“I don’t know who sent the message, and I don’t care,” I reply between breaths. “All I care about is getting you out of there and hunting down Richard Blackstone.”
“OK, but there’s a roomful of armed soldiers right next door,” warns Otto. “You can’t just walk in and demand that they let me go.”
I arrive at the entrance to the command post, grip the Jack-knife handle tightly, and whisper my reply.
“Why the hell not?”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“Keep quiet, and be ready to move.”
“OK,” whispers Otto. “Good luck.”
I rest my thumb on the Jack-knife switch, take a deep breath, and knock on the door to the command post. The barricade that was stacked against it must have been removed for the evacuation, because the door swings open almost immediately. The first face that I see is Private Carter’s. There’s blood spattered on his uniform, and his arm is in a sling, but he’s holding the door wide open and smiling like an idiot.
On my guard, I walk through the doorway into the office. Every able-bodied soldier suddenly stands and begins applauding. Keeping up my brainwashed pretense, I don’t acknowledge them at all as I scan the room for Captain Delgado. He’s standing beside the central desk with his shirt unbuttoned, and I can see stabilizing bandages wrapped around his midriff.
Grinning soldiers stand aside, clearing a path to the Captain as I pass, and as I cross the room, I can hear some of them whispering as they watch me with curious fascination. “Incredible,” says one. “I didn’t know they trained operatives that young,” says another. “Maybe she’s a robot, too?” I hear someone murmur. “She should be dead; she can’t be human,” whispers someone else.
I come to a halt in front of Captain Delgado, tuck my Jack-knife back into my waistband, and salute. He looks down his nose at me but doesn’t return the gesture, most likely because raising his arm would hurt like a bastard from the injury I gave him. Instead, he gives me a simple nod. I snap my hand back to my side and stare blankly at him over the top of my face mask.
“Nicely done, Infinity One. See what a difference a little subliminal implantation can make?” Each word is hissed through gritted teeth. His broken ribs are clearly making it uncomfortable for him to speak.
“I was watching you out there,” he says, reaching toward me. It takes all the self-control I can muster to stay still as he slides his fingers into my breast pocket and pulls out the fragment of the Drone’s mask. “What’s this? Collecting scalps, Infinity One?”
I’m not sure if he expects an answer, so I decide to just keep my mouth shut. He tosses the fragment onto a nearby desk, and as he studies me with an expression of deep suspicion, I realize my mistake. I shouldn’t have kept the fragment. Choosing to take a souvenir may have given me away. Captain Delgado tries to lean forward to take a closer look into my eyes but winces and clutches his side, choosing instead to take my chin in his hand and turn my face up toward him. “I warned you,” he whispers. “I told you I’d find a way to twist your brain to my way of thinking. Do you have any problem with that?”
I know what he’s trying to do, but I won’t take the bait. I don’t react. I just stare gormlessly at him and say, “No, sir.”
Captain Delgado’s gaze lingers on me. Finally he releases my chin, and relief washes over me as he addresses Corporal Avary. “Add those seven tin soldiers she took out to the overall tally; what does that give us?”
Corporal Avary taps at a slate. “Well, according to your intel, sir, fifty prototype Crimson-Class Combat Drones have been constructed to date, so, including those last seven . . . all fifty have been deactivated and accounted for.”
“Good,” replies Captain Delgado. “What can you tell me about the main computer? It hasn’t said a word since the attack, and I don’t like it.”
A nearby soldier slides a computer slate with a pulsing blue stripe and scrolling lines of green code toward Corporal Avary. He studies it for a moment, then turns to the Captain. “Like I mentioned before, sir, artificial intelligence is a little out of my league, but . . . as far as I can tell, the situation hasn’t changed. The computer is still in defense mode, so it’s probably safe to assume that it continues to view us a threat.”
Captain Delgado’s eyes narrow. “In my experience, if the enemy isn’t talking, they’re dreaming up new ways to kill you. It’s time to leave. Where the hell are my transports?”
A young soldier beside the desk points toward the windows on the opposite side of the room. “Incoming, sir.”
I turn and see two dark shapes moving in the blue sky, heading in this direction. They disappear from view behind the canopies of the trees outside, and, less than half a minute later, I can hear the deep, rolling hum of propulsion engines roving over the top of the building.
