The Nine's Headquarters. Unnamed Island. Present Day.

Edward Alan Branch, Night Commander of The Nine's control center, couldn't pinpoint exactly when the day took a turn, but it had.

Standing up from his desk to the side of the control center's main room, he walked to the tinted window. Mirrored on the other side, so the staff couldn't tell when he was looking, it allowed him to watch them without being so obvious.

It wasn't the best way to do it. They knew he could—not to mention the cameras and programs that monitored their keystrokes, if he wanted to go into detail. Still, he didn't mind stretching his legs.

On the night shift, you always ran the risk of falling asleep and wouldn't that be embarrassing?

Shaking his head, he checked the room. Half the staff seemed to be checking their phones. He'd have to check which apps they were using and see if IT could shut them off.

They were on orange level alert. It wasn't red, but they should be watching.

He hadn't seen it, but his pre-shift briefing had included speculation that the attack on Rook's spacecraft had been motivated by one of the Numbers who wanted to move up in the rankings. It wouldn't have been the first time.

Magnus, alias Number One, didn't seem worried, but he never did.

He'd heard rumors, though, that Magnus had screamed at everyone in sight when Task Force One reappeared. Edward's second in command, Helen Vasquez, had been with Magnus when Victor brought them back.

She'd said, "They'd been wrecked, Ed. They were sent to retrieve that little shit One wants from Justice Fist, the other group in Grand Lake. There's no way Justice Fist took them down. One sent them power, and it still wasn't enough. The only reason they came back at all is because Screaming Eagle turned off the teleportation blockers."

Ian had raised an eyebrow, "Even with One's new trick? That's disturbing."

She'd nodded and turned her head toward the mirrored glass in his office, presumably to check who might overhear through the window. She continued, "Their cams might show us what happened. I'll pass it along if I find out."

He checked the window himself and, not seeing anyone nearby, said, "Don't get yourself in trouble. They're sensitive about appearing weak."

Rolling her eyes, she said, "Don't coddle me. We both know it's better to know what they don't want us to."

"True," he'd said, "but it wouldn't be the first time I've lost important personnel to our supervisors. Number Two isn't the only oversensitive person on the island."

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She'd laughed. Rook preferred to be referred to as Two, and who wouldn't?

Edward knew it wasn't the only reason he didn't want their supervisors to kill her, but that was another detail it wasn't safe to admit here.

That was hours ago, though. She was probably sleeping by now, whereas he—

One of the techs stood up and ran to his office. It was Brian Hart, the teleportation system's 3rd shift manager. This would not be good news.

Around 40, Brian hadn't taken well to the night shift. Perpetually unshaven, his bloodshot eyes had developed dark bags, competing to be his worst feature. Edward didn't wonder what Brian did during his time off; he knew from the island's standard employee surveillance. The man played video games incessantly and didn't give himself enough time to sleep.

Throwing the door open, he said, "Boss, the Dothan teleportation hub is down!"

"Down?" Ian felt his throat catch as he said it. That took down all of North America unless they managed to reconnect to the Laguna Verde, Mexico hub. Of course, that would make managing the Central and South American teleports more complicated. "What happened?"

Brian grimaced, "This is going to sound idiotic, but there was a fire alarm and everyone ran outside and the doors locked behind them."

Edward stared, "And no one had keys?"

Brian stared back, "Of course they had keys. Plus key codes and retinal scanners. They didn't lose their eyes. We have redundant systems, but none of them worked. No one could get in. We were thinking that the fire had reached the computers that manage the security systems, but that wouldn't do it. First of all, because we don't think there was a fire. Secondly, because part of the security system is off-site."

Edward nodded, "That's true. And what are they doing now?"

Brian sighed, "It's a mess. The FBI appeared while they were outside."

Ignoring the sinking feeling inside him, Edward said, "That sounds like sabotage."

Brian turned his head toward the mirrored window and then back, "It gets worse. You know how we employ criminals?"

Edward frowned, "We are all criminals and became so the second we started working here."

"Yes," Brian said, "but not all of us have criminal records, and most of us don't have wanted posters out there with our names on them. A few of the people in Dothan did, and the Feds knew it. The Feds also knew the building and the doors opened for them. I don't know where they went in there. They'd taken in all our people by then."

"What? Standard procedure is to blow it up remotely, and if you can't, call in a strike force. Why haven't you?"

Brian seemed to shrink into himself. In a small voice, he said, "We tried. Activating the self-destruct remotely didn't work. Strike Force Seven, the nearest one, didn't respond. We don't know why."

Edward controlled the urge to shout, "What you're telling me is that the US government has seized the main teleportation hub for North America, that some force has neutralized all or part of our internal communications, and that at least one of our main strike teams may have disappeared. You should have led with that. My god, what is between your ears?"

Both of their comms beeped. It was the bad kind of beep, a series of clashing notes meant to alarm.

They both pulled their comms out of the pouches on their uniform, seeing a scrolling list of teleportation hubs, team headquarters, and systems that were no longer in communication with the Nine's HQ.

Then red lights began to flash in the main room. Both he and Brian asked, "What's that?" simultaneously.

Before either could respond, the floor below them moved. Edward hoped it was the building. He knew for a fact that there were fewer seats available on the island's planes and ships than there were people who'd want to leave.

If the dormant volcano had turned active, he couldn't count on being one of the people with a seat.

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