Colonel Tyson Webster listened only in part to the delegate from Senator Helsing’s office sitting directly across from him. His thoughts were preoccupied with other matters.

“I’m sorry, am I boring you, Colonel Webster?” Joo Xi asked, bringing him back to present.

“Apologies, Miss Xi,” the Colonel said. “I was thinking of the recent attack—”

“Yes, the reason I’m here, as you know…”

“Of course. How could I forget?” the Colonel said.

“Senator Helsing would like to know what measures have been taken to guarantee that such an attack—on one of our supposedly secret bases, no less—does not happen again.” Joo Xi said.

Colonel Webster looked down at the short woman’s thin-lipped politician’s smile and masked his own feelings. He would just as soon punch this woman in the face as he would smile at her, but even the invisible branches of the GR had to play the game of politics, sometimes more so than their public counterparts. And Tyson Webster was an old hand at playing politics, even if he hated it.

“Well, that rumbling beneath your feet is one of those measures,” he replied.

“Yes, relocating Cerberus comes at a substantial cost to the the budget—”

“Tell Senator Helsing if she wants to scrap the facility altogether and rebuild it from scratch, she’s more than welcome, but the cost will be a hundred times that of simply moving the base.”

Joo parried his thrust with: “And just how did the freedom fighters come to find the black-ops base in the first place?”

Webster winced—he couldn’t help it, despite his best attempt. “Don’t call them that! They’re little more than a terrorist group from the Outer Rim. Don’t legitimize them by—”

“And don’t change the subject!” Joo Xi smiled.

Webster took a deep breath, letting the silence grow before releasing it.

“Have you been able to discover how the…terrorist group…discovered your hidden intelligence base of operations or not?” Xi asked again. She wasn’t going to let this go.

“Excuse me, Colonel Webster?” a voice behind them said.

They both turned to see who the interrupter was—Webster relieved while Xi annoyed—she had just been getting somewhere in her deposition.

The interrupter was a young, skinny man, a communications officer by the insignia on his uniform. “Incoming secure transmission for you Colonel.” The officer’s eyes darted suspiciously at the Senatorial delegate. “Your eyes only.”

Colonel Webster allowed his mask to crack into a thin smile. “Thank you, ensign.” He turned to Xi and offered a bow that said, sorry, I would if I could, but it’s out of my hands. “Would you excuse me, Ms. Xi?”

Webster turned and left without waiting for her answer.

The comms officer followed after him.

“I’ll take it in my quarters,” Webster informed him.

The officer nodded. “Of course, sir.”

The colonel entered the dimly lit study in his quarters. He sat behind a large wooden desk and leaned back, enjoying the space compared to his more cramped quarters onboard the Remus.

The holo display on his desk flashed and he gestured with a flick of his fingers, accepting the call. The caller’s visage filled the space over the colonel’s desk.

“Senator,” Colonel Webster said warmly, “it’s so good to hear from you.”

“You and I both know that’s not true, but it’s kind of you to say… very political of you. Are you sure you’re not in the wrong line of work?”

The colonel laughed at the jest. “I’m certain. I merely dabble at the game of politics. If I were to try to play, I have no doubt that I would be chewed up and spit out in short order. No—better for an old dog like me to stick to digging up hidden bones and gnawing on them until they give up the succulent marrow inside.”

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“And a poet, as well. Say what you will, Tyson, I think you’d make a fine addition to the Senate one day. If you’d like, I could make a few introductions?”

“Forgive me, Senator, but I do have relocation to deal with. Can we get down to it?”

A look of disappointment crossed the Senator’s face for the briefest of moments before he nodded and replaced it with what appeared to be a genuine smile. “Helsing’s dog chewing you a new one?” the Senator asked.

“And then some.”

“Very well, Colonel. Let’s begin. You are aware who I answer to?”

The Colonel nodded.

“And you are aware where your funding comes from and why?”

Again Webster nodded.

“Good. Then what is the status of the girl?” the Senator asked.

Now to answer the questions he’d been prepared for from the start—indeed, the questions that he’d had himself ever since Violet Weaver had popped up on their radar. “A local GR unit found her near the Outer Rim on Logos,” Webster reported. “She’s on her way back to Cerberus now.”

“And our interests in her?”

At this, the colonel’s face fell. “Our interest remains, albeit at a lessened level than previously.”

“Elaborate.”

Webster sighed. “They’ve tagged her, just like we did.”

“So they’ll know exactly where she is at all times?” the Senator said.

“No, the base’s new location will be secure if that’s what you’re getting at—we can mask the tracer, just like they did when they abducted… well, let’s not get into that. Suffice to say, we’re going to have to suspend our operator trials until we figure out a workaround.”

An uneasy silence filled the void.

The colonel waited it out. To do anything less would be to give up even more collateral in this illicit relationship between the public face of the republic and the hidden arm.

Finally, the Senator broke. “I don’t like it, but I suppose it’s the hand we’ve been dealt.”

The colonel nodded. “Yes, sir. I agree—”

“But I want your word that getting the trial back underway is going to be your highest priority, Tyson.”

“Of course, Senator. You have my word.”

“And what will you do with her in the meantime?”

“I’ve been thinking a lot about that very question…”

The Senator allowed him his suspenseful pause before responding. “…and what have you come up with?”

“Since our initial plans have changed, thanks to the damned insurrectionists, I think we may as well do what we told her we were going to do in the first place...”

“And for those of us who were not privy to such meetings?” the Senator said.

A wide smile spread across Colonel Webster’s face. “Train her to be an intelligence operative.”

“Sounds risky, Tyson. The original plan was to keep her in isolation, study her—use her.” The Senator paused while he processed the scenario. “Does she remember the first round of testing?”

“So far she has no memory of it. She only remembers her time onboard the Remus, nothing of what happened while she slept.”

“I see,” the Senator mused. “And what if she starts to remember?”

“That’s why I believe we need to train her.”

“You think training this girl to be an elite killer is that answer?”

“She’s already a killer, Senator…even if she doesn’t know it yet. And this way—my way—she will be indoctrinated with the same training that all of our operatives go through. Will she perhaps be more deadly? Yes…but she will also be more loyal and obedient—and when the time comes, and rest assured, it will come; we will need that loyalty and obedience more than anything else.”

The Senator mulled over Colonel Webster’s response, and for a moment, Webster thought maybe he’d failed to sell the Senator on his plan of action. But Webster had given this pet project a lot of thought…even before Violet Weaver had popped up on their radar, back to the first incident with one of these genetic freaks…nearly two years before. They would be an incredible tool in the Republic’s arsenal, but first they needed to make sure that the tool couldn’t be used against them.

“Well, this is your area of expertise, Tyson, so I’ll leave it in your capable hands, but do keep me apprised of all the developments.”

The Colonel nodded his understanding.

“I’ll expect to be regularly updated,” the Senator drove the point home.

“I understand, Senator.” And the colonel did understand…if anything went sideways from here on out, it would be his head on a platter, not the senator’s.

“Good.” The Senator ended the call.

Colonel Tyson Webster spun in his chair and looked out at display that currently showed a slowly panning view of Cerberus from one of the security drones. He massaged his temples in between his palms, squeezing his head in between his hands. The irony that the added pressure momentarily relieved the pressure built up in his head was not lost on him.

His intercom beeped, interrupting his contemplative solitude. “What is it?”

“Forgive the intrusion, Sir, but Madam Delegate Xi is demanding to speak with you.”

Tyson Webster stood and straightened his uniform with a sigh. He missed the good old days when all his battles were fought with blasterfire instead of carefully chosen words and politicking.

“Tell Xi I’m on my way.”