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Date Posted: 11:48:39 11/28/08 Fri
Author: Odelle
Author Host/IP: CPE0013f7f24246-CM0013f7f24242.cpe.net.cable.rogers.com / 99.234.121.213
Subject: When A Time Comes (Chapter 4)
In reply to: Odelle 's message, "When A Time Comes" on 11:10:52 11/24/08 Mon

“Who is he?” Operations asked his best security operative. They were alone in Operations’ office, overlooking the riot which inevitably ensued after the breech.

Head of those that defended the Section itself, Derick shook his head, “Not in any system we have.”

Operations nodded distantly, “You know that it has been three years since anyone has even tried to breach our walls.”

The operative knew the facts, and the consequences. He had seen many organizations try, and had personally seen to it that they failed each time. Seen to it that the penalty was calculatedly cruel, and widely published.

“And that this is the furthest anyone has come, within our world.”

Derick tried to offer some explanation, though he knew none would answer the multitude of questions both he and his angry senior now had: “Perhaps because he was alone – just one man.” As it was, the workload for his team just filled the next six months to detect the problem and fix it – whatever it was that made it possible for one person to evade all threshold security they had.

“Just one man,” Operations repeated softly. Hardly just one man. No one could breach Section. Ever. Not in his rein, or his predecessor’s – with one exception, one which had cost her everything. But no one knew about that time. Not even Derick.

“I want to meet him.”

Michael stood in what he thought would have been the White Room. It was now a dispassionate shade of grey. There was no furniture, no doors, no seems in the walls, nothing. He was held in place, he knew, by some electric force which had to do with the shackles on each wrist and ankle. But he could not see its source, nor the source of the light which allowed his eyes to see his surroundings at all. It was as if he were in a giant egg – organic, no beginning, no ending. Only without the connotations of innocence normally so associated.

What Michael couldn’t know, couldn’t see, was the deep scrutiny – and the mystery– which was surrounding him on all sides. Around the entire circumference of the room was a control deck, lowered to each pod for full observation. This one was full of operatives running every conceivable scan on his identity, searching valiantly to be the first to explain the anonymous intruder.

Operations’ elevator landed him on the deck with a light click of metal, and a hydraulic hiss from the locks. The operatives on the deck recognized their leader with an immediate increase in pace as they prepared to brief him.

The doors to the deck slid open, and Operations’ eyes locked on the man in the middle of the room before him. Familiarity snapped in his eyes, and caused his sure gait to pause.

The dark creature stood in the centre, unmoving, unconcerned. Not at all like a captured prey – but instead still very much the predator. One didn’t have to look hard to see that.

“Sir,” Derick stood by the doorway leading into the pod, ready to begin the interrogation.

Eyes never moving from the form within the room, Operations shook his head. “I wish to speak with him alone.” Head inching up a fraction, he addressed the entire deck, “Everyone is dismissed.”

Derick hesitated briefly. A breach in home security was his turf – his responsibility. He looked once more at the dark man standing in the centre of the room. His jaw tightening, his respect for his senior flowing into his obedience, Derick nodded to his men and departed on the elevator.

Within moments Operations was alone, standing on the outside of the pod. He shook his head in disbelief, “Well, I’ll be damned.” He let out a humourless chuckle, “I never thought I’d see the day.”

Inside, Michael’s mind was racing at an alarming rate behind cold eyes of steel. He ran again and again through the possibilities of what alerted them to his presence. The list was short, but possible. And given that he took a route that Nikita could perhaps know in her experience, it may have been something she would have closed off quickly into her rein.

Perhaps he simply supposed that he would have known when Section had been alerted, and would have evaded them. Or perhaps it was the damn age again.

Michael’s quicksilver eyes saw the movement in the wall before the seam of the door materialized.

The man who walked through it held himself with the posture of authority. His hair streaked with grey, his suit thick and well chosen, his gait revealing years in the field on active duty. Michael could smell the power locked firmly within the control of this man.

