Government is not reason; it is not eloquent; it is a force. Like fire, it is a dangerous servant and a fearful master.
-George Washington
-==OOO==-
"And that, gentlemen, is why the SELF Initiative is of such importance to our national and international security," Agent Fritz concluded. "Considering that we need virtually no budget allocated as it will be funded privately, the request for a small amount of manpower and basic credentials is beyond reasonable."
The three men across from him exchanged glances. One cleared his throat.
"You have highlighted several intriguing possibilities, Agent Fritz."
"Thank you, Mister Secretary."
"But I am concerned by what you haven't said." The Secretary of the DHS leaned forward. "How can you guarantee that these Sentinels will side with us in the end? I agree that the promise of citizenship is a necessary one to ensure cooperation, but what is to stop these people from learning all Doctor Quest and Doctor Sandburg will teach them and then taking that information back to their homelands to use against us?"
"If we're going to go to the trouble of offering citizenship based on a few genetic quirks, we need some sort of means to ensure the trouble is worth it," said the second man.
"I understand your concerns, Mister Secretary, Mister Deputy Secretary," Howard nodded. "And we could argue long and hard about whether or not such a promise is even feasible, or whether requiring some form of concrete benefit is even enforceable, let alone consistent with how we treat other immigrants and refugees, but even that is not the issue."
The Deputy Secretary as well as the head of the USCIS each raised an eyebrow in almost identical expressions. "Oh?"
"A Sentinel's genetic imperative to protect is very powerful," Agent Fritz explained. "When Sentinels claim territory over either individuals or a location, their instinctive defense of that territory is both subtle and undeniable. Certainly, some foreign Sentinels who come to SELF will feel that their territory lies in lands beyond our borders, even potentially in countries which are enemies to us."
He smiled. "But if Doctor Sandburg is to be believed, even that would not override a Sentinel's loyalty to the place that sheltered them."
"You're saying they'd look on the United States like a…like a college alma mater," said the third man, the quiet Deputy Secretary of the DHS. "They might come and go and only call it home for a time, but they would hold certain loyalties thereafter."
"Almost," Agent Fritz said. "They would be inclined to look upon the United States as one does one's in-laws – perhaps it is a distasteful ally, but one is forever indebted for providing the most important thing in one's life. No matter how much a person hates their in-laws, they are bound to them in the form of the spouse."
"You mean the Guide," the Secretary said.
"And SELF," Howard nodded. "If these Sentinels acquire American Guides, their loyalties would be ensured. But even if they do not, SELF will provide family, tribe, aid, and freedom to these people. SELF will become father and mother and support system all in one. They may hate our country with all their souls, but they will not be able to turn aside SELF so easily."
"But SELF is not an American institution," said the head of the USCIS. "Their loyalty will ultimately lie with Doctor Quest and Doctor Sandburg."
"Both of whom are deserving of that trust," Howard said firmly. "Tell me, honestly. Would you ask these men and women, biologically coded to serve and protect beyond anything we could instill in most of our own military, to be subject to a political appointee's will. No offense, sirs," he said with a tiny smirk. "To use a trite colloquialism, a Sentinel, like a puppy, is for life. We can all agree that there are forces within our own government we would not wish to have knowledge of or access to these Sentinels. It is not the same thing as the chain of military command. We cannot assign a Sentinel to lead the rest, and we cannot decree who shall be a Guide. Likewise, we should not attempt to push these Sentinels into loyalty to a system or a government. It will not hold."
"Are you sure about that?" the Deputy Secretary asked softly.
"Very."
"Now, what about this potential threat from international groups who may oppose what Quest is doing?" the Deputy Secretary asked.
"As far as we know," Agent Fritz said, "nothing is immediately forthcoming. The specific group that abducted Doctor Quest last spring appears to have gone underground or been absorbed into something else. None of our best investigations have uncovered any remaining interest from the Wellmen Global group to pursue Doctor Sandburg into Cascade. So we shouldn't need to worry about resources or oversight on that score at this point."
