Operation Inferno (15 page)

The colonel held up one hand to cut him off. “Assemble in the hangar bay in one hour. My senior staff will have a strategy.”

Ethan couldn’t believe the adults’ plan was to do
nothing
—while the Ch’zar, for all practical purposes, were going to win!

Ethan hadn’t fought so hard, for so long, to let the aliens win. And there was
no way
he was letting them leave Earth to do this somewhere else.

“I’m sorry,” Ethan said, “I can’t do that. I have to stop the Ch’zar. I
will
stop them.”

“There is a time to fight,” Colonel Winter told him, and tilted her chin up so she looked down on him, “and a time to wait. This is the latter.”

Her glare seemed to bore into him, but Ethan stood tall and held his ground. “With respect, ma’am, I think it’s time to fight—not be a coward.”

That last bit slipped out before Ethan could stop himself. He knew it was a mistake to say it, but it was exactly how he felt. All the adults were being
chicken
.

“I see …” Colonel Winter narrowed her eyes to slits.

The temperature in the Command Center seemed to drop twenty degrees.

“Amanda,” Dr. Irving whispered. He moved to set
a hand on her arm but then thought better of it and withdrew. “Perhaps we just need to explain the reasons better to Ethan.”

“No,” she said. “Words have never been ideal tools to communicate with Mr. Blackwood.” She motioned for two guards and told them, “Escort the lieutenant to the brig. We have work to do and I have zero tolerance for insubordination.”

The two adult guards grabbed Ethan by the biceps and marched him off.

Ethan struggled once, but the guards gripped harder. He looked back. Colonel Winter continued to glare at him. Dr. Irving shrugged, looking apologetic but resigned.

Ethan turned his back on the two adults he
thought
he had looked up to and admired.

They were so shortsighted and afraid.

Sure, Ethan was afraid, too, but he knew it was up to him to do the right thing.

At the moment, though, he wasn’t sure just how he was going to get anything done from inside a prison cell.

   18   
IRONY

I
T
’
D BEEN MONTHS SINCE
E
THAN WAS IN HIS
English class at Santa Blanca’s Northside Elementary School, but he remembered one lesson in particular that applied to this situation.

On irony.

Irony was when a reversal of what you’d expected happened.

Like him getting locked into the same brig he’d ordered built from one of the base’s hospital rooms.

The room had two beds, a tiny bathroom, tiled floors and walls, and flickering overhead lights.

It was even more ironic that he was locked in the same prison cell as Paul Hicks—the person
he
had detained for insubordination, the same reason Colonel Winter had jailed Ethan.

Ethan had been frog-marched into the cell. The door slammed shut, and the welded bar slid in place behind him.

Paul Hicks had been too stunned to say anything. Instead, he laughed until he cried and then chuckled uncontrollably until he lay on his bed, holding his sides in pain.

He obviously hadn’t seen the adult guards … or he’d have had questions.

“Shut up,” Ethan told him.

“Yes, sir!” Paul snapped off a salute and started laughing again.

Ethan crossed his arms and sat in the corner on the other bed.

Felix and Kristov had welded the air ducts in this room tight. They’d checked the floor and ceiling, too, to make sure there’d be no way through them. There was no escaping this cell unless Ethan could trick the guards into letting him out.

He glanced through the tiny wire-reinforced window in the door.

There were two shadows on the opposite wall. The adult guards likely had orders directly from Colonel Winter to
not
listen to Ethan Blackwood, prisoner.

He sighed.

“So, Blackwood,” Paul said, still chuckling, “tell me your sad, sad story.”

“Why not?” Ethan said, and shrugged. “Maybe I’ll see something I missed before … some way to convince her she’s wrong.”

Paul must have picked up on Ethan’s dead-serious tone, because he stopped his inane chuckling. “Is anyone hurt?” he whispered. “Or dead?”

“No. But in some ways it’s worse than one person getting killed.”

Ethan ran through it all from the top—how they saw the Ch’zar fighting each other for resources on the Yucatán Peninsula. How the winner of that ongoing battle was then using the big beanstalk elevator at the equator to move materials into space. How there were three ships up there: possibly the original mothership that brought the aliens to Earth, being refit and repaired, and two entirely
new
spaceships.

The smile faded from Paul’s scarred face as he connected the dots. “They’re leaving?”

Ethan nodded. He had to give Paul credit—he’d pieced it together a lot faster than he had.

Ethan went on explaining how they’d found Rebecca and her squadron and then revived the adults who’d survived the destruction of the Seed Bank.

At this part of the story, disbelief, relief, and then concern and anger flashed across Paul’s features. He kept his mouth shut, though, sat up, and leaned forward to hear more.

“I wanted to stop the Ch’zar,” Ethan explained, “before the aliens could leave and enslave
another
world. Which is when the colonel and I had … a difference of opinion on the issue.”

“But you were right,” Paul whispered, cupping his chin with his palm, thinking.

Those were four words Ethan thought he’d never hear from Paul (at least not directed at him).

“Hey,” Ethan said, “what
did
happen the other day? Why were you going through your preflight checklist on the mantis?”

Paul shrugged. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

Paul looked at him a long time. “I just needed to … fly.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere.” Paul threw his hand up in frustration. “Across the hangar probably. I wasn’t really thinking that far ahead. I just needed to get up into the air, to get away from this—you, all the others blindly following orders, everything. It all got to me.”

“So, you weren’t planning to run off?”

