Two female nurses were on either side of Shining Star, one of them pressing the call button while the other listened for a heartbeat.
Shining Star’s eyes were closed. He wasn’t moving. He looked awful. No, more than that — with his neck discolored and puffed up like an inner tube, he looked dead.
The call-button nurse turned to Vortex, and if she experienced any surprise from his uniform, her face didn’t betray it. “Your friend became unresponsive a few minutes ago. I understand his lack of respiration is not a concern, is that correct?”
“Uh, yeah.”
She shook her head, muttering, “I’ll be damned.”
“What about irregular heartbeat?” asked the second nurse, the one still using the stethoscope. Just like her partner, she seemed unaffected by his flashy garb.
“I, uh, I know it’s okay if it doesn’t sound ‘normal’ compared to hu— to norm patients. But has it changed since he stopped responding?”
The nurse with the stethoscope barked a sardonic laugh. “Beats the hell out of me, kid.” She was looking at his chart now. “None of his stats make sense.”
Stepping closer to the bed, Vortex said in a louder voice, “Callin? Callin!”
As they had warned, no response.
Vortex tried again. “Hey, buddy, listen to this.” He yanked off his right glove and held his hand close to Shining Star’s ear, snapping his fingers several times. It was a long shot, and failed to get any reaction.
The second nurse was now using her stethoscope at the base of his distended throat. “He’s actually breathing a little. If he weren’t unconscious, I’d swear that was an improvement.” In a lower, softer voice, she bemoaned, “Dear God, his throat is so swollen. What the hell did this to him?”
“A paranormal rogue.” He took some comfort from its not being entirely untrue.
“Well, for what it’s worth, I hope you find this rogue and kick his ass.”
The door opened, admitting a third nurse. The call-button nurse was consulting with her when the door opened again, and Powerhouse entered with Walker in tow. Powerhouse looked terrible, too, with his exposed face as red as his shirtless chest was black and blue.
Upon seeing Powerhouse, the urge to move as fast as possible resurged within Vortex. He waved Walker over.
“Jeremy, listen. We can’t wait for our friend to wake up. We have to leave, now.”
Powerhouse opened his mouth to ask a question, but his eyes were on Shining Star’s still form, and he closed it again.
Vortex continued to Walker, “Do anything you can for him. The sting is on the other side of his throat. Try to reduce the swelling, try to ... I don’t know, sweat out the venom. You know your abilities better than I do.” He gripped Walker’s shoulder. “But here’s the most important thing: As soon as he wakes up, if he seems lucid to you, tell him that he must get back to his family as quickly as possible.” The stethoscope nurse overheard this and started to protest, but he cut her off. “I understand that he’s in bad shape. But trust me, he’ll feel much worse if he doesn’t get a chance to ...” Back to Walker, he said, “Unless he’s completely out of it, give him the message. He must get back to his family! Do you understand?”
“Absolutely.”
“Thank you.” He addressed the stethoscope nurse, “Please remove the throat wrapping and gauze for him.”
She eyed the young man. “Another paranormal?”
“Yes, ma’am. But Jeremy here is a healer.”
“I like him already.”
Vortex gave Callin one last look — Dear Lord, Steve knew what he would go through if those bastards kill off his whole family and he wasn’t there to protect them! — and then he was rushing for the door.
PCA
In more time than any of them preferred, they were back in the private jet and gaining altitude. Takayasu was again up front, and the moment his butt had hit the copilot’s seat, Vortex heard him ask their pilot about the jet’s top speed.
“A civilian aircraft like this,” the pilot had answered as he was taxiing for takeoff, “I should be able to get it up to about Mach point-nine, maybe a little faster if the wind’s in our favor. That’s about seven hundred m.p.h. We should reach these new coordinates in less than an hour.”
The pilot had sounded like he thought his answer was pretty impressive, so he was probably surprised when Takayasu replied, “Any extra speed would be appreciated.” And then Takayasu had his headset on and was jabbering away.
