As You Were: Part Six
"I mentioned that I disapprove of this, right?"
Nate couldn't help a sigh. "A couple of times, actually, Mom." Adjusting his collar, he gave his reflection in the mirror an appraising look: still a little haggard, but he hardly needed the excuse of a week in the hospital for that. The job did it to him on a regular basis.
"The two of you ought to be going home and taking it easy," his mother said as Nate flipped the washroom light off and came back out into the room. Sitting on the edge of the bed, her arms folded across her chest, she was watching him like a hawk as he came over to get his uniform jacket. Nate did his very best not to limp. No sense in giving her an excuse to really cut loose. "I'm sure everyone at the Tower could get along without you for a few more days."
"Oh, come on, Aunt Dana, have a heart. It's been a week already," Clare pointed out. Already in uniform - Domino had brought hers up last night - she was slouched in a chair, smiling blithely. "I don't know about Nate, but I've had about as much 'taking it easy' as I can handle. Besides, I'm between homes at the moment, remember?"
Nate bit his lip, resolutely looking away. Her nonchalance was really getting on his nerves. Three days had gone by, and Clare had yet to take what had happened in the garden seriously. She was acting as if what he'd found in her subconscious was a--curiosity, something worthy of casual investigation while she had time on her hands but nothing to worry about.
But he hadn't quite given up getting her to see sense, and since he hadn't come to the end of his rope, he wasn't about to bring the subject up in front of his mother. There was no need for additional complications. "Don't worry, Mom," he said as heartily as he could, forcing himself to focus on her instead of Clare. "Restricted duty, remember? And Dad's not about to let us forget it. I bet he chains us to our desks."
"He'd better, or someone will be sleeping on the couch." It had the unmistakable ring of sincerity about it, but before Nate could gather his wits to say anything reassuring, Dana got up with a sigh and gave him a quick, tight hug. "Anyhow," she said more briskly, drawing back, "I've got the car downstairs, so I'll let you two go. Just promise me you won't do anything stupid? Neither of you are up to strenuous physical activity yet, however much better you're feeling."
"I promise," Nate said firmly.
Clare coughed. "I promise," she said, trying to look sober, an effort that was ultimately doomed by the fact that her lips kept twitching helplessly. "Nothing stupid. Unless it becomes absolutely necessary. You know how it is, sometimes--"
Dana rolled her eyes. "Clare, dear, everyone knows you're your father's daughter. There's no need for these periodic reminders." Picking an imaginary bit of lint off Nate's sleeve, she gave a disconsolate sigh and then squared her shoulders, stepping back. "Well, go on, the pair of you," she grumbled. "If you're late for your first shift back they might take away your workaholic licenses, and we can't have that."
"I'll call you tonight, Mom," Nate promised, and glanced sideways at Clare, who stood up and nodded.
They teleported in sync, emerging in the dimness of Clare's office at the Tower. Nate swayed, dizzied by the transition. *Damn,* he thought feebly. Even after a week of more or less enforced bed rest, his energy levels weren't back to where they should be. Tottering a little and hoping Clare wouldn't notice, he made his way over to the small couch along the side wall.
"Window," Clare said crisply, and the floor-to-ceiling glass that made up the outer wall of the office went from translucent to transparent, the dark tint bleeding away. The sudden influx of sunlight was brilliant. Clare sat down behind her desk, giving a contented little sigh like someone who'd just come home. "Look at this," she said with a chuckle, waving her hand to indicate the startlingly immaculate desktop. "All the paperwork's gone. I bet Mel did it, just to make sure we wouldn't have anything to do when we got back."
"Considerate of her," Nate muttered, easing himself down onto the couch. Sitting down was a definite relief. His leg was still aching, enough to make staying off it as much as possible seem like a fabulous idea.
Clare's eyes moved to the door, going distant. "She's on her way up," she said after a moment. "She and Cate are down in Intel."
They'd be a few minutes, then. Nate sat and watched Clare as she activated her terminal and began to scan through what had to be the post-incident report from the attack on her apartment, to judge by the pictures. He'd read it later, he told himself. They had a brief window here before Mel and Cate arrived to provide a convenient distraction, and he really should use it.
Now, if only he could think of something new to say. The idea of having the same fruitless discussion again really didn't appeal to him.
"Nate?" Clare said, without looking up from the screen.
"Uhh--what?" he asked a bit warily. There was entirely too much amusement seeping down the link.
"If you're waiting for my head to start spinning and spewing projectile vomit, you're going to be disappointed," she murmured, her voice rippling with mirth as she continued to scroll calmly through the report.
Nate tried very hard not to grind his teeth. Losing battle, though. He could deal, marginally, with her being insanely calm about the whole thing. It might be driving him to distraction, but he could keep his temper under control. Flippant, though--flippant was pushing it. "I was just wondering if you'd had any luck meditating yesterday," he said with as much dignity as he could muster.
"A little." Clare gave him a sideways look, smiling very slightly. "But there was someone sitting in the next room stewing at the top of his mental lungs. Very distracting."
