it is.


    And, if we can¡¯t follow that thread, at least we now know there are those out there who, for whatever reason, declined the Guardians. Maybe they might be open to an alternate offer? But how to let them know such an alternative is available?


    Making a few notes to follow up on later, Yeung then turned his attention to the predicament presented by his wayward Members.


    Such a waste of a fine lawyer. For all his expertise, Luigi lacks stability and good judgment when it comes to personal matters. So what would Geraldine seek to gain from that? Power, influence, support¡­or a way to remove someone she sees as a rival? That notion appealed to Yeung¡¯s nature, though he was quick to dismiss it. Ah, but he¡¯s one of our own, and an Apostle at that. Such fruit is forbidden her unless sanctioned by my order.


    And as for Luigi himself, the temptation to see how this lunacy pans out is rather intoxicating. He does have considerable assets, after all, and it would be the perfect opportunity to test the Guardians¡¯ tenacity without risk to our organization.


    Yeung ran through several scenarios, mentally. But in each case, the underlying nuance of Victoria¡¯s warning ¨C so recently delivered ¨C came back to haunt his thoughts.


    Yes, whether Luigi is successful or not, he can¡¯t win. Outright failure will result in ostracism and such a loss of face that he¡¯ll never recover. And if he actually pulls it off¡­?


    The elderly crime boss put himself in his enemy¡¯s shoes.


    Their response would be terrible, especially if they manage to exact it out of the public eye. That¡¯s why I need to distance the Council from his scheme as much as¡­?


    And suddenly, all the pieces of a deadly jigsaw fell into place.


    Plausible deniability! I like the sound of that¡­after all, I did warn him off in front of the entire board. The only fly in the ointment I fear might be our young Miss Connor. But as the saying goes, ¡®if three¡¯s a crowd¡­?¡¯


    Yeung reached for the secure m-pad to place a vital call to Member Papadakos, who he was sure wouldn¡¯t be put out in the least at delaying the start of her current assignment. He knew she loved the beaches along the Pacific coastline at any time of the year, and the opportunity to hit the shops there before Christmas would put her in an amiable mood for what needed to be done.


    What a difference a day can make to your plans, he thought, as the line connected and began to ring.


    <h6>*</h6>


    Langley, Virginia.


    Section 6, Parapsychology Investigations Response and Research Unit¡ªAngel Project


    Ryan Lee was concerned.


    For one thing, he couldn¡¯t believe how quickly the world could turn upside down when karma decided to throw a wobbly. Friday felt like it was a million miles away now. A shame, for life had been good then; great in fact, ending on a high note with approval being granted for the battery of tests that would allow them to ascertain how valuable their latest catch was.


    Those trials were scheduled to begin after lunch today, and Ryan had gone to sleep in the duty room quite content and looking forward to what Saturday would bring. Even his chief, Gregory Harris, had been too excited to go home, and had spent the night on a fold-out bed in his office, no doubt dreaming of better things to come.


    The first time Ryan became aware something might be amiss was when he¡¯d been awoken at 6:00 a.m. by the Deputy Director of National Intelligence, Georgina Kent, stating that he was to wake Harris immediately and send him up to the George Bush Conference Room where a briefing of section heads was due to start in fifteen minutes time.


    Ryan himself had then been instructed to call in the Angel Project¡¯s dayshift straight away. The only inference he¡¯d been able to wrangle out of their tightlipped deputy director was, ¡°We¡¯ve hit unexpected snags and the mood for what we¡¯re doing might change.¡±


    What those snags were, exactly, had been left unsaid, and Ryan had been stewing over them ever since.


    When his colleagues arrived just over an hour ago, the atmosphere was understandably tense, with everyone complaining that they felt as if they were being forced to walk around blindfolded in a maze.


    Then the program had started, beamed live from Broadcasting House, London, to just about anywhere that could receive a signal. Of course, they had breathed a huge sigh of relief. One look at Vladimir Arihkin was all it took, for surely, such a genial looking ambassador wouldn¡¯t be the bearer of bad tidings?


    How wrong they¡¯d been. The amiable Lord Conciliator went on to prove that a wolf really could appear in sheep¡¯s clothing, by disclosing ¨C only at the last ¨C that the Guardians had a tactical grasp on international events that would put most covert agencies to shame.


    In no uncertain terms, Arihkin had revealed his people knew exactly what each nation had been up to in seeking to gain the advantage in the so-called psychic arms race, and that they were determined to do something about it.


    Needless to say, Liz Watkins, the shift leader for the day, remained glued to the screen, as did most of her team, Ian Cooke, Brian Hooker, and Colum O¡¯Hagan. Sarah Smith ¨C the only one missing ¨C had already entered the assessment room with Maggie Creegan by then to be briefed on the preceding day¡¯s activities, and the planned curriculum for the child if things were still allowed to proceed as intended. Even so, the small portable TV was on in the background, and from the repeated glances both woman kept casting its way, they were following along.


    Less than one minute ago, Harris had returned, ashen faced and obviously flustered. Refusing to talk to anyone, he¡¯d locked himself away in his office to the chorus of multiple incoming calls.


    Studying his friend now through the plate glass window, Ryan could see Greg becoming hot under the color and slowly turning purple with rage. The veins on his temples are up¡­that is not a good sign.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    Someone took a seat next to Ryan.


    ¡°Hey, Ryan,¡± Liz murmured through clenched teeth. Jutting her chin toward their beleaguered boss, she hissed, ¡°What do you think they¡¯ll tell him to do?¡±


    ¡°Hell, Liz, I don¡¯t have a clue. Though from what that Conciliator guy said, I think it¡¯s obvious they¡¯ll come for us. We were on the list.¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t stand a chance. Did you see those light sabers they had?¡±


    ¡°Plasma staffs,¡± Brian Hooker interrupted, ¡°they call them plasma staffs, and they look a nasty bit of kit.¡±


    ¡°Whatever,¡± Liz replied. ¡°I bet those things would slice through the titanium doors of this place like a hot knife through butter.¡±


    ¡°Or us,¡± Ryan chafed, consumed by a sudden worry.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Think about it Liz, if we¡¯re told to resist, do you seriously think anyone will come and help out, or call us to a weapon¡¯s locker to collect our Guardian killing ray guns?¡±


    ¡°Shit! I didn¡¯t think of that.¡±


    Spinning in his seat, Colum O¡¯Hagen gestured back toward the main screen, ¡°We¡¯ll find out soon enough. The Grand Masters have just disappeared from the studio.¡±


    Everyone jumped as Greg Harris slammed his way out of his office. ¡°Listen up people ¨C you¡¯re not going to believe what we have to do.¡±


    As he started filling them in on the delights about to come their way, they couldn¡¯t fail to notice the stress etched in granite upon his blanched, sweating brow.


    Lee thought to himself, He¡¯s ready to pop. And to think only yesterday he was the happiest I¡¯ve seen him in a long time. What a difference a day can make!


    <h6>*</h6>


    Langley Virginia


    Outside the New Building¡ªCIA Headquarters.


    Reality became insubstantial, losing both texture and color. Cathy West caught her breath, the gray limbo freezing her lungs as it suspended the flow of blood through her veins. Then she blinked, and everything came back into focus in glaring solar bright clarity.


    Yeeha! She screamed to herself unashamedly, like a child at a fairground, what a rush. Suddenly desperate for air, Cathy inhaled raggedly and turned on the spot to take in her new surroundings.


    The latest extension to grace the headquarters building at Langley had been designed to flow into the preexisting structure with seamless grace. Indeed, the new frontage displayed flowerbeds, landscaped gardens and manicured walkways to such good effect, that not only did they mask the sheer acreage of the surrounding satellite parking lots, but they reminded Cathy of being back in university.


    Aesthetic waterfalls and modern sculptures positioned on either side of a panoramic sliding doorway leading into a terrariumlike lobby only added to the impact. Sadly, the welcoming ambiance this would have created was somewhat spoilt by the multitudinal alarms and red lights, wailing and flashing from all quarters at once.


    From her position fifty yards along the main concourse, Cathy could see armed guards rushing to take up their positions as if their lives depended on it. Jesus, talk about a severe case of overreaction?


    While she appreciated the sight of a BBC News crew on their front lawn wasn¡¯t what the CIA would have hoped for at this time in the morning, it wasn¡¯t Cathy or her cameraman ¨C Mike Turner ¨C who had caused such an adverse reaction. That particular honor was reserved for their escorts now arrayed in a loose circle about them, four black-clad Guardians.


    The Grand Master, recognizable to some from the earlier televised exclusive, motioned with his hand and they began strolling slowly as a group towards the main doors. A small crowd that had been taken unawares by their arrival parted like the red sea before him.


    He smiled warmly to those he passed, ¡°Good day to you. Please don¡¯t be too alarmed, we¡¯re only here to pick up a few people, and then we¡¯ll be out of your way.¡±


    As they walked, Cathy activated her mini-fleck link to splice into what Mike was actively viewing through his eyepiece, and kept going through the commander¡¯s last minute instructions in her head, given to her just before their departure from Washington:


    ¡°Relax as much as you can, act naturally and simply report what you see and hear as it happens around us.¡±


    He had indicated a dusky Mediterranean woman, identifying her as the BBC crew¡¯s protector. ¡°Helene will be looking after you, so the rest of the team and I can get in and out with the minimum of fuss, and not have to worry about you, okay?¡±


    Cathy had to pinch her arm on several occasions to remind herself it was all real and she wasn¡¯t dreaming. Mike, on the other hand, had just nodded briefly, before continuing to check his equipment, clearly unfazed. A fact not unnoticed by the Guardians.


    The Grand Master had then revealed their call signs for the operation.


    ¡°So you don¡¯t get tongue-tied or mixed up over names, just refer to me as Alpha. Helene is Bravo. Don¡¯t forget, she will shield you from anything unpleasant. That man over there will be Charlie,¡± the Guardian expounded, ¡°our specialist healer. And the other lady is, believe it or not, Delta. We will be communicating mentally, as it¡¯s a lot faster, but will speak out loud if we need you to do anything specific or for the benefit of viewers at home. Do you both understand?¡±


    No sooner had they nodded in confirmation than Cathy felt as if she¡¯d stepped through Alice¡¯s looking glass. One moment, everyone was clustered together in the green room back at the studio, then ¨C after a disconcerting frost pins-and-ice needles feeling accompanied by a moment¡¯s disorientation ¨C they were here, standing in the cold sunshine in the middle of a pack of startled people.


    In a loose huddle, they moved toward the sensor operated ingress, all the time making sure to encourage bystanders who were doing their best to get out of the way.


    When they reached the atrium, however, they discovered the power had been cut. Peering inside, Cathy could see people in and out of uniform fanning out into a defensive cordon. She made haste to mention the quickly escalating animosity.


    Alpha turned to the cameraman. ¡°Are you getting the hard line reaction to our presence, Mike? Please note in particular, they are not only equipped with handguns, but there appear to be people joining them with both low and high caliber rifles. And if I¡¯m not mistaken, are some of them toting stun grenades as well?¡±


    Mike panned his videocorder from side to side. ¡°Just do your thing, and I¡¯ll do mine. I¡¯m alternating between natural view and close-up so the folks back home can see the extent of the overkill and what these jokers are packing. Cathy and I are patched through to each other by a live mini-link, so don¡¯t sweat it. We¡¯ve got this well covered between us.¡±


    The Grand Master looked impressed. Flashing a thumbs-up, he returned his attention to the obstacle ahead. Waving to those arrayed inside, he called, ¡°Hi. Look, you know who we are and why we¡¯re here¡­¡±


    In response, several of the more determined security protection personnel lowered their centers of gravity and trained their weapons directly at him.


    Continuing his attempt to reason, Alpha declared, ¡°And I¡¯m sure you¡¯re equally aware that cutting the electricity isn¡¯t going to make a damned bit of difference. The entrance is made of glass. I¡¯d prefer not to damage anything if I¡¯m forced to give the motor mechanism a bit of a nudge, so I¡¯ll tell you what. If one of you would be so kind as to think where the controls are and how they work, I¡¯d be very grateful.¡±


    Unused to the wiles of mental mischief, someone among the reception staff must have considered exactly what Alpha needed.


    ¡°Thank you very much.¡± He smiled, clicked his fingers, and the two huge panes retracted with a distinctive hum.


    That hum was drowned out a fraction of a second later by the sound of weapons discharging. Phutum ¨C Phutum ¨C Phutum ¨C Phutum!


    Thick smoke began forming a fluctuating veil across the lobby. Bright flashes and percussive reports punctuated the curtain a heartbeat later, generating shockwaves that stirred those mists into an agitated brume.


    Inspired, Cathy¡¯s gaze snapped left and right, up and down. She commenced a new narrative, concentrating on the damming evidence as it unfolded about her. The ultimate professional, Mike followed her lead and endeavored to capture everything in resplendent digipixel-glory.


    Bravo¡¯s hand on her shoulder alerted Cathy to something she¡¯d missed within the protective environs of her invisible cocoon.


    The waiting security force hadn¡¯t been content to respond with flash-bangs and stun grenades alone. Now Cathy was able to gather her wits a little, she could see their opening statement had also included a shocking volume of Taser darts.


    More than a dozen barbs had been arrested, midflight, by the denying substance of the shield encompassing her. Hanging in the air not five feet from Cathy¡¯s face, they continued to spit and spark, reminding her of fulgurous dandelion seeds.


    Somehow, those aimed at the outlying Guardians had struck home, and from the rapid tempo of urgent clicks assailing Cathy¡¯s ears, their operators weren¡¯t keen to let go of their triggers.


    How did they manage¡­?


    Even so, such enthusiasm seemed a wasted effort, for none of those strikes had any discernible effect that Cathy could see. Throughout an attack that lasted more than a minute, Alpha, Charlie and Delta stared back at their aggressors, impassively.


    Ah, I see. Cathy breathed a sigh of relief. It¡¯s a demonstration.


    Noting the mounting disbelief among the guards, Alpha spoke. ¡°There really is no need for this, you know. You¡¯re just tickling us and we¡¯re only here to retrieve citizens of your own country who don¡¯t deserve to be incarcerated in the way they have been. So, when are you going to grow up and start communicating?¡±


    His comments were like a red rag to a bull. The massed ranks opened up with everything they had, engulfing the Grand Master¡¯s party in a torrential onslaught of lead.


    Cathy flinched in spite of the intervening screen, and was rocked to her core as the deadly barrage continued for more than thirty seconds.


    She caught sight of movement in her peripheral vision and reflexively adjusted to incorporate the development into her commentary. ¡°As viewers will note, some of the officers here are using the desks and counters as cover and are edging out toward the sides of the foyer. I can only assume they are angling for a better shot. Like me, I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll be asking yourselves why America¡¯s finest are doing all they can to take down the Guardians ¨C who don¡¯t forget, have two civilians in their midst ¨C when no violence has been offered in return?¡±


    As the assault continued unabated, Alpha calmly turned to his companions and briefly looked to each of them in turn.


    He must be issuing instructions, Cathy thought.


    Alpha¡¯s extrasensory presence answered in her head: That¡¯s right. Charlie will soon disappear for a few minutes to retrieve the documentation we require that shows exactly what¡¯s been going on here and by whose authority. Don¡¯t be anxious when he suddenly leaves us, he won¡¯t be gone long. For now, though, I¡¯m going to end this silliness. I can sense you¡¯re intuitive, so I¡¯ll leave this psychic channel open to let you listen in to our open exchanges. Try not to let it distract you from your own job.


    Looking first to Delta ¨C who grinned and nodded ¨C and then to Bravo, Alpha returned his consideration to the matter of the assembled goons. The incoming blitz actually intensified under his scrutiny. Then he raised his hand.


    An abrupt stillness fell across the hall.


    Through her mini-link, Cathy could see that Mike had managed to capture the image of the thousands of bullets that now hovered in front of them like an occluding swarm of angry metallic hornets. Alpha gestured, and the slugs dropped to the floor in a cascade of tinkling dross.


    The Guardian leader was so furious he could only express himself by way of a harsh whisper. Nevertheless, in the ensuing silence each word rang with the clarity of a hammer striking an anvil. ¡°Are you really that stupid?¡± he growled, ¡°do you realize what would have happened if we¡¯d erected a hard shield instead of a density barrier? Can you even begin to comprehend how many of you would have been cut down by ricochets? And all because of your own lack of professionalism and self-control.¡±


    Comprehension dawned. Some turned pale. Others staggered to nearby chairs. A few even had the decency to appear ashamed.


    ¡°Enough!¡± He shouted loudly, at the same time mentally signaling to Delta: Okay, take them!


    Delta stepped forward two paces, raising her right arm and clenching her fist as she did so. A number of the protection staff reacted instinctively and resumed their firing postures.


    By the time they had managed to bring their hands up, their weapons had been yanked from their grasps, slings, or holsters, into what looked like a constellation of tiny spinning black holes that now warped the intervening space between the two parties.


    Shocked, they retreated several yards. Cathy could tell by the horrified looks cast their way that some were clearly worried they might be swallowed themselves.


    Still linked telepathically, Alpha picked up on Cathy¡¯s emotions and addressed their suddenly ¨C not so confident ¨C opponents himself.


    ¡°Oh don¡¯t worry. Despite your totally unjustified hostility, we won¡¯t respond in kind. The Guardians value human life, which is why I¡¯m going to make sure you don¡¯t have any further opportunity to hurt us, or anyone else for that matter.¡±


    Without warning, both he and Delta brandished their plasma staffs. Twin beams burst to life spontaneously. Slamming them into the ground, they unleashed an undulant wave of emerald green force that rolled outwards in an ever expanding circle. Everyone the rippling halo encountered fell to the ground, unconscious. The building shook; its fixtures and fittings continuing to rattle long after the floor and walls had absorbed the potency of the cryptic energies just released.


    It was only then Cathy realized that Charlie had vanished, off doing whatever his part of this mission was.


    The Guardians spent a few moments employing their telekinesis to remove any remaining Taser darts from their uniforms. That completed, the group moved forward again, toward the older part of the building.


    Cathy took her time, ensuring not to step on any of the prone figures now littering the floor and ensuring those looking on at home would be able to witness for themselves the fact that not one CIA employee had been injured beyond being rendered unconscious.


    Behind her, Bravo dropped back a few paces. ¡°Nothing to be concerned about, I¡¯m just giving myself room to maneuver should the need arise,¡± she explained. ¡°You¡¯d have to be over a hundred feet away to start testing the limits of my shield.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s good to know,¡± Cathy replied gratefully.


    Busy concentrating on capturing everything he could, Mike didn¡¯t even bother replying. That drew smirks from the other Guardians, who seemed to enjoy the oasis of calm he radiated in the middle of such a tense situation.


    Reaching the end of the access strip, they turned left and continued on past startled workers toward the inner sanctum of the most coveted intelligence agency in the western world. A few minutes later, at a point close to where old and new merged, they found Charlie waiting for them outside an impressively armored door. He had a mixed audience with him, comprised of suits ¨C all busily gabbing at different volumes into their scroll phones and m-pads ¨C and uniformed staff who didn¡¯t quite know how to react. That they were aware of events at the main entrance was obvious, for none were keen to offer resistance.


