Chapter Nine:
EDEN
Act Two: Acts of War
PART ONE: World of Confusion
December 26th, 2034
Heathrow Airport
4:42 am, local time
Leslie Farina walked into the airport and passed the customs his, faked so not to have his real identity, passport. As he stepped past the customs, he was stopped by a man he had never met before.
The man was balding and a good deal shorter than Farina. He looked up at Farina and Leslie could even admit he was a bit intimidated by the man. There was something familiar about him, though Farina could not place it.
He was dressed in a pair of black pants, a dark tan dress shirt with a dressy style black leather jacket. "Mr. Farina, where are you going?" he asked, and Farina could tell by just listening to him that he was military.
Very, very military. Even worse was that he was obviously not English. American, if Farina could pick it out. Maybe even Canadian. But Canadians weren't well known for being aggressive. "I think you've made a mistake, sir," said Farina. "I don't think I'm who you're looking for."
"I think he is," said another from behind him.
In the glass, Farina could see a reflection.
Oh Jesus no, he thought in alarm. Although he could see that this other man was younger than Nathan Bridger, he was very obviously related to him. The two would have been dead ringers for each other. "I don't know who you are, and I don't know who you're looking for," said Farina. "So, if you would please step out of my way, I have a plane to catch..."
"You aren't going anywhere, Mr. Farina," said the balding man. "The only place you'll be heading for is the brig on board the seaQuest to answer some questions."
Farina breathed a sigh of relief when airport security came up to him and asked, "Are these gentlemen bothering you, sir?"
"Yes, they are, they have a case of mistaken identity and are trying to detain me," answered Farina.
"Gentlemen, I think you should leave the man alone–" the man's eyes bugged out when the other man, the one that looked like Bridger, showed him his identification.
"I trust you won't get in the way of an official UEO investigation?" asked the taller and thinner of the pair.
Farina got the chance to get an even better look at the other man. Oh yeah, he was related to Bridger. He had his eyes... that hard look that Bridger could get. He had the same facial build too, the same shape. Only younger, and not quite the same. He had dark brown hair that was greying just below the temples, and somewhat into the short beard he favored, only he wore a black suit with a black silk shirt. In fact, he was all in black, and that lent him a very dangerous air. If it were possible, Farina found this Bridger more intimidating than the elder.
There was just something very cold about the younger Bridger that gave Farina an off feeling about him.
"No, Admiral," answered the airport security.
Uh oh, thought Farina. It wouldn't be Admiral Robert Bridger himself, now would it?
So, who was the other one? Another Admiral? Unlikely. He had deferred to the Admiral already so he was ranked by him. "Mr. Farina," said Bridger as he walked up to him. "Were you in Inverness this morning during the quake?"
"I don't know who this Farina is..." lied Leslie.
"You're lying to me, Mr. Farina," said Bridger, his eyes bored into him, and Farina squirmed. "Captain Hudson– take Mr. Farina to the seaQuest. There are others on board that can identify him."
"But I'm not–" maintained Farina.
"If you're not, then consider it a chance to tour the seaQuest as a guest with my sincerest apologies, but I know you're lying to me, so you'll be on the inside of the brig," answered Bridger, with a nod to Hudson.
Well, at least that answered who the other man was. Farina had heard about him too, and could see that all the stories were true. He was a hard-ass without any mercy... "Move it, Mr. Farina," growled Hudson.
"On what charges? That I'm not who I say I am?" asked Farina.
"Murder, Farina," answered Bridger. "Of Secretary General Nathan Hale Bridger of the United Earth Oceans Organization. He died early this morning before I had a chance to get here."
Farina froze.
Bridger was dead.
There's no way, thought Farina in horror. He can't be... this... this wasn't supposed to happen this way....
It was then an attractive women with four special forces types following in close formation approached Hudson and flashed a badge to him, a Section Seven badge. " We are here for the murderer of the security general."
"Security code, Lieutenant Commander Lacour before I think of handing him over to you." Hudson said reading the name on the ID, both worried and amazed at the fast response they had on the situation.
"Security code 187 Omega 3 Admiral Hudson, we will take it from here," Lacour snapped her fingers and the four men locked high density arm bars and a tracking collar in place.
Now he was being herded by heavy security to a waiting 4x4, government black. Farina was suddenly seized by fear. He was being detained by Section Seven. An end that could simply make him disappear better than the Jackal and his cronies could. But there was no way he could escape.
Admiral Robert Eric Stephen Bridger watched as Farina was taken away in the black 4x4. Hudson came up beside him, "That's not going to take him to the seaQuest."
"I know," answered Robert. "That was Section Seven."
Robert turned away and began to walk to the car lent to him while he was in England and Hudson watched him for the longest time, before running to catch up and get in on the passenger side. "What are you doing, Oliver?" asked Robert.
"Making sure you don't do anything stupid," answered Hudson. "This came as a shock to me too, Bobby."
Robert punched the steering wheel in frustration. "I don't understand this at all. What the Hell is wrong with my family? Are we cursed? I disappear for thirteen years. When I come back, I not only learn that my mother is dead, but my father has been MIA for a year before I returned. I live nine years believing he's dead. I rebuild my family only to have it torn apart by Macronesia. Then my father returns and things return, somewhat, to normal for two short years... not even! Now he's murdered... and my mother-in-law seems to have a price on her head. Hell, even my brother nearly was killed."
Hudson sat there, not saying a word. There was nothing that could be said. "Why don't we take down who wants Lady Westphalen dead? I know that would make me feel a Hell of a lot better," suggested Hudson.
Robert smiled sadly, "Yeah, that would. Call the senior officers together on the seaQuest. Hell, contact Colonel Yamamoto too. He's Section Seven so should be able to find out something for us as a lead."
