“And the ass kickings your people receive when fighting us?” Peter asked.
“We are not in our mech suits during those fights,” Kiel argued.
Lance snorted, “Neither is Bethany Anne.”
ArchAngel - Queen’s Bitches Armory
Jean Dukes and John Grimes each held one side of the black foot locker. It was thirty inches front to back, four feet left to right and another three feet deep.
It weighed close to four hundred pounds.
Jean had worked for the last year with her team on the Queen’s latest suit. It was, in Jean’s humble opinion, the best one yet. Almost sixty percent more durable, and fifteen percent lighter, and still held the beautiful deep red.
The color of blood, the color of life.
Together they carried the footlocker into the Bitch’s Ready Room and with a loud BANG, they dropped it on the floor.
“Fucking shit!” Scott yelled, turned around, his hand on his heart, “Why the fuck did you two have to go and do that?” he looked down at the footlocker, up to them and down again.
“That” John pointed to him, “shows you have poor situational awareness.”
Scott flipped him off.
“No,” Scott retorted, “it shows I placed my trust in my teammates not to play asinine pranks that could cause me to go into shock!” He nodded at the box, “This the new set?”
“Yeah,” Jean replied as she placed her hand on the lock. The system lights around the rectangle accepting her hand print for verification, blinked twice red, then twice blue and a solid ‘chunk’ sound occurred. Jean grabbed the top handle and lifted.
Inside were the pieces for Bethany Anne’s arms and part of her back. Lower levels in the footlocker provided the rest of her equipment.
Scott walked over and looked over the top of the open footlocker, “Sweet.” Jean picked up one of the lower arm pieces and handed it to him, “Damn, this is light.” He said as he looked at the armor. He paid attention to the little automated mini-connections that would pull each piece together into a seamless suit. After admiring the work, he looked up to Jean, “How much stronger?”
“Sixty-percent,” she replied.
“Damn, that’s an improvement over two dot oh,” he agreed. “Guess Tony Stark doesn’t have anything on you, huh Ms. Dukes?”
“Hell no. That pansy has nothing on me,” she put out a hand and Scott gave her back the arm piece. “Except maybe intellect, money and a seriously fucked up medical problem with his heart.”
Scott looked to John, “We still rocking version two point ohs?”
John shook his head, “No, we also have a three point oh’s. They are stronger than our last set and this time, it has three levels of ablative armor.”
“Fuck Yeah!” Scott grinned and high-fived John, “We are going to ROCK that joint!” Scott did a little pop dance, spun around to end up looking back at John and Jean.
John looked back, “You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”
Scott chuckled then shrugged, “John, I can’t even spell ablative, much less confirm what I think it is.”
Jean sighed, “Scott, why don’t you give me your best shot at what it means?”
Scott folded his arms across his chest, then reached up to scratch his neck, “I’m assuming it is some level of hardened plastic material. That you’ve spray painted or used other application methodology which, in turn, protects against lasers and shit by using vaporization, erosion and or maybe chipping at a controlled rate, I suppose.” He finally stopped scratching his neck to look down at Jean.
Jean’s mouth opened and stayed open.
Scott winked to John, “Don’t mess with the NYPD SWAT department, we just might know what the hell you’re talking about.”
John chuckled until Jean slapped him, “This isn’t bros before hoes, Mr. Grimes!” She eyed him for a second.
“Sweetie, you should have seen your face. Flies could have landed inside your mouth,” he told her, not bothering to hide his grin.
“Whatever, you two masculine mental midgets.” She huffed. “Yes, Scott you are correct. The ablative has been added in case we get more lasers like the drones are seeing in the cave systems. We borrowed some of the technology from defense companies and coupled it with Yollin co-polymer…’
“Stop!” Scott put up a hand, “I concede, please don’t start tossing around chemical names or my masculine mental midget mind will explode.” he spread his hands apart starting at his ears, mimicking an explosion.
“Hmmmph,” she responded, “I’ll be nice to you, this time. Otherwise, Cheryl Lynn might come seek me out when you can’t carry on a conversation for more than twenty seconds without needing a reset.”
“Now that you mention it,” Scott started.
“Stop!” This time, it was Jean, “I’ve heard enough from Cheryl Lynn to understand I might not want to know anything past reset. I promise to not provide chemical makeup of ablative technologies while you promise not to mention anything about what reset entails, deal?”
Scott shrugged, “Deal.”
Jean turned around and Scott winked to John.
Outside Chicago, Illinois - USA
Her worried eyes glanced in his direction, so he smiled and winked to her and the girls. It wasn’t like he was in control at the moment, and if there was any group that might be able to help his family leave his home while under protection, it would be TQB.
