Chapter Twenty-Nine

Alea Iacta Est

"Admittedly Davis, that was a pretty stupid maneuver. The last time somebody pulled it, the jet crashed and both people involved were killed instantly in the explosion. You should never attempt to physically support a failing jet with your own unless you are one hundred percent confident that you can land without crashing yourself. There is always the risk that you could be caught in the explosion," Doctor Sasquatch said, applying some yellow-white salve to a few burns on Alexis's wrists. "You are extremely fortunate if either the general or the sergeant doesn't find out about this, which of course is unlikely since there were several witnesses to the incident."

Alexis glanced at Starscream's hologram, and he looked bored. Of course the doctor wouldn't know about Starscream's special talent of silencing talkers or making up stories on the spot.

After he'd landed as well as a few other pilots, Starscream had caused a sufficient distraction by swiftly starting a fight between Jackson and Riley, first by whispering a few well-placed lies in Ari's ear. Ari of course repeated the information to Riley, who immediately jumped Jackson from behind. While Jackson had the necessary bulk for victory, Riley had the necessary smarts. Tom had to separate the fighters before limbs were broken, a feat that usually occurred within minutes of the start of the fight.

In the midst of the confusion, Alexis escaped the hangar and found Starscream waiting for her at the medical wing. He'd explained to her before he went in that the official story was that he had used his jet to support hers to land safely, only the rock couldn't support two jets, and so he'd pulled her into his as her jet fell into the canyon below. He assured her that there was only one eyewitness to the actual events, an eyewitness whose track record would keep the officers from believing her story if she ever decided to tell, because after all, Ari was notorious for making up wild stuff about things she supposedly saw.

"That… truck is still here," Starscream muttered as Sasquatch turned away to get something. "I will not stay here much longer."

"Where will you go?" Alexis asked, wondering to herself why she even cared. "Going without a round of twenty questions?"

He shrugged. "Fort Devon perhaps? Anywhere far from here until the truck goes. I do not feel safe while the truck is here. As far as the questioning goes, I believe I will do that while the doctor is not here," he answered, keeping his voice down in case the doctor was listening.

"You realize that Fort Devon is in Massachusetts, which on the other side of the country, right?" Alexis asked, raising her eyebrow.

"I believe that is the point," he coolly replied.

"Yeah, well, I'm not covering for you this time, get it?" Alexis informed him.

Starscream sighed, and then said, "For a human Preston, you are reasonably more intelligent than your peers. However, for some reason, I thought that we had an understanding that you would not tell a soul about the secret, and you and your leader will live to see another day."

Alexis folded her arms crossly, but spoke calmly, saying, "Starscream, I've thought about that for a while now, and I decided that the game is no longer in your favor. Since you told me that the truck was one of your kind, and your enemy, I can easily turn to him because you never said that I couldn't tell anyone outside of my 'species'. Plus, I know where to find him. Now do you really want your enemy to know almost everything you plan to do?"

Starscream leaned on a metal table, gripping the edges hard as he contemplated the turn of events. Alexis waited patiently as she watched him trying to restrain his temper and refrain from lashing out at her, especially with Sasquatch still nearby.

When he was calm again, or at least calm enough to speak civilly, he released the table, leaving slight indents on the edges. Alexis watched from her seat on the bed as he looked up at her again. "Only twenty questions," she warned. "That is the only way I will cooperate."

Starscream grudgingly accepted her conditions; she knew that he wouldn't want to attract the doctor's notice. He seemed to muse over a few possibilities, and then asked, "If your commander was to perish, who would take her place?"

Talk about cutting to the chase. Alexis frowned as she thought of an answer that wouldn't compromise the general's safety, and then said, "If Stanton was unable to complete her duties, then her second-in-command would take over. Thinking on taking over the base or something?"

"I'll ask the questions!" Starscream snapped, but lowered his voice when he remembered the doctor in the other room. "Do you always end up in here after every combat engagement?" he asked.

"It's a trend that I'm trying to stop. Did you sabotage my jet just to get back for my smart remark about you being a sore loser?" Alexis hissed.

He ignored her question this time. "What do you know of Sector Seven or its leader, Simmons?" he said, working to keep his temper and voice down.

"I know that they were a secret government group and Stanton hates Simmons and knows most of his dark little secrets. Why did you save me?" Alexis answered.

Again he ignored her. "I need more information than what you just said about Simmons," he snapped. "What else?"

