Tap-Dancing the Minefields

by Lyn Gala

  “We follow orders, even the shitty ones,” Colonel Aldrich said. Funny. Tank had always thought of officers as giving orders rather than taking them.

  “Up to the fifth floor is clear,” Major Sadler said. After Colonel Aldrich had gotten bored with listening to the FBI’s progress and started pacing, she had moved to the one seat shoehorned in between two computer towers, and taken over the job of listening to the radio chatter.

  Van Agteren looked up from his computer with panic on his face. “You aren’t going in yet, are you? What if the FBI chases someone from one of the upper floors into the lower floors while you’re there?” His voice had a shrillness that made the hair on Tank’s arms stand up.

  John leaped to his feet, and suddenly the van felt much smaller. The man took up a lot of space. “Seriously? Are we really going to worry about that?”

  “Stand down,” Aldrich said. “It’s a legitimate concern.”

  Aldrich’s support didn’t do anything to reassure Van Agteren, who had hunched in on himself. Tank tried to think of something supportive to offer, but nothing came to mind.

  A computer beeped. “I have remote access,” Sadler’s assistant said.

  “Excellent.” For a second Major Sadler sounded exactly like Mr. Burns from The Simpsons. She shoved her headset at Lev so the cord stretched across the center aisle, and picked up her own laptop. “Send me the link.”

  “Can I get a computer?” Zhu asked.

  “That’s not appropriate,” Sadler’s assistant said at the exact same time Major Sadler pulled a spare laptop out of the equipment tower and handed it over. They traded such sharp glares that for a second Tank thought they might start a slap fight. If they did, Tank was totally betting on Sadler. Finally her assistant turned back to his computer, although his lips were still pressed into a thin, unhappy line.

  Lev reported on the FBI’s progress. “No signs of life on floors eleven through twenty-one, but one of the teams has found what they’re calling ‘officially funky shit’ on floor thirteen.”

  Unlucky thirteen. Tank wondered if that was Mr. Chow’s perverse sense of humor. Did aliens even make jokes?

  “Are they checking the floors or relying on thermal scans?” Aldrich asked.

  “No way to tell.” Lev looked up at Aldrich. “And no way to explain to them that an avatar can temporarily power down.” Lev tightened his fingers around Tank’s knee, so Tank figured he was still doing his worrywart impression.

  John spun his chair around and punched the dashboard hard enough that something in it cracked. “That’s why we should be in there.”

  Aldrich grimaced, and Tank could almost see the gears turning. “John, Sadler, gear up. We’re going in there and checking the thirteenth floor.”

  Lev bolted to his feet. “I’m going with you.”

  Aldrich held his hand up as if to stop him. “Lev, this is the military clearing the field. You can come in with technical.” Aldrich took the bulletproof vest Sadler handed him and started putting it on.

  “I have more combat training than Tank, and if this is some new technology, Deborah can’t help you with it. If she can’t plug in her laptop, she can’t get to the programming.”

  “I’m not exactly incompetent with the hardware,” Major Sadler complained, but Aldrich kept his gaze on Lev. When Aldrich narrowed his eyes, Tank started wishing he hadn’t gotten dragged into this.

  “I’m going too,” Marie said as she got up.

  “Absolutely not.” Colonel Aldrich turned his attention to her. “There’s no way I can explain to the FBI that I chose to take the suspect’s son’s girlfriend into a combat situation.”

  “Tell them I saw something when Chow kidnapped me.”

  That didn’t seem to impress Aldrich. “Which would constitute withholding intel. And if they assume you were the one withholding, you’re going to land in a cell. No.”

  “We can make something up.” Marie’s voice had a touch of desperation in it now.

  Aldrich snorted. “Trust me—I’ve seen your record, and you’re not good at making shit up. When it comes to bullshit excuses, you lack the magic touch, so leave cover stories to me—and I’m telling you that we cannot concoct creative enough bull to make your presence logical. Besides, with Sadler, me, and John out of the van, you’re the primary line of defense here.”

