Code 7—

Nomanisan Island was host to a sprawling subterranean base, which in its' heyday hosted more than 1,000 staff members. Over 500 of them were guards—highly trained militia men. They came from different mercenary backgrounds but were all thoroughly screened, tested, and trained. The island was run like a well-oiled machine. Watch was kept by advanced machines and a team of 15 rotated guards. Absolutely nothing slipped past the security team.

The day was March 17th, a balmy morning with good radar visibility. It had been two months since the termination of Everseer. Intelligence task forces were hunting down new prey for the Omnidroid, while the robot was upgraded. It was 'down time' on the island, but security stayed sharp as ever. New hire Raleigh was occupying a minor position (okay, a chair in the corner) in the main surveillance room. Guards watched for potential threats on complicated displays. If Raleigh was honest with himself, he'd admit he was only there as muscle, in case of a sudden break-in. He didn't really think anything was going to happen. It looked like an uneventful Tuesday…

…until Tom spotted something on the marine radar.

Tom raised his visor and leaned in, unsure he was seeing what he thought he was seeing. A mid-level agent in Syndrome's security force, he'd never witnessed an Event with a capital E before. Nothing real exciting. Tom watched the faint shapes moving on the marine radar. They looked like….no, couldn't be. He waved his supervisor over. The stiff-backed senior guard strode over and took one look at the screen. He, too, raised his visor and studied the shapes closely.

"Sir, do you think it's—?" Tom started.

"We can't be sure."

Tom pulled up data on another screen. Both men compared the figures. Tom saw the similarities and looked up at his standing superior.

"…We have a Code 7. Call it." The older guard commanded.

Tom shot out of his chair. He reached a console in the middle of the wall in two strides, and with shaking fingers, pressed the button that would project his voice across the base. All eyes in the room were on him.

"We have a Code 7. I repeat, a Code 7. North by Northwest, three miles out, travelling parallel and West at 6.2 knots. I repeat, we have a Code 7. This is not a drill."

All across the base, people burst into action. Poker games and rec rooms were abandoned in seconds. Guards shot out of their bunkers to join in the action. Any man not needed at his post started running. Even members of the tech team (after looking around for their bosses) dropped their work and migrated North by Northwest.

The surveillance room was a flurry of activity, too. Guards scrambled to get a visual. A few slipped out the door. Raleigh was sitting bolt-upright, gun in hand, looking for orders. He'd never lived through a Code 7. He…didn't know what a Code 7 was, come to think of it. Surely, it was in some handbook. He must've forgotten.

Tom saw the fear on his face and decided to help him. Raleigh stood up at Tom's approach.

"You'll be needed elsewhere. West observation deck! Hurry! Go!" Tom commanded.

With a nod, Raleigh was off. It wasn't hard to find the west observation deck. Most of his fellow employees had swarmed to the north lookout, but Raleigh fell in with a squadron headed the right way, and in minutes, he was there. Tom's message repeated over the intercom. The tension in the air was so thick, you could cut it with a laser.

"All right, everyone, don't panic!" A captain addressed the whole deck. "We ran drills for this! Everyone, stay calm!"

There was a small crowd gathered along the bulletproof glass wall of the observation deck. Being civilized army-men, they fell into a formation, equally spacing themselves along the wall. Raleigh imagined, up above on the open-air deck, similar men were doing the same. From his spot on the glass he looked down—on a jungle terrace, a dozen guards gathered. All were still various states of armed. The silence was broken only by excited, tense whispers. Raleigh dare not ask what they were scanning the horizon for.

Then, a small voice sounded, through the radios they wore.

"This is Lieutenant Riker, Surveillance—we have the Code 7 on cam! North by Northwest, headed your way, North deck!"

A few men turned to each other and gave excited grins. Laughter broke out. Raleigh still couldn't see anything.

"This is Captain Johnson, North observation deck—we have visual! I repeat, we see 'em!"

Raleigh could hear quite a commotion in the background. Was—were they cheering? Was that a scream? He held his gun a little tighter.

More messages came through.

"Nice and clear visual!"

"There must be dozens of 'em!"

"This is Hangar 3—we can see 'em, just barely!"

"This is Sky Watchtower—did you see that one jump?!"

"Woo hoo!"

The mood in the west observation deck was growing tenser by the minute. They were all waiting for something, and Raleigh didn't know what.

"This is North deck—they're headed your way, West deck, get ready!"

A message came in from Surveillance, on Raleigh's radio alone.

"Hey, newbie—use your scope! You'll get a way better view!" Tom offered.

Raleigh looked to his fellow guards and saw a few of them already scanning the horizon with their military-issue scopes. Hesitantly, he raised his gun (safety on) and looked through his. Just blue water, as far as the eye could see. He swept the horizon in even lines like he'd been taught in the military.

"There! I see one!" An excited voice shouted. A guard on the very right pointed out at the ocean and gave directions. "Three miles out! Two-thirty, two-thirty!"

Another guard caught sight of the Code 7 and the tension in the room snapped. The radio babble rose to a crescendo, people calling their friends to make sure they were seeing it. They broke formation—shoving and pointing. Raleigh raised his scope to his right eye and looked again.

"I'll be damned…" he breathed.

A sleek grey back broke the surface of the water. Then another. And another. It was dolphins, just a pod of common dolphins.

"Did you SEE THAT?!" A guard named Harvey shouted.

"Look! There's a baby one!" Insisted a guard nicknamed Tank.

"I didn't see it!"

"It's gonna come up again, watch it, watch it!"

"Someone get my camera!"

There was shouting in the room and over the radio waves. Guys were laughing, leaning against the glass, and 'Woo Hoo!'-ing. It was getting hard to hear the other shouting coming from the radios.

"Nick, man, Nick! Didja see the big one?"

"This is Captain Leroy. There musta been—what, eight?"

"Lieutenant Riker, Surveillance. Radar's showin' eight, not counting the little one."

"See? TOLD you there was a little'un!"

A shoving match broke out.

"This is Sky Watchtower. Bye, lil' dolphins."

"Yeah, bye!"

On the terrace below, two guards started dancing. Raleigh lowered his scope and just watched the insanity. The pod was slowly passing by the island. Pretty soon, they were gone.

"Aah…dolphins, man." Some guard Raleigh didn't know threw an arm around his shoulders and watched the ocean with a fond smile.

The celebration continued until the pod was well out of view. Men started to drift away from the windows. Tom's voice came over the intercom again, sounding exhilarated, and deeply satisfied.

"All right, men! Good work. That was a successful Code 7. Report back to your stations on the double. Photos will be posted on the online news board. Good work." The intercom clicked off.

"…Welp, back to business as usual." The guard with his arm around Raleigh un-tangled himself from the younger recruit and walked away. Groups of men were busy talking about what they'd seen.

"…Yeah….business as usual." Raleigh repeated.

In ten minutes, all personnel were back in their assigned places. Island operations continued, as usual.