“Good morning,” she said.
“And good morning to the two of you,” Kelly said, approaching from behind Subhash. “There’s somebody I’d like you to meet.” Gabriella and Subhash shrugged and followed him to his tent. Kelly tossed the flap up and they crawled inside.
A dark man with a black beard and mustache sat cross-legged inside. He wore the same mufti as the other terrorists, and was lean and wolfish in appearance. His skin was as brown as Subhash’s, but his face was as long and aquiline as Subhash’s was round and friendly.
“I would like to introduce you to Colonel Abdul Alhazred,” said Kelly. “A man who has helped to train our lads these past months.” “Alhazred.” Subhash shook the Arab’s hand. “It is a pleasure to make the acquaintance of one so famous.”
Gabriella had heard of him, too. A terrorist wanted for acts of international terrorism in a dozen countries. There had been much speculation that he was in Ireland, but British authorities had given the rumor little credence.
“Perhaps too famous,” Alhazred said in smooth, public school tones. “From the Jordan River to Ireland is a long way for a man’s reputation to travel. . . particularly when he is involved in such a secretive business as me.” “Your reputation has gone much farther than that,” Gabriella put in. “We have heard much about your exploits in America.”
“Yes, the American media is very fond of me. Americans are always in need of villains, are they not?” Alhazred smiled, showing brilliant teeth. “But I have heard much of you as well, Ms. Nicks. You are a cause celebre all over the world now, the beautiful young woman who eluded the Visitors.”
“I couldn’t have done it without Shree Subhash,” Gabriella said.
“Ah, the courageous Mr. Subhash. The world has need of such a man now. We must all put aside our national and religious differences in these dark times . . . even an old terrorist like me. Whatever differences I have with the Jews shrink into insignificance with the threat of the invaders from the stars so imminent. Do you not agree?”
“Completely,” Gabriella replied.
“And yet most people will not stand and fight,” Kelly said. “So it ever will be. It’s left to the few to fight for the many.”
Gabriella couldn’t help but wonder if these men would fight no matter what the international situation. They seemed so natural in this military setting.
“Mr. Alhazred,” said Gabriella, “do you think there is a chance we can win?”
“There is always a chance,” Alhazred said with conviction. “If we did not believe that, there would be no reason to go on fighting.”
Gabriella nodded.
“But now it is time for your training to continue, I believe,” Alhazred said. He rose and gestured for the others to go out of the tent ahead of him.
Outside, the soldiers were already running the obstacle course. Gabriella and Subhash shouldered their Uzis and ran after them, ready to start another grueling day of training.
If they could help defeat the Visitors, it would be well worth it. And even if they could not, they would die trying.
Chapter 14
Nigel lay on a cot, tossing and turning uncomfortably as he tried to sleep. He had Ms doubts that the Visitors would ever let him out alive, but he found hope in the suspicion that the reptilian scum didn’t have Gabby after all. His fevered brain clung to that notion as he tried to recuperate from the ordeal in the conversion tube.
He had promised them cooperation if they didn’t harm her, but of course he had no intention of helping them if he could avoid it. Only if they really did try to do something to Gabby . . . something he need not worry about if she were not in captivity. And if she was their prisoner, why hadn’t they brought her to him to prove it? Did they expect Mm to believe them simply because they had shown Mm a hologram of her capture? No, that could have been faked. He
knew that, even if they did keep Mm in a state of semi-consciousness with their torture and attempts at brainwashing. Medea dared speak of their agreement, but he owed them nothing, and they would get nothing from him.
A sweet smell pervaded the tiny cell, an intoxicating perfume that Nigel hadn’t noticed before. Were they gassing him now? It didn’t seem to bother Ms lungs, whatever it was. If they had decided to do him in by way of some poisonous vapor, there was nothing he could do about it. His suffering would soon be over, and he would never have to betray Ms country. The Visitors would doubtless kill Mm in the end, in any case.
