ACHILLES' HEEL
Lieutenant Colonel Jones held the door of the limousine open for Security Chief Anderson, then got in behind him and locked the rear passenger doors. She listened for the sound of the front door closing and felt the big car start to move out of the parking lot.
The alert had come in only a few minutes earlier. Zark's explanation had been brief and to the point: an unidentified ship had appeared 'out of nowhere' (Jones interpreted this as meaning that it had most likely made a short and highly dangerous intra-atmospheric time-warp jump, but Zark stuck strictly to observations until hypotheses could be verified with evidence) attacked the Palace with a soporific gas, then vanished again. Security staff were searching the grounds and taking head counts as they dealt with casualties, but early reports suggested that there were people unaccounted for.
Important people.
Jones risked a glance at the seat opposite her, which was occupied by Security Chief Anderson. The Chief could be difficult to read, sometimes, but this was definitely not one of those times, Jones decided. He was a taut as a drawn bowstring, clutching his palm unit in a white-knuckled fist and stabbing it into the tele-comm slot.
This, Jones reasoned, was probably not a good day to be Zoltar. Anderson glanced up from his perusal of incoming text news on the tele-comm screen, and Jones fought to keep her own face from betraying her shock at what she saw in his eyes.
Anderson was afraid.
This was probably not a good day to be Alberta Jones, the security officer decided. Sharing a confined space with a formidable Chief of Staff who was currently in a state of white hot anger mixed with fear wasn't an ideal situation for anyone.
And it was going to take at least another fifteen minutes before the limousine arrived at the Presidential Palace.
"There's no response from Princess at all," 7-Zark-7 said. The robot's image was visible on the small screen that had slid down from the limousine's ceiling. "I'm terribly worried about her," the robot added.
"What's the likelihood that her signal's being jammed?" Anderson asked
"The probability is high, sir," Zark said. "I could calculate it for you, but the last time I did that, you told me to stick--"
"Thank you, Zark," Anderson said, forestalling the remainder of the sentence. "Keep trying all the communication devices for every individual unaccounted for. I want them found."
"Yes, Chief Anderson."
Jones remained silent. Working with Anderson was like working with a tiger: you might admire its style, but if you wanted to keep working with it, you could never lose sight of the fact that a lot of that style was built around teeth and claws.
The Vice President of the Intergalactic Federation of Peaceful Planets was on her way back from a media interview when her palm unit beeped. She plugged the handpiece in to the slot provided in the limousine. "Yes, Soulla?" she prompted, triggering the voice activation.
"There's a problem, Mrs D'Castro," her secretary said. "An attack on the Presidential Palace. They want you in the big office right away."
"Oh, lord," D'Castro felt her mouth go dry. "Tell them I'm about ten minutes away." The Vice President closed the channel and sat back in the seat, breathing deeply to compose herself. As Alexander Kane's second in command, D'Castro would be required to keep a cool head.
By the time D'Castro reached the Palace and made her way to the President's office, a busy crowd was gathering. Several members of the presidential staff were milling in the outer office. D'Castro strode past them and pushed through the door of President Kane's office.
"Julia," Kane greeted her. "Have you been briefed?"
"Not yet," D'Castro said. "What happened? I half expected to find the place in ruins."
"If only it were that simple," Kane said. "Laureli's been abducted."
The Vice President's stomach clenched in an icy knot. She took a measured breath. "How?" D'Castro asked. "When? And are you all right? I mean, how are... Is Chief Anderson coming in?"
"It happened about twenty minutes ago. Anderson's on his way."
D'Castro studied her old friend's normally ruddy face, now pale and strained. Security Chief Anderson would take charge of the situation and do his best to resolve things, but his icy ruthlessness would be like a goad to a husband whose wife had been abducted. Both men would work a lot better if there was an intermediary between them. "And you, Alex?" she asked gently.
"Ask me again in an hour or so," Kane said. "Right now, I don't know."
D'Castro walked around to Kane's side of the desk and rested a hand on his shoulder. "I'm here if you need me. Are you up for telling me what happened?"
President Kane took a deep breath. "It seems an attack ship dropped out of an atmospheric warp hop just off the coast and came in fast over the Palace before the Air Force could scramble. They hit Laureli's tea party, used some kind of knockout gas, grabbed the women and left. We don't have any more information as yet, not even casualty stats."
"If it was just a kidnapping," D'Castro surmised, "we'll hear something soon. Zoltar must want something."
"Zoltar always wants something," Kane growled. The words hung unspoken in the air between them: and we have a policy of never negotiating.
"Who else was taken?" D'Castro asked.
