by

Eric Metcalf

Tony Daniels tried not to roll his eyes as his mother leaned over and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Be good," she said, "and stand up straight."

"Yes, Mom," Tony replied as he got out of the car, adjusting his backpack on his thick shoulders as he stood. He had to force his head up to even give the semblance of correct posture. Up until a few weeks ago, he had been a relatively normal boy, just before puberty. However, when the changes began with that process, they took a detour in Tony's case. He had gotten taller and broader rapidly. His shoulders had thickened until they were massive knots of muscles and tendons, too heavy for him to keep his head on a level with them. Instead, he walked perpetually stoop-shouldered. The other kids in his class had taken full advantage of his problem to tease him. He was able mostly to take the teasing in good grace, because he understood that it arose out of jealousy for his newfound strength and his intellect. Even as his body strengthened, his mind had also expanded. He had always been relatively smart and studious, but since the changes began his mind had become a sponge, soaking up information at a prodigious rate and hungry for more. This had allowed him the stability to understand the jealous teasing and accept it, for the most part. Still, something burned in him at their words, something that he was afraid of in himself.

"Hey, it's Tony the Gorilla," a taunting voice called from ahead. Tony knew the voice without having to look up: Timmy Merritt, the class bully. He had also grown up big like Tony, but his growth had been more normal, without any growth in his intellect. However, he also knew that Tony was stronger, so he teased him about his deformity relentlessly. He also had three of his buddies with him. None of them were big enough to take on Tony alone, but together they felt stronger and tougher. Besides, they'd let him take the first swing. That way, Tony would get in trouble for the fight.

Tony tried to duck his head and ignore them, but Timmy shifted into his path. "Hey, watch it," he yelled as he bumped into Tony. "Watch where you're going, gorilla!"

"Get out of my way, Timmy," Tony said. He could feel anger stirring in him at the harsh words, and he wanted to get away from them before it burst.

"Aren't you supposed to apologize, mama's boy?" Timmy sneered. "I thought you were a nice boy."

"You ran into me," Tony said. "Now get out of my way." The anger was burning brighter inside him now. He could feel the other boys closing in now, encircling him. The confinement touched something deep inside him, adding a desperate edge to his anger.

"I said apologize, gorilla," Timmy snarled. He loomed up over Tony, trying to overawe with his greater height. Tony's hands had been balled up into fists, but now he stretched them out. He felt a strange tingling from his fingernails, as if they were getting harder.

"And I said get out of my way," Tony said. He looked up, trying to funnel his anger into his eyes. It must have worked, because Timmy took a step back at the glare. Before Tony could start forward, he was shoved down from behind.

"You need better manners," one of the others sneered, but Tony didn't hear. His being on hands and knees, with the bullies towering over him was too much. He exploded off of the ground with a howl and swung his hands back. He felt his nails grow longer at his command, and part of him reveled in the feeling of the bullies' clothes parting under his claws.

Sarah Bjorn was muttering about the heat when she heard the commotion ahead. She looked up, her ice-blue eyes focusing on the knot of boys. She recognized Timmy Merritt and his gang immediately; they were always teasing the girls, although she would have none of it. She wondered whom they were tormenting for a second before she heard Tony Daniels' voice. That set her blood boiling. Tony was a sweet, bright boy who had suddenly turned hunchback. She knew that he was smarter for the change, and wondered about it a little, but she knew that Tony had always been nice to her and was actually quite shy. He didn't deserve this sort of treatment. Still, none of the teachers were around. They were going to get away with it.

Her heart froze at the animal howl that came from the knot of boys. It was Tony's voice, but it was no human sound. She saw a gout of blood jump up into the air as Tony's arm, now tipped with red claws, swung back and out. She felt her heart freeze, and the chill spread to her arms and legs. Faintly, she felt the air grow colder as her fear seemed to crystallize. Ice started to form in her hands. Before she really knew what she was doing, she formed the ice into two large balls and then hurled them at the boys. One struck Tony on the shoulder, knocking him down; the other caught Timmy square on the forehead, knocking him out. She saw Tony reach back with his uninjured arm to slash Timmy's throat.

