Page 19 of Rescuing Ally: Part 2

“Stable,” she replies with the same economy of words. “Sedated. He’ll recover.”

I nod once. Information received. Assessment complete.

“At first, I thought the glitches might be connected to Ally’s USB drive,” Mitzy continues. “The one she brought back from Kazakhstan. We suspected it might have contained a virus that activated when she connected it to our network.”

“But you cleared it,” Gabe notes, eyes narrowing.

“Multiple times,” Mitzy confirms. “And the malfunctions were occurring before she ever plugged it in. Plus, they’ve affected isolated systems with no network connection.”

“Like what?” Forest presses.

“Cell phones with rapid battery drain,” Mitzy says. “Including yours and Gabe’s.” She nods toward us. “The system in the motor pool that tracks vehicle usage. Three different satellite uplinks that keep dropping signal.”

Walt steps forward, arms crossed over his chest. “Don’t forget the equipment at Guardian Grind. The espresso machine’s been glitching for weeks. Register freezes constantly. Malia was ready to throw the coffee grinder through a window yesterday. Mike, the mechanic, has been back five times, and nothing stays fixed.”

“I mean,” Walt rubs the back of his neck, “he’s a good guy. Always responds quickly, but the fixes never last. Malia was convinced he was doing it on purpose to keep coming back for free coffee.”

“Has anyone vetted him recently?” I ask.

Forest catches my implication immediately. “Full personnel sweep,” he orders. “Everyone with access to Guardian HQ in the last six months gets reassessed. Mike goes to the top of the list.”

Mitzy’s already typing. “Michael Drayson. Contractor. Hired eight months ago for general maintenance and repairs. Ex-military. Marine Corps. Honorable discharge.” Her fingers pause. “Clean record, but limited background on his time before Guardian HRS.”

“Has there been any particular pattern to these malfunctions?” Forest asks, voice tight. “Any correlation with locations, timings, personnel?”

Mitzy shakes her head. “Nothing I could identify. Just random equipment failures, power drains. We replaced somecell phones for tech team members when they kept dying. Rewired parts of the electrical system in the east wing. Replaced the satellite uplink twice.”

“Mike is being brought in for questioning,” Sam announces, reviewing incoming messages on his tablet. “We’re implementing lockdown protocols. All personnel are to be accounted for. No one enters or leaves without Level 1 clearance.”

The command center doors slide open, and Carter strides in. His face is drawn, jaw set with the same controlled anger I recognize in myself. His badge—Guardian Protector, not operative—hangs from his belt.

“They took Jenna,” he says without preamble. The words are measured, but the force behind them is unmistakable. “Hurt Max.”

“We know,” Sam acknowledges, though his posture stiffens slightly. He understands what’s coming.

“I’m going after her,” Carter continues, moving to stand with our group. “I’m joining Charlie team.”

Sam shakes his head. “You’re a Protector, not a Guardian. You’re not combat certified for this level of operation.”

Carter doesn’t flinch. “I’ve been training with Blake and Rigel for months. I can handle myself.”

“This isn’t a debate,” Sam replies, his tone final. “This is a Category 1 operation. Full tactical team deployment.”

“He’s been running courses with us,” Ethan interjects, surprising me with the support. “Combat scenarios, hostage recovery, tactical formation. He’s solid.”

CJ steps forward, his massive frame drawing all eyes. As operational commander of all Guardian teams, his word carries weight. “I’ve reviewed his progress. He’s not at an operative level, but he’s close. Better than some we’ve deployed.”

Sam looks to Forest, clearly displeased with the interruption to protocol.

“Don’t care what you say. They took Jenna.” Carter says each word precisely. Controlled. “I’m going, just try to stop me.”

I assess him clinically, noting his stance, muscle tension, and eye movement. He maintains strict control, channeling his emotions to focus rather than letting them compromise his judgment. I recognize and respect this trait.

“We’ll need every asset,” I state, supporting his position. “Carter brings years of experience as a detective. Hethinksdifferently than we do. He’s an asset, not a liability.”

Rigel nods in agreement. “He’s put in the work. Firearms qualification, combat fitness test, tactical simulations. He’s ready.”

Forest watches this exchange without expression, then looks directly at Carter. “You follow orders without question. You maintain operational discipline. You don’t compromise the mission.”