As they leveled out at a low cruising altitude, Shockwave groaned while he massaged his forehead. “Jesus ... here we go again. Right, guys?”
Vortex turned back to him. “How you feeling?”
Shockwave dropped his hands to answer, giving Vortex an unsettling view of his swollen left cheek and disturbing left eye; the sclera of his eye was blood red, literally. “Okay, I guess. I ate half a dozen Tylenol, so the pain’s backed off — a little. No nausea, which they tell me is good. But I guess this fight’ll be my cytorack, or whatever alien boy called it.”
Cytorem, Vortex thought, but kept it to himself.
Shockwave cocked his head to one side until his neck cracked, then the other. “Speaking of alien boy ... you guys are aware we’re going into this one man down, you know what I’m sayin’?”
“No shit, Mark,” Powerhouse mumbled without rancor.
“No, I mean, you’ve done the math, right? We got our asses kicked just a coupla hours ago, and now we’re goin’ right back into the same fight, but without Shiny Star.”
“I wouldn’t say we got our asses kicked,” Vortex retorted, and he was serious. “We got hurt, yeah, but we knocked the triclops and the walrus flat a few times. It’s not like they just mowed us down.”
“Vortex is right,” Takayasu called back. Leaving the cockpit so that he could talk without raising his voice, he knelt on the first passenger seat, facing backward. “The problem was, we didn’t know what they could do before; now we do. And it was just a full-blown melee, without a coordinated effort on our parts.”
Shockwave rolled his eyes. “This the part where you lecture us on teamwork, young’n?”
Takayasu gave him the finger, which made Mark smile. But he answered, “Not exactly. The dynamics change, and we have to be free to adapt when they do. But I think we should focus. Powerhouse, you’re our best bet against the walrus. I hate to send you up against that gravity attack yet again, but at least you’re strong enough to handle it. It would kill the rest of us.”
Powerhouse shrugged. “Fine by me, but if I’m gonna be stuck fighting him on soft ground again ...”
Takayasu raised one finger and called up to the pilot. “Lieutenant, is our friend still with us?”
The pilot leaned over to check something, maybe the radar. “Yeah, he’s back there.”
Vortex tensed. “ ‘Our friend’?”
“Don’t worry, I wasn’t being sarcastic. We’ve got another PCA jet behind us — they were already in the air, coming to join us in Cheyenne, so I rerouted them. It’s a little backup that should help Powerhouse’s fight, if they get there in time.”
I hope we get there in time, Vortex thought.
“How are they gettin’ down, Mike? I’m guessin’ they can’t jump outta the plane like we can.”
“The perimeter infantry are laying down lights as we speak. Both planes can land just a mile from the Taalu camp. We’ll jump out before that.”
“Speakin’ of the infantry, how about we get some conventional backup this time? I mean, we know where the Nocto-guys are headin’, you know what I’m sayin’? Let’s shoot a rocket at ‘em, or toss some grenades at ‘em, or somethin’.”
Takayasu’s face darkened. “Bad news there. You remember how we pushed hard for privacy and seclusion for the Taalu? How the National Guard’s watching the perimeter, but were ordered to leave them alone?”
“Yeeeeaaahhh ...” Shockwave drawled, not liking where this was going; neither did Vortex or Powerhouse, for that m
atter.
“Well, that’s looking like a double-edged sword now. Seems the President feels that, since Callin demanded such staunch privacy, and insisted the PCA act as liaison between the Taalu and the U. S. government ...”
“... this is our fight,” Vortex finished.
Takayasu nodded. “It was couched in a lot of political bullshit, but yeah. Long story short, we and the Taalu get to deal with the Noctoponm, and if we lose, they’ll deal with whatever alien-rogues are left standing, assuming they have to. Honestly, I think they’re hoping the Noctoponm might just leave Earth after they get what they want.”
“Lovely,” Vortex spat, disgusted.
“So, no help from the National Guard,” Powerhouse observed. “What about those robots?”
Shockwave did a virtual double-take. “ ‘Robots’?”