"No, Tony," she cried, "don't do it!"

Michael dropped into the head chair at the Guardian's conference table. He had been doing some paperwork upstairs, and so was in civilian clothes. Rich and Kat had been manning the console when they triggered a priority alert. Crimson Knight's team had been exercising downstairs, and they were already seated, most panting and sweaty from their exertions. Terry was also at the table already; Dr. Stone had been examining her regularly, and she had come from one of those sessions. She wasn't showing yet, but they both knew that it was only a matter of time.

Brian Carpenter's voice looked out from the main viewscreen. "We have a situation. At 0730 hours this morning, we had an incident with two teenaged metahumans in a high school outside of Cleveland. Several normals were injured. I've been on the horn since then with the local sheriff. He's agreed, reluctantly, that this falls under our jurisdiction, seeing as how both of the metahumans are juveniles. That's bought us some time. Following up on the plan we worked out, I want Alpha team to bring the two juveniles in as trainees."

"Wait a sec," Kat said, "the new wing's only about half finished. We weren't supposed to take on any students for weeks."

"I know, Katrina," Carpenter said, "but we don't have any choice. These two are in a lot of trouble. The sheriff mentioned something about having to protect the two metahumans instead of the normals, so I think a lynch mob may be in the offing. We can't wait."

"No, we can't," Mike said. "Here's the plan. We'll fly the Protector One into Cleveland and then take a car from there to the town. Terry and I will do the recruitment; Rich, Kat and Juan will be on standby. Once Terry and I are in the area, the Protector One will fly high cover in the area until I call you in. If everything goes right, we'll pull a runway exit onto the Protector and get airborne with no one the wiser. If not, you'll be in the area for backup. I think a couple of federal agents ought to be able to pull this off, but I want to be sure."

Senator Callaghan steepled his fingers, looking down at his desk rather than at the man sitting across from him. "So, General," he said, "is Omicron ready for deployment or not?"

"Well, Senator, the unit is assembled and prepared, but I would like more time," General Travis replied. His voice held a sharp edge. He didn't like bowing and scraping to senators, but Callaghan was the main Congressional rep on the Omicron project, and so he had to be mollified.

"I'm afraid a situation has arisen that requires Omicron's unique abilities," Callaghan said. He handed a file folder to the General.

Travis glanced through the papers, a deep frown forming on his face. "Senator, this is highly irregular. Omicron is a military operation, and we're forbidden to operate..."

Callaghan handed Travis another piece of paper. "This takes care of the operational issues," Callaghan said.

Travis nodded. "Yes, I would say it does. All right, Senator, I'll order Omicron activated. ETA should be about twelve hours from now."

"Thank you, General," Callaghan said, "and your country thanks you." Callaghan waited while Travis left, his fingers steepled again. When the door closed, he turned and picked up the phone. He dialed the number from memory, his fingers finding the numbers easily. "Yes, it's done," he said. "They'll be out of the way by tonight. Now, about the matter of another visit."

Mike took another glance at the Chevy Lumina's clock, cursing the glowing numerals for running too fast. It had taken them nearly three hours to get things arranged, to get the team here and for he and Terry go get on the road. The rental car sure wasn't one that he would put in the garage, but it was all they could get on such short notice. He just hoped that the kids didn't have much luggage. He kept one eye on the road and the other on the clock as he went as fast as he dared. Getting stopped for speeding wouldn't help them, but the urge to drive faster in the thin traffic was almost irresistible.

"They'll still be there," Terry said calmly. "By the map, it's only a few more miles."

"I know," Mike said, "but I can't help the feeling that we have to move fast on this one. These two made a big show out of emerging, and I doubt we're the only team in the field on this one."

"Who else do you think is here?" Terry asked. "Not the Shadow Empire."

Mike laughed. "No, the Empire is gone and the Guard doesn't want much to do with metahumans any more. Besides, we haven't heard of any activity in this area, so a kill team is pretty remote. No, I'm thinking of other capture teams. Those aliens, for one."

