Send-off

Daria woke up.  She looked at the clock, and performed some arithmetic.  She had slept for a total of eight hours.  [i]God, I thought I’d have slept for days after coming back from Mexico.[/i]

She didn’t even have a cough.  She felt fine. Danielle had used her healing powers on the Legionnaires.  Daria was told that there was something akin to an “immune system collapse” after a stressful event, and Danielle’s powers would keep the Legionnaires from feeling like they had all hit the wall.

There was a knock on the door.  “Shit,” Daria muttered, “[i]use the fucking ring[/i].”

Daria, in her sleep shorts and T-shirt, grabbed her glasses and walked towards the door.  When she opened it, it was Charles waiting for her.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” she answered. “Did we forget something last night?”

“No,” he said. “We have a communique from Colonel Armalin.  He wants all of the Legionnaires to meet at high noon.  Twelve hundred sharp, he said.  He states that he doesn’t have any time to give a longer explanation.”

“Okay,” Daria said. “I’m sure we’re [i]all[/i] going to get a nice reaming out.  Although in the cases of Quinn or Sandi or someone like that, what’s he going to say?”

“I don’t know.  But he did make a few requests.”

“Like what?”

“[i]Please make sure that all Legionnaires are fed, have adequate hydration, and have addressed all personal hygiene needs before the start of the meeting.[/i]”

“That can’t be good.”

“No.”

Daria, leaving Charles at the front door, walked back into the bedroom. She walked back out to the door with her phone in her hand.  Pulling up the Legion ribbon app, she clicked it and began speaking into the phone.

(* * *)

Jane woke up.  Her phone was buzzing.  “Gaaaah,” she muttered, before reaching out a hand to grab it.

The Legion ribbon was glowing with a blinking red color.

[b]CODE RED TWO (1200 pm)[/b]

Jane clicked the ribbon and it unfolded into a red border around the app.  She read it.

[b]CODE RED TWO

Legion meeting at 1200 pm.

Attendance is mandatory.  Legion uniforms are mandatory. Ops reports that uniforms are now clean and in Bay Two for those who took part in the Mexico City rescue attempt.  All video has been recovered and cameras have been re-initialized.

All Legionnaires are requested to complete at minimum breakfast and either a morning snack or an early lunch.  All training activities are cancelled.  Personal hygiene needs are to be addressed before the meeting.[/b]

“What does that mean?” Jane said to herself.  “Shave my legs this morning?”  Being an inactive member meant that she didn’t have to deal with this shit.

(* * *)

“You know something, Trent?” Karen asked.

“What?” Trent said.

“I didn’t think that the Legion was going to be a bunch of [i]meetings[/i],” Karen said.  “The best part of UNCLE was the field work.  God, I hated meetings.”

“Yeah,” Trent said. “I think it’s like…when you have Daria and Chuck, two brainy people in high school?  They like to have meetings.”

“I just hope this is important,” Sandi said.  “If this is something that could have been dealt with in an e-mail, I would have flipped. And who the hell calls a RED TWO for a meeting, even if it’s a rush schedule?  No one should abuse codes like that.”

Daria came into the room without Charles.

“What’s this about?” Sandi asked.

“[i]I don’t know[/i],” she said.  “Armalin asked me to call this meeting.”

“Why?” Sandi said, her curiosity piqued.  [i]And why didn’t he tell me?[/i]

“Jodie isn’t here either,” Mack said.  “What’s going on?”

The mood immediately changed.  Kyle Armalin and Brenda Nemec entered the room.  The monitors on the wall all flipped on when he entered, each displaying the default circle-and-ribbon Legion logo.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, gravely, “the information that you are about to receive requires a TOP SECRET security clearance.  For the purposes of this briefing, all of those who wish to learn this information are required to affirm, in writing, that this information will not be disseminated to the public.”

Each Legionnaire was then passed a piece of paper, and Nemec tossed a box of pens into the center of the meeting table.

Charles looked at the document.  It was legal boiler plate, with an ominous section at the end listing the substantive legal penalties for revealing the information.  Each Legionnaire was required to write their full legal name (including middle names and suffixes), their Social Security number, and the current date.

After they signed, Nemec pulled a plastic stamp from somewhere and began stamping each of the papers with a notary seal, affirming that under similar penalties that she had witnessed the Legionnaires signing the documents and that they were doing so of free will.

Daria shielded the document with her arm as she signed it.   “Huh?” Quinn whispered to her sister.

“No way anyone’s seeing [i]my[/i] middle name,” Daria said.

“I know your middle name.  What makes you think they don’t know?” Quinn said.

“Quiet, [i]Armintie[/i].”

“Legionnaires, a decision has been made by Special Powers Command to deploy to Puerto Rico within the next six hours.  In order to do that, I need to bring certain things to your attention that will be helpful to you during your extended and open-ended stay there.”

Trent raised his hand. “Yes, Mr. Lane?”

“What is the ‘Special Powers Command’.”

