"So, Francie, how's it going?" Montgomery, Salomon and the woman who had sorted through the papers in the 'new room' were waiting for her and the three men when they exited the batcave at the end of the day.

Alviarin took a deep breath. The way Frank Salomon watched her made her want to shift on her feet, wash her hands, go take a shower… but instead she forced herself to stand still, shoulders relaxed. She had managed to withstand a furious Tom Chandler, and an angry Mike Slattery. This guy was nothing to her. Though he could seriously endanger their plans.

"It's been mostly preliminary work. Setting up the plates, the connections. I can't take the processor out of the door the way I did the first time." Narrow, dark, stale air. She hated the batcave, especially now the days were getting so short.

"Why?" asked Frank.

She answered Ryan. "There are too many extra cables I don't yet understand, and I fear if I cut the wrong one, I might destroy something."

"Can't we just put some C4 against the door?" Again, Frank.

Alviarin felt her lips twitch in disgust and anger. "And destabilize the ground underneath that building even more? What do you think the three guys here are doing?"

"Wohow, young woman. Calm down."

"She's right, Frank. We've seen what that first explosion did. That's why she's here…" Even Ryan was scoffing at the other man.

Salomon shrugged, disgruntled. He half turned away, but Ryan scoffed at him: "You were gone a while, Frank. I'll catch you up one of these days."

Walther commented from where he stood: "Securing the main room was hard enough, we're not builders. These tunnels run underneath a few of the buildings, and under the street here. No way one could predict what an explosion could do. Plus… we tried tunneling into one of the other rooms. No chance."

"Patience, friend. Got to do this the scientific way." Greg alleviated.

"So you can't yet say how long this will take?"

"Sorry, no. The laptop is good, really good, all the right programs and nice processing power. Once I understand the encryption, I'll get to work." Alvi answered Montgomery honestly.

"Right. I'm putting my trust in you, Francie."

Whatever was behind that door must be important.

"Can we get some food, now?" There was something waiting, expectant in the older man's expression. Frank was eager for something. "Join us, you four? We could talk some more about your progress."

"Not me, I'll do my washing first." Alvi nodded at Ryan and turned to go, ears still primed to hear Walther say:

"Chris, Al, you go. I'll look for my wife first."

….

Alviarin found Madison bent over some clothes at the washing saloon.

"How are you doing?" the younger woman realized the urgency in her tone only when the dark skinned face turned to her.

"In a hurry?"

"I might be soon. How ready are you guys? If things get urgent?"

"Ready enough. I got some jerky put away. We have what we wear, mostly."

"Same here. Got a first aid kit, Rosie has my fire starter set."

"Know where we are, yet?"

"Not yet. Should know more tonight."

"Oh, it's nice to see you hopeful. All well downstairs?"

"Reasonably. Though this new assignment has me worried. Not for your men, promise."

Walt picked that moment to enter. "Hello wife."

Alviarin watched the two with a small envious smile as they embraced - strong, careful, gentle, warm… everything she missed.

"Say, how is your health, Madison?"

"I'm at that point where the last few times the relapse hit. A few days over it, even."

Walt leaned over, grabbing the wet clothes to put them in the dryer. "I've been bringing her the food myself, and watching carefully over both our plates. Maybe your suspicion was right."

"Lord I hope I wasn't. This place is creepy enough without people poisoning your wife to keep you?"

"Chris and Al are keeping their eyes and ears open, too. Chris told me about the knife?"

"It's safe."

"Quiet." Maddie interrupted them quickly, and everyone turned nonchalantly away from each other. They had the routine down well enough, Alvi thought to herself. The distance between her and the couple spoke of animosity. The door opened, and … she told herself exasperation was the uppermost emotion cursing through her. Frank Salomon.

"Here you are, Francie. All done?"

"What do you want?" She was unable to summon a politer phrase.

"I reserved you some dinner. It's really good tonight."

"I already asked Rosie to put something aside for me." She was aware of Walt and Maddie watching the exchange bemusedly.

"Oh come on, I'm just trying to be nice. Get to know you a little, since I'll be your delivery guy for the foreseeable future."

"I'm not interested." She couldn't put it any other way.

He lowered his voice, stepped closer. "To have me as a friend could make your life here easier."

Alvi bent her head, hiding her face. One step closer and she would explode into his face. The anger was what had helped her deal with his assault. She quickly wrapped her things into a wet bundle. Thinking of Tom that day on deck of the Nathan James gave her back some measure of equilibrium. She'd been such a child, then. She looked up at the man and said calmly: "My life here is just the way I like it. Please leave me alone."

Surprise passed over his face, and she was out the door before he had even reacted.

The darkness outside was very, very welcome. Her countenance would not have held up a moment longer.

