Hello everyone, just a few notes before beginning.
First, thanks for reading! We do appreciate it.
Second, just a heads up - we do know that (spoiler) the meteor science we used is probably incorrect (such as them being able to see it without a telescope). We're using artistic license.
Third, if you see a familiar quote anywhere in this story - it's probably intentional! We love making references to our favorite franchises.
Fourth - this story is probably a strong 'Teen' rating, or a very very soft 'M' (for some violence). If anyone feels we should bump up the rating, tell us and we will adjust as needed.
Chapter 3
Passing the point of safe return
Wyoming – Minnesota, USA
Chloe Pierce walked into her home with groceries in hand, just in time to hear the answering machine click. Setting down the ingredients to the evening's dinner, she went over and pressed 'play.
Sure, it was an old-fashioned system. But it still worked, so she'd kept it.
"Hey Chloe, it's me. Pick up if you're there," it began. Adrien. Her husband, though she wasn't sure about that anymore...
She hesitated, finger hovering over the delete button. Hearing him hurt her. In more ways than one. But then again, the message might be important.
"Ok, listen, I'm going to be out of range for a little bit. You know how it is. Um, I won't be able to take Mackenzie in the meantime," Adrien continued.
Despite her mixed feelings towards him, it was nice that he seemed to be back on his feet. She still cared; always would.
Over the months, she'd gathered that he worked for the CIA; but once again, he couldn't – or wouldn't – talk about it.
"Just wanted to let you know. Tell Mackenzie I'm sorry, and that I love her," he apologized. Then there was a pause.
"I love you, too," he finished. Then, a click.
Something about that was heartbreaking. Like a final goodbye. Chloe now wished she had arrived just a minute earlier to pick up the phone.
Oil rig off the Kamchatka Peninsula
After hanging up, Adrien went and stood in front of an old Russian Mi-17 helicopter, the same model used during the Cold War. As far as Adrien was concerned, the thing belonged in a museum and had no business busing them in.
The situation had been strange, indeed. The submarine was directed to 'park' very specifically – probably to avoid detection. Then, they had taken a raft to a Russian oil rig, where a man that spoke very broken English simply told them to wait at the helicopter.
"Anyone else feel like we're being set up to start World War III?" Hornet asked while adjusting his bootlaces. While his expression was impish, he sounded nervous.
Adrien had to agree. This whole thing was off, and it had nothing to do with the possible extraterrestrials.
While the others grunted their agreement, Adrien received a call from his satellite phone.
He knew there was only one person it could be. Just to make a point, he let it ring a few times before answering. If the lazy idiot wanted immediate answers, he should have come in person. "Go for Pierce."
"Adrien, Bob here. I take it you've arrived."
Adrien didn't bother to mince words. "Yeah, and I'm now second guessing this operation. Are we gonna start a war if we are caught?"
"If you are caught, you'll be disavowed as an extremist group attempting to impersonate military personnel and disrupt peace between the US and Russia. You'll be on your own," he explained without hesitation.
Adrien was taken aback. That hadn't been mentioned before. "What the hell, Bob?"
"It'll be fine. Russia is too wrapped up with the evacuation to notice what we are doing," said Bob, with all the bored confidence of a person facing zero repercussions.
Adrien sighed. Now he was wishing he had pushed Bob for more details on the op beforehand. Bob's lack of military experience was really showing, and now he was going to have to shotgun the mission.
"You got a map?" Bob continued.
"Yeah, hold on," Adrien stated as he pulled up the paper and a compass.
"You're gonna need to make your way to the town of Vizhay. The VIP we need to extract will be there or thereabouts. From there, wait for the meteor to hit, and push over to the impact site. Either there will be specimens to gather, or there won't. If not, contact me for next steps. Obviously, the goal is to collect the specimens ourselves. That way we're not as beholden for the wellbeing of the VIP."
Clearly, Bob felt about as much obligation to his Russian contact as he did for his men. "Speaking of, how will I know who the VIP is?" Adrien asked.
"Don't have a picture or anything, if that's what you're asking, but… She's probably gonna be one of the only female Spetsnaz soldiers in that town. Late twenties. Goes by the name of Jekaterina Mikhailov," Bob said hesitantly, knowing full well the significance of the grenade he'd just tossed into the conversation.
