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James Finch sighed as he stepped out of the shower and into the steamy bathroom. His brown eyes sleepily wavered as the young man reached for a pure white towel. James slowly brought the towel up to his short brown hair and began to ruffle it fiercely, the action pushing the limits of how much energy he was willing to exert in the morning. Maybe I should invest in a dryer, James considered. He imagined himself stepping into the sleek metal compartment just big enough to fit the tallest persons. He would tell the built in AI to "Activate 'Full Body Drying Sequence'" and the large, round fans that were positioned on every side of the rectangle would start producing enough wind to dry James in twenty seconds. However, there were two discrepancies with the imagined situation. One was the ever present lack of funds. The second, and the most impending problem of the two, being James' irrational fear of small space, both of those points quickly dismantled James' dryer fairy tale. He would have to settle with drying off with an old fashioned towel.

With his hair finally dried, James moved onto the rest of his body; the somewhat scratchy cloth moved up and down his athletic upper body. As he dried off his damp skin, James made his way over to the waist-high counter. James dried off the rest of his body as fast as he could, realizing he probably spent much too long in the shower once again. He glanced at the cloudy phone that sat on the counter. James tapped the home button and the holographic time showed.

"Shit." James mumbled. The time read "7:35 a.m.". Reasoning that he could still be a little damp and function throughout the day, James flung the towel over the shower curtain and allowed himself a quick moment to stretch his body. The mirror had defogged enough so that James could see his slightly hazy reflection.

James Finch was fairly short, topping off at 5'9". This accompanied with his commensurate 165 pounds of muscle gained from the little time he had to spend working out at the gym, unloading a few clips at the shooting range, and jogging made James most certainly on the small side of the scale. James ran his hand through his hair as he looked at himself. It's almost comical that Kyle and I are friends, James mused. James grabbed for a stick of Risk deodorant and quickly lathered it underneath his arms. The handsome image of Dalton Risk winking and smiling lewdly on the cover only insisted how out of place it was in James' bathroom. Kyle had insisted that James should buy it instead of the cheaper, plainer stock deodorant. His reasoning was that it would help him find a girlfriend. James could remember scoffing at the proposition. As if I have time for something like a relationship. I'm late enough to work as it stands without having to worry about a woman in my life. With the imminent lecture from the director prominent in his mind, James quickly grabbed his clothes from the toilet seat to the left of him, in between the shower and counter.

James' work uniform simply consisted of a dark black suit, pants, and shoes with an equally black tie. The only other color he had on was found on his white undershirt, creating a stark contrast to the rest of his uniform. Once on, James used his hands to fruitlessly unwrinkle his suit and pants that he had not bothered ironing the night before. Just another damn thing on the list of "Why I hate mornings", James sighed whilst reaching for his iPhone. "7:40 a.m." James growled in frustration. Once more the young man ran his hands down his black suit attempting to smooth out any imperfections before he reached his hand out to open the bathroom door.

"You're late." The deep, groggy voice announced as James stepped out of the bathroom and into the living room. Ignoring the comment, James turned directly to the left and headed into the kitchen, past the island acting as a wall between the two.

"You're up early." James remarked, reaching the pantry and pulling out the plain bagels. Kyle scoffed from the couch, the large man in only his white, heart covered boxers turned on the large holo-screen. Even though they were cutting it close making the payments on the two-bedroom, one-bathroom apartment, Kyle was resolute in buying a large, expensive television. Immediately the CNN reporter's voice provided the room with a slightly annoying undertone.

"Don't remind me. Have an early appointment at 8:30. The guy said that he had more energy in the morning or some shit like that." Kyle complained as he flipped through the favorite channels until he found ESPN. "Jamey, have I ever mentioned how much I hate mornings?" James smooth butter over his half of the bagel and took the other in hand.

"On occasion." James confirmed, tossing the bagel at the large man. Kyle easily caught the bagel and flashed James a ridiculous smile. "Thanks, buddy." Kyle Anderson was the epitomized foil of James. This was most painfully obvious when you compared the two's statures. Kyle was what you would expect from someone whose job was to help people build muscle and become healthier. The man had enough muscle to compete in any strongman competition, but it didn't look disproportionate when compared to his height. At a tall 6'3 Kyle towered over James in mass and in height. His always stylish black hair and mesmerizing yellow-green eyes undoubtedly helped in making him the "Casanova" he was today. His position as a personal trainer only enhanced that already tantalizing allure. James knew he should have felt jealous living with such a masculine specimen, but to James the muscles were a good thing. How else would the boxes have got into the apartment once they moved in? "Don't mention it, Ky." James returned the goofy smile by walking towards the hall that led to the front door.

"I'll be home around 8:30, so-"

"Bullshit! When have you ever actually come home at 8:30?" James stopped and pivoted towards the buff man on his couch.

"Fine, make it 11:00."

"More like 1:00." Kyle mumbled, his voice sounding childish. A 250 pound child with biceps the size of my head.

"Don't give me that, Ky. You know as much as I do that I don't exactly have a choice." James crossed his arms as he defended himself.

"Yeah, yeah. I know, James. It's just that I feel like I barely ever see you and I fucking live with you."

"Perks of the job, I guess." James wryly smiled for what was the first time that morning. James knew that humor was a good way to get out of a conversation like this.

"You're funny, Jamey. But still... We should go out sometime. You haven't even met any of my friends yet, besides Brock of course." Kyle stated with a mouthful of bagel. James looked at the time on the bottom right of the holo-screen. "7:43 a.m."

"Yeah, if it makes you happy, we'll do that. Listen, as you said before: I'm late. We'll talk more about it tonight, promise." James conceded, walking backwards towards the door. Kyle sighed, the noise sounding like gravel.

"It's not for me, Jamey. It's for you. Anyway, have fun at your clandestine meetings." Kyle called as James made his way down the hall.

"I'm surprised you even know what 'clandestine' means." James called back before he closed the door to apartment 201. A "Fuck you" could faintly be heard through the door, but James was already speed walking down the steps of the stairwell. The weather was as nice as it was going to get through the whole year. Fall. The calm before the shitstorm that is Winter. Fall had always been James' favorite season. The nice, cool temperature. The slight breeze and especially Thanksgiving. These factors made Fall by far the most enjoyable of all four. James hit the bottom of the stairs with a familiar quickness as his eyes locked onto the black Audi H2 in front of him. The beautiful hover-car was government issued. Another perk of the job, James thought as he fished for his phone and keys from his jacket pocket. "7:46 a.m."

"Ada is going to be pissed... again." James complained as he opened the door to his advance auto-mobile.

---

Driving the Audi H2 hover-car gave James a higher perspective on the road. Granted, the difference in elevation was only around a foot, James still found it reassuring to be able to see over the tired cars.

"You can't possibly believe that the MCN would ever risk attacking North America?" the District of Columbia Radio, or DCR, host asked incredulously. The question gathered James' attention.

"ADI, turn the radio up to eight." James instructed swiftly. The artificial driver intelligence responded after the radio volume had been raised.

"Radio volume increased."

"Thanks." James replied instinctively. He knew the AI would not acknowledge his thanks, but he still believed in common courtesy, even to AIs.

"Of course they will, the Middle-Eastern Coalition of Nations did not become what it is today with no firm goal in mind. Together the countries will rip apart all of which the North American United Nations stands for." James listened to the debate intently as he kept on the parkway towards Langley. The MCN, James reflected, the coalition of nations led by the ever endearing Alireza Ahmadinejad. Even before Iran united the Middle East there have been tense relations between it and the West. With all of the area united under one banner and the continued acts of terrorism, the tension between the two powers have only escalated.

