by

Eric Metcalf

Mindstar sat at the head of the table in the Guardians' conference room, his body so exhausted that he could barely lift his head to look at the main screen. The exhaustion stretched beyond the physical. While he had strained his powers to their limits extracting the Guardians from the alien spacecraft and then transporting the unconscious women to the transport, the fact that none of them had come around drained the energy from his soul. While his wife had not been affected by the alien's weapon, he was still responsible for all of the Guardians. The sight of Firemane, especially, hurt deeply. She was still just a teenager, and he felt a deep sense of responsibility for her. He couldn't meet Strongarm's eyes; he couldn't bear to see the hate he knew that the man must hold for him there.

"Michael," Brian Carpenter's voice called from the screen, "we don't have time for this."

"I know," Mindstar replied, looking up into the stern, dark eyes of his mentor, commander and adoptive father. "This is a real mess."

Carpenter snorted. "That's an understatement. Forty percent of the Guardians are down for an indefinite period of time. You accomplished the mission, to some degree, but how much you really succeeded is up for debate. A senate committee is starting hearings this afternoon on the incident. The Rangers have sent someone up here to give their side of the story, supporting you, but the FBI is washing their hands of the situation."

"Figures," Rich snorted. "They've been acting like spoiled kids the whole time."

"Try not to say that on camera," Carpenter said. "Right now, this is just a minor annoyance, but I keep hearing rumors of legislation coming up that's going to be bad news."

"What kind of legislation?" Terry asked.

"Registration," Carpenter snarled. "Oh, that sounds like it's not much, but it's the first step to control. The first step to rounding up all metas is to know whose a meta and who isn't."

"What about the kidnapped people?" Wraith asked. "Surely they were being controlled or something."

"Or something is right," Carpenter replied. "They're awake, alert, and still completely loyal to their Masters. They claim that they were chosen for a great destiny, and that the Masters made them more than human. The bad news is that they may be right."

"What, they're metas?" Rich asked.

"No, not as much," Carpenter answered, "but none of them are showing any adverse effects from the damage you did knocking them out. No broken bones, no significant bruising, and they were pretty battered when they brought them in. Also, there's one couple that are supposed to be in there mid fifties who don't look a day over thirty."

"Whoa," Terry said, "they're aging in reverse?"

Carpenter nodded. "Preliminary DNA tests indicate none of the damage normally associated with aging. It's like the aliens managed to stop them from aging, and reverse the damage done. That could be potentially explosive technology."

"Why?" Wraith asked. "That's a medical breakthrough."

"And a population explosion in the waiting," Mindstar said. "If we could expand into space, it would be a great technology. As it is, you'd just overrun the planet that much faster. Besides, you'll probably make the rich/poor gap that much worse, since the rich can be immortal. That is what we're talking about."

Carpenter nodded. "Also, if the anti-aging effect is linked to the mind control, it may not be something we can afford to do anything with, and we don't know enough to reverse any of the process. And that's the rub."

"No one knows about this," Jake said, "do they?"

Carpenter shook his head. "Just the doctors who are examining the victims, and they're not sure what they're seeing. Still, we're going to have the devil's own time keeping them quiet. They all want to line up and publish the first paper coming out of this mess. And we can't let the families have access to them. That's what I'm going to have to defend at the Senate."

"And let me guess," Jake said, "it's an open meeting."

"Wouldn't let me close it," Carpenter said. "So, yes, it's open, and that means I can't say a word of any of this." He shook his head. "This could be the beginning of the end."

"No," Terry interjected, "we can't give up now. These aliens didn't leave, they just relocated. I'd bet on it."

Carpenter nodded. "You're right, but that's just the problem. The two males we captured that weren't kidnap victims are obviously aliens, but they're just as staunch in their belief that they were doing these people a favor, so why shouldn't they be grateful? They won't say what the name of their species is or why they're here other than to say that we should be grateful for their help. That, and leering at anything female that comes their way. We've already had three incidents where they couldn't keep their hands off of female interrogators or doctors and the individuals in question threatened sexual harassment suits."

Rich chuckled. "That's a laugh. Sounds like these aliens are a bunch of good-ol-boys with super tech. Wouldn't the liberals love that."

"But that also puts us in a bind," Michael said. "If they behave like that, people will assume they're not really aliens, but that we put them up to taking responsibility for this. That puts us right back at square one. But you can't tell anyone that they are aliens at all."

"Not without starting a wave of panic and fear," Carpenter said, "and that's unacceptable. But that's also my problem. Your problem is getting your team back to one hundred percent. I'll stop distracting you." The screen blanked out.

