46) --- Art Attack ---------------------------------------------------- "All I wanted was _one_ evening with just Jasmine and me. But no, you guys couldn't stay out of trouble could you?" -- Aladdin (sorta) FRIDAY, APRIL 29 Every college campus has its spring traditions. They can range from large bonfires, to micro-fairs, to even simple things like the planting of flowers. These traditions are largely upheld by the students, as the administration doesn't have the time to bother with them. But the traditions hold, year after year, as they are a perfectly good way to let off the steam and anxiety built up over the winter. The University of Maryland has such a tradition. It is called Art Attack. Every spring, late in the semester, but before exams start, the Student Union Program Council chooses one Friday to invite craftsmen, performers, and other people from all over the state. They bring their wares and sell them on McKeldin Mall, while the various performance groups give free shows. It is a highly-attended event, and it even attracts alumni who left the Campus. And this year, Art Attack was being held on the last Friday in April. Although the weathermen had been saying that Friday would be cloudy with a chance of rain, everyone was pleasantly surprised when it turned out to be sunny and mild. And so it was that Philip and Aerianne found themselves on the campus mall along with the other students enjoying the craftspeople, the free performances, and the sunshine. Philip and Aeri sat on the beach blanket Philip had brought, taking in the sun. They were waiting for the upcoming Erasable Inc. performance, and had some time to kill. Aerianne was laid back on the blanket, looking up at the sky, while Philip watched the crowd from behind his built-in sunglasses. Philip was snickering for some reason, and Aeri turned to regard him. "Philip, why are you smiling?" she asked, trying to read his eyes. Philip looked back at her, and then at the trenchcoat that she had laid next to her. "Aeri, it's 80 degrees out... You really _don't_ need the trenchcoat..." "Hmph..." she pouted, and then sat up. "Well, I was just being prepared..." "No problem with that.. Heck, even _I_ do that..." he said as he took her hand in his. "It's just that I'm surprised to see _other_ people acting like me." "So you like to be prepared, huh?" she grinned. "Well, let's see how prepared you are for...this!" At this point, she lunged over and began to tickle him mercilessly. "URK!!!" She smiled. "I thought so." Philip collapsed to the ground, totally exhausted from her latest tickle assault, gasping for breath. "Aeri, could you at least _announce_ it next time...?" She smiled enticingly as she rolled over on top of him. "But that way, it wouldn't be a _surprise_..." She started kissing him, the kind of kiss that means business. Philip, despite his better judgment, was forced to pull away. "Um, Aeri, there are over five _hundred_ people on the Mall right now, all able to see us. Not that I'm complaining --" "You seem to point that out a lot," Aerianne interjected. "--but this really _isn't_ the place," Philip finished. "Well, then," Aeri grinned mischeveiously, "we'll just have to be... discreet." "Aeri, don't grin like that youknowyouscaremewhenyougrinlike- thatAERI!" "What are you worried about?" Aerianne asked, bemused. "It's not like I'm asking you to do anything illegal..." she said as she arranged herself on top of him, so that the chances of him escaping were nil. She pulled herself up so that her face matched his, and then smiled as she picked up his arms with her hands and eased them around her back. "Just hold me close, hold me tight, and whisper sweet nothings in my ear..." "Uhm.. Ok..." Philip leaned close to Aerianne, who turned to let his mouth approach her ear. However, as he was about to speak, a flash of light, just a small sparkle, caught his eye. Acting on his thoughts, his glasses' right minicamera swiveled, locked, and zoomed on the flash. "Sniper Sable," he said flatly. "'Sniper Snable' is-- I mean 'Siper Sa--' ahem. 'Sni-per Sa-ble' is a sweet nothing?" Aerianne asked, confused. "No, 'Sniper Sable' is aiming on our heads. No, don't look," Philip whispered, placing a hand on her arm as she was about to look. "If you start looking that way, we'll tip him off." "Then how come you were able to see him-- nevermind," she said, realizing that it had been Philip's glasses that had alerted him. "So. What do we do now?" she whispered back, getting closer to him. The sable looked though the sniper-scope that was attached to his rifle. The target was snuggling up to her compatriot, seemingly unaware in her romantic mood that she was about to die. The sable snickered, and bracketed the sight on the target's head... "We'll have to wait until