by James Harris
“She drugged me,” he slurred slightly. Suddenly his eyes flashed open. He grabbed Amonda’s wrist. “She knows! Dear God, the queen found out about Kor, and me, and you, and our conversation.”
Amonda grabbed Stell’s hands in hers. “I am so sorry. I fought her but I couldn’t hold back. She must have read my mind about our conversation.”
“She knows everything?”
“I can’t tell you how sorry I am. And now I have compromised Kor, too.”
Stell struggled to sit upright. The room was still spinning a little. “It’s not your fault, Amonda. Really, it isn’t. She read me, too. No matter what happens I know you tried to stop it.”
“I should have told you the truth about Kor long ago.”
“Perhaps. The fact is that I know now. Let’s do something about it.”
Amonda nodded. She was weak from the encounter with the queen and her head ached miserably.
“She knows where Kor and I were supposed to meet,” Stell said. “What time is it? How long have I been out?”
“At least two hours. It’s past eleven.”
The passage of time pierced him like a dagger. Yet, there was still time to make the 11:30 meeting with his brother.
“You mustn’t go there. There’s bound to be a trap of some kind.”
“Exactly. That’s exactly why I do have to go.” He struggled to rise. “I have to warn him before it’s too late. The queen has something horrible planned for him, I know it.”
Amonda helped him to his feet. He wobbled as he took a few tentative steps.
“She’ll kill him, Stell. He’s no match for her. And neither are you. I’ll go with you.”
“No. You stay here and keep an eye on her. You must delay her from leaving this building. I agree neither Kor nor myself would survive a direct confrontation with her. Do you think she’s still in the building?”
“I don’t know. I think so.”
“Create a diversion of some kind so I can slip away.”
“Take the transporter.”
“No. Then she’ll know for sure that I have gone. I’ll go on foot. The museum is close by. She still believes that I sleep. Let her continue to think that.”
The pair made their way to the floor below. They looked around the corner of the stairwell entrance.
“Hold still until I can create a diversion. She will sense your Signature if you are on the move. I am going to move her away from the stairs. Then you go down.”
Amonda slipped into the large tenth-floor office and made her way across the floor toward H’s old office. She walked about the office hoping to be spotted.
There was no Signature for the queen now. How odd. She must have left the building. Where could she have gone?
Meanwhile, Stell flew down the stairs. On the ground level, he used the Voice and commandeered a vehicle from the small domestic surveillance fleet parked at the rear of the brownstone.
Stell drove east along F Street and south on Twelfth Street toward the Smithsonian. He found his way to Jefferson Drive and headed east again.
At this time of night, the accent lights shone majestically on all the stately buildings, highlighting their architecture. He saw the Smithsonian Tower on his left, and on his right he passed the Smithsonian Institute. Capitol Hill was about a mile directly east in front of him. It was easy to see because there were acres of precisely cut lawns that led up to the brightly lit Hill. All the roads seemed to lead to it. Other than the Smithsonian, there were no buildings to obscure the view.
Stell understood the real reason for the lack of buildings. It was because of the massive collection of underground passages that led to safety garrisons and bomb shelters for government officials.
On Jefferson Drive, directly in front of the front doors to the Air and Space Museum, there was a massive concrete patio sidewalk. There were square concrete flowerpots every five feet lined up along the street. These pots served a double purpose as concrete security barriers. Stell abandoned the car right in front of the building, grinding the front bumper on the nearest pot.
An incensed security guard came running out of the front door and shouted, “Look what you did! You can’t park there!”
Stell raced by him, not even attempting to hide his alien form. The chubby guard screamed and began to give chase, but gave up in a few moments. He waddled to a halt at the foot of the stairs leading up to the entranceway. The guard snatched his two-way radio from its holster like a pistol and called for reinforcements.
Stell flung the thick glass doors open, hopped over the turnstile, and raced down several sets of polished marble stairs. He ignored the brightly polished brass elevators to the right of the entrance. They would take too long. It was eleven thirty-five.
But at least he knew where he was going. He reached the ground floor, or the ground floor as far as the public knew. There was another door, unobtrusive and hard to spot. He opened it and raced down the gray-painted stairwell toward the bunker that existed below.
The bomber smiled as he envisioned his reception in heaven after his martyrdom. He saw himself as a lone soldier in the battle against the twisted Americans. His death was not for his own glory. His death was for the betterment of all mankind. His parents would be proud.
He had found the bunker. It was not as difficult as he had surmised. He was surprised that such a place existed beneath the busy streets of Washington. It seemed so unlikely, so undemocratic somehow.
He wore a loose-fitting hooded sweat top similar to that worn by Stell and Amonda. It hid his features and the explosives at the same time. He walked in full view as he was instructed to do.
There was a microphone with an earpiece attached to him. The queen was in direct contact with him.
The dark, underground bunker was a bit unnerving. It was difficult to see very far in the dimly lit cellar. He would have been scared but for the perverse comfort of a vest full of explosives. His security lay in his assurance that he was going to die anyway.
Suddenly an eerie voice floated from afar.
“Stell?” There was a slight echo to his voice as the sound bounced off the closed walls and concrete pillars.