The sound gets considerably louder as the transports slowly descend into the courtyard. Treetops flurry, and tepid air from the aircrafts’ thrusters wafts into the office through the smashed-open window frame. Landing legs fold out, and a stone bench is crushed beneath one of their large hydraulic feet as the two military-gray Gryphon VTL 400s settle on the paving outside. The blue flames jetting from their thrusters cut out, and there’s a loud chorus of high-pitched whines and grumbling stutters as the transports’ turbines begin winding down. As the cargo doors in their bellies open and lower to the ground, Captain Delgado turns and speaks to the whole room.
“Attention. It’s gonna be a tight fit, so if it has a heartbeat, load it on those war birds. We’ll be back to retrieve our fallen as soon as we can. That’s all; now move out.”
They obediently do as they’re told. Soon there’s a groaning, limping line of bloodied bandages and war-torn uniforms making a slow but relatively orderly exit through the door into the stairwell. This is good. It won’t be long before this place is cleared out, which will make Otto’s extraction a whole lot easier than I had expected. All I have to do is wait for the right moment, so in the meantime I stand and observe, making sure to maintain my blank look. I keep my trap shut and limit my movements to slow, zombielike head turns.
Corporal Avary and his team take apart the array of computer slates and pack the components into a number of army-green satchels. They sling the bags on their backs and head toward the exit. The office is almost empty. There are only a few soldiers left when Captain Delgado motions to one of them standing beside a door on the far wall. “Bring the civilians out.”
The soldier opens the door, and I can see what Otto meant when she said the conference room was small. With ten people packed into it, the room is definitely cramped, so much so that most of the group is sitting on top of a table with their legs dangling over the edge. The soldier motions for them to come out. As they’re shuffling off the table and filing into the office, they all look understandably exhausted. Ryan, Brody, Brent, and Margaux are the first to emerge. From the moment Ryan sees me, his eyes are fixed on me. The girls that Otto called “Jennifer” and “Amy” exit next, and are followed by the visibly drained Percy and Professor Francis. Finally I see Otto crawl out from under the table. Just like Ryan, as soon as she sees me, her stare is glued on me. I give her the slightest nod, and she returns the tiniest hint of a smile.
“What the hell?” mutters Captain Delgado.
My eyes flick toward the Captain, and he’s glowering down at me with a look of bewildered anger. “I knew it,” he growls. “You sneaky little . . .”
Captain Delgado grunts with pain as he whips his sidearm from the holster on his hip and jabs the muzzle against my left temple. “Secure this girl!”
The soldier by the wall immediately pulls his rifle to his shoulder and keeps me in his sights as he sidles around the group, sidesteps a stack of weapon crates, and strides toward me. There are sounds of movement and the clacking of guns being cocked, and out of the corner of my eye I can see at least two more soldiers on the other side of the room training their weapons on me.
Captain Delgado cringes with discomfort as he reaches with his free hand and pinches the finger holes on the nose of my face mask. The adhesive releases from my skin, and he pulls the mask away from my face. He drops it at my feet and jabs at my head with the gun. I don’t react at all. I just carry on staring blankly at him. His eyes narrow. “I don’t know how you’re overriding my command, Infinity One, but don’t insult my intelligence. You can drop the act.”
I let out a resentful sigh and raise my hands as my brain-dead expression furrows into an angry stare. If I’m fast enough, I might be able to take the Captain hostage and bargain my way out the door. A knife held to his throat will do the job just fine. My eyes lock with Captain Delgado’s, and as I hold his enraged gaze, I hope that he doesn’t notice the fingers of my right hand slowly stretching wider. He pushes the pistol hard, tilting my head at an angle.
“Don’t even think about it,” he growls, eyeballing the Jack-knife tucked into my waistband. “You move, and I swear I’ll blow your goddamned brains out. Private, take her weapon.” The nearest soldier lowers his rifle, steps forward, and reaches toward the black handle.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” I mutter.
The burly soldier’s eyes go wide, and his hand slowly withdraws.
“Take the damn thing!” barks Captain Delgado.
The soldier’s hand creeps forward again. His gaze jumps back and forth from my face to the handle, and his expression is a comical mix of fear and reluctant obedience. His fingers are trembling, and he actually gulps. The poor guy looks like he’s been commanded to put his hand in a bear trap.
“Captain Delgado?” says a voice. Professor Francis steps out from the school group and sidles around the stack of weapon crates.
The Captain doesn’t acknowledge him; in fact, he doesn’t dare take his eyes
or
his gun off me for a second. “Private, ignore the high school teacher and take that weapon right now, or I’ll throw your worthless ass in the nearest military prison and drop the key in the ocean.”
