Thursday, June 29th, 2017
17:00 GMT (17:00 GMT June 29th)
Wideawake Airfield
Ascension Island
South Atlantic Ocean
Air Force One
The very senior members (and Stephanie) of Vengeance, Honneur, and Fusion boarded the converted Boeing 747-200B.
Mindy felt extremely uncomfortable considering that she was entering an aircraft positively crawling with Secret Service agents in their dark suits and dark sunglasses. Together, she, Dave, Eric, Abby, Stephanie, Jason, Marinette, Alya, Jasper, Lynn, Cameron, and the long-suffering Rodney had walked over to the enormous Boeing aircraft which despite its bulk was actually smaller in every dimension, except for an extra two feet in height at the tail, than Mindy's own Boeing – a fact that Mindy herself had checked up on before leaving her own.
Mindy looked up and down the corridor as she stepped aboard the Boeing 747.
"Mine's newer and bigger."
"For fuck's sake, Mindy!" Dave growled.
Mindy observed the US Navy Lieutenant Commander seated to her left, beside whom sat an innocuous-looking black leather case. The man ignored her glance as he stared resolutely ahead.
"Welcome, Mrs Lizewski," a man offered with a smile, extending his right hand. "I am Cody Harris, the President's chief of staff. Welcome aboard!"
"Thank you, Mr Harris," Mindy replied as she shook the man's hand. "My Husband, Dave. My technical advisors, Marty and Abby, and my eldest daughter, Stephanie. Then we have Jason, a neutral observer, Marinette and Alya who represent Honneur, and then Jasper, Lynn, and Cameron who represent Vengeance."
"Welcome, all of you," Harris responded with the same smile. "This way, please."
The man led the group aft down the narrow port corridor. Stephanie looked forward and she was surprised to see the face of a young girl, about her own age, peering out of the President's suite. The face rapidly vanished and Stephanie turned back to the corridor which was decidedly not very welcoming with its dreary colour scheme, which was probably functional, but Stephanie was not a fan. They passed an office, and a galley, then another office, before they were waved inside a conference room. There they found the other party already aboard and chatting with the President.
"Madam President. Prime Minister," Harris said. "Fusion, Vengeance, and Honneur."
"Hello," the lady said, as she rose from her seat at the head of the conference table. "Some say that I as President of the United States of America am the most powerful woman in the world, yet there is no doubt that you are the most feared woman in the world, despite the fact that I have the massed forces of the United States military under my command. Welcome."
Mindy nodded and she shook the President's hand.
"Grace Adams. I am sure that this must feel extremely uncomfortable to most of you," the President continued. "This lady to my left is, of course, the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, The Right Honourable Elsie Watkins with her advisor, who I believe you know: Commander Patrick Haig of Special Branch. We also have the Prime Minister's advisor, Admiral Sir Humphrey Hunt, the First Sea Lord."
"Welcome, Mrs Lizewski," the Prime Minister said as she too rose to shake hands with everyone. "It is good for us to finally meet. Of course, I have spoken with Jasper on previous occasions, and I am only in power thanks to Vengeance and their steadfast attention to duty last year."
Continuing the introductions, Harris took over.
"For our side, we have Deputy Director Pamela Landy, who you already know." Mindy grinned and shook hands. "We also have General Hank Carter US Army who is the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff."
After a massed flurry of introductions, it was time to begin.
..._...
The President took charge.
"Mrs Lizewski, please take the seat to my right. Mr Collins, next to Mrs Lizewski, if you will."
As the conference table could only seat eight, Mindy and Jasper joined the President, the Prime Minister, Pamela, the two military officers, and Patrick while the others took seats on the curved couch alongside the inner wall of the conference room while the rest stood, including Harris, Dave, Marty, and Jasper.
"Deputy Director?" the President offered.
"Thank you, Madam President," Deputy Director Landy replied. "We are facing a threat to life and freedom across the planet. Thanks to Mindy and her teams, who obtained proof that the threat is very real, we have intimate knowledge of what is planned by the so-called Axis of Evil. I know that when Mindy first brought this to me, several weeks ago, her claims were shrugged off by the White House and the C.I.A. in general. Unfortunately, Mindy was forced to seek out the enemy and obtain intelligence on their activities. Mindy risked the lives of her team and indeed, she lost one member, just a few days ago, and another is fighting for her life in a London hospital. Now, I can understand that nobody wants to accept such a threat as nuclear terrorism, but that is what we are facing. Together, we need to formulate a plan to prevent this act from ever taking place. Madam President."