"Use your own advanced technology to figure that out. Like you said, I'm useless now. So why don't you just run along, find your friend Barricade, and get out of here so I can continue living my life and you can get back to your dominate-the-world plan?" Alexis asked, lowering her tone so she sounded bored to him.

"Why must you be so stubborn?" Starscream snapped, growing frustrated.

Alexis mimicked his facial expression and asked, "Why must you be such a pain in the rear?"

"I can always bring you down in an exercise or combat and claim it was an accident," Starscream warned.

"Tom would rat you out in two seconds if he caught you in the act."

"I'm perfectly willing to test that theory out."

Alexis sighed, and said, "You want my opinion?"

Starscream eyed her suspiciously, and then said, "Very well." He had a small notion that the pilot before him would choose now to be sassy on him.

"I think the only reason you haven't killed me yet is because you need me to help you stay undercover because you don't trust Tom at all. That's why you're still hanging around." Alexis said triumphantly. "As much as you will deny it, you obviously still need me."

"All right Davis. Go outside and wait there until I call you back," Sasquatch ordered, interrupting the escalating argument as he walked back into the room with a tray of items that looked suspiciously like surgical tools. "Now scram!"

Starscream reminded Alexis of a sulky child as he walked out. Judging from his expression, Alexis had a feeling she would be getting some form of paybacks later today or tomorrow at the latest. She knew Starscream would not let such an observation go unacknowledged, and probably needed time to come up with a even more severe threat to replace the one he initially made to keep her under control.

Sasquatch closed the door and then walked back to her. "All right Miss Preston. You know the drill. Just lift the back of your shirt so I can check your ribs and see if Davis's carelessness injured them further," he said calmly.

Alexis wiggled out of her flight jacket and then lifted the back of her shirt so Sasquatch could examine her back. Sasquatch made a sound of disapproval, and picked up the salve jar again. "Your wrists I can understand, your face I can understand. But your back, only the Lord knows how you managed to get burned on your back," he said disapprovingly as he applied some more salve. "Maybe I should assign an escort to you, just so I can get an idea of what kind of trouble you're always getting into." She heard him putting the salve jar down as he put on his stethoscope with the free hand and winced as the cold metal disc was placed onto her upper back. "Now breathe slowly until I tell you to stop."

She obeyed, and this time the doctor made a sound of approval. "Well, you sound the same as you did before you left the Hoover Dam, so I'm going to say that you did not injure your ribs," he said, removing the stethoscope. "Now I looked at the x-rays that we took two days ago before you left, and your ribs have pretty much healed. Although you no longer need the brace or bandages, I still advise caution." He frowned, and then asked, "Do you still not remember anything from when you broke them?"

Alexis remembered that she had pleaded amnesia when Sasquatch had first treated her, when she was still unsure about Starscream's intentions. "Well, not really," she answered casually. "What came back to me was sort of vague, but I think it had something to do with Davis and some, incredibly risky activity." She was careful to be loud enough that Starscream with his superior hearing would hear her words. "Although, I can't remember whether it was a robot or an F-22 that was involved as well," she added, frowning thoughtfully for the effect.

"Interesting… although not surprising," Sasquatch said, picking up a pair of surgical scissors. "Lean forward, and stay still," he instructed. Alexis obeyed, leaning forward and exposing her back to the sharp blades in Sasquatch's hands.

Snip. Snip. Snip.

It felt as though her ribs expanded when the doctor finally removed the bandages that had enclosed her ribs for so long. She felt the doctor prod them with two fingers, but felt no spasms of pain. Alexis figured the trick was now to keep Starscream from hurting her like that again.

"Now that is done, let me see your hand again," Sasquatch instructed as Alexis pulled the back of her shirt back down again. He leaned down and took her hand without giving her a chance to react to the order. She gritted her teeth as the doctor's fingers probed the injured area gently. "Well, it's not broken," he said, examining her wrist closely. "Just sprained." He walked over to a cabinet and fished around in it for a few minutes, finally procuring a black sleeve-glove-like object. "This will keep your hand immobilized for the time it takes to heal," he said. "As much as you like Davis, please don't do anything stupid that will make the injury worse."

"I don't like Davis," Alexis immediately contradicted, glaring at Sasquatch as he helped her put the black brace on.

"On the contrary, there are those who think you will. The general and sergeant have a bet going on about whom you will select between White and Davis. The prize is dinner in Washington DC," Sasquatch told her while making a few notes on his clipboard.

Alexis felt her cheeks flush, although whether in anger or in embarrassment she didn't know. "That's… embarrassing," she finally muttered.