Nate grimaced. "So I'm worried," he muttered, the tiniest bit chagrined even though he knew this was just her attempt at a conversational shift. He had been brooding last night, and not worrying much about guarding his thoughts. Besides, it wasn't as if he had any more secrets to hide from her. "So shoot me."
"Tempting," Clare said, focused on her screen again. "But I'll stop entertaining the thought if you stop treating this like some kind of impending catastrophe. Sound fair?"
"No, it doesn't," Nate said grimly, and felt a flicker of perverse pleasure at the frown that flashed across her features before she schooled them back to a composed mask. Had she really thought he was going to drop the subject that easily? "I'll be damned if I sit here and let you keep ignoring this. Name me one mental interloper that's been friendly." He'd avoided being confrontational so far--well, blatantly confrontational. Maybe that had been a mistake. After all, calm persuasion certainly hadn't worked.
Clare looked up at her, her eyes wide and guileless. "My father had a few that turned out to be quite helpful," she said gravely.
The urge to strangle her was suddenly overwhelming. Patience--maybe it would help if he prayed for patience or something. "Clare," Nate gritted, "they also nearly drove him insane. Almost got him killed, too, if I remember the stories right." If he'd needed any proof she wasn't thinking clearly, the fact that she'd classed Stryfe as a friendly presence would do nicely.
"'Almost'? 'Nearly'?" Clare smirked at him. "Aunt Sulven would take your medallion away."
"Just call me a semi-lapsed Askani," Nate muttered huffily, and immediately wanted to smack himself in the head. He really shouldn't have fallen for that. Opening a philosophical discussion as an evasive tactic was the oldest trick in the book. Doggedly, he steered the conversation back onto the original track. "Clare, can we be serious for a minute here? This is something you need to deal with. You can't just--"
"Leave well enough alone? Sounds like a plan to me--"
"Stop it!" he erupted, loud enough to make her straighten in her chair. She didn't stop smiling, though, and he really wished she would, or at least tell him what she found so funny about all of this. "Some of the possibilities are scary. What if it's something left over from Farouk?" he demanded, anger making him reckless.
Clare's eyes went cold and flat, just for a moment. Then he saw her take a deep breath, and the sudden tension on the link gradually eased. "I thought of that," she said calmly.
It wasn't quite the reaction he'd expected. Farouk was a taboo subject around Clare and Nick--although, admittedly, Clare was much less likely to slug you if you brought it up. "And?" Nate said harshly, not breaking eye contact.
Clare actually smiled. Not a smirk, this time, thankfully. If anything, the expression was pensive. "I think it's highly unlikely. Especially given that 'it' is female."
Nate gaped at her, struggling to find his voice again. "Female," he finally said, unevenly. Did he want to ask her how the hell she knew that? Maybe it was part of the 'little' luck she'd had meditating. "Okay. I--guess that makes it unlikely, yeah."
Clare's smile turned just a bit defensive. "It's not hostile, either. You probably just startled it."
"Startled--?" Nate swallowed hard, now fighting the absurd urge to burst into laughter. "Startled it? Oh, that's priceless. What the fuck is the matter with you?" The quesiton slipped out before he could stop it, and he bit his lip, glaring at Clare, who raised an eyebrow at him.
"You know, you're really getting the hang of not censoring yourself. Excellent progress, Nate."
He jolted forward, but forced himself to stop and not spring to his feet. With his luck, if he tried that his leg would give out, and winding up on his ass was not how he wanted to end this conversation. "This is not normal, Clare," he said as forcefully as he could. "This is not a normal reaction to something like this. You KNOW this."
Clare threw her hands up in a theatrical gesture. "Well, pardon me if I don't start running around in circles screaming that the sky is falling," she scoffed. There was no vehemence to her voice, though, and she went back to scrolling through the report as if the conversation was boring her. "I have better uses for my time."
Nate's jaw clenched. "Avoidance is not one of your options here, Clare," he said, very slowly and coldly.
Her head whipped around towards him, her eyes narrowing dangerously. There was no longer any trace of amusement in her expression, or on the link. "I get the distinct impression that was meant to be a threat, Guthrie," Clare said, just as precisely.
"Possibly." Oh, he was going to regret saying that, he knew as he met that cold gray gaze stonily. But then, even if she decided he was never getting any further than the end of the link again, there were plenty of other people around who'd have a problem with the idea of something lurking in her subconscious. If she kept refusing to deal with the situation as it was, he'd just have to revert to his childhood policy of overscrupulous honesty and tattle for all he was worth.
Clare broke eye contact first, scowling. "Nate, whatever it is, it's not hurting me," she said, biting off the end of each word. "So would you kindly stop being such a pedantic fucking bastard?"
"If it's not hurting you," Nate said, keeping his voice level, "why is it associated with so much fear?"
"I am not afraid of it!" she said, sounding exasperated.
"That's not what I said--" Sensing the two presences approaching the office, Nate swallowed the rest of what he'd been about to say. "We'll talk about this later," he said, firmly enough that he knew she'd realize he meant it. Clare glared at him for an instant longer and then leaned forward, tapping the control panel on her desk.
The door slid open and Melanie Parrish all but bounced in from the outer office, beaming from ear to ear. "You're back!" she exclaimed happily, leaning against the edge of Clare's desk and almost literally glowing. Nate had always thought that 'naturally ebullient' was a mild description for Mel. "I didn't think you'd be in until this afternoon!"
