There was a direct phone line connecting the Quadrangle to the Warden of the CARF. Being a facility where some of most dangerous people on Earth were being held, the line was encrypted and available at any hour of the day or the night, and the warden was to be always ready to answer the phone should the need arise. Of course, the same went for the other way around, with someone at the Quadrangle always there to receive any incoming calls should anything happen at the CARF while the main personnel was not there.
However, when Samantha called the call did not go the usual way. Nor did it go the expected unusual way a call at this time of the night should have gone. The warden answered almost immediately, as if he was waiting for her to contact him.
“Hello? This is the CARF’s warden Tom Ellis. Who’s calling?”
What a strange unprofessional way to greet the only person who could call at this number. Perhaps…
“Samantha Cromwell,” she said. “How is the weather in the underworld?”
The warden laughed. “Sunny as always, of course.”
She frowned. This was not a joking matter, but a keyphrase. “Are the bandits afoot?”
“Never. Not on my watch.”
The correct answer was 76 hooligans missing from count. Specifically crafted, in a way as to be impossible to replicate when under the effects of mind control. Created by Samantha herself as a safety measure. There was a specific configuration in the intonation and subtle frequencies that activated a part of the brain that was simply inaccessible when under the influence of, say, a psionic power of mind control.
Samantha kept her composure. “Very well. Inform me if anything happens. I have reason to believe it might.”
The warden hummed. “I have heard of your… exchange with the prisoner. Do not worry. I will make sure he suffers for it.”
Yeah, sure.
Samantha hung up, waited a long second, inhaled, looked straight ahead, inhaled again and then exhaled slowly. She felt like her brain was freezing, her emotions disappearing to leave space only to a cold desolate wasteland of calm rage and rationality. The most dangerous she had ever been. A mental state she had only achieved in one other occasion, and that she had never had the need to recreate ever since.
On her mind was only one thing, one sentence echoing endlessly. PsyOps asking her about her son. Those words: “I would keep an eye on him if I were you.”
The full gravity of the situation was finally evident. What was supposed to be a simple mishap, a simple oversight turned out to be much more than that. Letting PsyOps roam unsupervised when his brainwashing was obviously compromised had been a mistake. By the time he was sent to the CARF, it was too late, and no doubt the majority of the security personnel and the warden were already under his influence.
She needed to make sure Albert was okay.
“Clear the room. I am taking control of the Quadrangle and of its full capabilities.” She said. When the technicians of the night shift did not get up, instead looking at her with wide eyes, she spoke again. This time her voice was soft, almost inaudible. “Leave.”
The room was empty in record time.
Albert. She needed…
There was an item, of which the whole Quadrangle had only one. An Artifact made or recovered or invented or stolen Samantha did not know, but given to her by the HDF in case she needed it for an emergency. This was an emergency. She was not in danger herself, it was much worse than that. She did not even think about it twice before entering the required code into the computer and seeing the small containment box slide upwards from the floor. Only she knew of its existence in the whole Quadrangle, although she didn’t doubt that some of her higher-ups were aware of the existence of the item.
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She pulled it out of the box and clutched it in her hands. A map appeared in her mind, and she focused on the mental image of her house.
Then she was there.
She went up the stairs, careful as to make as little sound as possible. With her training, she was at her son’s door in mere moment, having made zero noise even with the old wooden steps and floors. Then she gently pushed the door, only later realizing that she was holding her breath as she did so, listening to anything that might be coming from her son’s room.
There was the sound of rhythmic breathing, but she did not let it fool her. It could be a ploy.
The door swung open without creaking, revealing only darkness. The window was closed but the blinders were open, letting some light come into the room from outside, scattered and thinned by the layer of white frost. Her eyes adjusted. Someone was in the bed, sleeping.
She got closer.
It was Albert.
She was sure as sure she could be. She left, returning to the Quadrangle in a hurry. If Albert had not been the target, but PsyOps and (by obvious logic) also SpaceOps (since he was held in the same prison) were at large, then it was all a ploy to get her to leave the Quadrangle undefended.
Yet… when she returned, everything was as she left it. Nothing was touched.
The mind at the heart of the structure was impervious to psionic attacks, so when it confirmed that indeed no incursion had been had, she believed it. At a loss, not knowing what to do, she ordered the satellites to perform a wide scan of the city.
The screen lit up like a Christmas tree.
Space magic… time magic! She needed to do something drastic, quickly before things got out of hand. It was clear that PsyOps was at large, and he was clearly also a Sekker, aiding the invasion of Earth at the hands of the Pilgrims. There was no other explanation. She should have seen it sooner, right when she found out that he had sabotaged the fence around Tryte. It was a good thing she realized it now, at the very least it was better late than never.
Her phone vibrated with a notification. She opened it: it was a text message with a photo attached to it. Her face turned to horror, the picture of PsyOps posing for a selfie together with the tied-up and beaten face of someone she recognized, and the caption reading:
“Ask your son if he remembers me. 😊”
***
[Dangerous future branch detected. Epicenter is Operative: Samantha Cromwell.]
[Dispatching Quest to apply correction.]
***
Albert was dragged out of sleep by the violence of the System. The dreamscape dissolved so quickly that his mind did not even have the time to process what was happening, nor did it manage to erase the memory of having been dreaming, leaving him to wonder whether what he was seeing was real or not. Luckily he remembered about that time he tried to learn lucid dreaming without success, and performed a reality check that told him that yes, the blaring text before his eyes was indeed real.
[New Quest: Leviathan stirs.]
[ATTENTION: this quest is time sensitive. Complete it with the utmost urgency.]
* The leader of the BSA has authorized the retrieval of the HDF weapon Alignment Cutter, which will result in a catastrophic event if used. You have seen the consequences of such a device on the planet Erebus, where Elvenhome resides. Prevent the activation of this device on Earth at all costs.
* Reward: Coordinates of 15 locations in strategic places around the world available for Teleportation.
* Reward: Elvenhome available for Teleportation.
* Reward: Teleportation range increase.
* Reward: 5 Mid Healing potions.
* Reward: One additional quest of choice will be autocompleted.
* Even in case of success, the Leviathan quest chain will be initiated ahead of schedule.
[System message: In order to grant you more time to prepare, the current daily quest has been replaced with a Sandbox Room. New parameters: Time will not flow while inside the quest environment AND autoexit has been disabled. The quest environment will be stable for up to 48 hours. Use them well.]
Albert recoiled from the wall of text. “What the heck?”
With one fluid motion, he reached for his Hazegem and poured mana into it. It was not all the mana he had but it was enough to return back to the previous night, right after Marc left to go home. This should give him time to understand what the hell was going on.