"Have you heard anything more about them?" Terry asked, her voice almost cracking with fear. Her hands started to go to her belly.

"No," Mike said, "and that worries me. Those people we rescued are still convinced that their masters are coming for them. The best psychologists can't convince them otherwise. They say it's like the worst case of Stockholm Syndrome ever seen in every person."

"I can imagine," Terry said. "I remember what the others were like when you brought them in, and that was just from their gas. I hate to think of what they did to those people with time to work on them."

They were silent for a long moment. "Mike," Terry said, looking down at her lap, "we both know that I'm going to start, showing, in a little while. I, I don't want to be on the team once that happens."

Mike nodded. He had run over this situation in his mind time and time again since he heard of Terry's pregnancy. He had finally come up with a solution. "I'll grant you leave from the combat team on the condition that you stay on and take over teaching and running of the school while you're indisposed. I can't see you going flat on your back for anything other than the birth, so you shouldn't have any problems." He glanced over at her and smiled, sending her a telepathic push of love and understanding.

She smiled back, her eyes clouding with tears. "Oh, thanks. I'm so glad you thought of something for me to do rather than just being a dead weight."

Mike laughed. "I never thought of you as dead weight. I just needed something productive for you to do that wasn't physically strenuous. Taking care of these kids should be just the ticket."

Mike straightened his tie, cursing the need for the thing, and rang the doorbell to the Daniels' house. A woman answered the door, her skin just dark enough to mark her as African-American, looking frightened and surprised to see him there. "Mrs. Daniels," he said, "I'm Michael Longfellow. I believe you were called about my visit."

She breathed a visible sigh of relief. "Yes, Mister Longfellow, I was. Please, come in." The inside of the house matched the outside, Michael thought. The furnishings were all tasteful, if not terribly expensive. The brick outside and wood-paneled interior proclaimed the house a solid piece of middle-American values, regardless of who inhabited it. According to Carpenter's information, the Daniels were perfectly suited to the house. Torien, the father, was a manager at a local bank while Daniella was a computer system analyst. They lived comfortably, but not ostentatiously, and all evidence showed that they had lavished every attention on Anthony, their only child. Anthony's mutations would have shocked them to the core.

Torien was sitting in the living room. A tall, broad man with almost ebony skin, he resembled a Zulu warrior in a business suit. His dark eyes focused on Michael as he walked in. Michael could feel the man's personal power, but he did allow himself to be awed by it.

"My, husband, Torien. Tor, this is Mister Longfellow whose people called earlier."

"Nice to meet you," Mike said, extending his hand.

"Thank you," Torien replied, taking Mike's hand with a strong grip. Mike matched the grip in strength until Torien let go. Torien's eyes held a new respect as he sat back down. He was probably expecting Mike to let go of the grip in order to break the pressure; Mike knew better than to give in.

"In light of the circumstances," Mike said, "I'll get right to the point. Based on the incident this morning, I have reason to believe that your son, Anthony, possesses metahuman abilities, including physical mutations. I represent a school that has been set up to work with students with just such abilities." He opened his briefcase and took out two file folders. The information within was just factual enough to avoid being a downright lie, but the story was woefully incomplete.

"We are funded by a number of philantropic organizations, so there is no tuition, and all expenses are met by the school. I realize that you're financially secure, but someone with Anthony's physical stature is going to require a lot of specialized clothing. That can get expensive. However, keeping up with his mind may be more expensive."

"What do you mean?" Daniella asked, her voice shaking.

Mike chuckled. "From all of the reports I've read, Anthony's mental capabilities are becoming more prodigious by the day. I anticipate that, if he shows as much scientific inquisitiveness as his school reports indicate, we'll go through a lot of experimental equipment and supplies for him. You see, we're a small institution and we place a great deal of weight on each individual succeeding to his own personal best rather than comparing students to each other."

"Will they make fun of me?" Anthony asked. Mike and his parents all turned; they hadn't heard him come in. "The kids here are jealous because I'm smart, so they make fun of me. Will the kids at your school do it too?"