Sasquatch chuckled. "I'm sure Stanton will listen if you do not want that bet to take place," he said, putting the clipboard down on a nearby table. "You are dismissed, but I want to see you again sometime soon, understand?"

"Yes sir," Alexis grumbled as she stood up. She grabbed her flight jacket, muttered a quiet thanks, and headed out into the hall to collect Starscream and go back to the more populated areas of the base. She grimaced; she still had to thank him for saving her neck… literally.

She stopped dead in her tracks.

Starscream was no longer sitting in a chair in the hall. He was gone.

Uh-oh.

--------------

The late afternoon air was cooler than it had been earlier in the day. The sun was lower in the sky, but was still casting light over the sand and distant canyons. But if there was one thing Starscream didn't understand about the planet, it had to be the constant change in temperature. He understood why the climate changed he just didn't get how the climate changed so rapidly.

Starscream glanced at his companion. General Stanton was still as quiet as she had been when Tom had brought Starscream out onto the roof, delivering Starscream to the general. She hadn't acknowledged his arrival either. That had been ten minutes ago. If she still didn't speak in the next ten minutes, then he was going to go back in. He may have gotten similar treatment in another life, but he was not going to put up with it any more, especially from a pathetic human.

Stanton sighed, and then said, "I do not understand how you saved Preston. Please relay the story to me."

Starscream refrained from lashing out. That was the one question everybody kept asking him. "I acted on impulse," he said carefully. "Preston used the parachute to land on a ledge that was attached to the canyon wall, and I just picked her up and brought her back." He knew the story was different from what he told the nosy doctor, but by the time that Stanton figured that out, Starscream hoped to be long gone.

"How did you cram two pilots into a space that was meant for one?" she asked, still staring out across the desert.

"It was a tight fit," Starscream answered, mentally preparing an explanation in case she questioned his excuse.

To his surprise, she didn't. "Ah, I see," she observed calmly. "Thomas mentioned your intense dislike for trucks earlier. Is that why you wished to fly to the Hoover Dam?"

"Yes… ma'am," he answered, frowning when he saw the small smile forming on the general's face. Her unmarred side was facing him, but he still remembered the burn on her face from earlier.

"Where did you park?" she asked.

Starscream grimaced at the memory. "It wasn't easy," he answered. "Then Simmons's 'Autobots' made it even more difficult to escape."

"Where was Preston's jet when you came in to pick her up?" Stanton asked, switching topics on him again. He would have to be careful not to say the wrong thing.

"It had already crashed," Starscream said, knowing that the jet indeed had crashed before he had pulled the maneuver to save her.

"Very well," Stanton said, turning around to look at him. "Stryker, as stupid and reckless as that was, I thank you for doing it. It may seem like a crazy move now, but probably centuries later, everyone will be pulling it off as a graduation requirement. Who knows?" she said, shrugging slightly. "The point here is that you did the right thing, and that is what counts."

Starscream did not react to her words. Instead he asked, "General, I have a favor to ask of you."

Stanton inclined her head to indicate that she was listening.

"My… brother has been stationed at Fort Devon. This is the first time in many years that he has been stationed within the United States, and I wish to see him again. I ask for your permission to go to Fort Devon to see him again," Starscream lied as he prepared a carefully structured argument to use if Stanton denied his request. He really didn't see any need to tell why he was really going.

She seemed intent on surprising him today. "Of course you may. I just need to wrap up a few odds and ends with the rest of the squadron, including getting White out into the air," she said pleasantly. "Just try to be back before Wednesday of next week. That is when I plan to have all sixteen of you in the air."

"Of course," Starscream replied, more suspicious than relieved. The general was not being cautious with him for once. Maybe she was planning something awful once his back was turned… although he was sure that she was still clueless to his actual identity.

He saluted her, and she responded in a similar fashion. Stanton watched as he departed back into the base, and then heard the familiar roar of F-22 engines as he took off from the landing strip. She turned back around to watch the jet climb back into the sky, creating a picturesque image against the setting sun.

Stanton turned to walk away. She knew there was a game of some sort going on between the truck owner and Davis, but whom the players were and what the objective was remained a mystery to her.

The important thing was that Stryker Davis was now gone, out of the way, and no longer a potential problem. That was what counted with her. She could conduct her meeting without the fear of him listening in or spying. If he didn't come back from Fort Devon by her deadline, well, she knew Keller's phone number by heart.

