As Supergirl fought for her life, all hell was breaking loose in the SEAL operations room.
“JONES IS DOWN!” cried Partridge as they watched the Doctor disable the three members of team Trident. “Trident 2 and 4 not answering…”
“Play back Jones’ cam - NOW! Clarke, tell Fellini to sit tight.” Hudson barked.
They then watched the replay from Jones’ camera, the brief flash of the Doctor standing in the doorway and then the chaotic scenes as Jones, Kaplan and Porucco were all taken down. They switched to the two other team members’ cameras, but they all told the same story – a brief glimpse of an incredibly fast enemy before the cameras either blackened in the case of Jones’, or showed floor and wall from Kaplan and Porucco.
“You fucking knew we were going up against this-whatever-the-hell-it-is and you didn’t TELL US?!!!” Partridge stood angrily , his nostrils flared in rage as he stared incredulously at Wilson.
“You raise your voice to me , boy, and I’ll have you busted out of the navy so fast it’ll make what you’ve just seen look slow. It’s classified Partridge. You don’t need to know.” Wilson said.
“It’s LIEUTENANT Partridge you supercilious prick! You could have gotten all those guys and the Mayor and his wife killed keeping your little secrets! How the hell do you people sleep at night?”
“Like a baby” Wilson said crisply.
“Good. ‘cos that means you cry yourself to sleep and wake up screaming, rolling around in your own damned faeces.” Partridge countered.
“STOW IT SAILOR!” Hudson barked. “Clarke, get ‘Shortstop’ aboard, secure those men who are down aft and get ready to med evac them out. Get the Kite guys set down for’ard and aft but just tell them to make a start on that bomb. Stay out of the ship. Edwards , tell Fellini to evac ‘Penny’ and ‘Raj’ to the bow. Where the hell is ‘Fatboy’ with the med guys?”
“He ain’t answering, sir” Clarke replied.
“’Pear Tree’, this is ‘Watchdog 6’…I got military behind me in the marshalling yards…and…it looks like the Sikorsky is landing to pick ‘em up? They with us? What gives, over?”
“CHRIST!” Hudson turned angrily to Wilson “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING? That asshole in the Sikorsky is your guy, ain’t he? Lacelle ain’t sick, you stood him down! Goddammit, ‘Fatboy’ was supposed to ferry the med team out to the boat!” He spun around to Partridge, “tell Craig to get his injured men back to the dock in a Zodiac, the med team aint comin’. Tell the med squad to rendezvous dockside with him.”
“’Pear Tree’, ‘Kite 1’, ‘Spiders’ away, over.” The ‘Spiders’ were a reference to the assault team and the bomb disposal man ‘Leonard’ who had abseiled down to the fore deck, under Lt Commander Cooper.
Hudson turned back to the mike by Partridge “ ‘Kite 1’ from ‘Pear Tree’. Get your ass over to ‘Watchdog 6’s position. Stop ‘Fatboy’ taking off, over.”
“Say again ‘Pear Tree', over.”
“You heard me sailor” Hudson shouted angrily.
“YOU CAN’T DO THIS!” Wilson shouted.
“’Pear Tree’, ‘Kite 1’ , how , over?”
“Sit on them, they can’t go up if you’re on top of ‘em. And if they force the issue- you got Hernandez on the gun?”
“Er…aye,sir? Over. ”
“So get him to shoot the rotor stem off of ‘Fatboy’, ‘Pear Tree’ out.”
“Er,…. Roger that ’Pear Tree’, ‘Kite 1’, out.”
“YOU CRAZY FUCKER! YOU CANT DO THIS!!!” Wilson bellowed.
“Oh, really? It’s all right for you to endanger my men’s lives, but not for me to endanger your guys? How does that work exactly, Mr Wilson? Or should I say ‘Cao Cao’? “
Wilson’s nostrils’ flared “This is MY OPERATION!”
“No. It’s mine. It was under you. You playing spy with your secret op and withdrawing medical support for my casualties has crossed the line.” Hudson remained calm.
“This is bigger than the lives of a coupla grunts, and make no mistake Captain , that’s all your men are. Elite grunts, but grunts none the less.”
“WHY, YOU ARROGANT FUCK-!” Partridge rounded on Wilson but Hudson held him back.
“You keep talking to me like that PARTRDIGE and I’ll have you back picking cotton.” Wilson rose to his feet , angry himself now, staring nose to nose with the young coloured officer.
Partridge stopped, the muscles at his jaw bulging as he swallowed back his anger.