"Thank you, Deputy Director. Mrs Lizewski, please accept my apologies for not acting sooner, and I am sorry that your people have been injured and I am saddened to know that you have suffered a loss. As a statesman, I face a dilemma. I need to act against threats, such as these, horrific though they may be, but I also must prevent mass panic across the country. Any hint of terrorism within the shores of the fifty states is enough to create a panic, let alone inserting any hint of something infinitely worse. Now, as I understand it, the threat is not a dirty bomb but basically Hiroshima. Doctor Staite?"
Rodney stood up from where he had been sitting on the couch, hoping to be ignored. He had said remarkably little since their arrival except for a brief hello to the President.
"Er, hello everyone," he began. "Let's suggest that one of these device's is placed on The Ellipse in Washington D.C., shall we. The bomb detonates on the surface, leaving a crater forty metres across and ten metres deep. The fireball will be 160 metres in diameter. Due to the device detonating so close to the surface, radioactive fallout will be significantly increased as everything within the fireball is basically vaporised. The heavy blast radius extends onto the South Lawn of the White House, destroying most of what it touches. Everything between 15th and 17th streets northwest will be destroyed. The moderate blast radius will encompass the White House, severely damaging the structure and starting fires in most properties the blast wave touches. There is a good chance that the Washington Monument would be destroyed. Anybody within five-hundred metres of the detonation which includes the White House, will be struck by the thermal radiation which will cause third degree burns on any exposed human – clothes would be burned through. Then comes the radiation. Any survivors within 840 metres will receive a fatal dose killing fifteen percent of them within a month and the rest, oh, eventually. Glass within about twelve hundred metres will be shattered probably blinding all those who came to a window after witnessing the nuclear flash – assuming their eyes weren't already burnt out. Those who do survive outside the various radii will witness a mushroom cloud climbing to almost three kilometres with a head some one-and-a-half kilometres across and a kilometre in height alone. Assuming a windspeed of about fifteen mph and blowing from the southwest, fatal radiation will reach as far as Baltimore/Washington International. On average, out of around ninety-eight-thousand people normally living or working within the radiation zone, eleven-thousand would be dead with another thirty-thousand injured."
For two full minutes, there was a stunned silence in the conference room as everyone digested those unhappy facts.
"You sure of your facts, er, Doctor," General Carter commented. "That doesn't sound too bad. By the way, what are your relevant qualifications, here, Doctor."
Rodney glared at the man in the uniform with his rows of medals.
"I have four diplomas, general," Rodney responded, coldly, "including one in physics and one in mechanical engineering. I also hold a Ph.D. or two, not to mention that I have an extensive education in astrophysics. Take your pick. Oh, did I forgot to add that there will be maybe five or six devices within Washington D.C. and the surrounding area with overlapping blast radii. The city would be all but dead and for a goodly amount of time too. The same applies to twenty or so other cities around the globe. We know that they produced sixty weapons, of which we have seized nine, leaving fifty-one unaccounted for which we need to find. Well, General?"
The four-star general was not accustomed to being talked down to, but he knew that Rodney was not embroidering anything. The general was more used to dealing with high kiloton or low megaton nuclear warheads such as those fitted to his country's nuclear arsenal.
"My apologies, Doctor; you obviously know what you are talking about. Please, continue."
"Thank you, er, general. These devices are very real and very high-tech. These are not some backwards devices built by North Korea from downloaded Google diagrams, Madam President, and they need to be given full respect. Thank you."
Rodney promptly sat down on the couch beside Alya.
..._...
Marty stepped forward next.
"Madam President, Prime Minister, General, Admiral. We face fifty-one devices which we believe may already be in place. We don't know where they are, nor do we know how many there are in each target city. We are certain that large capital cities have been targeted, not to mention other cities deemed strategically valuable. Our first task is to find the command centre behind this act – we do know that the devices require a command detonation from a central location – then we need to take out that facility."
"Can we drop a Trident missile on the facility when we find it?" Admiral Hunt asked.
"It would be a clean way to destroy the place," the general confirmed.
"No, we can't," Marty stated matter-of-factly. "We need to enter the facility to deactivate the devices and hopefully identify their locations – then the facility can be destroyed, Admiral."
