The Center: Patient Zero -Part 1 by: Starbuck In the language of epidemiology, patients are numbered sequentially. Once an epidemic goes public it is patient one who gets the news coverage or journal articles written about them. What is less known is that there are unrecognized patients who predate the first acknowledged case. Sometimes these people are carriers, like Typhoid Mary, but oftentimes they are merely the unsung victims who's stories are not tied into the whole until long after the papers are written. Jesse Lee was such a person, this is his story.

Kristyn slid into chair at the head of the conference table five minutes early, seizing the moment to make one final review her notes on the day's schedule. Four weeks previously, the Colonel had turned the daily briefing over for her to run. After a week of sitting at the table being 'the last to know', she had realized that running the center was much akin to her time spent as a role-playing game-master. The department heads were not there to inform her, she was there to make sure that they informed each other. In the subsequent weeks, she had made it a point to be in the know on all aspects of the center and on the day's briefing before her department heads entered the room. That second Monday had seen a marked improvement in the flow of the meeting, she had asked insightful questions of each person's report and made some well taken suggestions. By the end of that week the Colonel had even grunted a 'well done Keys' on his way out.

As the clock ticked closer to the meeting, the staff, now her staff, began entering. Ray and Tony rolled through the door giving each other grief about the performance of their favorite ball clubs. Dani drifted in close behind the two boys. Dr. Tipps, Ms. Fine and the other adult leadership entered, most making a beeline for the coffee pot and engaging in light smalltalk. Last to enter was the Colonel.

A cup of coffee touched down on the table by her left elbow. "Morning Mom." Liz whispered, long, straight, black hair brushed against Kris' cheek as her daughter gave her a quick hug before sliding around the table to her seat. "We missed you at breakfast."

"I ate early," Kris lifted the folder in front of her. "We got in late and I needed to review."

Colonel Harris filled his mug with black coffee and approached the table. "Ms. and Miss Keys." Every since Liz had adopted Kristyn's last name, the Colonel had used the neutral honorific or referred to Kris by her rank. With a curt nod, he took the seat opposite and began reviewing his own stack of papers.

Precisely on the hour, everyone else joined the three of them at the table. Calling the meeting to order, Kristyn orchestrated the daily litany of reports that came with making sure The Center operated smoothly and its residents were in top condition. As per usual she began with the facilities side of the operation. That this also had the adults going first and thus encouraged the kids to be more open in their reports had not gone unnoticed by the Colonel. In short order the mundane and routine were put behind them leaving only Tony's report on the newly emergent.

Of course, his briefing was the only one that Kristyn never had any preliminary information on. Looking up from her note-filled agenda Kris turned her full attention to the clairvoyant teen.

"So Tony what are we looking at, near term?"

Tony cleared his throat. "Well, it appears we have a quiet couple of weeks. Just one emergence, though it looks to be a bit of a first."

"How so?"

"So far all of us have been civilians," he glanced towards the Colonel. "Our new brother is a Junior ROTC member and her emergence event will occur in the middle of her training rotation."

"That shouldn't be a problem," Colonel Harris answered. "Who is she and where is the ROTC flight training."

"The unit is at Fort Bragg and the girl's name is Jessica Harris."

A sharp crack echoed off the walls as the handle of the Colonel's empty mug snapped off.

"Kris," Dani's grip was iron at her elbow as she steered the Mediterranean beauty down the administrative corridor. "You have to go in and talk to him."

"All right, Dani. I'm doing it!" Kristyn managed to shrug out of her best friends grip.

"Get him to open up about this next mission. Something about it is tearing him apart."

"Well duh!" Kris snapped, freezing the young african-american girl in place, briefly. "The girl's name is Harris, Dani!"

"Keys," The Colonel's gruff voice came from the office door beside them. "You and Marks better come in."

Dani tried to hide behind Kris as the two of them moved through the doorway and stood before two of the chairs. With a solid click, the Colonel latched the door behind them. Kris didn't need her friend's empathic powers to feel the pain radiating through the Colonel's tight control. Returning to the far side of his desk, the Colonel's step had the cadence of a funeral march. Neither girl recalled having ever seen the Colonel appear so, human.

"Have a seat, Ladies."

Folding into the chair, Kris bit her lower lip and tried to look at the Colonel's shoes through his desk. "So, this Jessica Harris. Is she your niece? Cousin?"

Colonel Harris shook his head.

"Sister?"

The stoic expression on his face did not waver.

Dani's jaw dropped open. "Oh my God. She's your daughter!"

Eyes narrowing, a heavy sigh escaped from the paragon of control behind the desk. "Ladies, rampant speculation, while a common teenage trait, does not become either of you."

Standing, he turned to stare out the window at the rolling hills. "No, this Jessica Harris is no relation of mine.: He placed a hand against the cool glass as if caressing the distant hills. "The other one wasn't either, though by the end..."

