“Yes, sir!” the AnthroSplice called back. He’d taken a seat in the galley section. “Ready when you are!”
“T-minus thirty and counting …” she ticked off.
“Initiate full burn, main thrusters!” he tapped the control pad three times.
“Initiating full burn, main thrusters … at seventy-five percent … eighty percent … T-minus ten … nine … eight … ninety percent …”
Tiger’s hand found the control sticks on the arms of the pilot’s chair. God, they felt good in his hands. He ran his fingers over the buttons on the underside of them, caressing them like he might caress a woman’s nipples. He lowered his visor and felt the helmet pressurize.
“Here we go!” He pressed the launch button, adrenaline coursing through his veins.
The big ship lurched forward, and a cloud of smoke erupted directly in front of it. Through the cockpit window, Tiger watched as a series of explosive charges blew away the rock, silt and mud that concealed the launch tube. The hangar doors began to open … and river water began to rush in.
“We are at full power!” Shaniqua announced as the Night Mare plowed into the deluge and up through the tube. The rushing water did it’s best to slow the advance of the big, black ship and carry it back the way it came, but the three powerful engines and the arrowhead shape helped it slice forward with relative ease. Within seconds, it was out of the tube and into the main river, a submerged missile moving down the main channel. It raced upwards for a few hundred yards before exploding out of the water like a giant supersonic orca and hurtling into the sky, swamping nearby boaters and leaving hovercar drivers crossing the Clement C. Clay Bridges slamming on their brakes and staring in awe at the strange, never-before-seen craft.
***
Doctor Samuels had made a valiant effort on Stella, but Matt knew it was an exercise in futility. After all, he’d cradled the woman’s bloody head against his chest while waiting for the doctor to arrive. He still had brain matter on his clothes as he stood nearby, watching the two orderlies from the morgue bag her body up. Deep down inside him, he fought to hold everything together, his mind threatening to fragment into a thousand pieces at any second.
You’re still a cop! A fucking cop! Do your goddamned job! He forced himself to maintain his composure, but as he looked around at the other troopers still milling about the hospital floor, the SWAT team operatives, the troopers who’d responded to the tactical alert, the CSI hacks … he felt nothing but contempt for them. They talked in hushed whispers and kept a respectable distance, but he knew their thoughts. She’d gone rogue.A mad dog put down! As they moved around, none of them could meet his eyes, and it was probably a good thing they couldn’t. He wanted to lash out. He wanted to hit somebody. No, not just hit somebody … he wanted to pummel someone repeatedly in the face until his fists were bloody, his knuckles cracked, his fingers fractured. He could very well kill somebody with his bare hands right now, and he wouldn’t be selective about who.
There was a commotion close to the elevators. The Colonel had arrived, accompanied by her entourage and escorted by the young SWAT leader, Lieutenant Travis. Typically, Matt would’ve have been waiting at the elevator to greet the Troop Commander. It was an unspoken protocol for ranking officers to flock around the top cop whenever he or she made an appearance on the scene at a major crime. After all, they expected their asses kissed appropriately whenever they were out and about.
Colonel Ella Remington wasn’t a stuffed shirt tie-knotter like a lot of other Troop Commanders Matt had dealt with in the past. She came up through the ranks, starting out as a beat trooper, and earning her way up through the pay grades. She was not a political animal but was savvy enough to play the game when the need arose. The troopers working for her, the criminal on the street, and the public she protected found her a fair but firm individual. She didn’t discriminate, ran a tight ship and utilized understaffed resources in efficient and innovative ways that invoked admiration and respect, even from the few detractors she had.
As far as Matt was concerned, departmental etiquette would have to wait. The assistant coroner had arrived and was finishing up with Stella. As they put her in the body bag, he allowed his eyes to close, shutting out the sight of Stella’s bloodied face disappearing as the black plastic was zippered shut. He didn’t want the last memory of her to be that. And yet, even in that condition, she was still beautiful in his eyes.
You deserved better than to go out like this, baby. I dunno what happened … but I swear I’m gonna find out. I’ll make it right!
The SWAT sniper sidled cautiously up to him. “Special Inspector?”
“What is it?”
“We gotta move out. We got another tac alert in South Huntsville. Sounds like somebody started a war over in Whitesburg Estates.”
“Whaddaya standing here talking to me for?” Matt cut his eyes toward him irritably. He didn’t care where the man went, as long as he went away. He was dying for a smoke, but he’d left his cigarettes in the Rocket-Aire. Probably a good thing. If he had one, he’d probably lit up right there in the fucking hospital, then dare someone to say something.
“I uh … I just wanted to say I’m sorry about your Ex Oh … about what happened,” the man said softly. “She was a good cop.”
Matt felt the lump in his throat swell. The emotion was getting to be too much.