"Surprise," Clare muttered darkly, and turned her attention to the person who'd followed Mel in at a much more sedate pace. "Cate. Good to see you."
"Good to see you too, boss," Cate Dixon said easily, taking the nearest chair. She was an attractive woman of about Nate's age, with flame-red hair and a lieutenant commander's stars on her collar. He'd known her for almost ten years. She'd always reminded him rather unnervingly of his Aunt Gina. "Guthrie," she said, her dark eyes sparkling wickedly as they shifted to him. "Can I have your job yet?"
It was an old joke between them. When they'd been given their last promotions, the selection committee had dithered for days before deciding to send Cate to Berlin as the European section chief for Counterterrorism and to keep Nate here as Clare's second-in-command. Cate's was the more prestigious post, really, but for some reason, she'd always made it clear that she'd have preferred his. Nate mustered a smile. "Ask me again at the end of the day," he said, the standard answer. One of these days he was going to shock Cate and say yes. Maybe today, if Clare kept being ridiculously stubborn about this--
Cate pursed her lips. "Mm," she said, and Nate grimly reinforced his shields. Cate was a good strong telepath, if not anywhere near his and Clare's level, and she'd obviously picked up on the undercurrent in the room. "Okay. Well, you two look a lot better than I'd expected. You should have heard some of the gossip right after the incident." She leaned forward in her chair, peering at Clare's screen. "I see you found the report."
"I haven't gotten very far into it yet," Clare admitted. "Fill us in?" She inclined her head infinitesimally in Nate's direction.
"We found the missile launcher on top of the building opposite yours," Mel said earnestly. "The serial number was--"
"Oh, I saw that." Clare smiled thinly. "One of those weapons that went missing from the raid on the army base in France last winter." She gave Cate a challenging look. "Did I or did I not say that incident was going to come back and bite us in the ass one of these days?"
Cate shrugged, accepting the unspoken not-quite-rebuke with aplomb. "Hey, you didn't catch me disagreeing, did you? But it was a jurisdictional issue. The French didn't want our help, and since it was technically just theft, we couldn't stick our noses in too far. Now, if they'd had the decency to pop a guard or two on their way out, we could have classed it as a terrorist act--"
Nate couldn't help a frown. "Yeah, let's all regret that, Cate," he said disapprovingly. "Oath."
Cate shook her head at him. "Chill out, Guthrie, I was being facetious. Did you misplace your sense of humor somewhere?" Nate grimaced, and she eyed him a bit concernedly before she went on. "Anyhow. Don't know if you'd gotten that far in the report yet, Clare, but Nate left enough of the shooter to let us ident his DNA. He's local, no criminal record, but we searched his apartment and there's definitely evidence to support anti-XSE political leanings. Enough to make it pretty likely he was tied to these Sons of the Revolution jokers that called in the claim of responsibility."
"Grandiose name for a bunch of minor-leaguers," Clare snorted.
"These minor-leaguers just about pulled off a major-league operation," Nate felt obligated to point out, even if doing so made him seem even more like Argumentative Guy. "I'd like to know where they got a null assassin, myself."
"I think we should be registering nulls," Mel suddenly piped up. Cate gave her a disbelieving look, and Mel made an impatient face. "Well, come on, we have to register, don't we? Yet nulls get to wander around living their lives in comfortable anonymity. It hardly seems fair. Or safe. We have enough trouble with anti-psi technology these days, we don't need this, too."
"That would open up a can of worms," Nate said, less sarcastically than he might have. This was Mel, after all, the woman who had the appalling habit of looking like a kicked puppy if you spoke too sharply to her. Given that she'd purportedly gone through a serious practical-joker phase as a cadet, it had probably gotten her out of trouble countless times. "Not all nulls are joining terrorist organizations or otherwise breaking the law."
"And not all mutants are out-of-control dangers to society, either," Mel countered spiritedly. "But we all still have to register to make sure we get training. Psis especially, and what's a null but the flip-side of a psi?"
"There's a sweeping generalization," Cate said derisively. The idea seemed to irk her for some reason. "Besides, not all nulls are mutants. Even those that are mutants are gamma-levels, and since they don't have active abilities, they don't have to register."
"I have to admit, I'm getting tired of being burned by nulls," Clare said quietly, tapping a finger on the desktop. "It's becoming a disturbing trend."
Cate had opened her mouth, presumably to continue arguing the point, but closed it with a snap, flushing. "Well, can't dispute that," she muttered. Clare gave her a faint smile, and Cate grimaced. "I just--the idea seems dangerous to me. I don't know, maybe I'm having a precognitive flicker--"
"Or maybe you're just being paranoid," Mel suggested helpfully, and got a dirty look in response.
"I keep wondering where they're coming from," Nate said, musing aloud. "It bucks another trend, doesn't it?" While there hadn't yet been anything to match the one-time demographic bulge of telepaths who'd been in utero at the Merge, the worldwide percentage of babies born with psionic gifts each year since had risen steadily. Last time he'd checked, it had been up around five percent.