She walked into the base and headed towards the same conference room where Alexis Preston had been questioned. Tom had told her that the pilot had been sufficiently rattled, and so had been honest with the general.

She opened the white conference doors and noted with satisfaction that a few of the attendees were already there, but eating their rather-late dinners as well. "Do any of you ever eat at dinner?" she asked.

"Ma'am, I always eat my dinner around eight. It's a habit," one of the officers replied as he started to dig into a salad of some sort.

"General, the techs picked something up," Randall muttered, appearing at her side out of nowhere, capturing her attention. Her silence invited him to elaborate, and Randall said, "They said that Simmons was talking to someone named Ross Lynch, and that Lynch said that their agent here was aware of the existence of a 'transformer alien' here at Area 51. I'm guessing that they are referring to the Autobots we've heard so much about."

Stanton felt her heart grow cold, but did not visibly react to it. "I understand," she answered. "Anything else?"

"The techs who looked at your car said that whoever rigged it had advanced understanding of mechanics and unrestricted access to the vehicle. The saboteur apparently already knew how to get into the car to begin with." Randall muttered, glancing around the room.

"Oh," Stanton murmured. Trying to shake off the ill feeling, she walked over to her seat between Tom and Randall's empty spot. Randall joined her a few minutes later, and she waited patiently for everybody to show up.

"General?"

She turned to see Army Colonel Marcus Kowalski looking at her. "Yes Colonel?" she asked calmly.

"No offense, but you look like you haven't eaten at all today. Here catch!" he said, and then tossed an orange-yellow-red package at her. She caught it with ease and turned over and examined the label.

"Marcus, I had a snack earlier," she said, looking up from the Fritos bag up to Kowalski. "Thank you, but I think that this is a part of your meal."

Kowalski shrugged. "It's okay. I've got a sandwich, so I don't need it too much. Besides, I was going to grab another bag after the meeting. It's all yours," he said, and then attacked his sub while armed with a fork and knife.

Stanton rolled her eyes and scanned the agenda for the meeting. The first thing would be a situation report from every officer. Each officer each had their own branch to control, and each had been carrying out her orders. Due to the recent security breach, she had no idea what each branch's status was, and now was the time to figure that out. The second item was a presentation that Kowalski was doing, and the third item was piecing events and evidence together into what she hoped was the truth of what occurred at Mission City.

"Marcus?" she asked suddenly, reviewing the second item on the plan.

"Yeah?" he asked, looking up from where he had been chatting with his coworker and childhood friend Lieutenant Colonel Kevin Ryans. Stanton was not as familiar with Kevin as she was with his wife, an energetic woman named Kelsey who was also in an advantageous position as Simmons's chief secretary. Kowalski and Ryans were both the heads of the Special Operations branch, and were as close as brothers.

"Are you going to need to use a laptop for your presentation?" she asked warily.

Kevin began laughing as Kowalski turned a faint pink at the memory. "Yes ma'am. I promise I won't crash the network this time, my presentation is a whole lot simpler," Kowalski assured her, still a bit red-faced.

Stanton remembered that all too well. Kowalski had valuable information for Oroville, but there were too many graphics and complicated forms of media on his PowerPoint presentation. Instead of impressing Stanton like he wanted, he ended up crashing the whole network and short-circuiting the laptop he'd been using. To add the final injury to his pride, the lights in the room had flickered several times before shorting out completely.

"Thank you, I do want to keep the lights intact this time," Stanton said pleasantly, encouraging more laughter from Kevin at his friend's expense. "All right enough fooling around. Let's get down to business. Shut the doors," Stanton ordered, and waited until the doors were locked and everyone was sitting in the semi-circle formation before speaking again, "All right, we'll start with status reports from everybody."

"Can I go last? That way I can just lead into my presentation," Kowalski said, not bothering to raise his hand or wait to be acknowledged.

There were a few snickers as Stanton sighed. "Very well Kowalski, just please raise your hand next time if you want to talk so we're not interrupting other people," she said.

"Yes Teacher. I won't be such a bad student next time," Kowalski said in a mock-serious tone. Kevin elbowed him sharply in the ribs, but Stanton did not reprimand Kowalski for the remark. She wanted to the meeting to be slightly relaxed than in the past, for she needed the levity for her own sanity.

