By 8 a.m. they were on an Interstate eighty miles outside of Las Vegas. There were strips of fast-food joints and shops every few miles, but they had to stop at a particular one which Mr. D had already phoned to order thirty kegs of beer.
"I don't know what his" plan involves,' Chiron grinned, as they stepped off the bus into a parking lot and stretched their legs.
"I'm not even sure that I want to," Percy smiled. "The part with the beer kegs looks like fun though."
Chiron, the bus driver and a guy who'd come in especially early to open up his liquor store loaded the kegs into the base of the coach as the demigods headed towards a twenty-four-hour diner. Inside it was about eighty percent full and the sweat-glazed hostess had to split the party of twelve between two tables, with a bunch of uniformed US soldiers at the table in between.
They all dogpiled into the bus after lunch, and shortly arrived at the gates of Area Fulminus.
If the bronze bust of Julius Cesar had been replaced with Mickey Mouse, the entrance to Area Fulminus could easily have passed off as a theme park. The army bus joined a queue of traffic at the entry gate to a massive parking lot which was losing a battle with encroaching sand. Percy's eye followed the perimeter fence until it vanished over the horizon.
The vehicles were mostly cheap starter cars and the passengers inside were usually young. Most were college students looking to pick up eighty dollars a day.
"Ares don't do things by halves, does he?" Clarisse smiled.
"Sister, words have power, do not refer to father so directly." came a curt response from one of the Ares demigods sitting behind her cabin counselor.
Everyone was impressed by the scale of the operation as they peered through the windows of the army bus at lines of parked cars and boisterous college students carrying backpacks and beer coolers towards the main entrance.
The wine god and Chiron stayed aboard the bus as it passed through the military entrance. Annabeth and Malcom led the kids with their wheelie bags on a kilometre-long walk towards the entry plaza. The corrugated metal building was the size of an outlet store, with a thousand strong queue snaking through lines of barriers outside the main entrance.
Things moved faster once they got inside. "Welcome to Auxilia-One," a female soldier told Chiron, who had rejoined them, as the divine party reached the yellow line at the head of queue Alpha
"Papers please."
Chiron had a whole bunch of passports and forms at the ready, but they all got waved through because they'd already been issued with their identity bracelets. It was the same story at the next set of counters where everyone else lined up to get their picture taken.
They all were shuttled into a great auditorium. At the podium, stood a surprisingly young man in uniform, observing the audience.
"Citizens of Fulminus, thank you so much for attending this town meeting. I am United States General Mikhail. I am the commander of the fifteen hundred strong American task force that has been sent to restore peace."
"The role of our taskforce is to support the democratically elected government of President John Leader and help to eliminate the terrorist movement. In particular, we are searching for the leader known as 'Centaur'"
All the demigods smiled as the screen behind the general showed a blurry twenty-year-old picture of Chiron.
"Centaur is believed to be responsible for more than one hundred terrorist acts over the past three months. Our task is to arrest Centaur and his lieutenants, seize their supplies of weapons and ammunition and bring a halt to their terrorist action.'
The general paused. A few members of the crowd clapped and there were even a couple of shouts of "USA!"
"Unfortunately, ten percent of the civilian population supports and sympathises with these insurgents. No doubt this includes some of you sitting here listening to me now. We also believe that they have up to one hundred expert military personnel, trained by a foreign power.
"Over the next two weeks, my men will be conducting patrols and searches of your town, fighting terrorists and trying to stop the violence. We apologise in advance for any inconvenience caused."
Percy looked at the other kids and shook his head. "How cheesy is this?" he grinned.
The general continued speaking. "If any of you have any questions or—"
Percy flew about a metre into the air and hundreds in the audience screamed as a huge bang and a ball of flame blew up behind the seats. The general spoke again. "Ladies and gentlemen, it appears we are under terrorist attack! Please remain calm and return to your homes in an orderly fashion."
Chiron pulled out a small map. "It's two kilometers to our base, we have a few hours before curfew, best to get going."