    The Guardian commander made eye contact with his team member. Cathy didn¡¯t miss how Alpha¡¯s brows knitted in response to whatever information was being transferred into his mind.


    He looks upset?


    Alpha nodded and tuned to the camera. ¡°For those of you watching who might be wondering where my colleague has been, he has just secured all documentation held at this facility relating to something called the Angel Project. Those files will be delivered in full to this country¡¯s leader later this evening. Heavily sanitized copies will be prepared and passed to a selection of your major news networks as soon as is possible.


    ¡°That project is the reason we are here today. In a few moments, we will venture beyond the portal where my colleague is standing. There we will find a number of American citizens, ranging in age from just five years old to eighty-four. Yes people, you heard me. We have minors and retired folks down there who don¡¯t know what¡¯s going on. From what we have ascertained so far, all but one are here against their will, and all have varying degrees of psychic ability. It is our understanding that they have been subjected to invasive scientific procedures sanctioned as part of a precursive regimen intended to condition their compliance and prepare them for deployment against the enemies of the United States.


    ¡°This helps explain why we came in through the main entrance to Langley as opposed to the stand-alone reinforced bunker access the Angel Project also possesses ¨C situated in the woods a quarter of a mile away to the west. We needed you to see for yourselves just how involved the higher echelons of government are with this venture¡­¡± He pointed to the shining titanium panels adorning the exterior fa?ade of the hatch, ¡°They have their own private entrance inside the headquarters itself.


    ¡°And speaking of the administration, it may also amuse you to know that one of the gentlemen in front of us just offered my colleague a job, and asked that he pass that invitation on to the rest of us.¡±


    Smirking, the Grand Master shrugged and leaned closer to the camera. ¡°Ah, the burdens of possessing the correct curriculum vitae¡­¡±


    Then he sobered and inclined his head toward Cathy and Mike. ¡°My scans of the area show it gets confined as we go in and down. We¡¯ll do our best to give you as much room as possible to capture what¡¯s going on, but stay close. There are a number of obstacles we need to overcome that involve deterrents harmful to your physiology, okay?¡±


    Both reporters nodded, and subconsciously edged closer to Bravo as everyone moved toward the final stage of their journey.


    Charlie turned to consider the electronic checkpoint barring their way. From what Cathy could determine, it was comprised of a straightforward keypad and bar-coded swipe card port.


    A faint thrumming sound intruded, followed by a loud buzz. The door slid away into a recess, drawing a shout of alarm from the younger of the suits. The security detail looked to a silver haired older man for direction, but a warning gesture from Delta confounded any permission to engage. Evidently, the rutilant sphere of sizzling plasma ¨C roughly the size of a basketball ¨C that she manifested only inches from their feet was enough of an incentive to remind them not to be stupid.


    As the Guardian team filed into the hall beyond, Delta moved her incentive into the threshold and expanded its dimensions until the way was blocked. ¡°That should hold for fifteen minutes or so. By then, it¡¯ll be too late to stop us.¡±


    Cathy turned to find her reflection staring back at her from the dimmed interior of a waiting elevator car. Have they cut everything in here too?


    Charlie must have heard her sub-vocal musing.


    ¡°I¡¯m on it.¡± He rushed to examine an automated sentry port, similar to the one outside. ¡°How boring, you think they¡¯d imagine something different. Hang on a tic¡­¡±


    Closing his eyes, Charlie concentrated on the task at hand and fell still. Within seconds, two green dials illuminated on the screen in front of him, as did the overhead lights within the lift. Soft background music started to play, a discordant jazz version of ¡°Fly Me to The Moon.¡±


    Delta cringed and chewed on her knuckle. ¡°Damn, the torment must start the moment they bring you in here.¡±


    ¡°Well, get used to it,¡± Charlie retorted, ¡°I¡¯ve looped the power supply so it can¡¯t be disturbed for another five to ten minutes. That¡¯ll give us enough time to listen to this crappy track and whatever else they want to insult our ears with. Oh, I¡¯ve also neutralized the charges on the elevator cables and breaks, just in case they get decide to get sneaky.¡±


    ¡°It wouldn¡¯t pose much of a problem to us, anyway.¡± Delta mumbled quietly to Cathy and Mike.


    ¡°Why¡¯s that, telekinesis?¡± Mike queried, expressing himself aloud for the first time since they¡¯d entered the building.


    ¡°Well, would you credit it, he speaks,¡± Delta replied, punching him on the arm in a playful manner. ¡°Right the first time; all of us have it in varying degrees¡­¡±


    But she hadn¡¯t done teasing him. Pressing her nose firmly into the lens of his videocam, Delta vented her grievance on the watching public, ¡°God, some people. They just don¡¯t know when to shut up!¡±


    Regardless of the setting, everyone burst out laughing.


    The sound of their receding hilarity caused the stranded suits and security detail to wonder what on earth was going on.


    <h6>*</h6>


    The unfortunate agents trapped within the secure rooms of the Angel Project over four hundred feet down could only wait and listen with mounting trepidation as the Guardians made their inextricable way toward them.


    A succession of reverberating booms tolled out the gradual obliteration of every checkpoint like a death knell. As each post met its end, the groaning, shrieking complaint wrung from the weakening infrastructure grew louder and louder. Vibrations and after tremors became ever more pronounced. In due course ¨C amid the confusing panoply of stuttering illumination, swirling dust and falling debris ¨C the bombardment reached a crescendo. Everyone held their breath, waiting for the final nail to be driven into their coffins and the inner doors to be blasted from their hinges in triumph.


    When it came, the simple knock and accompanying sound of grinding hinges was more chilling than an explosion could ever be.

 Someone You Can Trust

    While the rest of Guardian team filed into the main office, Alpha immediately made his way over to those people grouped together, kneeling in submission in front of a large counter.


    ¡°Please get up,¡± he urged softly. ¡°It must be uncomfortable enough as it is without you having to do that. If you have any refreshments, I think we can resolve the situation over a nice hot drink¡­or whatever else you might have handy?¡±


    As the dejected agents moved to comply, several heads turned toward one of the men who had remained slumped on the floor. Staring at the carpet, his pupils were dilated, his skin had assumed a sickly, waxy pallor, and his jaw wagged vacantly from side to side as if something was worrying his back teeth.


    So that¡¯s Gregory Harris, the section chief. The Grand Master¡¯s probe delved through the outer layers of a troubled mentality and swiftly recognized the conflicting tides now in danger of red-lining: constraint and demand; self-consuming fury and emasculating helplessness; suppressed authority and enforced humiliation ¨C and suddenly ¨C an overwhelming weight that seemed to bludgeon its way into his awareness, before sinking like a hot spike toward his ability to function cognitively.


    What the¡­? An embolism!


    Diagnosing the onset of a stroke, Alpha issued a ringing summons for their specialist healer to attend him, and sent his own ultrasenses boring into the stricken man in a search for any weaknesses and chokepoints he could find.


    Years spent nursing a bad diet, appalling sleeping habits and a tendency to push himself too hard, quickly became apparent. As did the hypertension Harris now suffered from. It was inevitable he¡¯d become a walking time bomb waiting to go off.


    Alpha didn¡¯t have time to deliberate on the ravages such a lifestyle had wrought, for the rupture about to take place within Harris¡¯ left middle cerebral artery would damage those nerves feeding his prefrontal cortex and Broca¡¯s area. A skilled paramedic himself, Alpha simply froze Harris¡¯ limbic system within the jacket of a hyperspatial matrix ¨C thereby suspending his patient within a microsecond of actuality ¨C giving him ample opportunity to confer with Charlie, a qualified doctor.


    To those looking on, Harris appeared to have turned to stone while the two Guardians hunched over him with their eyes closed and their fingertips pressed to various parts of his body.


    Seconds ticked slowly by, extending the silence into unbearable solitude. Eventually, Alpha stood, stretched, and walked across to join the rest of the mixed gathering on the other side of the room.


    One of the men ¨C Ryan Lee, from the information his thoughts yielded ¨C was coming to the end of explaining Harris¡¯ story to Bravo and Delta. ¡°¡­until this damned initiative started. We¡¯ve been under pressure to get results ever since, and Greg more than most, especially with the budget they dangled under his nose. And, well, with the way he is, it was only a matter of time until they pushed him into a heart attack.


    ¡°Ryan, isn¡¯t it?¡± Bravo asked.


    When he nodded, she continued. ¡°Charlie will be busy for a few minutes yet, so why don¡¯t you all try and relax and keep everyone busy? It really will make things go that little bit easier and...¡±


    Alpha could see everything appeared to be well in hand. His squad was taking control, Cathy and Mike were endeavoring to capture as much detail as they could regarding the facility itself, and apart from the project¡¯s chief, there had been no casualties.


    Good, we¡¯re ma ¨C? The protest of metal and stone under stress moaned throughout the superstructure. Anxious eyes turned toward him. That¡¯s a point!


    Raising his hand to forestall a host of questions, Alpha opened his mind and made contact with Guardian Observation Station One, in geostationary orbit above the North Pole: Guys, if you¡¯ve been following, this place isn¡¯t as robust as we were led to believe. Can you send down a batch of mobile emitters to keep things tidy until we¡¯re ready to extract?


    Roger that, a disembodied voice confirmed.


    Moments later, a dozen silver tubelike devices with foldout tripod legs appeared on the floor in front of him. He gave a command and Bravo and Delta commenced placing them around the extremities of the facility at strategic points. As the last one snapped into position, all twelve activated simultaneously. A deep thrum permeated the fabric of the floors and walls, creating a distinct impression of insects crawling across the skin.


    Referring to it, Alpha declared, ¡°Our efforts to get in here were more destructive than I anticipated, so we¡¯ve had to ensure everything remains intact until it¡¯s time for us to leave. That tingling sensation you felt was a reactive forcefield going up. It¡¯s safe to throw a party now, if you want to.¡±


    As he spoke, he scanned the Angel Project staff in their entirety, sifting through their identities and memories in an attempt to see how they were coping and who would be the most useful ones to get onside.


    Professionals all, they seemed to be taking the change of circumstances in their stride. One ¨C Brian Hooker ¨C was more accepting than most, and the mere mention of a party had spurred him into being a more congenial host.


    ¡°Well, tea and coffee all round then,¡± he said with only a modicum of false bravado, ¡°or we have something stronger¡­if you¡¯d prefer?¡±


    ¡°What, Ovaltine?¡± Delta was up to her tricks again.


    ¡°Oooh, you¡¯re really good. You caught me.¡± Brian raised his hands. ¡°I admit it, I was gonna try and put you all to sleep with milky malty goodness before making my escape. Is it okay for me to use the mess room or do I need an escort?¡±


    Plain to Alpha¡¯s refined acuity, Delta¡¯s farsight drilled into the rest area. ¡°No problem,¡± she crooned, ¡°in fact, I¡¯ll help out, and you can give me the chocolate biscuits to take extra special care of.¡±


    Brian studied her quizzically. She tapped the side of her head, grinning. ¡°You can¡¯t lie to me; I know you¡¯ve got some. And you keep them in the refrigerator, too, just the way I like them.¡±


    Shrugging his shoulders in resignation, Brian led her toward the kitchen and she began to regale him on the benefits of chilling anything containing her favorite food item.


    Their banter seemed to ease the tension and Alpha found it most welcoming, as indeed was the news Charlie had just passed his way.


    Thank God for that.


    Spinning on the spot, he saw Charlie place a folded jacket beneath their sleeping patient¡¯s head. Then he stood and dusted himself down. Alpha¡¯s sudden movement drew everybody¡¯s attention, and before he could prevent it, they were crowding around the fallen boss, and getting in the way of the camera team.


    ¡°Will he be alright?¡± Ryan wondered aloud.


    ¡°Yes Ryan, he will be,¡± Alpha assured him as he fell in alongside. ¡°I¡¯m a Master Class healer ¨C amongst other things ¨C but my colleague, Charlie, is a borderline specialist Grand Master. So Greg is in very good hands. He¡¯s just initiated a cathartic nexus to siphon off the pressure, and as it reduces over the next few minutes, Charlie will repair the weakened veins and capillaries. He¡¯ll need to sleep for a day or two once he¡¯s home, but I¡¯m assured there are absolutely no signs of signs of dysphasia, dysarthria or hemiplegia. Neither will there will any short-term side effects. Nevertheless, it¡¯s important to give him some space for a while. I believe Greg¡¯s office has a bed inside it?¡±


    ¡°Yes, it does,¡± Ryan confirmed. ¡°If you¡¯re thinking of putting him in there, is it okay if I sit with him? We¡¯ve been buddies for some years now.¡±


    ¡°Of course. I can ask your colleague, Liz, to help. I understand she¡¯s your counterpart?¡±


    ¡°Yes, although she hasn¡¯t been briefed on our latest arrival yet, the little girl who came in over the weekend.¡±


    ¡°That shouldn¡¯t cause any problems. We already have copies of the documents we need, so we can use those as a base plate to start with, and go over each guest¡¯s record as they¡¯re brought up from the holding area downstairs.¡±


    ¡°Okay then,¡± Ryan replied vaguely, his concern for his colleague clearly outweighing his surprise at how well the Guardians knew the layout of the facility.


    Lost in thought, the CIA operative waited, unsure of what to do next, and Alpha had to tap him on the shoulder to alert him as Harris floated past their position, propelled along under the steady influence of telekinesis.


    Charlie caught Ryan¡¯s attention. ¡°Not to pry, but I overheard what you¡¯ve been saying. It will be good to have someone sit with Gregory. Let me get him comfy, and then I¡¯ll usher everyone else out and make sure you two are left in peace, okay?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, thanks Doc,¡± Ryan mumbled, ¡°much appreciated.¡±


    He went to follow along, but Alpha caught him by the elbow. ¡°Ryan, I¡¯d be grateful if you would do something for me?¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°It might not seem like it at the moment, but tell Greg how lucky he was that we were actually here today. Even had we not paid you a visit, that stroke was an axe waiting to fall ¨C maybe not for six months, maybe not for a year ¨C but it would have got him in the end. His lifestyle is killing him. If you truly value your relationship, tell him to think about a career change or he won¡¯t live to see his retirement. Trust me!¡±


    ¡°Oh, I trust you, believe me. I mean, you saved him when you didn¡¯t have to. Many people wouldn¡¯t have done it given the choice.¡±


    And with that, Ryan entered the room, turned off the lights, closed the door, and sat next to his friend in the darkness.


    Alpha watched the two men for several minutes until his presence was required back in the main office where Bravo had been arranging for the systematic release of the prisoners held in secure rooms a floor below. Copies of their files lay on the desk in front of her and she was discussing the first subject ¨C Robin Johns ¨C with Liz Watkins as Alpha strolled over to rejoin them.


    ¡°So he¡¯s been on the streets for what, seven or eight years now?¡± Bravo asked.


    ¡°As far as we know,¡± Watkins admitted. ¡°Records confirm him at Trinity Island School back in 2028, but after that, he must have dropped out.¡±


    ¡°Any family?¡±


    ¡°None to speak of. His mother, Ellen, was a single mom and an alcoholic. There were a string of abusive boyfriends, many of whom were less than cordial to Rob, so he was left to fend for himself most days. He had to wash, cook, clean, get to and from school. Sadly, it¡¯s a common neglect pattern we see all too often. When he¡¯d eventually had enough and dropped out and disappeared, she didn¡¯t even know her precious little boy was gone.¡±


    ¡°And how did he come to notice?¡± Alpha inquired.


    ¡°Part of the initiative was to correlate out of the ordinary behavior, patterns and reports. We found a well fed, very childishly dressed, reclusive bum who had all sorts of stuff in an Aladdin¡¯s Cave of a den, who simply didn¡¯t get hassled by any of the other homeless strays. It stood out a mile. We don¡¯t know for sure, but it looks like a combination of neglect, loneliness, having to survive on the streets and the emergence of his gifts tipped him over the edge.¡±


    ¡°So how did you get him in?¡±


    ¡°Big Macs mostly.¡±


    ¡°Sorry?¡± Alpha couldn¡¯t hide his astonishment.


    ¡°Big Macs. Rob has quite a telekinetic punch, and had been reduced to using his talents to fend off anyone bothering him¡­or to get his necessities, like food, clothes, and toys. So when we brought him gifts and a burger instead, and offered him a place to stay, he just got up, sauntered past the Snoop Team and walked straight up to the unmarked ¨C and supposedly covert ¨C wagon out in the street, and got in. He was our first find, and has been with us over a month now.¡±


    Bravo hid her exasperation well and telepathically vented on her commander: How in the blazes did we miss someone like him?


    Don¡¯t fret yourself, shit like this happens, Alpha replied: We¡¯ll find out for sure when Charlie does an initial assay of Robin¡¯s abilities, but don¡¯t be surprised if we discover our boy has strong shielding capabilities. Think of what he¡¯s been through. If he got into the habit of hiding away from others over the years, it stands to reason he would do the same subconsciously as his talents emerged.


    Alpha then spoke out loud. ¡°Right, let¡¯s get the ball rolling, shall we? The quicker we get this done, the quicker we can get out of here.¡±


    Bravo nodded and turned to Watkins. ¡°This shouldn¡¯t take long as we¡¯re merely collating your initial assessment against the register of those in custody. We¡¯ll wait until we get them back to one of our own facilities to give them a full rundown and medical. If you like, I¡¯ll come with you to fetch Robin and make sure he stays in a good mood.¡±


    As both women got up and began walking toward a specialized security airlock near the back of the office, Watkins ventured, ¡°It¡¯s a pity you don¡¯t have a Big Mac to hand, he loves them. That would definitely help soften the blow of all these strange new faces.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯ve got something much more distracting for him,¡± Bravo countered mysteriously, patting her side.


    There¡¯s a thought, it might be a good idea to make things more homely up here? Alpha called Cathy and Mike to his side, ¡°Could you two please wait near the rest area? This young man has been held here for a while and might feel pressured if he sees a camera straight away. In fact, it would be beneficial if you hung back a little to begin with, full stop. Let everyone settle and get used to the idea they¡¯re actually going home, and I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll have more than enough willing participants to interview. How does that sound?¡±


    The BBC news crew glanced at each other and shrugged. ¡°Fine by us,¡± Cathy assured him, ¡°we can record them as they come into the office to give the viewing public an idea of just how many you¡¯ve helped here today, and once you know for sure who the more laidback ones are, just give us the nod, and we¡¯ll move in for a little one-on-one chat.¡±


    ¡°Excellent, I¡¯ll get someone to drop a list of names and photos across so you can¡­¡± The Grand Master caught himself midsentence, as if his attention was suddenly elsewhere. Then his face creased with pleasure. ¡°Get ready, you¡¯re about to find out what Bravo¡¯s surprise present is.¡±


    Seconds later, an extremely happy Robin Johns was escorted into the room. Attired in a bed sheet that had been wrapped about him in the manner of a robe, and armed with his very own, extremely lifelike Jedi light saber, he was heavily engaged in fighting off whatever imaginary foes were daring to attack him from every side.


