The black jet began to lift from the ground in the steadily growing engine whine, grass and leaves set fluttering. The sound was audible those miles away at the lab. Guards, soldiers assigned to this place in the middle of nowhere, began spilling from the building. All were armed and all were waiting - the sound was echoing, but the light that spilled from the forest was unmistakeable.

"The jets from Nevada have gone supersonic," Peregrine said to the unfamiliar man in her cockpit. "Helicopters are on their way from Frankfurt. And I detect that the door on the cell occupied by my pilot and your partner has opened."

More had happened than he'd thought could. The rearrival of the plane, then the plane's transformation, then the boarding of the people from Knight Industries, now the admiralcy - but one message had changed so much.

Captain Marshfield,

My name is Devon Miles. I was asked by a few friends of mine to make some queries on your behalf. It seems a branch of the Navy has taken it upon itself to infringe on your ship. I've gotten in touch with some people I've known over the years, and you may find your problem coming to an end soon.

I would, however, like you to see to it that Miss Becky Martinez isn't too heavily involved with what may be transpiring soon. She is a dear friend.

The instructions that had followed had been amazing - how could he believe he could do all of this to his superiors? But it was there, and the correct passages of military law were cited, and thus it was possible. He could sit in his office with an assortment of admirals in the brig, and worry only silently that his career was over.

He'd ordered the new plane to go to Siberia instead of here. That, he'd thought, was the least he could do.

Dick Marshfield was standing when his computer chimed. Another of those highly encrypted messages had come through. As the terminal worked to produce what message was beneath all of those layers of protection, he watched as word by word appeared.

So far, so good, right Captain? There's another helicopter on the way - this one from the Pentagon. They'll see to it that your ship is yours once more. It's been a pleasure speaking with you, Captain, and do take care. And thank you for keeping an eye on Becky.

It made him wonder.

Just how far did the Knights reach that they could even influence the Pentagon?

The map had said this area was open to the public, so that was where she'd gone. She'd needed something to do, after all. She was, however, a little surprised to see, "Bonnie?"

It was only after she'd said the name that she'd thought she'd need to call her 'Doctor Barstow.'

"Hey, Lieutenant," greeted Bonnie. She'd been expecting some measure of curiousity, and motioned her over. "Come on over. There's something I've been meaning to show you anyway." Then, almost mid-thought, she turned to the techs attending her and spoke, "When your shifts come up, don't leave this mid-process, at least have this part finished."

There were nods, but then Bonnie moved away. Kara followed. "You've been bored," Bonnie said. "Believe me, I know. It's part of the business. If you're not directly involved with whatever's in the headlong rush, you're bored out of your skull."

Both women chuckled as Bonnie headed up a set of stairs that hadn't been on the map. At the top, she slid her finger along a pad at the side of an electromagnetically sealed door. "But this should take up some attention.

"Where on earth are you taking me?" Kara asked with a chuckle. They'd been unusually pliable, all of them, but the situation called for it. And that was when she saw what was ahead of them. She was both excited and wary and looked up at the woman scientist with some trepidation.

Bonnie chuckled. "Go ahead. I thought it might be something, after all."

Kara felt her smile go wide and she stepped up, slid into the simulator. "Wow," she murmured, looking around. "Where's the training manual?"

"Here, I'll show you."

Hours were occupied like that, Bonnie describing, demonstrating function, and then Kara was flying - almost flying - again. Even if it was a sim, it was... oh God, it felt so close to the real thing, and she'd missed it for so long. Between rounds, they talked. Past and future, viewpoint of the woman in a traditionally male-dominated career. Kara found herself liking Bonnie almost against her will. But never did one more ally hurt.

He knew that, later today, Eddie would be leaving. And he didn't really know if he'd see him again, for all he'd asked Eddie to come back. His kid was, after all, still a kid. In twenty years, he wouldn't be a kid anymore.

He sat outside, though, drinking some kind of fruity, non-alcoholic something, since it was way too early for scotch. Drinking, while he thought.

This wasn't something for equations. This was something he wasn't fucking well used to. And he hated it.

