“I see why no one argues with the Queen of the World.” Muddy shouted some orders in Turleen. As with his name, it sounded like so much watery gurgling to me. However, that didn’t matter because the Turleens all went back to their natural forms. For a moment.
Then their shells grew and slid around them and most of them took to the air—a fleet of tiny dirigibles against a dozen of the most formidable helicopters ever created for warfare. Chose not to question our odds.
Instead I put my earbuds into my phone and my ears and hit random play. No time to choose one of my now many Fight Songs lists.
But it didn’t matter. “Safer on the Outside” by American Hi-Fi hit my ears. Really hoped I was on the Algar Channel but even if I wasn’t, I was always better with music than without.
“Please let my purse be a portal again,” I murmured as I reached back in. “Because goggles would be awesome right about now. As would any other help the King of the Elves might want to toss my way. Like sunscreen.”
Algar wasn’t a real elf, but that’s what I’d nicknamed the Operations Team way back when, because they always did everything at what seemed like the moment you needed or asked for it. Had found out during Operation Infiltration that there wasn’t actually a Team, but just one individual. The one the rest of those from the Black Hole Universe were hunting with definite intent to incarcerate.
So far, they hadn’t found him. Hoped that would last because, despite his protests to the contrary, Algar helped us, me in particular, far more than his Free Will Manifesto would indicate that he would or should. I firmly believed he had a Master Plan he was following to try to right the wrongs he’d inadvertently allowed to happen to this particular universe.
It was because of Algar that every A-C and human working for and with them believed there was a full team of other A-Cs providing all the maintenance for every A-C facility worldwide. The most constant “proof” of this were the refrigerators—you asked for what you wanted, opened the fridge door, and, voila, whatever you wanted was sitting there waiting for you.
There was a supposedly scientific explanation for how these were portals—using a subatomic, spatiotemporal warp process, filtered through black hole technology causing a space-time shift with both a controlled event horizon and ergosphere that allowed safe transference of any and all materials and so forth—that had never made as much sense as there being Magical Elves hanging about. And one Magical Elf it turned out to be.
The Poofs had come with Algar, so they knew who and what he was. I and a few others—Gower and White specifically—were the only non-Poofs who knew Algar existed, though I was pretty sure the Peregrines had figured it out. Whether William, Walter, and/or Missy had been clued in yet to his existence I didn’t know. Because we were prevented from talking about Algar to anyone at any time unless he was there and allowed it, by his power. Jeff couldn’t even pick up what any of us were feeling when we were with or thinking about Algar.
Happily, either Algar was on the case or he’d never actually turned off my purse’s portal ability since Operation Civil War, because I pulled out a nice pair of goggles. They weren’t the super-duper ones that we’d used during Operation Epidemic, but they’d protect my eyes, and that was the important thing.
Additionally, I found SPF 100 sunscreen and a pair of thin gloves. Clearly the Turleen shells were going to be hot and Algar didn’t want me getting third degree burns all over my face and arms. Slathered the sunscreen on then put on the goggles, which had the added advantage of the strap helping ensure my earbuds would stay in my ears. Pulled the gloves on quickly and was happy to find they were a kind of thin neoprene, meaning they’d help me hold onto whatever I could manage to grab with less slipping.
Muddy and a yellow-green Turleen, who was identified as Lily, were with me. Each turned into their own dirigible. Lily was along to act as wing turtle and to catch me should I fall off of Muddy’s back. “Turn your face toward the ground if you fall off,” Lily instructed just before her shell encased her. Chose not to worry about that. I’d ridden katyhoppers on Beta Eight—I could handle this.
“Where do you want to go?” Muddy asked. His voice was muffled, but I could still make it out through his shell and my music, though the sound of the helicopters was going to make him hard to hear shortly.
“We need to take out the lead helicopter and, if at all possible, take control of it or any of the others.”
“Ah, we have some experience with that.” And so saying, we lifted off.
It was different, flying via Space Turtle. Due to the shape, it wasn’t uncomfortable, and Muddy’s shell wasn’t all that hot. But the katyhoppers had had legs for me to brace against, and horses normally had saddles and reins, and manes in the case of bareback riding. But Muddy was a smooth ovoid. Tried to bring back ancient horseback riding lessons from when I was little. Your seat on the horse mattered more than anything else. Decided that didn’t help much in this case and reminded myself that I’d fought Rapacians in the air while standing on the backs of katyhoppers and chose to tell myself that I’d be good.
Which was immediately put to the test as the choppers started firing at us and the Turleens, Muddy in particular, had to take evasive action. We turned on our side, or what I assumed was Muddy’s side and certainly was mine, and, as “Spin” by Splender came on my personal airwaves, I fell off.
Flipped in the air so I was facing the ground as I’d been instructed. Hoped Jeff would still want to have sex with me should I become permanently disfigured. Tried to move my purse so that it would hit the ground before my face did, but didn’t have a lot of success.
Thankfully, I landed on Lily, who swooped under me just in time. Sure, I hit kind of like a sack of potatoes, but I wasn’t too badly winded. And I discovered there was a small rim that went around the outside of her shell. It wasn’t much but it was enough to hold onto.
“Thank you!” Managed to shift around so that I was holding onto the rim near the front of Lily’s dirigible shape, but at ten and two, versus holding on at noon on the clock, so to speak, so she’d be able to see. Not that I knew how any of them were seeing in the first place.
I was lying flat but kind of curved, since she was kind of curved, and finally realized what this felt like. Swung my legs back and around, staying bent over, just like I did when I was riding a sport motorcycle. Lily was actually perfectly sized for my knees to hit at her rim, and I tucked my legs under what I was going to assume was her belly until told otherwise. Managed to shove my purse between my torso and her shell, too.