"I knew I recognized that woman! She is one of Yamamoto agents. Figure's he got involved in this already," said Hudson as he climbed out of the car shaking his head at that, but before closing the door he leaned in. "Sir?"
"Yes?" asked Robert, looking at him.
"Be careful," Hudson stood and closed the door as Robert started the engine.
"I will."
Hudson watched Robert drive away before walking to his own rental car. Climbing in the passenger seat, he was surprised to have someone else climb in the passenger side. "Who the Hell are you?" demanded Hudson.
Noticing the gun trained on him, he stopped talking and his eyes thinned. "You are going to drive where I tell you and not do anything stupid," the man was cool and collected as if talking about the weather. "If you do exactly as I tell you, you get to go back to that pretty wife and your cute daughter, do you understand me."
"Crystal," said Hudson, and he turned the ignition on.
"Good, get us on the freeway and take the most direct route to the Trans Europe tunnel," ordered the man.
Hudson put the car in gear and drove, and sometimes the stranger gave him directions. He obviously knew the area. Soon they were in the South bound tunnel for France. Hudson drove evenly, wondering where the man was taking him. He was at ease. There was no way that they were going to get through customs.
Stopping at the customs line, the man dug a passport out of his pocket and flashed it.
Much to Hudson's surprise, they were simply waved through.
It was then that Hudson noticed that it was a diplomatic passport. He gritted his teeth. Gun or no gun, this man could play God. "Now, Captain, we are going to Laguna. Start driving."
Hudson drove, and soon the sun began to set. He wondered if Wendy was worried about him yet. Likely. He hated doing this and hoped that she would understand... Hell, maybe she even knew but couldn't pinpoint him. When they reached Laguna, the man gave him another set of directions. This time, once completed, he was ordered to stop the car and turn off the ignition. As Hudson did so, he stretched the kinks out of his back. He wasn't meant for long distance driving like that.
He was tired too. The day of driving had exhausted him. A set of headlights pulled up behind the car, and the man said as two other figures walked up to the car. "Get out and don't do anything stupid," the stranger also got out of the car and had the gun trained on him above the car.
Hudson looked at the other two people, a man and a woman. The woman said, and she had a very heavy accent. Not quite French though, "Is this him?"
"No, the Admiral drove off before I could stop him. This, Baroness, is Captain Oliver Hudson. He's been very co-operative," answered the stranger.
"I think you can take your gun off him," said the other man.
Hudson's travel companion put his gun away. Now his curiosity was peaked despite himself. A Baroness had hired a thug to bring Admiral Bridger to her, but out of sheer bad luck, got him instead. He idly wondered what she would want, and knew that she was likely going to tell him. She sighed and said, "Forgive the way I had... summoned you here, Captain. I needed your help and the utmost in secrecy."
"In exchange?"
"For information," she said then indicating the man who had brought him here first, then her companion. "This is Lieutenant William Dugenshire, and Second-Lieutenant Alexandro Herandes. They are Interpol."
Hudson sighed in relief. "That makes me feel infinitely better, Baroness."
She nodded with a slight smile, "I expect that it would. I am Baroness Mirielle Du Borne. If you would please accompany to my home, I can fill you in on what has happened in Europe that requires the amount of secrecy that it does."
"Okay..." said Hudson who followed her to the van. "What about the car?"
Dugenshire, his travel companion, got in the driver's side and the car left. "He will take it back to England," she answered. "Do not worry, Captain Hudson. You, too, will be back in England soon."
Robert paced in the study of Trisbane Manor. "What do you mean he's missing?" he asked. "He was going to his car right after I left."
Wendy sat on the desk, her hands on the edge, her feet flat against the side of the desk, "He didn't come back right after you, though. I know something's happened. I can feel it," she said emphatically.
Robert sighed and leaned against the wall, "Just what we need. Very well, I'll call a search on him. Don't worry, Wendy, we'll find him."
Hudson slept most of the ride to her manor. The long drive had taken its toll and so he waited until the van came to a stop. Getting out of the van to see a large French villa complete with wine fields, and that it was late at night, he whistled in appreciation. "This way, Captain," his host, the Baroness led the way at a brisk pace and he followed.
A servant took her coat and Hudson's jacket and she led him to a spacious office. Sitting behind the desk, she motioned for him to sit across from her. "Captain Hudson, your friends and family have an interesting problem," she took out a folder marked Confidential and handed it to him. "You have attracted the attention of the terrorist group la Premiere Terra. They are responsible for the attack on Lady Westphalen and the death of Secretary General Bridger."
Hudson took the folder and looked through the folder. "Dr. Sean Westling, leader of the English cell of the First Earth," he looked through the folder, at the various terrorist attacks by the group. "I don't see how..."
Then he saw her.
Dr. Jacqueline Serrano. "Jesus, they could be twins," he whispered as he saw the picture of Dr. Serrano, the sister of the seaQuest's new WSKRs chief: Lieutenant Anna Maria Serrano.
"That was our first thought when we were given the crew manifest of the seaQuest and her vanguard," said the Baroness.
"When you say 'we', who do you mean?" asked Hudson. "Baroness, how are you connected to Interpol?"
"I fund it."
"Oh, I see," Hudson sighed.
She waved her hand in dismissal, "Not totally. There are others, but before I assumed my inheritance, I was a member of Interpol. I worked my way up the ranks," she smiled. "Now I lead part of it."
He continued to look through the folder, "I can see how this had something to do with us, but I don't know what it does now... other than they killed Nathan Bridger."
It still felt odd to call the old man dead, but unfortunately, it was now a fact of life. It still hurt too. "Keep looking," she said.
