Warnings
It was very early in the morning of a summer's day, on a hill miles from District 12. From there the district's small outline could be made out, the large coal shovel, the rail line, and indistinct buildings, but not much more. The hill itself had a small bald spot where lightning had burned out the forest years ago. If you had a powerful lens and looked there today you would see people scurrying about. In just a couple of hours the bald spot would disappear, and again the mountain would look like all the other green giants around it.
Marcus stood staring down on District 12 from the hill as his small crew was setting up camp. Within the hour, they had to have their camouflage up so they wouldn't be discovered and could watch the district undetected. His crew was running around setting up tents, camouflage, instruments for a long observation. Marcus was in command, and that suited him; he knew from the time he was a small child that command was his family's and his destiny. He had convinced District 13 of the importance of the mission, he had gotten command, and he had chosen the people. He paced around, unhappy that the generals had given him everything but one thing, the one thing he thought most important. Marcus felt history was slipping out from under him; District 13 seemed bound to make the same mistakes as their ancestors.
Trying to change his own mood, Marcus stared at the rolling hills around him. Marcus loved those hills; they differed from the Capitol's stony mountains or District 13's caves. He had never been to District 12 before and had no idea how charming it was. The hills were covered by some many trees and animals; it was hard not to imagine they were somehow the very embodiment of the life-force. After the war, assuming I am still alive, he thought, maybe I will move here and raise a family. Running around these hills with children seems to be an ideal future.
He looked over to his left and saw the gunnery officer setting up the auto sniper. What a wonderful piece of death-dealing equipment it was. It had a tripod with auto gyros to keep it perfectly steady, a huge electric optical sight, and a powerful laser beam to kill anything for miles.
"Gunny, is your gun ready?" he asked.
"Yes, sir."
Marcus waved him aside, took the controls, and started panning the distant district. He could hear the camp behind him get quiet as all work came to a halt. Zooming in closer and closer until he could make out individuals, he started to search the roads. Finally, he found what he was looking for: a young blond man with a cane but no noticeable limp walking along the road toward town. He zoomed in more until the back of the man's head filled the screen. The crew could all see what was being aimed at through the repeating monitor right next to him. He locked on to the target so the computer would follow every move he made. All Marcus had to do was pull the trigger.
A very nervous lieutenant gunnery officer, risking both his bars, said, "Sir, the orders. The orders didn't include any assassination."
"Lieutenant, I believe I am in charge here," Marcus growled.
The lieutenant's voice lowered to a whisper: "Sir, they will break you."
Marcus put a little more pressure on the trigger. "I have risked my life many times to protect this world. You don't think I will risk my career?" All of a sudden the computer lost focus; the image became a blur, like some heavy gas was between Marcus and his target. And for a second, just a second, he thought the image on the back of Peeta's head looked like one very angry young girl, staring right at him. Marcus pulled away from the gun, his hands shaking. He looked back at the lieutenant's face, who obviously didn't see anything. I will review the tape later, he thought to himself, but he knew what he would find. He knew he had just received a warning. . . . Shaking his head, Marcus walked into the woods to think about what just happened, to figure out what it meant, and to stop his hands from shaking. The crew finished setting up camp.
In the woods he tried to listen to the birds and admire the trees, anything to help him forget his own fears. He knew he had to suppress his fears for his men and his superiors—he needed their confidence. He was sure he knew what Peeta was, and he also was sure many people were going to die if he mishandled this. He found a small stream and sat next to it on a rock, plotting what he was going to do next.
Hours later he returned to the camp. They were done with the set-up, and the camp was invisible from all prying eyes. He gathered them together in the mess tent, the largest of all the tents. Guards, support, and techs gathered on his left and District 13's Secret Service officers on his right, a mere dozen people all together.
"Okay, some of you people were briefed before we left, but just so no one feels left out, here is our mission: District 12, up to this point, has been considered unimportant, and we have no observations or agents in it. We are going to change that. We are going to learn all there is to know about this district, and neither the Capitol nor District 12 is to know anything about us. We are interested in everything about this district, but our primary target is Peeta Mellark."
Remu, the senior agent, spoke for the group: "Sir, may I ask why Peeta Mellark is so important?"
"You may ask, but I can't give you a complete answer." Marcus paused shortly. "Just remember: a war is coming. We don't know when, but soon. And when that war comes, we will want as many of the districts as possible to align themselves with us, but they don't trust us. Hell, they don't know we exist! Our political analysis believes we can use Peeta Mellark and the memory of Katniss Everdeen to address the issue." Marcus thought, Our generals are fools—all they can think of is the coming war. They just can't take my warnings seriously. They think no matter what or who he is, they can handle him.
He pointed down the hill. "From this hilltop we will try to discover all the observable facts about the district and Peeta Mellark." Then he looked back to his agents. "While all that is going on, you guys must get agents up and trained in a district so small that any new face will be questioned. It is going to be a long haul. First, we start with smugglers and criminals. Once we are established as a vital part of the smuggling business, we will use the criminals to introduce us to sympathetic individuals we can train to be our agents. Then we must work those agents to be confidants of Peeta Mellark."
"That is going to take so long. Hell, the war might be over before we are ready!" Remus chimed in again, making it clear he was leader among the agents.
Luckily, Marcus had an answer all ready for him. "That is why I am going back to the Capitol for one more longshot mission. There are not many people who can travel between districts with little or no questions, but there are a few. I am going to try and get one of those to help us here. The woman I am thinking of would be perfect for the job. Not only could she just show up here, but she could get right next to Peeta Mellark without batting an eye. Technically she doesn't work for us, but she does believe in the cause."
ns 15.158.61.54da2
