Robert Crane - Omega

“Who knows how long it could be?” Ariadne said. “I mean, the Director says soon,” she favored him with a submissive nod, “but they’ve known where we are—where Sienna is—for quite some time. They could have moved against us at any point. It could be tomorrow, it could be the day after, it could be six months from now. Just because they’re putting their people into the country doesn’t mean it’s happening now. For all we know, we just took out their entire strike force.”

“You didn’t,” came Reed’s voice from behind Old Man Winter. He shouldered his way into the room. “It’s coming, soon. Like…next week or sooner.” He looked around at each of us, his long, dark hair disheveled from the wind outside. “My bosses say they’re just ratcheting it down right now, dragging the last few pieces into place.”

There was a stark silence, one that I finally broke. “Oh, good. Because I hate a long wait before I die.”

Reed shook his head. “They don’t want you dead. Anything but is the word. They want you alive, just like always.”

I let a little scratchiness enter my voice, probably from the fatigue and the fact my head was whirling. “Do your bosses know why Omega is so keen on having me alive that they’d start a war with the Directorate?” I caught a flash from Old Man Winter’s eyes as I asked, something that was both subtle and yet obvious; no one else reacted to my question but to turn to Reed to listen for his answer.

“If they do, they’re not sharing,” he said, “but they barely tell me a fraction of what they know over open lines. I only got this much out of them before they dropped a hammer of their own on me.”

I felt a chill unrelated to the Director’s presence. “What?”

“I’m to return to Rome immediately,” he said, and I could hear nothing but the sour notes as he said it. “Immediate recall. They have me booked on a flight that leaves in three hours.”

“You can’t be serious,” I said, a sick pit in my stomach churning the acids within. “We’re looking down the barrel of imminent attack here.”

“I know,” he said, “and I told them to sit on the pointy end of an umbrella and open it. I’m staying.”

“No,” Old Man Winter said, “you should go. And you should take Sienna with you.”

“Director,” Ariadne said, silencing the voices that started to speak around her, “are we certain that sending Sienna to Italy is going to be safer than keeping her here?”

“Europe’s in a mess right now,” Reed said. “Not something my bosses wanted to get into on the phone, but I get the sense there are some pretty major moves going on over there at present. I’m not sure you’d be protecting her by getting her there. And our headquarters stays mobile by necessity—Europe is Omega’s backyard, and our relationship with them isn’t exactly peaceful coexistence, if you know what I mean. They’re trying to wipe us out, and vice versa.”

“Sir,” Bastian said, “if we’re facing imminent attack, we could really use a meta with her power on the line with us to defend the Directorate. Sending away one of our best fighters might not be the strongest idea.”

“Has anybody asked what Sienna actually wants to do?” Clary’s voice wavered before it came out.

All heads turned to me. I felt my mouth open and close before I spoke. “I’m not leaving,” I said, almost as surprised I said it as the others were hearing it. I saw Parks nod, a slight smile on his lips. “I’m not running from Omega, not ever again.” I felt my cheeks redden. “I ran from them once before and a lot of people died. I haven’t forgotten, not for one day, what that felt like. I won’t do it again. If they want me, they know where to find me, and I’ll be right out front kicking the ass off whoever they send to do the job.”

“No offense,” Reed said, “but that’s really dumb.”

“Thanks,” I said. “But I’m a big girl now, and that means not running from my problems, even when they’re pretty big themselves.”

“You have no idea,” Old Man Winter said, and his voice sounded brittle. “But it is your life, and your choice.” He looked down, staring into the distance at Madigan on the other side of the window, before turning back to Reed. “Return to your people. Apprise them of our situation. Ask them for help. Tell them how dire our need becomes. Urge them to hurry.”

Reed’s eyes were wide, his head snapped back as though from being hit. “You can’t be serious. I can’t leave now—”

“You must,” Old Man Winter said, and he took a step closer to Reed and put a hand upon his arm. “You must. I knew your father, when we were together at the Agency. He was a good man, a noble man.”

“Wait, what?” I asked. “You knew our father?”

He turned his head slowly to look at me. “I did.” He slid his gaze back to Reed. “He was a man who stayed behind on the day the Agency was destroyed, trying to save as many lives as he could. He was not a man who would abandon his fellows, and I understand your desire to stay, especially for your sister. But—” he cut off Reed’s rising protest before the words left my brother’s lips, “you remaining here will make little difference now. You returning with the knowledge of what we face and a half dozen more of your people could mean the tide of the battle shifts in our favor.”

“I don’t know that we’ll make it back in time,” Reed said in a hushed, almost choked voice, his head bowed. “My bosses—they move slow. I never know what they’re going to do, if they’re going to listen—”

“You will make them listen this time,” Old Man Winter said, and I saw Reed’s head come up to meet the Director’s piercing gaze. “You know what is at stake. Come back to us with what you know, if nothing else. Come back to us with all you can rally, even if that is only yourself and the knowledge of what we face from this Operation Stanchion.”

There was a solemn silence. “I will,” Reed said. “I will…be back.” He turned to me. “I will. Before you know it.”

“I believe you,” I said, swallowing the sudden choking fear and trying to replace it with a smile.

“Ariadne,” Old Man Winter said, “please have a driver take Mr. Treston to the airport.”

She nodded and pulled her cell phone from her pocket, dialing it and speaking quietly into it while Reed made his way over to me. “Are you gonna be all right ‘til I get back?” he asked, and I tasted a familiar hint of dry mouth as he said it.

“I managed for seventeen years without you,” I said, trying to make it sound as natural as I could. “Somehow I’ll muddle on.”

“They’re coming,” he said, and he lowered his voice. Clary and Eve had shuffled away from us, out the door and into the hall, Bastian and Parks were by the window to Madigan’s cell, and Old Man Winter watched Reed and I from near the door. “They could be here before I get back.”

“They’ll get a hell of a fight from me,” I said. “I’m not going anywhere quietly with the bastards who sent Wolfe and Fries after me.”

“I know you won’t,” he said, and put a hand on my shoulder. “I…wanted to be here with you…”

“To the end?” I asked, and felt a slight choking sensation in my throat. “It’s not over yet.”

“Then why does it feel like it?” I heard a quiver in his voice. “Maybe you should come with me.”

“I can’t,” I said, “and please don’t ask me to again. I belong here. Before I came here, I was a shell, a prisoner, a nobody. I had no future but four blank walls, and every day was doomed to be the same. Now I’m…” I felt a smile crack my stony facade, “…somebody. Just because Winter is afraid doesn’t mean it’s over.”