"We should be helping each other build bridges between our two countries. Threatening each other and pointing weapons will only lead to a third World War and our utter destruction. We gain more by becoming allies rather than enemies." James recognized the voice as Democratic Senator, Bill Zuckerson.

"You tell that to the Middle-Easterners who are pushing for war and destroying our embassies."

The unknown opposition stated. The two kept arguing even after James deemed the debate inconsequential. What was I expecting; James asked himself, if something big had happened I would have already known about it.

The NAUN and MCN had been exchanging accusations of terrorisms from both sides, the NAUN, or North American United Nations consisting of America, Canada, and Mexico, accusing the MCN of funding terrorist attacks made by al-Qaeda and the MCN, made up of Iran, Egypt, the countries of the Arabian peninsula, Turkey, and every country in-between. And the MCN claiming that the NAUN's drone-strikes against "al-Qaeda militant bases" were endangering their civilians. Republicans called for World War 3 and Democrats urged for peaceful ignorance between the two nations. James glanced at the time on the blue-lit radio screen. "8:08". He quickly changed lanes towards the exit onto Dolley Madison Boulevard, cursing as he tried to place Ada's inevitable anger on a scale of one to ten. After few moments of thought, James concluded that she would more reasonably be closer to an eight today. I'm only fifteen minutes late, the young man reasoned.

As James got off the parkway he passed a holographic billboard advertising X-rating energy drinks. An image of the fridge in the apartment came to mind. Inside was almost a whole shelf of the stuff, specifically for Kyle, of course. James smiled at the thought. "I feel like I barely ever see you and I fucking live with you." The comment quickly made his grin dissipate. Typically, James hit the next red light. However, James was too deep in his own thoughts to care.

I know I'm never home, but... he knows my job doesn't leave me with much free time. James clenched the stylish, comfortable steering wheel. It is true though, I don't even know any of his other friends besides Brock, and that's only because he has come over for dinner before. A honk from behind caused James to flinch. Sighing James went through the now green light. Maybe I can come home a little earlier tomorrow, James contemplated, at least that would stop his bitching.

After what seemed like hours, James finally saw the shiny reflection of his workplace. For what seemed like the thousandth time that morning James glanced at the time. "8:12". James sped towards the employees' entrance and searched for his ID in his jacket pocket. The black Audi stopped at the verification gate while James rolled down the window to scan his card through.

"Please verify." The male AI demanded. James swiped the barcoded back of his ID through the red laser that emitted from the simple box. After a few seconds the AI responded.

"Welcome back, Information Officer Finch." James nodded at the message and quickly drove through the opening gates, almost scratching the finish of his car.

James Finch pulled into the parking place between two identically black cars, one a Lexus and the other an SUV. As the hover-car used its front thruster to stop fully, James reached towards the glove compartment and grabbed at the water bottle that was placed inside the cup holder. Out of the glove box James pulled out a pill bottle.

"Goddamn. Didn't even have time for coffee." James mumbled, fumbling with the cap on the water bottle.

"Venlafaxine, 150 mg" the label on the bottle read. James emptied two of the red capsules into his hand, taking a large breath before popping the two pills systematically into his mouth. He them down easily with a glass of water. James took a moment to fix his brown hair so that it looked at least somewhat presentable, turning off the car and stepping out onto the black pavement before the vehicle even touched the ground. James took a moment to stare at the sign before him. The historic emblem and motto seemed to force feed the idea of honor and patriotism down his throat. Just another perk of the job, James mused as he made his way into the Central Intelligence Agency Headquarters.

---

As James opened the door to the conference room he couldn't help but feel like all eyes were on him, even though no one's head turned towards the distraction besides the woman standing at a podium at the front of the mass of CIA agents. Ada Celiane stopped mid-sentence and gave James a piercing look that told James he was in for a harsh talk after the conference.

"As I was saying before Officer Finch decided to come to work, our assets in Tehran have gone silent on any more information on meetings between the MCN government and al-Qaeda since the last, supposed, meeting three weeks ago. What's the status of our assets in Baghdad?" the Chief Director flipped some of her bright, blonde bangs out from in front of her blue eyes. During which James made his way to his seat with the other officers. To his left sat Ahman Dinab, a short Saudi Arabian man who was particularly quiet. On James' right was Solomon Jackson, an African American man taller than Kyle, but not as built. The large black man gave James a sidelong glance.

"Only fifteen minutes today, huh? That has to be a new record, Kid." The gruff voiced man teased, his dark eyes never leaving the holo-screen of the MCN that the Director was pointing to agitatedly. James detested that nickname, "Kid". It oozed ignorance and naivety, traits that were nonexistent in James. Though, because his standing as youngest officer in the department, James endured the odious nickname.

"Why haven't the assets in Tehran reported back yet? They stated that an official from al-Qaeda and Alireza meet every Friday. It's been three weeks and no fucking response." James hissed quietly at Solomon. The man shrugged his large shoulders, obviously not knowing.

"Why do assets ever not report in? The Director will most likely assign a group to it after." The thought of the assets dead because of their work made James feel queasy. Ada Celiane nodded her beautiful head in acceptance of an officer's report.

"Now that you're here, Officer Finch, would you care to report the status on your informant in Damascus?" She asked with an expecting tone. James opened the holo-pad on the table and excitedly pulled up the file labeled "Haman Tebra". Once the data flooded the screen he stood up and cleared his throat, preparing to speak. Time to win her over and hopefully alleviate her irritation at my tardiness.

"As you are aware, I checked on a long-time asset in Damascus named Haman Tebra a few weeks ago. He replied to my check-up with a fortuitous opportunity. Over the course of the last year, Tebra has been able to get into the al-Qaeda organization."

"Yes, but what's his status now?" Ada urged impatiently. Always on my ass, James growled lightly.

"Recent reports from him have been... disturbing. Through much fear and uncertainty he has grown close enough to one of the officers to be privy to information." That caused the room to stir with mumbles. Even Ada looked wide-eyed. A small smirk formed on James' lips at the reaction.

"'Information'? What kind of 'information'?"

"Critical information, such as the location of a base in Cairo that has been organizing attacks on the embassy there."

"And this has been confirmed?" James nodded.

"Yes, I ran it through the Middle-Eastern office and they confirmed the presence of al-Qaeda. Though this is just the beginning, with Tebra we could have knowledge of every major operation they plan."

An operations officer at the front of the room stood from his seat. "Should we begin preparations for a raid on this base, Director?" James seemingly jumped at the question.

"No! We need to wait until Tebra tells us that there is enough leakage or that the action is important enough to attack." The operations officer turned to James and narrowed his eyes.

"So we wait until one asset, who only you have come into contact with and screened, gives us 'permission' before we can save North American lives? We should act on this intel immediately and-"

"Risk my asset's life when al-Qaeda realizes they have a mole? No, I will not have him compromised like that; he deserves much, much better." James argued, feeling his blood pressure begin to rise at the thought of abandoning Tebra.

"One man's life over the many we could save if we acted upon this information is foolish. You knew what could happen when he infiltrated al-Qaeda."

"We are not acting on this info until he gives us the all clear!" James gritted his teeth, the frustration at the officer almost boiling over. Thank god I remembered my meds today.

"Officer Finch, Officer Klein, enough." Director Ada interjected sharply, "Finch is right. We will gain more from this asset if we hold our hand and wait." Officer Klein reluctantly nodded at her command and sat. James followed suit, knowing that he was already on troubling terms with the lady Director.

"Thank you, Celiane." Ada nodded sternly before instantly returning to her morning reports. James breathed deeply, relieved that he hadn't condemned Tebra by telling the director about his position and intelligence. Solomon nudged the much shorter male to get his attention.

"That was bold, Finch, making such a proclamation like that without the Director's word." James huffed at his analysis of the argument.

"It needed to be said."

