The factory’s defensive perimeter protected a single building rather than a planet, and operated on different principles than the planetary shields Vega had described, but it seemed just as effective. It was the perfect defensive dome. But the colonel couldn’t help but wonder how long it would be until the Tartarians extended the imaginary line of death and went on offense.
“What about an air or missile strike?” he asked Damian Hale.
“I wouldn’t advise it, sir,” replied the captain. “Based on what I’ve seen, this could blow up in our faces. Literally. If they can track a fighter jet coming toward the factory and shoot it down, it could crash in population centers. Same for a missile. Bakersfield has a population of almost four hundred thousand. We can’t risk it without knowing the capabilities of their system. I recommend breaking off the attack until we know what we’re up against.”
Redford nodded. He had no doubt that this was the right course of action. But also no doubt that Secretary Stinnett would soon be dead, if he wasn’t already. And while the Tarts in Albania had been pawns, Shane Frey, and presumably his top people, were all in this factory. This was their chance to strike a death blow to the Tartarian leadership, a prelude to rooting out the last vestiges of the Tart cancer still on Earth.
The colonel decided there was one tactic left to try, and he refused to back down, even if it killed him. He handed the captain a lapel pin. “Attach this to your uniform,” he instructed, “and order your men to surround the two of us so we can’t be seen on any surveillance cameras. Then stand by for further orders.”
While Hale was doing as he asked, Redford contacted Anna once again. “We’re getting nowhere,” he told her subvocally. “They have a mix of tractor-beam and laser tech here that we can’t penetrate. Three of our team have been killed. But I have an idea. I brought the two prototype invisibility units from the Utah lab with me. I’m betting the laser system uses an optical targeting system. So if I’m invisible, it won’t know I’m there.”
“You can’t be sure of that!” protested Anna. “It could sense vibration, noise, heat, or anything else.”
“It’s a risk,” he acknowledged as dozens of men formed a human wall around him and Captain Hale. “But I’m hereby committing a hundred percent to taking this risk. You do care about me, right, Anna? I mean, if I were to be vaporized, you’d miss me, right?”
“More than you could ever know,” she said softly.
“Good. Then are you getting any visions of my death? Any gut reaction that rushing into this laser kill zone is a bad idea?”
“Nothing,” said Anna in frustration. “But I’m not infallible.”
“I know,” replied Redford grimly. “I’m just betting that my death would be devastating enough to you for your subconscious to take notice.” He paused. “Gotta go,” he finished.
“Good luck, Steve,” said Anna, sounding as though she was fighting back tears.
Redford turned his attention back to Hale. “The lapel pin I’ve given you can make you and your weapons perfectly invisible,” he said.
Before Hale could ask questions or express skepticism, the colonel activated his own pin, showing the captain how to do so, and disappeared, knowing that a demonstration was worth a thousand words. Hale’s eyes widened so much they nearly exploded from his face, but he shook his head, as if to clear it, and activated his own unit.
“All personnel,” said the colonel, “retreat back into the woods.”
As soon as the commandos began carrying out this order, Redford addressed the captain. “Now that we’re invisible,” he said, “the lasers shouldn’t see us. I’ll go first. When I’m sure it’s safe, I’ll let you know to follow.”
“Roger that,” said Hale. “And I have to say, Colonel, you have bigger balls than I thought.”
“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment, Captain,” said Redford with a grin, “but I’ll take it.”
The colonel slid a pair of dark sunglasses onto his face. “Hold here,” he commanded, setting off toward the laser threshold. When he reached where he thought it began, he inched forward, bracing himself to dive backwards if any holes were blasted through his forward-most foot.
But as he continued shuffling ahead without attracting any fire, he blew out a heavy sigh of relief. “Captain Hale,” he said subvocally, “I’m safely within the laser perimeter. Before you join me, put on your sunglasses. My . . . girlfriend tells me that it’s blindingly bright inside. But also that Stinnett is wearing shades, which are allowing him to see.”