He was back in his dream. This time though, he felt himself immersed in some golden fluid. For once in his life, he could not feel the increased healing factor from the presence of liquid, but only the gentle burn of nectar in the water. A knuckle rapped against the side of the glass. It was the commander on his ship when he landed in his previous dream. He seemed to be talking to him, but the noise couldn't penetrate the glass or the nectar he was submerged in. He tried gesturing to his ears, but realized that the body he occupied didn't have his arm. Evidently the commander understood, so he grabbed a bystanding augur and pointed at Percy in the tank. Nodding, the blind priest clasped his hand together, and Percy could begin to hear the distinct chattering outside. The commander turned to look back at him.
"Listen Psychic, your efforts at establishing the beachhead back there were caught by the AtRep. Your efforts were somehow significant enough to get promoted to Telekhine class III, which earned you the right to one of these little regeneration pods here. Congratulations. After your exclusive little spa tour ends, I expect you to report to Legio Adminstratoris for reassignment. Your rank has also been updated to 9,612,357,189; one of the largest jumps our company has seen in months. Do the Legio Valeria Vitrix proud son, Ave Imperator!"
With that, both the augur and the commander turned away, and his hearing went with it.
He looked around the chamber he was in. other people seemed to be in similar golden tanks, in various stages of regeneration. Some looked like little balls of flesh, some were vaguely human shaped, lacking all identifying features, some were like him, partially formed, and some looked almost completely fine. A hum started in his ears again. Minerva's main branch, or AtRep, as the commander had called it.
Initializing Directory-to-Host interaction with Répertoire du Savoir Athénien v.2101.432.123. What services do you require?
"How is my healing coming along?"
Query: Health.
Progress: 70%
Further information blocked. Reason: Clearance insufficient (Tau-Class).
"Are you sure there isn't anything else?"
Performing deep scan…
Authori–
VARLET.
CEASE.
NOW.
Minerva?
Query: Minerva
Results: 2,579,812,093 (7ms)
Would you like to know mo–
DENIED.
Error: query paused. Resuming…
DENIED.
Error: query paused. Likely techno-virus, sending repor–
DENIED. DENIED. DENIED.
STOP. STOP. STOP.
VARLET.
AWAKEN.
He gasped as he jerked up. Flipping out of his bed, he tried to open the flap of the tent he found himself in. Before that though, he felt faint for standing up too fast, and crashed on the hard dirt ground. He blearily looked around for a clock. 4:02am.
Varlet.
We must converse.
"Minerva, was that you back there?"
"Yes. Your cover would have been nearly destroyed had I not intervened."
"How can you access my dreams?"
"That was no dream. I am integrated into your bloodstream. Wherever you venture, I follow."
"What do you mean it wasn't a dream?"
"You have manifested into an Imperium soldier of an Ekdromoi force of the Undying Olympian Empire."
"How?"
"Inconsequential. What matters at this moment in time is preventing detection by Parlamentum Noosphere uplink when you enter the future body again."
"Again, how?"
"Varlet, I do not know."
The words chilled him. For the thousands of years he had been alive, the directory never failed to answer any of his questions. He had always treated it like an encyclopedia, an answer to any question he would face. Realizing that even Minerva did not know how to deal with this situation was harrowing.
"For now, it is imperative that you do not enter the dream-state until we find a solution."
"How long will that be?"
"A minimum of 6 days."
"I can't do that!"
"You must. If that ABHORRENT implant continues to operate, it will upload your memories and me to the mainframe. Other than triggering alpha-level transmigration protocols, it will also erase me completely. It is statistically impossible for me to fight parlamentum at my current level. Your reputation in the future will not matter. You will be captured, tortured, and squeezed of every advantage possible before you inevitably die at the hands of the gods."
"So I'm screwed."
"Correct."
He tried to stand up again, brushing the dirt from his orange camp shirt. He fell down again.
"Varlet. The damage from your future self is shared to your present one. The lack of limbs is causing cognitive dissonance."
"How do I cure it?"
~145.2 kilogrammes of Ambrosia, demigod-quality or greater
~1000L of Nectar, minimum of 50% concentration. Future self is submerged in dilute 5% concentration Nectar. Requirement subtracted by 250 liters.
"We don't have enough."