…..

Alviarin took the plate of food to her flat, unable to face what served as repast room even with only the few stragglers left. Her hands threatened to shake, her breath came too fast.

Alone, she put the chair behind the door. And breathed. Slow, long, deep breaths. She opened the window, cleared some more space and went through her yoga routine. She had not dared any more exercises – no staff, none of the more elaborate jumps or rolls for fear of notice. The slow movements that regardless made her break a sweat calmed her down enough to let her sink into a meditation moment.

She had the words fixed in her mind while she climbed onto the roof in near total darkness – no lights meant less used electricity… and less visibility from anywhere, she suspected. The loose brick returned the little cuboid of hope to her now calmer hands.

This spot up here had become a scarily exposed place of freedom for her – freedom for her thoughts, her face, her hands. She tilted her head upwards – it would not be long until the clouds amassed enough to dribble the first snowflakes her way. She used to welcome winter… the much, much colder, harsher winter of the high north. The maybe safer winter of the high north, compared to the moist, cruel, all-encompassing damp of the warmer winters down south.

She summoned Tom's face before her inner eye – the broad-shouldered frame, the constrained control of his movements, the blue, blue eyes. The calm, intelligent warmth underlined with humor. The helpless laughter she managed to surprise him into. The heat in his eyes the few times she had managed to catch him unaware – watching her, with the children, braiding her hair, coming up for air from an exercise. How he fell asleep sprawled half across her. How his hand burrowed into her hair...

And the children…

Ashley, her way of holding herself so much like her father. Sammy, whose blue eyes were like those looking down from the big framed photograph in the living room.

Mike Slattery, lips pressed together in what seemed to be his way of coping, bear-sized frame towering over his daughter, so gentle and human and even childish with Mhari and Zach.

Wolf Taylor, who had become something of a brother, who honed her skills with the short staffs and even knife fighting, who had helped her figure out a routine of self-defense for the children.

Tex Nolan, bearded, scruffy, always there with a word of encouragement, of solace, of humor. Teaching Kathleen to handle a gun, offering the same to her – but Alviarin had refused, even though Tom would have liked her to carry one. Tex, who looked at Andrea Garnett with warmth and sometimes something akin to confusion, making Alviarin smile to herself. Andrea, who had grown accustomed to the flirting, the drawl, the thoughtfulness – and to Kat.

And Val, crazy, too-quick Val, impatient, passionate, hot-tempered hacker nut, as quick to laugh as to bite your ear off, they always joked. Who threatened to break hearts left and right, with women looking her way as much as men… she still radiated that. Alviarin grinned into the dark night. Though there was one guy who might win…

As always, her thoughts returned to those they had lost, those she was still missing – O'Connor, who could have become a friend. Her uncle Michael, the scientist; Andy Chung the engineer, her teacher on the Nathan James; the tiny baby she had comforted on that first lonely journey.

Look after them, brother, and hold your hand over me, too.

She switched the mobile phone on, breathlessly waiting for the changing screen. How long would the battery hold out?

Lake: Big Fir, 3 kd crystals, dense forest: oak, pine, cedar, (elm). Would head north.

Alviarin pressed the 'Send' button before she had quite finished with the wording. Placing the device in her lap, she put her forehead on her knees.

….

"Got all that, grey eagle?"

"We do. Get back to you."

Tex Nolan turned the speaker down just a fraction, and turned to his daughter. "See, told you. No need to worry."

"Does it sound to you as if she might head out anyway? Not wait to be rescued?"
"Kat, you've gotten to know the Elf quite a bit. She's not the princess waiting to be rescued. I'm almost wondering she's still at that place."

"Must be scary."

"Yeah. Though she's resourceful." Tex kept his tone light. Kathleen touched the spot all the adults were worried about most. In the scenario they were living now, statistics supported the unavoidable unsavory characters' survival – and up-and-commence. People who did not hesitate to grab power, to enforce their vision, to collect followers. They had seen that with the crazy English guy. The repercussions from fuelling fanatic mindsets were still troubling the leaders in St. Louis. That time they had flown to Indiana the first time, trying to figure out a trade / exchange / support deal with the group flocked together in Columbus… that picture had not been pretty. He wondered how things were going on that front – he knew Slattery had passed by the new government on his trip south from Baltimore. And he and Kat might go down to Charleston to find the acting mayor there and exchange pleasantries. He'd see what…

"Nolan? Come in, please."

"Listening."

"Send back: North Arkansas, Hot Springs / Mount Ida, north: hit e-w-trail (shelters), e 27n, w7n, little water! Copter waiting. Weapons?"

"That all?" Tex asked after repeating the message back to Taylor, who was manning the radio on the other side.

"Aye, though we'll wait if she answers back within the next minutes."

