Pray You Are Right


cat_icon.gif elisabeth_icon.gif felix_icon.gif sarisa_icon.gif

Scene Title Pray You Are Right
Synopsis Sarisa comes to meet with some members from team Charlie, only to have a very rude awakening.
Date December 28, 2009

USS George Washington

Red, yellow, green, purple, white.

Flashing colors shine within the matte forest-green decked with silver and gold and baubles of all those colors and more. While the scent of a pine forest does not cling to this particular tree, the crew of the aircraft carrier USS George Washington have taken to spraying pine-fresh Lysol air freshner around the tree to give it a more authentic scent. Despite all of this, the lights hung up around the hangar bay and a few cartons of Egg Nog available in the galley, it has been unusually hard for the feeling of Christmas to come to the crew.

With the eponymous holiday having passed three days ago, the holiday decorations almost seem in bad taste now, with the burden of the carrier's mission feeling even more oppressive every day. Most everyone on this ship is aware of the details handed out during the Operation: Apollo mission briefing, that the warhead was to be detonated at an unspecified date after the 22nd of December: Six days have passed since that date, and the tension has only continued to rise.

Gathered in the hangar bays, with the clouded and gray skies visible out one of the hangar doors, a handful of members from Russia's team Charlie congregate in the bay entrance, listening to the soothing sound of falling rain mixing in to the chatter and movement of the busy ship. Out on the rainsoaked flight deck, flight crews toil to prepare aircraft for a proposed airstrike on the country of Madagascar, details of which have been a tightly guarded secret aboard the ship.

It's here, in sight of the rainy season blanketing the horizon and obscuring the sight of Madagascar in the distance where these team members await Agent Kershner. It may not be the most picturesque setting for their meeting, nor the most private, but it beats the confined quarters that have been common since hitting the stormy seas around Madagascar.

Confined? They've never seen the bedroom Felix spend his childhood in. Small enough that he had a murphy bed, and not much larger than a ship's cabin. So he's at ease in cramped, confined spaces, and has spent a great deal of time lurking in his bunk, fighting off some unpleasant and unspecified crud - the residue of stress, multiple if minor wounds, and sheer exhaustion. Not to mention the PTSD. So Fel's in the one place on the ship you're permitted to smoke, nursing his cigarette with the defensive air of a hen brooding over an egg.

Her clothing is not geared for this climate, and so Elisabeth has been in a position of raiding the Navy Exchange on board. It tends to make her look like one of the crew, albeit one who's off-duty. Sweatpants have been the norm, or one of the few pairs of black slacks a seaman managed to locate for her. Her blonde hair is confined regularly to a French braid now, the better to keep it out of her face anytime she's out on the deck — and make no mistake, she's out on the deck as much as humanly possible, finding that she has a tendency to be seasick when she's belowdecks. Cruise ships are clearly not going to be for her. Thank God for the Navy medics — they have been overseeing her withdrawal from the Xanax since she got here three days ago. She's struggling with it, but the ability to get out on the deck and watch the planes launch has helped. As has the presence of Felix and Cat. For now, she rests next to the smoking Russian, just listening to the sounds of the rain.

There's no smoke rising from anything in Cat's hands. No gloves cover her fingers, and she isn't wearing a coat. Eyes focus ahead on the falling rain and flight crew activity. "It's wet," she observes, "but it's not cold and it isn't snow." Not a trace of seasickness is seen about her. And she's musing a bit as fingers adjust the bottom of a t-shirt bearing the word Navy across the front as she muses "I wonder if any of my Yale classmates are aboard." Would it be weird, she wonders mentally, if the carrier's JAG was at law school with her.

"It's good to see you all made it out of Russia without… too much incident." The voice comes from an umbrella-wielding silhouette standing against the gray horizon out the hangar doors. Twirling her umbrella around over her shoulder as she walks in under the shelter of the hangar roof, Agent Sarisa Kershner's arrival is heralded by the click of her low heels on the polished floor.

Blonde hair is brushed back from her face with one hand before her black umbrella is swung around and folded closed, tapped tip-down on the floor like a cane as she walks, a metal click-clack accompanying each step.