"You should have waited until after and talked with the Director privately. I have to agree with Solomon, it was indeed rash, James." The soft spoken Ahman stated. James grumbled, but decided he had spoken enough at this conference. He wanted to sacrifice my asset's life. It wasn't his decision to try and make, James thought adamantly.

The rest of the seminar was filled with conjecture regarding the recent bombing of the London InstaTram station and how al-Qaeda was working with the MCN. James made it a point to simply stay quiet and take note when someone eventually mentioned something important. It was at around noon that Ada ended the conference and began assigning operations. Even though James already knew what he would be assigned, the anticipation still found him as he waited for his placement to be called.

"Officer Finch, you will be acting as Chief Information Officer of group 4. I want you keeping your eyes and ears on Tebra and any information he reveals." As expected, James thought assuredly. Solomon gave James a rough pat on the back.

"Looks like we will be working together once again, Finch." Solomon was one of the static members of group 4. James had worked with the team a few times to generally positive results. Suffice to say James was pleased with the makeup of his station.

After Ada had gone through all of the operations for the week the conference was released. As everyone was leaving to report to their respective groups, most likely after a short break in the lounge or their offices, the Director called James over. The strong-looking woman was preoccupied with the holo-screen when James reported to her call. Here it comes, James anticipated.

"Officer Finch. Meet me in my office in fifteen minutes. And be on time." Ada emphasized, closing the presentation and with a stride that would rival an ostrich, she moved to leave. Her office...? Shit. This is bad.

"Yes, Director." James sounded like a child that had been chastised by his mother.

---

James recalled many times when he had stood in front of the Director's door awaiting her answer. None of the many instances stood out as rather pleasant exchanges. Already he had been waiting three minutes and forty-eight seconds for the Director's meeting to conclude. I was on time and just to spite me she makes me wait! Even when James attempted to eavesdrop on the meeting, the muffled voices gave no indication to when the discussion would end. So, James simply sat himself against the wall and waited impatiently for the automatic door to slide open.

It took five more minutes for the door to Ada Celiane's office to slide open. As the blonde-haired woman opened the door and held it, a man in a dark, navy blue suit followed her and shook her hand.

"I bid you farewell, Director. I expect to hear from you soon." The old, prideful looking man turned towards James with his head held high and nodded in acknowledgement. James returned the gesture hesitantly, attempting to verify the identity of the man.

"Who was that?" James questioned when the blue suited man stepped into the elevator. Ada walked into her spacious, cutting-edge office and beckoned to James to come in. Shrugging James entered his bosses' work space. Into the lion's den.

"Take a seat, James." Ada only ever called James by his first name when they were alone. I wonder if any of the others get the same treatment, James pondered. Anxiously, James took the seat at the front of the two-sided, metallic desk. Ada followed suit.

"That was the Secretary of Defense." The Chief Director leaned back in her leather chair, her hands fiddling with a holo-pad on her desk.

"I know you're going to ask. He was here to see if we had any incriminating proof of al-Qaeda working with the MCN."

James shifted in his seat. "Are they pushing for war that badly? Don't they realize what a war with the MCN could lead to?" Ada shook her head disapprovingly.

"It would seem so. The boys across the river appear to be getting restless." She stared past James, out the large window that overlooked the Potomac River. James drummed his fingers on the desk.

"And we are going to give them their casus belli on a silver platter."

"If the MCN is working with al-Qaeda. There is still not enough data to confirm it."

James scoffed. "Yeah, well tell that to your friends. They know we're going to find something and once we do they know we'll give it to them." Ada's blue eyes moved from the window to James sharply.

"We are not giving them anything, James. We are protecting the people of this nation. We are doing our job." Ada Celiane was at the very core a passionate defender of the innocents. That trait was one of the reasons why she and James operated so well together.

"Though, that is not what I wished to discuss with you." Ada continued after a few moments of silence. James straightened his back and braced himself for the supposed onslaught. Ada's expression transformed into something much less serious, but retained its sharp, reprimanding scowl.

"Today marks the eighty-eighth time you have arrived late. Do you know how many times I should have fired you?" The stern question caused James to cringe.

"I'm sorry, it's just difficult trying to juggle my personal life with... everything." James' excuse fell on deaf ears as Ada waved it off.

"That doesn't matter. My point is that for all those times I could have fired you I didn't, do you know why?" James shrugged unknowingly.

"I assume you remember Jerusalem?"

"Of course." How could I forget something like that?

"Jerusalem, Israel. 2054. The Middle-Eastern Office there held three hundred agents whom were all investigating the presence of al-Qaeda. The whole city was a hotspot for rebellion against the MCN. So, when al-Qaeda decided they had enough of it-"

"They moved to decimate the whole fucking city." Ada paused at his interjection.

"Including the three hundred agents operating out of the HQ. We would have had the largest amount of casualties caused by al-Qaeda since 9/11." The reminiscing was souring James' already poor mood.

"What's your point, Ada?"

"That would have happened if you hadn't acted like you did. You saw the purge coming before anyone else."

"Yeah, and I almost got fired because of it." James could feel the area where the Deputy Director had nailed him start to ache.

"Regardless, that day you were able to save all of the agents and countless civilians when you were only twenty." James clenched his fists from under the desk. I didn't save everyone...

"You are the best officer here. Luckily for you, I can't throw away someone like that due to being a tardy fool." The way this conversation was going caused James much confusion.

"If I'm not in trouble, what-" Ada rose from her seat and walked to the large window which viewed D.C.

"I know what your ambition is, James. It's no secret you're aiming to become Deputy Director of the Middle-Eastern Office," the mention of the position managed to make James' throat dry,

"And I'm willing to give it to you."

"What-" James' eyes widened to the size of dinner plates.

"Deputy Director Martin has proved sufficiently useless, a mistake on my part. His role as head of the office will be ending soon. Once you finish this business with Tebra and find the connection between the MCN and al-Qaeda I promise that the office will be yours." Ada's small smile was proof enough of the genuine offer.

James shot out of his seat and grasped the Director's hand. "Director! Um, thank you. I-I can assure you that we will get far with Tebra. Seriously, you have no idea how much this means to me." James didn't feel the least bit offended by Ada's amused smile. "After your stunning work you obviously deserve no less. Now, you may want to get started. Your team is probably waiting for a debriefing." James eventually stopped shaking Ada's soft hand and made for the door.

"Of course. Again, thank you!" James shouted as he hurriedly walked out of the office. Deputy Director of the Middle-Eastern Office, Deputy Director Finch. The name itself brought James tremendous pride and joy. One more case... Just this one last case, James thought, the repeating promise; becoming a mantra that continuously whispered sweet words of promotion in his ear.

---

The large glass doors gave James a clear view of the group 4 information center, or I.C. Starting at the entrance of the room began two long columns of silvery desks with twenty seats in each of the two columns. These columns of desks lead to a wall-sized holo-screen on which Haman Tebra's profile and a map of Cairo was displayed. Patiently waiting in the I.C.'s desks were seven agents made up of analysts and officers, some taking the opportunity to do some note taking.

James eagerly strode through the sliding, glass doors and down the narrow path between the desks towards the podium directly in front of the holo-screen. The agents in the room stopped their actions and acknowledged James' typically late presence with polite, muttered greetings.

"Sorry I'm late, had to discuss details with the Director." Deputy Director James Finch. Coming up to the podium James eagerly reached for the remote as if he had ingested too much caffeine.

"But, let us begin," James pointed towards the picture of the Saudi male, "Haman Tebra. Forty-three years of age, Saudi Arabian, Islamic, married with a wife and two children who are under the protection of the CIA, and most importantly our informant situated in the Damascus branch of al-Qaeda." James made it a point to mention Tebra's personal life. If they knew he had a family just like the rest of them, they would think of him less as an asset and more as a person. At least, that's what James hoped.