"To locate the devices will require the resources of the F.B.I. and the C.I.A. as only they have the manpower," Mindy said from her seat. "My people can track down the facility, but I think we will need help to attack the place. I am assuming that you all still need 'plausible deniability' should everything go to crap?"
"It would be easier to blame the nuclear Armageddon on a rogue vigilante group," Stephanie growled form the couch.
"It is what it is," Dave said from a corner. "We accept that."
"How close are we to finding the command centre?" the Prime Minister asked, moving along swiftly.
"Very," Marty responded. "We know what the facility looks like, and we have an idea of how it is defended, but as yet, no exact location, although it is definitely in the northern hemisphere, and very probably in or around Canada."
"How is your team?" the Prime Minister asked, directing her question to Mindy.
"We are going to see this through, if that is what you're asking," Mindy responded coldly, tiring of the discussion.
"I know you will see this through," the Prime Minister responded. "From what I have understood, you have never backed away from anything. It was your training and perseverance that taught Vengeance and gave them the ability to do what was right, last year, and saved my life. I trust Vengeance with my life, and I have done. Therefore, I trust you as well."
"I second that," the President added with a serious look.
Mindy rolled her eyes and she smirked. "My team knows what is at stake and while they may have been beaten black and blue, their spirit echoes that of John Paul Jones; we have not yet begun to fight."
There was laughter from around the room.
Sometime later...
20:05 GMT (20:05 GMT June 29th)
Air Force One
Three hours of planning and scheming had not ended with all that much, but it was a meaningful start and the general had come up with some particularly good ideas, as had the Admiral.
Both men had vanished at the end of the meeting to make some phone calls to start putting their ideas into action. It was obvious to everyone that the very moment they identified the location for the command centre, they would have to act. Therefore, a combined British/American taskforce was to be assembled under Operation Nuclear Fire and would be made up of units from the British armed forces and the American armed forces along with elements of Fusion, Vengeance, Honneur, and Concord. Various warships and submarines were earmarked for the operation, as were aircraft from several squadrons, and the land forces from both countries. As the assets which could be made available were detailed by the British admiral and the American general, Mindy realised that finally things were being taken seriously. That knowledge meant that a large weight was being lifted off her back as she found that they were no longer alone in their fight against the impossible. Also, on further contemplation, it seemed that suddenly, their task did not appear all that impossible anymore.
"You appear much relieved, Mindy," Patrick Haig commented as they wrapped things up for the evening.
"We've been fighting this battle alone for two months, and I had no idea when we'd receive some real help – we're swamped, Patrick, and people are getting hurt."
"I know – I've been pushing for a while now. The PM was always onboard, but she needed real evidence before she could act. That evidence which you found in the desert and that which Vengeance found in Europe and the Mediterranean helped the PM to convince the President to throw her hook in as well."
"Thank you, Patrick. It's good to know I have friends like you."
"I keep telling you, Mindy," Dave grinned.
"I know, I know."
"Sometimes, she's her own worst enemy," Dave chuckled.
Patrick nodded as he left the conference room.
Half an hour later...
20:05 GMT (20:05 GMT June 29th)
Air Force One
It was time for a late supper, with just the three members of the Lizewski family, the two world leaders, and one other.
The conference room had been rapidly cleared and the table re-laid by the Air Force stewards. Dave and Mindy had made a brief trip back to the PHOENIX, with the others, to ensure that the aircraft was vaguely in one piece, leaving Stephanie behind. Stephanie had been introduced, by the President, to the young girl whom she had seen quite briefly, earlier that afternoon.
"Stephanie, this is my daughter, Emma – she's just turned twelve."
"Hello, Emma."
"Hi, Stephanie."
"Call me Steph, please."
"Okay, Steph," Emma replied.
The youngster was tall, several inches more than Stephanie, with long flowing medium brown hair. Stephanie could tell that the girl was shy – maybe she did not get out much. The President had left the two girls to get to know one another while she herself freshened up. When the President welcomed the Prime Minister, Mindy, and Dave back aboard, Stephanie and Emma had been found deep in conversation with some giggling thrown in.
"A new friend, Stephanie?" Dave asked.
"This is Emma," Stephanie replied. "She's the First Daughter of the United States of America.
"Bit of a mouthful," Mindy commented.
"I prefer Emma," Emma offered with a grin.
"Let's go eat, shall we?" the President suggested.
