Alien Research

CHAPTER 24

I HEARD JERRY AGAIN, clear as day. Telling me to keep control of my big bird, to pull back gently on the stick while I applied the brakes, and all other sorts of relevant flying dos and don’ts.

The wheels hit first, which was a wonderful thing. Of course we bounced, because there couldn’t be a landing of mine with someone else in the plane that was smooth and uneventful. I only scored perfect landings when I was alone and had no witnesses anywhere nearby.

We bounced a lot and the BUFF didn’t seem to actually want to slow down. I had to be careful about braking, however, because if I broke too hard we could flip.

From above the ground had looked completely flat. Now that we were skidding along it, flat wasn’t really the operative word. Bumpy was much more accurate. I tried to ignore all the cacti we were running over. Figured any desert animals had already scampered off when they heard us coming.

After what seemed like an eternity, the plane started to actually slow down. Which was good because that was when I saw the outcropping of rocks we were headed straight for.

Tried to turn the big beast, but it wasn’t having any of that, meaning the tank had probably damaged our rear fuselage. We hit the rocks, and while we were going slower than we had been, we were at a rate fast enough to ensure that when we slammed into the rocks, they slammed us right back.

“What just happened?” Christopher shouted as we did a big bounce and, landing gear messed up, started to skid and spin.

“We fought the rocks and the rocks won.” I was speaking through gritted teeth still because I was now fighting to keep us from flipping again, this time side to side. We’d lost part of the landing gear, but, based on the fun tilt we had going, at least one wheel on the left was still intact.

The BUFF decided that, with one wing up and one wing down, going into an uncontrolled spin sounded like the most fun ever. There was a lot of noise coming from my crew. Hoped Tito wasn’t hurt because it sounded like others were.

The wing that was brushing the ground hit those damn rocks again. They were sharp, evil, desert rocks that had apparently been waiting for us and honing their rock skills since the time of the dinosaurs. They sheared the tip of the wing off. So much for my hope of returning the plane intact. Went back to hoping I’d return all the passengers intact and call it good.

We spun for a few more long, excruciating seconds. Then I could tell the BUFF’s speed was slowing. Oh sure, we hit the rocks a few more times, ensuring the clipped wing was also now bent and something ugly had again happened to the rear, but still, we were slowing.

In what seemed like forever but was really only about a minute later, the plane came to a lazy stop. We were facing Dulce, meaning our butt was on the rocks. Good. Wondered if there was a way to make the BUFF do a plane-fart onto my newest inanimate enemies. Figured I’d have to table that goal for a while.

I knew we were looking toward the Science Center only because I could see a dust storm in the distance and took the location as a given. The dust storm looked far away, but it also appeared to be heading toward us.

“Let’s get out of this plane, just in case,” I said as I took my headset off, grabbed my iPod, shoved it back into my purse, and put my purse strap over my head. I felt shaken up, but not hurt.

Buchanan helped Dad up and out. Miraculously, they both seemed unharmed.

We joined the rest of the crew in the bombardier area. The exit was blocked due to our landing position, naturally, but the princesses activated their battle staffs and used the glowing laser ends to create a new door by slicing through the side of the plane.

Everyone out and in the sunlight, Tito did a fast medical inspection. There were a few cuts and bruises, but really, everyone looked remarkably okay.

“Well, any crash you can walk away from. And all that.”

Christopher graced me with Patented Glare #5. “Why is every flight with you like this? Actually, I take that back. You landed better the first time than you did now.”

“Again, I point out that we’re alive and well and reasonably unscathed. Why so tense, Christopher? Too much caffeine?”

“I think we need to pay attention to the storm,” White said, pointing toward the dust. The wall of dust. It was definitely heading toward us at a slow but steady rate.

We all stared at it. “Um, gang? I have a great, new idea. Let’s get back in the plane.”

“Can we fight whatever’s causing this from inside the plane?” Rahmi asked.

Refrained from making a snide comment. Beta Twelve was a warrior planet, and their natural, instinctive response was to fight. Wasn’t sure if any of them even had a flight response, but if they did, it was low on their reflex totem pole.

“It’s pretty hard to fight blowing sand and dust. It tends to win, while it’s removing your skin and blinding you.”

“The rate of speed of the storm indicates the storm’s creator is in or on the tank,” Buchanan said.

“They are undoubtedly not out of ammunition,” Adriana added.

“Meaning we’d be sitting ducks inside the plane. But we’re just moving targets outside of it, and I’m sure the tank’s carrying more than just its cannon. The more to shoot at us in exciting ways kind of thing.”

“We should be able to outrun it,” Christopher said. “At least, I can. I can take the rest of you along with me.”

One of the nice things about hyperspeed was that you only had to be holding onto the person with it in order for it to carry you along as well. The downside of Christopher’s extra-speedy with a side of fast hyperspeed was that it affected A-Cs just like regular hyperspeed affected humans, and the Hyperspeed Dramamine wasn’t any help, either. Wasn’t sure that throwing up was the best plan to fight whoever we had to face. But maybe we could throw up on them, and that would be a good start.

