CHAPTER SIX: Out of the Fire…
A klaxon sounded, waking Hermione up with a start. She didn't have to wait long for an explanation, as the door to her quarters opened and the old woman was standing there. "What's going on?" Hermione demanded, her voice a mix of confidence and fear.
The old woman looked distant. "We've just been informed of a raid that should be striking this place any minute. We need to leave, now. You will remain our guest, and will accompany me personally. Follow me." It was clearly not a request, for as the old woman turned and set off, a pair of soldiers came to flank either side of the door.
Hermione took her cue and followed the woman, whose name she still did not know. Through the dark corridors they walked until they reached a gigantic hangar, filled with all kinds of combat and transport aircraft. Over at one end, one ship stood out from all the rest; it resembled a zeppelin in a way, but it seemed to be made of a darkish green cloud rather than any sort of physical material. Dying to know what it was, Hermione knew better than to ask.
The old woman, however, did not miss Hermione's curiosity. "You need not worry about that, Hermione Granger. It won't do you any harm as long as you're with us. It's a weapon to be used only as a last resort. Unfortunately, I fear we may be needing it sooner rather than later." She cocked her head over to the unusual ship, where the old man who had seemed quite insane during the initial part of Hermione's interrogation was standing guard, waiting. "My companion will be manning that particular aircraft."
Hermione had the feeling, no, the certainty, that this particular thing was far more than anyone let on, and she feared that under that lunatic's control… Hermione didn't want to think about it.
"Ah! Here we are," the old woman said, gesturing ahead of them. There lay a dark green transport plane, at least ten times as large as the largest aircraft Hermione had any knowledge of. It sported multiple weapons turrets, a large cargo and transport bay in the rear, and at the head, a cockpit could be seen through a window as large as the front of a house.
"That's one hell of a command ship you have there," Hermione couldn't help but observe.
The old woman stopped and turned to face Hermione, a stern look on her face. "What makes you think it is a command ship?" her cold voice drawled.
Hermione didn't flinch. "This is obviously a military operation. It makes sense for the largest and most heavily armed vessel to be the one controlling everything. And as you said that this was the plane we'd be boarding, you in charge makes this the command vessel. Simple logic, really." Hermione couldn't help but smirk.
The woman let out a chuckle and a sigh. "Oh, what I would give for a brain like yours, Hermione Granger. It may have been simple logic, but still, I am jealous of your obvious intellect, I must say."
"Thank you, I think," was all that Hermione could think to say. "So, will I be in a brig, or will I be with you in the cockpit, or if you have one, a bridge?"
"I think it will be safe to allow you onto the bridge. I doubt you'd want to cause us any harm, as we're on a mutually beneficial mission." Seeing Hermione's look of confusion, she elaborated, "We may be fleeing an invasion, but we're taking the opportunity to act swiftly, in a way the enemy won't expect. We're heading straight for the aerial island, where hopefully, we can rescue your companions."
A blast of fire came from behind them, and soldiers in glowing white uniforms stormed the hangar bay, opening fire with a barrage of red energy. "Stunning spells," Hermione gasped. "Guns with magic!" The thought was mind-boggling.
All around, soldiers in green darted for various aircraft, and the cavernous ceiling began to rise away, forming an opening out of which it was clear the aircraft were to make their departure (or in this case, escape, Hermione noted with a hint of irony). The soldiers flanking Hermione quickly ushered her onto a ramp into the aircraft. The ramp was already retracting as Hermione raced up it and into a room filled with a combination of parchment, potions, and computer screens. "Some sort of lab," Hermione said to herself. Her two 'escorts' quickly ushered her out of the room and down some hallways, up an elevator, and onto the bridge, along with the old woman.
"Ah. You made it. Excellent. Now then," the old woman pressed a button on a nearby console. "All vessels, initiate Plan Omega, now!" Pressing the button again, the woman looked out the window to see hordes of fighter planes and larger aircraft zooming away from. Sitting down in what was unmistakably a command chair, she said to Hermione, "Did you recognize those soldiers, by the way? The ones storming our facility, I mean."
Hermione shook her head. "No, I didn't recognize them." Something in the old woman's tone suggested something. "But you did recognize them."
The old woman smiled. "Yes, I did. You would have as well, had you noticed that some wore white armbands with stripes of red, blue, green, and silver. Am I right, Hermione Granger?"
Hermione didn't show her shock, but instead let her mind race with the possibilities that this opened up. "Healing Hands," she said and nodded. "The priests certainly don't advertise the fact that they have an army. Even if they did, people would probably line up to join. The Great Healer's magic is indeed that strong."
"Yes, it is. But for now, we have to wait. Unless the Great Healer tells the EU to launch any planes or missiles, we should be safe. And unless I'm mistaken, that is not something we need to worry about. Healing Hands probably wants the Fists of Wrath to annihilate us when we attack, just as much as they hope that we annihilate them."
Hermione turned to face the old woman. "Why is that? What threat do you pose to them? Just who the hell are you!" A gentle smile was her only answer.