The Battle for Earth (Teen Superheroes Book 3) (13 page)

An enormous door, measuring about fifty feet across and twenty feet high, was built into the hull. A warning alarm started to ring and the door started to slide upward. Two Tagaar warriors, armed with assault rifles, appeared in the gap. They aimed them at the crowd. Another Tagaar warrior followed them. The bright light behind them reduced their forms to silhouettes.

Tomay stepped forward. “We have brought the strangers!”

The crowd parted, revealing Brodie and the others.

“You are pathetic!” the third warrior yelled. “That girl has more courage than all the slave scum living in this ghetto!”

Brodie peered at the warrior and realised it was Breel, the ship’s commander. She wasn’t sure if she should accept the comment as a compliment, then realised it was – in a strange way. She was trying to formulate a reply when Ebony pushed past her. The smaller girl raised her fist at the warriors.

“The Tagaar are bullies!” she yelled. “You have no honour! You lie and you cheat!”

The three warriors levelled their weapons at the petite girl. “You will be sorry, child!” Breel snapped. “We’ll reduce your planet to a cinder that will float –”

Brodie’s memory of the next few seconds would forever remain a blur. Whatever Breel had wanted to say would forever remain a mystery because Ebony chose that moment to attack. Within seconds she had crossed the area in a sprint, transmuting two machete knives in mid-air. The two soldiers on either side of the commander were completely taken by surprise; obviously no one had stood up to them for so long they had forgotten what resistance looked like. Ebony struck down Breel with a double blow.

“Revolution!” she cried. “Revolution!”

One of the warriors fired ineffectively into the deck. The other stumbled backward. Brodie was so amazed she didn’t know what to say, but Dan took up the cry immediately.

“Revolution!” he yelled. “Down with the Tagaar!”

“Freedom!” someone in the crowd yelled.

“Kill the Tagaar!” another voice rang out.

Ebony dove to one side as the Tagaar warriors recovered. They opened fire on the crowd. People screamed and ducked for cover. Some people were hit. Dan focused on a piece of sheet metal on one of the makeshift rooves. It flew through the air and struck one of the warriors, killing him immediately.

The remaining warrior continued to fire as he withdrew through the door. Ebony climbed to her feet.

“Revolution!” she yelled.

A hundred voices had already taken up the cry. Several other people were cheering at the death of Breel and the warrior. Brodie and her friends caught up to Ebony. Dan slapped her on the back.

“You’re amazing!” he said.

“Not really.” The girl blushed in the pale light. “I just don’t like bullies.”

Zena appeared at their side. “We’ve got to press the advantage,” she said. “With this many people we may be able to take over the ship.”

They started forward, but the door had started to slide shut. Dan focused on it and buckled it out of shape. It ground to a halt. By now they could hear a chant of voices ringing behind them. The revolt seemed to have spread across the length and breadth of Sartaria within seconds. It seemed the whole society had been like a powder keg waiting to explode. All it needed was a match – and Ebony had provided it.

“Well done, girl,” Brodie said as they started up the corridor.

“Thanks,” she said. “Now we just need to take over the ship.”

It immediately became obvious that this was going to be easier said than done. The single guard at the far end of the corridor was joined by another group of warriors. Ebony formed a shield and Ferdy wielded it before them as the aliens began firing at them. Brodie looked back and saw a multitude of people starting down the tunnel with makeshift weapons. Most of the weapons looked like they were tools used for metal working.

“Anyone got any ideas?” she asked.

Ebony turned to Dan. “You remember the baseball manoeuvre?”

“Do I ever?” Dan smiled. “Bat ‘er up.”

Ebony focused on the air before the shield and created a steel ball. Dan sent it flying toward the approaching troops. They heard a scream and the sound of running. Ebony and Dan repeated the procedure half a dozen times.

“Ferdy does not like it when we hurt people,” Ferdy said. “But we have to fight back if people shoot at Ferdy and his friends.”

“Absolutely,” Ebony agreed.

“In 455AD,” Ferdy continued, “Roman Emperor Petronius Maximus was stoned to death by an angry mob after only seventy-eight days on the throne.”