Beautiful surroundings. God awful situation.

Sunsets in Hawaii were spectacular. He'd watched the whole thing, standing out on the terrace and sipping whatever alcohol they'd decided to bring him. He didn't really taste it. It was liquor, though. That made it all right.

He rested his palms, glass clasped in dangling fingers, against the wrought-iron railing.

So damn much had happened. So damn much.

He ducked his head, stretching his neck, pushed his back out and stretched that, too. He felt like it'd take about thirty-six hours of sleep for his brain to catch up to reality. Maybe he could eventually sleep for that long. When there wasn't an AI in his bed.

He had already cursed, hissed and stewed over what he had read. It was worse because he figured, or rather he thought he knew, what it meant. It had been nice, at first, to read Talon squadron reactivated.

Now, though, as he'd read through the rest of the tasking order, he knew there was no way he could, with a clear conscience, do what was asked of him.

They were forgetting that he was not Cummings.

And yet, he had to follow orders.

The helicopter would arrive in just under twenty-four hours. Eight of it, he would use for sleep. As soon as dawn broke, he would meet with Lieutenants Wade and Gannon. And then he would meet with his officers and there would be a ship-wide announcement.

Until then, he picked up his phone. It was a man either very concerned or very foolhardy that went above his superior's head.

She didn't know how long she'd been sitting there, her headphones plugged into her laptop, just listening to music. Laying there on her bunk. She'd been reamed by the captain, and she had to admit that she deserved it. It was a hell of a lot of prejudice she'd been letting air, even if she felt like some of it was warranted. But then, that was probably the way KKK members thought, and she wasn't going to lump herself in with them.

God, it ticked her off, though. These were computers. Computers masquerading as people, and nobody knew.

Or... well, some people knew, and they were hiding it. Why? Why the hell were they keeping it so private for these jerks?

Kitt Knight. Kitt Knight was a fucking AI. A computer. That, she thought, was probably the hardest thing to think of. She'd respected Knight Industries and FLAG on reputation, what with all the good things they'd done for the public and all of the charities they donated to, the relief efforts they were offering and had done before - she remembered how they swooped in, in 2001. It was a hell of a thing, and it was good to see. But now... Now, it was hard to accept, knowing that that all had been done by a company owned by a computer.

A computer who was married. Apparently gay. Had kids. A computer she'd touted to Ben as...

She didn't want to think about it. It was something she didn't quite get. But at least, she thought, between the dressing down she'd gotten and the time she was spending airing out in her quarters, she was getting rid of the initial irrational want to strangle them for misleading a world of people.

The next on the chain of command was the Senator. The Senator who, after having recieved the voice mail from Cummings, had shot himself as well. The project had been secret, which meant he didn't know any of the others in the chain besides those noted in the proposals that had been sent him for the use of his ship.

None of them were returning calls. None wanted to acknowledge the project was his, but what was more, he'd gotten word that it had ben re-done.

Another one. Another plane.

He dropped the hard copy distastefully and dropped himself into his chair. It was a fine time for all of this to land on him.

Okay.

Ben wished he'd written some of this down, but he'd manage, anyway.

Eddie really was contrite. He was sure of that. Eddie was prepared to die for what he'd done, but only after a trial and not in the top-brass-coverup way.

Eddie was convinced something real was going on with Caviar Sweep, even if Ben knew there wasn't.

And Eddie was completely batshit out of his mind, but maybe the Foundation for Law and Government could help him, if they could get out here.

Ben, on the other hand, now had a possible spin to stop World War Three. If it would work.

He hoped it would.

Ben also knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Kara wouldn't be pleased with anything but the fact he was still alive-- but he'd promised to see her, to find her, to assure her that he wasn't going to die grounded... well, not that last, but it was how he felt. He'd know where to find her, she'd said. On a big damn ship, that left a lot of ground to cover-- but it would have to be somewhere private enough that they could talk and somewhere you'd expect to find wingmen together. And not his room. It didn't look right for a female officer to wait for a male officer in his quarters.

So she'd be in her quarters.

So he knocked.

"Kara?"