He read the file, "Acts of terrorism include kidnapping, murder, and bio-warfare. Suspected ties to Dr. Rubin Zellar... oh my God."
Baroness Du Borne nodded. "Mon Dieu would be a very succinct way of wording it."
Hudson leaned back in his chair and thought for a moment. "Suddenly, it all makes a Hell of a lot of sense. He was there in New Sao Paulo, too. That means that... Jesus," he swore. "Nothing is ever simple."
A scant thirty two hours after he had been called missing, Oliver Hudson showed up again at Trisbane Manor. Walking into the entry hall as if he owned the place, he turned to everyone. Wendy could see the circles under his eyes that signified that he had not slept much since being taken to wherever he had been taken.
Robert was all business when he called him up to the study. Hudson sat heavily in the leather couch and put his head in his hands tiredly. Robert poured him a drink and handed it to him. When Oliver looked up in surprise, Robert said softly in explanation, "You look as if you needed it."
"I do, oh, do I ever," Hudson took a breath. "Admiral, it was Interpol."
"Who took you?" asked Robert in surprise. "Why?"
Hudson handed him a folder and explained, "They were hoping for you since you had led the team into New Sao Paulo. An 'exchange of information', I do believe she called it," said Hudson. "The leader of Interpol. Or someone very, very high ranking in it."
"You get her name?"
"Yeah, I did," said Hudson as he took a drink, grimaced, then leaned back in the chair as he let some of the tension leave. "Baroness Du Borne."
Robert froze and whirled around, "The Baroness Du Borne? Of France?"
"The same," answered Hudson. "Why?"
"No reason," answered Robert thoughtfully, then he leafed through the file folder and stopped dead in his tracks. "Oh my God."
"My words exactly," muttered Hudson.
"I met this Dr. Serrano," said Robert. "She's the one who rescued me and then guided Shan and I up to Michael. She died saving us... from Zellar. So... this is who he is."
"Who is what?" asked an English voice from the doorway.
The two men turned to the now open door where Dr. Westphalen's sister stood there. "Lady Melissa," said Hudson, as he stood. "You should not be listening to other people's conversations."
"I wasn't. Until I heard Robert say that horrible man's name. I wanted to know, and I deserve to know. He killed Krissy and I's brother. He killed James. What about him? What don't you want us to know?" she demanded and walked in, slamming the door shut as she did so.
Robert sighed and said, "It's classified."
"I don't care if it or not. What is it that you're not telling me, Bobby?" she asked.
He looked at Hudson and then back at Melissa. "We believe that Zellar was in New Sao Paulo. That why we had Michael checked out when we got him back," answered Robert.
She stood there in wordless horror. Robert took an even bigger breath and Hudson mentally slapped his superior for what he said next, "Furthermore, we also believe that he has ties with a terrorist group that ordered the assassination of Lady Westphalen, which was botched, and killed the Secretary General instead."
For a very long moment, Melissa Trisbane simply stood there in wordless shock, but in a very surprising controlled voice, "How long have you known about this?"
"I just brought the information today," answered Hudson. "Interpol gave it to me."
She nodded, satisfied with the answer. "What do you intend to do about it?"
They were both surprised by her calmness, and it must have shown in their faces, but she allayed that when she asked suddenly, "I am a Trisbane. Do you honestly think so little of me as to think I'll fall apart? Don't answer that gentlemen, I feel I deserve to know the answer."
Clearing his throat, Robert asked, "Section Seven already has the suspect from the shooting in custody. We know, or suspect that we know, who was behind it. Once it is confirmed, New Sao Paulo will come under direct attack from the UEO for crimes against humanity."
She nodded and then turned on her heel, "Please, gentlemen, don't keep me out of the loop. I have contacts that may be able to help."
When the door closed again, Hudson turned to Robert, "What the Hell did she mean by that?"
PART TWO: The Truth at Last
December 30th, 2034
Location Classified
Shadow Warrior brig
Colonel Yamamoto walked to the brig with TJ Dasher in tow. He had, in the short time she had been on board, become very impressed with her skills. She had definitely proven herself in the field on the New Sao Paulo mission and the Colombian mission. He didn't know how she would react to an interrogation however.
His third in command, Lieutenant Commander Lacour, was waiting for him outside the brig. "Sir, the prisoner was nervous. He seemed to be concerned about how they would kill him once they found out that he failed," she reported after saluting.
"Very well," he said. "Where is Commander McGill?"
"Inside with him now," she answered. "He was being stubborn about telling us who hired him. Ray had to use sodium penthanol. He should be ready for some useful interrogation shortly."
Yamamoto nodded and motioned for Dasher to precede him into the room. TJ walked in and kept her control at seeing the man, stripped to the waist and strapped into a single metal chair, sagging against his bonds. He didn't appear to be harmed though. McGill stood up and said, "Colonel, he is still not cooperating."
"His mind should be more open now, however," answered Yamamoto as he stepped up to the chair and lightly touched the man's head.
He paused and then motioned to Dasher, "Perhaps you would like to do the honors?"
She blinked in surprise. "Me sir? Shouldn't someone more experienced?"
"Perhaps," answered Yamamoto. "But I have a feeling that in this case you will be more able to get the necessary information out of him."
Dasher stepped up and gently made the man look directly, or as directly as he could in his condition, into her eyes. A short time after she was looking at him, but her attention was no longer in the room.
She sensed Yamamoto's guiding influence, but it was her call. Her mind probe.
The mind was by far the least direct creation that one could probe. Only surface thoughts were ever direct. The further one went into the mind and the subconscious the less things made sense. The mind was a system of associations unlike a computer's filing system. Too quickly she could get bogged down by unnecessary memories associated by some strange connection to what she was looking for.
