Cecilia’s salutation was instantly swallowed by the din. Energized voices passed undecipherable anecdotes from one side of the gathering to the other, shouted greetings and booming laughs rising with the heat up towards the corrugated metal roof of the hangar. Metal chair legs scraped the concrete as men dragged their seats from the once-tidy arrangement in order to better hear each other’s latest undoubtedly riveting exploits.

Far off behind the back row of chairs and towards the opposite end of the hangar, sparks snapped and danced in mid-air as workers soldered large lead walls into place betwixt the forest of I-beams that sprouted from the grease-stained concrete.

Cecilia’s audience consisted of some forty or so men, various unit captains and division heads who oversaw the larger breadth of Javelin personnel. Cecilia’s nerves had been shot for days leading up to this occasion, even though it had been she who had organized it in the first place. Addressing a large number of people in any manner had never been her forte, but these people? Suddenly she felt like the teacher’s pet presenting before peers who were just waiting for the opportune moment to send spitballs flying in her direction.

Captain McCaulsky stepped forward from behind Cecilia and brought his fingers to his mouth, splitting the air with a shrill whistle. The chatter faded, and finally, the congregation began to turn begrudgingly forward. Eyelids drooped in disinterest as they trained on Cecilia.

She suddenly felt silly for trying as hard as she had to make a decent first impression; the assemblage of gruff men in front of her looked straight past the neatly styled hair, pressed blouse, and the tasteful touch of rosy blush, and saw her for what she really was: someone intent on stealing away their morning to drone on and on about something they couldn't care less about. They weren’t eager colleagues; they were hostages.

Cecilia swallowed.

“Good morning,” she said again, casting a warm smile upon her victims.

Someone coughed.

“I know no one wants to spend a Monday morning in a health and safety briefing,” she continued. “So I’ll try my best to keep this concise. Captain McCaulsky–our chief safety officer–will be distributing a summary of what I’m here to talk about today so that you can more efficiently relay the information to your various divisions and detachments.”

McCaulsky stepped forward with a stack of manilla folders and handed them all to a seemingly half-asleep soldier who sat at the far right front corner.

“Take one, pass it back.”

The men used the passing of folders and fluttering of papers as a welcome excuse to continue their conversations, and it was as if Cecilia had never said anything at all. She pressed her lips together and waited. It was no use vying for their attention. Cecilia was well aware they had no intention of giving respect to anyone who hadn’t earned it.

Really not all that different from the scientific community, come to think of it.

She tried her best not to be offended.

Luckily for her, Captain McCaulsky was one of the more empathetic souls around and did his best to ease Cecilia’s predicament.

“Guys, please,” he offered, returning to his place behind her.

The talking quieted once more, and Cecilia waited a moment longer until those in the back row had received their own folders before continuing.

“My name is Cecilia Whitaker, and I’ve been brought on to lead Javelin’s R&D division and–by extension–caela research. It’s my responsibility to make sure you’re all aware of some health and safety measures we have to take in regard to caela radiation.

“The building that we are currently in is being outfitted to house all of our R&D operations. All caela research will be contained here. Because of this, sections of this building will be strictly off-limits to personnel without special access granted to them by the Department of Defense–This is, of course, for your own safety. Caela radiation is just as dangerous–and even more so, in some instances–than gamma radiation. Any building or area on base that carries a risk of caela radiation exposure will be marked with the standard trefoil. It’s important that if you see or know of someone attempting to gain unauthorized access, you report it to Commander Harper-”

Thanks to a handful of muttering instigators at the back of the gathering who began waggling their fingers at each other in jest, Cecilia had once more lost the group as a whole, and they began drowning her out once more. Her lips parted as she let out a deep sigh, and her eyes flickered over the crowd, hoping to find someone who seemed to have at least some regard for the gravity of what she was trying to say. Her eyes happened to meet those of Captain Davy, who sat slouched in his seat towards the back. His folder was unopened and unacknowledged upon his knee, but nonetheless, his eyes were two of the few that still were trained on her.

“Please understand,” Cecilia said, raising her voice and trying her best not to let her exasperation cloud her professional tone. “This isn’t a cold you just… catch and get over, or-or grime you can wash off your hands. These are particles that will rip through your body and cause massive trauma and mutations on a cellular level. If you encounter caela radiation–even the smallest amount–without the proper protective gear… At absolute best, you’ll be completely sterilized. You will lose your ability to have children.”

The chatter died almost instantly. The men before her began to shift in their seats. A few throats were cleared. Of course their attention would be reclaimed once their virility was on the line.