"Massana Irazi," Kane recounted, "Shiralee Adams, Lakshmi Baskaranathan, Danielle McNamara, Evadne Winters and Princess Anderson."
D'Castro realised she was holding her breath. "Anderson? David's ward?"
"Yes," Kane said.
"And he's going to be running the recovery op? Maybe we should have Deputy Chief Galbraith in on this."
"No," Kane said. "David can handle it. He'll be as mad as hell, and when he's angry, he's dangerous. Besides, with Princess on the inside, Lauri and the others might just stand a chance."
D'Castro frowned. "Why? Does the girl have some special training or something?"
"Julia, 'the girl,' is G-3."
D'Castro's mouth formed a silent 'O.' She drew herself up. "And I suppose his other kids are G-- Oh, for heaven's sake." D'Castro put her hands on her hips. "They are, aren't they?"
"You didn't think he'd adopted those orphans out of the kindness of his heart, did you?" Kane said wryly.
"Up until now," D'Castro said, "I'd considered it evidence that he might have one."
"Revise your estimates," Kane said.
When Anderson arrived a few minutes later, Julia D'Castro was surprised to note the tension in his face. Given her new-found knowledge about G-Force, she had expected to find Anderson as calm and collected as usual. Maybe he really does care, she speculated.
"Sit down, David. What news?" Kane asked.
"Little enough," Anderson said, taking a seat. "Six members of the presidential security detail and five male bodyguards including one from the Rigan Embassy are confirmed recovering from the effects of the soporific gas. The First Lady, Madame Irazi, Ms Baskaranathan, Mrs McNamara, Miss Adams, Mrs Winters, and Princess are all confirmed missing, presumed abducted by Zoltar's forces. So far, we've had no contact despite repeated and continuing attempts."
"Is there much hope of getting them back in once piece?" Kane asked.
"There's always hope, Mr President," Anderson said, "but I can't make any promises. You know we can't negotiate. You're going to have to trust me, but there may be losses."
"It's easy for you to sit there and say that --" Kane began, then the look on Anderson's face stopped him. "My apologies," Kane said, recovering himself. "Of course you're worried about Princess."
Anderson looked away and busied himself getting his palm unit out of his pocket. "I'll need a secure computer console," he said.
"Over here." Kane got up and led Anderson and D'Castro to the chairs arranged around a large coffee table at the other end of the big room. The President gestured to several slots set in to the coffee table. "Any of these should serve your purposes."
"Thank you, sir," Anderson said. He plugged his palm unit in to one of the slots and activated the computer, his mouth set in a grim line.
"You're really rattled by this," D'Castro said. "David, are you sure you shouldn't be taking a step back?" When he made eye contact, she began to understand what Kane had meant about Anderson's anger being dangerous.
"Quite sure," he said, his tone deceptively soft. His eyes, however, spoke of murder.
D'Castro didn't flinch. "As long as we're clear," she said. "How much can Princess achieve up there?"
Anderson glanced at President Kane, who nodded toward his Vice President. Anderson returned the nod and logged in to the computer. "In all honesty, Julia, I don't know. When we send G-Force out in to the field, they're equipped with uniforms that incorporate protection against impact, heat, cold, radiation and chemical attack. They have specialised equipment and weaponry. Right now, Princess is up there without any of those things. All she can rely on is her training, and all I can do is pray that it's going to be enough."
"So, in terms of operational capability, our worst case scenario is that we could lose a member of G-Force," D'Castro surmised.
"I'm afraid so." Anderson opened a channel to Nerve Centre. "Zark, report," he snapped.
D'Castro listened to the robot impart information on sensor readings and location coordinates, all of them apparently useless, since the alien ship had vanished from all the planetary surveillance systems. She stood up, folded her arms, hugging herself, and tried not to think about what the President was going through.
"You all right, Julia?" Kane asked. He was standing by the window, watching Anderson work.
D'Castro spun on her heel. "Me?" She shook her head. "I'm the last person in the galaxy you should be worried about." She walked over to him and took his hand. "I couldn't help wondering how I'd feel if anything were to happen to Pete, and I'm not enjoying the speculation."
"You must worry every time your son's squadron goes out on patrol," Kane reasoned.
"I do," D'Castro said, "but my son's an officer. He's trained and he's equipped with the best the Cosmic Space Patrol can offer and he chooses to serve the Federation. It's different."
"I have faith that Lauri won't give in," Kane said. "She's a strong woman."
"I know, Alex," D'Castro said. "If anyone can make it home, it's Laureli."
Author's Chapter Notes:
The strain begins to show.
Chapter End Notes:
Thanks to cathrl for beta reading.