The last thing she needed was someone else on base with a superiority complex. “I’ve been trying to help your son overcome his mental constraints,” Florence removed the bullets from the gun then handed it back to Dolores as she helped her stand. “He’s made great progress working with me.”
“I don’t care. All we’ve been through, his destiny, it’s too much for someone his age.” Dolores stared down, her son’s development was as unfinished as the floor beneath her feet.
“I have told you not to fear the burden your son carries,” the alien chimed in, “it will only hold him back.”
“What’s holding him back is the fortress in his mind.” Florence crossed her arms waiting for Neight’s rebuttal.
The alien always looked as though he was doing yoga; breathing slowly, stretching, meditating. It took a while for him to respond. “In one disturbing future Allister became a vengeful, dangerous criminal, hell bent on killing those responsible for his father’s death. It was bleak not only for him but also for Earth.”
Dolores dropped the empty gun into her apron. She hated hearing the alternate future where her son was a ruthless murderer.
Neight continued, “His memories, the bad ones, are locked inside of the Zosma energy. Allister knows his father passed but has no idea how or under what circumstances. I know you saw. It is only to ensure a less devastating future.”
Florence sighed. Hard to argue when he was right. “I’d imagine you don’t want to stay trapped here for too much longer. I might be able to help, if you tell me where the gems are.” Florence said.
Neight stumbled back to sit on the bed, “Timeline…changed.”
The lights flickered. Florence held up her forefinger to the two of them and walked forward. “Do you sense…” Glowing red energy sprouted from her forehead. “Brain activity?”
The massive horizontal door spanning the basement level didn’t have a keypad. More concerned with getting back into the secret museum than how he got out, Allister searched every crevice for a potential entrance. He confronted the empty basement face-to-face. An elevator like the ones they used to have in subway stations was all that stared back. But he wasn’t alone and after complete concentration, his eyes glazed over with blue energy. Light refracted off of a human figure running with a speared staff aimed at his stomach. Allister dodged it and choke-slammed the shadowy figure.
“Who are you? Where did you come from?” Allister asked. Immediately after, he recognized the familiar C20 emblem. “Shit.”
The disarmed intruder pressed a button on its hip and the suit dissipated to shriveled paper, crushing the body inside.
A few dozen soldiers clad in white suits were outlined by the red hue of Florence’s powers in various parts of the facility. Dolores fumbled for the unloaded gun and the round of bullets hidden in her apron. Neight didn’t react to the discovery.
“You knew something wasn’t right and you didn’t say anything,” Florence accused him.
“Half truths,” Neight stepped away from the glass. “You would not see what you see without my assistance.”
Florence brought her shining hands together again and focused power through them as one stream. She felt his amplification to see through the C20 technology.
The glow of Neight’s prison shined on a masked man. “Allow me,” he said in a distorted voice, becoming visible.
Dolores fired; he tumbled and landed on one knee. The agent slid a gloved hand over the top of a metal weapon attached to his forearm. The double barrels lit up with kinetic energy and he aimed at Florence.
Before he could shoot, a telepathic pulse from Florence’s boosted abilities swept the building, shorting out the reception of the thought-activated C20 suits. The attacker flew back. He couldn’t return to stealth mode.
Neight waved a free hand across his body, and Allister came shimmering through the closed steel wall.
Brandt peeled off his mask. “It’s a little family reunion,” he said in a charming Southern accent.
RUSSELL ASHUR
Washington, DC, April 2026
Immobilized soldiers from the Andromeda Project’s infantry littered the hallways and a handful of C20 operatives patrolled each floor looking for any resistance. “I think this is it,” one of the intruders said outside of Russell’s office.
Russell typed furiously on the small laptop to activate their security measures. He hid behind the island table covered in super computers he’d built to help run the facility. “Yes, I’m fine,” he whispered into the 14-inch screen. “Shut down the main computer and get to safety. If they take the control room, they can lock me out of the system.”