The smell grew stronger, reminding Mm of the delightful scent of magnolias in New Orleans, where he and Gabby had gone on holiday the year before. It was a truly delicious aroma, evoking the most pleasurable sights and sounds and tastes . . .
The cell seemed to subtly change, perhaps the lighting or shadows created by the spreading, perfumed mist. Nigel couldn’t be sure . . . but he had never dreamed that this tiny cubicle could contain so much magic and mystery.
Now the somber grey of the chamber was illuminated by pastel hues of blue and green and yellow and orange and red. A veritable rainbow to match the wonderful odour that filled Ms nostrils. He felt curiously light-headed, but nonetheless happy for that. He could think of
nothing that would improve on his pleasure.
The door to the scented chamber slid open. A shadowy figure entered. The dim light wouldn’t permit him to see who it was, but there was something familiar about the shape of the head.
A woman.
“Hello,” he said, his voice sounding marvellously mellifluous, or did he flatter himself to
think so?
The woman said nothing, approaching him through the scented mist as slowly and sensuously as a dream. She stood over Mm, a vision of womanly charm and beauty.
He knew her face. Gabriella.
“You’re here,” he said. “I didn’t think they really ...”
Silently, she put her hand on Ms chest and trailed her long nails across Ms pectorals.
“It’s all right,” she wMspered.
“No,” Nigel persisted in spite of Ms languid joy, “I don’t want you to be their prisoner.”
“I’m not, darling Nigel,” Gabriella said. “They are our Mends, and I want to be with them. But 1 want you to be with them, too.”
“What?” He must have misunderstood her. He was so sleepy he could hardly understand what she was saying at all. . . and her whispering made things even more difficult.
“You’ll see, Nigel. The Visitors are our Mends. They aren’t trying to defeat us, as the terrorists claim.”
“Terrorists?”
“Yes, the IRA are their bitterest enemies. Everyone knows that.”
He had been taught all his life that the IRA were evil. And yet it was true that they fought bravely against the Visitors, not just in Ireland, but in England as well. Some of their activities were even reported as far afield as Scotland and Wales. Their offensives against the Visitors had been far more successful than those of the British Resistance, everyone knew that. Did that mean that the British Resistance was wrong, too? There had been talk of joining forces with the IRA, mostly by Subhash. Nigel had even considered the possibility himself, going so far as to share intelligence reports with the Irish before his capture. Working with terrorist butchers! Father would disown him if he knew.
“Father,” he muttered.
“Your father has seen the wisdom of working with the Visitors,” Gabriella said, stroking his hair. “While the House of Lords rings with claptrap about Vichy France, the great victory in the Falklands, and the glorious history of Britain, your father is the cool voice of reason, advocating peace and cooperation with the Visitors.”
“No.” But Nigel knew it was true. His father had said these things. He was blinded by alien propaganda. “He just doesn’t see the truth. If he knew . . .”
“Then your father, who has spent his life in service to the Crown, is wrong, and the IRA terrorists are right?”
Nigel had never heard it stated so baldly. It was the moral dilemma
he had suffered from for months while he helped lead the resistance. Did his father know things that he was not privy to? Things that would change Nigel’s mind about the validity of the resistance?
It was all too much to think about, right at the moment. He wanted only to revel in the company of the woman he loved, to wallow in sybaritic pleasures with Gabby and forget about the war on Earth. They floated far above the world now, adrift in a perfumed garden in outer space. This was no time for politics.
“Come to me, my love,” Gabby said.
He reached out to touch her, and felt her satiny skin against his fingertips. Everything else was forgotten as his eyes closed and he fell asleep.
Chapter 15
Subhash had always been a perfect gentleman, of course. Gabriella was glad of that. She was fond of him, and she owed him a great deal, but she was still in love with Nigel. She could not quite accept the fact that he was dead, even though she understood that it was true. Some part of her dared hope that he was still alive, even though he had died in her arms less than a fortnight ago. It was folly, she knew, and yet she could not help herself.
