Storm of Lightning Read online

  “Yes, sir.”

  Quentin turned to Torstyn. “Torstyn, you and Tara will escort these men until they are off the Faraday; then you will report to me. You have ninety minutes before we set sail.”

  “Yes, sir,” Torstyn said.

  Quentin turned and walked away.

  The guards looked at each other fearfully. Less than a minute later Tara called over the intercom, “We’re ready. Open the door.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” the senior guard said, unlocking the brig. The door opened, and Tara walked out ahead of a Taiwanese man. “Mr. Yin is ready to be escorted to the Taiwanese officials,” Tara said.

  “Yes, ma’am. Admiral-General Hatch has given us our orders.” They stepped to either side of their prisoner. “Let’s go.”

  Torstyn fell in behind them.

  Welch, of course, didn’t speak. As they walked him out of the brig, one of the guards stopped at a kiosk.

  “What are you doing?” Tara asked.

  “We’re checking him out. It’s required procedure.”

  Just then Quentin walked back, as himself, down the hallway. He pulsed, killing the kiosk. “Did Admiral-General Hatch tell you to follow procedure, or did he tell you to avoid further embarrassment?”

  The guards looked up at him. They were speechless.

  “I just spoke with the admiral-general. He was not happy, and he was very specific with his orders.” Quentin lifted his cell phone. “Shall I notify him that you think you know better?”

  “No, sir,” said the second guard. “We’ll escort the prisoner immediately off the boat.”

  “I would recommend that. The Admiral-General mentioned something to me about a rank change.”

  “There’s no need to threaten us, sir,” the first guard said. “We will follow orders.”

  The two guards took Welch by the arms and hurried him down the corridor, while Tara, Quentin, and Torstyn followed from a distance. The guards led Welch to the second floor, where the staff was completing the loading of food. When the group reached the loading ramp, Quentin said, “Give me your weapons. You won’t need them.” The men disarmed. To the guards’ surprise, Quentin handed one of the pistols to Welch.

  “Be quick,” Quentin said to the guards. “The Taiwanese officials will meet you on An Ping Road near the front of the mall. That’s two miles due east. I recommend you take a cab.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  They hurried off. “How far can you hold the illusion?” Quentin asked Tara.

  “I’m not sure. No more than a few blocks.”

  “Won’t they be surprised.”

  “What if they try to return him?”

  “They won’t. Welch is armed; they’re not. And they just broke three Elgen protocols and are now guilty of aiding an Elgen fugitive. Discipline will be execution. I guarantee we won’t ever see either of them again. At least not alive.”

  “What about EGG Welch?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t know.” He turned back. “Let’s get back to our room before anyone discovers that the prisoner’s missing.”

  The Faraday set sail from Kaohsiung that evening a little after ten o’clock. The captain of the ship, Captain Bradshaw, set a course southeast to Tuvalu, through the Philippine Sea, and docked four days later in Papua New Guinea to join up with the other Elgen ships.

  Three days later the two new Elgen ships, the Franklin and the Edison, arrived, completing the fleet. It would take just thirty-six more hours to reach Tuvalu.

  The night before their final voyage to Tuvalu, Quentin was lying on his bed reading a book when someone rapped on his door. “Come in,” he shouted.

  Tara walked into his room. “Hey, Q.”

  “Hey,” he said, looking up. “Where you been?”

  “Just hanging out on top with Kylee. What are you reading?”

  Quentin held up his book.

  “The Once and Future King,” Tara said, nodding. “Good book. Though, I disagree with the premise. Might is right.”

  Quentin looked at her quizzically. “So what’s up? You look upset.”

  “Dr. Hatch is back.”

  Quentin was quiet a moment, then said, “Good. I heard he might be coming back tonight.”

  “He’s already back on the ship. EGG Smythe said he wants to meet with you ASAP.”

  Quentin’s brow furrowed. “Meet with me about what?”

  “I’m not supposed to know this, but he said Welch’s escape. I’m sure he wants to know if we had any involvement in it.”