"May I go?" Levett, another ally from Oroville, asked. Stanton nodded, and the Levett stood up. The room became quiet, and then he began by saying, "The virus that has been plaguing the network for the last two weeks or so had been contained within a small device. However, when the technicians prepared to remove the device from the facility, the virus unexpectedly mutated and spread through the entire network again. They are working to trap it again." He hesitated, and then said "One of the Air Force One pilots, an ex-401st member, reported to me recently that the presidential plane suffered a similar virus while in flight. The difference between the two is that the one here has… human-programmed elements while the other did not."

"Are you trying to tell me that Sector Seven is using alien technology?" Stanton asked.

"Human and alien technology," Levett answered. "It's very complicated to explain, and I still don't know how Sector Seven acquired technology that advanced, but the bottom line is that even though humans programmed it, we would need an alien to effectively erase the virus from the networks. That is all." He sat down after finishing his report.

"Where the hell are we going to find an alien to do that? I thought the whole alien thing was something made up," someone asked.

"Davis," Tom quietly coughed, and rolled his eyes at Stanton's scowl. He sighed, and then stood up. "The Four-oh-first is almost ready for combat. I'm going to get White up in the air for the next couple of days, and I don't care if he's throwing up. He's going up," Tom snapped, and then sat back down.

Monica Wethersfield stood up. Stanton knew that Monica's brother was a member of the US Senate, so naturally Monica's duty was to stay on top of political events. "There is a fight brewing in the administration over whether to bring the issue of the Mission City culprits to this year's UN summit or not," she said. "The president wants to keep it in the United States, but Congress is determined to see the issue resolved peacefully so that the US does not wage war against the wrong people. The United States is in a precarious position on the international stage, and the government's next move could make or break the next position." She paused, as though trying to remember something. "That is all I have," she finally said, sitting down again.

"We might want to push that issue to the United Nations. You'd be surprised how fast people will confess when they really don't want something to happen but you keep pushing for that event to happen." Stanton observed. "Randall?"

"I have nothing to report," Randall said quietly.

Communications officer Tyrone stood up. "We caught a more clearer phone conversation between Simmons and his agent here. Apparently general, you scared Simmons into mobilizing and now he and the agent are going to go to Code Delta, whatever the hell that means. Also, we picked up an extremely garbled communication between two unknown parties. We were only able to trace one end of the signal to somewhere in Mission City. The transmission itself was a bunch of warbling and screeching, similar to the transmission on Keller's flashdrive."

"The flashdrive that never re-surfaced," Stanton muttered.

Security lieutenant Morrison stood up as Tyrone sat down. "Security has confirmed that the analysts have been communicating with Keller and a third party. We have the videos to use as evidence if the need arises. That is all," he said before sitting down.

The eighth officer to report admitted that nothing of note had happened in his department. Kevin Ryans, the second-to-last, finally stood up.

"Most of the agents on the field have been recalled as per your orders ma'am. One of them, uh Marshall I think, is in the hospital in San Diego after a nasty encounter in an electronics store. He claims he was attacked by a boombox, but the police officer who answered the distress call reported later that someone threw a boombox at the agent," Ryans said, looking slightly confused at the oddity of the scenario. "Also, Lucy Kingfisher wanted me to tell you two things. One, she was driving back to the west from DC, when she was attacked by two men at her motel somewhere in Nebraska. She 'took care' of them, but identified them as two operatives under Ross Lynch of Sector Seven. Two, she took the initiative for another assignment and is now doing volunteer work at Mission City Memorial Hospital under a false name. Something to do with recognizing a worker there."

"I told her to come back," Stanton said coolly.

"She said she is aware of your orders, and voluntarily disobeyed them. She accepted the risks of being out on her own, and is determined to carry this out." Ryans said.

"I promised her fiancé I would get her out of there. Tell her another agent can take her place." Stanton instructed.

Ryans nodded and sat back down.

Kowalski took that as his opportunity. He jumped up and half-ran half-scampered to the table that had been placed in the middle. He carefully placed his laptop onto the table, connected it to the projector, and continued setting up his presentation.

"Lynch is bad news," Tom muttered to Stanton.

"What makes you say that?" she whispered back as Kowalski continued working.

"He and I were close buddies when we were training for the Air Force. We stuck together until 1994 when he disappeared for two years. That was what persuaded me to join the little ragtag team that you and your husband had set up. In late '96, he reappeared, needing desperate medical attention. He was half-frozen when he dragged himself to my front doorstep at my house in New Hampshire. Turns out he'd accepted a job offer from Banachek and went off to northern Canada and the idiot forgot his jacket here in the U.S."

"When did you last see him?" Stanton asked curiously.