He had sent four different messages, set to leave in, he looked at his watch, fifteen minutes. They should give those who knew him his reasons for doing this. Whether they cared to share the information with the world was another matter.
“Dad, where are we going?” he smiled to his oldest daughter.
“Well, where we end up is a little vague at the moment, but right now, we are going on a trip,” he told her.
She looked at their small suitcases of clothing items their Mom told them to bring, “Dad, I don’t have near enough clothes if we are going to be gone for longer than,” she eyed her suitcase again, “eight hours.”
Girls, indecipherable as teenagers and completely opaque as grown women. Maybe that had more to do with the simplicity of men’s minds compared to most women. Whoever believed that boys and girls are the same should have their heads examined for an inability to recognize truth when she bitch slaps them upside their heads.
The doorbell rang and he stood up, using a hand gesture to tell his wife and daughters to stay put. His steps echoed as he walked down the ceramic tiled hallway from the back to the front door. He peeked through the eyehole and then went back and did it again.
There was a man in a monk’s outfit on his front stoop.
He opened the door, partway and stuck his head out, “Yes?”
The man lifted his hood off of his head, “I apologize for the outfit, I haven’t had to use it in a long time. My name is Barnabas.” He turned and looked over his shoulder, waving to one of the Secret Service who had nodded his head in their direction. Barnabas turned back to the ex-President, “I have had discussions with all of the security here and the two unmarked sedans a little way down the street. They understand you and the family are sneaking out for a movie, and they are here to make sure no one figures out you are gone.”
Barnabas raised an eyebrow, “So, may I come in?”
The ex-President nodded and opened the door further, stepping aside to let this TQB holy man inside. He never noticed Barnabas releasing a small handful of drones from his hand.
—
Mark Medlin knocked on the front door of the ex-President’s house. He glanced at his watch and then knocked a little louder.
“I told you, sir. He and his family stepped out for a movie,” Agent Terrence Burrow spoke from behind Agent Medlin. The agent had arrived two minutes ago upset that the ex-President wasn’t answering calls from Washington.
And neither had his own security team.
Mark turned around, “The ex-President of the United States does
n’t just go out and enjoy a movie with his family! Not without permission.” He knocked louder, still didn’t get a response, “Terrence, open this damned door.” Mark stepped to the side to allow Terrence access.
Terrence shrugged and stepped up, pulling out his keys he flipped through them until he had the one for the front door. He reached forward, unlocked the door and stepped back.
Mark watched him step back and pressed his mouth together. Stepping forward, he turned the knob, opened the door and stuck his head inside. “Hello? Anyone home?” He didn’t hear any noise coming from inside the home.
This couldn’t be good.
Terrence waited outside, refusing Mark’s request to join him. “It is,” Terrence told Mark, “a free country still, right?”
Two minutes later, Mark came out of the house, slamming the front door behind him and talking on the phone, “I don’t know where the hell they went! Yes, I got the message they went to the movies, but with who? They didn’t walk. How do I know? Because, dipshit ...” Mark kicked a small rock in anger. It skipped down the driveway, “there are no cars missing!” He finished.
ArchAngel - Operations Meeting Room
Lance called out, “Peter, Todd, a moment, please.” The two from the Queen’s Guardians waited while most of those who had been in the meeting filed past them and then both walked to the front.
Dan was there with the General.
“Sir?” Peter asked and Todd nodded.
“You need to make sure your guys know to stay behind those that are armored, Peter.” Lance told him. “Dan can tell you more, but this is likely going to be a tough operation. Your people are a little happy, happy to run ahead of the game. Hold them tight this time, got it?”
Peter and Todd both nodded and both answered at the same time, “Yes, sir!”
Dulce Lake, New Mexico - USA
Patrick Brown stepped out of the unassuming building and looked around. The main entrance to the facilities below was in an old looking, run down, metal shed of a building with rust coming down the sides off an old highway in some trees.
He had argued for closing it and Ztopik had effectively overruled him. They were to place a massive amount of explosives and when they saw the first few attackers, they would let them get into the building and fight their way to the large elevator.
Then, the death and mayhem would occur.
Patrick waved to the three guys still installing the explosives and turned around to go inside and back down.
With his recent luck, he would be stuck out here when TQB came calling.
ArchAngel - Medical
Dr. April Keelson walked over to the bed where Anna Elizabeth rested. She was healed, but it was best to monitor the energy usage for the nanocytes for at least twenty-four to forty-eight hours after an event if it was possible. Plus, she had concerns that Anna would have issues with being shot.