"Recently, Tebra has become friendly with the al-Qaeda officers there and has been privy to information that would otherwise be unattainable to us. "

"As you informed us all during the conference, a few hours ago." Solomon Jackson teased with a large smirk on his dark-skinned face. James, attempting to retain an air of authority nodded curtly.

"Cairo, Egypt. Home of our embassy in the Egypt sector of the MCN and the historical location of many attacks made by extremists. Although the embassy itself has been built like a fortress, and is just as garrisoned, the constant advancements made by al-Qaeda are damaging our presence there. With their garrison full and the obvious lack of MCN involvement, the boys in Cairo are fighting a losing battle of attrition." James paused, allowing the bleak situation sink in before moving onto the light at the end of the tunnel.

"However, our friend Tebra, after just three weeks of infiltration, has already enlightened the CIA of an al-Qaeda base in Cairo, one that is behind the assaults on the embassy." James walked over to the map of Cairo. On the large map was a rectangular building outlined in red. James motioned towards the defined building.

"The Middle-Eastern office has scouted the area and confirmed the presence of al-Qaeda forces. Any assault against the base now would be a terrible detriment, so get those ideas out of your head." James scanned the group before him for any sign of discrepancy. Luckily, all he found was rapt attention.

"This does not mean we are going to sit idly by. I want to know who comes in and out of the base, what goes on around it, what kind of building it is, and a list of al-Qaeda's known and suspected attacks in Cairo that could be traced back to that base." To James' delight, the seven agents dutifully jotted down his list of wants.

"Alright, group 4, time to kick some terrorist ass!" James light-heartedly ordered as he left the dais to sit at one of the many empty seats in the I.C.

Over the course of the next two hours group 4 made speedy progress in analyzing the Cairo base. Already the front the terrorists were acting behind was uncovered, a stereotypical packaging warehouse; and the surrounding business as well as the possible supply routes were examined.

James himself was busy sifting through all the attacks on the embassy when Solomon spontaneously took the seat next to his. James expected the man to issue him a report of some description, but instead Solomon found it preferable to simply stare and grin cheekily. The younger male squirmed under the relentless gazing. After a few moments James couldn't ignore it anymore.

"May I help you?" the pointed question did nothing to fade Solomon; his large, cheeky grin never faltered. The two agents looked into each other's eyes before James turned back to his holo-pad and sighed wishing the officer would get bored and go away.

"I can't recall ever seeing you like this, Kid." Solomon leaned in closer to James. The information officer, uncomfortable with the close contact, did his best to ignore the awkward situation.

"What do you mean, Solomon?" James narrowed his brown eyes at the holo-pad listing the dates of countless attacks.

"You look... happy." The statement gave James pause. "Well, at least content."

"Maybe I just had too much coffee this morning." James reasoned, attempting to disarm the discussion. The jest got a hearty laugh out of Solomon, but the black man persevered.

"I simply wondered what could put the determined, serious James Finch in such a mood." James turned to Solomon with unease. Although the man was friendly and jovial, whenever James was around Solomon a sense of vulnerability set in, as if he were in a battlefield just waiting to be attacked. He received the same feeling around Kyle, but to a much lesser extent. Solomon's disturbingly accurate way of reading people also gave off an aura of disquiet. James did have to admit that it made the man a fantastic interrogator, even better than James himself. James reasoned that he must have let off unintentional signs of his upcoming promotion. Deputy Director James Finch. James lazily shrugged at Solomon before returning to his work.

"If you must know I'm anxious to get this case under way. Tebra is going to help end this 'War on Terrorism'." And get me to the Middle-East. Solomon slapped the table as he rose, the towering body casting a large shadow over James.

"I should have known it had something to do with your job. For a moment I thought you got a girlfriend or something." Immediately James' cheeks flushed red at the assumption. God damn it, not him too. It's enough having Kyle bitching at me about it.

"Hey Solomon, fuck off." James dryly replied.

"It's refreshing," Solomon continued, ignoring James' crude language, "seeing you happy. I hope it lasts a while."

Before James could respond his phone began to vibrate wildly in his pocket. I swear if this is Kyle again... Instead of the expected picture of Kyle, the holographic screen showed the default wallpaper and an international number. Who would be calling my work phone...? James quickly answered the call and brought the phone to his face.

"This is Finch." James greeted, hesitantly. The sound of a humming, old engine could be heard in the background. An engine one would find in a car, James observed.

"Finch! What the hell is going on over there?!" The heavy Arabian accent was very familiar. Tebra.

"Tebra, hold on let me-" The name of their informant drew the attention of the whole I.C. James could feel himself becoming eager at the sound of the voice. Just one more case!

"Zarba, There is no time!" Tebra interrupted. "Do you know of any present NAUN actions being taken against the MCN?" James could tell from the barely controlled breathing that Tebra had recently attempted to calm himself. Why would he need calming in the first place? What plan is he talking about?

"The NAUN has yet to make any official actions against the MCN directly, Tebra." The man on the other end growled in frustration.

"I do not understand what's going on Finch, but something big just occurred. Contact the NAUN's NASA office. I am sorry. I have to go."

"Tebra, wait!" The conversation was over before James' exclamation. A moment of pause followed in which no one moved. "Something big"? Why would he think NAUN made any sort of action against the MCN? If they did we would have been the first to know... unless... What would the NASA office have to do with it? If Tebra was the one to warn us about it, then that must mean... They couldn't have... James' mind buzzed like an angry wasps nest. The temporary Chief Information Officer looked blankly at the phone before addressing the confused group of agents.

"Commanding Officer Ryan, get the North American NASA office on the line immediately. Find out what's going on over there." Ryan nodded before running to his seat and beginning to dial NASA's government number. Although the fact went unbeknownst to James, the young male's voice obtained an authoritative quality to it as he had begun to fire off orders.

"Solomon, call the Joint-Chiefs. I want to know if they have any plans they refused to disclose with us."

"On it, Kid."

"Officer Verez, contact the Director and tell her that Tebra believes something big has happened."

"Yes, sir." The young Hispanic woman ran out of the I.C towards the elevators.

"Analyst Grady, can you pull that conversation from my phone and into the database?" the fat man nodded after a second of thought.

"Yep, whenever you need it." He replied, making his way to his holo-pad.

"Good, do that and start analyzing the conversation. Try to locate where the call originated from." As James handed out similar duties to the remaining three members, the I.C. was alive with energetic motions and constant talking. James barely had a moment to sit down before Ryan motioned for him.

"Finch, do you want to speak with NASA?" James quickly made his way to Ryan. As he walked he caught a glimpse of the large holo-screen changing formats to a wide-map view of Damascus.

"Yes, do you have them?"

"We'll see." Ryan replied as James stood beside him as he tapped the call button. The two waited four seconds before the phone was answered.

"Hello-"

"This is Information Officer James Finch of the CIA and-" Ryan put a hand on his shoulder, interrupting James in mid-sentence. The younger man eyed him suspiciously before he realized the other end of the line was still talking.

"-welcome to the NAUN NASA offices government line. Unfortunately we cannot answer to your call at the moment, but we will get back to you as soon as possible. Please hold." The automated message ended to the sound of peace-inducing jazz. The music failed to have the desired effect on the frustrated information officer.

"It seems that they are busy." Ryan's faint British accent enhancing the already dry comment.

"Too busy to answer the fucking CIA? Stay on hold, contact me when they answer." James began to walk towards Solomon.

"As you command, milord." Ryan's sarcastic comment fell on deaf ears as James left him to is duties. When James neared Solomon, the black man's eyes darted towards him.

