Stephen decided to leave the clean up for the morning and instead headed for bed, a single, insistent question revolving in his mind. "What had the kick in the shins been that had, after more time than he cared to remember, been of sufficient force to recall Marc to his responsibilities and with such intensity of purpose that he had hardly wavered since?" Not only had he not wavered, he'd managed to very nearly take total control in just a few short years. As near as he could recall Marc had drifted back sometime before Doni died, what he couldn't recall was exactly when. But, he reflected, getting into bed, other than that one nagging concern the evening had gone significantly better than he'd expected.

When he woke up the question was still unresolved. He could recall nothing that suggested it might be something that qualified as a kick in the shins. He also was starting to ponder what Reno and by extension, Marc's, definition of catch-up was, since he'd been the dominant personality on the Council for quite some time now. Marc might be the ally Reno was suggesting, but…and that but was the crux of the matter.

Stephen continued his musing all the way to office. He halted long enough in the dining room to walk up behind Tabitha and place a serious smacking kiss on her cheek, saying with heartfelt gratitude, "You are beyond amazing and I love you. I am very thankful for all you did yesterday," before kissing her again.

Tabitha, flustered and loving it, covered it by saying, "And I suppose you'd also be grateful if I sent someone over to do the dishes for you as well?"

"Well, I hadn't thought of it," and laughing, ducked the swat that came his way.

"We'll have no fabrication here, if you please!"

"Cross my heart and hope to die, I'm telling you the truth. I had completely forgotten about it until now!"

"Now isn't that just like a man. But don't worry," she said in exaggerated tones, arms akimbo, "I'll take care of it like I always do. Now go get your breakfast. Tommy's been in here looking for you once already this morning." She shooed him away with her hands. "I got work to do and you're just standing around getting in the way. Off with you."

Laughing he snuck another peck on to her check from in under her guard and strolled off to obey her. Tabitha watched him go, affection and understanding on her face. Shaking her head she went back to work. As she went she saw the indicator light, located on all four walls of the dining room flash once and switch to yellow.

Meanwhile, down the hall in the ops center Cal Cahill was waiting for his trainee, due in about an hour. He also saw the color switch, but he'd been expecting it, having pushed the button that caused it. Looking around he saw Michael had the board today, Adam having been pulled out of the rotation yesterday for an unspecified length of time. Ellie and her guys were getting ready to hand over the room to Michael's team.

Stephen who had also noted the color change grabbed coffee and a plate and headed off to eat at his desk. He expected it was going to be a brutal day, having not been there for more than ten minutes in the past several days. Tommy, just finishing the day's briefing when the indicator light above Stephen's door flashed twice and went to orange, noted it as he went to his desk, with a new mountain of work to add to the already enormous pile from the last several days, was aware that Stephen had seen it, too. He was going to need to take Stephen up on his offer of help if things didn't ease up soon.

When Reno reached the ops center Ellie and her team had finished their out-brief, handed off the monitors and headed for breakfast and then, for most of them, bed. Michael's folks had both teams in the field on their monitors and Cal was reviewing the board, already thinking it was going to be a hell of a day for training.

Reno, pausing at the entrance took a moment to survey the place. It looked, he reflected, like NASA mission control or air traffic control at someplace like O'Hare or Heathrow. Somebody had, without question, poured an enormous amount of money into it. It was a large room, possibly as much as 30 or 35 feet long by 15 or 20 feet wide. In the front of the room, there was a triple row of long, connected desks each with three flat screen monitors on it set-up in the manner of a triptych. Each row held six desks. In front of those was a single work center that had the look of being the spot that monitored the monitors.  The seats in the first row were currently the only ones occupied. Behind those were regular desks, two across and three deep. Three of them were occupied by folks drinking coffee and looking a lot like they had just been dragged out of bed against their wishes.

In front of all of them were wall mounted computer screens, six across and three down, a number chosen presumably because there was no more room on the wall within the sight line of every desk. But it might also have been because it matched the number of desks.  Four of the screens were in use showing, somewhat to his surprise, what appeared to be two teams in the field, currently in action. Two of the six people in the front row gave every appearance of being in contact with them, on several levels.

To the left of that was another wall covered in screens, though on these the top row appeared to be tracking weather conditions across the globe while the others were actually monitoring the news on CNN, Al Jazeera, BBC, Fox, MSN, France 24, CNBC, CNBC Africa, Emergency.net – not a news channel but a web feed – and others he didn't recognize. Beneath that wall was what, from where he stood, looked like an electronic map table currently being updated, or so he assumed, by the two men around it, based on the wall above.

As he watched them one of the men looked around and, seeing him, detached himself from what he was doing and headed his way. Obviously Cal Cahill.

Cal looked to be in his late thirties or early forties. He was completely bald and wore his glasses attached to a necklace that ensured he didn't lose them when they weren't perched on the end of his nose so he could look over them. He didn't have a pocket protector but one would have been at home with the shirt and pants he wore, finished off, Reno noted with vast amusement, by a pair of old fashioned dirty white tennis shoes with white socks. His eyes were bright and sparkling with life, he had a double chin and a beer belly. He was almost too perfect a type to be believed.

