by Gini Koch
Then again, maybe Mom knew we’d all be packing and wanted to ensure that we could. Chose to not worry about this any more. Succeeded only a little.
However, there were so many people here it was like being at the largest, most crowded Aerosmith concert ever, times ten. Decided that the biggest risk we all faced was being trampled to death, and also felt it was a real possibility. However, you could tell who had a K-9 dog with them—one step onto a paw resulted in a lot of loud barking and a little circle of space. I was graced with just such a circle and was even more grateful to have Prince along than I already had been.
Baltimore had a very nice convention center, and it was decorated like a patriot’s wet dream, some of which hadn’t been shown on TV. There were American flags everywhere, along with a lot of state flags up on the walls and being waved wildly by delegates. Yet more posters of Armstrong and Jeff, all telling everyone to vote for them. There were Armstrong ones, Martini ones, and Armstrong-Martini ones, where they’d put their separate campaign photos back to back. There was a riot of red, white and blue streamers, garlands, flag banners, and more all over the place. My blue blouse didn’t clash with the décor, which was nice.
The stage had a huge screen behind it, and there were giant screens throughout the area, ensuring that no one could miss the happenings onstage. There were cameras on the mezzanine level above us, and a stationary media console in front of the stage, about a hundred yards back. There were also cameramen roving on the floor, and several on the stage as well. Pretty much anything that was happening, someone was going to film it and toss it up onto those jumbo screens and to the television networks.
American Centaurion, while also being its own principality, was also a US territory. I’d stopped trying to figure out the intricacies ages ago. However, what it meant was that we had a vote. And I was the one who was designated to cast it.
This meant that one of my speeches was about how awesome American Centaurion was, and how much we loved the nominees, as well as sharing our delegation’s vote count. This process went in alphabetical order, so Alabama was first and Wyoming was last. And American Centaurion was, therefore, going third, after Alaska and before American Samoa. So absolutely when everyone was still paying attention to the speeches.
But no pressure.
It was so packed, even in the staging area, and Jeff and I had to shake so many eager hands along the way, that by the time we reached the spot where we needed to be in order for me to get in place to go on, Alabama’s head delegate had already finished and Alaska’s was on the stage. Tried not to let the butterflies in my stomach get to me.
Jeff had his arm around my waist. “You’ll do great, baby,” he said in my ear. I was too stressed to find this arousing. That did it—I was officially far too worried.
“Don’t argue,” I said, as I pulled my iPod and earbuds out of my purse. Took off my jacket, clipped the iPod to the top of my skirt, and ran the earbuds up my back and under my blouse’s collar with Jeff’s help. Ignored the looks of horror Raj, Reader, and Gower were all shooting at me. Put my jacket back on, shoved the earbuds into my ears, and hit play. The soothing sounds of “Breathe” by The Prodigy hit my ears, and I relaxed.
Happily, Alaska’s dude wanted to talk a lot, so I had plenty of time to run my speech over and over in my mind. In fact, I got to hear “All That Money Wants” by the Psychedelic Furs, “Keep It Together” by Puddle of Mudd, and “God Is On The Radio” from Queens Of The Stone Age before Alaska finally shut it down, said they, like Alabama, were giving all their votes to Armstrong-Martini, and got off the stage.
Jeff gave me one last squeeze. “Knock ’em dead, baby.” I pulled my earbuds out, tucking them under my jacket, though I left my iPod on. Figured I’d need to listen to music again the second I was off the stage. Then it was time for me to trot out for the first part of my dog and pony show.
The main floor of the convention center was, as all main convention center halls are, gigantic. We were in the space normally reserved for the exhibit hall, but they’d set this up really well, with a ton of bleachers and a giant stage, as well as open floor space between the bleachers and the stage, with only the stationary media area blocking anything.
The entire area was packed to the gills with people. As I looked around, it appeared to be filled to the standing room only, no space between anyone level. People were trying to climb onto the media station, though they were immediately pulled down by security. It really was like a concert—some people from various areas were shoving forward to get closer to the stage, some politely, some rather rudely.