Silence descended over the room like an uncomfortably warm blanket. The two teens began to squirm in their seats while their host continued to stare out the window. Kristyn was inching toward the edge of her chair to excuse Dani and herself and leave the Colonel to his memories when he finally spoke.

"I've read every psych profile for every member of this command. I know exactly what each and every one of you first thought when you realized that you're in a government facility. Hell, some of you still firmly believe it, even with the evidence of the other organizations arrayed against us out there. I know I've made this commitment to the two of you before, but I will repeat it now as I swear it every morning to the mirror."

Turning, he met and held their eyes. "On the body and life of my dead foster daughter, I swear that The Center shall only ever exist to help and protect the children affected by these changes." His shoulders slumped and he sat heavily in the chair behind the desk.

"Trust is a big part of why your team... why any team works well Kris. It is time that I extended that trust to a personal level. You have a right to know what makes me tick and I trust you to handle the information in an appropriate manner. You've been allowed to believe that Brian, may his soul find peace, was the first of you to emerge. This isn't exactly true. I've carried Jessica's story for 14 long years and it is well and truly time that our patient zero's was acknowledged within our ranks.

"As with all your stories, it begins seventeen years ago with the break-in at Genetech by a S.A.L.T. B & E team..."

First Interlude
Genetech Research Facility

"Cumin, status."

"Security system is off line, come on in!"

"Rosemary, Basil and Thyme, you're free to move to position two."

"On the way."

"Nutmeg, the rent-a-cops are yours. Give them a good show."

"Got it."

Moments later the engine roar of their stolen Suburban came screaming down the deserted highway in front of the research facility. The lights suddenly bobbed and jerked sideways and the massive vehicle spun out in the entrance turn, slid backwards and slammed back-end first into the large oak trees beside the security gate. The distressed complaint of the tire-rubber and the massive crunch arriving at hilltop post a moment later.

"All good." Nutmeg's voice crackled over the radio.

The team leader, known tonight only as Cinnamon merely shook his head slowly. One of these days, that insane girl was going to kill herself with a distraction stunt, but it had the proper effect. From his overwatch position he could see two security guards from the building running toward the front gate.

"Pepper Team. Drop and freeze." In the surplus, low-light goggles he could see Rosemary, Basil and Thyme hit the ground at position two as the inside guards thundered by. He snorted, if the trailing guard stumbled, there would be thunder, and probably an earthquake too. Hell, if the round one keeled over with a heart attack, as far as Cinnamon was concerned, that would be one less grease addicted burger eater.

After the fat guard finally rolled by the team, he signaled them the all-clear to move to position three. Cumin, in his security uniform, met them at the side door. Break-ins were so much easier when someone on the inside could turn off the security system.

The team knew their jobs Cumin would guide them to the critical labs to be trashed while maintaining proper communication with his 'buddies' at the gate. Pepper Team would first destroy any research notes they found, then they would upload viruses to every computer system they encountered. Next, they'd dump any in-progress research. Along the way they would graffiti the entire facility with the S.A.L.T. mantra Saving Animal Lives TODAY! Finally the four of them would release any poor creatures that were held in the facility and escape, propping open all the doors to the outside on their way.

Cinnamon continued to watch as the security guards struggled to help a hysterical Nutmeg out of the totaled SUV. Crazy or not, that Shanahan girl knew exactly how to pull a distraction.

"Mission complete, extraction underway."

Cinnamon glanced at the heavy crystal his dive-watch and pressed the plunger on the timer. Twelve minutes. Not bad, their time could be a little quicker, but not bad at all. At the debrief, he would give them a little time to feel good about it before marking up improvements for their next action. There was a paper-mill operator in the Boston that hadn't yet gotten the message about dumping their waste where the fish lived.

"Acknowledged. Rendezvous at the Hope Springs water plant."

Cumin would stay in the nearby woods, using his radio to keep the other guards at the gate as long as possible. Emergency vehicles were beginning to arrive on the scene. With a sigh, the former SEAL slipped behind the wheel of his completely sensible Toyota and started down the hillside. Time to go play the distraught father and pull their little nutcase out of the fire.

Chapter One
T minus 9 days to Transformation

"What's up sport?" John Lee paused in reorganizing the small mountain of hurricane supplies that graced one whole side of their two car garage.

His son Jesse stopped in the doorway to the kitchen. "Captain Baker called. He said the base has a water problem. It's fine for showers, but it's not drinkable. The base is trucking in potable water from the surrounding towns, but there's a budget issue so he's asking us to each bring at least 10 cases of bottled water for drinking."

John chuckled. "Not a problem Jess, we should probably begin to rotate this stock anyway." Several months previously their warehouse club had a really good deal on Eternal brand water. They'd bought 200 cases which were now stacked against the front wall of the garage.

"So, you have me until tomorrow afternoon, Dad." Jess stepped through the door, closing it behind him and propping his elbows on the landing rail. "What's the plan?"