She believed that Subhash was falling in love with her, though it did occur to her that he was merely polite and protective towards her and that she misinterpreted his attentions altogether.
He sat next to her on the hard ground now, as sheep baaed in the distance. They watched Alhazred construct a time bomb. God, if the
folks back home in Philly could see her now, mucking about with terrorists and killers as if they were a bunch of yuppies gathering at a local club.
When the lesson was over, Kelly addressed them.
“We’ll be moving on in the morning,” he said. “There is a castle a few kilometers away that has been graciously loaned to us by a sympathetic party. We’ll continue training there for a few days until we’re prepared to strike against the Visitors.”
A murmur of approval ran through the thirty-odd rebels gathered around Kelly. They would bivouac in a castle tomorrow. No more sleeping on the ground. Gabby was getting used to it, though, and she was leaner than she had ever been in her Me. That was something to be thankful for, even if it had taken a lot of hardship to get in shape.
Suddenly one of the soldiers jumped up.
“Skyfighters!” he shouted.
All were on their feet, scurrying for cover as the vulturelike alien craft hummed overhead. Blue bolts shot out of its pointed prow, scorching the ground explosively where they hit. Gabriella heard someone scream as smoke billowed up in her face, choking her with its acrid fumes. She couldn’t see Subhash, or anyone else for the moment, as tears blinded her. At least she still had her Uzi, its strap wrapped round her elbow.
The skyfighter hovered, firing methodically into the milling IRA men as they tried to find someplace to hide. Alhazred’s tent went up in a burst of flames. Gabriella backed away from it, turning to run up the hillside behind the camp. She saw a man drop a satchel full of plastique and sprint for all he was worth. Others were firing their weapons at the skyfighter, but the bullets didn’t even dent the ship’s gleaming, white armour.
She had to do something. Looking around, she saw a huge dead tree with naked limbs outstretched. She ran to it and began to climb the tree while the skyfighter’s stem was towards her. A moment later, she hung from a high branch.
Swinging out as though she were Tarzan himself, Gabriella let go the branch and flew through the smoky air. She caught one of the skyfighter’s runners on the very end. Inching forward, hand over hand, she worked her way towards the portal on the skyfighter’s side. She dangled from the ship, trying to manage her Uzi as her body swayed uncontrollably from side to side.
“Gabriella!” Subhash shouted from below, just now seeing her through the smoke.
Removing the safety, Gabriella pointed the Uzi at the portal and fired. The bullets whined as they ricocheted off the alien alloys of the skyfighter’s hull.
A second burst yielded no better results, but the occupants of the skyfighter banked the craft in an attempt to shake Gabriella off. She was determined not to lose her grip, one arm under the runner and the other one over it, the Uzi clutched firmly in her hands.
The skyfighter swerved wildly, and Gabriella fired again. This time, the bullets ricocheted off the hull less than an inch from the portal. If she could just keep her bearings as the skyfighter banked . . .
The craft’s pilot tried a new tack. He brought the skyfighter down towards the ground, like a helicopter pilot. Gabriella could be crushed if she didn’t let go.
The skyfighter dipped dangerously towards the ground. Those inside it had forgotten about the IRA men on the ground, their only concern now being Gabriella.
Her toes brushed the surface of the earth, and she closed her eyes. But the maneuver was a bit too tricky for the alien pilot. He brought the skyfighter up a few meters for fear of crashing it.
That was all Gabriella needed. She fired a burst that traveled straight up the line where the portal joined the hull. With a sprung, the portal flew open, a startled Visitor falling out of the ship and nearly taking Gabriella with him as he hissed his way towards the ground in free fall. She helped him along with a kick as he sailed past her.
Gabriella chinned herself on the runner and pulled herself up. Balancing on the runner, she sprang, lithe and catlike, into the interior of the skyfighter.
“I wouldn’t if I were you,” she said to a Visitor as the reptilian creature reached for its laser pistol.