Michael couldn't look up as he hit the button activating the elevator. The table descended to the underground level in silence. When they reached the bottom, Mindstar pushed himself up, still unable to meet the gaze of his friends and followers. He strode into the medical lab, forcing himself to act out a confidence that he didn't feel.

Doctor Stone was looking over some papers near Firemane's bed when they came in. The four unconscious women were on beds set in a row near the door. The menagerie of diagnostic equipment that Stone had assembled was probably getting a workout. "Ah, Mindstar," Stone said, "I was wondering when you'd come back."

"How are they, Doctor?" Mindstar asked, walking far enough into the room so that the men behind him could go to their loved ones.

"They seem to be almost out of the comas," Stone said. "All of the data indicates that they're just asleep now, not actually comatose. However, the data also has some other, ah, unusual, ah, information." He pointedly looked away from Power Woman.

"What kind of information, Doctor?" Mindstar asked pointedly.

"Their bodies have, ah, been, ah, modified," Stone stammered.

A groan from Firemane turned all of their attentions away from the doctor. "Oh," she moaned, blinking away sleep from her vivid green eyes.

"Kat?" Rich said, "can you hear me?"

"Rich?" Firemane said, "is that you?" As her eyes focused on Rich, her expression changed. Her lips curled into a sexy smile, and she reached up to wrap her arms around Rich's neck.

"Oh, Rich," she moaned in a breathy voice, "I'm so glad to see you."

"Kat," Rich said, "what's going on?"

"I need you," she breathed, "I need you now." Her eyes suddenly rolled up into her head and she passed out.

"Whew," Dr. Stone breathed, putting down the hypodermic he had just injected into her arm. "A mild sedative. She's just asleep."

"What the hell was that?" Rich said.

"That was, not unexpected," Stone replied. "And the sedation was, necessary, as you will realize. You see, the alteration I was trying to tell you about was, all of the women are, fertile."

"The gas knocked them out, and then modified them somehow?" Wraith asked.

"The chemicals in the vapors interacted with their endocrine systems," Stone said, "generating excessive amounts of certain hormones that not only render them fertile, but also exceedingly aroused. I am presently studying the chemicals to determine if the effects are temporary or," he stopped.

"Why would they do this?" Techno asked. "I mean, killing us is one thing, but why do this?"

"One of two reasons," Mike stated. "One, they thought they'd kill us and they could then take the women for, well, that's obvious. Two, they didn't know they'd kill us, and figured that if we escaped, we'd be too distracted to do anything about them, or would actually become loyal to them."

"They've got another think coming," Rich growled.

"Indeed they do," Mike answered.

"But," Terry said, "if that happened to them, why didn't it happen to me?" Her voice started to edge up towards hysteria.

Stone cleared his throat. "I should think that would be, obvious," he stammered.

Terry looked down at her stomach. "You mean, I'm,"

"My tests confirmed it," Stone said. "Congratulations, you're pregnant." Despite his words, his expression and tone held no joy.

"What's wrong?" Mindstar asked.

"Even if the gas did not have its intended effects," Stone said, "I am concerned about possible impacts on the fetal development. While you are hardly at risk due to your powers, the development of a fetus in a mother with such abilities is hardly well understood."

"That's why Carpenter posted you here in the first place," Mindstar said, his eyes narrowing. "If Terry turned up pregnant, you were to monitor her condition."

Stone looked down at the floor. "Well, it was a justifiable concern. Given as we know very little about the transmissibility, if you will, of your genetic mutations, the child could be in perfect health or terrible jeopardy. I have a significant background in obstetrics, so I am best qualified to handle the situation."

"We don't have much choice," Mike said. "Right now, however, our first priority has to be getting the other girls back from whatever the aliens did to them. Techno, Strongarm, I want you two assisting the doc. Jake, I want you on watch. Ray, get some sleep, then spell Jake in eight hours. I'll spell you. Terry," Mike stopped as he turned around to find that Terry had vanished, "I'll worry about," he finished. "Once I get Terry settled down, I'll be back to see if I can learn anything from the girls telepathically."

"I'd like to reexamine Terry at the earliest opportunity," Dr. Stone said. "I'm concerned that exposure to the alien chemicals and nanomachines may have an adverse impact on, her, pregnancy."

"Worry about these patients first, Doctor Stone," Mike said sharply. "Once they're back to themselves, then we can worry about my wife." He turned and walked out.

A quick thought showed him where Terry had gone. He could feel her exertion as she worked the heavy bag in the gym as she tried to excise her fear and anxiety through her fists and into the specially reinforced canvas. Mike knew she had picked the trick up from him, although in a different form. When he was uneasy, he worked his katas, the moving meditation of marital arts forms. Without his martial arts training, she fell back on boxing.

