Chapter 13
A Boeing CH-47 Chinook helicopter took Phantom Squad to Beaver Valley Nuclear Power Plant outside of Shippingport, Pennsylvania, where an engineer claimed he’d seen strange shapes emerge from the river near the plant. He said that one of them even scaled the Shippingport Bridge like a giant spider.
“That’s just about far enough,” a man wearing what looked like riot gear said. He was short and plump and had a thick mustache that had grown over his lip, and even though he wasn’t very intimidating, he was holding an assault rifle with a grenade launcher mounted under the barrel. So were the two men who stood behind him.
“We’re with the Department of Alien Affairs,” Colt said, slowly raising his hands to show that he wasn’t a threat.
“Then what are you doing with that thing?” The man nodded at Glyph, whose eyes grew wide with fear.
“He’s with us.”
“I don’t think so,” the man said.
Colt narrowed his eyes. “Cadet Gundar is a cadet at the Intergalactic Defense Academy and is here under orders from the director of the Department of Alien Affairs. We’re here to check on a disturbance, but if you prefer we can turn around and leave.”
The man started chewing the inside of his lip as though contemplating what to do next. “How do we know he ain’t one of them?”
“Because he’s a Fimorian,” Colt said. “See? He has two arms, not six.”
“That’s true enough, I suppose,” the man said, lowering his rifle. “The name’s Damewood. Chadwick Damewood. I’m the head of security at this facility.”
“I’m Cadet McAlister, and this—”
“McAlister, you say?” Damewood interrupted. “Now where have I heard that name before?” He stroked his mustache as he cocked his head to the side. “Hey, wait. You’re that kid—the Phantom Flyer’s grandson, right?”
Colt rolled his eyes, which were hidden behind his helmet. “Yes, sir.”
“Ain’t you supposed to be traveling around with that air show and whatnot?”
“Right now I’m focused on helping you secure this facility,” Colt said.
“No offense, but it might be best if your alien friend there waited outside,” Damewood said. “The employees . . . well, let’s just say I don’t think they’ll take kindly to his ilk, if you catch my meaning.”
“No, I don’t,” Colt said.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
After the meeting they broke into teams. Colt led Alpha Team—Danielle, Glyph, and Jonas—through a sweep of the facilities, while Stacy led Bravo—Pierce and his dog, Grey, and Ethan—down to the riverbank.
The facility was massive, with cement walls, miles of pipes, and far too many nooks and crannies where Thule could hide. Glyph spent most of the time hunched over as he ducked through doorways and patrolled halls that weren’t built for someone his height.
Everyone in the plant was on edge, and it didn’t take long to discover that the employees were upset that management had let an alien onto the premises.
“What’s that thing doing here?” one asked.
“Since when do humans mix with their kind?” another said.
Glyph acted like he couldn’t hear them, but Colt was growing frustrated.
“We should round ’em all up and kill ’em before they turn on us,” said a short man with a thick mat of orange hair.
“What did you say?” Colt demanded.
The color drained from the man’s face as Colt stepped toward him.
“I asked you a question.”
“Don’t.” Danielle placed her hand on Colt’s shoulder, but he pulled away.
“His words are protected by the First Amendment, Squad Leader Colt McAlister,” Glyph said as he placed his hand on Colt’s shoulder. “And in truth, I cannot fault him for being afraid. We all are.”
Colt glared at the worker, who stood there with his back against the wall. “Go on,” he said, and the man practically ran down the hall before he disappeared around a corner.
“Thank you for standing up for me,” Glyph said. “But it truly wasn’t necessary.”
“Yes. It was,” Colt said.
“Wait a minute,” Danielle said. “Have either of you seen Jonas?”