There was silence in the comms room. Hudson, his back to Wilson, smiled at Partridge and released his grip on him, mouthing the words ‘He’s all yours’.
Everyone knew Wilson had made a mistake. Pretty soon Wilson knew it too.
“Sir,” Partridge said with immense control, “while I wear this uniform, if you insult me, then you insult what this uniform represents.” He turned to face Hudson. “Does he even hold any rank in the Navy, sir?” Hudson shook his head.
“I’m ABOVE the Navy, PARTRIDGE” Wilson said with emphasis.
“Sir, with respect, the only thing above the US Navy is ‘Old Glory’ and frankly, sir, you don’t look like no fucking flag I’ve ever seen.”
Wilson had been trained in a variety of unarmed combat techniques. However most involve anticipating you are actually under threat as a first step in the process of self-defence. He hadn’t actively used his combat skills in 14 years. For the last ten he had spent his time running operations from control rooms like this. He had even signed off on his own annual refresher training courses in unarmed combat for the last three years, thinking them a waste of time. He was about to regret that decision. He still had his arms folded as he leant towards the black officer before him. Misplaced overconfidence in such circumstances rarely ends well.
“I want 4 copies of that recording AND the earlier incident, Partridge, and ALL footage from ALL units in this operation, and I wa-“
As Partridge landed his fist square on Wilson’s nose, the covert agent had no time to unfold his arms and defend himself. There was a reassuring crack and a spray of blood as Wilson sat down heavily on his ass, clutching his nose, his eyes wide in surprise.
“It’s LIEUTENANT Partridge , sir, and if you don’t hold any rank in the Navy, then I can’t be busted for striking a superior officer. Now I’ve got an Op-gone-bad we need to sort out. You’ll have your copies when we’re done.”
“You’re outta here mister!” Wilson said as he struggled up , shrugging off Hudson’s aid.
“Really? “ Hudson asked, surprised. “ Because that will involve a courts martial…ya know…where you appear, give your real name and id, address, what you do, all that kinda thing. Recount what was said. All the kinda stuff you Shape boys hate.” He said referring to Pentagon staff. ”’Back picking cotton’ was it?” he asked with a fake frown.
Wilson frowned for real, his anger building. “I CAN HAVE YOU ALL BASED IN FUCKING ALASKA FOR THE REST OF YOUR SERVICE!”
“Good. We’ve been on active Ops for 6 years, be a nice break for me an’ the boys.” Hudson smiled affably. “But park this. Lieutenant Partridge is right we gotta save this Op. Now tell us what the fuck are we up against here?”
“Sir! I got that ghost op back, they’re going loco over something” Edwards called out.
“Ah, that would be Mr ‘Cao Cao’ here’s little project, right? ‘Suzerain’?” Hudson said, addressing Wilson. “Guess they are pissed that ‘Fatboy’ can’t take off. Only you would think of calling yourself after that scheming bastard.” He saw Edwards frown and went on to explain.”It’s not COW the animal its C-A-O , ‘Cao-Cao’. He was the last Prime Minister of the Han Dynasty in China. The power behind the throne. You seem surprised us grunts know such things, Mr Wilson. We’re not all grunts. I always remember one story, when someone asked him why he supported the corrupt Han Dynasty, you know what he said, Edwards? “, he turned to face the radio technician, who shook his head. “Cao Cao looked at the twilight sky and said ‘This day is ended. The Sun is dying. Yet its fading light may still be of some worth…’ And the guy looked at Cao Cao and said “Ah, now I understand why you do it. Because in the morning… there will be a new Sun’.
Hudson stared coldly at Wilson. Edwards stared bewildered at them both, “Sir?” Hudson ignored him as he went on.
“And that’s you all over, isn’t it Mr Wilson? You’re just doing this to further you’re career. You don’t give a shit about anyone, just as Cao Cao didn’t give a damn about the Han. You’re building empire. You see yourself as the new Sun. You know how I learned about Cao Cao, Mr Wilson? Strat and Tac classes at Anapolis. He fought a river battle at Chi Bi. Had over a million men in his army. But they were an ARMY, they weren’t sailors. Got beat by guys who were and who knew the local conditions. Burnt his fleet with fireships. You and he got a lot in common, Mr Wilson. He didn’t care about his men either, he thought he was untouchable as well, and just like you, he lost.”
Edwards looked more confused than ever. “Soooo who or what is Suzerain?”
Hudson sighed “Maybe you are right Wilson, maybe my guys are just grunts. A ‘suzerain’ is an overlord state that controls the affairs of a minor, supposedly independent, country or a colony. It’s a fancy way of saying our Op is his Op’s bitch.” He explained to Edwards.
