"...Intel suggested that the position of the target would be located in the third quadrant…"

Sergeant Charles Buckland was in the process of giving a thorough report on his actions over the past few days. Myra appreciated the attention to detail, as she would need it in order to formulate her own plans, but she still wished the meeting were already over.

Myra hated meeting with field agents. She hadn't always felt that way, it was a new development. Ever since she had taken on the mantle of Chief Executive, it had been different. Sure, her current office held enough power that she could kill a man on the opposite side of the world with a two sentence email, but she was practically paralyzed when it came to internal affairs. When she was just the Head Technician, people had treated her with respect, deference, and maybe a little fear, but she wasn’t scrutinized. She could work on repairs with the other techs, work on personal projects, and even hammer out under the table deals with the other branches if she needed something specific. Now? If she so much as sighed in the presence of the wrong person, there would be a formal impeachment proposal deposited in her office by the end of the day.

The end result being that she had to portray a false image of stoicism during meetings like this. Standing up straight so long was murder on her back.

"...Two secondary targets were eliminated per self defensive protocol, and three more non-combatants we're secured…" Charles continued his report.

She watched their reactions closely, letting her analytical side take over. Charles first. His hands were clasped crisply behind his back, which was ramrod straight. His voice betrayed no emotion whatsoever. A military man through and through.

Myra looked past the Sergeant. He would give up no new information. His squad was less controlled. The Avery girl's hand fidgeted behind her back. Myra couldn't tell what she was signing but she knew the girl was relaying the situation to her brother because his eyes kept flicking over to her. Myra recalled from their dossiers that only the boy was deaf. The girl could hear, but had retreated into silence around seven years ago. The dossier had omitted any hint as to why.

Holiday looked aloof, but she knew he was frustrated at being forced into this meeting at all. Then there was James.

Myra knew he was planning something, his body language screamed it every time she saw him, but she could never guess exactly what. The man was infuriatingly unpredictable. He had made a number of escape attempts in the past, some of which nearly succeeded, but it had been years since he'd done anything that Myra could reasonably punish. It worried her.

"Let me get this straight. Your soldier, your shaper no less, was unable to capture or kill a single target, and you were forced to retreat from the enemy, despite the enemy being at worst, a low level Jester with no available weapons, saddled with an untrained civilian?"

To Charles' credit, he did not so much as twitch at the accusation. "That's correct, ma'am."

"And upon hearing that you were outmatched by this unarmed man from James of all people, you ordered a full retreat. Am I wrong?"

"No, ma'am." Charles replied

"Then as of this moment, you are promoted to Sergeant First class. Congratulations."

"Ma'am?" Charles' stony facade faltered for just a moment.

Myra was not doing the man a favour. First class was the lowest designation required for what she planned to do.

"You heard me. Now, sergeant, get you and your team down to engineering. You'll be guarding the central column. You are not to leave this post for any reason except a direct order from myself. And James is to be kept under constant surveillance. Dismissed." Myra said

Charles understood the implications of her actions, and snapped a salute before addressing his squad. "You heard her, get moving!"

Myra hoped the man could forgive her for exiling him to the core. She could tell how much his job meant to him, and units who were placed near the core did not lead long careers. Another workplace hazard of the world's infrastructure.

Only James hesitated before leaving the room. She could feel the unfiltered hatred emanating from him. But there was something else there, this time. Myra only caught a glimpse of it, but she could swear that he almost smiled. Once he was gone, she let the weight of command fall back onto her and let her shoulders slump.

Myra knew James was plotting something, but she just couldn’t worry about that now. There were bigger problems to contend with, and keeping him on watch was the best option she had available. With any luck, the combined pressure of his unit and the far more qualified Core guard would dissuade him from pulling anything serious.

Sending him outside the citadel was out of the question now. Doing so would risk him coming into contact with it. At best, he’d end up dead along with his squad, and Myra couldn’t bring herself to use them as collateral. At worst, James would start working with the monster, which would be enough to destroy everything she had worked for her entire adult life. She knew he would if given the opportunity. But she couldn’t have him tried and executed for something he’d probably do. I only wish it were so easy.

Her parents had been strict pacifists, and while Myra could not count herself as one, she was far from a warmonger, thanks to their influence. Myra allowed herself a moment of reminiscing, and was brought back to the days when her parents were still alive, and shapers were commonplace. The Diaspora that followed the Weeping had been celebrated in their time. A flourishing of the arts had occurred, entirely new sensory experiences were developed. People were living lives of spiritual fulfillment. Like all things, though, it ended.

She picked up a packet from her desk. It was titled "Project 'Blue Pearl'". It contained everything that Myra and her predecessors needed to know in order to maintain this world. She opened the cover, revealing a list of contents. It was divided into sections based upon the stages of progression that her parents had predicted the world would go through. Section One was called "Founding" and recorded every step they had taken in the construction of the world, something she rarely consulted, having lived through much of it herself. Not that she had the time to pore over it anyway, being kept thoroughly busy by Section Two: Maintenance.

Maintenance wasn't as interesting as the contents of Section One, but it was no less important, and Myra had studied it religiously over the past decade so she could sustain the vision of her parents. There were entire chapters devoted to the specific tools, timing, and psychological profiles she would need to accomplish certain tasks. She still checked its pages for help in her day to day duties. The book had never led her astray, save for one occasion. I can still hear that horse. She shivered.

Neither of those Sections could help her right now. She flipped passed them, thousands of hours of people's lives contained within ink and paper flew by, until she found what she was looking for. Section Three: Crisis Control. She had ignored this section as long as she could. It felt as though reading it would have made real the threats inside. But she could not allow another tragedy like The Weeping, or worse, The Unraveling.

Her parents had been among the few who saw the Unraveling crisis before it had begun, and prepared. It took them many years, but they were both shapers, and skilled ones at that. They made time for themselves. Her mother, Imaya, had been the engineer and her father, Gaol, was the politico. Together, they had built the grounds she walked on, the air she breathed. This was their world, not Myra’s. Myra’s world had died with the Weeping. But I will protect it, all the same.