"Research has been on that for a while," Clare said, and it didn't surprise him that she'd kept up with the latest on the subject. As she'd implied, she had something of a vested interest in it. "The last report I read, someone was theorizing that the increase in nulls was part of a natural set of checks and balances that developed in response to the rise in psis." She shrugged. "Interesting theory, but not a lot to back it up."
Cate gave a humorless laugh. "Oh, there's an appealing thought. We psionic types are getting above ourselves, so Mother Nature's taking a hand? Perfect fodder for the religiously motivated anti-XSE groups."
Stef would like that answer, Nate thought, and flinched. He'd really have to read some of these reports for himself, though. The preponderance of nulls involved in terrorist activities was a definite concern. As Mel had said, the proliferation of anti-psi technology was dangerous enough.
"We can't pretend the problem doesn't exist," Mel said stubbornly, clearly not willing to surrender just yet. "It IS turning into a trend. Half the cases we deal with now, there's a null involved in some way, and it always winds up making our lives more complicated."
"Half is a bit of an exaggeration, Melanie, and there's a reason we practice old-fashioned investigative work as well," Clare said bluntly, in a tone that meant 'drop the subject' to anyone who knew her. Mel looked vaguely mulish, and Clare met her eyes, holding them steadily until Mel looked away. "Besides, the simple truth is that it's politically unfeasible for us to do anything about this publicly. It would look too much like a power grab. That doesn't mean that we can't keep track of nulls who turn up in the course of our investigations, mind you."
Mel made a disgusted noise. "I'm so glad it's you who has to put up with the political crap, Clare," she declared almost fiercely. "I wouldn't have the patience."
Clare's answering smile was wry. "Patience is learned, lieutenant," she said, rather more formally. "Anyhow, back on track, shall we? Cate? Any luck running the rest of the group in question down."
"Not yet, but we're still chasing leads." Cate shrugged. "I think they've gone to ground, personally. Which reminds me." She started to smile, looking entirely too gleeful. Like the cat who'd just spotted a nice fat canary, Nate reflected dryly. "Since the two of you are back, I can go out with the team to search some more suddenly-empty apartments."
Nate snorted at her. "Don't gloat, Cate," he said ruefully, and then glanced a bit warily at Clare. "I guess we can coordinate from here?"
Clare nodded, her professional mask firmly in place. "Make it three teams," she ordered. "Mel, you take one. Dig Patrice out of whatever rock he's hiding under this week and send him with the other."
Patrice de Bont was a recent acquisition for the division, a lieutenant commander second-class who'd spent most of his time since arriving at the Tower complaining bitterly about having been transferred out of Combat Ops. Nate was waiting for the man to wake up and realize that the transfer made him the equivalent of an already-attractive fish dumped into a much smaller sea. He was a talented field commander who was much more likely to get noticed in Counterterrorism than in Combat Ops with a hundred others who were just as good as him.
"Will do," Mel said, sounding more more like her usual chipper self as she headed for the door. "It's so good to have you two back!"
"Good to be back," Nate murmured, and was oddly surprised to realize that he meant it. Was he turning into a workaholic after all?
Cate followed Mel out, but stuck her head back through the door, eyeing both him and Clare measuringly. "You two kiss and make up now," she said, and vanished before Nate could throw anything at her. He could hear her laughing like a madwoman all the way down the hall.
"I wish people would stop saying that," he observed petulantly, and stiffened as Clare suddenly rose from her chair and came over to sit down beside him on the couch. "What?"
She was giving him one of those martyred, infinitely weary looks, but there was a trace of real sadness on the link, which immediately made him feel like the biggest asshole in the world. How could she do that to him so easily? he raged at himself, meeting those clear eyes and steeling himself for whatever she was about to say.
"Okay," Clare said, more lightly than he'd expected. "Cards on the table, Guthrie. I want a simple answer to a simple question. Why can't you trust me?"
Nate scowled helplessly at her. She'd missed the point completely. "Don't be stupid," he said sharply, but moderated his tone as her shoulders sagged and she looked away. "I trust you. That's not the issue. The problem is, I don't have any reason to trust whatever's in your head." She shrugged, an oddly apathetic gesture, and a strained laugh escaped him before he could stop it. "Do you, Clare? I mean, if you have a good reason, I'd love to hear it. It would be very reassuring."
"It's been there for a long time," Clare muttered, still avoiding his eyes. "I haven't shown any signs of being possessed yet, have I?"
There were so very many things he could say to that. He decided not to say any of them, and stick to the real issues instead. "How do you know it's been there for a long time?" he persisted, still trying vainly to figure it out. This just wasn't like her. Clare was a lot of things, but flat-out irrational generally wasn't one of them. "And what's 'a long time', anyway?"
"Years. Decades, I think." Clare finally looked up at him again, her expression oddly fierce. "And I know it in the same way I know it's female. I just do, Nate." She sighed and pulled her medallion out from under her shirt, toying with it restlessly. "I wish you wouldn't worry."
"I can't help it," Nate muttered distractedly. "Whatever it is, it's all tied up in fear, Clare--"
"Fear's not always a bad thing, Nate." She was staring through him, suddenly, and it was more than slightly frightening. Her voice was almost preternaturally calm. "Sometime it's the best survival mechanism of all."