“Your girlfriend?” said Hale’s voice in his ear, sounding confused. “How does she know what Stinnett is wearing?”
“Long story,” said Redford. “Just put on the sunglasses, and I’ll tell you how I want to play this.”
63
Shanifrey Doe continued studying the monitor in his office and noted with satisfaction that every last commando outside was retreating back the way they had come. The newly installed defenses had performed brilliantly, as he had known they would. Even so, he and his people couldn’t stay in this stronghold forever. Eventually, the US military would bring such massive forces to bear on the facility that a breach was inevitable.
“All command personnel,” he announced through his comm, “meet me in my office immediately to prepare for evacuation through the tunnel. All non-command personnel, spend the next thirty minutes gathering up anything useful—which includes our Vorian prisoner. Then leave through the tunnel in my office as well. Once you’re well away from the building underground, activate the self-destruct sequence to blow the factory behind you, and contact me for further instructions.”
Shanifrey fought to suppress a rage that kept trying to resurface. They had suffered heavy blows today, but they would regroup. It would take much longer given that he had lost most of his people in Albania, but he could afford to be patient. Now that Anna Abbott had no doubt passed through the portal to Vor she was finally out of his hair. With her gone, he was sure that he would ultimately prevail.
And regardless of what inroads she was able to make while leading the Vorian Allied Fleet, he had no doubt that his people back on the home world would ultimately find a way to stop her. Even though he had failed, a part of him was glad that the clairvoyant detective was now someone else’s problem.
Shanifrey had one last task to accomplish before he left. It was time to hand Wilson Stinnett a gun and order him to eat the barrel and pull the trigger once again.
Only this time, he’d be sure the gun was fully loaded.
***
“Okay, Colonel, I’ve deployed the sunglasses,” reported Hale, as if he couldn’t believe this was something he was actually saying. “What’s the plan?”
“We’ll go in together. Make your way to the left side of the factory entrance. I’ll move to the right side. We’ll enter on my mark. Upon entering, the first thing we do is take out as many lights as possible. Force them to use the light-amplifying technology implanted in their eyes, which they won’t find optimal.”
“So we’ll only need the sunglasses for about five seconds?” said Hale wryly.
Redford smiled. “Yes, but a very important five seconds. Our goal is to kill as many of the red-eyed aliens as possible, while knocking Stinnett unconscious so he isn’t a threat. If you see a woman with softer features, who doesn’t have glowing eyes, try to knock her out as well. ”
“Understood,” said Hale.
“Ideally, we want to be on the move constantly. Make them think they have many more than just two ghosts to contend with. Freak them out. Hope they begin firing at each other in a panic.”
“Roger that,” said Hale.
“Last thing,” added the colonel. “They give off a faint sulfur smell that’s pretty unpleasant. And it gets worse once they’re dead. Breathe through your mouth if you have to, but let’s turn their stronghold into a rotten egg factory.”
Less than a minute later, both men were in position on either side of the door. “Three
. Two. One. Mark!” said Redford subvocally, and both men rushed through the door, locating the facility’s lights and spraying them with bullets. Enough of the overhead lights were shattered to reduce the illumination inside to just below normal levels, but to the Tarts this was a terrifying level of darkness, and they were plunged into an instant panic.
Redford shot three of the hostile aliens before they could even activate their glowing eyes, and Hale downed four others.
The colonel spotted Kaitlyn O’Connor twenty yards away across the polished concrete floor and sprinted in her direction, diving out of the way as a Tart sent random fire in his direction, grazing his arm.
From the corner of his eye, Redford noted that the captain had taken out two more of the armed Tarts, who continued to fire at shadows
***
“Just a few more seconds,” said Shanifrey to the twelve command personnel who had just entered his office and were huddled near the newly revealed tunnel opening. He extended a gun toward Stinnett, as a precursor to having him end his own life, when several barrages of automatic weapons fire assaulted his ears. Weapons fire coming from inside the facility.