They were all guided to a seat at the table in the conference room.
..._...
The food was, as expected, cooked to perfection, and was served in an exquisite manner as befitting the status of the two world leaders.
The initial conversation was about family.
"Does Emma often fly with you, Madam President?" the Prime Minister asked.
"Sometimes," the President responded. "This time was not intended, but it was to give my husband some peace or World War III may have broken out in the White House!"
"I have a brother," Emma explained. "He's ten, and he's soooo annoying!"
"I can relate," Stephanie nodded. "I have two younger brothers – I also have a younger sister."
"Let the grownups talk, honey," the president told her daughter who simply rolled her eyes and Stephanie laughed.
"My husband enjoys a break or two from the day-to-day chaos of government," the President explained. "When I am out of town, things calm down a bit at home."
"He must be very dedicated," Dave commented.
"He is, and he is incredibly happy that the rules won't let me serve out a third term."
"Me too!" Emma threw in and the girl promptly went silent while she took a bite of her food as she received a glare from her mother.
Mindy ignored the two girls as she enjoyed the meal – or tried to; it was all still a little surreal to be honest. Dave knew that Mindy was so far out of her comfort zone that it would not take much for her to react badly to something seemingly innocuous. Indeed, just after the meal had ended, Mindy had taken the opportunity to make use of the facilities aboard the airliner. As she had left the small restroom, several feet forward, she had seen two men smirking – they were Secret Service agents and the pair stopped their whispering as she approached. But then one had muttered something derogatory just as Mindy had passed and she snapped. Therefore, when the President and Dave had bolted out of the conference room, they had found Mindy on the ground, having pinned one agent to the deck while she held the other at bay with the muzzle of an appropriated SIG-Sauer P229 .357-calibre pistol pushed deep into the man's neck as he sat on the deck his hands in the open, a discarded ASP on the deck beside him. There was the thunder of feet and three more Secret Service agents had appeared from aft, their pistols drawn.
"What did they do?" Dave asked Mindy in a concerned tone.
"They didn't think I was capable of very much," Mindy growled as she handed back the pistol and she stood back up and released the man face down on the deck. "I had to teach these two twats a lesson."
"Sorry, ma'am," one of the humbled agents said as he helped his colleague regain his feet.
"For goodness sake!" the President announced as she surveyed the scene. "Anybody hurt?"
"Just some egos, Madam President," the President's principal agent commented as he gave his two agents a nasty glare each. "However, that may get worse. My apologies Madam President, and to you, Mrs Lizewski – nice take down, though!"
"Indeed," the President grinned.
Stephanie just shook her head in mock disgust despite being proud of her mother.
21:45 GMT (21:45 GMT June 29th)
The Phoenix
Owen was surprised to find someone in the semi-darkness of the sparring arena.
The boy was even more surprised to find that it was Arya. While the pilot was often seen punching a bag or two, Owen had never seen her armed.
"What is that you're holding?" the boy asked.
Arya turned to Owen and she smiled.
"This was a gift from my grandfather. It's a rapier. When I was given it, I was eight – I called the sword 'Needle'."
"It fits," Owen commented, knowing that the rapier was designed for thrusting rather than slashing.
"I don't often get much time to spar with it but now seemed as good a time as any."
"Give me a minute..."
The boy was back in less than a minute bearing a pair of fencing plastrons – a one-armed protective jacket for use when fencing – and a pair of fencing masks. The boy pulled on a jacket while Arya did the same and then they pulled on the épée masks and Owen produced an épée blade, throwing a rounded tip at Arya for her to fit on the end of Needle.
"You ready, boy?" Arya grinned.
"Are you?"
Arya grinned as she raised her blade. Owen raised his épée and the pair began to circle before Arya darted in with a strike on the boy.
"Ow!"
"Don't leave yourself open," Arya lectured.
Owen moved slightly further away from Arya then he too lunged in for a strike . . . only to miss! Owen had been sure of his strike, but Arya was deceptively swift on her feet and she was always moving, he noticed. Try as he might, he was unable to stick his blade into the girl, but he was also getting fed up with the numerous strikes that his opponent was landing upon his body. Her snarky grin did not help his souring mood either. Then he saw his moment and he lunged right, but then struck from his left as he threw his blade across and he caught Arya for the very first time. He grinned happily, but his happiness was short lived as a scowling Arya leapt forwards her blade thrusting and Owen was forced to leap back, to prevent yet another painful jab in his chest. Arya was like a soul possessed as she pushed the boy back until he fell back over the curved couch and struck the deck. But before he could leap to his feet, he found Needle nestling at his throat.
