“Jesus, not you, too. My parents are down on me, I’m still raw from a Will lecture. I figured you, at least, would be on my side.”
“Everybody’s on your side. You oughta remember that next time.” He looked at her, the geek with purple-streaked white-blond hair and a tiny, pointed beard, and made her realize not just parents could make you feel eight and stupid.
And flipped her last button.
“You know, I’ve had enough of this crap.” She threw out her hands where the spurt of temper had light snapping from her fingertips. “I didn’t bring on the Doom, I didn’t ask to be the freaking Savior of the world or spend my life fighting, but that’s the goddamn reality. That’s the freaking, fucking world. So when I pull off a high-risk, high-reward operation, I don’t appreciate being treated like a kid who missed curfew because I didn’t clear it with every-damn-body first. I am the leader, and it’s my head.”
She kicked a chair because it was there. It levitated a foot off the ground, trembled there, fell with a thump.
“And that’s just the way it fucking is.”
Chuck said nothing until he’d sucked down some of the mango juice and ginger ale he’d grown fond of. “Feel better?”
“Not one damn bit.”
“Too bad. Here’s what I don’t appreciate. Being put in the position of having to think and act like a tight-assed adult.”
He shot out his index finger with its WTF tattoo.
“Then don’t!”
“Uh-uh. I’m there now, and since I am, I’m going to say you can either do a little mea culpa-ing to smooth this out, or you can keep riding that high horse until your nose bleeds from the altitude. You got stuck with leading, well, sucks for you, but a leader who doesn’t respect who they lead doesn’t get much respect back.”
“Damn it.” She wanted to kick the chair again, but she already felt like an idiot. “I do respect them—you—all of them, and especially the Originals. Beyond words. I wasn’t sure I could do it until I was sure, then I needed to act, not take a meeting. And—” She thought of her father’s words. “Two-way street.”
Maybe she would kick the chair again.
“You’re not wrong.”
“So when I— What?”
“You’re not wrong,” Chuck repeated and sucked up more fizzy juice. “We’re not wrong. Give a little, get a little. Plus, I’ve about used up my adult quota for the week. I want to get to this.”
He swiveled to his workstation, rubbed his hands together. And Eddie came in.
“Here’s more,” Fallon grumbled.
“We just wrapped up the spanking.” Chuck winced. “I didn’t mean that in a creepy uncle way.”
“Then I’ll just say ditto. Plus. Dude.” He gave Fallon a light head slap before he turned to Chuck. “Have you picked anything up?”
“I’m about to commence getting started on working on trying to do just that.”
“Before you do, Fred’s been working on something.” He held up a sealed jar filled with dark liquid. “She wanted you to try it out.”
“Okeydoke. What’ve we got?”
“You tell me.” When Eddie unsealed the jar, it let out a hiss, bubbles rose up. When he poured some into a cup, the air above it sparkled.
Chuck took it, sniffed. “It couldn’t be.” Looked at Eddie with what Fallon read as desperate hope. “Couldn’t be. Could it?”
He took a small, testing sip. Closed his eyes—and whimpered a little before he took another, deeper sip. “It’s a miracle. A genuine miracle.”
Popping up, he danced, shoulders bouncing, hips rocking.
“What the hell is it?”
“Taste the miracle!”
Curious, Fallon took the cup, sipped. “Oh, oh, it’s good.” Strong, sweet, unlike anything she’d tasted. It gave her a little head rush. “What is it?”
“Fred’s version of Coca-Cola,” Eddie told her with a grin. “She’s been working on it since we got the Tropics up and going. Your mom helped some, and I’ve been taste testing. I think we got it.”
“It’s better, even better than Coke Classic. Oh, it’s been so long. Come back to Papa.” He took the cup, drank again. Danced again. “Even better. It’s LFC. Little Fred’s Cola.”
“I like it.”
Chuck eyed the jar. “Can I keep it?”
“All yours, dude.”
“I feel tears coming on. Lemme tell ya, armed with LFC, I’m going to rock this job here.” He drained the cup. “Whoa, better take it slow.” He sat again, rubbed his hands again.
Began to work controls.
“These codes you wrote? How accurate?” he asked Fallon.
“As close as I could manage. It’s not my strongest suit, but I know they’re close.”
“Let’s start with the Oval Office. I mean, go for gold if you’re going.”
She waited while he keyed in codes, fiddled, did things she’d never understand. Through the speakers came nothing but a steady electronic buzz.
“Think I see the problem. Another sec.”
He adjusted the code, twice, and the buzz turned into a kind of rumbling.
“Magick-type bugs. This one’s a what again?”
“Leaf.”
“Huh. Organic eavesdroppers. Kick my ass and call me Sally. Give it a little boost there, champ. Just a little. Gonna interface the magicks, get me?”
“Maybe.”
She nudged. The rumbling became a blast.
“Back off—a lot. Just, like, a touch.”
“Okay.”
From blast to a squawk then to a murmur.
“Got it. I got it. You can ease it off. Here we go.”
I’ve had it with this bullshit, Carter.
Mr. President—Commander—if I could—
I said I’ve had it. We’re expending too many resources for too little. I want results and get excuses and demands for more resources.
Sir, if you cut our resources, pull more personnel off the MUNA project, it’s the same as shutting us down. We’re already cut to the bone.
That’s the idea, Carter.
Sir, what we’ve learned and can learn, the progress we’ve made and will make, it’s essential to controlling the Uncanny threat. Our research—
Hasn’t produced tangible results in twenty damn years. The so-called leaders who sat at this desk wasted years on their debates, negotiating, compromising with scientists like you. Weaklings, all of them. Soft-bellied weaklings. I gave you a chance, Carter, against my better judgment.
If you could see your way—
I’m sitting in this chair because I act! Hargrove’s voice boomed out. I’m done wasting time, done coddling those freaks of nature. Our resources and personnel are better utilized to eradicate the threat once and for all. Containment, research, experimentation? For what? So the freaks can continue to breed, to attack our cities, our people?
Without our work, without science, we’ll never understand the phenomenon.
Fuck your bullshit science, and fuck the phenomenon. It’s time to end them.
Commander Hargrove, sir, we have over two hundred specimens in our facilities here alone, and we believe we’re close to creating a serum that will essentially sterilize the Uncanny, prevent them from breeding.