She drew a breath and forced herself to focus on the field that she found herself in. Walking to the building to the far side, she pushed on the door and found herself in the launch bay of the seaQuest. It was different than the seaQuest she remembered, but knew that this was a memory. Must be the old one, she realized. The first one.
Dasher took a breath, and aloud and to Farina she said, "Nathan Bridger."
Instantly the launch bay was filled with people and she saw the deceased captain among the throng. He was in the old military uniform of the seaQuest, the simple dark navy jumpsuit. Lucas stood beside him, a far cry from who he was now. Farina was being thrown off the seaQuest, or escorted off. Either way, he was leaving.
"No..." she whispered. "This is not what I need to see."
The scene melted and for a moment TJ wondered if she had failed, then she realized that what she needed to know was not centered on Bridger. "Show me Lady Westphalen."
This time it was Dr. Westphalen, "You didn't see anything."
"That dolphin talked," stated Farina.
"You did not see anything," said Westphalen again.
A first meeting? At this point he didn't seem to know who she was. Crucial details were missing, like her name tag for one. He didn't recall her having one. So he found out who she was after?
"Why did you want her dead?"
TJ followed Farina out of the sea deck and then they were in the Sheraton. She could see Farina preparing the sniper rifle that had been used to fatally shoot Bridger– only it had been aimed at Lady Westphalen. "Who, Leslie. Tell me, who wanted to kill Westphalen?"
Farina turned as if he was looking at someone, and TJ followed as she saw another man leveling a gun at Farina. At least, it was supposed to be a man. It looked like jackal that had partially transformed into a man. "A Jackal?" she asked.
"Enough, Lieutenant Dasher," came Yamamoto's voice strong and firm, calling her out of it.
TJ's hands dropped her side as she looked at the man. Yamamoto nodded once and McGill unstrapped Farina from the chair and returned him to the cell. The Colonel took Dasher by the arm and guided her outside. "You did well for the first time."
"I didn't get anything."
"But you did," he affirmed. "More than you possibly know. The Jackal. Now there's a name I haven't heard in awhile."
"So, it wasn't just a random thought on his part?" she said relieved as she slid down to the chair that was provided.
"No, the Jackal is an assassin. A terrorist," answered Yamamoto, scorn coloring his words. "He took the name from a novel, a movie. Uses the fear associated with the name to cause fear in others. Then he adapted it for his respective terrorist cell. No, this helps us a great deal. Now it's a matter of what to do with the information..."
Dasher nodded and then yawned. Yamamoto turned to her in surprise. "I'm dreadfully sorry, Lieutenant. I kept you from your bed long enough, and this experience... I imagine it took quite a bit out of you."
As Dasher left the interrogation chamber and made her way to her small quarters, walking slowly trying to clear her head when she strolled right into Corporal Road. "Hey Streaker what up?"
"Hey Corporal, not much just trying to get to my bunk for some shut eye." Dasher tried hard to smiled back as she slid around him the close hallway pressing her close to him, a sensation Dasher surprisingly had to admit she liked.
"Ya after everything that gone on in the last few days I don't blame you." He replied sliding around her let her pass, his green eyes looking at her. "Streaker don't let what happened to the secretary general get to you, but as the scuttle butt around the boat says you knew him personally, is that right?"
"Yes something like that." was all Dasher could reply with before shutting her eye's to keep from crying.
Road's rested his hand on her shoulder, it was a warm and welcome presence that gave her strength. "Just remember one thing Dasher, it because of the darkness out there is why the Shadow Guard exist, we are here to fight the darkness in all it's forms and to fight for all the people out there who can't fight for themselves."
The words struck home for Dasher and made her realize, 'this is why im here'.
Corporal road let go of her shoulder and started back on his path out the ship hallway only to hear. "You sounded just like Yamamoto when you said that." she said
"Who do you think told me." Road's replied as he walked out of sight. But if you want to ever talk Streaker just let me know."
TJ walked wearily back to her cramped quarters and lay down in her bunk When there she finally cried from the mental anguish that Farina had dumped on her head. He truly regretted what he done.
She closed her eyes and sleep took her.
Her sleep wasn't peaceful.
Tracy Joanne Dasher's mental link to Farina was not wholly closed. And now, without the link being so forced she found herself in a dream scape.
Eden.
It was not Farina's voice, but a woman's. TJ called out, "Eden? What does that mean?"
As if catapulted through the tie with Farina, she found herself in another. She knew she was no longer in Farina's mind because the field of the subconscious was different. Underneath her feet she knew it was a desert. The golden sands were endless, but on it grew a wild and untamed forest.
Her short training in psychology told her that it was a mind that constantly thought, explaining the intense jungle, but was emotionally dead, hence the base of desert. Where the Hell is this? she wondered.
The Eden of the new Earth... Where only those who protect it will thrive... continued the voice, only much closer now.
A hand closed on her shoulder and she was whirled around, "Who the Hell are you and what are doing in my mind?"
She stared at the man, recognizing him from New Sao Paulo but unable to put a name to the face. "What's Eden?" she demanded.
"Oh no, my dear," he chortled. "I am in control here."
Dasher realized that he was aware of her presence. Unlike Farina, he understood what her presence meant.
TJ forced herself to awaken to escape the man's dangerous mental presence. She shuddered in her quarters, and then forcefully closed down all outside telepathic links. She could not risk that happening again. Getting up, and dressed again, she searched out Colonel Yamamoto.
She found him in the empty galley, "Sir, I have made a serious mistake."
"Oh?" he leaned back in his chair and motioned for her to sit across from him. "What sort of mistake?"
"I left... I left a tie open to Farina," she confessed. "I didn't mean to. It was a careless error."