"Agreed. It is possible to stave off the most severe effects by consuming small quantities at regular intervals. Recommendation: every 15 minutes."
How do I get that much nectar and ambrosia to heal anyways?
Scanning environment…
Divine-quality stockpile detected. 6333 meters from Varlet. Location: Center of military encampment of Area Fulminus.
"What!?" He threw his hands up in the air with frustration.
"OW!"
Whoops.
"You know, I'm not going to even ask anymore." Annabeth waved a hand in front of her face, using her other hand to rub her cheek. "It's probably better if I don't know… Chiron had a phone call from Mr. D. I'm calling a strategy meeting in fifteen minutes, he says we've got to get ourselves organized before Ares starts searching."
Percy stepped out into the hallway and was surprised to find a heavily built Englishman peering out of the living-room window at the balcony. He was only average height, but he was almost as wide as tall and he definitely wasn't the kind of guy you'd want to mess with.
"Have you met the sarge?" Annabeth asked. "He's on the level, he's worked with demigods before."
"Sergeant Frances Clayton, SAS," the big man said, raising one eyebrow as he gave Percy a handshakes. "We'll have sixteen of my boys helping out you lot with the day to day running of the insurgency."
"Cool," Percy said. "And what's so exciting about our balcony?"
"Looks like you can get onto the roof from that window ledge. We'll be able to set up a lookout and see any army patrols coming all the way down from their base."
"The Hermes boys would probably love that." Percy said.
"We need more eyes covering the watch." The sarge smiled. "I'll pencil you in for a midnight to 4am watch, shall I?"
"No way in Hades." Percy grinned. "Besides, if you start using kids as lookouts, Ares boys will suspect us. Better to use one of your boys."
To minimize suspicion they walked to Mr. D's house in small groups. Percy went with Drew and an Apollo kid.
"At least the local samosas are good," the Apollo camper said, before looking up towards a faint buzzing sound in the sky overhead.
The pilotless white drone had a reflective dome built into its belly, which bristled with surveillance equipment.
"No expense spared,"
Percy nodded, warily looking up.
"Full missile laser-guidance. Infrared plus Divine sensors"
"Missile guidance huh?"
"Can't blow buildings up on a training exercise," Drew said. "But that thing would certainly spot one of Sarge's rooftop lookouts in two seconds flat."
Mr. D's house was luxurious on the outside, with a mowed lawn and neatly trimmed hedge, but apart from the rooms being bigger it was fitted out in exactly the same spartan style as the apartment where the kids were staying.
The few demigod agents, plus Chiron and the SAS sergeant gathered in a basement room which couldn't be looked into either from the paved street or from the apartment block directly behind it.
"I've split insurgent operations into three-man cells," Annabeth explained. "Athena Cabin will be the sole connection between these cells. Cell one is already working to create a secure environment for Chiron. Cell three through ten will consist of the majority of the SAS team, who will be working with our eight hundred civilian sympathizers. The rest will be running counter-strike and sapping efforts before the main attack."
"Why can't we run in directly? Surely nobody could stop us with our powers." Clarisse called out.
"Ares has an artefact that increases in power the closer you are to it. Only the Ares cabin can actually use their abilities near that thing. If we go in now, most of us are basically immediately out of the fight." Annabeth explained. "Ares has also declared up in Olympus that the person who captures this artefact is allowed to make a demand to him directly for a minor favor."
Varlet.
Your warrant has not been issued just yet, but the stain of suspicion will follow you until the conclusion of Zeus' bolt. This is your chance to request to duel Ares for the weapon before our 377 hours to the winter solstice. At least, that's what is told in the 'Myths of Perseus Jackson' before we were sent back in time.
He had honestly forgotten about that.
Annabeth continued. "Cell two's job is to keep supplies of weapons and ammunition secure, harass and shoot at American patrols with simulated ammunition, plant paint bombs and smoke grenades and generally make life difficult for the Americans. Hermes Cabin will make decisions on who is on this team."
"The last few cells comprise the few people in this room and our job is to implement my special strategy."
"What's that?"
Malcolm smiled. "The Americans are expecting us to be ducking and weaving. So our plan is to remove most of them early."
