Diaz came through the cabin door hard enough to wake half the room before he said a word.
Cody was already sitting up when the lights snapped on. Diaz did not look like a counselor coming to start another ridiculous exercise; his shirt was half-buttoned, there was dirt on one sleeve, and the expression on his face killed the first sleepy joke before anyone managed to make it.
"Banks, on your feet. We've got a confirmed hostile incursion inbound."
Cody swung out of his bunk and reached for his clothes. Outside, somewhere beyond the trees, he could already hear helicopters approaching, the heavy beat of their rotors growing steadily louder through the night.
Diaz crossed directly to him. "Internal security is compromised. I have intelligence that has to reach Central before whoever penetrated the operation can contain it. Treat every standing authentication code as burned. Every one of them. Until Central physically reestablishes the chain, no outside code, challenge, or verbal identifier is to be accepted."
That got Cody's full attention. "What happened?"
"No time. We have approximately thirty armed hostiles inbound, possibly federal penetration assets operating under compromised credentials. They're coming for me and whatever intelligence I have. Camp Woody is going to emergency defense."
Cody glanced toward the window as the rotor noise deepened over the trees. Diaz was already pulling a small authentication device from beneath his shirt, entering a sequence before pressing his thumb against the scanner.
"Authority Diaz-Seven. Black Fortress. Live-fire authorization. Alpha succession protocol."
The device chirped, and for the first time Cody saw a line he had only encountered during classroom instruction appear on an operational screen.
ALPHA OPERATIVE AUTHORITY AVAILABLE.
Diaz selected the authorization, and Cody's name appeared beneath it.
BANKS, CODY — ALPHA OPERATIVE
Cody stared at the display for only a moment. Camp Woody had Captains in every cabin, experienced trainees who had already proven themselves in real field assignments and were trusted to keep younger or less experienced operatives organized when something went wrong. Alpha Operative sat above that structure and existed for the kind of emergency severe enough that the normal training hierarchy had to become an operational command system.
Diaz confirmed the transfer. "You're Alpha. Get me out alive. Any hostile attempting to breach the camp is to be treated as a lethal threat. Protect the trainees, protect the installation, and do not let anybody take me."
Then he was already moving toward the door.
Cody turned toward the rest of the cabin. "Wake everybody. Nobody leaves until the racks come up."
One of the older boys stared at him while trying to pull on his shirt. "The racks?"
Cody reached under the edge of his bunk and pressed the emergency plate.
The entire cabin began changing around them. The bunk beds descended first, mattresses, blankets, pillows, and metal frames sinking smoothly into reinforced recesses in the floor before armored covers sealed over them. Panels opened along the walls at the same time, revealing locked gun racks where shelves and camp decorations had been seconds earlier, while another section of floor opened near the middle of the cabin and raised a communications console into position.
Screens lit across its surface with exterior camera feeds, internal communications, perimeter sensors, cabin status indicators, and automated alerts. Nobody in the room needed an explanation after that; Black Fortress had never been activated during their session, and every trainee understood that whatever was happening had gone well beyond another camp exercise.
Cody stepped to the console. "Captain channel."
The system connected him immediately.
Several faces appeared across the screens. Some of the Captains were still pulling on clothes, while one girl had already tied her hair back and was standing beside her cabin's newly exposed weapons rack. Another had blood running down one cheek from apparently hitting something while getting out of bed too quickly.
"Cody?" one of them asked.
"I'm Alpha."
That changed every expression on the screens.
Cody continued before anyone could waste time asking why. "Diaz authenticated Black Fortress and transferred Alpha authority. External authentication is compromised, so treat all previously issued codes as invalid until we physically reestablish command. Approximately thirty armed hostiles are inbound by helicopter."
Captain Morgan from Cabin Three leaned toward her camera. "Real?"
"Live-fire authorized."
Nobody asked again.
"Get your cabins awake and under armor," Cody ordered. "Nobody wanders. Captains control their own people. Observation first, and fire only on confirmed armed penetration."
One of the Captains looked offscreen as the helicopters became audible through his microphone. "Already here."
"I know."
Cody switched to the counselor channel, where the response was considerably less orderly.
