The Sleeper and the Silverblood
The Engineer

The Engineer had his phone to his ear, his eyes trained on Storm. “Affirmative. Thanks,” he said to someone on the other end, then ended the call.

“Stars, man, you scared me,” Storm snapped as he closed the door behind him. “What are you doing here?”

Alasdair’s expression remained impassive. “Waiting for you, obviously.”

“Why?”

“You know it’s after four in the morning?” Alasdair asked conversationally. “Where have you been?”

“Around.” A thread of unease snaked through Storm.

“Around,” Alasdair scoffed. He gestured at the tablet in his lap. “That’s funny, because according to this, you disappeared off AIDO property earlier tonight and have just now reappeared.” He turned the screen to indicate the tiny white dot marking Storm’s location on his aura-security map.

“Maybe your tech glitched,” Storm suggested, but he was in for it now.

The Engineer set the tablet down on the couch. “I reviewed your location history—we do keep logs, you know—and turns out, you’ve been missing a few times. How would you like to explain that?”

Before Storm could answer, the scanner outside the door chimed softly and the latch released, signaling another’s entry. He turned and met Declan’s exasperated blue gaze.

The Guardian wore deceptively lightweight matte black body armor, the standard uniform for angels on duty. The sleek dark material seemed to absorb light even in the well-lit room.

“Dec,” Storm said, surprised. “What—”

“Shut up,” the Guardian snapped, shutting the door again and crossing his arms. “Man, you are in so much trouble.”

A spear of trepidation lanced through Storm’s gut. “What do you mean?”

Declan waved both hands in Alasdair’s direction. “Uh, hello? Do you think the head Engineer makes social calls at four a.m. for no reason?”

Storm glanced back at his other friend. “’Dair?”

“Explain to me what the hell you’ve been doing, sneaking out of the AIDO,” Alasdair said tersely. “Have you lost your mind? Do you have a death wish?”

“Why does everybody keep asking me that?” Storm grumbled. “No. I’m just restless. You know—”

“No, I don’t know,” Alasdair retorted. “You hardly say two words to us these days, missing meals, disappearing early in the evening…What the hell is going on with you?”

Storm dropped into an armchair. “I shouldn’t tell you. Need to know, and all that.”

Declan snorted, but Storm ignored him.

“No, Storm. You don’t get to use a security clearance card here,” Alasdair said. “What have you been doing, and why should I care enough not to report you?”

Storm glared at him. “You know I got a new job?”

“Yeah, so? Nothing you do should involve sneaking out at night.”

“It does if I’m a Sleeper’s handler.”

Whatever he had expected, it wasn’t that. Alasdair blinked, then threw his head back and laughed. “Oh that’s good, you almost had me. The silverblooded de facto prince of Valëtyria, nearly a prisoner in his own home, a Sleeper’s handler? Sure.”

“I’m serious. My dad assigned me to a Sleeper, and I’ve been meeting up with her in the strip.”

Alasdair nearly laughed again, but the expressions on Storm and Declan’s faces sobered him. His brow furrowed in the latter’s direction. “Dec?”

The Guardian shrugged. “I’m not saying a word. I’m just here to make sure you don’t kill him.”

Storm glanced over his shoulder at his blond friend. “What are you doing here, though? Shouldn’t you be on duty?”

“I am on duty, asshole. I’m handling a potential security breach. Be grateful it’s me and not someone else.”

Storm frowned. “But how did you—”

Declan rubbed the bridge of his nose, exasperated. “Please, please don’t tell me you’re naive enough to believe you’ve been getting in and out of here all these nights on your own?”

Storm blanched. “You knew?”

“Hell yeah, I knew. You’ve kept me busy as fuck constantly redirecting personnel in a direction not yours. My unit probably thinks I have a screw loose.”

“Shit,” the silverblood murmured, chagrined. “I’m sorry. I thought—”

“You thought you could just slip past the force field, multiple squadrons of elite Guardians, motion sensors, and the auratic monitoring system without being noticed? More than once?” Declan snorted. “Your ego is showing.”

“It didn’t seem that complicated when we went together.”

“Because I spent three days setting it up!”

Alasdair frowned. “Storm, I want an explanation.” His gaze flickered to Declan. “And don’t get me started on you knowing this was going on.”

