"Exactly."
We sit like that for a while, quiet filling the space. In the background, the low hum of Echo Base operations continues. Footsteps in distant corridors, the ventilation system, occasional radio chatter from operations personnel. Safety. Security. What we're building from chaos and determination.
Evening comes with the kind of routine that used to make me nervous. Khalid sprawls on one of the common area couches with his literature homework, annotating some text Dr. Voss assigned. Dylan's at the table, working through mission reports on his laptop. I'm at the other end of the couch, editing my latest article.
This one traces Committee money through shell companies in three countries. Not enough for prosecution yet, but enough to apply pressure. Every article chips away at Webb's infrastructure. Every exposure makes potential allies nervous. Death by a thousand cuts.
"Reagan?" Khalid looks up from his book. "What's existentialism?"
"It's about defining yourself through your choices instead of letting circumstances define you." I set down my tablet. "Why?"
"This book Dr. Voss assigned. The guy keeps talking about authentic existence and defining yourself through decisions." He frowns at the text. "Feels relevant but I'm not sure why."
"Maybe because you're choosing who to become instead of letting trauma choose for you." I shift to face him fully. "Every day you do homework instead of hiding. Every session with Dr.Voss where you work through grief. Every time you laugh at Dylan's terrible jokes. You're defining yourself through action."
"Are Dylan's jokes really that bad?" Khalid grins.
"Objectively terrible." Dylan doesn't look up from his laptop. "Painfully bad. I have a gift."
"See?" I gesture at Dylan. "Multitudes."
Khalid laughs, returns to his reading with slightly less confusion. Dylan catches my eye across the room, shares a small smile. Simple moments like this—homework help and terrible jokes—beat any byline I ever collected.
My encrypted phone buzzes. Message from Cross, flagged urgent. I open it, scan the contents, and the evening changes.
"Dylan." My voice carries enough weight that he looks up immediately. "Cross just sent something." I scan the message twice to make sure I'm reading it right. "Significant Committee movement in Prague. Multiple assets deploying, Webb personally coordinating."
He's already moving, crossing to read over my shoulder. "Prague was one of Morrison's major financial hubs. Webb shut it down after the prosecutions started—too much exposure." His jaw tightens. "Why reactivate it now?"
"She doesn't know. But she thought we'd want to know." I forward the message to Kane, watch the encryption protocols engage. "Could be new operation, could be meeting with Kosygin's people, could be retaliation against someone who's been talking."
"Or bait." Dylan's fingers brush my shoulder. "Cross leaks information about Prague, we send people to investigate, they walk into a trap."
"Cross doesn't work that way. She wants Webb destroyed, not strengthened."
"Unless someone's paying her more than we are."
The doubt hangs between us. Victoria Cross is reliable, professional, motivated by revenge and profit. But she's also a mercenary in the truest sense. Her loyalty extends exactly as far as her interests align with ours.
"Kane will verify through other channels," Dylan says. "If Prague's real, he'll want eyes on the ground. If it's a trap, we'll know before anyone gets burned."
My phone buzzes again. Kane's response is immediate and concise: "Verified. Multiple sources confirm Committee activity Prague. Evaluating options. Stand by."
So it's real. Whatever Webb is planning in Prague, it's significant enough that multiple intelligence sources picked it up. The Committee operates quietly, carefully, minimizing exposure since Morrison's fall. Large-scale operations draw attention they can't afford.
Which means this matters.
"We're going, aren't we?" Khalid appears beside us, homework forgotten. "To Prague."
"We're not going anywhere." Dylan's voice carries absolute certainty. "This is operational. Kane's people handle it."
"But you're Kane's people."
"Sometimes. Right now, I'm here with you two." Dylan meets Khalid's eyes steadily. "That's not changing."
The teenager processes this, some tension easing from his shoulders. Every time Dylan leaves for a mission, Khalid worries he won't come back. The fear shows in how he watches Dylan pack gear, how he stays awake until Dylan returns.
"But if Kane needs you," Khalid says carefully, "you should go."