He looked out at the dockside where ‘Kite 1’ hovered over ‘Fatboy’ by using a pair of nightvision binoculars. “Suppose those guys of yours all got weapons like Jones’ had, huh? Too bad. Hernandez has got a 50 Cal. My guys were just fodder for you , weren’t they? Well, your boys are going nowhere. If this is gonna end, it’s my men who are gonna end it. We got guys looking at the bomb, we have the stern and bow secured. If we are gonna go in against whatever it is, it’s time for you to spill the beans. WE are your only option now, Mr Wilson. So what gives?”
“You can’t pull this shit on me! I got influence…” he left the threat hanging in the air.
“That’s nice. Real nice. But I got Blackhawks” Hudson said with a cold smile.
Wilson sighed, grinding his teeth as he looked up at the ceiling and silently cursed his luck.
“If this doesn’t end well, WE ARE ALL FINISHED!” He screamed at the Captain. “I don’t get that belt back, and I’m history, and if I go down I’m damn sure gonna take you all with me.”
“Belt? Suppose you tell us what the fuck is going down and then when we know ALL the facts, we’ll see if we can turn this fucked- up- mother- of- a- covert- op around, shall we?” Hudson said.
“Sir, Lt Commander Cooper is with his boys and ‘Sheldon’ on the aft quarter deck, he’s got 'Kite 2' flying top cover and he’s asking what the hell is going on…” Clarke informed him.
“Ain’t we all Clarkie, aint we all…” Hudson said never taking his eyes off Wilson.
Wilson sighed heavily. “Listen,” he began, “The Doctor has a very special device…”
“No shit?” said Clarke sarcastically.
Supergirl slumped dejected on the floor of the small room, exhausted. She had tried again and again to corner the Doctor to disarm her of either the device or the detonator, but all attempts had failed. She realised that what the doctor had said was perfectly true. All she could do was look on, as the Doctor pushed the button. But fortunately, when you have a type of heat vision, there are times when looking on can be enough. But she needed to have the doctor still, remaining in position for just an extra second or so after she started to take action, to make sure she could hit the control with enough power. In her current state she wasn’t sure one quick glance would be enough and if the Doctor used the belt to get away, she could easily trigger the bomb. Her attempts to rush her had all failed as the doctor read her intent and winked out of existence. In her weakened condition she was no match even with her super speed for the doctor’s speed of thought. She realised it was because the Doctor was anticipating her moves, reading her body language accurately. So as the Doctor moved to press the button of the detonator, Supergirl deliberately stayed still, her head bowed slightly , avoiding direct eye contact. She knew too, that the Kryptonite glove would impede her powers and that was the real problem – as she sped towards the Doctor, getting nearer to the glove slowed her down, sapping her energy and will , allowing the Doctor to have the edge. She decided to try and wrong foot her, to get her to hesitate for an instant.
Keeping her head bowed, her hair screening direct eye contact she gasped weakly “I’ve…defused… bomb.”
As her words sank in, it had just the reaction she hoped for, delaying the Doctor from pressing the button as she digested the importance of the words. “What? You can’t ha-“
Supergirl suddenly flashed out a burst of her freezing breath, catching the doctor by surprise as the jet of cold air hit her hand. Kara instantly followed it up with a glance of her heat vision that seared the battery of the remote, frying its components and rendering the control useless, burning the fingers that held it so she dropped the control with a start. But the Doctor still vanished, to suddenly appear standing over her, and as Kara looked up in surprise she brought her right hand with the glove on it down, catching Kara high on her left cheek at the corner of her eye with a blow of brutal force, stunning the heroine.
“A-AAAAGGGGHHH!” Kara screamed as the blow connected, but it was the microscopic spray of Kryptonic dust that spread into her eyes that caused her the real agony. Her left eye bore the brunt of it, as particles and tiny flakes lodged between her eye and eyelid, the terrible burning sensation stabbing into her brain’s pain receptors as they flared in agony as the dust burnt her blue eyes. She brought up her right hand, using the back to press into her left eye socket to try and give some small relief.
Willoughby retrieved the control and stabbed down on the detonator button ineffectually twice, three times, but nothing happened.
“Damn you, bitch!” she landed a flying roundhouse which snapped back Kara’s head as it connected with her jaw. Though it only had the force of a human kick, against her in her current condition and with the glove drawing off her powers, she truly felt the blow, groaning and wincing in reaction.
