19.

I Think He's Pissed – Guilt Complex – Village People – Wacky Kids – Rescue Op In Progress

London, Paik Bioscience

William Flood kept the phone pressed to his ear as he watched the main computer process and display routing information matched with probabilities. Arcane and theoretical physics combined within the program's processes, all cobbled together from the remnants of the Lamp Post's burned corpse. He had finished Mittelwerk's project with barely time to spare. "Yes. Keep on your current course. At your current speed, arrival at destination is on time and with no problems. Yes, I'll keep watching on our end. Good luck." He rang off and glanced at the small security monitor he'd had installed. On the other end of it, locked within the bowels of the building, a very angry-looking dark-haired Scotsman stared back. "Think he'd like a drink?" he asked the security guard at his side.

"No, sir."

"Me, either. Think it would help to tell him that his wife and kid are fine?"

"No, sir."

"Yeah, me either."

. . .

The Island

Ben sat in the office of his home, head bowed and eyes squeezed shut. Centered in front of him on his desk was his phone, silent at last, a little monolith to mark the failure he felt. He sat perfectly still, working to process what he was going to tell Hugo. Trying to come up with a plan that would not only smooth over what fears the people on the island would have, but in his dreams go back a year or more to make what was coming not happen at all. He had been too slow. The next engagement was coming anyway. His push to learn his opponent, to not go on the offensive, had failed by costing them valuable time.

I should have attacked.

It wasn't what Hugo wanted.

The two thoughts warred behind his closed eyes.

"They're coming."

His head jerked up while his eyes flew open. Hurley stood framed in the doorway, eyebrows furrowed at him and hands clasped together. Ben opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. He closed it again and his face pinched together.

"Dude. It's not your fault." He looked serene, a contrast to the worry he'd shown over the phone call to Penelope, just a scant couple of weeks earlier. "You did everything I asked, the best I could."

"They are coming, Hugo. I can't stop them." Again. He buried the echo.

"It's okay. It'll work out. I promise."

Ben shook his head. "Hugo, Mittelwerk is a madman. I can't even contemplate what he might decide to do when he gets here. Gas? Viral? Experimentation? Host a weenie roast? I cannot assess him. His idea of scientific method is completely off the map. He is coming on a ship. He has hostages. We have only barely begun to grasp what that may mean."

"It doesn't matter, dude. It's going to be fine. We got some stuff to get done before they get here, though. And it's gonna sound scary to some people, and people are gonna think the worst, but I promise you, we got this. It's cool. But I gotta ask you to promise me something before we go out there and call everyone in for a talk."

Ben lifted his shoulders in a slight, surrendering shrug. "I went in for the penny, Hugo. Might as well go for the whole pound."

"Don't hurt anyone, Ben. It's not your fight. You don't have to hurt anyone this time. Not for anything. And especially don't do it for me, if you think I'm in danger. Okay?" Hugo's voice was pleading. "Promise?"

"I." He shook his head. "That is a phenomenally hard thing to ask, Hugo. I don't appreciate battle. I don't enjoy it; I don't seek it out. But I will defend, and I will fight for what I have put myself to. Which is this island, and thusly, you. You are asking me to possibly go counter to everything I have ever done in my life. I would rather fight for it."

"Yeah, how'd that work out for you last time?"

Ben flinched and looked away.

Hurley slumped a little, looking apologetic. "Sorry. That was kinda a rough thing to say. I know it's hard. Promise me anyway."

"Fine." Ben's voice was curt before he reined it in. "I promise." He looked up to see Hurley watching him carefully. He puffed an exasperated sigh. "I really really promise. Do I need a pinky swear as well, or will that settle it?"

A grin. "I am so ready to make you pinky swear just to say I've seen it."

Ben glowered up at the thick figure.

"Okay, we're good. C'mon, village meeting. Let's go ring the bell."

. . .

It was early morning, and so Krish and Kyra were among the first to arrive, standing together near the edges of the communal picnic and meeting space that Hurley liked to use. Kyra was in her favorite sweat pants (now meant for meditation and associated minor yoga), arms crossed and drowsy looking, while Krish flicked his gaze from person to person – the original villagers chatting together, Tsuchi flapping them a wave from the far side, Rose and Bernard huddled close with Hurley and Ben. The archaeologist and the doctor were later arrivals; they went to work very early and it was still a bit of a hike from the Orchid.

