Alien Research

CHAPTER 21

EVERYONE STARED AT ME. “Mind explaining that?” Christopher asked. “There are no stealth fighters on base, at least not that I found.”

“Stealth planes only hold, at most, a crew of two. However, if we have a plane that’s set up for either air or desert camouflage, that would work.”

“I’ll look again, but I didn’t see any,” Christopher said.

“Not a problem. William, please contact Colonel Franklin and ask him where Home Base keeps their painting supplies.”

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Christopher said. “We can’t paint a plane.”

“Why not? You, your dad, and our princesses all have hyperspeed. It doesn’t have to be a perfect paint job, just enough of one to give us a little extra time.”

Tito held out his phone. “I’ve looked up what it should look like. I think we should go for air camouflage, since once we’re on the ground, it’s a different set of problems.”

“This is unreal. Why didn’t you have this done before we got here?”

“By you alone, Christopher? I’m giving you a painting team. That’s efficiency, that is.”

Buchanan gave Christopher a look I could only think of as derisive. “How did you manage to get anything done before Missus Chief arrived? Or did you argue with your cousin’s decisions a little less than you do hers?”

“William’s advised me of where the painting supplies are stored,” White said, hopefully preventing a full on fight between Christopher and Buchanan. “I’m sure the princesses and I can manage without you, son.”

Christopher threw his hands up. “Fine! Far be it for me to suggest we need to hurry up.”

“We’ll be back in a flash,” White said reassuringly.

“Take me along,” Tito said before they could leave. “I’ll oversee the paint job.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Dad added.

“Works for me.”

“Of course it does,” Christopher muttered as he shot Patented Glare #2 at all of us, me and Tito in particular.

“Take all our impressive guns and rocket launchers and stuff with you.” This earned me Patented Glare #4 from Christopher, but White and the princesses picked things up, and Christopher followed suit. They all zipped off, came back, got the rest of the supplies and zipped off again.

When they returned, White was holding a couple of books. “I found the manuals for the plane Christopher’s chosen. He and I can read them after we’re done altering it to your specifications, Missus Martini.” Then Rahmi took Tito’s hand, White took Dad’s, and the six of them disappeared.

I’d have been worried about the hyperspeed effect on Dad, but he’d started taking Tito’s Hyperspeed Dramamine, too. Along with everyone else who worked with us, including my mother and all of the P.T.C.U., Mr. Joel Oliver and Adriana also had their own prescriptions, because, as Olga put it, they preferred to be prepared. Everyone was all for dramatically reducing the barfing your guts out part of the Human Hyperspeed Experience.

“Is Once-Again-Commander White always that much of a pain in the ass?” Buchanan asked me.

“Only when he’s really stressed and trying not to show it.”

Adriana laughed. “Men.”

“You said it. Present company excepted, Malcolm.”

“Thanks, Missus Chief, I’m touched.”

Rhee returned, smudged with some blue and white paint. “It’s ready. The Great Tito’s example was easy to follow and, as expected, he ensured all was done perfectly.”

Rahmi and Rhee had the biggest case of hero worship ever recorded, all focused on Tito. We still weren’t sure what their mother had told them about us in general and Tito in particular, but whatever it was, both princesses insisted on referring to him as either the Great Tito or Tito the Great. I found this cute and funny. Tito found it embarrassing. The other men found it jealousy-inducing, simply because Tito was the only male who never had to worry about how our resident Amazons would react around him.

Considering they’d finished in less than two minutes, I doubted Tito had done much other than crack wise at Christopher, but discretion was still the better part of valor and I chose to keep this to myself.

Rhee took my hand, I grabbed Buchanan, he grabbed Adriana, and we zipped off.

The smell of wet paint announced we’d reached our aircraft. Just hoped we wouldn’t all get high from the fumes. But sacrifices had to be made, and the reward was going to hopefully be worth the risk.

Jerry Tucker, my favorite flyboy and flight instructor, had made sure I could fly any and every airplane available within Centaurion Division or housed at Home Base. Therefore, I could fly the aircraft Christopher had chosen.

Unfortunately, due to the number of people with us, he’d had to choose an aircraft made more for carrying things than maneuverability.

“Is that a B-Fifty-Two Stratofortress?” Adriana asked. She sounded underwhelmed.

“Yes. Or, as I know you know we call it, a BUFF.” It wasn’t the sleekest aircraft in the world, but it looked great—big, blue, white, and gray, not nearly as fugly as the flyboys all insisted these planes were.

“Buff?” Christopher asked.

“Big Ugly Flying Fugly.”

“It looks slow,” Christopher said. “And not all that maneuverable. But it was all I could find that would hold all of us.”

“And Christopher and I have both read the operations manuals while we were waiting for Rhee to retrieve the rest of you,” White added. Hyperspeed was great for so many things. “So while we can’t operate anything, we can advise.”

“Excellent and good thinking, Mister White. Additionally on the plus side, I can fly this puppy. And it looks better with the paint job, too. So it’s at least three for the win column. Let’s get in and get our flock over to Dodge. We have a shoot-out of some kind I’m sure we’re late for.”