Chapter 99: Discharged
"You're cleared to go," Ellie said, after the final check. "Everything's progressing well. Come back in a month."
"Thank you," Simon said. "Genuinely."
A week in the hospital had been educational in specific ways Simon hadn't anticipated. The medical part had been fine — the ribs were healing, the soft tissue damage was resolving, the numbers on the monitors had been doing what numbers on monitors were supposed to do. The other part — Meg visiting every day, Mia calling twice daily, the combined weight of two people who cared about him processing their concern in real time in a small room — had been considerably more demanding than the physical recovery.
He waited for Ellie to finish her discharge notes and leave, then changed into his clothes.
The face in the bathroom mirror was intact. He'd been careful about that during the exercise — protecting the head was instinct at this point, and the face had benefited from that instinct. Some bruising at the jaw line, mostly resolved. Nothing that would require explanation at school.
He collected his things.
It was Friday. Meg was in class. Mia hadn't been notified about the discharge date. He walked out of the ward without making a production of it.
He was calculating taxi options when Casey's car pulled up at the hospital's main entrance.
"Get in," Casey said.
Simon got in. "How did you know?"
"Ellie sent the discharge summary to the contact number on your admission form," Casey said. "That's my number."
"Of course it is," Simon said.
Casey pulled into traffic.
"Thank you for coming," Simon said.
"I was coming anyway," Casey said. "I have a question."
"About?"
"Hand-to-hand," Casey said. "Specifically, against someone with a significant grappling background."
Simon looked at him. "Who are we dealing with?"
"A karate master. Black market weapons acquisition — he stole a guidance system component three days ago." Casey's voice had the particular flatness it used when something was professionally relevant and personally uncomfortable simultaneously. "He's former agency. Training division. Very good."
"You know him," Simon said.
"I know of him," Casey said, which was not the same thing and they both understood that.
"I want in on the mission," Simon said.
"You're not cleared for active ops," Casey said.
"Beckman said I'm not cleared for active ops while I'm injured. She didn't say I couldn't be present." Simon looked out the window. "Let me sit in on the briefing. If she says no, she says no."
The base was surprised to see him.
Sarah looked up from the terminal with the expression of someone recalculating their morning. Chuck put down the tablet he'd been reading.
"Ellie said no strenuous activity," Chuck said.
"Ellie said no strenuous activity," Simon agreed. "She didn't say anything about sitting in on briefings. Those are famously low-impact."
Casey contacted Beckman while Simon found a chair.
Beckman appeared on screen and looked at Simon with the specific attention of someone who had been keeping track of a file.
"You're discharged," she said.
"This morning," Simon said. "I'd like to request operational participation."
Beckman pulled up something on her end. Reviewed it. Put it down.
"Your injury assessment doesn't support active engagement," she said. "Request denied."
"General—"
"Do you have a problem with that, Agent Lewis?"
A pause.
"No, General."
"Good. You may observe the briefing."
Beckman pulled up a photograph.
"Ty Bennett," she said. "Martial arts specialist — karate, judo, multiple disciplines. Former agency training instructor. Currently operating as an independent contractor in the black market weapons space. He and his team have developed an efficient model for stealing and reselling high-value military technology."
"Someone I've heard of," Sarah said.
"You trained under him?" Chuck said to Casey.
"I didn't say that," Casey said.
"You didn't not say that," Chuck said.
"He's not my instructor, he's a traitor," Casey said, with the specific precision of someone closing a line of inquiry. "Those are not the same thing."
"Casey," Beckman said. "Whatever you know about Bennett's methodology and tendencies — the briefing team needs it. Personal history or not."
Casey said nothing. Which was, with Casey, an answer.
"Three days ago," Beckman continued, "Bennett's team acquired an advanced inertial guidance system from a DoD contractor facility. The system is non-functional without the specific weapons platform it's designed for, but it's extractable from that platform and valuable to buyers with the right systems."