"Right." He pressed 'Send.'

….

…..

Up on her roof spot, Alviarin read the message with feverish urgency. Committing it to memory and deleting it were a matter of seconds. She could not wait to tell Chris and Walt and Madison and the quiet guy. But first…

4+ man flight def rotat cann, 3+ cars, ass rifl, handguns. Radio? est pop numb -500 Small radius.

She should have asked somebody the name of these rotating aerial defense weapons with wheels. Would they be able to decipher that? Some day soon she would break and call Tex directly, and the consequences be damned.

….

….

"Thanks, Tex. Over and out." Wolfman Taylor turned to the room, which held only Tom Chandler and Valerie Raymond. Three nights in a row they had sat here, full contingent, waiting, and nothing had happened. So this time the group had agreed that three were enough, and if need be the rest would be called.

The Australian put the strip of paper before the Admiral.

All three of them stared at the letters, trying to make sense of the abbreviations. Valerie choked on a laugh. Even Chandler's lips twitched.

"At least four manual flight defense rotating cannons. Taylor?"

The addressed shrugged one-sidedly. "Would concur, Sir."

"At least three cars. Ah, assault rifles. Got it." Valerie still grinned, exuberance making her eyes shine. This one was happy to hear from her friend.

"Handguns – we were expecting that. Gotta be careful about radio transmissions, and assume her radius of action and perception is only a part of the whole."

Val cocked her head. "Though knowing Alvi, it's probably more than half."

Chandler shook his head slowly. "There is danger in assuming too much, Miss Raymond."

Wolfman had turned to the map. They had pinpointed the young woman's location within a few hundred miles. Little was known about the general population of Arkansas. The bigger cities like Little Rock and Fort Smith were gone - people had looted what they could and moved closer to the Mississippi. The big river still suggested safety. And those that had come to Memphis to meet the James had stayed or traveled further inland to spread the cure. Large storage houses gave supplies, the city had organized itself much like St. Louis had.

"Sir? What do we know about the place where Alviarin is held? What about the 'undermined' from her first message?"

The tall man's eyes burned suddenly. "Some kind of government site with underground facilities. Explains the heavy weaponry and flaks she describes. The undermined might be landmines, though I have doubts about that – this is the Ouachita national park. They can't have cordoned off large sections near Mount Ida or any of the crystal sites without attracting curios looks. Aiming for self-sufficiency in case of a national or international crisis, atomic or pandemic can't be kept secret. FFA is a good cover, but still."

"So there'll be a storage system like either of the safety bunkers in the arctic?"

"Not of that scale, no, but of a smaller scale, yes, I would assume. Miss Raymond, no word leaves this room."

"Wouldn't dream of it, sir."

Wolfman smiled inwardly. Chandler must know he had the woman's absolute loyalty, however much scorn she might outwardly display.

"Sir, don't mean to overstep, but how come this seems news to you?"

"Up to six months ago, I was a navy captain, not the president's Admiral, CPO. Secret safe sites were not my daily bread. And we all know that Mitchener was not high up in the hierarchy himself. As far as I found out, there are three such sites in the states, and two more in Canada. Only the few agents that knew about them are… not available to us."

Taylor nodded, absurdly pleased that the Admiral had answered so openly. "So how do we proceed?"

Chandler leaned forward onto his hands, placed on the map spread on the table. "I'll inform the president earliest tomorrow morning. We'll put together a team."

"But…" Val's eyes spoke of her disappointment.

"No, Miss Raymond. No jumping the gun. Resources are scarce, a rushed approach against a rather formidable foe, when we don't even know exactly where we are looking would be foolish. There are civilians to consider, too."

Though as far as Taylor could read the tall man, the self-imposed restrictions chafed on Chandler as much as they did on the hacker nut.

"Tex is heading southwest, Val. He'll be on-site soon."

….

"Sir, a word?"

"Chief engineer. What is it?"

"As far as the James' sensors reach, and with Miss Ryker's position where you estimate it, I would say she is barely reaching the south corner of the radio coverage. There is one tower in Fort Smith that pings still active. But Little Rock is dead. Next one is Memphis. West is hazy, and the James' sensors don't reach."

"So you're saying even if she kept the phone online for long enough, you could not reliably pinpoint her position."

"Not until she gets quite a bit further north, preferably north-east, no."

"Thanks, Andrea."

"Sorry it's not better news."

"We're building up enough puzzle pieces. We know where to look for her. Just got to figure out the details. You hear from Tex?"

"Now and then, yes. Sir, I've been working with Valerie Raymond trying to sort through the providers' signatures. See if someone might be listening. So far nothing, but as I said, coverage is hazy."

"Good thinking, chief Engineer."

"Bring her home, Sir."

….