"Howard," the Secretary looked at the man he considered one of his best – if not the best – agents. "There's another reason you want this SELF business off the books and outside the normal channels and hierarchy. What is it?"
Howard smiled at his sharp superior. "It is my belief that there will come a time when diplomatic relations will demand that we as a nation stand by and take no action in a situation abroad. To our peril, we have learned that a government cannot always be the force for aid or peacekeeping or intelligence worldwide. We have also learned that private contractors, while valuable, should not always be trusted to act in any interest but their own. But SELF as an independent organization run by a single benefactor may function differently."
"You mean if a situation arose in which we could not intervene militarily, SELF might intervene and spare us the political fallout?"
"Yes, sir." Agent Fritz held up a hand. "But they will not be ordered about. They will only go where they choose to go, as Doctor Quest has always done. Even when he worked for our government, he had that freedom."
"What is the ultimate goal, then?" asked the USCIS head.
"Call it a shadow Red Cross if you will. A force of dedicated, well-funded and loyal individuals who can make moves on the world stage across borders free of international infighting. Most will believe, if nothing else, in the cause of humanitarian acts. They might never involve themselves in something like a war, but I believe they would, with time, be unable to keep out of situations where innocent civilians are in need of their help."
Howard smiled inwardly – the political game at play was a subtle one, and while he had said nothing tecnically untrue, there were certain implications he knew had more meaning for his boss the Secretary than they would ever have based in reality. But this last had been absolute fact. Howard might or might not be mercenary when it came to the buying of loyalties, but he would have bet his career and his life on the ability of SELF to do good if allowed. On the abilities of Doctors Quest and Sandburg to foster good in the Sentinels they chose to help.
And if Howard had his way, one day SELF would not require the DHS as shield over them at all. He only needed to play the game long enough to make the right moves.
Howard lived for the long game.
"You make them sound like superheroes," the Secretary frowned. "Like a bunch of caped mutants running to the rescue when there are cats up a tree or babies down a well."
"Perhaps," Howard acknowledged. Then he met their eyes in his gaze and held them.
"Sentinels and their Guides and those who pass their scrutiny may very well be the best of humanity," he said truthfully. "At this moment, everything they are is in its infancy compared to what they could become. We must give them this opportunity. And if the result is that we do have more people like the Quests, more Jim Ellisons, in the world, then I, for one, will sleep better wherever I am because someone will be watching over us all."
-==OOO==-
Simon glared across the tiny cab of the truck, having to lean forward so he could look around Sandburg to where Jim sat behind the wheel. "At what point, exactly, are you two going to tell me where we're going?"
"Soon," Jim offered.
"No, 'soon' isn't good enough," Simon growled. "If you're going to kidnap me on my day off with no explanation and drive me to god-knows-where, you're going to offer me a better answer than 'soon,' detective!"
"Come on, man," Blair smiled. "Can't you just enjoy the mystery?"
"I wouldn't taunt the man who is squished up against you and can make your life miserable before Jim can stop me, Sandburg," Simon threatened.
"All right, just take it easy," Jim said, and Simon could have strangled him for being quite so relaxed and cheerful, except it was rare to see his friend laid back like this. But, then again, Jim had been much more at ease lately overall. Even now, crammed into the cab of a truck definitely not designed to seat three even if two of them weren't of Jim's and Simon's stature, he watched the winding mountain road before him without a hint of the usual gruffness that tended to hover around the man. And Simon had been on too many fishing trips with him to be tricked into thinking it had something to do with the fact that they were an hour outside Cascade and lost in the mountains.
Jim nudged Blair. "You explain it."
"Okay, so you know last month when we were in that meeting with the Mayor and the Commissioner and Doctor Quest was talking about buying property to set up SELF?"
Simon nodded. It was a difficult conversation to forget, really.