right before he pulls the trigger. As soon as he pulls, we'll have moved out of the way, and we'll be able to get him," Philip whispered in Aerianne's ear. "And just _how_ are we supposed to know when he does?" Aeri wryly whispered back. "I'll be zoomed on his trigger finger, and I'll count down to zero. At zero, we'll break to the sides, and then we'll go after him." "Sounds like a plan." "Thanks." "Three," Philip muttered, tensing his muscles while keeping his attention on the data coming to him through his glasses. The sable's finger was already moving; it would not be long now. The sable smiled to himself. The information garnered from the wing camera had proven beyond the shadow of a doubt that the female in his sights was the leader of this pitiful little band. Eliminate her, his leader had instructed him, and the entire organization would fall to its knees. "Two," Philip whispered hoarsely as a bead of sweat trickled down his cheek. Aeri moved a hand, slowly, towards her katana and coat. The trigger was reaching the midway point. "One," Philip breathed. He could feel Aerianne tense up beside him. The sable's finger contracted the final few millimeters, and the trigger snapped all the way back. Contact. [No further comment from the peanut gallery, please. -Eds] "NOW, AERI!" Philip veritably screamed as they rolled to either side, clearing a path for the bullet as it whizzed past them, through the beach blanket, and into the turf beneath. "Gotcha!" Aeri yelled as she scooped up her trenchcoat and katana, and ran for Francis Scott Key hall. "Bozhe moi?!" the sable blurted out as he pulled back the rifle. The two humans were alive, and they were running through the confused crowd towards the building he was on! The sable blinked, and grabbed the rifle. he thought in russian as he collapsed the rifle's bipod. Aerianne ran through the crowd, ignoring the shocked glances as she sprinted for Francis Scott Key Hall. (Because of the gunner, you sick puppies; Philip and Aeri were indeed still clothed.) As she ran, she also managed to pull on her trenchcoat and buckle on her katana, which is an impressive feat if you can do it. She jumped over several tables that were in her way, and then ran up the stairs to the hall. Meanwhile, Philip was sprinting and dodged the bike rack, which he almost ran into in his haste. The very bike rack, actually, where his Cyclone was parked. He stopped, an idea forming in his head, and opened the cargo box on the side of the cycle. Extracting a set of CVR armor, Philip tried to put it on as fast as possible. His rate of speed left something to be desired. Aerianne dashed through Key Hall, dodging the faculty members who yelled at her to "Slow down!" In true Aerianne Connor style, however, she paid absolutely no attention to them whatsoever. She found a stairwell and proceeded to take the stairs three at a time. The sable, rifle slung behind his back, dashed into the rooftop stairwell entrance. The sudden appearance of his target, running up the stairs, a look of murder on her face, did not improve his day. Choking on a curse, he exited the stairway and ran down the hall toward one of the windows. Philip, having finally managed to fit himself into the armor, was revving up the Cyclone when he noticed a very ominous-looking Black Cadillac sitting in a no-parking zone outside of Key Hall. [By this time, folks, your cliche warnings should be going off. Awooga! :) ] As he stood there, engine idling, his attention was suddenly drawn to a loud "Crash!" from above him, and the sight of a falling sable. The Cadillac suddenly revved to life and turned around, tires squealing. As it neared the sable, one of the back doors opened and a pair of hands reached out and yanked in the small furry nuisance. Before Philip could react, or even comment, or even get a coherent thought out of his head, his attention was once again by _Aerianne_ jumping out of said window... and making a perfect two-point landing. "Nine point eight," Philip muttered. "Perfect landing, no splash, but the first jump from the diving board was totally without finesse..." "What are you waiting for, Baka?" Aerianne shouted as she jumped onto the back of the bike. "Get this pile of junk moving!" Brought back to reality, Philip opened the throttle to full and the Cyclone shot forward after the escaping car. The Cadillac had managed to get itself (with some help from the driver, of course) onto Route 1 and headed for the Capital Beltway, totally ignoring all the traffic lights between here and there. Right on its tail was the Cyclone, also having to ignore the lights in order to keep pace. "You realize, of course," Philip yelled through the helmet, "that if we pass any cops, I'm the one who's gonna get pulled over! I just know