Before he could wave a hand in front of her eyes, reach out and shake her, or shout at her to snap out of it, she seemed to shake off the half-trance on her own and focused on him again, her expression brisk.
"Come on," she urged, rising. "If we're going to coordinate field teams, we need to head down to CIC." Nate opened his mouth to protest - they weren't finished here, damn it! - but she shook her head, a smile that seemed perfectly natural crossing her face. "One crisis at a time, Nate."
***
He'd never admit it to anyone - there were enough people around who regularly accused him of being a workaholic - but Nate was actually glad to be back in the CIC. Being here, seeing the Threat Board, listening to the updates coming on the tactical net from all over the world--it made him feel connected to what was going on. In the loop. And he'd take that sensation where he could get it, given that it wasn't liable to make an appearance in certain areas of his personal life anytime soon.
Things were fairly quiet this morning, actually. There was some sort of minor disturbance in Belgrade, an apparent riot at a government building, and municipal officials had asked for help from the XSE. Officers in Jakarta were still cleaning up after a police action against a slavery ring had turned a little messy. A large expeditionary force was helping with disaster relief in a remote area of China, where there'd been some particularly bad flooding. There were a number of investigations ongoing. No active police actions.
Well, not just yet, Nate thought, his eyes straying from the Threat Board back to the bank of monitors in front of him. Three gave him the view from the birdseye gear the investigative teams were equipped with, allowing him to keep track of their progress as they searched the apartments of other suspected members of the Sons of the Revolution. They hadn't turned up anything yet, but there were still several more names on the list. At the rate they were going - they were being very meticulous about their search, yet another indication of just how annoyed his and Clare's people were about what had happened - it was going to take them the rest of the day.
Another monitor gave him a view of the hangar, where Cate was assembling a tactical team. Once their personnel carrier took off, there would be a police action to add to the Threat Board, albeit one in the very initial stages of implementation. Cate had been out with the third investigative team, but Clare had ordered her back when Intelligence had come up with a possible location for where all these suspected militia members had vanished to. Apparently, Intelligence had acquired a particularly talented young cyberpath who'd reconstructed and decrypted message traffic that had been deleted from the suspects' Net accounts, messages that seemed to be some sort of order to regroup at the site in question.
Personally, Nate was uneasy, and not just because things tended to get nasty fast with these little militias once they dug in for a siege. If all of this was part of Stef's back-up plan, he'd be terribly surprised if there wasn't more to it all. Wheels within wheels seemed to be par for the course.
Thankfully, Clare had been her usual skeptical self - whatever was going on in her head, it didn't seem to be affecting her judgement when it came to work - and Cate's orders were quite specific: her team was there to reconnoiter, to set up surveillance and a discreet perimeter. Once they'd assessed the situation and verified their information, more teams would be dispatched.
Nate took a moment to admire the personnel carrier into which Cate's team were loading their gear. The new carriers were great improvements on the old boxes-with-wings. Great strides had been made in the teleportational equivalent of aerodynamics - a team of teleporters could move a fleet of the new carriers across long distances much more easily - and the stealth systems were much, much better. Like their predecessors, though, the new carriers were impressively armored and armed to the teeth. The old carrier fleet had been ninety percent replaced now, and the yards in Kazakhstan were now turning their attention to replacing the XSE's old fighter aircraft. Nate had seen the new 'Falcon' fighters and been just as impressed. With an XSE fighter pilot with enhanced reflexes or spatial perception aboard, they would be unmatched by any other fighter aircraft on the planet. Nate had heard that the next thing on the list was a new command ship to replace the Phoenix, which was ten years old but still fully capable of leveling a city with no help from anyone aboard. All ground-based equipment had been replaced already, within the last three years. It was almost overwhelming, in retrospect.
The XSE had learned a long time ago how important it was to stay on the cutting edge of conventional military technology, but Nate knew he hadn't been the only one to wonder at the complete refit. It wasn't so much a money issue - fabricators, like so many other thirty-eighth century pieces of technology, had been adroitly introduced to the public as 'new' inventions some time ago, so the XSE could now use them publicly and to their highest efficiency - as a question of why it was neccessary, right this moment.
And he was definitely trying to distract himself again. Nate sighed, leaning back in his chair and trying futilely to relax. The conversation with Clare up in her office certainly hadn't resolved anything. If anything, it had left him more confused. He honestly didn't know whether to believe what she claimed about the presence in her mind. If it was--aware, and trying to protect itself, it could be tricking her somehow. She was still too calm about it all. It wasn't natural.
"Commander? Coffee?"
Murmuring a thank-you, Nate took the cup of coffee a beaming young lieutenant offered him. The CIC staff was being overly soliticious--it was sort of endearing, actually. If he hadn't been so concerned about Clare, the walk down here to the CIC would have brightened his mood considerably. Everyone had been so pleased to see them. He had no idea what kind of gossip had been going around about the attack on Clare's apartment, but it had to have been fairly dire.
"Is there anything else I can get you, sir?" the lieutenant persisted, still hovering.