How could this be? The commandos had all retreated, leaving no one behind. Even if they hadn’t, none of them could possibly have penetrated the laser perimeter.
“Secretary Stinnett,” he yelled, “open the door, go outside this office to the factory floor, and stand approximately five feet from the door.”
He turned to face his fellow Tartarians. “Wait here!” he commanded.
As the secretary walked to the door, Shanifrey followed. He’d let Stinnett go through first, his canary in a coal mine. If shooters were waiting to carve whoever emerged into tiny pieces, Stinnett would make an excellent volunteer.
The secretary exited the office unscathed, and Shanifrey followed, his eyes now glowing. He took in the scene at a glance. The long, smooth concrete factory floor was in utter chaos, and his people were being massacred. Dead and disfigured bodies were scattered around the facility, lying in pools of their own blood. Kaitlyn O’Connor was also on the floor with neon green blood seeping from a gash in her skull, but Shanifrey judged that her blood loss wasn’t enough to be fatal. And while he couldn’t make out a single hostile shooter, the Tartarians still alive were mostly shooting blindly in all directions as though they had seen a ghost.
Shanifrey’s eyes widened as the truth became obvious. The shooters had made themselves invisible! Which is how they had beaten the laser perimeter.
He wrote off the still-living Tartarians immediately. Even if they managed to survive the invisible attack, as soon as he was far enough through the tunnel to be safe, he planned to blow the self-destruct explosive charges that he’d had placed throughout the factory. This would turn the building to rubble, and kill any Tartarian survivors. Not that there would be any survivors, judging from what he was seeing.
And he might not survive either, he realized, if he didn’t buy himself a little time. He shoved a gun into Stinnett’s hand and gestured to the carnage occurring on the factory floor, thirty yards away. “Run into the center of the firing,” he ordered. “Put the gun to your head and shout as loudly as you can that you’ll blow your own brains out in twenty seconds if they don’t cease fire. Then count to twenty and pull the trigger. If anyone tries to stop you, kill them. Understood?”
“Understood,” said Stinnett, rushing into the center of the fray.
Shanifrey ducked back into his office and calmly ordered the AI to lower the steel partitions that would ensure he and his fellow command personnel had plenty of time to escape to safety.
***
Steve Redford dived to the floor yet again, feeling like a jumping bean, and took out yet another Tart in the process, but not before a stray round slammed into his body armor, the second such round to hit him since the raid had begun. Once again, it felt as if he had been hit with a pile driver, and he inhaled sharply, sucking in air that was now permeated with the revolting smell of rotten eggs. For all he knew, the bullet had come from Damian Hale, since they couldn’t see each other any better than the Tarts could.
From the far corner of the factory, Secretary Stinnett came charging into the center of the room, despite having a bandage around his thigh that was soaked in blood. He put a gun against his head and shouted his intention of killing himself if the attackers didn’t cease fire.
Redford had already knocked out Kaitlyn O’Connor with the butt of a handgun, but if he didn’t do the same to Stinnett very soon, he had no doubt the man would carry out his threat, making a slightly different version of Anna’s vision come true.
Redford charged into Stinnett at full speed, tackling the secretary of defense as if he were about to score the winning touchdown at the Super Bowl. Stinnett was a giant, but they both slammed to the floor, and the secretary’s gun went flying, sliding to a stop four feet away.
Stinnett’s hands were a blur of motion and the colonel took a number of fierce blows. The secretary was a martial arts master, and even against an invisible opponent he was as formidable as he could be, despite how frozen he had seemed during his encounter with Anna.
Redford rolled away from the secretary, but instead of coming after him, Stinnett dived for the gun. The colonel slammed a fist into the center of the bloody bandages around the secretary’s thigh and was rewarded by a bloodcurdling scream, loud enough to be heard over the never-ending gunfire raging around them.
Still, even weak from blood loss and in agonizing pain, Stinnett’s elbow lashed out and found Redford’s jaw, nearly knocking him unconscious.
