A while back I was tooling around with some background work for the UNSETIC Files–specifically, thinking about how Mat ended up joining the organization well before anyone else connected to him did. The scene below is rough and a little more explanatory than most, but it was a fun little write to do.
“For the record, I still think you’re full of shit, Surfer.”
Michael Sterling-Kanton shrugged slightly, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his working khakis as they walked down the tree-shaded pathways of the Washington Mall. “That’s your prerogative. Whether you think I’m full of shit or not doesn’t really matter because it’s the truth.” His green eyes scanned the trees along the path.
“You really expect me to believe that there’s a cult out there masquerading as some kind of charitable organization that’s using psychic kids—not that I am saying that I actually believe that there’s a such thing as psychic kids—to further its dastardly goals? How many other people have you tried to sell this to?”
“How many other roommates have I had?”
Matthias O’Brien shut up at that, blinking at him. It took Mat a moment to find his voice again. “Seriously? No one?”
“No one that wasn’t already peripherally aware.” He stepped off the sidewalk and toward the trees, leaning against an oak that was old when his grandfather had been born. “Who the hell else would I trust with this, O’Brien? Tell me that.”
“So the extra locks on the door and the phone calls you told me not to answer and the weird messages and that one time that we had to drive six blocks out of the way because you saw someone were all about…this?” Mat made a vague gesture and joined Michael in the shade of the oak, crossing his arms, pale-eyed gaze searching Michael’s face for something that Michael wasn’t quite sure his friend would find.
Michael nodded in answer to the question, glancing up the sidewalk toward the Washington Monument. “You’d do the same thing if your father was mixed up in leading the ridiculousness.”
“Your father?” Mat shuddered. “You failed to mention that initially.”
“Did I?” Michael frowned. “Sorry. I don’t talk about it much. I’m sure you can see why.”
“Because people would think you’re batshit crazy and you’d be kicked out of the Navy so fast you might break the sound barrier on your way out the door.”
“Yeah. That.” Michael shook his head slightly. “But I’m not a security threat and it’s not crazy when it’s true.” He ached for a cigarette but restrained himself. He’d quit three weeks ago and didn’t want to pick up the habit again. Stress and anticipation always made him want to light up. He took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly, looking up and down the sidewalk again.
Still no sign. Damn. His lips thinned. Mat raised a brow.
“What’s wrong?”
“She’s late,” Michael said.
Mat glanced around, crossing his arms. “Who the hell are we meeting, anyway?”
“You didn’t have to come.” Though I’m glad you did. Getting tired of doing this alone.
Was that why he’d finally told O’Brien about the Institute, about how they’d taken him from his mother and tried to experiment on him? Was that why he’d finally shared that secret?
He shook his head at himself, earning another arched brow from Mat.
“I’m just saying. It’s not like we’ve got enough leave for me to fly home and see AJ, but I could be at the Smithsonian right now ogling the spaceflight exhibits.”
“Sorry,” Michael murmured as he caught a flash of red hair out of the corner of his eye. He looked toward the Washington Monument again and straightened.
She was a middle-aged woman, the morning sun lending fire to the golden threads in her red hair, still worn military-short though her days in the field were long over. Dressed in khaki capris and a white sleeveless blouse with sunglasses and leather sandals, other passersby on the Mall would have easily mistaken her for something less than what she was—they’d have thought her a tourist, maybe, or some lobbyist or government worker out for a morning stroll. They would have missed the casual purpose to her stride.
Michael saw it, though he had to admit that if he hadn’t been actively looking for her, he might have missed it, too. Mat followed his gaze, half turning and studying the woman.
“Who is she?” his friend murmured. Michael killed a smile before it could fully blossom. The sum total of Mat O’Brien’s talents were probably wasted by sticking him in the cockpit of a fighter jet, but it had been what he’d wanted and no one had thought to gainsay the choice until it was far too late.
“You’ll see,” Michael murmured back, then straightened and smiled as the woman stepped off the path.
“Michael,” she said warmly, arms gathering him into a quick, tight embrace before she kissed him on each cheek. “It’s been too long.”
“It’s good to see you, too, Commander.” He fell back half a step and inclined his head to Mat. “This is Matthias O’Brien, the one I asked you about. Mat, meet Commander Kathleen Kingston McCullough.”
“Ma’am.” Mat seemed inclined to salute but Kathleen caught his hand before the gesture was completed. She shook it firmly, still smiling.
“It’s good to finally meet you, Ensign. I’ve heard a great deal about you.”
That brow lifted again, a question on Mat’s lips, but Kathleen ignored him as she turned back to Michael. Her expression grew grim, eyes darkening and the flesh around them tightening markedly.
“He’s on the list, too. I’ve made the necessary arrangements,” she said. “Both of you will be stationed aboard the USS Daedalus on-station in the Persian Gulf. That should put you both well outside of their reach.”
Michael’s stomach twisted, bile bubbling up into his throat. He swallowed it down. “Does my mother know?”