    Cathy and several of the CIA agents appeared quite shocked, until Alpha pointed out the plasma staffs could be locked onto different settings. In its current configuration, Bravo¡¯s weapon was quite safe to play with, even with one of the beams deployed.


    Alpha didn¡¯t miss how people seemed to react to his statement in one of two ways: most of the women present were united in their concerned disbelief; the men, by their longing or lustful envy.


    In any event, protected under the benevolent aegis of Robin¡¯s prowess, the work area was soon rearranged to suit and a new routine swiftly established.


    Bravo would accompany one of the staff down to the cell complex where captives were roused, and once dressed, escorted to the main reception where Delta verified their identities and Charlie could carry out a preliminary health check. While they waited their turn in comfort, those newly liberated could watch TV, refresh themselves with a selection of hot or cold drinks, volunteer for a brief interview with the attending BBC news team ¨C or they could while away their remaining time in captivity witnessing Robin¡¯s valiant efforts against invisible Storm Troopers.


    Alpha was happy to let such distractions continue, for they served a useful purpose. They gave Charlie time to carry out another important task.


    Every human being generates an electromagnetic field. It surrounds their body, and many refer to this field as an aura. Although invisible to most, someone with psi ability can see this esoteric manifestation by shifting their perspective. Depending on a person¡¯s psychological and physiological well being, that aura can vary between a gentle nimbus ¨C with brighter concentrations around certain meridians that some refer to as chakra points ¨C or, if that person is ill, it can be murky and flecked with darker muddy colors.


    In those with psychic abilities, the nimbus is much more pronounced. It becomes a glowing corona of radiance, with vivid concentrations at the chakra points. If a person is powerfully endowed, that corona blooms outward in petal shaped arcs, and can be visually and mentally blinding, in some instances, taking on the characteristics of a miniature sun.


    The colors within a halo are like the lines of a fingerprint, unique, in that they reflect both that person¡¯s predominant psychic qualities, as well as their energy levels.


    One thing the civilians didn¡¯t know about the Guardian doctor was that his healing abilities went far beyond the therapeutic. Charlie also had the focus and skills required to sense and accurately ascertain the range and strength of extrasensory potential woven throughout each individual¡¯s genetic code ¨C their psi-well. From that, he could diagnose an accurate psychic profile on each hostage for Alpha to present to the Lord Procurator on their return.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Aware of the scope of Charlie¡¯s dexterity, Alpha was determined to learn as much about their newfound friends as he possibly could. As such, he hovered nearby as the doctor conversed with each one in turn, maintaining an open ESP lock so that he could experience for himself exactly what Charlie heard, felt and saw.


    Chatting to Robin wasn¡¯t easy as frequent interruptions from Imperial Forces meant the going was slow and arduous. Time and again, Robin would roll away to engage the enemy in close quarter combat before returning to answer questions as if absolutely nothing had occurred. It would take a lot to free this crippled young man from his demons. But Alpha could see it would be worth it.


    Robin¡¯s pink and vermillion astral luminance was laced with royal blue streamers, a clear sign of his natural telekinetic and empathic leanings. However, those bands were marred by cloudy tendrils of tenebrous potency, strands so virulent that they seemed to leach the vitality from his very soul.


    Every now and then, bright yellow flashes edged in black indicated those focal points where Robin¡¯s energies had been blocked or had withered over time due to trauma and abuse. Those outbursts almost masked a very special quality that Alpha had asked Charlie to look out for ¨C the obsidian blue blush of a natural shielder.


    Gotcha! Alpha was jubilant: I knew there¡¯d be a good reason for our scanners to have missed such a distinctive aura.


    With the utmost care, Charlie mapped Robin¡¯s psi-well along with his overall complexus, highlighting to his commander where the Lord Healer and her staff would need to concentrate their efforts to free Robin from the maladies plaguing him. But free him they would.


    Alpha felt their intervention this day justified by this one discovery alone: So he still retains the potential to join the academy in future?


    Oh yes¡­and then some.


    Both Guardians had to fight the urge to burst out laughing at the thought of Robin¡¯s reaction when he learned that one day, he¡¯d earn his very own plasma staff, one that could do some real damage to Darth Vader himself, let alone his puny Storm Troopers.


    The next people brought up were the elderly folks from Nebraska, Earnest and Margaret Hemmingway, who had been married for almost sixty years.


    People had gossiped about how strange Earnest and Margaret were for some time, as they loved to enter town fairs and State agricultural shows, and always seemed to win first prize for whatever they entered, be it flowers, fruit or vegetables. It had also been noted by nosey neighbors how wild animals were constantly drawn to the Hemmingway residence, a place they seemed only too ready to treat like a home from home.


    Earnest and Margaret might have remained anonymous were it not for the current initiative. After all, it wasn¡¯t against the law to possess green thumbs or have a love of nature. But Charlie knew better. Sharing details of their olivine tinged auras with Alpha, both men could see the obvious signs of budding elementals ¨C Earnest¡¯s sapphire and ochre highlights hinting at his aptitude to manipulate water and earth, while Margaret¡¯s deeper tangerine hues showed a clear capacity for influencing the health of living things.


    Neither had been aware they were doing anything out of the ordinary, as their joy of gardening had channeled their energies in a mutually productive and rewarding way. The same could be said for their poorly developed telepathic faculties, which both oldsters had assumed was an entirely natural intuitive benefit most couples developed as the decades flowed slowly by.


    Thankfully, the doting pair had only been held in custody for a week, so it would be a simple matter of returning them to their idyllic lifestyle later today without suffering any further intrusions.


    I¡¯m sure the CIA will be only too willing to provide an appropriate cover story to help them settle back in, Alpha pondered. Yes¡­I¡¯ll see to that personally.


    Jose Antonio Calderon, a thirty-four year old ex-con from Huston, Texas, was an entirely different sort. His distinct red nimbus, tinged through with pulses of bottle green, revealed him to be a highly compulsive character, able to influence others by force of will. That, together with his self-healing ability and lack of early direction in life had made him a natural criminal, a thug who enjoyed extorting others to further his own interests.


    It was inevitable that Calderon¡¯s chosen vocation would bring him into conflict with well-established hoodlums, and sure enough, the ensuing contracts on his life only stroked his overblown ego. But when a good half dozen of those hits proved ineffectual ¨C despite claims to the contrary ¨C whispers about Calderon¡¯s stubborn refusal to die reached the wrong ears.


    Pre-warned, those ears armed themselves with what they thought were suitable teeth. But, when it became apparent drugs, Tasers and gas had little effect on their target, the Snoop Team sent to apprehend Calderon were forced to resort to escalating violence to bring him in. Since then, Angel Project investigators didn¡¯t go near him unless accompanied by two fully armed SWAT teams on standby.


    Fortunately, both Bravo and Delta were deliberately letting their own vastly superior compulsive capabilities leak out in his direction, and so far, it had kept him as quiet and compliant as a lamb.


    Next to emerge from below were Paul Cole and his girlfriend, Sandi Windsor, both from Alaska. At twenty-six and twenty-four years of age respectively, this young couple knew from high school their love of seclusion and the great outdoors would mean they¡¯d finally wind up together.


    Their cabin ¨C The Great White ¨C situated a mile off the main Highway close to Circle and the Yukon Flats National Wildlife Reserve, allowed them to enjoy the tranquility they craved, away from civilization and all the pressures that went with it.


    Even so, it only took a small twist of fate for civilization to catch up with them.


    Weather in the USA¡¯s most northerly State can be particularly cruel at the best of times. Paul and Sandi had discovered that to their cost only two weeks previously, when they crashed their truck on the way home from the small settlement of Porcupine, during one of the worst whiteouts on record.


    Stranded in the middle of nowhere in freezing temperatures without reception for their scroll phones, things looked bleak. Or they would have, were it not for a fact that the childhood sweethearts were strongly gifted.


    Huddled together inside the cab within a protective bubble powered by Sandi¡¯s mind, they waited out the storm, with Sandi managing to endure the mammoth task of generating a heat shield for so long by absorbing the invigorating energies transferred her way by her boyfriend. In turn, Paul kept their spirits high by using his remote sensing capability to track the precise movements of the weather front as it moved away.


    Once the blizzard had passed, Sandi had melted the snow entombing them, and kept their extremities warm throughout the five mile trek that followed, while Paul employed his astral skills to navigate safely through the intervening wilderness. It wasn¡¯t until more than nine hours had passed since the start of their little misadventure that they reached the safety of the nearest police station at Fort Yukon.


    Due to the nature of what they¡¯d undergone, it was to be expected that an entry would be made in the station log. An action entirely without prejudice.


    However, the driver of the recovery vehicle dispatched to tow their truck the following day noted the human-shaped scorch marks blistering the seats, foot well and fascia inside the cab. Thinking it unusual that a fire hadn¡¯t caught and spread, he took pictures on his mobile phone and showed them to the sheriff.


    The sheriff agreed the circumstances were odd, and although Paul and Sandi managed to explain the damage away, copies of the photographs found their way into the accident report.


    Needless to say, when the incident was transferred back to Fairbanks in the weekly roundup, it was pounced on by the all seeing, all knowing eyes of the Angel Project, who sent a full tactical squad to check things out.


    Fortunately for that squad, neither Sandi nor Paul was in the least bit aggressive, for Paul saw them coming in three helicopters from over two miles away, giving them plenty of time to arm themselves had they wanted. And had she been inclined, Sandi could have easily blasted them from the sky as they hovered overhead.


    The CIA boys were lucky they didn¡¯t get their asses kicked. Alpha observed dryly.


    But that isn¡¯t this couple¡¯s style, do you see? Charlie expounded, as he finished reading their dossier and watched them relaxing on a nearby couch. Highlighting the innate way Paul¡¯s green and violet aura intermingled to the ochre and blue blooms given off by his girlfriend, he added: they possess calming auras and naturally meld to each other in harmonic union whenever the other is close by, thereby multiplying the sum of their energies. Quite remarkable, seeing as they¡¯re unskilled¡­and quite a catch for us, wouldn¡¯t you say.


    They are indeed, Alpha agreed: though I think the best is yet to come.


    <h6>*</h6>


    Holding Cell 2¡ªAngel Project


    Little Becky Selleck had eventually fallen into an exhausted sleep in the early hours of Saturday morning, dreaming of the world so recently torn from her grasp by the loss of her precious mommy.


    In her dreams, Becky was in the safety of her warm and cozy bedroom. Buried beneath the quilt, she waited expectantly for her mother to wake her as she did every day, projecting feelings of love and security as she came up the stairs, humming the latest tune from the radio in her head.


    Telepathically and out loud, she would enter the room and say, ¡°Now where¡¯s my Becky today?¡± Mommy always made a point of standing in the doorway, hands on hips, as if searching every corner with her eyes.


    Espying the moving mound ¨C with the quietly giggling child inside, who was trying to shuffle into an even smaller ball ¨C she would declare, ¡°Oh, she¡¯s not in bed, that¡¯s just the duvet.¡±


    Becky¡¯s mommy would then walk over until she was within touching distance, get on her hands and knees, lift up the valance and look under the divan. ¡°She¡¯s not hiding here, either. I know, she¡¯ll be in the closet and will try and jump out and scare me. Well, it won¡¯t work today because I know where you are, and I¡¯m going to . . . .¡±


    Throwing open the cabinet door, mommy would feign further surprise. ¡°My, my, she¡¯s not here. Oh dear, I suppose I will have to eat her favorite breakfast for her. What a shame¡ªshe sooo loves Wheatyflakes as well. And if I can¡¯t eat them, I can always give them to Barney next door.¡±


    At the mention of Barney ¨C their neighbor¡¯s very fat and affectionate dog, who loved having Becky give him tummy tickles that lasted forever ¨C Becky would usually leap out from under the quilt. ¡°Here I am! You never find me!¡±


    Lately, Becky had taken to using her knack for making things move with her mind by getting something small on the other side of the room fall to the floor with a loud bump. When that happened, mommy would play along and proclaim, ¡°Aha! You made a mistake. I heard you, and now I¡¯ve found...?¡± She would start and exclaim, ¡°Oh, she¡¯s not here either. I know¡ªit must have been a mouse, a mouse wearing Becky¡¯s shoes. Well, I do hope it asked Becky first?¡±


    One time, Becky even made the quilt jump high into the air as she revealed herself, much to their delight.


    Becky would miss mommy. She would miss being woken by her thoughts, and she would especially miss her cuddles . . . .


    Becky? Someone called her name.


    Still dozing, and burrowed as usual inside the covers, Becky tried to hang onto the dream of mommy and the life she¡¯d lost.


    Becky, where are you, little one? The same person spoke again.


    Go away, you¡¯re making mommy disappear.


    I¡¯m sorry, but I can¡¯t go away, your mommy wanted me to come and find you.


    Suddenly wide awake, Becky went very still, realizing she hadn¡¯t actually been speaking, but thinking, and that the man¡¯s voice was not a voice at all, but only a sound within her head.


    Hello? She whispered telepathically, not daring to move.


    The same warm mind replied: Hello little one. Who¡¯s been a very good girl, then? Who did exactly what mommy said and kept herself safe until someone came to take her to her new home, a secret home?


    Secret home? Not daring to reply openly, Becky suddenly remembered what her mommy used to say to her over and over again when they were still together:


    ¡°Darling, if ever there¡¯s a time when I can¡¯t be with you, remember never to trust anyone who can¡¯t inside-speak in the way that we can.¡±


    At first, the little girl had been confused by her mother¡¯s caution. ¡°But why won¡¯t you be there? Why would you leave me alone?¡±


    Mommy would always reassure her. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t want to, my darling, of course not. But this is important for you to understand.¡±


    Gradually, over time, Becky had come to realize that mommy was just being very careful. Mommy was special like she was, and she wanted to make sure that Becky would always be safe if there ever came a time when she wasn¡¯t there. Protected from others who couldn¡¯t do the things that they could.


    ¡°Where are the other people like us?¡± Becky would ask.


    ¡°Why, they¡¯re everywhere, living in houses like you and me. Some very special ones live all together in a big mansion on an island.¡±


    ¡°An island? By the sea?¡±


    ¡°Surrounded by sea, silly.¡±


    ¡°Well, why can¡¯t we live there then?¡± she would ask, employing a child¡¯s logic.


    ¡°Well, mommy nearly did when she was younger, but she was just going to get married to daddy, and so we ended up living in our own apartment. And now, I like living here, and I¡¯m glad you have all sorts of playmates at school, and mommy has her girlfriends at work.¡±


    ¡°Aaah, but they aren¡¯t like us, so couldn¡¯t we just move to the island now?¡±


    ¡°That would be lovely, but it would mean leaving behind everyone we have in this place, so I thought we should wait until you¡¯re a bit older.¡±


    ¡°Then we¡¯re going to go and live with other special people?¡±


    ¡°Hopefully, yes. But until that time, we have to remain out of sight...as if we were hiding under your bedcovers. And if I ever have to go away, do you remember what it was I told you?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Becky would reply in a serious tone. ¡°Be careful of who I make friends with and who I talk to. If they can¡¯t inside-speak, I must never tell them that I can do it.¡±


    ¡°And what else?¡± Mommy would emphasize, tuning in her aura so Becky could see it.


    ¡°Look at them carefully to see if they can shine.¡± Becky would reply proudly, making her own emanations beam brightly in return.


    Mommy would then scoop her up in her arms. ¡°Well done, my good little girl! They are the only ones you can really trust Becky, never forget that ¨C that ¨C that...¡±


    Secret home! The words struck a powerful cord in young Becky¡¯s heart. Still hardly daring to move, still trying so hard to do exactly what her mommy had told her, she carefully whispered: Why can you hear what I¡¯m thinking?


    Feelings of warmth and a broad smile registered strongly across the landscape of her awareness as the voice replied: Aaah, that¡¯s because I¡¯m special like you. Like your mommy.


    You¡¯re special? Becky responded, still being careful: What do you mean?


    A powerful sense of approval radiated toward her from the unknown mind.


    Good girl. Your mommy would be very proud that you listened to her. Now, if I could just find you, I would give you a big hug to say well done. But the people upstairs must have tricked me, because they said you were still asleep...and you¡¯re not here. All I can see is the coverlet. I know, perhaps you snuck into in the wardrobe over there.


    The sound of footsteps walking past the bottom of the bed caused Becky¡¯s spine to tingle as she recognized the game she would play with her mother. Gently exerting her farsight, she watched as a grownup dressed in black ¨C with pretty stripy things on his sleeves ¨C opened the closet door. Becky caught her breath. Not because she was scared, but because the man¡¯s skin was covered with golden blue lightning that sparked and danced through all the colors of the rainbow along the edge.


    A shining man? A BRIGHT SHINING MAN!


    Her blazing visitor peered into the empty cupboard. Shaking his head sadly, he turned to a lady standing by the door, winked, and said, ¡°No, she¡¯s not in there, either. Oh well, I guess I¡¯ll just have to go without her then, what a shame.¡±


    The quilt exploded upward from the bed. Shouting loudly with mind and voice, Becky launched herself toward his arms, ¡°No, no, no! Don¡¯t leave me, here I am.¡±


    Laughing heartily, his countenance as radiant as the Sun, the man caught her, held her up and looked into her desperate little face. ¡°Don¡¯t you ever worry about that, Becky. You¡¯ll never be alone again. Trust me, you¡¯re safe now.¡±


    Becky looked him straight in the eye and gravely replied, ¡°Oh, I know,¡± Before snuggling into his chest and holding on tight.


    <h6>*</h6>


    Charlie was absolutely stunned when Alpha walked back into the main office with the child in his arms. So much so, he dropped his coffee.


    The report alluded to the fact that Becky was only five, and it was obvious she was totally untrained or schooled by Guardian preceptors. Even so, it was immediately apparent her mother¡¯s early input had promoted a profound effect on the girl¡¯s natural strength and range of abilities.


    When the other Guardians queried his reaction, Charlie expanded his own exceptional vision so they could see Becky as he did. But it wasn¡¯t until Alpha had put her down on the chair ¨C explaining that Charlie was a special doctor who wanted to make sure she was okay before going to her new home ¨C that her unique distinctive aura reigned free for all to see.


    A huge golden corona surrounded her, interlaced with violets, indigos, blues, greens and strong pinks. There were even flashes of vermillion, showing the huge reservoir of ultrasenses, empathic, telekinetic, and healing abilities lying within. Some were haloed in white and exploded like miniature supernovas, distinguishing those capabilities that had not yet incarnated.


    It wasn¡¯t that her complexus radiated with the brilliance of one whose overall potency would easily mature beyond High Grand Master ¨C something unprecedented in one so young and inexperienced ¨C that shocked them all. On the contrary, it was the ribbons of brilliant silver energy entwined throughout all aspects of her aura which caught them unawares. That color was a clear and rare indicator of a vast psychic talent awakening and coming to fruition, a talent capable of the ultimate metamorphosis on maturation: transcension.


    To see those indicators in one so young and unaware was like being granted a glimpse into heaven itself. Wonderful beyond description and something they might never witness again.


    One and all, the Guardians exchanged surprised glances, a fact not missed by Cathy and Mike, still busily recording away for all they were worth.


    ¡°Is everything alright, Alpha?¡± Cathy asked.