Yamamoto leaned forward, "Inexperience and nothing more as long as you learn is what's counts, did you learn something useful?"
"Not from him, exactly," she said. "I was thrown into another person's mind. More dangerous..."
She described what she had seen and what she thought the significance of the desert based jungle. He simply listened until she finished. "Tell me," he began. "If I were to show you pictures, would you recognize who you saw?"
She nodded, "I would never forget him, much as I'd like to."
Yamamoto opened a folder and slowly went through pictures, when suddenly TJ stopped him and pointed to the man in the photo. "It was him... oh yeah, it was definitely him."
"Dr. Rubin Zellar?" he said astonished. "You actually psychically probed Zellar?!"
She nodded and shuddered. "Nor would I want to again."
He closed the folder and an unreadable expression crossed his face. "Unfortunately, I need you to. I need to know what he is up to and what we're up against."
Dasher stared at him in horror, but accepted the orders. It wouldn't be pleasant, that was for sure, but she could see the need for it. She nodded and said, "Very well sir."
"First off, I won't have you doing it exhausted," he admonished. "Close down any mental ties or links and get a twelve hours rest. You will need it. The minute you feel you are ready, notify me so I can be your anchor in case you need to retreat."
"Aye sir," she said, standing and saluting.
Yamamoto stood up and returned the salute sharp and quick with a look almost like pride at what Dasher had done, not the unpleasantness she expected.
Walking back to her quarters, she remembered her first days on seaQuest. It had been in the middle of a war and even still... it had been a simpler time. She smiled as she thought of JJ Fredericks, Dagwood, and Tony Piccolo. They had been her friends and she missed them.
Poor JJ though, she thought. So much tragedy and so much sorrow. It was a lot to bear. And TJ could definitely sympathize. And she would do what she could to help. She walked into her quarters and a whispering presence along her other bonds made her smile in remembrance.
Kneeling in the middle of her floor as if meditating, she simply whispered, "Robert."
It was as if she stood in the room with him in that ancient and stately manor study. The only difference was if an extremely bright flash had washed out the details of both him and the study. So it was with distance speaking. He looked up at her, looking older in her mental eye, more distinguished as a father should. "What is it, TJ?" he asked.
"I didn't want you to worry when I closed the bond," she said. "It might too dangerous to keep it shortly. For both of us."
"Sever the bond?" he crinkled his brows in confusion. "Ping, what is going on?"
"I... I have to, Father," she said again, then hugged his mental shadow quickly. "Please forgive me for this."
TJ opened her eyes in her quarters, the reassuring whisper of Robert Bridger forever broken.
January 1st, 2035
Trisbane Manor
England
Robert paced. A quick call to Colonel Yamamoto had only worsened the worry. He had not been able to contact his daughter by any means and was swiftly become agitated. He knew that they supply them with information but they had information already and not in his hands.
The other reason he was agitated was that his mother in law had gone, without him, to make the arrangements for his father's funeral. He wasn't upset with her, far from it, more concerned. Now, while Cynthia had gone with her as support, Robert would have liked to have been there as well. Just as well he had not if this was how he was without going. He likely would have finally broken down.
He knew he was bottling his feelings up but he could afford the luxury of grieving right now– he was an Admiral with responsibilities to the UEO and NorPac. If the world decided that if it would show up at the doorstep it would be his responsibility to act strong in front of reporters. If he had gone with the women he would have not been able to be.
Hearing the door chime he stepped out of the study and walked down the hall to watch from the top of the stairs on the second floor (the manor had three massive floors), he watched as Walter answered the door.
After Melissa's mysterious calm a few days ago, old habits had begun to resurface. One of them was reading people and their body language. Walter did not move like a butler should. He moved swiftly and with purpose, and silently. On the marble floor he made nary a sound, and on carpet it was like he wasn't even there.
Like a certain Section Seven agent Robert knew... In fact, it was precisely the same way that Colonel Jason Yamamoto moved.
So, what were the Trisbane's if they were not exactly civilian? MI6? Likely, realized Robert as Walter looked outside the door before opening it. And equally as likely Walter probably knew that Robert was waiting at the top of the stairs with his hand on his hidden side arm.
Walter waited a moment before opening the door, and when he did, he moved behind the door as it opened. In walked Commodore Ben Krieg and his executive officer, Commander Tim O'Niell.
"Gentlemen," said Walter. "Welcome to Trisbane Manor."
"Thank you," said Krieg. "Is Admiral Bridger here?"
"He is in the study if you would want me to escort you there," said Walter.
"No need," called Robert from the stairs. "Just let them up."
He wasn't surprised to note that Walter looked up, hardly startled, to where he was, "Of course."
Krieg and O'Niell walked up the stairs and met Robert at the top. "This is where Dr. Westphalen lives?" asked O'Niell, looking around at the opulence. "Wow."
"Yeah," said Robert as he led them to the study. "So, I gather this isn't a wholly professional visit, is it?"
Krieg smiled indulgently and put an arm around Robert's shoulder. "Now, what kind of friends would we be if we didn't come to support you," said Krieg with a wide smile, then the smile dropped off a little, didn't reach his eyes as much. "And what kind of friends would we be if we weren't there to say good bye to a man who fathered us... all of us... as much as he did?"
Robert drew a ragged breath. Somehow, as he always did, Ben seemed to touch just that type of nerve that made you face head on what was bothering you. "Ben... thank you."
Kristin came back to the Manor and walked to the room, more of a suite really, that she had shared with Nathan. Part of her half expected to see Nathan in the chair by the fireplace reading.
