-1-

"To your new promotion, Captain Hadar."

Odessa Hadar gingerly raised her glass of ale to the toast, a slight smile curling her lips. Her brown eyes darted to the woman perched next to her on a high bar stool. Mina Giles was dressed simply in a high-necked forest-green uniform, with the collar unbuttoned, and a sleek bark-brown skirt and nylons. Fluffy straw-colored bangs framed her brow, with a shortly cropped curtain in the back. Holding a martini poised in the air, her emerald-green eyes regarded Odessa amiably in the dim light of the bar. She was beaming.

"Why thank you, Doctor Giles, but I don’t see this as anything more advanced than what I was doing as Lieutenant Hadar," Odessa replied nonchalantly.

Mina sipped her beverage before replying, "Even if it means you’ll have your own command?"

Odessa took a swig of her own drink, savoring the bite of the alcohol as it slowly trickled down her throat. Somehow, despite the burn of it, it was a soothing sensation. "Well, that is what most officers want, isn’t it?"

"Are you meaning to say that’s not what you want?"

Another gulp. "Are you meaning to say that I’m not like most officers?"

"No not at all," Mina returned sincerely. "You’re hardly average, Odessa. That’s why you received this promotion."

"I’m charmed you think that," she replied tonelessly.

"Give yourself a little credit," Mina said lightheartedly. She sipped at her drink before continuing. "You’ve got what it takes to be a great officer."

"Mmm."

"You know I’m not the only one who thinks that."

"Mmm."

Oblivious to the solemn look her friend gave her, Odessa stared blankly at the shimmering ginger-colored liquid in her bar glass. Her thoughts were elsewhere, poking memories long since buried away under pounds of sand.

Her eyes raised to the wall, behind the bar where shelves stocked with green, brown, and clear glass bottles glistened like barred teeth in the meager light. But the clarity of this detail was nonexistent to the freshly appointed Captain, who saw something just as menacing as the glow of bar brine in a dim room.

Flashing in a blast of dusty muted light was the image of an old photograph of a bearded man in a traditional two-piece uniform kneeling with a little dark haired girl in T-shirt and shorts. The girl was laughing in wide-mouthed joy as the man, with an enormous hand on her shoulder, smiled serenely. Despite the happiness conveyed in the picture, Odessa felt an inner repulsion at the mere recollection of it. It reminded her of her family life…a life she despised.

Then the image of the photograph dissolved, replaced by a new scene. In the flickering orange light from a snapping fire in the fireplace, six-year old Odessa eagerly padded up to her daddy’s plush burgundy chair.

Words she had once spoken as that little girl now echoed in her mind, "Daddy, let’s play!"

With an edge of fatigue her father replied, "Aw, Dessa, daddy’s got to work now sweetie."

That was how it always was, adult Odessa reflected, not only were you always gone at work, but with the few moments you were home, it was always an excuse to dodge your family.

And then, as an afterthought…

"Are you okay?"

Mina’s kind tone melted away the strong recollection, but the ill feeling remained.

"It’s nothing," she offered with a shake of her head, "I was just thinking."

The other woman studied her friend a moment, then, "About your family?"

Odessa’s eyes widened in shock and she hastily turned to Mina exclaiming, "How did you know that?"

Mina tilted her head to one side and looked beyond the bar. This time when she spoke, her tone was mild and suave, methodical. "The situation can be summarized into two clauses, beginning with the following statement: If you are thinking about your family, then you’re quiet and noncommittal. Since you were being quiet and noncommittal, reason dictates that you must have been thinking about your family."

Odessa returned her vision to the swarthy contents of her bar glass, feeling mild self-reproach for missing the obvious. Mina was notorious for extending methodical reasoning outside the laboratory and exercising it in daily life. At times, Odessa envied her for her patience and logical mind, but other times it was outright annoying.

And presently, she found her feelings hitching towards irritating. Though the perceptive quality of Mina’s deduction was a trait Odessa wished to strengthen for the purposes of improving her own evaluation of others’ actions, her friend’s use of it in the current situation was bothersome because it fingered a touchy subject for Odessa—her family. She almost never spoke about her family, least of all her father, and she had no desire to voice her thoughts at a time when, as her friend implied, she should be celebrating. So, as much to avoid the topic as to engage in a new topic, she quaffed down a mouthful of the ale. "That’s a nice bit of deductive reasoning. I suppose that’s the best kind of reasoning you know, being a scientist."

"I can’t argue with you on that account, though inductive reasoning is has its uses. It’s hard to make sense of data without utilizing some form of inductive reasoning."

"Making judgements based on the probability that you’re right. That’s inductive reasoning, isn’t it?"