  Quentin didn’t flinch. “Why would he wonder that?”

  “Why wouldn’t he? Who else could have gotten him off the ship?”

  “The guards helped him off.”

  Tara looked at him quizzically. “But what if he thinks you were involved? Welch was like a father to you.”

  “He was like a father,” Quentin said. “But now he’s a deserter and a traitor. No Elgen leaves their post without Admiral-General Hatch’s permission. No one. Not even us. Friend or not, Welch knew the consequences when he made his decision. And anyone who helped Welch is a traitor and deserves the same punishment.” Quentin went back to his book. “Don’t worry. Dr. Hatch will find him. He’ll find all of them. And we’ll see them in the rat bowl.”

  “I’m so relieved to hear you say that,” Tara said. She suddenly turned back toward the door. “All right. Let it go.”

  Quentin looked back up as Tara transformed into Dr. Hatch.

  “I’m not Tara,” Hatch said. “I’m sorry for the ruse. I just needed to be sure.”

  “Dr. Hatch,” Quentin said, setting down his book and sitting up. He still looked puzzled. “Sure of what?”

  “That you weren’t involved in Welch’s escape.”

  “You thought I would betray you?”

  “I knew how close you were to Welch. I wanted to make sure your friendship hadn’t clouded your judgment. Especially on the eve of battle.”

  “I know where I stand, sir.”

  “So you do.” Hatch walked over to Quentin’s wall and read a quote.

  Mankind will only perish through eternal peace.

  —Adolf Hitler

  He smiled as he turned back. “So, matters at hand. The overthrow of Tuvalu will happen quickly. The Tuvalu defense, if you can call it that, will offer about as much resistance as a tree does to lightning. We will strike them hard and splinter them into shavings.”

  “How can I help, sir?”

  “I want you to accompany the first squadron’s landing on Funafuti. It is your mission to take out all possible communication devices in the area. Captain Steele has the coordinates; he and his men will lead the advance and protect you and the other youths.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You will take control of the Tuvalu radio station before they can broadcast an emergency message to the world. We are jamming frequencies from the plant, but there is still danger of word getting out. Take out their computers, but do not do too much damage to their broadcasting equipment. We will need to use the radio to broadcast the next morning.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll focus on tech wiring.”

  “Very good. By dawn our forces will have secured all communication and all weaponry, and crushed all rebellion, if there is any. Their tiny police force will be locked up in their own jails.”

  “You mentioned the other youths.”

  “Actually, just Bryan will be traveling with you. In the event that the radio operators try to lock you out, Bryan will cut through the locks.”

  “Yes, sir. What about Torstyn?”

  “He and Tara will assist me inside the Starxource facility. We’ll be flying out in the morning. Kylee will serve with the fourth division. Her gifts will be valuable in disarming their police force. Once you have taken the station, Captain Steele will cordon off the facility. I want you and Bryan to maintain possession of the station until I arrive in the morning for the first broadcast.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Ther
e’s another reason I want you at the radio station.”

  “What is that, sir?”

  “I want to introduce the citizens of the Hatch Islands to their new king.”

  “You, sir?”

  “No, you.”

  Quentin looked at him in surprise. “Me?”

  “This is what I’ve been grooming you for since the beginning. Someday you will rule the world in my stead. I want you to begin your apprenticeship by overseeing this island nation. You will be the king of Tuvalu.”

  For a moment Quentin was speechless. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you, sir.”

  “I’m pleased that I can count on you. You have no idea how pleased I am that you had nothing to do with this Welch business.”

  “Me too, sir. So, what do we know about Welch and the guards?”

  “We’re tracking their RFIDs right now. We’ve already found one of the guards.”

  Quentin hid his fear. “You have?”

  “At least his body. It would appear that his companions turned on him.”

  “It’s just a matter of time before we find the others, sir.”

  “Yes, it is. And you have my word, Welch will have company in the rat bowl.”