"What the hell is happening?"
"Why is Fortress active?"
"Who authorized live fire?"
Then one of the older trainers appeared on Cody's screen. Counselor McBride had been with the program long enough that Cody could count on one hand the number of times he had seen the man genuinely surprised.
He looked surprised now.
"Banks, why are you on Alpha?"
"Diaz authenticated it."
McBride looked offscreen. "Diaz?"
"He says internal security is compromised and he's carrying intelligence that has to reach Central. All previous authentication codes are considered burned."
Another trainer appeared beside McBride. "Why the hell did he go to Banks instead of coming to us?"
McBride looked like he wanted an answer too, but Cody did not have one. Before anyone could press the issue, the first helicopter crossed over the camp and swept a searchlight across the cabins.
McBride's expression changed instantly. "Doesn't matter now. Banks, you've got Alpha. We'll work under it until we establish something better."
The other trainer opened his mouth as though he still wanted to object, but the first helicopter was already descending toward the eastern clearing. Whatever question he had disappeared with the sound of the aircraft coming down.
McBride turned away from the camera and began shouting orders to the counselors around him.
Cody looked back toward the Captains. "We're past talking about hierarchy. Protect your cabins."
Acknowledgments came back almost simultaneously.
Around Camp Woody, the emergency architecture completed its transformation. Cabin shutters locked into place, sections of roof opened into protected observation positions, concealed cameras rotated toward the primary approaches, and reinforced interior doors sealed younger trainees into hardened portions of the cabins while the older operatives moved to their assigned defensive positions.
Captain Morgan's cabin deployed one of its elevated observation stations first. A trainee pressed the authorization pad beside his bunk, and the bed assembly sank several inches, rotated, and then rose through a narrow opening in the roof inside a reinforced cradle. By the time the mechanism locked into place, he was lying behind armored cover with an unobstructed view of the eastern clearing.
The helicopters were coming directly toward them.
There was no reason for the teenagers to question the rifles visible inside the aircraft. Diaz had told them armed hostiles were coming, and armed hostiles were exactly what they could see descending toward the camp.
The first helicopter touched down hard enough to throw dust through its own searchlight. Men in tactical equipment emerged almost immediately, and Cody watched through three different cameras as they spread away from the aircraft carrying real rifles, real body armor, and real night-vision equipment.
Captain Evans from Cabin Seven came over the channel. "Alpha, they're displaying federal markings."
Cody had expected that. "Compromised credentials were part of Diaz's warning. Don't accept markings as authentication."
"Understood."
A voice suddenly boomed across the camp through an external loudspeaker. "Camp Woody personnel, this is a federal recovery operation! Stand down and remain inside your cabins!"
Several younger trainees looked toward Cody.
He did not move.
The voice continued. "Victor Diaz is compromised. Do not assist him. Repeat, Victor Diaz is—"
Cody cut the external feed from his cabin, and Captain Morgan did the same a second later. The other Captains followed, because the message was precisely the kind of thing Diaz had warned them not to trust.
One of the Captains said quietly over the command channel, "That's convenient."
"They know his name," Cody replied. "Doesn't authenticate them."
Nobody argued.
The counselors were less comfortable.
McBride appeared again. "Banks, they're transmitting Directorate challenge language."
"Diaz said it was compromised."
"I heard you."
McBride stared toward something beyond his camera while another trainer spoke behind him. "If Diaz is right, whoever sent these people would have all of that."
McBride's jaw tightened. "And if he's wrong?"
The first rifle shot answered before anyone could continue.
It came from the eastern side of camp.
Nobody afterward would be able to establish with certainty who fired it. A tactical officer near Cabin Four appeared to discharge his weapon almost simultaneously with a muzzle flash from one of the camp's defensive positions, but the camera angles overlapped and the audio feeds did not synchronize cleanly enough to establish sequence.
Within less than a second, there were too many additional shots for the first one to matter.
A live round struck the wall of Cabin Four.
Another shattered a window.
Captain Morgan screamed over the command net. "We're taking live fire!"
Whatever hesitation remained in Cody disappeared.