"Easy, tiger," he said as he walked into the gym. "Too much, and you'll shatter even that bag."

"It's that," she panted as she swung vicious hook after hook into the bag, "or punch holes in the walls. Those are harder to replace."

"True," he said, walking over to her, "but I don't think that's really what you want to do." He walked up behind her and grabber her right shoulder. He pushed a wave of love, compassion and understanding through the physical contact through the fear right to her core consciousness.

She spun around so quickly that he thought she was going to strike him. Instead, she grabbed him in a hug as her legs sagged. "Oh, god, Mike, I wanted this, to have your child, but not like this," she sobbed into his shoulder. Mike shifted his hold on her so that he could stroke her long, blonde hair, now matted with sweat. He didn't say anything but kept feeding her his emotions. Telepathy expressed the depth of his love, caring and understanding far better than spoke words. It was times like this that he almost felt guilty for his gifts.

"Don't you dare," Terry muttered. "It feels too good for you to feel guilty."

Mike laughed. She was rapidly becoming able to pick up his every emotion when they were in contact, and that contact was growing more frequent. "Better now?" he asked.

"Keep holding me," she said. "I know it's crazy, but that feels better than the thoughts."

Mike didn't argue; he just stood there and held her until he felt the strength return to her legs.

"Thanks a lot, love," she said as she pulled away. "You have no idea how much I needed that."

"I wouldn't say no idea," he said. "I could feel how shocked you were, especially when Stone announced it in front of the whole team. But that's over and done with. However, we will need to think about how to use you in the field."

"I," she stuttered, "I'll have to go off field duty. I hate it, but the risks are just too great. I can't risk our baby's life. Besides, the costumes don't provide much room for growth without becoming very obvious."

Mike laughed. "Very true. It also gives guys plenty of incentive to avoid beer guts. I wanted you to make the choice. I agree with it, but I didn't want to impose it, not on you."

"Thanks," she said. "Now, let's worry about someone else for a change. I think we're both better at that then we are worrying about ourselves."

"Very true," Mike said as he wrapped an arm around her waist as they walked out of the gym. He knew that the problem wasn't really solved, but they were both past it for the most part and they could do their jobs. As Terry said, caring for others was what they did best.

Margerie Patrick looked up from the pile of constituent letters and invitations that cluttered her desk at the three well-dressed people looking down at her. Two were men, tall, broad shouldered and narrow waisted, with tastefully short hair. The other was a woman with long blonde hair, sky blue eyes and a classic hourglass figure under a professional suit. As Senator Daniel Callaghan's secretary, she'd seen a lot of people, but these three looked like actors portraying modern Olympian Gods.

"May I help you?" she asked, the picture of professional courtesy.

"We're here to see the Senator," one of the men, gray eyes and brown hair, said.

"Do you have an appointment?" she asked. She knew there was a group coming in about now for a consultation about the joint committee on metahuman affairs, but she thought they were just the usual lobbyists. She knew that these three weren't the usual lobbyists.

"Yes," the man said. "Barkaz and party."

That was the name on the appointment book. "Just one moment," Margerie said as she picked up the phone. "Senator, your eleven o'clock is here."

"Okay, send them in," Callaghan answered in that tone that told Margerie he thought they were just some more lobbyists. He was in for a surprise.

"You can go right in," she said, standing up and opening the door for them.

"Thank you," the man said, his smile sending shivers down Margerie. She was on the wrong side of fifty and figured that she was well past all such urges. Those gray eyes dispelled that notion.

Senator Daniel Callaghan had thought he'd seen it all. As the senior senator from Massachusetts, he'd been in politics his whole life and he'd sat down with people from all walks of life and left most of them happy. Of course, they hadn't always gotten what they'd wanted, but he'd convinced them that what he'd given them was for the best. He had a soft spot for the underprivileged and a sore spot for those who spent money profligately, so he was the consummate Democrat. Still, the sight of the three people marching into his office like they owned it was a shock. They could have come from some porn company's central casting, but their bearing was regal, like they were some sort of royalty and he was supposed to kiss their rings or some such nonsense.

"Senator Callaghan," the lead man said, "I am called Barkaz. We have some information that may be of use to you in your hearing this afternoon."

"What sort of information?" Callaghan replied. The joint committee meeting was going to be a circus, and he was ranking Democrat. Carpenter and his team were going to be on their guard, with all of their facts in a row. He'd need something powerful to break them.

"Information that the 'hostages' that the Guardians took are, in fact, not ill at all. Rather, they are in perfect health. In some cases, even better than they were in when they were taken."

"That's hard to believe," Callaghan said. "And even harder to prove."