Eyes locked on him with an intensity that made one spec ops piss himself many years ago, Michael enjoyed the luxury of being a half-inch taller than the other man. But his shoulders weren’t as broad. Together, they made an intimidating pair of alphas assessing one another.

With practiced patience, Michael stood in his at-ease position. Whether he was surprised that the electric force had been removed didn’t show an iota on his face. Hands clasped loosely in front of him, he regarded the leader as though the younger man’s rank could be counted on one hand.

Suddenly, the man nodded at him, an imperceptible tug moving the corner of his mouth. As if he was pleased with something; affirming Michael’s presence. He stuck his hand out between them. Michael looked down at it, pausing only briefly before placing his own within it. Nikita was his goal, not ploughing a road to personal significance.

“Justus Hannington, Chief of Operations, Section Elite.”

Operations. So that makes Nikita either promoted, or dead. Michael stopped himself from demanding an answer immediately. Stopped the fear from entering his voice.

“Michael Samuelle. Clearance code K357."

“So it’s true then,” Justus chuckled softly, “I am standing in the presence of the greatest operative who ever lived.” Cocking his head slightly, he searched Michael’s stone gaze.

Michael never knew how to respond to attestations of his abilities, so he remained silent.

“Tell me how I know you’re him?”

Eyes shifting, he took a patient breath, “Where is Nikita Jones?” His gaze brought the question home to Justus with a resounding thud.

Justus immediately experienced a spread of alarm starting in his lower back – as if he had to evade a coming attack from the dangerous creature before him. His grin spread to resemble a smile: he had his answer, in Michael’s question. No doubt. This was the man, in the flesh. Why else would someone of his own formidable power feel like a subordinate in his very presence?

“Did you think you would find her here?”

Displeasure at this game suffused Michael’s eyes with annoyance. A first emotion from him, which oddly made Justus distinctly uncomfortable. Again the younger man grinned, to diminish this reaction.

“If it would help, think of this as the gate, and of me as the gatekeeper.”

Michael stared into the man. While his face was blank, his core quaked with the realization that within this repartee contained the declaration that Nikita was not only alive, but well and reining over it all.

“She is Centre.”

Justus’ eyes fell, in a way Michael knew he must have learned from Nikita herself. Body language by osmosis.

“That point is highly contested,” he offered with another tight lift of one corner of his mouth.

“Where is she?” Now. Now. Michael felt the pull to see her stronger than the man before him could possibly withstand, were Michael to unleash the full measure of his anxiety.

“I could tell you where she lives, but I doubt her guards keep their triggers as controlled as ours.” Justus shifted to one side of Michael, walking toward the door in an indication the darker man should join him. They walked across the pod, toward the open seam in the wall. “And I could take you to her myself, Michael,” he shook his head, “but there are people who she lives with who shouldn’t see you before she does.”

Michael’s jaw tightened. Jealousy flowed instantly into his veins. “People?”

They had walked onto the control deck, their boots softly banging on the metal of the grated floor. “Yes, I would think that word of you would spread like wildfire from here. But if I can stem it from reaching the people she cares about before herself, I think I’d be doing the right thing.”

Michael’s eyes shifted to the deck to hide his response. He didn’t trust the amount of time he could maintain his emotionless posture. He opted to take in his surroundings, to gather neutral information. The control deck was…other-worldly. Like a floating inner-tube of steel and technology.

Justus noticed his perusal, “As much as I’d like to give a man like you a tour,” he sighed, leading the way to the elevator, “this is Nikita’s baby, not mine.”

“Would she meet me?” it fell from his lips before he could stop it. He felt his face harden into concrete as he watched Justus’ eyes for an answer.

Justus nodded, “Then the decision would be in her hands, not yours. That would be best.”

Best? Then why did it create an instant knot in Michael’s stomach? It would be so much easier if he could control her decision. If he could just show up, and let her reaction and her life’s circumstances push him away. Leaving the decision up to her made his anxiety soar. His pulse thundered in his ears. He wouldn’t see her response, wouldn’t witness her immediate feelings. He wouldn’t know how she felt, not unless she agreed to meet with him. And what if she didn’t? Oh gosh. What if she said no?

************

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