“ALL RIGHT.” JO started the moment everyone had situated themselves in their usual seats in the briefing room.

It probably looked a little presumptuous for her to be standing at the head of the table, but Snow was (as usual) nowhere to be found, and she simply couldn’t help herself. She needed to prove not only that she could offer the necessary support for this wish, but that she recognized the benefits of the other members of the team in accomplishing it. Her failure had settled thick and heavy in the pit of her stomach, and she wanted to do everything she could to remedy the weight.

“Some of you, most of you, know. . . But the attempt at forcing an evacuation using the bio bands was a failure,” Jo spoke directly to Samson as he was the only one missing from the common room earlier.

Samson nodded, sinking slightly into his chair under her stare. Jo quickly averted her eyes, as not to put so much unintentional pressure on the shy man.

“The government has labeled it a terror attack and the evacuation has ended before it could even really begin. So, we need to re-evaluate our next steps. . .” She let her voice trail off, hoping that someone would offer the solution she didn’t have.

For a second, the Society simply looked among themselves before settling as a unit back on her. It was Nico, in his usual kind tone, who finally spoke up, “Well, we still need to get people to evacuate.”

“Exactly,” Jo said, pacing a bit like a teacher trying to get her students to come to their own solutions on a project. Really, she was just hoping she’d find her own exceptional solution somewhere in the three feet of space she was traversing. “And how do we do that now that the evacuation has been discredited?”

“If we knew that, doll, we would have figured out a plan of action already,” Wayne interjected. “Or perhaps you would’ve done it.” Despite the way it made Jo bristle, she ignored the smart remark. If he was trying to be playful, he was grossly misreading the room. Instead of letting herself be egged on, however, Jo merely threw him a distinctly unimpressed look before waiting for someone else to offer a more helpful opinion.

Thankfully, Takako seemed to have no problem offering support. “We need to show them proof of why evacuation is still the right course of action. There’s attention being paid to it now, so it may not take much to validate the concerns you planted. We merely need to give it credit that can’t be ignored.”

Before Jo could pick up on that, Wayne leaned heavily back into his chair with a bitter sounding laugh. “Oh damn. I forgot to record all the terrible broadcasts coming up so we can just play them on repeat for those who don’t have the luxury of time travel.”

“Wayne,” Eslar scolded this time, earning if not a chastised look from the man, then at least a moment of silence. A silence which Jo wasted no time filling.

“Scientists are already looking for proof of the unidentified claims, the news said as much. Even if they don’t know how the records that triggered the evacuation notices got there, it’s been enough to peak their interest,” she continued, leaning against the table and doing her best interpretation of Snow, trying to look each person in the eyes, one at a time. “So why haven’t they offered up any of their findings?”

For a long moment, everyone seemed to consider the options, but eventually, Takako uttered a soft murmur of recognition. “They don’t have any findings yet, right? Or they would present them.”

“That’s what I’m thinking.” Jo wasn’t sure if they had zero findings or just inconsequential ones, but she nodded anyway; it fit everything that had been said so far, and was the best direction forward. “If the scientists had something, there’s no way they’d let the government call off the evacuation knowing the danger Fuji poses.”

“Then what are we going to have to do to make sure they arrive at findings worth sharing and evacuating over?” Eslar asked, more to himself than the group, one dark green thumbnail caught between his teeth as his eyes narrowed in concentration. “And make sure they reach these conclusions with enough time for all the people that need to move to do so?”

Things looked about as hopeless as ever, but Jo couldn’t help but feel a small swell of pride as everyone began floating ideas across the table. Perhaps her contribution hadn’t been a total failure after all.

No, it’d been an epic mistake. Jo couldn’t let herself lose sight of that, or the monster of pride would crawl onto her back and whisper in her ear again. Getting everyone back on track was, at best, repentance.

“Oh!” Nico sat up, not quite slamming but definitely placing his palms heavily on the table. His gaze instantly sought out Jo’s, an enthusiasm there that was both endearing and motivating. “What if they have no findings because they don’t have anything strong enough to perceive them?”

Jo mulled that over. “You mean, they don’t have the technology?” It seemed outlandish that, out of all of the technological advancements her time period had under its belt, this would be the one thing that had fallen through the cracks. They had androids petitioning to live normal lives, indistinguishable from humans, but not better earthquake detecting materials?

“Let’s say they don’t have proper measurement tools for correct prediction information. We’d need a stronger seismograph—something that can measure deep-layer tectonic shifts and then predict future movement based on these micro-movements.” Eslar continued, frowning as well in deep, disgruntled thought.

Jo actually took a small step away from the table, taken aback with surprise. The elf was from a time period that was so long ago, and so far from her own, that it was utterly inconceivable to Jo to even imagine. Yet, he could navigate technology better than most from Jo’s own times. As annoying as he could be in his occasional role of “team mom,” Eslar was truly something else.

“I can do that.”

All eyes turned to Samson, his brow furrowed and eyes distant, as if he hadn’t even realized he’d spoken. Jo could see one hand tapping an unnatural rhythm against the table as his other fiddled with a cube shaped object held a few inches away from his lips. His fingers shifted with practiced ease, a soft magical aura emanating from him that Jo could feel all the way from the other end of the table.

The silence following his statement stretched long enough that Eslar had to cut back in, clearing his throat to get the craftsman’s attention. Samson jumped slightly, though his hands continued to fiddle; the cube seemed to mold beneath his fingers like a sentient clay, becoming something Jo could not yet envision. “Samson?”

“I can make what you need,” he clarified, eyes downcast, though not in a way that emanated any sort of self-consciousness. Instead, they seemed to shift about the open space in front of him as if already trying to work out a spatial understanding of his newest project. “It- It will be simple,” he went on. “Enough to convince anyone—scientist, government, prime minister. It should cover all of our bases, dig deep enough into the necessary seismic data that the evacuations will be irrefutable. Just tapping into the AI supercomputers for high-level calculations. . . Modifications, really. Nothing new. Just improving what’s there for them. I can do that. Yes, I can, no problem.”

For a long moment, Jo didn’t know what to say; it was the most she’d ever heard come out of Samson’s mouth at one time. But she wasn’t about to waste it. With a quick clearing of her throat, she nodded and tacked on the best look of motivated authority she could manage.

“You heard the man. He’s got the proof machine on lock.” She must really be getting used to the world of magic if she’d take that simple explanation from a thousand-year-old man as proof he could create such a thing. “So, now how do we get that machine into the hands of a scientist who can use it?”

From there, all discussion focused on hashing out logistics. If there was anything Jo had learned throughout her time as the Shewolf, it was the benefit of laying all the “best cards” out on the table, working out a foolproof methodology, and playing it like a poker game she had no intention of losing. They had aces up their sleeves—magic—and with it, there was no way they could lose.

This was merely about getting somebody to look at their hand and recognize the win.

Wayne and Takako took it upon themselves to masquerade as researchers looking to sell the updated seismograph machine to the head seismic facility, capitalizing on the recent interest in such a device. With Wayne’s magical abilities, conning their way into the office of the right people would be “a piece of cake”—or a piece of something from the 1920s that Jo promptly forgot (Tomato Pie, perhaps?). Then, it would simply be a matter of falsifying documents on Jo’s end just to tidy things up if anyone looked for evidence that Wayne and Takako were indeed part of a legitimate company. Another night of hacking the appropriate registries, creating documentation for the machine’s functionality, and their validity.

And, if she was thorough and careful, another night of opportunity for Jo to redeem herself.