The bearded man looked around, peering into the shadowy distance. He could see nothing except pillars and concrete walls. He whispered into the mike that he thought his target was close.
“Stell, say something,” the voice echoed. “Is that you or not? I don’t feel your Signature.”
The young man crept slowly toward the sound. He wound his way from one pillar to the next. He disguised his voice as best he could.
“Yes,” he hissed. “Show yourself so that I may see you.”
“Why do you mask your Signature?”
“I need to see you.”
There was a movement from behind a pillar several yards away.
“What’s wrong with you? Why are you shielding your Signature. You promised no games.”
“I think I see him,” the man whispered hoarsely into the mike. “But he’s too far away.”
“Get closer!” the queen crackled into his earpiece.
As he slowly walked toward the pillar, one hand clutching the explosive pack wrapped about his chest, a shout shattered the silence. His heart jumped and he lurched in surprise. There was a blur of movement on his right side as a shadowy figure raced toward Kor’s hiding place.
“Kor. Stop!” Stell’s voice rang out loudly. “That’s not me. It’s a trap. Get back, get out!”
The queen overheard shouting through her headset. Undone, she pressed the remote detonator and the suicide bomber exploded into a million pieces.
In the confined space of the bunker, the explosion had no chance to dissipate. The full force blew out half a dozen support pillars with a muted carrumph. Concrete particles and dust rained down and broke away from the ceiling. Huge chunks of reinforced concrete splintered and caved in.
The area went black instantly. Kor was blinded by the thick dust that was choking him. Tons of earth
began to flood into the bunker as the concrete roof disintegrated.
Stell had managed to reach Kor, propelled somewhat by the force of the explosion. He tumbled head over heels and crashed into the support column by Kor’s feet. He was bloody and injured. Kor grabbed him and pulled him up. With his hands around Stell’s waist, he dragged him away from the falling concrete. Slabs fell all around them.
They were trapped. Kor edged up against another pillar, pulling Stell with him. The pillar added some protection from the falling debris. They could see nothing and had no idea how extensive the damage was.
Kor had fully activated his aura and urged Stell to do the same, but Stell was incoherent and soon lost consciousness. He never heard Kor’s pleading for the protection of their combined shields. It was up to Kor to shield them both if they were to live. It was their only chance. Asunda’s words came back to him. He must protect his brother.
As the roof caved in all round the frail aliens, Kor realized it was a slim chance at best. Most likely the bunker would prove to be their grave. He could feel the weight of the concrete and earth wear down his strength. He felt like the titan Atlas, holding up the planet. There was just too much damage and weight. It wouldn’t be long before the aura failed him. Once that happened, the brothers would be buried alive.
CHAPTER74
“I’m not waiting until morning,” Joe said finally. It was just after midnight.
“Dad told us not to leave the ship.”
“I know what he said.” Joe set the firing sequence to start the antimatter engine. “And we’re not going to. We won’t step outside the ship. We’ll take the ship with us.”
“What?” Hawk laughed as if Joe was kidding. Then he realized he wasn’t. “I don’t know … people will see us.”
“Hawk, this ship can do something we can’t.”
“What’s that?”
“It can tell us when it spots his Signature. We can’t do that, but it can. It can lead us to him.”
Joe eased the Alpha III gently off the ground.
He nudged Hawk and Hawk pressed the remote door opener for the garage. The craft drifted slowly upward.
The traffic on the highway was sparse at this time of night. Joe activated the 360-degree monitors. Both of them studied the surrounding area for enemies. There was nothing out of the ordinary. He raised the ship skyward and slowly passed over the roofs of the building adjacent to the Pentagon.
“Let’s hope no one spots us.”
“Spaceships arrive from outer space, they don’t just chug along like they’re looking for a parking space,” Joe answered. He peered intently into the night sky. “No one will believe it even if they did spot us. I’ve got the light absorption thingy activated. All someone would really see is a black cloud drifting across his or her line of sight, not a spaceship.”
“Head toward downtown. Head toward the lights of Capitol Hill. They can’t have gone far.”
“Computer, you can identify Kor’s Signature, correct?” Joe said.
“Affirmative.”
“At what distance do you have to be before you can make a positive ID?”
“There are two answers. One, a tentative near-match is possible at two thousand feet un-obscured line of sight. Or two, an accurate identification with 90 percent certainty is possible at one thousand feet un-obscured line of sight, or seven hundred feet obscured.”
“That’s not much to work with,” Hawk said. “We are at three hundred feet. We would have to be almost directly over the target before we could detect it.”
“Assuming the second condition and having an un-obscured Signature, your scanning radius is a circle with a radius of five hundred feet given a hypotenuse of one thousand and a height of three hundred,” the computer pointed out helpfully.
“Thank you. And if we gain altitude so that we don’t run into buildings …”
“Any gain in altitude impairs the search radius by a factor of the inverse of the gain squared,” the computer said, finishing his sentence.
“In other words, stay low,” Hawk said.
The craft passed over the black murky waters of the Potomac River heading downtown.