The three bolt locks snapped as the door swung open and four C20 agents entered. “He’s here somewhere,” the distorted voice of the lead agent said. The recently used smoking gun was aligned at hip level, waiting for the slightest movement. “Brandt wants to make an example out of him.”
Brandt, Russell mouthed. Moments later, the crackle of electricity, a sound he never thought he’d be happy to hear.
“Looking for something in particular mate?” Bridget asked in a seductive Australian accent. She leaned against the doorway rubbing her fingertips together. Bridget’s hand flew out as she ran past and electrocuted one of the C20 agents when he tried to shoot. Three other currents ran down her leg and across the ground. Two of the three remaining agents were shocked out of commission. The last trespasser dodged it and blasted at her, Bridget landed next to Russell.
Russell closed the laptop. “Are you hurt!?”
“Mother Fucker…” She mumbled, scrambling to her knees. “Hi.” Bridget regained composure and kissed him aggressively. “I was a bit worried about you, c’mon.”
The agent’s footsteps around the island sent them moving along the bottom in the opposite direction. “What are you doing here?” Russell whispered.
“Explain later; three...two...one...” Bridget sprinted, dragging her hand across the side of the counter. The agent’s retaliation firepower was blocked by an electric field and traveled back through the weapon. He flew into the hallway unconscious.
“They sedated Dorian,” She said like it was his fault. Bridget had been feeling strange for a while, extreme sensitivity to electromagnetic fields kept her awake at night. The C20 suits were operated by such fields and she’d detected the influx of hidden agents but didn’t make sense of it, another example of Bridget providing useful information if properly trained.
The doors to the recruit’s quarters had opened once the system was compromised. Her hands pressed against his upper chest. “I was going to escape but then I thought, what’s ole Rus up to?”
Russell kissed her on the cheek. “Thank you,” he said.
Bridget went on the defensive. Another agent stepped into view and placed a device on the floor. Waves radiated upwards forming a kinetic energy wall the length of the doorway. After a less than friendly salute, their white-suited enemy moved on. Russell grabbed Bridget’s hand before she attacked it, “It’ll only reflect your attack back into this room.”
He opened the laptop again as she neared the foreign technology at their feet. Bridget wanted to know how the mechanics of it worked but promised not to touch it. Russell started to explain but his voice trailed off into concentrated silence.
“Yes!” he cheered. Alarms sounded in the hallway, sending the inner base into lockdown mode.
FLORENCE BELLADONNA
Washington, DC, April 2026
Brandt still wore his Andromeda Project uniform but replaced the emblem with a C20 one. Florence’s telepathic commands were disrupted as they reached him and he repeated the hand movement over the weapon aimed at her. More minions joined him from the ceiling. “Make sure the doctor doesn’t make it outta this room. The other two I want alive.”
Florence flipped sideways to avoid the dangerous energy projection hurtling toward her. At sonic speed Allister lifted Brandt by the collar, recognizing the man’s face from even before the recruit
ing process. His mind flashed to Brandt standing next to a kid, Colin from his childhood, then Brandt’s horrified face when he reached his home and found his family charred to a crisp.
Hesitation gave the Captain time to shoot Allister in the stomach; he landed hard on the concrete floor but grabbed Brandt’s legs as he tried to return to more pressing business.
“Why’d you recruit me?” Allister yelled, forcing his opponent to face plant onto the floor. “None of this makes any sense.”
“I didn’t ask you to think, I asked you to kill Nicolas Delemar.” Brandt shot the boy a second time. “He cost us our families.”
Allister stayed on his back, smoke rising from the wound on his chest. His mind swirled, meaningless words about a forgotten time. Brandt placed a small square on Allister’s stomach and pressed it. Thick metal straps encased him, the more he squirmed the tighter they became.
“You’re in time-out,” Brandt smiled, he checked the time, Dolores would have to wait.
