Leaping over the body of her opponent, Cassie ran flat-out after the Hork-Bajir that was still dragging Captain Torrelli bodily into what remained of the parade. The Captain was still putting up a respectable fight, even after all the time that had gone by. The big Hork-Bajir wove almost gracefully through the people in oversized Looney Tunes costumes, then turned around and barreled through the still occupied bandstand. Cassie was getting closer by the second, ignoring the many people who bumped into her, and the few who tried to pet her.
Putting them all out of her mind helped Cassie to focus on the still-discernable scent trail that Torrelli had left. The other scents down at ground level were, for Cassie at least, nearly overwhelming. But she held on, searching for that one scent that was Torrelli's in the mass of others. Looking right then left, Cassie didn't manage to catch a glimpse of Torrelli through the seething mass of humanity on either side of her.
But she could still pick up his scent, and that trail led left. So Cassie went left. Out of the mass of voices, overlapping each other and making it very hard to discern any one person, Cassie's wolf hearing managed to make out Torrelli's distinctive bellow.
"You people are in cahoots with those darned kids, aren't you!" the outraged captain demanded of the Hork-Bajir.
The Yeerk ignored him, dragging Torrelli past a mother and son pair, and brushing aside the son when he tried to get his picture taken with the 'monster'. Cassie was barreling after him at nearly her top speed, closing the distance between them with sheer acceleration. Slade, having dealt with the Hork-Bajir who had been fighting him, hurried after Cassie.
Cassie caught the sound of running feet, but the tread was even softer than hers, but not by all that much. Not knowing who was following her, Cassie was understandably worried. She couldn't look back, not while she was running, and whoever was chasing her was getting closer. When they finally came up alongside her, Cassie saw that it was Slade who had been following her.
(Slade, what are you doing here?) she asked. (You really frightened me for a minute. I almost thought you were one of those Hork-Bajir.) actually, Cassie hadn't really been sure what Slade had been when she couldn't see him, but that had been the first thing to come to mind.
(I startled you that much?) Slade asked. (I'm sorry, Cassie. I just came to give you some backup. These Hork-Bajir things are tough.)
(Why don't you go help Jake then? I'm sure he could use someone like you with him,) Cassie said, not really sure how to feel about the special treatment Slade insisted on giving her.
(There's no need, all of the others have been taken care of,) Slade said offhandedly. (The one you're chasing is the only one left, and, no offense, but you seem kind of tired. At… at least to me you did…) Slade trailed off, and Cassie thought he seemed embarrassed.
(Thank you, Slade. It's nice the way you keep thinking of me,) Cassie said, not sure exactly how she felt about such preferential treatment but wanting to be polite.
After that, there was no more time for talk. Both of them saw that the crowds had thinned down to almost nothing at this point. They weren't going to get another chance like this for a long time, too long as far as either of them were concerned. Slade, who had been pacing Cassie up till this point, stopped just a second after she did. Before he had a chance to wonder what she was doing, Cassie sprang forward, and Slade did likewise.
The Hork-Bajir who had been dragging Captain Torrelli fell under their combined weight, and the Captain managed to pull himself free before the Hork-Bajir would have fallen on him. He ran, not looking back, like his life depended on it. Which was pretty much the case, as Slade and Cassie both knew.
Just as the Hork-Bajir was about to make his move, Visser Three went racing by, his sharp hooves clattering on the hard asphalt. He was evidently calling for his remaining troops to retreat, all one of them. Slade wanted to go after them, but Cassie managed to convince him that it was best if they all just headed home.
Looking up at the sky, a lot of people were watching the Yeerk Bug fighter that held Visser Three and his single remaining Hork-Bajir warrior. None of the civilians knew quite what to make of the strange blackish insect-looking thing that was flying off over their heads. It had been parked on top of the Alien Adventure Ride, the Visser's idea to hide their ship in plain sight.
So, as the few patrons of The Gardens watched it jet off, there were some who thought that this was another part of the spectacular show that had been put on for this one time that they were all there to enjoy it. A small number even thought that this ship might just be the real thing. Two of the watchers, however, were not at all satisfied by the end of the show they had just seen.
"That's not what an alien spaceship looks like," a young boy who had been watching the entire performance commented. "They got it all wrong."
"They sure did," his grandfather agreed, as if he were some kind of expert on every ship that had been designed and built by the other species in the galaxy. "I was taken aboard a spaceship once. The aliens did all kinds of medical experiments on me. And their ship looked nothing like that."
"Well, it was kind of a nice show, though," the little boy allowed.
"Yes, it was at that. Even if the ending was a letdown."
The boy and his grandfather walked off, hand in hand, never knowing that they had been so very close to one part of the secret war that was even then being fought to preserve the freedom of the people of Earth. Not knowing how near they had been to living, breathing creatures from another planet. Like everyone else, the two of them had enjoyed the spectacle and asked no questions.