“A-OOH!” she gasped, blinking profusely as she realised some flakes, infinitesimally small, were also in her right eye as well. As she struggled to see, the Doctor kept disappearing and then popping up right beside her, landing a brutal blow and cursing her name before vanishing again. As Kara slumped head bowed her hand at her left eye the Doctor suddenly appeared at her right side prompting Kara to raise her head straight into the vicious backhand blow that landed across her right eye. Sending her reeling. As now her right eye blurred and became inflamed with pain, she realised her heat vision was no longer an option. Indeed, any vision may soon no longer be an option.
Willoughby kept varying her attacks, never hitting Kara from the same direction and never staying long enough for Kara to land a blow of her own. As she struggled to clear her vision Supergirl lashed out blindly, swinging wildly to no effect. After a flurry of attacks Helen Willoughby materialised well away from Kara on the far side of the room, panting heavily herself from her exertions. He face was bright red and her nose was bleeding a thin trickle from her right nostril. The veins were throbbing at her temples and it was obvious that using the device was taking its toll on the doctor. Or it should have been obvious. Kara slumped in the centre of the room, looking balefully towards the Doctor. But the dust specks in her right eye meant she had only a hazy recognition of shape against shades of colour. She could see the vague form of what was probably a woman if she had to guess, which of course she knew to be Willoughby, against a background of light and dark; light walls, with a darker ceiling. What frightened her though, was not the impaired vision in her right eye, but the fact that she was completely blind in her left. She daren’t reveal her weakness.
Though she couldn’t see, her super senses could smell the Doctor’s blood, and her blurred right eye seemed to show Willoughby lifting a hand to her face, then looking at it for a moment, before moving it rigorously up and down her thigh briefly. She could hear the Doctor breathing, quite heavily, with her sensitive hearing. She put two and two together and deduced that using the device was causing the Doctor some problems after all. But she hardly had time to dwell on the matter as Willoughby came at her again, appearing here, there and everywhere about her, just half seconds apart, landing blow after blow with the glove. She struck Kara on the back of her left shoulder, inflaming the shard lodged at its front.
“AAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!” the Kryptonian screamed, as her arm erupted in flame as the nerve endings cried out at the hurt, the burning pain barely subsiding before the Doctor had struck again, this time hitting her full on the jaw, the raging inferno of the glove touching her flesh causing her body to recoil and spin away, almost as much as the force of the blow. Way too late she tried to bring her arm up to protect herself, but her left arm felt numb with the pain, with the strange and for her unusual sensation of pins and needles in her deadened fingers as the shard in her shoulder affected her circulation. She landed sprawled, face down, her left knee bent, her skirt ridden up to reveal a perfectly smooth bronzed thigh, her cape splayed back .
The Doctor stood off her again and this time Kara could at last see her more clearly. She realised it was the tears from the blow that had helped clear her vision very slightly in her right eye. It wasn’t crystal clear, still slightly blurred, but far better. She could feel where the tracks of her tears had dissolved the flakes and were streaking down her cheeks, leaving a mild stinging sensation even in solution. But her left eye was still useless, barely able to discern light from dark. Its view was simply a murky black. She could feel the microscopic specks of fire flaring against her cornea. She could only hope any damage would not be permanent. But the way this struggle was going, 'permanent' wouldn’t be a long time either.
She closed her eyes, wincing at the pain and almost terrified that the blackness that engulfed her wouldn’t lift when she opened them again. But there was some slight visibility in her right eye still, as she tried to view the world and failed. But the realisation hit her like a hammer that she was now half blind. She tearfully swallowed back her fear as the Doctor struck her again, just a vague shape that appeared alongside her. Each devastating blow left her weaker than before, the closeness of the glove stealing her energy, her resolve, her life force. ‘No , dammit! Not like this!’ she chastised herself inwardly. She would not allow herself to fall, to be taken down like this, crying, helpless and alone. There had to be a way out. There always was. But it may not be the way you wish to go. It was just a question of being strong enough to choose that path. It may take various forms; it might mean her death or the end of those she may care about, but never the less, there was always a solution if you had the courage to take it. But as she sat, weakened and exhausted, blinded and beaten, she had to admit to herself that, both figuratively and literally, she could not see a way out of this. But there was another fear that gripped her, not just the thought of failure, of letting millions of people die; it was a natural, personal fear of what the blindness would bring for her, even if she did triumph, if it were indeed permanent, perhaps even losing the little contrast in her right eye that she still now had– what new pain, what new terrors would her life hold in store for her? A life of blackness for one who had gazed upon the wonders of the universe , first hand?
Just like any young girl, injured, helpless, and far from home, she was afraid of the dark.