The soldier gingerly extends a hand but freezes once more as the Professor butts in. “Captain, today’s tragic events are rigorously testing my sanity. But I do not think that I’m alone in that regard. All of our lives have been completely turned upside down. I may not understand the intricacies of your personal relationship with Miss Brogan, but she appears to have saved all of our lives, and—”
“Shut your mouth, you pompous old bastard,” hisses Captain Delgado. Professor Francis flinches like he’s been stung by a bee.
“And you . . . ,” the Captain grunts at the embarrassed soldier. “You’re bloody useless. Now raise your damn rifle, and if she tries anything . . . shoot her. Did everybody hear that order?”
All around the room, there’s a chorus of “Sir, yes, sir.”
The burly soldier hurriedly raises his rifle, and Captain Delgado groans loudly as he leans forward and pulls the Jack-knife from my waistband. He slides it into his pocket and then he reaches over, flicks open the latch of the magna-band, and pulls it from my wrist. He stuffs that into his pocket, too, then he lowers his gun and looks over at Otto and the rest of the group.
“All of you. It’s time to go,” says the Captain.
Margaux sighs with relief, and Amy looks like she’s about to cry.
“Thank heavens,” mutters Percy as Brody smiles dopily beside him. Ryan takes the Dean kid by the arm and pulls him along as everyone begins wearily moving toward the stairwell door.
“You,” the Captain grunts at me. “I’d like to strap you to the roof of one of those transports and fly through a hailstorm for what you did to me. But for now, I’ll make sure I find you a comfy little spot shackled to a floor rail next to the piss bucket. Now put your hands behind your head and move.”
I grudgingly do as he says and fall in behind the group as the big twitchy soldier prods me in the back with his rifle. Otto glances over her shoulder at me, a look of concern creasing her brow. This is not exactly going to plan.
Including the soldier behind me, there are five men pointing rifles directly at me. I may be hard to kill, but I’m not invincible, and judging by the hair-trigger intensity on all these soldiers’ faces, making a move now in this confined space would most likely get both me and half the school group killed. Two soldiers position themselves between me and the group, and three stay behind me, with Captain Delgado bringing up the rear. All of them cautiously keep a reasonable distance as I walk down the stairwell like a death row prisoner.
So this is what happens when you decide to infiltrate a top-secret research facility with nothing but a computer geek and the flimsiest revenge plan in history. I’d like to say that I’ll learn from this experience, but, after the Captain is finished with me, I doubt I’ll remember my own name—let alone all the mistakes I recklessly made today.
Ryan was right. This
is
the worst field trip ever.
Our bizarre procession trudges on in silence, and it isn’t long before I’m led down three flights of stairs and out the exit into the warm afternoon sunshine. The air is saturated with the pleasant, savory-sweet aroma of aviation fuel. Otto and the others are standing nearby, observing the soldiers boarding the two transports. The priming, high-pitched whine of their idling engines is already quite loud, so the soldier beside the ramp of the nearest transport is guiding us toward the open ramp that leads up into the second aircraft’s cargo hold. A couple of medics and the last of the wounded are making their way up the ramp as the school group approaches the transport. With my hands still behind my head, I’m prodded in the back with a rifle as Captain Delgado strides ahead, glaring at me with contempt as he passes.
As I grudgingly shuffle forward, a shiny glint of light catches the corner of my eye, and I turn to look back down the courtyard toward Dome One. In the distance are what appear to be six large, metallic platforms. They’re steadily rising from the ground in front of that tall angular sculpture. As they continue to rise, I quickly realize that they’re not platforms at all; they look more like boxes, or some kind of huge, rectangular containers. They elevate higher and higher, until soon they’re so tall that they completely obscure the sculpture altogether. It’s difficult to tell from here, but I’d guess each one must be at least eight or nine meters high. My eyes widen, and my mouth goes completely dry. There’s only one thing I’ve seen today that would fit in a box that size.
“Sir!” shouts one of the soldiers. He points in the direction of the containers, and as soon as Captain Delgado sees them, he wrenches his walkie-talkie from his belt and bellows into it, the pain of his broken ribs instantly forgotten. “Fire up those engines; I want those birds airborne in sixty seconds!” His order is immediately carried out as both of the transports’ four turbine engines suddenly throttle up into a steady roar.