The first thing Dalton saw was green tracers ripping by just inches to his left. Hammond’s assurance notwithstanding, he rolled right, and fired at the source of the tracers. His first fireball hit the man in the chest, blowing a hole straight through.
He continued firing, seeing in his mind the other members of the team materializing.
“Shit!” a voice yelled. “Something’s wrong!”
Dalton knew immediately that it was Trilly, both from the voice and the tactical update that Sybyl was constantly playing in the background of his mind.
“I’m losing form,” Trilly said, the surprise evident in his voice.
“Get out of here,” Dalton ordered.
“Going to ERP,” Trilly confirmed.
Dalton continued to fire at the attacking mercenaries.
“Hammond, what’s going on?” Dalton demanded.
“We ’re having trouble keeping track of everyone. There’s a divergence. Someone’s split off.”
Goddamn Raisor, Dalton thought. “You keep power to my team, do you understand?”
“Yes.”
An explosion flashed on the hillside as Captain Anderson’s team took out one of the SAM sites.
Feteror stiffened. He turned his head from the frightened face of Colonel Verochka. Something was wrong.
“It was nice to meet you,” he hissed to her. He let go of her body, snapping his claws shut on her left arm, severing it— and the attached metal briefcase— from her body.
He listened to her scream, both from the fall and the loss of her arm, her body tumbling to the ground far below.
Still hovering, Feteror ripped the case open, the metal parting easily. He dropped the empty case as he held the single piece of paper inside between two claws. He scanned the PAL codes listed, matching them to the warhead serial numbers, putting the information into his database.
Then he dematerialized and jumped.
Raisor floated above the limousine as it cruised down Constitution Avenue going from the Capitol toward the White House. He wanted to wait, until the limo was directly across from the White House, on the south side of the Ellipse, before striking.
It was difficult, though, to hold back. To keep at bay the anger, the passion of revenge he had nurtured ever since finding out what had happened to his team, to his sister.
It had taken this, an international crisis, for him to be able to go back on the virtual plane with the power to use the weapons they’d developed for the psychic warriors. Now he was bringing those weapons home to the woman who had so casually tossed away the first team of psychic warriors.
It was night in Washington and Raisor began to allow his avatar to form in the real plane, directly over the closed sunroof of the limousine.
Leksi pressed his back against the railbed. Another fireball flashed by overhead, catching one of his men in the head, blowing it open like an overripe melon.
He looked up the slope. More of these monsters were coming down the hillside. All of his missile teams were dead.
“Tiger Flight!” he yelled into the mike to be heard above the sounds of firing and screaming.
“Tiger Flight. Over.”
“Get in here for support now!” he screamed.
“Roger.”
Dalton carefully stood. The surviving attackers were scattering, some hiding, others running.
“Captain Anderson,” Dalton projected. “I want you to secure— ”
Dalton halted in mid-sentence as a scream seared through his brain like a red-hot spike. He staggered, losing all sense of his surroundings.
On the hillside, Feteror had come into the real plane directly behind one of the attacking avatars. He had a very good idea who they were, and he didn’t hesitate. With all the power of SD8-FFEU being directed through him, he grabbed the form and crushed it in his claws.
The energy/matter of the avatar in his hands vanished in a flash of light.
At Bright Gate, Dr. Hammond stared at her control panel in dismay.
“What’s happening?” Dalton demanded, his voice echoing out of the speakers.
Hammond typed furiously on her keyboard.
“What is going on?” Dalton repeated.
“Sybyl’s overloading. Something’s affected two of the avatars. I’m trying to pull them back, but Sybyl can’t do that and keep everyone else going at the same time. Also the power split, going to two different locations-we’ve never done that before and Sybyl is having trouble maintaining all your forms.” Hammond ran a hand across her forehead. “It’s all happening too fast.”
Dalton became aware of his surroundings. He staggered back, feeling a pounding in his head. A line of green tracers burned through the air, right by him. He sank to his knees.
“Get out of there!” Jackson’s voice echoed through his brain.
Dalton snapped out of existence at that place, into the virtual plane. He could hear more screams in his head. He checked tactical but there was nothing coming from Sybyl.
“What the hell is going on?” he projected toward Jackson.
“Chyort!” was the quavering answer. “Choppers-gunships inbound from the east!” she added.
Dalton came back into the real plane fifty meters from where he had been and behind the man who had shot at him. Dalton fired, the fireball blasting through the man.
“We ’re interdicting the choppers!” Jackson informed him.
Dalton looked up. He could see the two eagles and Jackson’s falcon head east.
Looking down, he saw two of his teammates backing up, firing their energy tubes. Dalton followed their aim and saw what had scared Jackson.
Feteror felt the energy bolts hit him. He wanted to laugh, to shriek his glee. The energy poured into him, strengthening him beyond anything he had ever experienced, beyond anything SD8-FFEU had ever given him.
He dove forward, arms outstretched, into one of the American avatars. The white head was sliced off, the round shape bouncing onto the ground, then slowly shrinking and disappearing as it lost its energy shape.
He struck out at another and it staggered and collapsed to the ground under the blow.
“Status!” Dalton screamed. “Hammond, I need status!”
“I’m hurt!” the avatar at Chyort’s feet called out— Barnes; Dalton recognized the yell.
“Go to the ERP!” Dalton ordered.
He shot a fireball at the demon as it bent over Barnes’s form. The ball hit Chyort directly in the back. The surface there briefly glowed, then faded.
Two blazing red eyes turned to look directly at Dalton. Barnes’s form disappeared as he jumped. At that moment Captain Anderson’s avatar came winging down from above and smashed into Chyort’s back. The two forms tumbled together.
Another scream resounded in Dalton’s head. He knew now that each scream meant one of his people was dead.
Or their avatar was. He didn’t and couldn’t take his thoughts further than that right now.
“We took out the gunships,” Jackson informed him. “But both of my partners got shot up. Williams and Auer are gone!”