Part 11 (1/2)

'Negative,' Morgan cut her off, thinking fast, 'I've just talked to McKim. I've got him bringing his squad down the mountain. He's got a man down and Joanna's been taken hostage.

Two rogue cultists, out for revenge it looked like. He doesn't know.'

'Two?' asked Kristal sharply.

'Yeah, two. Ben doesn't know how they got the better of him and he's real sorry - but not as sorry as he's going to be.

Kristal, what about this storm?'

He strained to hear her answer, worried he was about to lose her. 'Seems... died down...' He gave a nod to O'Neill, see if he could boost the signal.

'Yeah, yeah. But I want to know what it is we're dealing with out there.'

'I told you. Captain. Many spirits or one big enough to swallow the world.'

Great. Typical her mystic mantra comes through nice and clear. Morgan let the silence fill the vehicle momentarily, then sat forward in his seat. 'Fine, yeah. Strangely, in all this insanity, I recall those words very clearly.' His tone s.h.i.+fted up a notch on the irate scale. 'Now, what the h.e.l.l does it mean?'

'It cannot be explained,' Kristal told him flatly.

Despite the fact she couldn't see him. Morgan threw his arms up in despair. 'Kristal - please - if you don't know - why don't you just say you don't know!'

'Because I mean. It cannot be explained.' It cannot be explained.'

'Listen, I am trying to be open-minded here, I really am, but-'

'Don't, Captain.' Kristal broke in unexpectedly. 'Whatever you do, don't open your mind now. That might just give the spirits a way in.'

Morgan Shaw pressed his tongue to the back of his teeth.

'You know what, have it your own way. Lieutenant Wildcat,'

he said tersely. 'Right now, you can head after those cultists and bring Joanna back safely. They headed east-south-east from the house, you should be able to get ahead of them and cut them off. Don't take any chances, but Joanna's safety is your priority numero uno. Are we clear on that?'

'Crystal,' she answered, delivering the pun humourlessly.

'And when you get back here with Joanna, you're going to explain to me the difference between I don't know and it cannot be explained. Out.'

Morgan tossed the mic to O'Neill, glad to be rid of it. He sniffed and rubbed his face from head to chin. He was aware of his brother studying him.

'You know, I might be able to help you out there,' Kenzie offered.

'Mm?'

Makenzie propped himself against the door of the Command Snowcat. 'I got myself a girlfriend. Martha. That was her kid out there, Amber. They both live with me, up at Dad's old cabin. I know them pretty well, might get to know them a whole lot better if this works out.' He looked straight at Morgan then, more sibling than rival for that instant. 'But I'll be d.a.m.ned if I'll ever be able to explain them.'

Morgan nodded, half a smile forming. Makenzie's life had moved on a lot since they'd last spoken. Two years, wasn't it?

'You know, Kenzie, you might be the only one round here knows what my scout is talking about. You want to stick around, act as an interpreter?'

Makenzie shook his head. 'Too much on my plate right now.'

Morgan stood and made for the doorway. His brother dropped down off the step to let him pa.s.s. Morgan jumped down next to him.

'Hey, what say we call a truce, huh? Nothing permanent, you know. Just long enough to get the job done' Morgan looked up and down the street, trying not to make a big deal out of this in front of the troops.

'What say.' Makenzie said, 'you lend me some of those men coming down off the mountain. Soon as they're rested. And I'll sec if I can get Amber to talk to you. I don't know, maybe she found something.'

Morgan decided he could cut his brother some slack. For the sake of the truce, if nothing else. 'Four men, twenty-four hours. That's the best I can do. My man, McKim, is going to need something to occupy himself when he gets back.' He glanced again, up and down the line of vehicles. This time he was actively searching for something. He waved over his second-in-command. 'Hey. Derm, where did the girl go? And where the h.e.l.l is the Doc?'

'Ah, Pydych, there you are, good man. I trust you haven't started without us.'

All the tables in the hotel dining room had been pushed to the walls, the chairs upended on top of them. The rustic decor was totally at odds with the shattered fossil of a military airframe, laid out on a tarpaulin spread over most of a blue carpet. Sections of the wings and the tail fin, with its distinctive electronics pod, were by far the largest recovered.

The Doctor squatted to examine the mashed remains of the jet's nose. Much of the air superiority grey had been seared or sc.r.a.ped away.

Pydych coughed. 'I see the experiment to shrink your a.s.sistant worked out.'

'Mm?' The Doctor looked up, mildly annoyed at being disturbed. Ah, yes, Amber meet Corporal Pydych, Corporal Pydych, meet Amber Mailloux.' Stooping, he moved up along the skeleton of fuselage, to where the c.o.c.kpit should have been. Amber has been telling me how she found your pilot's parachute, and how she was clever enough to stow it somewhere safe until someone could collect it.'

'Hi, kid. Call me Irving. I hate it. but my Mom likes to know the name's getting used.'

'Whatever.'

Amber moved to stand over the Doctor, managing to block some of his light, but he had already observed the black wiring protruding from the mangled avionics bay. 'I think your comic timing needs work. Corporal What's your verdict on the electrical systems, hmm?'

Pydych skirted briskly around to face the Doctor. The engineer did his best deep-pan puzzled expression, then sighed. 'What I can tell so far, I think all the electrics that are left in there - which is not a whole lot - are like burnt spaghetti stuck to my Aunt Clara's pan. But it looks like the rest was surgically removed in mid-air. And I don't know any acrobatic engineer display team that could pull off that kind of stunt.'

'Curious.'

'What was your major, Doc? The value of understatement?

Myself, I majored in cynicism, but I minored in electrical engineering and I've never seen anything like this in my long and colourful career. And I'm talking at least as long and colourful as that scarf of yours.'

'Oh I doubt that; the Doctor dismissed the claim airily. His thoughts were elsewhere as his gaze sailed over the exhibit.

'There's really not much left of this Raven, or its experimental modifications. You wouldn't happen to know about any of those, would you?'

Pydych laughed and polished his fingernails on his collar. 'I can tell you this much: they were experimental. Rush-job avionics and wiring to patch in the Storm-' he arrested himself and smiled at Amber '-device. I hadn't seen a bigger lash-up since my brother tried to spy on me and my first girlfriend with a cheap Polaroid and my remote-control car.'

'They had remote-control cars when you were a kid?' Amber goaded.

'Hey, kid, I'm only thirty-six next month and I played with cars well into my twenties. Now, if you'll excuse me, I think your learned colleague is trying to attract my attention.'

The Doctor was indeed waiting on Pydych with an expectant stare. 'Yes,' he said with tested patience. 'I didn't really want to break up your new friends.h.i.+p. Corporal, but I have a question I think you can help me with. The Captain happened to mention the Stormcore-'

'Uh, yeah. Doc, can we just stick with calling it the device?