P B Obeng Read online

  speaks up.

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  “What about the UN and NATO? As a member of both organizations, would the US be obligated to use Vigil in support of them?”

  “Mavis, Vigil will gladly assist any US allies on request, but make no mistake, Vigil was and is intended for the protection of Americans.”

  Nixon quickly responds with a follow-up question. “So we can take it that the administration is adopting a renewed policy of unilateralism?

  Similar to what we saw during the first decade of the twenty-first century?”

  “I am not the official spokesperson for the White House, so I can’t comment on that. Anyway, I think the question and answer session is over. At this point, I’d like to ask Captain Alicia Conrad to step up to the podium to say a few words.”

  Just as she prepares to take the podium, Chandler Ramsey’s cell phone vibrates. He pulls it from his breast pocket and quickly glances on the screen. He presses the ignore icon and puts it back into his breast pocket. Conrad notices this just before Hanahan motions for her to step up to the microphone to speak.

  She walks up to the podium and opens up the pad folio tucked under her left arm.

  “Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. As we all know, we live

  in very dangerous and uncertain times. After the terrorist events of September 11, 2001, we learned that we are all too vulnerable to forces seeking to end our way of life. Now we live in a new era, a superhuman era. And with this come new dangers. The Minneapolis event was

  evidence of this. America now more than ever needs people equipped to confront these new dangers. I am proud to say that we are those people.

  We hope that America can sleep a little easier knowing that someone is watching over her. Thank you.”

  As she steps away from the podium, Matthews blurts out a question.

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  “How does it feel to be continuing the family tradition?”

  She turns to look at him. “Excuse me?”

  “Your father was one of the most decorated military servicemen of the modern era. It must be satisfying to be continuing his legacy.”

  “I appreciate that, but I’d rather not talk about it right now.”

  Tom Edwards from the Washington Times then shouts, “Captain,

  would you like to comment on the custody case with your siblings?”

  Conrad’s blood begins to boil. Of all the things that could have been asked in this setting, this is the one question she’s feared the most. She’s aware that an expression of anger is clearly taking shape on her face.

  Before she can respond though, Hanahan blocks her with his left arm.

  Noticing that things are going sour fast, Dana Person swiftly steps up to the microphone to try to salvage the situation.

  “I think that’ll be all the questions for today. Thank you.”

  As the room empties, the rest of the team is somewhat perplexed by what just transpired. Then they are promptly ushered along to sublevel two to begin their orientation.

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  Chapter Nine

  Corporate America

  Vigil Headquarters

  Sublevel Two

  The Pentagon

  The elevator carrying the contingent of the newly formed team and their handlers, Ramsey and his personal aid, Lauren Price, arrives at the second sublevel. The ride down is notably quiet after the closing moments of the press conference. As the doors of the elevator open, Ramsey begins the orientation.

  “As America’s foremost national security force, you will have the full resources of the US government at your disposal.”

  “I have a question for you, Mr. Ramsey,” Fighting Bull says.

  “Shoot.”

  “I’m just curious, how are we being funded? There’s no provision in the defense budget for this initiative, and we’re not covered under the president’s discretionary fund.”

  Ramsey pauses to clear his throat before answering. “Actually, the Vigil project is being funded through a joint corporate/government agreement. We have a few friends on Wall Street who wanted to see this 47

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  project come together, so they lent their financial support. It’s their way of carrying out their patriotic duty.”

  She nods. “Interesting.”

  Ramsey continues, “Let’s head over to the main operations room.”

  As they walk, Price, intrigued by Conrad’s hair, reaches from behind to touch it. “Wow, Captain your hair is—”

  Conrad swiftly grabs Price’s hand before it can make contact with her mane. “Do not touch.”

  Price pulls her hand back apologetically.

  They arrive at a large circular door underneath a sprawling archway.

  The entrance requires a security card and biometric retinal scan for entry. Ramsey provides the appropriate credentials, and the large doors slide open, revealing an elaborate array of high-tech equipment. He looks in Price’s direction. “Lauren, if you’d please.”

  The attractive brunette begins speaking. “As Mr. Ramsey mentioned earlier, this is the main operations room, or ‘war room,’ as some of you army brass like to call it.” She turns to look at Blankenchip and Conrad as she says this. “This room is equipped with some of the most sophisticated technology of this century. From here you can access real-time video feeds from around the world through your specially designated satellite system.”

  “Our own sat system?” Arrowhawk says in amazement. “That’s

  dope.”

  “It’s true,” Ramsey responds. “Lauren, go ahead.”

  “Not only do you get real-time video feeds around the clock, but intelligence reports will be streamed here directly from all divisions of our military and intelligence agencies through an interdepartmental interface.”

  Conrad asks a question on a topic that up until this point no one has 48

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  brought up. “What about support staff?”

  “You have approximately six direct support staff members and over a hundred ancillary staff. We’re still in the process of hiring a pilot.”

  The need for a pilot is minimal at best. Their ship, the Avian, is equipped with an artificial intelligence auto-pilot feature. Also, with the exceptions of Morrison and Arrowhawk, everyone else on the team has extensive flight training.

  “When can we meet them?” Conrad asks.

