Project Perses: Redemption

Chapter Six

Chapter Six

The General had ordered one of the MP's to wheel me out of the critical care unit in a wheel chair, bundled in blankets, straight into the back of a waiting ambulance. The wheelchair served two purposes, the first was because according to the hospital's records I was seriously injured and barely able to be transported, and the second was that every time I tried to walk, I managed to super speed myself into any obstacle in my path. 

It's ridiculous how you can get used to things.  Turns out, what I got used to was not having my abilities.  Mitchell had been more than a little surprised by my inability to control them, too.   It had been bad enough when I had ran right into the sink when I had first gotten out of bed, but then there was the toilet handle I had snapped right off the tank, the sink faucets that are now lying in a pile in the basin and the bathroom door.  That had been pretty embarrassing, and for the life of me I didn't know how anyone would explain the hinges being sheered clean apart.  I had left it balanced in its place, but the first person who breathes on it is going to get a nasty surprise.

The hospital's maintenance department was going to love me. 

It had been a short drive at breakneck speeds to the airfield at Hickam, the siren blaring the whole time.  To my amazement, the ambulance was driven straight into the waiting cargo hold of a C-17 Globemaster III.  

I was just stepping out of the back of the ambulance when the C-17 started trundling down the runway.  Taking a seat on the metal bench that ran along the sides of huge cavernous hold, I couldn't help but be a bit jumpy.  After already surviving one plane crash, I wasn't too terribly interesting in testing fate a second time.  Mitchell was standing towards the front of the hold, talking to some guy in a jumpsuit, for the time being ignoring me and my nerves.

He'd arranged for us to be transported with standard Army cargo in route to Nevada.  There would be no documentation, no proof that we were ever here.  After our last plane ride had been compromised, and because he had no idea how it had happened or where, he wasn't taking any chances; he wanted absolutely no communication that we were on board.  As far as anyone was concerned, we were still in the trauma center at Queen's Medical Center in Honolulu.

I had started to nod off when Mitchell finally came to sit next to me.  He remained pretty quiet the whole time, seemingly lost in his thoughts. He would glance my way every once in a while and then avert his eyes, his look brooding and contemplative.  I dealt with the silence as best as I could but my patience was wearing thin after we had been in the air almost an hour and he had yet to utter a word.  If he didn't start talking soon, I'd pass out from boredom.

"So," I chirped, reaching up to scratch my head while fidgeting on the bench, not sure how to begin.  "Um, when are you going to tell me why you pulled me off the George Washington in such a hurry? Did it have anything to do with us getting shot out of the sky?"

To his credit, he must have sensed that eventually I'd be asking the question, because his pale gray eyes barely blinked and his face showed no reaction.  "We had received word that your location was compromised aboard the Washington.  There had been chatter about an offensive action against the carrier, so to be prudent for both the men on that ship and yourself, I thought it would be best to get you out of there quietly and as fast as possible."

I listened intently, resting my elbows on my knees, my eyes staring at the metal floor beneath my feet.  "So the attack on the plane..."

"Not entirely unexpected, however I would have expected that they would have made their move over international waters, if not when we were in Japan.  The fact it occurred in US air space, within sight of several US military bases, is troublesome."