"Woah, woah, woah! Spetsnaz?! Bob, you did not say Russian Special Forces would be in the town – nor did you mention the VIP was one of them!"
"Extraterrestrials no problem, but a few Russian special forces and you're ready to give up? I'm sure you'll make this work," Bob said, and any uncertainty he'd shown was gone.
Adrien's eyes narrowed. This deal was getting worse all the time.
Bob hung up without another word, and Adrien was left to explain it all to his men. It went over with them exactly as well as it had when it was directed at him.
"This is bullshit, Adrien," Viper stated tightly.
"I know."
"I've got family to think about." Scarecrow pointed out, shoving a magazine he'd been checking back into a pouch on his vest.
"I know,' Adrien repeated.
"I may not have a family, but I don't want to spend the rest of my life in a Russian prison. Bob is out of his mind," Hornet snapped, folding his arms.
"I know. Look, guys, I'm in the same boat here. We do the op, but no unnecessary risks. No need for us to end up in a Siberian work camp over what is likely going to be a wild goose chase. We take the VIP, if she resists or is about to blow our cover… we do what we have to," Adrien stated.
After all, if the woman was Spetsnaz, she'd understand. In fact, she'd do the same thing.
The men were momentarily quiet. "Cold blooded man," Hornet finally commented quietly.
"I don't care how important she is, nothing is worth our lives being destroyed."
This time, everyone nodded in grim agreement. It was a bad situation, and they were playing the hand they were dealt.
"Alright, let's rock," Adrien pointed to the helo.
I stuck around St. Petersburg
When I saw it was a time for a change
Killed the Tsar and his ministers
Anastasia screamed in vain
Adrien was zoned out, listening to music on his crappy old iPod. Better than running down the battery or breaking an expensive phone, after all. He almost grinned.
Chloe always used dated technology. "I feel sorry for it. It still wants to be of use! What if we threw away anything and everything, every time we thought we wanted something better?"
Heart of gold. That was his wife.
The helicopter ride wasn't exactly exciting, though his men thought differently. All being from temperate or hot regions without snowfall, they thought it looked majestic outside. Adrien thought it just looked like a typical Minnesota day.
They were passing over some high terrain when the next strange phenomenon occurred. His sat phone rang again. Odd; he wouldn't have thought Bob would want to talk to him again until they'd completed an objective of the mission. "Hello?"
"Captain Pierce. Pleasure to speak to you." The voice was old, with a Russian accent. With the noise of the helicopter, it was difficult to hear for certain – but the man definitely wasn't Bob.
"Who is this? Better yet, how'd you get this number?" Adrien demanded.
"Irrelevant. You are the one retrieving Jekaterina, yes?"
Adrien leaned as far forward in his seat as the harness would allow. " …How do you know that?"
"I know a great many things, Captain," the voice cut in.
"And what interest is it of yours?"
"I want to know if the man they assigned would follow through on this agreement. You were a marine, yes? Faced down one of these… things and lived to tell about it, no? Your record is certainly impressive."
Adrien was now a little more than freaked out. Those records were sealed classified, and some random Russian was calling him and reciting it like he read it himself. It had to be Bob's contact. For once, it seemed Bob hadn't been exaggerating when he'd described the man's status.
"I appreciate the vote of confidence," Adrien said carefully.
"Do you know what the Marine motto 'Semper Fidelis' means, Captain?"
"Yes, 'Always Faithful', or 'Loyal' in Latin."
"Are you faithful in your duty to this mission, Captain? Will you loyally extract Jekaterina, even if she doesn't want you to?" the Russian asked, putting unnecessary emphasis on 'faithful' and 'loyal'.
"I'll do what's necessary," Adrien answered as truthfully as he could. He certainly didn't want to kill some random girl, even if she probably was as cold-hearted and cruel as the rest of the Spetsnaz were rumored to be.
"…Thank you for your time Captain," the voice said before the line went dead.
Adrien turned the phone over, looking at the digital screen before digging the phone into his forehead. Russia was officially more weird than Florida, and that was saying something.
"Hey Pierce! How come you never made Major?" Hornet suddenly asked.
"I understand Majors in this line of work have a very short life expectancy," Adrien answered after a deliberation. Hornet must've gotten the joke because he smiled and gave him a thumbs up. Truth be told, he didn't want a desk job, and Major was about where it turned into a political office.
Leaning back, Adrien shut his eyes.