"Yes sir... Yes, he's right here." Solomon mouthed "Chairman General McNeil" to James as he came up to the holo-pad. The grizzled old man's face on the screen began to talk as soon as James appeared in his line of sight.

"Chief Information Officer Finch, I was told that an asset recently enlightened you to some... disconcertingly vague information." The old man's gravelly voice sounded extremely stereotypical for a general to possess.

"Yes, five minutes ago. He told us that something big has happened and that we should contact the NASA office." James watched as the Chairman General's face contorted confoundedly.

"And have you contacted them?"

"We are trying to get a hold of them as we speak. Unfortunately they seem to be busy." James' growl was inaudible to the Chairman General.

The Chairman General nodded. "We here at the Pentagon have no sort of-" General McNeil was interrupted by an incomprehensible voice over the intercom. A heavy sigh emitted from McNeil's tight mouth.

"Apologies, Officer Finch, but I must go. I expect to get constant updates on the situation if you find there is any actual situation." Before James could try to interject the message ended.

"Son of a bitch!" James cursed and walked away. "Why the fuck can't we get communications up for more than-"

"Sir, I have something." Officer Nathaniel Kerring beckoned as he rushed towards his superior officer carrying a holo-pad. James took a moment to gather himself before he was set upon by more frustrating data. However, as he tried to do so James noticed that he couldn't seem to keep his breathing level. Focusing on the clipped, short breaths, James knew that the Venlafaxine was wearing off. Fuck. Not now. Please, God, not now. The young man's pleas went unanswered as the image of Kerring running to him was beginning to become wobbly and distorted. The holo-pad that was shoved in his face snapped James out of his inner turmoil.

"...you okay?" Solomon's dark, deep voice could be faintly heard somewhere behind him, but James could only concentrate on Kerring and the deteriorating situation before him. What if they did try something up there? What if it is an actual attack made by the MCN? No, that doesn't make any sense. A darker reality presented itself to James. When the politicians in D.C find out about this... If anything even faintly resembling an attack on America is proven to be true... Flashing images of nuclear fire permeated James' perceived precipitance. World War 3... James hollowly looked down at his hands. The holo-pad that found its way into his grasp started to shake lightly with his increased heart rate. James closed his eyes and tried to focus on the agent that gazed at him with glinting blue eyes.

"This is...?" James mumbled, most of his effort going into concentrating on the image on the holo-pad. An audio file, James observed as Information Officer Nathaniel Kerring spoke.

"Just listen to it, Chief. " Kerring insisted, tapping the play button for the disjointed James. As Kerring's finger left the holo-pads activation field a familiar A.I. voice came through.

"This is an automated message originating from, NAUN Space Station 3 designated 'S.S. Texas', on September 14, 2060 at 2:55 P.M," A space station? Was this what Tebra was trying to tell us? "Due to the authorized release of Emergency Shuttle 2, this automatic SOS has been sent to the major Government associations." The dispatch ended as abruptly as it began.

"And this just got here...?" James's voice was shaky and lost all the confidence and strength it had prior. Something happened on the space station, something drastic enough for them to have to evacuate. This is bad... This is really fucking bad.

"Yes, Chief, it did..." Kerring's blue eyes gazed at James uncomfortably due to the superior officer's sudden shift in attitude.

"Fuck. T-This is not good." James stuttered as he handed the holo-pad, albeit shaky and clumsily, back to Kerring. "Where the hell is the Deputy Director?" As James yelled across the I.C., Solomon stood up from his seat and took a hold of James' shoulder. "Solomon, what-" James pivoted towards Solomon, flicking his large hand off his shoulder defensively.

"Come with me, Kid." Like a viper striking at his prey, Solomon grabbed James' hand.

"Um, sir?" Kerring questioned, unsure of whether or not the confrontation was going to turn violent. James struggled to escape from the African American's grasp, but the man had him in a vice grip.

"What the hell are you doing?!" James' response sounded more like a growl of a cornered animal with nowhere to run, than the human he was. His borderline hysteria caused Kerring to back away in surprise. Solomon pulled James towards his body so that the smaller male ran into his broad, toned chest. With James against his body, the silken suit was the only barrier restricting them from getting closer, Solomon whispered into James' ear: "Do you want everyone in the I.C. to see you have an episode?" James, in fear of his condition being revealed, initially moved to disclaim his perceived state of being. However, the rapid breathing and wild look in his eyes gave too much away to allow for any deception. James reluctantly nodded turning to Kerring.

"When the Director arrives get her up to speed on the situation." Kerring nodded warily before leaving the two. With a firm but gentle hold, Solomon dragged James around the back of the I.C. and out into the hallway. Throughout the venture James stared at his loafer-clad feet and attempted to control his breathing.

---

The bathroom door slid open with an electronic hiss. Through it stepped Solomon Jackson with James dragging somewhat behind. The dark-skinned man quickly made sure no one else was in the restroom before leading James to the sink. The young officer's breathing left a rapid, desperate echo in the tiled room. Once the duo arrived at the pristine, lengthy sink, Solomon gracefully tapped the silver faucet to activate the stream of purified water.

"Here, this will help you." Solomon brought the shaking James to the running water. I have to calm down. I have to calm down... James threw his hands into the cool water and splashed the liquid onto his perspiring face. The shock of cold water hitting his face passed almost instantaneously to give way to refreshment. The cold fluid gave him more shakes, but they were not due to fear. Slowly, James could feel the shackles of the panic attack start to unhinge. An unsteady sigh escaped James. Clear your mind. Think of Springfield before. Think of Mom and Dad. Think of Kyle. James focused completely on the images of his childhood. The impending panic attack continued to fade back into the depths of James. At least it stopped there. If Solomon hadn't... James grasped the side of the sink.

"Thanks. For getting me out of there." Solomon grunted in response. With a large grin on his face as always, even in a situation like this- no. Not that. Clear your- Solomon's hands wrapping around his shoulders pulled James back from his thoughts. At first James thought he was going to turn him, but instead the large man began to knead James' upper back. As the tender motions began James gasped.

"Solomon... what... are you doing?" James asked, still breathless from his previous episode. The pathetic sounding question was easily disregarded.

"Shh... I will help you."

The circular motion of Solomon's hands had the opposite intended effect on James. Instead of making him more relaxed, the contact caused the younger man to become stiff. While the massage felt nice and soothing, James was not accustom to such tender contact, let alone a full-on massage. Solomon continued to enact his leasing motions onto the man, ignoring his obvious discomfort. A few awkward moments of silence passed before James started to steadily give into Solomon's ministrations. Soon he had melted under the gentle touch of Solomon's large hands, even letting a soft moan of pleasure escape his lips as he leaned closer to Solomon. The deep chuckle that emanated from behind James brought a flush of deep red to his face.

"Seems like someone needs to visit the spa more often. You have more knots than a fisherman's boat." The joke broke whatever barrier James had erected as James scoffed. Solomon took the opportunity to become more forceful in his movements while James was distracted.

"Yeah, like I have time for that. If you haven't been paying attention the world is on the brink of the end." The sarcastic comment threatened to bring James back into a panic, but he steeled himself against its pull. I have to stay calm. It's my duty to stay calm in the face of such situations. Solomon grunted.

"You think the situation is that bad?"

"You're smart, Solomon. One of the smartest people I know. You must have come to the same conclusion." James glanced back at Solomon's face. His lips, normally formed into a joyful smile, were pulled back, taut against his face in an unreadable expression.

"It... came to mind."

"Then how can you be so calm about it. World War 3. The war to end all wars. We are on the cusp of it and you are here giving me a massage like you're my goddamn physical therapist." James' irritation and fear of the coming event permeated his speech.

"You have nothing to fear. We have nothing to fear. Everything will be fine." James peeked up at him incredulously.