“Malcolm, what do you think?”

“I think there are weapons in this plane that can be used against us.”

“Um, super. Does that mean we leave it or defend it to our dying breaths?”

“You’re the one in charge,” Christopher snapped. “Make a decision.”

“A wise leader always considers her options,” Rhee said, shooting Christopher a look that shared she was willing to fight him to prove this point.

“This leader would like to get some actual advice. Someone feel free to chime in.” Before anyone could, my phone rang. Dug it out. “Jeff, now’s not a super-duper time.”

“Leave the plane. Whoever’s after you is feeling remarkably triumphant. They’re after you, not the weapons.”

“I knew you and Chuckie weren’t really going to do what I told you.”

“I officially reinstated myself as part of Alpha Team. Congressional decree and everything. Pierre, Chuck, and the jocks were witnesses.”

“Fabulous. Where are you?”

“At Home Base. Using a floater gate to get to you. I’d rather get to you on the other side of the sandstorm.”

“Gotcha. I’ll call you back.” Hung up and dropped my phone back into my purse. “We’re doing Christopher’s plan per Commander Martini.”

“You going to put your husband back as Head of Field?” Buchanan asked.

“He’s already done it himself, so yeah. Besides, I’m more used to hearing his orders and disobeying them than the other way around.”

“We may have a challenge getting around the storm,” White said. “The dust storm seems to be expanding.”

This was true—the storm was a lot wider than it had been only a minute earlier, and it wasn’t simply a trick of perspective. Whoever was creating this stuff had some serious skills.

“We can run through it as easily as around it,” Christopher said. “We should be fast enough that we won’t be hurt as long as everyone keeps their eyes closed.”

“Should be?” Tito asked. “I don’t have enough medical with me to handle being flayed alive, and we can’t expect help from the Science Center.”

“Real warriors understand the risks,” Rhee said timidly. The timid was only because she was arguing with The Great Tito. Had Christopher said the same thing, Rhee would probably have already started kicking his butt.

“There’s smart risk and dumb risk,” Tito said. “We want to be sure we only take smart risks.”

“Being inside the plane would mean we have protection,” Adriana said. “But it will also mean we’re trapped.”

White disappeared but was back quickly, loaded with weapons. “We’ll need these, I’m sure, whether we stay or go.”

While White went and got another few armloads of our available weapons and the rest of us armed ourselves. While White and Christopher put back anything we weren’t able to take along, I contemplated our options.

Staying with the downed plane was the right choice if we were in the middle of nowhere and were hoping to be rescued. Jeff and Chuckie were on their way, so rescue was possible. However, they’d specifically requested we get closer to the Science Center.

Christopher was the fastest thing on the planet, though the dust storm seemed to be trying to make it to the Number Two slot. Made the executive decision. “We’re going to go for it, gang. But first, Mister White, we need a parachute.”

He took off the chute he was wearing. “Yes?”

“We need sizeable strips so we can wrap our faces and any exposed skin.” Cocked an eye toward the impending storm. “And we need do to all this fast.”

“Good thinking,” Dad said proudly, as White and Christopher ripped up a parachute as requested and Buchanan had the princesses use their intact parachutes to wrap themselves up. The Xena: Warrior Princess look was one everyone from Beta Twelve favored, especially when going into battle, but it wasn’t a great choice when running through a sandstorm.

“Everyone ready?” I asked as I wrapped my parachute around my face, leaving only a small slit where I could see.

Got the requisite replies from everyone other than Christopher. “Son,” White said patiently, “you need to cover up, too. Speed may just mean our skin flays off that much faster, yours included.”

“That’s an order,” I said before Christopher could argue. “And I still outrank you, so just do it. Remember to wrap everything, nose and mouth, and most of your eyes, too.”

“The material is thin enough that I think we can wrap our eyes and still be able to see,” Buchanan said. “And we should do so, even if we can’t see, because if we get hit with too much sand there, there won’t be anything Doctor Hernandez can do to bring our vision back.”

“Wrap your hands, too,” Tito added as he did so. “Not so much that you can’t hold on, but every little bit of exposed skin being covered is going to help.”

The storm wasn’t too far away when the team was finally fully wrapped. Buchanan was right—one layer of the parachute was thin enough to see through, so to speak. Veiled eyes or not, what was headed for us didn’t really look like a storm. It looked like a wall, a very thick, impenetrable wall, of dirt, sand, and God knew what else.

Of course, if I ignored the situation, the rest of what I could see was fairly humorous—we looked like we were trying out for RuPaul’s Mummy Drag Race, Rahmi and Rhee especially. Adriana looked the best of all of us, but that was a perfect example of damning with faint praise. Chose not to mention any of this. Morale was bad enough already.

“Join hands, don’t let go of your partners no matter what, and remember to keep your eyes closed. We’re going to go a lot faster than any of you are actually prepared for.”

I zipped up my hoodie and put the hood on, grabbed Buchanan and my dad, the rest of us formed a daisy chain with White at the end, and Christopher took off.