"I need fire support, danger-close, on grid map kilo 2-5-9!" Adrien demanded into the radio. He was in Afghanistan, and his mission had gone to complete hell.
"Copy that Captain. I've got batteries ready to fire," the artillery leader advised.
"Bomb the whole fucking forest! It's hiding in the trees!" Adrien ordered.
The artillery began without delay, leaving no spot of forest untouched. His teeth rattled and his hearing was ringing bells. It seemed to go on and on.
"Captain, confirm splash?" the artillery leader requested. Adrien just stared into the now-bombed-out-forest as it burned.
Nothing on Earth could've survived that.
"Captain?"
Nothing on Earth…
"Captain, wake up. Pilot says we're about to make landfall," Viper shook him. Adrien rubbed the sleep from his eyes, silently scolding himself for nodding off. But more for the dream…
Eventually, the ramp of the helicopter dropped down and the men deployed, taking up defensive positions and scanning the area for threats as the helicopter departed.
Adrien wasn't sure what he was expecting; maybe Russians firing at him, maybe aliens pouring out of holes in the ground, maybe a welcome-to-Russia party for all he knew. But no, it was quiet, save for the regular outdoor ambience.
"Ooh, it's cold!" Viper stated. Being a California native, he was only used to hot, dry deserts and cities.
"There's gonna be little left to identify us as men by the end of this, Captain!" Hornet joked with an enormous grin at his own humor. He was from Nevada.
"Good thing there wasn't much there to begin with," Adrien shot back. The drop off point was also their extraction LZ, so Adrien used his Garmin Foretrex 701 wrist GPS and tagged the spot as his extraction point.
According to their current location in relation to the town of Vizhay, they needed to move west to southwest. A bit of a trek was ahead of them, but Adrien wanted to check out another point of interest: the nearby tower – radio, maybe – that was sitting on a sharp hill. It would give them a good look of the terrain ahead of them.
"How do we pick up her trail once we're in the town?" Scarecrow posed.
"We're military, not the Sioux or blood hounds. Meaning, we have to do this the hard way. Door by door sweep, if we have to," Viper answered for everyone.
"Get me a pair of her panties, and I'll sniff 'er out!" Hornet boasted.
"The hell is wrong with you?" demanded Viper.
Adrien cut into the banter. A bit was fine, too much was distracting. "We move toward the tower there. Fifty-meter spread, but I want us within eyesight of each other. Constantly check on the guy to your left and right." He still seriously doubted any real danger was out here, but nobody ever died being too careful.
He was trying to learn from his own experiences, as well as those who came before him. It seemed that the hunters generally preferred to isolate their prey one at a time and pick them off that way. That's what happened to him, that's what happened in Guatemala. The only advantages he had over the special forces team from that event was that he knew these things existed and there wasn't heavy jungle brush for it to hide in. And he was going to stay clear of any wooded areas he could.
"Expecting trouble?" Scarecrow asked. Now all his men were looking around with paranoia.
"Can never be too careful," Adrien answered vaguely as he walked off toward his objective. His men fell in line shortly after him, still searching. Good; vigilance would be needed.
"Captain…" Viper began, speaking quietly over the radio.
"Go ahead."
"How do we… ya know, fight them?" Viper questioned. Adrien could tell he felt the query was stupid.
"I've never seen this 'parasite' species, so this will be a learning experience for all of us. We all read the reports; we'll be fine."
"And if the hunters come?"
Adrien didn't have an answer to that, really.
"C'mon boss, give us something," Hornet begged.
"Nobody stays out of eyesight. They like to pick off targets one at a time. If we're clustered, that makes it harder for them." It was the best answer he could give, since he hadn't exactly 'fought' one, in the typical sense.
The climb up to the radio tower proved to be more of an expenditure of energy than Adrien would've guessed. It was a sharp incline, but it beat doing an actual rock climb. Maybe he was just more out of shape than he thought.
"I need to do more cardio," Adrien said aloud between breathing pants. He forgot how painful on the lungs it was to constantly inhale cold air; yet conversely, his face was sweaty. He wiped his cheek on his shoulder and tried to regulate his breathing.
"Leg day brother, never skip leg day," Hornet told him with an irritating cheerfulness.
Once at the top, everyone took a long drink from the hydration bladders strapped to the back of their armor. Adrien also took the opportunity to set the tower in his GPS as a navigational landmark.
