Warnings:

"What problem." Ron said. Verne didn't use the term "problem" lightly. The last time Ron had heard it was when he was dangling by one hand from a helicopter skid.

"About two months ago, our electronic intercept departments started noting a drop off in terrorist communications." Dr. Director said, and frowned. "I'm as much for afree press as the next person, but why, oh why did they have to keep trumpeting how dumb you were to keep information on a laptop, or send it in the clear."

Ron Nodded. "I saw that too—but wasn't it just assumed that they were trying to use messengers and such?" He shrugged, "I think that we were all expecting that. I mean, if college students could figure it out…"

"Girls' still in therapy. Think you over did it just a little bit, Ron?" Dr. Director responded.

"No."

"In any case, yes, we were prepared for that, but not this." Dr. Director touched a stud and one of the holo emitters came up as the lights dimmed. Revealed in it was a small box, with a USB port and cable.

"What is it?" Ron asked. Not an external hard drive. There were computers in the NSA that ate that sort of encryption for breakfast.

"A very special toy—a biological computer." Dr. Director said. "Remember synthodrones?"

"yes." Ron said, "Let me guess—the cranial matter of the drone?"

"To some extent—impossible to read with electronic technology, and keyed to an individuals DNA." She paused, "Living DNA. We already tried DNA from a corpse on this particular model."

"What happened?"

"It shut down—'died'." Verne said. "We're all feeling rather idiotic—granted, for most pruposes, inorganic computers are a lot faster… but this one gives them the ability to have truly secure communications—as near as we can tell, each one of these units has millions of 'one time only' codes, never used again."

"So by the time you've cracked it…"

"They've moved on to another one, yeah." Verne said, brushing his close cropped gray hair back. "This is pretty serious." Ron nodded. Terrorist groups, however skilled they were had had a long history of underestimating just how effective modern signal interception and decoding could be… and even then it was a never ending struggle.

He sighed. He didn't want to say this, but best to get it out into the open so they could discard it. "Drew Lipsky came up with synthodrones…"

"He's clean, you don't have to worry there." Dr. Director said. "So don't worry about getting bit in the ass by that one." There was a carefully disguised frown from the FBI director. Ron didn't even think of cracking a smile. The battle to get Dr. Drakken allowed to play with things more complex then an erector set had been epic, and he was certain that Drew had been checked out on this long before Ron had been called. Still, it was heartening that they had done it, and come to the same conclusions Ron had.

"Have you called him in?" Ron continued.

"No." The Director of the CIA said, the African American frowning. "In fact, you almost didn't get called in for this. Ron, this is going to be a stone cold bitch—NSA has been looking at it, but they don't think there is a way to break this encryption, at least not fast enough to do us any good. The last thing we need is any sort of leak."

"Yeah." Ron said, "A good way to panic people, and clue in every bad guy on the planet." He paused, and thought. "Wait a minute, if these things are biological, then they can't be programmed- so…"

"So they have to be made." Samuel agreed. "And probably made at a central location, because our eggheads think that you have to have physical contact between the units to synchronize their 'codes' as it were." He shrugged, "Now, the good news is that it looks like this is a fair bit more complex then most tech, at least right now, so the central unit is probably not something that can easily be duplicated—and if we can get a hold of it… well that gives us time to come up with a counter."

"So where do I come in?"

"There is of course the possibility that it may be in a foreign country." Dr. Director said carefully.

"Oh. Now I see." Ron said. "regretting cutting yourselves off."

"That was nessecary, and in any case, it did improve our security." Dr. Director said, but her voice wasn't quite as certain.

"Oh really—at the cost of dropping those nations in the soup, and depriving them of aid….and pissing them off royally." Ron said. "Why the sensitivity now? You've not been unwilling to go in and stomp all over soverignity before."

"That's…" The director of the CIA looked at his associates, "Being seen as a bit of a mistake."

"About time." Ron said. "Fine, I'll be your stalking horse. When should I be ready?"

"We don't know, but We'd like you to stick close to your equipment—this may be on a moments notice sort of thing."

"Support?"

"Covert only."

"Fine." Ron sighed.

The Meeting over, Ron was heading back to the underground garage where he would get into his limo, drive to the Bueno Nacho and now have a press conference in which he promised to take measures to insure that the food poisoning would never occur again.

"They had to do that, couldn't do something nice…"

"Like it?" Samuel's voice came from behind him, "Given your reputation for loving food and quality dining, it was a natural. It has to be an accident."