  “You’re telling me to stay in the van? I’m not needed here!” Marie’s temper was starting to fray. Zhu put his computer down and stood next to her, his hand resting on her shoulder.

  “And we thought Tankersley was safe sitting in the getaway car while John tried to break you out. I need you to keep this van safe. If I can’t trust you to defend our people, I won’t have you anywhere near this war. Understood?” Aldrich snapped.

  Marie physically jerked back. When she spoke, her voice was almost small. “I would never put people at risk.” That was her injured voice—the one that always made Tank feel about two inches tall as he remembered that being stronger physically didn’t make Marie any less susceptible to the same insecurities they all carried.

  Maybe Aldrich felt the same sort of guilt, because his voice was softer as he said, “They are at risk, even in the van. I need to know you’ll defend the rest of the tech team.” He glanced over at Van Agteren, who had turned a disturbing shade of ash.

  Marie nodded. “I’ll protect the van.” She put her hand on her sword. Aldrich grimaced, but even John had said the fastest way to stop an avatar was to slice it open and let it bleed out. Bullets didn’t do much.

  “And I’m still going,” Lev said. “I’ve been in plenty of combat situations over the years.” He pulled a bulletproof vest over his head, and Tank stood. Now the van felt way too small, and Tank had to stand sideways and put his hand against the van’s side to stay on his feet.

  Tank stared at Colonel Aldrich, a cold panic already starting in the pit of his stomach. “Sir?” He couldn’t sit in the van while Lev put himself in danger.

  Tank was surprised when John took up his cause. “Tank has fought these guys more than most of the soldiers,” he said.

  Again Aldrich got that constipated expression. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

  John opened the passenger door, and the stink of exhaust from the parking garage invaded the van. “We need fighters. He’s a fighter. Bring him.” And with that, John got out and slammed the door.

  Aldrich sighed as he looked at Tank. “If you fuck up….” He let his voice trail off.

  “Sir, you scare me way more than the aliens. I won’t. And I won’t put Lev in danger.” Tank fully expected Aldrich to order him to stay behind. He would hate it, because he wanted to be there to cover Lev’s back—but when he’d joined the Army, he’d agreed to take orders, and he believed that Aldrich understood this fight more than any of them. His orders made sense. Tank sometimes didn’t like them, but he trusted the colonel.

  Just as Tank was running out of hope, Aldrich nodded. “Get a vest and weapon. Stay behind John and close to Lev. Lev, if you take one additional risk because of Private Tankersley, I will shoot him in the ass to take him out of the fight and apologize later. Clear?”

  “Absolutely.” Lev drew a cross over his heart, and Aldrich rolled his eyes.

  “Move out.” He poked his thumb toward the rear exit while he confiscated the headset from Lev and warned the FBI team that they were inbound and headed for floor thirteen. From Aldrich’s end of it, it sounded like the FBI wasn’t happy, but Tank didn’t hear all that much before jumping out of the back of the van. They couldn’t see Chow’s building from the parking structure, but it was a short jog down the block.

  “I can’t believe Clyde is being reasonable,” Lev said as he adjusted his vest.

  John said, “Marie is used to using Tank as backup. If he’s here, she’ll be tempted to leave and join the fight. If she’s the only fighter in the vehicle, she’ll stay.” The second John said that, Tank realized the man was right. Marie had a bad habit of assuming Tank co
uld hold his own, and history proved that sometimes holding his own meant distracting the bad guy by bleeding all over him before passing out. As attack strategies went, that wasn’t brilliant. Right now she was in the van with Zhu, Van Agteren, and Sadler’s second, whose name he couldn’t remember. They weren’t exactly a battle-ready crew.

  “Are they in danger?” Tank asked.

  “No more than the rest of the planet. Aliens could blow us up any time.” John’s version of reassurance really lacked any reassurance.

  “We ready?” Aldrich asked as he joined them near the exit.

  “Yes, sir,” Sadler said. Tank wondered if he should answer since he was regular Army, but then the moment passed and saying something would have just been awkward.

  Aldrich pointed a finger at Lev. “You stay well back.”

