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   Chapter 96 No.96

Bypass Gemini By Joseph R. Lallo Characters: 5673

Updated: 2018-01-19 19:02


The glove finished charging enough to be movable a moment later, and he surveyed his options. He probably couldn't take out all four of the remaining guards, and even if he could, the doors were all locked and the finger was destroyed. Michella had said that authorities had been contacted, but even assuming the local law enforcement wasn't under the thumb of VC--which was a long shot--Trent was obviously insane enough for a standoff, and they were on the seventieth floor of a veritable fortress. A breath of wind rushed in behind him. He turned.

"I can't believe I'm about to do this again. . ." he moaned, dashing into the conference room. Before he could think long enough to talk himself out of it, he hurled himself out the window.

The plan, what little of it there was, had been to dive into the bay. As the wind whipped past him on the way down, some key flaws began to reveal themselves. First, it struck him that a seventy-story drop into the water might not be survivable. Second, that possibility might, at this point, be moot. Parts of the complex were directly overhanging the bay. This, it turned out, wasn't quite one of those sections. There was a short outcrop of land, about a dozen feet, that looked like it was about to become his final destination.

While his brain queued up the customary "life flashing before the eyes, " an idea came to him. Again he cocked his fist, and again he punched at nothing, this time up and away. The device dumped its recharged kinetic capacitors into an upward motion that canceled out a good deal of his downward momentum. As viewed from the outside, it would have looked like a perfect Shoryuken, except for all of the screaming and po

ut completely incinerating the hull. The ships fell into pursuit, unable to do anything but match speed and fire their weapons. He drifted smoothly left and right, up and down, evading the ordinance like they were hardly a concern. As their altitude increased, he slowly ticked the power level up, gaining speed. The more daring of the pursuit ships followed his lead. S.O.B.'s nose was incandescent now, fire dancing around the shock front ahead of his shield, but he didn't slow. His face was a mask of determination. He was going home, and his ship was going to hold together, because he was Trevor Alexander, and flying fast, steady, and true was what he did. That was all there was to it.

As they got into deep space, he continued to dial up the speed, pushing the engines up to one hundred percent, then further. One-ten. One-twenty. One-fifty. One-seventy. The points on his sensors slowly dropped away, unwilling or unable to keep up with him. When the coast was clear, he plotted a course and switched to FTL, not slowing to let the engine cool until he was halfway to his first destination. S.O.B. didn't seem to mind.

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