Shiva hums as the gangway lowers, revealing Alice who stands patiently on the Pen's floor. She holds her own wrists as her arms dangle at the waist, the black fabric of the uniform jacket and trousers draped in front of her. The corners of her eyes crinkle with her smile as Edward escorts Vicky off the aircraft. Adjusting the garments over her forearm, she extends a hand.
"Hi, Vicky," she says, brightly. "Welcome to Lilim Division."
The poncho still wrapped around her frame, Vicky sticks a hand out from the material and greets Alice. She glances to Edward. He grins and lightly nudges her forward.
"This is Alice," he tells the nervous girl, "She'll take of you." As Alice takes Vicky off to the side, handing her a set of clean clothes and giving a brief explanation of the organization, Edward helps Jacob unload the vehicle.
"Thank you, sir," Jacob says as Edward reaches out to take the young soldier's pack.
"Thank you," Edward says with a chuckle. "And I've told you. It's Edward."
"Right."
They pile the gear, the remnants of their uniforms, and their weapons a few steps from the plane's exit.
"We'll leave it here, for now." Edward gazes at the spectacular emptiness of the Pen. A loud squeal draws his attention as Jacob surprises Alice, wrapping his arms around her waist and biting the nape of her neck. Vicky laughs, its youthful exuberance echoing around them.
"She'll be a good addition," Bella says, drawing up beside Edward as he watches the three young soldiers.
"Yeah," Edward says, absently. "Will she stay here?"
"Unlikely." A brief frown flashes across Bella's face. "Gamma and Epsilon teams are full. One of the facilities out west will probably get her."
A knot rolls in Edward's stomach at the information.
"But at least she has a home," Bella adds.
"Yeah."
"Oh, Edward," Alice calls out, laughing as she breaks of her boyfriend's clutches. "Colonel Cullen is waiting in the conference room for your debriefing."
"Roger," Edward says as he gives a sideways smirk in Bella's direction. "Let's go."
"I'll meet you there," Emmett says as he rapidly disembarks, pack in hand. Before Edward has time to respond, he's halfway across the Pen heading to the locker room.
The laughter and voices from the rest of the team disappear as the locker room door slams shut behind him. Emmett's seething breath seeps over the sound of his heavy steps on the tile. He exits into the hall and veers to the living quarters. A cloud of thoughts roll over his mind as he shoves open his quarters door.
His wet pack slops on to the coffee table as he tosses it down. The heavy lid of his strong box smacks against the wall, a long thin indention appearing in the drywall appearing where the edge hits. The trophies rattle against each other as he yanks the top container off its mounts and drops it to the floor. With sudden care, he pulls out the fabric-wrapped velum out from amid the artifacts and takes them to the table. Pushing the damp pack aside, it unceremoniously falls to the carpet as it places the velum pages down.
He returns to the iron strong box, kneeling beside it close enough his thighs brush against chilly surface. He runs a palm along the side until a fingertip falls in small notch. Curling his hand, the panel pops off from the inside of the chest. A small cell phone, years old with only a numerical display, tumbles out of the hidden compartment onto the stored antiques.
Gripping it tightly, he dials a memorized number as he returns to the sofa. He holds it against the side of his head with his shoulder while opening his pack. The device is uncomfortable against his ear. The fabric of his bag gross against his skin.
"Hello?" The voice on the other end answers.
"Yeah," Emmett says, curtly. From the satchel he pulls the stone charm that hung around the utlunta's neck. The dim room makes the relic appear black as it slowly spins from the frayed string gripped tightly in Emmett's hand. "I got it."
"Good." The voice speaks as if a weights been lifted of their shoulders. "What happened?"
"Damn utlunta summoned the anada. Alerted the oracle." Emmett says. His voice is heavy, angry. "Do a better job recruiting."
"Yessir."
With a forceful punch of his thumb, Emmett ends the call. The phone bounces along the worn cushions of the sofa, dropped by Emmett as it unwraps the velum with one hand. He keeps the charm aloft, allowing it hang freely. He gingerly turns the pages, their indecipherable markings unimportant until the final page.
Circling the page, twelve different shapes are drawn unevenly onto the dried lambskin. Each one is accompanied by notations of languages, few remembered. Centered, with the random fading of of ancient ink, the shape of a human hand is brushed. Words ring the image, radiating from its head in a ever enlarging spiral until the page is covered in a web of unknown letters.
He matches the charm to one of the shapes. The circle and jagged extension perfectly hiding the image on the page. Emmett's temples pulse with the clenching of his jaw. His eyes deliberately, ponderously moving across the velum.
"Three left."