  “We’re on our way to do that now.”

  “After you meet your support staff, your orientation will be over,”

  Ramsey tells them. “I suggest that you all get a good night’s rest because you have a big day ahead of you tomorrow.”

  “For that National Mall thing tomorrow?” Morrison asks.

  “It’s not just a thing, Agent Morrison. You’re going to be feted by over half of DC tomorrow.”

  Ramsey and Price lead the team to a large rotunda within sublevel two. Banks of computers, flat-screen monitors, and holographic

  projectors line the walls. Dozens of technicians mill around filing reports, conducting threat assessments, and working on intelligence analysis. In the middle of this controlled chaos stand six people. Ramsey introduces them.

  “Captain, you asked earlier about support staff? Well, it’s my pleasure to introduce you to Nick Weiss, Andrea Drake, Alysande Mendoza, Erick Anderson, Winston Jordan and last but not least, Daniel Portis.”

  Each of the introduced individuals wave as his or her name is called, then they formally greet each of the Vigil team members.

  “Nick and Andrea will serve as your tech division chiefs,” says Price.

  “They’ve worked for some of the top software and hardware companies in the world. Nick was a senior software writer, at both Microsoft and 49

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  Google, and Andrea was a head engineer at Raytheon for the past fifteen years.”

  Price turns toward Mendoza and Donaldson.

&nbs
p; “Alysande and Erick will head up the Public Relations and Diplomatic divisions respectively.”

  Arrowhawk makes one of his trademark comments: “Spin doctors.”

  “‘Spin doctors’ is a term for amateurs, Agent Arrowhawk. We’re

  professionals,” Mendoza protests.

  “Sorry,” Arrowhawk says, smiling. Mendoza reciprocates with an

  equally warm smile.

  “Anyway,” Price interjects, aiming to steer the discussion back to the orientation, “Winston and Dan head up the Weapons and Equipment division. They’ll be in charge of everything from outfitting your aircraft with the latest weaponry to designing your uniforms.”

  Winston Jordan jumps in. “Funny you should mention uniforms.

  We were just finishing preliminary testing on them.”

  “Can we take a peek?” Ramsey asks

  “Sure,” Jordan answers giddily.

  The contingent moves from the inner rotunda through a doorway

  with metallic sliding doors. They enter a small darkened room with a large plate glass viewing window. Behind the window are the team’s uniforms displayed on plastic mannequins on a rotating platform.

  “We were tasked with designing uniforms that are functional, yet complement each individual,” Jordan says. “We looked to the sports apparel market for inspiration.”

  Fighting Bull comments, “They look like the Dri-Fit or Under-

  Armour stuff the pro-athletes wear.”

  “The material’s similar in fact,” Jordan tells her. “We made your uniforms out of a microweave blend of biosteel, Duritium, and high 50

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  performance nylon.”

  “Biosteel?” Blankenchip says. “Isn’t that the stuff that’s supposed to replace Kevlar?”

  “Yes,” Jordan answers. “It’s derived from a recombinant form of spider silk protein synthesized in the milk of transgenic goats.”

  “Seriously? Body armor from goat’s milk?” Arrowhawk comments.

  Jordan chuckles. “Yeah I know it sounds weird, but biosteel is twenty times as strong as conventional steel and has the flexibility of elastic.”

  “Can it stop a bullet?” Morrison asks.

  “From point blank range,” Daniel Portis, who has until now been silent, interjects. “In fact, it can withstand fire, knife attacks, and to a small degree, directed energy weapons.”

  “In addition to its protective features, each uniform is outfitted with a microclimate conditioner,” Jordan continues, “to keep you comfortable in all types of environments.”

  “How does that work exactly?” Fighting Bull asks.

  “Through the electro-textiles woven into each uniform. We

  integrated micronized computer chips into the fabric. It’s also through this mechanism that we’re able to monitor your vitals while you’re in the field.”

  Portis adds, “And that’s also how the BiSC feature of your uniforms works.”

  “BiSC?” Conrad asks.

  “Bio Synchronous Complement feature. To put it simply, it allows your uniforms to work with your powers. For example, whenever Agent Fighting Bull performs a shape change, she’ll be able to transform her clothing as well—”

  “As opposed to constantly carrying around a change of clothes as she’s had to do in the past,” Jordan blurts out, finishing Portis’s sentence.

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  “Finally,” Fighting Bull sighs to herself.

  “And whenever agent Morrison alters his density, his uniform will change with him,” Portis adds.

  “Very nice,” Morrison remarks approvingly.

  Jordan turns to Arrowhawk with the look of a happy fan boy. “And your uniform, Agent Arrowhawk, your uniform is designed to withstand energy emissions in excess of a million joules. That way you don’t have to worry about your uniform melting on you when you let loose with your powers.”

  “Thanks,” Arrowhawk answers. “But I don’t think I’ll be letting loose anytime soon.”

  Ramsey looks at his watch. “Thank you, gentlemen. I think that

  should wrap up the orientation. See you all tomorrow.”