Nate smiled faintly, shaking his head. "No, but thank you," he said, turning his attention back to the monitors. Cate was talking to Lieutenant Bhutto, looking vaguely irritated about something. Nate frowned. #Cate, everything all right?# he asked, using telepathy instead of his headset, since it didn't look like she was wearing hers yet.
On the monitor, Cate looked upwards towards the security camera, grinning and spreading her hands wide. #Gear snafu. Bhutto's sorting it out.#
#Okay.#
#I never knew you liked to watch, Nate,# she went on slyly, the words laden with deliberate innuendo. #You should have told me.#
Some of the coffee went down the wrong way, and Nate burst out coughing. #Oath, Cate,# he shot back once he could breathe again. He couldn't help grinning, though. #I haven't missed your sense of humor one bit, woman.#
#Pity. I've missed that lost-puppy act of yours terribly. I always thought that was the sexiest thing I've ever seen.#
Now he was blushing. Why were women always making him do that? #Are you flirting with me, Dixon?#
#Who, me? Never.# She tossed off a cheery wave at the camera. #Go find someone else to oogle, Nate. I've got work to do.#
#Cate!# he protested, but her presence was gone from his mind with an echoing laugh. Nate sighed, taking a gulp of his coffee. Cute. With his luck, it would turn out that someone had been listening in, and by the end of shift it would be all over the Tower that he and Cate had been flirting.
He sensed the reaction rippling through the minds around him at the same moment that he recognized the presence just entering the CIC, and Nate turned in his chair, managing a smile as Bishop made his careful way over to the monitoring station, an aide and what looked very much like a Security officer following at a discreet distance. A precaution, Nate supposed, and wondered how many other senior officers had extra security following them around this week. He and Clare had been ambushed by a particularly genial pair of Dane's minions as soon as they'd left her office. Nate glanced sideways at his own 'shadow', who smiled pleasantly from where she was standing, out of the way but close enough to intervene if anything happened. The fact that they were in the heart of the Tower was probably the only reason Lieutenant Blythe was letting him out of arm's reach in the first place.
Shrugging - there wasn't much he could say or do about the new security measures, after all, and to be honest, he was probably lucky he was only dealing with a single bodyguard - Nate turned his attention back to Bishop, unable to help a flicker of concern at how tired his commander-in-chief and honorary uncle looked. Too many long days lately, Nate suspected. Aging, for most mutants, was a slower process than for baseline humans, but Bishop was seventy-two this year and beginning to look - and from all accounts, feel - his age. There was talk that he'd be retiring to a less active role soon, possibly taking over as commandant of the Academy. There was an end to every era, Nate supposed, but this one would be hard to take. His 'Uncle Bish' had been the head of the XSE since Nate had been old enough to know it existed. It was hard to imagine all this without him.
Abruptly remembering his manners, Nate started to rise, reaching out with a flicker of telekinesis and pulling a second chair over from a neighbouring station as he did, but Bishop immediately waved at him to stay seated. "Don't get up," he told Nate gruffly as he settled into the second chair. "You should be staying off that leg as much as possible."
"I see you've been talking to my mother."
"It would be more correct to say she was talking to me," Bishop said, eyeing him measuringly. A little disapprovingly, even, Nathan thought, and straightened in his chair, but Bishop raised a hand, a small smile tugging at his lips. "I'm just thinking how good it is to see you back, even if you really should have taken a few more days leave to finish recuperating. Do relax, Nathan."
Bishop was one of the handful of people who had never called him by anything else but his full name. He should be used to it by now, but it still sometimes made him jump and look around for Uncle Nathan. "It's good to be back, sir," Nate responded, for lack of anything else to say.
"Even if it is to a desk?"
Nate mustered another smile. "I can be patient," he said. "To be honest, I don't feel quite up to field work yet, so the restriction doesn't particularly chafe." More or less the truth, even if he was feeling a little fidgety sitting here on his ass watching everyone else work.
Bishop's smile returned. "If you ever tire of the XSE, you could do worse than to follow in your godfather's footsteps," he suggested with a low, rumbling laugh. "I suspect you'd make an excellent diplomat."
"Something to keep in mind, I guess." Nate's mouth twitched as he thought of Clare telling him he censored himself too much. Maybe he should point out to her that it wasn't always a bad habit. For a diplomat, it would be a necessary skill.
"For the distant future, one hopes," Bishop said dryly. "I have plans for you for the foreseeable future, boy." He glanced at the monitors, his expression all business suddenly. "I see you have teams out."
"Two investigative teams at the moment," Nate said. "Commander Dixon's about to take a tactical team to a rural residence in Indiana." Bishop raised an eyebrow, and Nate hurried to explain, surprised Bishop didn't know. But then, Nate's father had been the one to approve the operation, and he'd been called to the UN this morning to brief a special committee on the situation in Jakarta. He must not have gotten the chance to brief Bishop yet. "Intelligence developed some information suggesting that these Sons of the Revolution might be regrouping there, so we're sending an advance team to check things out."
Bishop nodded, his expression grim with displeasure that Nate knew wasn't directed at him or the operation. "I'd like to see this group rooted out as soon as possible," he growled, his eyes lingering on the screen that showed Cate and her team making their final checks. "I disapprove of assassination attempts on my senior officers."