Mina nodded, "Not everything in the universe can be one-hundred percent true. Sometimes the only way to make sense of things is to postulate a conclusion to get yourself oriented in what could be the right direction."

"And if you’re wrong well, you were just interpreting what you see and applying that with what you already know."

"Right."

Thoughtfully, Odessa swiveled her glass in a circular motion in the air, forming a miniature whirlpool out of the shallow broth. "On that subject, here’s a bit of deductive reasoning for you," she said, pausing dramatically for Mina’s attention. Still swiveling her glass, she looked slyly at Mina. She waited for her friend to raise her brows as if to say, "Well, get on with it" before she abruptly stopped moving her glass and presented her idea. "If the truth is subjective because how we interpret reality is subject to our beliefs and how we see the world, then—"

A rough bump from behind interrupted her in mid-sentence. Abruptly she twisted around on her stool to see the cause of the collision. A man of average height and somewhat lanky build (despite a barrel gut) squinted at Odessa in a dazed stupor. Though his reflexes were blunted by the booze, his features were sharp and narrow. Small chip-like ears pressed flat against his head, flanking thin expressive brows. Scratchy five o’clock shadow covered his slender chin and jaw, also tracking beneath a triangular nose. His eyes, which squinted so unceasingly it was difficult to determine what color they were, didn’t seem to focus on her. Steely-gray bandana cloth clasped his head like a gray lobotomy cap, secured by a simple tie in the back. Clinging tightly around a prominent paunch and hearty chest was a shirt (which would have been white if not for the abundant amount of grease stains) that dangled untucked from his slack airplane-gray cargo pants, which were amazingly held in place by a nylon belt. Though he looked familiar to her, Odessa was certain she would have remembered meeting someone like him before.

"‘Scush me," the man slurred. Then his eye glinted at her in recognition. Accordingly, his squint intensified as he craned his neck forward to see her clearly. "Shay…do I knosh you sheilash?"

Odessa blinked in bewilderment. "Ahhhh…beg your pardon?"

"Oh!" Mina burst. "You’re from the Technology division aren’t you?"

"Yesh ma’am!" he replied straightening to attention. "Chief Matthiu Neil at yer shervish—service!" He cleared his throat experimentally.

"You’re from Triax?" Odessa blurted in shock.

"Hey Matthiu!" called a distant voice.

Over the man’s shoulder, Odessa saw another man’s hand waving at them anxiously above the heads of the crowd.

"’Ey mate!" Matthiu shouted back, recklessly trying to turn around, "Lookie ‘o we’ve run into!" His reflexes and balance still distorted from the liquor, the shift of balance sent Matthiu staggering backward into Odessa again. With a resounding "oof" she promptly shoved him back away from her.

"Whoa. Shorry, there. Kinda losht me balanshe." He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

Seething red anger threatened to overwhelm Odessa and send her on a tirade. But just as she opened her mouth to speak, Mina hastily laid a hand on her shoulder, undoubtedly certain of what was to come. Immediately Odessa met the other woman’s gaze, which communicated firmly "let me handle this."

The annoyed Captain’s mouth wagged to form several different replies—none of which were voiced—before Mina gingerly picked herself up from her stool and, taking the woozy one by the shoulder, proceeded in guiding Matthiu to his unseen "mate" in the crowd. Between the gyrating forms, Odessa watched her friend patiently pick her way through the throng, cocking her head this way and that in search of the other man. When Mina did find him, Odessa strained to get a look at the man, but for all her effort could only make out the Doctor exchanging words with someone obscured from view. After speaking, Mina paused, presumably listening to a reply. She smiled and began to turn away, briefly saying something else before navigating her way back.

"Did his ‘mate’ have anything interesting to say?" Odessa said sarcastically when Mina was close enough.

"Only an apology, but anyway," Mina returned dismissively as she took her seat, "you were saying?"

Odessa huffed momentarily, righting herself on the stool before hunching over the counter. "Forget it," she retorted petulantly, "I don’t remember what we were talking about." She hunched over the counter muttering, "I can’t believe Triax would hire someone like that."

Next to her, Mina shrugged. "He does excellent work but his habits leave something to be desired."

The other snorted, "You’ve got that right. If you hadn’t have stopped me I would’ve given him something to think about."

"And it would have resulted in making a larger scene than the one he caused himself."

"I don’t understand how you can be so tolerant of people like that."

"Why not?" Mina replied with amusement, "I have you as a friend."

The play was lost on Odessa as she was still angry, and her mind began to wander again. It didn’t matter what Mina’s intentions were by the comment; she was still unruffled from the encounter with "Chief" Neil. In thoughtless retort she scoffed, "How can you compare?"