But he wouldn't be, she knew. And he would never again. It was at this moment the full import of the loss was felt. Had been only a few days ago when she had related the details of how they had met to her sister? A few scant days. She smiled at the memory. The very first Christmas with everyone together.
Her tears began to run down her face and she slid down the door to sit on the floor.
Nathan would never tell her about something he was working on. Would never feel the heat of his touch on her skin, would never lay awake listening to his beating heart at night, and would never again feel his arms around her.
A knock sounded on her door, "Dr. Westphalen... Kristin... are you in there?" came the muffled voice of Nathan's niece, Wendy Smith-Hudson. "Come on, I know you're in there. Please... open the door."
Kristin pulled herself up numbly, then schooled her features and dried her tears. Looking at herself in the mirror and satisfied that she appeared presentable, she opened the door.
She realized that Wendy was a very small woman without some sort of heel to lend her some height and stature. She barely came up to Kristin's nose, and Kristin was not a tall woman by any means. Right now the age difference was apparent in the wide eyed expression on her face. "What is it, Wendy?" asked Kristin.
"I miss him too," she said. "Can I come in...?
Kristin moved out of the way and Wendy walked in, her hands interlaced nervously as she paced in front of the fireplace. "I know you probably don't like me," she said. "You think I'm too young to have had the position I did on the seaQuest, that I got it because of my mother and because of Uncle Nathan."
Shrugging, Kristin closed the door, "I wouldn't go as far as to say that I don't like you. Yes, I was concerned about your experience. But I was equally impressed with your ability. I did think that partly your connections got you there, but not for the reason you think. I think that perhaps your mother was concerned with Nathan, concerned about him and wanted someone there to keep an eye on him."
Wendy nodded a little in agreement. "There was that reason," she conceded. "And I could have refused. Doctor, there were times when I would panic and they would have to save me. Those times I failed them. I knew that if you were there, or someone else more experienced, that they would not have had to come to your rescue. You wouldn't have needed it. I was inadequate."
Kristin listened to her and said, "You didn't come here to tell me that, did you?"
"No," confessed Wendy. "And yes. They're all up to something and I think my past failures has taken me out of their loop. When Liv came back from where ever he had been he went straight away to talk to Robert. Not to me. He would only do that if he learned something important."
Well, this was interesting. Kristin nodded her head and said quietly, "Thank you."
Wendy hugged her and then left. Kristin closed her door. She had not known that. Why would she? The person that would have been in the loop normally, and told her everything, was now dead and due to be buried in a week's time. For a moment a new emotion burned in her heart, one of anger. It was time to end the secrets. Robert really had no right to do this to her.
Kristin pulled open the door and walked to Robert and Cynthia's room. Knocking on it hard, she was relieved that it was him that opened it. "You and I need to talk," she said.
"Okay... in the morning?" he asked.
"No. Now," she punctuated the words with a finger pointing to the study.
Robert disappeared inside, then came back out a bit more presentable. He followed her into the study and was a bit surprised when she held the door open for him, and indicated that he was to precede her into the room. He did so, and she followed him in.
Her entrance was a slamming door, and he turned in surprise as she closed the only other door to the study with the same forceful slam. "Uh, Kristin, are you all right?" he asked. "You seem a bit agitated."
"All right? All right!" she shouted, then calmed a bit. At least, her voice did, anyway. "Robert Eric Stephen Bridger."
Robert realized that she was furious with him. Really, really furious. Not good, he thought, but then she continued. "I would have thought that you thought better of me than you have proven to actually think."
"I'm afraid I don't understand..."
"Robert, you purposely left me out of the loop," she said. "And now that I think back on it, the only person who ever told what the Hell was going on was your father, because you certainly never did."
Blinking in confusion, Robert thought for a moment what he could have possibly not told her that would have angered her. Then it dawned on him. "Interpol... how did you find out?"
"A little bird with more sense than you told me," she answered. "What the Hell did you learn, anyway? What has Colonel Yamamoto told you? What did Interpol tell you, and what the Hell is truly going on anyway?"
"Perhaps I can answer that," came a new voice.
They both turned and Robert sighed in relief as he saw Yamamoto standing there, a red folder in his hands. Yamamoto held up the folder and walked into the room. "We had enough time to research the problem and we believe we know who hired Farina to kill you, Lady Westphalen," said Yamamoto as he handed her the files.
"Kill me?" she said in amazement. "You mean, they weren't after Nathan at all?"
"No, Kristin, they were not. They were after you," answered Robert wearily. "If I'm right, la Terra Primiere hired Farina."
Yamamoto nodded in affirmative, "Through their copycat of the Jackal. A lesser copy, I assure you."
"La Terre Primiere? But why?" she asked.
"Does the name Dr. Rubin Zellar have any special meaning for you?" asked Yamamoto.
Kristin sank into the leather couch as her knees became suddenly like jelly. "No... He can't be..."
Robert stood up from where she had backed him up into the desk. "I'm afraid so, Interpol even connected him. And the information that Interpol supplied me also shows who is connected with la Terre Primiere. I met, or saw, most of them in New Sao Paulo. And had a run in with Zellar."
Kristin closed her eyes, "Why did you keep this from me?"
"I didn't want to hurt you," said Robert. "I know, from Dad, what he did to you. I didn't want you know that he did it again."
She opened them, anger still there. "No. In that you were mistaken. Your father never kept anything from me. No matter what it was, I was at his side for it. And he was at mine," Kristin stood and took a breath. "Remember, I had my own run in with Zellar. I spent a better part of an hour alone with him. I can tell you this: No matter what la Terre Primiere thinks they are doing, no matter for what 'greater good' they believe they have him convinced to do– he thinks of it as a game where everyone is a piece to be moved around and manipulated for his twisted entertainment. And if you remember that, remember something else. I should have killed him– it was not that he did not deserve to die but that it's the only way to stop him."