The agents from the ceiling surrounded the two women in a semicircle, armed with varied non-projectile weapons. According to her calculations, she’d sustain injuries if she tried to take on the agents herself but Florence wasn’t one to avoid a challenge. “Always be prepared,” her father told her, “your enemies are everywhere.” She cursed the carelessness of leaving her sword upstairs.
“Protect her,” Florence said to Neight and flipped into the air, kicking away the first agent. A boomerang-shaped knife passed her shoulder. Her elbow knocked the thrower unconscious, then she wrapped her legs around the neck of her next victim and brought him to the ground. Dolores fired past her and the returning weapon dinged away. Sensing danger, Florence whipped around, a tiny capsule exploded at her feet releasing a white light. Temporary blindness ensued.
An agent kneed her in the gut, grabbed her hair and tossed her to the floor. They grabbed Dolores. Florence struggled to get up and got roundhouse kicked in the face. The C20 operative stood over her to gloat when her heeled boot caught him in the groin. He doubled over and she high kicked him in the chin. A trickle along her lip. She let it bleed as a panther would mid-battle, it served as motivation to win.
Neight pressed his hands to the glass. A blue tinted, transparent energy field separated Dolores from her attackers. Florence punched the closest agent then flipped him over her shoulder into the one opposite him, she swooped to the ground picking up the first agent’s weapon then aimed it at the last man standing. “Don’t move,” she instructed him telepathically. They weren’t listening. It seemed like they had no brains. No thoughts for her to stop. No motives for her to sway. Cursing followed by shots. He sank.
“I don’t know if he’s after me or Allister,” Dolores said.
“Whatever you do, do not let her out of your sight,” Neight commanded.
Florence nodded, charging forward. Process of elimination worked best. “I think your son can handle himself and Brandt can’t take you if you’re not here.”
“I’ve been over every inch of this place, darlin.” Dolores caught up and grabbed her wrist. “I’ll lead.”
ANDROMEDA PROJECT MAIN HQ
Washington, DC, April 2026
Nicolas dosed off for approximately fifteen minutes, during which three stealth C20 agents infiltrated and disarmed him. “I bet this is Private Adam’s fault,” Nicolas said. He faced the wall leading to the director’s meeting room with his hands above him.
“We’ve been right on your heels, General Asshole,” his captor replied, patting him down.
Though small in numbers, the C20 team was fully armed for combat. They didn’t account for premature exposure but the Andromeda Project’s task force was smaller during night hours and without warning or preparation they were handled sans resistance. Russell would be the one to answer for their security breach.
The agent kicked Nicolas’s knees in, sending him to the floor. “We’ll have to see what the captain wants to do with you.” Treating Nicolas like the criminal they believed him to be, the agent twisted the general’s arm then forced his face into the desk. The other arm was wrestled into the same position and state of the art handcuffs snapped into place.
With the facility’s lockdown concluded thanks to Russell’s hard work, Dolores knew escape might not be in the cards anymore. Nevertheless, she led Florence to the hangar bay where they received less important shipments. There was a door she might be able to override. Motherly instinct challenged the thought of abandoning Allister but Florence made it clear, her presence put him in more danger.
The floor exploded, blowing them to opposite sides of the vast hallway. Two agents went after Dolores. Florence intercepted, disarming one with a sidekick to the jaw, then knelt down to pick up a stray weapon. The second agent kicked it out of reach and grabbed her around the neck. She bit his arm, stomped on his foot and flipped him over.
Dolores swiped the Cynque watch and entered the hangar bay as Florence caught up. No name recognition was announced. It made sense how she’d made it on base without detection.
Security sirens echoed in the distance, they wouldn’t turn off until the base was secure. So possibly never. Square panels of the generic metal ceiling distracted Allister from the bone-crushing constriction and the horrible things C20 could’ve done to his mother. His face was the kind of red you get from holding your breath, but came from making sure the device around him didn’t succeed. Allister stopped resisting for a moment and the straps loosened. Neat mind trick. He rolled onto his stomach, hoping the button against something solid would reverse his captivity. The straps retracted and it detached, as half-heartedly planned. Allister tucked it into his pocket, might come in handy later. His bones reformed beneath the skin.