"All Captains, weapons free against armed penetration. Keep your people inside cover. Do not pursue beyond the camp perimeter."
The response was immediate.
The eastern clearing erupted in gunfire as the incoming force encountered resistance it had clearly not expected. They had apparently prepared to deal with Victor Diaz, not an entire camp whose cabins had transformed into defensive positions occupied by trained operatives.
The first tactical team reached Cabin Four and was hit from two directions almost simultaneously. One man went down, while another tried to pull him behind cover before fire from a neighboring cabin forced the rest of the team to scatter.
Reports began arriving across the Captain channel almost faster than Cody could process them.
"Three hostiles moving north of the dining hall."
"Cabin Six has contact."
"Two crossing the center path."
"Counselor team is pinned behind Medical."
Cody stood over the communications console and tried to keep the entire camp in his head at once. He was sixteen years old, but for the next twelve minutes the emergency command system did not particularly care.
"Cabin Six, stay inside your sector. Morgan, you've got the east approach. Evans, cover Medical and keep the younger cabins sealed. Counselor McBride, can you move your people?"
Gunfire cracked through McBride's microphone. "Working on it."
The camera shook, and someone screamed behind him before McBride looked back toward Cody's screen.
"We've got one counselor down."
Cody's stomach tightened. "How bad?"
"Bad."
There was no time for more.
A tactical officer appeared between two cabins and fired toward one of the elevated observation positions. The trainee inside dropped below the armored lip, while another teenager in a neighboring cabin returned fire and knocked the officer down.
Captain Morgan's voice broke across the channel. "Jason's hit."
Cody gripped the edge of the console. "Is he alive?"
A pause followed.
"No."
Nobody on the Captain channel spoke for half a second.
Cody knew Jason. They had eaten breakfast together that morning, argued about eggs, and spent ten minutes insulting the camp coffee.
Then another burst of gunfire struck Cabin Seven.
Captain Evans shouted, "Contact!"
The fighting resumed before anyone had time to think about Jason.
The federal team attempted to establish a perimeter around Diaz's last known location, but there was no stable perimeter to establish. Every cabin was its own defensive position, every Captain knew the paths and blind corners around them, and the counselors who had accepted Cody's Alpha authority were now fighting beside the trainees.
The response force repeatedly shouted for everyone to stand down, but the words had stopped meaning anything. Every code they transmitted had already been declared compromised, and every claim of federal authority sounded exactly like the kind of penetration Diaz had warned them about.
When one soldier shouted that they were CIA, a fifteen-year-old behind a reinforced cabin wall shouted back, "Then authenticate."
The soldier immediately began a challenge sequence.
The girl never answered.
Diaz had already told her it was worthless.
The second helicopter landed near the western side of camp with its pilot keeping the engine running. Captain Rodriguez from Cabin Nine saw it first and immediately reported over the command channel.
"Alpha, second aircraft down west."
Cody switched cameras.
Several soldiers exited while the pilot remained in the cockpit. One of Cabin Nine's protected observation positions had a clear view through the front glass, and Cody started to say something just as a shot cracked across the camp.
The pilot jerked sideways.
The helicopter remained running.
Rodriguez's voice came over the channel. "Aircraft disabled. Pilot down."
Cody did not correct him. The aircraft was not disabled, but at that moment the distinction did not matter enough to argue about.
On the eastern side, the first helicopter tried to lift again under fire. It made it above the tree line before something struck it, causing the aircraft to roll violently, clip the upper branches, and disappear beyond the camp perimeter.
A second later, an orange flash illuminated the trees.
Cody heard one of the Captains whisper, "Jesus."
Then Cabin Two took a direct burst through one of its windows.
Three trainees went down before the armored shutter finished closing. Their Captain returned fire while another teenager dragged one of the wounded behind cover and screamed for Medical.
The counselors tried to reach them. Two made it halfway across the path before incoming rounds forced them behind a storage building, while a third continued alone and was hit before reaching the cabin.
Cody saw him fall through one of the cameras.
There was nothing clean or heroic about the battle. The teenagers were good at what they had been trained to do, and the adults coming after Diaz were good too. The difference was that one side knew exactly what Camp Woody could become during a real emergency, while the other appeared to have arrived expecting a training facility full of children.
