Alien in Chief (27 page)

“Reaching the station,” Adriana said. “The fifteen of us and all animal companions need to prepare for anything. Including crashing.”

Jeff snorted a laugh. “That pretty much sums up our entire lives.”

CHAPTER 52

W
E PREPPED FOR
impact as much as we could, but as we did I took a good look out the windshield.

The station was a red three-story building that looked more like a nice old-fashioned apartment building than a train station. There wasn't a lot else here—lots of concrete, some of which had cars parked on it, concrete benches dotted under the long free-standing awnings that lined the ground level platform area. The pathway to the station was covered as well.

The only real vantage point for any kind of long-range attack was the top of the station, and the sloping rooftops made that unlikely.

However, it wasn't long-range attack that was on the agenda.

“Adriana, floor it! Or whatever you do with a train!”

While Jeff and Christopher, and those on the phone chain, started to ask me why, Adriana did what I'd told her to and made the train go faster.

Not that this was simple, since we'd been slowing down. But fortunately we hadn't stopped. Because while the train station was loaded with regular people who looked like they were here to greet us—the competing Armstrong-Martini and anti-alien signs were something of a clue—they
weren't alone. There were people I recognized standing a little too close to the tracks. Eight of them, really.

The Crazy Eights were all wearing long trench coats and, as we got closer, they pulled out the big guns they'd been concealing. And, naturally, aimed those guns at us.

Jeff had finally seen what I'd spotted. “Everybody down!” he bellowed. No one could bellow like my man. Assumed that the others would have heard him even if we weren't on the phone together. The Crazy Eights probably heard him. Hopefully the civilians did, too.

Whether they'd heard him or we were just near enough, the Crazy Eights started shooting. They had some seriously impressive guns on them, too. No rocket launchers, so we had that going for us.

It was all eight of them, and as we pulled into the station and kept going, albeit not nearly as fast as I'd have liked, I spotted the helicopter down in the parking lot. It had been hidden by the station when we'd been pulling in.

The civilians were, to a person, screaming and running away. Couldn't blame them and really hoped the Crazy Eights wouldn't turn the guns on them just because they couldn't hit us. Also really hoped they couldn't hit us.

Christopher had grabbed the laptop and hit the ground, but Adriana only ducked, since she had to keep the train going. Jeff kept pulling me down and I kept on getting up. “I need to see who number eight is,” I said as I scrambled to my feet again.

He got up, pulled me behind Adriana, where there was a lot of metal and no window, near the door we'd come in that had a small window in it. We both peeked out. In time to see Dier jumping onto the platform that would let her into the engine.

Didn't hesitate. The door wasn't closed well since Jeff and Christopher had wrenched it open. So I kicked it open using all my enhanced strength.

Had the satisfaction of watching Dier fly off and land on
her butt on the concrete. Had hopes she'd at least bruised her tailbone. She was a pain in my butt, so it was fitting that she'd have pain in her own.

This also meant that the door, which had been holding by its version of a thread, also went flying. Karma did me a solid and the door flew into Lowe and knocked him back and down. Not only did we have two of the eight down, but the air bender was knocked out. Go team.

Speaking of team, saw the shimmer that meant we had a protective bubble around us, meaning that Abigail was feeling well enough to get back in the game. And dirt started flying at the remaining Crazy Eights, showing that Mahin was representing, too.

The train was doing its best to get moving fast again, but this many tons of steel neither slowed nor sped up quickly. Despite the dirt covering their bodies, Kozlow and Dear Sam tried to get onto the train, but were repelled by the shield.

As the engine passed the end of the station, I spotted Crazy Number Eight. It was a woman, tallish with long brown hair, around my age. And I knew her—Casey Jones, the stewardess from the failed airplane bombing attempt during Operation Drug Addict and the failed bombing of the Romanian Embassy attempt during Operation Destruction. Adriana had been right—it was time to go over our Rogue's Gallery and come up with any enemies we'd forgotten about.

“Are they trying to get onto the other cars?” I asked.

“Can't tell,” Jeff replied.

Checked my phone. The call had dropped. Whether this meant that Jeff's bellowing had blown it out, we'd just hit a patch of bad reception, or something else, I had no way of guessing.

“Hold onto me.” I leaned out of the open doorway as Jeff grabbed the back of my jeans. It was hard to be sure, but I didn't see anyone on the train, and based on the people I could still spot, all eight were still on the concrete.

I nodded and Jeff pulled me back inside. “Now what?” he asked. “I mean other than you once again trying to take years off of my life.”

Dialed the phone for Reader. No service. Tried with Chuckie. Same again. Tried to reach Raj. Nada. “I think they've knocked out our telecommunications somehow.”

