Things fall apart

This is a thread about the leak that compromised most - if not all - active Quera agents (referenced first in the Unusual Tourists thread), and the ensuing crisis and events.

Quechkhonia, Harndon

Dafkane shouldered his way through the door set into the tree-archway that made up the doorway.
Inside, computers and voices hummed, faces twisted in desperation as loud as the panicked shouts.
His eyes met, and skittered off, the features of every person he saw. Why did he not recognise anyone? He hadn't been gone for that long, had he?

"Operative Dafkane."
He whirled around; he was met with a set of pale, sunken eyes. He forced himself to take a breath. "Operative Kaiiek."
They nodded, the livid scar that crept from the shadowed side of their face catching the bluish-white glow of the vines twisting above their heads.
"Where is Operative Ginak? The Königsstadt lead officer?" Dafkane only realised he had said - nearly shouted - what he had the moment the last syllable passed his lips.
Kaiiek blinked for a second, then shrugged. "I don't know. We haven't recieved any word."
"What do you mean you haven't recieved any word? Do you know how long it's been?" He should stop, he knew he should. And yet.
"Yes--" they looked aside.
Dafkane thought he might've caught the slightest of twitches around their eye socket.
"--We are... aware of how long it has been." They placed a hand on Dafkane's shoulder plate. Their fingers squeezed at it, then fell away.
'No. You're giving up on him. He can't not have made it. That's not what he's like.'

"I'm sorry." It was impossible to tell from Kaiiek's eyes whether they were or not - even to someone the likes of him, one kind of sadness looked a lot like another. "But we have bigger problems."
"The leak." He wished he could forget.
"The leak," they tilted their head an inch. "And the loss of the North American Republican squad."
For a second, he hadn't the breath to respond with. "All of them?" Ginak tried to count how many bodies that would have been, but stopped when his mind grew numb.
"... All of them. They all opted to stay given the circumstances."
"Of course." 'Bastards. Self-sacrificing, glorious bastards.'

"Have you been debriefed yet?"
"No," Ginak let out a breath. "We were on arse-covering. Serachicha Ocean."
A longer blink. "Yes. Well. Grab a tea and a sit, then you and the rest of your squad go to debrief."
Ginak gave a nod of the head, turned on his heel, and strode to the door.
After all, good Quera follow orders. Even the ones that get them killed.

---

[OOC: This is merely here for everyone elses' ease of roleplay. It is not sent outside of the Quera organisation.]
A note handed in person to every non-turncoat Quera post briefing/debriefing

Code:

Comrades,
We are in a dire situation indeed.
Total recall protocalls have been activated. All available deployed Quera have been ordered home. These will be swapped with those that were previously deployed domestically, which, in turn, will be given foreign assignments as a matter of haste.
Command, in deliberation with all Quera present at the time, has come to the decision to reactivate the Headhunter squads. A number of Quera have volunteered to be permenantly discharged from service to fulfil this role. Their sacrifice is to be commended, and we hold them in the highest regard for their actions, though we can never - as an organisation or as a state - publically as much as know of them. Officially, they are terrorists, independent of the Harndonian state, expatriots that have taken it upon themselves to do the unthinkable. Unofficially, purely in this statement, they are comrades of the highest order.
Their mission - iradicate the turncoats, and their collaborators in the Rossian command structures, at whatever the costs to themselves.
Glory or death!