"Of course," Barkaz replied. "Still, you can get access to the medical reports of the paramedics on the scene. Those will corroborate what I have just said."

"They're due here later," Callaghan said. "How do you know about the prisoner's condition?"

"That is, for the moment, privileged information," Barkaz said. "Suffice it to say that we have information from very good sources."

Callaghan almost sighed. That would be a lever, but not one that he could work too hard. "Is there anything else?"

"Why, yes," Barkaz said, a Cheshire-cat smile emerging over his perfect teeth, "there is. In exchange for your support against this Foundation, we offer you a gift." The woman stood up and smiled saucily. She began to strip as she sauntered around Callaghan's desk. Callaghan was speechless. This was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen, and she was offering herself to him at Barkaz's instructions.

"If you continue to support our cause, she will be yours for whatever you desire. She is quite discreet and skilled. You have a number to contact me at; she will answer that number. I know you're busy, so she'll simply relieve a little tension now. You can enjoy her more fully later, especially if you do well at the committee hearing."

"I think," Callaghan panted, "that this will be a great relationship."

"I do hope so," Barkaz said. "We have so much to offer, all in exchange for so little."

Mike looked down at Kat's sleeping face. He could see the eye-tics common to REM sleep. He was surprised that the tranquilizer had taken her that far down, but evidently her body was ready to sleep. As the longest serving of the four victims, he thought that he had the best chance to contact her mind and try to learn what was going on. Doctor Stone was working at his equipment, analyzing the latest blood tests. Terry was monitoring Kat's vitals. Rich had wanted to hover over his love, but Mike had sent him to work on something that he and Juan were trying in the workshop. The last thing he needed was any emotional static from Rich.

Closing his eyes, Mike reached out for Kat's mind. Their familiarity made it easy for him to touch her thoughts, despite the drugs and god knew what else in her system. He forced his own images on her mind. In her state, he knew what she was likely to be dreaming about, and he didn't want to deal with that right now.

Instead, they appeared in his office, both in costume. Mike knew that Kat felt stronger and more self confident as Firemane, and that self-confidence would help him now. "Kat," he said, "can you hear me?"

"Mike," she said in a quiet voice before her face glazed over with desire. "Oh, Mike, it's been so lonely."

"Kat, fight it," he said sternly. "This isn't you, and you know it."

Her mouth opened as she started to speak, but it seemed to stick before she said anything. He could see her expression changing as she fought some internal struggle. Finally, her expression cleared. "Oh, Mike, I don't know how you did it, but I'm back," she said, her expression frightened. "But you can't wake me up yet. If I really see you or Rich, I'll lose it again. I don't know what's happening to me."

"That's what we're trying to figure out," Mike said. "What does it feel like?"

"Need," she said, looking down at her lap in shame. "Like I'm dying of thirst and you're a pool of cold water. It's much more intense than anything I've ever felt before. I've wanted you, you know that, but never like this. Did something happen to me in that ship?"

Mike nodded. "You and the other girls, except Terry. We're not sure just what happened, but we think they're messing with your hormones somehow. That's why you're like this, and the fact is that if we woke you up and you did what you wanted to, you'd all get pregnant."

"Oh, wow," Kat said, "that's nuts. Why would anyone do that?"

"I don't know," Mike said, "but that's lower priority than undoing it. Rich and Juan are working with Doc Stone and Terry to figure out just exactly what's happening and how to stop it. We aren't going to give up."

"I know," she said with a smile. "You'd better leave. I'm starting to lose it."

Mike nodded. "We love you, Kat." He broke the connection, opening his own eyes. He staggered slightly as the exertion of maintaining the contact hit him at once. Sweat beaded on his forehead and started to drip into his eyes before he brushed it away.

"Are you all right?" Terry asked. "You look beat."

"That's not as easy as it looks," Mike replied, "but I'll be fine. I managed to get her lucid. It sounds, from her accounts, like it's hormonal. Either that or a major personality rewrite to make her a nymphomaniac."

"These blood samples do show significantly increased levels of most female hormones," Stone said. "That would definitely produce the fertility effects, and quite possibly the mental aberrations." He squinted down at something on the slide. "However, these hormones are produced by several different glands. They've increased the production of all of them exponentially. If they can do this, there would appear to be very little they couldn't do to the human body."

"That's what scares me," Mike said. "Why didn't they do anything to us? If they could do that to the girls, they could just as easily dope the guys with something that would make us give in to them. Rather, they just tried to kill us. Something doesn't add up."

"The only explanation," Terry said, "is that they wanted the girls for themselves and wanted to get them, in the mood, I guess."