Takayasu smirked. “Yeah, Mark, you missed that, didn’t you? But I’ll fill you in later, because no,” he turned to Powerhouse, “we won’t be seeing them again, not this time. Asimov scampered first chance he got. I’m guessing the only reason he helped last time was because we were fighting on his front lawn.”
Powerhouse shook his head at the shame of it, then asked, “So who’s in the plane behind us?”
Takayasu’s reply was interrupted when the Taalu communicator chimed. With an expression of Here we go, he answered, “This is Takayasu. Go ahead, Larr.”
“They’re here.”
PCA
“Stall them,” said Larr. Beyond him, through the bridge viewport, Della and Charl could barely make out the veiled enemy ship against the night sky. It had landed out beyond the alpine drop-off — the only thing visually betraying its presence was its front portal, which irised open as they watched.
“It’s our fault they found us,” Charl said, miserable. “We should try to stop them.”
“You will stall them!” Larr snapped. “Your brother is on his way. You just have to fend them off until he gets here. Keep their attention, keep them occupied, but do not directly engage them!”
“Please,” their mother begged. “Please listen to Larr.”
Dejected, Della said, “We don’t even know if Callin is coming. They said he’s hurt...”
Larr straightened to his full, considerable height. “Your brother is the Shining Star. He will be here.”
“They’re coming out!” Naltin called from the front of the bridge, panic in his voice.
“Go,” Larr barked. “Go!”
PCA
Della and Charl exited the human-dubbed Refuge One just as the three Noctoponm came into view; the insectoid took to the air, while the flabby pachyderm and stone-skinned Taalu-tek approached on foot.
“That one’s big,” Charl whispered, gaping at the rock-like beast.
“Yes,” his sister agreed.
“It’s bigger than the Cargaun was.”
“Yes, it is.”
The Taalu youths trembled with anxiety as the monstrous hunters drew nearer, yet they could not flee — they had to keep the Noctoponm away from their people, most of whom still slept and had no idea of the mortal danger lurking outside.
“But you and Callin beat the Cargaun, right?”
“That’s right.”
Charl added a soft, “I’m not Callin.”
“But you are my brother, Charl Lan of Taal-ceky. If we do what Larr told us, we will get through this. I promise.”
“I don’t know if I can do this. I haven’t been converted very long ...”
Della forced a smile. “Don’t be silly. You were converted years ago.”
Charl made a sour face, but Della thought she saw an amused twinkle in his eyes. “You know what I mean.”
“I know.”
Climbing the hill toward them, the tall one took the lead, extended its chilling wrist-blades, and shouted, “Blee nok, Taalu! Ceptol—!”
If Della and Charl had been privy to the tall one’s thoughts, they might’ve seen frustration that it never got to finish its challenges on this planet — the Lan siblings extended their arms and together fired four blasts of energy (his silver, like Callin’s; hers golden) striking the large alien across his torso. None of the attacks were as potent as the Shining Star’s, but there were four of them, and the giant was knocked over backward, to tumble back down the hillside. The pachyderm and insectoid barked and buzzed and rushed into battle.
Mindful of Larr’s orders, Della and Charl took to the air.
PCA
“Can we go any faster, Lieutenant?” Takayasu called up to the pilot.
“No, sir,” the pilot replied. “If we’d come in at a higher altitude, I might’ve been able to dive for more—”
“All right, I understand.” He looked to Shockwave. “Mark, what’s the fastest you’ve ever flown? If you went flat out?”
Shockwave shook his head. “I don’t know, Mike. I spend all my time tryin’ to fly straight. If we’re pushin’ Mach One already ... no, I don’t think I could top that. Sorry.”
Takayasu turned back toward the cockpit. “How much longer, Lieutenant?”
“Less than ten minutes.”
Takayasu activated the communicator. “Lord Larr, come in.”
“This is Larr.”
“Sir, we’re less than ten minutes away. What’s your situation?”
“Della and Charl are flying circles around the Noctoponm. I mean that literally. But the few shots they’re getting in aren’t doing much.”