The Visitor tried it anyway, and Gabriella opened fire. Hit in the midriff, the Visitor spun and collided with banks of blinking lights behind the pilot’s console.
“Anybody else?” Gabriella said coolly.
None of the three remaining aliens were eager to test her.
“Throw down your weapons,” she instructed them.
They did as they were told, the lasers clattering at her feet.
“Now back off.” She turned towards the pilot. “Bring it down to the ground,” she said.
The pilot hesitated.
“Now!” she shouted.
With a resigned flick of his forked tongue, the pilot touched a light panel on the console and the skyfighter descended onto the hilltop.
Chapter 16
As Gabriella emerged from the skyfighter with her prisoners, the IRA men sent up a mighty cheer. She suddenly realized what she had just done, and could hardly believe it herself. Her adrenaline was still pumping, and her body would probably ache in a while, but right now she was exhilarated. There could be no doubt now that she deserved to fight in the IRA ... or the British Resistance, if it still existed.
The Visitors were taken into custody, their crimson uniforms brilliant against the green hillside as they were led away.
“Gabriella,” Subhash said, taking her hand, “I have never seen such courage. You were amazing, absolutely amazing.”
“Thank you, Subhash,” she said, the words
barely leaving her mouth before Kelly was beaming at her.
“Lass, that was a fair bit of high dudgeon,” he said.
Gabriella laughed. “Wonder Woman, eat your heart out.”
They all laughed with her, elated at the way things had tamed out, thanks to her quick thinking. An almost certain tragedy had not only been averted, but now they had a skyfighter and prisoners as well.
“Well done,” said Alhazred. “You will make a fine soldier, Miss Nicks, a very fine soldier indeed.”
She looked Alhazred in the eye. He was probably not accustomed to having women face him, but he didn’t seem to mind Gabriella’s attitude. She had, after all, done something none of the men—seasoned revolutionaries though they might be—had even thought of doing.
“I’m glad you approve of me,” she said. “I have been anxious to mix it up with the Visitors for a while now. I wasn’t about to miss this opportunity.”
“The lass is a tigress,” a man shouted. Kelly and the others roared with laughter. Only Alhazred remained
silent as he continued looking deep into her eyes.
“She is more than that,” he said deliberately. “She is our greatest hope.”
And with that, he tamed and walked back towards the remains of his smouldering tent.
The men were no longer laughing. Instead, they watched Gabriella appreciatively and won-deringly. Subhash appraised her in a new way, too. Before this, he had been her protector. Now she was not only his saviour but the hero of the entire camp. Gabriella chuckled to herself, recalling that she had found it difficult to climb a rope in high school gym class back in Philadelphia.
When the fires were all put out, Seamus Patrick Kelly called them all together.
“We’ve got something now to fight those bloody lizards with on their own terms,” he said. “But we’ve got to get it away from here. The Visitors must have a rough idea of where the skyfighter was when Gabriella brought it down. I think it’s best we have the pilot fly it to the castle with a couple of our lads—or lasses —aboard. The rest of us will split up and go by land, meeting there tomorrow.”
“Who’ll be the lucky ones who get to fly in?” a man with a ruddy, scarred face asked.
“That’s up to you,” Kelly said. “We’ll take a vote.”
Everyone wrote a name on a sheet of paper and put it into a hat. Kelly looked them over for a few minutes and counted the most frequently cited persons.
“The tally stands at,” he said somberly, “twenty-three for Gabriella Nicks ...”
A cheer rose from the assemblage.
“. . . and seven for, humility nearly forbids me to say, meself.”
“There’s room for another aboard that ship,” someone bellowed. “Who’ll be the third?”
A general murmuring was quelled by Kelly’s raised hand.
“I think we should permit our heroine to select the third,” he said. “After all, we wouldn’t have the bloody thing if it wasn’t for her.”
The group seemed to agree, and so Gabriella was left to pick the third traveler. What could she do?
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