Mike shook his head. "No, they won't. They won't be jealous, because they know they're special too. That's what the bullies at your school are missing. They know they're not special like you are, so they have to try and pull you down. The other students at my school know they're special, so they don't have to pull you down."

Anthony nodded. "Okay. I want to go."

Daniella's eyes were wet with welling tears; Torien just nodded. "Very well, Mister Longfellow. What do we need to sign?"

Mike took out a small packet of papers. "These are the consent and guardianship forms." As Torien and Daniella bent over the forms, Mike looked over at Anthony and gave him an encouraging smile and a wink. He'd known when Anthony had come in, but he'd waited for Anthony to speak instead of saying anything himself. The boy was very quiet on his feet, so Mike thought that it would be better to hold back on revealing his mental powers until the time was more fortuitous.

Terry knocked on the door to the mobile home of the Bjorns. A haggard looking blonde woman answered the door. "Ms. Bjorn?" Terry said. "I'm Terry Longfellow. I believe that you were contacted earlier."

"From the school, yes," Hilda Bjorn said. Her hair was pulled back into a severe bun, but it was light blonde. Her eyes were a bright, icy blue that matched her daughters almost to a shade. Terry wondered for a moment if the father wasn't also Scandinavian. "Come in, please."

The house was nice enough; the furnishings were crowded somewhat in the small space, but they were tasteful, even if they did tend towards very light colors. Terry almost felt like she was being blinded by all of the light. Sarah was sitting on the couch, her head downcast as Terry and her mother came in.

"You're here to take me away, aren't you?" Sarah said quietly.

"Only if your mother wants me to," Terry said, "and if you want to go. I can't force you to come, but I think this school is the best place for you."

"Will Anthony be coming too?" she asked, looking up. Terry smiled at the plea in her eyes. She really felt something for the boy, probably pity right now, but maybe something else.

"My husband is talking to his family," Terry said. "I feel sure they'll say yes. Anthony needs to be sheltered a bit for a few years until he learns to accept his appearance. You, on the other hand, need the sheltering until you learn to fully control your powers."

"She knows how to control them," Hilda said. "She just can't get excited."

Terry shook her head. "That's repression, not control. She can't live all of her life afraid of her own emotions, afraid of what will happen if she lets her control slip. She has to be trained to accept her powers, to yoke them to her conscious will, to use them when and how she wants to. That training, plus a classical education, is what we're offering."

Hilda looked down. "I can't pay much."

Terry nodded. "That's not a concern. All of our students attend on scholarship. The school takes care of all expenses while they're with us. We feel that no student who needs to be at the school should be left out, for any reason."

Hilda nodded. "I was afraid something like this would happen. I've known about Sarah's powers for a little while, and I knew in the back of my mind that something would happen to reveal those powers. I just wanted her to have a normal life."

"Her life will never be completely normal," Terry said, "but we can prepare her to join society as a productive and informed citizen, with confidence in herself and in her control of her powers."

Hilda smiled. "That's more than any other school can say. But it's up to her."

Sarah smiled. "I'd like it. It sounds like fun."

Terry laughed. "Oh, it can be fun, but it's also a lot of work. But I'm glad you're coming. Here are the consent forms." She felt Mike's touch in her mind.

"When do we leave?" Sarah asked.

"Well, my husband and I could only get one car on such short notice, so it'll be a few minutes until he's back from Anthony's. Are you packed?"

Sarah nodded. "I don't have much to pack."

Terry smiled. "Don't worry about it."

"Are we gonna drive all the way to Maryland?" Sarah groaned. She had never been on a long trip, but she knew that she didn't like feeling so cooped up. It wasn't Tony's fault, but his big shoulders took up a lot of room in the back seat.

"Nope," Mike said. "We're just going to drive to Cleveland, get on a plane, and fly to the school."