Arya grinned down at the boy even as she heard muted clapping coming from forward and she turned to see Mindy grinning.
The next morning...
Friday, June 30th, 2017
10:00 GMT (10:00 GMT June 29th)
The Phoenix
Mindy was immensely proud to be welcoming someone so important aboard her home from home.
"Oh my, old 29000 seems a little dilapidated in comparison."
"This is awesome!" Emma Adams exclaimed as she pushed past her mother to step aboard the massive Boeing.
"Welcome aboard The Phoenix, Madam President," Mindy grinned. "This is my command pilot, Captain Reg Anderson. He used to fly as part of the Presidential Airlift Group."
"Only as a co-pilot for some of the longer overseas flights aboard the backup aircraft, Madam President, and a long time ago as a junior Lieutenant Colonel. It is an honour to switch our callsign. Convention dictates that we report as Executive One, but my employer would not stand for that as we are no mere commercial aircraft! Therefore, we now report as Fusion One while you are aboard, Madam President."
"Thank you," the President said. "The Phoenix is obviously in good hands."
The President was, of course, escorted by her Secret Service agent, Special Agent Robert Davis who radioed in that his principal was aboard.
"Diamond is aboard."
As the President's daughter had muscled her way aboard, a smartly dressed young woman had made her own radio call.
"Dynamo is aboard."
"They call you Dynamo?" Stephanie asked as she welcomed her new friend aboard.
"The rifle squad has a name for everything!" Emma grimaced.
"The poor girl has been followed around by five agents since she was seven," the President admitted.
"Can't be all that fun," Mindy grinned. "This way Madam President."
"How did we pass the background checks?" Mindy asked Davis.
"You didn't," Davis responded dryly. "You set off just about every trigger we have for classifying a person as unsuitable to being on the same planet as the President!"
"Yeah, I figured that," Mindy chuckled.
"But we were overruled by the President, however, the Deputy Director did vouch for you and your people," Davis added. "I understand that everyone aboard here is armed?" Davis went on a little unhappily.
"Usually," Mindy admitted somewhat cagily. "But most aboard are weapons, armed or not."
"As you clearly demonstrated with James and Harris last night."
"They okay?"
"The ribbing they received from their colleagues for being put down by a mere girl far outweighed my lecture, I think."
Mindy grinned happily.
..._...
Emma positively squealed as she stepped into the communal area amidships.
"You need a new plane, Mom!" she exclaimed.
Stephanie grinned happily as she then introduced Emma to the dozen or so other children in the space. Emma was pleased to meet several Americans, but also a few Brits, and a French girl. They other children were all very friendly, she thought, but she noticed that her protector was a little apprehensive – why, Emma had no idea; they were just kids after all. Cassie and Keira were on hand to ensure that the motley assortment behaved, and they exchanged glances with the two Secret Service agents who headed in their direction.
"Are they dangerous?" Special Agent Mia Flores asked Cassie as she nodded her head at the gathered children.
"Only when they're breathing," Cassie responded with a sly grin.
"Outstanding!" the agent groaned.
"They're okay once you get to know them, but like a fierce dog, they sense fear and they will latch onto that, so be warned," Keira advised. "Otherwise, they can be quite docile and well behaved in general, but like any puppy, they make mistakes and sometimes a bit of a mess."
"Can you explain to me exactly what they are?" Davis asked.
"Simply put, they are assassins – pint-sized, maybe, but very effective," Cassie replied. "The female of the species is generally more deadly than the male, but each and every one can handle themselves."
"They've all killed?" Davis probed.
"Several times."
Davis and Flores ran their eyes across the happy smiling youngsters who looked like any other youngsters but on closer inspection, there was something about the eyes. The eyes told the true story. Flores had met two child killers and while the eyes were similar, there was something distinctly different about the youngsters spread out around her. Flores smiled as she was approached by a young girl of maybe eleven years of age.
"You carry the SIG P229, right?" the girl asked.
"Yeah," Flores responded.
".357?"
"Yeah."
"Good muzzle velocity – trumps the nine quite nicely."
"Who are you?" Flores asked the inquisitive girl.
"I'm Ruth."