  “I’ve been in the field before,” Lev said with an eyeroll.

  “You’ve been in the field during small incursions where we had good cause to believe the bad guys would pack up and go home if we rattled a few sabers. You don’t go into full military actions, so don’t act like this is another walk in the park.”

  “Because the last walk in the park ended so well?” Lev asked drily.

  “Exactly,” Aldrich said. “If we could get taken on a mission that easy, then shutting down a hub that has been entrenched for decades is serious. Don’t fuck this up.” Aldrich poked his finger in Lev’s direction and then headed toward the building. “Sadler, take rear,” he said over his shoulder. He didn’t give Tank any orders, so Tank held his weapon close to his vest and stayed at Lev’s side. John and Aldrich took point and jogged toward Chow’s building.

  When they reached the street, Aldrich pulled a black balaclava over his face. Tank saw the others following suit.

  “Here,” Major Sadler offered, holding out a spare face covering. Tank smiled and pulled it over his head as he trotted back to Lev’s side. He didn’t understand the importance of hiding his face until they turned the corner and spotted Chow’s building. Three press vans were already parked on the street, and New York police were directing reporters to get back. Two FBI agents in full combat gear met the team at the door, ushering them inside while reporters shouted questions.

  Aldrich and John took point as they headed for the stairs. “Seriously?” Tank asked, but he shut up after Aldrich sent him a glare so blistering that even with most of his face covered, the malice still came through loud and clear. Tank wasn’t sure, but it sounded like either Lev or Major Sadler actually snickered, so Tank kept his opinions to himself as they trudged up thirteen flights in flak jackets while carrying assault weapons. Worse, John took off so fast that they were only on floor five or six when Tank heard the heavy slam of a door, suggesting that John had reached the thirteenth floor.

  “I hate him,” Lev grunted between breaths. Tank might have agreed, but he didn’t have the breath to spare for talking.

  On the twelfth floor, Aldrich stopped them. “You three stay here. Major, you have command.”

  “Sir,” Sadler agreed. Then Aldrich followed John onto the thirteen floor. Tank’s earwig was silent, but he had to assume that John would have sent some sort of warning if he’d found danger. So Tank took a sip of water and focused on deep, slow breaths the way they’d trained in basic.

  Sadler removed her mask and shoved it in a pocket before taking a few sips from her own water. “Ready?” she asked.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Tank answered.

  “Not even close,” Lev said. “Remind me to get out from under the equipment more often.”

  Sadler kept her weapon up and her eyes scanning the stairs, but her smile was clearly for Lev. “I tried to get you to go running with me last week.”

  “You officially have permission to kick my ass if I refuse to go running next time,” Lev said.

  “You could always agree to stay in the van.” From Sadler’s tone, she fully expected Lev to reject that suggestion. Sure enough, he pulled down his balaclava and glared at her.

  “I’ll start running.”

  “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

  Tank didn’t know if it was appropriate for him to jump in, but it did worry him that Lev was out of breath. It made him more vulnerable in a fight, and as the person most likely to be the group’s weak link throughout high school, Tank knew that always attracted the bad guy’s attention. “I’ll make sure you run,” Tank told Lev.

  The brilliant smile Major Sadler gave him suggested that had been the right answer.

  “Nag, nag, nag,” Lev said wearily, but then he made a show out of straightening up. “I’m ready.”

  “You sure?” Sadler asked.

  Lev gave her another glare.

  “Tankersley, take rear,” Sadler ordered. Then she headed up the stairs, and Lev followed. Tank had to force himself to keep breathing as they moved onto the thirteenth floor. In high school, Tank had broken into Marie’s father’s lair more than once, but this was new territory. It was all tile floors and glass doors with division names and just plain boring stuff, at least until they moved into a fancier area with soft green walls and real plants in huge terra-cotta planters. Then the shit started getting weird.

  Demonic devices lined one of the large conference rooms, although Tank realized it wasn’t demonic so much as alien. Same difference.