Coming to a halt under the lights of the hangar, Sarisa sweeps her eyes over the three, offering a mild smile. "I apologize for not being able to greet you when you arrived here. I'm glad you were able to get together out here to meet up with me on short notice though, I know the last thing most of you probably wanted was a cut in yur downtime. God knows you've earned it."

Not without incident. Fel's seen that movie, likes it, despite its decidedly B pedigree. He gives Sarisa a decidedly unfriendly look - Agent Fluffy neither forgives nor forgets, especially after that particular prolonged and only partially consensual clusterfuck. He doesn't sneer or snarl or spit or issue demands. Just stares with the sort of acidic deadpan that'd do Deckard proud.

There is a long moment where Elisabeth gives Kershner this Look. The one that says 'are you fucking nuts??' "This is not really downtime, Kershner. This is … the calm before the storm. Being reactivated at this point will be a relief. What have you got?" she asks mildly.

She isn't hostile, but isn't smiling when Sarisa approaches. It's just the standard Cat face showing. There's little for her to say, after the words spoken by the other two, and she's fairly certain the briefing is just moments away. Thus eyes rest on the agent, interestedly, as she waits to become informed. "Agent Kershner," she greets simply.

"It's as close to downtime as you're going to get." Tucking one hand into her suit jacket's pocket and the other resting firmly on the crook of her umbrella, Sarisa rolls her shoulders to emphasize the helplessness of that sentiment. "Right now I don't have much, aside for a status update that I wanted to deliver to you all personally. The carrier is now in position off the coast of Madagascar directly east of the capital city Antananarivo. In two days this ship is going to commence with operation Apollo's Arrow which will consist of a surgical air-strike on the capital city."

Taking a step closer to the others, Sarisa's blue eyes avert to the ground as she considers the plan. "We're waiting on confirmation from Team Bravo that they have disabled the Antananarivo airport where the majority of the Vanguard's air force is located. With General Rasoul having total control over the Madagascar government, the situation there has changed our level of involvement. The United States Government is officially going to undergo a humanitarian mission into the country once the nation's air-force has been neutralized in order to depose General Rasoul and return control of the country to the Malagasy people."

Finally looking up, Sarisa gives a mild smile to Cat and furrows her brows. "After a discussion with General Autumn, I've come to understand that you will not be having a direct responsibility in that mission. It's in and out with the air-strike, then waiting for Team Bravo to return contact and let us know the status inside of the nation. Once we're prepared for an extraction, that will be the Marines' duty entirely. Whoever has survived from the team will be brought back here."

"However," Sarisa glances to Liz and then Felix before looking back to Cat, "the information we've attained from your investigation in Russia has proven to supply us with some very interesting leads. Once we've managed to ascertain the status of the remaining teams and gather their intel, we'll likely be headed directly south to Marion Island. While we don't have an exact shape of what to expect there yet, it seems like the most likely position for where the Vanguard's tanker vessel the Verano may be docked with Munin, or at the very least where we can recover potential information on the warhead's exact whereabouts."

Fel really, really, really wants to whine. It's there in his face. But he doesn't let it out. And his expression becomes increasingly intent, as Sarisa speaks. "What do you expect from us, when it comes to this little shindig?" he asks, finally. His voice has grown ever raspier - a steady diet of no-doubt-asbestos-laden cigarettes in Russia has him sounding like he wants to be Tom Waits when he grows up.

Elisabeth listens as Felix asks the next logical question, leaning back against the rail as she watches Agent Kershner. "What makes them think Marion Island is the docking port? And out of curiosity, just because I'm somewhat ornery this way, why is it that the rest of my group of so-called terrorists are being asked nicely to come along for the ride and offer their services whereas I myself am being jacked up by a fake IA rep and DRUGGED and dragged off onto this mission? I mean… not as if I didn't expect to get jailed and shit, Kershner, but the double standard is confusing the shit out of me."

"Cooperation?" Sarisa opines sarcastically to Felix's question, her smile perhaps a little inappropriate for the situation. "At the moment I can't really say. At present it's your continued assistance on this operation. I have reason to believe that a mass military movement on the location of the bomb, when discovered, will not be possible. Simply sending Marines en-masse to a location won't suffice, though we will be supplementing you whenever possible. At present, it isn't so much your prior experience with the Vanguard that's a necessity, so much as it is that you are one more hand on deck that we can count on."