“Uh, I didn’t know that.” Ebony raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think we’ll be meeting him today.”

“Obviously, friend Ebony.” Ferdy looked at her as if she were dumb. “He is dead.”

“Thanks for clearing that up.”

Brodie looked past them up the corridor. The Tagaar were nowhere to be seen. She urged the others forward until they reached another door. By now the corridor was very full of people. Brodie was sure they had a good chance of taking over the entire ship if they could access a store of weapons.

“Ferdy,” Brodie said. “We need firepower for these people. Are you able to hack into the Tagaar communications system?”

“I can.”

He smiled at her.

“Uh, will you do it, please?” Brodie asked.

“Of course.” He laid down the enormous metal shield. Pulling open a nearby panel, he manipulated the wires for a moment. A series of hieroglyphics appeared on a small computer screen. After a few minutes he drew back from the panel, frowned and punched a few more buttons.

“How are you doing?” Brodie asked.

“Ferdy is well.”

“Have you succeeded in hacking the system?”

“Not yet,” he replied. “Ferdy first had to learn the Tagaar language and counting system. The language contains almost a million words while the Tagaar use a Base-12 numeric system.”

“Oh.”

Ferdy continued to punch buttons on the panel. He made a satisfied sound after another minute. “There is a weapons storage area one hundred metres to our left and one floor up.”

Brodie examined the wall. “This looks pretty thick. Maybe we should –”

Ferdy punched a hole straight through the metal, revealing the room beyond. He tore a jagged gap in the wall so large that two people could fit through at a time.

“It is not so thick,” he said. “See?”

Chapter Twenty-Five

I was awakened by the sound of a droning alarm. Opening my eyes with difficulty, I tried to bring myself back into wakefulness. I saw a view screen and a control panel. Chad was sound asleep in the pilot’s seat next to me.

Where was I?

I can’t say it all came flooding back to me. I’d been through too much over the last couple of days for that to occur. Instead, my memories returned in a piecemeal fashion. Last of all I remembered that the Premier of Russia – Alexi Kozlov – was handcuffed to a seat in the back of the Flex Fighter.

Oh hell. How had I gotten myself into this mess?

The alarm continued to sound. I turned my focus to the control panel. A light was flashing.

“Holy hell,” I muttered. “Computer. What is the source of the alarm?”

“Main power has dropped to ten percent.”

“Why has the power suddenly dropped?”

“Power loss is due to normal consumption.”

Normal consumption? This was weird. One of the staff at The Agency had told me the power supply for one of these would last for years.

“What’s using the power?” I asked.

“Life support, engines…” The computer’s voice droned on, listing a multitude of ship wide systems. Then it said something that caught my attention.

“Computer, what was that last item?”

“Power drainage from the outer hull.”

“What is that?”

“A device is attached to the outer hull that is draining energy at ten times normal rate.”

I wasn’t sure what it was, but the Russians must have fired something at us before we escaped. I pushed Chad half a dozen times before he finally woke up.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“We have to put down for a while.”

“Why?”

I explained the problem regarding the hull.

“Yeah,” he said. “Put us down anywhere.”

He promptly went back to sleep.

“Computer,” I said. “Bring us in to land.”

“Confirmed.”

I heard a slight rev of the engines and the vessel dipped. I looked at the countdown on the wrist compass. I still had six hours till I was due to meet Graal. I still had not formulated a plan as to how to save Brodie – assuming she was still alive – but at least I did not feel quite so alone. I watched the landscape draw closer by the moment. We dipped low over some trees and found a glade in the middle of a forest.

“Computer,” I said. “Where are we?”

“Current position is approximately fifty miles west of the Gouin Reseroir.”

“Uh…where is that?”

“The Province of Quebec.”

Canada
, I thought.
Not quite the way I wanted to visit this wonderful country.

The Flex gently set down.

Chad stirred. “Are we there yet?”

“Come on. I need your help.”

“Doing what?”

I groaned and explained again about the device attached to the hull. He stretched and half fell out of the pilot’s seat. We entered to the rear section of the vessel and found the Premier wide awake. Obviously he was too worried to sleep.