“I'm offline on the laptop, so I think Kitty's right,” Christopher said. “But how?”

“Mastermind and/or Langston Whitmore. Figure one of those guns had some kind of pulse thing in it. Just our luck coming through again. Bottom line is that we can't talk to the others and, more importantly, we can't talk to anyone else on the line.”

“That's dangerous,” Adriana said. “Which I realize we all know. But if we can't advise that we're not stopping, then we can't be sure that there isn't another train on the part of the track we're on.”

“Fabulous.” Jeff ran his hand through his hair. “Christopher, any luck rebooting the laptop?”

“I've been trying. Nothing.”

“The others have to know that they can't reach us by now, wouldn't you think?” I asked.

“Probably a safe assumption, baby. If not yet, one of them will try us soon and then they'll know.”

Bruno nudged up against me and squawked quietly. “Good idea.”

“What did the bird suggest?” Jeff asked in the voice of a man who's not sure who's crazier, the world around him or himself.

“Time to see if we have Poofs On Board.” Looked into my purse. Sure enough, there was a lot of concentrated fluffy cuteness in there. “Poofies, Kitty needs your help.”

Poofs poured out and looked up at me in that overwhelmingly cute way of theirs.

Quickly explained the situation. “So, Kitty needs to let the others know what's going on. And then Kitty needs help
in being sure that this train doesn't crash into another train or anything else.”

Harlie and Poofikins mewed and jumped up and down. They had no problems with the first request. They sent a couple of Poofs off, presumably to share with the Poofs in the other car and give it the old college try for Poof Charades.

However, the Poofs had less of an idea of what to do about our
Runaway Train
situation than I did. Which was, of course, not helpful.

Time to see if Algar was willing to give me some clues. Put my earbuds in.

“Is now really the time for music?” Jeff asked.

“It's always the time for music. And I can still hear you talking with my earbuds in, so you can stop acting like I'm not paying attention to the urgent matters at hand. Tunes help keep me calm and focused.”

Turned on the music and waited. Oasis was still playing “Going Nowhere” which was frighteningly true right now. Remembered I'd put the song onto repeat and put it back onto regular play. The next song was “Train” by 3 Doors Down. This indicated I was still on the playlist Kyle had made for me, meaning that it was unlikely that Algar was taking an interest.

Which was, all things considered, odd.

Considered why Algar might not be tossing out the Helpful Hints. Distracted by impending doom? Possible, but if the Superconsciousness Seven or the Black Hole People Police Force were showing up, had a feeling Algar would be letting me know.

Tired of helping me? Unlikely. He claimed I was one of his favorites and I knew he was far too emotionally attached to the A-Cs, both on Earth and Alpha Four, to just ignore what was going on.

Had already given me all that I needed? He'd given me the goggles at the Embassy. But he'd used my purse as a Black Hole Delivery Device during Operation Civil War.

Dug around in my purse, searching for something, anything, that seemed out of place or identified as not being mine. Was rewarded to find an external flash drive at the bottom of my purse. I certainly hadn't put it in there.

Handed it to Christopher as ELO's “Last Train to London” came on. Barring our barreling into a floater gate, this was probably part of Kyle's playlist. “Try plugging this into the laptop.”

“What is it and where did you get it?” he asked.

“It's an external flash drive, which I would honestly expect the former Head of Imageering to know, and in my purse. I think Stryker put it in there,” I lied.

“What can it hurt?” Jeff asked.

“Good point.” Christopher plugged it into the USB port in the laptop.

Results were, as they so often were, immediate.

CHAPTER 53

T
HE LAPTOP SPRANG TO LIFE.
Christopher started typing furiously, then he breathed a sigh of relief. “I've reached the main Amtrak control center. Advised them that we were under attack and where, and have requested that we be allowed to go nonstop to Orlando now.”

“What did they say?” Adriana asked.

“That they're verifying and will let us know.” He shook his head. “We need to thank Stryker for this, Jeff. God alone knows how many lives it just saved, starting with our own.”

“He's a prince,” Jeff said. “I'll let his continued freeloading be his thanks.”

Chose not to argue this because I knew that Stryker had no idea what was on this drive and that him saying so would be the definition of awkward, since I'd be asked who'd put it there if he hadn't.

The laptop beeped. More typing, then Christopher relaxed. “We're cleared through to Savannah, no stops. We need to stop in Savannah, though, due to a variety of factors. The feeling is that we'll have enough fuel and all other trains are being rerouted or delayed. Most already were, since the President was on the train, but this way we shouldn't have any issues.”