    Alpha severed the connection to Charlie¡¯s mental broadcast and shook his head. ¡°More than alright, Cathy. This little girl is very, very special, and I¡¯ve got a feeling that one day she may help to change the world.¡±


    Becky beamed at the compliment. ¡°When are we going home...and why are they calling you Alpha when your proper name is Corbin?¡± she probed.


    Everyone who heard her comment burst out laughing. Sighing theatrically, Alpha-Corbin stooped down beside Becky¡¯s seat and began trying to explain why grownups sometimes had to be called by titles.


    Charlie was in awe of the manner by which Becky could already compartmentalize parts of her higher psyche. As Alpha continued speaking, Charlie piggybacked along, enthralled, as the little girl examined the BBC News team¡¯s equipment with her deep and farsight, projected an astral aspect of herself into the separate office where Gregory Harris lie recuperating, before skimming over the rest of her fellow prisoners as they relaxed, spread out along the sofas by the TV.


    Spotting Robin testing the limits of his light saber in the kitchen, she soon tired of making Alpha suffer. She giggled, and to no one in particular, whispered, ¡°He¡¯s funny.¡± Suddenly her eyes popped as she shifted the acuity of her telepathic perceptions. ¡°Oooh, he¡¯s special, too!¡±


    Becky scanned the rest of the room, instantly recognizing those others like her. She tugged on Alpha-Corbin¡¯s sleeve, ¡°Are they all coming with us?¡±


    Nodding, ¡°Uncle Corbin¡± replied, ¡°Some are, Becky, but a few like Grandpa Ernie and Grandma Margaret over there say they¡¯re too old to move, and just want to go back to their own home. I can¡¯t blame them; they have an especially beautiful garden.¡±


    The little girl nodded. ¡°But they can come and visit us when they want to, can¡¯t they? Or we can visit them?¡± She sent a public telepathic query bowling their way.


    Margaret got up from her chair, tottered over, and patted Becky on the head. ¡°You can visit us any time you want, sweetie. And when you do, you can help me feed the birds we get, at all hours of the day. They¡¯re always friendly and they do so love to sing.¡±


    The elderly lady and small child then walked back to the other side of the room where they proceeded to chat away as if they had been friends for years.


    Bravo quietly stepped over to where Alpha, Charlie, Cathy and Mike had congregated together. Speaking aloud for the benefit of the camera, she said, ¡°They¡¯re getting inquisitive upstairs. We¡¯ve been down here for a while and they want to know what¡¯s going on. It looks like they¡¯ve worked up the courage to send a team down the shaft to check things out.¡±


    ¡°Let them come,¡± Alpha replied. ¡°We won¡¯t be here when they arrive anyway, and it will be good for them to get one of their own doctors in for Mister Harris.¡± He spun to face the others and raised his voice. ¡°If you would please gather round me, we¡¯re about to leave and I want to make sure everyone has everything they need.¡±


    Looking from face to face, he surveyed his eager audience.


    ¡°From here, we will teleport to one of our ground based Operations Centers. From there, you will be transported to where you need to go. Mister and Missus Hemmingway, before we take you home, we¡¯ll be having a chat with you and introducing you to a liaison officer from the Lord Conciliator¡¯s office who will make sure you don¡¯t get hassled once you¡¯re back, okay?¡±


    They all nodded to indicate that they understood. ¡°Thank you, son, that will be fine,¡± Ernie added. ¡°But would it be too much trouble to ask you take us to our local store as well? We¡¯ve not been gone long, but we still need some fresh milk and bread.¡±


    Alpha glanced toward Charlie and smirked. Charlie could appreciate why. It was one of the hazards of the job to be called ¡°son¡± or other such terms by people who didn¡¯t realize they were far, far younger than the people they were addressing.


    ¡°That will be no problem at all, Sir.¡± Alpha replied without pausing, ¡°Consider it done.¡±


    Turning to the Angel Project team, Alpha continued, ¡°The mobile emitters will disappear at the same time we do, but don¡¯t worry; this place won¡¯t collapse for at least an hour, so it will give you all plenty of time to collect your belongings. Let¡¯s hope we don¡¯t have to meet under circumstances like this again, eh?¡±


    Before another word could be spoken, the Guardians and those they¡¯d been sent to rescue were gone; winking out of existence in less time than it takes to blink an eye.


    <h6>*</h6>


    Some ten minutes later, the bemused officers of the Angel Project were still sitting there, staring at each other in bewilderment and wondering what would happen, when the rescue team poked their heads in through the wrecked armored doors.


    ¡°I thought this place was supposed to be impregnable?¡± the lead agent gasped.


    Liz shook her head as she beckoned them in. ¡°You have no idea. Can you imagine what would have happened if they had been pissed at us?¡±

 Myth And Legend

    Most people do not realize that many of the beliefs and rites found in a number of modern-day religions were forged from the myths and legends of ancient times. That isn¡¯t surprising if you remember what people in bygone days had to contend with.


    For sure, life was simpler then, but it was also a lot harder.


    When you were hungry, you couldn¡¯t just open the refrigerator and take a peek inside or pop down to your local 7-Eleven for a quick bite to eat. Oh no, you¡¯d have to go hunting, sometimes for hours or days at a time on foot to snare, trap, chase and bring down your prey. To increase your chances of success, you would need to understand the nature of your quarry, know its habits and its characteristics.


    If you couldn¡¯t hunt, that didn¡¯t necessarily mean you¡¯d starve, but it would entail toiling from dawn to dusk scratching a living from the land, or through the animals you tended. Living along the shoreline afforded an extra opportunity ¨C equally as harsh ¨C of bringing in the yield of the sea.


    Then there was the matter of the clothes on your back, the abode in which you lived, the tools of your trade or weapons you needed to defend your home and loved ones from those who would try to take what you had worked hard to produce.


    It wasn¡¯t an issue of simply hiring those things or paying rent. Early man had to utilize the resources at his disposal to make the things he needed. And if he lacked a particular skill or commodity, it was vital to trade with someone who excelled in the areas you were deficient in ¨C someone who hopefully needed the very things you could provide.


    Not for our early friends the turning of a thermostat dial or the closing of a triple glazed window when the seasons brought hardships of their own. Droughts, storms, eruption, and earthquake all dealt their own bitter brand of injustice. It¡¯s no wonder then, that in many societies the gods evolved from mankind¡¯s belief that something greater lurked behind the scenes, for life was a daily struggle for survival against the very real forces of nature.


    The Pantheon of the Assyrian and Babylonian nations prescribed the belief in superhuman beings in fleshly form ¨C all immortal ¨C and each charged with oversight of an aspect of heaven or earth.


    Some of the first to be worshipped among mankind were Tammuz, Ea, Asshur, and Enlil, who were thought to control the harvest, the swarms of the waters, supernatural powers, fertility, war, and the weather.


    Marduk, chief among his ilk, was said to exercise dominion over all the other gods below him, and was assumed to have the capacity to fulfill the role of all of them combined if required.


    It is perhaps not surprising that those same qualities were also reflected in the Pantheon of another historic empire, Egypt.


    The earth and its produce, fecundity, storms, chaos, conflict, protection, even the personification of paranormal powers within humans, were embodied in such creatures as Geb, Isis, Set, Horus, and Werethekau.


    Again, this civilization had a supreme being, one who was above and who directed all those beneath him ¨C Ra, God of the blinding sun, giver of life to those mortals below.


    As mankind spread across the earth and became more sophisticated, the deities they worshipped also took on a more philosophical and romantic aspect.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    According to Plato, the earliest of the heroic Greek sovereigns who rose to divinity and saved his people was Atlas, whose name was recorded in their earliest writings as king of fabled Atlantis. Others believe Atlas was a Greek name prescribed to a fabled Egyptian pharaoh, Wa-n¡¯ka-reh, or Achtoes III ¨C or, in another, more diverse reference ¨C a mystical being called Adem¡¯uhn.


    Adem¡¯uhn was attributed with leading a society, blessed with highly evolved arts, literature and way of life, far in advance of those to follow, even thousands of years later.


    According to Greek mythology, Adem¡¯uhn¡¯s specific characteristics as life giver and protector were reflected by Zeus, a being of such position and authority that he was mightier than all the other immortals combined.


    Zeus was believed to control the storm, wind and life-giving rain, and of course the thunderbolt, which he wielded in his hands. He encapsulated the finest of celestial qualities, those of irresistible power, majesty, soaring vision and life. Zeus also wore the fabled Aegis ¨C the breastplate of protection and authority ¨C so awful and awesome to behold that no-one could look upon its magnificence.


    He was ruler of Olympus, home of the gods. As lord of the sky, thunder and rain, Zeus was also known as the cloud gatherer. He had many progeny, some from among humans, and those descendants were mighty in their own right.


    The twins Apollo and Artemis are two such offspring of note who endured through the ages.


    Apollo¡¯s qualities are encompassed within the radiant sun and light ¨C in imitation of his father ¨C along with the bow and arrow, and the dolphin. Of note is the fact that Apollo stood for truth and prophecy, medicine and justice in his own right.


    His twin sister Artemis was thought by some sources to pre-date even the time of Greek legend. She was the chaste goddess of the hunt and wild animals, and of the athlete. Her speed ¨C both on land and in water ¨C was typified by her sigils of bow and arrow, torch and wings, and dolphins, which she loved dearly.


    In some of the more obscure sources, it was considered that Artemis served as an attendant to her father as standard-bearer and recorder, a task by which she adopted the title, Nike, the spirit of swift victory and military prowess.


    Some references claim them to be different aspects of the same deity, a creature more than capable of overcoming all obstacles to achieve victory.


    The Romans saw Zeus¡¯ attributes reflected in Jupiter, the overseer of the sky and of thunder, a being also typified by the immense power of the bull. For all that, the gentler, yet more enduring attributes of the pine tree are also linked to him, in that it has the ability to thrive where other trees cannot.


    Apollo remained ¡°Apollo¡± to the Romans with much the same virtues, other than some interesting references to his brave and manly, warriorlike nature. Indeed, the root of the Greek word Andros - Andres is reflected in a very common name ¨C Andrew ¨C and is still linked to those reflecting manliness in its most masculine form.


    The Greek huntress Artemis ¨C or Nike ¨C who wielded the bow and arrow with unceasing accuracy, and yet who loved animals, was named as Diana by the Romans, and later, Victoria.


    A quiet contrast to her father and brother, her qualities were represented by the Moon, the mighty oak, and in some accounts she had wings on her feet, for such was her speed and uncanny ability to achieve victory over death.


    Yes, myth and legend provides a wealth of hallmark insights that help explain why certain beliefs or practices might be so prevalent today.


    Interestingly, they also reflect another easily overlooked common denominator: that a group of exceedingly powerful and gifted individuals are believed to have existed throughout history, all of whom were united or otherwise under the leadership an even more potent father-figure.


    Whatever the origins of these fabled individuals ¨C be it human or divine ¨C they were known to predominate for a period of time, protecting and shepherding mankind, before waning from public popularity, only to be replaced by similar gods in other cultures, who coincidentally held the same or very similar attributes.


    Some say such myths and legends may have a basis in truth, jazzed up to make them more idealistic or acceptable.


    What do you think?

 Perspective

    BBC World News Studio


    As the stark interior of the Angel Project disappeared, the simulcast was interrupted for those few seconds it took to transfer the signal back to Broadcasting House in London.


    Footage resumed, showing Robert King deep in conversation with the Lord Conciliator, Vladimir Arihkin. Realizing they were back on air, Sophia Davies scooted forward in her seat, looked off-screen briefly, nodded once and then pitched the camera.


    ¡°Welcome back to the studio,¡± Sophia began, ¡°after what can only be described as an extraordinary glimpse into the world of shadows and espionage, dealings that seem to highlight what¡¯s been taking place right under our noses. We need time to absorb the impact of what we saw, so I¡¯m afraid this will only be a brief visit. In a moment, I¡¯ve been informed the Guardians will break the link, allowing you to return to your local stations where you¡¯ll have an opportunity to catch up on the headlines from your part of the globe.


    ¡°However, we ask that you prepare to tune in again live at three o¡¯clock sharp, where we¡¯ll be discussing the implications of the incursion at Langley ¨C and I¡¯m told ¨C possibly one of two of the other venues where direct action was necessary. There¡¯s bound to be lots to talk about, so don¡¯t be late. See you then.¡±


    The BBC News theme began its lead-in and the picture faded, releasing billions of onlookers to the drudgery of everyday drivel, weather and advertizing, mundanity that made the time until the magic hour stretch into a never-ending eternity.


    Mind you, the telecommunications industry wasn¡¯t complaining. During that interval, their lines were jammed by the multitudes, all eager to discuss what they¡¯d just been granted unprecedented access to.


    <h6>*</h6>


    Upon their eventual return to the BBC studio, viewers were surprised to see the third couch was now occupied by two guests, the presenters and Guardian Lord having been joined by the young woman reporter from the American incident, Cathy West, and Alpha ¨C or Uncle Corbin ¨C as he would later come to be known.


    Sat side by side, each portrayed a contrast of emotions; for while Alpha was calm and composed, it was evident Cathy was still hyped from events surrounding the rescue itself.


    Robert opened the questioning. ¡°Corbin, how do you feel the operation went today?¡±


    ¡°I feel today¡¯s exercise was a success for several reasons,¡± the Guardian replied. ¡°Firstly, we set out to free individuals who had been held against their will, in clear violation of the principles of freedom and entitlement adopted universally by most civilized countries around the planet. Now, I know some may argue that State or national interests were involved that somehow justifies in some way the measures the CIA took, but, if I may be direct? The law is the law, people are people. Everyone deserves to be treated by the same standards and with the same level of regard. When ordinary folk are going about their daily business, they merit the protection of their duly elected administration, whether or not they are gifted. So, in that respect, we achieved the goal we set out to accomplish: the liberation of those being held illegally.


    ¡°Please don¡¯t misunderstand our intent. We really do esteem the constitution of government and seek to uphold it in every way we can. When regulations are reasonably and fairly applied, they provide a framework for society to live by and thrive in. Everyone needs a sound set of ethics to guide them. But those principles should also serve as a protection. If you have autonomous federal agencies thinking they can bend the rules or validate their hard-line stance, just because it suits a certain agenda...well, imagine the nonsense that would flourish. Pathetic! The law would become a millstone around the necks of those it was designed to defend, and a convenient tool for those who are prone to abusing power.


    ¡°That¡¯s another reason why I feel that today was such a triumph. It demonstrated that the same standards apply to you regardless of what color your skin is, what tongue you speak, whether you¡¯re rich or poor. You deserve the best, and we ¨C the Guardians ¨C want to set our collective family on the path to achieving that ideal.¡±


    ¡°I can relate to what you¡¯re saying, Corbin,¡± Sophia agreed. ¡°But witnessing the level of violence your presence caused, do you think the world will perceive what you did as reasonable?¡±


    ¡°Good question. I don¡¯t presume to speak on behalf of the world, but I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll make their opinion known over the coming week. Personally speaking, I feel good about what I did today. Apart from one young man ¨C Robin ¨C who was clearly incapable of making rational decisions without an appropriate carer to speak for him, none of the hostages we rescued wanted to be there. The mere fact the CIA reacted violently has nothing to do with the rightness or wrongness of what we did.¡±


    ¡°I hope you don¡¯t mind?¡± Cathy looked a little embarrassed to attract attention her way, but was nevertheless determined to speak. ¡°I know I¡¯m just a small cog in a big wheel, but I was there today with the Guardian Team, and although my footage will no doubt be the subject of a televised report later, I just wanted you to know how I felt.¡±


    ¡°No, not at all,¡± Robert responded, ¡°it will be good to have a different perspective.¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m a reporter, as everyone knows, and a relatively new one at that. What you mustn¡¯t forget is that I¡¯m also a woman, an ordinary member of Joe Public who found herself in the middle of an extraordinary situation. So, how can I say this? Although we understandably surprised everyone at Langley, I was still absolutely horrified when they started shooting at us. I mean, really, why they did that is beyond me.¡± Indicating the team leader, she continued, ¡°From the moment we arrived, Corbin openly communicated with them, asking for their assistance, trying not to damage things. And how did they react? They opened fire and kept blasting away with everything they had. Stun guns, gas grenades, pistols, rifles. Did you see the amount of bullets Bravo¡¯s shield caught? It was obvious they had something to hide...and this is supposed to be one of the most civilized countries on the earth. I¡¯m sorry, but that was disgusting. Mind, you can see now why they were so keen to stop us. Children and old people? The mentally vulnerable? And all of them kept in special cells deep underground. Talk about over the top.¡±


    ¡°So how do you think the viewing public will respond?¡± Robert inquired.


    ¡°I think they¡¯ll support what happened because people aren¡¯t stupid. They saw how violently the Guardians were opposed, and how restrained their response was. Can you imagine what would have happened if Corbin¡¯s team had responded in kind? And we all saw the pedigree of the hardened fiends who had been imprisoned¡ªI mean, please, a little girl of five? If this is the way America reacted, I¡¯d hate to imagine how bad it was in the more radically motivated regimes. And where does it stop? What if criminals get their own psychics or have abilities themselves? Or terrorists?¡± An idea came to her. ¡°That¡¯s a thought. Can I ask if any of the other groups met with aggressive resistance today?¡±


    As Robert and Sophia looked toward the control booth for direction, the Lord Conciliator replied. ¡°We already know the answer to that question, Cathy. While four of the six venues were most accommodating, two ¨C the facilities in America, as you know, and a larger one in Russia ¨C reacted with what could have amounted to deadly force. We had ¨C?¡±


    Robert cut in. ¡°Do excuse me butting in here, Vladimir. We¡¯ve just this minute received an unedited copy of that incursion. Would you like to see a short excerpt?¡±


    Those present nodded their assent.


    Turning to the audience, Robert explained, ¡°In just a moment we¡¯ll be watching some of the highlights recorded by our Norwegian correspondent, Warren Shaw and his cameraman, Lewis Ferguson when they accompanied the Guardian squad attempting to enter an FSB compound just south of Leningrad Zoo Park, in St. Petersburg, Russia. I¡¯m told the complex sits on a small island where the Neva, Mal, and Reka-Bol Neva Rivers converge, so access was rather limited.


    ¡°Bear in mind, the footage is raw, so some viewers might find the contents disturbing. Parental discretion is advised.¡±


    A few seconds later, the clip was loaded and ready to go. A frozen image appeared ¨C showing the female Grand Master with a bob hairstyle from earlier in the day ¨C which looked to have been captured from about ten yards behind and to her right. Two of her colleagues stood slightly apart and on either side of her, facing outward, their postures making it plain they were in the middle of a battle. All three brandished their plasma staffs defensively, their glowing green blades as bright as phosphorous beacons.


    The caption beneath the image repeated the details Robert had just provided, along with the time of the recording. 12:07:35 GMT ¨C 15:07:35 MSK.