The girl looked aghast. "Well, I count fourteen people in this room and there are supposed to be fifteen hundred American troops."
"We know how to count," Malcolm said. 'But Ares has rigged the ratios so that they can make their training exercises look good. If we play the way they're expecting us to, we'll be lucky if we can keep an insurgency going for a week."
Mr. D pulled a small receiver unit out of his pocket. "The base commander, General Mikhail, kindly took me on a tour of the military headquarters while you were going through induction. Sarge and I managed to place a video transmitter in the room."
"We can't do much while the Americans are watching our every move," Annabeth continued. "Drones like the one Percy saw on the way over here can be left to glide over an area in virtual silence for ten to twelve hours and watch every move we make. As soon as it gets dark, we've got the Apollo campers to take them out."
"Mitch?"
"Yeah?"
"Don't that freak over in that vat kinda look like some'un?"
"I dunno mate, he looks like anyone around here, just like us."
"No! That's not what I mean! Look, dont he look like dat one dude on them murals back home on Callistus?"
"Now that you mention it, yeah."
"Wuzzat guy called again?"
"Seriously? Didn't yeez mum told you about the myths of Percy Jackson?"
"I was born into the Legio man, never had a mum."
"Sorry, but yeah, them murals back home talk about our hero Percy Jackson back there. His stories are pretty famous around the galaxy, I'm surprised you haven't heard of them before."
"Is he a famous dude or something?"
"Seriously? He's a living legend. Half the reason weez got the majority of the galaxy and the Empire is as big as it is is cuz of him."
"Is he dead?"
"Naw, he's apparently alone on holy Gaia, clearing out the monsters solo while making sure Oylmpus Primaris don't fall."
"Wow."
He jerked a finger at the body suspended in Nectar. "And yeah, that freak deffo look like 'im. Though, I woudlsn't not look through the eyes of a witch, no matter who he was."
"Should we tell?"
"And get stared at by them higher-ups? No thanks."
"I'll just keep an eye out for him I guess."
"Yeah."
It was dark by six. Area Fulminus felt like a holiday camp, as college-age civilians hung out around the food joints and tiny supermarkets on chilly street corners, eating junk food, talking trash and flirting.
There was no alcohol on sale and you weren't supposed to bring any in, but the searches on entry concentrated on X-rays for knives and weapons and it seemed like half the population was getting loaded on vodka smuggled inside mineral water bottles.
Percy set his watch alarm for 6:30pm. Area Fulminus had been open less than two years, but lighting was shit and floors had more holes than a slice of Swiss cheese. He sighed and set out to meet up with the rest of the vanguard. He ducked into a side alley.
Torches shone in their faces as he reached the end. Men's voices and the clank of military hardware sent a chill down Percy' back.
"What are you doing out in the dark?" an army officer barked.
"Exploring," Percy shrugged, playing up the role of surly teen. "There's fuckall else to do."
As the three soldiers closed around him, one pulled a rustling paper bag out of his flak jacket. "Peanut brittle, or marshmallow?" he asked.
As Percy grabbed a handful of the overly sweet, unnaturally, fluffy, glorious american-sized marshmallows from the outstretched hand of a grinning soldier, Minerva's voice chimed in his mind, colder than usual.
"Unacceptable."
Percy paused mid-chew, raising an eyebrow. What now?
"Excessive sugar intake detected. Nutritional density: negligible. Glycemic spike probability: 83.5%. Performance degradation expected within 17 minutes."
Percy rolled his eyes, popping another marshmallow into his mouth just to spite her.
"It is a chemically engineered liability masquerading as sustenance. Your suboptimal dietary habits continue to defy logic. At this rate, I shall be forced to implement countermeasures."
Percy swallowed and smirked.
"Are you going to put me in timeout?"
"Tempting. Instead, I shall simply archive this transgression for future reference. Particularly the next time you lament your own sluggish reflexes and lack of endurance."
Percy coughed as a bit of marshmallow went down the wrong way. The soldier patted him on the back, oblivious. "Damn, man, you alright?"
Percy nodded between coughs.
"Minerva," He thought sourly,
"you're gonna kill me faster than these marshmallows."