"How can you say that? With such overwhelming evidence of an attack against NAUN; our country will go to war! Once we begin firing our bombs, the MCN will follow. Then Korea will take their chance and fire too. Then China and Russia will join the fucking party. The aftermath will be the destruction of Earth's great civilizations as we know it and the entrance of the second Dark Ages." James breathed deeply, consoling himself. For a moment neither of them spoke.

"I say that because I know we'll get through this and figure it out. I know you will pull us through. You're the best officer the CIA has to offer. If anyone can save us from World War 3, it's you." Solomon's deep voice got closer as he bent over James so that he was speaking adjacent to his ear.

"You have too much faith in me. I can't stop the boys up the chain from ruining the nation, but... I can try." James ceded confidently. More confidently than how I feel, James admitted to himself. Solomon's smile returned at James' steadfast determination.

"Solomon, seriously, thanks. It would have looked pretty disastrous if I had an attack in the middle of the I.C." James splashed more water upon his face.

"Do you have any meds in your office that I could get you?" Solomon's soothing, dark voice asked, concerned. James looked into the brown eyes in the mirror, softly smiling. He marveled at the flecks of gold that surrounded his pupils. They are... beautiful, James mused, still light-headed from the day's past events.

"No, but thanks anyway. I'll be fine now that I have had the chance to... assess the situation." James' face contorted as his brain once again began to try and wrap itself around the current situation. "Why would Tebra know about an incident on a NAUN station? I can only think of one solution that actually makes sense, but..."

"Al-Qaeda." Solomon answered for him. James nodded slowly and severely.

"Yes, if Tebra knew about it then this has got to be, in some way, related to the terrorists."

"Then there is a chance that the MCN had nothing to do with it," James gave Solomon a chastising look, "Well, we still have yet to find proof of the MCN's backing of al-Qaeda."

"Always the optimist..." James muttered. "How the hell would they even attack a space station?"

"It would have to have been boarded by another spacecraft or..."

"Or something happened from the inside. There is a possibility, a slim possibility, that there was a double agent aboard." The gears in James' head began to run at full power. The large black man behind him sighed in reaction to James' theory.

"Or your conspiracy theories could both be false. It might have been a simple accident." Solomon's proposal was so ridiculous that it caused James to rudely laugh.

"Solomon... oh, you're funny. We both know that in this game, there is no such thing as 'accidents'." James composed himself with much difficulty.

"It was not a joke. What if the space station collided with another due to a miscalculation? If we would be able to give evidence that support that fact, then there would be no war." Solomon's serious theory struck James as absurd.

"That's some fucking miscalculation... Even if that happened to be true, do you really think Congress would hold off on attacking the MCN while we investigate? There will be cities decimated by nuclear fire and radiation by this time tomorrow! Accident or not they will not hold back, they will-" James abruptly stopped his explanation as a thought emerged from the shadows of his mind. The SOS. "Due to the authorized release of Emergency Shuttle 2, this automatic SOS has been sent..." James stiffened and broadened his shoulders. Solomon removed his hands in surprise and stepped back.

"James?"

"The SOS. It was sent due to someone authorizing Shuttle 2 to escape." James turned to face the much larger man. "Solomon, someone got off that ship alive." For a moment James thought he saw a flash of frustration in the agent's eyes, but realized Solomon still looked blankly at him. After a second Solomon's eyes glinted with understanding.

"He can explain what happened."

"Exactly. However, there is also the chance that he is the traitor... though it doesn't matter. He can explain everything that happened." James moved away from the bathroom sink and made his way to the sleek, sliding door. "This situation may not be so hopeless."

---

It looks like a disturbed ant hill, James observed, looking through the glass doors at the many erratic agents in the I.C. Solomon followed obediently behind as James made his way into the information center. Once he stepped into the I.C. a familiar voice heralded him through the cacophony of the other voices.

"Back already, Officer Finch? Would you like me to order you a relaxing day at the spa alongside a wine and steak dinner? Or maybe you'd prefer a sunny day at the beach? Surely taking a ten minute break when we have a possible crisis on our hands isn't enough!" Ada Celiane's sarcastic tone was not lost on James as she stomped up to him.

"I assume, then, that you've been brought up to speed on the current situation?" James asked flatly. There's no time for word games.

"Of course, Officer Kerring explained it to me. Although, it would have been much more reassuring to hear from the one I put in charge." Just when I thought I was going to finally get promoted... Solomon stepped up to James' side. James was positive that the drastic height difference between the two was very humorous.

"Officer Finch has come up with a few... explanations of the current situation." Ada skeptically raised her plucked eyebrow.

"Explanations?"

"Before we make any actions we must be absolutely certain we understand what is actually going on. I'm sure you understand the implications and possible consequences that could come out of this." James' comment was tinged with a piercing knowledge of Ada's situation. Her meeting with the Secretary of Defense, Congress' constant badgering for an end to the terrorist attacks, all of those points could be granted with the information they gave today. That is what made James so fearful. If Ada felt such loyalty to the government, she could easily give them what they wanted, a reason to go to war. Essentially, Ada Celiane held the fate of our world in her hands, and depending on her actions she could utterly destroy it. James took the hint that she realized this, as she nervously swallowed at his comment. I hope you're still the Director I know.

"Go ahead, Finch." James nodded curtly and began explaining what he had discussed with Solomon and all of the evidence for each of the theories. After sifting through the many facts available, James finally came to his conclusion. All the while Ada paid complete attention and Solomon, as usual, was unwavering in his calm attitude. If only I could be like that, James longed.

"Therefore there are three probable options. First it that the situation is simply an accident."

"You better have some better ones than that." Ada harshly stated, rolling her eyes.

"The second being that either the MCN or al-Qaeda commandeering a spacecraft attacked the 'S.S. Texas', and lastly, there could have been an al-Qaeda double agent already on board the 'S.S. Texas'." James attempted to read deeper into Ada's skeptical expression, but failed to uncover any other emotion.

"Interesting propositions."

"To be frank, the only explanation to this affair has to be one of those. I don't see what else could conceivably fit."

"Assuming your source is accurate. That has yet to be determined."

"You do not trust me?" James questioned, offended by her lack of belief. If she doesn't trust my word, how will she ever have me as Deputy Director of the Middle Eastern Office?

"It is not you who I don't trust. Tebra himself is the focus of my concern."

"I assure you he's-" Ada began walking towards the large holo-screen at the front of the room.

"We will see."

James glanced up at Solomon and shrugged. Solomon returned the gesture with a soft smile and a pat on the back before heading towards his previous work. James decided it was time he spoke with Analyst Ryan on his work regarding the conversation with Tebra. However, as he started to make his way over, across the I.C., Comm. Officer Ryan stopped him. James noted that Ryan's green eyes held a glint of optimism in them.

"I thought you would like to know that I have NASA on the line. I'm assuming you want to speak with them...?" Finally, time to get some answers. When Ryan brought the holo-pad to James, the picture of the lanky, pale man with glasses greeted him with a small bow. Ryan left quietly to speak with another agent.

"Officer Finch, I have been told you are aware of the current situation." The NASA representative was nervous, that much James could read from him.

"Yes, we are. What the hell is really going on over there...? What's your name again?" the nerdy man shuffled in place and eyed his feet prior to answering.

"P-Please forgive me. I am the Chief Researcher here at the NAUN office. My name is Doctor Colin O'Malley." Briefly, James looked O'Malley up and down. Starting at the top of his head was a largely untamed thicket of brown hair, resting under was a slender, almost feminine face with amber was colored eyes. A stereotypical white lab coat covered the rest of his body that was visible. James pondered the researcher's very non-Irish appearance and his incredibly Irish surname. When James felt like he had the doctor figured out he impatiently gestured for the sheepish man to continue.