"Last year. We ran into each other in a coffee shop in DC. It was one of those things I didn't say anything about because I didn't think you would be interested," Tom said. "Kowalski, knock it off and hit the lights. The fonts are fine, trust me."

Stanton turned to see Kowalski prepared to begin. "Are you ready now?" she asked. Kowalski nodded eagerly, and then calmed down enough to appear serious.

"This is nothing fancy, ladies and gentlemen. It is simply timeline of events leading up to Mission City, composed of eyewitness reports and other gathered information. The first date is 1897, when Captain Archibald Witwicky made some huge discovery, but was later confined due to the fact he had gone mad. We found no mention of the captain's discovery. His descendent is the Witwicky kid who nearly ran into the agent tailing him. Agent says the kid is a speed demon." Kowalski said.

"We have ways of dealing with speed demons, most of which end up in prison," Stanton said, earning a few chuckles from the other officers.

"Well, Oroville came after that. Then the attack in Qatar comes next. We couldn't scrounge up any information concerning that, except that the attacker was after the database there. There were no Air Force survivors that we could contact and ask about it." Kowalski said, clicking to the next slide, looking nervous. "Um, after that, the meteors hit California, leaving no trace of what caused the impact."

"We confirmed that it wasn't meteors though but something else." Ryans interrupted.

"Right. A little while afterwards, um, we know that Simmons got involved because Kelsey told Kev that she saw teenagers Sam and Mikaela Banes being hauled in for questioning, and they had been arrested without warrants. She didn't want to blow her cover, so she said she acted like they didn't exist," Kowalski continued.

"Banes, why does that name sound familiar?" Stanton asked Tom.

"Maybe because we chased a David Banes through California before cornering him on the Oregon – California border line because he stole your car in San Diego. It was also the one time you and Simmons actually got along with each other. Then you personally hand-cuffed him and hauled him to the police van when you discovered he'd dinged up the side of the car," Tom supplied helpfully.

"There was a kid with him wasn't there?" Stanton asked, trying to remember.

"Yeah, a daughter. Simmons was all for shipping her off to the DSS, but you assumed temporary custody until the nearest relative was located." Tom said.

"Please continue Kowalski," Stanton said, figuring she would pursue the Banes issue later.

"Um, our double agent in Sector Seven said that he had to pilot Witwicky, Banes, Madsen, and Whitmann to the Hoover Dam. Then he saw Captain Lennox there with Epps," Kowalski continued eagerly.

"Simmons was careless this time, not me," Stanton muttered. "He was so damn careless this time."

"Ma'am, the pilot also said that Witwicky said something along the lines that his car was a giant robot," Kowalski said carefully. "We, as in Kevin and I, think the kid's yellow Camaro is the robot, also known as Autobots."

Stanton raised an eyebrow at this, but Tom snorted disbelievingly. "What a load of crap," Tom said, leaning forward. "The pilot would have been focusing on piloting the damn helicopter, not listening to idle conversation."

"I uh, didn't say he was in a helicopter," Kowalski stammered.

"Well, was he?" Stanton demanded.

"Yes ma'am," Kowalski said, wringing his hands.

"Speak with Lynch anytime recently?" Stanton asked Tom coolly.

"No." Tom replied, matching her tone.

Stanton inclined her head to suggest that she didn't believe him. She remembered what Randall had said yesterday, about having found the missing translations in the cubbyholes in the kitchen, a space that Tom had conquered long ago and used to stash his findings. Tom's findings usually ranged from hidden documents to quarters and pennies he found on the floor. Of course, there was the information that Tom had given her earlier in the day to consider along with what Randall said before the meeting.

Instead of backing down like he usually did in the past, Tom glared defiantly back at her. "This is still about the missing translations isn't it? That's really why you're still cross with me," he demanded as Kowalski began quickly packing up his things. The officers had learned a long time ago to stay out of the way of any fights between the general and her 'victim'.

"I'm surprised you are brave enough to mention that when they're still missing," Stanton replied, turning in her seat to face Tom. "Of course, stubbornness is still a part of your personality so why should I bother trying to get you to say anything about them…"

"For the last, damn, time, I did not take the translations. You are just too focused on the prize to see that. Hell, you're too focused on the prize to see what you're doing," Tom snapped. "Half of the stuff we do is illegal, and we didn't do most of it for Oroville. Would you have cared if Tyler had died from gas inhalation or just have griped about finding another pilot to take his place?"