"Well," Sandburg's smile could have rivaled the sun whose light was streaming down, "this is it!"
Simon realized that the truck was turning off the road onto a narrow driveway that disappeared into the trees.
"There's nothing here," he shook his head.
"There won't ever be anything this near the road," Jim confirmed. "It's supposed to be secret, still. And it isn't all up and running yet, either. It'll take a while to finish building everything and installing the rest of the security equipment."
"But the gate's already up," Blair gestured carefully, without smacking either man in the ribs. Around a thick stand of evergreens, Simon could see a stout metal gate that wouldn't have been out of place at the governor's mansion or a federal prison. There was a double perimeter fence, too, creating a wide alley in which no trees or cover grew. The outer gate had a simple "No Trespassing" sign on it, but even so it didn't look cold so much as very official and private. Arching high above the gate was a sign that proclaimed in clean script, "Sensory Evaluation and Learning Foundation."
The gate opened automatically at Jim's approach.
"The truck's got a sensor in it that the system recognizes," Blair explained before Simon could ask. "But that only gets us so far."
Indeed, they were obliged to stop before a second gate while the first closed behind them. Simon trusted his friends knew what they were doing, but he still hated the feeling of being penned in this tiny little place the length of an eighteen-wheeler truck and too narrow for more than one vehicle to pass at a time. The walls and gates were high, maybe as much as twenty feet up, and now Simon could make out a concealed tower looking down on them.
Jim rolled his window down. "It's just me. It's all clear."
The gate before them started to open.
"I didn't see anyone," Simon said, frowning.
"That's the point," Jim answered with a shrug. "Right now the place is staffed mostly with agents from the Department of Homeland Security, and they take secrecy pretty seriously. But they're only here on loan."
"Someday," Blair said softly, "we hope it will be Sentinels guarding us."
The truck emerged from the gate into a cleared area, suddenly bright after the darkness under the canopy of the forest. Simon looked to see a broad, wild area stretch away from him in all directions. Low bushes and other undergrowth remained but all the trees had been removed for a margin of several yards along the inside of the fence. Simon squinted. It could almost be natural.
They continued up the road back under the cover of trees a few yards later. The road here was more of a compacted dirt path than something paved, and the truck bumped along. Everywhere Simon looked, he only saw the wilderness, nothing of the stringent security that had met them at the gate. And there was no sign of the fenced border, either.
"How big is this place, anyway?" he asked after a few minutes.
"I think it's just a little bit shy of 8,500 acres," Jim said. "A little more than 13 square miles overall inside the perimeter with its own water-source from a spring on the property."
"Plus," Blair grinned, "most of the land around us is actually government-owned, so we won't get any neighbors any time soon."
Simon gulped at the sheer scale they were talking about so blithely. He'd known Doctor Quest had some serious backing to get the DHS to cover for Sandburg and help them set up this crazy operation, but he had no idea it went this far. To his left, Jim chuckled.
"I know how you feel," he said. "I'm not used to it yet, either."
"But the best part," Blair continued, "is that because of Doctor Quest's innovations and some nifty new techniques for biointensive farming, the whole place could be totally self-sufficient if we wanted it to be."
"You mean the people living here could farm and whatnot and they have enough space for that?" Simon asked.
"Farm, raise goats and chickens and cows and stuff, set up solar panels, the whole thing."
"This is Washington, Chief," Jim noted. "Not a whole lot of sun most days."
"Which is why we'll also have a wind turbine and a wheel coming off the stream from the spring," Blair replied. "We're not going to get all of that up and running yet – there won't be enough people here to maintain it all. But if things go the way we think they will, well, we'll be ready for it."
"This is starting to sound less like a refugee center and more like some sort of commune," Simon commented. "Or worse, something like a cult or the kind of place those crazy Sunrise Patriots would live."