    Everyone jumped as the track came to life and the sound of heavy and sustained gunfire filled the studio. A man¡¯s voice ¨C identified via a scrolling legend across the top of the screen as the team¡¯s Bravo ¨C was heard, saying, ¡°Remember, as things heat up, stay close to me to ensure you remain within my protective bubble and let Alpha do her job.¡±


    Lewis Ferguson panned his videocam left and right as they advanced, revealing the Guardian-BBC contingent to be in the middle of a wide granite viaduct spanning the depths of a frigid stretch of water that glittered fiercely in the afternoon sun.


    On the far side, about one hundred yards away, the terminus of the bridge was festooned in a staggered series of concrete median traffic barriers and razor wire. Bright flashes betrayed those positions manned by soldiers who were busily engaged in trying to hold the unwanted interlopers at bay. Beyond them, a pair of T-90Fs squatted on open waste ground.


    As the most modern tanks in the Russian army, the T-90s were known to be armed with heavy machineguns and primary smoothbore weapons that fired the very latest Dual Headed, Kinetic Energy, Armor Penetrating High Explosive Rounds.


    Without warning, a puff of smoke issued from the nozzle of the main gun of one of the T-90¡¯s and the entire vehicle shuddered as it recoiled. A split second later, a deafening concussion drown out the sound of everything else and Alpha was engulfed within a fireball. Yellow and orange flames bloomed in an expanding pyrotechnic flower, revealing the extent of her invisible shield.


    The blast caused her to take a step back. Recovering quickly, Alpha extended her left fist and grimaced in a manner reminiscent of someone lifting a heavy load. Warren¡¯s following shout of alarm caused everyone to concentrate on the barrel of the tank itself which had begun to twist upward as if it was no more substantial than molten wax. It continued bending until it reached a ninety degree angle.


    Once the gun was out of action, Alpha must have transferred her efforts to the engine compartment, for the T-90 tipped onto its side, then onto its turret, keeping pace with the speed and motion of Alpha¡¯s hand, clearly visible, as a pale contrast against the dark sleeve of her uniform.


    The tank finally came to rest on its roof, where its fifty ton bulk drove the muzzle of the barrel deep into the ground, effectively pinning it in place like an upended beetle¡ªminus the wriggling legs.


    Alpha nodded to her two companions, Charlie and Delta. Working in tandem, they began to gesture in short choppy movements. Before people realized what was happening, a similar fate had befallen the second T-90.


    Their task was far from over. Skipping away from each other, both Guardians continued to gesticulate, and were rewarded for their efforts when a huge quantity of guns, rifles, and handheld rocket launchers appeared on the flagstones between them.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    The unexpected silence was spellbinding.


    Walking up to the weapons, Alpha stared toward the soldiers on the opposite side of the bridge, and made a show of shaking her head, slowly and deliberately. Then she pointed toward the stockpile. A lucent blue-white beam sprang from her fingertips, liquefying the arsenal so quickly that the ammunition never had a chance to explode.


    Taking care to step around the sizzling pool of molten slag, she motioned her team forward again. They had only managed to cover five or six yards before a section of castellated stonework thirty yards in front of them erupted skyward.


    The faint pattering of debris striking the shield around the BBC News crew could be heard above the irregular thump and occasional splash of larger clods falling to earth or into the river.


    Whump!


    The distinctive resonance of something heavy striking the ground nearby made Warren Shaw jump and cry out in alarm.


    Delta shouted and jabbed his staff upward. Following the line of the blade, Lewis Ferguson tracked his camera onto a particularly nasty looking hunk of metal railing and masonry. Sailing serenely through the air toward a deeper part of the Neva River, it abruptly changed course as if swiped by an invisible bat and, with increasing velocity, came crashing down on them. A similar chunk followed an instant later. Then another.


    It didn¡¯t take long to spot how each one seemed to be falling on their position with uncanny precision.


    Bravo could be heard reassuring them. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, relax, it¡¯s nothing I can¡¯t handle. Alpha¡¯s just spotted the source of our mysterious rock throwers and sadly it appears to be a couple of people we came here to help...¡± He hesitated, the faraway cast in his eyes indicating he must be receiving information telepathically. ¡°Yes, two young men, strongly gifted in telekinesis are diverting those larger pieces down on us.¡±


    He broke off as a particularly hefty pile of rubble bounced off his screen, then resumed his narrative, ¡°Hang on, Alpha is fluent in Russian and is attempting to communicate with them now.¡±


    There was another pause as a tongue of flame curved out from the doorway of the main building on the opposite shore, only to spatter harmlessly off Alpha¡¯s defenses.


    ¡°Aha, looks like one of them has some degree of elemental ability to compensate for his lack of good judgment.¡±


    ¡°Lack of good judgment?¡± Warren Shaw sounded confused.


    ¡°Yes, it was a big mistake to direct their anger at Alpha. Keep recording, I have a feeling you¡¯ll like this.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll like what?¡±


    Suddenly, two burly individuals sporting mean looking crew cuts and crisp new uniforms materialized just in front of the Guardian commander, having been teleported away from their secret vantage point against their will. Both hid their surprise well and dropped into fighting crouches.


    That¡¯s as far as Alpha let them get. Slamming her plasma staff into the floor, the audience at home was treated to a now familiar report and an expanding wall of rippling green energy.


    The shockwave shook the bridge to its foundations and lifted both guys off their feet. As the sonic boom died away, they crashed to the floor, unconscious, and an uneasy hush descended once more.


    Alpha resumed her march without looking back, while the team doctor ¨C Charlie ¨C stooped to check on the two men. It didn¡¯t take long. After a moment, she smiled, patted them both on the cheek and encased them within a cocoon of glowing ruby light.


    Then she moved to catch up with Alpha and Delta, but not before glancing across at Bravo, who started laughing quietly to himself.


    Warren was moved to ask, ¡°What¡¯s so funny?¡±


    Indicating his colleague, Bravo replied, ¡°Charlie was thinking, ¡®Boys! When will they ever learn?¡¯ They¡¯re both out cold with no real harm done, other than a bad headache and a severe case of embarrassment when they wake up and realize that they aren¡¯t the biggest fish in the pond.¡±


    ¡°So what¡¯s that red thing?¡±


    ¡°We call them Dream Webs. It keeps a person unconscious and prevents them from hurting themselves or anyone else. Just as well, there¡¯s a way to go yet...C¡¯mon.¡±


    And with that, they continued on toward the gap where the walkway had been blown apart. A few seconds later the gunfire started again.


    Bravo sighed. ¡°Ah well, it looks like someone¡¯s brought some more guns to play with. You and Lewis had better...¡±


    The footage stopped. When the onscreen picture returned to the London studio, the mood had become far more serious.


    Sophia Davies was the first to speak.


    ¡°I must confess, the level of violence we saw there is not like anything I¡¯ve really experienced so...so intently before, and it made me feel quite uncomfortable.¡±


    The Lord Conciliator nodded. ¡°I don¡¯t blame you, Sophia. Thankfully, such hostilities appear to have been confined to Langley and St. Petersburg. Keep in mind we visited a total of six locations today and only five people of the forty we liberated expressed a wish to stay with their captors. Two of those five were the young men at the Russian faculty who were incapacitated by our team. It pains me to think that gifted human beings ¨C people we were hoping would be eager to take the lead in guiding mankind into the future ¨C are already being turned into mindless machines, blindly following the dictates of their masters.¡±


    ¡°Yes, it¡¯s lucky no one was really hurt today!¡± Robert exclaimed.


    ¡°Well, there was one ¨C Mister Harris, the director in charge of the Angel Project who succumbed to the onset of a stroke during the insertion phase of the operation at Langley ¨C but I have it on good authority we were able to treat him in time and he should make a full recovery. However, that was an isolated case, and once you¡¯ve collated and analyzed the footage from all six sites, I¡¯m hoping you will recognize the fact that you can indeed trust us. We will not squander your confidence in the way that bureaucrats do.¡±


    ¡°If I may interject?¡± Corbin requested.


    Both the Guardian Lord and Sophia nodded, so Corbin continued. ¡°This touches on my previous answer as to why I felt today was such a success. I think the fact that thirty-five potential recruits have been added to our ranks is one of the greatest victories we¡¯ve ever had. Now, it remains to be seen whether all of them turn out to be suitable candidates, but it¡¯s a testimony to their character that at least they volunteered.


    ¡°Even if only half of them make it, consider the impact that will have on the standard of service we¡¯ll be able to provide in the years ahead. It won¡¯t be stretching the realms of the imagination to say that at sometime in the future, one or two people will look back to the events of November first, 2035 and be very glad of the fact that x-amount of additional helping hands were given the chance to join the cause. The implications are huge!¡±


    Sophia nodded vigorously. ¡°So, it¡¯s fair to say, today¡¯s exploits have already produced tangible results?¡±


    ¡°Most certainly, and in more ways than one. For example, let¡¯s consider this from the opposite side of the coin. Two of the gifted individuals we encountered today resorted to the use of deadly force. Doesn¡¯t that validate the Lord Conciliator¡¯s warning regarding the potential for danger this current fiasco is fomenting?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a very good point,¡± Sophia agreed, ¡°as people like that would be very difficult to control or subdue by normal methods should they go on a rampage.¡±


    Corbin held up his hands in a placating gesture. ¡°Not to say that everyone who declines an invitation to join us will automatically become a menace, of course ¨C far from it. But there¡¯s no doubt now, is there, that some have already been induced to serve the political aspirations of their governments. The seeds of anarchy have already been sown. Only a fool would ignore it.¡±


    Sophia grasped the gist of the Grand Master¡¯s argument immediately, ¡°Yes, because if other likeminded regimes jumped on the bandwagon, they¡¯d all be rushing to produce their own super soldiers...or assassins, or spies! How would you stop them? It¡¯s not like the police or the army would be able to do anything against such might.¡±


    ¡°A worrying conundrum, isn¡¯t it?¡± Corbin murmured, ¡°Especially as we¡¯ve seen just how far along the Russian¡¯s have progressed their own program, and how swift they are to employ it when they feel threatened.¡±


    Vladimir Arihkin joined in, ¡°That¡¯s why we are endeavoring to collect as much documentation on each nation¡¯s agenda as we can. Everyone still thinks of this as a psi-race. It¡¯s not, nor is it a contest. What¡¯s happening is a natural evolution of humankind as a whole toward the next level of consciousness. Very exciting, eh, and something that concerns you all. As soon as we¡¯ve evaluated the extent of that information, we¡¯ll make sure it¡¯s disseminated to everyone, equally, so nobody falls behind.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯re still determined to put every country under the microscope.¡± Robert stated, flatly.


    ¡°Certainly,¡± Vladimir replied, ¡°how else can we reveal the full extent of the problem and make appropriate recommendations.¡±


    ¡°Which are?¡± Robert pressed.


    ¡°Though it¡¯s early days, we have already confirmed the existence of ¨C as Sophia termed them ¨C super soldiers. As such, we need to ensure that whatever judicial bodies exist at the moment keep pace with the changes unfolding about them. Legislation has to be updated to recognize the reality of metapsychic capabilities and the fact that such power can be ¨C and is being ¨C misused. It would be prudent to start formulating an outline, now, to ensure international law is in place to provide a forum for the protection, schooling and guidance of those who are gifted. As we¡¯ve plainly seen, psi-etiquette doesn¡¯t come naturally to everyone.¡±


    ¡°Psi-etiquette, what¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the term we Guardians use emphasize the proper and accepted standard of behavior expected of those who are psychically operant.¡± The Lord Conciliator lowered his voice. ¡°This is why we¡¯re so keen to help. We have years of experience in such matters, and not to be rude, but you don¡¯t. Yes, we recognize the human race stands at the crossroads of change...but you¡¯re facing unfamiliar territory. I think an old bible adage about raising children might help here. Proverbs twenty-two states, ¡®train up a boy according to the way for him; even when he grows old, he will not turn aside from it.¡¯ Now, apply that principle to yourselves. For all your achievements, you are still babes when it comes to understanding what life is like with telepaths forming an increasing percentage of the population. We aren¡¯t, and hope to help you discern the best course to take as you find your feet.¡±


    Both Robert and Sophia seemed overwhelmed at the scope of the changes that lie ahead.


    ¡°Well, you¡¯ve certainly given us a lot to think about, Vladimir,¡± Robert mumbled. ¡°I honestly don¡¯t know how long we might need to take it all in.¡±


    ¡°I can appreciate that,¡± Vladimir replied warmly, ¡°which is why we promise, no more surprises...at least, not for the time being at any rate. You¡¯ve taken the first step by coming to an appreciation of the dangers you face. Now it¡¯s down to you. But don¡¯t worry, as your perspective transforms, the way forward will gain a momentum all of its own.¡±


    ¡°The way forward? Are you alluding to the law and order issue you mentioned previously?¡±


    ¡°That will come up, Robert, but not yet. Before we reach that stage, we hope to have expanded your horizons in the fields of education, science, medicine, and so on. Once you¡¯ve seen the benefits of mutual cooperation, it should help lay the foundation for the eventual expansion into your legal systems. As I mentioned, you¡¯ve taken the first step. Now you need time to adjust before the next one. The Overlord is keen that humanity maintains a proper balance from the outset.¡±


    ¡°Overlord?¡± Sophia¡¯s face lit up at the unfamiliar expression.


    ¡°Yes, I alluded to him earlier, though not by title. He¡¯s...well, he¡¯s what you might refer to as our founder and supreme commander, though he hates the use of such terms.¡±


    ¡°And when will we get to meet this Overlord?¡± Sophia gushed.


    The two Guardians exchanged an unusual look. Vladimir smiled and replied, ¡°We honestly can¡¯t answer that. Not to be difficult, Sophia, but he¡¯s quite a mysterious and solitary figure, even among our circles. He¡¯s been working so hard and for so long that he tends to think and act at on an entirely different level. That¡¯s why he¡¯s ensured there are high ranking Guardians like myself who can speak on his behalf. Perhaps you¡¯ll see what I mean one day, perhaps not.¡±


    ¡°That sounds like something else we¡¯d definitely look forward...one moment?¡± Sophia was distracted by something off set. Touching her earpiece, she peered toward the control booth. Seconds later, Robert followed suit. Whatever was said caused both presenters to frown and glance at their watches. Their expressions changed to one of mutual resignation and disappointment.


    Turning back to their guests, Robert explained. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, but we have to round things off due to contractual and scheduling constrains.¡±


    He leaned forward to shake their hands. ¡°On behalf of all of us here at Broadcasting House and of course, those viewers who were able to join us, can I say ¡®Thank you very much¡¯ for choosing the BBC as a platform to announce your presence to the world. I know I¡¯m not alone in saying we look forward to examining the contents of the documents you seized from each of the venues today, so who knows, maybe we¡¯ll be seeing you again in the near distant future?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure we¡¯ll all speak again soon,¡± Vladimir replied. Both Guardians climbed to their feet. ¡°And may I also add that I¡¯ve enjoyed being here...The custard creams were most delightful.¡± He grinned. ¡°Robert, Sophia.¡±


    The Lord Conciliator winked at his colleague, and they both vanished from sight, thankfully remembering to take Cathy West along with them.


    Robert sighed and looked briefly to his co-presenter. ¡°I think it¡¯s going to be a time of adjustment for all of us in the weeks and months ahead, especially with people who can appear and vanish,¡± he snapped his fingers, ¡°just like that. What do you think, Sophia?¡±


    ¡°It will take some getting used to, that¡¯s for sure,¡± she replied.


    Then suddenly businesslike, she addressed the camera, ¡°So, join us again at six o¡¯clock tonight where we¡¯ll be reviewing the global initiative taken by the Guardian Angels. By then, we hope to have assessed public reaction to these unprecedented events, and if all goes well, Richard Williams, the British Prime Minister will be here to share his views. That¡¯s it for now, have a very good afternoon.¡±


    For a final time that day, the picture flicked over to the BBC logo, a familiar tune graced the airwaves, and the dawn of a new age truly began.


    <h6>*</h6>


    During the next forty-eight hours, the world¡¯s leaders personally experienced the reality of Sophia Davies and Robert King¡¯s final comments. True to their word, the Guardians ensured each Head of State was given their very own wakeup call ¨C appearing out of thin air in front of him or her ¨C to brief them on the events of December 1<sup>st</sup>, and provide them with their own copies of some very sensitive documentation.


    It didn¡¯t make a difference where those leaders were, what they were doing, or who with. Neither did it matter what security measures were in place around them.


    The day after the last visit was completed; every single major news agency around the globe received their promised copies of those same files. Sanitized as they were, they still made eye popping reading.


    December 4th unfolded to the glaring revelations of secrets being laid bare, and the rank and file couldn¡¯t get enough of it. The term ¡°read all about it¡± was true for once, as just about everyone could do exactly that!

 The Way People Think

    December 4th


    Tuesday started much like every other day, with embarrassing headlines continuing to dish the dirt on those in power, the psi-race revealing the depths that some regimes and their agencies had been prepared to stoop to in order to stay one step ahead.


    Readers appeared to have an endlessly voracious appetite for what the Guardians had discovered, and the tabloids were eager to please. It didn¡¯t take long for newsstands to become emptied of any publication containing the slightest detail of the raids.


    TV schedules were also shuffled to accommodate the wholesale public crucifixion, and conspiracy theorists basked in the limelight of a ¡°we were right all along¡± crusade.


    Such was the intensity of people¡¯s focus upon the events of December 1<sup>st</sup> that other regular media staples were unanimously ignored. In particular, one of society¡¯s favorite topics for conversation: the weather ¨C which everyone knew was becoming ever more severe with each passing year.


    It was now accepted that things had been getting warmer, wetter and much more unsettled for a long time, and that meteorological extremes were a part of everyday life. Monsoons, hurricanes, and even earthquakes had become commonplace in lands where they had never been encountered before. Areas blessed with clement seasonal variance were now blighted by summer droughts and wintery excesses. Penetrating freezes were bringing Canada, Northern United states, and Northern Europe to a standstill one moment, while isolated downpours swamped them the next. Folks were keenly aware that when it came to the weather, forecasters couldn¡¯t really predict ahead as accurately as they used to.


    The inhabitants of Australia were experiencing their sixth year of flooding on a scale previously unheard of. Their plight didn¡¯t elicit sympathy for long, though, as Bangladesh, Spain, France, and many of the Greek islands also had to contend with similar misfortune. Widespread electrical storms and ferocious gales ravaged the Mediterranean shorelines of southern Europe and northern Africa so severely, that public services were ill prepared to deal with the widespread devastation caused.


    Even the United States ¨C with its well-equipped infrastructure ¨C didn¡¯t escape, especially along Tornado Alley where ebullient storms continued to wreak havoc. And for those living in Texas and Oklahoma who had been distracted by the events of December 1<sup>st</sup>, the weather was about to remind them of how erratic it could be, and how quickly headlines could change.


    The day began with a whisper, an exhalation of warmth from the southwest which flowed steadily northward until it was forced to contest with colder currents from just about every other direction. Agitated pressure fronts spawned a number of brisk showers, fleeting visitors that soon gave way to blue skies and soaring temperatures.


    Desert roads and heavy traffic baked in unexpected heat, generating thicker clouds and heavier rain. A succession of brief intense squalls followed, only to be pursued equally as quickly by a cavalcade of sunshine and rainbows. The atmosphere thickened, sweaty and cloying like a malevolent broth that made it difficult to breathe.