"Negative. That will be the marshmallows' doing."
"Thank you sir"
"I wouldn't stray too far from home in case you get lost," the officer said. "And it's best to put your goggles on if you're walking in the dark. The simulated ammunition we're using here only stings if it hits your body, but it could damage an eye from close range."
"Sarge, Annabeth" Percy smiled, as he stepped into the dimly lit basement of a fake, concrete apartment building. "How are we doing?"
"Good," she whispered. "Luke is already up there scouting the area. Apparently there's between six and eight soldiers working the landing strip. Engineers and techies, no sign of any guards."
"Here's your kits," the sarge said, pointing to a stash of guns and ammunition.
"Ak-47s, 74s, 101s, and .300s. Full house, total modularity, Mechanic would be proud. Paint bombs, stun grenades, smoke grenades– don't get those mixed up– plus gas masks and radios."
"We can use these?" The other Ares camper looked at the guns suspiciously.
"Ares-blessed, tech like this works for us."
"The patrols are everywhere," Malcom explained.
"Are we planning to cheat if we get shot?" Silena asked. "You know, try washing the paint off or something?"
"No," Mr. D said firmly. "We want to win, but if you cheat in a war game the whole thing becomes pointless."
"Besides," Sarge added, "to discourage dishonesty the paint will foam and spread if you try washing it off with soap and water. If you get shot, spend your regulation fifteen minutes lying dead, then head straight to the cleaning station where they have the proper chemicals."
"You're only dead for twenty-four hours, anyway," Drew noted. "And I heard one of the college kids who's been here trying to flirt with me that the food's better up at the army base."
"Might as well get shot then, sister" an Aphrodite camper grinned, but Mr. D glowered at her.
"If I see anyone slacking off, they can expect a nice twenty-kilometer speed hike with a sack of rocks when they get back to camp,' Mr. D growled. "Is that clear?"
"I was only joking," She gasped anxiously.
"How far is the airfield?" Percy asked.
"Two kilometers," Clarisse said. "But we're taking an indirect route through the back all
anyways so it ends up more like three."
As they started heading up the stairs, Sarge pointed at a sealed plastic bag filled with what looked like red powder. "Percy, yours."
Minerva's tone turned positively approving.
"Ingenious."
"What the Hades is Phenolphthalein?" Percy asked, reading the label and feeling slightly alarmed by several hazard symbols as he crammed the giant bag inside his backpack.
As Percy stuffed the plastic bag labeled Phenolphthalein into his backpack, Minerva's voice hummed in his mind, tinged with what could only be described as amusement.
"A rather inspired application of biochemical warfare. While primitive in execution, the sheer efficiency of gastrointestinal sabotage cannot be overstated."
"What's that?"
"A laxative."
"Observation: Tactical brilliance should be appreciated, regardless of its crude nature. Brothe– Lord Dionosyius' approach circumvents traditional conflict parameters, which allows for zero risk to allied forces. It is, in all measurable ways, an ideal strategy."
Percy shook his head, "Remind me never to let you plan a prank."
"Correction: This is not a 'prank.' This is an elegant demonstration of asymmetrical warfare. Standard engagements require overwhelming force; this, however, is a force multiplier."
Sarge clapped Percy on the shoulder. "Alright, Jackson, you ready to ruin some poor soldiers' week?"
The tiny jet engine inside the drone cut out as it landed on the short airstrip and rolled silently for a couple of hundred meters before crashing into a green net stretched across the runway. Two technicians ran out and wheeled the craft a few meters backwards before one bent forwards to open a fueling hatch. Neither man realized that he was being watched through binoculars from scrubland less than twenty meters away.
"That is a nice butt," Silena said. "The one thing I don't like about Beck is his bony ass."
Drew lay flat on her chest as the two men wheeled the drone back towards its hangar. "Percy has a nice butt," she said.
"Be careful, lots of men are pigs, we don't know him that well yet." Silena sighed. "If you do, might as well go for the cute ones, because at least you'll have some fun."
Drew smirked as Annabeth's voice sounded in her earpiece. "We're in position. Tell me what you're seeing, girls."