January 2nd, 2035
New Sao Paulo
Harpe's Spire
Geoffrey Harpe paced the length of his office. He was glad the old man was dead to be sure, but he had rather hoped it would be him that killed Bridger. No matter. What was done was done, and now Harpe knew for sure that his enemy lay dead. He turned to Dr. Sean Westling and asked, "So, what is it you woke me up for?"
Westling held up a folder and smiled, "It's almost done and soon only those we choose will walk the Earth. Only those who love and respect her will be its guardians."
Harpe frowned and asked, "What has that got to do with anything? I thought you were building me a weapon for my biological products line?"
"Oh we are," soothed Westling. "But it has so much more, but..."
Westling stood and walked to Harpe, "... it's too bad you won't be there to see it."
Harpe took a step away from the man. "What are you talking about?"
"Your enemy is dead... the one you lived to see die," said Westling, then he motioned to the city below. "The world is at your feet, completely at your whim. Your life work is over, old man. Time to die."
Westling pulled out a hypospray filled with a fluid. "It's beautiful, isn't it? We named it Eden. It's not finished yet, easily fought off by a normal and healthy immune system. The real Eden won't be, of course... how else will we cleanse the precious Gaia of the sinners that pollute her?" Westling cornered Harpe and injected him with the contents of the hypospray. "Of course, you don't have a normal and healthy immune system, old man."
Harpe fumbled into the private lift to his quarters and then locked them down. Westling sighed and said to the door, "It won't make a difference. You're already dead."
PART THREE: End Game
January 3rd, 2035
seaQuest DSV
sea deck
The sea deck was crammed. Admiral Robert Bridger almost had to shout for order over the din from his place on the catwalk about the moon pool, but a few minutes later, everyone quieted. "Thank you!" he said. "I understand your shock, disbelief and even your anger at us not telling you right away what truly happened when we found out."
This resulted in yet another cacophony of noise on sea deck. "Quiet!" yelled O'Niell in a rare show of volume, and everyone was again quiet. "You have the floor, Admiral."
"Everyone, I miss my father as much as you do. I'm as angry as you at this," Robert held up the folder with the information. Of course, there was really nothing in it, but he had brought it along as a focal point for the group. "Over the past three days, thanks to all your concentrated efforts, we managed to not only discover who shot and killed Nathan Bridger, but also who was behind hiring the assassin."
A gasp sounded throughout the room. "UEO Command has given me full command of the seaQuest and her vanguard, as well as the clearance for a strike on New Sao Paulo and la Terre Primiere," Robert let the arm holding the folder drop to chest height, even while he held it out in front of him, leaning slightly over the moon pool. "This information has told us what to expect, and who to target. Ladies and gentlemen, our orders are to secure the island city. No one gets in or out. Once that's done, we arrest those responsible for crimes against humanity. I think I speak for everyone here today when I say that we'll make sure that not one escapes justice. This time they didn't just strike a random target. This time they made it personal, and this time we're bring the fight to their doorstep."
In the crowd stood TJ Dasher, as usual her aloof and calm self. But her insides crawled at what Robert was saying. She knew he was hurting inside– he was all but screaming it mentally, and she felt the hurt and anger from everyone standing there on the seaQuest. She looked over at Yamamoto. "This isn't right," she said only so he could hear. "Going after them in a professional frame of mind I can understand, but they won't stop once they finish. Their rage and hurt will propel them past all reason. That will make him no better than his enemy."
Yamamoto sighed and looked down at the floor, "I know." He raised his head after a moment his voice filled with resolve. " We have but two missions in this Dasher, one punish the scum who did this and two protect the people we care about to keep them from going over the edge."
Westling walked into the room where Zellar lived. It was a collection of classic paintings and sculptures with lavish furnishings. Zellar looked up, "Ah, Sean. I was wondering where you had gone to. I was about to go up and meet with Mr. Harpe and was wondering if you would join me."
"There's no need," said Westling. "I made a change in plans with Mr. Harpe."
Zellar's eyebrows lifted. "Oh?"
Westling took out the empty hypospray, "Yes. I did. I knew Harpe was only interested in the money he could make from Eden. I could not let that happen. No one must know about Eden until she is finished, and until it's too late. You agree with this, do you not?"
Zellar was quiet for a moment, "I... must admit that I am a bit surprised at your initiative, and I am curious on what you did to him?"
"I infected Harpe with the early stage Eden virus. Now, under normal circumstances, a young, healthy and strong immune system would be able to fight off Eden A," said Westling. "But Harpe is old and weak. I'd say he will dead by the end of the week, perhaps earlier."
Westling shrugged. "Who can tell?" he said, sitting in one of Zellar's chairs. "Relax, Rubin, it doesn't matter anymore. It's too late for anyone to stop us."
January 4th, 2035
Off the coast of Brazil
Near New Sao Paulo
The ships were gathered. Robert stood on the observation deck of the Aurora as the planes refueled and prepared for take off. He could see the main tower that only a few short months ago he had snuck into to save Michael. Now the tower they were organizing an overt strike against.
He walked to the bridge and stood near the back so as to not get in the way. Finally, he realized that his place as Admiral was in the wardroom. Sitting at the head of the table going over the charts and maps of the area, and the screen that gave him real time locations of the ships, Robert sighed. He didn't belong here. He belonged there as Admiral, but his mind was definitely not here.
Looking out the port that gave him a full view of the outside, he closed his eyes against the near perfect spires. "That's where I belong," said Robert.
He knew that under the cover of the fleet that one particular sub was sneaking up close enough to get a landing party in. It was on this sub that Robert wanted to be.