"Whattya think is going on?" Kyra yawned as she spoke, the sound drawling out the words.

"The word 'meditation' is not French for 'nap.'" He responded absently, trying to pick out tone and mood from the motions of the little island leadership conclave. He regarded Rose and Bernard as important to the island's daily life as Hurley himself; floating in at random intervals to help with picnics or to suggest where to spread the gardening fields. They were good people. He particularly liked Rose, who came by now and again to talk lazily about lazy things with him. It was relaxing to chat with her, a form of mental rest, and he suspected she knew it and visited without pity. Very good people. Now Rose looked grumpy, gestured sharply now and again at Hugo, with her brow puckered in concern. "Nothing good. No panic, but they're on about something."

"Meee di taaay shyon." She chuckled. "Could be French, if you mucked with the syllables enough.

"You fail etymology. Latin."

"Regardless." She flapped a hand. "I'll get back to you when I have to sneak into an Oxford language facility."

"And may all that is divine help us if that's to be done." She gave him one of those sharp looks that she excelled at. He ignored it. "I think everyone's here."

. . .

"Morning, guys. Not the best start to a day, and I don't want anyone to worry, but we do have a situation coming up." Hurley spread his hands and looked at each section of the picnic field in turn. "Now, I'm gonna let Ben go over the details because he's the word guy, but we got people coming towards us, and it's not a really good thing."

A vague murmur began to rise from the crowd.

"Trust me, you guys. Taking care of everyone and keeping you all safe is like my biggest thing here. If this place isn't safe, I don't know what could be. That's my job. That's what I'm here to do. Cuz I love all of you, and this place is awesome now. I want people to be happy, and getting us through this next patch of crap is going to go towards that." He paused. "And by the way, I am crap at public speaking, so, let me just shut up and pass it over."

Ben stepped forward. "The history of the island is long and complex, as many of you know. In recent times, caretaking of this island has gone through a rapid set of hands. One of these, a man named Charles Widmore, went on to a new life beyond the island, but with a goal to return here. I am in no position anymore to discuss his motivations, but he left a tangle of matters behind him, and now some of that is coming home.

"During Widmore's tenure, you may be aware that we faced a certain influx of outsiders known as the Dharma Initiative-"

Hurley nudged in close and mumbled something into Ben's ear. Ben closed his eyes, inhaled, and nodded.

"I've been asked to cut down the verbiage a little. Let me sum up. A man named Thomas Mittelwerk has had previous doings with the island and is on his way to resume his goals. These goals are not in ours – much less anyone's – best interest. He is on board a large cargo vessel whose ultimate design is not known to us yet. He has hostages with him, friends of ours from days past."

Another murmur, this one more concerned.

"The situation is under control and will continue to be under control. The impending arrival of this man and this vessel are a fact. We cannot alter his course here. Therefore we are making plans to handle things after that fact. To that end, we inform you that when they approach, we intend to have all on this island moved to safety until matters are handled. We have some time to arrival. Each of you will be informed clearly of where you will be heading by the leaders of that group. I will be available for any and all questions you have regarding this situation. I will be remaining here among you for the time being, and then I will be found in my office. Please, do not panic, although to ask you not to worry would be futile. We are but human, but do please have some faith in us. Thank you." Ben bowed his head slightly.

The murmur rose, on the edge of frantic. Rose cut through the crowd, stopping by people here and there as she approached Kyra and Krish. "Hello, there."

Krish jutted his chin towards Ben. "What do you think of all this?"

"I believe him." Rose's tone was firm. "He and I have had tense dealings before, as all of us had, but truth's gotten easier to read from him." She tilted her head. "You never did get the story on all that, did you, Krish?"

He shook his head, as the words "rat bastard" were murmured beside him. He glanced down at Kyra, who picked idly at her sweat pants.