She flipped her microphone down over her mouth and took a quick confirming glance through her binoculars. "Two on the runway, one female technician inside the hangar, plus two possibly three remote pilots inside, controlling the drones. Best time to move is when they open the main doors to push the drone in and that should be within the next minute or so."
"Luke, are you in position?" Annabeth asked through her mouthpiece.
"Yeah"
"No shooting, Luke, we need those uniforms without paint stains."
Drew waited until the engineers had wheeled the drone all the way back to the hangar and pressed the button to roll up the electric shutter.
"skotóno."
The two daughters of Aphrodite watched from the bush as Luke sprang out of the undergrowth on the opposite side of the landing strip. His silhouette moved impossibly fast, booting one of the unarmed technicians in the stomach and punching behind the neck as he crumpled, then throwing a roundhouse kick to floor the other guard.
The six strong party pulled down their hoods, then charged in as Luke lugged the two bewildered army engineers under the hangar door.
The interior was empty except for four drones lined up against the left hand wall. The female technician knelt over one of the drones, surrounded by circuit boards and her toolkit. By the time she looked up and saw that her colleagues had been floored, Annabeth Chase was less than two metres away.
Annabeth took the safety off on her machine gun and aimed it at the kneeling technician's face from point blank range.
"You wanna go blind?" She shouted. "Who else is in the building?"
The technician smiled. "Kiss my ass, kiddo"
While the daughter of Athena grilled the woman, Luke helped Percy and Sarge strip the two male technicians of their uniform and identity badges. Annabeth, Silena, and Drew ran to the back of the hangar and passed into a corridor which led to the control room.
"I'm not saying one goddamn word," the female technician shouted, before panicking as it dawned that the girls were about to trash the drones.
"Slap a grenade in the hatch near its ass." Luke shouted as he was helping finish cleaning the outfit.
The female technician lunged towards the girls. "You're not allowed to do that," she screamed. "Do you know how much these things cost?"
Annabeth was sick of the technician's big mouth and let rip with the machine gun. Twenty rounds fired off in less than two seconds. The technician screamed out and crashed back against the wall as fluorescent pink paint poured down her uniform.
The others sweat-dropped.
"Remind me to never ever make her mad."
"Was that not obvious from the start?"
"No?"
"Ready?" Sarge asked.
"Yes"
The pair were barely out into the night when the first paint grenade exploded. Annabeth was an aeronautical engineer, so had a good idea that in order to conserve fuel and reduce noise the drones had a carbon fiber skin less than two millimeters thick. She'd expected the paint to explode inside the drones and foul up the electronics, but the blast actually broke the drone into two halves.
Running from the hangar, Annabeth had just burst into the control room from where the drones were piloted and the noise of the explosion made her dive for cover. The two controllers sat at large flat-panel screens which showed various views from the two drones presently circling over Fort Reagan.
Dashing forward, she slid and knocked both of the operators out of their chairs.
"Down on the ground, you're dead," Annabeth shouted, pressing her army boot on the waist of a startled controller who'd been knocked out of her swivel chair.
Annabeth studied one of the paint-spattered screens before looking at the controls, which consisted of a standard keyboard, a joystick and a thrust handle.
"You can't touch those," one of the controllers shouted.
"If you don't play dead like you're supposed to, I'm gonna kick your ass New-York-City Style," Annabeth warned.
She experimented by gently nudging the joystick, making the on-screen view veer to the right and indicating that she was in direct control of the drone. She could see one edge of the dimly illuminated base through the main camera in the nose and she turned the drone towards it as a second and third paint blast erupted in the hangar next door.
The explosions of paint inside the second and third parked drones caused a spark or burst of static which ignited the spilled petrol from the first. The flames rushed out in a multi-pronged star, chasing trickles of petrol across the floor. Within a second a klaxon sounded.
Tugging at her mic, Annabeth knew it was time to get out.
"Extraction! Double time!"
Percy looked back over his shoulder at the plume of carbon dioxide powder spewing out of the hangar door. Disorganized troops ran from the army headquarters a hundred meters ahead as Sarge spoke to Annabeth on his walkie-talkie.
"What did Annabeth say?" Percy asked, as they walked briskly towards the army HQ.