“This term refers to the United States.  The United States Special Powers Command is the Unified Combatant Command charged with overseeing the various metahuman combat, intelligence, research and support elements that exist throughout the seven uniformed services of the United States, including the United States Armed Forces.  Basically, if it’s metahuman and military, then SPC is in charge of it.  If you’re familiar with USAES, then, Mr. Lane, the concept of the Special Powers command won’t be foreign to you.”

Charles raised his hand, but Armalin cut him off.  “Hold all questions to the end of the briefing, Mr. Rutthemier.  What follows is Top Secret information and I would hate to repeat it. Listen carefully.”

(* * *)

It took Armalin thirty minutes to deliver the information in bite-sized chunks that the Legionnaires could digest.  

Daria worked on committing everything to memory.  The information wasn’t good.  The devastation to Puerto Rico was greater that she had learned from casually listening to the news while running on the treadmill.

She didn’t know that hurricanes were wide.  In this case, Hurricane Irma was fifty miles wide and it had dissected the island, essentially annihilating anything that it came into contact with.  There were 3.4 million American citizens on the island and Puerto Rico’s infrastructure had been devastated.  She recalled Armalin’s statement in the briefing.  

“Despite the earthquake in Mexico City, most of the buildings and support services remained intact.  Power was out, but we believe it will be restored soon.  Rubble can be cleared away.   Unfortunately, Puerto Rico is not the same.  Electricity, infrastructure, distribution have suffered unprecedented destruction.  These are not easy fixes in the best of circumstances, and the SPC’s newest directive this morning states – and I use their words – states that ‘Puerto Rico is undergoing a [i]spiral of failure[/i] that requires extraordinary intervention to avoid a mass catastrophe’.  And, as someone well familiar with the workings of the SPC, they are not ones to casually issue [i]hyperbole-loaded[/i] statements in official communiques.  If they say ‘extraordinary intervention’, they mean it.”

She saw the pictures.  Roofs had simply been ripped off of dwellings and a huge part of the island had been deprived of shelter.  Four out of every five Puerto Ricans had no access to electrical power.  Given the efforts so far, the estimate from SPC was that it would take until January before power could be restored to 95 percent of the island.  

Fresh water had been secured.  Fuel was available.  But communication had taken a severe hit.  Agriculture had been [i]scourged[/i], to use the words of the SPC document; Puerto Rico no longer had a viable agriculture industry.

After underlining the horrible situation of Puerto Rico in the first part of his talk, Armalin directed his comments to the rescue/relief effort.  It was the second part of the presentation that chilled Daria more than the first part.

The island was “flat-busted”, to used Armalin’s words.  It was broke.  It was trying to pay back its debtors.  It couldn’t afford any modernization at all.  And this was [i]before[/i] the hurricane. It had no money to purchase any sort of relief for itself.

Furthermore, the debt of the island was owned by several hedge funds that expected a nice return on that debt.  Debt relief for Puerto Rico through Congress was a non-starter.  The hedge funds were putting political pressure to have relief for Puerto Rico contingent on the island taking on more debt relief.

The island suffered under the Jones Act.   Any relief to the island required that the relief come in American ships crewed and owned by Americans.  Accepting direct relief from foreign countries was a political non-starter.  “Believe it or not,” Armalin said with disgust, “some Congressmen brought up the [i]Monroe Doctrine[/i].”  But the shippers wanted the Jones Act in force, so that payment to American shippers could be prioritized.

“Jesus,” Sandi said, “what the hell are we doing?”

Armalin ignored the interruption. “Griffin, we have 15,000 troops on the ground.  FEMA and the Army Corps of Engineers are on the ground. We have a hospital ship ready to supply assistance.  Unfortunately, [i]15,000 troops isn’t enough[/i].”

“How many [i]is[/i] enough?” Karen asked.

“Let’s [i]start[/i] with 50,000.  Maybe more.”

Armalin had to establish the political reality.  Deficit hawks in Congress didn’t want Puerto Rico to even receive the inadequate aid that it was being provided by Congress, aid on the amount of $36 billion. 

“What’s the president doing?” Daria asked.

“The President has been informed,” Armalin said.  “But, between you and me, the Twitter war with the NFL interests him more than this issue.”

Mack just put his head in his hands.  Sandi’s arms were folded, looking away from the rest of the room.  Brittany just stared straight ahead.  “[i]I don’t believe this[/i],” was all that Stacy had to say.

“As you can see, Puerto Rico is on the verge of becoming a disaster on the level of New Orleans.  Given what I’ve told you, SPC has been working behind the scenes with the Pentagon and Homeland Security.”

“This morning,” he continued, “SPC and DHS had a meeting with the President.  We pressed – [i]strongly[/i] – for the United States to use its metahuman resources to address this issue.  By ‘strongly’, I mean that this involved mentioning certain political truths to the President and Vice-President which would normally not be brought up in a conversation of any sort.  Trust me, Legionnaires.  We basically held the man’s arms behind his back until he cried ‘uncle’.  And even then, he was as stubborn as a post.  SPC got reamed out and I swear to God POTUS is lucky he didn’t get his orange ass smacked across the floor.”