The room was dead quiet as he finished, still breathing hard. Stanton pursed her lips, and then said, "Everyone is dismissed. Thank you for your time." Nobody wasted time leaving; Kowalski even left his computer behind in the room. Randall however wisely left his seat, but not the room, remaining in plain sight. Stanton however refocused on Tom. Amazing how a word or two could start an argument.

"This is not about the translations. This is how you knew details before Kowalski said them."

Tom rolled his eyes. "Now that is stupid," he calmly informed her. "You have gotten way too paranoid in the last couple of weeks to the point where I personally think that maybe you've gotten in way over your head, and are not emotionally stable for the task at hand." Tom saw Randall flinch at the accusation out of the corner of his eye, but Tom refused to allow the general to faze him.

Stanton refused to be defeated. "We pulled it off last time," she hissed.

"No offense general, but you had Matthew and the rest of your family last time. You had no reason to be upset. That is why I think that you are technically no longer fit for your post, you have no stability right now," Tom shot back, well aware that he had struck a nerve there.

Stanton however had been stunned into silence. That last barb had hurt, only because she was afraid for once that Tom was right. Instead of acknowledging his words, she instead said, "Perhaps you… overstepped your boundaries there, Sergeant." She leaned back in her chair and said, "Of course, this is all assuming that you never overstepped the limit of your abilities and somehow extended your piloting skills to other forms of mechanics and technology, such as computers for example."

"Are you suggesting that I siphoned the information with Madsen and Whitmann?" Tom asked, voice low in anger.

Stanton shrugged. "If that's how you want to interpret my words…" she said, leaving the sentence hanging. She stood up and said, "Sergeant, you are dismissed for the rest of the evening. I will not want to be bothered at all for any reason. Understand?"

Tom gritted his teeth. As much as the situation was bothering him, he had little power to change it for the better. He also knew better than to speak out again this time. "Yes ma'am," he growled in a similar fashion to Stryker Davis when she'd first met Davis.

"Very well. Randall, good night and sleep well. I will see you in the morning to discuss the little details we were talking about earlier. Sergeant, I want you to work on calisthenics with all available personnel tomorrow morning for two hours straight," Stanton ordered, and Tom made a face at his 'punishment' before walking away. His condition had improved a bit, and he was walking mostly normally again without any assistance.

Randall saluted and then left the conference room. Stanton rubbed her temples and then checked her watch. She muttered a low curse; it was almost eleven p.m., and she usually crashed within the hour. I have got to shorten these damn meetings somehow, she thought crossly as she left the conference room, shutting the light off as she went.

About fifteen minutes later, the conference door opened and Marcus Kowalski entered the room. He flicked on the lights and went over to finish packing up his stuff. It was always wise to clear out of the room when a fight was brewing, just so none of the anger was directed in his direction. In his hurry to get out, he had forgotten his flashdrive and his briefcase, which of course had his computer and presentation. He sighed; he would have to set up a private appointment with the general to show her the nitty gritty details that he never got around to that night.

Creak.

Kowalski looked up at the door, which was still partially open. He glanced around the room, wondering if Charlie was in here. Well, if the raccoon was, Kowalski wasn't going to hang around to be implicated in aiding and abetting the animal. He turned back down to grab the last few items.

Thump.

Kowalski jumped at the sound of a footstep. It must've been Kevin, waiting in the shadows as usual just so he could jump out and scare Kowalski. He would have to tell Kevin that it was not funny.

Click.

Kowalski yelped as the lights shut off, so that the only light in was coming from the light in the hall. He checked to make sure that his small handgun was in a place where he could quickly reach and use it. Then he put his briefcase down on what he thought was the table and began to walk towards the door. His instincts were telling him to get out of here as fast as possible.

Click.

Kowalski tensed as the door shut, plunging him into complete darkness. He pulled his gun out and pulled the hammer back, prepared to fire if necessary… even blind.

The attack came out of nowhere. One minute he was standing, the second minute he was lying on the ground, a fiery pain in the side of his head. He swore as his gun fell out of his hand and clattered away, useless now. Then a blunt yet powerful object jabbed directly into his gut, folding Kowalski in half from the sudden force. He tried to grab whatever it was, but only felt the handle of what seemed like a rifle. The object swiftly vanished, and then Kowalski received another blow to the side of the head again. His last thoughts were of the attacker's identity as he slipped into unconsciousness.

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Meanwhile, Stanton closed the door to her office and allowed her public façade to melt away. She stood there for a few moments, willing herself not to fall to pieces. Tom's accusations may have hurt, but they were so true. She was slowly getting to the point of admitting defeat and submitting to whatever demands Simmons had as long as it meant she saw her children again.