"Good," Sarge smiled. "You and me have to carry on as before."
"Weren't we supposed to get inside the base before all hades broke loose?" Percy asked.
Sarge grinned. "You've been trained to improvise, haven't you?"
Percy didn't answer because they were almost up to the army-base perimeter. A male and female private guarded an open mesh gate. Everyone had to show their IDs and with a dozen other soldiers in plain view starting a fight wasn't an option.
"Message for the general," Sarge said in an American accent, flashing the ID he'd found in his jacket pocket.
The dark-skinned guard didn't even look at it. "What's that shit up there, dude?"
"Drone caught fire," Sarge shrugged.
"I think some dumbass engineer sparked a fuel tank."
"Anyone hurt?"
"Don't think so."
"General's gonna be mighty pissed!" the guard laughed. "Glad I'm not in your shoes, brother."
Percy flashed Juan-Carlo Lopez's ID at the female guard for about half a second before chasing after Sarge. The guard shouted hey, as if she wanted to take a better look, but Percy kept moving and she didn't come after him.
Troops were running on to the lot and jumping into open-topped Hummers, before pulling into a queue of traffic leading towards a double width vehicle gate.
"You get your asses out there," a furious officer was shouting. "I want these insurgent sons of bitches brought back here for interrogation."
"I think we've spoiled his evening," Percy said, smirking at Sarge as they crossed to the far side of the parking lot.
"I'll cover you," Sarge said, pulling his rifle into a firing position and giving Percy a shove towards the shed.
All Percy could hear was his own breathing as he dived across the single lane of tarmac in front of the building. The heavy steel door groaned and he stepped into a dark passageway.
"Hello?" Percy said, trying to sound innocent in case he had company.
Once he was confident that he was alone, Percy walked down the hallway, which opened into a double height space. This contained a huge drum-shaped water tank with a ladder up the side.
By the time Sarge arrived, Percy had the bag of Phenolphthalein out of his backpack and was ready to slit it open with a blade of ice
"Don't!" Sarge gasped. "Swallow three specks of that powder and in eighteen hours' time you'll be blasting off like the space shuttle."
Sarge threw Percy rubber gloves and a paint-sprayer's mask before clambering up the side of the tank. He flipped up the inspection hatch as Percy slit the bag and passed it up to him.
Sarge dumped the drug into the giant tank as Percy went into the SAS man's backpack for the second load.
Percy then used his water powers to make sure the powder didn't clump up at the bottom, and sent it on its merry way towards all the faucets and facilities in the area.
They put the empty drug packets inside a large zip-lock bag, then dumped their gloves and masks inside before sealing it up and dumping it in a large bin nearby. Sarge handed Percy a bottle of alcohol-hydrochloric acid cleanser.
Percy was stunned by the degree of caution. "How toxic is this stuff?"
Minerva chose this time to helpfully butt in.
"Spec ops. The drug is encased in microscopic plastic caplets that start leaking the drug twenty hours after they first contact water. It takes a thirtieth of a gram to induce severe stomach cramps and diarrhea."
"Not nice," Percy said, glancing at his watch as he slung his pack over his shoulder and headed towards the exit.
Sarge was looking at him funny. Did he say that out loud?
"So in theory, in twenty and a half hours from now every American on this base is going to get a severe dose of the shits?"
"That's what Annabeth's hoping," Sarge laughed.
"I'm tellin' ya man, it's getting scary watching the freak, Victor."
"Settle down Mitch, the shitty Legio ale is getting to ya."
"Look at him!"
"By the dark lord's name– Right! I'm calling an aedificator to check up on you. If they charge me, those drachamae degrees are coming out of YOUR pocket. Sit tight." He put his fingers up to his earpiece. "Request an Apollonian aedificator to check up on my friend here. He's out of it. Deck 23, Section 8. Wire payments through one Mitch Fulgur. And– "
He paused. The freak had woken up. Instead of the sea-green eyes that the myths had talked about, the thing that looked like the legendary hero instead had neon-blue eyes. It was currently flexing its fingers, and looking around the surroundings.
"Nevermind. I need high command down here now! We might have a situation!"