"Does the school have its own private airstrip?" Tony asked. He knew that these two were more than they appeared to be. The guy wasn't even pretending to not be intimidated by Tony's massive body; he really didn't care. It was as if he knew that he could stop Tony from doing anything that he didn't like with a thought. The woman, too, had a confident air about her that you just don't get from being a schoolmarm.

"Something like that," Terry replied with a smile. "Don't worry, it's not a long drive to the airport."

"Oh, I know," Tony said. "I'm just not too comfortable in cars anymore." Sarah smiled at Tony's gesture, and he returned one of his shy smiles. "Is it going to be a commercial flight?"

Mike chuckled. "No, not commercial. Lets just say that some of our friends let us use the plane for special occasions, and you two qualify."

"You must have rich friends," Sarah said.

Terry laughed out loud. "Oh, we do. Listen, we'll explain more on the flight. It's just that."

"You didn't want our parents to know," Tony said. "Who are you, really?"

"Friends," Mike said. "The training and schooling we talked about is all quite real. It's just some of the details of who we really are that are sensitive."

"Uh oh," Terry said. "Trouble." They were nearly out of town, but two battered pickup trucks had been driven into the road, nose to nose. A line of men stood in front of the trucks. Mike could see an assortment of rifles, pistols and shotguns in their hands. He'd expect something like this in Texas, but evidently Ohio had enough roughnecks to form a pretty good lynch mob.

"Trouble, all right," Mike replied. He began slowing as he mentally reached out for Firemane's mind. He found her, high overhead. "Trouble," he thought, "get ready to descend."

"Right," she replied. Mike broke contact just as the car rolled to a stop in front of the line.

"Sit tight," Mike said. "I'll see if I can get these guys to back down." He got out of the car, locking eyes with the man in the center of the line. Burly and hard-eyed, this guy was trying to be the leader. He'd gotten this group organized, but he needed to stay on top of things to keep their loyalty. Now it was time to change that.

"Clear the road," Mike said in his best command voice.

"Not until you hand over the freaks," the leader said. "That nigger with the claws damn near killed by boy. The sheriff may have backed down, but we ain't gonna."

"You don't have a choice," Mike said. He reached around into his back pocket and pulled out a leather wallet. Flashing it open, he said, "US Marshall. The federal government has jurisdiction over these two. Now, move aside, or be charged with obstructing justice."

"You're federal agents?" Tony asked. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"How do you know we're federal agents?" Terry shot back. She could tell what Mike was saying, but that was only because of their link.

"He just flashed a badge at those guys. You guys aren't state, and you rank the sheriff, so that makes you feds," Tony said, obviously proud of himself for having deduced that.

Terry nodded. "Well, you're right. Unfortunately, they don't seem to care."

"It'll take more than a dime-store badge to fool me," the leader said. "The feds are already here." He nodded behind him. Five figures strode out from behind the trucks. Four were men, with one woman, who was the tallest one there. Even though they were all in civilian clothes, Mike could see their military bearings and movements. These were black ops personnel, Mike knew, and his old nose for powers was twitching.

"Terry," he thought, "I'm going to need backup. These guys are metas and military to boot." He reached out for Firemane again. "Firemane, deploy now."

"Defense has no jurisdiction here," Mike said, hoping to rattle them.

"Who the hell are you?" the meta leader said. He was tall and strong looking, but Mike could almost sense that his powers weren't as straightforward as he looked.

"Like the badge says, Deputy US Marshall Michael Longfellow. Now, who the hell are you?"

"You don't need to know," the meta replied. "All you need to know is that we're taking the kids."

"Over my dead body," Terry replied as she came up to stand beside Mike. She stood far enough to Mike's right that they could both swing their arms without hitting each other.

"You asked for it," the meta said. "Go!" Mike stepped in close and launched a strike at the man before he could try an attack. The hand strike connected on his stomach, but he didn't flinch.

"Gotta do better than that," he sneered. Mike raised his force field in time to ward off a blast of telekinetic force. He replied with his own bolt, slamming the guy backwards.

"I was just going easy on you," Mike replied.