  Around one in the morning Tara snuck into Quentin’s room. Quentin had been asleep for more than an hour. “Quentin.” She knelt next to his bed and shook him. “Q.”

  Quentin’s eyes opened. He jumped when he saw the shadow next to him. “It’s just me. Tara.”

  “Tara,” Quentin said, rubbing his eyes.

  “How did it go with Dr. Hatch?”

  Quentin just stared at her.

  “Did it go all right?”

  He hesitated a moment more, then asked, “What were we doing when Torstyn told us about Welch?”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. What were we doing?”

  “We were playing chess. And it was Bryan who told us, not Torstyn.”

  Quentin breathed out. “It is you.” He rolled away from her. “Now get out of here. I have nothing to say to you.”

  “Quentin.”

  “Leave. Now.”

  “Look, I don’t blame you for being mad. But he made me do it. I had no choice.”

  Quentin rolled back over. “That could have been my death.”

  “No, I did it for us. If I had refused, he would have known we were involved. That includes you. Did you say anything in, incrim . . .”

  “Incriminating,” Quentin said. “No. I knew it was Hatch.”

  Tara looked both relieved and surprised. “How did you know?”

  “He quoted from The Once and Future King. The day you read a book, let alone quote from it, is the day I eat it.”

  “So basically my illiteracy saved you,” she said, trying to soften Quentin’s anger.

  “Your illiteracy saved us,” Quentin said. “You would have been on the rat chute right next to me.”

  Tara swallowed. “It’s a good thing he didn’t go to Torstyn. He’s not as smart as you.”

  “Did you tell Torstyn?”

  “Yes. I told him that if anyone, including us, says anything to him about it, he knows nothing.”

  “Good,” Quentin said. “We need to come up with a sign so that never happens again. A handshake or something.”

  “Torstyn and I leave in the morning,” Tara said. “We’re flying to the island.”

  “Yeah, Hatch told me. Did he tell you that he’s making me the king of Tuvalu?”

  “No. Congratulations, I guess. How does that make you feel?”

  “Elagabalus was only fifteen when he became Roman emperor, and Ptolemy XIII was only twelve when he became Egypt’s thirteenth pharaoh.”

  “I’ve never heard of either of them.”

  “Ptolemy was Cleopatra’s brother.”

  “I’ve heard of Cleopatra.”

  “Unfortunately, things didn’t work out for either of them. Elagabalus was assassinated when he was eighteen. And Ptolemy’s forces were defeated by Caesar, and he drowned in the Nile while trying to escape.”

  “Then let’s hope you have better luck,” Tara said.

  “You know I’m just a puppet dictator,” Quentin said. “Dr. Hatch will still be in charge.”

  “I know. For now. But someday you will run all of this. And I’ll be there with you.” She leaned forward and they kissed. “I am loyal to you,” she said. “Don’t forget that.”

  “Thank you. Now you better go back to bed.”

  Tara stood. “All right.” At the doorway she breathed out slowly. “If something had happened to you, I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself.”

  Quentin looked at her for a moment, then said, “Come back.”

  She walked back over and knelt down next to the bed. “Yes?”

  “I understand that you did what you had to do. I forgive you.”

  “Thank you.”

  He clasped her hand in a peculiar handshake, the middle and index finger out, the other two pointed in, like a gun. “That’s our handshake. That’s how I’ll know it’s really you and vice versa. Can you remember that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Because our lives may depend on it.”

  She nodded and stood.

  “One more thing,” he said.

  “Yes?”

  “I’m loyal to you, too.”

  Tara smiled, then turned and walked out of his room.

  Tucson, Arizona

  We were on the move again. We left Tucson at six thirty, stopped a little after eight in Phoenix for breakfast, then continued on. Gervaso pushed the speed limit most of the way. He was eager to get us to the ranch. But, with the exception of Nichelle, who wanted to stop in Vegas to shop for some new clothes, we were all eager to get to the ranch too. We wanted to see our families and the rest of the Electroclan.