"Yes, well, from what your agent told me, you already are aware of the center of the incident."

"The 'S.S. Texas'." Doctor O'Malley anxiously rang his hands together.

"Very well. I will continue with the specifics." O'Malley cleared his throat as he prepared for an obviously long-winded explanation. "At 2:34 P.M we received a transmission from the 'S.S. Texas'. However, the only thing in the message was unintelligible static. We had assumed it was simply due to solar wind and brushed it off as such."

"You ignored a message made by the station just because of an assumption of static? Did you even consider that something may have gone wrong?" James asked, annoyed. Mistake after fucking mistake.

"The message was sent over a low priority signal. If the crew were in trouble then it would have been sent as a distress signal." O'Malley defended.

"And look at where we are now." James growled. The Doctor awkwardly rubbed his forehead.

"From then until 2:45 P.M all facilities looked fine and were reporting as designed. However, after 2:45 all major facilities of the 'S.S. Texas' went down, or were interrupted, simultaneously. It was then that we realized the Texas was either being hit by a large and dangerous solar storm or that something else critical had happened. Either way we knew we had to act." Doctor O'Malley's face contorted thoughtfully.

"Almost immediately after we received a call from the MCN NASA office. They relayed to us that when the Texas went dark, the MCN space station, the 'Allah's Wing', went dark at much the same way and manner, as it passed the Texas' gravitational pattern." James frowned at the information. So another ship was involved. And it was the MCN no less, but why would they go dark as well? Something isn't adding up...

"They... They accused us, mere researchers, of attacking their only spacecraft. The very thought that we would sabotage a fellow NASA team's work is preposterous, a figment of imagination marred by vindication and malevolence!" The worked up researcher took a long, deep breath. James, while surprised at the sudden outburst of emotion, was only further irritated by the tangent.

"The horror," James mumbled flatly, "but I need to know what happened after the pleasantries failed. Did they have any idea what caused their own blackout?" The young-looking doctor flushed embarrassedly. James rolled his eyes at the reaction. Although the two looked fairly similar, youthful with an angular face, soft complexion, and brown, short hair, James knew from speaking with the researcher that they were complete opposites when it came to personality. O'Malley was the type of person that annoyed James, submissive types that bowed down to others without any argument.

"After such rash accusations the MCN team was unreachable, so we can't be sure. Once we realized that we couldn't contact them, we decided to once again try to bring up a connection to the 'Allah's Wing' and the Texas. However, as you can imagine, these tries failed. At that point we knew we were at a complete loss. Though, at 3:15 we received an automatic emergency SOS due to an emergency pod being launched. We ran a long-distance scan of Earth's gravitational field and did indeed find the shuttle. Unfortunately, when we tried to contact the pod we realized it was an older model."

"Why is that 'unfortunate'?"

"Well, the radio on the shuttle was not upgraded due to its priority in the upgrade line. This is to say that the radio on board Escape Pod 2 is one-way only. The only contact we will hear from the person on board is if they contact us directly or when they eventually land somewhere near Houston." James cursed under his breath. Of course we can't communicate, that would be way too fucking convenient.

"I'm afraid that is where our knowledge ends, Officer. I hope it was somewhat helpful." O'Malley waited patiently, if not expectantly, as if he knew Finch would have more questions.

"You are positive that 'Allah's Wing' was involved?" James inquired, grasping for the only lead he could identify in the doctor's retelling of events.

"Yes, most definitely. I don't see any feasible way the spacecraft can't be involved." James studied the young researcher.

"One more question Doctor O'Malley, when will the shuttle land at Houston?"

"Well, it heavily depends on where the station was during its launch, but I would estimate that it would take a day for the shuttle to run aground."

"Of course this is relative, isn't it?" O'Malley self-consciously rubbed the back of his neck.

"Yes... that would be correct." The slightly nasally, high-pitched voice was beginning to grate on James' last neutral nerve.

"Well, at least this wasn't completely fruitless. Your information will be of great assistance, Doctor O'Malley. I would like to see a list of the crew on the 'S.S. Texas' and the 'Allah's Wing' if attainable." Doctor O'Malley nodded erratically. "I will begin immediately, Officer," another white coated scientist passed a holo-pad to O'Malley, "though I fear that my success regarding the 'Allah's Wing' will be limited." The doctor tapped the holo-pad given to him and became enthralled. Onto the next lead it seems...

"I will expect to hear from you soon, Doctor-"

"Wait! Officer Finch, there is something you need to see. I am patching the video through to your holo-pad." The call ended before James could further question the researcher. Instead, the video player opened the file sent by O'Malley. What the fuck is going on? James Finch could barely follow the rapid trail of events thrown at him. The young officer noticed his hand beginning to shake slightly, once again. No, not again. James steeled himself and clenched the holo-pad. You got through the bombing of 2044, you escaped Jerusalem, and you can get through this. James breathed deeply. You will get through this. James moved his hand to the green play button and lightly pressed down, the holo-pad reading his movement clearly. A black screen greeted him alongside an A.I.'s voice.

"This is a one-way message sent by Emergency Pod 2 of the 'S.S. Texas' Space Station. Please wait while the message plays." The escape pod? Are the survivors trying to make contact? James impatiently tapped his foot as he waited for the message to play.

Abruptly, a picture of a white torso with a NAUN flag pin on his left pectoral appeared on the screen along with a rustling noise. James immediately identified the pin and dress as the casual outfit of the Space Marine Corps. Come on! Give me some answers, James urged desperately. The rustling stopped and the space marine pulled back, his hands still fiddling with the escape pod's console. As the person pulled back, James obtained clear view of who he was looking at. The man before him was most certainly a marine. The buzz cut and pronounced musculature made that completely obvious. James noted as much information as he could about the man. Hispanic, or maybe half-Hispanic, green eyes... brown hair? He has a strong, masculine face with a light 5 o'clock shadow. James glanced at his forehead. Sweat rolled down his face and his eyes were slightly dilated. He's frightened, or at least he was recently. The man removed his hands from the sides of the console.

"...alright," the Hispanic man's voice was strong and emanated a feeling of leadership, "I am Lieutenant Frank Alvarez of the 'S.S. Texas'. My fellow crewmates and I were sent to orbit Earth and observe the movements of foreign spacecraft. One hour ago our shuttle lost power and was boarded by the MCN-craft 'Allah's Wing'." James noted the somewhat guilty look and the long pause that followed. "I... I am the only survivor of the attack. I was able to escape the Texas via Shuttle 2 and I'm en route to Houston. If the situation changes I will send another message, but if not... This is Frank Alvarez, signing out." As the message ended, James' mind raced. The American man's voice gave James mixed emotions. On one hand he felt relieved and hopeful that someone was coming back who could confirm the situation. They now had living, breathing proof of the incident. However, Frank's existent made James feel much more trepidation. In the same way James felt relief that they had proof of the incident, the fact that the "S.S. Texas" was attacked brought James dread and a sense of impending doom. Deeper than that, the object of James' moderated terror was in the possibility of Frank Alvarez being an al-Qaeda sleeper agent, and how successful his mission had been in bringing about the catalyst for World War 3. Frank Alvarez, Lieutenant in the Space Marines, could you be working for al-Qaeda against your own country or are you simply someone who was at the wrong place at the wrong time...? Either way I need to be able to act when he touches down, James thought as he made his way over to Analyst Grady. The plump man was busy going over a database of encrypted files when James maneuvered past another scurrying agent to stand beside him.

"Were you able to get the location of Tebra?" Grady gave James an irritated glare.

"No. I couldn't even get the conversation off your phone. Whatever device Tebra was using to contact you with, somehow wiped out all history it should have left behind." When we try and take one step forward we take two fucking steps backwards...