Cleared my throat, took that deep breath I’d been advised to take, and stepped up to the microphone. The room quieted down. Not that this meant it was silent—there were too many people for it to be still. But the sound dropped from a loud roar to a quiet hum.
“Fellow delegates and patriots, those of us from American Centaurion are pleased to be joining you at this historic time.” So far, so good. I had the first sentence out, and out correctly. “In our time as part of this great country, we’ve faced trials and tribulations, just as all of you have. But, like the rest of you, we’ve come through them better and stronger.”
This earned me a smattering of applause, which was pleasant. The people shoving forward were near to the stage now. As I opened my mouth to deliver my next line, one of them shouted. “Murderers!”
Closed my mouth and took a look at who’d spoken. Because I’d heard that clearly, and there was no way that someone who wasn’t using a microphone—or had troubadour talent of some kind—could have been heard.
Sure enough, I recognized her. She was the woman who’d accused me of murdering Reid and others when we’d left the White House. And she didn’t have a microphone in her hand.
Saw some of our security team moving toward her, so I forged on. “Over the decades we’ve worked closely to ensure a better life for all citizens.”
“Other than the ones you’ve murdered in cold blood,” the same woman shouted. I could tell her voice was carrying because people too far away to have heard her normally were shifting uneasily, murmuring to themselves, and so forth.
“So we’re incredibly proud that one of our own has been deemed worthy to lead more than just the Second Congressional District of New Mexico and our own people, but also to stand with Senator Vincent Armstrong as part of the team that will lead all of us into the future.”
“If we have a future!” This chick was really getting on my nerves and hashing my speech-giving buzz. And I could tell most of the room was hearing her.
Looked right at her. “You know, if you’re a delegate, you get to talk. If you’re not, save it for later.”
“You won’t have a later,” she snarled. And then, true to my expectations, all hell broke loose.
CHAPTER 89
PROVING THAT RONNIE’S KIDS—in addition to Mahin and the dead earthbender, and our airbender in custody—had another bender in their ranks, this chick waved her hands and water came out of nowhere. And splashed all over me.
The water tasted salty, meaning she’d probably pulled it in from the harbor. Considering that was a couple blocks away, she had impressive range, power, and control. Lucky us.
I’d jumped back so I was at less risk of being electrocuted, but the microphone for sure shorted out. Not that it mattered. My speech was, essentially, over. The less said about the state of my clothing the better, but then again, looking like a bedraggled cat was one of my Action Go-To Moves, so I had that going for me.
Because action was definitely needed.
Apparently her drenching me was a go sign for whoever was working with her. Team Yates went into action.
In addition to our waterbender, we had a group who were shoving delegates away while also attacking them, others who were moving kind of at hyperspeed, and a group who must have been manning the main doors, because a variety of Club 51 and Church of Intolerance protestors were inside now. These weren’t the real proble
ms.
The people with the guns were the real problems.
Those people weren’t ours, because our team didn’t shoot over people’s heads and yell that they had to get down or die. But I was suddenly really glad that we’d been able to bring in our guns.
Heard Jeff bellow for our team to get Armstrong and others to safety, meaning that most of the A-Cs were now racing off to do just that. Security forces moved toward the various trouble points as well, but there were a lot of those points, and most of security were humans.
All this happened as if it was in slow motion, possibly because I was seeing it via hyperspeed vision, since this chick drenching me ensured that I flipped from nervous to enraged in less than a second. But this was good. I was able to spot trouble areas and, because of where I was, point them out to the good guys and have them actually see me do it.
Raj had found a microphone and was relaying information as well. But even though security was involved, there were a hell of a lot of people, and anyone not fighting was panicking.
Some rushed the stage—there were clearly some of Ronnie’s Kids in this group, but also regular delegates who were trying to get to the stage to get away.
Jeff came onstage to get me off. And then the people with the guns changed where they were shooting, and started shooting at us. At him, really.