  Aldrich stood waiting for them near a door that led to an inner office. “Welcome to weird central. The FBI folks are already talking, so maybe you could make with the disassembling quickly,” he suggested.

  Lev waved a hand in Aldrich’s direction, but the gesture looked like one he might use to ward off an annoying fly. “I just got here. No magic wand. So let me figure out what I have.”

  “You have stuff that hasn’t turned to dust yet,” Aldrich said. “On the one hand, that makes it easier to study. On the other, if it isn’t going to turn to dust in the immediate future, we have to figure out how to take it apart and move it before we have the New York Times in here for photo ops.”

  Lev completely ignored the colonel and headed for the central part of the huge structure. It was shaped a little like a sleeping dragon, with a head that curled around into a waist-high console, a curving back that touched the ceiling, and a long tail that tapered down to a few inches high and followed the line where the floor met the wall. “I’ve never seen anything like this.” If Tank wasn’t secure in their relationship, he would have been seriously jealous of the lustful tone.

  Tank moved to where the dragon’s shoulder would be. There was a humped section here and then a small dip before the back rose up. “We saw setups like this when we used to break into Marie’s father’s place.”

  Lev whirled around. “What does it do?”

  “Other than putting out clouds of poison if you touch the wrong button, I have no idea.” Tank spread his arms out and shrugged.

  Aldrich moved to Lev’s side in a heartbeat. “Okay, no touching buttons,” he said sharply.

  “Clyde, don’t tell me how to do my job.”

  “Lev, for once pretend I’m the boss and follow orders.”

  Lev snorted. “Nine times out of ten, you order me to do what I already plan on doing, because it’s the only logical choice. I would prefer to avoid any poison clouds.” Lev turned to Tank. “Can you tell me anything else?”

  Tank grimaced. He hated being caught between Lev and Aldrich, but the colonel didn’t object to Lev’s question, so Tank said, “Zhu did some tests, and he said that Marie’s father used this section more than any other.” He gestured to the section where he stood. Long streaks of color were some sort of control system, but they’d never figured out how to work it.

  “Tests. Would those be magical tests?” Aldrich asked.

  “Actually, those would be the use of fingerprint powder we may or may not have stolen from a crime-scene van, sir,” Tank answered as politely as he could, given that the question annoyed him. They’d only been able to act on what seemed reasonable to them at the time. “We were
trying to figure out codes or how to use the demonic stuff.” Tank gestured toward the whole setup.

  “Logical.” Major Sadler sounded impressed.

  “That’s Zhu for you. Even when he looks like he’s acting like a normal, irrational person by stealing a taxi, he isn’t. He used to plot out how often to earn detention so he didn’t attract attention.”

  Major Sadler took off her small backpack and set it on a human-built table. “I have a couple of alien control devices. I might be able to interface my computer. That way if the alien sends a self-destruct code, there’s a small chance I might be able to keep all this from turning to dust.”

  “If that can spew poison, do we want to save it?” Aldrich asked.

  “I have an interface here,” Lev said as he crouched down and studied a seam in the unit.

  “Which doesn’t answer my question,” Aldrich said. “I’m thinking dust would be easier to carry out of here, or leave for someone to clean up.”

  Lev looked up at him. “Clyde, what are you most likely to booby trap?”

  “Easy. My daughters. Unfortunately, one already married a schmuck, so it might be a little late for the poison clouds.”

  “Exactly. We set traps around whatever we find most valuable. Think about what an alien might want to booby trap,” Lev said. “We absolutely have to save this if we can, although it’ll require gas masks and full protective clothing as we try to disassemble it for transport.” Lev turned back to Tank. “Were there other booby traps?”

  “Um. Spiders came out of it once, but honestly we didn’t get that far into the building very often. We were kinda leery of, you know, dying.”

  “That was a rare flash of common sense,” Aldrich said softly. Tank would have objected, only they had taken risks that fell outside the “any sort of sense” department, and Ellie had paid for it. Aldrich pulled out his phone. “Sadler, don’t hook up until we get containment and hazmat suits and possibly animal control. I don’t do spiders, but I’ll call the general and see who does.”