"It could also have been an insurance policy," Mike said. "If we did beat their robots, then we'd be so distracted by the girls that we'd ignore them. And they're right. Even though we aren't making out like rabbits, we're still wrapped up in helping them, rather than keeping an eye out for other problems. I'm going to talk to Jake for a few minutes." He turned and walked out towards the elevator, trying to keep the frantic tone of Kat's mental voice out of his head.

Low, dark clouds scudded over the Capitol's white dome, almost obscuring the tallest spire. The damp weather had not, however, slowed down the flow of people to the front of the Capitol for some hours now. While all of the local authorities knew that the Joint Committee for Metahuman Affairs would be meeting this afternoon, no one expected anything beyond the few protestors that had become fixtures no matter what issue was up for debate. However, what was happening now was nothing like that.

Two groups were forming: one carried placards with slogans like "No More Metas" and "Nuke the Foundation". The other carried just as many placards, but with "Metas Are People Too" and "Remember the War" splashed in bright colors on white cardboard. Chanting was beginning to rise from each group as their numbers swelled.

A CNN truck pulled up across from the Capitol. "Call the office," the on-site reporter said. "We need another unit. Outside is going to be just as nasty as inside, if not more."

Brian Carpenter tried very hard to keep an impassive mien. The committee room, usually the province of staffers with nothing better to do and the occasional government "watchdog" was filled to overflowing with observers. The Joint Committee, an unusual beast in that usually House and Senate preferred duplication to cooperation, took up two tiers of dais, allowing each member to look down on the tables where the witnesses sat. These arrangements had often been referred to as "pantheons of the gods", and Carpenter could see why. He felt like some peasant supplicant, begging for mercy from a row of implacable deities. He knew that was the point, but the oppressive dread he'd felt since he'd been called here made it harder than usual to resist the impressions.

Three members of the Foundation's legal branch sat at the table with him. He would have preferred to have Alyina with him, but she was still off training the Chosen One. Not that she would have anything to add to the deliberations, but she was always a steadying influence on him. Given the smug looks the FBI group at the other table was giving him, he needed all of the steadying he could get.

The chairman, a white-haired man of long, if undistinguished, service named Halter rapped his gavel. "This meeting will now come to order." Carpenter felt that the afternoon would be very disorderly indeed.

Mike rode the elevator up to the communications center. As he emerged, he saw Jake, in armor but with his helmet off, staring at one of the television monitors. While the Crimson Knight armor always looked stiff, he looked even more rigid than normal.

"What's going on?" Mike asked.

"Trouble," Jake said, motioning him over. As Mike walked around, he could see the familiar CNN logo in the bottom, and a by line announcing that this was a live feed from the Capitol. Mike could see two groups on the screen, taunting and chanting at each other.

"The hearing?" Mike asked.

"Affirmative," Jake replied. "What's wrong with this picture?"

Mike looked closely. He could have just probed Jake's mind for the answer, but he needed the mental challenge. "No cops," Mike said.

"Right in one," Jake replied. "With a demonstration that size, much less two on opposite sides, the cops would be out in force to keep them apart. With the way things are now, this is a riot waiting to happen."

"Damn," Mike snarled. "This is it."

"What?" Jake asked.

"I've been wondering if what the aliens did to the girls wasn't a distraction for us. Either we'd be too busy humping like rabbits or too worried about them to do anything else. I've been waiting for the other shoe to drop. This may just be it."

"I doubt it," Jake said. "Still, I've got a call in to an old buddy of mine who works DCPD now. He should be," he was interrupted by the ringing of the telephone.

Jake snatched the receiver out of the cradle. "Pryor here," he said. "Hey, you old reprobate, how's it going? No, I didn't just call to chat. I'm watching this mess on CNN out in front of the Capitol. Now, I'm no cop, but I thought you guys would be in the middle of that to keep it from getting out of hand." He listened a second and his face lengthened with a look of disbelief. "No, I didn't think they did that kind of thing, but, hey, who knows? Yeah, I'm up around Baltimore now. Listen, I'm busy right now, but I'll call you up in a week or so and take you out to dinner. I know how little you cops eat," Jake laughed before he said his good-byes.

"Let me guess," Mike said, "the Guardians are supposed to be providing security."

"You're on a hot streak," Jake said as he shook his head ruefully. "I just hope you can get us out of this with our reputations intact."

"Only one choice," Mike said. He walked over to an intercom panel on the wall and slapped the 'talk' button. "Strongarm, Wraith, report to communications center immediately. We have an emergency situation." He turned back to Jake. "We go."

"So," Callaghan said, leaning over his microphone and staring at the FBI table, "are you saying that the Federal Bureau of Investigation did not request the assistance of the Foundation's metahuman operatives on the case?"