Tapping her umbrella hard floor, Sarisa furrows her brows and seems a bit in thought. "It was actually something Catherine said that made me consider it, juxtaposing island positions and Volken's propensity for allusions to Norse mythology. We also retrieved information in Russia that suggests that the Verano made frequent stops in that region. We haven't been able to go thorugh all of the intelligence in the Vidar file yet, however. But some of that intelligence there has been… enlightening."

There's a nervous cast to her expression as Sarisa's voice trails off. Her brows furrow, shoulders square, and she looks back up to Liz. "I don't know why you were handled that way, Harrison. The lack of coordination between agencies is a little more than pronounced lately. It might have been something as simple as a miscommunication in our orders being handed out. But I'll admit, some of you weren't even supposed to be in Russia." There's a curious tone to Sarisa's voice as she says that. "But that's between mister Allegre and I right now."

Felix flashes Sarisa his bitchiest of grins in return. Back atcha, sweetheart. "Once more into the breach, dear friends," he intones, even as he taps out another of those horrible, horrible cigarettes from its paper packet. The ones that perpetually make half the deck crew look up from their work nervously, like they're sure there's a chemical leak. "And whatcha got?"

A brow slides upward. Francois? That's a bit on the odd side. "Whatever," Elisabeth finally says. "It doesn't matter anyway, I suppose." She moves to snatch Felix's cigarette away from him because she is quite sure there's a chemical leak and … well, damn it, they just stink. Bad. "It's over and done with and it's not like I'd be choosing anything different if I had been handed the option. I'm just in a pissy mood at the moment." Not hearing from the other teams has her on edge. "It's good that the file will be useful. Will our team on the ground know that an airstrike is heading their way when this gets underway?"

There's not a trace of disagreement with the taking away of Felix's Russian butt when Elisabeth seizes it, Cat glancing only briefly in their direction as it happens. What there is: an unexpressed thought she should grab the pack and stomp it, too. Not like Marlboros can't be had at the NEX operation. She similarly makes no commentary on the Vidar file, whatever she knows of its contents is kept to herself. But she doesn't remain silent.

"Norse myth says creation happened between the cold place Niflheim and the hot place Muspelheim. Muspelheim is in Madagascar, when I went map-crazy in Russia I worked out what's halfway between Madagascar and each pole. In the north, it's Ryazan. To the south, Marion Island. Marion Island has a volcanic peak which reaches 1,242 meters above sea level. I've not run numbers on whether or not that's ground high enough to ride out the floods which could come from melting the entire Antarctic icecap. But it could be intended as a refuge for that purpose."

"To be absolutely honest, all of our military analysis are thinking that if the bomb is anywhere, it may very well be somewhere in Antarctica." Sarisa's tone changes entirely when she says that. "But satellite imagery of the south pole has proven to be completely useless in tracking the warhead. Furthermore, the sheer size of Antarctica and the lack of any reliable intelligence on possible locations on that continent make it impossible for us to begin any sort of survey into locations. Getting to the continent is difficult as it is, but if Marion island actually is a Vanguard resupply station, it would be a perfect jumping off point for a long-range water voyage, especially if the Verano came with a VTOL aircraft capable of making the journey from the Antarctic coast to somewhere inland."

Shifting her posture to try and alleviate some of that awkward body language, Sarisa's brows furrow and eyes downcast, "We're ina fortunate time of year where the weather at the south pole is favorable for incoming aircraft, but we have to know where we're going and if that's even where we should look. It's just…" she exhales a stressed sigh, moving away entirely from the topic.

"Team Bravo knows there's an airstrike inbound. They're set to clear the Antananarivo airport in order to ensure clear skies for our boys on the way in. The airstrike is designed to distract Malagasy ground forces so that Bravo can move on the capitol and secure information before General Rasoul has a chance to escape or destroy any valuable intel."