Reno shook the proffered hand, and confirmed that yes, he was, the trainee.

"A pleasure to meet you," Cal said. "I'm Cal. Stephen told me you'd be along this morning; that you wanted to go out with the teams."

"Yes, I'd really like to get some first hand experience with what you do here." He gestured to the room. "A bit different than I'd pictured. You're monitoring real time here?"

"Yeah. We learned from himself a few things about learning from experience and division of labor, and this is the result."

"Himself?" Reno prompted.

"Yeah, himself, Richard bloody Plantagenet as some called him.  Man, he was something." Cal shook his head.

It was hard to tell what sort of something the man meant but obviously the impression had stuck with him.

"He was really the one who started the whole training business and Stephen, not long after realized that technology might help as well, so he built this. In fact, the House was built to accommodate the ops center." The pride in Cal's voice might have led one to believe he was talking about his child.

"So the Council…" and that was as far as he got before Cal interrupted.

"Council? Council ain't got nothin' to do with it. He asked, they said no, stilled pissed I suppose, so he did it, like the rest."

"Still pissed?  The rest?" Reno mentally shook himself. He didn't usually have trouble keeping up, but Cal seemed to be speaking in code.

"Yeah, man. Richard.  The whole place, the Refuge. " Cal broke off, his eyes on the indicator light.

And before Reno could say another word, all hell broke loose or so it seemed. The indicator light flashed three times and went from orange to red, then started flashing continuously, while simultaneously a deep toned `bong' sounded from somewhere, three bongs and a pause repeating itself four or five times. The trio dozing at the desks in the back was no longer dozing but watching the two screens that had suddenly burst to life on the front wall while gathering up what had to be their gear, as an voice began talking. Seconds later people began arriving.

"Does this always happen?"

"No way, man. That indicator, it starts at white and goes to yellow for one team out, orange for two and when we hit three it goes red and the alarm sounds. Three's all we got."

Three teams or three lights?

In the background he heard, "Looks like another bombing in Pakistan, can't tell yet how many. Probably another mosque. Call is clear and strong, not disoriented, confused but in control…barely. Female, adult, and in a lot of pain. The perimeter is crowded, and the woman, Naheed, I think, is under the building, but protected somehow by the way the debris fell. She will not be stable for long."

By the time the voice, a woman's, clear and unemotional through out, reached that point, the trio had gone, winking out with that incoming pop and rush of air and Stephen was in front of the desks his eyes on the wall. Tommy right behind him, obviously – and Reno found the time wonder what made it obvious –in touch with someone mentally. Perhaps it was the soundlessly moving lips and the closed eyes of concentration. Duh.  Someone had also, mercifully, turned off the blinking light.

"Michael?" Stephen's voice unemotional, and pitched to be heard but nothing more refocused Reno's attention.

The man at the map table, who was now behind the long row of desks in the front row, responded without pausing in what he was doing. "First, 75 minutes in, a hostage situation in La Paz, child killed, father Awakening. Currently unconscious from a concussion, two bullets, one thigh, bleeding but otherwise ok, and one shoulder, same. No way in at present. Team waiting on police. Jed has it. Second, 35 minutes in, earthquake, Japan, data sketchy, male adolescent, trapped in collapsed apartment building. Unconscious, stable but shaky. No other data. Full complement, Gideon's team."

Reno who had figured out what the review was with no trouble asked automatically, "Full complement?"

"Team went out with a channeller, healer and empath. You'll train with them." Cal answered him but his attention was clearly elsewhere.

Meanwhile, the man called Michael was continuing, describing the bombing scene in Pakistan. As well, Reno noticed, as time had gone on the images projected on the wall had shifted in perspective and gained detail.

"The board?"

Tornado alley, National Weather Service posting watches from Oklahoma east through Tennessee and all of Texas, it will probably continue all day and through the night. Wildfires in the west, last count 500 plus homes in the line, response personnel at capacity. Heavy snow starting in Invercargill and spreading north through Dunedin. Projected fall 12 plus at lower elevations, 3-4 feet at the summits." Michael continued the weather run down and then paused barely a second to shift to the political. "East Timor, collapsing but quiet, last rated at 3. Darfur sporadic and rated at 4. Iraq, same. Algeria tense with all Africa games, but no activity, rated at 3, expect to down grade. And he went through the list in rapid fire sentences and clipped tones.

He'd barely finished when Stephen said, "Start with 3, one to Japan on stand-by, upgrade Pakistan." Tommy's lips started moving soundlessly again, eyes still closed, just a beat behind him. He was a Tommy Reno almost didn't recognize.  There was nothing at all even faintly ineffectual about him.

Cal, glancing at Reno, translated, "He's saying he wants three teams, one straight to the Japan site, and a healer and an empath in Pakistan. The other two teams will stand by here." Cal's voice became almost reverent. "He's never wrong. I've never seen it once." He shook his head as he spoke.