The Guardian didn’t blink. “Once you hear Storm’s story, I think you’ll understand.”

“Storm?” Alasdair prompted, returning his attention to the silverblood.

Sighing, Storm recounted the details of his journey, starting from the moment he learned he would become Kitara’s handler and ending with his arrival at her flat earlier that evening.

Alasdair, however, was not impressed.

“A Sleeper?” he exploded. “You’ve been meeting up with a goddamn Sleeper? Alone?”

“I’m her handler,” Storm argued. “It’s within the bounds of my role.”

“Not when you’re a silverblood! Doing god knows what with god knows who, without anybody knowing? Have you lost your fucking mind? Goddammit, I should have both of you court-martialed!”

Declan rolled his eyes. “You know, for being so mellow, you sure are dramatic sometimes.”

Alasdair stood to pace. “I’m not dramatic. This is a massive breach of protocol and security. Stars, and it’s been happening right under my nose, not to mention the danger you’ve put yourself in—”

“You haven’t seen this woman,” Declan interjected. “Storm is good, but she’s better. Why do you think I wouldn’t let you send out Trackers? He’s probably as safe with her as he is here.”

Storm gaped at the Engineer. “You wanted to send someone looking for me?”

“What was I supposed to do, Storm? I had no idea if you were alive or dead.”

“Stars and hellfire,” Storm muttered, rubbing his forehead.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” Declan snarked from across the room. “You’re lucky ’Dair came to me first and I managed to talk him down.”

“Look, I owe you both an apology,” Storm conceded. “For putting you in tough positions and…causing you both stress. I’m sorry.”

“You should have been smarter about it, Storm,” Declan chastised. “I looked the other way because I get why it’s so important to you, especially after what you told me about your connection to Kitara. But do you really think other handlers—hell, anyone who ventures into enemy territory for any reason—do so without backup?”

“Declan’s a bit more understanding than me,” Alasdair grumbled. “I still haven’t decided whether or not to lock your aura down so you can’t leave the facility without my knowledge.”

Storm grimaced. “My dad babysits me enough, thanks.”

“Then I need better context for this situation.”

Storm proceeded to explain more fully the extent of the odd auratic draw between himself and the Sleeper, followed by the reasons for his mother’s condition and Kitara’s family’s involvement. He left out her altercation with Phoenix for the moment, however; he still needed time to process that revelation himself.

“Everything…almost everything I thought I knew about her was wrong,” Storm concluded. “I didn’t have all the details. In fact, I’m pretty sure my dad told me half the story, so I’d hate her on sight.”

“Imagine that,” Alasdair replied dryly, unsurprised. “But none of this changes the fact your actions were…unwise. Not just the protocol issues. I happened to get curious about where you were and realized what was happening. Stars, man, you think your dad doesn’t pull your records from time to time?”

“Does he?” Storm asked.

“Of course he does, he’s too paranoid not to be that thorough.”

“Shit.” The silverblood sighed. “I hoped we were past all that.”

Declan snorted. “You’ll be past it when one of you is permanently dead in the dark, my friend.”

“Which might be never.”

“My point exactly.”

Alasdair sank with a groan onto Storm’s couch. He pressed his palms together and tapped his fingertips against his mouth. “This certainly explains your weird behavior lately. But…it can’t continue. Not like this. You’re a silverblood, Storm. If they figure that out in the dark strip—”

“I can’t just abandon her now,” Storm interrupted. “She needs some information from the Myragnar. I need to talk to Devika—”

“What does Dev have to do with any of this?” Alasdair interrupted with a frown.

Storm grimaced. “Oh. Right. You wouldn’t know, I guess, because of…security reasons. But Devika and Kitara are…close. Really close. Um…like sisters, I’ve been told.”

Alasdair leaned back and crossed his arms. “And what exactly are you supposed to talk to her about?”

“A list of texts about the Fallen she can’t get. Something about Myragos security clearance—we can’t access it here.”

Alasdair almost laughed, tapping a few keystrokes on his tablet and turning the screen toward Storm. “Something like this?”

Storm leaned forward to read the message on the device.

Unauthorized. Myragos credentials required.

“Uh, yeah I think so.” Storm eyed him warily. “How do you know about it?”