Oh, God. Antartica. Felix, being the nerd he is, is having visions of Ozymandias's stronghold, or something. He looks weirdly stricken, to the point that he doesn't protest when his precious cigarette is stolen.

Dropping the nasty Russian cigarette over the side of the ship, Elisabeth grimaces at the mention of Antarctica. "We have barely days — if that — to find this goddamn thing and disarm it. That's assuming we even can disarm it now that it's actually armed, Kershner. I feel like we're sitting here twiddling our goddamn thumbs," she grouses mildly. She starts to shove a hand into her hair, forgetting that its restrained and therefore yanking strands loose accidentally when she makes the movement. Then she drops her hand and sighs heavily. "Any other bits of good news?"

And hey, wait, I had a- Fel has absently lifted an empty hand to his lips, as if he'd light the stolen cigarette. And then he levels a trenchantly accusing look at Liz. Cue blue puppy dog eyes. Go, go, go.

She's as calm and poised as ever. Not the slightest hint of doubt the weapon will be found and dealt with. Whether or not Cat feels concern is anyone's guess; in operational matters she never brooks talk of failure. "Is there any known location where the Chinese crew did the drilling mentioned in news articles, Agent Kershner? We could also consult the best of math people to calculate the approximate volume of water released by a melting icecap, and to determine what spot under it would produce the most thorough result."

"The Chinese drilling was done at the Amundsen-Scott research station." Sarisa explains to Cat, "That's a multi-national south-pole research facility, it's the largest permanent structure on the continent. That was our first assumption, but we were able to contact the research facility and speak with the chief researcher Paulo Viera. Everything seems to be operating normally there, and satellite imagery shows no abnormal activity at the site."

Sarisa shifts her footing, teeth pressing to her lower lip. "We've considered sending inspectors to the site, but we're faced with a problem. If that isn't the site, we risk tipping our hand and alerting the station that we suspect them by sending inspectors. Furthermore, we risk enciting them into prematurely detonating the device. As far as research into the resulting explosion, we have our best minds on it. Predictive operators at the Institute are working around the clock to crunch those numbers."

"Right now there's not much we can do, not without putting ourselves at risk. The fact that we've been given Presidential authority to move in and police the situation in Madagascar indicates that this situation is already spiraling out of control. The intelligence we were given about that country alone indicates they have little to no legitimate government infrastructure left at all, we'll likely be there reinforcing the country for years to come. Russia thankfully wasn't as thouroughly infiltrated, but the sheer volume of silence from team Alpha indicates that— that we just don't know how bad, globally, this is."


Has Peter not contacted Sarisa?"

Felix….not strong on the color front, like, ever. But he blanches at that, doesn't bother to hide it or turn away. He just stares at Sarisa, blue eyes wide, lips thinned out into a grim line.

Although she struggles hard to keep the physical aspects of withdrawal well hidden, there are some that are visible. Elisabeth's temperament the past couple of days has been edgy and all over the map in terms of stability. The impromptu gathering she and Cat staged for the members of the ship as a gift helped. Singing takes Liz from her own head a lot better than anything else. The headache is nearly constant, but she's been told that will abate within a day or two more, and her hands shake just a little but that too she's been told will pass in just a couple more days. Assuming she doesn't have seizures coming off the medication, by the time the air strike goes, she should be good to go, no longer reliant on the chemical aids for her anxiety issues. Here's hoping they're not as crippling as they were several months ago. For right now, it's merely showing up in her impatience, in the sharp edge to her tone as she speaks which she tries to keep from becoming too rampant.

"Do they seriously think this one nuclear warhead in the right place would … just melt all the polar ice caps and flood the world? I mean… that seems like something out of one of those bad disaster movies stuffed full of bad science if you ask me." Elisabeth is not entirely dismissing the possibility — she's just not a scientist and therefore has zero idea of how much reality that is. "I was once given to understand that if all the caps melted, we'd see only about a total of 5 or 6 feet more water worldwide. Which meant that yeah, all the places that are currently 10 feet above sea level will be oceanfront property, but…. " She trails off and listens to Sarisa speak, tensing at the comment that there's been silence. There is a moment while she debates and bites her tongue. They did not contact Cat through the SatComs, they contacted her privately. She is uncertain what was said there, but it has been drilled into her pretty intensively that sometimes the better part of intelligence is silence when you don't know what's happening.