"Eleven?"
"I'll be twelve in two days!" the girl growled.
Flores laughed.
"You like guns?"
"Spent the last four years of my life with 'em, so yeah."
"If I was a threat, how would you react?"
"I'd take that gun from you and put a bullet right between your eyes," the girl responded with a seriously cold expression.
"Nice!"
Flores decided to give the other kids a wide berth.
..._...
The American President was noticeably impressed with everything she saw.
At first, the thought of co-habiting with people who were vigilantes and therefore operating outside the law was something abhorrent, but then the President had contemplated what Vengeance had done in the United Kingdom at great odds and preventing America's closest ally from potentially falling into anarchy. Indeed, Fusion themselves had done well against all the odds, and no matter what, both organisations went above and beyond to prevent the deaths or injuries of innocent bystanders. Chicago openly welcomed their protectors who were often seen patrolling alongside the Chicago Police Department. While things were not quite so open for Vengeance in the U.K., seeing an armed vigilante guarding 10 Downing Street alongside an armed Metropolitan Police officer had been quite sobering. The British Prime Minister had spoken about how Vengeance had helped 'tidy up' after the previous year's debacle. The President had known what 'tidy up' had meant and she knew from her own sources that several high profile politicians had all suffered varying medical issues and a rash of home accidents and motoring complications resulting in their untimely deaths. There had been speculation, of course, but not a single finger was pointed at the government or any of its agencies. That phrase constantly rang in the President's mind: plausible deniability. She had no desire to be involved in another Watergate scandal and if everything went wrong then the finger could be pointed squarely at Fusion and her sister organisations.
It was truly a sad state of affairs, but country-wide panic and governments falling was not desirable to anyone and that was understood across the board.
..._...
Jason and Pamela Landy were taking a stroll below the aircraft with Nicky for company.
"How is everyone taking this, really, Jason?" Pamela asked.
"Underneath the brazen smiles, everyone is hurting, no matter whether they took part in the fighting, or they were watching from afar. Everyone is scarred mentally or physically. There has come some good – our own kids are closer than ever before, all thanks to a few days holidaying in the woods in Belarus."
"At least you found out plenty and came away with the goods," Pamela commented.
"Yes, something came of it – not sure how well Natalie got past the whipping, but she's refusing to let it get her down," Jason admitted.
"With one dead and two in hospital, we are on a very slippery slope," Nicky said. "The teams are giving everything they have, and morale is a little wobbly right now, but knowing that we have the direct support of the U.S. and the U.K. means a lot."
"The President figured that coming out here personally would show how committed she was – the same for the British Prime Minister," Landy said. "Unfortunately, the events in the Aegean have brought Russia into the mix and they are not happy to find the British Army operating in Mali, nor were they happy to lose two fighter jets and a submarine to British, American, and Grecian forces. When submarines start trading torpedoes and aircraft start swapping missiles, that can very easily lead to war, and that is the very last thing that we need right now."
"Damn right!" Jason agreed. "I will admit it is scary how fast everything has escalated – it's like some badly written piece of fiction by an author that takes perverse enjoyment in hurting his characters and making them suffer ever increasing pain and misery."
"Tell me about it!" Nicky deadpanned.
Landy simply nodded at her two agents, her mind contemplating the next sequence of painful events.
..._...
The President was sitting down on one of the curved couches and speaking with Shannon.
"How is your rehabilitation going, Shannon?" the President asked.
"Slowly, ma'am. I can feel most of my legs now, but sometimes the feeling in my feet is a little off and that inhibits my walking – that's why I have to carry this stupid aluminium crutch!" the slightly unhappy girl replied.
"Don't let it get you down, now. You're healing, and that is what's important – you will be back fighting alongside your friends in no time."
"I know," Shannon grinned. "I try to think positively, but it isn't easy. But I do have good friends and they stop me getting depressed."
"You are a closely knit team, no matter where you were born which I am extremely impressed to see. Shannon, you are a credit to this organisation and to your parents who must be enormously proud of you."
"Oh, they are," Patrick reminded his daughter.
"I am amazed by the professionalism and the camaraderie I see here, and it goes against all the reports I have read on you people," the President said. "Those reports state that Fusion is some kind of reasonably well-organised rabble led by a decidedly unstable Hit Girl."
"Reasonably well-organised rabble? Check!" Abigail grinned.