    All the warning signs were there. If only people had looked while there was still time.


    An oppressive weight coalesced in the ether, bringing gusts of over sixty miles per hour that seemed more determined to test the fortitude of fences, sheds and garden ornaments than freshen the air.


    By midday, when the fifth increasingly violent thunderstorm had passed through the area bordering Oklahoma and Texas, and townsfolk were surveying the damage caused by the blustery outbreaks and marble-sized hail stones, residents were beginning to get worried. The horizon between Fort Worth and Abilene to the south ¨C and as far as Wichita Falls to the north ¨C disappeared into a featureless iron-gray canopy, a shroud that got progressively darker and darker with each passing minute.


    Slowly, surely, a gargantuan granite fist materialized from the gloom. Piling higher and higher, it fanned out into an anvil shape heralding the hammer blow it was eager to deliver. The interior of the mass glared brightly, again and again, thermodynamics charging its internal capacitors to full potential.


    So concerned did local authorities in northern Texas, New Mexico and Oklahoma become, that they initiated an evacuation plan.


    However, the advent of the Guardians had caused people to become complacent, and when emergency services arrived to offer guidance, they found that many occupants didn¡¯t feel the need to leave their homes or businesses vacant.


    Winds suddenly leapt to over seventy-five miles an hour and those who had remained with their properties rushed to prepare for the inevitable.


    <h6>*</h6>


    A former inhabitant of S?o Joaquim, Brazil, and a graduate of the academy three years previously, Guardian Naomi Cruz had already made a name for herself as someone who could keep her head in a crisis.


    Blessed with an uncanny knack to pigeonhole various aspects of her consciousness, Naomi could complete multiple mental and physical exercises simultaneously, a skill that had not only earned her the respect of her tutors and peers, but one that would prove a godsend as the day wore on.


    At this moment, Naomi was the primary farscanner ¨C otherwise known as a Panorama Operator ¨C aboard Guardian Observation Station Two, parked in geostationary orbit four hundred miles above the country of her birth, Brazil. The equipment at her disposal, far superior to anything currently in the possession of NASA or the military, served as a backup to her superlative faculties, senses that had been scrutinizing the disquieting conditions spreading like a blight across the southern states of America for the past three hours.


    A wide swathe of the undulating blanket beneath her lit up.


    ¡°Good God! That strike was over thirty-two thousand degrees Celsius, measuring¡­¡± her eyes flicked left and right across her instrument panel, ¡°measuring more than three hundred kilovolts with an energy coefficient in excess of five thousand mega joules.¡±


    The sky fractured again and white-hot branches fried the atmosphere in a strident twenty-one gun salute. ¡°I¡¯d better alert the American Sector Overseer.¡± she muttered.


    Maintaining a careful watch on events, Naomi prepared a concise report of her analysis so far and issued a dual standby warning, one to High Grand Master Samuel Thaleton, the other to Guardian Headquarters.


    No sooner had she done so than Naomi wished she¡¯d waited a few more seconds. Several zones along the western edge of the super cell had started to condense rather disquietingly.


    Jeez, the gusts are stretching out at well over one hundred knots now and¡­hell? I¡¯ve got two ¨C no, wait, three ¨C yes, three funnel clouds forming within fifty miles of each other. Naomi used her astral vision to verify her discovery on the auxiliary backup screens located on the far side of the duty deck. Those beasts are really winding in on themselves. If they maintain that rate of convergence, they¡¯ll hit category five statuses without breaking a sweat.


    Not one to give in to panic, Naomi downloaded the data from her sensors and took the liberty of crosschecking her findings once more.


    Satisfied, she exerted her farseeing talent and examined the western edge of the storm, adjusting several of the long-range monitoring cameras as she went, to ensure they were recording properly.


    The periphery now stretched from the edge of Fort Worth, west toward Abilene ¨C  nearly a hundred and fifty miles distant ¨C and a similar span northeastward past Wichita Falls. While it was not the custom for the Guardians to provide weather warnings, she felt it prudent to do so on this occasion.


    Hailstones measuring more than two inches in diameter had added their sting to the tempest¡¯s tail, battering agricultural properties and sturdy residences into submission, and creating havoc on the roads as pedestrians and drivers alike lost control under a relentless onslaught.


    Activating the standby alert, Naomi sent a compressed telepathic burp of information to the Reserve Crews throughout the USA, as well as to the Alpha Response Teams on the station. Then she refocused on the area of concern, as the vortices had now touched down and showed no signs of subsiding.


    At the sounding of the klaxon, a mental query arrowed into her mind from the Station Chief, Grand Master Anatt Yasin.


    Why weren¡¯t we notified earlier, Naomi?


    Up until two minutes ago, there was nothing to tell. Yet another day, yet another set of tantrums thrown by Mother Nature¡­the usual stuff and nothing their resources can¡¯t handle. Then, in less time it takes to toast up a pop-tart, the winds converged into three EF5 twisters which seem to have nothing to do except get stronger and stronger the more they¡¯re allowed to run.


    Three Class Fives, so quickly?Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    Yeah, and it doesn¡¯t look like they¡¯re finished yet¡­hang on.


    Naomi augmented her boosted farsight, supplementing station sensors so they were able to zero in even closer. She watched in amazement as the tornadic trio began to dance around each other, writhing and fusing into one vast maw of incredible power. When the behemoth had finished forming; ground zero was a two mile pit of howling fury midway between Burkburnett and Frederick, northwest of Wichita Falls.


    As she inspected the raging monster, Naomi simultaneously broadcast her observations to the commander: Ma¡¯am, I¡¯ve linked through to several meteorological stations groundside. Anemometers are confirming sustained wind speeds averaging two hundred and ten knots¡­? The bilious clouds boiled with a strange lavender and citrine hue. What the¡­? Anatt, those lightning bolts were powerful enough to create bursts of gamma radiation.


    You¡¯re on watch, Naomi, the Grand Master replied, calmly: What are your recommendations?


    This is getting freaky; too many people are being hurt. We need to get busy. Naomi triggered the Immediate Response Alarms.


    Severing the psychic link, she listened as Commander Yasin commenced issuing orders to the Alpha Team¡ªA-2¡ªwho would be first on scene, leaving Naomi herself free to notify the civilian emergency service centers at Wichita Falls, Lawton, and Oklahoma City. As she did so, Naomi employed a separate portion of her mind to advise Guardian High Command, who confirmed they would now take control and oversee the incident, and deploy further resources as appropriate.


    Free to make her final assessment before returning to Passive Scan Mode, Naomi was greeted to the sight of a giant swirling central mass more than half a league in circumference at its base. Churning about a torrid epicenter and screaming in excess of three hundred knots, the maelstrom leveled everything in its path, and left nothing but ruin ¨C and a disturbing four-foot deep, two-mile wide trench ¨C in its wake.


    Following the line of the trough, Naomi¡¯s heart went cold.


    ¡°It¡¯s heading straight for Lawton,¡± she gasped aloud, ¡°there are over a hundred thousand people living there.


    <h6>*</h6>


    Like an obsidian finger of granite positioned to challenge the might of a river in flood, High Grand Master Samuel Thaleton stood before the ranked screens of the North American Operations Center, drinking in the rush of information pouring his way. There was a lot to consider, as the tributaries feeding him were sourced within the multitude of military and civilian organizations tasked to handle the growing emergency, along with those Guardian responders already on the ground working under the oversight of their Silver Commander, Anatt Yasin.


    Though his hands rested on the main console, Samuel remained perfectly still. Every so often, dials twisted and switches clicked, operated telekinetically so that Samuel wouldn¡¯t be distracted as he fed data back into the hive-linked, AI central processing unit.


    A marvel of innovation, the Avenger Module¡¯s core was capable of completing two hundred and fifty duodecillion computations each second, and consumed the incoming torrent with ease. Calculating manifold probabilities in an instant, it then provided suggestions as to the best course of action to follow ¨C dependent upon the desired outcome ¨C in this case, the preservation of life.


    Gazing in morbid fascination at a holographic representation of the bulk of the vaporous charybdis veiling the earth from sight, Samuel was very grateful for its advice.


    That bore is over three miles across at its base. Winds now exceed three-hundred and fifty knots. It¡¯s cooked up a bitch of a pressure ridge too, incorporating lethal downbursts and opposing jets at low altitudes, with multiple pulse squalls forming a halo around them. He glanced across to an adjacent readout. Hailstones bigger than golf balls and lightning four times hotter than the surface of the Sun, generating over seven hundred mega joules of power. No wonder we¡¯re seeing gamma flashes. And the acoustic roar produced by so much thunder in proximal succession exceeds¡­? ¡°Ah crap!¡± he hissed, ¡°That¡¯s sufficient to cause permanent disability.¡±


    Samuel didn¡¯t like what the projected statistics hinted at, and sent an appeal to polar Observation Stations One and Three, requesting extra manpower for all those rated as Protector and above to assist in speeding up the massed evacuation.


    The storm front itself was advancing at over ninety-five miles per hour. Since the multivortex had metamorphosed into a single entity, everything had been driven onto a singular course, and the entire mass was now heading directly toward Lawton. Irrespective of all the townships in-between, Samuel knew he couldn¡¯t afford to let it reach that city, as the Guardians would never relocate everybody in time. As such, he¡¯d determined to hold the beast at bay and neutralize it, in an isolated area between Geronimo and Lawton.


    A fresh casualty list illuminated a nearby monitor, demanding his attention. We¡¯ve been lucky. Only a couple of dozen victims with broken bones, fourteen with concussion ¨C all from hailstones, a handful of ruptured eardrums and just two suffering burns from flashover strikes.


    The accompanying damage report and incident log from earlier in the day made perplexing reading, as every single property encountered by the tornado had been shredded, and the debris scattered far and wide. Despite the obvious peril, Guardians had been forced to remove an obstinate group of citizens in Denton against their will. For some reason, they had been insistent on staying with ¨C of all things ¨C a barn full of sports equipment and clothing that they were desperately trying to load into five huge trucks before the blender from hell arrived. Several attempted to contact lawyers on their scroll phones and m-pads, threatening all sorts of legal action if their would-be rescuers didn¡¯t accede to their wishes.


    Needless to say, prevailing conditions made it impossible for the troublemakers to get a clear signal¡­as did the Guardian Master leading the contingent.


    Judging the situation as far too dangerous to procrastinate further, he rendered the protesters unconscious and simply transported them away en masse. Samuel was glad the officer in charge of that particular phase of the operation had the spine to do what was right, for had he not acted when he did, there was little doubt all of those people would have died.


    Now, as Samuel stood ready to face the most devastating storm ever witnessed, there was no doubt in his mind the Guardians would be further hampered in their efforts by the small number of news crews speeding their way to the scene, wrongly assuming that the mere presence of the world¡¯s saviors would automatically guarantee their safety.


    ¡°Strange the way some people think!¡± He mused, fighting down a sudden urge to strangle anyone carrying a microphone.


    <h6>*</h6>


    Paris¡ªFrance


    Luigi couldn¡¯t believe his luck.


    For a man permanently battling with a short temper, he¡¯d done well, patiently waiting for all the pieces of his initial idea to fall into place and gel together. But at last, the day of the missile tests had arrived, and he ¨C Luigi Alfonso Espasito ¨C would stamp his mark on the world of crime, proving to the Council once and for all that, actions were so much more satisfactory than words.


    And how emblazoned those actions would be, for Luigi had chosen the rockets themselves to provide the pyritic catalyst that would expose the Guardian Angels as the interfering frauds they were.


    The guidance chips for five of the B91-11s had been doctored and replaced only three days previously, giving Luigi the luxury of choosing his targets wisely. Having followed the developments of December 1<sup>st</sup> ¨C and the further exploits of the Guardians since then ¨C he had determined that today would be the perfect time to remind a still fawning global audience of a bitter truth: your newfound friends aren¡¯t as omnipotent as everybody thinks they are.


    After all, he reasoned, they can¡¯t be everywhere at once.


    Luigi realized he¡¯d only get one chance to make a statement without getting caught, and as such, had laid firm foundations to his strategy by arranging for the ultimate distraction at the U.S Military Waste Isolation Plant, in Carlsbad, New Mexico.


    Six hours ago, two employees ¨C eager to pay off longstanding debts to Luigi¡¯s family ¨C had caused a straightforward power outage to crash the complex¡¯s main grid. They also added a short-term computer virus to the mix that not only triggered a catastrophic memory failure, but a corresponding energy drain that took all the backups and subroutines with it.


    During the ensuing panic, a few buttons were pressed elsewhere which allowed one of the dupes to download a self-effacing Trojan into the master CPU¡¯s core. This particular piece of malware was rather malicious in that it subverted the sensors monitoring the cooling and ventilation system.


    The attack was a stroke of genius in that it only lasted thirty seconds before allowing everything to reboot. Feeling safe from a false sense of security, technicians were dispatched throughout the facility under armed guard to begin a series of diagnostic checks.


    Little did they suspect that their instruments couldn¡¯t be trusted.


    Despite evidence to the contrary, Luigi knew that the radioactive materials kept in storage were now dissociating within unvented containers. Things would be getting hot ¨C very hot, and it wouldn¡¯t be long until the point of no return was broached and certain redundant fail-safe¡¯s kicked in. Then automatic alarms would sound, lockdowns would be initiated, and the flower of ¡°trouble brewing¡± would blossom, luring his unsuspecting bees to the pot of ruination.


    But the lid wouldn¡¯t slam shut immediately. Oh no, for the moment any Guardians arrived at Carlsbad, the second phase of Luigi¡¯s plan would be instituted, thirteen hundred miles away in Oak Ridge, Tennessee.


    There, a non-lethal gas would render those scientists and military top brass who had come to watch the Land Busters in action, unconscious for over thirty minutes, thereby preventing them from interfering in any way with what was about to happen. For once incapacitated, certain signals would be sent to commandeer the missiles midflight and redirect them on toward new coordinates. One way or another, Luigi would ensure the old year went out with a bang ¨C or, if you were being pernickety, five of them.


    For Luigi, the most satisfying aspect to this part of his plot was the fact that the U.S. Military ¨C always paranoid about secrecy ¨C had not released details of either the routes over which the missiles would be flown, or their range. Nor had they hinted at the estimated flight times.


    Delightful!


    Pre-occupied as he was with the imminent execution of his designs, Luigi had been unaware of the extent of the superstorm tearing its way through Texas and Oklahoma.


    Not ten minutes had passed since the call from one of his cousins in the USA ¨C informing him of the loss of over five million dollars worth of counterfeit sports goods and branded clothing from a barn just outside Denton ¨C a call that had resulted in him tuning in via several of the many satellite channels he had in his office to see for himself.


    Evidently, the goods had been en route to the USA from Mexico and placed in storage for a few days until onward transportation could be arranged. Then the squall had hit, resulting in the forced evacuation of his operatives by the Guardians who had simply scooped them up with some kind of beam, before the merchandise could be recovered.


    The subsequent arrival of the monster tornado had resulted in the loss of all items with no hope of recovery, and once again Luigi was faced with the prospect of having to fall through on his promises...though this dark cloud did have a silver lining, for Luigi¡¯s frustration quickly passed when the TV screens in his office started flicking from the atrocious weather in Texas, to the emerging situation in Carlsbad, New Mexico.


    It must be going critical? He thought, a golden opportunity not to be missed.


    As more and more news teams rushed to bag a scoop, Luigi spent a few minutes analyzing how many Guardians appeared to be on scene in Texas and its neighboring state. They¡¯re heavily committed, and with good reason. I won¡¯t get a chance like this again. Today must my lucky day after all!


    Removing an untraceable and modified scroll phone from his desk, he began entering the encrypted codes that would ensure December 4th would eclipse the wonderful events that had so united the world only a few days before.

 Hold the Front Page

    A weather presenter with CBS Oklahoma for the past two years, Megan Bronson felt totally out of her depth. Standing on a nice cozy set, waving at a chroma key green screen and telling viewers they were in for a fabulous day ¨C or not ¨C was her cup of tea. Experiencing the raw savagery of the elements for herself, however, certainly wasn¡¯t.


    It didn¡¯t start out that way of course. When their station chief, Roy Blake, had suggested Megan and Eduardo Rafael ¨C the on-call cameraman ¨C take a pool truck and patrol along Route 36, east of Geronimo to report on the approaching menace firsthand, she¡¯d jumped at the chance. It was nice to escape the confines of the studio every now and then and grab a breath of fresh air. But this was more than a breath, and the air wasn¡¯t supposed to be filled with trees, huge clods of earth, street signs and whole chunks of someone¡¯s house.


    Thankfully, Eduardo was driving a seven liter, Ford L-Super Duty 2000, an eight ton brute of a machine, adapted for extreme conditions. Even so, the storm was unlike anything she¡¯d ever experienced, and Megan¡¯s heart had been beating like a kettledrum ever since she caught her first glimpse of its immense power.


    Still, things had gone smoothly until fifteen minutes previously, when they¡¯d gotten caught up in a mini-cavalcade of fellow journalists, all out on the hunt for the same thing: a scoop. And as was usual under such circumstances, everyone had ended up trying to outtalk their counterparts over the loop provided by each wagons onboard m-pad consoles.


    Bedlam had ensued, until veteran CNN correspondent, Stephen McDougal, had taken charge and started discussing how they might all profit by working together. A splendid idea, and one that had worked quite well up until ten seconds ago when six mystery objects had appeared in the sky near Geronimo, seemingly immune to the cyclonic gales making Megan appreciate there really was no place like home.


    The impromptu convoy screeched to a halt. Staring through her window, Megan could see the craft were uniformly shaped like an inverted T and their matte black hulls were unadorned by any form of embellishment, apart from a large gray emblem along the underbelly which looked for all the world like an abstract representation of a winged angel.


    ¡°Guardians. It has to be,¡± rasped Stephen McDougal over the link, ¡°who else is gonna turn up in something like that?¡±


    As everyone jumped from their vehicles, cameras trained, two of the vessels swooped toward the outskirts of the town itself at amazing speed. Dappled beams washed across each of the buildings there in turn, like searchlights hunting down escaped prisoners. Every so often those beams would linger, and a radiant pulse would be seen moving from the ground upward, causing much speculation amongst the news crews as to what they were.


    Eduardo gave her a thumbs-up to indicate they were now broadcasting, and Megan went into her routine, shouting to ensure people would be able to hear her above the din. ¡°Hi folks, I¡¯m Megan Bronson from CBS Oklahoma, and you are joining us live on the outs ¨C?¡±


    ¡°Just picking up stragglers,¡± a voice announced out of the blue.


    Jumping, everybody turned to see a striking Arabic looking woman dressed in Guardian robes standing where no one had been only an instant before. Gusts caught in her cloak, causing it to flap wildly in every direction, and exposing the two silver bands encompassing her left sleeve, insignia that served as a stark contrast to the darkness of her regalia, skin, and luxuriant raven blue hair.


    ¡°Sorry, what?¡± murmured one of the reporters nearest to her.