She'll have to contact Rebel and speak with Peter again herself. If he didn't contact the carrier, he must have his reasons. Like maybe he doesn't dare try to pull off the subterfuge with Sarisa in the loop, she may not understand what Cat does. "I believe they do," Cat replies somberly, "we know Volken thought big, his successor would be the same, and they called their plan the Flood. And the consequences of melting one ice cap could make the other melt by increased water temperature, not to mention the disasters possibly caused by seismic activity from the detonation and tsunamis which follow."

"Then there's the chances of climate change from the melted ice. Severe temperature drops if the cold, fresh water interrupts ocean currents." Her brows furrow during a pause. Seismic activity. Could a detonation somewhere cause earthquakes along with flooding?

"I have no idea," Sarisa admits, "not officially at any rate. Researchers I've spoken to from the Institute spat some number back at me when we made the initial inquiry, and I don't know where they were pulling their figures from. All I know is that Munin is a 20 kiloton warhead, which is of significant size, twice as large as what happened in Midtown." Sarisa's brows furrow slightly, teeth toying at her lower lip. "They said the ice in Antarctica is roughly one mile thick, and if — worst case scenario — all of the Antarctic ice melted, sea levels around the world would rise about two-hundred feet." The number causes one of Sarisa's brows to arch, "Two hundred feet might not seem like much, if the ocean level rose that high, most of the world's coastal cities would be completely submerged. But one nuclear explosion would not be enough to melt that much ice… not a twenty kiloton explosion, at any rare."

Exhaling a sigh, Sarisa rubs at the back of her neck. "Right now you and— Holden— " the pause there is almost indicative of disdain, or perhaps disgust, " — are the only members from team Charlie here. I have Mister Allegre handling something for me at the moment, but I expect he'll be back today or the day after. The others… well, we'll see what happens. Right now, all I can recommend you do is conserve your energy as best as you can. I'm going to be busy for the next couple of days interrogating Zukhovsky, so I'm not sure how available I'll be. But if you have any questions… now would probably be the best time to ask them."

I want to -help-. There's a light of positively unholy eagerness in Felix's face….and then he turns off the Renfield face, once he realizes he's making it. Did I want…..yeah, I did. The Fed's face falls, slowly, and he goes withdrawn, looking a bit shaking. "Right," he says,simply.

"The only questions I have are 'when do we go' and 'what do we know,' Agent Kershner. And since the answers to those are right now in the air… I figure we'll just keep on doing what we're doing until that changes." Elisabeth shrugs a little. She's worrying, but what the hell good will it do. "You?" she asks Cat. Any questions for the agent? She's going to nail Felix to a bulkhead and demand explanations for his weirdness, but not where Kershner can hear.

"Will there be an operation to retrieve people from Argentina?" Cat inquires. "I can't shake this nagging suspicion of the Munin satellite program playing some sort of role here too, but I've no idea how. Beyond that, I've got no other questions."

"Trust me the irony of their naming hasn't eluded us either, but we've squeezed the company responsible for their launch for information and come up with nothing. As much as I hesitate to believe it, that may have simply been an unfortunate coincidence that had us looking in the wrong direction for a considerably long time." Sarisa's brows furrow, her hands both resting on the crook of her umbrella now. "As far as Argentina is concerned, once we have reason to believe that there is a team to extract, we will. But right now there has been little other than radio silence from them, and if this persists, we're going to be forced to take action against the installation."

That sounds decidedly final.

"If there isn't a response from the Argentinean team soon, we'll be forced to level the Svartalfheim bunker. We can't risk any of the Vanguard element surviving and compromising the mission, especially if they've gotten their hands on the SatCom and intercepted our transmissions, or interrogated any of our own. We'll have to clean the entire mess up."

There is a very visible tension when Sarisa says that. "They're alive," she tells the agent flatly. "Though they may not have been able to contact you," there's now a glance at Cat, "we were contacted at one point about the fact that Zhukovsky's capture was paramount." She looks back at the agent. "Whatever they ran into out there, it gave them intel and they were able to get it to us. And you will extract the rest of our team, Kershner. Or a bunch of us are going to rain hell down on some people's heads." Not just no but HELL FUCKING NO we are not leaving our people in Argentina, nor are we bombing their asses. Forget it.