it!" "Drive." "Yes, dear." A few seconds later, the Cyclone had managed to pull alongside the Cadillac. As the car attempted to swerve and knock the bike into next Tuesday, Aerianne leapt from the back seat of the bike onto the top of the car. Philip thought. Aerianne's katana was out in a fraction of a second. Somehow managing to keep her balance on top of the swiftly-moving vehicle, she decided to play can opener with the roof. "You flubbed it up again," the Melmacian driver shot back to the sable, more a statement of fact than an accusation. The two Felizians that were riding in the back with Lt. Melkovich, once-proud member of the Sable Elite Strike Force, looked no more pleased. Of course, they looked no less pleased: they seemed to have no expression whatsoever on their faces. It is difficult, however, to ignore the fact that two Felizians are angry with you when they're growling. Melkovich was about to respond when the Cadillac they were riding in suddenly gained a sunroof, courtesy of a sword. This was a _bad_ sign. What was even a worse sign was when the car suddenly slowed down, throwing the passengers forward as inertia took over for a few seconds. A horrendous screeching sound was heard from in front of the vehicle, the sound of metal sliding against concrete. For a moment, Melkovich thought that the Melmacian had slammed on the brakes, and he leaped forward to the driver. "Why ded whe stoo--" The words caught in the sable's throat, however, when he noticed that car was being held in place by a suit of power armor. A power armor that had both hands on the front edge of the Caddilac, its legs braced against the vehicle and its backpack thrusters just now shutting down. A mechanically-enhanced voice came out of the armor. "Your car's been through quite a lot. Isn't it time you took it in for repairs?" 47) --- Interregum ---------------------------------------------------- "Nobody expects the Spanish Inquision-- *oh bugger*." -- Eric Idle, _Monty Python_ "Lt. Melkovich. Seble Elite Strrike Forrce. Sehrial number alpha- five-three-keldon-two-eight-decimal-four-tark." Gordo did not look pleased. "You told me that already, you annoying little rodent. What I want to know now is why you were trying to kill this woman!" "Lt. Melkovich. Seble Elite Strrike Forrce. Sehrial number alpha- five-three-keldon-two-eight-decimal-four-tark." Rufus had to restrain Gordo, who looked like he was about to pummel the sable into a pair of gloves. This had been going on for quite some time now, and the two had not quite gotten the hang of the bad cop-good cop routine they had seen on TV. "Listen, Rufus," Gordo almost screamed through clenched teeth, "they're not spilling the beans. Why don't you let me beat it out of 'em?" Aerianne leaned over to Philip and smiled. "Well, I certainly won't recommend these two for the drama department anytime soon... Gentlemen," she announced, changing the focus of her attention to the two lousy actors currently confronting the sable, "shall I try my _own_ form of, um, persuasion?" Sarcasm dripped from the word. A small bead of sweat appeared on Philip's forehead. "Which form would that be, exactly?" There was a small SHING! sound as the katana was slowly drawn from its scabbard. Philip almost pitied the prisoners. Almost. Three hours later, the Prince George's County Police Department was dumbfounded when a naked (and shaved) Sable, Melmacian, and two Felizians were found, tied and gagged, on the front steps of the College Park station. There were no identifying marks on them at all, except for a note saying: "Here are the snipers from this morning. Please arrest them and prosecute them to the full extent of the law. (signed) the Terrapin Corps." However, "sniping" wasn't in their jurisdiction, especially since no-one had been killed, and no-one had seen the sniper (the bullet had been heard, but nothing else). The PGCP debated long and hard on charges and finally decided on "Illegal Aliens", and the Terrapin Corps now had a serious problem on their hands. 48) --- Council Of War ------------------------------------------------ "The last thing I need is to be worried about blowing up when I have finals to study for." -- Silly Wizzard, Original AWESOME FORCE #106 by Bill Paul, The Man With Two First Names SATURDAY, APRIL 30 Philip nervously stood in the hallway, waiting for the rest of his friends to arrive. Admittedly, not as many as he had hoped had come; many were still in College, doing the things that college students did. That, and the fact they were spread across the Lower 48 put a kink in his plans. But those who he could contact and were in commuting distance were coming, so that helped. "You ready?" asked Aerianne, who walked up beside him. "Not really," Philip admitted. "I mean, they're my friends