Before the colonel could recover, Stinnett found the gun and raised it to his temple. But just as he was about to pull the trigger it was yanked away again, as if it had a mind of its own.
Redford blew out a sigh of relief. Damian Hale must have joined the fight. And not a second too soon.
Only five Tarts remained alive, and two of them were running in Stinnett’s direction with guns blazing. Redford rolled to his left and fired, putting both of them down, while Hale wrestled the gun away from the secretary.
Stinnett lashed out and landed a number of blows on the new, invisible combatant, who was caught by surprise by the secretary’s skills and ferocity. But just as Stinnett managed to fight off Hale and regain control of the weapon, Redford cracked the butt of his handgun into the hulking secretary’s skull and the man went down in a heap on the floor, unconscious at last.
While this struggle to disarm Stinnett was underway, a steel perimeter had slid into place, lowered from the ceiling, enclosing the far end of the factory.
“Shit!” said Redford subvocally to his invisible ally, while picking off a Tart who was now running their way, tipped off to their presence after seeing Stinnett being jerked around by unseen forces. “Frey must have sealed himself off.”
Redford was irate that he had allowed Frey to buy himself a reprieve, but knew it could have been worse. He and Hale were still alive, as were Kaitlyn and Stinnett. The same couldn’t be said for the enemy. “Take out the last two Tarts while I check out this barrier,” he ordered Hale.
Redford ran to the steel perimeter and inspected it carefully, but as expected, there wasn’t as much as a millimeter break in the surface, and he knew they’d need to bring in specialized equipment to breach it.
“Get out of there, Steve!” screamed Anna into his ear. “Now! My gut says that factory will self-destruct and you’ll die. Do you read me?”
“Leaving now!” said Redford, racing back in the direction he had come.
“Captain Hale,” he said as he ran, “lift Stinnett in a fireman’s carry and race out of here like your life depends on it. Hurry!”
Redford screeched to a halt in front of Kaitlyn O’Connor, draped her over his shoulders, and then continued running for the exit. He had made it across twenty yards of concrete and to the start of the lawn of grass when the factory burst into an exploding fireball behind him, creating a furnace of heat that wou
ld have baked him had he been ten yards closer. A shock wave blasted him off his feet, and he and the Vorian scientist across his shoulders landed in a heap three yards away, thankfully on the soft grass, which still knocked the wind out of him. He fought for breath as a two-story fireball continued to consume the factory behind him.
“Captain Hale, report!” he said out loud as soon as he regained his breath, deactivating his invisibility generator. Hope surged through him even before he received a reply as he spotted the unconscious form of Wilson Stinnett ten feet ahead of him on the grass.
“I’m battered, but alive,” said Hale, who followed Redford’s lead and made himself visible once again.
Redford rolled onto his back and drew in several deep breaths. “Outstanding work, Captain,” he said in relief.
“Thank you, Colonel. You didn’t do too badly yourself. You know, for a deskbound alien hunter.”
Redford laughed. “I’m just impressed that we didn’t crash into each other a single time in there.”
“That’s not usually something I’m proud of,” said Hale with a grin. “But in this case . . .”
Redford smiled. “You know, Captain, I could use a man like you in my outfit. Any interest?”
“Maybe,” said Hale. “As long as all of the missions aren’t as boring as this one,” he added wryly.
64
Three Vorians and two humans met around the conference table in the Vors’ Utah facility only three hours after two protracted battles, on two different continents, had ended. Given the miracle of holographic video conference technology, the same five beings also appeared around a conference table in Albania. In both facilities, it was difficult to tell which were actually present, and which were holograms, and the technology was only getting better.
In Utah, Steve Redford, still in combat gear, sat next to Lisa Moore and a bound and gagged Kaitlyn O’Connor, now conscious, who had a bandage wrapped around her forehead. The colonel had been fully occupied briefing the president while flying back to the Utah compound, and taking care of any number of important tasks he had been neglecting, so he had yet to communicate with anyone in Albania.
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