"I don't completely know the circumstances," Cat shares, "but it's true. There was contact, I'd thought you also were contacted and kept it to yourself for security reasons. A way to infiltrate the Vanguard operation in Argentina has been found and is being explored. If you're in the dark, it may be for security reasons of not being able to speak freely with people around and you being on a carrier."

"I'll seek contact very soon by secured means and relay the capture of Zhukovsky, ask what to do with him now. Whatever plan is afoot on the ground there requires his presence, I was told, but it doesn't call for his illusory talents." As she speaks, her eyes watch Sarisa for signs of having already known this. No comment is made about extracting the team, she's got full confidence it isn't needed. Delivering Zhukovsky to Petromir means extracting people too. Ground covered already.

"You were contacted— " There's a moment of seizure in Sarisa's face, the look of a crack on something under extreme pressure, "— told?" Sarisa takes a step forward, the steel tip of her umbrella tapping on the smooth floor. "Told by who? Who's orders are you operating under? What do you mean Grigori's ability won't be needed?" Each question takes her a step closer towards Cat, and it's evident by the hammer-hard tone of her voice, that she's losing her cool under this sudden revelation.

"This mission was to be kept under strict secrecy, how were you even able to communicate with an outside source without using the SatCom?" Perhaps it might not be wise to inform her that the SatComs were connected without her purview. "How long have you been in contact with someone in the Argentinean team? Where are they, what— how long ago was this contact?" The look from her comes with a twitch of one brow, jaw tensed, it's like every little card in her house was put together only to realize she didn't realize she was playing with two decks.

Felix sticks his hand into his pocket, and comes up with his very own satellite phone. There's even a Felix the Cat sticker on it. For real.

There is a roll of Elisabeth's eyes and she says quietly, "Back off, Kershner. We weren't under *orders* — and some of us have been doing this shit for a long time now, and the mission *was* kept under strict secrecy." Now she just sounds bored with the histrionics. "Intel was gathered, passed to the people who needed it, and since you weren't on the ground, you didn't need it until now. All you really need to know is the Zhukovsky's person is required for something on the ground in Argentina, *and* you need to know our team there is alive and kicking some serious ass. So… do what you have to do to make sure that once the air strike is done, we're in a position to be where we need to be, okay?" She smiles sweetly as Felix flashes his personal satellite phone.

Her features don't shift in the slightest. "I believed, as stated, you were informed. It's a surprise to me you weren't." If Sarisa isn't acting, that is. "I believed you had your reasons not to share that information, and didn't press," Cat adds. "If contact with me was made without your knowledge, it's likely the source suspects a technopath on the Vanguard side and took measures to preclude that possibility. Word will be passed of the current situation. Would you care to be present at that time?"

A look is immediately snapped at Elisabeth, icy blue eyes wide. "I didn't need to know?" Her teeth clench, jaw set and eyes narrowed. "I almost had F-18's sortied to level the mountain your friends and my men are on because you didn't think I needed to know." Sarisa wants to raise her voice, snap, snip, crack, but she can't. She can't let the others on the ship see her lose her cool. Instead, Kershner simmers, staring at Elisabeth the way a bog who was hit on the nose one too many times might, a dog that has biting on it's mind, but knows that the present isn't the best time to strike.

When Sarisa's eyes flick back to Cat, she's taken some of that coolness back, some of that level-headed calm, but behind her eyes there is a caged tiger circling. "Yes," she states simply, "yes I— would very much like to know. Because if there is any possibility that the inverse is true, and a member of the Argentinean team has been turned to the side of the Vanguard you could be unknowingly walking right into their hands, for all we know they needed Grigori here for something."

There's a level look from Sarisa to Cat, calmer now. She can't even so much as look at Felix, if she evebn considers they've been using unsecured lines to the outside she may very well have a stroke right then and there. "Do you think that this contact has been comprimised?"

