Fr. Ed drove through the deserted neighborhood, past one roadblock and the next, flashing his freshly minted credential and his clerical collar. At each stop, nervous soldiers ordered him out of the car, sometimes apologizing, and searched the vehicle. He talked his way through, the paradox of his intimidating physical presence, his collar, and affable demeanor disconcerting and confusing those ready for a confrontation.

“I’m looking for the little girl. Can you point me where they’re holding her?”

“I’m looking for Atticus Stamm. Are his facilities this way?”

“I was sent by the Red Cross to help with evacuations. There are civilians up there. Can you let me through?”

Several hours before, he had been crowded into a hastily convened meeting of community leaders, local government agencies, and state representatives. Everyone there ostensibly to broker a peaceful solution, but quickly the meeting degenerated into shouting and accusations. When offered credentials to assist with front line relief, Ed accepted.

He knew he was getting closer when he noticed that the vehicles and menacing hardware were more often pointed inward toward his destination. The men with guns also looked more tense, nervously talking amongst themselves or into communications gear.

Ed approached a row of pickup trucks with arrays of small rockets angled up to the sky. A man stood off to the side with a data pad, looking at video feeds from drones in the air nearby.  Another man with a rifle approached, a worried look on his face.

“Padre, it’s not safe here. What are you doing?”

“I’m looking for Atticus Stamm. I’ve got a message for him. Hopefully we can avoid you guys having to use this stuff,” Ed said with a broad gesture, smiling to make a joke out of it. The soldier laughed nervously. Ed suspected this guy didn’t have much appetite for the possible impending carnage.

“I don’t know exactly where he is, but his ranch is over that way. We’re supposed to make sure no one gets through. You can’t take that vehicle, you’ll draw fire. You’ll have to hoof it. Be careful. There’s a lot of firepower pointed that way.”

He led Ed through the equipment and pointed through a stand of trees.

“Maybe a mile and a half that way. You really shouldn’t be out here, though. Do you want me to send a message you’re coming?”

“Yes, that would be great. ‘Don’t shoot the big priest!’” Ed pantomimed surrendering and they both exchanged nervous chuckles.

Ed jogged through the stand of trees following a rutted tractor path and emerged into a fallow field. He paused to catch his breath, then crossed, keeping a nervous eye on the drones zipping and hovering overhead. He entered another stand of trees on a rise.

As he surveyed the way ahead, he heard a soft woof. He turned, and there was Vesta, partially concealed in brush. He went into a crouch and called softly to her. She bounded over, licked his extended hand, licked his face, then turned and whined, turned again. Ed knew she was trying to communicate but he could not reciprocate.  She stopped, cocked her head, ears twitching, then bounded off.

  He stood and walked a few yards further and was stopped by a soldier seemingly materializing out of thin air, pointing a weapon at him. Ed noted the prominently displayed American flag arm patch.

“Stop. Hands up.” Ed complied. “Are you armed?”

“No. I’m carrying a message for Atticus Stamm. He lives up ahead? I’m from the Governor’s Task Force. My name is Father Edward Ryan. I’m the emissary from the Diocese of Boise. I’m on the peacekeeper committee.”  Ed watched the soldier turn his head and speak softly, listen, then speak again.

“You can’t go any farther. Someone will escort you to a safe spot. Wait here.” A short while later another soldier emerged, dressed identically, appearing in the same way Astyanax did with the use of his cloak. Ed wondered at the connection.

The second soldier lead him through dense overgrowth to a small clearing in which a heavily armored truck bristling with antennae was parked under a large canopy of camouflaged netting. Several emergency vehicles and aerial drones of various sizes crowded beneath. Some of the drones looked large enough to transport people. Many more hovered overhead.

A young woman with black curly hair and dark eyes dressed in plain olive fatigues emerged from the van.

“Fr. Ryan? I’m Sahar Burhan. We met, or rather, I watched you during the interview about your HiMEC contact.” She stepped down from the van and extended her hand. Ed shook it.

“I’m sorry, I don’t remember you.”

Sahar smiled sheepishly. “I was remote, in the background.” Ed wondered how many others had been eavesdropping on that meeting. “Why are you here?”

“I’m a member of the governor’s task force, on the peacekeeper committee. I volunteered to carry a message to one of the militia leaders here who seems to be at the center of the controversy around the grendel and the girl. We’re hoping if I can negotiate a peaceful exchange, we can avoid further escalation.”

Sahar’s smile vanished. “I’m afraid there may not be time for that, Father. I can’t let you get any closer. We’re hoping to achieve something similar, but this is a very unstable, hazardous situation. Can I get you a ride back behind the lines?”

“Well, I…” Ed started, but they were interrupted by one of the soldiers.

“That’s not possible, ma’am. We’re hemmed in tight and we’d give away our position if we transport him. Once we’ve acquired the assets, we’ll lift out with cover. If we have to use the ambulances, we’ll cover them, but that will definitely be the end of the operation. We have to preserve the element of surprise for as long as possible.”

Sahar looked back and forth between Ed, the soldier and the van.

“If you don’t mind, can you wait here, Fr. Ryan? There’s not much room in the command post. I need to update the situation.” Ed nodded, and Sahar climbed back up into the van.

***

Father Ryan is here, she messaged back to the Command Center at Mountain Home. Christine responded immediately, her image popping up on the screen.

“From Boise? The Catholic priest? What is he doing there?”

“Peacekeeper. He seems to think he can persuade Stamm to stand down. We’re prepping for the extraction. I don’t think there’s time.”

“I agree. Keep him out of the way. Stick to your plan. The Epsilon team is ready?”

Sahar nodded. “We’re also tracking the HiMEC reinforcements. The Entity notified us that the HiMEC leadership is focused on rescuing the young female with Bina Thakur. Extremely high priority for them. Their lead elements passed through the outer lines to the east, still undetected. They are closing extremely fast.”

“If we do this right, we’ll finish extraction before they arrive and we can avoid the worst of it.”

Sahar nodded. “We’re ready.”

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