"I'd sort of like to catch them myself, sir."
Bishop snorted. "I'd imagine so." His gaze roamed the CIC for a moment, pausing briefly on Lieutenant Blythe before he looked back at Nate. "Where is Clare, by the way? I expected to find her here."
"She'll be back soon, I think," Nate said tersely. "She said something about Sulven wanting to see her." She hadn't been forthcoming about why, of course, and she'd been wearing her poker face when she left. The link was blocked again, too, so he hadn't been able to listen in. All he knew was that whatever they were talking about, it was making Clare edgy. That was no absolutely no help, given that nervousness was an entirely normal reaction to a serious conversation with Sulven.
"Ah," Bishop said with a strangely knowing look, and Nate firmly quashed the urge to dip into his mind and find out what he was thinking. Bishop had never been at ease with casual telepathic contact, and Nate was fairly sure that the old man could still kick his ass quite comprehensively if he put his mind to it.
Feeling like a coward for leaving it there, Nate took a long sip of his coffee, looking back at the monitors. "It's been a strange couple of weeks," he muttered.
"Indeed."
Bishop was still watching him. Intently. Nate could feel it. His thoughts were as well-guarded as always, but Nate could quite clearly sense him mulling over something.
"Sir?" he inquired as levelly as he could, looking back at Bishop in time to catch another tiny smile cross the other man's face. "Something on your mind?"
"Yes, actually," Bishop said calmly. "I wanted to tell you that I admire your handling of the DaCosta situation. You've done very well, considering your--significant conflict of interest in the matter."
"Thank you," Nate said stiffly. "The euphemism's appreciated."
Bishop's eyes flickered at the touch of sarcasm in Nate's words, but he didn't react, only went on as smoothly as if Nate hadn't spoken at all. "That being said, I think it's time you were relieved of that particular concern."
Nate gave him a sharp look, not quite bristly. "Are we talking about me specifically, or my division as a whole?" he asked roughly. He didn't want any special favors. And if it was the latter, why was Bishop talking about this now when he'd just have to go through it again with Clare? "Because if it's the former, sir, I assure you I can handle whatever else I have to do. I've got a whole hell of a lot fewer qualms about dealing with Ste--DaCosta than I did a week ago."
Bishop was already shaking his head. "You misunderstand me, Commander," he said more formally, and Nate relaxed infinitesimally. "I've simply decided that DaCosta's further interrogation should be handled under special assignment."
'Simply'? There was nothing simple about that preposition, nothing at all. Nate straightened further in his chair, his mind racing over the implications. 'Special assignment' was the polite way to say 'black and borderline illegal'. The commander-in-chief or the chief of operations were the only ones who could make that decision, and if they did, they had to account for it in front of the Security Council. It was a drastic step, and Nate realized there had to be something more going on here. As it stood, there was no pressing reason for Bishop to do this.
"Uhh--yes, sir," Nate said, when Bishop continued to gaze at him expectantly. "I understand."
"No, you don't," Bishop said, grimacing faintly. "It's not intended as an insult to your division, Nathan." Nate started to assure him that he hadn't taken it as one, but Bishop went on, cutting him off. "Getting information you and Clare can use to defuse any further surprises is our highest priority at the moment, but we have to avoid any appearance of--improprieties on Counterterrorism's part. We can't risk tainting the case against him as it stands." Nate nodded slowly, and Bishop gave him a rueful, entirely unconvincing smile. "DaCosta's lawyers have been very busy these last few days."
Oh, he was so covering something, Nate thought darkly. What, had the precogs come up with something dire? "I understand, sir," Nate said evenly. "To be honest, it's a bit of a relief."
Bishop, shaking his head again, leaned back in his chair with a heavy sigh. "All of these games! I get very weary of such nonsense," he declared, crossly enough that Nate didn't doubt his sincerity on that score, at least. "Things were so much simpler in my time."
Nate couldn't help a brief smile. "Uncle Nathan used to say the same thing," he pointed out.
Bishop chuckled darkly. "Things were even simpler in his," he said. "I sometimes have to stop and remind myself that all this--" He paused, waving a hand in a gesture Nate knew was intended to take in more than the CIC, "is preferable. Gina would say I'm turning into a cantankerous old man."
Prudently, Nate didn't comment, and turned his attention back to the monitors for a moment as Mel reported that she and her team were on the move again, having found nothing in the latest apartment. "Understood," he said over his headset, and put the birdseye feed on inactive until they arrived at their next target, the next-to-last on a very short list. A trained monkey could do this job just as well, Nate reflected a bit glumly. After all, it was just a matter of sitting here, pushing the right buttons, and watching the show.
"You have that 'I'm angry at the world but too polite to say anything about it' face on, Nathan," Bishop said suddenly, sounding kindly amused.
Nate spared him a tolerant look. "Not at the world," he said, trying for a bantering tone and not quite managing it. He was still wondering why Bishop had parked himself here. Clearly, he wanted something, or at the very least had more to say--to Clare? Lots of people wanting to talk to Clare today, in that case-- Nate still very much wanted to know what Sulven's summons to Clare had been about. Something was nagging at him, something that his father had said back in the hospital--where was that damned telepathic memory when you needed it?