“The Gulf was her idea. It’d be difficult for them to get anyone in that deep, but it pays to be careful.” Kathleen glanced toward Mat, then back to Michael. “How much does he know?”
“Only enough to know this sounds like some kind of conspiracy relating to a cult that may or may not exist.” Mat grimaced, shoving his hands into his pockets. “What list are you talking about?”
Kathleen and Michael exchanged a look. She drew a deep breath and exhaled it slowly, touching the pilot’s elbow gently. “I have to ask that you be patient and don’t jump to denials,” she said, her voice soft, the soothing voice of a mother or a diplomat. It was a tone Michael knew she’d had ample practice at, having become an ambassador’s wife and a mother of four in the years since she’d stepped away from her previous life with the US Navy. “Can you do that?”
Mat gave her a wary nod, eyeing her like questionable sushi. “I can try, at least. Is this something we should be discussing out in the open on the Mall?”
She snorted humorlessly. “The only place that might be better for this conversation might be Arlington. No one’s going to notice us and if someone does, Michael will be able to warn us before anything untoward occurs.”
This time the questioning look was thrown in Michael’s direction and he shrugged, a vague tightness settling across his shoulders. Mat hadn’t asked what he could do and he hadn’t volunteered the information—not yet, anyway.
“Ever wonder how I always seemed to know where to be, where to shoot?” he asked.
Mat frowned, shaking his head. “Never thought about it. Just figured you had good instincts and better reflexes.”
It was probably a lie, but Michael let it go. “My reflexes are good, but not that good. I see things before they happen—usually only a few seconds before they happen, but I see them. I wouldn’t be half the combat pilot I am without that talent.”
His friend stared at him for a few long moments and a ball of dread settled in the pit of Michael’s stomach, triggering nausea he didn’t quite know how to handle. Mat’s expression was caught somewhere between blank and incredulous, but he could see the wheels turning behind his fellow pilot’s pale eyes.
“Holy shit,” Mat whispered. “You’re fucking serious.”
“As a court-martial,” Michael said, glancing down toward his feet. The grass near the shiny toes of his shoes waved slightly in the breeze. He swallowed the bile that rose again in his throat, eyes fluttering shut.
The one time I’d like to see what’s going to happen next and the ability is damnably silent.
It was like that sometimes. It seemed to turn itself on when his adrenaline was up, when it really counted. He didn’t have conscious control; that was something he’d never had the chance to learn.
Then again, having the chance to learn control meant that there had to be someone trusted enough to teach.
“What’s the list you’re talking about?”
Michael exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and opened his eyes. He hadn’t misjudged Mat O’Brien after all.
At least, I hope not.
Kathleen met Mat’s questing gaze and shook her head slightly. “There’s a list, about ten years out of date now, of men and women the Institute—the cult that I’m gathering Michael told you about—were targeting. Your name was on it.” Her nose wrinkled slightly. “Usually there’re notations about why a name’s on the list, what talent has been observed or is suspected, but there was nothing with yours. I have no explanations and not much else to tell you about that. If you accept our offer, I’ll give you access to the list.”
Michael startled, blinking at Kathleen. Wait a second, that wasn’t part of—
“Offer,” Mat echoed, tone suddenly wary, dubious. “What offer?”
“Commander,” Michael started.
Kathleen held up a hand and he shut up, her gaze focused solely on Mat. “There’s an organization that Michael’s mother founded with some of us—a university professor from England, me, an agent of the Home Office, a few others—that’s dedicated to protecting people with talents and gifts from people that would harm them but also protecting the world from threats that most people wouldn’t realize—or believe—are out there. I’ve been watching you for years, Ensign. I want you for it. You’re suited and we need more good men and women if we’re going to make the difference I know we can make in the world.”
Mat glanced toward Michael, expression starkly curious, eyes slightly wide with brows raised. Michael shrugged helplessly.
“I didn’t know she wanted to recruit you,” he said.
Kathleen snorted. “You’re smarter than that, Michael Kanton. You at least suspected.”
“I didn’t even think about it,” he fired back, glaring at Kathleen. “If I’d thought about it, I’d have told him more—I’d have explained more. He doesn’t know enough to make the choice.”
“None of us ever do,” Kathleen said, a note of sadness beneath the cold steel in her voice. “But we find our way into the ranks anyway, either through necessity or by chance. It’s better he has the choice now instead of waiting until the day he’s seen too much and there are no choices left.” Her gaze slid back to Mat and she shook her head slightly. “And I do mean that. I don’t know that there’s a way that we’ll be able to spare you from having to make this choice in the future, but I’ll be truthful in saying that if joining isn’t what you want, we’ll try to shelter you as best we can.”
“Don’t waste your resources,” Mat said, his voice thick. “I know necessity when it’s staring me in the face.” He cast a quick look toward Michael before his gaze returned to Kathleen, flat and steady. “What do I need to do?”
She smiled and grasped him by the shoulders. “You’ve already done it,” she said softly, warmth and tenderness flooding back into her voice. “You’ve already done it.”