"Yeah, and who's going to take the fall for it." Ron grumbled, "unsolved isn't going to look good at all."

"Well, when you look into your reports, it seems that one of your suppliers has been shorting the IRS money—and cutting back on his safety measures." Samuel grinned, "So we make a cover story and help out our friends in the government at the same time."

"You're a regular fairy godmother." Ron said, not mollified.

"I am…and you need to take better control of your temper." Samuel said, "Threatening a cabinet level official isn't smart, especially when you consider the firepower the FBI can bring to bear."

"Then he needs to stop making hints about Kim."

"Isn't having a more active sex life supposed to make you calmer?" Samuel asked, in the tone that made it plain he was enjoying tweaking Ron. "of course, given the rumors about you and Yori and Kim, it might be leading to exhaustion."

"Oh God, not you." Ron said. He blushed furiously at the stories claiming that he was accumulating a harem.

"Does make for interesting reading, so many of those reporters missed their callings in bad romance writing." Samuel said. "I can think of many women who would accept being a trophy wife or girlfriend to a rich man being nothing to tings for him to show off—somehow Yori and Kim's names never come up on that list. Your's never comes up on the list of men who would like women like that." He paused, and continued, "Seriously, how is Kim doing—I get the parole data and the intelligence material, but that doesn't do a lot for the psychology and I don't trust earnest young men who have never been in prison, or in the field to give a good reading."

Why is he-

"She's doing good. She got the job at the pre-K, well, it's also daycare now, about 3 months ago. Kim likes it. It makes her happy."

"And her excercises?" Ron paused at that.

"I'm not our FBI friend." Samuel said, "If you were considering getting her back into the field, you'd be pushing things with her parole officer long before now."

"Good. She's…" Ron paused, "She's pretty low compared to what she once was—memory is still there, but not the reflexes." HE shrugged, "And she doesn't have as much time as she used to—her job takes time."

"Pretty low." Samuel said, smiling. "Interesting that the Data Dump I got from it shows that her abilities are within 2 percent of what is considered highly qualified for Force Recon Marines."

"Like I said, Pretty low compared to what she once was." Ron said. "She's doing better than I thought she would, but Samuel, Kim used to be able to do the equivalent of an Olympic marathon, follow it up with a fight, escape, ride back and then go the next day at school. She can't do that now."

"Maybe…." Samuel said, "Let's run her through some of my little games, if you don't mind."

"y- okay Samuel, what is going on." Ron asked, in a tone that brooked no joking.

"You suggested, three months ago, that I might consider putting her into an SOG." He nodded at Ron, "Fine, I'm telling you that I want to verify her abilities for myself."

"She may not…want to anymore." Ron said, "She's happy… I don't-" He bit off the words. "I'll tell her. I'll let her decide if she wants to run through your torture course."

"Torture course? Me? I'm shocked. " Ron laughed at that, but looked at Samuel closely.

Samuel Verne was a friend, Ron accepted that. But there were few more ruthless men in the United States government. It wasn't enjoyment—Samuel didn't enjoy hurting for it's own sake and wouldn't tolerate it in his people ("sadists make for poor operatives" he'd once said to Ron), but there was nothing, nothing he wouldn't do in the service of the people of the United States.

Thank God he never wanted to try the other side of the street. Ron thought. A evil Samuel would be very scary, especially given the fact that he had never, as far as Ron could tell, fallen into the trap of forgetting that the enemy was just as bright as he was.

"Okay, Samuel, I'll let her know once I'm back home. She'll have to clear things with Rabbi Katz if she's leaving the state.

"She won't be—an old friend of yours has a boyfriend who would be perfect for this…"

"Thanks sis, I mean, really." Kim's brother was trying to glare at her, as Kim looked back at him in sisterly confusion.

"I don't understand Tim… I thought you'd like a family movie about a man getting to know his children… since you have a baby."

"Village of the Damned?" Tim asked.

"Well he is your child." Kim pointed out.

"He has my moderating influence." Jean pointed out. Kim looked at her brothers' wife.

"I heard the story of how you two met." Kim said, "I don't think 'moderating' is a good word."

"Humph. Create the universal solvent and everyone thinks you're a mad scientist." The young woman said. Kim laughed. They could have seen the movie at home—the entire end of the Possible family houses living room could become a holographic emitter…but Kim preferred the theater, with the kids the popcorn and the feeling of people around her. She'd had more than enough of dwelling in lordly isolation.