"Oh, just the typical touch everything twice operation," John groaned. "Your mother bought a dozen baker's racks and a couple packs of bungee cords. She wants us to move the pile, assemble the racks and then organize everything on the shelves. She's promised to dive in and help when she and Anita get back from the beauty-parlor."

John cringed as Jesse vaulted the rail, bypassing the steps. He walked over and studied the stack of baker's rack boxes. When he looked at the cover picture the sixteen year old face broke into a smile. "So Dad. What's it worth to you if I can make this job a LOT simpler."

John looked over at his son, wondering when the boy was going to hit his growth spurt. At five foot two inches, he was still shorter than his mother and his little sister was about to pass him by. "I don't know Son. What are you thinking?"

"Well," Jesse's grin turned sly. "Frank's dad has that old Nissan 280."

John groaned and laughed simultaneously. "Okay, I give. If your idea gets this job done before you leave, then we'll go talk to Mike and Frank when you get back from Bragg."

Now Jesse began to laugh. "Dad, you do know you're blind sometimes."

"Oh?"

Jesse walked around the stack of baker's rack boxes and nonchalantly began to tap his finger on the wheels at the bottom of the picture.

"You know Son, I love how you think."

Lieutenant Harris stopped outside of his new commander's office, knocked twice and waited. And waited. He was about to knock again when he heard gruff 'come in' through the frosted glass. Entering he came to attention and saluted the officer behind the desk.

"First Lieutenant Nicholas Harris reporting for duty, Sir."

He held his pose, salute crisp, eyes front, taking in the room via his peripheral vision. The deep cherry desk, spotless and polished so that it gave a near perfect reflection of the blue sky visible through the office window. Lined up at a precise forty-five degree angle in the right corner were three AT&T standard phones, one black, one green and one red. At the front of the desk sat a brass and black name placard that read 'Colonel Charles R. Wallace' in simple white letters. Aligned in the center of the desk, with millimetric precision sat a single, thick folder, closed. Slowly the Colonel behind the desk opened the folder, lifted out the first sheet, read it, put it back and closed the folder before standing and returning the salute.

"At ease, Lieutenant."

Harris relaxed his pose, widening his stance and clasping his hands in the small of his back.

"Welcome back to the Airborne, Lieutenant. Your fitrep indicates that you were top of your OCS class."

"Yes Sir. Thank you Sir."

The Colonel leaned forward onto the desk, leaving a pair of hand-prints on the glossy surface. "I'm not finished Lieutenant."

Harris clamped his jaw shut. The indications were becoming clearer that Wallace was a throwback to a different time; a martinet who demanded absolute perfect obedience from his command.

"I've never liked mustang's, Harris." The Colonel resumed his seat. "Enlisted are enlisted and officers are officers. Too many mustangs forget that. While you are an officer under my command Lieutenant Harris, you - will - not. Fraternization with non-officer subordinates will not be tolerated. Am I completely understood Lieutenant?"

His mind whirling, he unlocked his jaw. "Perfectly Sir."

"Now, to drive this point home, Lieutenant, your first assignment is the command of Junior ROTC training rotations during this summer. A little time herding cats will be good for you."

"Yes sir." Harris replied.

"Dismissed, Lieutenant."

He could feel the sneer with which the Colonel laced his rank. With a letter-perfect salute, the new Lieutenant spun on his heel and marched out of the office.

Jesse looked over at the rapidly dwindling stack of bottled water cases beside his bunk. He was really glad that he'd decided to double Captain Baker's recommendation. While he had intended the extra to be for others, at the rate he had plowed through the first eight cases, he'd be lucky if it lasted out the entire trip.

Slipping his empty canteen off the web-belt, he proceeded to fill it from the bottles in the top case. Two and a half bottles later, he screwed the cap back on the canteen and returned it to the pouch on the gear. Tilting the remaining half-bottle to his lips, he drained it in one long pull.

"Good idea Jess," his bunkmate, Frank Murphy said from the upper rack while fumbling his own canteen off his web-gear. "Can you pass three of mine up? They're saying it will break a hundred tomorrow."

"Humidity tomorrow's supposed to be a real bitch," one of the other cadets groused.

"Language Jack!" Several voices snapped. Followed by a disgruntled "I ain't doin' no more K-P because of yo mouth Smith."

"Lights out in five, Cadets." Lieutenant Harris' voice sounded from the door.

There was a scramble as the guys skinned down to their boxers or briefs, folded their uniforms and crawled into their racks. With the heat, P-T would be done early in the morning. Jess wasn't looking forward to it. He'd gotten queasy that morning and felt more than a little dizzy during the run. As the lights went out, Jess made a mental note to ask Lieutenant Harris if he'd be willing follow them with a mule loaded down with extra water instead of joining them for the run. As the flight quartermaster, he was pretty sure it would not be hard to convince him. Besides, the Lieutenant actually seemed to care.

The hum of the large fan cans at the end of the room quickly lulled the boys to sleep.