Aeolus Investigations Episode 14

Available from Amazon.com.

Christine Samue, years earlier, had pointed out to her parents — Lexi Stevens and Ron Samue — that she was weird. That was when they learned that their eight year old had basically been a fully adult personality in a child’s body for the prior two two years.

Now nineteen, their daughter, despite being extremely vulnerable around the man of her dreams, finds herself in a situation where she is the only one who can possibly save the Accord from total annihilation. And the Marshal doesn’t know anything about it.

Join Christine and her hastily assembled team of Marines as they board an alien starship — one poised to kill thousands on the Earth space station known as Fleet Home.

Chapter 1 – Car Chase

Christine Samue cut the wheel of the bright red, antique sports car hard left as she shot into the intersection. The traffic light had just turned red, but as long as none of the drivers of the oncoming traffic had a heart condition they would be OK. She had more than enough space. She took the left turn at an absurdly high speed causing all four wheels to drift through the intersection before she downshifted into second, gunned the engine, the tires fought for and found traction, and the car shot forward after executing a ninety-degree turn.

From the passenger seat, her Aunt Alexa, a pretty blonde woman about nineteen years older than Christine asked, very calmly, “Where the hell did you learn to drive like that?”

Christine shot through another light just after it changed. Since she was able to sense emotions, she didn’t need to spare Alexa a glance to know she was every bit as calm as she sounded. “Simulations — they’re better than video games. You really should embrace the family business, Alexa. I’ve been telling you that for years. This isn’t even a company car. Thankfully its one of the few standard transmission vehicles still on the road. Low center of gravity, too, which is good. I question whether the engine is original equipment, though. Any guns in the glove box?”

“Of course not.” She smiled, reached under her seat, released a catch, and pulled out a tray holding a pair of fully loaded Glocks. She passed one to Christine, who set it in her lap without a word. “There’s already a round chambered. Really, though, the glove box is too obvious. My father is governor of Earth. My sister is the ruler of the galaxy. So I have easily accessible handguns. I’ve also got two assault rifles and a bazooka in the trunk. The engine is upgraded. Sorry, but the car doesn’t fly or go into hyperspace.”

Christine smiled approvingly, “Good girl. Grenades? Smokers? Flash-bangs?” She was eyeing additional cars converging to their location.

Alexa was noticing the same. While it wasn’t officially what Christine termed a company car, her little sports coupe did have some of the bells and whistles. Her back-up camera could be switched to always on, her tires were reinforced and the engine was very non-standard. “Hell, no. Grenades are illegal. You called this in, right? Why don’t we have back-up?”

“Cells seem to be out. The signal didn’t go through. By the way, I’m pretty sure bazookas are illegal in New York as well. One of the cars I cut off earlier must have been a cop. We’ve got an all-black SUV with a flashing blue light and siren wailing five cars back. If he radioed it in, there should be more units responding.” She paused. “I think we’re being herded.” She made a quick maneuver, hitting one of the more ambitious pursuit vehicles, the sports car angled so as to send the much heavier SUV plowing into a parked truck despite the weight difference.

She regretted the damage she was doing to Alexa’s cute little car, but it couldn’t be helped. Cars could be fixed or replaced. Aunt Alexa, not so much. Alexa didn’t age and she healed rapidly — both due to the anti-geriatric treatment Christine’s mom — Alexa’s sister — Lexi Stevens had developed for her Aeolus Investigations team decades ago. Those DNA modifications came through to Alexa naturally, inherited from her mother, Geena Stevens. Despite that, she could still be killed by bullets, or even a car crash. Christine was pretty much immune to death. The fact that Alexa wasn’t made this more dangerous.

The coupe already had a few bullet holes in it from the gunmen’s attack in the Battery Park parking garage where this had all started. As the first bullets had thudded into the carriage, both women had dropped down into a crouch behind the body of the car.