The federal force realized that mistake while it was dying.
An open transmission broke across one of the surveillance channels.
"Command, they're dug into the cabins! Repeat, the cabins are fortified!"
Another voice shouted back, "We were told juvenile trainees!"
"They have rifles!"
"Who authorized this insertion?"
Static swallowed the rest.
Cody never heard the exchange. He was trying to get Counselor McBride and the remaining adults out of the center compound.
"McBride, west side is opening."
"I see it."
"Take your people through Cabin Eight's lane."
"We've got wounded."
"Evans can cover you."
McBride looked at Cody through the screen. For one strange moment, the older man looked almost proud.
"You're doing fine, Banks."
Then the screen flickered.
Gunfire sounded.
McBride disappeared from view as somebody screamed his name.
The feed went dead.
Cody stared at the blank square until Captain Evans shouted through the command channel.
"Alpha!"
Cody forced himself back. "What?"
"We need the lane!"
He swallowed. "Take it."
The fighting began collapsing toward the western clearing as the surviving members of the federal force apparently realized the intact helicopter was their only practical extraction route. Cody saw the same thing and immediately warned the Captains.
"All Captains, west side. Do not leave cover. They're moving toward the aircraft."
Captain Rodriguez answered first. "Copy."
Morgan came in a moment later, breathing hard. "I've got three moving."
"Hold them off the helicopter."
"They're trying to leave."
"They came for Diaz."
Cody looked toward the western camera feed. "If they get airborne, they can come back with more."
Morgan did not argue.
The remaining ground personnel never reached the aircraft. Two went down near the tree line, while another made it behind a maintenance shed before being wounded.
The last organized return fire ended shortly afterward. A few scattered shots continued across the camp, growing farther apart until one final gunshot echoed through the trees and then nothing followed it.
Cody waited.
His ears were ringing despite having spent most of the fight inside the cabin.
"Captains, report."
One by one they answered.
Cabin One was secure. Cabin Two had casualties. Cabin Three was secure but had one confirmed dead, while Cabin Four had wounded and Cabin Five had lost a trainee. Cabin Six reported two casualties, Cabin Seven remained secure, Cabin Eight had lost a counselor and had several injured, and Cabin Nine still controlled the western clearing.
The remaining reports followed, some voices steady and others barely holding together.
Cody wrote everything down because writing gave his hands something useful to do.
Then Counselor Patel came across the adult channel. Her face was streaked with blood that did not appear to be hers.
"Banks."
"I'm here."
"I think it's over."
Cody looked across the surviving camera feeds. Bodies lay throughout the camp, and although several were still moving, most were not.
"Don't assume."
"I know."
"Get medical teams out under cover. Captains maintain sectors until we identify every hostile."
Patel stared at him for a second before nodding. "Understood, Alpha."
The word felt wrong now.
Cody stepped outside only after the first reports confirmed that the surviving soldiers had been disarmed. The camp smelled of smoke, dirt, burned fuel, and blood, while somebody cried behind Cabin Four and a counselor knelt beside a wounded teenager near the dining hall.
Two trainees carried another wounded operative between them.
Cody walked toward the center path and stopped.
This was the first time he had seen the entire battlefield without a camera dividing it into manageable pieces. Bodies lay in places Cody knew well, beside the paths where they ran morning drills, near the wall where somebody had painted a stupid cartoon, and outside the cabin where they had played cards two nights earlier.
One of the dead soldiers was lying beside the water pump.
Cody could not stop looking at him.
Diaz approached from behind. "Status?"
Cody took a moment to answer. "We're still counting."
Diaz surveyed the camp. "Did they get into the younger cabins?"
"No."
"Good."
Cody turned toward him. "We lost people."
Diaz's expression changed just enough. "I know."
"Kids."
"I know."
"Counselors too."
Diaz put one hand on Cody's shoulder. "I'm sorry."
Cody looked back across the camp.
The sentence did not help.
Captain Morgan approached with her rifle hanging against her chest. She looked much older than she had twelve minutes earlier.