"Oh no you don't," one of the others yelled. It was an Asian man, tall and regal. He swung a punch at Mike's head that his force field barely deflected, and the launched an elbow strike that knocked Mike backwards even through the force field.

"Mike," Terry yelled. She stepped in to help him when a massive hand swung her back around.

"You're mine," the amazon said. Terry blocked a punch at her head, and then she replied with a punch of her own. The amazon staggered back from the impact.

"Hey," she said, "you're a metahuman."

"Good guess," Terry replied, falling into a fighting stance. "Now, let's dance."

"They're metas, like us," Tony said, watching Mike and Terry fight. He suddenly started laughing. "I know who they are now."

"Who?" Sarah asked. Before Terry could say anything, both of the rear doors swung open. A powerfully built black man had ripped open Tony's door, and a tall lean Caucasian had torn off Sarah's.

"You're coming with us, kids," the black man said.

"Not a chance," Tony snarled. He reached out with his left hand and slashed down with his claws. They ripped the man's wool shirt over his chest, but they didn't nick the flesh underneath.

"Don't make me mad," the man said, reaching in. He stopped suddenly and pulled back. Eight feet of purple-clad muscle was towering over him.

"I don't think so," Strongarm said just before launching a massive uppercut that threw the man backwards to land, flat on his back, in front of the car.

"Oh shit," the man reaching for Sarah muttered.

"Fire bolt," Firemane cried. A tongue of flame blasted the man, sending him staggering back.

Techno flew over the car on his boot jets, landing just in front of it. "Hey, ninja," he yelled to the Asian attacking Mike, "rock on!" He pointed a weapon at him, and pulled the trigger. A flood of focused sound waves assaulted the man, disorienting him and sending him staggering back with a cry of pain.

"Give it up," Mike called to the leader, "it's over."

"Omicron, pull back," the leader replied. He and the others began running. The lynch mob had already dispersed, leaving the road clear.

"You got it, Gunny," the amazon called before she grew and strode away.

"Don't pursue," Mike said, catching his breath.

"They tried to kill you," Firemane said.

Mike shook his head. "They were after the kids. We were incidental. In fact, I don't think they knew who we were. That was their mistake."

"You're the Guardians, aren't you?" Tony asked. He and Sarah had come up to them after Omicron had fled.

Mike nodded. "Yep. We are at that. Techno, call in the Protector."

"We're going to get to ride in the Protector One?" Sarah asked.

Terry smiled. "That was the plan all along. We're just getting onboard earlier than we planned."

"They were overhead the entire time," Mike said, "just in case something like this happened. I didn't want to go to all this trouble just to lose you." Their conversation stopped as the Protector One descended to the road in front of them, its jet engines roaring as they lowered the craft gently to the ground.

"All aboard," Mike called telepathically.

"Those were the Guardians?" Lancelot asked incredulously. "Why didn't you tell us we were going up against the Guardians?"

"You didn't need to know," General Travis said steadily. Inside, he was just as mad as Lancelot. Callaghan hadn't told him about the Guardians. Dammit, he knew that Omicron wasn't ready for a meta battle, but he'd sent them in anyway.

"With all due respect," Gunny interrupted, "we do need to know if we're going up against metahuman opposition. Our tactical plans were based on being able to overcome any opposition with surprise and our powers. They were not surprised, and their powers matched ours. If we had know that they would be the opposition, we would have used a different tactical plan."

Travis swallowed. They were all pissed as hell, mostly at him. Trident's burns were pretty mild, but he was still hurting. Blockhouse was nursing cracked ribs courtesy of Strongarm, and Amazon was sore from the beating Powergirl had given her. "The intelligence I had didn't mention the presence of metahuman opposition. We'll know next time to always estimate for the worst. That's supposed to be what special operatives do."

"That's not the point," Lancelot said. "The point is that we were on American soil. This is their turf, not ours. We really did interfere with federal agents. Why were we there in the first place? Aren't we on the same side?"