Christine had yelled, “I’ll drive,” climbing in through the passenger side and pulling Alexa in after her. Following a dozen harrowing high-speed turns as she gunned the responsive little car through the garage, she burst out from the Whitehall Street exit, partially airborne as she left the ramp, where five waiting cars, all mid-size SUVs, took up the chase.

Alexa looked over at her niece’s face. “You’re enjoying this!”

Whitehall turned into Trinity Place and then Vessey Street before Christine answered. “That sounded more like an accusation than an observation, Alexa.” She paused. “I’m not enjoying the part about risking innocents in the vicinity, including you, but in general, yes. Sorry about your car.” She drove, again darting down a side street.

“Yeah, thanks. I love this car, but it’s just a car. Cars can be rebuilt.”

“I checked in with granddad’s security when I arrived on Earth,” Christine continued. “There was no chatter suggesting that anything untoward was being planned. This pursuit is organized and I think, with the possible exception of a cop who’s still sticking on our tail, we’re on our own. Our signal still isn’t getting out. They’ve got the cell networks jammed. The jammers must be in the vehicles chasing us, unless the whole city is down.”

“Can’t you reach someone telepathically?”

“Nope. That’s not exactly being jammed, but it is being fuzzed. Same difference, I suppose.”

“Really? Fuzzed? Did you just make up a new definition for ‘fuzz?’ Anyway, I didn’t think that was possible.”

Broadway took them through Union Square Park up to Herald Square, where Cristine hoped to lose her followers in what was a very congested area. That plan wasn’t working however. “It’s not supposed to be,” Christine replied grimly. “Are you willing to shoot to kill?” The car briefly jumped the sidewalk as they flew through Herald Square and west onto 34th Street. People scrambled to get out of the way. Having the cop’s siren on the coupe’s tail was a bonus as far as getting the pedestrians’ attention.

Alexa’s voice sounded both pained and resigned. “This is why I don’t want to join the family business. I guess I can if I have to.”

“Sorry, babe. Today, you have to. Lower your window and take out the green SUV coming up on your side.” Despite her choice to pursue a career in science, working on the world government’s Environmental Recovery project, Alexa could be a target at any time due to the people she was related to. She knew that.

The fact that she couldn’t lead a completely normal life, that she could only approximate it, had been driven home, painfully, eleven years ago on what was supposed to have been a simple mother-daughter camping trip on a recently-discovered, virgin planet. Immediately after that, she had them teach her how to pilot a starship. That had been fun. Absorbing the rubric for medical knowledge, on the other hand, had left her unconscious for over a day and miserable for almost two weeks.

Her parents had made sure she was well trained in the art of mayhem from an early age. In fact, everyone was now insisting that her current boyfriend, Jason, be trained as well. At least he seemed to enjoy the training. Christine grinned with satisfaction as the targeted SUV, now sans driver, suddenly dropped out of the chase. Alexa also managed to take out the passenger as he reached to the side to grab the wheel.

With her window up again, Alexa said, “Traffic is getting more congested.” Christine cut right off of 34th onto Seventh Avenue. This time the traffic light was green. She still made the turn at a dangerously high speed, having to weave around a number of slower moving vehicles adhering more closely to the speed limit. Alexa continued, “This time of day, it should clear up in a few miles, once we’re closer to Central Park.”

“I think that’s where they’re steering us,” Christine replied.

“Why?” Alexa asked. “Like you said, this is organized. Yet it’s all on the ground. You’d think we’d see choppers overhead. Both ours and theirs.”

“Yeah. I noticed the lack too. The cop back there is good. He caught up.” She paused while swerving into oncoming traffic to get around a panel truck. “I don’t freakin’ understand why we can’t get help. This is midtown Manhattan. With this ruckus, we should have forty squad cars after us.” Where are the police? A quick telepathic surface scan revealed the cop behind them was wondering the same thing. It was fuzzed even at that short distance. The man wasn’t telepathic himself, but something about his mind resonated.

Christine is available from Amazon.com.