"Some of that is on purpose," Jim said. "The people coming here will have been through the wringer in the worst way. They're going to need something completely cut off, totally secure, where they can feel safe from the outside world for a while. And we also need a place we can defend if necessary, just in case."
Simon remembered the dire warning from the meeting, but before he could ask about that, the truck once again broke into the sunlight.
The broad clearing looked like a scene out of a magazine for "Best Wilderness Retreats You've Never Heard Of" or something. The main building, what Jim had called the lodge, was about the size of a small hotel, with all the rustic charm of a cabin in the woods. To one side was what would clearly become a sizeable barn, half-built with the bare timbers shining in the sun. There were also a number of smaller buildings scattered around and behind, including a few little individual houses. There was a fountain out front that splashed musically around rough rocks, the water trickling away down a narrow creek to empty into a pond. And between the buildings and houses Simon could make out everything from a basketball court to a swimming pool to what looked like a soccer field.
Sandburg was talking excitedly about the way the water would be filtered and recycled, about how they were already planting fruit-bearing bushes and trees instead of formal gardens, about how every rooftop would be covered with solar panels and the wind turbine would go right over there and there was a natural waterfall elsewhere on the property where they could get additional hydro power, too, but Simon was only barely listening. As he started to look beneath the surface of the place that could have put any five-star resort to shame, he saw other things. He saw how there were no blind spots anywhere on the campus, how windows faced in every direction. He saw how the windows were broad but every single one had metal shutters that could probably be closed and locked automatically. He saw a fleet of roof-mounted satellite-dishes and sensors, artfully spread out, but not unlike the arrays on naval ships. This place was restful and beautiful, but it was also ready for anything.
Jim steered the truck around the front path to pull up beside the lodge. The moment he'd turned off the ignition, Simon was climbing out of the cab, grateful to stretch his legs after the cramped ride. He was struck by how clear and fresh the breeze was, how quiet the air. He decided he didn't even need to know if there were other things that made this place particularly Sentinel-friendly.
"So, while I'm glad to see the place, this doesn't answer my question. Why am I here?" he asked as Jim came around the truck and Sandburg piled out the open passenger door.
"Couple of reasons," Jim answered, gesturing that Simon should follow. "First, we wanted to get you on record with the security stuff as early as possible."
Simon didn't miss the unspoken 'before anything happens' that went along with that. He suppressed a shiver.
"Second, we wanted you to know how to find the place," Blair spoke up. "And we both knew you could find it again if you'd been here once."
It was a little-known talent of Simon's that he had a superb sense of direction and a memory for places. He preened a bit under the simple faith in his ability to retrace their steps, doubly so given the convoluted route it took to get all the way up here.
"And third," Jim pushed open the lodge door, "we wanted to give you your shot at dibs."
"Dibs?" Simon asked.
He stepped into the main room of the lodge. He had expected it to look a lot more like a lobby and a lot less like a common room, but he wasn't surprised to find he had been wrong. A grand fireplace dominated the center of the room, and couches and chairs and ottomans were scattered around in groups. One wall sported an absolutely massive television, while another was lined with bookcases. A curving stairway led upstairs, the upper balconies and hallways looking over the area through the beams and lights that gave the whole place a cabin-like feel.
"Look," Jim stopped only a few paces into the room, Blair moving to his shoulder, "this SELF thing, this is a lot bigger than us. And when we get going, there's no telling how things will turn out. You said you wanted to be a part of this, right?"
"Yeah," Simon nodded. Then, more deliberately, "What you're doing here, what you're going to do, it's important. And I owe it to the both of you to be here for you if you need me."
"Nice of you to say so, Simon," Blair smiled, "since there's almost no way we're going to pull this off without you."
"What do you mean?"
"According to everything we've learned so far," Blair explained, "Sentinels have a real 'thing' about authority. Like how wolves develop a strong pack hierarchy, Sentinels do better when they know exactly where they fit in the scheme of things."
"I'm not a Sentinel," Simon pointed out the obvious.