As the scout ship passed over the river, the queen was raising her spacecraft from its secret hiding place near Bolling AFB. The two ships were only a few miles from each other.
She stood, a solitary figure, on the runway/dock. The silvery ship gushed water onto the paved dock as it rose out of the river and hovered. The dripping craft idled beside her obediently.
The queen leaped aboard with an agility belying her age. No sooner had she entered than notification of a nearby spacecraft came up on the monitor. It was flagged as an alert because the craft was under Narok command. This was a carry-over from Sargon where the Narok and Abishot ships were engaged in warfare. The ship was tagged as an Narok Alpha Series. Positive ID on the ship confirmed that it was Alpha III. No Signature pilot on board.
The queen slipped into the cockpit, and the sleek little fighter ship burst away from the dock toward Washington, toward the enemy spacecraft. She knew who was at the helm. She would finish off the Narok clan once and for all.
“Over there, Joe. See that modern-looking building. That’s the Air and Space building for the Smithsonian. Sort of fitting. Head there.”
“We should watch for a Signature,” Joe said.
He slowed the ship down and swooped over the building, and then circled over the grassy lawn in the middle of the boulevard.
The apprehensive silence was suddenly broken.
“Tentative Identification Signature Prince Kor. Second Identification Signature Prince Stell,” the computer said.
They circled the building, but could see nothing. All of a sudden, Hawk shouted, “Joe, look down there, past the stand of trees in front of the Museum. See the lawn that leads up to the Capitol Building. It looks partially collapsed. There’s a sinkhole.”
There was an abrupt flash of light below the ship, like lightning. “I just took a picture,” Hawk said.
“Computer. Picture on main screen.”
“There it is, Hawk. You were right. It’s a sinkhole, and recent. Look at the smoke coming up through the crevice.”
Joe’s features tightened with concern. He guided the craft directly over the hole.
“Not smoke, dust,” Hawk said.
“Signature identity confirmed. Prince Kor shows extreme stress. Prince Stell is not conscious.”
“We have to go in, Hawk.”
“I agree.”
“It was a stupid idea for him to go there. He should have waited for us. It was a trap, I knew it. Stell betrayed him.”
“We have to rescue him.”
“And what if that’s a trap also? Then the three of us are finished.”
Hawk looked at his brother. “We have to take that chance. Let’s land.”
It didn’t take them long to set the spaceship down onto the lawn beside the sinkhole. The craft burned a series of holes upon landing. The twins charged out of the portal and onto the lawn.
It soon became obvious that the situation was dire. There were tons of collapsed dirt. They had no means by which they could help. As they examined the yawning hole in the crumpled lawn, they heard a chorus of screaming sirens approaching.
The authorities had arrived. They had to leave the scene before their ship was spotted. The twins turned to re-enter the ship when their eyes caught the streak of an incoming laser bolt. Twin tufts of grass and dirt exploded on either side of them. They raced across the cold wet grass and tumbled into the waiting portal. It shut silently behind them.
“Activate shields,” Joe screamed as they raced toward the bridge.
The computer warned of an impending strike. It hit like a sledgehammer, smacking the hovering spacecraft heavily into the ground. Hunks of turf flew up.
“Computer, give me vertical altitude five hundred feet,” Joe shouted as he charged along the passageway toward the command deck. The craft lifted straig
ht up like an infinite elevator. Had the anti-grav compensation devices not worked, they would have been squished like a bug with the pull of gravity. Even so, they felt the sudden lift as though it was a high-speed elevator.
There were repetitive hits against the shield. The impacts kept the twins off balance. They kept slamming into the passage walls as the ship shuddered and shifted evasively. They continued running toward the bridge. The outer shield began to glow a faint green because of the energy expenditure.
The boys threw themselves into the command chairs and gawked at the monitor. They were under a barrage of attacks from a single attack fighter.
“Computer, what is that? Who’s firing on us?”
“Genesis Series. Fighter craft. Signature is the Queen of the House of Abishot. Warning, caution. This craft will not survive an extended encounter with incoming attack vehicle. Estimated survival time is four minutes. Suggest evasive tactics.
“Caution, this vehicle is one third slower than attack vehicle.
“Caution, this vehicle reports a deteriorating anti-matter drive encasement.”
“We’re screwed,” Hawk moaned.
Joe scrunched up his eyes in deep thought. “Maybe not. We have to find somewhere to hide.”
Joe applied full power. He demanded that the anti-matter drive give all it had. The craft streaked off in a straight line toward the nearby ocean.
“I’ve noticed that many of these weapons don’t work so well under water – too much resistance,” Joe said. “I’m going to ditch this thing in the ocean. If I’m right, her weapons won’t work worth a damn down under water.”
“Brilliant! The saline brine screws up the rays by diffusing the waves.”
“I’m hoping so. The particulates in the water should diffuse the intensity of the rays.”
“Just like a bullet slowing in water.”
“Exactly.”
“Spoken like a true PhD grad. We may get out of this yet.”
Alpha III crashed through gray heaving six-foot foaming ocean waves off the coast of North Carolina. The impact threw a wall of water seventy feet into the air. The coastal winds turned it into a thick conical mist instantly.