  It seemed that the closer we got to the ranch, the more of a hurry Gervaso was in. A little past Kingman a highway patrol turned on its lights to pull us over, and Gervaso said to Taylor, “Can you take care of that?”

  Taylor looked at the approaching police car nervously. “I’ll try,” she said. “I hope I don’t make him crash.”

  “I can do it,” Nichelle said. She looked back and extended her hand. Suddenly the flashing lights on the car’s roof died, as did the whole car. We lost sight of the patrol car as it coasted over to the side of the road.

  It was about a four-and-a-half-hour drive from Phoenix to Vegas. The drive from Las Vegas to southern Utah on I-15 led through the Moapa Valley in the upper northwest corner of Nevada, briefly recrossing into Arizona. Just before crossing into southern Utah, we drove through a chiseled rock canyon that towered high above the pass. Ostin spotted mountain goats perched on the side of the mountainous crag.

  “Look at those things,” Ostin said.

  “That’s incredible,” McKenna replied. “I wouldn’t climb that mountain with a rope and climbing gear. Those things are walking on it with hooves.”

  “I wonder how many mountain goats fall,” I said.

  Everyone automatically turned to Ostin.

  He shrugged. “Why would I know that?”

  * * *

  We drove through the borderline casino town of Mesquite before crossing over the Utah border. Then we continued on I-15 up to St. George, went about ten miles north, and turned off the highway, then headed east to the towns of Hurricane and Springdale, before entering Zion National Park. Our destination was just on the other side of the park, and the road through Zion was the shortest route. Peculiarly, something about the place seemed familiar. Like I’d been there before.

  The place was crowded with tourists, and even though it was only twelve miles from the west gate to the east gate, it still took us about forty-five minutes to get across. Near the east end of the park our drive took us through a long, two-lane tunnel more than a mile long, carved through the mountain. The only lights in the tunnel were those from the headlamps of the cars in the opposite lane, so the whole way our van
was brightly lit by our glows.

  We passed through the east gate of the park and had continued on for about five miles when Gervaso slowed the van to turn north onto a dirt road. “This is the place,” he said.

  Not surprisingly, the entrance to Christmas Ranch was not obvious nor well marked, and if it weren’t for a wood-post stop sign, you’d probably drive right past it. Just after turning off the freeway, Gervaso stopped the van and took a radio from beneath his seat. “This is Bauble Six, returning to tree.”

  “Roger, Bauble Six. Your ETA?”

  “Ten minutes. We just pulled onto the road.”

  “We’ll alert sentries. Welcome home.”

  Gervaso put the van in gear and started off again.

  “Look at those,” Ostin said, pointing out the window.

  Outside there were two drones, one on each side of the van, hovering about fifty feet in the air, escorting us.

  The road to the ranch was rutted dirt lined with cedar trees, twisted juniper, and small clumps of cacti and prickly pear. A deep, dry ravine ran along the road for much of the way, indicating that there had, at least once, been a lot of water in these parts.

  As we made our way toward the compound, we passed several herds of cows and sheep. To our surprise we also saw several llamas. I hadn’t seen a llama since Peru, and I felt an odd attachment to them.

  “Lots of cows out here,” McKenna said.

  “Did you know that more people are killed each year by cows than sharks?” Ostin said.

  “The Discovery Channel should change Shark Week to Cow Week,” I said.

  “Yeah, look at them out there,” Jack said, grinning. “Plotting their next kill. Wild pack of killer cows.”

  “It’s not a pack,” Ostin said. “It’s a herd.”

  “A what?”

  “A herd of cows.”

  “Of course I’ve heard of cows,” Jack said.

  “No, a herd. A group of hoofed mammals that congregate together for—”

  “Ostin,” I said, stopping him. “He’s just messing with you.”

  Ostin looked at Jack and stopped. “Oh.”

  “Killer cows,” Jack said, shaking his head. “At least cows won’t eat you. They don’t even have sharp teeth.”