The astral plane rippled, and Nate flinched at the flash of light beside his chair as Clare appeared. "A little warning next time?" he growled. Just because she could teleport into a crowded room without even having an unfortunate accident didn't mean she had to show off whenever the whim took her.
But most of Nate's irritation fled as he saw how rattled she looked. Pale and tight-lipped, she was holding herself rigidly, as if bracing for a blow. Avoiding his eyes, too. This didn't bode well.
#Are you all right?# he sent sharply, poking in frustration at the blockage on the link.
Clare twitched and looked down at him, her mouth twisting. She was definitely on the wild-eyed side, Nate noticed, his concern only growing at the thought. "Cate's team gone yet?" she asked hoarsely, visibly struggling to wrestle her features back to a neutral mask.
"Loading up, still," Nate said aloud as he tentatively projected reassurance up the link. It ran into that same barrier, and he shifted unhappily in his chair. "They should be in the air shortly."
"Okay." Clare hesitated, and then nodded jerkily at Bishop. "Sir," she said, eyeing him with a strange wariness, edged in anger that Nate sensed but didn't understand.
"Commander," Bishop said, his smile oddly sad. The formality vanished as he went on. "It's good to have you back, Clare."
Clare took a deep breath and relaxed a little, as if she'd expected him to say something else and had been pleasantly surprised. "You were at the hospital," she said in something closer to her normal voice as she glanced at the monitors.
"I didn't think you were awake," Bishop said, his smile lingering, but losing that rueful edge.
"I wasn't, really."
Nate frowned, his mind seizing on the momentary distraction. "You were at the hospital? Well, I missed that entirely."
"So you did. Twice, actually," Bishop said almost gravely.
Clare actually smiled. It was a faint, strained sort of smile, though, and it vanished as quickly as it had come. She leaned forward on the console, her hands white-knuckled where they gripped the edge. Nate started seriously contemplating tracking down Aunt Sulven and abasing himself until she deigned to tell him what precisely she'd done to Clare.
"Nothing from the other two teams yet?" Clare said abruptly.
"Not yet," Nate said, trying to sound encouraging. "But they've got a few more places to search yet." Clare didn't so much as bat an eyelash in reaction, and Nate chewed on his lower lip for a moment before risking the question. "Umm--what did Sulven want?"
"To talk." Clare started playing with her medallion again, but distractedly, as if she didn't realize she was doing it. It wasn't a normal nervous mannerism for her, and this was the second time today he'd seen it, Nate remembered. "My help with something later, too. Not a big deal."
Oh, suuuure. Nate glanced sideways at Bishop, who was still watching Clare carefully, as if anticipating some kind of eruption. Again, Nate weighed the pros and cons of a brief probe of Bishop's mind. There was obviously something here he was missing, something important. Damn it, he hated being out of the loop.
"I'm sure they'll turn something up," Bishop said briskly, and Nate's suspicions soared. Bishop simply did not deliver platitudes, that was all there was to it. "It's the waiting that's the difficult thing."
A short, hysterical-sounding bark of laughter escaped Clare, and Nate tried very hard not to grind his teeth. Maybe a temper tantrum would work, he told himself. If he got up, shouted at them that he knew they were hiding something and threatened to hold his breath until they let him in on it, maybe they'd take pity on him. Then again, maybe they'd just laugh.
On the left screen, Cate's team had vanished into their carrier, and the hatch was slowly closing behind them. Clare was staring hard at that monitor, as if trying to decipher something in the picture. Her expression had changed, Nate noticed suddenly. She looked--hesitant, almost lost. Not a normal expression for her. The link was still blocked, so he'd missed the shift in her mood completely. Frowning, Nate reached out and laid a hand on her arm.
"Clare?"
"Something's wrong," she muttered, squeezing her eyes shut and swaying slightly. His heart in his throat and all kinds of frightening possibilities racing through his mind, Nate jumped out of his chair, sliding an arm around her to support her. She was actually trembling, he realized, his worry slipping over the line into outright panic.
"What is it?" he demanded, peripherally aware of Bishop rising from his chair as well. "Clare!"
"I--don't know," Clare gritted, shaking her head as if to clear it, her eyes still shut tightly. "Sulven said--shit, it HURTS--"
"Clare?" Bishop said, sounding alarmed. "What is it you're sensing? Is--"
"NO!" Clare's eyes flew open and Nate had only a moment to register that they were glowing green - the eerie, misty green of temporal energy - before she wrenched away from him, lurching forward. #CATE!# she projected, loudly enough to stagger Nate and provoke cries and protests from the other telepaths in the CIC. #Cate, don't start those--#
On the monitor, there was the merest puff of plasma fiire from the burners of Cate's personnel carrier.
And then it exploded.
The fireball expanded outwards, knocking out the camera, and the whole Tower trembled. Clare started to crumple, and Nate barely managed to reach out and catch her before she could fall.
Still dizzed, he heard Bishop curse, and then the steady shriek of a red alert shattered the air.
to be continued...
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