“Because Devika asked for my help getting around the security for these. She didn’t mention what for, which in hindsight makes sense, but she didn’t seem concerned about when I could get to it. Stars, I have been involved, just without knowing.”

Storm grimaced. “So why are Myragos creds required for texts about the Fallen? The archives are already classified.”

Alasdair lowered the tablet again. “Anything of merit about the Fallen results in that message. There’s plenty about the crimes they committed, the logs of those who Fell, and who Felled them. Cut and dry, historical retellings. But anything about the process, about how it started, about how they do it…has clearance levels beyond even the High Council.”

Storm frowned. “But…why?”

Alasdair shrugged. “Who knows? I planned to tell Devika I couldn’t get any further than that. Whatever they’re hiding, I can’t access it from here.”

The silverblood rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Will alarms go off if I travel to Valëtyria?”

“Not that I’m aware of. Coming back though? I’d bet my goatee your dad has one.”

“That’s a serious bet, considering how attached you are to that thing,” Declan snarked, making Storm laugh.

Alasdair ignored them both. “You’re really considering going to Myragos?”

“Not considering. I’m going.”

“What, on vacation?” Declan drawled, leaning against Storm’s desk. “Your dad would have a field day coming up with a reason to keep you in Valëtyria.”

Storm shot him an annoyed look. “If it helps us figure out what Ostragarn is after, yes.”

“Your funeral,” the Guardian muttered.

“Could you disable any alerts my dad might have on me?” Storm asked Alasdair, brushing off Declan’s snarky commentary.

The Engineer shook his head, stroking his aforementioned goatee. “Robert manages that for him. I only monitor this facility.”

“What, that hacker soul not up for the challenge?” Storm asked lightly.

“I think I’m more useful to you if I’m not Felled for hacking Valëtyria’s portal system. Again.”

“Can’t argue with that. Will you approve my request then?”

“Yeah.” The Engineer shot him a dark look. “I should report you, you know.”

Storm shot him a sheepish grin. “Nah, you like living vicariously through us.”

“Always the enabler,” Declan said, but one side of his mouth tipped up.

Despite himself, Alasdair chuckled darkly. “One of these days, we’re going to live a bit too vicariously and it’s going to end with prison, or worse.”

Storm pulled his phone from his pocket. “How soon do you think they can get me in?”

“It’s been a quiet week: probably tomorrow, maybe the day after?” Alasdair replied.

Storm tapped out a sequence on his screen. “Great. The sooner the better.”

“I’ll go with you to see Dev,” Alasdair said as Storm filled out the request. “If I’m going to be complicit, might as well go all in. At least then she’ll know she can be honest about what she needs.”

“I’ll pass,” Declan said. “Somehow, I don’t think my skillset will be much needed in the bookworm sanctuary.”

Alasdair snorted. “Dev would probably throw you out anyway.”

“She could try,” Declan replied cheerfully, unfazed.

“Okay, request sent.” Storm looked up at his friend expectantly.

Alasdair lifted his table expectantly. “And…approved,” he said after a split-second delay.

“Thanks, ’Dair. I owe you one.”

“On top of the other, like, five IOUs you already have.” The Engineer glanced at Declan. “You too.”

“Add it to my tab,” the Guardian replied, grinning. “Can I assume this means the ‘potential security breach’ has been successfully addressed?”

Alasdair sighed. “Yeah, guess so.”

“Great. I’ve gotta get back then. Oh, Storm?”

The silverblood looked up to meet the Guardian’s eyes.

“If you go back out there again, tell me, okay? Saves me a hell of a lot of stress and paperwork.”

Storm snorted. “Sure, would hate to put you through all that.”

“Forms and signatures and reports—snoozefest.”

Alasdair stood to join the Guardian’s side. “I’m out too. I’d like to get some sleep before my shift starts in—” he checked the time “—three hours. Not including stopping by the library on the way in.”

Storm grimaced. “Sorry, again. One of these days, you’ll need a favor for something big and you’ll be glad you racked up all the IOUs.”

Alasdair stroked his goatee. “We’ll see.”

“’Dair, that thing almost has its own facial expressions now.”

Alasdair smothered a laugh as he followed Declan into the hall. “Shut up and get some sleep. And do me a favor, would you? Try not to get arrested.”

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