Young Sentinels (Wearing the Cape) (Volume 3) (32 page)

“This is Steven Kellough. A C Class teleporter, he was employed in rescue and recovery operations in the weeks after the quake, where he met Eric. He is a longstanding member of the Foundation of Awakened Theosophy and is now Drop, the Wreckers’ A Class teleporter.” The screen split to show his shocked face caught on mask-cam last night.

“This was enough for us to get a silent warrant for all Foundation records. Artemis — ” he nodded to the dark angel at the table “ — began consulting with us en-route, and she and Galatea have given us this.” The screen widened, changing to an aerial view of what looked like a resort.

“The Foundation owns several properties in and around Chicago, including this country ‘retreat’ used by higher-level initiates. It’s rented out for conferences when not in use by the Foundation, and with pictures Ozma obtained for us, we were able to match the room in which Astra is being kept to the blueprints for the main lodge.” The overhead shot turned into a schematic of the building, zeroed in on a wing of narrow single-occupant bedrooms. “Although according to their schedules, the retreat is not in use — the Foundation paid a pretty big penalty to cancel a corporate retreat scheduled for this week — based on current power-usage, the place is not empty. Using Ozma’s pictures and Artemis’ and Galatea’s findings, we have obtained a no-knock warrant which the Sentinels will exercise tonight.”

Rush slapped the table. “So what are we waiting for? Let’s go get A back!”

“Agreed,” Lei Zi said. The Chinese superhero had always sounded coldly precise the few times I’d seen her on TV, and tonight wasn’t any different. She stood and took the control wand from Detective Fisher.

“First, some tactical realities. We believe that Astra has been depowered — ” She had to wait for the shocked dismay around the table to die. “From the pictures secured by Ozma, her injuries from the previous night do not appear to be healing. Just as significant, she does not appear to be restrained by anything more than a locked door. This dictates our tactics; we are not going in like a hammer to retrieve an egg.

“Additionally, we do not know the numbers and powers we will face; only three Wreckers are definitively known: Twist, Balz, and Drop. Ozma’s pictures netted us another ID, Redback. Dispatch will provide his relevant stats, but be aware he may be much more than he was. There may be more unknowns, and again we are dealing with someone who can enhance or take away breakthrough powers. The place is also protected by powerful shields. Magic wards or psionic shields can always be purchased, expensively, but to borrow one of Atlas’s favorite phrases, ‘Assume any unknown breakthrough can deal with you.’”

“So what’s the plan, boss?” Riptide asked.

“Tonight’s op has two goals: recovering Astra and capturing the Wreckers. Fortunately, we now have two teams. The rescue team will be our new Young Sentinels, supplemented by Artemis and The Harlequin. They will move in to secure the bedroom wing and extract Astra. Once the rescue team has extracted Astra, the capture team will move in to sweep up as many of the Wreckers as we can. Hopefully we can net all of them, but the rescue is our first priority and we are assuming complete communication blackout once we go in. So here is how we will proceed...”

I am one of the strongest breakthroughs in the U.S., and I’m a
damsel in distress
. One of my action figures comes with Blacklock restraints, which makes Chakra laugh uncontrollably. I
so
don’t want to know.

Hope Corrigan’s journal.

I gave myself a few minutes to just not think — not that I could do much until I stopped wanting to gag and could stand up. I rinsed, splashed water on my face, and leaned on the sink until I was steady, then went back into the bedroom and pushed the dresser away from the wall to add
Pellegrini/DA
to my scratched message. Blackstone and Shelly would figure it out. Pushing the dresser back, I lay down again and looked at the ceiling. The walls were too thick, but the air vents were in the ceiling; if I climbed on the bathroom sink, could I knock a hole through the plaster and paneling? The thought of trying to pull myself up into the overhead one-armed made me cringe, but if they were done with me for the night, it was worth a shot. Right?

And I
had
to get out. Dr. Pellegrini wanted
breakthroughs
, and if he’d helped the Teatime Anarchist’s evil twin set off the California Quake, then he was willing to kill a thousand “sleepers” to awaken a single soul. Had he been behind other mass-casualty attacks? My gut churned and I curled up, hand on my stomach, not breathing until I could lie out straight again.

Time to try the ceiling.

I moved
slow
, careful of my arm and listening for the door. The rod holding up the shower curtain came down pretty easy, and the toilet and the sink were set close enough together that I could step from one to the other.

I could slip, too.

I lost the rod, but the bathroom was tiny enough I didn’t fall straight to the floor — instead I hit the wall, slid down to and off the toilet, and nearly passed out when I hit the tiles. I lost all my air, locked in my first gasping breath.

Don’t scream don’t scream don’t scream don’t scream
. The walls were thick, but someone might be standing guard outside my door.

Rapid blinking eventually cleared my eyes and I let go, took another breath, and curled up on the cool tiles to cup my burning, throbbing arm. Whimpering was undignified. So was sniffling and wanting my dad. For that matter, lying on the bathroom floor lacked gravitas, too; my fans would be disappointed.

Then the lights went out.

Get up! Get up get up get up!
My foot found the shower rod and I jackknifed painfully to grab it. Back to a wall, I pulled myself up. Whimpering
was
undignified, but moving fast gave me a good excuse. Even the bedroom nightlight was out; I might as well have been in a cave somewhere. Using the rod, I found the bed, then the dresser, then the wall opposite. I hugged the wall; the shower rod was pretty heavy, and in the pitch black I could swing at whatever came through the door before they knew where I was.