"We can't trust you further than we can throw you. You know we know, etc. So don't get all high and mighty at us for going outside channels - we hear the sound of that bus oncoming real clear," Felix says, as he vanishes that phone back into his pocket.

Her eyes rest on Sarisa as she speaks, then shift to Felix as he does, before coming back to Sarisa. Cat's voice comes in, the words calmly spoken. Her topic isn't the issue of trust, no, she takes a different tack. "I had, again, expected you were in the loop. I will caution it will shock you, and you may doubt the source, but then you may well be aware of the tactic involved and have included him for just that reason."

She pauses here to draw in a slow breath.

"A member of the team on the ground in Argentina is posing as Kazimir Volken. To accomplish his goal, he needs Grigori Zhukovsky. At the time we spoke, I asked if he would need Zhukovsky's talents. He said no, the only thing that matters is the man being delivered alive. So he's been secured. The woman captured in Moscow, Volken's daughter, was discussed as a possible way to secure Zhukovsky. She is probably immaterial now, as far as this goes, but best kept contained as all the Vanguard are."

"It's natural for you to suspect it's actually Volken. I believe he contacted me based on my powers of memory, believing I'd be better able than most to see the truth without him overtly saying what he's up to and being overheard. But I assure you Volken isn't in the driver's seat of that body."

A blue-eyed stare is afforded to Felix, dark brows furrowed. "If I wanted any of you in a deep, dark hole for the remainder of your extremely short lives you'd already have wound up there. Unless you've failed to notice, I'm one of the few people in this administration with your best interests at heart. I'm the one reason the government hasn't rounded up half of you and thrown you all in somewhere worse than Moab. I'm sure they have something like that."

Turning to look at Catherine, Sarisa looks tense at the notion. "Petrelli." It seems she may know of his predicament. Something, however, seems to at least ease some of her concerns. Perhaps it is the President's insistance on his little brother's involvement. "Are you absolutely certain that he is not Kazimir Volken? Beyond a shadow of a doubt?" Sarisa's neck muscles tense when she asks that question. "All of our lives are hanging on your judgment."

Felix glares at Sarisa, expression livid with anger. But, wonder of wonders, he's biting back on it, and saying nothing. Nice to have the upcoming fuckery confirmed by the big kahuna. Time to start stashing stuff in that safe deposit box in Zurich, Mr. Bourne.

Threats, indignation from Sarisa. It almost makes Cat yawn. There are so many things she might say in response to what she's spat at Felix. Like the administration being interested in nothing but power and holding power, that the only reason Nathan cares is because this weapon might kill him, and at the very least leave him no country to hold his stolen Presidency over… Much the same for Nathan's mother, and Linderman too. She, however, cuts the mental reflection short and chooses diplomacy.

"I've got full confidence you're a supporter and defender of the Constitution, Agent Kershner. You know the dangers of fascism which threaten to take hold, and aren't of that camp."

"And yes, it's Petrelli. He has the SLC ability Kazimir had, and enough information to impersonate him. He is thus able to support his impersonation by acting as Kazimir would and literally suck the life out of any Vanguardite who challenges him. If he were really Volken, however, he'd not have contacted me about Grigori. He wouldn't need to do anything, he could just head for some place he knows is safe from the plan he concocted, and just let it happen. He wouldn't bat an eye over wiping out everyone but himself."

"So yes, I'm entirely certain it isn't Kazimir."

Breathing in a shallow breath, Sarisa's blue eyes lose some of their fire, perhaps only out of fatigue and inability to keep that bottled rage brewing for too long. One nod of her head comes to follow, and Sarisa turns to afford Cat her profile, but Sarisa is regarding the door beyond the hanger that leads towards the interior of the ship. "I… I pray for your sake— for all our sakes," her blue eyes angle back towards Cat. "I pray that you're right."

Swallowing, tensely, Sarisa looks over towards Felix. Despite the look he had given her just a moment ago, there's a subtle nod offered to the federal agent, and Sarisa begins to move, using her umbrella just a little bit more than before to brace herself as she walks, as if there's something heavier than before weighing down on her. Likely, that her words are indeed truth.

…and that she prays Cat is right.

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