Near Iraq Border, 2013

My team and I were crouched in the shrubs and rocks overlooking the operation zone. The three other members of my fireteam were grumbling quietly enough for the sound to not carry while I glassed the site of the latest fuck up from the intel pukes. General Thomas though had expected mistakes based on all the bad intel we had been given and sent my team on ahead to get more up to date information.

The problem was that the minor outpost that we were informed of was in fact occupied by around forty hostels and at least twenty noncombatants. Some of those civilians looked more like foreign prisoners rather than locals. I slid back down into a better cover from the hostels and took the encrypted satellite phone from Sergeant Martinez, the team's top NCO. It took a moment for the General to respond, “Vigil 1, what do you have?”

“FUBAR sir, forty hostiles, approximately eight to twelve prisoners, and a handful of support noncombatants,” I responded.

“Threat assessment?” he asked.

I considered that for a moment before responding, “We haven’t seen any vehicles for rapid maneuver, but they are sitting smack dab in the way of any movement in force in this region. This is one of the few clear roads through the rocky terrain. The building looks like it's an old fort, possibly from Saladin’s time. They have RPG’s along with the standard armaments of the usual assortment of firearms. Watch discipline is minimal.”

“Can you get the hostages out?” he asked.

I considered that question. It was possible, but not unless I wanted witnesses to my Talent. I trusted my team but they would be duty bound to report my magic to our superior officers. There was another option, but that would require time to set up. It would also require permission from two sources, and I had one on the phone. “Sir, I might be able to get them out but there will be complications if I go that route.”

I could hear shuffling of people moving in the background before he responded, “Okay soldier, the room is clear. How much am I not going to like this?”

I sighed and said, “I have a pack of equipment that was sent as a care package from my sister. It is still sealed in my tent and I can’t let it be confiscated by the military.”

“What is it son?” he asked in the tone that made him seem like a grandfather to his soldiers.

I weighed my options, General Thomas was a good soldier who cared about his men. However he was still a soldier and took his oaths seriously. I had to level with him if I wanted to keep my own oath though, the oath I had sworn before I stepped into this new life. I answered, “My sister is one of the lead researchers for Adept Technologies. The case contains specialized armor and tools that would let me take out this entire encampment on my own. AT doesn’t provide equipment for the military though, this was supposed to be a backup plan because she worries. If I’m to use it in what could be classified as a military action I would need their approval, and to keep to the spirit of their contracts I should use it with the primary objective of extracting the hostages. Once I’ve used it though, our superiors will want to study it.”

“Conflict of oaths then?” he asked.

“Basically sir. I would estimate a thirty percent success rate of getting them out alive and myself combat capable without the gear. With the gear I would estimate it at closer to ninety percent without more than moderate injury to the civilians,” I said.

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“I’ll have the rest of your unit out to you by nightfall with the bag. I know you have that communication device you use to speak to your sister, can you get approval to use the gear?” he asked.

“Likely sir. Order’s sir?” I asked, not willing to make assumptions.

“Use whatever resources are at your disposal to extract those hostages, and any other hostages within that you may find. That gear is not property of the United States military, but you are authorized to use it. We will have a drone on standby for when you exit and they will reduce that structure to rubble unless given the abort signal by your overwatch team. Only do this if opposition numbers are reduced below fifty percent,” he commanded.

“Understood sir,” I acknowledged.

After hanging up and handing the phone back to the Sergeant I took out the metal case I kept in a side pocket and opened it up to reveal a reflective surface with glyphs etched along the border. Private Jacobs spoke before I could activate the mirror, “You know that is three in the morning in New York right now? From what you’ve told us she’s liable to find a way to slap you for waking her up.”

“Yeah, but if I use the gear without asking then she is going to do more than just slap me,” I said.

“Oooh, damaging government property, she’s a rebel. Is she single?” piped up Corporal Timmons.

“Timmons, you're on latrine duty when we get back to base,” the sergeant said before I could let my unstable emotions get the better of me. He then whispered to me, “I’ll keep them in line while you make that call.”

I nodded my thanks and activated the mirror. A few moments later an image of my sister appeared in the glass, sideways as I saw the edge of a mattress that she was laying on with her hair disheveled from sleep. Her sleepy voice spoke as I saw her reach for her glasses, “Michael, it’s too early for a normal call.”

“Sorry sis, this is a bit of an emergency situation,” I said.

“Did they open up the case or something?” she asked.

“No, but my team and I are in a situation that has a higher chance of me making it home if I open it,” I said.

“What can you tell me?” she asked, her sleepiness gone and eyes shining with focus.

“Strategic target with decent defenses, multiple hostages, and limited back up. The general changed my orders to hostage rescue if I received permission to use the gear and stated before witnesses that it wasn’t property of the military,” I quickly explained.

Rhiannon let out a long sigh before she said, “Okay I get it. Can you tell me how many people?”

“Around a dozen that we’ve seen,” I said.

Her cursing was long and inventive, and traveled the length of the world in the languages she had learned. From the corner of my eye I caught impressed looks from my squadmates at the variety before she calmed down and said, “You’re sure those are hostages and not support staff?”

“Most of them looked like they would have been at home in the Midwest,” I said.

“Fine, use the gear. If someone tries to confiscate it when you get back to base then use the contingency,” she instructed.

“I’ll need to scrap it after this mission anyway. I don’t want to risk being given orders to turn it over or have it intercepted if I tried to ship it back,” I said.

“That’s fine, I’m working on a few updates anyway,” she said, before taking her glasses off and saying, “Call me when you're back at base, love you bro.”

“Love you too sis,” I said before closing the case and terminating the communication.

Private Jacobs spoke up after the conversation ended, “Sir, not to be rude, but how many languages does your sister know?”

I snorted and answered, “At last count, seven spoken and sixteen written.”

Jacobs whistled in appreciation, “If she has a job in research why would she need to learn all of those?”

“The way she explained it, most of the written languages are used in her research,” I answered.

Sergeant Thomas interrupted and said, “Timmons, you're on watch. Sir, you should try and rack out. Sounds like you're going to be busy tonight.”

“Yeah top, looks like I am,” I said.

I moved downslope a bit to where the shade covers were set up and shrugged off my pack to use as a headrest. Luckily one skill I had relearned was how to sleep anywhere at anytime; it was afterall one of the core skills of an experienced soldier.