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  Chapter Ten

  The Set-up

  July 4th

  WJLA TV Studios

  Washington, DC

  “In world news, there was another car-bomb explosion outside the Presidential Palace in the Lemalian capital of Delohar,” news anchor Donna Michaels says. “This marks the third major car-bomb explosion on the island nation in as many weeks.”

  Her co-anchor, David Kellen, continues. “The civil instability

  in Lemalia reflects the economic instability occurring in the global marketplace. To talk more about this is our economics expert, Sendhil Srivathsan. Sendhil?”

  “Well, Dave, today the New York Stock Exchange dropped by 100

  points and there was a steep decline in the Nikkei average. The sharp market losses were largely attributed to the Legaud administration’s business nationalization plan.”

  “How have business interests within Lemalia been affected by this?”

  Kellen inquires.

  “Many of them have seen considerable losses in their bottom line due 53

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  to this initiative. As the major natural source of Duritium worldwide, multiple business sectors have taken a tremendous financial hit.”

  “What makes Duritium so special?”

  “It’s believed that Duritium ore is non-terrestrial.”

  “You mean from outer space,” Kellen says.

  “Exactly. It’s similar to the meteoric iron that’s naturally found in our environment. Scientists think that its non-terrestrial nature is what gives it the ability to be used in multiple ways from medicines to machines,” Srivathsan says. “And Lemalia is where the bulk of this Duritium ore is found.”

  “They export, what… about 70 percent of the world’s Duritium?”

  “Exactly, and that’s why it’s such a big hit to not only durable goods, but also to the tech and automobile sectors.” Srivathsan answers.

  “Thanks, Sendhil,” Kellen says.

  Michaels transitions smoothly to the next topic. “In other news, today marks the debut of Vigil, the country’s first superhuman task force. We go live now to the National Mall, where Rick Stevens is reporting.”

  * * *

  The National Mal

  Washington, DC

  The Mall green is congested with admirers, on-lookers, parade

  participants, and emergency personnel. Stretching from the Capitol Building all the way to the Washington Monument, the Mall crowd rivals that of the forty-fourth president’s inauguration.

  As he gets the cue from his producer, Rick Stevens begins speaking.

  “Thanks, Donna. As you can see, thousands of people have come out to 54

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  celebrate the debut of Vigil. Many of DC’s finest and brightest are here to celebrate the event.” The camera pans the crowd and then zooms in to focus on Vigil onstage.

  The team sits on the stage with various dignitaries just in front of the Lincoln Memorial. The emcee begins giving the introductions while the team members talk amongst themselves. Morrison, who is seated to Conrad’s left, asks her, “How are you feeling?”

  “A little bit overwhelmed,” she replies. “I’m not used to being in crowds this big.”

  “It took me some time to get used to the crowds after I started working on presidential detail. Saying a small prayer usually calms me down.”

  “I’m not really a praying person.”

  “Now’s not a bad time to start.”

  Conrad pauses at this comment. “Funny, I never pegged you as a

  religious guy.”

  “Well, I am a Christian, but I wouldn’t call myself religious,” Morrison tells her. “To me, it’s about my personal relationship with Jesus Christ. I just try to live my life according to His will.”

/>   “Oh, I see.” She says, not quite sure how else to respond.

  Just to Morrison’s left sits the rest of the team. Arrowhawk is seated between Fighting Bull and Blankenchip and he leans in and to make an unsolicited remark.

  “So, Cynthia, what does a guy have to do to peel you out of that skin-tight uniform?”

  Unamused, she fires back. “They’d have to come up with a better line than the one you just spat! A criminology degree from UCLA, six years in the FBI, and you still can’t come up with a halfway decent pick-up line? Pathetic.”

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  Leaning in on the conversation Blankenchip says, “Ooooh,

  Pocahontas got you gooood, kid.”

  They both look in Blankenchip’s direction.

  “Kid?” Arrowhawk exclaims.

  “Pocahontas?!” Fighting Bull chimes in.

  The mayor steps to the podium to deliver his address. As he pulls out his note cards, the sounds of plane engines fill the sky. He looks up to see five Predator drones swoop in low from the eastern sky and descend upon the Mall.

  The afternoon sun gleams off of the drones as they fire ten Hellfire II missiles into the crowd gathered around the Reflecting Pool. The missiles find their targets. Dozens are injured or killed from the explosives’ impact.

  One of the drones breaks formation and trains its machine guns on the occupants on stage. The mayor flinches as the flurry of bullets erupt from the machine gun’s barrel toward him. He cowers down expecting to be hit. After a moment he realizes that he’s unharmed and he looks to see a sold-state force field absorbing the bullets. The mayor then looks behind him to see Arrowhawk with energized hands raised, straining to keep the field up.

  Reflexively, the officials on the stage then look to Conrad for direction. Without any vacillation, she takes control.

  “Arrowhawk, expand your defensive force field over the crowd.

  Morrison and Fighting Bull, assist in the civilian evacuation. Aaron, you’re with me. We’re taking out those drones.”

  The Predator drones double back. One of them breaks formation and flies straight toward the Lincoln Monument. As the drone prepares to fire, Conrad aims her assault rifle and fires three shots straight at its left wing. It breaks apart, with its remains careening toward the team.

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