“What are we doing?” he asked. “Is a ransom to be paid?”

“There’s not going to be any ransom,” I said.

The man immediately looked alarmed.

“No, I mean –” I wasn’t sure how to explain this. “I’m sorry you’ve been dragged into this. There’s a hostage situation taking place and we need your help.”

“Is there to be a prisoner exchange?” he asked.

“Uh, something like that.”

“That’s right.” Chad shook his head unhappily. “We’re trading you for a shipment of babushka dolls. I warned you –”

“Ignore him,” I instructed the Premier. “We’ll be back in a minute.”

I practically dragged Chad through the back door of the ship. We found ourselves in the middle of a clearing surrounded by tall trees. Chad and I began examining the outside of the ship. After a minute we found a device the size of a plate attached to the side.

“This doesn’t look normal,” Chad said.

We pried it free and Chad used his flame power to melt it into slag.

“Let’s just hope that wasn’t part of the engine,” I said.

“I doubt it.” He glanced up into the surrounding forest. “I’m getting that weird feeling.”

“Indigestion?”

“No.” He peered through the network of trees. “Like we’re being watched.”

I stared into the forest. It looked completely deserted.

Still…

“Let’s get moving,” I said. “The sooner –”

A voice boomed from the undergrowth. “This is Canadian Special Forces. Get down on the ground. Place your hands on the back of your head. Do not move.”

Hell.

Chad and I started around the side of the vessel, but at the same moment someone – or something – flew straight out of the forest and slammed into both of us. It was like being hit by a cannonball. We went sprawling across the ground as the shape disappeared out of sight. I tried standing, but I had been winded. Chad was faster on his feet. He started erecting an ice wall around the perimeter. It had reached a height of about six feet when the second attack happened.

A blast of purple energy smashed a hole in the wall. By now I was back on my feet again, but the beam of light slammed into me and I went flying once more. I groaned. A hail of bullets hit the wall, reducing it to icy rubble. I tried rising again, but something knocked me to the ground for the third time.

I rolled over. The figure standing above me was the human cannonball that had crashed into me. I struggled to my knees as he drew back a fist.

“I’m Tasker,” he said. “Time to say goodnight.”

He slammed his fist into my jaw and darkness swallowed me.

Chapter Twenty-Six

The rain had stopped.

Morgan Le Fay sipped at her cup of tea as she peered through the window of the small cottage. There were few things she would miss when she left Earth, but a good cup of tea was one of them. She always took hers with sugar and cream. A small pastry on the side never went astray either. It was a shame this cottage was so ill-equipped to satisfy her, but sometimes she was forced to settle for second best.

She sighed. The view from the cottage was delightful. From here she could watch the sea and the mighty heaving waves off the coast. A lovely view. Still, there would be many stimulating vistas awaiting her once she acquired the necessary technology to leave this world. A muffled groan came from behind her. She glanced back at the owners of the cottage. An elderly couple named George and Sarah Bell stood with their adult son, Bruce, like toy soldiers at attention.  Morgan placed down her cup of tea. Inclining her head to the elderly woman, she said, “You may speak.”

The woman gasped and let out a low cry. Despite the return of her power of speech, it still took the old woman a moment to form words.

“Who are you?” she gasped. “What are you? What do you –”

Morgan gave a small wave of her hand and silenced the woman again. “So many questions. I can see why I shut you up in the first place.” She took another sip of her tea. Drumming her fingers on the table, she decided to try the son.

“Young man,” she said. “I am going to ask you some questions.”

She allowed him to speak. Instead of being grateful for the return of his voice, his face convulsed with hatred. “Release us!” he yelled. “What sort of monster –”

“I will be the one asking the questions,” Morgan said. She was beginning to tire of these people. She flicked a wrist and the son abruptly turned and punched his mother in the face. The old woman’s head snapped to one side, but she remained standing.

“You will cause your mother pain every time you do not answer me,” Morgan instructed him. “Do you understand?”

Bruce Bell was a big man – well over six feet in height – but now he cried like a baby.

“Yes…yes, I understand.”