"Decidedly unstable Hit Girl? Check!" Stephanie added.
"Ignore the Dubious Duo, Madam President," Dave laughed. "They make Mindy seem one hundred percent sane."
"Thanks, Dad!" Stephanie growled.
The President laughed, enjoying the gentle rivalry amongst everyone – it sure beat the hell out of all the virtual backstabbing in Congress and the Senate, she thought.
..._...
Amidst everything, Emma Adams was suffering from sensory overload.
The youngster was amazed by how friendly everyone was – the girl often received frosty receptions from other kids due to her parentage. But there was something about the other children which she could not figure out. Her mother had not told her much about the sudden trip out of the country at noticeably short notice. She and her mother had been hustled out of the White House onto Marine One minutes before dawn for the short flight to Andrew's Air Force base where they had swiftly boarded the giant jet which had then launched and headed southeast under fight escort before they had then headed out over the Atlantic Ocean. Her mother had spent most of the flight behind the desk in her office deep in discussions with her staff. Emma had slept for some of the trip on a bed in the nose of the aircraft before she had dug into a large breakfast soon before they had landed on Ascension Island. Indeed, she had had to ask where Ascension Island was in the world as she had never heard of the place.
But the beauty of the island and the warmth of the sun had been amazing and a new experience for the twelve-year-old. That sun also meant that many of the children, including herself, wore just shorts and T-shirt. Shockingly, just about every child was sporting bruises, cuts, medical dressings. There were obvious signs of trauma – some quite serious, with some being weeks old. None of the children were complaining, quite the reverse. Some of the children appeared quite proud of their various cuts and bruises. The girl, Stephanie, had signs of trauma on her left bicep and right shoulder – those on her right shoulder being much older than the fresher wound on her bicep. Abigail had a large white medical dressing on her left thigh. Another boy, Tommy – he had some quite major bruising to his face as did Stephanie's brother, Jamie. An older girl, Willow, sported a medical dressing on her left arm which was apparently the result of a stray bullet. But that seemed nothing to a major beating which the girl whose name Emma could not pronounce – others called her SD – had received to her thighs and other parts of the girl which were covered up. Many of the children were much younger than she was, and they all seemed to have been through some very nasty situations.
Naturally, Emma had kept her eyes and ears open and it had soon dawned on her that she was witnessing something which very few had ever witnessed. She realised that she was surrounded by some incredibly famous individuals. It was difficult to look at Stephanie and Abigail giggling together and then to consider them as masked vigilantes. The woman who owned the amazing aircraft they were aboard – Mindy Lizewski – could she also be a vigilante. Emma had spent maybe forty minutes trying to match vigilante names to the faces around her . . . it was impossible, she finally considered, although it was fun to play the guessing game. Could any of them really kill? To do that they had to be evil, but they did not look evil – what did she know about looking evil? How could she? Her short life had been remarkably sheltered, she knew, all due to the fact that her grandfather had spent two terms as the 42nd President of the United States of America a year or so before she had even been born. Then her mother had spent her time working her way to becoming a United States Senator before then running for President – the first female to reach the lofty position. Emma was immensely proud of her mother and she liked the idea that her mother represented freedom and that her policies helped to make the world a safer place.
As Emma looked around the aircraft, she understood that every person aboard the amazing aircraft represented the same things. They represented freedom and they helped to make the world a safer place. How did she feel about what Fusion and Vengeance did? They gave people hope, she knew. Emma had followed Fusion ever since they had appeared, a few years previously, and she had a massive poster of Hit Girl on the wall above her bed and another of Wildcat on the wall at the foot of her bed. However, her favourite vigilante was the one called Psyche, and she had a smaller poster – there were not all that many images of Psyche – in pride of place on the wall over her desk. Emma was all for females in combat and for females to be in positions of command, and she so wanted to join the military when she was older.
But maybe she could find something else until then.
That evening...
19:00 GMT (19:00 GMT June 29th)
At dead on 19:00 that evening, as many watched from the concrete hardstanding, the iconic Air Force One aircraft thundered down the runway just ten minutes behind its escort of F-15E Strike Eagle fighters.
Exactly half an hour later, the British Prime Minister also departed the island, aboard the converted transport Vespina, and just forty minutes after that, the two Royal Airforce Typhoon FGR.4 fighters touched down and taxied to their shelters.
Swiftly, they were refuelled pending a quick response alert launch.