“At worst,” Cecilia continued, “your organs will hemorrhage themselves into mush within hours, and I guarantee you will be alive long enough to feel it. There is no outcome of exposure that doesn’t result in very permanent harm to your being.”

There was a palpable shift in energy. More than a handful of men nonchalantly opened up their folders and started leafing through the papers–trying, of course, not to look too interested or concerned.

“Now–we’re working with the EPA as well as some of the world’s top radiation protection specialists to develop a patented lead-lined fabric that your standard issue uniforms will be made with-”

“I thought you said the radiation would be contained in this building,” someone spoke up. “I mean-” The one that spoke gestured to those around him. “Are we going to be exposed to this stuff?” There were murmurs of agreement.

“No,” Cecilia said. “But because–again–we operate under EPA regulations, we have to take precautions–”

“Why is the DOD bringing radioactive shit here?”

Another chimed in. “Yeah–What happens when the Soviets catch wind of this?”

Cecilia felt a rush of anxious heat spider down the crown of her head to her toes. “I’m not at liberty to discuss the Department of Defense’s involvement in anything–But those of you that are privy to that information will get it from Commander Harper, not me–”

“Like we’ll get anything out of him–”

“Hey,” McCaulsky barked. “This briefing is for health and safety only. Take your shit up with Harper on your own time.”

Cecilia took a deep breath.

“I know the introductions of these protocols–and really just the prospect of radiation in general–is going to shake things up a bit around here. My job here–today–is to make it seem like a bigger deal than it really is so that I can dispel any hesitancy. I don’t want you to fear it; I want you to respect it.” She clasped her hands together and sighed. “I’ve spent almost four years overseeing caela research operations on a larger scale–and I know that doesn’t seem like a long time, but that’s the entire lifespan of this field of science–and there has never been an incident under my supervision. I’d like to keep that streak, but I need your cooperation to make it happen.”

She was met with silence, which she decided to interpret as a step in the right direction.

“Additional measures of protection will be distributed to those of you with units operating in combat situations as they become available–But rest assured, there is no radioactive material on this base as of this moment, nor will there be any until this building has been carefully assessed by the EPA.” She raised her eyebrows and extended her palms outwards. “Does anyone have any questions?”

Silence again. The men all looked around under lowered brows, wordlessly willing each other to remain silent so they could get on with their day.

Cecilia sighed. She could only hope it was enough.

“Then–that’s all I need you for.” Before she had even finished her sentence, her audience had sprung to their feet almost in unison, chatter filling the hangar once more.

Cecilia turned to McCaulsky.

“I appreciate your help, Captain. I just hope this whole thing doesn’t create any issues for you.”

“Ah-” he waved her words away as he leaned over the table behind them to collect a mug of stale black coffee with an extinguished cigarette bobbing on its surface. “Everyone’s feeling a little twitchy about it now, but just give it some time. They’ll warm up to it–And you.”

Cecilia scoffed. She had no intention of wasting her precious time earning the right to be tolerated by the most despicable kinds of people she had ever encountered on God’s green earth.

“Ms. Whitaker–” someone spoke from behind her.

Cecilia turned to see a young Asian man sporting a hastily tucked T-shirt under an unbuttoned lab coat. Shaggy curls and scruff of a mustache set him clearly apart from his two flanking associates; they contrasted their colorful compatriot with clean, well-pressed lab uniforms and tight expressions.

She quickly pieced it all together…

These must be her contacts from Japan.

Cecilia was to work alongside this task force–sent all the way from Tsukuba–for the duration of her project. She wasn’t sure how this band of brilliant minds had managed to claim a card in Javelin’s Rolodex, but she was thankful to have at least some capable hands on deck.

The Japanese men quickly bent at the waist, a gesture Cecilia began to return when the lead man suddenly straightened up and thrust his hand forward.

“Junto,” he said with a curiously infectious, wide smile. Cecilia took his hand, and he energetically snapped up and down.

“Cecilia,” she said, unable to hold in a disarmed laugh. “It’s such a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance in person.”

“The pleasure is all mine–and oh, wow!” He said with boyish enthusiasm as he extended his arms outward, gesturing to the expanse around them. “We are going to have some fun in here, am I right? I mean, am I right?”

Cecilia laughed again, a real, bona fide laugh that bubbled up from her chest. She was all too pleased to see this display of genuine enthusiasm.

“If you’re ready to, then I’m ready to.”

“Oh, are we ready or what,” he said, motioning to one of the others. A sleek leather briefcase was brought forward and placed on the table. Centered on its face was a sterling silver pin in the shape of a unicorn. Junto clicked the twin latches and opened it, motioning for Cecilia to come closer.