"That's not a weapon by itself," Chuck said.
"Put it in a missile and it is," Casey said. "Obviously."
"You don't have to say obviously like that—"
"Gentlemen," Beckman said.
Both of them stopped.
"Bennett is scheduled to transfer the guidance system to his buyer at a location in Simi Valley," Beckman said. "An industrial building, confirmed this morning. Your job is to intercept the transfer and recover the component."
"Timing?" Sarah said.
"Tonight. The transfer window opens at ten PM."
"We'll be there," Sarah said.
Casey looked at Chuck. "You're sitting this one out."
"What? You might need a flash—"
"This team managed two hundred years of national security before the Intersect existed," Casey said. "I think we can handle one transaction."
"That's actually not a historically—"
"Bartowski," Casey said. "No."
Beckman looked at the room. "Agreed. Bartowski stays back. Dismissed — everyone except Lewis."
The others filed out. Chuck cast one last argumentative look over his shoulder and was intercepted by Sarah, who guided him toward the stairwell with the practiced efficiency of someone who had been managing Chuck's operational instincts for going on two years.
The briefing room went quiet.
Beckman looked at Simon from the screen.
"You wanted to be in the field tonight," she said.
"I did," Simon said.
"Your injury assessment is genuine, not precautionary," Beckman said. "Bruised ribs in a close-quarters engagement create exploitable vulnerabilities. You know that."
"I know," Simon said.
"There will be other operations," Beckman said. "Bennett is a significant asset if we can turn him. If we can't, he's a significant threat that doesn't resolve in one engagement." She paused. "You'll have opportunities."
"Understood," Simon said.
"While you're here," Beckman said, shifting register slightly, "I want to discuss your independent unit's development. You've had the Bering and Pierce positions close successfully. Your facility buildout is progressing. You've made one confirmed recruit." She looked at him. "What's your timeline for operational readiness?"
Simon thought about this honestly. "Six months for a functional small team. Eighteen months before I'd consider the unit genuinely capable."
"That's realistic," Beckman said. "What do you need from me in the interim?"
"Training access," Simon said. "Not through the standard channels. I want to work with Casey and Sarah on specific skill gaps while my team is being built."
"Casey's already agreed to that," Beckman said. "Sarah has reservations about the time commitment but she'll engage."
"And one more thing," Simon said.
Beckman waited.
"The Fulcrum surveillance that Casey flagged — the activity in the area. If that moves from surveillance to active targeting, I need to know immediately. Not after the fact."
"You'll be notified in real time," Beckman said. "That's already standing protocol for commissioned agents."
She looked at him steadily.
"You had a hard week," she said. "The exercise was necessary and I stand by the design. But I'm aware of what it cost."
"It was useful," Simon said. "I understand that now."
"Good," Beckman said. "Rest today. Tomorrow you're back in the pattern."
The screen went dark.
Simon sat in the briefing room for a moment in the quiet.
He could hear, faintly through the ceiling, the sounds of the yogurt shop above — the ordinary retail noise of a Thursday morning in Burbank, people coming in for something cold and sweet and uncomplicated.
He went upstairs, got himself a cup of something hot from the machine in the back, and sat at one of the small tables near the window.
He watched the street.
He had work to do. He had a team to build, a facility to finish, a set of skills to develop, and somewhere inside all of that, the ongoing work of being a senior in high school and a person with relationships and a life that wasn't entirely consumed by the operational layer running underneath it.
He thought about Meg sitting in the hospital chair every day.
He thought about the conversation that was still waiting for him.
He finished the coffee and walked outside into the January morning.
It was cold by LA standards. He stood on the sidewalk for a moment, hands in his jacket pockets, and let the city be loud around him.
Then he went to find his car and drove home.
[Goal Tracker]
PS 500 → 1 Bonus Chapter
Reviews 10 → 1 Bonus Chapter
If you enjoyed it, consider a review.
P1treon Soulforger has 20+advance chapters