As Prince and I tackled Jeff to the ground and Len and Kyle tackled Raj so that the bullets flew over all of us, and I then rolled us out of easy range, what Algar had said the night before clicked. It was all going to happen here. This was the place where I had to defend our king. With all the cameras rolling. Well, no problem. As Dad had reminded me, I was my mother’s daughter.
“Stay down, they’re after you.” I scrambled to my feet, shoved my earbuds back in, and hit play. My jacket was a hindrance. Took it off and tossed it to the side. As the sounds of Garbage’s “I Think I’m Paranoid” started, I opened my purse to get my Glock. There were a lot of Poofs in there. Got out my gun and gave the signal. “Poofs assemble!”
They poured out of my purse. “Poofies, Kitty needs you to help out. Get people to safety, help the good guys, stop the bad guys. Sadly, no eating anyone right now. Only go big if you have to. Got it?”
Poofs purred at me, then disappeared, other than Harlie, who jumped over to Jeff, and Poofikins and Mous-Mous, who stayed with me. “Ready, boy?” I asked Prince.
He barked that he was born ready.
“Then let’s show these mutated, vengeful assholes how we do things downtown.”
This would have probably been a lot more impressive if, right after I said it, I hadn’t been hit with another wave of salt water.
Happily, my iPod was still running. Hoped that meant Algar had it under some kind of protection. Probably. He liked to communicate with me this way. The song changed to “Right Between The Eyes”, also by Garbage. Wasn’t sure if this meant I was on my Garbage playlist or Algar was trying to tell me something. Decided I’d freaking find out.
We got back to our feet and Prince and I charged the waterbender. She was our main nemesis and it’s always good to take out the front line.
She appeared to need time to recharge, or to grab more water from the harbor, so we were able to get to her. I hit her high with an arm to her throat and Prince hit her low, knocking her to the ground. I spun and grabbed her head, intending to slam it into the ground.
But I was knocked away by someone who, as I bounced off some innocent bystanders and got to my feet, looked familiar. Stephanie helped the waterbender to her feet and then smirked at me. “Hope you enjoy watching Uncle Jeff die.”
That did it. I headed straight for her. She in turn grabbed the waterbender and took off as well, at hyperspeed.
No worries, I had hyperspeed, too. However, there were a lot of people willing to block me and not as many blocking Stephanie. Always the way.
Prince cleared the area by shaking himself off. Amazingly enough, even people in a panic don’t want a soaking wet dog to shake himself on them. “Good boy!” I slammed my fist into the face of a guy pointing a gun toward Reader, who was nearby. Took the time to ensure the creep was knocked out, took his gun away, and moved on.
Raj was still onstage and was using his talent to try to calm people down as well as point out trouble areas. And it might have worked if we hadn’t heard a very loud, unpleasant sound—like an airplane engine starting up, only louder and less friendly. As it did so, “Gear Jammer” by George Thorogood came on. Yeah, this was a tip from Algar. Good. I needed the help.
Hoisted Prince up under one arm and flipped the hyperspeed up to eleven. At this rate it was fairly easy to get around people, as well as hit bad guys in the face, stomach, or back of the head as we zoomed by.
Despite being told to stay down, my husband was up, tossing bad guys off of delegates and into protestors who were really filling the place up even more than it had been, which seemed impossible.
The others were all fighting as well, some doing better than others. But I couldn’t spot Stephanie and the waterbender anywhere. The sound was still going, and I had to figure that I needed to find it and stop it.
Worked my way to the outer part of the room, where I could see out. It was chaos on the streets, with the rest of the protestors basically attacking the National Guard, meaning said Guard couldn’t come in to help, and other help was going to have a hard time getting through as well.
“Time Bomb” by Godsmack came on, and I figured it was time to really find that sound and make it stop.
Looked up and around. The sound seemed to be everywhere, so that either indicated it was coming through the sound system or it was above us. Most of the press corps was higher up, on the mezzanine level, which allowed them to look down on the exhibit area and therefore keep cameras stationary. So the whatever it was might be up there.