The food was good, and the Resturaunt advertised that its food was all force grown meat—no animals had been killed in it's production. Kim wondered how long it would be before farming, at least in the US, was a thing of the past.

"It wouldn't be too bad." Her mother commented in answer to her comment. "Most major farms are owned by large businesses, and in any case, a lot of farmland has been badly over used."

"Well, I like it—it lets me eat meat and stick to my principals." Jean said. Kim smiled at that.

"And it eliminates all the guilt when you fall off the vegan wagon and go consume a steak." Tim said to his wife.

"Hush you." She said. The only down side to the evening was when Tara and James waved at them. Kim waved back and called out.

"Hi Tara—how are you doing?" Kim said, and paused, "I haven't seen you for months."

"Blame the pentagon." Tara said, looking depressed. "They got me over to Bragg, I had to pick out an apartment, do without James… And then when it was most inconvenient, they decided I was better served back here."

"Couldn't they have just left you here?"

"Then what would some clerk occupy his time doing?" Tara asked, and looked over. Kim followed her gaze and looked at her mother, who was glaring at Tara before she busied herself (obviously) with her coffee.

"Anyway, Kim—you take care of yourself—I have to get back and…" Tara gave a theatrical sigh, "Get unpacked so tomorrow they can tell me I've been transferred to the Aleutians." Kim waved, slightly distracted, as Tara left.

On the way back to their house, Kim was riding with her parents, since rather than make a special clearance with Rabbi Katz, Kim had just decided to spend the night at her parents home.

"Mom…what was that about." Kim asked. "Tara said something about it, but c'mon…this is Tara."

"No, Kimberly." Her mother said in a voice with little affection in it, "That is Major King, of the United States Marine Corps."

"And…" Her mother looked over at her, and then to her father who was concentrating very hard on the road.

"The woman who used me as bait, along with my patients and staff, to kill a large number of people."

"That isn't entirely fair, Andrea." Her father said. "Tara didn't 'set you up' and neither did the corps."

"they certainly didn't avoid it either." Her mother said.

"Um… more info, please?" Kim asked.

"Right—your mother was working with an NGO medical team on the Pakistan/Afghan border. James continued, and Kim heard the echo's of a long ago argument in his voice, "It wasn't safe, but they had a small marine detachement as security. They were attacked, the major was injured, leaving Tara in command."

"What happened?"

"Their higher ups evidently realized that large numbers of attackers were trying to get the medical supplies." James said, "Tara was ordered to hold until relieved and then abandon everything but the people…and to not destroy the medical facilities." He sighed. "She did that, and when your mother wanted to take some of the more vital ones, punched her in the gut and put her on the chopper."

"Well, I mean, Tara was trying to protect you mo-"

"That wasn't the main reason—if the goods had been destroyed, the attackers would have scattered. Her commanders decided to make certain they were concentrated…so they could put other forces in behind them and trap them."

"Oh." Kim said. She could see why her mother would be angry about that, but not why she was so angry. "That must have been…bad." Come to think of it, maybe she could see why mom was angry—that would have used something mom had worked on to kill people…and Andrea Possible didn't kill.

"It got worse Kimberly." Her mother said. She sighed, "the set back was rather widely trumpeted… and because of that, people came to believe that most NGO's were providing aid to military forces. They asked why we would have left all that equipment unless it was a trap from the start. Attacks on those using our services spiked…and three months later the last private aid organization pulled out—it was too dangerous, for us…and for our patients." She looked at Kim, "I keep track of those things, and in the years since then, there have been at least 100,000 deaths due to preventable causes that could have been avoided if we were still there. I understand it's unfair at times, but the fact of the matter is, Tara sees it as a victory against those who would hurt us. I see it as anything but."

"oh." Kim said, "But Tara is…"

"A friend." Her father said. "Your friend, Kimmiecub." He looked over at his wife and Andrea looked back at him before dropping her gaze slightly.

"You're right." She said, "She is your friend, Kim… and I shouldn't let our own history get in our way."

But you didn't see her, Kimmie. Her mother remembered waking up in the helicopter as the first attack jets flew in, dropping fuel air explosives and fragmentation bombs, even as the American and Australian combat units moved to cut off any possible escape. Tara hadn't been laughing. She was to serious for that, a captain filling the shoes of her injured superior. But the tight smile on her face had reminded Andrea of some deep sea predator, all hunger and fangs…. Without pity, without remorse. Kim had never seen that side of Tara… and she hoped she never would.

TBC.