She started when her mother reached over and felt her forehead.
“Danica, you’re running a fever,” she announced.
“I’ll be all right, Mom,” she replied, “I just need some rest.” Her mother’s concern overwhelmed her. Forrorrois caught her hand and squeezed it lightly. Her mother squeezed back as she tried not to look so worried, but she barely succeeded. Forrorrois had missed her unconditional love while she had suffered at the hands at the Utahar. Even with the Dramudam, affection like this was reserved at best...except from Trager…and even then it was rare. She pushed the memory of the Dramudam subcommander from her fevered thoughts and rested her head against her mother’s shoulder. Sleep had almost taken her when the computer screamed in her mind and forced her to sit up.
‘There is a guided missile approaching your craft. Impact in fifteen vincafol.’
Forrorrois stiffened. Twenty-seven seconds!
“Danica, what’s wrong?” her mother asked, but she was cut off when the helicopter suddenly began evasive maneuvers.
‘Computer, lock onto missile and destroy it,’ she subvocalized, almost speaking the alien words aloud.
‘Unable to do so without lowering EM warping shield.’
‘Can the shields take a direct hit without lowering the EM warping shield?”
‘Yes, if power is diverted to the impacted shields.’
‘Divert power to impact shields and take position up between the missile and my transport immediately,’ she subvocalized.
‘Position attained and shields strengthened,’ it replied.
Forrorrois flinched as the sky exploded just behind the tail of the helicopter rocking everyone on board.
“Sweet Jesus!” her father exclaimed. “What just happened?”
Jennings looked pale when he leaned forward. “Someone shot a surface-to-air missile at us, but somehow it exploded just before it reached us.”
“Somehow? Missiles don’t somehow explode just before they reach their target!” her father retorted.
‘Computer, status report!’ Forrorrois subvocalized to her ship.
‘Missile destroyed,’ it announced, ‘shield strength reduced to 78 percent.’
Forrorrois leaned her head back and heaved a sigh of relief. It was short-lived.
‘Another missile has been launched from the surface,’ the computer announced.
‘Maintain defensive posture and redirect power from life support to strengthen impact shields,’ she ordered.
“Tower, we’re all right,” Jennings replied touching his headset. “We’re reporting a surface-to-air attack and are deviating from our flight path. Repeat: we are deviating from our flight path. Begin evasive maneuvers! A second missile has been launched,” Jennings yelled at the pilot.
Forrorrois watched as Jennings turned back to face them.
“Hang on!” he cried out.
Her mother grabbed her tightly and began to pray. Forrorrois looked up at her father. His face was pale as he stared out the window. She could see the missile following them even though the pilot forced the helicopter into a steep dive.
Forrorrois looked back at her mother and took her hands in hers. “We’re going to be all right, Mom,” she called out above the roar of the straining blades. Suddenly, the helicopter rocked from the explosion behind its tail.
“Dear Lord, protect us!” her mother gasped, tightening her grip on Forrorrois’ hand.
‘Computer, status!’ she subvocalized.
‘Second missile has been intercepted and destroyed,’ it announced, ‘shield strength reduced to 49 percent.’
Forrorrois sat in silence, her heart pounding as she stared out the window. Thank you, Guruma! She realized the risk she had just taken with her ship, but there had been no other choice.
‘Computer, can you trace the missile’s path back to its point of origination?’ she subvocalized.
‘Attempting to trace trajectory now,’ it replied.
Her heart finally began to slow when the computer finally responded.
‘The missile originated 1.2 bul north of your present position from a small land transport. There are two beings aboard, and they are moving toward a large highway in a bentavon direction.’
Almost three kilometers west. ‘Do they continue to pose a threat?’
‘At present, no,’ it replied.
‘Keep me posted,’ she subvocalized and closed her eyes. ‘Alert me to any new danger to my position.’
“We’re sitting ducks up here!” her father exclaimed over the roar of the blades. “Agent Jennings, do something!”
“We are, Mr. Jolan,” Jennings called back.
The helicopter twisted and turned, following a valley near the tree line. Forrorrois couldn’t help but tighten her grip, feeling out of control. Her head was swimming from the fever compounded by the constant stream of information fed to her from the ship. She leaned against her mother’s shoulder, barely able to keep her eyes open. Her mother’s alarm grew by the moment.
“We have orders to travel to the alternate safe house,” Jennings called back. “Our original destination may have been compromised.”
Her father shook his head in frustration. “This is insane!”
Jennings didn’t reply. Forrorrois cracked her eyes open and saw him turn back toward the pilot. His fear seeped into her mind along with everyone else’s in the helicopter. Her lids slid shut as her head nodded forward.