"Ok, Scarecrow and I will climb the tower and observe. Hornet, Viper, keep things locked down from here."
"You're gonna make that climb, sir?" Scarecrow asked, tipping his head back to take in the entire structure.
"Yeah, why?"
"It's just–" Scarecrow began.
"You had some trouble with the climb up here," Hornet said bluntly.
"Smartasses. You have your orders," Adrien said as began climbing. Partway up, he complained to himself that he was too old to be climbing crap. He didn't voice it aloud, however, lest Scarecrow hear him; otherwise he and the other guys would never let Adrien live it down.
Once at the top, Scarecrow awkwardly maneuvered his sniper rifle so he could look through the high-powered scope while still having a safe grip on the cross beams.
"What are we looking at, Scarecrow?" asked Adrien, circling his joints so they didn't stiffen up for the climb down.
"Looks like a mix of terrain. We may be able to cut an easier path, but no matter what, we will be hitting some nasty stuff."
"Great," Adrien groaned.
"Looks like the drone is here." Scarecrow pointed to the sky.
Adrien didn't bother to hide his confusion.
"Didn't they tell you?"
"No." An MQ-1 Predator drone was certainly useful; it could scout ahead stealthily from the sky and even let loose Hellfire missiles on targets (not that they'd be cleared to use them), but Adrien was worried it would be picked up by Russian radar and they'd be captured. Bob was an idiot for sending it and not consulting him first.
"Don't worry, the predator should be all but invisible to the Russians. And if it is caught, hopefully they'll think it's meteor pieces," Scarecrow explained, as if reading his mind.
"Very reassuring," Adrien responded sarcastically. The two men took a moment while Scarecrow used a tablet of some sort to tap into the drone's camera. Now they could see what it could.
"Hey, boss?" Scarecrow asked.
"Yeah," Adrien acknowledged, but wasn't looking at him. Rather, he was plotting his descent down the tower.
"Does that meteor look a lot closer than the media's been saying?"
Area surrounding the town Vizhay
"I'm not leaving. I was born in this house, I'll die in this house, and nothing from space is going to change that."
Katja refused to allow her irritation to show as she faced off with the old man who resided in the mountain home. "You are being evacuated. You have fifteen minutes to get basic supplies,' she told him simply.
"Oh, really?" the old man's chin jutted out stubbornly. "And what happens if I don't, girlie?"
She gave him just a suggestion of a smile. "Then you'll come without supplies. My lieutenant here always likes to practice his fireman's carry."
The homeowner squinted at her, as if deciding whether to challenge her further, then looked over her shoulder at Petrov's stony face and seemed to realize Katja could and would make it happen.
He held his defiant posture for a few more seconds, then abruptly turned away. "Fine. Fifteen minutes. I'll get my things," he said, slamming the door behind him as the last word.
Katja held in the groan building within her and addressed Petrov. "Watch the door. Don't give him a second over fifteen minutes. The homes in this sector are really spread out, and we only have a few hours of daylight left. I'm going to go tell the private to cross this place off the list."
"Yes, Ma'am," said Petrov, with a half-nod.
As Katja was going back to the convoy, he called after her. "Ma'am?"
"Yes, Petrov?"
"Just wanted to say…" He looked slightly embarrassed. "You're doing really well with them. You're not hostile, but you're able to get them moving. Not sure I'd have your patience. Nice work."
Katja arched an eyebrow. Was he still fretting over his dressing-down back at their recall base? "Sucking up to me, Lieutenant?"
This time she saw a slight blush grow across the tops of his cheeks, and she immediately felt bad for teasing him.
"I just mean to say, you didn't have to be out here with us in the thick of it–" Petrov stumbled.
"I'm kidding, Maksim," she said, "I really appreciate that."
"Yes, Ma'am."
Katja continued on towards the convoy, deep in thought. Although Petrov's words were kind, she still didn't feel as though they were working fast enough. This was their second day of evac, and so many people resisted the relocation.
She'd tried every tactic imaginable: reminding them it was temporary, begging them to think of their families, explaining the science behind the threat – and even so, they would resist the majority of the time.
"You can't just uproot us!" one woman had complained. As if humans were trees.
Katja was kicking a rock out of her way when she overheard some of her men talking.
"I hear the United States and the United Nations offered aid. Many other private western donors as well," the first said.