"But there are only three teams here right? And they're out?"

"Right. He's calling these in from Home."

"Calling them in?" Reno thought to himself. Now that was news.

Then, someone else began responding to a question from Stephen Reno hadn't heard. As it continued Reno realized it was an update on the infirmary. He also noticed people had begun filling in the second row of desks and others had appeared, in the Awakened way, in the back of the room. The folks from Home, who shouldn't be there, no doubt.

"Seven total. Four can be moved out the other three need ongoing attention. One each here."

Stephen nodded. Tommy, I want three, and four with one to Japan and four, one to Japan and one to Pakistan. Baylee, send the other three over to Brother Alex, staffed.

Cal obliged again without being asked. "He wants three healers and four each, empaths and channeller. He's sending  another channeller and empath to Japan and a channeller to Pakistan. He's also clearing the infirmary, sending the over flow to the monastery with a healer and an empath. It means he thinks it's going to get worse."

"Worse?" Reno asked. He added the monastery to the teams from home.

"Yeah." As he started to say more he was interrupted by new information from Michael.

"Aftershock in Japan, high speed commuter train derailed. Massive apartment block collapsing." Michael continued the report, while another set of images hit the wall and the bong sounded.

Stephen nodded at one of the teams in the back and they were gone. Then, "Three more, Tommy."

Minutes ticked by, then Michael spoke again, "La Paz, police on the scene, will be going in. Tornado warning issued Oklahoma City."

By Reno's count there were now five teams in the field, with three in Japan, one in Pakistan, one in La Paz and Stephen wanted four here.  He hadn't been here an hour yet.

"Michael hand off to Ellie and put up Japan, please," Stephen asked. "Tommy, call Adam's team in. Cal take the desk."

The images on the wall shifted, and Japan was on the top, but different; they were now incredibly detailed and three dimensional. Cal resumed his tutorial as he drew Reno with him towards the third row of long desks. "The teams go out with cameras and mics on everyone, while we're monitoring –pathically from the prospective of both the team and the New One plus anyone else we can find. All those images are then integrated, overlaid and collated, so to speak and the result is what you see now. We can manipulate it, showing whatever perspective or angle he wants, getting closer or pulling out. We can also feed information to the team.   We pick up the New Ones, put out the alert and then also handle monitoring the New One from here whenever we can, though if it's possible they'll knock 'em out 'til they get 'em back here.  Anyway, Michael's got the center this morning so he's controlling the full feeds from the desks. Stephen told him to hand off the board and updates. Ellie has them now. He won't be able to handle both soon."

Cal, after several minutes of silence while doing whatever it was he was doing and maintaining his observation of  Stephen, who appeared to be in direct contact with Japan, said, "Man, I wish I knew how he does it.  I can never predict like he does."  He appeared to be laughing at himself.  "It drives Tommy crazy."

"Drives Tommy crazy?"

"Yeah, never telling him where he is.  If Stephen isn't here I do it, and I ain't as good.  Michael might be, he gets a couple hundred years OJT but that's a long way off.  Tommy hates when it's me."

Reno was diverted from whatever else he was going to say while 'seems gone a lot' was added to 'monastery, teams from Home and private construction' by resumed activity.

"Suicide bombing, Iraq." Followed by details and the bong sequence underneath it.

"Show me the radar for Oklahoma City, please." Stephen requested, apparently done with Japan for now. A moment's scrutiny and he nodded to himself. "Who's here?"

"Duncan, Adrianna, Merik and Lin Ye." Tommy replied. "Duncan's team is full."

"Merik, Iraq. Tommy, alert Liam." In all this time Stephen had never glanced at anyone he spoke to, he'd never taken his eyes off the wall. He hadn't ever confirmed the execution of a request, he assumed and it was. It was a seamless performance too perfect to have been planned, a display of teamwork, training and dedication worthy of envy.

"Touchdown in Oklahoma City, force four. Downtown and OSU in direct line." A few minutes later, "Daycare center hit." Then the bong again.

"Adrianna, Duncan Oklahoma. Tommy send Liam. Michael, update?"

"La Paz, coming back in. Japan, full count three, two children, one adolescent. One out, and coming in, two pending, might lose one. "Pakistan, working, probably full psychotic break. Iraq, working, adult American military, conscious and controlled. Oklahoma, two, unconscious. Both adults. Both critical," then stopped briefly, before saying, "correction one dead one critical."

"Have La Paz stand by.  Ellie?"

"Oklahoma, radar shows two more possible, outside city limits. Reports, over five hundred dead, Japan, casualties unknown, possible 90 involved Pakistan. No data, Iraq, ditto Oklahoma."

Reno's count was now eight teams in the field and one available here, plus the additional personnel either in the field or upstairs.  He put the score at eight New Ones, one dead and one likely to be; two on the way and four pending.

Cal interrupted his inventory. "Things are settling down for now. Pull up the chair and we'll get started."

Settling down?  Hard to believe.  "This the usual way you start the day?"

"Sometimes.  Gets the blood circulating.  Now, here's what you're gonna do..."