Her curiosity piqued, Cecilia obliged, peering into the velvet depths of the case.

Inside, snug within its custom foam casing, rested a familiar SNOW-issued Geiger counter, complete with the upgraded “caela counter” function.

Cecilia’s mouth hung open. It was unmistakable–it was the exact model she’d helped develop. All that was missing was the black and red mark of SNOW’s brand.

She began to reach for the device, then stopped herself.

“Oh–may I?”

“Please,” Junto said, his eyebrows hovering a mile high over the rims of his gold-framed glasses as he awaited her reaction. “It’s fully operational, too.”

Cecilia gingerly took the device from its case, rotating it in her hands as she studied it in awe. She switched the device on, and the steadily clicking heartbeat came to life.

“How did you…?”

“The search was exhaustive–I won’t get into the nitty gritty–but get this, Cecilia: we found the original manufacturer.”

Cecilia was flabbergasted.

“I didn’t know that SNOW wasn’t the one to manufacture these.”

She’d assumed SNOW would have kept the development close, somewhere in Germany. Kaneshiro had notoriously kept his cards firmly against his chest.

“Not only did SNOW not manufacture them, but they burned a bridge so badly with the manufacturer that the company had no hesitation in putting this together for us when we paid in advance for over eight hundred units.”

“Eight–Eight hundred?” Cecilia nearly choked on the words.

“Oh, we got them for a steal, Cecilia. Call it a benefit of national pride.”

“These are made in Japan?”

Junto pointed a finger gun at her. “Bullseye.”

Cecilia turned over the device once more. It made sense, now that she thought about it.

“Oh, please forgive me,” Junto’s tone flattened. He gestured back to his colleagues, who had been waiting patiently beside the table, hands behind their backs. He motioned to the first on the left, a clean-shaven man with a hint of a receding hairline. “This is Tamura-san, lead Project Engineer. And this is Mori-san, lead Technology Engineer.”

The second man carried himself lower than the first, his cropped bangs swooping over a pair of large, circular glasses. Both men bowed curtly with flat smiles.

Cecilia nodded back to the engineers. “How many others do you have on your team?”

“Ten,” Junto smiled. “The rest will be arriving soon. We wanted a chance to check out the digs before they got here.”

“Well,” Cecilia began, motioning to the mess of construction at the other end of the hangar. “Unfortunately… it’s not much to behold right now, but you’re more than welcome to take a look around. Oh, and-”

She reached for the pile of folders on the table, taking one and extending it to Junto.

“I’m not sure how much of the briefing you heard, but I would suggest giving this a read. I believe someone at Command is drafting a liability waiver that all contractors have to sign, based on this material.”

Junto took the folder with a wink. “I hope the job comes with hazard pay,” he joked. He quickly shot a remark in Japanese over his shoulder to the other two, then turned back to Cecilia. “Now–I’m sure you have lots to do. I won’t take up any more of your time. I look forward to, ah…” –he jutted his arms out like he was making chicken wings– “bumping elbows with you.”

Laughing at his own joke, he gave her a quick nod, then turned on his heel and set off toward the opposite end of the hangar. The other two men quickly bowed toward Cecilia and fell in behind Junto.

Cecilia sighed as she watched the trio walk away. Junto was gesturing wildly as he chattered enthusiastically with the others. Echoes of rapidly-spoken Japanese bounced off the far walls.

She turned and reached for her own folder on the table, flipping it open to reveal a glossy photo of a dark, pristine mineral. The photo was black and white, but the center of the shard portrayed upon it emanated such a rich, inky lightlessness that it felt almost alive.

Black glass, she had aptly named it.

She had only ever seen this mysterious ore with her own eyes on one occasion.

The photo–such a simple and inconsequential thing to whichever bumbling Javelin goon had retrieved it from the smoldering remains of Nikolaev’s home–was the most valuable thing Cecilia had in her possession. It was proof that what she had witnessed that night in Tanzania, in all of its horror and cataclysmic wonder… had somehow occurred somewhere else.

She wanted to know where.

She wanted to know how.

And she wanted to know why Lochte had given this photo to her when he couldn’t possibly have understood its importance.

Unless Davy had said something…

Cecilia shoved the suspicion aside for the time being, knowing that from this point forward, she no longer had the headspace for unconstructive patterns of thought.

She took the folder up into her arms and shot one more glance over her shoulder at her new associates, who were now striking up a conversation with one of the hard-hatted workers.

Cecilia flicked her wrist up, checking the hour on her watch.

It was just about time for the next matter of business.

John.