"Twenty-eight of the ground team are dead."
Cody looked at her. "Twenty-eight?"
"Two alive. Both bad."
"And ours?"
"We're still counting."
Counselor Patel joined them before Morgan could say more. "Six trainees confirmed dead. Eleven wounded, three critical. Four counselors dead and seven wounded."
Cody closed his eyes.
Six trainees.
He knew every one of them.
Diaz said quietly, "You stopped them."
Cody opened his eyes. "At what cost?"
Diaz looked across the camp. "If they had taken me, it would have been worse."
Cody wanted to ask how. He wanted to know what intelligence justified six dead kids, four dead counselors, and almost the entire attacking force lying dead across Camp Woody, but Captain Rodriguez's voice came across his radio before he could.
"Alpha, western helicopter is intact. Pilot's dead. Controls look functional."
Diaz looked toward the clearing.
Cody noticed. "You need it."
Diaz nodded. "I need to get this intelligence out before whoever compromised Central realizes this force failed."
Cody frowned. "We should send someone with you."
"No."
"Sir—"
"No, Banks." Diaz looked directly at him. "Your people need you here. You have dead, wounded, two surviving hostiles, damaged communications, and no idea whether a second force is coming."
Cody knew he was right.
Diaz continued, "Secure the survivors and treat them. Don't interrogate them until you've verified command. Collect every weapon, radio, document, and piece of equipment they brought in, establish a perimeter, and get the Fortress systems back to full integrity."
Counselor Patel looked at Diaz. "You came to Banks before you came to us."
For the first time since the shooting stopped, the question that had been hanging over the adults returned.
Diaz looked toward her. "Yes."
"Why?"
His eyes moved briefly toward Cody before returning to Patel. "Because if the penetration reached high enough to burn federal authentication, I couldn't assume the adult command structure hadn't been compromised too."
Patel stared at him.
It was not a satisfying answer, but it made enough sense inside the reality Diaz had created that she did not challenge it further. She looked toward the dead and finally said, "Go."
Diaz nodded before turning toward Cody. "You held the camp. You kept the younger trainees alive, maintained command, and stopped an armed hostile force from taking this installation."
Cody looked toward the bodies.
Diaz squeezed his shoulder. "You did your job."
Then he headed toward the western clearing.
The surviving helicopter was still running. Its cockpit glass was damaged where the sniper's shot had passed through it, and the dead pilot had already been removed by Cabin Nine's trainees.
Diaz climbed aboard while Cody watched from the edge of the clearing. For a moment Cody considered stopping him, not because he suspected Diaz but because after everything that had happened, letting the person at the center of the attack fly away alone felt wrong.
Then the helicopter lifted from the clearing.
Diaz rose over Camp Woody and disappeared beyond the trees.
Cody watched until he could no longer hear the rotors.
Behind him, Captain Morgan approached. "What now?"
Cody looked back toward the camp, taking in the dead, the wounded, the teenagers still standing guard because Diaz had warned them another attack might come, and the surviving members of the federal team receiving medical treatment from some of the same children who had helped shoot them.
He lifted his radio. "All Captains, Alpha."
The command channel came alive.
"Begin recovery. Nobody leaves their cabin sector alone. Secure all hostile weapons and communications equipment, but don't tamper with anything you don't recognize. Medical gets priority on every wounded person, ours or theirs."
Cody paused and looked toward Counselor Patel.
She nodded.
He continued, "All previous authentication remains compromised until we establish direct command contact through a verified channel. Nobody shoots at anyone else unless there's an immediate threat. We've done enough of that tonight."
The Captains acknowledged him one by one.
Cody lowered the radio.
Twelve minutes earlier, Camp Woody had been asleep. Now six young agents and four of their trainers were dead, twenty-eight members of a federal response force had been killed, two more were critically wounded, both helicopter pilots were dead, one helicopter was burning beyond the eastern trees, and the other was carrying Victor Diaz away.
Cody Banks stood in the middle of what remained and believed the worst thing that had happened that night was that he had not been fast enough to save everyone.
He had no idea that the people he had just fought had been sent by the same government he thought he had protected.