"That is correct, Senator," one of the FBI men said. "We requested the Foundation's assistance with the scientific analysis of a material sample, nothing more."

"Then, why," Callaghan said, shifting his position to glare at Carpenter, "did your metahumans interfere?"

"Our presence was requested," Carpenter said, "by the Texas Department of Public Safety following the kidnapping of one of the Texas Rangers assigned to the case."

"But wouldn't you be bound to obey the lead agency in the case?" Senator Brooks chimed in, following Callaghan's lead. The power was almost intoxicating to Callaghan, and he hadn't played his final trump yet.

"Actually," Carpenter said, "we did. The FBI was assisting the Texas Rangers, not the other way around. Hence, the lead agency did call us in."

"We dispute that," one of the FBI agents said. "As the lead federal agency, the Foundation should have referred to us."

"Do you agree with this, mister Carpenter?" Callaghan asked.

"No, Senator, I do not," Carpenter said. "In the Foundation's charter, we are directed to assist any lawfully organized component of the United States, be they county, city, state or federal agency. We are not required to refer to any other federal administrative agency when we have received a lawful request for assistance."

"That may bear looking at," Callaghan said.

Outside the Capitol, men began to move in both crowds, placing rocks and bottles in people's hands as they moved forward, toward the other crowd. Fists that had been raised lowered to receive their weapons. From some of the bottles, rags sprouted that were quickly lit. The shouting took on a more desperate edge, as if each side wanted to frighten the other away before the inevitable confrontation.

From one crowd, no one would later remember which; a single stone arced into the air. On both sides, more projectiles were readied. Some shrank back from the impact; others began to surge forward. A few in the crowd drew more deadly weapons, guns gleaming with blued steel in the dim light.

The first stone never hit. It stopped just at the apex of its fight, hanging in the air. Both sides stopped and looked at it. Their attention on each other broke as the laws of physics seemed to take a short holiday. A shout from the side dispelled that notion.

"That," Mindstar called, "will be enough of that." By his side, Strongarm, Crimson Knight and Wraith stood. As the two crowds stopped for a second, the four Guardians strode forward, into the small gap between the crowds. Somewhere, a CNN producer was approving a pay raise for the reporter who suggested a camera outside the Capitol.

"And, on a related subject," Callaghan said, picking up the folder with the paramedic's reports, "I have here reports from the paramedics that examined the hostages immediately after the Guardians attacked. They say that all of the hostages were in excellent condition. Why haven't the former hostages been released to rejoin their families?"

"All of the hostages are showing the signs of Stockholm Syndrome, Senator," Carpenter said, trying to keep from grinning in triumph. Callaghan had walked right into it.

"But why wouldn't the medical reports taken on scene have reported it?" Callaghan asked, his tone confused despite his efforts to sound accusatory.

"Because, Senator, Stockholm Syndrome is not a physical ailment, but a psychological condition. It refers to a psychological disorder whereby a hostage identifies with their captors rather than with the individuals from their life. If it is not treated completely, it can lead to serious behavioral disorders, including criminal behavior in previously law-abiding individuals. At this stage in the treatment process, we have to prevent contact with individuals from the former hostage's life. At a later point in treatment, this contact will be allowable, even essential. Until that time, however, we will be forced to restrict them to a mental hospital."

"Is this correct?" the chair said, directing the question towards the FBI contingent.

"Yes, Senator," the spokesman said, "our doctors and psychologists have examined the hostages and have concurred with the diagnosis of Stockholm Syndrome. They are being, consulted, as to treatment regimens, and they concur with the recommendation to minimize contact at this time."

"We have a right to be here," one of the anti-metahuman protestors shouted.

"Yes," Mindstar said, "you do. You also have a right to spread your filth and stupidity. I can't stop you from doing that. However, neither of you has the right to attack the other party and start a full-fledged riot. Anyone who attempts to cross this line will be restrained with all necessary force."

"You ought to run 'em out of here," one of the pro-metahuman protestors replied.

"I'm afraid I can't do that," Mindstar called. "They have just as much right to make their feelings heard as you do. The freedom of speech is one of the most fundamental rights that we enjoy, and one of the most important to defend. I disagree with what they say, but I will defend to the death their right to say it. You are the only ones who can stop them, but not by fighting them with your fists or with rocks. Only words can truly defeat words, words of caring and love can defeat words of hate. I can not stop them from saying what they want, but I can implore you to say what you believe."

"Guardians, Guardians, Guardians," the pro-metahumans began chanting. No one noticed a few men from each side slipping away from the crowds. Anyone who saw them just assumed that they were leaving because the fracas was over.