"No, but you're Captain Banks of the Cascade PD," Jim said. "You're also my boss. That means the Sentinels who come here will have an automatic respect for you and everything you stand for."
"It'll make them more likely to trust us if they know the official authorities are on their side, are even a part of their tribe too, you know?" Sandburg said. "They might theoretically accept that the United States government is an ally, but it's the local police force they'll actually have to trust while they're here. Since the whole point of this is to help Sentinels and get them free from their situations, we're hoping a lot of them will be able to leave here and go live normal lives in town at least at first. They'll feel better doing that with you watching out for them as the police."
"Is that why you picked Cascade for this thing?" Simon asked, having wondered several times why Doctor Quest, who could have picked any place in the country, chose his city for all this.
"Well, a little," Blair answered. "Mostly it's because of Jim. This is his territory. He's our number one Sentinel right now, you know? So it made sense to do it that way."
"There's also Rainier," Jim looked at his partner sharply. "Don't discount that."
Simon raised an eyebrow.
Blair coughed slightly. "Doctor Quest might have donated a certain amount of fellowship and scholarship money to the university to get them to share some of their resources with us. Their anthropology department is among the best in the world – that's why I was there to start with. Having access to those resources will make it a lot easier for me to do my part."
Jim smirked. "He's also leaning on them to give Sandburg the option of going back to teach if he wants to and they've all but formally begged him to take a class to get Benton off their backs."
"So what does all this have to do with 'dibs?'" Simon asked after a moment.
Jim's smirk turned into a smile. "You'll want to claim a room of your own, right?"
Simon grinned. He needed no urging to begin following the other two up the stairs. The lodge was multi-storied, and somehow Simon wasn't surprised to learn that Jim and Blair had already laid claim to rooms on the top floor facing the road inbound. What did surprise him was that they were sharing a room; the door had a brass name plaque on it that clearly stated "Sentinel Jim Ellison, Guide Blair Sandburg, SELF Founders."
"Not one room," Blair shook his head. "Just…as Jim's Guide, it helps if I'm closer. Especially with a bunch of other Sentinels around."
The door that they pushed open in demonstration revealed a suite only a touch smaller than the loft itself complete with two bedrooms, two bathrooms, and even a kitchen and living room/dining room area. Everything was already furnished in the same comfortable, rustic style, and clearly the amenities of a TV and sound system hadn't been skipped. The broad windows even had a balcony from which they could overlook the entire front part of the area and Jim could probably see all the way to the road. Simon noticed a ladder to one side and realized it gave full access to the roof, and he assumed that didn't have much to do with just maintaining solar panels.
"The Quests have already claimed their own rooms," Blair said after a moment. "Jonny and Hadji are right next door to us, Benton is one down from them, and then the Bannons." He paused and Simon could have sworn the kid was blushing slightly. "We thought you might want the room on our other side. You can choose any one you want, of course."
Simon didn't need to be an anthropologist to know what was being offered to him. He already knew all about the trust implicit in that offer, the importance of the placement and its position in the lodge, the equality and authority bestowed upon him even as a non-Sentinel or Guide or founder of SELF. Sandburg had called the Sentinels a tribe; Simon was being offered more than membership and respect – he was being offered a family.
"Well," he said a little gruffly, "let's take a look."
But he knew before he'd even opened the door that he would take it.
-==OOO==-
They were all the way back to Cascade, having finished a tour and getting Simon set up on a ridiculously complex security identification system (that had involved some very private information and some very surprising personal samples) when he cleared his throat awkwardly.
"So, I remember Doctor Quest saying something about setting up in town as well?"
"Oh, yeah," Blair nodded. "He bought a house right near Rainier University that we're going to retrofit for the office. The downstairs will be for the Foundation itself and will look nice and official, but it will have living quarters upstairs for any emergency drop-ins or just somebody who needs a nap. And we're fitting the basement with a safe room, too."