“We'll definitely have enough fuel,” Adriana said.
“Though since we'll be going faster than the norm we might be cutting it close.”

“Are you going to be able to handle this for all that time?” Jeff asked her. “We're talking hours.”

“I think so.” Adriana sounded somewhat doubtful, as the music changed to Aerosmith's “Train Kept A Rollin'.” Had no idea if this was a hint or just part of the playlist. Decided to enjoy the sounds of my boys in my ears and not worry about it.

“Adriana, we'll do our best to spell you if we have to. And by we I mean me. But for right now, Jeff, let's search for clues to what happened to the engineer and conductor. They disappeared without a trace.”

“And without any signs of violence,” Adriana added. “The only damage was to the outer door.”

“Which was locked, from the inside, and which damage we caused,” Jeff said. “Yeah, okay, baby, why don't you do a better search?”

“Super. Because what we need right now is a locked room mystery, just for grins and giggles. Christopher, while we get our Scooby Doo on, can you see if we can get another train command team sent to us via floater gate?”

“I'm not sure we want to do that,” he said. “Right now I'm only on with Amtrak. I don't know if it's a good idea for us to coordinate through them—it's not exactly a secured channel. And Langston Whitmore would have jurisdiction over anything related to the trains.”

“Good point,” Jeff said. “Kitty, let's see what you find that Christopher and I might have missed.” He looked down at Bruno and Ginger. “Put the keen animal senses on it, too.”

“Will do. Bruno, Ginger, let's go see what we can see.”

There was a door at the back of the cabin that led to one of the smallest bathrooms I'd ever seen. As horrific bathrooms went, I'd seen far more than my share, and this one was definitely in the Top 10 Worst. And there was no ventilation in the ceiling, either.

The animals backed away. Could tell Jeff was trying not to laugh. “Downbound Train” by Bruce Springsteen came on. Had to figure the Boss' downer attitude for this song might have come from seeing a toilet like this.

“This is it? That's all there is to this entire thing? One cramped cabin and one horrifically small toilet area?”

“Yeah,” Jeff said. “And there's no gate in here. We already checked.” He closed the door. “The rest of what's behind us is what runs the train, baby. So, any ideas?”

“Other than shoving you into that bathroom as punishment for your personal amusement, not really. The door's gone, so we can't verify if it can lock like a regular door, from the outside.”

“It can,” Adriana said. “Grandmother would say you're trying too hard.”

“You think the engineer and conductor got outside and locked the door with the keys they possess and then, what? Jumped for it?”

“They could have been taken by the helicopter,” Christopher said. “We didn't notice anything until we heard people landing on the roof.”

“Which begs a question we haven't asked yet, or if we have, I don't know the answer: How did the Invisible Commandos get onto the train?”

“The other question is why the engineer and conductor left,” Jeff said. “Because that door was strong and this is made of steel, so they should have just locked themselves in and called for help if they were under attack.”

“Why take them out of the train at all?” Considered my own question. “Pawns.”

“What?” Christopher asked.

“Pawns. Chess. If we think about the three attacks, the Invisible Commandos were here to take over and take hostages. The train can and should arrive in Rocky Mount, right? So that they can show the world how easily the President was captured.”

“That makes sense,” Adriana said. “What were the Crazy Eights doing?”

“I have no idea, but since they weren't the ones who blew the track, and neither were the Invisible Commandos, that leaves us Club Fifty-One, who've claimed responsibility for it. And said group of wackos are really good at infiltrating at low levels. But it's the low level pawns that can and have set up things effectively to hurt us in the past.”

“You think the engineer and conductor were part of Club Fifty-One's plan?” Jeff asked.

“Yes, because if the train was going to derail, I sure wouldn't want to be on it. Why else would they leave? Christopher's right—if they were being attacked, they'd have shared that with someone, and they had the means to do so. They didn't share, there's no sign of violence in here, meaning they weren't killed. So they left of their own accord, meaning they had a reason to leave whenever they did.”

“There were plenty of areas where jumping off, even with the train going fast, wouldn't have been too dangerous,” Adriana mentioned.

“Yeah, so let's take that as our working hypothesis until we know more.”

“The Invisible Commandos have an invisible helicarrier where our people are being held,” Jeff said. “My guess is that they also have invisible helicopters. I heard far more than eight people land on the train.”

“So, what does this knowledge, or the assumption of knowledge, do for us?” Christopher asked as “Big City Train” by No Doubt came on. Had to hand it to Kyle—he'd really created a cool train-centric playlist. It was also keeping me relaxed and thinking, so a double for the win column.

“It confirms the most important point of this entire day.”