and all, but how'll they react to the news?" "Beats me... I don't really know your friends _that_ well--" Philip rose his eyebrows at this, but she ignored it and continued, "But if they decided to come to this, then I'm sure they'll at least listen to it, and consider it." "Gee, that _really_ comforts me.." "Hey, that's what I'm here for," Aeri said as she came close and gave him a peck on the cheek. "Besides, think of it as a performance. You'll do fine." "Hmph. Well, I don't have to worry about critics..." Aeri smiled at this. "That's the spirit! Now go out there, and break a leg!" "Considering that Horse's out there, is that really a good thing to wish for?" Aeri shook her head, and gently (but firmly) pushed him out the door. Propelled as he was by the "force of Aerianne", Philip didn't have much time to recover at the sight of his friends assembled in the living room that Aeri, Gordo, Rufus, and the Raptors shared. But he (surprisingly) did recover, and he took a good, long look at those assembled before him: In one corner, the Hellicot Hallers were sitting, talking amongst themselves. Philip was surprised that the Hellicott Hallers had decided to attend this little meeting; after the problems they'd had 'troubleshooting' the hidden FOWL breeding lab, he wouldn't have been surprised if they'd refused all calls. But there they were, all the same. Horse had a sketchbook out, and was working on something for his design class, while Lugnutz and Rufus were chatting up a storm. Shaggy was talking with Gordo, and Jim was lounged back on the sofa, watching Winnie Velociraptor flirt with an embarrassed Sarge (Horse's alligator). Spud was nowhere to be seen-- waitacsec, there he was, being used as a footstool by Horse. In the other corner, various Blairites and people Philip knew from UMD were also talking. Peter and James were there, as was Rebecca, Wyndi and her "pet freshman" Diana; Pierre and Alex were there, from Tawes; and even Peter Gordon and Steve Albain had decided to come. Philip blinked. Where was Galen? "Uhm, guys?" Philip asked, raising his voice. "Guys?" He was ignored, as the ongoing conversations drowned out his voice. "GUYS?!?!?!" he finally yelled at the top of his lungs. The conversations died down, and everyone looked at him with a "So, what's so important that you had to interrupt me?" glance. Philip blanched slightly. "Err...." And with that, most of the previous conversations continued as if nothing untoward had happened. Philip buried his head in his hands, pondering the lack of respect this position apparently granted. "Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen and other, but I believe Mr. Moyer requested your attention," came Aerianne's calm yet determined voice from the doorway. And then, there was silence. "So, Philip," Peter DeGlopper surmised cynically, "what we've got here is some kind of 'Today, UMCP... tomorrow, the world' conspiracy that started in -- outer space, did you say? --, using things like weasels in fighter jets to try and destroy us because they believe we're the only force that can stop them?" Philip pondered this rather hasty assessment, tried (rather desperately) to find a way to put this in a better light, and could only come up with, "Well, um, yeah." "Except that they were sables, not weasels," Rufus added. "And this conspiracy group seems interested in only the United States Government, not this entire planet," Gordo inputted immediately after. "And, well, we're not exactly the _only_ group capable of stopping them," Aerianne contributed. "Just the one that's most likely to." "AAAAAARGH!!!!!!!!" was Peter's response. "But how can we possibly fight them?" Shaggy asked, his voice somewhere between Metallica's lead singer and William Shakespeare. [Use your imaginations, kids. -Eds.] "They've got us outgunned and outnumbered, and if you make that same crack about 'Outgunned, outnumbered, but never outclassed,' I will be forced to hit you." Philip's eye twinkled. It was the kind of twinkle that sent shivers down the backs of all assembled, even as James pointed out, "Philip, let's be realistic - well, you know what I mean - but I digress. They do have us vastly outnumbered, for one. Their equipment is probably more powerful than the U.S. government, secondly. Finally, even if we could build enough machinery to match them, we simply don't have the time! You _did_ say they were planning on making their move within the month." The twinkle went out of Philip's eye. Once again, the cold, hard voice of reality (such as it was) had put quite a wrinkle into their nice little plan. It was only then, in what seemed like his darkest hour, that he happened to notice that same twinkle had managed to plant itself quite nicely, thank you, in Rufus's eye. And now it was