Carpenter closed his briefcase with a slam. He felt bone-tired from the endless verbal battles with the FBI and with Callaghan. The man was on a mission, and the mission was the Foundation's destruction. The Stockholm Syndrome answer would keep things low-key for a while, but that was only a temporary answer. Unless they found out how the aliens were controlling those people, and how they'd done those things to their bodies, this would heat up again.

"Hello, Uncle Brian," a familiar voice said in his mind.

"Mike?" Brian thought. He was very careful to keep from speaking out loud or letting his face betray him.

"Come out front," Michael said. Brian liked his smug tone. He could use some good news.

"We need to make a statement anyway," Brian thought. "Out in a few minutes."

Carpenter couldn't keep his jaw shut as he strode out onto the Capitol steps. Two blocs of protestors occupied the street in front of the Capitol, with Mindstar, Crimson Knight, Strongarm and Wraith between them.

"Mister Carpenter," a reporter came up beside him, shoving a microphone in his face, "comment on your statement that the former hostages are all showing symptoms of Stockholm Syndrome."

"The best psychologists in the country, especially those with hostage experience, all confirm that the former hostages are all suffering from Stockholm Syndrome. Right now, that's all the information we can release publicly," he said, pushing through and down to the bottom of the steps.

Mindstar was waiting there, his posture rigid at attention. "Good to see you, sir."

"Are you still needed here?" Carpenter asked, looking to each side.

"No, sir," Mindstar replied. "I believe the situation will remain peaceful, especially since the hearings are over."

"Good," Carpenter said. "Come with me." He walked through the space the Guardians had been stationed in, drawing them along in his wake. He paraded them right past the CNN camera truck to his official car. Crimson Knight displaced the security guard in the front seat and Wraith drove.

"I'm assuming Protector One is at Reagan?" Carpenter asked.

"Yes, sir," Mindstar replied. Wraith pulled smartly out into the street and began the long drive to the airport.

"Just how in the hell did you end up there?" Carpenter asked. "Riot control's not your job."

"It is when somebody tells the DCPD that we'll handle it," he said.

"How'd you find that out?" Carpenter asked.

"That was me," Crimson Knight said. "One of Jake Pryor's old squad mates is a lieutenant with the DCPD. He found out that the Guardians were supposed to be pulling riot duty, even though no one told us. So, Mindstar decided that we needed to be here."

"It was a lesser of two evils," Mindstar replied. "If we played it by the book, there would have been a riot. Afterwards, the police would have said that we were supposed to handle it, even though they hadn't requested us. We would have been technically correct, but we'd have been crucified in the press. As it stands, we looked great on camera and prevented the riot. I can live with any other political fallout."

"You're right," Carpenter said. "Did it look that bad?"

"I caught the first rock in mid air. I held it there for a second, both to let the sides know that something was up and to let the cameras focus in on it. I'm getting tired of playing for the cameras, but that's the only way we're going to survive this."

"You're right," Carpenter said. "Any progress with the girls?"

"I left Terry and Juan behind to work on some things with Stone. Hopefully, they'll have an idea of what to do when we get back."

"Good," Carpenter said. "I'm coming back with you. We need a real strategy session, hopefully with everybody there, but at least with who we can."

"I agree," Mindstar replied. "Besides, I want you to look at that CNN tape. I've got a hunch about something."

Barkaz sat back in the luxurious leather chair. Here, in the concealment of their Washington base, he was dressed only in his harness, reveling in the feeling of the smooth, cool leather against his skin. He focused deliberately on the sensations in order to ignore his frustrations.

"Now what, Barkaz?" Tiero demanded. Tiero was his second, and a good one, but he tended to question too much. "You claimed that preparing their females would distract these Guardians, but it did not. They disrupted your little ploy to discredit them. Now they are heroes once again."

"In some circles," Barkaz said, "perhaps. However, they violated their standing orders by intervening where they were not asked. Our contacts, including this Callaghan, will be able to exploit that."

Marka walked to the door of the office. "Callaghan has called. He wants me as soon as possible, at his home."

Barkaz nodded and smiled. "You will go to him. Teiro will take you. Pleasure Callaghan. Let him know just what other services we can offer him. Go now." Marka knelt down, waiting for Tiero to get up and pass her. She stood up and fell in behind him, like an obedient dog walking at heel. Barkaz smiled. These Guardians were more formidable than he had thought, but he had his own surprises. These humans were remarkably vulnerable to his 'motivations'.

As the Protector One settled to the landing bay floor, Mike could see Dr. Stone and Terry waiting for them. "Something's up," he said as the landing ramp descended.

"How did," Carpenter started, then he saw Terry. "Oh. I forget." He led the team down the ramp.