Yeah, right
. I closed my eyes, and opening them made no difference.
They’ll probably laugh
. Maybe, but if they came to take me away, they’d have to earn it. I wished I’d had time to write everything I wanted to say to everybody on the wall.

A crash made me jump halfway to the ceiling, whimper some more. Then a freight train stomped by my door. A second crash and then a roar like a hurricane. The door opened and wind rushed in, I swung, connected — “Ouch!” — and dropped the rod from nerveless fingers as I wobbled.

A hulking shape I’d only met yesterday loomed in the dim light from the hallway.

“Astra?”

The lights came back on to reveal a fanged, gray-skinned monster with dreadlocks flying in the wind.
My
monster and the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. He staggered when I wrapped my good arm around his neck and pulled myself up to plant my lips on that beautiful, toothy mouth.

Grendel

The Sentinels liked opening with kinetic strikes, and Watchman released me on Galatea’s “
Mark
!” I dropped without a word to free-fall towards my target, morphing into the densest, toughest-skinned form I could manage as the air whistled by me.

Below me wasn’t much to see; mostly dark, lit only by walkway and grounds lights, the resort looked asleep. Then it didn’t look like anything at all — Galatea’s hack of the local station cut the power and dropped the building into deep shadow, leaving only a single point of light.

Lei Zi’s plan was less a plan than a series of conditional intentions. Artemis was to infiltrate the target and signal once she knew Astra’s precise location; that was the high-powered LED flashlight I was falling towards. With that signal, the rest of our part unrolled as a choreographed entrance — Lei Zi and Blackstone had drilled us on it until we could repeat our parts and go-no go cues.

Hitting the turf outside the end of the bedroom wing felt like landing on thick sponge, and I had to scramble fast out of the dirt crater. I had to dial up my eyes’ light-gathering abilities before I saw Artemis, shadow in shadow where she waited by the door at the end of the bedroom wing. She pointed up as I started for the door.

Right — my turn. I popped the carry-pack off my belt, pulled out my flashlight, stuck it into the grass with the lawn-spike Vulcan had glued onto it, and flipped it on. The green-tinted cellophane taped over the end gave the
rest
of the team’s go-sign.
Then
I charged the door.

Artemis didn’t move out of my way — just turned into mist before I charged through where she’d been. I smashed the door aside and powered down the hall without slowing. The door at the end was a fire door, but it didn’t put up any more fight than the outside door had and Artemis came out of the mist behind me.

“Duck,” she said, tapping my back, and I did as the swarm of micro-missiles shot over our heads to explode in the pitch-black dining room beyond and pump it full of tear gas. Before the gas could reach us, Tsuris turned the hallway into a raging wind-tunnel to blow the stinging cloud further into the resort.

“Go.” Artemis tapped my back again as she started shooting.
Bang bang bang
.
Bang bang bang
. “Third left, stay down.” Turning myself around and crawling up the hall, I felt the hot wash of Galatea’s freaking rocket-boots on my back as she roared past to join Artemis in delivering the bang and boom. I rose to a crouch, kept moving; anyone getting past those two would to have to dig into the carpet and
crawl
up the hall unless he weighed as much as me — Balz certainly wasn’t getting any of his tricky spheres into play.

Easy so far, so why was my heart racing and breath coming like I’d been punching through stone? Leaning into the wind, I and counted doors: one, two,
three
. I popped the door, took a step and flinched from surprise as something bounced off the side of my head with a yelped “Ouch!”

“Astra?”

The lights came back on and I found myself staring down into wide blue eyes.
Yes!
Then she grabbed me, one arm around my neck, and before I could move she pulled herself up and kissed me hard.

I almost fell back into the hall, but managed to grab onto her as she went boneless. Somewhere in my head I heard someone
laughing
, smelled jasmine, and remembered what Lei Zi had said about Chakra tagging along.
Laugh it up, lady
.

The girl who’d just blown my world weighed as much as a kitten and I carefully tucked her up so she curled in against me. Headed up the hall, I had to lean nearly halfway to the floor against Tsuris’ indoor hurricane as she clung like a limpet, giggling into my chest. Over the wind I could hear the banging of Artemis’ pistols behind me, deeper roars as Galatea flushed racks of tiny brilliant-missiles. Back outside and past Tsuris and Megaton — last line of discouragement for anyone who could fight Tsuris’ wind — I lowered Astra to the grass as Crash and The Harlequin came from nowhere.

“Astra?” The Harlequin whispered, and sighed when she nodded. “This is going to hurt, honey. Sorry.” It might have taken three seconds for her to slip an inflatable brace around Astra’s arm and strap it to her chest — all Astra did was suck in her breath. She had to ask three times if Astra could hold on before the girl nodded again, then she and Crash lifted her onto Crash’s bike and the two of them disappeared in a blur of speed.

The Harlequin broke radio silence. “Team Two, we have secured the package — go to town. Team One, withdraw.” The roof of the dining hall blew off as Galatea thoughtfully made a hole for Team Two to come in hot. The Sentinels
really
liked kinetic strikes: Watchman’s landing shook the building.