Mina’s brow furrowed. "I didn’t mean it like that."

Instead of responding verbally, a single seething thought charred into Odessa’s mind, reinforced and accompanied by haunting memories from a time not long enough ago.

Her mother’s bony white figure hunched over the kitchen sink, clad in scarcely more than an orange sherbet tank top and jeans. Her stringy, waxen hair draped over the basin like a mop. Retching from abnormal amounts of booze, Sonya Hadar made a muffled roar as the vomit made a disgusting splash.

Her mother, so sloshed she had called—no, bawled like an beagle at midnight, for her daughter to come "dance" with her, which amounted to an unbecoming lurch around various parts of the house. The grand finale of course was her passing out on the floor, sometimes gurgling in a puddle of drool, or puke. All bundled up in a flaxen heap, stinking of booze, and snoring as loud as truck horns.

"What’s gotten into you anyway?" Mina asked, displacing the memories out of mind. Despite the reassurance that her friend’s voice brought her, an echo of the pain still kept her hand clasped tightly to the glass—so tightly, the her fingers were as white as bare bone.

"You know I’m just teasing," the doctor offered genially.

Odessa exhaled deeply before replying, "I know, it’s just been a long day."

After a moment studying the other, Mina rose from her seat, saying with downward eyes, "We should go then."

Another sigh followed by a quick swig topping off the glass. After savoring the burn in her mouth for a moment, Odessa said, "I suppose. After all…" She slid the glass forward and dropped a few bills from her pocket on the bar, rising as she continued, "…we do have work tomorrow."

Despite the conclusive edge to Odessa’s words, the two women lingered a moment longer by the bar as the captain shuffled with her billfold. When she looked up, she caught Mina blinking sleepily.

"I could use a good night’s rest," she remarked.

"Can’t handle the all-nighters so well anymore, eh?"

The other smiled slightly, gazing serenely off into the barroom night.

Odessa followed her stare, her own mood cooling suddenly. "Thing’s have been quiet lately. Hopefully they’ll stay that way a while." She bowed her head humbly, closing her eyes, relishing the soothing darkness. The most promising peace is sleep. Her eyes opened a crack, squinting artificially at the floor. Slowly she raised her head.

Odessa Hadar dashed down a long ashen-gray hall in Triax Headquarters, her boots clanking loudly on the metal wire platforms. Automatic and keycard-operated doors flitted by in an indistinguishable blur of heavy frames and smeared signs. Her legs pumped rhythmically despite a burning hitch she could feel in her tense calves, accompanied by the accelerated twittering of her heart. Holding a cell phone pressed to her ear, she listened intently to the update from Doctor Giles.

"The pictures from the spy plane are pretty hazy from all the snow and interference," her metallic voice squawked in Odessa’s ear, "but with the compiled sensor readout in consideration, there is no doubt this is an unauthorized complex equipped with some potentially dangerous materials."

"What’s the report from the Civilian division?" Odessa asked.

There was a momentous pause before Mina began reading off the information. "All respective governments in the Global Committee were contacted at oh five hundred this morning, just as soon as we discovered the data. Judging from Advisor Rotarn’s report, none of them had any idea it was ever there."

"How certain can we be it’s not just something the Russians abandoned and forgot ever existed?"

"They say they never could build anything big in that region because the weather patterns and terrain were too severe to make it economically feasible. It never existed before now."

"Hmm." Things don’t just suddenly appear in the middle of northern Siberia. Particularly after the weather patterns were altered with the devastation of World War III.

"Besides, it’s definitely occupied. The only reason the planes ventured that far north in the first place was because fresh mech tracks and power radiation were detected all around it."

"Then there’s a good possibility it could be terrorist. And operational. Two very naughty things."

"Looks like we can count on dispatching a ground efficient team to investigate this compound more clearly."

Odessa darted around a corner. She could feel her raven-black jacket pull and fold against her with the abrupt change in direction. "Has Commander Warfield issued the order already?"

"Not yet," Mina returned. "That was just my assumption."

Ahead Odessa could clearly see a pair of twin steel doors with heavy frames extending two feet from the encompassing wall. On the wall to the right was an inverted box with a small card slip and a pair of unlit lights, one a darkened crimson and the other a blackened green. Deftly with her free hand, the captain withdrew her Triax officer’s identification card and slipped it through as she came to an abrupt halt. Instantly the green light blinked on, accompanied by an electronic flourish. Waiting as the doors began to slide apart, she punched off her cell phone and deposited it in her right coat pocket.