Neight watched him the whole time but didn’t offer to help. “I knew you would figure it out.” He pointed at the horizontal steel door, which opened, presumably by his control. “Your mother needs your help.”
Allister reached the other side of the elevator and glimpsed Nicolas in captivity down the hall away from him. He tiptoed, periodically hiding between crevices until close enough to attack.
“I wouldn’t if I were you,” Brandt yelled from behind him. He strolled up, comforted by the emerging arsenal of C20 agents and their toys aimed in Allister’s direction.
“What do you want?” Allister asked.
Brandt guided the young private with a gentle arm. “Smart fuckin kid. Knew it from the day I met him. You were two, I think?” A few slaps woke his former boss. Nicolas shivered from cold sweats, staring wearily at the charming face of the prized recruit. His chin returned to his chest. “What do you want private Adams?”
Allister chose silence, curious to gauge the relationship between the two Andromeda Project veterans.
“Because I want to make this world a better place,” the captain smiled stepping away.
A wire crossed between them and the piercing needle penetrated the wall, their distance increased and more wires ran lengthwise on either side of Allister, creating two barriers. Each strand was surrounded in an orange glow and when Allister punched, it moved outward with him, conformed to his fist, and bounced it back.
“Should hold ya,” Brandt said. It was time Allister joined the right team. C20 wanted collaboration, expansion, and trade. The Andromeda Project wanted war, conquest, and experimentation. Humanity was destined to elevate to a better place in the universe but it wouldn’t succeed under Nicolas’s leadership. He was too selfish and too stupid to think about the big picture. “I’ve been waiting for your death for a long time, Nicolas Delemar.” Brandt pointed and charged the weapon, but it was only a taunt. He sighed. “This’s supposed to be your job, Allister.”
Grey walls bounced toward and away from Leesa through distorted vision, she blinked out of dizziness but took another second before moving. Florence’s voice echoed from what felt like a poorly remembered dream. “We are under attack by C20, you need to rescue the others.” Unusual enough, she wasn’t in her office but
in her bedroom, worse than that were the seven armed C20 agents surrounding her.
Without thinking, Leesa rose with her legs beneath her, hair fanned out to either side dramatically. The expulsion of telekinetic energy flattened the agents against the walls. She brought her fingers in quickly and squeezed them into a fist, crinkling their weapons crinkled like pieces of aluminum foil. With a swift motion pointed outward, her chamber door opened automatically and the seven bodies landed one by one on the outside.
Leesa chose to levitate the closest female agent to eye level. One of the other formerly unconscious agents lifted his torso off the ground. Her head whipped to the sound and she snapped his neck with a twist of her hand.
“Tell me where they are.”
Silence lasted for too long and Leesa roundhouse kicked the hovering female agent into a wall. She walked toward the area on the second floor above the hostage situation. Brandt punched her father in the face, the general spit out the blood and a tooth.
Robot instincts were meant to take over, he should’ve been dead before taking another breath. The empathy, slowly infiltrating other parts of Leesa’s mental operations, stressed the need for understanding. After understanding came a plan, then came execution.
Dolores and Florence reached the door to the loading zone. “I can’t leave without him,” she said.
“If something happens to you, the other future is still a possibility,” Florence replied.
“I take back what I said, maybe you are good for him.”
Despite misgivings about Brandt’s mental stability, they made their way to the main facility hoping for the best.
A red laser projected across the bottom of the main entrance to the hallway. Dolores jumped over it and yelled back a warning but got no response. Florence tripped the laser grid and the left side of the wall erupted, followed by the right. Dolores saw nothing but smoke and debris; a hand fastened to her arm. They’d walked into a trap.
“Get off,” she shouted, as a second hand took hold of her other arm. Her body jerked and squirmed. “Let me help her.”
The Andromeda Project (The Cluster Chronicles Book 1) Page 15