"What kind of aid? What private organizations?" the second prodded.
"Food, medicine, the usual. The names of the organizations were the Global Relief Foundation, some religious organization the second, and the Charles Weyland Foundation was the last."
Hearing the word Weyland was like a kick to the gut. Katja quickly suppressed the feelings of hate and anger it elicited in her, forcing herself to keep listening.
"Do you think the president will allow foreigners to help?"
"I am unsure, comrade."
She knew the world was caught up in this meteor, but she had no idea the rest of the world was offering help. Private organizations from the West, even. At least she hadn't needed to correct them about speaking ill of the Russian government like she had Petrov.
"Hello, Je – Captain," Alexei said, not even lifting his eyes from his tablet as she drew near.
"Private, the home is in the process of evacuation. Please clear the name. What is the next address on our list?"
Alexei didn't answer as he repetitively tapped at the screen of his device with an index finger, either ignoring her or lost in his own virtual world.
"Private Antonov!"
Finally, he raised his eyes, looking annoyed.
"Really?" she thought in disbelief. "I'm sorry, am I interrupting you, Private?" Katja asked aloud, with a warning edge to her voice.
He scratched his head and shrugged a shoulder, as if not realizing the question had been sardonic.
Katja had officially had enough. Maybe leadership was reproving her by giving her Alexei, maybe not; but regardless, the kid was going to be whipped into military shape by the time she was done with him.
"Many apologies, Alexei," she said, practically dripping with false sincerity. "I didn't mean to disturb you."
"Ahh, it's fine," he waved off pompously.
Striking out, Katja quickly snatched the tablet from him and threw it over her shoulder without even looking, knowing its landing would be protected by the durable case.
"What are you–" Alexei began to shriek before she cut him off.
"And I certainly don't want to interrupt you from your next task," she said smoothly.
"My next…" Alexei started to go around her to retrieve his precious device, but she sidestepped into his path.
"You're going to run a hundred laps around the convoy," she explained.
"A… A hun…" He stared, horrified, at the twenty parked military trucks. It was perhaps the length of an average suburban street. And he didn't look like he ran very often… or at all, really. "But we leave in fifteen minutes!" he whined.
Katja gave him a cool smirk as she stepped back and picked up his tablet. "You're down to about twelve now, I think; but who's counting? I suppose you'd better get started, hmm? Don't worry – I promise no more interruptions. After all, I'm sure you wouldn't want to have to walk to the next house. We're going further up the mountain."
Alexei sputtered a few times and looked around him as if searching for help. The soldiers in the trucks were grinning at him, having seen his scolding. After being a sore winner on the train, they wanted him to suffer, and that left his only other option as Petrov – whom he probably already knew would give him an even worse punishment than she had.
"Yes, umm, Captain," he muttered, beginning to shrug out of his weighty pack.
"No, no, that stays on." Katja patted his shoulder. Had she not taken his away his weapon because of the high risk of friendly fire he presented, she'd make him ruck that too. "Good boy. Run along now."
Alexei took off at a shuffling trot, curls bouncing. He looked so forlorn, like a miserable little poodle, that she almost broke into a giggle.
Clearing her throat instead, she glanced down at the tablet in her hand. The screen had shut off, and to make sure she hadn't actually broken it, she hit the power button.
The screen lit up, displaying a login screen with an only vaguely familiar logo. But the name she recognized. Roscosmos.
The Russian space program.
"What in the name of…" Katja whispered to herself, glancing up at Alexei's figure, jogging further away from her.
A scientist? Her superiors had sent a space scientist with her. Why? Was there a bigger problem with the meteor?
The login bar cursor blinked patiently, but she had no password to unlock it. She couldn't even begin to guess it, either, because the kid was so tight lipped. They might not have even let him choose his own.
Wedging her tongue between her teeth, Katja pondered her situation. The information she'd uncovered left her with a problem. She had to decide what the appropriate course of action to handle it would be.
She could, of course, just ask Alexei who had sent him, and why. It wasn't like he had assigned himself to this op; and she was certain it wouldn't take much browbeating to get him to talk.
But that could make his puppeteers very, very angry, and she wasn't so sure she wanted to cross them, whoever they were. Either they were top-level Russian military, or someone who could impose their will on the Russian military. She wasn't sure which option was more unnerving. Asking could put her entire unit at risk.