"Are you going to be okay?" Simon asked him with concern. "I mean, the university fired you and you'll be right on their doorstep."
"Oh," Jim grinned broadly, "I wouldn't worry. Between the student protests about Sandburg's unfair and frankly unwarranted dismissal, the anthropology department that threatened to walk out if the chancellor didn't realize the error of her ways, the legal pressure from the DHS who has a vested interest in keeping Sandburg's research secret, and Benton sweet-talking and bribing his way in, we'll be in good shape."
Simon blinked. He'd heard something from Daryl about the rumors of a student protest but hadn't realized it was on behalf of Blair. "You must have a lot of friends there."
Sandburg shrugged a little. "It happens when you spend more than a decade in an institution. I've been part of the anthropology department at Rainier longer than some of the tenured professors."
Jim huffed a laugh. "You should have seen the board of trustees meeting we crashed. Chancellor Edwards would have named a building after our little Einstein here if it got the wolves off her back. And that was before the big guns got involved."
"Bigger guns than the DHS and Benton Quest?" Simon's eyebrows went up.
"Yeah," Blair smiled. "There might have been a rumor going around that a couple of Ivy League schools were looking into poaching me and my research and the DHS deal and the Quest backing for their own departments, and a couple of my anthro profs, including my advisor Eli, offered to throw themselves in with the deal. If there's one thing any university hates more than a fraud, it's their own rivals."
"It was more than a rumor, Chief," Jim said.
"Well, yeah," he demurred, "but we wouldn't have gone and you know it, so it was never going to be more than an offer. Remember, Cascade's your territory. I wasn't going to uproot all this just to get a sweeter deal. Plus, staying around gives us an advantage since Eli's staying, too."
"What's that?" Simon asked.
"Eli knows about Jim, of course," Blair fiddled with the cuffs of his jacket sleeves. "I didn't tell him – I didn't need to. He's been my advisor for too long, and he'd read most of the drafts for my diss, too. But since everything's classified now, he can't officially know anything. We talked it over, and Eli decided not to get involved but to keep his eyes open."
"Like having a double-agent," Jim added. "Eli won't have access to anything but the public information on SELF but he knows enough to watch for the right things. If someone can't come to Sandburg, they might go to him. A student or someone who does the research but doesn't want to raise a fuss. And rumors tend to make their way to him, too, and he can let us know if there's anything being said that we need to handle."
"So," Simon smiled at the pair, "all around, everything worked out okay?"
"Yeah," Blair nodded. "I'll get my doctorate in a couple of weeks – as soon as Howard over at the DHS can get all the approved people together. I guess there's a whole special task force devoted to us now. The US government can't openly recruit Sentinels because it would start an international incident, but they're sure interested in helping us do it."
"Like luring good doctors and scientists away to work for our government," Jim added. "Except a lot riskier."
"The people at the university who matter don't hate my guts," Blair continued with a genuine lightness in his voice, "and most of them are starting to think a little bit about my real research after this SELF thing and the government's interest. The people who do hate my guts hated me long before that press conference, and I don't have to care anymore because they can't keep me from getting what I want now."
"And what's that?" Simon asked.
Sandburg hesitated only a moment. "At first, the only thing I ever wanted was to find and study a real life Sentinel. I got that," he grinned at Jim. "Then all I wanted was to be his partner, you know? Be his Guide. And you gave me that," he turned the grin on Simon who felt something warm in his chest at that happy gratitude so clearly expressed.
"And now," Blair finished, "I get to keep doing both things – being Jim's partner and studying Sentinels – and using my knowledge to help people all over the world. There's nothing better than that, man!"
"It still sounds like it could be dangerous," Simon commented. "Plus, it's you, so all the Sandburg Zone rules apply."
"You're probably right," Jim admitted, and though his tone was light there was steel underneath it. "But like Sandburg said, this is my territory. If I have to defend it, I will."