"Well, I have another assignment for you. I want you to build a complete profile on Frank Alvarez, a Lieutenant in the Space Marines Corps. I want to know his full history, with highlighting of stations in the MCN and his life before he joined the Marines." James ordered, setting the holo-pad with Frank's message beside Grady.

"Frank Alvarez?" Grady thought aloud. "Why is he important? Was he stationed on the 'S.S. Texas'?"

"Yes, he's the sole survivor of a possible attack on the space station. He is coming down in an emergency shuttle as we speak." James explained, granting the analyst clarity on the situation.

"I-I see. Yeah, I can dig it up for you. Might be tough though, the Marines dislike their soldiers being held under the eyes of scrutiny."

"No one likes being investigated by the CIA, but they'll yield. Just get the profile built as fast as you can." Grady gave James a thumbs up as he sighed. However, before he turned to his work Grady's eyes widened briefly, the chubby man quickly turning. Huh, I didn't think my request was that-

"And just why are we investigating a marine?" Ada Celiane's voice cut through the other conversations like a knife, once again proving herself worthy as Deputy Director. James casually spun to face the Director.

"Because he is the key to unlocking the truth behind what happened on the 'S.S. Texas'." James felt a fleeting moment of hope at his own statement. Maybe there is hope. No, there is hope and I will latch onto it.

"Is he the passenger aboard the emergency shuttle?" Ada asked, following James' trail of implications quickly.

"Yes, unfortunately he is the only one."

"How did you retrieve this information?" James grabbed the holo-pad which sat next to Grady and handed it to Ada. "Here, this will explain."

Ada watched the message with a calm front, but James knew from his experience with her that her brain was taking in every detail of the message. Once it ended, James clarified.

"We can't contact him due to the communication device on the shuttle being one-way." Ada looked up at James, her eyes scanning him. After a moment Ada clasped the holo-pad and got the attention of everyone in the I.C. by whistling. Everyone's eyes were glued to the commanding woman as she spoke.

"I want everyone in here to report to the Briefing Room. I want to go over everything before we report this to the higher-ups." At the mention of the government, James felt a jolt of fear run through his body. She's going to report this?! Doesn't she understand what this will cause if we give them what we have now?! The agents in the I.C. began to file out towards the elevators. Ada had begun to follow the large group of people before James grabbed her shoulder.

"Celiane, I need to speak with you." James' face was dark and brooding. Ada glared slightly at the officer before agreeing. James pulled her to an undisturbed corner of the I.C.

"You do realize what will happen right? What this could mean? I thought you did, but now... I'm not sure you fucking do." Ada spurred at the blunt observation.

"Excuse me?" James motioned towards the group moving to the Briefing Room.

"This incident is the spark for World War 3! The thing your 'friends' want so badly! If you tell them what's going on with what little solid information we have they will use it to go to war!"

"Officer Finch, you need to calm-"

"'Calm'? How am I supposed to be calm when you are going to give the go ahead for nuclear war?! I thought you actually cared for the innocents such a thing would destroy, but instead I find out that you're just like them!" James barely had time to finish his outburst before Ada's palm connected with a loud, sharp smack against his face. The action caused James to stumble back and grab at the now red mark on the left side of his face. However, Ada came at James and wrapped a fist around his tie.

"If you ever talk to me like that again with such a pitiful display of foolishness; I will have you out of this office so fast your head will spin. Now listen to me and calm the fuck down." The venom and the barely contained anger in her voice forced James to nod like a frightened child.

"I know what's at stake here. I understand that if we play our hands wrong, things could go from piss poor to worse. I also know that this is exactly what the Pentagon and Congress want. How I move from here is my decision. I am Deputy Director here, Finch. Not you. Remember where you stand in this organization, Finch, because if you don't - you may no longer stand in it at all." Ada released James from her iron grasp and allowed him to fix his suit. After a few awkward moments, James found the courage to speak up.

"So, what? You're going to report it to them?" Ada glared at James bitterly.

"No, I will only be informing them that we need more time to investigate. Congress may fund us, but that doesn't mean we have to be completely truthful to them regarding our investigations." James breathed a long held breath of relief. That was stupid. So fucking stupid. I should have had more faith in her.

"What about the MCN? They'll likely inform NAUN of the incident with a strongly worded, harsh message." Ada shrugged, taking the time to straighten her own suit.

"One bloodthirsty government at a time, Finch." Ada walked past James, but before she could get to the door his hand found her elbow.

"Ada, please forgive me. That... that was out of line." James apologetically looked down at his feet, angry with himself for losing control... again.

"Yes, it was... but we have more pressing matters to deal with. Now come, we should try not to be late." James softly smiled at her forgiveness and the jest. He followed the woman as she strode out the I.C. and towards the Briefing Room.

---

The briefing had gone as James expected it would. All of group 4 had been ushered into the more than large enough briefing room and all the information they had gathered that afternoon had been put forward and analyzed. Once all the kinks regarding a lead had been ironed out, it was then placed as solid information in the case file. As they sifted through all the intel that had been thrown at them, the group realized that they had very few pieces of solid information. However, it was a decent start. Ada made the call to Pentagon and told them what she had told James. They were not happy about it, but they ceded to Ada's wants for a longer investigation period. In a gesture of good faith, the old men gave the CIA two months to come up with evidence. Ada, James, and the rest of group 4 were sated enough to not complain. The meeting, in all, took around three hours with much argument and theory being tossed around the briefing room to little fruition. After the time they still stood in the same place they did when all this began, except now they were more organized. James reasoned that it was enough for now as he walked out of the briefing room and headed towards the group 4 information center.

However, as he reached the elevator, Ada stepped up behind him.

"Director." James hesitantly greeted, still feeling guilty about the recent events. Ada hit the down button on the elevator pad and nodded.

"You're off-duty for the rest of the day. You may go home." James almost believed the order for a moment.

"You're funny, Celiane." James said, rolling his brown eyes.

"I'm very serious." James gasped at the sudden remark. What?

"I thought you said you had forgiven my outburst? Why would you send me, the leader of an operation home during such a critical period?" Ada softly smiled at his distraught expression.

"You did say that you were having trouble managing your personal life and work. This will give you the time you need to straighten it out." The slightly light-hearted response did nothing to ease James' anxiety. No, no, no, no, no! This can't be happening! Not after coming so far. She's firing me...

Ada Celiane took note of what James was most likely thinking and attempted to placate his fears. "Do not worry, Finch. You are not being fired. You're simply being given... some time off." James gulped and continued to gaze at the Director sheepishly.

"For... how long?"

"Long enough for Frank Alvarez to land at Houston, be decontaminated, screened, cleaned up, and eventually transported here." James looked confusedly at her.

"Why wait for him? I should be working with the rest of the group."

"You will wait because you and Solomon will be the ones to interrogate him once he gets here." Ada stated pointedly, her light-hearted mood gone. While most of James fear of termination was cleared, he still disliked the idea of being home for more than one day.

"And why can't I keep working until then? We could still be able to-"

"No, we won't be. There isn't a crime scene we can investigate. There are no assets we can check in on to gather information. Tebra is still too risky to directly contact. I know how important the situation is, but we have time, Finch. They gave us two months." James stared at the elevator doors as loud click signaled its arrival.

"It may not be enough."

"Well," Ada lightly pushed James into the elevator, "that's all the time we have. Enjoy your vacation Finch. I will contact you once Lieutenant Alvarez arrives in Washington." James watched as the doors closed behind him, Ada's body slowly becoming obstructed. James sighed heavily, the issues of the day beginning to bear on his shoulders, causing a wave of exhaustion to pulse through him. Vacation... James looked out the glass elevator at the small park underneath. "Well, it looks like Kyle got his wish." James grunted as he pondered on his newly granted free time...