Philip's turn to be scared. He turned to Rufus and, somewhere halfway between implicating and deadpan, inquired, "And what, exactly, is going on in that twisted mind of yours?" Rufus leaned back, feeling quite sure of himself. "Well," he began, addressing himself to all assembled, "exactly where do they have us outequipped?" Philip was the first to answer. "We've only got three Cyclones for ground assault, you know." "No problem, more are being produced as we speak." "And what about air support? You don't even have _anything_ that flies, except the Suburban and the Citation, and those will only hold up so well," James Rogers chimed in. Rufus's grin changed to beaming. "Don't worry. I've got a Legios in production in the lab." "You. Were. Building. A. Legios. AND YOU DIDN'T EVEN TELL US?!?!" Philip yelled. "Well, you never asked," was Rufus's earnest answer. Philip turned to pound his head into the drywall, but was prevented from it by Aerianne. A familiar voice called from the doorway, "Did someone say something about... a Legios?" All heads turned. Galen stood at the entrance, obviously interested in the current topic of conversation. Wyndi chuckled to herself, "Wow, we've pretty much got ourselves a nice little reunion here, don't we?" Philip, without lifting his head from its resting place against the wall, responded, "Well, the only member of the team still missing is Trevor..." "Don't worry, knowing us, we'll pick him up later," Galen replied. "So what else is new?" Galen had managed to work himself into a discussion with Rufus and Gordo about the Legios. "Well, if you're building a Legios, you're going to need a power source. Two double-'A' batteries aren't quite going to do it. Do we have protoculture? You know, we're going to have to procure some protoculture if you want this thing to fly --" By this time, Philip was getting somewhat annoyed at Galen's patronizing reprisal of things they already knew. "No, Galen," he said with a certain measure in his voice, "we don't have protoculture. I don't even know where to _get_ protoculture. I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW THIS THING WAS BEING BUILT!" Aerianne, in an effort to cheer up Philip, suggested, "What about that helicopter that Deeds and Ferdy were using? Can't we use that?" Philip's mood seemed to brighten for a split second, then descended deeper than before. "I haven't been able to reach them recently. I keep getting their machine." "You have any idea why?" Galen inquired, not even knowing exactly who "Deeds" (aka Daniel Dukke) and "Ferdy" (aka Ferdinand Fox) were. Philip's answer betrayed a hint of mourning and betrayal. "Yeah... copyright problems." Aeri was being stubborn in her attempt to lift Philip's mood. "Well, couldn't we just... borrow... their helicopter?" Philip looked up at her in surprise. "You. Don't. Think. They'd Notice. The loss. Of a 5.8-metric ton, supersonic, nuclear attack _stealth helicopter_?" Aeri got her trademarked Sly Smile on her face. "Well, you know, I wasn't suggesting the _helicopter_... maybe just its _power source_..." SUNDAY, MAY 1 (REALLY, _REALLY_ LATE AT NIGHT) "What's going to happen if we get caught?" "Relax, Philip," came Aerianne's hushed reply. "We're not going to get caught. You worry too much," she added with a smile. Unfortunately, at 3 am, in pitch dark, it's hard to see a smile. So Philip kept worrying. After all, it was something he got a lot of practice at, spending a good deal of his spare time engrossed in the activity. "Aeri, in case you haven't noticed, it's late at night, later than most at least marginally-sane college students are up, sneaking around a top-secret installation, trying to steal the designs and specs for a Goddess-knows-how-heavy nuclear fusion power plant, and you're telling me I WORRY TOO MUCH?!" "Yep," Aeri said simply as she checked her modified Cyclone one last time. Both hers and Philip's front gauntlets had been replaced with various sensors and laser scanners with which they would analyze the Valkyrie's fusion turbines and forward the data back to Rufus, who would then attempt to duplicate them. But in order to do so, they'd need several uninterrupted hours to make the hyper-precise measurements needed to reproduce them safely. [You didn't actually think they'd try to -steal- the drives? With two Cyclones?? Get -REAL-! --Eds.] Philip looked around the hallways as the two approached the side entrance into the Valkyrie's hangar. Aeri typed in the code that Rufus had provided on the nearby security keypad; a happy *Beep!* and the sound of door-bolts drawing back let them know that they'd been successful. The door opened, and they could see the sleek, hulking form of the Valkyrie Helicopter in the half-light of the hangar. Philip and Aerianne got to work.