“So what happened?” Daria asked.

“The President has authorized a [i]measured response[/i].  This allows SPC to operate [i]openly in Puerto Rico[/i].  It is the first time such an order has [i]ever[/i] been authorized by a United States president.

“You’re saying,” Brittany said, “that…people like the SPC are going to [i]use their superpowers[/i]…[i]in public[/i]?”

“Yes.  The Masquerade [i]is over[/i].”

It sunk in to the Legionnaires.  If there was a room in the United States with more nonplussed and stunned teenagers in it, it was in a mental institution.

“I don’t think we’re ready,” Daria said, quietly.

Armalin said, quietly.  “I don’t think you’re ready, either.  But [i]you’re needed[/i].  And that trumps ready any day of the week.”

“SPC has given me great latitude in….’supplementing’…the official response.  This is where the Legion comes in.  All shackles are off.   You will arrive at Puerto Rico at 1500 hours.  [i]You will take your own initiative[/i]. You will address problems [i]in any way you see fit[/i].  Your actions are restricted only under the law. You can use your abilities for transport, for repair, for remediation, for self-defense, and you are restricted only by your imagination, your common sense, and the immediate needs of the community.  Concealment of abilities is simply a non-factor in this situation.”

“So,” Trent asked. “What’s going to happen?”

“I don’t know,” Armalin said, and that scared him most of all.

“What about [i]The Alliance[/i]?” Julia asked.

“A decision hasn’t been made regarding USAES involvement.   And for once, the Legion’s loose affiliation with national security helps them instead of hurting them.  To get USAES involved, that requires writing them into the mission orders of SPC but I can ‘ask’ for the help, to quote, ‘any metahuman auxiliary which existed one year before the beginning of the relief mission which currently does not answer to direct government authority’.”

“And since I can make a strong argument that you’re a Legionnaire?  [i]Congratulations, Carlyle.  You get to make landfall.[/i]”

“What are we going to do?” Charles asked.

“Anything and everything,” Armalin said.  “You’ll have to make up a lot of stuff on the fly.  Let’s see how creative you really are.”

“Are you going to be with us?” Sandi said.

“[i]No[/i].  I can’t.  I have other duties.”

“What about Jane?  Tiffany?  Tom?”

“I’m leaving Blum-Deckler right where she is, for now.  Maybe later.  Jane?  It’s up to her.  Sloane?  You should probably find out where he is right now, but frankly, he’s an emotional liability.   You can make that command decision, Morgendorffer.  I won’t make it for you.  But this mission requires people with one hundred percent dedication, with minds that are both calm and clear.  And Sloane’s neither.”

Daria frowned.  

“This is a lot to hit you with.  But at the same time, I wouldn’t be sharing this information unless it was absolutely necessary.  Furthermore…given the political situation, I don’t know how long SPC is going to be allowed.  Leadership can change its mind at any second, and knowing what I know about POTUS, don’t be surprised if SPC is asked to do an about-face.  But he [i]can’t[/i] ask you.”

“Colonel,” Sandi said, “Since all the cards are on the table, what does the President know about the Legion?”

Armalin laughed. “SPC is required by our directives to alert the President of every metahuman group that could provide a challenge to national security.  We decided it was wise to present a long power-point presentation with a forty-page supplementing document.  Our hope, frankly, was that he would get bored and semi-nod off.”

“And?”

“[i]That didn’t happen[/i].  When NL Chapter One was brought to the President’s attention, he woke up almost immediately.  I think it was the celebrity aspect that grabbed his attention.”

“Did he [i]say[/i] anything?”

“He just said, and I quote, [i]that hot Morgendorffer chick[/i].  We initially thought he was talking about Daria, but we believe he was talking about Quinn.”

Sandi’s mouth made a perfectly straight line with the corners turned down.  Daria turned a deep shade of red.  

Quinn looked angry.  “That’s [i]dis-gusting[/i]!” she said, as if she were addressing an impertinent freshman who made a lewd remark.

“Don’t worry, Quinn.  He’s [i]scared[/i].  Particularly of Daria once we mentioned that she was a Level Five psi.”

“[i]Good[/i],” Daria said. Then she thought about that photo of her in the hands of the president, and just closed her eyes, trying not to think about it at all.

“Morgendorffer,” Armalin said, “don’t expect to be invited to any White House dinners when this is all over.  He’s aware.  He’s not going to be surprised when you start showing what you can do.  But he definitely knows.  [i]Everyone on the planet will know[/i].”

“And then what?”

“The head of Special Powers Command said to me, ‘The next chapter hasn’t been written yet.  [i]Hic sunt dracones[/i].”

Stacy answered the question on everyone’s mind. “[i]Here there be dragons.[/i]  It was written on globes in the middle ages when the cartographer didn’t know what was beyond borders.  It means ‘uncharted territory’.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Armalin said. “I have to go.  Jodie is making her own preparations.  Take off is 1500.  Good luck Legionnaires… and [i]God speed[/i].”