Alien Proliferation

taker who was also scientific enough to create this drug in the first place, I’d bet on the side of yes.”
    “You know, you really should do more fieldwork, Mister White.”
    “I have a suspicion I’m about to do quite a lot right now, Missus Martini.”
    “Gate is ready, Commander. Do you want a team to accompany you and the Pontifex?” The way the A-C asked, I knew he wanted me to say yes.
    “No. We don’t need cannon fodder. They’re killing the guys who aren’t big shots. Let’s keep our grunts safe, and let the folks in charge do the fighting, okay?”
    The A-C gave me a long look. I looked back. He looked upset, in a quiet way, but still, upset, worried. He was working a gate, which meant he didn’t have any A-C talents. I usually didn’t see a lot of emotion out of the gate A-Cs; they were part of the Security team, trained to stay cool under pressure. But there was one gate agent who was really aware of when the Commanders went through and was awed by our presence and standard politeness. I knew because his brothers had told me.
    “You have immediate family involved in this, don’t you?” I asked. He nodded. I took a shot. “William and Wayne?”
    He swallowed hard. “Yes. Good luck, Commander. Please come home safely.” He didn’t add that he wanted me to bring his brothers home safely, too. He didn’t have to.
    “We’ll do our best.”
    “They have to go, now,” Gladys said urgently.
    White and I didn’t hesitate. He took my hand, and we ran through the gate.

 
    CHAPTER 51
     
    S ADLY, GOING THROUGH A GATE still made me sick to my stomach. Figured.
    Then again, it might have made me sick because we landed on the top of a speeding train. “Down!” White pulled me and we fell onto the roof, just before we went whooshing under a bridge.
    “Love their freaking timing!” I had to shout, the train was going so fast.
    “Can we get inside?”
    I looked around. No bridge, lovely countryside. Stood up, helped White up, and then realized we were in the middle of the train. Had no idea where Gower was from here. “Hang on.” I got back on my stomach and crawled to the side of the car.
    Thankfully White grabbed my ankles as the train curved, and I started to slide off. Got an interesting view of the side of the car. Wasn’t the car Jamie had shown me. Indicated White should pull me back.
    “Well, that was fun, and I have no idea where to go.” Remembered I’d been a hurdler. Still no sign of a bridge. Got up, ran to the end of the car, hurdled the scary open space, landed, managed not to twist an ankle. White showed up next to me, we did the look over the side thing again.
    “I think we’re going the wrong way.” Turned, ran, hurdled, kept on running, hurdled again, got to the next car. White arrived, over the side. Stood up, flung ourselves down. Reminded myself to look for freaking bridges before standing again.
    “I think they’re toward the front.”
    “Presumably the cargo is stored there. Lead on, Missus Martini.”
    “You okay on the roof? I think we’ll go faster.”
    “I live for danger and excitement.”
    “Mister White, you’re learning how to lie.”
    “No, Missus Martini, I just enjoy sarcasm as much as the rest of you. Will our passage alert the other passengers?”
    “Don’t care. Besides, I haven’t seen many when I’ve looked in. For all we know this train was commissioned specifically. Or else everyone’s up front or something.”
    He nodded. “We’ll cross that metaphorical bridge when we come to it. Presuming a real one doesn’t take our heads off first.”
    Looked ahead, no bridge. At least we were running toward the front, so we could see if a bridge was coming.
    This was a long train, naturally, because our luck wouldn’t let us be on a two-car vehicle unless it was hurtling down the side of a mountain. Did the run, hurdle, run thing over and over again. Stopped to check a couple of times and felt pretty sure we were heading for the car closest to the engine. Saw a few people scattered in the cars. They seemed unperturbed by the sound of pounding feet on the roof or my face staring at them upside down. Either things like this happened all the time, they were in the employ of Gaultier Enterprises but not paid enough to take an interest, or Parisians were really as blasé and “been there, done that” as they were reputed to be.
    Only had to fling ourselves down for bridges a couple more times, got to grab each other once each to keep