But he knew he would never be able to. He turned resolutely, missing the helicopter that landed on the carrier, and the salutes being thrown.
A few minutes later he heard a sharp knock on the door. "Come in," he called as he turned to face the officer that entered.
And stopped at seeing the older man's face. The two stood a long time after the petty officer closed the door with a sharp salute. Robert sighed and looked down. "Bill..."
Admiral William Noyce looked back at Robert. What he saw was a young man who lost his father to some very nasty circumstances. Noyce's features softened and he held out his hand, "Robert... I wish it were under different circumstances."
"Yeah, me too," Robert said as they shook hands. "What are you doing here?"
"Well, I read Commodore Krieg's report on your pep talk to the crews and decided that you would likely need another fleet to back up. I flew in early, but the Whitman, the Tennessee, the Silver Wolf, and their vanguards will be here within the next couple of hours," said Noyce as he sat down, and then updated Robert's real time screen.
Sure enough the seven ships under Noyce's command were at the edge of the map. "I also know that, under the UEO's command, the North Sea Confederation is also sending Admiral Dulac and he has a fleet. Unfortunately, he is not due to arrive until tomorrow," Noyce then tapped on the door. "Oh, and the North Sea Confederation also sent someone from MI6... he's a capable warrior with an excellent reputation..."
Robert stood to greet this agent when Walter Trisbane walked in, and bowed slightly. "Admiral Bridger."
"Walter..." said Robert. "Why am I not surprised?"
Yamamoto looked over to TJ Dasher. He was impressed, really, with how well she was handling this. So much had come to light lately since Bridger's death that it was nearly a whirlwind of activity.
And it would soon become even less peaceful in the next couple of hours. His second in command, Commander McGill, came up to his side and said, "Sir, the seaQuest is holding her position as planned, but there is an interesting development in the way of subs and surface ships."
"And that would be?" Yamamoto lifted a brow, it was unusual for McGill to string him along like this.
"Admiral Noyce has joined us," answered McGill. "And according to communications we are expecting Admiral Dulac from the North Sea Confederation as well, only tomorrow."
Yamamoto's eyebrows lifted in surprise, "Three fleets?"
McGill nodded, "I guess they're expecting a bit of trouble."
"As they should," said Yamamoto, leaning on the navigation table and pointed out the new ships in the area. "La Terre Primiere is a ruthless enemy, but they have interesting allies."
"Chaodai," breathed McGill.
"Indeed," said Yamamoto. "That would explain why they were under England."
"That's a long way out of their territory though," pointed out Dasher, who had joined them once she had overheard them mention the Chaodai. "Why would they even bother?"
"Who knows?" admitted Yamamoto. "There could be numerous reasons. Perhaps... even the mysterious reason Harpe joined forced with la Terre Primiere."
They stood there a moment longer in thought, and it was TJ who voiced the question, "So... what would Harpe, and the Chaodai want with la Terre Primiere and Rubin Zellar?"
It suddenly came to all three of them, and Yamamoto breathed, "A weapon..."
"Of course," said McGill. "Zellar would be cooking up some sort of biological weapon..."
"... and la Terre Primiere marketed the idea to Harpe for funding," said TJ. "The Chaodai would logically be...?"
"The buyer," answered Yamamoto, his face growing grim. "Shit, shit, shit. TJ, your father the Admiral may have been more right in ordering this strike when he did than we originally thought."
TJ simply shrugged, "Maybe an instinct kicked him in this direction. The whole point is now that we can expect a biological weapon, we have to rethink our entire strategy."
"She's right," agreed McGill, looking at a surprised Yamamoto. "Call in Radwatch?" referring to Yamamoto NBC team.
"We'll have to," said Yamamoto. "Do we honestly want to get in there and then find out that we should have? I certainly don't. Call in Lacour's team and tell her to join us up here."
"Aye sir," said McGill as he bent to the communications pod. "Lieutenant Commander Lacour to the Bridge. Lacour to the bridge."
He stood up and looked over the maps. Very shortly after Lieutenant Commander Danielle Lacour entered the bridge and saluted sharply. "You wanted to see me, sir?"
"Yes, we did," said Yamamoto and he beckoned her over to the navigation table. "We believe we'll need your unit to enter here."
He pointed out the spot where Henderson had been extracted from the last mission. "From there you'll have to go overland to the Main Tower. Clear the labs and lock 'em down. We're dealing with the potential of a biological agent being used as a weapon yuor team will be accompanied by Radwatch to deal with anything dangest. We'll be following you in fifteen minutes later to evac any civilians in the area."
Lacour nodded as they began to discuss the plans in detail.
Commodore Krieg leaned forward in the command chair of the seaQuest DSV. "Status, Ms. Serrano," he said quietly.
"We're twenty kilometers from New Sao Paulo," she answered. "And judging by the fighters being scrambled, they know we're here."
Krieg leaned forward, and then ordered crispy, "Scramble specters gold through silver wings."
"Specters scrambled," confirmed Johansen.
"Sir, the helm reports that the currents in this area are particularly volatile," said his exec, Commander Tim O'Niell.
"Will that present any problem to the Specters?" asked Krieg.
"No sir, but if we have to send out anyone in an MR shuttle or a Speeder it might," said O'Niell.
"I'll keep that in mind," he called down to engineering. "Lieutenant Commander Ortiz, how are we down there?"
"Good to go, sir," answered his third in command. "Lieutenant Commander McGregor has it in hand."
Krieg checked around the stations one more time as the Specters met the sub fighters from New Sao Paulo. Until the bigger fish came out there was little for the seaQuest and the Avenger to do but wait. As everyone knew, Krieg was not very good at waiting.