“Do your ships have any weaponry you can employ?”
“Very limited, and nothing reliable from the ground. We’ve got a few small, one-manned crafts, but our qualified pilots are still in stasis.” Then he growled an extra, “Naltin has threatened me with physical harm if I take one of them out.”
“That’s probably for the best, sir.” He paused, frustrated that all he had to offer was a lame-sounding, “Just try to hold on. We’re almost there. Takayasu out.”
The four men were silent for a minute, all of them antsy but having no useful way to express it.
“Lieutenant,” Takayasu called up front again, “we’ll be dropping out as soon as we can. I want a low pass over the encampment before you push on to the landing strip.”
The pilot snorted at the term “landing strip,” but replied with a simple, “Aye-aye.”
“Okay, guys,” Vortex said as he rose from his seat, “let’s be ready. I don’t know about you, but I plan to go in hot.”
Shockwave’s reply to that was, “Can I get a ‘hell-yes’?”
PCA
Della circled around for another pass. So far, the Noctoponm had not posed much of a threat to Charl or her, but neither were they in return. It was the flyer that worried her; the insectoid was only moving a fraction of their airspeed (though she had to consider this a possible deception), but it had also proven the most impervious to their attacks — Charl had made the mistake of firing at it a minute before, and had nearly been struck down by his own energy when it reflected back. How long would the insectoid bother reacting to them at all, once it realized they weren’t attempting any physical assaults? When would it decide to advance upon the helpless ships? If that happened, she would be forced to take a more direct approach, which Larr—
At that moment, as she swooped in for a lower pass, all concerns over the insectoid’s perceptiveness fled her mind as a terrible, crushing weight fell upon her — at first she thought she was actually being assailed from above, but no, it was her own body grown far, far too heavy.
Gravity! Larr said one of them is rumored to control gravity!
She tried to keep herself in the air, but it was a futile effort as she sank into a downward spiral she could not resist.
“Della!” she heard Charl cry out. She knew he would come to her aid and she wanted to warn him off, but she couldn’t draw breath enough to speak. And unlike her older brother, she was not so without the need for air.
Her erratic, plummeting flight brought her around to where she could see Charl. He w
as firing energy in the general direction of the tall one and the pachyderm, but his attention was focused on his sister. Given their orders to remain out of the Noctoponm’s reach, he would probably try to catch her.
And then Charl’s choice of action became irrelevant: He arced in low, his arms extended toward her ... and the ground rose up between them. Charl’s inexperience betrayed him, and he crashed through the wall of rock and soil. When he emerged on her side, he appeared more disoriented than hurt, but now he was within the reach of the tall alien, which stretched up and struck him in the midriff.
The force of the blow sent Charl tumbling down; a second after that, Della, too, crashed into the ground, and it took all her will to remain conscious.
She could not turn her heavy head, but from her upside-down angle, she could see the tall one striding toward her, a depraved smile upon its stony face. Its long legs brought it to her in no time.
“Sorum, yaba Taalu,” it rumbled in a gravelly voice. It raised its right arm, the tip of its wrist-blade aimed at her throat.
Fortunately for Della, physical immobility did not mean defenselessness.
Her sheath of golden energy had diminished when her sudden weight overwhelmed her, then nearly expired when she hit the ground. Now it flared anew, fueled by equal parts self-preservation and righteous anger, and she fired a thick cone from her entire chest at her enemy. What was chest-sized for her was only face-sized to the large beast, but that was satisfactory — the cone struck with enough force to knock it away, roaring; it still attempted to spike her with its blade, but its aimless attack was a wasted effort.
As the beast shook its head, its three eyes literally steaming, Della tried with all her might to overcome the weight and fly away. She needed to reach Charl before—!
The tall one focused on her once more, its radiant white eyes now tinted copper but glowing fiercer than before.
And that was when Powerhouse collided with the beast in a deafening crash that carried them both out of her sight.
Paranormals (Book 2): We Are Not Alone Page 35