The internal trauma to other organs had been bad. While Bethany Anne’s nanocytes were certainly some of the best, Anna Elizabeth was still in pretty bad shape when she arrived.
“How am I today, doc?” Anna asked, a bored expression on her face.
“Still wanting to get out of here?” April asked and checked the readings.
“Of course, I feel fine.” Anna replied, “All I have to do is sit here and read. I’m rather caught up on my reading at the moment and…”
“And,” Bethany Anne cut in when she startled both ladies. “you are just as bad at staying still when you believe you are fine as I am. The problem,” she told Anna, “is you have new medical nanites in you. These nanites are using the pathways in your blood to draw energy from the etheric. These pathways fail eventually, and then they take energy from your blood before they quit working. That draws your energy for personal use down and could, potentially, do more harm than good. You are out of the worst danger, but if you need energy are you ready to drink a cup of blood?”
Bethany Anne’s blunt question caught Anna by surprise.
“Did you say, drink a cup of blood?” she asked, looking to the doctor to see if she would confirm what Bethany Anne just said.
Unfortunately, she did.
“Yes,” Dr. Keelson agreed, “You will notice the medical drip I have on you. While the hydration and the nutrients are important, it is there to deliver blood if you need it.”
“Uh,” Anna looked from the doctor’s face to Bethany Anne’s and then back again. “Well, can I get something to do, at least?”
April decided that she would use this explanation the next time someone wanted to leave the medical area earlier than she thought prudent.
“Sure,” Bethany Anne told her, “As one of my new assistants, you have a lot to catch up on. We will talk later.”
Bethany Anne started walking away, then just disappeared.
Anna, mouth open and eyes looking shocked, turned to Dr. Keelson, “Did she just say assistant?”
“As a matter of fact, she did,” April agreed. She reached into her medical coat and pulled a slip of paper to hand to Anna, “She told me to give you this if you woke up and she had already left the ship.”
Anna unfolded the paper and on it, written in blue ink, was a short message signed by Bethany Anne.
I told you some years ago, you work for me, now. - Bethany Anne
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
ArchAngel - Bethany Anne’s Personal Suite
Bethany Anne pursed her lips and considered what her people were about to do. It would, without a doubt, put them at odds with the United States if the government found out.
Was it worth it?
As far as ADAM and Frank could figure out, this UFO advanced technology group was not known to the government at any level. Frank had heard rumors back during the Truman administration in 1947. But he hadn’t followed the information too deeply as his own efforts in the UnknownWorld were real, the idea of aliens was laughable.
Well, who was having the last laugh now?
Certainly not Bethany Anne.
If they encountered technology outside of TQB’s abilities, too many of her people would be killed tonight in this raid. But, without knowing the challenges, they couldn’t decide to engage in bombardment on U.S. soil in good conscience. Plus, with the sheer size of the underground cavern systems there was no way for them, yet, to know where they were.
They found the outside protective details over the last couple of days and their drones could not go any further. Team BMW decided that an organic drone might be advisable, but impossible to create anything quick enough to support them in this operation.
So, the choice was go in by foot or leave the whole thing for another generation to figure out.
Bethany Anne snorted.
That sounded like the political hacks of just about every country down there. Vote for more taxes and refuse to tackle the hard problems that might get them voted out of office.
“Fucking posers, I won’t shirk the hard decisions,” she muttered as she walked into her closet. “ArchAngel?”
“Yes?”
“Tell the Bitches to suit up. Tell my father to drop the ships and remind those on the G’laxix Sphaea that they need to drop off the cache of gear in Europe once they are done with Yuko and Akio.”
Bethany Anne stripped and grabbed her skinsuit. Her armor had most everything she needed on the outside of the suit, even special swords and protective scabbards.
Cancer doesn’t leave the system peacefully. When you find it, you fight it tooth and nail. The U.S. had a cancer, and it was up to her people to fight it.
She put on the skin booties, then took a step and disappeared.
—
Bethany Anne stepped out of her receiving chamber, rooms now known as TC’s or teleportation chambers, into the armory. She didn’t teleport, but it became a shorthand for what she did and she had learned to just go with it, the truth was too annoying to beat into everyone’s head.
“Hey, look what the cat dragged in!” Darryl called out as he allowed Eri
c to snap his chest protection into place.
“I’ll find a cat to pee in your suit and shut the last lock if you keep that up,” she retorted.
“Ooohhh GROSS!” Darryl’s face showed just how distasteful that thought was to him. “Have you smelled cat piss?” Bethany Anne tapped the side of her nose, “Yeah, then you know,” he told her as he shook his head, trying to get rid of the thought.
Don't Cross This Line (The Kurtherian Gambit Book 14) Page 23