“Run?” Paul’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you crazy? Where would I go? One I.C.E. wouldn’t last long against the entire Ch’zar Collective.” He dropped his gaze. “Besides,” he whispered, “I’d die before I let them get me and betray you guys.”

Ethan heard the sincerity in Paul’s voice, and he believed him. On some level, Ethan could even sympathize with Paul. Sometimes, in the air was the only place Ethan could find peace.

“I’m sorry about hurting Kristov,” Paul went on. “I panicked when he caught me going through my preflight on the mantis. I was scared when he caught up to me—he’s so big, you know? The combat training kicked in and …” He sighed. “I wish I had the chance to say I’m sorry to him.”

Movement in the corridor outside the room caught Ethan’s eye. He jumped to his feet and peered through
the tiny window. Two adults escorted a handcuffed girl down the hallway. He caught a glimpse just as they rounded the corner. Who had it been? Angel? Madison? And why would they be putting either one in jail?

Ethan wasn’t sure. After all they’d been through, he thought they might be making progress in working out their differences.

“Blackwood!” Paul snapped his fingers. “Focus. So what’s the plan?”

Ethan turned to face him but kept one eye on the door. “Plan?”

“To get out of here,” Paul said, his face scrunched in irritation. “To stop the Ch’zar. To save the galaxy.”

Ethan shook his head. “There is no plan.”

Paul stood. “Don’t be stupid. At least, more stupid than normal. You
always
have a plan.”

More people appeared in the corridor outside the room. This time three guards with nightsticks prodded Kristov and Lee along. Kristov spotted Ethan looking out and gave him a thumbs-up as he passed. The two boys were locked into the room across from Ethan and Paul.

Ethan had that elevator-falling sensation in the pit of his stomach. What were his people all doing to get
arrested? Getting in a massive fight? No. Kristov practically glowed with an aura of rebellion Ethan had seen before on the Sterling recruits … but his flight suit was unrumpled, and there wasn’t a single scratch or bruise on skinny Lee (who surely would have shown some sign of a fistfight).

“Listen, Ethan,” Paul said, and moved next to Ethan. “You’re right, and the colonel is wrong. If we don’t stop the Ch’zar they’ll go off and enslave more people on more worlds. Beside, if some Ch’zar stay behind they’re going to dig in and make Earth their permanent hive.”

Ethan nodded. But what could they do?

Dr. Irving was also right. They were outnumbered a hundred thousand to one.

Oh … and there was one more irony. The Ch’zar were fighting each other. And instead of the humans taking advantage of that … they were fighting amongst themselves as well.

So stupid.

Worse—they had those robots on the lower levels to deal with before they found a way up here. There were so many of them. All armed with improvised weapons. In a pack he bet they’d be a match for an I.C.E.

Something about that notion stuck in Ethan’s brain.

“Now you got it,” Paul whispered. “I can see the old Blackwood brain ticking away. What is it?”

“The robots. On the lower levels of the base. They’re like the ones we found in New Taos.”

Those mechanical monsters had wanted to tear Ethan apart as well. And before that, the humans of that city had annihilated each other in World War IV.

Why was everyone
always
fighting?

But not every robot had tried to kill Ethan. There was that New Taos librarian robot (who’d been leaking enough radiation to kill Ethan if he’d stuck around too long anyway).

It had told him something … something that was superimportant … what?

He couldn’t remember. He shook his head to jar his gray matter. No luck.

“Hey, isn’t that Felix?!” Paul asked.

Ethan spun around.

Felix was indeed being marching down the corridor by two guards. Felix looked more pale than normal, and a sheen of sweat covered his face and neatly shaved head.

He looked up, met Ethan’s worried gaze, and gave him a weak smile.

Ethan then knew exactly why his people were being tossed into jail.

Because of him.

They must have found out what the colonel had done. He imagined that, one by one, they disobeyed her orders as well. It was a full-blown mutiny.

Even Felix—the colonel’s own son!

All for Ethan.

His heart twisted with guilt for getting them into hot water—but at the same time he was enormously proud of his team for sticking together.

Colonel Winter’s angry face appeared in the door’s window so suddenly that Ethan and Paul both jumped backward.

“Whoa!” they said.

The security bar slid aside, and Colonel Winter stood in the doorway, one hand resting on the handle of the ivory pistol always strapped to her side.

Two adult guards flanked her. Both men wore glares and frowns.

She pointed at Paul. “That one,” she told the guards. “Remove him.” The colonel told Ethan, “You and I will talk. Alone.”

Paul looked from Ethan to the colonel and then the
guards. He raised one eyebrow, and his usual bravado seemed to return from whatever limitless well that he drew the stuff from.

“Heya, Colonel,” Paul said, and tossed her a causal salute. “How’s it going?” He then marched out with the two adults as if they were his personal honor guards.

“Sit,” the colonel ordered Ethan, gesturing to one of the hospital beds.

Ethan remained standing.

“Please,” she added icily. “We have a serious problem, beyond your individual insubordination, Lieutenant.”

So it was
Lieutenant
again, was it? Ethan nodded. He moved to the bed and sat on the edge.

Colonel Winter sighed and sat on the other bed.

Ethan noticed two knuckle-shaped bruises on her chin.

“Your people are …,” she said, “well, to be commended on their loyalty to their commander. Especially the one called Angel.” She absentmindedly rubbed her bruises. “Even Madison has seemed to take leave of her senses on this matter.”