In respect to the current situation, she felt an iron certainty similar to Mina’s observation. A team would be dispatched to investigate the true nature of the compound. Even if it was just a fluke and the compound was just scouted out by another party who didn’t come forward directly for some reason or another, they couldn’t know for sure. And if it was occupied and run by some terrorist group intent on rekindling World War, then the whole compound would have to be seized and taken in for interrogation.

And of course, there was still the issue of which case would be the true one. They hadn’t established whether the compound was a threat to worldwide security—in which case it was Odessa’s obligation as an officer of Triax to eliminate that threat by any means necessary. And they couldn’t send in a brigade of troops in the off chance that it was empty or harmless. The Global Committee would never approve of sending a lot of resources and men out on a possibility.

Before her, the twin doors hissed apart in a smooth gliding action. With the opening, Odessa’s ears awakened to the muddled prattle of technicians and the perpetual buzz of electronics and machinery. Compared to the near-silence of the deserted hallways, it was like cracking open a window to a blizzard and being exposed to an entirely different atmosphere. A cool air-conditioned draft wafted through the gap, stirring her clothes and lashing back her hair. It was a refreshing blast, soothing her excited muscles and pounding heart. She squinted as her eyes adjusted from the dim lighting of the hallways to the pristine brightness of the expansive chamber beyond the doors—the heart of Triax United, the central Command Center.

As she stepped confidently through the opening, a bold thought entered her mind.

Indeed, this was a place where knowledge was the supreme hunter of truth, sought out with communication and observation. The Command Center encompassed a vast amount of space, as large as a philharmonic stage center with three balconies layered on top of one another like a modern version of a ziggurat. Built into the wall of each terrace was a row of computer systems, manned by computer specialized technicians in smoky grey uniforms. Farther inward to each level were the white-tiled platforms, occasionally marked by a transparent world map or table under the observation of technicians and mud-brown garbed military personnel. Odessa entered on the top-level balcony, where all essential systems, satellite display, personnel roster, interior and exterior COM systems and other limitless functions could be accessed with the input of a command. The top level also had primary access to the main forward screen, encompassing the whole space in front of the three balconies like one enormous movie screen with scale measurements posted along the side in glowing white divisions.

At present, it displayed an enormous still-photo of a circular concrete edifice flanked by a smattering of other smaller structures huddled closely by bleary snow-covered cliffs on all but one side. Though white swirls of snow obscured the exact layout of the land, a prominent slope towards this open side distinguished it as an entrance to the compound. More specific details of the photo were scarcely discernable because of the poor weather. Had Odessa not known what the situation was, she would have surmised someone had been trifling with the satellite photos.

Striding purposely through the sparse bog of personnel, the captain quickly reached the edge of the terrace. A continuous desk of keyboards and panels fenced off the edge of the terrace from a twenty-foot drop to the next level. Replacing an emergency phone back on its receiver, Doctor Mina Giles, now wearing ovular glasses and her customary paper-white lab coat over her green uniform and mahogany slacks, turned at her approach. Righting herself, she gingerly rotated her glasses back on her crown, nestled neatly in flaxen-yellow hair.

Eyes locked on the main display, Odessa folded her arms. "Status of dispatched air power in the area."

Tapping at her console, a young female technician at Mina’s side answered, "They’re en route back to the nearest base, as per Commander Vesper’s command."

At the mention of the Vice Commander’s name, the captain glanced over her shoulder at the commander’s station just behind where she stood. It was empty.

"Vice Commander was called away to Commander Warfield," Mina said, coolly observing the captain’s gesture. "He left about fifteen minutes ago."

With a furrowed brow, Odessa returned her gaze forward. Warfield had to have gotten orders from the Global Committee on what action to take. She turned to the internal communications operator to her left. "Patch me through to Commander Warfield. And make sure it’s a coded channel."

"Yessir."

The technician’s hands danced rapidly over the console, emitting a clattering of keys. Shortly, a black rectangle framed in electric blue materialized in front of Odessa, floating before her like a magic card. The white words "AUDIO ONLY" were printed in it.

"Sir, I’d like to know what course of action we are permitted to take," she said.

The stately rumble of Commander Warfield’s voice replied, "A mission plan has been drawn up. A team of seven handpicked men and women will reconnoiter the compound."

"Handpicked? Then you already have a crew in mind?"

Commander Vesper’s haggard voice came through over the COM. "The briefing begins at oh six hundred in my ready room. Is Doctor Giles there?"

Mina’s head jerked to attention. "Sir?"

"You’re to report in as well."

Just as Odessa gave the nod for the technician to end the broadcast, Warfield’s voice briskly inserted, "Oh and Captain."

The suddenness of the statement caught Odessa by surprise. Tentatively she uttered, "Yessir?"

"You will be leading the team."

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