Raced off, found a set of stairs, and went up them. To see a tank, a literal tank, sitting there. Only this was a special tank, loaded with bells and whistles and what appeared to be a lot of maneuverability. It reminded me of a shorter, wider, less random-limbed supersoldier, while at the same time clearly being a tank. I’d worry about how it had gotten in here later, though someone using the Z’porrah cube was my most likely answer. I’d also worry about who’d created it later, since this kind of tech pretty much screamed Titan Security.
No, I needed to pay attention to the tank itself. The tank that had its very maneuverable gun aimed down, toward the stage below. Where, naturally, my husband was. And of course, he wasn’t alone. Reader, Chuckie, Tim, and Serene had him surrounded, trying to protect him. And Raj was still onstage, trying to calm things down and direct the good guys to the bad guys.
So, naturally, this very loud, very nasty looking tank was primed to wipe out all of these people I loved, and probably take a good number of the random people I didn’t know but still didn’t want to die, too.
And who was protecting the tank but dear little Stephanie and her pal the waterbender.
Always the way.
CHAPTER 90
PUT PRINCE DOWN as more water hit us. I really hated this chick. Happily, my iPod was still working. The music changed to “Hi-Fi Killer” by American Hi-Fi.
Had no idea if my Glock was still going to work, but gave it a shot anyway and aimed right between her eyes. Naturally, the gun was waterlogged and nothing happened. However, I had another gun in my other hand. Tried that one. Nope.
Dropped my Glock into my purse and advanced. Just because the hunk of iron in my hand wasn’t going to shoot didn’t mean it wasn’t still useful.
Stephanie jumped out in front of the waterbender. “You should run away now.”
“Nah. You may not be sure, but it wasn’t Jeff, or Christopher, who actually finally killed Clarence for real. It was me. And I’m not remotely sorry.”
That did it. She charged, as I’d known she would.
There are a lot of rules of fighting, most of which I’d ignored at one time or another. Don�
�t fight angry was a biggie I tended to not pay attention to. However, there was a reason it was an important rule. Angry people normally didn’t think clearly. Because I was enhanced and rage was my friend, I was the exception to this particular rule.
But Stephanie wasn’t really a trained fighter, though I was sure she’d had some training by now. And she was mad.
She flailed at me and I sidestepped her, spun around, planted my foot against her back, and kicked, hard. She went flying. I spun back and headed for the waterbender. Who’d had time to get more water.
However, I’d shoved my way through a water entity not too many days ago, and I just told myself the wave of water was Sandy when he was Sloshy and shoved on through.
The waterbender hadn’t been expecting this. Either that or she was auditioning for a role that required her to look shocked out of her mind. Slammed the extra gun I had into her face. I enjoyed the hit probably a little more than I should have, but oh well.
Jumped up onto the tank as the music changed to “All Kinds of Time” by Fountains of Wayne. Based on the song’s lyrics, this meant I only had a few seconds. Ripped the hatch off to see a very surprised guy in there. Reached down, pulled him out, and tossed him over the side and onto the main floor below. If he lived, someone else could enjoy killing him.
Realized I had no idea how to stop this tank and if I went inside I was far too easily trapped. “Poofies, can you get this tank to Home Base or somewhere else safe for Kitty? And if possible, ensure it can’t go off?”
Poofikins jumped out of my purse and onto the tank, then mewed at me. Moving it, yes. Stopping it, no.
Heaved a sigh. “Gear Jammer” had certainly been a clue. There was a space in the gun turret where I could shove something in. Took the useless gun that wasn’t mine and so shoved. The horrible noise I’d been hearing increased.
Jumped down. “Time to go, Poofikins.” The Poof mewled again and several other Poofs appeared. Then they and the tank disappeared. Awesome. Poof powers rocked. Hopefully they were taking it somewhere where, if it exploded, things wouldn’t be hurt. Assumed Groom Lake was going to enjoy another gift from our team.