"I saw you on the news," Terry said, throwing her arms around Mike's neck. "You were great." She smiled and hugged Brian. "Nice to see you, too."

"We have come up with a possible cure for the incapacitated women," Stone said without preamble. "However, it requires Mindstar's telepathic powers to work."

"If everybody keeps taking a piece of my mind," Mindstar said, "I won't have much left. Lead on." Terry barely kept from giggling as she accompanied Mindstar and Stone into the hall.

"Did he just make a joke?" Wraith asked.

"He has been known to," Strongarm said, "from time to time. Come on."

Inside the medical lab, Juan was setting up a complicated apparatus that contained a bell-like projection on one end. "Hey, Bossman," he called, "you finally got back. Cool. I'm just about ready to go."

"Go ahead and tell me what the heck that is," Mindstar said. "You're just dying to."

"It's an ultrasonic projector," Juan answered. "I found out that those little nanobots use ultrasound to see where they're going and where the others are. By tinkering around with some samples, I found a frequency that signals them to self-destruct. They don't make any kind of bang, so it's safe."

"What we need you to do," Stone said, "is to monitor the patient's mental state and let us know when we can administer a stimulant to awaken them."

"Actually," Terry said, "most of them are probably about at the end of their last tranquilizer. You may be able to wake them up on their own."

"Gotcha," Mindstar said. "Firemane's first."

"Okay," Techno said. He moved the cart with the ultrasonic projector to the foot of Firemane's bed. "Give me a sec to tune it." His fingers flew over the control panel facing him. "Ready when you are."

"Start your end," Mindstar said. "I'll be in shortly."

"Commencing wave bombardment," Techno said. There was no audible or visual signal, but Mindstar went into Firemane's mind.

"Kat?" he called. "Come to me." He created the mental image of his office again. Firemane appeared a heartbeat later, looking much better.

"Mike, I can feel the need weakening," she said. "What are you doing?"

"Techno's doing it," he said. "He's making the machines they put in your blood destroy themselves. What I'm here to do is find out when you're ready to wake up."

"Katrina," another voice said. Carlysa appeared, her white robes transforming into a white business suit. "The device can only take you back so far. You must complete the process yourself. Use the power within you."

"How," Kat asked, "I'm asleep."

"Your mind is what shapes the energy," Carlysa said, "and you mind is active, thanks to Mindstar. The energy remembers your true pattern, what your body should be. Use it to finish cleansing the taint from your body."

Kat closed her eyes. "I, I can feel it," she said, "I can feel the power. I'm focusing on the pattern and letting it go." Mike felt an echo of the power here in her mind, and it shook him deeply. He felt like he'd just been washed over by a lightning bolt.

"I'm ready," Kat said.

"Good," Mindstar replied. "Let's go." He pulled himself out of her mind slowly, letting her follow him out into the light.

He blinked and fought against the wave of exhaustion as he returned to his body. Rich was leaning over Kat's bed, threatening to smother her. "Kat?" he said.

"Rich," she said, opening her eyes. "Oh, Rich," she cried as she threw her arms around his neck.

"I don't get it," Juan said. "It was working, but the doc said her hormone levels weren't dropping. Then, zap, they were back to normal, and you woke her up. What happened?"

"Magic," Mindstar said. "Kat had to heal herself, to purge the excess from her blood. She'll probably need to do it with the others as well."

"I'm ready," she said, disengaging from Rich and standing up. "Who's next?"

"Mind Mistress," Mike said. "I don't know about you, but one more is about all I've got left in me. She can handle the last two."

Carpenter looked around the briefing table. For now, the communications monitors were quiet, and the team was also quiet. He knew that many of the team wanted to have their own, private celebrations after they were done here, but he had something that he wanted to talk to them about now.

"It's great to see all of you here," he said. "Now, after you get your celebrations over, we have to get back to work. I have reason to believe that the Foundation is under attack from within the government, possibly assisted by groups outside of the government."

"The hearings?" Aria asked.

"One part of a bigger picture," he said. "Our conflict with the FBI brought up something that I'd been thinking about for a while. Up until now, our primary purpose has been law enforcement against metahuman criminals. While that is still important, there is another need out there that we may be uniquely qualified to fill. To do so, I'm ordering an expansion of the facilities." He keyed in a command on the console in front of him. A holographic image sprang into being over the center of the table. The image was a three-dimensional blueprint of the current base, with a new wing added that stretched back behind the building, making the base L-shaped.

"Okay," Mike said. "I'll bite. What's the new purpose?"

Carpenter smiled and glanced at Kat.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding," Mike said.

"What?" Aria asked. "What is it?"

"A school," Brian said. "A school for young metahumans."