Alien Research

CHAPTER 23

“WHY IS IT NEVER EASY?” I asked of no one other than the cosmos. “Adriana, in the words of one of my favorite rappers, bombs away.” Considered asking Buchanan to switch the music to B.o.B.’s “Bombs Away,” but decided the Crüe’s “MF of the Year” was plenty good enough. I was quick-thinking that way.

“You have to help,” Christopher said. “Get us over the target.”

“What is the target?”

“The center of the storm,” Buchanan said, as a huge hunk of dirt splattered onto our windshield. “Are they firing dirt clods or actual artillery?”

“Both,” Adriana shared.

“We need to hit the tank, then, Missus Chief.”

“The tank is still within the tornado,” Adriana confirmed.

“Great. Enjoy the upcoming turbulence.”

While more interesting and impressive cursing emanated from my crew, I focused on both getting over our so-called target and avoiding being shot down. Always easier said than done.

The BUFF wasn’t made for a lot of fancy maneuvers. It was made to go long distances carrying a lot of firepower. Also, flying this close to the ground gave me less safe maneuverability.

“Firing,” Tito said. “Hold on.”

The bomber shook a little. “Malcolm, up higher or land?”

“Higher. The tornado’s heading for us again.”

“So are more projectiles,” Christopher shared.

I pulled back hard on the stick and took us up. The interesting cursing increased. Our team was really well-versed in swearing. While I was clear on the words the menfolk were using, I wasn’t sure what the princesses or Adriana were actually saying, but they got the gist of it across clearly.

“We missed the tank, but hit close enough that the tornado has stopped,” Tito shared. “So we affected whoever was creating the dust storm. We didn’t drop a nuclear warhead, by the way.”

“Um, does that mean we have a nuclear warhead with us?”

“Several,” Tito replied.

“Fantastic.”

No sooner was this out of my mouth than things got more fantastic. The BUFF shook and the sound of rending metal hit our airwaves.

“We’ve been hit!” Christopher shared, as the plane started to shake and tried very hard to pull the stick out of my hands.

“Somewhere in the back,” White added.

“Shot came from the tank,” Tito confirmed.

“Apparently the tank is very well made,” Dad said. Calmly. Someone had to be calm. Was glad Dad had volunteered. That way I didn’t have to pretend I was the calm one.

The BUFF was, unsurprisingly, having problems. Getting hit with whatever tanks hit you with wasn’t easy for anything. As I tried to get the plane back under control, the dust storm returned. So whoever we’d knocked down had gotten right back up again. Always the way.

We were encircled within moments. The wind was trying its best to spin us around, while the dirt and sand and flying flora were making it close to impossible to see. I was trained on using the instruments, of course, but seeing was a nice addition, especially when there were mountain ranges nearby and while trying to land.

“The tank is firing again,” Tito said.

“Dive left,” Adriana ordered.

Managed it, but not because of any great flying skill. The dust storm happened to whip us the correct way. Didn’t figure that was going to happen a second time. “Time to land! The captain requests seat-backs and tray tables up.”

“Where are we going?” Buchanan asked.

“Down, out of this storm, and away from that tank. We can use hyperspeed to get back if, you know, any of us survive the landing.”

“The warheads aren’t armed,” Tito said. “Should we bail out or can you land us, Kitty?”

“Do we want to parachute out in the middle of a tornado?” Christopher asked.

“I’d love to land.” In part because this was a hella expensive plane and I didn’t want to see what the repair bill would be. On the other hand, it was replaceable and the same couldn’t be said for anyone on board. “But, tornado or not, you’d better bail out.”

“You need to bail out, too,” Buchanan said sternly.

“We all do.”

He shook his head. “I’ll take it from here.”

“Malcolm, are you insane? I’m the best pilot in the plane, you said so yourself.”

“Yes, but you’re also not going to be able to land this thing.” He looked at my father. “Help me get her out.”

“We all go,” Dad said firmly. “Angela wouldn’t want you to die in a fiery plane crash, especially since that would mean you weren’t around to protect Kitty.”

“There’s a weird logic in all that. Everyone needs to bail while we’re high enough up that the parachutes have time to open.” Managed to escape the storm. “Okay, gang, the windshield’s filthy but I can see well enough to land us or continue flying so everyone can jump. Decision time right now.”

“Too late,” Tito shared. “We’re too low. I can see the ground too clearly, and we can’t risk taking another hit. Kitty, you need to land the plane.”

“Everyone strap in! Assume crash positions!” I barked the orders but somehow felt calm. There was now no option to jump out, so the heck with that idea. And this way, I wouldn’t lose my iPod.

My crew were talking, saying goodbye, ensuring they were all strapped in. But I ignored them and instead channeled Jerry and pretended I heard his voice in my ear. As “Going Out Swingin’” came on, I relaxed and focused on the basics.

Landing gear down, wings as steady as possible, altitude in a controlled drop. The desert around Dulce was basically flat, so no worries about finding a landing strip.

We got closer to the ground and the plane started to shake even more. But I had enhanced strength these days, and I could keep the stick under control.

“I love you, Kitty. Any last words?” Dad asked. “Just in case.”

“I love you, too, Dad. And, yeah. Once we’re down, I’m going to find whoever shot at us and seriously kick their ass.”

“Interesting last words,” Buchanan said.

“Like those?” I asked through gritted teeth as the ground rose up to meet us. “Got a couple more for you. Everyone hold on!”