    The Guardian indicated the squadron hovering above them. ¡°We¡¯re just taking precautions in case we don¡¯t stop the tornado in time. Those lights you see are transportation beams. When they locate someone, we scoop them up out of harm¡¯s way.¡±


    That same reporter ¨C a guy Megan didn¡¯t know ¨C frowned, studying the ships with a longing akin to hunger. His expression soon spread to all the other hawks in attendance, who realized they had something new to get their talons into.


    The predatory mood was shattered as a shadow loomed over them from behind, forcing everyone to duck.


    The Guardian laughed. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry. If you get in the way, you¡¯ll find yourselves inside the brig of one of those things faster than you can think of a misquote or a lie.¡±


    Her winning smile was somewhat clouded by the bear-trap cast to her glowing eyes. She fixed each one of them with a pointed transitory glance. Nodding in satisfaction, she continued, ¡°I am Grand Master Anatt Yasin, Silver Commander on scene for the Guardians. Please do your best not endanger yourselves...or others. And if you have a question, just feel free to ask. Okay?¡±


    Megan took an instant liking to the straight-talking woman who appeared so confident under what must have been stressful circumstances. She wasn¡¯t the only one. Chortling out loud, Stephen McDougal stepped forward and in a scheming tone, whispered, ¡°Seeing as you like getting right to the point, may I ask a direct question?¡±


    The Grand Master paused for a moment and stared into the depths of his soul. Then she spun to face everyone else in the circle. As the Guardian¡¯s gaze locked on her, Megan felt a prickling, icicle sensation trickle down her spine.


    Comprehension dawned.


    ¡°You¡¯ve just read our minds!¡± Stephen gasped. He remained undaunted. ¡°Well? If my cameraman and I stayed out of the way and televised the incident from inside, would that be in order? There¡¯ll be plenty of accounts from down here, so ours will show something from a different perspective. Obviously, we won¡¯t record anything confidential.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I know you won¡¯t, Stephen,¡± Grand Master Yasin replied. She pointed at the closest of the ships. ¡°Yes, the Captain of the Falcon has given his permission for you to board his frigate. You will be escorted to an observation room and allowed to report on things from a very unique vantage point. Don¡¯t mess this up and you may find it the beginning of a fruitful and beautiful relationship.¡±


    Stephen was about to reply when a familiar shaft of light descended from the indicated vessel overhead. Flicking from person to person, it quickly narrowed in on Stephen and his colleague, whereupon it intensified abruptly. The outlines of two human forms faded from view, being replaced by a pair of glowing orbs that pulsed brightly for a second before running back along the beam.


    As the ray cut off, the bulk of the great craft moved away to rejoin its three companions, waiting patiently on the outskirts of Geronimo, seemingly unaffected by the downbursts, wind shears and lightning strikes assailing them on all sides.


    The Falcon moved swiftly and made no sound Megan could discern, and once in formation, the quartet headed straight into the rotating column of hate still churning Lawton¡¯s way.


    Only then did it dawn on her what had just happened. The sneaky rat! He¡¯s gone and got himself one heck of an exclusive. How am I ever going to beat that?


    She could see she wasn¡¯t the only one annoyed at being out-maneuvered by their colleague, much to the amusement of Grand Master Yasin, who couldn¡¯t help rubbing it in: ¡°Well, if you¡¯d had the balls to ask, you could have been up there right now getting some pretty unique shots. My, my, are they going to see some sights. Probably make all the front pages, too.¡±


    She walked off, shaking her head in mock sympathy and waving toward a group of eight of her associates, laden down with equipment, who had just materialized from goodness knows where.


    Fixing on them, Megan fumed; I suppose they¡¯ll have to do. One way or another, mine¡¯s the story everyone will want to read about.


    <h6>*</h6>


    Guardian Observation Station 2 (GOS-2)


    To Naomi, life aboard a space station could be rather claustrophobic, as it always seemed to emphasize the fact that you were never free of the work environment. Her lunch over, coffee in hand, she entered GOS-2¡¯s Panorama Suite and made her way toward the armored scanning module that would be her nest for the remaining three hours of duty.


    As was her custom when taking a break mid-shift, Naomi had left a tiny segment of her superlative awareness attuned to the ever watchful capabilities of the station¡¯s 10,000 MW Z-Band, Tracking High Orbital Resolution ¨C THOR ¨C multisensory array. A habit she was glad to practice, for it gave her an edge other farscanners lacked.


    No sooner had she drained her cup and donned her helmet, than one of the hyperenergized surveillance nodes chimed as it registered a possible problem.


    Her full focus came to bear. Intrigued by what she saw, she fired-up the Search Enhancing Psi-optics ¨C SEPs ¨C to lock onto and verify a buildup of heat and radiation at the U.S Waste Isolation Plant in New Mexico. Why haven¡¯t their security measures prevented things from progressing this far?


    Adopting a routine she had followed thousands of times before, Naomi created a fresh log by mentally registering this latest incident and placing her thumb over the DNA reader. Thus sealed, she was now responsible for the Immediate Action Plan to follow.


    A few seconds later, the standby alert activated and Naomi couldn¡¯t help but give a little smile. Ha! I beat you again.


    Augmenting her astral senses, Naomi zoomed down onto the Carlsbad area of New Mexico, and refined her acuity over the target site itself. For good measure, she brought up a written synopsis of what went on there:


    The Waste Isolation Plant at Carlsbad, New Mexico is the third largest radioactive waste repository in the world, and was opened in 1999 as a waste repository for all U.S. nuclear Defense Ordinance emitting alpha radiation with a half life of over twenty years. Materials are kept two-thousand, one-hundred and fifty feet below ground within a three-thousand foot thick salt formation that has enjoyed stable plate tectonics for over thirty-five million years¡ªa nonnegotiable necessity for any viable site.


    Within those underground rooms are large containers in which materials are stored using a limited amount of coolant liquid and circulated air. They must be kept vented and chilled to prevent the energy released by radioactive materials dissociating the water into hydrogen and oxygen, and thereby creating a potentially explosive element.


    Naomi was relieved to see the plant¡¯s sophisticated rapid reaction systems were active and had already alerted emergency responders within the facility itself. HAZCHEM units from nearby Carlsbad were also being dispatched, but didn¡¯t appear to appreciate the urgency of the situation. Do they think it¡¯s just a drill?


    A heat bloom turned part of the thermal overview orange.


    Odd? The safety procedures at places like this are usually topnotch and protected by all sorts of backups. Calothermic consumption should never have reached such proportions before registering.


    Inside her brain, Naomi¡¯s muse was throwing a fit and silently screaming at her that something wasn¡¯t right. I¡¯d better collect evidence, just in case¡­


    Reaching out telepathically, Naomi employed a hardwire piggy-back routine to mesh her cognitive functions to a cerebral reader. So linked, GOS-2¡¯s automated network would now be able to record what she thought, saw, and heard.


    Assessing the Isolation Plant¡¯s current status for a second time gave her even greater cause to worry. So much so, that she was onto the station chief of GOS-6 within seconds.


    The mental voice and spectral presence of Grand Master Christopher Owen cut into her mind like the crack of a whip.


    What¡¯s up, Guardian Cruz?


    Though he served an adjacent sector, Chris Owen had done his homework and knew all the Panorama Operators well. And like every other commander, he¡¯d learned that if something was bugging Naomi Cruz, you listened.


    Digesting the facts displayed in the ether before him, Owen swiftly supported her concerns: Good call. We need to dig into this a little more.


    His image dimmed and Naomi looked on as he constructed a briefing web of concise psychic data for the Alpha Response Teams aboard GOS-6, and a similar package for the groundside Delta units not already tied up with the mid-State storm.


    Twelve seconds later, Owen was back: Okay, Naomi. Run this by me in your own words so I can tell the boys and girls who will be assigned to this mess what to expect.


    Naomi layered another filter over her subconscious so she could continue her observations and chat without being distracted from either task.


    Boss, Carlsbad has state of the art protection. All of it incorporating tripled redundancies that are more than capable of recognizing and responding to virtually any scenario you could think of, short of a nuclear strike.


    So what¡¯s got you bugged?


    In a nutshell? I think what¡¯s happening is deliberate.


    The Grand Master¡¯s tone hardened: How so?


    Well, if systems here had simply failed, as the picture so blatantly depicts, backups would kick in and secondary safety protocols would have leaped to take over. Even something as minor as a ¡®hiccup¡¯ would have been tagged with a direct follow-up order for staff to take a look, or at least run a diagnostic, yes?


    Go on.


    Well, I¡¯ve just skimmed the logs, electronically and using enhanced Psi-Scan, and it appears there was a power outage about three hours ago. During that period, redundant generators showed green lights across the board, and crosschecks reveal standby solar batteries were fully charged. Now, the tiered safeties in this place are shielded within a reactive hunter-seeker algorithm¡­think of it as a caveman¡¯s version of our Avenger AI program. While we wouldn¡¯t think it amounts to much, it is nevertheless extremely sophisticated by the world¡¯s standards. Here¡¯s the thing, none of those support systems activated, though all their instruments say the exact opposite. What¡¯s more, subsequent crosschecks by the plant¡¯s own main computer indicate the backups responded normally.


    Owen got straight to the point: So you¡¯re thinking sabotage?


    Naomi considered a range of possibilities with the evidence to hand. After checking her results thoroughly, she replied: I do. Don¡¯t get me wrong, I appreciate accidents happen and glitches occur. But I don¡¯t like the way so many of them seemed to have coincided¡­?


    As she summarized her findings, Naomi watched the Grand Master prepare a separate briefing web for Guardian Command and redirect two of the station¡¯s ultra-sensitive scanning nodes onto the plant itself. A third was set to interrogate the U.S. Department of Defense¡¯s computers for listings of all scheduled military maneuvers ¨C for that day and for the rest of the month ¨C throughout continental USA and abroad.


    She wasn¡¯t offended in the least, for she knew Owen would still be paying attention.


    Naomi continued: Now what I don¡¯t like is that the Main Frame indicates the primary line and redundancies were operating within standard parameters, when that was obviously not the case. For a single circuit to display false information is one thing. For the emergency backups to do the same is another, especially when you factor-in those same gremlins hit the independent security grid at the exact same moment.


    So you¡¯re saying the power outage hid something else?


    Exactly! Coolant and venting to the radioactive canisters work from a totally isolated venue for a good reason. Yet the power cut set off a cascade failure that somehow managed to corrupt everything. That couldn¡¯t have happened by accident. And it¡¯s even spookier that every single readout kept stating the situation was normal until particle emissions became so high the doors started melting.


    And you¡¯re sure it¡¯s not some weird side effect from this storm across the way?


    No boss, not a chance.


    But why? He pondered aloud: Although we¡¯ve only just announced ourselves, people know we¡¯re alert to such dangers and will respond.


    A gong, struck by a large muscle-bound man announcing a major motion picture sounded in Naomi¡¯s mind: Or that¡¯s what they¡¯re counting on!


    Instinct took over. Without hesitating, Naomi activated the standby alert, notifying her own station¡¯s Bravo Team ¨C B-2 ¨C to prepare. As the klaxon sounded, Naomi completed a fast scan of Texas and Oklahoma, which revealed A-2 were still groundside along with other Alpha units from stations 1 and 3 and the America Sector¡¯s primary Delta Squad, dealing with the multitude of hurdles presented by the tornado¡¯s relentless rampage.


    Whatever the cause of the disruption at Carlsbad, it had allowed too much energy to build up in the containers, creating a hazard beyond the capabilities of the plant¡¯s emergency teams to handle safely. The Guardians would have to respond, but in doing so, they would severely deplete their remaining orbital assets, forcing them to rely on headquarters for backup.


    Naomi¡¯s muse churned inside her: Boss, the more I think about this, the more unsettled I¡¯m becoming. Would you please issue a priority one flash message to all Guardian overseers? We need to beef up our defensive measures until we know for sure what¡¯s happening¡­And while you¡¯re about it, could you revise your current search at the Defense Department? I need to know of exercises and convoys ¨C or anything like that ¨C presently underway or due to start soon, especially if they involve the movement of hazardous or unstable materials. Think sensitive, think classified and my gut tells me you¡¯ll be on the right track. I have a terrible feeling Carlsbad is only a prelude to something even more insidious; something designed to measure our limitations.


    Impressed though he clearly was, the chief still had his wits about him: I¡¯ll certainly get onto that, Naomi, but you must understand. It¡¯ll be a massive search, even under the stipulations you¡¯ve suggested. Can you at least narrow the field for me?


    Easily¡­Naomi¡¯s synapses blazed as she compartmentalized each facet of the puzzle in her mind: The priority will be events originating in and around our sector. Work out in widening arcs from there.


    She had another idea: And get some of our tech-heads to give the plant¡¯s electronic systems a thorough going-over. There¡¯s bound to be residual footprints and evidence of mischief in there somewhere. The sooner we can start to screw things down, the sooner we can get on top of this mess.


    Roger that. I¡¯ll¡­wait a second? Owen was distracted by a broadcast from B-2 leader, Guardian Master Natalia Tavares, who needed additional personnel to assist in evacuating the scattering of townships close to the plant. She also requested a decontamination unit to sanitize those areas already irradiated.


    Realizing they lacked sufficient manpower, Naomi suggested to Owen he send an appeal to the Canadian and South American sectors for assistance, with similar calls to follow at Observation Stations 4 and 5.


    That done, she settled back and started wracking her brains for anything she might have overlooked.


    A few minutes later, Naomi¡¯s ancillary terminal began cataloging all scheduled military, civilian and contractor tests, displaying them in prioritized groups, and concentrating as Naomi had requested upon those affecting their region first.


    Of these, she went straight to those listed as ¡°Top Secret.¡±


    There!


    Three items in particular interested her: classified long-range missile tests; satellite platform exercises; and war games involving a new stealth submarine.


    Pursuing their mission guidelines, Naomi started running multiple scenarios in her head, to assess which might pose the greatest threat.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    The commander was growing impatient: What have we got so far?


    Naomi targeted each option with her scanners, requesting backup probes ¨C both electronic and extrasensory ¨C from their sister stations, before formulating her reply.


    The missile tests are underway, evidently with the latest Ground Penetrating Binary Warhead Delivery system, the B91-11. From what I can see, it looks like they¡¯re designed to pierce armored installations and convey a low yield short-term lethal blast comprised of a gravity ¨C radiation combination. Dependent on their setting, they can totally destroy underground bunkers or leave them intact for use.


    These things have shielded guidance and arming chips, so the military must have kept to their schedule and used the storm as a good excuse to see if the B91s can do what they¡¯re supposed to.


    Next, we come to the laser satellite platforms we¡¯ve seen going up all over the place. Before the project advances any further, the Pentagon wants their Multiple Target Recognition Systems put through its paces¡­?


    Ah, I see now. Neither the armaments nor focusing mirrors have been fitted as yet, so this is merely a passive exercise, nothing aggressive is registering.


    That leaves the war games . . . aha, there we go. The Navy is currently trialing the stealth technology on their latest Damocles Class attack sub with the Brits. They¡¯re playing from the Gulf of Mexico and out into the Atlantic. Again, no weapons, they¡¯re more concerned with seeing how silent the new Aqua Drive is and how close they can get to specified targets before detection.


    Grand Master Owen cut straight to the chase: So, in your opinion, should we be looking at any of these as an option or widen the hunt?


    Naomi scrutinized the information in front of her again, this time extending the search criteria to a three-thousand mile radius to include both the Northern and Southern American continent: If I had to make a choice now, I think we should concentrate on the missiles. The test is already underway, and we still haven¡¯t received confirmation of their flight plans or range. Her fingers flew across the panel: Hmmm, they seem to be spreading over a vast area. Let¡¯s see what they¡¯re up to.


    The station¡¯s SEPs sensors locked onto the four rocket pods now skimming along the edge of earth¡¯s atmosphere high above the mid Atlantic. As Naomi tracked their progress, each pod shed its outer skin, revealing a cluster of three independent tactical nuclear missiles within. Like unfolding stamen they curled free, sleek and graceful, inertia helping them gain distance from one another. Then their thrusters engaged, taking them out of atmosphere.


    The Land Busters arced away in expanding fans. Hoping they were already subject to a designated course, Naomi began computing trajectories, whilst simultaneously bringing up a directory of military telephone numbers. Finding what she needed, she placed a call to the mission control centre, listed at Knoxville, Tennessee.


    The line connected and a shrill buzz echoed from her screen¡¯s speakers.


    After a dozen rings, she called out: Sir; we don¡¯t appear to be making any progress. May I suggest we get someone in there in person to make a point?


    I¡¯m already on it, Owen replied: Actually, we¡¯re being assisted by an Inquisitor squad from Washington. They are just about to teleport to target and see what¡¯s going on¡­and you might like to know they¡¯re also sending a detail to New Mexico.


    Naomi fine-tuned the emitters and was rewarded for her efforts by a glut of radiological alarms: Well, please tell them to get a move on. Those B91s have live warheads and it looks as if they¡¯re commencing their re-entry runs. At current speeds, I estimate five, maybe six minutes before it¡¯s too late¡­Let¡¯s make that four to err on the safe side.


    Thirty seconds ticked slowly by as they watched the swarm in flight. Naomi found she was holding her breath and had to consciously make an effort to keep her respiration slow and steady.


    Without warning, the engines to each missile stuttered, as if about to stall. When they re-engaged an instant later, the B91s burst away from each other along new paths at over twice the speed of sound.


    Jeez-us! Naomi exerted her far-senses and initiated a fresh set of calculations in an attempt to assess the newly projected landfall coordinates.


    The mental hail of Master Inquisitor Darien Carmichael caught their attention: Heads up, you two, this will confirm your suspicions about the test center if nothing else!


    A scene was projected into their minds of a stand-alone underground control room accessed by a three-tiered security airlock. The chamber itself was littered with unconscious bodies slumped in their chairs or on the floor. None showed obvious signs of injury.


    The Inquisitors had already begun their sweep, and Naomi couldn¡¯t help thinking to herself that they would probably find the mixed bag of scientists and high-ranking officials and officers had been incapacitated by some form of aerosol to prevent them from meddling in what was about to take place. I was right, this is connected. If we could get a closer look at one of those Land Busters, I bet we find evidence of tampering.


    Owen sensed her mood. Naomi?


    She replied: I suggest we take those missiles down¡­fast!


    What about fallout?


    If we destroy them or targeted the engines of a select few, it shouldn¡¯t be a problem. Wait a moment¡­


    Naomi tweaked the Master Inquisitor¡¯s farsensory nerve to gain his attention: Darien, am I right in assuming normal arming procedures apply here, in that the signal to go hot won¡¯t be sent until the package closes on target?


    Hang on¡­ Carmichael fell silent as he queried the B91¡¯s schematics on a nearby work station: Yes ¨C yes, I can confirm your assumption. If you want to blow them out of the sky at this stage, it should be safe to do so.


    Excellent. Naomi toyed with the onset of a plan: In that case, it might be better to vaporize any missiles heading toward populated areas, and try to capture one or two others for examination. In that scenario, the only real danger would be damage to the plutonium¡¯s casing on impact. But as we¡¯ll be on hand for almost instantaneous recovery anyway, the risk of contamination is negligible. If we¡¯re going to do something, I suggest we do it now.