A fair distance away from the parade ground, a battered Lance Torrelli was making an effort to appear presentable. Someone, he didn't know whether it was a civilian or one of his own people, had contacted the press. Dealing with reporters was distasteful at the best of times, and this was certainly not the best of times. But, as a protector of the people of the United States, he was obligated to inform them of the threats they were facing.
At least as far as the laws of the government he served would allow, and right now Torrelli was just exceedingly glad that all he had to report were the antics of a bunch of teenage pranksters. Though deep in his mind, in a place Torrelli would never, ever readily acknowledge that he had, Lance Torrelli was beginning to doubt that this had all been something so simple. Those animals, and the things that had been chasing them had looked and felt to real somehow.
Dismissing that line of reasoning as the absurd nonsense it had to be, Torrelli fortified himself for what was coming. Air Force officers, like their counterparts among the Army, Navy, and police forces, hated dealing with reporters. In fact, Torrelli wasn't sure if there was actually a single specimen in all the human race who liked dealing with those bloodsucking leeches.
"Captain Torrelli, would you please tell us what just went on here?" one of the foremost reporters asked. Nothing more or less than a male model with a microphone, as far as Torrelli was concerned. "We were told that there were monsters here, or aliens."
Torrelli huffed, wondering how many times he would be subjected to having to talk about aliens. Well, I knew the job would be annoying when I took it. Might as well get this over with.
"I can assure you, and the viewing public, that there were no monsters at all in The Gardens. And certainly no aliens," Torrelli said, his voice gruff and harsh from all the annoyance this night had brought him. "The only things that were in this park that shouldn't have been were a bunch of punk kids in stupid costumes."
"So, you vehemently deny the rumors that there were a bunch of aliens that somehow managed to get into the park without ever arousing suspicion until the last minute?"
Torrelli bit back the strong urge to shout 'You're damn right, I do!', and instead thought of a more diplomatic way to phrase his denial. "There is absolutely no reason to believe that this event was anything more than the antics of a bunch of bored, attention-seeking teenagers."
"What about the reports that there were several wild animals involved in the skirmish? And the fact that you yourself, were taken from the House of Horrors ride and dragged across the parade ground?"
"Even I get surprised sometimes," Torrelli admitted grudgingly. "Those kids came out of nowhere, or they might as well have. And none of the security guards spotted them, either," Torrelli snapped.
"So, this was just the work of some kids in Halloween costumes?" another reporter asked.
"Yes. Just a bunch of kids playing a prank," Torrelli reiterated. "And, if I ever manage to catch the ringleaders, I'm going to lock them up for the rest of their natural lives."
"So you already know who was the instigator, or instigators in this case, of this entire debacle?"
"Yes," Torrelli bit out. "Four smart-mouthed, annoying teenagers, going by the names of: Fox Mulder, Cindy Crawford, Dana Scully, and Vincent Valentine. Any information the viewing public can give me that would lead to their arrests would be very much appreciated."
It was only then, after he had finished speaking, that Torrelli noticed that a lot of the reporters were starting to snicker. Not all, but a good percentage seemed to find something very amusing about what Torrelli had just said. A few in the back had even started laughing.
"What's so darn funny!" Torrelli demanded.
"Uhm, you might want to try checking the FBI's X-files division," one of the other reporters suggested, while chuckles and sniggers broke our again from the crowd. "I hear two of your targets work there."
"Yeah, and as for the other guy," more sniggers, louder this time. "Why don't you try looking on the Northern Continent? Or maybe in Nebelhiem? You could probably find Cindy real easy, any guy knows who she is."
By now, it was patently obvious to Torrelli that there was some huge joke that he hadn't been included in. Being out of the loop was a novel experience for Torrelli, but not one he was at all eager to repeat. Glaring at all the people who were having a laugh at his expense, Torrelli decided that he had had enough.
"All right, what exactly is so funny about what I just said!"
"Are you sure you heard those names right?" another reporter asked, over the sniggers of her contemporaries. "Or, maybe you just had a bit too much to drink, sir."
"What!"
"Hey, I was wondering," one of the other male reporters piped up. "You're with the Air Force, right? So what were you doing at a corporate outing for Gondor Industries?"
Torrelli fumed, knowing full well that there was no way in hell that he would ever be allowed to explain the specifics of what he had been doing at this place. "Nevermind," he growled instead. "Forget I said anything."
"Aww come on, sir. Inquiring minds want to know," that same annoying reporter said, grinning smugly at Torrelli's obvious discomfort.
"I said no comment," Torrelli spat at the crowd in general and that one guy in particular.
"You know, sir, we have to make a living, too," another of the female reporters put in, somehow managing not to sound whiny or pathetic. "How about giving us something to work with here?"
"No comment." And with that final statement, Torrelli left. Ignoring all the plaintive or demanding calls to return, to give those jackals something more. I really hate the press, Torrelli thought as he walked away.