Rose chuckled. "As she says. But the past is past, and I do believe in new chances, particularly when vouched for by good hearts. And Hurley has the best of hearts. So I come over to let you know, I'm leading the first group. That includes all of you that he's hired, that sweet young kid and all. We'll be going in to someplace very safe, that he's trusted me to lead you to. It's very important to him that, you being fresh to here, have the best protection. So when you hear that village bell come up three times, you look for me right by here in the picnic area if you're close, or catch onto the group of us right up on that big field-" she pointed to an inland spread that they knew well; tales of impromptu golf games and other hijinks marked its history. "And I'll get us there. You have to be with us, though. It's a strange spot to find if you're not looking for it right."

Kyra arched an eyebrow. "This place is weird in general, that sounds even weirder."

"Well, Miss Kircher's been there once to peek, so you can ask her about it. She'll get a little time for another look while we're there, so that ought to make her happier about all this. It's a very pretty place, but there'll be a few rules to being there." Rose smiled.

Krish spoke up. "Where will the other groups be going?"

"There's an inland cave for a few people, and a larger group will be going to the temple. Very defensible if it comes to that, and Hurley swears it won't. Better to be safe, just in case. My Bernard will be taking people there. Now then, you all may as well get some breakfast. They tell me we won't have to move till tomorrow earliest. Plenty of time to get on with life." She reached out and patted both their arms, giving Krish's a little squeeze in place of a hug. "You go on now, take it easy."

. . .

Krish watched her leave. "I love that lady."

Kyra gave him a look. "Hi, can I remind you that we're heading for Defcon 2?"

"My entire life is at Defcon 1, I could collapse at any moment. What's the worry?" He shrugged. "Hurley says it'll be fine, it'll be fine." Tsuchi wandered towards them. "Hey. You all right with this?"

"Mm." A quick nod from the young man. "Doctor looks worried. He's following Ben around, lots of questions. He took some of the files from me, the things about the doctor, the things that that Alpert guy sent. I don't think he likes the idea of this Mittelwerk man."

Kyra shrugged. "Well, it's not like the whole mad scientist motif goes against every professional thread in Ellis's body."

Tsuchi blinked at her. "It does."

"Yeah, kid. That's the joke."

"Oh. English can be dumb sometimes." He shrugged, muttered something in Japanese. Kyra and Krish had no argument for that. "Okay. I'm going back to my work. Hurley says we're still gaming tonight." He grinned. "Yian Kut-Ku is going down." He wandered off again.

"Did any of that make sense to you?" He glanced down to Kyra.

"Was it supposed to?"

. . .

London

Our Mutual Friend rested listlessly in the water at the St. Katharine Docks. Richard watched it for a long time and saw no one coming or going. He wanted to search it anyway, to see if there were any clues to what had happened. He had a guess, a strong and educated assumption, but he wanted to back it before he made any plans.

He waited another hour to be sure, then slunk towards the small vessel in the dark, examining the deck of it carefully before letting himself belowdecks. Outside little Charlie's room, there was the barest set of struggle signs. Within, a few knocked over books, blankets tugged... no blood. No extreme damage. The fight had been done very carefully, with emphasis on not hurting anyone. That was useful for the short term. It meant continued value in life. What could not be guessed would be how long that value would last. Once Mittelwerk got what he wanted from the island, that value might drop sharply. He pursed his lips and looked the place over again. Shoe scuffs. Marks of walls being gripped. Nothing more. If he were Sherlock, he might be able to piece more facts. He settled for his assumptions being unbattled.

Now came the harder part. If he was right, and Paik Bioscience held Desmond, how to access the prisoner and thus move on towards more help for his friends? He had few allies at the moment, the rest were locked away behind the veil of an island on high alert.

He emerged from the boat and looked up at the nighttime sky. It was clear, marked with only a few clouds. A bit of beauty hovering over an increasingly dangerous situation. There was no clear answer, no easily grasped plan. He blanked his mind, then relaxed, tried to see if anything struck him out of the box. Some angle he hadn't considered.

He opened his eyes. A tingle of useful cliché. The enemy of my enemy.

Richard disappeared into the night to figure out how to place a call to Copenhagen, Denmark.