I heard the sound of rending metal behind me. Runners, sprinters in particular, are taught early on not to look behind them during a race. The runner who looks behind is the runner who is behind. Chose to speed up and use my hyperspeed.
Almost flew by the others, but managed to stop reasonably close by. They were near to, but not quite at the doors of, the Science Center.
“Everybody down!” Christopher shouted.
The team didn’t argue. Everyone hit the dirt, literally, with Buchanan covering my father while White covered both of them. Christopher covered me as I covered our prisoner, Rahmi covered Tito, Rhee covered Adriana, as the tank went fully into the plane.
Results were immediate. They weren’t the results I was hoping for, but they certainly were immediate.
CHAPTER 26
THE JET AND TANK EXPLODED. Which was impressive. Thanked God that we hadn’t armed the nuclear warheads. No mushroom cloud was good.
Debris, however, was not good.
The last time something big had exploded nearby, I’d had Jamie’s stroller with me and Mr. Joel Oliver had activated the laser shield button. Come to think of it, that wasn’t the last time, merely a time.
But whatever time it had or hadn’t been, for that and all the others we’d had either A-C laser shielding or ACE helping protect us. We had neither now. And while A-Cs and Amazons healed quickly, which was why they’d covered all the humans, it’s hard to recover from flaming pieces of jet hitting you, no matter where you’re from.
The person I was lying on shoved up on her hands, hard. Christopher and I tumbled off, as she got to her knees and put her hands out. A wall of sand and dirt, easily a hundred feet high, went up between us and the debris. Chick had some serious skills.
The wall of dirt fell over, toward the explosion. I’m sure there’s a more technical term for it, but visually it truly fell, just like a wall can, straight over.
We all stood up. Christopher and I grabbed hold of our prisoner, just in case. “How did you know the tank was aimed for the jet?” I asked.
“You’d gotten yourself lost in the sandstorm. I was looking for you.”
“Aww, that’s sweet. Thanks.”
The air near us shimmered and Jeff, then Chuckie, then Gower appeared. “Are you all alright?” Jeff asked, worry plain. “There were issues with the gate and Chuck wouldn’t let me run here.”
Took this to mean Chuckie had intelligently used his Vulcan Nerve Pinch move on Jeff, because I doubted that Jeff would have listened to reason when he knew we were in danger.
“Why are you dressed like . . . that?” Gower asked.
“He means like mummies,” Chuckie added, in case we weren’t clear that we all looked like bizarre fashion victims.
“We had to run through a huge sandstorm and we wanted to keep our eyes and more tender organs. Yes, we’re fine, thanks for actually asking, first in no thanks to and then because of her.” I indicated our prisoner, and pulled her headgear off. Was indeed a chick. Wanted to interrogate her, but there was a more pressing question.
“Before Missus Chief goes on or asks, allow me,” Buchanan said. “Why are you here, Pontifex Gower?” Glad to see the question had been pressing for Buchanan, too. “You’re undoubtedly a target, and were told to stay in the Embassy.”
“I may be,” Gower said, jaw set. “But my brother and sisters are here and I’m not going to hide in the Embassy when they need me. And I was one of the few who could hold out against the mind control. You need me, and my sisters and brother need me.”
“Speaking of targets, Sol, what are you doing here?” Jeff asked.
“Long story,” Dad said cheerfully. “I’m happy to be along for the ride.”
“Someone should be,” Christopher muttered.
“You know, I’m wondering if all of this, and them having Michael, Mimi, and Abby in particular, is simply to get Paul here.”
“Maybe, but whatever their goal, they have my wife, every adult hybrid other than the Pontifex, most of Alpha Team, all of Airborne, and most of Centaurion Division Security, along with all of Centaurion Division’s information, and who knows how many other hostages.”
“Succinctly put, Secret Agent Man. Any ideas?”
“What’s our weapons situation?”
Buchanan and White shared our small but mighty arsenal. Adriana’s backpack was nice and full of useful things as well. “That’s all you brought?” Gower asked when they were done. He sounded more than a little shocked and peeved.
“We brought plenty more.”
Jeff, Chuckie, and Gower looked around. “I don’t see them,” Gower said finally. “Are they cloaked?”
“Ah, no. They’re still in our downed plane. I think, anyway. I mean, realistically, they’ve blown up. Just like the plane. And the tank.”
The three of them stared at me.
“Blown up?” Jeff asked finally.
“Why?” Gower added.
“Is there anything left of the plane to salvage?” Chuckie asked. “Or the tank?”
“I mentioned a sandstorm, right? The person Christopher and I are hanging onto used a sand tornado and dirt clods, along with tank artillery, to shoot us down. Then she rammed her tank into our plane. Then she dumped dirt on all of that to prevent the explosion from killing us. I guess anyway. Anything to add to that?” I asked her.
Either she was a shapeshifter, an imageer with image overlay talent, or she wasn’t a full-blooded A-C, because while she was okay to look at, she wasn’t Dazzler gorgeous by a long shot.
She was taller than me by a few inches, with long, light brown hair and average features. Her build was slender—not that you could tell since she was still in what now kind of looked like a Jedi robe, but having just fought with her, I could confirm what she’d felt like.
Her one exceptional feature was her eyes—they were bright green. They were also glaring daggers at me. She didn’t reply.
“Okey dokey. Well, why we went down is because it’s hard as hell to fly a Big Ugly Flying Fugly in the same way you handle a super-maneuverable jet. However, while there was damage, the BUFF wasn’t totally destroyed—there was plenty of it left, along with all of its contents, until our ‘friend’ here blew it up. And we left most of the weapons there because Jeff said the person creating the dust storm wasn’t after the plane or its contents and we were in a hurry.”
“Kitty did a masterful job of keeping us all alive and landing safely,” Dad said, oozing parental pride and support. Considered the benefits of always having Dad along for the ride. Figured they couldn’t outweigh the risks of him being in danger, let alone what Mom would do if he got hurt while along for said rides. Chose to bask in the glow of someone thinking I’d done a good job for as long as it lasted.
“Kitty’s crash landing took a lot out of us,” Christopher added.
Basking glow lasted all of two seconds. Potentially a new world record.
“You were a Commander for over a decade,” Chuckie pointed out. “I’d kind of expected you to be, I don’t know, helping Kitty in some way.”
“Everyone’s a critic. You want to harangue someone? I give you Sand Chick.”
Chuckie looked at our prisoner. “Good point. Who are you and what’s your role in all that’s going on?”
“We’d like your full name,” I added. “And then we’d like to know if you ever knew your father.”
“Or mother,” Chuckie added.
“Right, or mother.”
“You’re all going to die.” She had an accent. It was vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place it.
“What part of the Middle East are you from?” Chuckie asked. Unsurprisingly, he could place it. Realized it sounded familiar because I hung out with the Bahraini and Israeli Diplomatic Missions quite a lot these days.