She walked over to her desk and pulled out Amanda's letter, needing some measure of comfort. She opened the envelope and pulled out the lined school paper that had her daughter's messy handwriting all over the front. She smoothed it out under the desk lamp and read,

Dear Mommy,

I miss you very much. I wish you didn't have to go on so many buisness trips. What's it like in France? Dani said it was cold there, but I don't believe her. I don't believe her because when we went down to the pond yesterday, she caught a frog and then stuck in Danny's underwear drawer. She made me promise not to tell Nani, but she didn't say anything about telling you. When we were also at the pond, Jerry taught me how to catch a fish using his pole. I caught a big one and I wanted to keep it as a pet to show you, but Nani said we had to let him go home. So we let him go, but I got to keep a picture.

I made a poem in school yesterday. My teacher liked it. I want you to read it, so here it is:

Flowers

There are different kinds of flowers

They all have different powers

One should have a dose,

They say, a wiff of a rose

Shall do the trick

The violets will not make you sick

Daffodils shall brighten your day

Daises are as pretty as the jay

Guess what? Chelsea recently got something called a 'permit' but I don't know why it is called a permit because it didn't let her do anything except drive Nani's car, which she used to hit our mailbox yesterday. Nani was mad about the mailbox.

I miss you very much. When will you be coming home? Will you bring me back something French? I also want you to tell Nani that I can have a pet dog. Nani said no when I asked her, and that we already had a cat, but Roxy is so boring. He just sleeps on the sofa all day and sometimes bats at a string we dangle at him.

I love you,

Amanda

Stanton sighed, knowing just how much she was missing out at home. Nani may have been upset about the mailbox, but Stanton would have accepted the damage as a part of the learning process… and made Chelsea pay for it. Besides, neither Stanton nor her husband had liked that particular mailbox very much anyway.

Knock, knock.

Stanton scowled. Didn't she just say she wanted to be left alone for the rest of the evening? She leaned back in her seat releasing a sigh as she did so and then shouted, "Go away!" She turned her attention back to the letter on the desk and then leaned forward to reread it carefully, to get a sense of who her daughter was becoming.

Knock, knock.

"I said go away! Even if it's important, I'll deal with it tomorrow!" she shouted, not looking up from the letter.

Knock, knock!

Stanton sighed. Not even her work could have the sense to stay away when she said so. "Fine, come in," she growled crossly, not looking up from the letter.

She heard the door open, and footsteps enter. She decided to look up when she finished reading the last paragraph of the letter.

Click.

Her body, trained by years of warfare and experience, automatically tensed when her ears heard the all-to-familiar click of a hammer on a gun being pulled back. Despite constant warnings to always remain still as to not frighten the shooter into firing, her head instinctively jerked up. For one second she froze to find the business end of a firearm directly in front of her eyes.

Then Stanton reacted. She pushed her chair away from the desk while moving to the left to get out of firing range. The gun went off at that moment, catching her on her right shoulder. She pushed the chair out from under her and took refuge behind the desk as the second shot went off, ripping a hole in the wall behind her.

Swearing, Stanton was breathing hard as she listened to the attacker reloading the weapon, having run out of ammunition. She rolled her eyes; only an amateur would take those precious few seconds in combat to reload when the opponent, who was less than six feet away from then, could just jump out and take them down while they were defenseless.

She gritted her teeth against the spreading pain in her shoulder as she reached for her own personal weapon that was hidden in a holster at her side. She took a gulp to swallow her nerves, and then stood up and aimed the weapon, pulling the hammer back just as her opponent did.

They stood there, aiming their respective weapons at each other. She supposed the hesitation was mainly from the surprise of the retaliation from the enemy's part, and the surprise of the man's identity on her part.

For a few seconds, both weapons were pointed straight at the chest of the other opponent. Time seemed to stretch, seemingly nonexistent.

Charlie, who was watching the encounter from the shadows of the vents, turned and ran for safety.

The last gunshot of the evening rang out. Then all was silent in the base again.

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A/N: A ton going on here, I know. I apologize for any confusion; just let me know and I'll try to clear it up. The chapter title is Latin for 'The die has been cast', and also is one of Julius Caesar's famous quotes. Caesar reportedly said the line when he was about to march on Rome and the Senate with his army, which at the moment was extremely loyal to him. Also, any spelling errors within Amanda's letter were intentional.