    As she finished speaking, Naomi realized Grand Master Owen was engaged in an intense astral conversation with the head of active operations, the Lord Evaluator, Anil Suresh. Though she wasn¡¯t privy to its content, she soon became aware of its outcome, for Chris Owen¡¯s physical presence suddenly manifested behind her on the main deck.


    Leaning across her shoulder, he entered his personal command codes into Naomi¡¯s console, granting her executive control of GOS-2¡¯s impressive weapons array, and an auto-link through to the armaments of the other five orbital stations as well.


    ¡°Your call, Naomi,¡± Owen whispered. ¡°Why don¡¯t you show us ¨C and the world ¨C what you can do with that special mind of yours?¡±


    <h6>*</h6>


    Back at the scene of the approaching tornado, the Guardian frigates rapidly shrank in size as they receded into the distance. Two disappeared, accelerating into the whirling dust cloud as if it was nothing but a trifling inconvenience sent to test them. The air sparked wherever larger chunks of debris impacted their shields, making it appear as if each vessel was under attack from archers firing thousands upon thousands of flaming arrows.


    Studying their progress through the viewfinder of his instrument panel, Guardian Ben Williams marveled at the technology keeping his colleagues safe under such extreme conditions and couldn¡¯t resist running through the science involved in his head.


    Ben was the mastermind behind the experiment they were about to undertake, and so new to his position that, even after a year as a fully fledged Guardian, he was still very shy and somewhat reserved. He was also totally in awe of his commander ¨C Grand Master Anatt Yasin ¨C who was known to speak her mind and whose tongue could take the skin off a rhino at twenty paces.


    Not only was Ben a PhD in combined astrophysics, quantum mechanics, and advanced mathematics, but the blue and gold bar on his lapel revealed that his telepathic and elemental abilities ¨C especially those responsible for producing vortices and energy fields in the quantum and upsilon ranges ¨C were his specialty. A specialty his mentors hoped would mature in several years beyond the master class range.


    ¡°Is everything ready?¡± Grand Master Yasin strode toward him through stubbly wheat stalks, her eyes ablaze with an inner fire.


    ¡°Almost,¡± he replied, ¡°I¡¯m waiting on the captains to confirm their generators are fully charged and then we¡¯ll be off. I¡¯m looking forward to seeing how the ships barriers negate the effects of the microwaves and quasi-singularities we¡¯ll have to create. If I¡¯m right, they¡¯ll be able to retain an acceptable level of functionality while we drain the supercell¡¯s energy out from under its feet.¡±


    As he spoke, Ben displayed the steps to his plan in overlapping stages, taking care to highlight those points under discussion.


    ¡°Are you sure this is safe, Ben?¡± Commander Yasin asked. ¡°I know you¡¯re the whiz kid when it comes to things like this, but opening singularities here, inter-atmosphere must be dangerous. We¡¯re talking about black holes, no matter how small they may be. Wouldn¡¯t it be safer to use a displacement well?¡±


    Managing to smile without feeling like a complete idiot, Ben explained. ¡°That won¡¯t work here, Ma¡¯am. Simply put, a displacement well would still be governed by certain physical rules, principles that might end up fueling the strength of the storm. As you¡¯re probably aware, twisters like the one we have here today are fed by opposing high-speed winds, or meso-cyclones of differing temperatures.¡±


    Yasin nodded her understanding, so Ben continued. ¡°Well, if we were to attempt what you suggested with a monster of this size, the speed of the process could engender an even more potent tempest, one even we might struggle to contain. Buuut, if we use microwaves instead, and intersperse the irradiated field with clustered quasi-singularities, we¡¯ll literally shred the tornado¡¯s heart to pieces.¡± He shrugged and smiled, ¡°After all, it¡¯ll be hard for it to keep going if the singularities disrupt the laws of physics sufficiently to prevent a transition zone from forming.¡±


    ¡°In that there¡¯ll be insufficient traction to power its inner dynamo?¡± Yasin responded, showing a sound grasp of the mechanics behind the procedure, much to her subordinate¡¯s delight.


    ¡°That¡¯s one way to describe it, yes.¡±


    ¡°What will the residual vacuum be like?¡±


    Ben pursed his lips. ¡°Manageable, if we proceed as planned. And as we¡¯ll be gradually altering the course of the front away from populated areas, any risks will diminish the further we get. Mind you, we still need to keep an eye out for gamma rays.¡±


    ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°Because of the antimatter particles they release. This storm is the most powerful one on record. If we get an outbreak of gamma bursts at the wrong time and in the wrong place, even sun factor million wouldn¡¯t be enough to protect us.¡±


    ¡°And the likelihood of that happening is¡­?¡± She stressed.


    ¡°The chances of that are billions to one,¡± he admitted. ¡°It would have to happen at the exact instant and in the exact location of a quasi-singularity pulse.¡±


    The Grand master slapped him soundly on the back. ¡°Then that¡¯s good enough for me. Fortunately, I¡¯m endowed with the most extraordinary set of testicles any woman on God¡¯s good earth has ever been blessed with. They, together with my shockingly strong backbone, say it¡¯s safe enough! So, the sooner we get on with this, the sooner I can get back to my knitting.¡±


    Everyone laughed at the cartoon she projected into their minds: an image in which they saw her warming her toes in front of a roaring fire. Hair in a bun, and wearing thick-rimmed glasses and a tartan dressing gown, she rocked backward and forward in a comfy chair, intent upon the stitch pattern of the bright pink cardigan slowly taking shape between her rapidly clacking needles.


    Her attempt at humor failed to cheer the young scientist. ¡°I just wish we could hurry up and implement the advanced education system we¡¯ve devised for them. Once they grasp the principles for harmonic repulsor and mitigator waves, and learn to manufacture their own force fields, the odd bit of weather like this will be a lot less hassle¡­for everyone.¡±


    Yasin nodded in agreement, and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. ¡°Very true, Ben. If you like, I could put in a call to the Overlord and ask him ¨C on your behalf ¨C if he¡¯d care to step in? Whatever it is he¡¯s doing can¡¯t be all that important and I¡¯m sure he wouldn¡¯t mind being interrupted to come and save the day.¡±


    Ben shook his head, glumly, and slumped, completely missing the further jest.


    Undeterred, Yasin gave his shoulder a squeeze. ¡°Okay then, it¡¯s up to you to play duty hero. Go and do your stuff. Everyone looks like they¡¯re in position, so let¡¯s see how your little exercise goes, eh?¡±


    The small group of Guardians turned at the commander¡¯s comments, automatically using their extra sensory perceptions to give themselves a clearer view of the two closest vessels. Thanks to astral dexterity, they could also see the frigates on the far side of the tornado had just reached their designated positions. Holding steady, six hundred yards above the ground, all four craft gently rotated inward until they were facing each other.


    Ben counted down, and a sparkling topaz luminescence rippled away ¨C left and right ¨C from the bow of each ship. Merging, those lights formed a square-shaped prism that grew in intensity and commenced falling as a shimmering blue mist, a veil that deepened in color until a self-contained box had formed.


    Excellent, the curtain¡¯s integrity is exactly as it should be, Ben thought to himself. Initiating a mechanically fashioned protective bubble around his location, he scrutinized the new construct with both instruments and his ultrasenses for a full minute before affirming. ¡°Threshold initiated and fully phased, harmonizing with shield generator¡­¡±


    He turned to find Grand Master Yasin studying him, and added, ¡°This thing would restrain a ten Megaton atomic blast; we¡¯re good to go.¡±


    ¡°Well, go on then,¡± she chided, ¡°it¡¯s your baby.¡±


    Taking a deep breath, Ben hailed the waiting frigates: Captains, please focus on the heart of the tornado . . . Now!


    A crimson laser beam lanced out from each corner of the containment field. Converging at the exact center of the maelstrom, they formed a glowing hub that locked the ships in position ¨C to the core of the storm and with each other ¨C providing a framework upon which their foreboding could retain its strength as they drifted in unison with divergent airstreams.


    Can you assess the exact position and density of the variable downdrafts? Ben inquired.


    Four mental confirmations came back, and again a corresponding volley of rays flashed out. As wide and as brilliant as arc lights, these ones were pristine and white, and waved to and fro across an invisible pressure variance within the torrential mass. Once the precise position of every confluence had been determined, each vessel assumed governance of its own quadrant.


    The captains signaled their readiness for the next stage.


    Okay, to begin with I want the Falcon and the Argent to target their microwave emitters on their own side of the collar. We need to turn this beast left of its current course. We¡¯re aiming for the area between Cache and Lawton, which is the least populated spot around here. Once we see it beginning to work, the Trident is to move in and back up the Falcon, and the Rapier can likewise support the Argent. Doing so should grant us an extra bit of momentum and help avoid Geronimo as much as possible. Affirm?


    Affirmed.


    Got that.


    Roger.


    Wilco.


    Right, I¡¯ll lead you in. Five ¨C four ¨C three ¨C two ¨C one ¨C go!


    The Falcon and the Argent commenced their firing sequences. It didn¡¯t take long for the eastern edge of the tornado¡¯s funnel to become speckled by tongues of amber flame. Even so, nothing happened for a good three minutes until Ben discerned the huge bore had begun to shy to the west.


    It¡¯s working. Realizing his equations were proving true, Ben breathed a huge sigh of relief: Trident and Rapier, please add your strength on my mark. Three ¨C two ¨C one ¨C Mark!


    The wash of amber sparks intensified along the starboard flank and brightened to gold. Now only fourteen miles away, the tempest threatened the outskirts of Geronimo itself, but at last, had started deviating sharply left.


    ¡°We¡¯ve got it!¡± Ben yelled at the top of his voice.


    Then he fell silent, for despite the intervening buffers and range to contact, the ground beneath his feet trembled as if a leviathan was stirring in the pits of hell.


    How long do we have until that thing threatens either Lawton or cache? Grand Master Yasin asked, projecting an aura of calm that served as an anchor to her less experienced officers.


    Ben did not rush his analysis. Though under immense pressure, he replied with confidence: Our target is travelling at close to one hundred and twenty miles an hour along the ground. Absolutely incredible! Thankfully, we¡¯ve managed to divert its path to a point mid way between Cache and Lawton, giving us roughly six minutes to act. It¡¯s now just over thirteen miles away, and . . . .


    A flash of purple lightning interrupted his train of thought.


    He frowned, suddenly wary, and made haste to warn the frigates: Captains, we¡¯re starting to get some particularly intense gamma readings. It might be time to adjust your scanners and target those down bursts affecting your own quadrants only. We need to cook this thing up¡­pronto.


    The cloud of golden embers flared, expanding to encompass almost half the volume of the restraining collar. But the storm wasn¡¯t about to give up without a fight. Thunderbolts ¨C prolonged, percussive and heavy ¨C etched the firmament in photonegative fury.


    Anxiety mounting, Ben tried his best to hide his fear and rally his colleagues: That¡¯s it guys, core temperature is beginning to rise. Run this pattern for five more seconds and start peppering the damned thing with your singularity emitters. Concentrate on the area around the base of the column. That should be enough to¡­eh?


    Stifled cries of alarm from behind, alerted Ben to the presence of several news crews, from the look of them, the same ones he had seen in conversation with Grand Master Yasin upon his arrival on site.


    Up until now, they had remained quiet and unobtrusive, but the unexpected appearance of myriad tiny explosions in midair ¨C the result of a million tiny black holes self-destructing on the point of formation ¨C had unnerved them. Ben could understand why, as the rapid cycle of creative-destructive forces were generating intense gravity fluctuations, making it virtually impossible to stand upright outside his bubble.


    The correspondents from ABC and Fox made a dash for their trucks, ignoring the warning from Commander Yasin that they would never drive fast enough to get away. Throwing their equipment inside, both teams had gunned their engines before the doors were even closed.


    They hadn¡¯t gone more than two hundred yards before both vehicles were plucked off the ground by a transportation beam issuing from an independent patrolling Guardian corvette, much to the amusement of Grand Master Yasin, who looked pointedly at the only remaining newscasters, those from CBS. ¡°Care to join them?¡± she shouted.


    With eyes as wide as saucers, the young woman reporter clutched at her microphone as if it was her only lifeline. The cameraman fared little better, hugging his camera to his neck like a two thousand pixel rabbit¡¯s foot, and the only thing capable of warding off the evil before him.


    It was obvious they were both petrified. Nevertheless, it seemed to Ben they were determined to stick it out, something that earned a nod of respect from his commander, for she extended her own personal shields to encase them.


    As it turned out, that saved their lives.


    <h6>*</h6>


    Seeing the journalists were a little more settled, Grand Master Anatt Yasin surveyed their wider surrounds using astral projection. The operation was entering a crucial phase, and Ben¡¯s stratagem didn¡¯t need any further interruptions.


    Unfortunately, she found exactly that: a smattering of light aircraft and a single helicopter buzzing the skies just north of Geronimo.


    Homing in on them with her farsight, Anatt identified several independent paparazzi jokers out to make their fortunes by risking life and limb in the hope of getting the most sensational shots of their careers.


    By now, the storm was a scant eight miles out. Anatt was about to instruct the captains of the rescue corvettes to scoop the idiots up for their own safety, when she perceived two distinct and prolonged purple flashes out of the corner of her eye. Those flashes were quickly overshadowed by further strobelike salutes, each one laced with strange yellow streamers that seemed to linger, long after the initial report had faded.


    Ben? Notifying orbital assets and Headquarters to the danger, Anatt subconsciously bolstered her own defensive measures and instructed the ship captains and Guardians around her to do the same.


    Ben? She repeated, louder this time.


    The young scientist seemed lost in concentration, his mind broadcasting those details he was in the act of physically checking. Anatt could see he didn¡¯t like what the figures told him: What¡¯s wrong ¨C?


    Two more blazing scars scored their way across Anatt¡¯s vision, these ones arcing between the orbits of a closely-knit pair of microscopic black holes. A bassoon thrum began to predominate. As it mounted in power, the tone deepened, causing the ether to quake and the energetic ribbons to writhe frenziedly.


    On her right, Ben dropped to the floor, screaming: ANTIMATTER! SHIELDS NOW!


    A sizzling sound filled the air and an almighty concussion rocked the earth as a prolonged fanfare of hybrid lightning ¨C supercharged and accelerated to almost the speed of light by the proximity of those singularities ¨C arced over the top of the containment field and slammed down on their position.


    The Class One mechanical bubble Ben had erected around the worksite lasted a heroic four times beyond capacity before overloading. Fortunately, each Guardian in attendance had remembered to raise their own mentally generated wards in the moments before calamity struck. Even so, Anatt could see their efforts would be insufficient to save their lives.


    Instinct took over.


    As a Guardian with over thirty years command experience, Grand Master Yasin had prepared a Reflexive Lifesaver ¨C ReL for short ¨C a long time ago. Now stored deep within her psyche as an emergency program, it was something that would only ever be activated if the need arose.


    In her case, Anatt had selected a three-tiered Succubus Shield. An abstruse conjugation designed to mitigate overwhelming potential, the Succubus worked by absorbing excess energy before disintegrating, draining the overall potency of the initial strike with each successive collapse.


    Initiating the ReL, Anatt tried to compensate for her team¡¯s shortfall by extending the Succubus far beyond its normal parameters. She succeeded, enveloping her fellow Guardians and the CBS bystanders in the instant before the hideous bolt crashed into them.


    The outer layer held steady for a full heartbeat before it fragmented. In the blink of an eye the median band followed, crumbling like brittle rust under a hammer¡¯s blow.


    That exposed several of the Guardian scientists closest to her who did not possess her resilience. Four were incinerated where they stood, exploding from the inside out in the fraction of eternity it took for the charge to ravage their fragile flesh in its quest to earth.


    Almost instantly, the commander¡¯s inner shield gave way.


    She hardly had time to think, let alone teleport, dodge or even flinch.


    Reacting with inhuman speed, Anatt spun a neural insulate around her brain, at the same time drawing her staff in an attempt to dissipate as much of the flashover as it could.


    She wasn¡¯t fast enough and was smashed more than twenty inches into the ground. Tragically, time seemed to slow down as if eager to help her experience the full horror of her demise in the nanosecond it took for more than one million watts ¨C registering a staggering twenty thousand degrees centigrade ¨C to course along her spine.


    Hair and clothes flared to ash; dermal layers calcified and shriveled; organs ruptured, eradicating muscle and sinews alike, residual heat desiccating what remained into a charred smoldering husk.


    Conscious to the very end, Anatt¡¯s dwindling farsight allowed her to witness the moment her plasma staff was blasted from her ruined hands. Somehow, she¡¯d managed to deploy the blades, and as her weapon twirled away through the air; she was reminded of a cheerleading processions she¡¯d once seen several years previously while vacationing in Japan. It had been a wondrous carnival, for everything had been bedecked in gaily colored lanterns, and participants had used neon strip-lights as part of their display.


    So bright and so very beautiful¡­She reminisced fondly.


    Then everything turned black.


    <h6>*</h6>


    With the supersonic boom still reverberating into the distance, Megan Bronson climbed slowly to her feet, leaning heavily on Eduardo for support.


    After all the seemingly impossible things they had done recently, it was daunting to realize so many Guardians had been killed, and that of the four that remained, all were lying unconscious in the stubble.


    All except for one, that is. For the young scientist who had been overseeing the experiment ¨C Ben ¨C stirred and tried to lift himself from the grass. A burn, weeping and pink, ran from the middle of his forehead, across one eye and down his cheek.


    ¡°What the hell was that?¡± Eduardo yelled, his voice barely audible above the blustering outcry of the tornado.


    Megan screamed, pointing to a crater, in the middle of which a ruined heap of charred tissue, smoked. ¡°Eduardo, is that who I think it is?¡±


    Eduardo clutched his stomach as if he might vomit. Falling back to one knee, he steadied himself and leveled the camera at her. ¡°What do you think? Just do your job, Megan, this is what we¡¯re here for, now report it.¡±


    ¡°I know, I know . . . .¡± Raising the microphone, she found it unusually heavy. It also felt like something was tugging her backward from the inside out.


    Is it because we¡¯re no longer protected by the Guardian shields?


    Bewildered, she spun about, and spotted an expanding area of nothingness four hundred yards away, surrounded by a swirling sickly green halo. At this distance it looked to possess the same circumference as a dime, but as she watched, it swelled to the size of a quarter; then a dollar coin.


    It¡¯s still within the confines of the curtain generated by the Guardians¡¯ ships, but if it keeps growing like that, it won¡¯t be for long. ¡°What is that?¡± she mumbled aloud.


    ¡°Run to the ships while you can,¡± a voice cried, hoarsely.


    Turning, she saw Ben staggering toward them, fighting the pull of the terror emerging in their midst.


    He called again. ¡°I said run, a black hole is forming! The storm is so strong it created an antimatter nucleus at the exact point of the lightning strike. Now it¡¯s feeding. In a few moments the singularity will be fully anchored and there¡¯ll be nothing I can do to help.


    ¡°Go! I can¡¯t teleport, my T-ring¡¯s damaged, and the ships are too far away.¡±


    As they fled for their lives, Megan couldn¡¯t help but think that it was a pity she would never live to see the headlines this incident would create.


    At least I was part of it, she thought.