She could also talk it over with Petrov and get his take. Over the years, she'd come to trust him and respect his opinion. But should she drag him into it?
While stuffing the tablet into her pack to return to Alexei later, Katja noticed a chocolate bar, slightly crushed, mixed in with her gear. White chocolate, no less; her mother hated white chocolate.
"Why not?" she thought, taking it out and unwrapping it.
Sitting on the hard, cold ground and chomping the cheap candy, Katja gazed thoughtfully above her.
The meteor was burning bright, a tiny dot in the sky. Even she, who had no knowledge of such things beyond basic schooling, knew it had to be awfully, maybe dangerously close to be visible to the naked eye during the day. Not to mention enormous.
Was it bigger than they'd said? What did Alexei know? And how much time did she have left to find out?
Just hours later, they had arrived at the last house on the day's itinerary. Thankfully, this household was more cooperative than several of the others they'd previously encountered.
A married couple were behind the door, just settling down to their supper. When Katja and her unit summoned them to action, they responded immediately, gathering their own supplies and materials for their infant in record time.
"Please, Miss, hold him while we get ready," the mother had begged before beginning to pack, handing the infant to a surprised Katja before running back into the house.
For ten minutes, Katja had to tend to the baby while sitting on a small wooden bench in front of the house, overlooking a dead flowerbed. Though she didn't particularly enjoy the chore – mostly because it dredged up bad memories of Alexander – Petrov was busy overseeing the homeowners, and she didn't really trust any of her other men to not drop the child.
For the most part, things went smoothly. It wasn't until the baby's mother and father were bringing out their last few bags that the infant's face started to crunch, and his upper lip did a weird wiggly thing, exposing pinkish gums.
"Oh no, oh, don't do that," Katja begged, jouncing him a little. She could tell he was about to cry. And she already had one crybaby to deal with in the form of Alexei.
"Look!" Taking her carabiner off her belt with one hand, Katja shook it so the keys and lanyard on it jingled. "Shiny?"
The baby's eyes opened, and though he didn't look at the carabiner, he did seem to like the sound. So, she shook it harder.
"Captain." Petrov tapped his boot against hers to get her attention, and she looked up. "They're all ready to go."
Re-clipping her carabiner, Katja stood. "Good. Let's get–"
She was cut off by a booming, thundering blast, followed by flash of light, searing and sudden in the evening gloom.
Mortars were the first thing that popped into her head.
Flinging herself forward off the bench, she covered the baby's body with her own, while keeping herself just slightly lifted with her elbows so she didn't crush him.
A second later, she felt Petrov throw himself on top of her, his arms covering her head. She grunted, struggling to hold his weight and hers away from the baby.
Around her, she heard the rest of her unit shouting, falling to the ground, and even drawing their weapons.
Somewhere, the baby's mother screamed.
After what seemed like a long time, but Katja knew was only a few seconds, she pushed up against Petrov. "Off."
He rolled away, and she crouched carefully, hand on her holstered pistol.
Aside from several bodies lying prone in 'duck and cover' poses, nothing was amiss. They didn't seem to be under attack, and she saw no evidence of mortars, detonated grenades, RPGs, or anything else that might have exploded.
Cautiously she picked up the baby and stood, trying to ignore the child's wailing. "Sound off!" Katja shouted out. The responses from her men suggested everyone was ok, just shaken.
"What happened?" asked Petrov, who was at her elbow with his own gun drawn.
"I have no idea." Noticing the baby's mother and father nearby, she walked over and gently helped them both to their feet.
"Here, why don't you take him?" she said as soothingly as she could, hoping that passing off the infant would both quiet the baby and give his parents a distraction while she assessed the situation.
"What's going on?" the woman whimpered, eyes pleading with Katja for answers.
"We don't know yet, but we're going to find out. Go ahead and wait in one of the trucks. They're armored."
After bringing order back to her unit, Katja began the process of sending out a scouting party to check the perimeters of the area. The only thing that came to mind as a possible source of the presumed attack were rebel ultranationalists. She knew some of them were hiding out in this part of Russia. However, something about that didn't fit the puzzle.
But suddenly, she noticed it.
The meteor was totally gone.
"Belay that order," she muttered, looking directly at Alexei. "I don't think that was a weapon detonating."
Bottom comment, the 'other' writer.
Not much to add. The reviews are noted and appreciated.