Travis snorted. "Don't be so sure, son. Those Guardians are becoming more meta and less American every day. They aren't as committed to the country as you are. Right now, we may both be working for the same government, but don't kid yourself. Some day, they'll cross a line, and you'll take them down. That is all." He turned and strode out of the room, not wanting to see that shocked look in Lancelot's eyes a second longer. The kid was capable, but this knight-in-shining-armor horse crap was going to have to end soon. He'd have a talk with Gunny about it, or Gunny would straighten it out on his own. Gunny was a good soldier; he followed orders.

"Are you sure they were military?" Carpenter asked. His visage on the viewscreen was grim. Both he and Mike had known that this was a possibility, but neither had heard anything about it, and that scared them.

"As sure as I am that Terry loves me," Mike replied. That was a code phrase for absolute assurance. "I got a scan on the one they called Gunny. Military to the core."

"All right, we'll have to accept that," Carpenter said, leaning back. "It's time for me to rattle a few cages at 1600. If they were military, they were either operating under a special dispensation, or else they were rogue. If it's the former, I'm going to find out how they got it without anyone consulting me; if it's the latter, you'll have to go bring them in."

"If the five we saw are all of them, that'll be easy," Mike said. "They're powerful, but they're raw. Especially with the full team, we could handle them easily. However, if that was only one team," he let the sentence trail off.

"Yeah," Carpenter replied. "Something is going on in this town, and I don't like it. On a better topic, how are the kids doing?"

A quick mental touch picked up Terry's surface thoughts. "Fine. Dr. Stone is poking and prodding Tony, while Kat and Sarah are gossiping about the team. They're good kids, they're just a little unstable right now. With a little training and some moral support, they'll be fine."

"Good," Carpenter said. "And Terry?"

"Stone confirmed that the fight did no damage to the fetus. Terry studiously avoided getting hit in the stomach, and she didn't up her density. So, she's fine. We've already talked about it, and agreed that this was her last field op until the baby's born. She's going to be showing in another few days anyway, so it's best to keep it under wraps until it's born. She's going to take responsibility for the kids while she's laid up."

"Outstanding. Keep me informed. Oh, and keep a bag packed. Depending on how things go down here, I may need you in town."

"Gotcha," Mike replied. "Way ahead of you. If you don't need me for anything else, I'll go check on our new guests."

"What are you still sitting there for?" Carpenter said with a laugh just before he cut the connection.

"This is a great place, Mister Longfellow," Sarah said, looking around the training room with barely-disguised awe. According to Terry, the girl's house wasn't much bigger than the room.

"Longstreet," Mike said. "My real name is Longstreet. Longfellow is the alias I use on school business. And, yes, Terry and I really are married."

"So, did you guys build this place?" she asked.

Mike laughed. "Nope. The original mansion has been here for a long time. The government bought it, excavated this from the original basement, and put in the landing area. It was originally intended for helicopters, and then the Protectors came on line."

"Are there going to be any other kids here?"

"Right now, it's just you, Tony and Kat. I guess you know that Kat's really your age, despite what she looks like as Firemane."

"Yeah," Sarah said, giggling, "she told me. Tony couldn't believe it, he kept mumbling something about logical ways."

Mike laughed. "Tony's going to have to redefine his use of logic around here, especially if Alyina drops in."

"Alyina?" Sarah asked, "whose that?"

"The White Queen," Mike replied, "a powerful sorceress and a great teacher. She's done some work with Kat and Jinn, but most of what they do is still pretty instinctive. She's also really old, and I don't think she's really human."

"Oh, there you are," Terry called. "Sarah, it's your turn with Doctor Stone. He's finally finished with Tony."

"Took him long enough," Mike snorted. "Tony's shoulders must be sore from all of the prodding."

"Probably," Terry laughed. "Tony's nosing around the workshop. Juan's in there, so he can't get into too much trouble." She waited as Sarah went into the medical lab and then turned back to Mike. "Mike, do you think those military guys who attacked us had some connection to," she rubbed her stomach. The meaning was clear: the aliens.

Mike thought for a moment, his face set like stone. "I don't know," he replied, "and that scares the hell out of me."